“Listen, I’m actually not at home. I’m at my sister’s.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Now she was completely embarrassed. His whole family would know he had a stalker!
“What I meant was, I’m pretty close to you. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
He was on his way over? Her pulse quickened. “You sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure. And, Ramona?”
“Yes?”
“Look for me, would you?”
He hung up before she could ask him what, exactly, he meant, though she knew. It was time to grow up. Time to move on, for better or worse.
Glancing in the mirror, she gasped. She was still wearing her black cocktail dress. She looked severe and boring. So not what she wanted to greet him wearing. And now she had less than twenty minutes to put on something pretty. In a flash she ran to her closet. After a moment’s doubt she pulled out a pair of ivory knit pants and a matching zip-up. It was casual but formfitting. Definitely not staid.
A quick glance in the mirror led her to pull off her chunky gold earrings, unpin her hair and dab on some sheer pink lip gloss.
Next she trotted to the kitchen and pulled out two wineglasses. Wondering if she should make a cheese and cracker tray, she opened the refrigerator and stared inside…then called herself a fool.
What she needed to do was relax and be herself.
She just hoped she’d remember who that was before Tyler pulled up in her drive.
“I DON’T THINK YOU SHOULD go over there,” Cindy warned, pure steel in her voice. “This is nothing but a booty call.”
Tyler almost dropped the shirt he’d loosely been holding while tossing an extra shirt, socks, boxers and a few condoms into the gym bag lying open on his bathroom counter. Once again, he’d elected to stay at Cindy’s house for the weekend instead of his empty apartment. “I swear, every time I think you can’t surprise me, you do. Where’d you learn that term? You’re married. With children!”
“I read Cosmo. I watch TV.”
“I think guys are the ones who make the booty calls, Cindy.”
“Not in this day and age. You should have seen some of the cougars on Lipstick Jungle—those women would have their claws in you in no time flat.”
It really was kind of cute that his sister was so protective. Especially when she conveniently forgot that they were the same age.
Especially since at the moment he would be perfectly fine with a “booty call.” He’d wanted Ramona Greer from the first moment he’d seen her. “I better get going. I told her I’d be there in twenty minutes.”
“Jeez! She can’t even wait? Her behavior is bordering on embarrassing. Just because you’re handsome doesn’t mean you’re easy.”
“Bye, Cindy.”
Pointing to his gym bag, she glared. “I think it’s a mistake to take all those clothes over there.”
“I’m going to leave my bag in the car. I just want to be ready in case something does happen.”
“Humph.” Crossing her arms, she murmured, “What about breakfast? Megan was planning on it.”
“I’ll call you early and let you know. But I wouldn’t count on me coming back here tonight, Cin.”
“Because you’re going to sleep with her.”
Though four packs of condoms were staring right back at him, he shook his head. “I don’t know what we’re doing. I don’t think sex is what she has in mind,” he added. “I think she just wants to talk.”
“But if she does only want one thing, don’t you think that’s a little creepy?”
On impulse, he threw in a pair of swim trunks, too. Who knew what they’d be doing? “Cindy, do you really want me to get involved in your life? You know, start giving you warnings about Keith? How if you’re not careful he could break your heart?”
“That’s pretty much an impossibility. Besides, it’s a little too late for a bunch of warnings,” she said dryly.
“It’s too late for me, too. I know what I’m doing.”
“I just don’t want her to break your heart.”
“Kiss those girls for me.” After kissing her forehead, he walked out her front door and tossed his bag into the passenger side of the Corvette. Just as he opened the driver’s door, he was amused to see Cindy still standing in her doorway, looking glum. “Wish me luck.”
She waved a hand. “You won’t need luck. Not tonight, anyway. Be careful driving.”
“Thanks, sis. Bye.”
Ten minutes later he announced his name to the guard at the gated community, then parked in Remy’s driveway.
Don’t mess this up, he cautioned himself. Don’t push too hard. Let Remy set the tone.
With a bit of trepidation, he got out of the car. Clicked the lock. Then the front door opened.
And while Remy definitely wasn’t running toward him like a reunion in an old movie, she did walk down the front steps to meet him. “You came.”
“I did.” As he followed her inside, he noticed quite a few things about her.
She was smiling, her eyes pretty. A cloud of something expensive floated around her. So different from the girls who seemed to all wear one of the many trendy fragrances that smelled like soap.
No, she smelled delicate and feminine and gorgeous. Almost as pretty as she looked. Without looking behind him, he nudged the door shut.
The white marble floor matched the silky white outfit she was wearing. The top was zippered and trimmed in satin. The pants were flowy and had an elastic waist.
Her feet, previously seen only in high heels or sporty deck shoes…were bare.
Her toenails had little white lines at the end of each one.
She looked like a dream. Like his own personal, middle-of-the-night, don’t-wake-him-until-he-embarrassed-himself dream.
“I chilled some wineglasses. Or I have club soda? Or a beer…”
“Anything’s good.” Anything that was wet, because his mouth had just gone dry. Just as she turned away, he’d caught sight of her firm little rear all covered in formfitting ivory fabric.
Peering into the fridge, she bent a bit. “I have water and juice, too.”
“I don’t care.”
She turned to face him, her lips slightly parted.
That was when Tyler gave up all pretense of wanting to listen. Of pretending to only want to talk. “Hold…” he whispered. At the moment, he felt incapable of saying more than one word at a time.
“What?”
“This.” After taking a step forward, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. Softly nibbling. Softly gliding his tongue against her parted lips. Coaxing them open. Tasting her.
She moaned. He responded by deepening the kiss. By holding her closer. Every sense ignited. He felt the tension in her shoulders, the soft curve of her rear. He felt her breasts flatten against his chest, and tasted mint and the faint crispness of cold wine.
She was intoxicating.
He nudged her feet apart and stepped closer. Cupped that rear. Glided his hands along her hips, enjoying how amazing her body felt encased in the clingy knit outfit.
She broke away slowly. Confusion swam in her eyes as she searched his face. “Tyler, I don’t know what you thought. I didn’t call you up for this.”
“I know.”
“But it’s why you came over?” Hurt and confusion and embarrassment clouded those eyes. He knew the feelings. Shoot, he’d been fighting some of the same things himself.
“No. I wanted to see you. That’s why I came over.” Daring to smile, he leaned forward and nipped at the underside of her jaw. “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want this, too. I’ve been dying to kiss you again. To touch you.”
“Touch,” she repeated, her voice all soft and husky. Then, with a shake of her head, she dropped her hands from his waist. Stepped back. “Listen. I still think we should talk. I mean, there’s a lot we’ve got to talk about.”
There was a reason he’d been so good in sales. He knew when to push…and when to
back off. Immediately dropping his hands, he complied with her request. “I’ll follow you, Remy. Lead the way.”
With another doubtful smile, she walked across the kitchen, but there was a new sultriness in her walk. Her hips looked more fluid, her stride a bit more sexy.
Making him wonder if maybe she wasn’t as unaffected by his kisses as she was trying to pretend to be. Though, to be honest, she really hadn’t pretended to be unaffected at all, had she?
No, it was more as if she didn’t trust her own emotions. Her own responses to him. That was interesting.
As for him, it was time he kept his mouth shut. Otherwise he was going to kiss her again. Or tell her she looked beautiful. Or say something stupid—like what, exactly, did she have on under that sweet little white outfit?
Chapter Thirteen
Oh, for heaven’s sake. He thought she’d called him up to make love! To hook up—or whatever twentysomethings called it now.
But she hadn’t called for that reason…had she? A dull, sick thought pooled in her stomach. Had she secretly been hoping that they’d end up in her bed? That by merely giving in to all the sexual chemistry between them, all their differences would magically disappear and not matter anymore?
Surely she was more together than that.
Still standing across from him, still reeling from the way her whole body had responded to his kisses, she attempted to cool things off.
Well, cool herself off. Motioning to the two wineglasses she’d set out, she murmured, “I don’t think we ever settled the drink question. Do you like wine?”
His dimple appeared. “I like it just fine. Pour us some, Remy.”
She glanced at him, trying to gauge his expression. “I’ve never met a man as easy to please as you.”
“It depends on who’s pleasing me.”
Her hand shook as she poured wine. The golden liquid sloshed against the inside of the crystal before settling. “I don’t know what to make of you when you speak like that.”
Tyler took one of the glasses from the counter before she could offer, then led the way to her living room.
She followed him across the white marble floor, again feeling out of sorts in his company. He did that to her. He let her take the lead, all the while never letting her forget that he was completely in charge of the situation.
It was a talent, that’s what it was. A talent and a distraction, all at the same time.
Again she questioned herself. Why had she called him? No matter what happened, it always seemed as if he turned the tables and took charge. She couldn’t recall things ever being that way with Mark. No, with Mark, things were more even.
How funny that she felt so vulnerable when she was the one who had so much going for her.
Perching on the edge of the cream couch, she went on the offensive. “So I was thinking that when things settle down, maybe we could see each other again.”
“When do you want to do that?” In direct contrast to her tense perch on the couch, Tyler was leaning back, one ankle propped on the opposite knee. Looking as if he hung out there all the time. “When I’ve recovered from the loss of my job?”
“Put like that, I know it sounds pretty harsh.”
To her surprise, he simply smiled. “I had my own reasons for taking that job, Ramona. Career advancement wasn’t one of them.”
“Care to tell me what your reasons were?”
“No.” In one smooth movement he set down his glass and scooted closer to her. Close enough for her to smell his cologne. To realize that he’d shaved.
He watched her watch him with a bit of amusement. “Tell me about you and Mark.”
That was completely unexpected. Placing her glass next to his, she murmured, “What do you want to know?”
“Whatever you want to tell me. Did you two have a good marriage?”
“Yes.” She didn’t know what else to say. Things with Mark had been good. She’d been happy with him, and knew that they would have had a great marriage for decades.
He waited a beat. “What did you do for fun?”
Fun? That took a moment to think about. They hadn’t had much fun at all when he was sick. “Um. Well. We planned things,” she said slowly. “We made plans. Mark loved to design and arrange.”
“And you did, too?”
Did she? She couldn’t really recall. “I liked being with him.” She sidestepped his question. “His plans made me smile.” Remembering a few incidents that she’d long ago pushed to the back of her mind, she chuckled. “And laugh. Oh, Tyler, you should have seen him with this house. Some people get so stressed building a house. Not Mark. He was in his element. Every day he’d run over here after work and putter around, looking and observing and asking a hundred questions.”
“You did all that, too?”
“No.” With some surprise, she said, “Actually, I hardly made any decisions about this place.”
“Why not?”
She waved a hand around the room, with the built-in bookshelves and the amazing picture windows and the curious electronic gadgets she still managed to mess up. “I didn’t care about it like Mark did. Truthfully, I didn’t really need all this space. All these luxuries. I never asked for it. I just wanted a home.”
Something flickered in his eyes, a new understanding. “I had a really nice home in Houston. I bought the place with my first really big bonus check. It was in a nice part of town. In Memorial. Pine trees covered the grounds. It was seven thousand square feet, had a four-car garage and a built-in sauna.”
“It must have been really something.”
“It was. I sold it to the first bidder and never looked back.”
“Now where do you live?”
Looking amused, he said, “In a two-bedroom condo in Bishop’s Gate. It’s eight years old. Looks older. One of the bedrooms is painted a horrible shade of green. I haven’t gotten around to painting it something better.”
Bishop’s Gate was a nice resort community, but definitely not known for being especially prestigious or fancy. “That’s a nice area. It’s pretty. Close to the beach.”
“It is.” He shrugged. “It’s a place to be.” Leaning to his side, he brushed his shoulder with hers. Right before he tilted his chin down next to her ear. “Remy, I don’t want to compete with your husband. With Mark.”
His words gave her chills. Or maybe it was the way his warm breath tickled her neck. “You don’t.”
“You sure?” He almost smiled. “Sometimes I feel like he’s in the room with us, and I know I’ll never completely have your attention.” Reaching out, he gently fingered the tiny silver zipper pull on her top. Just played with it, not tugging at all.
But still her body responded. Her mouth went dry. Her nipples hardened. She hoped he didn’t notice.
“Remy,” he murmured, “I’m not trying to be the man Mark was. To be the man you’ve saved in your memory.”
“My memory? Mark—he was a great guy.”
“Will anyone ever compare?”
“I don’t need anyone to compare. I’m not trying to fall in love. I just want someone to do things with every now and then.” But oh, she was lying! Right now, right that moment, she could feel herself falling in love with Tyler. Who wouldn’t?
He still gazed at her zipper pull. “I’ve never had a relationship like your marriage. I’ve never even been close. The women I’ve gone out with, they’ve been great—” abruptly he sat back “—but they weren’t the type to talk marriage with. So if I don’t always look like I understand what you’re talking about—when you’re remembering everything about marriage—it’s because I don’t have those experiences.”
“But you still want to go out with me? Even though I fired you?”
“I’m glad you fired me. No offense, but I hated being confined to that cubicle.”
Remy found herself smiling at that. He really had been a poor fit at Carnegie. However, there were other big differences between them. “I’m forty-two.”
�
��I know. I’m thirty-four.”
“That’s a pretty big age difference.”
“For some people it would be insurmountable. But…not for me.” After gazing at her a moment longer, Tyler stood up and walked his glass back to the kitchen.
Remy noticed that it was still half-full. Feeling slightly silly, she stood up and followed him. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s perfect.” Reaching out, he clasped her hand and pulled. When they were side by side again, he spoke. “Are you free Monday night? I’d like to take you to dinner.”
“I’m free.”
“I’m glad. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Do you want to come back and sit down? We could talk some more.”
Looking at their linked hands, he shook his head. “To be honest with you, if we go back to that couch, I’m not going to want to talk.”
“We could do more than that,” she ventured. Yes, she was old. Too old to just sit on the couch and make out. But couldn’t they at least neck a little bit?
“Remy, what I want to do needs more than a couch. Let’s call it a night.” Dropping her hand, he walked to her front door. “I’ll see you Monday night at seven.”
“I’ll be ready.”
Very slowly he smiled, flashing his perfect white teeth. “I’ll be ready, too.”
He turned and left before she could fumble around and say another word. The front door opened and shut. Minutes later she heard his car’s powerful engine ignite, then roar away.
Then all that remained was his scent, a half-full glass of wine and the tingling sensation that always pooled in her stomach when she thought of him.
And thought of the way he made her feel.
“SO YOU DIDN’T TAKE HER to bed.”
“I’m not going to answer that.” Tyler held the fifty-pound bar easily as Keith wiped an already sweaty towel across his brow. Keith had called Sunday morning at seven…supposedly to invite him to work out with him at his fancy gym.
Tyler knew better. He’d called him up on a reconnaissance mission for his wife. Most likely he’d been given strict orders not to come home without plenty of details to share.
Second Chance Hero Page 9
