by Regina Cole
It wasn’t the best friend any more. Hunter Shaw had left Tucson like a good little pain in the ass. First good thing the asshole had ever done in his life, as far as Belinda was concerned.
The job thing? Please. Drake was just playing fireman because he was young and needed adventure. She’d thought once he got passed over for the promotion, he’d finally settle down and join his family company. Like he was supposed to. Hammerfell Investments—an investment company with special interest in technology, which his parents had started back when Steve Jobs was a nobody—would be his, eventually, and he needed to start working toward that.
But he hadn’t. He’d left. And now she was scrambling to put her scattered pieces back on the game board.
“Do it,” Belinda said, scrolling through her contacts to find her only appointment for the day. “I’m canceling my afternoon plans, and I suggest you do the same. I’m not walking out that door until my hair is perfect. And it had damn well better be before 8 p.m. If you make me late for this event, so help me God—”
Her stylist’s professional smile faltered. “But I’ve got another client coming at—”
“Then I suggest you reschedule,” Belinda said, flashing her perfect teeth as she smiled in the mirror directly at the nonplused stylist. “I need your full professional attention.”
“I—well, I guess I can see if someone else can take my other—”
“Good,” Belinda said as her call connected. “Daddy, it’s me. I’m not going to be able to get that massage before the gala. Can you cancel for me? No, there was a problem at the salon.” She leaned forward and picked at her bangs.
Butterscotch. Please. As if she could go back and get her man with butterscotch blonde hair.
Nothing less than perfection could put her life back on track.
3.
Everly wasn’t sure what was wrong with her. Normally, when faced with a man who should be legally required to walk around naked everywhere—he was that damn beautiful—she’d freeze up and stutter and generally make a gigantic ass of herself until she could escape to somewhere and hyperventilate.
But with this guy? He teased, he took, he made her so frustrated and angry that she couldn’t see straight. Even when he was being kind, which, let’s face it, he’d been exceptionally nice to her since he’d first rolled into her parking lot, he had a way about himself that just seemed to get under her skin.
Inside the lobby, she rounded the counter. Drake set the cardboard box, which had stopped yowling and was now meowing pitifully, on a broad empty space on the corner.
“Let me see your hand,” he said, unzipping the canvas tote with the words “first aid” emblazoned on its lid.
“Kitty first.” She shook her head as she lifted the cardboard box, being careful this time to avoid the gash on her palm. To his credit, he didn’t argue this time, just followed her back through the swinging door to the animal areas.
The cat rooms were first, and Everly propped the box on one knee in order to reach for the doorknob of the first one. Before she could grasp it, Drake was there, opening it for her.
“Thanks,” she said. God, why did her cheeks get so hot when he was close to her? And why did he smell so good? Clean, and musky, like a pine forest full of sexy, half-naked lumberjacks.
Shit. She was definitely going insane. Had she actually fallen out of that tree and knocked her head open on the pavement? Only that would explain her complete lack of sanity.
Pressing through to the cat intake area, she waited for Drake to close the door behind them. The last thing she needed was another escape from this furry one.
“Hey, there,” she crooned as she carefully opened the box. The black cat meowed at her, pressed into one corner of the box. “Are you okay?”
He sniffed the knuckles that she offered him, rubbing his face against them after just a moment.
“She’s a nice cat,” Drake said, moving close to Everly to reach into the box and allow the cat to sniff his hand. Everly had to fight the desire to press close to his side. The man was a sexy magnet, and she was apparently stuffed with needy metal bits.
“He,” she corrected. She reached into the box to pick the kitty up, her hand brushing Drake’s as she did. Her gasp was completely involuntary, but the frisson of electricity that had shot up her arm at their contact was so startling she couldn’t help it.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said, breathless, as she cuddled the cat close to her chest. “Just static. You shocked me.”
“Weird, that didn’t feel like static.”
A large, warm hand was suddenly on her upper arm, and she didn’t pull away as he turned her to face him. Tilting her chin up to look into his eyes, she wondered if his parents were both as tall as he was. It didn’t seem fair. She was five-foot-two on a good day, but this guy was every bit of six feet and then some.
She thought about making a crack about how he must have never missed a bowl of Wheaties, but staring into his beautiful brown eyes snatched every last bit of oxygen from her lungs. The cat against her chest was purring, the light vibration easing Everly into a sort of trance. There, trapped in Drake’s gaze, his hand sliding to her back, bringing her close to him, she couldn’t fight the magnetism between them.
“Can I kiss you?” He asked the question mere inches from her mouth. The sweet breeze of his breath caressed her cheek, and she had to fight to keep her eyes from fluttering closed.
She swayed, but his arms around her steadied her.
“I won’t unless you say I can.”
God, why was that so sexy? She had to speak, to tell him yes, but she couldn’t find the air. It was okay. She nodded.
He leaned down and captured her lips with his. Softly, gently, he moved his mouth across hers. It was so sweet, at first, all hesitant and learning. But just when she wanted more, his tongue traced the seam of her lips, asking, questing, and she opened her mouth in answer.
He groaned then, the sound snaking its way down her body to pool in the pit of her belly, a warm, deep throb beginning as his hands wandered down her back to rest on her hips. She wanted to press against him, but the cat was still between them. She was glad, in a way, because if her hands had been free, she’d have been sorely tempted to let them wander wherever they would.
Drake’s kiss deepened, his tongue so clever in discovering all the hidden places of her mouth, and Everly matched him stroke for stroke. He tasted as good as he smelled.
One of his hands moved up her back to tangle in her ponytail, and he tore his mouth from hers only far enough to trail hot, demanding kisses down the column of her throat.
Everly’s head tilted back in ecstasy. This was too much, but she needed more.
He ran a hot, broad palm up the curve of her side, his fingers bumping along her ribs, his thumb brushing the underside of her breast. Her breath caught in her throat as the thin cotton of her bra proved no barrier to his touch. Higher and higher his thumb brushed, until he swept across the bottom edge of her areola. Her nipple was so hard it ached, begging for his grasp to come higher.
“Hey, Everly, you in here?”
Shit.
Everly’s eyes flew open in alarm, but it was too late. Charlie flung the door wide, and her fell as Drake moved back much too quickly to avoid suspicion. He rounded the table, clearing his throat, and looked at the counter in the corner of the room as if he was incredibly interested in the jars of cotton balls and medical supplies there.
“Yeah,” Everly said, sure her cheeks were nuclear. Her body was still throbbing, aching in need. How was she supposed to act normal now? “Yeah. Got a new cat. Just checking him out and putting him in a holding crate until we can get him vet checked.”
“Um, want me to take over?” Charlie let the door close behind her and reached for the cat. The casual tone she affected was in complete odds with the evil twinkle in her eye. Apparently, she’d caught a good look at what was going on before Everly and Drake managed to spring apart.
/> Great. Just great.
“Sure,” Everly said, and handed the cat over. “I’ve got a cut on my hand I need to take care of.”
As Charlie held the cat, Everly made for the door without looking to see if Drake was following. Her skin was positively on fire with shame and denied passion.
What the crap had she been thinking?
Drake followed Everly, who looked an awful lot like a feline who’d just realized its ass was aflame. He tried like hell to calm himself down.
For some reason, that short, gentle kiss they’d shared had started a passionate fire deep in his belly and it just wouldn’t stop. He’d meant to stop at the kiss, but he couldn’t.
That wasn’t like him at all. He didn’t normally kiss women he’d only known for the span of a sitcom episode. But for some reason? He didn’t regret this in the slightest, and if he got half a chance, he would do it all over again.
She’d been so sweet and responsive, her body leaning into his. God. It hadn’t been that long since he’d had sex, had it? He was thicker than the damn fire hose, and he hoped like hell she wouldn’t notice it.
Back in the lobby, she scooted behind the counter and pretended to look really interested in whatever was on the computer screen in front of her. He knew she was faking, because she was staring straight ahead out the window while her fingers typed randomly on the keyboard.
“Give me your hand.”
“It’s fine,” she replied in a monotone voice.
“Don’t be stubborn, and hand it over.”
“Not necessary—” she started, but he grabbed her wrist and dragged her toward the bathrooms located just off the lobby.
In front of the sink, he turned her palm over. She hissed a breath inward when the water hit the open cut on her hand. It had stopped bleeding, but there was still dirt in the edges of the wound.
Carefully, gently, he wiped the worst of it away with a clean square of gauze from the first aid kit he’d placed on the countertop. He didn’t say anything, but he was keenly aware of her gaze as he worked to clean, medicate, and bandage her palm.
Once it was done, he took much too long to tape up the gauze. It wasn’t that large of a cut, but since it was on her palm, the extra bandaging would help her keep it clean until it closed completely. Being this methodical and slow wasn’t like him—usually he was the type to get it done in the quickest and most efficient way possible. But honestly? He just didn’t want to let go of her hand.
“That should do it,” he said, once he’d delayed as long as he could. “Keep it clean and dry until tomorrow, and then you can take this off and just use a regular Band-Aid.”
“Thank you,” she said, not looking up at him. She just worried the edge of the tape on the back of her bandaged hand.
“You’re welcome.”
As he packed up his first aid supplies, he wondered what he should say. Sorry for teasing you? No, he wasn’t. Sorry for kissing you? Nope, not sorry for that either. Can I get your number? Maybe that was the best approach.
Before he finished packing up, her cell phone chimed in her pocket. Looking almost relieved, she pulled it free and swiped across the screen to answer.
“Hello? Hey, Jesse, yeah. So, Charlie got a hold of you? Awesome. Yeah, he’s a beautiful pup. Kind of skinny, but really well-behaved. It’s unbelievable to grab a purebred like this, so I wanted to make sure you had first look at him.”
As Everly continued her conversation, she turned away from him. Drake picked up his first aid kit and squared his shoulders.
Maybe he should back off some. There was a chance that he was grabbing onto this woman as a rebound. It hadn’t been that long since he and Belinda had called it quits, after all.
But she was so different. The girl-next-door looks, the shyness and vinegar in turns, the way that pink lower lip pouted a little when she threw a glare his way. All of it called to him, making him wonder if rebound had anything to do with it, or if she was just that special.
Screw the past, and the tired, ugly memories. This was a new place, he was a new man, and even though he wanted to see Everly again, he could afford to play it cool.
Where was the rush, right?
His mind made up, he slung the strap of the kit over his shoulder and rounded the counter.
“…at the festival,” Everly was saying as she turned in response to his wave. “Sure, you can get him there. Friday. Okay, no problem. I’ll see you then.”
She cut the call and let the phone fall down by her side.
“So, I guess I’ll see you Friday at the festival,” he said with a smile.
“I guess so,” she said, her smile looking a bit pained. God. Maybe it was a good thing he hadn’t asked for her number.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, then gave a little wave as he turned and walked toward the front door.
“Drake, wait.”
He paused and turned to look at her. She’d rounded the counter but hesitated at the corner, as if too nervous to close the remaining gap between them.
“Thanks again. For rescuing me, I mean.”
He gave a long, leisurely look from the tip of her toes to the top of her head, still crowned with that crooked ponytail. Crossing the distance between them took only a moment, and he plucked the last leaf from her hair. When she caught sight of it, she blanched.
“It was my pleasure,” he said, tickling her nose with the leaf before laughing and turning to leave.
He’d look forward to seeing her on Friday. After all, it was for charity, right?
Her stilettos made rhythmic clicking sounds as she moved through the swanky hotel lobby. Other people might have fussed with their clothes, or adjusted their jewelry, or patted their hair before heading into the party.
Not Belinda Pearce.
She nodded to an exiting couple before sweeping past the doorman and into the decked-out ballroom.
After another three hours at the salon, and then a quick granola bar and protein shake before dressing, she’d finally made it to her destination.
This was going to work. It had to.
A string orchestra was clustered in one corner of the room, the swells of classical music mingling with chatter and laughter from the tuxedoed and gowned partygoers. Everyone who lived in the Tucson area with a net worth above five million was there. In that, Belinda supposed, she was the outlier.
But not for long.
She plucked a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter and gave a sip. The bubbles tickled her upper lip, the crisp, cool bite of the drink soothing her. She wasn’t nervous. She was excited. Her plan to get Drake back started here. Tonight. And nothing would keep her from following through.
With her half-empty glass in hand, she wandered through the crowd, smiling and chatting with people she’d met in passing at other functions. After all, when you dated one of the Hammerfells, you were expected to mingle with everyone. Of course, that was in the past now.
It wouldn’t stay that way, however. She wouldn’t stand for it.
“Belinda!”
At the sound of her name she turned, the pale pink train of her satiny gown swirling out with the movement. There. Only about fifteen feet from her, an older woman with dark hair and an olive complexion was waving to her. The sapphire and diamond bracelet on her wrist sparkled with the movement.
Her target.
“Darling, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Drake’s mother, Vivian Hammerfell, pressed an airy kiss to Belinda’s cheek. “Is Drake with you?”
The question made Belinda’s chest squeeze uncomfortably. “No, he’s not.”
Vivian frowned, the dark-blue sparkles of her gown making her dark eyes look stormy. “I’d hoped he would at least turn up for the gala. He’d said he wasn’t going to make it, but I never quite believed him.”
Belinda took a deep, steadying breath that she hoped looked like a disappointed sigh. “Me, too. I wanted to talk to you about him, honestly. Do you have a minute?”
Vi
vian glanced over her shoulder at her husband, who was talking animatedly with an old friend while gesturing with his mostly-empty Scotch glass. “Of course.”
Together they walked to an empty corner of the ballroom, and on the way, Belinda silently recounted her plan.
This would work. It had to work.
“I had hoped that he would give up this fireman job and come back to work with us,” Vivian said, her full lips pulled down at the ends. She looked much younger than she was, only the tiny crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes giving away the fact that she wasn’t in her forties any longer. “It’s such a dangerous job.”
“I feel the same way,” Belinda said, patting Vivian’s hand. “And that’s why I think you and Mr. Hammerfell should really consider cutting him off.”
Vivian’s perfectly plucked eyebrows arched. “Cutting him off? What do you mean?”
Belinda gave a sad smile. It was go time. “Well, if you stopped supporting him while he’s off on this wild fireman adventure, then he’d be forced to come back home to us. It’s none of my business, but don’t you think you’re enabling his reckless behavior this way?”
Vivian’s surprised laugh took the wind from Belinda’s sails. “Oh, darling, we aren’t supporting him financially, if that’s what you mean.”
Belinda blinked. Then blinked again. “You’re not?”
Vivian shook her head, her glossy dark curls catching the light. “Absolutely not. We haven’t paid for a thing since he left for college. He’s done it all on his own. It was a point of pride for him, actually.” Her voice went soft and her eyes faraway as she said, “I’m proud of him for that. Even though I wish he would come home and work for us because it’s safer, I can’t ever fault him for the way he’s forged his own path.”
Belinda’s mouth fell open for a moment. She pictured the luxury apartment they’d shared, her father paying for her half. The brand-new pickup Drake had driven. The expensive vacations, the extravagant gifts.
