“Not happening.” She tried not to breathe, because she could smell him—a spicy scent, probably a mix of aftershave and pheromones. And those pheromones were at this moment making her dizzy with desire.
“Okay. But why are your eyes saying something else right now?”
“What are my eyes saying?”
“They’re saying, ‘kiss me.’ ”
She squinted at him. “Remember, I bite.”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten.” He grinned. “That’s why I’m going to let you kiss me.”
She leaned closer, telling herself she planned to get nose to nose and demand he give up.
Instead, she pressed her lips against his. And it was like magic. No, better. His mouth fit perfectly against hers. His tongue slipped inside, and she told herself she had to stop this. But he pulled her even closer. He was solid, everywhere her body touched his. And she hadn’t felt this kind of solid in a long time. She missed this. Missed having someone to lean on. Someone to…
She felt the kiss coming to an end but wasn’t ready. She was going to give herself hell for doing this, so she’d better make it worth it.
Wrapping her hands around his neck, she gave him everything she had. Her skin hummed with pleasure, her limbs felt weak, but that was okay, because his arms were around her.
“Excuse me,” a familiar female voice said.
Ellen jerked back and stared at the young brunette waitress.
The girl smiled. “I think these are your keys.” She leaned in. “Told you he was hot.”
Ellen took the keys. And only when she saw the girl walk back inside did she meet Rick’s eyes. They were bright with desire—probably like her own.
“That was a mistake.” Tears stung her eyes.
“Why?” he asked. “It didn’t feel like a mistake to me.”
“I can’t do this, Rick. Please.”
“I didn’t—”
“I know it’s my fault. But do me a huge favor. The next time my eyes say kiss me, tell me to go to hell.”
Two hours later, almost nine o’clock, Zoe sat on the large pink leather sofa with her phone in her hand. She’d called Tyler twice. It went straight to voice mail. She hung up. What was she going to say, even if she reached him?
Just wondering if you were alive.
Wondering if you were out seeing Lisa.
Wondered if you wanted to come back and start working on our two weeks of wonderful.
Yes, she’d probably regret it. But after the withdrawal period, and she suspected there would be withdrawals, she would have the memories. And unlike with Chris, since she went into this with no expectations, maybe those memories could be stored away in a secret little place where she could pull them out and sift through them on lonely Sunday afternoons.
She heard a door close somewhere in the office. Was it Tyler? She listened as footsteps came down the hall. The door opened, and he walked in.
Something was wrong. It registered in her mind before she realized what it was. She saw the blood on his light blue shirt. Then she saw the bruise on the side of his face.
“What happened?” She jumped up and went to him.
“I ran into some trouble.”
She touched his jaw. The raspy feel of his stubble on her fingertips sent a jolt of emotion running into her hand that hit her chest hard. “What kind of trouble?”
“The three-hundred-pound kind.”
Her breath caught. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” She stepped back and gave him the head-to-toe check. Her gaze stopped on his right hand; his knuckles were swollen and blue.
“Oh, Lordie.” She reached for his hand.
“I’m fine.” His dark brown eyes met hers, and she felt her heart skip a beat.
“No, you’re not. You should get it x-rayed. I’ll get my purse.” She turned to find it. “I’ll drive you to—”
He caught her with his left hand. His touch was light, and his thumb brushed back and forth over her skin. “It’s not broken.” He held up his right hand and opened and closed his fist.
“It could be fractured,” she said.
“It’s not.”
“It could be.”
He shook his head. “I’ve broken it before. I know what a break feels like. I’m fine, Zoe.” He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek with his left hand. For a second, she thought he was going to lean in and kiss her, but he didn’t. That disappointed her, too. And then she saw it, that look in his eyes. He had something to tell her.
“Who was the three-hundred-pound guy?”
“I was getting your things from your apartment, and he broke in.”
“Did he get away?” she asked. “Did you get a look at his face?”
“He was another PI.”
“I didn’t hire anyone else,” she said.
Tyler frowned. “He was hired by Thomas Bradford.”
She shook her head. “Why?” Questions started zipping through her mind. “My own grandfather is trying to kill me?”
“We don’t know that. The PI insisted he didn’t have anything to do with the shooting.”
She sat there, her mind racing. “But would he admit to the shooting if he did it? And… does this mean that Thomas Bradford believes I’m his granddaughter? Why would he check me out unless he knows something?”
“It could be because you were hanging out at his place.”
“So you haven’t talked to Mr. Bradford?”
“He left this morning for LA for some cancer treatments. I tried to reach him, but the hospital won’t put him through on the phone.”
She breathed in a big gulp of emotion-filled air and tried to figure out how that information made her feel. “How bad is the cancer? Is he going to die?”
Tyler frowned. “I don’t know.”
He followed her to the sofa and sat beside her. His shoulder brushed against hers. “You okay?”
She looked up. “Yeah. I guess. Oh, hell, I don’t know. I’m just… I feel as if I opened a can of worms, and now I’m not so sure I want to go fishing. My real grandfather might be trying to kill me, but he also might be dying. Should I be afraid of him or feel sorry for him? What should I feel? I’m so confused.” She paused. “You know him. Do you think he could really be the one doing this?”
He sighed. “I wish… He’s a new client. And we’ve mostly dealt with his security guy. So I don’t know what he’s capable of doing.” He studied her with sympathy. “If you need to cry, I still have one good shoulder.”
His words ran inside her head. “You hurt your shoulder, too?”
“He got me with a lamp. Not that I didn’t get a few good ones in, too.”
“Are you sure you shouldn’t go to the hospital?”
“I’m sure.” His face was so close to hers.
She stared at his jaw. He was going to have a doozy of a bruise. She got up from the sofa and walked into the kitchen, opened the freezer, and found a bag of corn. She dug deeper until she found a bag of peas. When she turned around, he was standing at the kitchen door.
He stared at the frozen veggies in her hand. “You hungry?”
“No, these are for your face and your hand.”
She moved in, dropped the corn in his hand, and then held the peas to his cheek.
“That’s cold,” he said.
“That’s the point.”
She could swear he moved an inch closer. Or maybe she had. Her breasts were touching his chest. She felt the swirl of desire rush through her.
“Did you eat dinner?” He leaned his forehead down and rested it against hers.
She cut her eyes up at him, and their gazes locked. His left hand slipped into the curve of her waist.
“I made a sandwich.” Butterflies swirled in her stomach, and she took a slight step back. She wanted this, didn’t she? Why was she stepping away when she wanted to get closer? Two weeks, that’s what she wanted. Fear filled her heart. She trusted him with her life, so why was it so hard to give him two weeks? Oh, yeah, because it
wasn’t just her life in jeopardy, but her heart. But he wasn’t asking for her heart, and all she had to do was make sure she didn’t offer it.
She closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She looked up. He ran his uninjured hand through his hair.
I want this. I take the deal. “Did you eat?”
“No, but—”
“Go sit down and ice your hand and jaw, and I’ll make you a sandwich.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Don’t be silly. You got beat up trying to solve my case. I think I can fix you a sandwich. Do you like—”
“Whatever you had is fine.” The words came out tight, as if he was suddenly frustrated.
“But—”
“I’m not picky, Zoe.” He walked out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“YOU OKAY, MAMA?”
Ellen, stretched out on the sofa, looked over at Britney, who sat in her beanbag chair. “I’m fine, honey.”
Britney frowned. “You look sad.”
“No.” She forced a smile on her lips.
“Did you go see Daddy?”
“No, I ran errands.”
“You always look sad when you see Daddy.”
“Why would he make me sad?”
“Because he talks mean to you.”
Ellen flinched and tried to remember when Britney could have heard them arguing. She tried not to let her see the animosity between them. It wasn’t fair to Britney.
“When did he talk mean to me?” She sat up.
Britney shrugged. “All the time. He’s never nice like Suzie’s daddy is to Suzie’s mom.”
Ellen went over and kissed her daughter’s brow. “That’s because your daddy and I aren’t a couple anymore. But that doesn’t mean we both don’t love you. Things are fine, baby doll.”
Ellen moved to the kitchen.
“Daddy was here this evening,” she said.
Ellen looked back. “You saw him?”
“I saw his car out of Suzie’s window.”
“And you didn’t come out and see him?”
“Suzie and I were playing.” She looked back at the TV.
Ellen bit down on her lip. Britney had always been excited to see Noel before. Hey, he usually brought her gifts—a new doll, a new book. But apparently, Noel’s disappearing act lately had cost him some of his daughter’s affection.
She almost scolded Britney and told her she should have come and spoken with him but decided that it wasn’t fair. A child’s love should be earned, not forced.
“Did he stay here long?” He’d probably raise hell because this was the second time he’d come and she hadn’t been home. She remembered that she hadn’t checked her messages. He’d probably left about a dozen.
Not that she cared, or that she’d stop doing what she wanted because he might find an hour to visit his daughter. When he’d told her he would be here on Sunday afternoons, she always made sure Britney was here. And if he wanted to set a regular visitation time, she’d work with him.
Her mind shot to Rick and his ex keeping his son away from him. He’d regularly driven to another state to see his son. Noel couldn’t drive across town.
“You want some popcorn?” She moved into the kitchen and pretended everything was fine. And they would be fine, Ellen told herself. But she didn’t need to rock the boat by getting involved with Rick. They kissed and it had been one hell of kiss, but it had to end. Especially since he was known to be a player. Okay, he might not be all bad as LeAnn thought, but nevertheless, with her record of picking men, it would surely be a disaster. Even if the whole Noel issue didn’t exist, her heart couldn’t handle another heartbreak.
Tyler dropped onto the sofa, tossed the two bags of frozen vegetables beside him, and raked himself over the coals for doing it again. He heard her moving around the kitchen preparing him a sandwich and he inwardly moaned. He had zero willpower where she was concerned. Zilch!
Less than five minutes in the room with her, and he found himself trying to get closer, and then… touching her. Why? Logic said to pull back. He’d made up his mind that it was the best thing for both of them. Damn, maybe he couldn’t do this. Lucky landed in his lap. Tyler looked at the cat and gave the animal a scratch under the chin.
Maybe he should call Austin, have him take over. As soon as the thought flipped through his brain, he rejected it with a big, “Hell, no!” He wasn’t putting her in the hands of Mr. Playboy. The man didn’t even like her cat.
Tyler stared Lucky in his one good eye. “You got an opinion?”
Lucky meowed and jumped off the sofa.
Tyler leaned his head back, closed his eyes.
She’d said “no,” so he didn’t get why he continued to make advances. In the past, when he made up his mind to do something, he did it. Make a plan and stick to it. What was different this time? That’s when it hit him. It wasn’t all his fault. She sent him mixed messages—those sweet smiles, the teasing remarks, the way she moved up close to put a bag of frozen peas on his cheek. Not that she did it on purpose. She was just instinctively nice. Sweet. Sexy. He remembered how she’d moved so close and held the peas to his face, how her breasts felt against his chest. He felt her nipples tighten, then saw her eyes widen as if realizing their proximity. Obviously, she had as hard of a time not touching him as he had not touching her.
So what did that mean?
It meant if he persisted, he might end up getting what he wanted. Her naked in bed. Him naked with her. His mind created the image of her jumping on the bed wet and nude. Moaning aloud, he reached for the frozen vegetables and dropped them on top of his stiffening crotch.
He didn’t want this to be something she’d do and regret.
“Here,” she said.
His eyes shot open. She held out a plate with a sandwich neatly cut into halves.
“Those veggies aren’t going to do any good in your lap,” she said.
They might. He took the plate and set it on his lap before she made him move the cold compress from between his legs. Unsure what to say, he grabbed half of the sandwich.
His teeth sank into the soft white bread, then tasted… Not ham, or cheese, or turkey. What the hell was it?
He cut his eyes up, moving the hearty bite of bread and something unidentifiable and gooey into his cheek. “What kind of sandwich is this?”
“Banana and mayo,” she answered. “You don’t like it?” A frown pulled at her mouth.
“No, it’s… fine.” He couldn’t seem to bring the lump of food out from his cheek.
“I tried to ask, but you said you weren’t picky.”
“I’m not.” He told his taste buds to stop rebelling. He liked bananas and didn’t hate mayo on a normal sandwich. But who the hell ate banana sandwiches?
“It might be an Alabama thing.” She answered his question without his even asking it. “You don’t have to eat it.”
“No, it’s good.” He managed to chew the bite and swallow it. Hurting her feelings held less appeal than eating the nasty fruit sandwich.
She grinned. “You don’t like it.”
“It’s not that. I just… never ate one before.”
She chuckled. “Eating should not be a painful experience. And you looked as if you were in pain.”
“Not pain. It’s just an acquired taste, and I’m acquiring it.” He raised the sandwich.
“Please.” She grabbed the plate.
He frowned. “Give it back.”
“No.” She laughed. She tried to take the piece of sandwich between his fingers, but he stuffed it in his mouth.
She laughed, moved in front of him, and put the plate under his face. “Just spit it out.”
He met her laughing blue eyes and felt something twist in his gut. Why did she have to be so damn pretty, so damn refreshing?
“Spit!” she said.
He grinned, shook his head, and tried to shut off his tastes buds.
“You’re crazy,
you know that?” she said.
Yeah, he was. He was loco over her. And he didn’t do crazy. Where was the logical Tyler Lopez?
“Not everything is logical, Tyler. You’re so smart, you try to analyze everything. But emotions can’t be analyzed.” His sister’s words rang through his head. And went straight to his solar plexus.
But then Zoe’s grin widened and her eyes glittered with humor, and he made up his mind. He’d get himself in check later; now he just wanted to see her smile.
“Fine, punish yourself and eat it. But it’s not going to matter a hill of beans either way.”
At that point it didn’t matter what it meant to her; he did it to make her smile. It replaced the shadows of hurt he’d seen in her eyes five minutes ago with laughter. Sweet-to-the-soul kind of laughter. Hell, she could make him another one and he’d choke it down.
She took the plate with the other half of the sandwich on it and went into the kitchen, but she was chuckling the whole way. And he watched that beautiful backside sway side to side with each step. The memory of her bare bottom when she’d turned to ward off Bud rushed back. He tucked the frozen vegetables deeper into his lap.
A minute later, before the cold had taken the edge off his hard-on in the making, she came to the doorway of the kitchen. “Will a ham sandwich be better?”
“I’m fine.”
“You afraid you won’t like it, either?” She giggled.
He grinned. “Fine, make the sandwich.” And right after he ate it, he was going to take a cold shower.
Shortly later, Zoe sat beside Tyler on the sofa as he ate the sandwich with obvious pleasure. She tucked away the info that Tyler didn’t like banana sandwiches. Then it hit. She didn’t need to collect data on him, because he wasn’t going to be around that long. But they had two weeks, give or take a few days. And she wanted them.
All she had to do was figure out how to move things along in that direction. She really shouldn’t have backed away from him in the kitchen, and she wouldn’t next time. While she told herself she should be able to just come out and say, “Let’s have sex,” she couldn’t see herself being that bold.
He set the plate on the coffee table. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She leaned a bit closer and remembered what she’d told herself she needed to tell him—something safer than having sex. “Uh, Dixie came to see me today.”
Blame It on Texas Page 25
