by Cindi Myers
She leaned closer. “You’re not afraid of him. He’s all bark. No bite.”
His eyes found hers again. The concern she saw there warmed her deep inside. “I don’t care what he does to me, but you don’t need the hassle.”
“Don’t worry about me. I can hold my own.” As if to prove her boldness, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. On the mouth. His lips were cool, unyielding. She drew back. “I’ll see you,” she said. “Soon.”
He shook his head and let the motorcycle roll back. Then he roared away.
She watched him go, then felt her father’s hand, heavy on her shoulder. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”
She shrugged away from him. “No, I can drive myself.”
“I’ll do it.” He signaled the sedan’s driver, then held out his hand to her. “Give me your keys.”
She didn’t want to give in, but fatigue dragged at her. Fighting with her father now required more energy than she had. Reluctantly, she handed over the keys to the Bug and walked around to the passenger-side door.
They had driven three blocks before her father spoke. “What were you thinking?”
She kept her face turned to the window, her eyes barely registering the houses and businesses they passed. “I don’t want to talk about Zach with you. You don’t even know him and you’ve already made up your mind about him.”
“I know he’s not a man you should have anything to do with.”
“Then you don’t know anything about him.”
She didn’t know why she felt the need to defend Zach. It wasn’t as if she’d ever expected her father to approve of him. Hadn’t that been part of the attraction? Zach represented everything that was different from her own safe, predictable, conventional life. Going with him tonight was the most daring thing she’d ever done.
But now that she’d been in his bed, now that she’d felt his tenderness and strength and glimpsed the man beneath the leather and tattoos, she felt a startling connection to him. Could it be the sheltered girl who longed for more and the leather-clad loner who didn’t seem to want anything had something in common?
“I know you think I’m being unreasonable, but it’s my job as a parent to protect you. You don’t know all the bad things that can happen to a young woman on her own.”
“I know.” She sighed. Her father meant well. He really did. But she couldn’t let him keep sheltering her from everything, good and bad, this way. “I wrote to the Chicago Institute of Dance. I told them I’m looking forward to my internship this fall.”
“I thought we already settled that you weren’t going.”
“We didn’t settle anything.” She turned toward him, wishing it weren’t dark so that he could see how much she meant her words. “I’m never going to learn to look out for myself if you don’t let me.”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. He kept his eyes on the road, not looking at her. “You might be right, but I don’t have to like it.”
She almost smiled then, and leaned over to kiss his cheek. He smelled like the Old Spice she used to give him every Christmas when she was small. “You don’t have to like it,” she agreed. “But you have to let me make my own mistakes.”
“Going to Chicago would be a mistake. And associating with a man like Zach Jacobs is an even bigger one.”
Her throat tightened against an angry retort, but she forced herself to remain calm. She wouldn’t let him goad her into changing her mind—about Chicago, or about Zach. “Maybe. Maybe not. I’m willing to find out.” Being with Zach tonight hadn’t felt like a mistake. In fact, it had felt like the first right thing she’d done in a long time.
ZACH PREFERRED THE ARTISTIC side of owning a tattoo parlor to the business side, but he prided himself on keeping good books and staying on top of inventory and all the other things that went into being a small businessman. But he didn’t enjoy these tasks, and they weren’t made any easier by distracting thoughts of a certain blond dancer. Thursday morning after he and Jen made love, he was trying to order supplies and failing miserably.
His thoughts kept wandering to the way she’d looked, naked and wanting. The way she’d responded to him, without reservation. She’d been so…unexpected. So…open. He got hard, remembering, and wanted her again, in the way he hadn’t wanted a woman in a long time. Maybe never.
The thought unnerved him. He had no business mixing it up with a woman like her. She didn’t know the rules for keeping a relationship casual. She wanted too much from him—things he wasn’t prepared to give.
And then there was her father to contend with. If Jen and her old man started a war, he’d be caught in the cross fire. He didn’t need the hassle.
The bell on the door sounded and he jerked his head up, half expecting to see Jen walk in. But it was Theresa, back from a stroll to the mailbox on the corner. Her high heels clicked on the tile as she joined him behind the counter and stashed her bag. “Another sweltering day out there. Thank God for whoever invented air-conditioning.” She glanced over his shoulder at the order form laid out on the counter in front of him, and frowned. “Do we really need forty bags of ink caps?”
He scratched out the zero, changing the quantity to four. “My pen slipped,” he mumbled.
“You okay?” She put a hand to his forehead. “You don’t look so good.”
He swatted her hand away. “I’m fine.”
She shrugged and slid the appointment book over to check it. “What did you do last night?”
He pretended to concentrate on the supply order again. “Had a burger at the brewpub. Took the bike around the lake. Came home.” Never mind that he hadn’t been alone. That was none of her business.
“Uh-huh.” She glanced at him. “You don’t look like you slept well.”
Yeah, well, who could sleep with Jen’s perfume clinging to his sheets, the imprint of her body still there? He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her, standing in the parking lot with her dad. Was she all right? At three in the morning, he’d ended up stripping the bed and making it up again, trying to get rid of the scent of her. He scowled at Theresa. “What are you, my mother all of a sudden? Leave me alone.”
“Don’t be such a grouch.” She returned the appointment book to its place by the phone and smoothed back her hair. “Have you heard from Jen?”
He jerked his head up. “No, why?” Had Teresa seen them together last night?
“She and I are supposed to have lunch together.”
This news surprised him. “Since when do you have anything in common with a chick like her?”
Theresa shrugged. “She’s not so bad once you get to know her. A little naive maybe, but she’s a fast learner.”
“Uh-huh.” His stomach clenched as he thought of how quickly she’d caught on in bed last night.
“You want to come with us? Scott should be in by then and he can watch the shop.”
“Think I’ll pass.”
“Suit yourself.” Theresa went into the back again and he tried to finish the order. He couldn’t believe how he’d let Jen get to him. Maybe they should call it quits right now.
But he wanted her again. But on his terms. They wouldn’t date. They wouldn’t be a couple. Their relationship would be all about physical gratification. When she moved away to Chicago, they’d say adios and thanks for a good time. No repercussions. No hard feelings.
He glanced at the order form and discovered he’d ordered forty-eight cases of latex gloves. Groaning, he wadded up the paper and tossed it in the trash, then pulled out a fresh form. Right. He could do this.
The bell on the door rang again. This time, he forced himself to not look up. “You look like shit, dude.”
“Yeah, well, you always look like shit.” He glared at Scott as the blonde moved past and switched on the computer.
“You’re just jealous.” Scott pulled up a chair and punched in his computer password. “What’d you do last night?”
Why all the interest in how he spent his evening? “Ro
de my bike. What did you do?”
Scott grinned. “Remember that redheaded coed I did the butterfly tat for?”
“The one you were drooling over? Yeah, I remember.”
“I met up with her at a bar and we went dancing, then back to my place.”
“I don’t want to hear about it.” He turned back to the order form.
“I’m telling you, this job is a prime way to meet chicks. You should take more advantage of it.”
“Guess we can’t all be the Don Juan you are.”
Scott let out a low whistle. “Speaking of hot chicks….”
Zach looked up as Jen opened the door. She was wearing denim shorts and a T-shirt, the bright pink color matching her flushed cheeks. “Hello, Zach,” she said, her voice a little breathless. “Is Theresa here?”
“She’s in the back.” He studied her. She looked all right. More than all right, really. So healthy. Wholesome. Not a word associated with the women he usually hung out with. But if she was here this morning, that must mean her old man hadn’t come down on her too hard.
“This is my friend, Shelly,” she said. “Shelly Fogel, this is Zach Jacobs.”
For the first time, he noticed the other woman standing with her, a round-faced redhead wearing denim shorts and a lime-green tank top. “I’m so pleased to meet you,” she said in a honey-coated drawl. Her smile was openly flirtatious as she looked him up and down.
“Hello, ladies. I’m Scott.” He grinned at Jen. “I remember you.”
“Scott, the autoclave needs emptying.” Zach gave the younger man a pointed look.
Still grinning, Scott backed away. “Hey, I can take a hint.” He nodded to the women. “Don’t let Zach here scare you off. He likes to play the big mean bear, but inside he’s a pussycat.”
You will definitely pay for that, Zach thought, staring after the younger man. He turned back to Jen. “Was everything all right last night, after I left?”
Her expression softened and he cursed himself for even asking the question. Of course she was all right. She was here, wasn’t she? Now she’d think he cared or something.
“Everything was fine,” she said. “But thank you for asking.”
“What happened last night?” Shelly asked.
“Nothing,” he said abruptly, turning away from Jen’s wounded expression. Nothing that was any of her friend’s business. Nothing that he wanted to talk about.
Theresa came from the back and Jen introduced her friend. “Sure you don’t want to come to lunch with us, Zach?” Theresa asked as she collected her purse from behind the counter once more.
He shook his head. “No.” No way was he sitting through lunch with his sister and Jen, not to mention her friend. He was having a hard enough time keeping his cool around her now. He couldn’t stop staring at her. Watching the way her hips swayed when she crossed the room. Noticing the indentation of her waist where his hand had fit so perfectly. Staring at the little dimple on the side of her mouth. He fought the urge to make some excuse to get her alone in the back room for a minute. Maybe he’d imagined how erotic her kisses had been, or how perfect she’d felt when he’d held her.
Ugh. She had him acting like some lovesick schoolboy. “Goodbye, Zach. I’ll see you later,” Jen said.
“Yeah.” His voice came out gruff. He’d see her later. It wasn’t a good idea, but he wasn’t ready to stop himself yet. She’d cast a spell over him. That had to be the only explanation why a man like him was attracted to a woman like her. Maybe the only way to break it was to keep seeing her until the novelty wore off.
JEN COULD FEEL ZACH’S eyes on her as she followed Shelly and Theresa onto the sidewalk. Her skin flushed at the memory of his touch. She’d had so much she’d intended to say to him today, yet every word had fled the minute she’d walked through the door of the shop and seen him again. It had been all she could do to play it cool and pretend he hadn’t just turned her world upside down.
He, on the other hand, had been abrupt to the point of rudeness, but the heated look in his eyes had betrayed him. A little thrill ran through her at the thought. He’d felt it, too—the incredible something that had sparked between them. Something more than old-fashioned lust. Some connection she wasn’t yet prepared to name.
“Zach is definitely a hottie.” Shelly fanned herself with one hand and cut her eyes to Jen as the three women crossed Red River and headed up Sixth. Austin’s Entertainment District had a more sedate air in the daylight hours, well-dressed businesspeople and university students in jeans and sandals replacing the tourists and partiers who clogged the sidewalks after dark. The clubs and souvenir shops remained shuttered, though the restaurants and boutiques did a brisk lunchtime business. “He didn’t seem to be in a very good mood, though.”
The trio steered around a guitar player who was idly strumming the blues, and passed a bicycle patrolman who’d stopped to talk to a panhandler. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him,” Theresa said. “He’s been jumpy and distracted all morning.” She watched Jen as she spoke. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“Me?” She flipped her hair back over her shoulders and attempted to look unconcerned. “No. Why would I have anything to do with Zach’s mood?”
“I don’t know. Except he’s been acting different ever since you came by the store that first day.”
Shelly laughed. “I think Jen’s right. She’s not really the type to appeal to a guy like Zach.”
“I’m not?” She frowned at her friend. “I mean—what kinds of guys do you think I appeal to?”
“Oh, you know—men who are more…polished. Clean-cut straight arrows.” Shelly grinned. “Guys just like you.”
Jen fought to hide her disappointment. The kinds of men Shelly was describing sounded deadly dull. Maybe those were the sorts of men she’d dated in the past, but now, after being with Zach, she was pretty sure a “straight arrow” in a suit and tie wouldn’t do anything to get her motor running.
“I’ll agree, Jen isn’t Zach’s usual type.” Theresa smiled slyly. “But maybe right now he needs someone different in his life.”
“What do you mean?” Jen stopped and faced Theresa. “What kind of woman does Zach usually date?”
Theresa wrinkled her nose. “Let’s just say big bro tends to pick women who don’t demand much. Good-time girls who won’t hassle him for more.”
“You think I’m the type to demand a lot?”
Theresa focused her gaze on Jen’s stylish platform sandals, up her long, tanned legs to the diamond-solitaire necklace her parents had given her for her twenty-first birthday. “Yeah. I’d say you were the kind of woman who expects a lot from a guy.” She grinned. “Not that that’s a bad thing.”
The three started out walking again. They passed the Old Pecan Street Café and the old Ritz Theater. “Yeah, well, you can expect all you want from a guy, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get what you’re after.” Shelly shook her head. “Believe me, I’m dating the classic commitmentphobe.”
“If you ask me, all this happy-ever-after shtick is overrated,” Theresa said. “Better to find a guy you can have fun with. When you get tired of him, move on.”
“So, does that mean I’m a sap for sticking with Aaron for five years, waiting for him to propose?” Shelly asked.
Theresa studied the redhead through half-closed eyes. “Let’s just say I wouldn’t wait around that long for a man to do what I wanted. I’d be moving on to something better.”
“Are you dating someone now?” Jen asked, anxious to avoid a disagreement between her two friends. Besides, she was curious about the answer. She found Theresa pretty intimidating sometimes. What would a man think of her tough-as-nails friend?
“Not right now, no.” She dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. “The last thing I need is a man screwing up my life.”
Shelly’s normally cheerful expression was still downcast. “But doesn’t that get lonely?”
Theresa shrugged. “There
’s a difference between being alone and being lonely. I happen to enjoy my own company.” She pointed to a lavender sign hanging over a shop two doors ahead: Excessories. “Let’s duck in here a minute. Y’all have got to see this place.”
They followed Theresa into the shop. A string of sleigh bells jangled as they entered, and the aroma of cinnamon wafted around them. The first thing Jen noticed was a headless mannequin dressed in a black satin bustier and a rhinestone-trimmed thong. Next to the mannequin was a display of five-inch stilettos.
“Theresa, how are you?” A short, white-haired woman rushed from the back of the store and threw her arms around the tattoo artist. The older woman had to tilt her head back to look up into Theresa’s face. “How’s business?”
“Hey, Madeline. Business is good. I brought you some customers.” She indicated Jen and Shelly. “Friends of mine. I told them they had to see your place.”
“Welcome! Have a look around.” A single rhinestone winked from the side of Madeline’s nose, and more rhinestone studs glittered at each brow. She focused on Jen’s chest. “Is that Theresa’s work?”
Jen put one hand self-consciously to the tat. “Uh, yes.”
“Zach drew it. I inked it.” Theresa joined Shelly in looking through the racks of clothing, finally pulling out a blue satin top embroidered with red and green flowers. “Try this on.” She thrust it at Jen.
Jen studied the top. It had full sleeves and a tight bodice, and was very low cut. “I’m not sure I could wear this.”
“Why not? It would show off your tat.” Teresa folded her arms across her chest. “I think Zach would like it.”
And who says I’m trying to impress Zach? But she didn’t say the words out loud. She knew she wasn’t that good a liar. “Okay, I’ll try it on.”
“Dressing rooms are right back here.” Madeline bustled ahead of them. “Theresa, you come look at these leather jackets I just got in for fall.”
Alone in the dressing room, Jen slipped out of her T-shirt and tried on the blouse. It was so low cut, the top of her bra showed. To pull this off, she’d have to wear it without a bra altogether. She hesitated a moment, then reached back and unhooked her bra and slipped it off.
