“There is no us.”
“Yes, there is,” she snapped.
“No, you’re just the transitional woman, remember?” He tossed her own words back at her calmly as he laced his gym shoes.
And her heart broke for the first time in her twenty-eight years of life.
Six
Caleb wanted to eat his words the minute they left his mouth. Trish froze, her hand dangling over her chest, her eyes huge.
He swore. Just because she had hurt him didn’t mean he was justified in turning around and doing the same thing. And she hadn’t said anything that was surprising. They hadn’t discussed dating at all. They had just fallen into bed together.
Because it had felt so right, so perfect.
“I’m sorry, Angel, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
Her hand came up in a defensive gesture. “No, no, you’re right. I said it first. It’s not like we could actually date or anything.”
Jesus, there were tears in her eyes. He leaped off the bed, reached for her, hesitated.
“We don’t have anything in common or, or, anything,” she finished, turning away and blinking hard. “God, I’m just as annoying as your ex-wife must have been.”
That’s when he knew she felt the same as he did, and that they could get past this little blip, and be together. Because for some reason she had sat down on that stool next to him the night before, and he knew what that reason was. They were supposed to be together.
“We have a lot in common. We like bowling, lizards, and Harleys, and we believe the bad guy should pay for his crimes. We like the same books and movies and we’ve both been lonely. We like each other.” He touched her chin, forcing her to look at him. “At least, I like you. A lot.”
“You make it sound like it’s easy.”
“It can be easy, if we make it easy.”
She snorted. “The only thing easy is me. I was about as subtle as a hooker this morning.”
Caleb was momentarily distracted by the memory of her straddling him. “Did I look like I minded?”
“Caleb.” She gave a sigh, all hint of tears gone. “Let’s be practical. Maybe I wasn’t tactful in what I said to Ashley, but it was the truth. I’ve confused you with great sex, but I’m not an easy person to get along with. And you still have feelings for your ex-wife.”
The only thing confused was her logic. “Honestly, Trish, I do not.” They needed to get that cleared right up. “What drove me to that bar last night was the fear that I was never going to find someone to share my life with. A woman confident in who she is, intelligent, passionate. And then there you were. All of those things, sitting down right next to me. That’s not dumb luck, Angel. That’s the universe telling us something.”
Trish turned and went to her closet, sorting through her clothes. She shot him a rueful expression over her shoulder. “Telling us what? I don’t feel illuminated. I feel confused as hell.”
Anything he was going to say was forgotten when she pulled that nightshirt off and stood in front of her closet completely naked.
Her fingers plucked an orange-colored dress off a hanger and she turned and threw it on the bed, clearly not noticing that his tongue was on the floor and his dick had shot forward like a pointer dog at attention.
“I’m going to be late to this shower, which makes me a sucky friend. I have to get ready, Caleb. Kindra’s important to me and I don’t want to let her down.”
He wasn’t even going to acknowledge she was standing there naked, looking good enough to lick from head to toe. Because if he did, he wasn’t going to be able to prevent his tongue from taking action.
“I’ll drop you off.” Caleb took a step toward her, palms itching to touch her. He shoved them in the pockets of his jeans. “But before you go, think about this. You said you’re not sure marriage would ever be worth it. Well, this…” He gestured from himself to her. “This is worth pursuing. Because right now I’m feeling like if you let me, I could fall right into love with you.”
Trish felt her nipples harden and her heart go soft like crème brûlée. She was naked and he was talking about love. How exactly did she get herself into situations like this?
Someone here had to be rational, and since he was giving her a lovesick look, it would have to be her. “You just think that now. It’s called afterglow. You don’t really mean that. We just met sixteen hours ago.”
She expected him to give in. Maybe even look a little hurt and embarrassed.
Instead he took another step closer to her, eliminating the remaining space between them. His big hands landed on her arms and she thought taking that nightshirt off had been her stupidest move to date.
“We have something else in common, Trish Jones. You said you always get what you want. Well, so do I. And I want you.”
Then he picked her up and held her so tight she expelled all her air and feared for the safety of her bladder. “Put me down.”
“No. I want you and I’m keeping you and you can’t do anything about it.”
“You’re nuts.” And sexy as hell. Geez, she had it bad for him.
“Nuts about you, lawyer girl.”
“I thought I was Angel.” Her words came out breathier than intended since his hands were stroking across her backside and her breasts were pushing into his bare chest.
“That too.” He kissed her chin.
“You know I’d love to stand here all day and chat, but I have a bridal shower to go to. You know, lots of gifts, cake, smiling so much your face cracks.” Talk wasn’t the only thing she had in mind when he started nibbling on her ear.
“Just tell me you want me, too, and I’ll let you down.”
“You know, if we’re going to start dating, you can’t just sling me around whenever you feel like it. It’s rude.”
“Sorry.” His tongue slid into her ear.
Somehow her legs wrapped around his and a moan escaped her mouth. “Caleb, stop it.”
“Tell me you want me, Trish. I need to hear it.” His voice was soft, vulnerable, even as his nose nuzzled into her neck.
Trish couldn’t think of any more good reasons to deny it. The man clearly had no sense of self-preservation. “I want you, too. There, I said it, and you’ll be sorry, you know. I’m difficult to get along with. I’m aggressive.”
He laughed. “That’s one of the things I love about you. And the only thing I regret is that you have to put clothes back on your sexy little ass.”
He patted the little ass in question and Trish felt sickeningly, grotesquely happy, and very glad he hadn’t walked out of her apartment angry.
Caleb covered her mouth with his in a desperate, possessive kiss that rocked her to the tips of her bare toes. And she thought she might have an idea why Kindra, Ashley, and Violet had been walking around with such smug smiles on their faces.
Finding a great guy was better than winning a court case.
She broke off the kiss. “Give me a ride on your Harley,” she panted.
Caleb raised an eyebrow and gave her a wicked grin.
“No! I mean to the bridal shower.” Then she thought about it and relented. “But maybe tonight…”
He groaned and dropped her to the floor. “Go, before I use my strength for evil purposes.”
Trish darted away from him and went to her underwear drawer. “There’s one good reason to go to the shower. I can order more pink condoms from Ashley. I anticipate us using these up quickly.”
As she pulled on panties, Caleb said, “Order red instead. It’s your signature color.”
She laughed, while Caleb adjusted himself in his jeans. “What’s the matter? Pants too tight?”
“Yes. You have no idea how you just looked wiggling into those panties.”
“No, I don’t.” Trish shoved the panties back down to the floor and pulled them off. She stepped in front of her full-length mirror and lifted a leg, thoroughly enjoying the shocked arousal on Caleb’s face reflecting back at her. “Let me see.”
/> “You are going to kill me.”
Trish pulled the panties up her legs, making sure Caleb got a nice view. “But you’ll enjoy every minute of it.”
Caleb nearly tore through the front of his jeans watching Trish display everything she had and then some. “Oh, hell, yeah.”
When he pulled her into his arms again, Trish looked up at him, her brown eyes serious. “I do believe in love and marriage and a happily ever after, you know. I just never saw it happening for me. I’m still not sure it can.”
Caleb thought it was ironic that a woman so confident, so successful, could doubt that she would ever find love. And he found it amazing that what he already felt for her seemed suspiciously like love.
“Trust me, Trish, not to hurt you.”
She nodded without hesitation. “I do.”
“Then let’s go for a ride.”
Trish grinned. “Can I drive?”
“Our relationship, my Harley, or in the bedroom?”
“All three.”
“How about we drive the first together and take turns with the other two?” Though he felt a little pang at letting her drive his bike.
“Perfect.” She threw her arms around his neck. “Now kiss me, you big lug.”
“You got it, Angel.” Caleb moved his lips over hers and sighed. She was a hell of a woman.
Which was confirmed when she grinned up at him. “Now let’s get a move on. We have a bridal shower to be late for, and an ex-wife’s wedding to crash.”
WISHYOUWEREHERE
Amy Garvey
One
“It’s lopsided.”
Mackenzie Pruitt ignored her friend’s observation and folded her arms over her chest, squinting thoughtfully at the structure in question. Crouched at the edge of the tiny backyard, the shed’s paint was peeling and its roof seemed flimsy, but while it wasn’t a thing of beauty, it wasn’t as dilapidated as Susannah seemed to believe.
“It’s really lopsided,” Susannah insisted, nudging Mackenzie with her elbow. “Like, about to fall down lopsided.”
Mackenzie sighed and shook her head before turning to narrow her eyes at her friend, who shrugged innocently, her blue eyes wide. “What?
“You really are a glass-half-empty person, aren’t you?” Mackenzie said, shading her eyes against the bright June sunshine as she looked at the shed’s side window. The glass was ancient, and the window itself was too small for what she needed, but if she was going to have the whole structure renovated as a photography studio, she could add upgrading the window to the list.
A photography studio. She smiled and turned her face up to the sky, which was clear as glass today, a sharp, blue flag over the ocean. It was a perfect day, and the beginning of a perfect summer. Inheriting her Aunt Letitia’s house on Wrightsville Beach was a boon she’d never expected, and the opportunity to have a separate studio space was even more unbelievable. She’d been working out of the cramped second bedroom in her apartment in Wilmington for so long, the idea of living in this cozy little cottage with a studio out back was still like something out of a daydream.
Maybe Susannah couldn’t imagine it, but Mackenzie could see the renovated studio in her mind’s eye: the white paint fresh; new windows sparkling; the large room inside fitted out with a refinished floor and new storage for her files and equipment; a built-in darkroom; and a soft, warm color on the walls behind framed examples of some of her favorite photos.
It was going to be beautiful.
Even if itwas a little lopsided, she thought, frowning as she realized Susannah wasn’t wrong. The north side of the shed listed drunkenly to one side, and the rotted shingles along the bottom had buckled in the overgrown grass.
Susannah, bored with the view, had wandered back to the cottage and sat on the back steps, her long legs stretched out to catch the sun. She was examining them thoughtfully when Mackenzie joined her.
“Just think, Kenz,” Susannah said with an affectionate smile, winding an arm around her shoulders. “A place at the beach. This summer is looking better and better.”
“This summer is going to be about getting that studio renovated, and painting and cleaning the inside of the cottage,” Mackenzie told her firmly. “I loved Aunt Tish, but there’s a definite old-lady smell going on.” She got up and dusted off the seat of her shorts—the back steps were no less dusty than anything else, and she’d only been given the keys two days ago. Aside from a cursory airing and a quick swipe with the broom, she hadn’t done any serious cleaning. She’d been too busy making plans, calling a contractor, and trying to stop herself from jumping up and down in glee every other second.
Not that she was particularly joyful about Aunt Tish dying, of course, but the woman had been ninety-seven, and she’d lived a long, full, interesting life. Anyway, it was difficult not to celebrate when owning this place meant saying a blissful good-bye to her cramped Wilmington apartment, her skyrocketing rent, and her shiftless landlord. Paying the taxes and upkeep on the cottage wouldn’t be easy, but it would be more than worth it. She hadn’t planned on owning a place for years yet.
“You’re entirely too excited about cleaning and painting,” Susannah complained, following her into the cottage with a frown creasing her blond brow. “And not excited enough about being at the beach. The beach, Kenz! Lifeguards, hot guys.Wet guys. Is this ringing any bells?”
“You can ogle all the guys you want,” Mackenize told her, shaking her head with an amused grin as Susannah tilted her head to one side, considering the possibility with a happy sigh. “Wet or otherwise. I’ve got work to do.”
“You are hiring someone to work on that shack out back, right?”
“It’s a shed. And yes.” She looked at her watch, surprised that it was already nearly two. “He should be on his way, as a matter of fact. So if you don’t mind…”
“All right, all right.” Susannah scooped up her purse and dug inside it for her keys. “But the next good beach day, I’m here, so be prepared.”
“As long as you bring your own towel,” Mackenzie replied, absently flipping through the notes she’d made when she’d spoken to the contractor on the phone. She’d left the file on the kitchen counter beside the circa 1960 phone on the wall, and she made a mental note to buy a new portable to install.
When Susannah had gone, her Volkswagen’s engine chugging out of the driveway, Mackenzie wandered through the cottage, her fingers trailing over the woodwork and the peeling wallpaper in the hall, letting her imagination transform the place from an old woman’s summer cottage to the kind of house Mackenzie had always envisioned for herself. It was going to take a lot of elbow grease, and more than a bit of juggling, considering the jobs she already had lined up for the month, but she could work on the house little by little. It would be a pleasure, she thought, peeking into the bathroom and letting her imagination conjure up a cool white shower curtain around the clawfoot tub, and the tile floor freshly scrubbed and grouted.
Then again, maybe “pleasure” was taking it a step too far.
Outside, the sound of gravel kicking up in the driveway was followed by the rumble of a truck. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she ran down the hall to the front door, trying to remember what the contractor’s name was. Leo…something. Leo Dawson! That was it. He’d sounded reasonable and competent over the phone, but that didn’t mean much when he was the only contractor she could afford who was available immediately. And she had very specific ideas about what she envisioned for the studio, which she wanted to explain to him, so when she opened the door her fingers were crossed that he would be easy to work with.
She swallowed hard as she stared at him. Well, one thing was certain. Leo Dawson was very definitely easy on the eyes.
“Mackenzie Pruitt?”
She nodded without a word, stepping back to let him into the tiny foyer. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d struggled for words, but her brain was too busy processing the man standing in front of her to form a single syllable.
/> She’d been expecting something else entirely—thinning hair, beer breath, grimy nails. Plumber’s crack, probably. Apparently her imagination had heard “contractor” and taken a detour on Stereotype Street.
But Leo Dawson looked nothing like that. He was, in a word, beautiful.
More than six feet tall, he was tanned and gorgeously sculpted, his muscles clearly the product of hard work instead of weight lifting. His head was shorn to a light fuzz, outlining the shape of his skull, and his angular jaw was rough with dark stubble. A bright silver stud pierced one ear, and his eyes were a dark, intense green flecked with gold. In his jeans and T-shirt, his sunglasses dangling from one hand, he didn’t look like a contractor at all. He looked like the kind of guy who roared up on a motorcycle and made your mother cringe. He looked…dangerous. A little bit bad. But a whole lot delicious.
“Ms. Pruitt?”
“Yes,” she said quickly, fighting the hot blush on her cheeks. She shut the door and motioned to the sofa in the cozy living room just beyond them. “Please, sit down.”
“Actually, it might be easier if we went out to the shed,” he said with a smile, hooking the sunglasses into the collar of his black T-shirt. “It is the shed you want renovated, right?”
“Oh. Right.” She led him through the kitchen to the back door, wishing she was wearing something other than grimy shorts and an old T-shirt, and cursing herself for not even bothering to brush her hair. Which was stupid, because this was business, not a date. Who would think to dress up for her contractor?
You will, next time he’s supposed to show up.
But it was business, she reminded herself as they crossed the sun-warmed lawn to the shed. Even if the idea of watching him work, sweaty and gleaming, hammer in hand, was enough to make her a little breathless.
“Well, this is it,” she said needlessly when they were standing in front of the structure in question. It looked even more lopsided up close, she noticed with dismay.
Bad Boys of Summer Page 14
