Heart Signs

by Cari Quinn

  She didn’t argue with her urges anymore. Usually they led straight to fun. But this particular brand of fun came emblazoned with a skull and crossbones.

  Odds were good Sam had no clue who she was. He didn’t know what she looked like beyond dark hair and black clothes. He also didn’t know where she lived. She, on the other hand, had filled out his address innumerable times over the past two years. His voice had ignited a flicker of recognition that had soon kindled into a wildfire when he’d rattled off his street name and number.

  Which took this from the realm of stranger sex to pure insanity.

  She tentatively gassed her sedan as the cars lurched forward. They’d just had a car accident—a minor one, true—and he hadn’t taken her info yet. If he had, the jig would’ve been up.

  And she would’ve continued to wonder about him, as she had wondered for the past two years.

  An honorable person would tell him who she was. It seemed right. They weren’t strangers, not completely. But that would ruin the mystique. Anyone could see the shadows gathered in Sam’s haunted dark eyes. If she could give him a respite from his ghosts for an hour or two, she would.

  He’d mentioned exchanging information, so he’d find out who she was soon enough. But she didn’t harbor any illusions about the real reason she was following him home. What had happened the minute their eyes met defied explanation or conversation. He’d felt it too. Refusing to go home with him hadn’t even been a consideration. He’d asked, she’d agreed. No thinking involved.

  Dangerous or not, she absolutely wanted this to happen. Whatever this was. She’d learned early on that sex revealed a lot about a person, both in what they gave and what they held back. She wouldn’t get to study all his gears or dismantle all his secrets in an hour, but she’d definitely get a crash course in what made Sam Miller tick.

  He wasn’t anywhere close to the poetic-looking guy she’d expected. He had to be six-four, easy. For a girl who reached five-foot-seven on her best day, that was big. And the guy was as bald as a newborn, with eyes as black as the hair color she got from a bottle. He had no facial hair and no visible tats, though it had been hard to look away from the draw of his eyes on hers.

  One thing he had was muscles. A lot of them. To go with his notable height, he had the sort of massive body she’d never found particularly attractive. She liked her men with more brains than brawn.

  So what happened when she found one with both? Then what?

  “He’s married,” she whispered. Still wore the ring to prove it. Even knowing that his wife had died didn’t diminish her sense that he was very much taken—and worse, that by doing this she’d be betraying a woman she’d never laid eyes on.

  By even coming here, she was confirming every negative opinion her aunt had of her. Despite what Pam thought, she wasn’t easy and she didn’t sleep around. But this couldn’t just be a casual lay. Not only was Sam a client of JDS, she didn’t want to create any more drama for him. Or for herself.

  She wouldn’t flip and expect a relationship, but any sensible woman knew a guy on the rebound after dealing with grief wasn’t a good bet. Maybe she would inadvertently cause him more problems than she solved. Sex wasn’t always the magic elixir it was cracked up to be. Even though he looked like a big enough boy to know what he wanted and needed, exteriors could hide a lot.

  But she still followed his silver Chevelle, keeping far enough back that she wouldn’t accidentally inflict any more damage on his previously pristine classic car. Any admonitions were basically useless at this point. No internal warning would stop her from finding out all she could about Sam Miller, sexually or otherwise.

  He swung into the drive of an ordinary-looking two-family house and she parked behind him, using the moment it took to grab her purse to suck in a deep breath. She’d told Pam she’d be gone for two hours, just in case. She glanced up as he climbed out of his car. His intent dark eyes bored into hers through the windshield and she felt the hit all the way to her toes.

  Two hours that just might change her life.

  It took every ounce of nerve she possessed to climb out of her sedan. She walked over to where he stood by his trunk and searched frantically for something to say.

  I’m here. Now what?

  But she knew what. And when her attention locked on his full lips, she wanted that what to start immediately. At least until he started moving.

  Rory stepped backward as he advanced, self-preservation belatedly kicking in. He dwarfed her, both in size and intensity. In everything. Only when she bumped into her car did she realize she’d never even looked at her own fender. Hell, she had enough trouble even remembering they’d been in an accident.

  With effort, she tore her gaze from his and zeroed in on a small tic-tac-toe board of scratches on her black Honda. She would’ve shrugged them off but he leaned around her and smoothed his fingers over them, drawing her focus to the size of his hand.

  She swallowed. Yep, every bit as big as the rest of him. Was it wrong she liked how tiny he made her feel? She hadn’t felt tiny since…well, ever. She had a large frame and everything that came with it. Large hips, large breasts, rounded shoulders a linebacker would appreciate. She’d lost weight, but she would never be svelte. And from the way he turned his head sideways and let his gaze travel over her, he didn’t seem to mind.

  Her skin heated under his stare. He didn’t speak, just rested his fingers lightly on her battered car’s new scar. It felt as if he was touching her intimately, holding his hand over the pulse point in her throat, over her heart. Over her breasts and her pussy and all the sensitized nerve endings in between.

  “I can fix this for you.”

  His voice. God, just the whisker-rasp of it made her melt. He didn’t need to touch her. With every flick of his fingers on the quarter panel of her sedan, her breasts swelled, nipples pulling tight. The clench of her thighs couldn’t disguise what was happening between them. How she’d already readied herself for a man she’d never believed she could have.

  Men like Sam didn’t exist in her world. Lust on her terms suited her just fine, and she’d never actively searched for love. In fact, until Sam’s feelings for his wife had repeatedly awakened her to what she hadn’t realized she’d been missing, she would’ve said her life was just the way she wanted it.

  He pivoted toward her and this time she didn’t retreat. This time she moved closer. She had to touch him, had to know. Her lips trembled open and she lifted her hand to his chest. She expected the wall of hard muscle. What she didn’t expect was the wild throb of his heart beneath her palm, its skipping beat encouraging her own to race.

  “It’s just a scratch,” she managed, unable to meet his eyes. She didn’t know what she’d see in those shadows, if there would just be two people there or three.

  “Some scratches go pretty deep.”

  “The rest of the car’s pretty beat up anyway. Not worth the effort.”

  He didn’t ask her to remove her hand or to stop caressing him through the threadbare cotton. His heart just beat faster. “How does it run?”

  “Like a charm.”

  “Then it’s worth it. The internals are what count. Dressing the window just helps convince people of what’s inside.”

  She didn’t want to talk, didn’t care about her car or his or the minute dings in the paint. None of that mattered right now. Or ever. Normally she didn’t have any trouble making the first move, and he’d asked her here, so technically this was the second. But she couldn’t get her voice to work.

  “Rory?”

  Her gaze snapped to his and utter shock rolled over her body in a hot wave. Oh my God. “You know?”

  “I know,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting.

  “I know too.” She couldn’t believe she could smile. Who knew that even extreme sexual arousal didn’t preclude such banal gestures?

  He rubbed his thumb over her cheekbone. “Will you come inside so we can get to know more about each other?”


  Here it was, the bronzed invitation she’d been waiting for. It wouldn’t be long now, if only she could summon her inner sex goddess and purr a reply. She knew her moves on this checkerboard. Or she had before today.

  She had condoms in her purse. Two of them, brand new from the package she’d purchased last week. Though she hadn’t had a prospect in mind, she’d planned on hooking up with someone soon. The rush of being with a new lover couldn’t be beat. It was a little like falling in love—or what she imagined falling in love might be like—every time, even if the excitement didn’t last long. She’d just never guessed that lover would be Sam.

  If we all get just one love, Dani, you’ll be mine. For eternity.

  Her throat tightened, trapping her assent inside. He searched her face and frowned, taking a step back she hated that she couldn’t stop. Then he swore and strode forward, locking an arm around the backs of her thighs and hauling her straight off her feet. “Will you?”

  His breathless question reminded her she hadn’t answered. As if she could say no. “Yes.”

  His expression cleared, the strain and concern fading away. “Hang on to me,” he grated, taking off across the lawn toward the porch.

  Nodding, she threw her arms around his neck. She’d never been shy before but none of those other men were Sam. If he hadn’t pursued this, she probably wouldn’t have been able to. Not now. Not yet.

  Shit, did he have any clue what he was getting them into?

  Chapter Three

  Dani,

  Some people say love changes, that nothing can ever stay the same. But to me it’s a comfort to know that feelings never die. They just take another form. Even when people pass away, the love that existed remains.

  ~ Sam

  Sam carried her up the stairs and across the creaky porch with its missing floorboards, jostling her in his arms until he could get the key in the lock and the door open. She didn’t make a peep as he carted her inside his apartment and down the hall, just held on with a grip that spoke more of fear than arousal.

  He got that. Because he was fucking scared out of his mind.

  What if he couldn’t do this? Sure, he had a huge hard-on, but when it came down to brass tacks, when the ass met the mattress and she looked up at him with her heart in her eyes like she’d done outside, what if he choked? He hadn’t been with anyone but Dani since he was twenty. Nine long years. He didn’t know how to fuck anymore. Making love seemed even more beyond his scope.

  It would come back to him. He knew the moves and he definitely had the desire. But this woman wasn’t a stranger. Far from it. As much as he’d been unable to consider just doing a random hook-up with someone, the pressure had gone up a thousand degrees because she wasn’t.

  She knew. Even without knowing all the particulars, Rory had seen some of the deepest parts of him. Parts he hadn’t meant to share with anyone but Dani, though he’d known anyone could drive by and read his words. He’d had no choice. Dani hadn’t been willing to hear him anymore so he’d gone with his only option.

  Shouting into the wind.

  “Sam?”

  He closed his eyes. Dammit, he would not screw this up. He hadn’t been able to make things right with Dani no matter how hard he’d tried. He’d begged, pleaded, even left her alone when she asked. Nothing had worked. Was it so wrong that he wanted to feel alive for a while? Did he have to feel guilty for that too along with everything else?

  Rory pushed against his shoulder and he let her slide to the floor. Just one more minute and he could do this. Mind over matter, need over fear—

  “Sam.” She trailed her fingers over his jaw and he made himself look at her, standing next to the mattress on his bedroom floor. Holy fuck, he’d forgotten what this place was like. Hardly any furniture and what there was looked like crap. No curtains on the windows. Not even a frigging bedframe for his extra-long full mattress. This had been a holding space, just a temporary living arrangement. He hadn’t expected to stay here this long. Had refused to believe he would never return to the house that held his name on the deed.

  It was for sale now, and he still hadn’t been back. He’d hired people to clean it out and stick everything in storage. This was his home now, as pathetic as that was.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” The concern in her question almost broke him, almost unraveled his tenuous control.

  He cast a hand around him, at a loss for words. The place was a dump. She was a beautiful woman, and the room looked even worse in contrast. How could he have brought her here? They would’ve been better off at a hotel. Even a motel. The only thing his apartment had going for it was that he cleaned a lot. What else did he have to do?

  It wasn’t like he had many belongings either. A couple chairs and tables, the requisite nightstand and dresser. The small room off the hallway had probably once been an office but now it held his weight bench and punching bag.

  At least the kitchen had all the standard issue stuff. The windows even had pretty gingham curtains his mom had made for him. She’d insisted his home needed to be brightened up. Hard to argue with that assessment.

  “I like it. The place is cozy.” She glanced over her shoulder at the nightstand, letting out a half laugh. “Though the Bible kind of freaks me out. Not because I’m against religion, but it might be strange to look over and see it right now. If you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I hear you.” He picked it up and tucked it in the drawer. “Better?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “Maybe I should change the sheets.” He glanced at the bed. “They’re fresh though, just put them on yesterday. But I’m not sure—”

  “They’re fine. Don’t worry.”

  He swallowed hard at her understanding smile. “I guess you can tell I don’t usually do this.”

  “I can’t say the same. So if you want, I can take the lead.” She sighed and shook her head. “Let me rephrase that. I enjoy the occasional meaningless hook-up but I don’t make a weekly practice of it. There. Does that sound a little less icky?”

  He laughed, shocking the hell out of himself. “Hey, nothing wrong with hooking up. I used to back in college.”

  Which was how he’d met Dani. What he’d thought would be a one-night stand had ended up in marriage.

  “I don’t do it that much but now and then, I like having a good time.” She stepped forward and placed her hand on his forearm as she lifted her gaze to his. “We’ll have a good time together, Sam. I promise.”

  There it was, permission for him to let go. To stop worrying so much and just take things as they came.

  Nodding, he cupped her shoulders in his hands. “Uh, you wouldn’t happen to have protection, would you?”

  Rory waved her purse. “Never leave home without it.”

  “So I guess we’re all set then. No reason not to…proceed.”

  She cocked her head, a smile playing around her lips. “Maybe you should take my insurance info first. Writing down my digits after the deed might get awkward. This way you don’t have to get nervous that I’ll expect you to call.”

  “No problem there. I can handle the paint jobs. To both cars,” he added. As anal as he was about car maintenance, even he couldn’t sleep with a woman then put in a claim to her insurance afterward.

  “You work on cars?” The interest in her voice prompted him to snatch one of the business cards bookmarking the book on the nightstand. He handed it to her and her eyes widened. “Classic cars. Your own shop. Which makes my crashing into your sweet Chevelle even worse.”

  “It’s okay.” He would’ve taken back the card, but she tucked it in her giant purse and shut the clasp. “Worked out all right so far, though we missed lunch.”

  “I’m definitely hungry.”

  He flicked a look toward the door that led to the kitchen. “I might have stuff for a sandwich.”

  She walked her fingers up his belly, stirring all sorts of appetites that had nothing to do with food. “Not hungry for
a sandwich, Sam.”

  He took a long breath. If he could’ve picked the ideal woman to have a one-afternoon stand with, Rory would’ve been the perfect choice. She made things so easy.

  God, it had been forever since anything had been easy.

  “Okay. Good.”

  “Would you rather just go sit and talk?” His pained expression must’ve given him away because she laughed. “I’m fine with hanging out for a while. We’re both buzzy from the accident.”

  Was that why he felt so electrified? “Wasn’t barely one. Just a bump.”

  “Enough to get our hearts racing. That and the sunshine set the right conditions for some harmless feelings of attraction.” She shrugged. “Not surprising the rush turned into something else.”

  She was giving him an out. Yes, adrenaline and excitement had carried him through the ride home and into the house. But now nerves were winning. And that small voice at the back of his mind that told him he shouldn’t bring anyone into his world, not when he’d likely lock them right out again afterward.

  But she wasn’t asking for a lifetime commitment. They didn’t have to be any more to each other than they were right now. She knew the score. If they both found release and moved on without any hard feelings, what was the problem? Whether they attributed it to drive-by lust or the aftereffects of a fender bender didn’t really matter.

  Thinking too much had gotten him into the stasis he’d lived in for over two years. He wanted out. Could even smell the scent of freedom beyond the barred gate inside his head. He just needed to reach for it.

  “I’d rather not talk. Or hang out. If it’s all the same to you.” He cleared his throat. Kiss her, dolt.

  Instead she stepped into him, tipping her face upward until their mouths brushed. Her soft lips heated under his, encouraging him to press his tongue against their parted seam. She made a sound of acquiescence, of excitement. The deeper he slid, the more she made the noise. Almost a purr. Carefully, he reached up to hold her head in his palms, tilting her so he could explore. She tasted like grape bubblegum. Sweet, a little wicked. A lot sexy.