Turn Me On: Derek and Amanda (Man of the Month Book 7)

by J. Kenner

  “She seemed iffy on the job. I don’t think it’s quite what she expected. But I’m sure she’ll rally.”

  Amanda sighed and nodded, and they continued in that vein for a while, discussing mutual friends, movies, and other random topics. When Amanda had finished her drink, she put the glass down and started to stand. “It’s been great catching up, but I really should get home. I need to—”

  Derek.

  He was standing right across the lobby, his eyes fixed on her, his expression unreadable.

  Nausea crested, and her stomach flipped over. “I—”

  But she couldn’t manage anymore.

  “Amanda?” Easton stood, and when she didn’t move, he turned to look the same direction. A second later, he turned back to Amanda. “Who is that?”

  The question pulled Amanda back to herself. “I’m sorry. I have to go.” She snatched up her purse and walked as fast as she could toward Derek, but he saw her coming and moved to the elevator. She was only a few feet away when he stepped onto a car, then turned to face her.

  She started get on, too, but he held out a hand, his palm flat. A virtual wall between them.

  “Derek, it’s not—”

  But she didn’t get to finish. The doors closed, and he was gone.

  She gulped in air, telling herself he was the one being an ass. She hadn’t done anything wrong. She was just talking to a friend.

  Besides, they had no commitment. Had made no promises.

  All true.

  So why did she feel so guilty?

  She couldn’t sleep, and at one in the morning she finally gave in, and grabbed her phone, intending to send him a text.

  But when she opened the app, she saw there was already a message waiting—several, actually—and she realized that the phone had switched to DND mode after eleven.

  Derek - I’m sorry. I should have stayed and talked. I was an ass. Let me know if you need more of an apology.

  Derek - A pox be upon my soul.

  Derek - May the fleas of 10000 camels infest my armpits.

  Tears filled Amanda’s eyes, but they were the good kind. Relief and laughter all rolled together.

  Amanda - Trying to decide if I should say something or see how this escalates.

  Derek - About to try plagues of Israel. Save me.

  Amanda - I’m sorry, too.

  Derek - No need. You didn’t do anything. (Did you?)

  Derek - Ignore that. Our deal was no commitment. None of my business.

  Amanda typed out her response—is that what you want?—then erased it before hitting send.

  Amanda - Bumped into an old friend. His date ran out on him. We caught up.

  Derek - wipes brow in relief.

  Amanda - So we’re good?

  She cringed the second she pressed send. The question sounded far too needy. But there was no calling it back. Too bad she didn’t live in another age. With a letter she could have hightailed it to her mailbox and pulled back the envelope.

  But of course they were good. That was pretty much the point of the whole text conversation.

  But if they were good, why wasn’t he responding?

  Frowning, she closed the app and re-opened it, then checked her signal strength. All good.

  Damn.

  She was about to power off her phone—at least then she wouldn’t know he was actively ignoring her—when the doorbell rang.

  She glanced at her watch, considered ignoring it, then felt her phone buzz in her hand.

  Derek - Knock Knock

  Grinning, she hurried to the door and flung it open. “Who’s there?”

  “An asshole?”

  She shook her head as she ushered him in. “No. Definitely not. How did you find me?” She realized for the first time that she’d never given him her address.

  “We corporate big shots have all sorts of underhanded methods to find people.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, however you managed, I’m glad you did.” She drew in a breath, and asked the lingering question. “We’re good, right? We’ll see each other again next month?”

  “Actually, no.”

  “We’re not good?” A shock of panic cut through her. “But—”

  He took her hands. “We won’t see each other next month. I’ll be in Europe all of October.”

  “Oh.” The weight of her disappointment surprised her. She licked her lips. “This isn’t a brush-off, is it?”

  His smile was gentle. “Did you not read all my groveling texts? Honestly, it’s going to be a pain. Twenty hotels in twenty-five days. Pity me.”

  “Maybe when you get back I’ll have found the perfect condo for you to relax in and shake off all that European dust.”

  He took a step closer. “I hope so.”

  Suddenly, she was very aware of her own breathing. “Um, so when will you be back?”

  “The Tuesday before Thanksgiving. Will you be in town or traveling?”

  “I’ll be here.” She grinned. “That’s what I’ll be thankful for.” Had she really just said that? It was true, but had she really said it?

  From the breadth of his smile, she supposed that she had.

  “Good. It’s a date. Or, I guess, since we’re not dating, it’s a non-date.”

  “Absolutely,” she said, with a perfectly straight face. “Non-date.”

  He took a step back toward the door. “About earlier, I know we said no promises.”

  “We did.”

  “And no commitments.”

  She nodded.

  “I still didn’t like it,” he said. “Seeing you with another man.”

  She licked her lips, her pulse strong in her neck. “And I felt guilty when I saw you, which is crazy since I didn’t do anything but hang out with a friend.”

  “You know, considering all of that, it really sounds like we’re dating.”

  She lifted a shoulder, trying to appear casual when she felt anything but. “And sometimes generic tastes like the real thing. But it’s not.”

  He studied her, then nodded slowly. “Fair enough.” He bent forward and kissed her cheek. And as he did, he whispered to her. “Just keep in mind, sometimes, generic is better.”

  Chapter Eight

  Considering he was thousands of miles away, Amanda managed to stay more in touch with Derek than she did with most of her friends. They sent text messages—including a few that probably qualified as sexts—talked on the phone, Skyped so they could see each other, and even exchanged a few emails.

  Amanda told herself that this was all because they were working hard to find him a condo. He’d told her that if she found the right property, he’d close sight-unseen so long as she was happy with it. His trust had humbled her—and the potential commission had kept her working long hours.

  After five weeks, though, she’d finally found the perfect place. A two-bedroom penthouse condo with a corner view of the river, a private deck and infinity pool, and security out the wazoo. As a bonus, the condo came furnished, and the previous owner had excellent taste. The contemporary-style furniture both accented the lines and angles of the glass and steel condo, and had the benefit of being comfortable.

  Despite the contemporary design and decoration, the overall impression was of comfort. Bottom line, it felt like a home.

  True to his word, he’d looked over the pictures, negotiated the price, and then asked her if he should pull the trigger. When she’d said yes, he’d made a cash offer, and seventeen days later they’d closed on the property. The owners were in Hawaii, the buyer in Prague, and the real estate agent in BookPeople, Austin’s biggest independent bookstore, where she was buying up every magazine she thought might interest Derek so that she could make the place even more homey.

  And, of course, she’d bought new sheets for the bed.

  Now he was due back in Austin and she couldn’t stop fussing. She’d paced the length and breadth of the condo at least nine times, checked on the congratulatory cake she had in the refrigerator, rearranged the flow
ers in the entry hall, and generally made herself crazy fussing and worrying.

  Mostly, she was looking forward to seeing him.

  Not to mention new sheets for the bed.

  Finally, she heard ding from the security system that signaled someone accessing the elevator to the penthouse. She hurried to open the champagne, poured two glasses, and then parked herself in front of the door. A few moments later, the front door beeped with the code she’d texted him. She hurried to the door, then greeted him with the drink.

  “This is fabulous,” he said, his eyes only on her.

  “You haven’t even looked around.”

  He bent and kissed her. “I’m not talking about the condo.”

  She felt her cheeks flush, more pleased by his words than she ought to be. To hide her reaction, she lifted her glass. “To new homes.”

  “To new beginnings,” he countered, his eyes never leaving hers as they took a sip.

  “Um, you should change the code on the door,” she said as she lead him toward the kitchen.

  “Why? Who knows it?”

  “Well, I do.”

  “Anyone else?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then it’s fine.”

  “It’s random,” she said. “You should pick numbers that you can remember.”

  “You mean something other than the day we met?”

  She froze. She’d done that on a whim, not thinking for a moment that he’d realize what the numbers represented, too. Casually, she tossed a smile over her shoulder. “Is it? What a coincidence.”

  “Uh-huh.” He reached for her hand, then tugged her to him, then picked her up and flung her over his shoulder while she squealed and pounded on his back.

  “Put me down!”

  “Not until you admit that date’s important. One for the history books. A real red letter day.”

  “Dammit, Derek.” She kicked, but he held on tight.

  “Nope? Okay, guess I’ll have to give myself the tour. I’m thinking I’ll start in the bedroom.”

  “Put. Me. Down.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” He bent over and dumped her onto the bed. Before she had a chance to recover, he was on top of her, caging her in with his hands and his legs. “Admit it.”

  She shook her head, fighting laughter.

  “I’ll get the truth out of you one way or another.”

  “What ways?”

  “I could tickle you.”

  She shook her head. “I’m a kicker. You might lose something important.”

  “Spank you?”

  She met his eyes, saw heat reflected back. “I take the Fifth.”

  He held her gaze a bit longer, the moment heavy with possibility. Then a slow smile crossed his face. “I’m thinking maybe this.”

  Slowly, so that she had time to anticipate the kiss, he lowered himself to her.

  They made love slowly, no wild rush of lust. No struggle to get free of clothes and shoes. This felt like a deeper passion. A burning need. A coming together.

  It was real and tender and a little terrifying.

  But Amanda wanted it. Had been longing for it all the time he was gone. To come together not out of wild lust, but out of the need to be together, as fully and completely as possible.

  The realization that she’d been craving that scared her, and she didn’t share it with him. But when he took her to the edge—when his body pushed hers over into the stars—she whispered one thing for him to keep with him.

  “I missed you,” she said, then let herself explode in his arms.

  Amanda didn’t remember falling asleep, but by the time she woke up, the sun was streaming in through the open curtains and Derek’s alarm was blaring.

  Derek, miraculously, was sleeping through it.

  “Hey,” she shook his shoulder. “Your alarm.”

  Nothing.

  “Don’t you have a plane to catch?”

  That did it, and he rolled over, the heel of his hand pressed to his forehead. “Sorry. Had a late night last night.” He aimed a wicked grin her direction. “Oh, wait. You look familiar…”

  She smacked him with her pillow. “Get dressed and I’ll drive you to the airport before I go to my parents.”

  “Right. Is there coffee?”

  She laughed, realizing this was the first morning they’d shared. Usually, she crept back to her place before dawn. Apparently, Derek was slow to come alive.

  “There will be,” she promised, then left him to finishing his crawl into the land of the living.

  A few minutes later, he came into the kitchen. “I like this.”

  “The kitchen?”

  “The way you look in the kitchen.”

  She raised a brow, but he just shrugged, not in the least chastised.

  “Why aren’t you dressed?” She let her eyes roam over him, noting that he looked just as appealing all rumpled in the morning as he did when he was tailored and polished for work.

  “My flight’s grounded,” he said. “Engine trouble. And all the commercial flights are booked. My assistant has me out on an early morning flight, so I’ll still get back to the ranch in time for Thanksgiving.” He shrugged. “That’s okay. I can enjoy my new condo.”

  “I’m sorry. Weren’t you going to see your sister today?” He’d mentioned a couple of times that he hadn’t seen Mellie in a few months, since she’d been working at the Winston Hotel in Australia.

  “I’ll see her tomorrow.”

  “Still…”

  She held her mug in two hands and regarded him thoughtfully. “It sucks to be alone. Why don’t you come to my parents’ house and have Thanksgiving with us?”

  “That’s tomorrow.”

  She shook her head. “Not in my family. Thursdays we always spend at a center for underprivileged kids with learning disabilities. We started volunteering a few years ago, and it’s become a tradition.”

  “So today’s your family’s Thanksgiving? I don’t want to intrude.”

  She waved away the words. “Oh, please. It’ll just be us, my mom and dad, and my brother. But we usually have a good time. Although I warn you that Nolan takes some getting used to.”

  A moment ticked by, then another, and still he didn’t say anything. All he did was look at her, as if memorizing her face.

  “Um, Derek? Look, if you don’t want to—”

  “I’d love it.” The words seem to burst out of him.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah,” he said, the sincerity in his voice unmistakable. “Really.”

  Derek hadn’t been nervous visiting a girl’s parents’ house since high school, but he couldn’t deny that he’d been nervous the entire time that they’d been in the car from downtown to Amanda’s family home. Those nerves had kicked up even higher during the walk to the door.

  And then, finally, he'd gone into jittery overdrive during that small span of time before he and Amanda finally stepped into the house and he met Huey and Martha Franklin, along with Amanda’s stepbrother, Nolan.

  From that moment on, he wasn’t nervous at all.

  Amanda had introduced him as a client—though Derek wasn’t entirely sure any of the three believed that. Notwithstanding, they didn’t press for details. Instead, they pampered him. Inviting him to sit and watch football with Huey and Nolan while Amanda and Martha set the table. And providing him with ample beer to take the edge off.

  “Beware my brother,” Amanda said before she disappeared into the kitchen. “Just because someone pays him to make an ass of himself on the radio, he thinks he’s funny.”

  “Nonsense,” Nolan said. “Mostly I think it’s funny that they pay. Ba-dum-ching.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Lame. If you’re going to riff when my friends are here, at least be clever.”

  He shot her the finger.

  “Nolan,” Huey said, in the kind of tone one used with a twelve year old.

  Nolan and Amanda caught each other’s eyes and snickered, while Derek watched Amanda, and realiz
ed he couldn’t wait for her to meet Mellie. Probably not the best thought to have considering her no-relationship policy. But she’d also coded his door with their pseudo-anniversary. And she’d invited him to her parents’ house for Thanksgiving.

  Maybe not conclusive proof that there was something growing between them, but pretty damn close.

  He’d slowly been sneaking up on it, but watching her now, he couldn’t deny that he wanted that. Not her, but that. The shared family. The realness. The closeness.

  He wanted a relationship and all that came with it.

  And even if she wasn’t admitting it out loud yet, he was certain Amanda wanted that too.

  “All right, you two,” Martha said, bustling into the living room and aiming her daughter toward the kitchen.

  “We’re all about gender roles here,” Amanda quipped. “Go. Be manly and watch football.”

  “She hates football, and she loves hanging with Mom in the kitchen,” Nolan told Derek. “She only pretends to be put out.”

  “I heard that,” Amanda called from the kitchen, and Nolan winked at Derek conspiratorially.

  At half-time, Nolan took him to see the dock which, considering it was about as average as a dock could be, Derek assumed this was so that Nolan could play the role of protective sibling. When Nolan told him flat-out that if Derek hurt his sister, he’d figure out a way to have him flayed on social media, Derek knew he’d been right.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said dryly.

  “Don’t hurt my sister, and it won’t. She’s been through more than enough hell with that prick Leo. She doesn’t need any more of that shit.”

  “I’d sooner cut off my own arm than hurt her,” Derek said, filing away the name Leo for future reference.

  “That can be arranged, you know,” Nolan said.

  Derek laughed. “You’re almost as funny in person as you are on the radio.”

  Nolan’s eyes widened. “You listen to my show?”

  “Whenever I can.”

  “Well, shit, man.” He clapped Derek on the back. “Forget everything I said. You’re practically one of the family.”

  Amanda’s voice carried from across the yard, interrupting them. “What are you guys up to?”