by Kendall Ryan
It was strange. As much as I’d detested the idea of having a roommate at first, I found the company to be pleasantly refreshing. I even felt safer, slept better, with him under the same roof. Maybe it was because we were more alike than I’d remembered. I understood Cannon’s philosophy on—how did he say it? oh, yeah—the art of making lemonade. I understood it better probably than anyone.
My mother had always told me I was a careful and overly cautious little girl. From the time I could walk, I was serious and often worried. Always the responsible one, someone friends could count on. Then I lost my parents within a year of each other after my high school graduation, and my world became dark and lonely. It took several months before I realized it was up to me to make it better, and I wouldn’t tarnish their memory by falling apart.
I’d never done anything wild or reckless or foolish. I took care of people. It was what I did. I guess, in my own way, I was making lemonade. I enjoyed my work as human resources manager for a non-profit, I took in Enchilada off the street when I found him wandering without a collar, Allie and I stuck by each other through thick and thin. I just carried on. One day after another. Of course I wanted more, wanted to find someone to share my life with, but that would happen in time. Though the conversation and meal last night with a man who’d been attentive and sweet only cultivated that feeling inside me more.
Deciding I couldn’t procrastinate any longer, I headed out to see if Cannon was ready too. I found him standing in the kitchen, loading a plate and a glass into the dishwasher.
He was bent at the waist, and my eyes zeroed in on his firm ass. Holy shit. The man had the body of a Greek god. The air left my lungs as I drank in the view. Yep, it had been entirely too long since I’d gotten laid.
As he rose to face me, a slow smile spread across his lips. I’d been caught. I quickly looked away, but the damage was done.
“Ready?” I asked, breathless.
Cannon looked scrumptious in a black suit, crisp white dress shirt that was fitted enough to hint at the muscle beneath, and a wine-colored tie. His hair was messy and his jaw held a dusting of a shadow. His body was so masculine, so heavy with the promise of sex, that it drew mine like a magnet.
Rather than answer, Cannon’s smile faded and his gaze slipped from mine. My body heated under his perusal as his gaze drifted over the swell of my breasts, the curve of my hips. If it was possible to spontaneously combust under the weight of his stare, I was about to find out.
“Get a good look?” I finally managed to say, scolding him.
“Did you?” he asked, his voice much too controlled. “Shall I spin around for you? Maybe get naked again?” He chuckled after that last part, and I felt my face heat.
Yes, unfortunately, I’d already seen what was underneath his clothes—a six-pack of abs, and a large hoo-ha between his legs. Like that was a memory I’d soon forget.
Placing one hand on my hip, I fought for control of my body’s reaction to his incredibly masculine one. “Aren’t doctors supposed to have more . . .” My lips twitched, looking for the right word.
“Bedside manner?” he offered after a moment.
“Tact,” I deadpanned before my brain could fixate too much on the way he said bed.
The knock at the door grabbed our attention. Allie was here.
Thank freaking God. I snatched my postage-stamp-sized purse from the counter on my way to the front door.
“Are you guys ready?” Allie asked, looking adorable in a black shift dress.
Cannon stepped into his size 12 black dress shoes and slipped his cell into his pocket. The movement drew my eyes to the front of his dress slacks, and my face heated.
Dammit.
Allie drove since she was the one who invited us. When we arrived, the valet whisked her car away while we climbed the steps to the stunning museum where the event was being held. I’d only been here once, on a class field trip almost two decades ago.
Tail-coated waiters weaved through the crowd, balancing glasses of pink champagne on serving trays, and platters of enticing food lined the long banquet tables on the far side of the room. A seven-piece band played soft jazz, creating a rich, cultured atmosphere. Pretty people mingled and laughed and made small talk. I recognized the song playing as one by Dean Martin, and smiled as Allie flagged down a nearby waiter, grabbing glasses of bubbly for the three of us.
“How’s it going so far, roomies?” Allie smiled, looking between me and her brother.
I swallowed a sudden lump in my throat. “Fine,” I lied. I was terrified my face was going to betray my growing attraction for the man who was currently standing way too fucking close to me.
“Paige has been great,” Cannon said smoothly. “Very welcoming.”
“There’s not many people I’d trust to take in my little brother,” Allie said.
“You do realize I’m a grown man?” Cannon asked pointedly.
Allie merely shrugged. She’d always been that way with him—an overprotective mother hen. In a way, I felt a little bad for him, although her intentions were good.
“Did you sign up yet?” Allie nudged me with her elbow and gave me a side-eyed glance.
Not this shit again. I inwardly groaned. If she was so happy with her love life, why did she feel the need to try to orchestrate mine?
“Not yet,” I murmured, taking another sip of my drink. My gaze drifted to the stage as I tried to lose myself in the music.
“What are you talking about?” Cannon asked.
“An awesome dating app. I’m trying to get Paige back out in the game.”
Cannon stiffened, his narrowed eyes finding mine in an appraising look, as if there was something he didn’t like about the idea of me dating.
“I mean, she’s gorgeous. Right, Cannon?” Allie asked.
“Stunning,” he said, continuing to stare directly into my eyes. That sizzling connection I’d experienced before returned with full force, making the nape of my neck tingle. His attention was too much, and I had to look away.
“Seriously, Paige,” Allie continued. “Your days of being a nun are over. I’m not going to stop until you’ve signed up.”
“You’ve never bugged me about this,” Cannon said.
“That’s because if you started dating seriously, I’d have something to say about that. You’re so close to completing med school, Cannon. You’ve made it this far; any distractions now would just be stupid. Especially given your track record.”
I looked out onto the stage, the blood pumping so loudly in my ears, I could barely hear the music. Maybe coming out with them tonight had been a bad idea.
“I’m going to get some air.” Cannon strode away.
Allie heaved out a sigh. “He’s been through a lot these past few weeks. It’ll blow over. It always does.”
I got the sense that something had happened that I wasn’t privy to. Something that made Allie even more protective of Cannon than she usually was. The way he’d stormed off made me sympathetic. That, and I didn’t want Allie pressuring me about her stupid dating site again. I would welcome any escape route from that conversation.
“Did something happen? With Cannon?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s a twenty-four-year-old man, Al. Surely he can handle dating on top of school and work if he wants to.”
Allie’s gaze turned from the stage and onto mine, and she chewed on her lip. “I shouldn’t say anything, but he’s had a string of bad luck. He attracts some real psychos.”
I wasn’t really sure what to say. Was Allie just blowing it out of proportion? Her belief that no one was good enough for her amazing younger sibling wasn’t exactly a secret. But what if she was telling the truth? What was I even supposed to do with that information?
At any rate, I didn’t want to stir up shit in the middle of a fancy party. Whether Allie was micromanaging Cannon’s life was their own family business; they could argue about it later if they wanted to. So I just said, “Really? Th
at sucks.”
Allie looked like she wanted to say something else, then just nodded, her lips pursed.
We sipped our drinks for a few more minutes. Soon Cannon wandered back. The tension in his brow from earlier was gone, and he seemed relaxed and himself again.
With the awkward conversations behind us, I hoped, we listened to the band in silence. Allie swayed to the music while Cannon and I stood stiffly, mere inches apart, trying not to touch.
The setting should have been an almost overwhelming barrage on my senses; it was noisy, crowded, and provided prime people-watching. Yet all I could focus on was one thing—the man standing next to me. Cannon’s spicy male scent, the heat radiating between us. The way he seemed to be distracted by my presence as well only made me more aware, more curious about this mysterious thing developing between us.
One thing was certain—Allie could never know about my growing attraction to her brother dearest. I’d just seen how she reacted to any potential distractions from his career. And what was the point, anyway, if he was moving away in two months? I’d just end up sleeping in an empty bed again, but even lonelier this time, because my best friend would be pissed at me.
“Would you like to dance?” Cannon asked, turning toward me and offering his hand.
What the fuck did he think he was doing? I stared at him in disbelief. Did he want to blow our cover?
But before I could answer, Allie’s hand was on the small of my back, nudging me forward. “Go for it, Paige. You need all the practice you can get with the opposite sex, and it’s not like you’re going to fall for Cannon!” She laughed, giving me another shove.
Forcing a smile, I placed my hand in Cannon’s and let him guide me onto the dance floor, where other couples were swaying to the soft jazz floating around us.
“Thought I’d save you,” Cannon said, his voice rich and silky near my ear.
My posture relaxed almost immediately. So that was what this was about. “Thank you.”
“She means well, you know.”
I nodded. That much was true.
While we danced, Cannon hummed along to the words of the Frank Sinatra song, moving and guiding me in sync with the music. I was starting to realize there were so many little things I didn’t know about this man.
Holding my hand in his large palm, Cannon gripped my hip with his other hand as he guided me across the dance floor. I glanced over every so often to see if Allie was watching us, but she wasn’t. She was chatting with an older man at the bar.
“Why are you still single?” he asked.
I looked up, inhaling the mouthwatering scent of crisp aftershave on his stubbled jaw.
“You’ve always been sweet and kind. I half figured you’d be married off by now.
I shrugged. “Not married. Not even close.” Just a soon-to-be thirty-year-old woman living with a dog.
“I see that. But you’ve grown into quite a beauty, princess. It makes no sense. Are you sure there’s not a reason you’re single?”
“No reason. I’m waiting for love,” I said, surprised at the honesty in my words. “And he seems to be taking his sweet time.”
Cannon nodded. “I see.”
As one song ended and blended into the other, Cannon continued to hold me, swaying to the music. We talked again about the art of making lemonade, and that’s when I decided I wasn’t just attracted to his good looks, or masculine appeal. I was attracted to the man inside, the person he’d grown into.
His words struck something inside me. I’d closed myself off to the idea of a relationship, and I couldn’t even explain why.
When the song ended, Cannon led us over to the bar, which was great. I found I suddenly needed something stronger than champagne.
Sipping a cranberry-vodka cocktail, I contemplated what I was doing with my life. Maybe Allie and Cannon were right. I needed to put myself out there more. I had a good job that I enjoyed, a nice home, a comfortable life, but I didn’t have anything real. Didn’t have a loving connection, someone to come home to, unless you counted Enchilada.
It had only recently started to bother me. Maybe it was because Allie was constantly pointing out my single status that it had been pushed to the forefront of my mind.
A little piece of me wondered if my desire for companionship was triggered by the warm, able-bodied male who was now sharing my space . . .
• • •
A couple of hours later, we’d had our fill of the gala. Allie drove us back to my house, talking of her adventures in planning their wedding. It was obvious that Cannon wasn’t any more of a fan of James than I was. He rolled his eyes at the mention of a groom’s party. That made me smile.
Stopping at the curb, Allie suddenly looked worried in the dim interior of the car. “You two can stay under the same roof and behave like adults, right?”
Cannon’s gaze met mine in the rearview mirror. “What do you think, Paige?” The hint of a smile on his full, sexy lips worked its way under my skin, taking up permanent residence.
“D-don’t be silly,” I forced out. My voice sounded unnaturally high and breathless.
“I just don’t want to turn on the news one day and find out you murdered each other,” Allie said.
I let out a shaky breath. She had no idea about my attraction to him—at least, not for the moment.
“Cannon, you should maybe get some earplugs. She snored like crazy when we shared a college dorm,” Allie continued. “And Paigey, don’t let Cannon leave all the chores for you. Crack the whip on his ass.”
“A whip. Now that’s an interesting idea.” Cannon chuckled, and I resisted the urge to kick the back of his seat.
Satisfied, Allie turned back toward the front. “Good night, guys.”
With uncertainty stirring in my veins, I climbed from the car and followed Cannon inside.
It was still early evening, too early to feign being tired and go to bed, so the only thing I could do was accept Cannon’s invitation to have a glass of wine.
I excused myself to change, exchanging my fancy dress and heels for yoga pants and a T-shirt. Then I rejoined Cannon in the living room. He’d shrugged off his jacket, which now hung on the back of a dining chair. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the throat, and the sleeves had been rolled up on his forearms.
“Tonight was fun, huh?” he asked, stretching out his lanky frame on my small sofa, loosening his tie.
I accepted the glass of wine he offered and sat down in the armchair next to him. Fancy galas weren’t generally my thing, but it was nice to change it up once in a while. “I hadn’t been to that museum since my sixth-grade field trip. It’s so pretty there.” The stone building with its massive pillars out front stood like a beautiful reminder of the city’s history.
“Allie really wants you to sign up for that dating thing,” he said, appraising me. “Are you going to?”
I was sure I was reading more into his sudden interest than was actually there, but the question still triggered a swarm of butterflies inside me. I took another sip of wine to buy myself a few more seconds.
The truth was, I did want to find a good man. And the chances of finding my Mr. Right on a dating app were slim. But maybe that was okay. Maybe a Mr. Fun-for-Now would be nice too. A few decent orgasms wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. I hadn’t had sex in well over a year, and according to Allie, that wasn’t normal for a woman in her twenties. Maybe I just wasn’t as bold and liberated as she was. But why couldn’t I be? What was holding me back? Why couldn’t I grab life by the balls and live, take my pleasure as I saw fit?
Pushing all that aside, I was much more interested in finding out about Cannon. “I dunno, probably not. What about you? Any interest in dating?”
His expression turned serious, and I wondered if I’d struck a nerve. He couldn’t be hung up on Allie’s warning, could he? He was a grown man and could date whoever he wanted to.
After a pause he said, “My past has dictated that I live by a strict set of rules w
hen it comes to sex. It only happens once, and no exchanging names or numbers.”
I rolled my eyes. “How romantic of you.”
“You don’t approve?”
“Spoken like a true manwhore.”
“It has nothing to do with being a manwhore; I can promise you that. My number is actually fairly low. Healthy, but low.”
“What’s the point then?” I took another sip of wine, enthralled by his deep, low tone.
“In my experience, women turn into crazed creatures after sex.”
I huffed. “Crazed? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He made it sound as though we were nothing more than delicate hormonal messes who lost their minds at the thought of mating.
“I have a long and storied history with this. Trust me.”
“Beginning with?”
“You want to know about my first time?” He grinned and I nodded. Shaking his head, he set his glass down on the table. “I was sixteen when I lost my virginity. Amanda was two grades older, but I’d known her for years.”
Was he talking about Amanda McDuff? She’d lived down the street from Allie and Cannon growing up. I could only assume that the blond, blue-eyed cheerleader was who he meant.
“She was nice, normal, friendly. Not a care in the world. I knew she’d fucked Tommy Lester after homecoming the week before. So I casually asked her if she’d like to be my first.”
Real smooth. I smirked.
“She said yes and we did the deed.”
“And then?”
He looked down at his hands. “She tried to commit suicide two days later.”
Jesus. I winced.
“Yeah. And while the situations haven’t all been that severe, they’ve been close. From near strangers who profess their love after a quickie, to stalkers, to one who handcuffed herself to my bed, let’s just say I’ve not been lucky after getting lucky.”
“Is your dick cursed with black magic or something?”
He shrugged, dragging his eyes up to meet mine. “No, just eight inches long. I also have wicked stamina . . . and an advanced understanding of female anatomy.”
