Bad Boys After Dark: Mick

by Melissa Foster

  “Four years.” His gaze turned solemn. “Thankfully, Jed’s still hanging on, though he needs round-the-clock care.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Four years is a long time. Do you have someone else running the store?”

  “From time to time. Her granddaughter, Aurelia, comes into town every four or five weeks and opens it for a few days, does whatever Flossie advises, then leaves again. I have no need for the downstairs, and I made a promise. I always try to keep my promises.”

  She rolled onto her side, mirroring his position. “You are a very good man, Mr. Bad. You made me a promise, too. You were supposed to critique me tonight. How did I do? Besides the whole falling-on-my-ass thing.”

  “That was one of my favorite parts.”

  She swatted him. “Come on, be serious. It was scary going into the bar and pretending to be someone else.”

  “Why? Isn’t that what you did at the bar crawl?”

  His face grew serious, his eyes tender, and everything around them seemed to still and quiet, as if the world were waiting for her answer. He reached over and took her hand, squeezing it gently, and she knew he really cared, even if he didn’t want to admit it. She held on to that thought gently, as if the wrong move might scare it away. She ached to tell him the truth. It was scary because I was seducing you, and as much as it was a game and this was only a weekend, I can’t escape the feeling that it’s so much more. I don’t want to escape it.

  But that confession would surely break the moment into a million unfixable pieces.

  “Yes, but it was easier with the wig and makeup. I think it must be easier for guys to put themselves out there like that than it is for women. For women, it’s strange. Or maybe that’s just me, which it probably is, because I know Ally was able to do it and never felt like I did tonight or the night of the bar crawl, which honestly wasn’t easier. It’s all scary. Acting like I wanted to be in control, when every ounce of my being really just wants to feel wanted and loved”—for who I am, not for who I can be for a few hours—“was scary.”

  Silence fell around them again, heavy, hot, and chilling at once, as if her confession consumed them. He watched her steadily, but behind the tenderness another emotion brewed. Guilt? Fear? Anger? She couldn’t be sure, but neither was good. Did he regret this weekend? Had she gotten too close?

  “You could have fooled me,” he said evenly. Not cold, not warm. He just put it out there. “You were cool and confident.”

  “Come on.” She tried to lighten the air with a feigned laugh. “You promised to critique me, so lay it on me. Give it to me straight.”

  He continued staring with that strange mix of emotions. Her belly fluttered and tightened in response.

  “You could act colder,” he said. “Maybe even bitchier. Like you don’t really care if you’re going to hook up with the guy or not.”

  “Hard to get. People want what they can’t have. I can see the benefit.” Was that what he was doing? Throwing off I-want-you and I-won’t-go-there vibes to make her want him even more? Or was that just her absurdly hopeful heart creating a mirage again?

  “And don’t laugh at stupid jokes.” He cracked a smile. “Let the asshole know he’s not funny.”

  “Why? Isn’t that the whole point? To build the guy up?” She lay back again and stared up at the stars. “There are way more rules than I thought.”

  He ran his finger lightly down the length of her arm. It was a tender, thoughtful, and seductive touch, and it surprised her given the intense look in his eyes. “And wear underwear, for Christ’s sake.”

  She turned and glared. “You loved knowing I wasn’t wearing underwear.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “I liked knowing it, because you were there to seduce me, but I hated knowing it when you were talking to Greer.”

  She turned her face to the sky, hoping he couldn’t see the smile she had no hopes of holding back. Knowing he was jealous made her giddy.

  “Seems like it worked, then. I’m definitely going to continue not wearing underwear when I’m in seduction mode. What else?” She didn’t have to look to know his face had grown tight. Tension sparked from his body, heating the air between them and bringing her even more satisfaction.

  “No hooker boots,” he said sharply.

  Definitely wearing hooker boots from now on. She heard him breathing harder and imagined his eyes narrow and angry. Maybe even to work. “What else?”

  “You could go easier on the makeup.”

  Smoky eyes. Check. “Really?” This was too much fun. He sounded like a shaken-up soda bottle, ready to pop!

  “Yes. Don’t try so damn hard.”

  She fed off of his attraction, drawing courage she didn’t know she possessed, and turned toward him. His expression was thunderous.

  “You shouldn’t do this.” It was a command as clear and dark as his jealous stare.

  “This, as in critique, or this as in, play any more games this weekend?” Swallowing the fear that leaped into her throat, she steeled herself for an answer that would surely tear her to shreds.

  “Don’t do it anymore, Amanda. It’s a mistake.” He spoke quietly, calmly, despite the tumultuous vibes he was emitting.

  She was still unsure if he meant the weekend or seducing men in general. Tormented by confusing emotions, she tried to catch her breath. He shifted beside her, and she closed her eyes, telling herself to take a step back. This was a game, this fucked-up weekend of theirs, and she couldn’t change the rules midstream no matter how badly she wanted to. She felt him move away. Cooler air washed along her body, driving the hurt deeper. She squeezed her eyes tighter to ward off the unwanted ache of losing what she never had and struggled to erect a wall of defense against her attraction to him. In the next breath he was coming down over her, his thighs pressed to hers, his big hands cradling her head. She was struck by his tormented gaze and confused by her desire to ease his torment and soothe her own, rendering thoughts and actions equally impossible.

  **

  THE KNOT IN Mick’s gut loosened as he came down over Amanda, easing the gnawing, burning anger and jealousy that had nearly overpowered him. He needed this. He needed her. But she didn’t go soft beneath him as she had before. She was rigid, her mouth pressed into a tight line, knotting his insides again. The long, deep looks they exchanged fed the fear and panic as completely as they fed his lust and affection. He could fix this, make her his, and calm the tsunami that swamped him. But stepping through that door, truly opening his heart to her, would inevitably end in something dark and torturous for them both.

  “Don’t do it anymore, Amanda.” The familiar command in his voice was weakened by the undercurrent of a spine-chilling, unfamiliar plea. He knew he needed to break their spellbinding connection, but he was incapable of walking away.

  Her eyes narrowed, holding him captive with renewed confidence. “Why?”

  “Because it’s dangerous. Didn’t you learn that tonight?”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  She touched his biceps, offering a hint of the affection he craved only from her.

  “You have no idea what you’re getting into.” He wasn’t sure if he was warning her away from him, from seducing other men—or if he was warning himself not to free the emotions clawing for release.

  Her fingers trailed up and down his arm, softening his resolve. “Tell me,” she coaxed. “Tell me what I’m getting into.”

  “Amanda.” The need in his voice sent a wave of apprehension through him. He’d never needed anyone. He was the person others needed. He was the one who sat in the hallway late at night, listening to his parents fight, standing guard in front of his brothers’ doors.

  “Clue me in, Mick. Give me the cold, hard facts.”

  He was the one Lorelei needed. You’ll never let anything happen to me, right, Mickey?

  “You know I can handle it,” she urged.

  He knew she could handle just about anything,
but not this. No one could handle the shit storm of guilt or the general fuckedupness he carried.

  “Just tell me you won’t seduce strangers,” he finally said. “Don’t let guys take from you.”

  Her brows knitted and her eyes warmed, tugging at his heartstrings, working those knots as effectively as the ones in his gut.

  “Give me a reason not to.” The challenge was clear, despite the sweetness of her tone.

  Tug, tug. There went another knot. Painless. Addicting. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. “You know I want you.”

  “I don’t care if you want to fuck me. I want you to want all of me.”

  I do want all of you. Every last ounce of you. He grazed his lips over hers, inhaling her sweet scent, filling himself with her essence. He brushed his thumb over the freckles behind her ear, knowing the effect it had on her.

  “Don’t think like that, baby. I can want you, but we’ll never be more than what we are right here, right now.”

  She closed her eyes, and he pressed his lips to hers again, deepening the kiss as she rose off the blanket beneath him. Christ, he loved kissing her. She made him feel so deeply, he almost believed he could pull this off. He could have forever with Amanda. They could beat the overwhelming odds and dodge the shit storms of life. Their hips ground together in a frantic beat of want and need, and somewhere deep inside him, just out of reach, he felt a thread of hope.

  She tightened her grip on his arms—and abruptly pulled away. “You’re taking!” She pushed at his chest. “Get up. Please.”

  “Amanda—”

  “No. I can’t. Get up, Mick. Now.” Fury and hurt filled her voice, blazed in her features.

  He pushed to his feet and paced. “What the fuck, Amanda? What do you want from me?”

  “Nothing.” She looked out at the water, her arms folded over her middle. Her shoulders rose and fell to the cadence of her harsh emotions. When she turned around, looking lost and hurt, it stole his breath. “Everything, Mick. I want what I can’t have, and I knew that before we came here.”

  “I can’t be who you want me to be, and I’ve been nothing but honest about that.”

  “No shit. You think I’m not beating myself up over this? Wanting a man who’ll never want me the same way?”

  He closed the distance between them, angry with himself for getting into this position, for loving a woman he had no business—loving. Holy hell. I love you. He stopped in his tracks as the words swam in his head.

  “Just tell me one thing.” She blinked several times against damp eyes. “Why, Mick? Why can’t you be in a relationship? I’ll quit the firm, if you’re worried about—”

  “It’s not work. There’s nothing in the operating agreement about that.”

  “So it’s me.” She swallowed hard, drawing her shoulders back as she inhaled a deep breath, the way she did before entering a room to speak with a witness. She was erecting her walls. Gathering courage. The courage to accept her assumption. To accept a lie.

  Not on my watch.

  “It’s not you, Amanda. It’s never been you. It’s me. I’m fucked up beyond repair. It’s who I am. Who I’ll always be.”

  She closed the remaining distance between them and slid her finger into the waist of his slacks, looking up with wide, sharp eyes. “Why? You were there for everyone when you were just a kid yourself.” Her voice escalated angrily. “You protected everyone and stood up to your father, which takes bigger balls than anything else in my book. You’re stronger than any other man I’ve ever met in every way, but relationships scare the hell out of you?” She paused, shaking her head and looking at him like he was a goddamn puzzle. “It makes no sense, Counselor. I obviously don’t have all the facts.”

  He turned away, pacing again and scrubbing his hand down his face, grasping for control.

  “What is it? Just tell me already!”

  Stretched to his limit, frustrated with himself, his past, his father, this fucking world, he spun around and stalked toward her. “What do you want to hear, Amanda? That I spent years being the protective older brother? That I did it so fucking well, before my baby sister went to bed every night, I pinky swore to always protect her? Or maybe that’s not enough for you. You need it all, right? All the gritty details? Because you’re so damn good at your job, you carry it over to your personal life? Because it’s not enough to trust me when I tell you that I can’t do this? You want my dirty fucking secret?”

  He stood so close, her heartbeat pulsed in the air between them. Tears slid down her cheeks, each one slicing him open anew. Despite the hurt, despite the accusations and misdirected guilt she didn’t deserve, he couldn’t stop from releasing the ghost that possessed his soul.

  “When my baby sister lay in a goddamn hospital bed, frail, barely breathing, her body riddled with rashes and blisters from the poison they’d pumped through her to try to kill a villain too strong to slay.” His body shook and sweat dripped from his forehead as he relived the nightmare that had long ago claimed every crevice of his being. “When she looked into my eyes and said, ‘You’ll never let anything happen to me, right, Mickey?’ in a whisper so faint I had to strain to hear it”—he turned his face down to his trembling hands, remembering the feel of her skin, the trust she’d bestowed upon him—“I took her cheeks in my hands and I lied. I lied so fucking well, she smiled and closed her eyes. I thought she’d gone to sleep, and I begged. I fucking pleaded with God. Take me. Just take me. But God, like everything else in this fucked-up world, isn’t real. He’s a fantasy, a farce, just like the movie love you’re searching for. He stole that sweet little girl, and she went believing in me. Believing a lie I had no right to tell.”

  Amanda reached up and brushed her fingers over his cheeks, wiping tears he didn’t know had fallen. Christ. He’d totally lost his mind.

  “You were protecting her. You wanted her to feel safe.”

  She stepped closer and he stepped back, holding up his palm to ward her off.

  “Don’t, baby. Don’t make this mistake, because I’m just fucked up enough to let you.”

  She stepped closer again. “What mistake is that? Letting you know I care? Or believing you’ve carried guilt for something your teenage mind made into something it wasn’t?”

  He shook his head. “Don’t you think I know that, Amanda? I’m not a child, and you know I’m not a stupid man. I get that the guilt that strangles me is warped and childish and twisted from the despair of losing my sister.”

  “Then what mistake are you referencing?”

  “This fantasy you have of relationships and happily ever afters. I’m not some knight in shining armor. I’ve never been that guy, and I will never be that guy.”

  “Because of the guilt,” she said flatly.

  “Because I’m a realist, and that fantasy doesn’t exist. Why do you think I became an attorney? Because I can expose the facts and weed out the bullshit, and every day I get to prove the value of the truth. Forever is a fantasy. Look at Bridgette and Louie. She loved so hard she gave up everything for her husband. She ran away against her family’s wishes and bam! One car accident later, she’s a single mother wondering how she’ll make it from day to day with a hole in her heart that will never repair itself. Thank God she has a loving family who was there for her despite her disregard for their wishes.”

  She crossed shaking arms over her chest, challenging him anew. “Do you really think she would have been better off without having loved him? Without knowing what it feels like to be loved so deeply you want to throw the rest of your life away just to experience it? Do you think she’d have been better off without Louie?”

  He paced again, and she grabbed his arm, holding him still and drawing anger she didn’t deserve. “How the hell should I know? Would my parents have been better off if they’d never married? Hadn’t lost a daughter? Hadn’t lost each other?”

  “So, what, then? You’re scared because nothing lasts forever?”

  “I’m not scared o
f anything. Don’t you get that? I wish I were. How easy would it be to rush into a relationship for comfort or solace or courage or whatever other bandages can assuage fear? It’s way bigger than scared, baby, and not nearly as simple.”

  “I just don’t understand.” Her shoulders slumped. “If you’re not scared and it’s not me, what’s left?”

  His heart unraveled at the defeat in her voice. Gathering her against him, he tipped her chin up and felt himself falling faster, harder, and most surprising of all, falling heart first, into her. “You make me feel like the fantasy is possible.”

  “Then why fight it?”

  “I’ve been asking myself that since I realized it was you at the bar. Why fight it? I’ve been attracted to you for so long, it’s like you’re part of me. Listening to your stories about boring dates, tortured by your intellectual prowess—which, by the way, is a million times more seductive than any clothes or tactics you can buy or learn.”

  She smiled, and it made him ache even more. “I’m going to revisit that answer when I’m not so confused and angry and hurt, so don’t think you can lay all those amazing things out there without me picking them apart, Mr. Bad. But I can’t revel in the words I’ve waited years to hear when the look in your eyes tells me that even if you feel those things, you’re not willing to stand behind them. So for now, please tell me why you’re fighting it.”

  She clung to him, and for a long moment he let her question hang between them, because when he answered, she would never touch him again.

  He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the freckles that had initially led them to this moment. Then he slid his hand to the nape of her neck and lifted her hair, revealing the other marks he’d come to love, and he kissed her there, watching as she closed her eyes and the shiver he’d caused moved through her body.

  “Open your eyes, baby.” She lifted heavy lids, meeting his gaze. “We weren’t supposed to end up here, but now that we are, I have to do the right thing because I care about you. You should be with a man who believes the fantasy. Not someone like me, who knows real life is waiting after the honeymoon period. And real life is a bitch, with bad shit coming from all sides when you least expect it.”