Wilde for Her (A Wilde Security Novel) (Entangled Brazen)

by Burrows, Tonya

  “Yes,” he admitted.

  “But instead of telling me you wanted someone else—”

  “I don’t. Will you let me explain?”

  She refused to answer. She didn’t want an explanation. She wanted to get the hell out of here.

  Taking her silence as a go ahead, he continued, “There’s this permeating idea that a man can’t get anywhere in the modern political climate without the right kind of wife backing him and—this is no excuse, but you don’t fit that mold. Lark does, and I’m ashamed to say, I gave in to the pressure. I made a horrible mistake, Eva. I hope you can forgive me, and maybe, if I haven’t screwed things up too badly, you can give us another chance?” He dropped to one knee in front of her, and her heart dropped right along with him.

  Oh no. What the fuck did he think he was doing?

  She grabbed his arms, urging him to stand. “Preston, no. Don’t.”

  Ignoring her, he produced a little black box and opened it. A large marquise diamond sparked in the soft restaurant lighting, faintly blue against the white satin lining. “Please.”

  At her back, an excited murmur rippled through the other diners, and heat rose into her face. For a solid minute, she couldn’t come up with a thing to say in response. “Preston—”

  “You don’t have to answer now,” he added in a rush. He stood and closed the box, pressing it into her hand. “I know this is a lot to take in. I had planned to wait, but I have to let you know how serious I am this time.”

  Panic skated down the back of her neck. “What about Lark?”

  “I broke it off with her right after we got back from Key West. I regret hurting her, but she’s the woman everyone thought I should marry, not the one I wanted, and I’m done listening to everyone. I want you, nobody else.”

  Not that long ago, it would have been so easy to say yes, to throw herself into his arms and sink back into the comfort of a relationship with him. Now there were too many variables. Would she ever be able to completely trust him again? And what about Cam? Going back to Preston would mean the end of their friends with benefits relationship. Would they be able to go back to a plain old friendship? Or, oh God, would she lose him completely?

  Pain bloomed in the center of her chest at the thought of losing Cam, and yet she could not tell Preston no. She tried. The word was on her tongue, but wouldn’t leave her lips.

  Two years. She’d spent two years of her life with this man. Five if she counted the years he’d spent pursuing her before they officially started dating. That had to mean something. At the very least, he deserved more consideration from her than a flat-out rejection.

  Everyone made mistakes, right?

  Even Cam was not immune to them. He’d proved that today by lying to her.

  “I’ll think about it,” she said.

  Preston pulled her into his arms, and a round of scattered applause came from the other restaurant patrons. No doubt, they all thought she said yes. She stared down at the box in her hand.

  Maybe she should have.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  “I figured I’d find you here.”

  Eva flinched at the sound of Cam’s voice. She’d come to Maguire’s because work was out of the question after making a fool out of herself in front of Miguel this afternoon, and home didn’t seem like a good idea either. Maguire’s dark interior, smelling of beer, fried food, and decades of cigarette smoke, was comforting, a security blanket masquerading as a cop bar. But she should have guessed Cam would come looking for her here.

  He settled at the bar beside her and flagged the bartender, who acknowledged him with a smile and short wave before pouring a pint of Guinness and bringing it over. He waited until the bartender left to tend other patrons before spinning on his stool and facing her.

  “Listen, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied, and you have every reason to hate me.”

  She heaved out a sigh. “I don’t hate you, Cam.” She didn’t think it would be possible to hate the man.

  “You have every right to be pissed as hell,” he said.

  “And I am. Absolutely. But,” she added, even though she didn’t want to make the admission, “I know you and I get your reasoning.” She aimed a scowl at him. “It still really fucking hurts you lied to me. I thought you were the one person I could trust without a doubt and then you went and pulled this shit.”

  He spread his hands in a gesture of supplication. “I’m an idiot.”

  “I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his brows draw together. Then he noticed the ring box sitting on the bar in front of her. He nudged it. “What’s that?”

  “A ring.”

  Setting down his beer, he scooped up the box and opened it before she could stop him. His jaw tightened. “Preston gave you this?”

  “Earlier tonight,” she said as a flush worked into her cheeks. She didn’t know what she had to be ashamed about, but there it was. “I went to dinner with him.”

  The blue of Cam’s eyes darkened to a turbulent gray. “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  He growled at her non-answer. “Are you seriously accepting this?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? How can you even consider it after what he did to you?”

  Wincing because he had a point, she struggled to find the words to make him understand. “We were together for years, Cam. It’s hard to throw that much time away.”

  “And what about our years together?”

  She hesitated. “That’s different.”

  “Why? Because we weren’t sleeping together?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, we are now,” he said and snapped the ring box closed. “So what about us? You’re just going to throw us away?”

  Stunned, she gaped at him. “There is no us. Not like that, at least. The sex, as amazing as it is between us, was always meant to be just sex, remember? You’re the one that said it’s not a permanent situation.”

  He held up the ring box. “But this is?”

  “Maybe…?” Groaning, she dropped her head into her arms.

  “Does Preston make you happy?” His voice sounded strained, and she lifted her head. Pain—real, stark pain—etched itself into his expression.

  “Oh, fuck. I don’t know,” she confessed. “I need you to be my best friend right now, okay? You always give me the best advice.”

  “Yeah, well, you want some friendly advice?” He flipped up the top of the box again and shoved it across the bar until it was right under her nose. “If a man really loves you, he’d never buy this ring. He’d know it’s too big for your taste. He’d know that you’ll never wear it because it’ll rip right through latex gloves and get caught on everything at work. He’d know you’re not a diamond kind of woman. He’d know your favorite color is red and get you a simple band of white-gold studded with rubies.” He slapped a hand down in front of her and something metal clinked against the bar. He didn’t lift his hand right away, but he didn’t have to. She had a good idea what was under there.

  Without another word, Cam grabbed his coat from the back of his seat, stuffed his arms in, and walked away. She watched him go, then stared down at the ring he’d left on the bar next to Preston’s. It was just as he described, a thin white-gold band set with little princess-cut rubies.

  Sick to her stomach, she picked up the two rings. Oh, no. He wasn’t going to drop this goddamn grenade in front of her and walk away. She shoved away from the bar and ran out onto the street, the cold air stinging her eyes and lungs. She spotted Cam getting into his 4Runner, parked at the curb several cars down.

  “Wilde.” She chased after him and planted herself in front of the SUV, hands on her hips as she squinted at the headlights. The engine revved twice, but she stood her ground. “Vehicular homicide gets you three to fifteen years, buddy.”

  He shut off the headlights, leaving her seeing spots. With the engine still rumbling softly, he stood on
the runner to glare at her over the top of the door.

  “Cardoso,” he said in the same frustrated tone she’d used. “Get outta the way.”

  She held up the ring. “What the hell is this?”

  “Exactly what it looks like.”

  His grim expression took the air out of her lungs like a punch to the sternum. “Cam—” At a loss, she stared at him and struggled to find her voice. “But—but you can’t seriously want to marry me. You’re not the marrying type.”

  “No, I’m not, which should tell you everything you need to know about how fucking serious I am.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Ridiculous?” He jumped down from the SUV and shut the door with a bang that echoed between the buildings lining the street. As snowflakes swirled in the air, he stalked toward her. This wasn’t the easygoing, roll-with-the-punches Cam she was used to. Honestly, the intensity in him right now kind of frightened her, and part of her wanted to run—but, no, she’d done enough running from him.

  She braced her shoulders, lifted her chin, and met his predatory gaze with a glare. “Yes. Ridiculous. How long have you had this thing?”

  “About two hours.” His arm snaked around her waist and dragged her toward his body. Hot, cinnamon scented breath fanned her cheek as he traced the line of her jaw with his lips.

  Her hands flattened against his chest. She should push him away. She absolutely should, but the heat coming off him made her that much more aware of the cold air at her back, and she wanted to burrow into him, luxuriate in his warmth, breathe in the cinnamon and dark spice scent that always shot straight to her libido and was unique to Camden Wilde. His hard lips followed the curve of her ear, brushed over her closed eyes, down her nose. She shuddered, her fingers curling into the front of his coat of their own volition.

  He hesitated over her mouth, their breaths mingling into a single cloud. His gaze lifted from its hungry perusal of her lips and met hers. She expected lust, heat, hunger. Instead, his blue eyes were resigned. Maybe even a little sad.

  Groaning, he rested his forehead against hers. “I kept thinking if I was patient long enough, you’d see us for what we are.”

  Eva pushed against his chest and he released her without protest. Stepping back, she hugged herself to fend off the cold that suddenly pierced her to her core. “What do you think we are?”

  “We’re soul mates. The real deal.”

  Silence stretched between them as he waited for her to respond. But she couldn’t come up with anything coherent. Cam, her soul mate? Not possible…

  Was it?

  Cam reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “The last five years have been a lie. Well, an omission. I’m good at those.”

  Confusion and horror battled it out inside her chest, neither one gaining ground over the other, and her mind outright refused to comprehend the words coming out of his mouth. She massaged the headache in her temple with a shaking hand. “I don’t understand. Everything we’ve done together…?”

  “No, that’s not it. I’ve meant absolutely everything that’s happened between us since day one, but I’ve always wanted more, and I never told you. I want you, Eva. I’ve always wanted you, but I’m done being patient. I’m not your partner. I’m not your fuck buddy. I’m not even your friend.”

  She sucked in a stunned breath as horror finally won out and dug icy claws into her heart. “What are you saying?”

  “I can’t continue to separate the friend you want me to be from the man who is crazy in love with you.” He squeezed his eyes shut for a long moment, then shook his head and turned away. “So maybe it’s time you find a new best friend.”

  …

  Vaughn settled onto the stool beside her barely twenty minutes after Cam left her standing on the street with her head reeling. She wasn’t at all surprised to see him. As soon as Cam showed up at home, Vaughn would have felt the need to go all protective “big” brother. Maybe that’s why she’d hung around here. Waiting for him to come flay her alive.

  Not that she didn’t already feel like an open, throbbing wound.

  “You know,” Vaughn said conversationally, plucking a red straw from the napkin holder on the bar and sticking it between his teeth. “I can make you disappear and nobody will ever find your body.”

  She slid him an incredulous sideways glance. Amazing he could look so much like Cam, and yet…not. He always carried himself like he was spoiling for a fight, and the flatness in his blue eyes warned back off or get hurt. He was one scary dude. Not someone she’d want to cross paths with while unarmed on a dark street, especially after the sunny statement he just made.

  “You know,” she replied in the same conversational tone, “that’s called premeditated murder and carries a twenty-five-to-life sentence.”

  He lifted one shoulder, then smiled as the busty bartender set a short glass of rum and Coke in front of him. Either he’d ordered before he sat down or he was as much a regular at Maguire’s as she was. She bet on the former. A cop shop like Maguire’s wasn’t his usual scene.

  “I’m not saying I will,” he said after a long, appreciative drink. “But I can. Actually, I should because you’ve done nothing but make my brother miserable since Key West. If I remember correctly, we had a talk about the consequences for that.”

  “You mean when you threatened me at the reception.”

  “Ah-ah.” He wagged a finger. “I don’t make threats.”

  “And what exactly do you call this?”

  “I’m giving you an ultimatum.”

  She stared. “Ultimatum?” Indignation made her slam her bottle down on the bar with more force than necessary. “What? Stop fucking Cam or else?”

  “I don’t care if you fuck him twice a day and three times on Sunday. Good for him if you do.” He tapped his temple. “It’s the mind fucking I don’t like. You need to make a decision. It’s either Cam or that asshole you’re so hung up on. But if you choose Preston, you need to let Cam go. Cut all ties.”

  Cut all ties with Cam? Her stomach pitched at the thought. “That’s not fair, Vaughn. You can’t ask me to—”

  He faced her, and she gulped back the rest of her protest. His eyes were no longer flat and expressionless, but had ignited into cold fury. “No, I’ll tell you what’s not fair. Cam’s always right there when you need him, even if that means leaving his own brother’s wedding. You tell him to jump, and he’ll reach for the moon. He’s put his whole goddamn life on hold for you. What have you done for him besides give him a few good lays?”

  Eva opened her mouth, but found she had no breath to respond. Vaughn finished his drink in a gulp and dug some cash out of the pocket of his jeans. He stood and peeled off a few bills for the bartender’s tip.

  “Vaughn.” She grasped his arm. “I’m sorry.”

  His lips tightened into a thin line, but he didn’t glance down at her as he extracted himself from her grip. “I’m not the one you should be saying that to.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Eva left Maguire’s with the sense that her entire world had just imploded, and it only got worse when she drove home to find Preston’s car waiting in her driveway. He shut off the engine and got out when she parked beside him.

  Exasperated, she shoved open her door and climbed out, meeting him at the gate to her yard. “You have to stop doing this.”

  His smile of greeting faded into a scowl. “I can’t stop by my girlfriend’s house?”

  Christ, how could a smart man be so fucking clueless? “Okay, one: I’m not your girlfriend.” She held up a finger, ticking the points off as she made them. “And two: I saw you less than four hours ago. What gives? You never used to be this clingy.”

  He sputtered. “I’m not clingy.”

  “Four hours ago, Preston. And, no, I haven’t decided to take you back, so if that’s why you’re here—”

  “No. No, that’s not—I just—I missed you.” He leaned in, and she could have avoided it, but the beginn
ings of an epiphany niggled at the back of her mind, and she had to know if it was right. His lips touched hers, soft and cool—and she felt nothing. Not the slightest stirring of desire. She wanted hot and hard. A command, not a request. As Preston’s hand slid down her arm, everything in her revolted.

  He was not Camden Wilde.

  She broke away from him and reached for the gate before he had a chance to recover. By the time he scrambled through, she’d already crossed the yard and was halfway up her porch steps.

  “Eva, wait.” He caught her hand and tugged her to a stop. “What’s wrong?”

  She shrugged out of his grasp. “We’re not right for each other anymore, Preston. If we ever were. You must see that. I’m not your type.”

  Something dark flashed through his eyes. “You don’t know crap about my type.”

  “Maybe not,” she admitted, found his ring box in her pocket, and handed it to him. “But I know you’re not mine. I’m sorry. My answer is no. It’s just not going to work out between us.”

  His hand closed around her arm again, and he jerked her around when she tried to continue up the steps. “Is it someone else?”

  “Let go of me.”

  For a startling second, she didn’t think he would. And in that second, she caught a glimpse of violence, the kind she’d seen in the eyes of murderers who felt no regret for their crimes. She yanked against him, and he released her, then backed off.

  “Camden,” he said. Not a question, but a disgusted statement.

  She didn’t bother confirming or denying. Frankly, it was none of his business whom she chose, because it was not him.

  His face flushed a deep red, and his hands curled into fists at his sides. In all the years she’d known him, she’d never seen him angry—and now he looked like he was going to blow his top. A trickle of fear sent her heart rate up a few beats per minute and she took a step backwards before she caught herself.

  “Do what you want with it,” he said, throwing the ring box back at her, then stomped to his car. Tires squealed on the wet pavement, and he leaned on the horn as he peeled out.