Temporary Insanity: (Temporary; Paul and Indy #1)

by H L Day

  “You know why not! You were the one who told me the other day to watch myself.”

  I regarded him steadily, wondering just how deep his denial went. “I didn’t have the full story the other day. I thought he was lying about the engagement and you were stupid to believe him.” I gave him a pointed look when he seemed like he might be about to protest. "But obviously he wasn’t, so you weren’t stupid at all. I also didn’t know about all these messages between the two of you.” I left out the bit about possibly being influenced by the altercation with the man I was refusing to think about.

  “There’s not that many.”

  Yep. Definitely in denial. “Of course not.” I didn't even try and rein in my sarcasm. “Just several every night. For the past few weeks.”

  “Not every night.”

  I wasn't accepting that. I may not have read every message, but I'd read enough. “Just about. Not to mention that you apparently meet up in diners, and he comes around for cozy DVD-watching sessions, which you’ve never bothered mentioning either.”

  “They’re just messages.”

  I sighed wearily, shaking my head. It wasn't news to me that Dom could be decidedly pig-headed. “He’s obviously into you. He messages you all the time. He signs every bloody message with a kiss.” I lowered my voice. “He had sex with you. You can’t be that blind.”

  “He’s straight.”

  I pulled a face. “I’ve never been that keen on labels. They don’t fit the majority of the time. Eat up. We need to get back to work. We’re already late.” I aimed a wink in his direction. “Oh, sorry, I forgot. Your boyfriend, the boss, said we could take our time.” Which wasn't a lie, he'd said exactly that in the last message he'd sent.

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  The sad thing was that he actually believed that. I wasn't about to take on the task of trying to prove otherwise. That was Tristan's job. I wished him good luck. He was absolutely going to need it. I smiled at my friend across the table.

  Dom glared at me. “He’s not!”

  My smile grew wider. “So, we’ll just go straight back. Nowhere else we need to go, right?”

  Dominic pushed his half-eaten meal away from him and stood. “You’ve read my messages. You know I said I’d get Tristan something to eat.”

  I had. I'd just wanted to see if he'd admit it. I focused my attention on the exit, refusing to let my eyes drift over in the direction of the bar. My skin was prickling again so I was fairly sure that Indy was watching us leave. Bloody stalker. No doubt, he'd been hoping to make some sort of provocative statement while I was on my way out. Well, I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. It was lucky that I had Dom to wind up as a fitting distraction. “One boyfriend meal coming up.”

  Chapter Five

  "DRINK UP."

  I struggled to make out the features of the man lifting my glass toward my mouth as if a verbal instruction wasn't good enough. The mere fact I was having trouble focusing told me I'd probably had enough to drink already. Draining my glass anyway, I leaned closer to the man whose name I was struggling to recall. Geoff—that was it. Ha! Who said I was drunk? "Where's Russell?"

  Geoff, who was Russell's friend, or Russell's cousin—one or the other, I couldn't really recall, draped an arm around my neck, his lips close to my ear in order to be heard over the loud bass in the club. "He went home. You know what he's like. He can only take so much fun. We're getting out of here. Going to a bar instead. You're coming, right?"

  I studied the empty glass which had previously held whisky, feeling slightly sick. "I should probably go home."

  "Nah, man. You can't. Cameron's coming." He elbowed me in the side with a grin. My eyes lifted to where Cameron was deep in conversation with another member of our small and dwindling party. Speaking of which, I'd be having words with Russell when I saw him for taking off without even saying goodbye. I'd only come out tonight because he'd convinced me that he needed the moral support. Cameron lifted his head and smiled when he saw me watching him. He'd been flirting all night.

  I hadn't been interested earlier. But now with a few Jack Daniel’s and Cokes inside of me, he was starting to become a lot more attractive. He wasn't my usual type: a little too sandy-haired and lankier than the men I usually went for. But why the hell not? It wasn't as if I was looking for a husband. What was it Gabrielle had said? My cock would drop off if I didn't use it. Well, if I was right, I might get the chance to use it. With Cameron? On Cameron? In Cameron? At Cameron? No, not at Cameron—that would be weird. I was still debating the right phrasing when the empty glass was taken out of my hand and I found myself swept along with the group, right out of the door and onto the street. Apparently, silence counted as agreement.

  I had no idea where we were going until we reached a familiar door, one with The Silver Barrel emblazoned above it. I stopped dead. "No, no, no. Not here. Let's go somewhere else. Somewhere with..." I wanted to say better bartenders. But that wasn't really fair to the rest when it was only one of them that I had a problem with. "Somewhere else."

  Cameron's arm hooked through mine and he dragged me through the entrance. "Come on. It's two-for-one shots here. It's a lot cheaper than the last place."

  I let him lead me inside and over to the bar. "No shots for me. Had enough to drink. Just water." I perused the bar with bleary eyes, relieved to see a distinct absence of green-eyed men. Perhaps it was his night off?

  A few minutes later, a shot of something was pressed into my hand. I obediently lifted it to my mouth and downed the clear liquid, the aniseed flavor telling me it was sambuca. I leaned against the bar and directed my attention to Cameron. At least it was quieter, music-wise, than the club we'd been in, meaning talk was possible without being one inch away from the other person's ear canal. "Want to go somewhere else after this? Just the two of us?"

  Cameron shook his head. "No, I can't. My girlfriend texted to say she's expecting me home by midnight. Another time, maybe."

  "Your..." But Cameron was already turning away. Either he was oblivious to the fact we'd been flirting all night, or it had all been a figment of my imagination.

  "Ouch!"

  I whirled around at the familiar voice behind me, its owner leaning over the bar in a very tight white shirt. Great. Not only was he there after all, but he'd had front-row seats for my little dose of rejection. His eyes swept over me, making it clear he liked what he saw. He should. I'd dressed for a night out in tight jeans and an equally tight T-shirt which showed off my muscles. I'd figured it was working when Cameron had been all over me, except that he apparently hadn't been. I was drunk and confused. I certainly wasn't in any fit state to have to deal with Indigo. His face held a certain degree of empathy. Unless it was an act? Sober me would probably have been a much better judge. I squinted at him, a question suddenly popping into my head. "What's your surname?"

  He tilted his head to the side. "Strange question. I'll bite. What do you think it is?"

  I swayed slightly, the effects of the last shot kicking in. "Jones. Indy Jones." I giggled at my hilarious joke, glancing around to see if anyone else had heard and wanted to join in. If they did, they were hiding it well.

  Indy rolled his eyes. "Didn't we have this conversation before? The one where I told you that I don't go searching for strange relics."

  My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool. I leaned against the bar, trusting that its solidity would be enough to hold me up. God, he was gorgeous. He was dressed much more formally than I'd ever seen him before: form-fitting black trousers and a tight white shirt which fluoresced in the overhead lights and contrasted nicely with his tan. It suited him. He had stubble tonight as well. It made me itch to lean over the bar and explore it with my tongue. I might have been drunk, but I was still aware enough to know that I was looking at Indy as if I wanted to devour him. The only problem was I couldn't stop myself. The alcohol had ripped away my barriers. It was his fault anyway for being so sexy. The bastard. Someone should tell him to dr
ess in garish Hawaiian shirts or something.

  Indy's breathing hitched and our gazes locked together, the two of us oblivious to the crush of bodies around the bar. He smiled and then shook his head sheepishly. "How much have you had to drink tonight?"

  I held the fingers of my right hand in the air without making any move to try and count them. "A lot. Too much."

  He laughed, the throaty sound making me want to throw him on the bar and straddle him. "Damn right you have if one day you're telling me how much you dislike me, and then the next you're looking at me like that."

  I moved closer to him, close enough to be able to catch a hint of his cologne. "Hate sex. Apparently, we could have great hate sex."

  His eyes crinkled. "Is that so?" His fingers moved across the bar, stopping a few inches short of touching mine. "That's very tempting." He tilted his head back, lifting his eyes to the ceiling. "Did you know I live upstairs?"

  I let my head fall back and stared at the ceiling as if I'd suddenly develop superpowers and gain the ability to see straight through it to where Indy lived. I wasn't actually going to do this, was I? I was drunk. I knew I was. Therefore, I was aware that I wasn't in the best position to be making important decisions. But I was also horny. And he was right there. And it wasn't as if I was pretending to like him.

  Even in my drunken state, I'd made it perfectly clear that it would be hate sex and nothing more. He could say no. He could tell me where to stick that idea. I lowered my head and met his gaze again. "I did not know that. That is very close."

  Indy bit his lip and then checked his watch. "I've still got an hour of my shift left. If you're still around after that and haven't changed your mind, then I'm all yours. You—"

  "For hate sex?" It was extremely important to me that he fully grasped the fact that I still didn't like him. That he wasn't forgiven for his past transgressions.

  He laughed. "You might want to keep your voice down, sunshine." More people seemed to have gathered around me, most of them starting to appear increasingly irritated at Indy's unwillingness to serve them while he was talking to me. He shot them a look of apology before focusing back on me. "Listen, I've got to serve customers. I'll bring you some water to drink so you can start sobering up. Then if you're still here in an hour we can talk."

  True to his word, the next time he appeared it was with a pint glass of water, which he deposited in front of me. I had no idea where Cameron and Geoff had disappeared to. I hadn't seen anyone that I'd arrived with since I'd drunk the shot. Either they'd disappeared into a dark corner somewhere or they'd left while I was talking to Indy. I pulled my phone out while I sipped the water, finding a long chain of messages I'd never heard arrive from Russell.

  Russell: Where are you guys? 10:05 p.m.

  Russell: There was a big queue in the toilets. You know I can't use the urinal. When I came out, you'd all disappeared. 10:10 p.m.

  Russell: Paul? Talk to me. I can't find any of you. I've tried calling Geoff and he's not answering. 10:11 p.m.

  Russell: Guess I'll go home then. Thanks for leaving without me and not noticing I was missing. 10:12 p.m.

  Russell: You were probably too busy making eyes at Cameron. He’s straight, by the way. He and his girlfriend have been together for years. He just flirts with anything that moves. I could have told you that if you hadn't ditched me. Now, I hope you make a move on him and he punches you in the face. 10:15 p.m.

  Russell: Sorry. That was a bit harsh. Not like a hard punch. Just a gentle punch. If there is such a thing. Just enough to cause minor bruising without spoiling your good looks. 10:17 p.m.

  Russell: Crap! I said you were good-looking. In writing. I'll never hear the end of it. Delete this message, please. And no, I don't have a thing for you. Before you come up with some crazy theory about me not losing my virginity because I'm hung up on you. I've got better taste. 10:23 p.m.

  It took all the concentration I had to manage to type a response.

  Paul: Sqrry. Just seen mcssages. Diid you get home ok? Didn#t mean to dich you. Sorry. Rquly soory. X X X X X

  Perfect. I'd even managed it without any spelling mistakes.

  Russell: Oh my God, you're SO drunk! What's with all the kisses? We don't do kisses. Yes, I got home fine. Are you at home? Because I gotta tell you that if you haven't stopped drinking yet, you probably should.

  Paul: Drincking wqter like a goood boy.

  Russell: Are you on your way home? Need me to call you a taxi? Tell me where you are and I'll get one to come and pick you up.

  I turned to face the bar again, watching Indy flit around and serve customers with an easy smile on his face. Not flirtatious though, I noted. Just friendly. I'm sure that would probably mean something when my brain was in any fit state to process simple information. I should go home. It was the sensible thing to do. Indy saw me looking his way, and lifted his hands with all his fingers in the air, mouthing "ten minutes." Then with a smile and wink he went back to serving.

  Paul: No taxxi needed. Going to make huuuuge enjoyable mistake. X X X X X X X X

  Russell: What? What are you up to? And stop it with the kisses. It's weird. I'm going to call you. Perhaps you'll make more sense when I speak to you.

  Ignoring Russell's call, I waited. It turned out that I didn't have to wait that long. Either that was the quickest ten minutes in history or Indy had decided to sneak away a few minutes early. I suspected the latter. Not that it mattered to me. I didn't give a damn if he got himself into trouble. All I wanted from him were his muscles and his cock. Maybe his lips as well. Yeah, definitely his lips. And his ass. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand in case I was drooling.

  "Hi. You're still here."

  I held up the nearly empty pint glass of water. "Do I get a prize for drinking my water?"

  "I'm sure something can be arranged." His tongue darted out to moisten his bottom lip and my eyes followed the movement. I resisted the urge to lean over the bar and taste. "That's assuming you still want to come upstairs?"

  I nodded, contemplating whether I should tell him once more, just for clarity's sake, that I didn't like him. Deciding it could wait a few minutes, I followed him around the bar to a long corridor. He pulled out a key and unlocked the door, ushering me up the stairs to another door at the top. He unlocked that one and then we were in his apartment. It was open plan, stretching above the length of the bar. I looked around, noting the kitchen area over to one side, the door that must lead to a bathroom, the sofa and large screen TV in the center, before settling on the king-sized bed half-hidden behind a screen on the right-hand side of the large room.

  A sheepish-looking Indy began to gather things from the floor. "Sorry. I didn't tidy up before work. I wasn't expecting to bring anyone back. Just give me a minute."

  I wandered around the space, pausing at a tank full of tropical fish. "You like fish?"

  "Yeah, doesn't everyone?" He came to stand next to me, our shoulders touching. "Listen, I've been thinking. This wasn't fair of me. You're pretty drunk. If I let anything happen between us, then it's going to feel like I'm taking advantage of you. So what do you say I call you a cab?"

  I spun around, planted my hand in the middle of his chest and pushed him back against the wall. There was just enough time to catch his brief look of surprise before our faces were too close for me to see anything as I ground my lips down on his. Normally, a first kiss was exploratory, that gentle meeting of lips as two people became better acquainted and learned each other's mouths. But this was hate sex, right? This was me finding myself irresistibly attracted to the man who'd ruined my one and only long-term relationship.

  There was a faint flutter of something in my brain, a passing thought that in reality Stephen should be the one held responsible. I ignored it. If I couldn't resist Indy's charms, then what chance had Stephen had. Besides, I didn't need to think. I didn't need to worry about weighing things up and justifying them. I just needed my tongue in Indy's mouth; my hands roving over the thin fabric of
his shirt as I explored the dips and hollows of his chest. I needed his taste. His heat. His surrender.

  If he was bothered that I'd skipped gentle and gone straight to inferno level, he didn't show it, his mouth meeting mine with an equal intensity as his hands pulled me closer, our bodies pressed together. He was a good kisser and I couldn't get enough of him. It felt like we should have done this long ago. Like I should have dragged him across the bar and shut him up by kissing him weeks ago. For a few minutes, nothing else existed except for the hard body pressed against mine and the warm velvet of his mouth. Eventually, the desire to keep kissing him was overshadowed by the need for oxygen.

  Indy exhaled slowly, his hands still stroking my back through the fabric of my T-shirt. "A simple no, you don't want a cab, would have sufficed."

  My lips twitched but I refused to let them smile. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of thinking I found him amusing. Which I didn't. Hot, yes. There was no hiding that anymore given the way I'd kissed him. But amusing and likeable, no. That was just the whisky and sambuca playing tricks with my mind. "Are you complaining? I thought that's what you wanted? Why you've been flirting with me for ages."

  One of his hands moved to my neck, his fingers curling around it while his thumb stroked over the skin. "Oh, you did notice then? Because I was beginning to think you were completely oblivious."

  "You know why that is."

  His smile was tight. "Because you don't like me, and you can't forgive me for making a stupid mistake years ago. But you still want to have sex with me."

  I shrugged his hand away, the movement of his thumb over my skin far too distracting. Besides, soft touches were off the menu. We were fucking. Nothing more. If he couldn't get on board with that, then this was an even bigger mistake.

  Indy's face took on a pensive expression. "So... hate sex? You better tell me what it entails. Just so I'm clear. I'd hate to get it wrong and risk upsetting you. Do we hurl insults at each other while we're fucking?"