by Cari Quinn
“Huh?” Jill glanced down at her sedate navy suit with its cute boxy jacket and work-appropriate-length skirt. “I didn’t do anything. What is it you think I did?”
She could just hear Vic’s answer now. My brother.
Vic held up a finger and spoke in soothing tones to whomever she’d called, probably Ms. Travers. She was rehabbing her old fixer-upper, and the woman never stopped fretting.
From her small desk a few feet away, Vic’s other assistant Lorelie continued typing. “Muffin?” She jerked her chin at a white bag.
Jill hurried across the room. “Sure. I could eat.” If only her stomach would stop rolling. No one could tell she’d gotten laid. She wasn’t wearing a sign.
Vic hung up and rushed around the desk. “Oh my God. You dirty dog. You totally got nailed.” She charged forward to hug Jill, nearly causing her to lose her blueberry muffin. “Why didn’t you call?”
“I only saw you Friday. Plus you were a little busy.” She would just ignore the nailing comment for the time being.
“Not too busy to hear about this. Hello, hickey.” Vic pulled at the collar of Jill’s jacket until she had no choice but to look down at the fading splotch on her collarbone. How had she missed that? “And this, too.” Vic brushed her fingers along Jill’s jaw and smiled triumphantly. “Where else do you have stubble burn, hussy?”
“That’s not what you think. I changed my detergent.” Sure, that sounded plausible. “You know I’ve always been delicate.”
“Uh-huh. So does that mean you only took one pounding before calling it quits for the night?”
“Me thinks you’ve been watching too many home renovation shows with all the nailing and pounding you keep talking about.” Jill hurried to her own desk and stowed her purse in the bottom drawer. Bending down gave her a minute to hide her overwarm face. Too bad she couldn’t stay down there forever. “So when are we heading out to Ms. Travers’s?”
“A quarter to nine. You know how she is about appointments. ” Vic sat on the edge of Jill’s desk, her amusement fading into a frown. “You okay?”
Something about the inflection in her question brought back Bryan’s voice, all husky and hot, when he’d asked the same thing. Jill struggled to keep her smile in place. “Sure. I had a good time with a…guy.”
“I figured as much.” Her tone sharpened. “Who is he?”
Yep, there was Vic sliding into mom mode. As usual. The brief appearance of enthusiasm at the possibility of Jill’s hookup had to have been Vic’s leftover hormones from her own weekend of debauchery.
“It wasn’t any big thing.” Lie. It was the biggest ever. In more ways than one. She ached to check her phone again. Was it a bad sign she was missing him already?
Probably, since she’d done everything she could to dissuade him from making their thing a multi-night event. Not because she didn’t want one. For pity’s sake, she’d been crushing on the guy since her first burst of hormones at thirteen. But she didn’t want him to feel obligated to keep seeing her while he was in town because he felt guilty for squashing her cherry. Better for her to pretend to be blasé about seeing him again.
He was trying to act considerate, and she was trying to act as if she didn’t care. Clearly the world had tilted on its axis when she wasn’t looking.
“So you’re not going to tell me who you rode like a polo pony. Your best friend in all the world.” There was no ignoring the hurt in Vic’s voice. “This is a huge moment. Gigantic. Losing one’s—”
Oh God, not the virginity thing again. “I’ll tell you. Promise.” Jill shot a look at Lorelie. “Later, at yoga. We have a full day of clients to deal with first.”
“Okay, have it your way.” Vic pointed at her. “But tonight, you’re telling me everything.”
…
Too bad that night came so freaking fast.
Ten hours later, Vic turned on the overhead lights, signaling the end of the yoga class she taught at the local gym. Jill knew her best friend would demand details the moment the last student filed out.
She wasn’t disappointed.
“Out with it.” Vicky sat on the mat opposite Jill and uncapped a water bottle, holding it to her flushed cheek before taking a long drink.
For their Bikram yoga classes, they kept the studio at over one-hundred degrees. The heat was supposed to flush out toxins from the body, leading to increased vitality and energy afterward.
That might explain why Jill couldn’t stop bouncing like a damn bunny. The twitchiness extended to places that, come tonight, would see action she for once wouldn’t have to instigate herself.
Damn that Bryan for making her fantasize about him all day long.
“Look, I know I haven’t always been open-minded when it comes to the idea of you and sex,” Vic said, obviously sensing her reluctance. “It’s just that I want to make sure you have a safe, protected experience. I promised your mom I’d watch out for you.”
Adding in a little mom guilt never failed to work. “I know. You’ve done a great job.”
“But watching out for you isn’t the same as shutting down everything before you have a chance to live. From now on, what you do is up to you, and I won’t judge. Or I’ll try not to.”
“Yeah, sure, you won’t judge.” Jill shook her head. “You told me about all your exploits with Cory and tried to couch them as cautionary tales in case I got any crazy ideas. When he dripped hot wax on you, somehow you turned it into a lesson about fire safety. The sex you had in this very yoga studio? An example of always needing a partner for complicated routines.”
Vic snorted. “I don’t recall those words, exactly.”
“I do. You wanted to share your exploits without me figuring out that hey, recreational sex isn’t so bad. But I can do wild things, too, and still make good choices. I promise, I won’t end up destitute and alone even if I sleep with a guy who’s a little bit wicked.”
“Okay, fine. This dog can learn new tricks. I’ll share things without warning you how easily they could become future episodes of Sex Sent Me To The ER.”
“Uh-huh. I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Hello, I’m starting now. All those dirty stories I’ve told you about Cory? It’s not all I’ve let him do. Or all that he’s let me do. Five words: tied up in the barn. Now it’s your turn.” Vic’s wicked eye-glint made Jill lean forward, waiting for the next part of the story, until she remembered she was the one in the storytelling hot-seat tonight. “Besides,” Vic said. “You’re making me worry more the longer you refuse to tell me. Especially now that I know he’s a little bit wicked.” She offered the water. “Did you get down and dirty with a criminal on the lam or something?”
Jill accepted the bottle and laughed. “He’s not a criminal, on the lam or otherwise.”
“Is he married?”
“God, no.”
“Really bad for you?”
“That last one,” Jill admitted, though she didn’t truly believe it. Maybe Bryan was all wrong for her on paper, but he made her feel so good, in bed and out. They laughed together. He challenged her…even when he was pissing her off.
Vic nodded sagely. “Been there. Sucks that they’re always the ones who roll your eyes back and twist your toes out of joint.”
“Like you remember anything about that,” Jill teased.
“I live it. Who do you think is more wrong for me than Cory? He starches his boxers, for God’s sake. That’s not even a euphemism.”
“If this sob story ends with you telling me about the amount of orgasms you had this weekend, we’re going to have words, Townsend.”
Vicky waggled her brows. “I never brag. Evidently neither do you since I have heard not one thing. C’mon. I love bad boys.”
“For me? Since when?” Jill took a long swig.
“So I tend to be a little overprotective. Duly noted. But as I just indicated a few moments ago, I can change my ways. I’m trying to relax. You’re entitled to make your own choices. I just worry.”
�
��I know, and I love you for it.” Jill returned the bottle and wiped her mouth. This might be the most awkward conversation in the history of life. How was she supposed to talk about Vic’s brother’s dick with her? Even if she avoided his name and that part of his anatomy entirely, it didn’t matter. She still knew. Maybe she could steer them toward safer territory and not arouse suspicions. “He’s got nice hands.”
Vic nearly spit out her mouthful of water. “That’s what you give me?”
“Umm, he knows how to use them, too.”
“How much using are we talking here? Multiples?”
“Multiple multiples.” She ducked her head at Vic’s war whoop. “There might have been some tongue action, too.”
“There damn well better have been. A bad boy who doesn’t willingly go down is like a unicorn without a horn. Not worth the fairytale.” Vic leaned forward eagerly. “C’mon, gimme more.”
Jill laughed. “Let’s just say he has the right equipment, and he knows how to use it. He was kind of freaked about the virgin thing, and the first time was kind of fast, but then…” She took a shuddery breath. “Then it got really good. He was so sweet about making sure I enjoyed myself. He even—”
“What? What?”
“Jeez, don’t hyperventilate.” Jill grinned. “He even stuck around all night. I expected him to hit the door running, but nope, he was there the next morning.” Smelling like her soap, clutching her pink lady razor, and still somehow seeming like one-thousand-percent man.
“Hot damn. I like this guy already. I don’t suppose you want to tell me more about him? Like, oh, a name perhaps?”
“I will soon. But—”
“But you want it to be your secret for right now. Okay.” Vic sighed. “As part of that whole ‘trusting you to make your own decisions’ thing, I won’t press you for more info right now. Though it’s taking a lot of willpower on my part, so I think I deserve extra best friend bonus points.”
Jill smiled. “Duly noted. And thanks.”
“Are you going to see him again?”
“Yes. I think so.” Jill fiddled with the end of one of her ponytails. “He’s not like how I thought he would be.” Epic understatement. She’d been so sure she knew Bryan Townsend. Between the stuff Vic had told her, what she’d read in the tabloids, and her own observations, she’d been certain she had him pegged. But from the way he’d insisted on them seeing each other while he was in town, making love to her so tenderly—
Cripes, they’d had sex. Screwed. Banged. Not made love. She was doing the girl thing and romanticizing it. Ex-virgin problems, obviously.
“Multiple multiples can skew the vision a bit,” Vic said. “Just saying. But if you want to see more of him, naked or otherwise, then go for it. Show him you’re not some shy wallflower waiting around for him to move. You’ve got moves of your own.”
“Right.” Jill cocked her head. “Do I?”
“Girl, you have moves for days.” Vic slid her legs out to the sides and rolled forward in a way that defied gravity. “Like this one. When he’s behind you, stretch out your legs and lean toward the bed. Go down flat on your belly.”
Jill crab-walked backward so that Vic’s head didn’t land in her lap. “Wow. That must be some visual from the other side.”
“Oh, it is. Or so I’ve been told.” Vicky’s grin spread. “Trust me, he won’t be able to form complete sentences for a week.”
Jill returned her grin and bounded to her feet, her momentary misgivings about romanticizing things allayed. This was what best friends were for. Buying tequila, dishing up the Ben and Jerry’s, and dispensing valuable advice about the unfair sex. The dirty yoga poses were just a bonus. “You’re right. I’ve got this.” She strode toward the door. As soon as she saw him, it was on. “Thanks, babe. Later.”
“Poor guy won’t know what hit him,” Vic called after her.
…
He’d done it now.
Thinking ahead had never been his strong suit, except when it came to football. Past experience had taught him that thinking overmuch led to drowning his sorrows in something 100-proof, so willful mindlessness had become his goal in regard to emotional shit.
Do not pass GO. Do not pony up for the expensive whiskey that hurts like hell coming back up.
He’d screwed himself in the past by not considering all the possibilities before moving forward. But his current conundrum had to win the crap contest on a number of levels.
He’d not only slept with his sister’s virginal best friend, he’d made an agreement to date her, thereby ensuring their continued contact beyond necessary wedding events. Even if the situation was temporary, trying to check off a few boxes in the honor category had also created a huge clusterfuck.
He hadn’t expected to have a night like that with her. Hadn’t anticipated the need that fired in his blood every time he imagined her hesitant smile or the bravado she slipped on as easily as a pair of shoes. Watching her explore new pleasures intoxicated him more than any drink. He wanted to show her everything, be part of every new sexual discovery.
Truth be told, he didn’t know if he could control himself next time he got his hands on that sweet body. She brought something dark and hot out of him, and having her once had only whetted his appetite for more.
After a brutal session of physical therapy, he iced his knee and swapped the sweats and tank he’d worn to work out for a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt. He had too much on his mind, including the appointment he’d made for Wednesday at the group home where his mom lived. Seeing Jill tonight would help distract him, even if eventually he had to face the facts. She might not be into the stuff he liked. And if she was? Damn. He couldn’t go there. Couldn’t even begin to hope for that kind of outcome.
Taking things to a deeper level with her sexually when he already knew how perfect she was otherwise would be a recipe for disaster. Whichever way she responded, he was screwed. No matter how much he wanted her, he had no clue how to be the kind of man she needed. His life was football. Everything else was beyond his expertise. Including relationships.
Especially relationships.
Maybe all the better they’d agreed to keep this temporary. As amazing as their five dates would be, once they ended, that was it. He didn’t have to wonder when she’d figure out he had no fucking idea how to be someone’s partner, because they would never get to that point.
Hell, maybe he should have listened to her and kept this thing limited to that one night. The way she made him feel, his needs would push their way to the fore soon enough. He’d just have to control himself.
Though he might disappoint her outside of the bedroom, inside it, he would keep her satisfied, as long as he maintained a tight grip on his more wicked preferences. As unlikely as that seemed around Jill, he’d made an agreement, so he would fulfill it. Besides, he wanted to see her again. Too fucking much.
He headed over to her place and soon discerned she wasn’t home. Had she forgotten they’d made plans, or had she gotten held up at work?
This was what he got for trying to do things the way normal dudes did. Making dates and playing the good guy so wasn’t his style. His idea of romance was a memorable one-night stand followed by two-dozen red roses and a card that said “thanks for an incredible night.” Easy. Simple. None of this waiting around checking his watch crap.
The screech of brakes caused his head to snap up as Jill’s orange sedan swerved to the side of the parking-lot entrance. He must’ve conjured her or something.
She got out and hurried to the grass beside the blacktop. She was wearing something not quite discernible in the twilight, but it appeared to be shorts and a tiny top. What the hell? It wasn’t hot enough for shorts, not by a long shot. It had even snowed earlier.
Annoyed at her lack of self-care, he opened his door and prepared to give her a lecture, possibly followed by a good spanking. That part was just in his fantasies. Hell, getting naked with Jill at all was straight out of the fantasy file he’
d been building since he was a teenager.
Then he heard the cooing.
She knelt on the snow-crusted grass on bare knees, blond hair spilling in two pigtails down her back, while she talked to something he couldn’t see. Probably a damn chipmunk.
“Jill.”
She didn’t look up.
Exhaling sharply, he put his truck in park and pocketed the keys before walking over to join her. She glanced up, apprehension filling her expression until she recognized him. “Bryan.” Her relief was audible. “I didn’t expect you to show up yet.”
“Obviously not,” he said, more roughly than he’d intended. She’d abandoned her car on the side of the road leading into the lot, no blinkers on, door wide open for anyone to come by and sideswipe her vehicle, the same one she’d been driving since high school.
He rounded her hood and shut the driver’s door before rejoining her in the grass. “Get up. You’re going to get frostbite.”
A chorus of startled mews made him shut his eyes and pray for strength. Once he opened them again, he glimpsed furry heads poking out of the bag she held. “How did you find those?”
“Someone put them in this paper bag. I saw it moving. At the shelter, we’re trained to check out boxes and bags because that’s the way a lot of pets get dumped.” She shook visibly as she stumbled to her feet, cradling the wriggling charges to her chest. Five or five hundred, they were making a hell of a lot of noise. “They’re just babies. Who would do this?”
“Sicko creeps. Let’s get you inside. And them,” he added at her impatient glance. He looped his arm around her shoulders. When she cuddled against him, all he could think about was how small and fragile she was. “Come on.”
“No, wait. I’ll take them to the animal shelter. They have supplies that I don’t.”
“Like what? They’re cats.” Antsy, squalling cats from the looks of things. The bright side appeared to be that there were only two. One orange, one pitch-black. “Cats eat, pee, and poop. You can figure that out here.”
“They’ll need to be bottle-fed. Their eyes are barely open.” She hoisted the orange one high, and little paws flailed in the air until Bryan gave in and cupped it between his palms. The tiny thing only screamed louder, its small body twisting in his hold. “They have warming drawers at the shelter, too.” She was already hurrying toward her rust bucket with the black one tucked between her neck and shoulder.
