As Good as New

by Jennifer Dawson

  She took a bite and her eyes practically rolled back into her head. Nothing she ever made tasted this good. The potatoes were creamy, buttery, and absolutely decadent. She took another forkful and moaned. “Wow, this is fantastic.”

  Gracie, whose main purpose in life seemed to be a desire to feed people, said, “Thank you. I can’t take credit for the recipe though. I convinced the chef over at Fusion 180 to give me the recipe.”

  Sophie had taken her to that restaurant when it first opened, but they hadn’t had a chance to sample the menu staple because the chef, a dark-haired, good-looking guy in his early thirties, had created a special meal to impress Soph.

  Obviously, Penelope had missed something incredible.

  James scoffed, picking up his own fork. “You flirted with him and when he was tripping all over himself, went in for the kill.”

  Gracie waved a hand over his plate. “Where’s your gratitude? You’re eating the best damn mashed potatoes in all of Chicago in the privacy of your own home. And later tonight you’ll do all sorts of devious things to me before you fall asleep with me naked and wrapped around you.”

  Penelope would not think about sex.

  James scrubbed a hand over his jaw as though contemplating, before he nodded. “Good point.”

  Penelope looked down at her plate. They were not a good couple to be around. She could feel Evan’s gaze, heavy on her, and she willed her cheeks not to flush.

  Evan had done a thousand devious things to her, but she’d never slept naked with him, his arms wrapped around her. No, he’d saved that for his real girlfriends. Not her. And the one time it had happened, she’d woken to him already putting his clothes on, his expression cold and remote.

  All she needed to do was remember that, and she could go on treating him like she always had.

  From across the table he pulled at her. Unbidden, her gaze met his, and something flared to life.

  She jerked away to stare back at her food.

  This was the last time she’d put herself in this situation. After tonight, she’d work on forgetting. She’d forgotten once, she could forget again.

  She just needed to make it through this night untouched.

  Because, if he touched her, she was finished.

  * * *

  Evan shut the car door, enclosing him inside his sports car with Penelope. Her scent seemed to fill the small space, intoxicating him with her sweetness and hint of wild.

  To say dinner had been a tense affair was an understatement.

  Oh, he doubted Gracie and James noticed; to them nothing appeared out of place. He and Penelope treated each other like they always did—he was the overgrown frat boy and she was his kid sister’s annoying friend.

  They were roles they’d been playing for years, and they were experts at it. Only now there were a million unspoken things between them. Nothing that could be discussed or hinted at in front of his brother and his girlfriend, but they still filled the air. They’d tried not to look at each other, not to linger, but it was like every time their eyes caught and held, a whole conversation passed between them.

  Anger and lust. The past and the present. All the things they’d done mixed with the things they’d never dared to say.

  It was quite a cocktail of emotion, and he was on edge, coiled tight, like he used to get before a big game. Only he no longer had football to release all his pent-up energy.

  And he was alone with Penelope.

  She stared straight ahead, her face lit by the glow of the streetlights. She licked her bottom lip in that nervous way she had, and clutched her purse.

  “I’m not going to attack you,” he said, and then cringed at the gruffness in his voice. He’d meant to sound teasing, light, to put her at ease, but it came out nothing like that.

  She frowned. “Of course not.”

  A tense awkwardness filled the air.

  She pointed to the street. “Aren’t you going to drive?”

  He sighed and shifted into first, pulling out onto the road.

  They drove in complete silence. With every block that passed, her fingers gripped her purse tighter and tighter until he thought she might rip the fabric.

  Needing to break the tension, he cleared his throat. “Congratulations on your promotion. Shane told me he’d finally done right by you.”

  “Thank you,” she said curtly, never taking her eyes off the road.

  Suddenly it seemed ridiculous that he knew virtually nothing about her current life. “What is your job again?”

  A beat of silence. “Chief operating officer.”

  This was painful.

  To think, he had a reputation for being able to talk any woman out of her pants. It was almost laughable. He pulled up to a stoplight. “What’s that?”

  Another squeeze of her fingers on her bag. “I’m in charge of all the company’s operations.”

  “So, after Shane, you’re next in charge?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “You deserve it.”

  She didn’t respond.

  He was about to try again, when a car full of teenage boys pulled up next to them. One pointed at the car and the next thing Evan knew, they all seemed to be hanging out their car windows, pounding on the doors and yelling, “Cool car, man!”

  It broke some of the tension and Penelope whipped around, glaring at him. “Don’t you get enough attention?”

  Maybe it was a bit over the top, but so what? He wasn’t going to apologize. “I know it’s not as practical as the Prius you probably drive.”

  She pressed her lips together, and he wondered if she was repressing a smile, finding it bothered him that he no longer knew her facial expressions and cues like the back of his hand.

  She scowled at him. “I don’t drive a Prius, and even if I did, it’s better than this batmobile.”

  His surprised laughter was like a bark. The light turned green, and instead of acting like a mature adult, he put the car in gear, gunned the engine, and shot off the line, giving the boys a show as they hooted and hollered.

  Penelope glared at him and hissed, “Evan! Stop that!”

  Something that had been sitting heavy on his chest since he’d taken that hit, eased. Not a lot, but a little. He laughed, and broke another one of their unspoken cardinal rules. “I miss the way you say my name, even when you’re reprimanding me.”

  She shifted her attention to look out the window. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  It was better left unsaid, he knew that, but he just couldn’t make himself fall in line anymore. A wall between them had been torn down that night she’d come to him, and now he didn’t want to resurrect it. “You want me to pretend there’s nothing between us, is that it?”

  “There is nothing between us.” She shifted in the seat before sighing. “I want it to go back to the way it was before.”

  “I know you do.” He should want the same thing. Only he no longer bought his reasons.

  They drove in silence for a good five minutes before she said, “I didn’t go there that night to rehash the past. I shouldn’t have let you touch me.”

  “But you did let me.” His fingers tightened reflexively on the steering wheel. “The floodgates are open and I don’t think I can shut the door.”

  “Stop it,” she said, her tone agitated. “Just stop. I don’t want to talk about this.”

  They were getting close to her house, and he fully expected her to jump out of the car before he even came to a full stop, so he had to speak fast. He didn’t know what was driving him; hell, he’d ignored his emotions so long he could no longer make heads or tails of them, but he knew he had to tell her at least part of the truth. “I lied that night when I said you were good for an ego stroke. And just because I’ve been a complete bastard to you the last fifteen years doesn’t mean you didn’t matter to me.”

  She pressed her fingers to her temples. “It’s your actions that define you, not your words.”

  She was right, but he didn’t k
now how to explain that in his mind he’d been doing the right thing by her. He’d been saving her. He blew out a hard breath. If she wanted actions, that’s what he’d give her. “Fine, then you should know, Friday, at the club, I didn’t go home with Rafaela. I slept alone.”

  * * *

  She didn’t want it to matter. It did.

  The surge of happiness that came from hearing he hadn’t touched the model was infuriating. She wanted to maintain some cool facade, but she couldn’t seem to get it to fall into place, so she settled on anger. Through gritted teeth, she said, “I don’t care about this, Evan.”

  He pulled to a stop and turned his head to look at her. The dark night casting him in shadows, making him look dangerous. “You’re a liar.”

  She was. More than he could ever possibly know, but she soldiered on, toeing the party line. “Who you sleep with is not, nor will it ever be, my concern.”

  “That’s true in theory, but not so much in practice, is it?” His voice sounded dark and rough.

  Her fingers dug so tight into her bag, they hurt. She looked directly into his dark green eyes, and lied. “That may have been true at one point, but what happened between us was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter now.”

  “Then why do you still tremble when I touch you?”

  She didn’t have a good reason for that, now did she? She searched her mind for a cold, plausible explanation and couldn’t come up with one. In the end, she didn’t have to. The light changed and he turned his attention away from her and onto the road.

  Three minutes later he pulled in front of her house and before he even rolled to a stop, she had her hand on the handle. The second the car jerked to a halt, she went to open the door, only he gripped her wrist.

  His touch was like an electric shock to her system. She managed to repress the gasp before jerking around to glare at him. “What?”

  His hold tightened, and a muscle in his jaw clenched. “She asked about you.”

  The statement confused her and she relaxed fractionally back into her seat. “What are you talking about?”

  Green eyes narrowed on her. “Rafaela, when I refused her, she asked if you were the reason. I said yes.”

  It stunned Penelope as nothing else could have. He’d admitted whatever-they-were to someone. They’d always been a secret. Always.

  Evan’s thumb brushed over her pounding pulse. “She guessed. In that thirty-second conversation, where we didn’t even address each other, she knew. She’s not even the first one.”

  Penelope licked her dry lips, and Evan’s gaze tracked the movement.

  “Kim Rossi,” he said, bringing up his high school girlfriend. “She used to accuse me of sleeping with you, every other day.”

  She couldn’t hide the shock. Back then she believed his girlfriend didn’t know she existed. “She did not.”

  Evan leaned closer, and unable to help herself she twisted back to him.

  “She did.” With one hand still locked around her wrist, he slid his free hand around her neck and through her hair. “I guess technically I didn’t lie, but she sure as hell knew something was going on. And you and I both know, what we were doing was more than fucking. That what we did in that basement made sex irrelevant.”

  She shuddered. The memories pounded through her, heating her blood, disorienting her and making her stupid. “It’s in the past. It’s over.”

  His gaze dipped to her lips. “No, it’s not. If it was, things would be easy between us, instead of hard.”

  “It’s just . . .” She searched and couldn’t come up with any other reason but the truth.

  “It’s just that it’s never really ended. You’re still the woman I think about.” His fingers shifted through her hair, and his voice dipped. “Tell me I’m not the one you think about when you come.”

  “You’re not,” she whispered, the words sounding every bit the lie they were.

  “Liar.”

  They were so close now, she could feel the heat of his body, their breaths coming too fast.

  “Do you think about all the things I whispered in your ear? Did to you?”

  “Evan.” His name on her lips came out like a plea when she’d meant for him to stop.

  “Yes, just like that.” His head dipped lower, closer. “That’s how my name sounded before you’d start begging.”

  She whimpered, just like she’d done way back when.

  He twisted his hand around her hair, tilting her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “This is what you need to understand, Pen, what you never did get. All that power I had over you, that’s exactly the power you had over me.”

  She shook her head, refusing to believe. “No.”

  “Yes. No other woman. Not back then, not now.”

  He released her and she had to resist the urge to chase him. To beg like she used to. But she forced herself to sit back against the door, as far away from him as possible.

  “You should go,” he said, his voice filled with something she couldn’t decipher.

  It felt like rejection, despite his words. Because that’s the thing with Evan. His words never matched his actions.

  At least not where she was concerned.

  She moved to scurry from the car, but stopped and looked back at him. She refused to end—yet again—with him getting the last word and sending her on her way. It was time to put an end to this madness between them. Time to get back to the way things had been before. She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know what your game is, but stay away from me.”

  In the darkened car, he stared right back at her, his expression filled with hardness. “No.”

  “I mean it. No more getting me alone, no more touching me, no more anything.” She waved her hand in the space between them. “Whatever is going on here stops now.”

  “No matter how many times you tell yourself that, Pen, I’ll never believe you, and neither will you.”

  She wanted to scream, to deny, but what was the point? She’d already provided him with all the evidence he needed, so it was best to go on the offensive. As calmly as she could muster, she said, “Just because you can make my body respond, doesn’t mean I like you. I don’t like you, Evan. I haven’t liked you for a very long time, and I don’t see that ever changing.”

  He looked at her for several uncomfortable moments, the car thick with tension and anger, and everything else that swirled between them like the most dangerous of brewing storms.

  Finally, he nodded. “I know that, which is why you’re going inside untouched, instead of with your skirt around your waist, impaled on my cock.”

  Heat flooded her system, threatening to overtake her. “You just think it’s that easy, don’t you?”

  “It is that easy. We’ve got years of sexual tension and frustration between us. One touch, and it’s over. But it doesn’t help my end game.”

  “I’m not a game to be played and won.” They were spiraling precariously out of control. She would not give in, because the sex, the past, it didn’t matter. Their differences mattered, and that’s what she needed to focus on. She wasn’t a model. She wasn’t reckless and wild. She wanted to stay home on Friday nights and he wanted to go party. She wanted family and stability. He wanted none of those things. It was time to put an end to this, to get them back on the right track. Calmly, quietly, she said, “Our end came and went a long time ago.”

  “You have no idea how badly I want to prove you wrong.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “But here’s the difference between you and me: I know I’m weak where you’re concerned. I know we won’t be able to stop. Just like I know if I take you now it will only end in disaster.”

  She turned her head to look out the window. “Things need to go back to the way they were, Evan.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible.”

  She shook her head. “You still think you have control over everything, but you don’t.”

  He laughed, and the sound was hard and brittle. “You don’t have a fucking clue
what you’re talking about. I don’t have control over anything. Not my career, my life, and I sure as hell don’t have control over you.”

  She wanted to argue with him, but that would take all night and she had no intention of rehashing the past. Of ripping open old wounds just so she could prove him wrong. “It’s time to say good-bye.”

  Several beats of silence. “Sleep well.”

  Fat chance. “You too.”

  Then she got out of the car and walked away.

  Chapter Eight

  “Oh my God, Gracie, this place is gorgeous.” Penelope stood in the large bakery in stunned awe. “I can’t believe what you’ve done.”

  Gracie wiped her hands on a towel and grinned. “Me either. It’s better than I could ever have dreamed. I can’t believe we open in a couple of months.”

  Penelope had actually found the location for Gracie, but she couldn’t get over the transformation. When she’d discovered it the storefront had high ceilings and good bones, but Gracie had designed the space so with its wide plank wood floors and vintage moldings, the bakery looked like it belonged in Paris. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

  “If my momma could see me now.” Gracie wrinkled her nose. “Although, I think she’d be a bit peeved it’s in Chicago instead of back in Revival.”

  “Are you homesick?” Penelope asked. The plan had been for James and Gracie to split time between Revival and Chicago, but lately with James’s work schedule and the bakery, they’d spent more time here.

  Gracie tugged off her apron and smoothed a hand over her tight jeans before tugging at her pale blue tee, which read CALIFORNIA BLONDE, and matched her blue eyes. “I miss my brother, Sam, but I know the bakery in Revival is in good hands with Harmony. In some ways, I think she’s better than I am.”

  Penelope laughed. She’d met Harmony Jones only once, and her pale pixie features and melodious voice hid a spine of steel. “I doubt that, but it’s good to have capable help.”