It Might Be You

by Jennifer Gracen

  Her tongue turned to lead in her mouth as she gaped at him. She cleared her dry throat and squirmed in her seat. The sinful look on his face, the seductive tone of his voice . . . it was like he’d spun shimmering strands of sexual energy around her, drawing her in to his web of temptation. She was so wet now it was embarrassing.

  “Tell me. Has anyone ever made you feel like that?” He was relentless. She couldn’t break the gaze, or even move. “Has any man ever worshipped you properly in bed? Turned you into a clawing, panting animal, working on nothing but feeling?”

  She felt exposed. And crazy turned on, and a little mad, and confused. But she couldn’t break away. He’d put her under a spell. Hypnotized her with raw sex appeal.

  And he didn’t let up. He held her gaze for a long beat, still lightly stroking her palm with the pad of his thumb, sending shivers through her with every featherlight stroke. “I’d do that to you. Make you feel all those things. And I think you know it.”

  She stared back, her heart pounding wildly as she tried to breathe.

  “I’d give anything to see you lose yourself like that.” His voice was as seductive as his eyes . . . but he released her hand and leaned back. His gaze narrowed. “But for all your bold talk, I think you’re scared of that. I think you’re scared of guys who make you feel wild. So you’ll put me off because I’m a cop. Easy to do. Right?”

  “Wh-what?” she stammered.

  “That’s what you just said. I’m not a viable candidate. I’m just in a box with a label: ‘Cop, Stay Away.’” He crossed his arms over his chest. “And you’re entitled to your reservations, but I’m sorry, I am offended. I’m proud to be a cop.”

  Heat flooded her face as she pulled back. “You should be.” She felt like she’d been driving a car at a hundred miles an hour, then crashed into a cement wall. She shook her head to clear the haze of lust, the spell he’d cast. Damn him. “I . . . I never insulted your profession.”

  “No, you didn’t. But a blanket statement like ‘I don’t date cops’ just . . . it sucks. You get that?”

  He’d toyed with her. The man had fucking toyed with her. Her insides started to shake, and not from want now, but from anger. “I don’t have to justify my reasons to you, though I tried to explain.” With a shaky hand, she reached out and drained the rest of her glass. “In fact, I don’t have to justify a damn thing about myself. To you or anyone else.” Other retorts ran through her head, but the overwhelming response was one of humiliation. He’d reprimanded her, but first he’d aroused her like crazy before throwing her into the wall. That was a mindfuck. She didn’t do head games. Not ever.

  She reached for her bag. He said her name softly, but she ignored him. She felt his eyes burning into her as she rummaged through it, fighting the surge of adrenaline that had her heart pounding at top speed. He said her name again, more insistently, and she ignored him. Finally, she found her wallet and dropped a twenty on the table. “Hot no-strings fling? No problem. Mind games? Big problem. Guess we’re done. See you around, Officer.” Grabbing her coat, she sprang up and marched out of the bar without a look back.

  Chapter Thirteen

  She only made it a block before he came up behind her, grasping her arm. “Amanda, wait.”

  “Get off me,” she spat, shaking his hand free.

  “Whoa.” He held up both hands in surrender as he looked down at her, his features tense. “Okay, I won’t touch you. Can you please just listen to me?”

  “I don’t know what’s left to say.”

  “Plenty!”

  “I don’t think so.” Fueled by embarrassment and anger, she kept walking. She’d left her car at the hotel, so she couldn’t get rid of him, dammit.

  Sure enough, he was right at her side. “If I looked you right in the face and said, ‘I don’t date nurses,’ how would that make you feel?” he asked.

  “I might not like it at first, but if you explained your reasons, I’d at least understand and respect your feelings.”

  “But you wouldn’t like it. Well, I didn’t either. It felt like a slap.”

  “So you slapped me back. Good for you. Mission accomplished.” A gust of wind blew her hair into her face, and she swiped it back angrily. Her heart was pounding so fast it was hard to breathe. “Can you get lost now?”

  “No. That wasn’t my mission. I just . . .”

  She picked up her pace, almost at a jog, but he kept up with her.

  “I was only trying to make a point,” he said, sounding a little desperate now.

  “Point made.” She kept her eyes ahead, refusing to look at him, and practically ran across the street to get to the next block.

  “Amanda! Come on . . .” His long legs had no problem keeping up with her as she pounded the pavement. He muttered something in Spanish under his breath she didn’t understand. Both things only fueled her anger.

  A new burst of adrenaline surged through her as she bit out, “For the record, we never talked about dating. Right? We talked about hanging out, getting to know each other, and maybe sleeping together. That was it. Which you established from our first time out together, remember? And now you’re going to play games with me? Draw me in, pull your sexy talk on me, get me all riled up, and then dropkick me like that to make me feel stupid? Fuck you, Nick. I’m not playing.”

  “I was upset,” he said, his voice tight. “I was surprised at what you said. I . . . it kind of hurt me, so I handled it badly.”

  “Yes, you did,” she snapped. She stopped walking to finally look at him as she demanded, “And it was petty. Own it.”

  His dark eyes blazed, his jaw clenched, and he was quiet for a long beat. Then he sighed, nodding slowly as he said, “You’re right. It wasn’t my best moment. I’m sorry.”

  Her breath caught. Justin had been nice, almost to the point of bland, but the thing she’d hated about him was he never owned it when he made mistakes. He’d always deflected, tried to turn it on to her, make everything her fault. Nick had listened to her, owned his mistake, and apologized within minutes. That was new for her. Astounding.

  But she couldn’t let it go. Humiliation still throbbed inside, raw and ugly, and she couldn’t get past it yet. “Okay. Thanks. But what exactly are you sorry for?” she asked. “Do you even know? Or are you just saying it to placate me?”

  “Jesus Christ, Amanda . . .” A muscle twitched in his jaw.

  “Are you sorry for being an asshole? For purposely making me feel like an idiot back there? Or are you just sorry because now you realize I won’t sleep with you?”

  His jaw clenched as his eyes flashed. “All of the above. And I am sorry.”

  “Fine.” Her heart thumped away, and she started walking again. “Apology accepted.” All she wanted was to get to her car and go home. Everything had gone wrong, and she wanted to be upset by herself, just get away from him. Her breath came in shallow pants as her sneakered feet hit the concrete with sure, quick steps.

  And still he stayed by her side. “You say ‘apology accepted, ’ but you’re not forgiving me.”

  She bit down on her lip. Two blocks left.

  “You asked me to own what I’d done,” he said gruffly. “I did. Now own that you’re still pissed at me.”

  “Ohhh, I own that.”

  They walked the rest of the way in tense silence. The main street of town was pretty quiet. Nick couldn’t get over it. During the day, the town bustled with activity, but it was like the streets rolled up at night. He and Amanda were the only ones out walking. A few cars went by on the main road, but they were sporadic. He kept sneaking glances at her, knowing to stay quiet. She was clearly still furious with him, and he knew the truth was she had every right to be. He’d been a total dick. Seducing her one minute, pulling the rug out from under her the next . . . she was right when she’d said he was a little messed up. That was not cool. Not at all.

  But man, did she get fired up when she was angry. It both frustrated him and turned him on a little, which only made it
worse. Because not only would this night not end in a fun and possibly physical way, but also he’d made her so mad because, shit, he’d hurt her. Both her feelings and her pride. And now she couldn’t get away from him fast enough. Great. Fucking great.

  “I really am sorry,” he said as they crossed the last street before his hotel.

  “Okay.”

  “You’re not going to talk to me now?”

  “Not tonight, no. I’m done.”

  He knew she’d flip if he grabbed her arm again, so he quickly turned to block her, place himself in front of her. She bounced off him as he said, “Please, Amanda. Don’t go like this.”

  “That was fucked up, what you did,” she said. “That was manipulation.”

  “I lashed out, you’re right. I guess I’m not fine, like you said.” A wave of self-loathing whooshed through him. “And I’ve apologized. Several times now.”

  “I appreciate all that, but it doesn’t make the sting disappear. I’m not over it yet.” She glared up at him. “Are you going to let me pass?”

  He swore under his breath and raked his hands through his hair in frustration. They were only a block away from his hotel now. He’d lost tonight, and had to accept it. “I’m walking you to your car,” he said, his voice low and deliberate.

  “Not necessary.”

  “That’s not up for debate.”

  They walked in silence to where her car was parked. She immediately started rifling through her bag to look for her keys. He watched her, feeling powerless, which only made him edgier. Why was she letting one stupid thing blow up the rest? “You won’t even look at me?”

  Her head lifted and her eyes met his. He saw the pain there, and it made him cringe inside. He’d really cut her. “Amanda . . .”

  “I came here to comfort you tonight,” she said.

  “And I appreciate that more than I can say.” He stared down at her balefully. “It was great. I’m very sorry I ruined it.”

  “I am too.”

  “But . . . is there any chance you’re overreacting a little bit?” he said.

  Her eyes flashed with renewed anger. Shit. Clearly that’d been the wrong thing to say.

  “No,” she hissed, the word flying from her lips like a poisoned arrow.

  “Okay, okay. Fuck. I just don’t want us to stop . . . whatever this is we’ve started,” he said earnestly. “It’s been . . . really nice.”

  “Well, according to you, I’m not so nice. You think I’m a petty, small person for having generalized rules in place,” she said, her chin lifting defiantly. “And it’s only been a few days. We barely know each other, so I’m sure you won’t feel the loss.”

  “You’re wrong,” he said firmly. “On both counts. I don’t think that about you, what you said. And I feel the loss already.”

  Her mouth opened, then closed, apparently taken aback by that. She pulled her keys out of her bag. “Well, it’s like you said—you’re leaving in a few days. So while the idea of a fun, quick, hot fling might have been tempting, I see now it was probably a terrible—”

  He grasped her face and kissed her, hot and hard. His fingers threaded through her hair, holding her head as he slanted his mouth over hers, and he tried to memorize how she tasted, smelled, felt against him. To his relief, she didn’t pull away. His tongue swept inside her mouth as yearning pulsed through his whole body, as need battered him. The moment was charged, electric. When he pulled back, he stared into her eyes, which were a little dazed. Good. At least she’d felt the overwhelming power of that kiss too.

  “Didn’t mean to go all caveman on you there,” he said gruffly. He let his hands fall to his sides. “But if you’re ending this, I had to have a kiss good-bye. I had to.”

  She blinked but didn’t say a word. She looked how he felt: confused, frustrated, and turned on.

  He searched her face for a hint of an opening. The narrow space between them still crackled. But he had to let it go. Let her go. He stepped back from her and licked his lips. He could still taste her sweetness, and it made him ache.

  He huffed out a heavy sigh and said, “I’m sorry you’ve decided this is over, because I think it could’ve been something interesting.” He shoved his fists into his jacket pockets. “But most of all, I’m sorry I hurt your feelings tonight. I was wrong. And I’d take it back if I could.”

  She stared at him for a long minute. He watched the conflict play out in her expressive eyes. For a few seconds, hope sparked inside him. Maybe this wasn’t the end after all? But when she finally spoke, she only said, “Good night,” and got into her car. He stood on the sidewalk and watched her drive away.

  * * *

  So. Tell me. Was I overreacting? Amanda asked at the end of her long text.

  No, Steph answered.

  Yes, Roni answered.

  Well, shit, Amanda wrote with a snort-laugh. Which is it?

  He was playing a head game, Steph wrote. That was manipulative, you were right. I don’t like that.

  Amanda reached to the coffee table for her glass of wine and sipped, tucking her legs beneath her on the couch. She’d been home for twenty minutes and was exhausted, but had had to run down the events to her girls. She needed to talk about it instead of just overanalyzing it to death by herself.

  He lashed out because he was hurt, and he copped to that, Roni wrote. Hello, he’s a man. Men do dumb things. So do women, by the way. Just not as often.

  I was about to do a dumb thing, Amanda texted. I wanted to start sleeping with a man I barely know.

  You went into the city and spent the day with a man you barely knew, Roni pointed out. That was equally dangerous, if you think about it.

  What? Amanda wrote, her brows furrowing.

  But, Roni continued texting, these weren’t, like, life-in-danger things. Sometimes, you have to take risks. Calculated risks. I go on dates. You spent a day in the city with him. Same thing, hon. You know him a little more now as a result. That’s how you get to know a stranger a little better. It’s also called living your life.

  And if he’s as hot as you say, Steph added, of course you want to sleep with him! You’re only human. Don’t beat yourself up for that. I was proud of you for getting back in the game.

  What she said. And he’s only human too, Roni pointed out. It was a dick move, what he did. But you have to decide if it’s worth ending things over it. He did apologize, right?

  Amanda sighed as she got Roni’s points. More than once, she wrote. He knew he messed up. I’m the one who didn’t let it go.

  Okay. So think it over, Roni suggested. When you cool off, if you think he’s worth giving another shot, do it.

  Maybe she shouldn’t, though, Steph chimed in. He IS leaving.

  Aw hell, that just makes it easier, Roni wrote. Amanda could picture her sassy, wicked grin with a comment like that. If it goes south, she won’t have to see him.

  I think tonight it already went south, Amanda texted. Dead in the water.

  Nope, Roni wrote. He told you he didn’t want it to be over. So still fixable. If you want it to be. It’s on you now, sweets.

  Amanda groaned out loud. I guess so. I’ll think about it. Okay, I’m going to bed. Need my sleep. Rough week ahead.

  Why? Steph asked. What’s going on? Spill.

  Myles is about to get a lot sicker, Amanda wrote. They’re flooding him with chemo and radiation to get him ready for the BMT. It’ll be awful.

  I’m so sorry, Roni wrote.

  That poor boy, Steph wrote. I can’t imagine . . .

  The last time he was very sick, Roni wrote, you got really depressed. I remember.

  Of course I was, Amanda wrote. Hard to separate from being around that all day and coming home after, pretending like life is normal.

  Well, lean on us if you need to, Roni said. We’re here for you.

  What she said, Steph wrote. If you get down again, tell us so we can support you. We love you. Stay strong.

  Thanks. I will. I always do, Amanda said, bu
t the sadness had already started trickling through her. Between the spat with Nick and thinking about what was immediately ahead for Myles, her heart suddenly squeezed with desolation and nausea rose in her throat. Dammit, why had she and Nick argued? He wasn’t the only one who could use some comfort. Why did she always end up disappointed?

  She sighed again and drained her wineglass. Thanks much, ladies. Love you. Going to bed now. xoxo

  * * *

  Amanda looked up from her e-reader at the soft knock on the door.

  “He’s back!” Myles said, sitting up a little more in bed.

  She fixed a fake smile on her face. Lisette had told her Nick would be coming to visit. She’d put on a fresh coat of lip gloss and combed her hair, but was still torn inside. Let him back in, or let the whole thing go? She wasn’t sure what to do. However he acted toward her would likely be the deciding factor, giving her the nudge she needed in either direction.

  She opened the door and there was Nick, looking handsome as usual in jeans and a tight, navy long-sleeved T-shirt that showed off his muscled build. His eyes met hers and she saw a hint of . . . remorse? Hopefulness? Maybe both. “Hi,” he said softly.

  One velvety word and her insides quivered. Damn him and his overwhelming sex appeal. It wasn’t fair. She’d never had such a strong physical response to a man in her entire life. “Hi,” she said back and moved aside. “Come on in.”

  His eyes lingered on her for a long, heated moment before shifting to the boy in the bed. “Hey, you. How ya doin’ today?”

  Myles shrugged, but the smile on his face was bright. “Okay. The poison starts tomorrow. I’m just tired.”

  Her heart sank to her stomach. Myles certainly had a way with words. “Wait,” she said to Nick, and went to get the hand sanitizer and the mask.