First Comes Love (New Castle Book 1)

by Lydia Michaels

  “Where’s her baby’s daddy?”

  “Gone. A fool, if you ask me. He met his daughter once, three years ago, and now he lives in Japan or something.”

  “So, what’s the problem?” his mother teased and he smiled.

  “I wish I knew, Ma. I wish I knew.”

  He detailed the Kat situation to his mother over the next twenty minutes. It wasn’t like he was gaining any perspective. She was completely biased and couldn’t understand why any woman wouldn’t want her son. Still, even at his age, it felt good to have sympathy from his Momma.

  The easy way their conversation flowed made him think about how Kat had described her relationship with her parents. Having such a healthy relationship with his parents made it hard to comprehend a different dynamic.

  Of course, Ty had the privacy to live his life as he pleased, but he always had the reassurance his parents were there with whatever support he needed—be it emotional or otherwise. Kat had nothing like that. She’d said that her mother was critical of everything, from how she raised Mia to the way she dressed. He saw nothing wrong with either.

  It was hard to even imagine what her parents could use for ammunition. Especially considering where he grew up in the city and the real external issues, families struggling to cope with hunger, eviction, drugs, and gangs.

  Pregnancy happened. It wasn’t a tragedy, especially when the pregnant girl turned into a decent mother. Sure Kat was young, but she was an adult, and a great mom. Why she allowed them such criticism was beyond him.

  It didn’t matter anyway.

  She made her stance loud and clear. Her personal life was none of his concern. However, he couldn’t ignore the niggling that she’d lied to him and was, at that very moment, getting close and comfy with some pompous yuppie in a BMW.

  The restaurant had waterfront seating, which was very romantic. Dawson addressed the wait staff with polite indifference. He opened doors, pulled out chairs, and frequently asked if she was warm enough. As a date, he was charming. As far as chemistry went—zilch.

  Kat made sure to smile at all the right places and nod when needed. The shell of her was there, fancied up and filling space, but her mind was elsewhere.

  After the look of shock had faded from Tyson’s face, she still recalled how his glare turned to smoldering resentment when he stared at her in Dawson’s car. Although she was now sitting in a restaurant miles away from Tyson, the sickening shame of how she misled him lingered. The memory turned in her head like a gigantic wheel, over and over, until it seemed to leave a groove on her brain.

  She cleared her throat and focused on Dawson. Her date.

  “…but once you get involved in that level of arbitration, things start to get a little sticky, if you know what I mean.”

  Kat made an agreeable sound and smiled. What the hell was he talking about?

  His mouth formed a smiling “o” as he breathed a laugh. “Listen to me, going on about boring business. Let’s talk about something else. What would you be doing right now if you weren’t here with me?”

  Nothing.

  “Probably just relaxing with Mia at home or sitting out front with Jade since it’s such a nice night.”

  “Jade?”

  “My best friend.”

  The conversation was easy. Dawson had a decent sense of humor and asked good questions so there weren’t any awkward silences. He asked a little bit about Mia, but didn’t pry. The food was good and the wine was spectacular. After Kat’s second glass she switched to water, because she could already feel herself getting tipsy.

  By the time dessert came, the conversation turned a little more personal.

  “Are you involved with anyone at the moment, Katherine?”

  Intimate questions were the worst. She was awkward to begin with. Throw personal in the mix and she was a plain disaster.

  “Um, no. I don’t really date.”

  His hand slid over hers and he did that thumb-rubbing thing again. Kat didn’t want to be rude and pull away, so she tolerated it. His touch was pleasant, but empty.

  When she was a little girl and they would play at Jade’s, her parents kept a kerosene heater in the basement. It kept the room usable all year long, but never really heated the space. If they stood close enough their skin would warm pleasantly on one side, but the direct heat to one part of her body only made the chill on her other side more prominent. Dawson was like a kerosene heater, warming one spot of her but leaving the rest cold.

  When the check came, Dawson covered the bill, and they continued to talk while he finished his wine. “I’d like to see you again. How do you feel about going on another date?”

  “Tonight was nice.”

  “That’s not exactly an answer,” he teased, bravado camouflaging the hint of doubt showing in his eyes.

  Why did people have to put her in such uncomfortable situations? “Sure. Another date would be nice,” she agreed, pressing the words past her plastic grin.

  His posture eased and he seemed satisfied.

  The drive home was made quietly listening to the music. The world sped by dappled in silver shadows of moonlight. She stared out the window as the expanding reflection of headlights traced over trees and curbs.

  The weight of Dawson’s hand pressed into her knee and she tensed. His thumb swirled over her skin and she gazed down at her knee through her lashes. The only thing she felt was gratitude that she had shaved that day.

  “I like that dress,” he said as his eyes followed the road.

  She really wasn’t being all that fair to Dawson. He’d done nothing wrong. She could at least go out of her way to be a little nice to him. Turning from the window, her back pressed into the cool leather of the seat. “Thank you.”

  He had a nice profile. His features were sharp and flawless. The shadows of his lashes swept low as he blinked. They weren’t as full as Tyson’s. And rather than black, Dawson’s were blond.

  “Where’s Mia tonight?”

  Mia was a topic that was always comfortable. “Oh, she’s sleeping at my friend Jade’s.” She inwardly winced as soon as the words left her mouth. Wrong thing to say.

  Whorls turned to gentle glides as his thumb moved up and down the top of her thigh. A shiver tiptoed up her spine. It gave her the chills, but not the way she got chills when Tyson touched her. She silently reprimanded herself for making the comparison.

  His wrist turned and his stroke changed from up and down to side to side. The angle left his fingers pointing toward the inside of her thigh. Breathing as little as possible, she drew her knees together, hoping to block him off from further touching, but when she inadvertently clamped his fingers between her thighs, her knees jerked apart. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything.

  His fingertips lightly drummed over her skin as they pulled into her driveway. He shut off the car. The engine quietly hissed and pinged in the absence of the music. It was quiet except for their breathing. The shift of his jacket against the firm leather seat was audible. The uncomfortable stillness was too much. Her hand reached for the door.

  “Did you want to show me your home?” His voice was so low and close she could almost make out each rumbling note.

  “Uh, sure,” she lied. She’d made it this far. She just wanted the night to be over so Vivian could get a good report and get off her back. Her feet were killing her and all she wanted to do was get in her pajamas and go to bed. Alone.

  “Stay put, I’ll get your door.”

  The door clicked open and the warm sultry night kissed her skin. She took the hand he offered as he walked her to the door. The thumb was moving again. Didn’t this guy have any other moves?

  She gently tugged her hand back to dig out her keys and briefly glanced at Tyson’s. Dark. If it were at all possible, her mood deteriorated a little more.

  She turned on the lights, and hung up her purse and wrap. Hospitality was her mother’s forte. It had been drilled into Kat since she was a child that all guests should be made to feel welcom
e. Being that Vivian had assigned herself executor of this date, Kat needed to follow protocol. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Do you have any wine?”

  “Uh, let me check.”

  She opened the fridge and looked around. Her gaze settled on the bottle Tyson brought over Easter night. The bottle slid off the shelf with a smooth scrape and a splash of remorse. The wrongness of giving another man Tyson’s wine was undeniable, but she had nothing else.

  Her palm cradled the chilled base. “Is this okay?”

  “That’s fine.”

  Kat retrieved two glasses and poured the wine while Dawson appraised her cottage. Should she put on music or something? No, too suggestive.

  “Would you like ice?”

  He declined with a shake of his head. She didn’t want to look stupid so she didn’t add any ice to her glass either. Her sandals clicked along the hardwood as she handed him a glass. She needed to regroup. If she had a team they’d be in a serious WTF huddle.

  “Will you excuse me for a second? Make yourself comfortable.”

  She went into the bathroom and sat on the toilet seat. How was she going to get him out of there? She needed to think. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. She also didn’t want him telling her mother she blew him off again.

  She was so bad at this. Why didn’t she bring the phone into the bathroom? Jade would know what to do. Maybe she could fake a headache, or was that too cliché?

  She flushed the toilet and washed her hands. When she came out of the bathroom she found Dawson sitting on the couch. His suit jacket lay over the arm of the chair and the top button of his collar was undone. Not good. He looked comfortable, reclined with his ankle crossed over his knee and a wine glass dangling in the hand draped over the arm of the sofa.

  Her wineglass sat on the coffee table. No coaster.

  Kat sat down on the other end of the sofa and picked up her wine. She took several sips and placed it back on the table using a coaster. She shot him a darting, bland smile. He uncrossed his legs and placed his glass on the table as well.

  “Dawson—”

  “Katherine—”

  He softly chuckled and she said, “Sorry, you go.”

  “I was going to tell you how pretty you look tonight.” His body twisted toward her and he picked up her hand. The position left her slightly uncomfortable, but she kept her expression serene so he wasn’t offended.

  “I like it better when you pick out your own clothes. I could tell the last time I saw you that your mother helped you choose what to wear. I prefer a woman your age to dress her age, not her mother’s.” His voice was low and getting huskier with each word. “Vivian’s a lovely woman, but she has nothing on your beauty.”

  She didn’t comment. He lifted Kat’s hand and claustrophobia set in. When he lowered his head toward hers she pulled back, but the couch arm blocked her full retreat.

  “Don’t be shy, Katherine,” he said, tugging her hand and pulling her closer. “I’m just going to kiss you.”

  Her eyes widened as he came closer. The scent of wine mingled with cologne filled her head. She jumped as a loud knock rattled the door. He froze and the knock impatiently sounded again.

  “It’s a little late for visitors, isn’t it?” he asked, not really disguising the tartness of his tone.

  “I don’t know who that is. I wasn’t expecting anyone.” She scooted forward and his hold on her hand tightened, not painfully, but firm enough to stop her from standing.

  “Ignore it. They can come back tomorrow.”

  “I can’t ignore it. What if something’s wrong?”

  The knock sounded for the third time, louder than before. Dawson released her hand and stood as she went to answer the door. He irritably brushed the creases from his slacks.

  Relief swamped her the minute she recognized Tyson through the window. “Tyson,” she said as she opened the door, his body filling the entrance. He held a large flashlight in his hand, jaw tight and brows low. She was taken aback by the formidable glint in his eye.

  “Hey, Kat,” he stiffly greeted. “Sorry to bother you. I came to see if you have any batteries. I have a pipe leak and my flashlight died.”

  “Is everything okay, Katherine?” Dawson called from the living room.

  Kat slowly winced and gave Tyson an apologetic look then turned to Dawson. “Everything’s fine. It’s my neighbor.” She turned back to Tyson. “Come in, I think I have some batteries in the closet. What size do you need?”

  “C’s.” He followed her toward the living room.

  She didn’t know how he was doing it, maybe it was her own turbulent emotions, but she felt his gaze on her skin, possessively marking her in some way. Her shoulders pulled tight as if weighted with the heavy down of angel’s wings, but nothing removed the sensation of him all around her.

  “Dawson Price, this is Tyson Adams. Tyson’s my neighbor,” she explained. “Dawson’s a friend of my parents.”

  Tyson’s eyes slowly moved, thoroughly taking in the scene, Dawson’s collar undone, jacket off, and the wine glasses. She mentally groaned when his gaze snagged on the bottle of wine. He picked it up and pointedly studied the label. “Oh, one of my favorites.” He glanced at her with accusation. “Am I interrupting?”

  Dawson cleared his throat. “Well actually—”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Oh. Good. I’d hate to interrupt a date. You look nice, Kat. Where are you two coming from?”

  Her lips tightened. She hated herself in that moment, hated that she was such a phony, hated that she was such a coward. She gave him a pleading look, mentally begging him to please not do this, but he tilted his head. One dark brow rose and the inquisition was on.

  Please, don’t make me say it.

  His expression was smooth, but the stormy glint in his eyes was merciless. He wasn’t leaving without some answers. Damn him.

  “I took Katherine to dinner in the city. Antonio’s. Have you heard of it?” Dawson said with self-important sentiment. It was a defense mechanism. His sudden snobbish overcompensating for some insecurity he harbored. She knew that trick, used it all the time. He was trying to intimidate Tyson and she resented it.

  “Actually I have, but I can’t say I’ve ever eaten there.”

  “Pity. The setting’s spectacular and the building’s extravagant. And the food’s delicious. Katherine enjoyed herself very much.”

  He sounded like a pompous ass. And very much was pushing it. She hated when people bragged. It screamed lack of confidence.

  “Well, thank you. That’s quite a compliment.” Tyson’s lip deviously curled. He wore the same triumphant expression he often did when he’d pushed her buttons.

  “I beg your pardon?” Dawson asked.

  “While I’ve never eaten there, I did, in fact, design the building. I’ve heard it described as many things before, but never as, what was it you said? Spectacular and extravagant? That’s very kind of you. And I’m glad to hear Katherine,” he dragged the name out, “enjoyed it.”

  Ha-ha! Score one for Tyson. Kat pressed her lips together and turned toward the kitchen.

  When she turned back Dawson looked confused and slightly disgruntled, so she helped him out. “Tyson owns Adams Construction. He designs and builds everything from homes to commercial properties.”

  A muscle in Dawson’s jaw ticked and he tightly smiled, his eyes narrowing as he continued to take the other man’s measure. “Well, it’s getting late. I should get going. It was fun, Katherine. I’m glad you contacted me. Call me again sometime.”

  He just had to slip that in. He retrieved his jacket from the sofa. Tyson had the grace to pretend he found her bookshelf incredibly interesting. Dawson leaned close. “Next time,” he whispered.

  Body stock-still, she held her breath as he kissed her cheek. No one said a word as he left and the flash of his headlights dragged across her windows. The silence was deafening. If she shut her eyes she could probably feel Tyson s
eething behind her. This was not going to be good.

  Kat stared at the door, too afraid to face him. Tension rolled off of him in waves, choking the air from the room so she jumped right into distraction mode without sparing him a glance. “I’ll get you those batteries.” Her feet made a beeline into the hall.

  She was at the closet when she sensed him behind her. She wished she could wiggle her nose like the witch in Bewitched and escape whatever judgment was. Her muscles clenched at the premonition of an oncoming fight. Her neck draped as her head limply hung over her chest. With drooping shoulders she sighed. “I—”

  His voice cut through the air like a whip. “What the hell is going on, Kat? Or should I call you Katherine?”

  She turned around, pulling every bit of reserved energy she had for the oncoming battle. He had her cornered, his big body blocking her only escape. “Do you even need batteries, Tyson?”

  “Fuck the batteries! I want an explanation.” Crowding her closer toward the wall, his voice filled the cramped space with a resounding blare and she flinched.

  “Don’t talk to me like that! And I don’t owe you anything.”

  “How should I talk to you, Kat? You lied to me. You said you didn’t date. Period. And here you are, with your hair done and makeup on, drinking my goddamn wine, with some prick!”

  “He’s not a prick and nothing happened for you to be this angry.”

  He stepped closer and her back arched over the shelving. He crowded her, his hands on the lip of the highest shelf, caging her in with the hard line of his body. She should have been scared. But she was too overwrought to notice.

  His eyes smoldered with stormy passion. No one had ever looked at her with such raw possessiveness. The propelling impulse to push him past his limit hit hard. He took her from zero to sixty in less than a second. There was such a radical difference between the way he made her feel and the way she felt around all other men.

  She panted as he leaned close, drawing in an audible breath. “I can smell him on you. Did you let him touch you? Kiss you?” he growled, hot breath hitting her neck.