Road Signs

by MJ Fredrick

  The finalists were announced. Her shoulders tensed as two men were selected, and then her and Cam. She squealed and grabbed his shoulder, trying to infuse some enthusiasm in him, enthusiasm she was no longer feeling.

  This time they were called first, and Willow took the lead as the piano played. She looked at the audience for the first verse, and turned to Cam on the last word, planting her feet as the rock beat kicked in. Her heart swelled as she looked into that beloved face, his expression almost taking the breath from her. The sadness she saw dragging at the corners of his eyes hadn’t been there when they’d walked out of the mechanic’s garage—they were put there by her. She had to remedy that. His voice harmonized with hers, and the sound of their voices blending sent shivers of longing through her. She forgot about their audience and moved closer as he sang the next verse, threading her fingers through his hair as she sang the chorus again.

  The crowd roared as they finished, Willow still holding on to Cam, Cam still looking into her eyes.

  She turned to fumble the microphone back into the stand and this time she couldn’t look at him as she hopped off the stage. He hooked a hand around her waist as they made their way back to their seats. Her heart was pounding, and it wasn’t from waiting to see if they’d win.

  She didn’t think a cab could get them to a motel fast enough. And God, what if he didn’t have condoms? She wasn’t on the pill, and this was too new to risk something like pregnancy. She glanced at the current singer, their competition, and figured she had enough time to run to the restroom and grab a couple out of the machine in the ladies’ room.

  She was so aware of the packets in her pocket as she took her seat a few moments later, she barely registered that the DJ had taken the microphone again. He announced the man who’d sung the Journey song won third place, the man who’d selected Clay Aiken as second.

  “And the winners—Willow and Cam!”

  She screamed and turned to fling her arms around Cam’s shoulders. This was it; they were going to make it to Seattle. She pressed her mouth to his, leaning into the warmth of his lips, the teasing touch of his tongue, and for a moment, she forgot where she was and why they were here, kissing. The cheers of the crowd brought her to her senses. She bounced to her feet, then pulled him toward the stage to collect the prize.

  They found a motel nearby. They probably shouldn’t be spending money on a room, but Willow used the excuse that the next flight wasn’t for four hours. Besides, she needed to get Cam alone. Willow’s heart drummed as he paid the cab driver with some of the cash they’d won. Including the drinks, cab fare and the entry fee, they’d netted less than four hundred dollars, but combined with the money from her mom it was still enough for two tickets to Seattle.

  Her pulse thundered as he approached her after getting the keys to the room.

  He unlocked the door and led the way inside. Once she closed the door behind her, he turned and pulled her into his arms. This was nothing like the kiss earlier, where he’d devoured her. No, this one was gentle, exploring, tasting, finding the sensitive parts of her mouth and caressing them. He toyed with her curls, rubbing them between his fingers, caressing them against her skin. With a sigh, she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his big shoulders, pressing her breasts to his hard chest. He coursed a hand down her spine to the small of her back, bringing her hips forward, where his arousal pulsed against her.

  Apparently the skin under the hem of her sweater was an erogenous zone, because heat pooled between her legs when he stroked her there. She wanted his weight over her more than she wanted her next breath.

  But she loved the pace he was setting. He broke the kiss to trail kisses down her jaw to below her ear. She gasped when he nuzzled the sensitive spot, his stubble an arousing contrast to his soft mouth. Her nipples stiffened painfully, wanting his touch. She rubbed against him until he groaned and released her, then reached for her sweater.

  “I want to see you,” he said, his voice rough.

  Desperate to feel him against her, she helped him lift the garment over her head. He tossed it on the dresser as she began to work on his shirt, her fingers fumbling on the buttons, her knuckles brushing the warm smooth skin beneath. She spread her fingers over the muscled chest she exposed.

  “Writing code is more strenuous than I thought,” she teased, wanting so badly to lean forward to taste his skin.

  He pulled her close and kissed her again as she slid her hands up his chest to his shoulders, down his arms. She opened her mouth wider, inviting him deeper. Her nipples in her thin lace bra rubbed against his chest. His breathing grew rougher, his grasp on her hips restless. He unhooked her bra and pulled it down her arms.

  Then he lifted her, sitting her on the dresser and parting her thighs to stand between them. He curved his hands beneath her breasts and lowered his mouth. His warm breath gusted over her skin, and she gasped at the sensation. His lips closed over her nipple, drawing it into his mouth, his tongue curling around it, stroking it, flicking it until she pushed her hips into his, needing him inside her.

  “God, you’re gorgeous,” he said, his words humming against her skin.

  “Cam. I don’t want to wait. Take me to bed.”

  He backed up enough to let her stand. She unbuttoned her jeans, drawing down the zipper, then peeling down the denim. He rubbed his thumb over a crease the fabric had made in her skin above her cotton boy shorts.

  She was shaking now. “Cam. Please.”

  He stepped back and unbuckled his belt as she kicked her jeans off, her attention on the opening of his jeans.

  He stopped. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

  Her gaze snapped to his. “No. No, it’s not. Cam.”

  He grinned and she realized he’d been teasing. He shoved his jeans and shorts down his legs, freeing his erection. God, she’d never thought… She stepped forward and folded her hand around him, watching his eyes close in pleasure. She rose on her toes to kiss those soft lips, inhaling the taste of him beneath the whiskey. He broke her hold on his erection and ended the kiss, but kept his gaze on hers as he shed his jeans, then swept her into his arms, cradling her against his broad chest. He took two steps to the bed, setting her in the center, her back against the cold bedspread. He lowered himself over her and she wasn’t cold anymore.

  She wanted to slow down, to savor him, but desire to have him inside her drummed in her blood. She coursed her fingertips over his cheek, down his throat to his chest. The muscles in his belly jumped, before she stroked the length of him again. He captured her wrist and pinned it to the bed beside her head, levered over her and kissed her mouth, hard, deep, then glided down her body, kissing her throat. She arched her head back to allow him greater access and felt the trembling in his own body that told her he wanted to go slow too, but his body wouldn’t allow it. He captured her breast again, drawing on the nipple, his gaze on hers. She couldn’t look away, couldn’t process that Cam was making love to her. He released her breast and traced his lips over her stomach, stopping just above the waistband of her panties.

  “These shouldn’t be so sexy,” he murmured, releasing her wrists to drag them down her legs. “Will,” he said, reverently, then leaned over her again, his fingers curving between her thighs, stroking, finding just the right spot.

  This time she grasped his wrist. “Not yet. I want you in me.”

  He quirked his eyebrows. “That much of a hair trigger?”

  She stuck her tongue out. He laughed and reached for his wallet. She watched, breath in her throat, as he rolled on the condom.

  “I can’t go slow,” he warned, his hand beneath the small of her back as he poised at her entrance.

  “This time,” she said, and he pushed into her.

  Everything in her centered on him, his body inside her, over her, the movement of his muscles as he thrust, the sweat beading his skin.

  The look of longing in his eyes. Longing for what? Didn’t he have everything he wanted? She did. She reached up to kiss h
im, her hand cupping the back of his head. He grasped her hips, sitting back on his heels, pulling her over him so their bodies slid together. They found a rhythm, grinning at each other when they did.

  Each stroke was pure pleasure, each caress, each brush of hair to skin, or skin to skin. She leaned forward to capture his lips and he cradled her head in his hand as he devoured her mouth, that hunger feeding her own. She moved more insistently over him, the pleasure tightening inside her.

  He tumbled her back to the bed and took charge again, driving into her until she was helpless with desire, hanging on to the very edge of sanity before a brush of his thumb at the apex of her thighs sent her over. She arched her back, opening herself to every sensation. He followed her with a growl of release, his hands cupping her bottom, his face buried in her throat, his breath raspy.

  She came to her senses first, stroking the damp indentation of his spine between his shoulder blades, feeling his chest heave with the exertion of each breath.

  “I’ve wanted to do that since we were sixteen years old,” he said finally, then lifted himself off her to deal with the condom.

  “Wow, I’m glad I didn’t know that before. I would have worried about living up to expectations.”

  He shifted onto his side and cupped her breast, toying with her nipple.

  “Oh, you did. Beyond.”

  With a shiver—they hadn’t bothered to turn up the heater when they came in, and despite their exertions, the room was chilly—she turned to him. “So why didn’t we ever do this before?”

  “Timing was never right. And I was scared as hell to do something to screw up our friendship. Don’t know what I’d do without you, Will.”

  Warning bells went off in her head, but she ignored them. “We can be grown-up about this.”

  His expression sobered. “Will, I wouldn’t have made love to you if I didn’t think this was the future. This isn’t casual for me. I’m not walking away now.”

  Panic welled in her chest, paired with something she couldn’t identify. Joy? “But the job…”

  He cupped her chin in his hand to ensure she wouldn’t look away. “Screw the job. I’m not leaving you. Why do you think I resisted all these nights? I thought I was leaving and I couldn’t bear the idea of sending you away to love someone else.”

  She sat up, folding her arms around her knees. When that didn’t warm her, she reached behind her for the pillow. “I will not be the reason you stay in a job you hate.”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “It’s awful, don’t lie to me. I know all your secrets. I know all your dreams, and I know this Seattle job is one. So we’re getting on a plane first thing in the morning and we’re flying there. You’re going to that interview.”

  “Why?” He sat up too, and glared.

  “You haven’t been happy in years. I want to see you happy.”

  “And you think this job is going to do it? I don’t need a job to make me happy. Didn’t you hear what I said to you tonight? A job is not what I want. Willow. I love you. I’ve loved you for years. You’re what I want, not a job in Seattle.”

  “I don’t want that responsibility.”

  “It’s not a responsibility. It’s a gift, Will.”

  She took a deep breath. “Then do this for me, for my peace of mind. Go to the interview. If you don’t get the job, I won’t feel like I held you back.”

  “If I do get the job?”

  She wasn’t prepared to move with him. She couldn’t make that choice when her body still tingled from his lovemaking. “We’ll figure something out.”

  “It’s that important to you?”

  She held her breath. He sounded ready to give in. “Yes.”

  “What time does the flight leave?”

  Chapter Nine

  All this work, all this effort to get here on time, and Cam was cooling his heels in the reception area. He didn’t have his phone, and he didn’t want to start up his laptop in case he was summoned, so had nothing to occupy his thoughts, which spiraled from wanting this job to saying the hell with it and going back home with Willow.

  Finally the receptionist, a pretty, dark-haired young woman, smiled in his direction. “They’re ready to see you now.” She motioned to the door to her right.

  They. Great. Because his nerves weren’t dancing enough. He waited until he was out of her line of sight to wipe his palm surreptitiously on his slacks, and strode into the office with a confidence he didn’t feel.

  A woman and two men, his age, maybe younger, waited, the men sitting in low-backed leather chairs à la Mad Men. The woman rose from behind the sleek black desk and circled it with her hand extended.

  “Cameron Trask. You write some sweet code. We’re happy to have you on our team.” She grasped his hand with the same enthusiasm she might show meeting a celebrity.

  “On your team?” Cam looked from their clasped hands to the young woman’s face.

  “You bet. Welcome to Serious Gamer. I’m Amber Cho. This is Victor Ortiz and this is Juan de la Garza.”

  “So, not an interview?”

  She released his hand and he moved toward the empty leather chair she indicated.

  “No, just a get-to-know-you meeting. You have the job. There was some excellent coding in that game you showed us. We hope you have more like that in you.”

  “I can show you what I’ve been working on.” He swung his laptop case around, ready to open it, but Amber held up her hand.

  “Time for that later.”

  Cam set the laptop bag on the floor beside him. His mind was reeling. He had the job? Why couldn’t they have told him that? The trip would have been so much less stressful—but of course they couldn’t know that, right? What would Willow say when she found out? “Okay, sure, what do you want to know?”

  “Hopes, dreams. How soon you can get to work here.” Amber grinned and Cam felt himself grin back.

  Willow’s phone vibrated as she sat waiting for Cam in the glassed-in, marble-tiled lobby on the first floor of the office building where Serious Gamer was located. She jumped in surprise, though she recognized the ring. She was too jittery to deal with Gwyn now. She almost wished Gwyn would decide to go with another designer. Then Willow’s choice would be easy—she wouldn’t be opting for Cam over her career, wouldn’t be rearranging her life for a man. She’d be here in Seattle, a gorgeous city, looking for a new path. But if Gwyn offered her the job and she turned it down to be with Cam—how would that be different from how her mother had always operated?

  She refused to be like her mother.

  So she answered the phone on the fourth ring.

  “Wonderful news,” Gwyn said in the brightest tone Willow had ever heard her use. “You have the account! I think we’re going to be great together, and we can take this chain to the national level. I’m so excited. I hope you can forgive me for all those pestering phone calls this weekend, but I wanted everything to be perfect. Can you meet me tomorrow at nine? I have big plans. We’re going to make a perfect team.”

  Everything Willow had wanted was coming true, and all she could think about was that a meeting at nine tomorrow morning meant she had to leave Seattle tonight. She wanted one more night with Cam, whether or not he got the job. Did she dare ask a favor the first thing? “Ah, Gwyn, I’m still in Seattle,” she managed.

  “Seattle? What are you doing there?”

  Willow was sure she’d told her, but it didn’t matter. “Thanksgiving trip,” was all she said.

  “When can you be home?” The impatience had crept back into Gwyn’s tone. “I really want to get the ball rolling here.”

  “Let me look into the flights and get back to you later.”

  “How much later?”

  “I don’t have access to a computer just now. After lunch?”

  Gwyn was quiet a moment, then said, “Let’s just make it a dinner meeting. Seven tomorrow night. All right?”

  Willow didn’t want to say no, so she agreed. But as she hung up an
d tucked away her phone, she wished she was more excited. After all, she’d spent hours and hours, late nights and weekends, on this account, hoping for this very result. She should be happy, right?

  She looked up to see Cam edging his way out of the elevator. His grin lit up the lobby and he practically loped over.

  “I got my relocation money,” he said. “Let’s get to the bank and celebrate.”

  Though his words took a moment to sink in, his expression—bright eyes and dimpled grin—told her everything. Twin pulses of pleasure and despair ran through her. This was it, then. She forced delight into her voice and hoped he didn’t notice. “You got the job?”

  He straightened, shoulders back, in what would have been a swagger if he was walking. “I had the job all along, I just didn’t know it.” He swept her into his arms and spun her around in the middle of the lobby. Her shriek of surprise echoed off the tile and glass and she tucked her head against his throat. “Thank you,” he murmured against her hair, then set her on the ground. “We’re going to go to the best restaurant in town and then we’re getting the hotel room with the best view in the city.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “And then we need to talk.”

  Her heart fluttered. She knew what he wanted to ask, but she wouldn’t think about that. She’d celebrate with him and not think of the account she had just won by putting up with Gwyn this weekend.

  “Did you get hold of your bank?” he asked as he held the door for her.

  “Not yet.”

  “Let’s get this cashed, then we’ll go to your bank and you can talk to them in person. Not likely to find the best restaurant in the city open for breakfast anyway.”

  His excitement was contagious, chasing away the heaviness in her chest. Yes, she’d known this was possible, but she’d managed to marginalize it, especially last night when she’d been in his arms. He was so happy and he deserved this. She would celebrate with him. She slipped her fingers through his and followed him down the steps to the street.