by Maggie Wells
The reluctance in her tone made accepting her decision a little easier. Jabbing his friend in the chest with his finger, he growled, “Try not to be yourself.”
The pause stretched between them, an acknowledgment of years of subtext. Finally, Will inclined his head. “Got it. Damsel in distress, white knight. Wrong story for a chick who keeps losing her shoe, but I’ll make it work.”
“You’re not the knight, you’re the….”
He trailed off, but Josie’s amused chuckle filled the void. “Chauffeur?” When both men grunted, she gestured toward the bathroom. “I’m going to duck in there.”
The minute the bathroom door closed behind her, Greg turned to face his friend. “Thank you.”
Will waved the sentiment away. “You can thank me later. Whatever you think about my motives, I like Josie. Always have.”
Casting a wary glance at the closed door, Greg asked the question he half-dreaded. “How long have you known her?”
“It was a long time ago.”
His friend’s oh-so-casual dismissal made the hairs on the back of Greg’s neck prickle. “How well did you know her?”
Will flashed a fist-taunting smile. “Better than you.” He ran his hand over his rumpled shirtfront. “Go say your good-byes to the happy couple. I’ll do my best to make sure poor, helpless Aunt Josephine gets home unmolested.”
The mockery in Will’s tone set off alarm bells in Greg’s already aching head. He narrowed his eyes in defense against the clamor. After all, the guy had only spoken the truth. Didn’t mean Greg had to like it. The silence stretched taut. Josie opened the bathroom door looking slightly less bedraggled. She stood framed in the doorway, smoothing her hands over her dress as her curious gaze traveled from him to Will and back again. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Everything is fine.” Will nodded and reached for the door handle. “I’ll wait for you out here, Josie.”
The casual diminutive set Greg’s teeth on edge. The only thing keeping him from bolting after Will was the expectant curiosity on Josie’s face. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he shrugged. “I’m kind of hating him right now.”
“You two have been friends a long time?”
Unable to refrain, he yanked his hands from his pockets and reached for her again. She fit against him perfectly. “Most of our lives, but that doesn’t mean much.” Holding her tight, he stared into wide hazel eyes. “If I’d seen you first, he wouldn’t have stood a chance.”
“You saw me first last night.”
“Lucky me.” Brushing her hair back from her cheek, he lowered his lips to her ear. “I want to see you again. Soon.”
“How soon?”
One breathy question and his blood heated to a boil. “Is two hours too soon?”
“I’d say too long, considering.” She ducked her head and a curtain of sleep-tousled hair hid her face. “You could come to my place when you shake free.”
The rap of knuckles against the door made them both jump. “If you guys are getting it on again, you should at least have the decency to let me watch,” Will called through the door.
Greg stared deep into Josie’s eyes. “I hate him.”
“He’s a pervert, but I think he’s a fairly harmless one,” she conceded.
Slipping his fingers into her hair, he tipped her head back, the need to brand her as his bubbling like a geyser inside him. “If it meant we could finish what we started I’d give the bastard a front row seat.” He captured her mouth in a hard, fast, plundering kiss. “I’d let him watch if I could be inside you right now.”
“Soon.”
“Not soon enough.” This time he kissed her slow and sweet, his lips clinging to hers as he pulled away. “Stay here,” he murmured. “I’ll book the room another night. We can hide from them all—pesky friends, demanding kids, nagging ex-wives.”
“Those are all on your side.”
“Don’t make me face them alone.”
Josie’s smile turned sultry as she slipped from his arms. “Think of me over your eggs benedict.”
“I prefer sunny side up, and you’re damn right I will.”
Her fine-boned wrist flexed when she turned the handle. The sassy jut of her hip when she gave the heavy door a heave added three more positions to his wish list. Black fabric swirled around creamy calves. The flash of her sexy red shoes captured his attention and held him in thrall. She paused, her fingers splayed wide on the paneled door as she turned back. “Eat fast.”
The scent of her arousal still fresh in his mind, he shook his head. “Not on your life. This time, I plan to take my time with you.”
“I meant brunch.” She yanked on the door handle. “I’ll be waiting.”
“Wait! Where do you live?”
Josie spared Will a sidelong glance. The other man feigned interest in the fire extinguisher mounted on the wall, but was obviously listening to every word. “I’m not quite as easy as you might believe given what happened last night.”
The mild accusation landed like a blow. He recoiled a bit then stood up straighter. Oh, hell no. Things may have been a bit fuzzy and out of character for one or both of them the previous night, but he wasn’t about to let her make him the bad guy. “I never thought you were easy.”
“Good.” One corner of her mouth lifted in a wince. “If I’m going to have to explain leaving my purse and coat behind, I think you should have to endure a little familial humiliation, too.”
“Humiliation?”
She wet her lips. The quick subtle flick of her tongue made his nerve endings stand at attention. Her pulse beat beneath her jaw but her eyes remained cool and clear.
“The way I see it, you have two sources of information—Will or Ben. I’m doing the walk of shame with a guy I slept with last century. I think you can exert yourself a little bit if you want information.” A coy smile curved her damp pink lips. “Think of it as sweat equity.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means, if you want to pick up where we left off, you either make a deal with the devil,” she said, nodding to Will, who immediately broke into a mile-wide grin, “or, you can pump Ben and Kaylin for information on poor old Aunt Josephine. Pick your poison.” She stepped over the threshold. “Thanks for an…interesting night, Greg. I had fun.”
Before he could respond, Will stepped forward and offered Josie a gallant arm. “Your chariot awaits, milady.”
Her gaze lingered on Greg as she took Will’s arm. “Thank you, kind sir.”
Will nodded as they passed, steering Josie toward the elevators. “Don’t worry, buddy. I’ve got her.”
Greg stepped back, letting the door slam hard between them. Unfortunately, the reverberation wasn’t nearly loud enough to drown out Will’s rolling chuckle or the murmur of Josie’s soft-spoken rejoinder.
“Not for long, buddy,” he muttered. “Humiliation… Sweat equity.”
Stalking into the bathroom, he unhooked his tuxedo pants and let them fall. He stepped out of the pants and his boxers, avoiding the bloodshot gaze of the wreck of a man reflected in the mirror as he started the shower. Without testing the temperature, he stepped under the spray and ducked his head, letting the water wash away the last of the cobwebs.
When he raised his head at last, Greg tapped a long-neglected reservoir of resolve he found mired in the dregs of his hangover. “Not for long.”
Chapter 5
Jo shivered when the elevator doors slid open to reveal the parking garage. As if it wasn’t bad enough for a woman of her age to put herself in the position of doing the one-shoed limp of shame, she almost set herself up for a fabulous case of hypothermia to boot. Score two big ones for old Aunt Jo.
Exhausted and hung over, she’d expended the last of her energy trying to get out of Greg’s room with some semblance of her tattered pride. Now all she wanted to do was curl up and sleep the day away. Asleep, she wouldn’t have to wait or worry. Asleep, she migh
t pretend she didn’t hear his knock rather than know his knock probably wouldn’t come. Better to be passed out than stood up.
She blinked back a fresh rush of hot tears and stepped out into the garage. Will caught her elbow and drew her to a halt.
Humiliation burned hot in her cheeks when she raised her gaze to his. “I bet this is fun for you.”
“Well, it would be more fun if I had a white horse and a sword, but this isn’t too shabby.”
The amusement in his tone did the trick where all her useless eyelash fluttering failed. Her tears immediately dried up, only to be replaced with a lump of indignation.
Drawing a sharp breath, she glared at him. “Do you often get stuck batting clean-up for your pal?”
“I have to say, this is the first time.” He flashed an incorrigible grin. It made him unspeakably appealing even though he was far from boyhood. “Usually it’s the other way around.”
Josie huffed, envisioning Greg pulling the Galahad all too easily. Bitterness rose like bile. She didn’t want to listen to her brain taunt her for getting ditched in favor of some runny eggs and cold toast.
Of course, she knew she was being petulant and unreasonable, and that nugget of knowledge kept her from lending voice to her inner crazy. This was his son’s wedding. Bad enough he slipped out of the reception with her, he couldn’t ditch the post-wedding brunch in favor of driving batty old Aunt Jo home.
Will gave her arm a gentle rub that smacked of condescension and she stumbled in her haste to extract herself from his grip.
“Whoa. Easy, sweetheart.”
She’d lost the ability to take things easy years ago. Jo held her breath for a moment, like a gawky teenager rather than a grown woman and wondering if the phenomenon was good or bad. In the end, she decided this was one of those rare instances when a woman doesn’t appreciate feeling young again. To counteract his effect on her nerves, she served him up a side of old lady churlishness. “I’m not your sweetheart.”
Apparently, Will had no compunction about embracing his inner adolescent. His teasing grin came off more like a leer. “I think I know someone who wants you to be his sweetheart.”
“Don’t.” For some reason, her one word answer only made his smile widen. She gave her head a shake, hoping to dismiss the discussion. “Listen, the whole thing was a mistake. Okay? I needed to let off a little steam, that’s all.”
He gestured to a dusty white pick-up truck and motioned for her to take the lead. “How steamy?”
A chortle burbled from her. “God, you’re incorrigible.”
“Not incorrigible, just a little bit of a voyeur.”
Appreciating the effortless way he lightened her mood, she let the warmth of his smile envelop her as she fell into the playful banter. “A little bit?”
“Okay, a lot.” His nonchalant shrug made her snicker again. “What can I say? I’m a wild guy.”
Awareness formed a tight, hard knot in her belly. An unsettling tingle of arousal made her walk a little faster. She used to be a wild woman. Once upon a time, she thought she and Will might be a matched set. In many ways they were. But then her life changed and his stayed the same. He clicked the remote and the truck blinked its welcome. Plucking herself from a morass of self-pity, Jo studied his profile as she walked alongside him. Taking each feature individually he should have been an unattractive man, but as a whole the effect was swoon-worthy. No wonder he never settled for one woman. The world was this man’s smorgasbord. And yet, somehow he hadn’t turned into an asshole. She supposed that made him something of a marvel.
“Thank you.” This time her whispered gratitude sliced right through his careless playboy exterior.
He lurched past her to grab the door handle, but the bob of his Adam’s apple told her she’d hit the mark. “It truly is my pleasure,” he said gruffly. Moments later, he heaved himself into the driver’s seat and cranked the engine. “Where to?”
“You remember my mother’s house?”
“Vaguely.”
She shook her head at his too cool evasion. “It’s six blocks from yours.”
“Longest six blocks of my life.”
“Well, that’s where we’re going.”
His sidelong look put them back on familiar footing. “A memorable night.”
The understatement prompted a dry chuckle. “Sure was.”
She would have chosen ‘mortifying’ rather than ‘memorable,’ but the pounding in her head left her disinclined to quibble. She should find the incident comical after all these years. The embarrassing denouement of a short-lived love affair with a man with a short attention span should have become girls’ night fodder by now.
The end of their affair marked the beginning of a new life for her. A life she didn’t necessarily get to choose. Their beginning wasn’t too far off the mark for the woman she’d been then. She’d been sitting at the bar at McGivney’s throwing back shots and scrambling for a way out of the noose of responsibility hanging over her.
Her first tango with Jose Cuervo helped to convince her everybody got a little forgetful as they got older. But her mother was only in her late fifties. The forgetfulness was getting to the point where Josie couldn’t brush it aside. Her brother’s voice echoed in her head as she gripped the second shot glass. Mother needed full-time care. They had to move her to a home, or Jo—the one who was still single, childless, and, well, female—needed to give up her apartment, her freedom, and her future in order to care for her. She tossed aside the soul-sucking option as she bolted back shot number two. Her throat still burned when Will walked through the door.
Every time he laughed she was instantly transported to the hot, steamy nights spent tangled together. The steady thrumming of her headboard as he banged her into blessed oblivion. The urgent phone calls—booty calls these days—to arrange their next meeting. Trashy lingerie purchased with the express notion of snaring this man’s undivided attention. She didn’t love him as much as she loved the idea of doubling down against the hand fate had dealt. And somewhere in the thrill of letting him tie her up, she harbored a few crazy, desperate hopes of tying him down.
But Will Tarrant was a rogue through and through. A fact she hadn’t forgotten. The thick, tangy sting of panic and guilt clogged her throat. The memory of Mrs. Burton’s voice blaring from her answering machine. Silky scarves held her bound to the bed. Will’s sexy, gravelly taunts when she strained against them. The minute she heard the words ‘fire trucks’ and ‘smoke inhalation’, the fun and games came to a screeching halt.
She’d never forget his whispered, “Damn,” when she jerked one rickety spindle from the headboard. Rasping and sobbing, panting for breath, she shoved him off the bed, suddenly desperate to get free from the ties binding her to the selfish life she thought she wanted. Will caught on fast. He was also decent enough to dress with amazing speed. He deposited her in front of her mother’s house then disappeared into the night. The following day she found an apologetic message on her answering machine, thanking her for the time they spent together and wishing her well. The gentle kiss-off made her decision to move home to take care of her mother infinitely easier.
And now, he’d come to her rescue after yet another embarrassing display of wanton selfishness.
She sighed as he put the truck in reverse. He paused, his arm hooked over the back of the seat, his foot planted firmly on the brake. Then the bench seat dipped when he shifted his weight. In one smooth move he put the truck in park and killed the engine.
“What’s the matter?”
He turned to face her head on. “What happened to you, Josie?”
The blunt question stole her breath. “Happened to me? Nothing happened to me.”
“You never got married? You live with your mother now?”
“My mother is dead.” The familiar pang came back. The same pang torqued her insides each time she spoke the words aloud. A pang loaded with guilt. And relief. “She died last year.”
“I’m sorry.”
His automatic response coaxed a weak smile. The irony of the common condolence never failed to tweak her funny bone. No one was truly sorry when her mother finally passed away. The disease robbed Beatrice Masters of her memory and stole her independence, faith, and security. For over sixteen years she lived in a world ruled by fear and paranoia, surrounded by strangers who spent their days trying to convince her she knew them. A shadow of the woman she once was trapped in a body too vigorous and healthy to allow her escape.
“A blessing.” Letting her head fall back against the headrest, Jo turned toward him. “Or so they say.”
“Doesn’t make it hurt less.”
“Listen, it hasn’t been a great week, and I’d like to go home and pull the covers over my head.”
“Oh? What happened?”
Sliding him a sidelong glance, she shrugged. “What didn’t? My foot went through the porch. Apparently, I’m harboring about a million termites. On Monday I get to send the exterminator an arm and a leg. I just need to decide which ones I can do without.”
“That sucks.”
Turns out, the simple acknowledgment was what she needed. Shifting in her seat, she turned to face him. “It does, doesn’t it?” His silent nod triggered an avalanche. “I was worried about it, but not anymore.”
“No?”
“Nope. I think I’m going to stick a pot in the hole and plant some geraniums.”
“Geraniums,” he repeated.
Setting her jaw, she turned to look out the window again. “Times are tough and flowers are cheap. The company I’m working for is downsizing.”
“You?”
She nodded.
“That’s bullshit.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” She stared into the gloom of the parking garage. “You want to know the real kicker?”
He sucked in a gratifying breath. “What?”
“I turned fifty last week.” She spilled the last tasty tidbit in a whisper. To her horror, tears filled her eyes. “Three for three, huh?”
