Carnal Passions Presents
Long Time Coming
By
Scarlett Parrish
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Carnal Passions
A Division of Champagne Books
www.carnalpassions.com
Copyright © 2010 by Scarlett Parrish
ISBN 9781926681818
May 2010
Cover Art © Amanda Kelsey
Produced in Canada
Dedication
To Lori – this book is entirely your fault. I hope you’re proud of yourself!
One
The empty bedroom inspired nothing but relief when I peeked around the door. While I’d showered, Andrew Kincaid had left the building, possible confrontation too much for him.
A floorboard in the living room creaked, the television sparked to life and my heart sank. No such luck.
He didn’t like me dropping clothes on the bedroom floor so that was exactly where I left my dressing gown while pulling on my oldest pyjamas.
The hairline crack running across my bedroom ceiling winked at me again, a constant companion during times of distress. As now, bracing myself to go confront Andrew. Or as half an hour ago, when he’d coerced me into trying to mend the emotional cracks in our relationship with something a bit more physical. Mend or paper over them, the effect was the same.
I’d asked, requested, told him to stop and his assurance was as empty as his once-adorable smile, familiarity having blurred it to an irritating smirk. "I know what I’m doing." He got off while I theorized that sex would be much less complicated and much more fun if emotions weren't involved.
I’d wriggled away from him and his inevitable disapproval.
"Oh come on, Piper." His weight had shifted behind me as I sat up and the hand on my bare back wrought a shudder rather than a shiver of attraction. "You should have told me you weren’t in the mood if you felt this bad about it."
Two people were needed for a disconnect to exist but his passivity made it entirely my fault. He’d gifted me the blame in quiet words, wrapped in a ribbon of subtle accusation. Even my intention to shower was another false step.
"Going to wash me off you?"
I hadn’t looked back, let the running water mask my out-loud assurances that I was just tired, my words as empty as Andrew’s.
Though now walking into the living room with arms crossed over my chest was a tad more confrontational than necessary, the discarded dressing gown had given me a taste for rebellion. "Andrew."
Now dressed in jeans and tee-shirt, he lounged on my settee, channel surfing my television with my remote control. He sighed so heavily the sound morphed into a groan. "Do we have to talk about this now?"
"You acknowledge there’s something to talk about, then?" I didn’t expect to hold his attention for long no matter what I did but that damn television with its talk show audience whooping and cheering stopped me thinking straight. "Can you at least turn the sound off?"
A petulant finger stabbed at the mute button but a groan marred the ensuing silence. "Fine, fine."
"I’m not boring you am I?"
He inclined his head, shrugged. "I thought it was the other way round. I hardly got a response out of you earlier."
"You...? Oh, I see. Because I can’t be bothered pretending any more..." I doubted uncrossing my arms would dilute the aggression in my words but did it anyway. "Listen, I—"
"Piper." He rose and neared me in menacing slow motion, still clutching the remote control, the sight of which made me shiver. Our last fight had concluded with him throwing it across the room, not at me thankfully, and I’d carried out emergency surgery on the casing with masking tape to keep the battery cover on. "Whatever’s wrong we can deal with this, but not now, eh? It’s late. I’m too tired to listen to you fretting—"
"This is how you deal with someone who has serious concerns?"
"I honestly think you’re stressing out too much. All we need to do is ride this out, spend a bit more time together. I’ve been working so hard—"
That one deserved the derisory snort I gave it. "What’s the point if you never want to listen to anything I have to say?"
"Never? Don’t be so absolutist about this, Pipes. I do listen to you." He patted me on the shoulder with just the right level of condescension and control to make me want to scream. "When you have something to say."
"I..." Shock trapped the words in my throat. A desire for clarification forced them through. "I beg your pardon?"
Andrew’s hand on my shoulder contracted at the exact moment his jaw set. A thin-lipped, deeply pissed off Andrew Kincaid was a sight to behold. I’d had the headaches, sleepless nights and broken remote controls to prove it. He looked me up and down by just moving his narrowed eyes, not his head, and this icy control may have reassured others but chilled me. Andrew only stored up control to lose it. "We can do this another time." And he stood back.
"That’s very kind of you. But if I persist, will you throw the remote control again?"
"Oh, for fuck’s sake!" He threw his hands in the air and turned his back. "How the hell are we supposed to talk about the non-existent problems in this relationship when you’re in this sort of mood? Honestly, Pipes, if you just chilled out once in a while—"
His hat trick made me tune out. One, his reaction proved the problems weren’t non-existent. Two, he’d called me Pipes again and three, he’d pushed the ‘chill out’ button, using one of the most irritating phrases known to man.
"No, Andrew," I said, and he stopped mid-sentence, and faced me again. "No we can’t. We either talk about this properly or..." The slow, dawning realization that I didn’t want to do this another time iced my blood. The outcome would be the same then as now.
"Or what?" He scowled.
Sighing, I looked out of the window. Street lamps and other people’s electrical lights twinkled and I didn’t want to be here with Andrew. I wanted to be out there with them, whoever they were. Meeting new people rather than being smothered by an old acquaintance.
"There’s no need for us to analyze everything," he said.
"You never want to analyze anything, that’s the trouble."
"Pipes—"
"For Pete’s sake, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"
"How many times do I have to tell you not to pick a fight?"
"I am not trying to pick a fight. I’m trying to make you see that this relationship is going nowhere. Neither of us is getting anything out of it, at least I'm not and—"
"Oh, so that’s the bottom line is it?"
"Yes. Yes, it is. I try to talk to you, you don’t listen. What’s the point in trying to get through to you?"
Andrew paused before speaking, looking away from me as he shook his head, his every gesture shrouded in disapproval. Though eye contact made me feel scrutinized, his need to look away from me too was an insult. "Have you any idea, any idea at all, how selfish that makes you?"
"Let me get this straight. You’re accusing me of being selfish because I object to you ignoring my thoughts and feelings?"
"Piper. What is wrong with you tonight?"
If I reacted, he’d accuse me of being pre-menstrual. If I failed to react, I’d be stuck gritting my teeth in fury at my own impotence. "I’m trying to tell you how I feel a
nd somehow that gets twisted round to me being selfish. I have opinions on how two people should act which don’t match up with yours, so—"
"Oh for fuck’s sake!" He tossed the remote onto the settee and grabbed my shoulders. "Not this again. Pipes. Piper. When are you going to realize, there’s nothing wrong here but—"
"Look, just get off me." Whether I pushed him away or pulled back, somehow I struggled free. But he remained sure-footed and scowling. "Jesus, Andrew. Who do you think you are, shaking me like that?"
"You call that shaking? That’s nothing."
"You know what? You’re right." I waved away his thinly-veiled threat, his unspoken I am capable of so much more than this. "There’s nothing to fix." And I couldn’t bring myself to care.
He nodded, smiling, only with his mouth, his eyes grave-cold.
"Because there’s nothing there at all. Not any more. I’m tired of this, Andrew. I’m tired of trying to get along with someone I no longer even like."
"I beg your pardon? Now just wait a fucking minute—" He moved to grab my arm again, I dodged but he wouldn’t be denied. Pulling me against him, his fingers dug in tightly enough to make bruising in the morning a certainty.
"You don’t listen to my concerns, you’re selfish with our time together, we always have to do what you want to do..." When you want to do it. "Hell, we stay in so much these days I’ve forgotten what fresh air smells like...and every time I try to raise the..."
Breathlessness arrested this stream of accusations. I hadn’t even known I’d been storing them up but there they were, taking the first opportunity to escape. The realization that this was all too much work had unlocked the door. I can’t be bothered and here are the reasons why. "Look, will you get off me? Every time I try to raise the subject you...I’m sick of this. I want out. I—" As soon as his hand came up I yelped, turned my face away, waited for the sting, but it never came. Held breath flamed in my lungs, and an age passed before I dared exhale, a gasp bursting out of me.
Okay, Andrew. This is where you apologize. This is where you say you can’t believe you almost—
He tutted. A sneer of disdain wrinkled his nose and I almost wished I hadn’t found the courage to face him again, had kept my eyes averted. "You’re not worth it. I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, Pipes."
"Well." I blinked, trying to process what I’d heard. "It won’t be you ever again, that’s for sure."
The hand that had nearly slapped me balled into a fist by his side. He caught me looking at it and flexed his fingers. "Perhaps we should both sleep on this."
Oh God, what if he expects to sleep here, what if, what if—
He grabbed his jacket off the back of the armchair. At first I wondered if he took my long exhalation as a sigh of relief but that’s exactly what it was, a breathy release of tension unknotting my neck and shoulders. His raised hand had shaken me so much because with it came the very real threat of physical chastisement rather than mere mental distress.
"I’ll be off then." Andrew hovered in the doorway, zipping up his jacket. "I’ll call you."
Think, Piper. Think. This is where you say something. "Yeah. ‘Bye."
"Don’t worry about me, I’ll see myself out." He shook his head slowly, nothing more than a twitch and I wanted him and his contempt out of my home.
The front door slammed and once its echo died, I ran to put the chain on and turn the key in the lock, securing myself indoors with Andrew very definitely out.
Panting with exertion or nerves or excitement or relief, I stood in the centre of my living room clutching my mobile phone, not knowing who to call but needing human contact with someone who wouldn’t lose his temper or raise his hands to me.
"Matthias." As soon as the word was out it seemed obvious. Of course. Matthias.
Two
The following week, drowning my sorrows wasn’t on the agenda; ridding myself of the world’s first migraine in human form was no cause for sorrow.
Neither was the whole episode cause for celebration, but meeting my favorite man and a friend for a drink or several seemed like a good way to pass the time.
Cole’s, one of our favorite bars, was too upmarket, too clean to be called a pub. Its small dance floor with DJ booth in one corner usually attracted a different set from the creaky, floor-boarded watering hole clientele a generation ahead of us.
Math and I—and special guest—would start here and see where the mood took us. Most likely to a watering hole with creaky floorboards.
I winked at the doorman as I walked past, barely catching my breath before the man himself trotted down the steps linking the sunken foyer to the main body of Cole’s.
"Piper!" He grinned, holding his arms wide in his customary ‘gimme a hug’ gesture. "How’s it going?" He looked down, holding a crooked finger under my chin.
"Never better."
"Really?" He frowned, leaned back. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I’m sure, Matthias Holt, so don’t come over all big brother on me. When have I ever lied to you? Well, that you know of, that is?"
Matthias cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. "I’m not sure I want either of us to answer that question."
"And I’m not sure what you just accused me of."
"Being impulsive, maybe. Now come on, let’s go get some alcohol."
I linked arms with him as we climbed the steps. "But tell me." I had to raise my voice considerably as the loud dance music confronted us. "Where’s that gorgeous friend of yours?"
He raised an eyebrow as he studied me. "Piper..."
"What? What? I’m only asking."
"You’ve been single five minutes and already you’re on the prowl."
"Over a week, actually and you know I’ve always liked Gray."
"You’re incorrigible."
"Couldn’t you have a word with him on my behalf?"
"Sod off!" he barked with a burst of laughter. "I’m not your pimp. You can do your own dirty work." My brother looked impossibly mischievous as he spoke and I well understood how he was able to acquire a long line of admirers both male and female with that twinkle in his eye. As far as I knew he’d only ever acted on overtures from women but there’d always been enough of those to keep him occupied.
"Damn it, why can’t you have ugly friends? It’d make it a lot easier for me to handle."
"Because they’d make me look bad, darling. I only hang out with lookers. Anything else would ruin my mojo." Matthias elbowed his way through the crowd and headed for the bar. I merely followed.
"So where exactly is Gray anyway? You did say he’d be here. Does he know I’m coming?"
"He does. He also knows you’re single again." A huge grin.
Sometimes I really, really love my brother.
"It’s how I explained your imminent arrival. Said you’d just finished with your boyfriend—"
"Nice touch. So he won’t feel guilty about taking advantage of a recently dumped woman."
"—and you’d be joining us for a few drinks tonight."
"Matthias, you’re so much more than a pimp."
"I prefer to call it facilitator."
"I hope you were subtle."
"Naturally. I merely mentioned that you’d recently ended things with Andrew. Anything beyond that? I’m staying out of it. Come on, he said he’d be somewhere at the bar. I told him to get the drinks."
"Matthias, you’re an officer and a gentleman."
"No I’m not. I’m just your big brother and I haven’t got a clue why I put up with you. Please, Piper. Go easy on him. He’s my friend."
"Gray, hi!" I’d seen his eyes widen as I approached and hoped it was admiration. I hadn’t dressed up for him especially. I always made an effort when I went out at the weekend but knowing one of my brother’s many gorgeous friends would be here tonight made it easier to justify taking so long to straighten my hair and do my makeup. I wore a tight black vest, my most helpful push-up bra and a couple of strings of beads to draw attention to my c
leavage. The height of my heels brought me to exactly the right level for Gray to grab himself an eyeful without too much neck-craning.
"Piper!" He touched my arm as he leaned forward to kiss my cheek. "What are you having?"
Looking him in the eye, I paused. "There’s a loaded question. I’ll stick to vodka and Red Bull. For now."
He cleared his throat and his gaze flitted from me to Matthias and back again. Obviously concerned about my brother cock-blocking him.
"Uh, Matthias mentioned the, uh, Andrew situation." Gray looked tentative, searching my face for any signs of upset.
"Andrew who?" I laughed. "Don’t worry. I’m not upset, I’m relieved. So yes, it’s out in the open, we’ve split, big deal, it was a long time coming, overdue, blah, blah, blah. I’m just glad it’s done."
"So you’re okay with it?" His fingers tapped the bar, perhaps nervously and the rhythm of his fingers held my attention for slightly longer than was polite.
"You don’t have to tiptoe around me. I think we were both halfway out of the relationship before it blew up. Prepared. I tried talking to him, he didn’t listen. What can you do? Hadn’t you better try to get the barman’s attention?"
There was a beat before he turned back to the bar and did as I’d suggested. Matthias stood at my shoulder with a knowing smirk. I frowned in query, but all he did was wink.
At least I had my brother’s blessing whatever happened.
"Go easy on him, sis," Matthias 'whispered' in my ear. 'Whispered' in the context of the background noise; outside his voice would be a shout. "You’ll scare him."
"Math, it’s not me he’s scared of. It’s you. He’s scared of your reaction."
"Like it’s anything to do with me."
"He probably thinks you’ll leap in and try to defend my honor."
I couldn’t hear the sound above the background music but his expression told me Matthias snorted in derision. He leaned in close and shout-whispered, "As if you have any honor left to defend."
Long Time Coming Page 1
