“Well, that’s how love gets you,” Meg said philosophically. “You start out having fun with someone, enjoying each other so much that one day, out of the clear blue sky—”
“Love hits you like an emotional anvil?” Dani rolled her eyes. “Jeez, sign me up for that.”
* * *
“TEARJERKER OR ACTION MOVIE?” Sean asked when Dani opened her door Friday night. The latest in a superhero franchise was vying for lead at the box office with a deeply emotional film already getting Oscar buzz.
Dani snorted. “Like I want to pay thirteen dollars so I can sit in a crowded theater and cry off my eye makeup? Action, please.”
He kissed her hello. “My kind of girl.”
She grabbed a lightweight sweater in case the air-conditioned theater got too chilly and followed him outside. As she was locking the front door, the phone in her purse sounded. She checked to see if the call was from Meg. Usually her friend was home from work by now.
But it was her dad’s number that flashed across the screen, which surprised her. Other than a flurry of concerned calls surrounding the wedding date, the Major wasn’t really a phone person.
“Hey, Dad.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Danica. Are you...are you busy?”
Her gaze flicked to Sean. “I do have plans tonight. Did you need something?” He sounded strange, lacking his usual crisp, commanding intonation.
“No,” he said too quickly. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”
The more he spoke, the easier it was to detect the slur in his words. Belatedly, she recalled the date and its significance to her father. He hadn’t let himself grieve in front of her often, but some years had been worse than others. “Daddy, have you been drinking?”
“I’m over twenty-one, Danica Leigh.”
She moved the phone away from her face a moment. “Can we make a stop on the way to the theater? Well, not on the way in the strictest sense.” They would miss the coming attraction previews for sure. “Dad, you sit tight. I’ll be there soon.”
Ending the call, she slid into the passenger seat of Sean’s SUV with a worried sigh. “It’s the anniversary of my mom’s death,” she said quietly. She rarely remembered, except when her father had one of his spells. “I think Dad’s been drinking.” First Meg at the country club and now this. “I swear not all the people in my life are lushes. You’re catching us on a bad week.”
Sean’s hand dropped to her thigh. “People make questionable decisions when they’re hurting. Hell, I’m living proof that people make questionable decisions, period.”
She gave him directions to her dad’s place, keeping one eye on the time. They were going to miss more than the previews. Maybe they could go to the later showing.
It took them about half an hour to reach the duplex where her father lived. The entire neighborhood was populated with retirees, and the parking lot was full of Buicks and Cadillacs from a bygone era. Not bothering to knock, she let herself in with her spare key.
“Dad? It’s me. I’m here with a friend.”
There was a shattering crash and some swearing from the next room. “In the kitchen,” her father called back. The pungent scent of whiskey wafted down the hall to greet them. He must have knocked over a bottle. At least that meant there was less left for him to actually drink.
“He never does this,” she told Sean, aware that the circumstances under which they were meeting each other’s parents were radically different. Her family might only be made up of two people, but between her and her father, they had plenty of baggage.
When they walked into the kitchen, they found the Major trying to clean up spilled whiskey and broken glass. Photo albums were spread across the wooden, two-seater table.
“Daddy?”
The Major whirled, years of training and honed reflexes momentarily overcoming the booze. “Dammit. You shouldn’t have to see me like... You look so much like her.” He squinted, trying to peer past her shoulder into the dark hall behind her. “That better not be Tate with you. Lowlife cheating—”
“This is Sean Grayson. He’s a friend. He’s going to get you some water while I clean this up. You sit down,” she said firmly. Of the three of them, her father was the only one barefoot.
She put her hands on his shoulders and gently steered him toward a chair. He seemed too preoccupied with Sean’s presence to notice.
“Are you a lowlife cheat?” the Major asked.
“No, sir.”
“Good. Dani deserves better.”
“I couldn’t agree more, sir.” Sean leaned over, studying one of the open albums while Dani got the broom and dustpan out of the pantry. “This must be your wife? She’s very beautiful.” Glancing in Dani’s direction, he added, “You do look just like her.”
A fact she well knew. It had been evident since she hit puberty that she was going to grow into the spitting image of a mother she’d barely known and couldn’t remember. It was disorienting at times, to look at photos and see a face that mirrored her own. Then again, what must Sean’s life be like, to stare into Bryce’s face and see contempt or annoyance reflected on his own features?
Major Yates dropped his hand to one plastic-protected page. “She was my soul mate.” His expression turned dreamy for a moment, his smile making him look years younger. “It’s such a blessing to find that one person you were meant to be with.”
Dani bit her lip, her eyes welling with tears at her dad’s loneliness. Was he right? From a purely selfish standpoint, since it meant being born, she was glad he’d married her mother. But if he hadn’t been so convinced that Gina Yates had been his “one and only,” would he be remarried now? Growing old with someone who cared for him instead of drinking alone with only faded pictures for company?
He’d told Dani all during her adolescence that one day she’d find her special someone. As she’d entered her midtwenties, she’d begun to question that belief. When Tate had proposed, she’d thought she’d finally met her fabled match. She didn’t want her breakup with Tate to leave her cynical—he wasn’t entitled to hold that much sway over her. Yet, as she stepped gingerly across shards of broken glass and watched her father’s equally broken expression, she wondered if perhaps not finding that one special person could be a blessing, too.
* * *
“I’M SORRY ABOUT the movie,” Dani said as Sean made the turn into her apartment complex. “I know pizza and poker with my father wasn’t the plan.”
He shot her a grin. “I haven’t had so many dates chaperoned by parents since I was fourteen.” When she didn’t laugh, he added, “I didn’t mind. Really. This gives me an excuse to ask for a rain check on the movie and see you again soon.”
Dani couldn’t find Meg’s car in the lot. When they walked inside the apartment, it was all dark except for the entryway nightlight.
She smacked a palm to her forehead, her memory belatedly kicking in. “Meg’s hosting a bridal shower at the shop tonight! She told me days ago that she’d be out late, but I forgot.” Possibly because she had a mental block when it came to anything bridal.
“They have those at lingerie shops?” he asked, sounding intrigued. “I thought showers were more Sunday dresses and mini-sandwiches while the bride-to-be opens plates and monogrammed towels.”
“What a sadly narrow mind,” she chided. “My bridal shower—” That was so not what she wanted to think about right now. “Suffice it to say, Meg’s my best friend, so it was a bit more creative and less G-rated than what you describe. Now.” She clutched the front of his shirt in both hands. “Do you want to stand around discussing potential shower gifts, or do you want to make the most of our time alone in a roommate-free apartment?”
He backed her to the nearest wall, leaning in with agonizing slowness, each heartbeat an eternity before their lips touched. Bu
t his teasing finesse didn’t last long. When her tongue slid against his, he pressed into her, deepening their kiss, his mouth moving on hers with ravenous need.
He dropped his hands to her ass and lifted her. With her legs wrapped around his waist, he carried her toward the bedroom. The motion of his long strides, the jostling friction between her thighs, sent her soaring into a state of heightened sensitivity. By the time her feet touched the floor again in her room, she was nearly too aroused to stand.
Taking a moment to catch his breath, he flashed her a lopsided grin. “I have some very fond memories of this room.”
So did she. Yet she also vividly recalled the last time they’d been here together, when he’d admitted who he was and she’d felt like twelve degrees of idiot. She shrank from the recollection, wanting to savor being with him now.
“Hey.” There was genuine delight in his voice. “You kept her.”
She followed his gaze to the tiny winged fairy on the nightstand, the one that had been nestled in the floral arrangement.
“I was afraid you might throw her out,” he admitted. “Or refuse delivery of the flowers altogether.” The note of vulnerability in his voice tugged at her heart, making it easier to banish unpleasant memories and her lingering fear of being made a fool. She wasn’t the only one emotionally exposed here.
He brushed his fingers over the slope of her neck. “I wish I’d sent you flowers today. Then I could run the petals over your skin.”
“Nice thought, but I want to feel your touch without anything between us.” Not even the fine velvet of rose petals.
“Then we should really do something,” he murmured against her lips, “about all these clothes.”
There was no more talking then, only fervent kisses as they undressed one another, exploring each other’s bodies and doing their best to make up for the weeks they’d missed each other.
Sean sat on the edge of her bed, shucking his socks and then his briefs. She stared unabashedly, loving every line of his amazingly sculpted body. Her gaze swept over the dark hair on his chest down to his jutting erection. She considered sinking to her knees and tasting him, but he reached for her before she got the chance, toppling her onto the mattress with him.
With a muffled squeal, she landed astride him and decided this was good, too. More than good. Sprawled across him, she kissed him hungrily while his hands stroked and kneaded. Fire spread through her, arousal a pulse at her core, her nipples puckered into tight buds. She propped herself up to give him better access to her breasts, and he happily took advantage.
He cupped her breasts together, his thumbs teasing both peaks, until she was nearly mindless. She bucked against him, so slick that all it would have taken was a slight movement of his hips to be inside her. Temporarily regaining sense, she pulled a condom out of the nightstand. When he reached for the packet, she shook her head.
“Let me.” She rolled it over the length of him, then raised herself above him, her entire body quaking with desire. She wrapped her hand around the base of his erection and lowered herself, her eyes nearly rolling back at the intense pleasure of him filling her. Her inner muscles squeezed around him as she rocked back on her heels. His hands returned to her breasts, and she moved faster, wilder, a creature with no inhibitions. Their moans formed a frantic duet that bounced off the walls around them.
Distantly aware of the mattress squeaking, she reached for the headboard, using it for leverage as bright rapture spiraled through her. He gripped her waist, pumping into her fast and hard before finding his own release with a wordless shout.
Dani collapsed on top of him, limp and gloriously spent. She closed her eyes, waiting for her breath to even out and her heart rate to slow. Afterglow gradually ebbed into reality. She realized that she was parched, and that it was really hot in here.
“I’m going to get something to drink and adjust the air-conditioning.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “And you should probably get dressed. Meg will be home soon.”
“If she’s not already. I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to outside noise.”
She felt a blush climb in her cheeks. Truthfully, there could have been a parade taking place in the next room, and she wouldn’t have noticed. “I hope you understand why I’m not inviting you to stay over. The three of us, only the one master bath...it would be awkward.” There was a superstitious part of her that whispered at least this way, she wouldn’t wake up to any uncomfortable surprises.
“I have to be on-site at daybreak tomorrow anyway. If I slept over, I’d worry about disturbing you and Meg in the morning. But next time, we should do this at my place.” He grinned. “I’ll even get a multipack of toothbrushes so you’ll have your pick.”
Next time. The words sent a thrill of anticipation through her that startled her. It was odd, feeling so anxious to see him again when he hadn’t even left yet. But intuition told her making love with Sean wasn’t a fleeting craving that could be satisfied. It was more like an addiction, growing stronger every time. If she weren’t careful, she could lose herself in it.
* * *
IT WAS TOO early Saturday morning for many people to be in the shop yet, and Meg was using the time to catch up on a few paperwork issues in the tiny office behind the cashier area. She was printing coupon flyers for a bra sale when Marissa let out a low whistle.
“I so hope the guy window-shopping comes into the store,” her sister called to her. “He is— Good morning.” Her formerly lascivious tone was now pure professionalism. “How can I help you?”
“Actually.” A man cleared his throat. “I was looking for Meg.”
Recognition of that deep voice kicked in, a fluttery feeling low in her belly. It had been several days since Dani said Bryce had asked about her, and Meg hadn’t truly believed anything would come of it.
“Meg?” Marissa’s tone was admirably casual, as if movie-star-hot men came into the store all the time seeking her younger sister.
Meg wiped her suddenly clammy palms on the sides of her pants. The lime green capris and blue peasant blouse with matching lime ribbon accents were a far cry from country club garb. She’d twisted her curly hair in a knot at the back of her head, secured haphazardly by a pen she’d been using earlier.
Bryce, on the other hand, looked much the same as he had the last time she’d seen him. His hair was flawlessly styled, not a strand out of place, and he wore dark slacks with a crisp button-down shirt. This was his idea of Saturday morning wear? Didn’t the guy own shorts or jeans?
Of course, given how devastatingly attractive and in charge he looked in his pressed clothes, why mess with a formula that worked?
“Hi,” she said, hoping her smile didn’t betray her nerves. “What brings you here?” Please Lord don’t let him say he needed help finding something sexy for another woman.
“I, uh...” His gaze skittered to Marissa, who was folding camisoles on a nearby shelf. Though she wasn’t looking at them, her curiosity was palpable. “Any chance I could buy you a cup of coffee?”
“Sure. I was due for a break anyway.”
Bent over the camisole display, Marissa snorted. Meg had only arrived at work about thirty minutes ago. Her first regular break was hours away. But being co-owner had its benefits. Temporarily ditching the store to grab a latte with a gorgeous guy was one of them.
“There’s a great coffee shop two doors down,” Meg said. “Riss, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Then she followed Bryce out the door. She imagined most women would happily follow him through the Sahara.
“I hope you don’t mind my coming down here,” he said, sounding almost shy. “I don’t usually bother people at work for personal reasons. But I wanted to, ah, find out your last name.”
He’d tracked her down early on a Saturday to ask her name? “Rafferty.”
“Th
ank you. It seemed odd for me to ask a woman out when I didn’t even know her full name.”
She almost tripped over a nonexistent crack in the sidewalk. “You’re asking me out?”
“That was the plan, yes.”
His phrasing, along with years of cautionary advice from Dani, dimmed her immediate euphoria. Hadn’t she just split up with a man who’d had her whole life planned out for her? Dani was always telling her she fell too hard, too fast. And if ever there was a guy who would tempt a girl to fall, it was Bryce Grayson.
“Um, what did you have in mind?” she asked as he held open the coffee shop door for her.
“I was hoping to take you to dinner.”
Based on what she knew about him, it would probably be someplace classy. Which meant candlelight and a nice wine list. Bad idea.
“Maybe we could do that sometime,” she said noncommittally. “But, in the meantime, how would you like to come to a cookout Dani and I are throwing?” It was an impulsive act of self-preservation. Surely her friend would understand. If Meg was going to avoid rushing headlong into another romantic folly, she needed to control the circumstances, make them less intimate. Dani would be proud of her—if slightly vexed about the imaginary barbecue.
“That sounds wonderful. When is it?”
She had enough of a mental grip left not to say tonight. “Um, tomorrow. But I need to double-check the time with Dani. If you give me your number, I can text you.”
She couldn’t believe she’d just scored the hot guy’s number and a date. If it weren’t for the nagging concern that her best friend was going to kill her, Meg would be floating.
* * *
“YOU TOLD HIM WHAT?” Dani backed away from the stove, convinced she’d misheard over the sizzle of sesame oil she was heating for stir-fry.
Good with His Hands Page 15
