by Taryn Quinn
Not that I was ogling so much as trying to understand. Did he have one of those conditions where a swift breeze got him going?
Or could it be…
No.
My breasts weren’t enough to get a man like him going. They were perfectly nice breasts, even attractive breasts, but he was a man of the world who’d bedded who knew how many women.
Women who didn’t save La Perla for dates. Bi-monthly dates, if those women were me.
My head came up and my gaze connected with my iPhone. And I cursed mightily my genius idea to put the screen on “never off” so I could sneak looks at work without taking the time to enter my passcode.
Moron.
“Moose Masterson, hmm?” Oliver’s tone was thoughtful. “Any man named Moose must be worth a furtive work search.”
“He is.” I tried to snatch back my phone, but he simply held it higher. Just out of my reach.
Not difficult, since I felt as if I were shrinking in direct proportion to his overwhelming height and breadth with every passing moment.
And his erect…member was right there.
“Who is he, exactly? An old friend?”
“Why do you care? Can I please have my phone?” There was one other question that I nearly asked as well.
How can you be so gallant about telling off Greta and such an utter prick when it comes to dealing with me?
But I didn’t think I could use the word prick when there was a live-action one a few inches away. I couldn’t even be chill about it, because fully functional cocks were a rare bird in my life.
Sometimes being a virgin totally sucked. All right, all times.
“Certainly. I even cleaned off the coffee for you.” His thin smile was about as warm as the expression of a cobra before it struck, but he handed over my phone just the same. “Just making idle chitchat as you stand about in your bra.”
“I’m not only in my bra, smart ass. I have a tank on.” Relieved to have my phone back in my possession, I closed the Facebook app and pulled up my texts. The first one was from the radio station where I’d won a trip to Vegas. I’d pushed it off as long as possible, suddenly not as excited for my out-of-state hookup possibilities as I’d once been.
That deflated-dick date I’d had over the holidays had kind of killed my optimism when it came to sex. If a guy couldn’t keep it up even when I was the next thing to naked in front of him, what chances did I have of competing with Vegas showgirls for indiscriminate sex?
Precisely none.
Then again, Oliver either had a medical condition or he found my bare arms arousing.
And he was peering over my shoulder, the snoop.
“Not that again,” he muttered near my hair, clearly scanning the bright-red splash of text. “Love in Vegas? Last chance? As if anyone would rush to go on a radio-sponsored trip. What do you get, two complimentary flutes of champagne and a mint on the pillow in your low-level suite?”
Maybe he hadn’t really been hard. Shadows could do many things. Hadn’t that been what I’d told myself when it seemed as if Jim hadn’t been that excited as I’d stripped? I’d told myself to keep my eyes on his and seduce him with my gaze.
I’d paid for that one with a limp lizard—and not of the gecko variety.
“Why don’t you just take the cash prize instead of the trip?” Oliver sounded so pragmatic, and a part of me wanted to giggle since I was solely focused on his cock. Wouldn’t that shock the stiffness right out of him?
Huh, there was one way I could answer the erection question once and for all. If I could find enough balls to get the job done.
Finding enough clits just didn’t have the same panache, so I’d have to stay with the not anatomically correct reference.
“I’m taking the trip,” I said firmly. “I intend to go and have an amazing time. Freewheeling drinking and debauchery in a town where no one knows who I am.”
“You’re still planning on going alone?”
“Sure.” I shrugged and pretended to be absorbed in the text I’d already read and reread three times.
Truth was, I was obsessed with my science experiment.
I was going for it.
In a second or two.
“That isn’t safe. Especially if you’re planning on drinking. You need your wits about you, or a trusted companion to ensure that—”
“My best friend is too knocked up to go, so what do you expect me to do?” I shrugged again, rushing on. “It’ll be fine. What can possibly happen? Other than I’ll get laid.”
Most likely, that wouldn’t happen. I talked—and thought—a good game, but I probably wouldn’t be able to pull the trigger with a stranger. Even if that trigger was made from flesh.
Oliver sucked in a breath and edged back from me. “You could get into trouble.”
Not far enough though, and not fast enough. I could be like a snake too, fast and lethal.
I jerked back into him, deliberately making contact with one certain vital area.
My eyes went wide. My nipples decided to join the fracas. Between my legs, previously dormant areas flowed like lava over Mount Vesuvius.
Erection sighting confirmed. And how.
The only thing I hadn’t plotted out was what to do once I’d discovered he was hard. My body was wedged against his and neither of us were moving and um, hi, awkward.
Even if my hormones were in sudden overdrive. They had no morals or sense.
Oliver is the enemy, remember? Even if he is built like a Magic Mike stripper.
“Feels like you have trouble in your pants,” I managed, as he made a choking sound that could’ve been a groan or possibly the precursor to a cardiac event.
And like the sexually un-liberated woman I was, I fled.
2
Oliver
Sage opened her locker long enough to grab her coat, then tugged it on and disappeared through the rear break room exit.
I stared after her. Her leaving was both curse and blessing.
Trouble in my pants? That’s what she called it when a man was helplessly aroused by the sight of her in simple white cotton?
I wasn’t proud of it. In fact, I’d tried to hide my predicament by remaining in the hall. But I’d followed her to give her back her phone—and yes, perhaps get another glimpse of her curves—so I’d had to man up.
Now she probably thought that I wasn’t well-endowed because I’d been on the way down from an erection. Thanks to reciting the times tables backward in my head, no less. Even that had scarcely been enough to combat her allure.
The scent of her brought back memories of summer. Sunshine and green grass and the breeze off the lake. A sorely needed reminder of warmer afternoons on this frozen, chilly gray day. Layered over all had been the aroma of strong black coffee. It had smelled a damn sight better on her than it tasted in the cup.
But my control had saved me from reacting as much as I could have. I wasn’t a teenage boy any longer. Bad enough I’d popped a semi in the first place. At least I could get it back in line. I’d taken pride in the fact that I could stand that close to her, surrounded by her perfume with her scarcely concealed breasts right there, and manage to remain merely at half-mast.
And now she probably thought half was as good as it got.
A growl worked its way free of my throat. Trouble. I’d give her trouble. How, I wasn’t exactly sure.
She didn’t like me. I wasn’t overly fond of her. Her decision-making skills were questionable at best. Accepting random radio station contests to travel alone to the city of sin and searching for men on the internet named Moose, for Pete’s sake.
Unless that was why she found me lacking. A man named Moose probably hadn’t been named for his mammal-sized brain. But I was not a small man myself. Far from it.
Even if I was now tempted to make a stop in the men’s room just to reassure myself of that fact.
Another thing I was tempted to do was follow Sage to grill her about her exact meaning. Perhaps I’d gotten it
wrong. We sparred often, and rarely spared feelings. I didn’t have to worry she’d look up at me with a trembling chin and tears in her eyes. On the surface, she appeared fluffy and sweet and easily hurt. In reality? She had a backbone of steel and a smart mouth to match.
As for her tits, I wasn’t going there. They weren’t relevant. I wasn’t even usually a breast man, though obviously, I could appreciate a fine pair. If I had to single out a part, asses were more my thing, but I tended to view women as a whole as exquisite creatures. Besides, the brain was the sexiest organ of all—and Sage’s enticed me beyond measure. It was so twisty and detoured in so many ways I didn’t expect.
Like why a homespun woman like herself whose persona practically screamed “I knit my own cable-knit sweaters and binge-watch HGTV and collect mementos for my future two-point-five kids’ hope chests” was so hell-bent to get laid in Vegas.
It must be the virginity thing. I’d been a late bloomer myself, not having sex until freshman year of college. Near misses had occurred a few times prior to that, but I’d attended an all-boys private school and had been focused on keeping my GPA at a level beyond my father’s reproach. Seth had been the ladies’ man in the family. I’d been the well-behaved one who never made waves.
I frowned as I tugged on my tie. Some might still say I was the well-behaved one. Which burned my craw more than a little. But I’d never wanted to risk my future. Hadn’t our father drummed that into my head enough?
Wrap it up, or you’ll be sharing your fortune with a gold digger.
That message had been received loud and clear. Not as well by my twin, however. He’d ended up with Laurie from a backseat mishap, but she had turned into the best and brightest part of his life.
Now he was married to his high school best friend and they were having a baby and were blissfully happy. As for me, I was at loose ends.
Nothing new there lately.
Business was booming. Our tourist hamlet of Crescent Cove was nestled just close enough to the lake to bring in visitors to the area in droves. The Airbnbs and bed-and-breakfasts in town were making money even now, despite it being the coldest part of winter in New York. Sage’s parents’ place had been equally profitable, until they’d traded it all in for early retirement and days of seeing the world through the tiny windows of a house on wheels. They’d sold it to those who saw progress much differently, and believed Crescent Cove didn’t have to remain exactly the same to be true to its historic heritage.
Sage would not agree. I had no doubt of that.
She was on her own in town now. Her parents gone, her best friend and roommate Ally newly married and expecting. I supposed it made sense Sage wanted some adventure in her life, but the free trip she’d won from a radio station wasn’t the answer.
Hell, she’d probably get to travel coach for her trouble.
Then there was Moose. That name sounded vaguely familiar. I hadn’t attended high school with Seth and Ally and Sage, though she’d been a couple years behind them and hadn’t known them then. I’d been exiled at prep school, but still, a lot of the usual suspects who’d attended the local high school were townies and hadn’t gone far. I’d have to ask Seth if he remembered—
No, I would not. Moose Masterson and Sage’s romantic difficulties were not my issue. She was a friend of my sister-in-law’s, so of course I was concerned about her well-being, but concern had its limits.
It stopped far short of the bedroom. And clandestine Facebook searches.
A couple of waitresses entered the break room, chattering and laughing before suddenly falling silent. One of them was middle-aged and behaved as a grandmother might with most patrons who came into the diner. Not me, of course. She treated me as if I were as deadly as a rapidly mutating virus. The other woman was quite young.
I shifted, encompassing them both with a smile. “Hello, Jean,” I said, swiftly turning my attention to the petite redhead at her side. “You must be new?”
“Y-yes. My name is Stacy. Stacy Bennington.”
“Nice to meet you.” I held out a hand, simply to be polite. “I’m Oliver Ham—”
“She’s in college,” Jean snapped, grabbing the redhead’s arm and hustling her away from me.
Lovely. I couldn’t even attempt to exchange friendly greetings with the women in this place without them getting all prickly.
Almost at once, Sage’s voice invaded my brain.
Your reputation precedes you, manwhore.
“This room is for employees of The Rusty Spoon,” Jean said from behind me. “And only them.”
Okay then.
I saluted them. “Have a good day, ladies.”
Stacy blushed, and Jean shot me eye-daggers that Sage would’ve appreciated. She might’ve even been a student at Jean’s knee herself.
Guess I was going to take my coffee to go. Hopefully, Ally would be ready to leave. I’d had a purpose for visiting the diner this afternoon, and it wasn’t to get every female in the joint riled up.
Why, I wasn’t even sure.
I was a decent person. I volunteered at the soup kitchen. I babysat my niece with the minimum amount of bribery. I prided myself on getting my clients the absolute most money possible for their property. I was a fine brother, brother-in-law, son, and friend.
I even braked for squirrels.
Just because I enjoyed bedding beautiful women for a brief time before parting mutually satisfied, did that make me worthy of being treated like a pariah in my own hometown?
Yes, invisible Sage affirmed. Absolutely.
I adjusted my platinum cuff links—branded with the Hamilton crest—and walked down the hall with my dignity intact and the last of my erection firmly banished. At this rate, I might not ever get hard again.
Who was I kidding? I had a date with Ursula on Friday night, and she was ravishing. She also didn’t have a problem with our arrangement being casual.
She did not.
At the mouth of the hallway, Ally was waiting, already clad in her steel-blue coat, the belt wrapped tightly around her burgeoning midsection. I’d seen enough sonogram pictures to know there was a human baby in there, but without the pictorial evidence, I might’ve believed she was about to birth a baby T-Rex. She was normally on the slight side, but my nephew had changed all of that, and given her a lovely glow to boot.
“Finally,” Ally said, wringing her hands. “I was wondering what happened to you.”
“I told you I’d be right back after I delivered the phone.”
“Right back? That was fifteen minutes ago, and I’m starving.”
“So sorry to keep you waiting.” I put a hand at the small of her back and steered her to the door. “You do realize you’re in a place where they serve food.”
“Ugh, no way. I can’t eat anything here right now.” She touched her belly and grimaced. “You know what I could go for though?”
I was afraid I was going to find out.
“A greasy fast-food double cheeseburger.” Her eyes lit as she grinned up at me. “Maybe a strawberry shake to dip my fries into. Ooh, yes.”
Smothering a sigh, I eased the door open and nudged Ally out onto the icy sidewalk. We’d had a rare break in the weather, but by the steel gray of the sky and the scent of snow in the air, it wouldn’t last long. Lake effect snow was predicted for overnight and might even be starting as soon as the evening commute.
I’d probably still be stuck in the drive-thru checkout lane.
“You know, I’m pretty sure handling cravings is my brother’s job. He did the crime, he does the time.”
Ally snorted. “He’s handled plenty of my cravings. Including last week’s pickles and heavenly hash ice cream.”
“I don’t want to know.” I was a decent person, not a saint among men.
“Besides, it’s your fault Seth couldn’t drive me home today.”
“Oh, really. How do you figure that?”
“He had to get some more last-minute stuff for the baby today, and we couldn’t go
Friday night like we planned because of your date.”
“So, because I have a life and can’t always watch the rugrat, I’m the problem?”
“You try shopping with a four-year-old and you’ll see the logic works.”
“Oh, I have. And you decided to have another one precisely why?”
“The joys far outweigh the trials. Oh, Oliver, seriously?” She stopped at the curb and put her hands on her hips. “In this weather?”
“It snows half the year here. If you want to enjoy a sports car, you have to take advantage of clear days. Besides, I didn’t know I’d be called into service for you until after lunch.” I bent at the waist and made a big production of opening the passenger door of my vintage coupe. “You’ll fit if you’re careful.”
“I’ll give you careful.” She shot me a look Jean would’ve applauded and wiggled and shimmied her way into the seat, waving off my help.
I shrugged and shut her door, then rounded the hood. Some people just didn’t appreciate a kind gesture.
No sooner had I pulled away from the curb did she drop her next bomb on me.
“Not Dairy Burger,” she complained as I turned left to head toward a local establishment. “I want McD’s.”
“Of course you do.”
“You try being pregnant. Cravings are a very specific thing and substitutes will not do.”
I shuddered. “I’d rather castrate myself with a jar of Vaseline and a pair of pliers.”
“There’s an image.” She giggled. “Ursula would be so disappointed.”
I turned onto a side street to reverse direction. Naturally, McDonald’s had to be the opposite way. “She wants me for more than my manly attributes.”
That earned me another snort. “Yeah, she’d be happy with the other thing in your pants too. Except that one’s square and made of leather.”
“You have a suspicious mind, just like my father.”
“And you don’t?”
I did, which was exactly why it had taken me longer than my twin to start circulating much socially. What could I say? I’d always been an overachiever.
