by Sarah Hegger
Her sigh seemed to come all the way from the sole of her Converses. She dropped her head back against the seat but left her hand quiescent in his.
“Nobody’s seen her,” she said, as if she couldn’t quite credit it. “How can one girl be invisible? I was sure someone would have seen her.”
“Someone has.” He wanted to put his mouth into the center of her palm and make a visceral connection. The urge to comfort her rode him hard.
Holly would fight him.
He did it anyway, pressing his mouth against the slightly roughened skin. Trying to communicate with his touch that she wasn’t alone in this.
She gasped and turned her head to stare at him.
“Someone has seen her.” He released her hand and leaned forward to turn on the ignition. “We haven’t found that person yet, but I have everyone I can think of looking. Sooner or later, we’re going to get some good news.”
Holly frowned at the hand he’d kissed. “What’s with you and the touching?”
“I’m tactile.” He eased into the light traffic. And with her, he wanted to go tactile over every inch of her, but it was more than that. He wanted to wrap her up and shield her from all the shit swirling around her. He needed her to know he had her back. For now.
Holly stopped and waited as a woman stepped into their path.
“How are you, Josh?” Brunette, stacked, gorgeous hair and killer smile—Holly barely even paid attention.
Josh responded to the girl like he did with the others as they made their way across his lobby.
Philip was on duty, and he waved and smiled at Holly.
She dredged up a response as Josh admired the small dog tucked against the capacious bosom of a woman who was eighty if she was a day.
He was your basic chick magnet, that’s all there was to it. No woman was immune. It wasn’t as if he flirted with them either. Like now, he listened attentively to a description of the dog’s various ailments. It sounded as if the creature would be better off put out of its misery. But Josh bent his dark head and paid attention, as if he had nothing better to do and nowhere he needed to be.
“Is this your young lady?” The octogenarian turned and fastened her sharp eyes on Holly.
Josh slipped an arm around her waist and tucked her into his side. “Holly is a good friend, Mrs. Sherman.”
Holly’s stomach slid south.
“Friend?” Mrs. Sherman leaned forward with a wicked twinkle that coaxed a smile out of Holly. “A woman doesn’t keep a man like this as a friend, dear.”
Josh stiffened beside her.
The woman winked one eye caked with plum-colored shadow. “A man like this is strictly a playmate.” She jerked her head at Josh.
Holly was rendered speechless. She wanted to protest that he made a great friend, but they weren’t friends. Allies, perhaps; old acquaintances, definitely.
Josh’s face hardened into a blank mask as he said his good-byes to Mrs. Sherman before tugging her toward the elevator.
Again with the touching. Her forearm tingled beneath his palm, and it didn’t totally suck, or suck at all in fact. She could have shrugged off his light clasp, but for some reason she left it there.
Holly didn’t get it. Sure, he had a smart mouth and could throw down the charm like a matinee idol, but the best parts of Josh were the glimpses she caught in between all that. The caring man, the patient one who’d spent his day doing everything he could to help her find Portia. “Why do you let them think those things about you?”
“What things?” The mask remained in place.
“Assume that you’re shallow.”
He shrugged, but the muscle ticked in his jaw. “People see what they want to see, Holly. And I reckon I’ve done enough to earn my reputation anyway.”
It sat wrong with her. “I promise not to call you pretty boy anymore.”
“Ah, Holly.” The flirt slid over his features as smoothly as oil over water. “Does that mean my charms are fading on you?”
Nope. She dragged her eyes away from his megawatt smile. His charms were only getting more appealing, and they had very little to do with his beautiful face and sinful body.
Josh was impressed. “Where do you put it all?”
She’d worked her way through most of an extra-large pizza. It wasn’t as if the food was even a sensual experience for Holly, like some women were about chocolate. No, she fed the machine. And the machine needed a lot of feeding.
Her eyes widened and she swallowed her mouthful. “I don’t know, but I always seem to have space for a bit more.”
She glanced at the piece of pizza in her hand like she dearly wanted to eat it but didn’t dare.
Man, she was fucking adorable. Josh laughed and nudged her hand toward her mouth “Don’t pretend you don’t want it.”
She grinned and bit down with her straight white teeth.
He liked making her smile. Holly didn’t do enough of it. And he especially liked it when he could make her laugh. He got a smile now as she went back to her eating. It made his chest burn with a curious sort of warmth.
Another thing he liked was having her here, and that surprised the shit out of him. He’d broken another rule of a lifetime by letting her take up residence in his place. One night was understandable, given her circumstances, but he’d brought her home with him tonight as if she belonged there. First, he’d let her eat in his car and now she was in his haven. If he didn’t watch out, she’d be making space in his underwear drawer and alphabetizing his music.
He wasn’t sure what it meant, but the more time he spent with her, the less it seemed to matter. He couldn’t stop touching her. His hands wouldn’t stay off her.
Tactile, my ass. He kept the laughter inside as he got up and put on some music. The cool Latin rhythms of Santana filled the condo.
He grabbed the empty pizza box and went to the kitchen.
Holly uncoiled from the floor and walked over to the window.
He could sense her worry gnawing away at her insides. Actually, there seemed to be rather a lot fighting for space in one small container. Being around her was like sharing space with a can of pop. If he shook, he was never entirely sure what was going to come out. So many contradictions wrapped up in that tiny bundle. He wanted to make sense of them all.
Her hips swayed to the music, drawing his gaze like a lodestone. Her hideous jeans hid the full swell of her hips, but every now and then he caught a flash of the smooth line of her small waist or, even better, the taut curve of her belly. He wanted to run his hands over those curves, stroking down until he could move around and cup her ass.
She had a body that made a man want to touch and worship. Her skin made his mouth water. He wanted at what lay beneath her butt-ugly sweatshirt. He hated the fact she hid her dangerous curves. Then again, there was a lot of her she kept hidden, and he wouldn’t accept it. He wanted to unwrap her like a Christmas present. She was a foreign country, an uncharted territory he had to explore and conquer.
Man, he was losing his fucking mind. It must be the near permanent lack of blood to the brain. Holly had enough weight on her shoulders right now to sink someone twice her size. He pulled a bottle of red from his wine rack and scanned the label. It was rather pathetic. He was walking around semihard, knowing only a jerk hit on a vulnerable woman. It was like being sixteen again. Only this time, he was going to play it better, even if it killed him or caused permanent brain damage.
The dickhead of a boyfriend didn’t deserve a woman like Holly. Just the thought of another man putting his hands on Holly had Josh’s gut tightening in a feral ball of mine, all mine. If Stevie the Swinger was too fucking dumb to see what he had, he deserved to lose it.
Holly moved gently from side to side, dancing as if she inhabited the slow Latin rhythm.
Josh rolled his tongue back into his mouth.
And in that instant he was back in the school gym, watching Holy Holly Partridge move her body in a way teenage boys only dreamed about. It had lost
none of its potency, and his libido responded with a hell yeah!
Josh wrestled it back under control while he poured the wine and carried a glass over to her by the window.
She startled slightly out of whatever place she’d been lost in. Her sinful mouth kinked up in the corners. “Red wine? How did you know?”
“I guessed,” he said. Holly made him think of red wine: rich, understated, and improving on each taste. Fuck! When the hell had he degenerated to thinking in shitty poetry?
“And you guessed right.” She took the glass from him and raised it to her nose. She closed her eyes and took a long appreciative sniff before lowering the glass to her mouth.
He leaned against the architrave surrounding the window and tried not to stare too obviously at her lips.
“It’s part of why the girls like you.” She moved away, putting physical distance between them.
Josh tamped down on the desire to follow.
She threw herself onto one of his large leather sofas. The cushions huffed air as she slumped into them. She put her head back and stared at the ceiling. “This waiting is driving me crazy.”
“Something will break,” he said. “We have enough lead in the air now, it’s only a matter of time.”
She gave a rough bark of laughter. “Yeah, time we don’t have.” She propped her feet on his coffee table. “If I think about Portia, out there alone, I think—” Abruptly, she sat up and pinned him with a gaze. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay.” Josh let his agreement hang out there and counted on Holly not being able to remain silent for long.
“You confuse me.” She didn’t even last ten seconds. “The way you are with all the women.” She made an expansive gesture with her free hand. “It’s like you’re such a player and that’s the way you are in my head, but …”
“But?” He hid a grimace behind his glass. Holly picked up on stuff way too fast for comfort.
She lifted her head to stare at him. It was more of a glare, but he kept his expression polite. “But I’ve been watching you today.” She dropped her head back down as if it was all too much effort. “These women, they’re all over you. And you, you’ve got this great big hands-off sign over your head. It’s not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?” He sipped his wine and squirmed inside. He hated talking about this shit, but at the same time he sensed she needed to know. If nothing else, she might trust him a bit more.
“You always say the right thing, or do the right thing, and women … melt. How do you do that?”
Josh sensed a loaded question and weighed his answer carefully. “I like women,” he said. “I’m a mama’s boy. Richard was almost a carbon copy of my dad. Thomas was always on his own mission. And I liked being with my mom. I think that’s why I’m always easy in female company. Women sense that and are comfortable with me.”
She made a rude noise and pulled a face. “Oh puh-lease, you’re still a player.”
“No, I’m not.” Laura had taken care of that.
Her eyes narrowed. “Those girls at the bar?”
“I explained about that. I did some stupid shit when I was younger. I know better now.”
Lips pursed, she studied him and sipped her wine.
“I’m not a player, Holly.” It was the truth, so help him God. “I like women; I’m not going to lie to you. I like women and I certainly was quite a boy when I was younger, but I don’t need the thrill anymore. I’m not looking for the conquest.”
He took another sip of his wine and braced for the questions he could see building in her eyes.
“What happened?” She sat up and tucked her legs underneath her like she was settling in for a long chat. “Some woman break your heart and you saw the light?”
“No.” Laura’s face slammed through his memory and he couldn’t meet Holly’s mocking stare any longer. “I broke her heart. Broke it in so many tiny pieces, I didn’t think she was ever going to be able to put it back together again.”
“Oh.” Something flickered through her eyes and she stiffened.
He deserved all the judgment she heaped on his head and more. The old familiar pain grabbed his chest and squeezed. “Her name was Laura.”
“You going to tell me more?” She cocked her head.
No, he wanted to yell. But his big mouth opened anyway and out it came. “My dad was furious with me. He warned me about Laura, that she was fragile, but I was so jacked up on my own arrogance and flying high, I didn’t listen. I broke up with Laura, broke her fucking heart, and my dad found out.”
“And?”
“And he died thinking his middle son was a heartless prick.” Shit, his dad’s eyes were branded into his brain. Disappointment, disillusionment, ashamed of his son.
“What happened to Laura?” Holly’s voice, soft and soothing like a balm on the raw place.
He took a fortifying slug of his wine. He never wanted to forget Laura, his harsh reminder of how fragile another being could be. “She left Willow Park about a year after I broke up with her, moved to LA. I looked her up on Facebook. She got married, has a little girl now.”
“So she’s all right now?” Holly’s dark eyes bored right into the soul of him and he dropped his gaze.
“I think so. I never contacted her after—” He needed to change the subject, now. “Too much of a coward.”
Holly shook her head, her hair a dark cloud around her face. “It’s probably better that way.”
He’d like to think so, but he knew different.
“And your dad?”
The regret scalded his throat in a dry burn. “The last conversation I had with him was the fight about Laura. He died thinking I was a selfish asshole.”
“No.” Holly took a sip of her wine. “I remember your dad; he loved his boys. He might have been mad at you, but I think he knew you better.”
The hold around his throat eased. “It’s a nice thought.”
“Is that why you keep these women at a distance? Because you don’t want to hurt one of them?”
He could lie, and damn, he was tempted, because the truth didn’t cast him in a stellar light either. But Holly had this thing about her, this sort of rigorous honesty, and he didn’t want to lie to her. “Now I’m more careful to be honest with the women in my life, but as for the others …” His face heated. “Women are attracted to the reputation.”
“Women like you because you’re hot.” She snorted into her glass.
“That’s part of it.” Women had been telling him they liked the way he looked since kindergarten. “The problem is, that’s all they see. The way I look and the reputation and that’s all they want from me.”
Another bark of laughter escaped her. “And you want more than that?”
“Is that so hard to believe?” He pushed away from the wall and walked toward her. He went still inside, some part of him hanging on to hear her answer.
Her eyes widened and she took a hasty sip of her wine. “No.”
“Even though you hated me?” The relief lightened his mood instantly.
“Not that again.” She groaned. “Anyway, I didn’t hate you, I despised you.”
“My mistake.” His apology earned him a dry chuckle. Damn, he liked her laugh. He liked making her laugh even more.
“And you may as well be the first to know, I’ve downgraded despise to mild dislike,” she said with a prim nod.
“My life is now complete.” He got one of those boudoir laughs, like sunshine to the deepest part of him.
“I still think you’re too smooth with women, though,” she said, lest his ego become totally overinflated in her presence. “But I am willing to concede you might have hidden depths.”
“I grovel at your feet.” He smoothed away from the heavy and into light.
Her eyes twinkled at him over the rim of her wineglass. “I can totally see how being beautiful is a heavy burden.”
The words carried no bite and he played the card she dealt. “Don
’t tell me you only like me for my looks?”
“I don’t like you, I despise you.”
“Mildly dislike,” he said. “And if we’re going to argue semantics, why don’t you tell me what a git is?”
“What?” She raised her head. “Why would you want to know what a git is?”
“You said it the other night.” He eased onto the sofa beside her. “When you were swearing about your car being stolen. You used some other words, too, but that one stuck in my mind.”
Her cheeks went pink. “A git is a git,” she said. “There’s no real direct translation. I think it originated as get, as in beget, but now it’s used like dork or something.” She frowned as she considered the problem. “It doesn’t really have a meaning; it doesn’t refer to anything specifically, it just is.”
“Okay.” He leaned closer to her, closer to where he wanted to be. “So I could call you a bloody git?”
She gave a short huff of laughter. “You could, but it would be a bit of an overkill.” She turned her head against the back of the sofa cushions to look at him. “You would be more likely to say ‘you stupid git’ or ‘you useless git.’”
“Uh-huh.” He turned his head toward her. “You stupid git.” He tried it out, using her accent.
She snorted laughter into her wineglass. Her face with its entrancing mouth was tantalizingly close, but not near enough to cause her to guess how much he wanted to close the distance.
Back off, tiger. “And a wanker?”
“Oh, come on.” She grinned and went even pinker. “You have to know what a wanker is.”
“A git?” he guessed, and she chuckled.
“Nope.” Her dark eyes danced with the devil. “A wanker is—” Her face flamed with color. “You’re messing with me,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “You want to make me say it.”
“I swear to you.” He raised one hand and lied with a straight face. It was worth it, to see Holly without her constant worry for a few minutes. “I have no idea what a wanker is.”
She sat up and took a sip of her wine. “A wanker is someone who masturbates.”
She said it so primly he burst out laughing. She would say the word, but not cop to the meaning.
