“But I didn’t recruit them! I didn’t design those flyers or think of those tag lines or any of the things you did for my—”
My hand on her arm cut her off—and shocked the hell out of me. I could barely breathe.
I leaned in farther. “Why do you think you have to do all the things? It’s a campaign. You have a manager, right?”
I imagined she was nodding and went on.
“So, I’m your social media guy. That’s it. I do a little communications, PR. Now you’ve got a bigger team. Things are more even.”
“Well, thank you.” She leaned closer and touched her beer to mine. “Zach Hubler.”
My name on her lips did things to me. We sat there for a minute, something other than my words suspended between us as my body and my brain, focused on her warm skin and her warm breath and the smell of her so near—flowers and beer and some unidentifiable woman thing I wanted to suck down to the bottom of my soul.
“All I’ve done…” I swallowed and let my fingers slide, just the tiniest bit, trying to remember what I was saying. “Is volunteer my time—”
“Those signs and flyers cost money, too!”
“—and made a small donation to a cause that I deem worthwhile. That’s all.” I wouldn’t tell her about the bigger donation, made through one of my shell companies. I didn’t know why, but I had a feeling she wouldn’t like that. Or she might stop this thing going on if I told her about the money. She’d cite a conflict of interest or some other bullshit and I didn’t want this thing—whatever it was—to stop.
Which was what made me give her arm a final squeeze and let go, shift back, get some space, give my brainwaves room to function again.
In the silence that followed, she took a long swig of her drink. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I forced a smile onto my face and held out my beer. “Here’s to winning.”
“Here’s to winning.”
Our bottles clinked and I turned to enjoy the last rays of the day’s sun. “Sun’s setting.”
“You can tell it’s darker?”
“It’s always bright for me. All the time. But I feel it getting lower. Also, the birds. They change at this time of day.”
I cocked my head, closed my eyes, relaxed my shoulders, and listened. It took about ten seconds for the world to change. Kids squealed a ways down the road, someone mowed their lawn, engines droned farther away and doors slammed. Closer, a breeze rustled the trees, birds chirped. If you could even call it chirping. There were so many sounds, like separate, individual voices, as different as songs on the radio, and through it all, she sat beside me. Just her presence changed my corner of the world.
“You listening?” I felt a little breathless at how quiet she’d been. Her attention on me was so perfectly focused. So different from anyone else I’d been with.
“Yes.”
“Your eyes closed?”
“Yeah.”
“I can’t explain this, ’cause I just met you and, honestly, this has never happened before, but…” I swallowed, opened my mouth and shocked myself. “I want to kiss you.”
4
Veronica
* * *
All the blood in my body rushed to my skin. If he could see me, he’d know that I was bright red.
And then because I wanted him to know, I told him. “I’m blushing.”
“Is it a good blush or a bad blush?” he asked and I wanted to…do something, but I didn’t know what. Squeeze him? Jump him? Press my face to his chest and laugh?
“It’s a good blush,” I finally managed to whisper, just as a strong gust of wind came through. It sounded like rain in the trees and felt like a solid touch. Goosebumps popped up across my body, my nipples hardened, and I couldn’t last another second pass without tasting him. Ignoring every one of my parents’ warnings about strangers and all the things my grandmother taught me about not being too forward, I said, “Do it. Kiss me.”
I imagined hesitation. Shyness, maybe. But whatever I’d thought I’d get from him was all wrong. My eyes were closed when he reached out and cradled my head with one big, rough hand. It was a firm touch, confident.
I turned and, before considering what I meant to do, I kissed the inner curve of his palm.
“This is weird,” he said. “Isn’t it?”
I puffed out a half laugh against his skin. “Yeah.”
“Has this ever happened to you before?”
“You mean the part where I knock on a stranger’s door and suddenly I’m about to kiss him?” The words puffed into the cradle of his callused hand. “No. What about you?”
“Can’t say that it has.” His other hand came to frame my face. “Is this okay?”
“It’s good.”
“Will you…will you tell me if I’m doing it wrong?” he asked.
My eyes popped open and everything inside me stilled.
Wait, what?
I must not have heard right. Or misunderstood.
He couldn’t possibly mean—
Zach sighed. “I shouldn’t have done that, should I?”
“Um, what?” Maybe if I acted like I didn’t follow and we didn’t delve too deep, we could pretend he’d never said anything.
“Told you. At this point. That I haven’t done this…”
“You didn’t tell me anything.”
“I sort of did.” He pulled back.
And now, he was going to force me to acknowledge it. We maybe could have ignored it, before, acted like he was just checking in, making sure I was happy, but bringing it out into the light put it irrevocably there.
I gave up. “You’ve never done this before.”
“No.”
“So, you mean, um, kissing.” I was breathing hard now, full of nerves. “Or other things?”
“All of it.”
“Are you sure?” The words came out a little high and whiny. Because you’ve really got moves for a newbie.
“I’m sure.” His smile reemerged, hesitant.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-three.”
“Oh.” Young. I’d never dated anyone younger than me. Wait, did this count as a date? What was I even doing here?
He must have gone on one date in his life? Or kissed some girl behind the dumpster after class? Then again, he’d been home-schooled, so not too many opportunities there.
“You want to do this with me?”
“Only if it’s what you want.”
Was it? Was I the right person to be this guy’s first kiss? I guessed it was too late now. If anything else were to happen between us—
No. One thing at a time. Kissing had almost happened, which was already a huge step for me. I couldn’t imagine what this must be like for him.
“Why me?” I asked, wondering for all the world what he saw, or, rather, didn’t see in me.
“I don’t know. I can’t explain it, but there’s something, right? I mean, I’m not saying I haven’t been attracted to people before. I have. I just haven’t followed through on it.”
“But now you want to?”
“Do you let every man you’re attracted to kiss you?”
“No,” I conceded after a moment.
“Why would you have let me do it?”
He was talking about it in the past now, like the opportunity was gone and I almost couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying because I didn’t want to not do it. Every nerve ending in my body was screaming at him to kiss me.
“What is it about me, or this, or us that made you decide you’d be okay with it after so little time? I can’t be the most attractive man you’ve ever seen.” That was debatable, but I let it pass. “But there’s another thing here, right? Chemistry or whatever. And I can’t—”
I wanted to hear the rest. I did, but I also wanted to make sure I got that kiss—and not just a hand kiss. He called it chemistry, but it felt like magic, and I wasn’t sure I’d get another chance. I leaned in and stopped him with my mouth.
His lips were open when I got there, which made everything immediately close and intimate. I swiped my mouth across his, and he stilled. I felt him wait and closed my eyes. Another swipe caused his breath to catch, which I loved. That tiny jolt of power was addictive. I wanted it again.
When I pursed for a real kiss, he was ready, waiting, still, but breathing hard. Oh God, he was smelling me, I thought. I did the same, breathed him in. His man smell, that little touch of beer, something like soap behind it. I inhaled again and let out a needy little noise, because he was right. Only pure chemistry could smell this good.
The biggest surprise might have been how good he was at this. How did he know that I’d like that little nibble of my lip or how right it felt when he slipped one of his hands into my hair to hold me still for his possession? His nose caressed the side of mine up and then down the other way before his mouth met mine in what was the most perfect, proper kiss I’d ever had.
Lips melding so smoothly, it felt rehearsed, breaths in sync, tongues—God, his tongue was silk against mine. The contrast to the hard shoulders beneath my hands made me crazy.
I didn’t remember moving or putting my hands there. I didn’t know how we’d scooted close in our chairs, but suddenly, it wasn’t close enough—his “Come here” let me know that—so I stood, never releasing his shoulders or his mouth, and slid right onto his lap. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
His grunt turned into a long, low moan as his hands tightened on me—waist first, then down to palm my bottom, shifting me until I felt him, right there, his desire explicit beneath me.
I opened my eyes and pulled far enough away to hover above him, our noses almost touching.
“You like it?”
He made an asthmatic groan, which morphed into a laugh. “Jesus, woman. I had no idea.”
Slowly, as I let my forehead fall just enough to lean on his, the outside world returned on a wave of honeysuckle-scented air. It was dark out, which surprised me. How long had we sat here doing this?
“I didn’t either,” I managed, out of breath. “I didn’t know kissing could be like this.”
“Really?” Was that pride in his voice? It should be.
“It was the most amazing kiss I’ve ever experienced. Sensual, I guess. Like, I don’t know, like jumping into a vat of you instead of just touching faces.”
His body shook with laughter and I leaned into it like I’d wanted to do earlier—before we’d touched. I wrapped my arms around his sturdy middle and soaked in his happy sounds, keenly aware of how different this was from every other sexual encounter I’d ever had. It was closer, deeper, more meaningful—at least for me.
That thought had me pulling back, with the sudden, urgent need to define this.
“What…” I shifted farther away and his hands landed on my hips, steadying me in a way that I wanted more of. Although I shouldn’t. I’d had almost no time with this man. This was pure madness. “What are…” I puffed out a frustrated breath and got off him entirely, immediately missing the warmth and solidity of his body around mine. “We should…go on a date.”
“Out, you mean?” He sounded unhappy.
“It doesn’t have to be a big deal. And it would be on me, since I asked, it’s just—”
“No.”
I didn’t immediately notice that he was breathing hard.
“Okay.”
“Maybe we could work up to it,” he conceded.
I laughed outright and plunked into my chair. “We’re gonna do it backwards, then? Is that the plan? Start with kissing, move on to second base and then get to know each other?”
“I didn’t mean it that way. I don’t really go out. That’s all.”
“Okay.”
“I could make you dinner, though.”
“Really?”
“Would that be close enough to a date for you?”
“I’d like that.” I thought of something. “Your fridge was pretty full for someone who doesn’t go out.”
“You have heard of the internet, right, Ms. Cruz?”
“Right.”
“You eat meat?”
I nodded before catching myself. “I do.”
“You free tonight?”
“I should really head back out. I haven’t even been to Southwood yet.”
“It’s late. And Southwood’s on the other side of town.”
If I caught a bus right away, I could probably hit a few houses. Maybe.
“Let me cook you dinner.”
I really, really didn’t want to go anywhere.
I sucked in a long, shaky breath, opened my mouth—
My phone rang.
I didn’t even glance at the number. “Hello?”
“You coming to Southwood tonight? We’ve got a crew here, ready to go.”
Crap. It was my campaign manager.
“Yes.” I did my best to sound chipper, responsible. Solid, like the candidate I was supposed to be. Not some fly-by-night who stayed for dinner at a cute voter’s house. “Heading over there now.”
I hung up and looked at Zach, expecting him to be mad or irritated or whatever my previous boyfriends would have been.
“Not easily bribed,” he said with a half-smile. “I like that in a candidate.”
I had to smile back.
We said an awkward goodbye at his front door without touching again. Which was probably for the best, though I had to admit that I wanted more.
I was on the bus when I got his text.
You at Southwood yet?
No! I just left! You must miss me.
I do.
I giggled and blushed, then glanced around to make sure no one had seen me. What was happening to me?
I take it you don’t know about playing hard to get.
I could envision his face when I read his next text.
You said earlier we were doing this all wrong, starting with the kissing. Wrong seems to work for us, so why stop now?
Even his texts were giving me that thing—that fluttery chest, heavy belly thing.
What should I say in response? I was staring at the phone when another text came in.
Come for dinner tomorrow?
I checked my calendar.
Nothing open until Thursday.
I’ll take it.
You’re on.
That made my belly flip-flop like crazy. Three days until I saw him again.
I almost got lost canvassing that evening with Zach on my mind. I kept thinking about his smile and that low sound he’d made when we kissed. His smell, too, and that magical, undeniable zing of something between us.
How was I going to make it until Thursday?
Yeah. I liked the guy. A lot. Like a lot a lot. It was exciting and fun, but it also scared the crap out of me.
5
Zach
* * *
I couldn’t get enough of Veronica Cruz.
Which was bad news, since the last thing I needed was a visitor nosing around my house. One wrong turn and she could figure everything out and then…
Would she turn me in? Would she even recognize what she was seeing?
No. The answer was clearly no. Let it go. Relax.
Not something I did a lot. Not with Granddad, because we just didn’t. We worked. From the time I came to move here, he drilled it into me: you want it done right, do it yourself. Being blind, as far as he was concerned, was nothing but an obstacle to overcome. I’m old, you’re blind. So what? Who says we can’t conquer the world? From this house, of course, since he wasn’t much on leaving.
I wondered, for a second, what he’d think of Veronica Cruz, this woman who thought she’d be a better leader than the usual blow-hards. Would he like her?
Probably. But what mattered right now was that I liked her. And I was ruining things by being way too tense.
She’d been here for half an hour now. And I needed to get my head back in the game, because things between us weren’t easy like they’d been last time
. I was too jittery.
Not surprising considering how crazy she made me. Like a teenager. Which was exactly how I’d been acting since I last saw her.
What are you wearing? I wanted to ask. Can I touch you? Wanna make out?
Yeah, no.
Instead, I said, “How about another glass of wine?”
“Oh. I’m not sure I should—”
“You going somewhere?” I sent a smile her way and grabbed the steaks from the fridge.
“Guess not. Not like I’m driving anyway.” She paused. “Mind if I turn on some lights?”
“Oh, shit.” My belly was tight with embarrassment. I should know these things. And after everything I’d done to prepare for this dinner, turning on lights was a freaking no brainer. “Here.” I flipped a switch that hadn’t been on in years and listened to the unfamiliar electric hum above my head.
“What can I do to help?”
“Want to make a salad?” I indicated the fridge. “Help yourself to whatever you think would be good.” I’d ordered every crazy-named lettuce from the store, so there had to be something she liked.
“Sure.”
She hummed, grabbed things and washed them, opened a couple cupboards and found the salad bowl, then tossed it all together. My insides finally calmed as we worked alongside each other. This was good.
After a lifetime of living life on-line, I could apparently do this in person thing just fine.
When I went out back to grill the meat, she followed with our glasses, and something about the partnership of the whole thing squeezed at my chest. This is what it feels like to have someone.
But having someone is dangerous when your whole life’s a lie.
That little voice in my head chose that moment to screw things up for me. It was right, of course. Rational.
But nothing about my feelings for this woman were rational. The smell of her was my crack. I wanted to bend down, rub my face in her neck, and suck her in. I wanted to push her against the side of the house and feel the rest of her body. Was she big or small? What would her curves feel like under my hands?
Christ, I was getting hard just thinking about it. Not a surprise, considering the fantasies I’d played in my head all week. My hands on her—flesh like mine, only softer, I guessed, with more give under my fingers.
Loving the Secret Billionaire Page 4
