by Aimee Carson
At the words engagement ring Carly’s heart constricted so tight it was hard for it to keep pumping. It wasn’t the answer to the question she’d asked, and his attempt to distract her was obvious, but she could no more change the subject back than she could stop asking questions. He’d cranked up her curiosity, exceeding her lifetime limit to the max.
Cowboy hat in hand, he leaned back against the door leading to the locker room. “After three months of living together it was to be our first trip, and I started with dinner plans at a restaurant she’d always wanted to try. It was too expensive for a government man on a government salary, but I figured it was worth it,” he went on. “Because a guy only gets married once.”
Once. The assumption brought the threat of tears, burning her eyes, surprising her. When Hunter Philips made a promise, he kept it.
“When I called Mandy from work to tell her where I was taking her she must have guessed what was coming.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose it was easier to say no by leaving than refuse me to my face.”
She blinked back the sting in her eyes. No one should be dumped in a way so cowardly and cruel—especially when he’d been about to make the ultimate commitment. “What did you do?”
His voice was easy, smooth, but the words hit hard. “I got drunk and stayed that way.”
It was hardly the response she’d expected.
He tipped his head, his cool eyes steadily holding hers. “After a week-long alcohol binge that probably should have killed me, Booker finally showed up, dragged me off the couch, and shoved me in a shower with my clothes on.” Face composed, he folded his arms, hat dangling from his fingers. A faint smile of memory crossed his face. “It’s all a little fuzzy, but I remember yelling at him to turn off the faucet.” He cut her a dry look. “Unlike Florida, the middle of a Chicago winter means the water is frigid. But Booker just held me under the spray, and I was too drunk to push back.”
The reedy stature and little-boy face of Hunter’s friend made the whole thing hard to picture. Not with the physical state Hunter maintained. “I can’t imagine your partner effectively fighting you back.”
“Like I said,” he said. “I was plastered out of my mind and my coordination was bad. Of course alcohol does have the advantage of being an excellent anesthetic as well.” There was a slight pause, and he hiked a self-mocking brow. “The only problem was it kept wearing off.”
Though his face was composed, his gaze calm, his tone said it all.
“What happened after the cold shower?” she said.
“I sobered up enough to get into dry clothes and sat shivering on the couch, yelling at Booker to get out. He wouldn’t leave.” He looked at Carly, his words matter-of-fact. But his face reflected a moment that was clearly seared in his memory, earning Pete Booker the title of faithful friend for life—till death did they part. “After about an hour of angry silence from me, Booker told me I needed to stop letting Mandy’s defection get to me and start doing something productive, like fight back,” he said, steadily holding her gaze.
The next step was easy to guess. “And that’s when The Ditchinator was born.”
“To keep me busy.”
“And get back at Mandy?”
“An outlet for my frustrations.” A rueful smile curled on his lips. “Booker helped me work on the program. It was originally designed for email. When vacation time was over and I had to go back to work he showed up at the end of each day and we kept adding features, making it more elaborate. We spent a month on the songs alone, each trying to outdo the other by finding the best tune to go with the message.” The tension in his body eased a bit. “Every time I slipped back into my black funk Booker would find another song title that made me laugh. Soon we had so many we decided to list them all as options.”
There was a long pause as Carly stared at him, sensing there was more to the story that he wasn’t sharing.
“And now that the app is so popular you’re laughing all the way to the bank.”
“Trust me,” he said wryly, a brief shadow crossing his face, “no laughing is involved.” He cocked his head, his expression easing a touch. “But I’ll take the money, nonetheless.”
There was a long pause as they stared at each other. In some small way it must provide him with a satisfying sense of comeuppance. No wonder he refused to take it off the market. But this wasn’t the time to discuss her thoughts on that subject again.
Hunter unfolded his arms, providing a better view of his delicious chest. “That’s it, Carly.” His eyebrow arced higher. “Now you know enough of the gritty details to satisfy even your inquisitive nature.” He looked down at the white hat in his hand before lifting his gaze to hers, his tone reflecting that he was done with the conversation. “I appreciate the gift, but it’s time to call it a night.”
Though his expression was still coolly collected, his eyes sizzled with a teasing heat that set her heart racing as he went on. “Unless you’re really going to follow me into the shower …” He paused, letting her fill in the blank, and then turned and pushed through the door.
And as it slowly closed in her face she stared at the sign. Men’s Locker Room. Body on fire, she bit her lip with a frown. Damn him for being the action-hero defender, an honorable guy who was impossible not to like. Damn him for being so darkly guarded, inflaming her curiosity with his secretive air. And damn him for his well-honed chest paired with an unflappable composure—for provoking her with his teasing words and the sexy look in his eyes…and then walking away.
Heart pounding, she let a full minute tick by as she tried to decide what to do next.
Go home now, Carly. You’re done.
But what would happen if she finally called his bluff? She longed to know what he’d do if she challenged him on his sizzling words paired with a frustrating reserve. If she pushed him, would he finally lose a little of that control?
Let it go, Carly. You’re done.
She bit her lower lip, staring at the locker room sign, the distinct feeling of undoneness leaving her feet stuck to the floor, unwilling to leave. Several agonizing moments passed, but ultimately her curiosity was her undoing. Lips pressed in a determined line, the whisper of desire growing louder, Carly pushed open the door and stepped inside.
CHAPTER SIX
AT THE back of the locker room Hunter pulled out his duffel bag and shut the locker harder than he’d planned. The slam of the metal door echoed off the sea of pristine white tile. Mind churning, he set his bag on one of several long wooden benches, burning with a mix of emotions caused by reliving old memories. And by dealing with the beautiful, determined Carly Wolfe.
Annoyed with himself, he pulled out his towel and clean clothes, tossing them all on the bench. After shedding his clothes and shoes, he entered one of the shower stalls separated by chest-high tiled walls.
The sting of hot water felt good, easing his aching muscles and a bit of his tension as he shampooed his hair. He wished the soap could wash the troublesome journalist from his life as easily.
When the sound of footsteps came, Hunter glanced over the wall of the shower stall. Carly appeared, rounding the last row of lockers. Hunter’s heart pumped hard and his hands stilled in his soapy hair.
As if she belonged in the male domain, she came closer and stopped on the other side of the low wall. The partition was just high enough to block her view of the lower part of his body. A part that was responding to her presence, her bold maneuver, and leaving his every cell crackling with electricity.
Which brought him to the main reason he’d agreed to go back on the show again. He couldn’t lie to himself anymore. He’d duped himself into thinking it was all about his boredom with a job that left him unsatisfied. He could no longer deny the biggest reason he was unable to walk away from her—despite all the reasons he should.
Desire. Want. Need.
A longing so intense it was disturbing.
And he didn’t want her here, testing his ability to keep the lessons
of the past in mind. Proving that with every outrageous move by Carly Wolfe those lessons were getting harder and harder to remember.
Frustrated, Hunter stuck his head under the shower, rinsing out the rest of the shampoo. His gut tensed as he debated what to do with the woman who was driving him insane. Wishing she’d leave. Ignoring the small part of him that was hoping she wouldn’t.
Finished, he turned his back to the spray, careful to keep his tone level. “Are you here just to watch or to seduce a story out of me?”
Her lips tightened at his slur. “As I recall, it was you who came on to me in the parking garage.”
Despite everything, a wry smile crept up his face. He wasn’t particularly proud of that moment, but it had certainly been memorable. And having her just a short wall away from his naked body wasn’t making this conversation easy. His blood was enthusiastically lining up on its way to a part of him that was paying close attention. Very close attention. “I’m not even sure it was effective.”
“Oh, it was effective.” She propped her hand on her hip. “And if I turned the tables and tried the tactic on you? Would it work too?”
The question lit the fire that he’d fought so hard to keep banked. The sound of water hitting tile filled the room as he debated how to respond. For some reason he couldn’t stop pushing her. Testing her. “Depends on how good you are.” He nodded in the direction of the condom machine on the wall, multiple Kama Sutra pictures displayed on its front. “And how many of those positions you’re familiar with.”
Carly glanced at the dispenser, her eyelids flickering briefly in surprise at the images. It took a moment for her to respond. “I’m familiar with the first and the third.” She turned to meet his gaze again, her tone dry. “Number five is physically impossible.” After a pause, the sassy confidence was fully back in place and she stepped closer, folding her arms on the tile wall, eyes lit with challenge. “But I’m willing to try number four with you.”
Heat surged, and he fought the smile. He knew what the little minx was up to, and he felt a punishing need to see if she would actually follow through. Almost as strong as the punishing need coursing through his body now. “Here?” He lifted a brow. “Now?”
For the first time her gaze dropped below his waist. “Why wait?”
If he got any harder he’d crack. “It’s your call,” he said, and counted out the pounding heartbeats.
Her pink tongue touched her lips, either in nerves or anticipation—or both—and her breaths came faster. “Got any quarters for the machine?”
“Side pocket of my gym bag.”
Hunter waited, wanting to see just how far the bold woman would go. Knowing that this time pulling back would be impossible …
Heart thumping from their exchange and intense longing, Carly glanced at the condom dispenser again, conflicted.
She wasn’t supposed to be here—not when she’d been trying to convince her boss to let her do a story on Hunter. She’d been refused each time, but sleeping with him now would still be stupid. Massively stupid. Yet, despite that knowledge, she was still torn between what she should do—which was retreat from the challenge—and what she wanted to do …
She cut her gaze to Hunter, forcing herself not to inspect the entire package again and risk a total meltdown. Arms crossed, water sluicing down his back, he regarded her with more than just desire in those slate-blue eyes. As always, there was a watchful waiting, an electric awareness that measured her every reaction. She’d never been involved with a man capable of exhibiting such restraint and self-control. And yet, even though he lived behind walls, the man had willingly stepped between her and a speeding emotional bullet.
The memory snagged at her heart, because it was something Thomas had never attempted to do. Instead, when his success had been threatened, he’d dumped her via the Bricklin Daily Sentinel. No warning. No phone call. Just her in her PJs, with a cup of coffee on a beautiful Sunday morning, and an article about what was next for the candidate running for California State Senate. Apparently her boyfriend’s backup plan had been to feed her to the wolves—despite his vow to stick by her through the scandal.
And then, of course, there was her father’s emotional desertion …
The painful memories robbed her of her breath even as the irony tightened her lips into a thin smile. How lame did it make her that she was so grateful that someone had finally stood up for her? Someone who wasn’t even family or involved with her in a relationship. No, it was the guy she’d challenged to a very public duel.
What would it be like to make love to Hunter? She’d had her fair share of boyfriends, and was no stranger to sexual attraction, but she’d always been a little disappointed by how quickly it faded. How bored she became. Of course she’d never known anyone quite like the sexy, intense, white-hat-wearing Hunter Philips.
Don’t do it, Carly. Don’t do it! It’s only lust.
But it wasn’t really. It was much more complicated than that. And still, despite the fact she shouldn’t, a part of her had to finish what she’d started.
Gathering her courage, she crossed to the gym bag, fished out some quarters and headed for the machine, not stopping to think about her plan any further. Fingers clumsy with desire—and a generous dose of nerves—she struggled with the mechanism but couldn’t get the knob to twist. She smacked it in frustration.
Okay, so maybe the lust and nerves were a little stronger than usual.
“Let me.” A wet hand rested on her left hip as an arm reached around her on the right, and a sensual longing swept through her so strong her knees almost gave way. Her mind froze, chanting out the change in circumstances.
Hunter. Naked. An embrace, of sorts, from behind. From Hunter.
Naked.
Breath fanning her temple, a damp heat emanating from his body, he turned the knob, his movements calm, collected. A condom dropped into the tray with a promising thunk. Carly turned her back to the wall beside the dispenser, examining his naked body. It was still a glorious sight, made much more devastating by his proximity. The lean, well-muscled chest peppered with dark hair. The taut abdomen and the long, powerful thighs. The straining erection.
Even now he seemed so sure of himself. So cool. Deliberate.
His eyes bored into hers. “Will we need more than one?”
With her body’s current state of arousal she might not survive the first round. But there was no need to let him know how he affected her. Mouth dry, fingers shaky, she lifted her blouse over her head and tossed it aside. “It all hinges on your stamina.”
He nodded at the machine and its display of graphic diagrams. “I choose the second go around.”
Heart galloping nervously, she held his gaze as she removed her bra. “Just as long as it’s not number five.”
He inserted a second quarter into the machine. Eyes on hers, his gaze lit with a mix of humor, bone-melting desire and blatant challenge, he slowly twisted the knob. He had to know every crank was bringing her closer to the edge. “How about a modified version?” he said.
The mechanism caught, and a second thunk occurred.
Carly’s insides twisted. Their relentless game of cat and mouse was leaving her coiled tight, never knowing which way was up. Or who had the upper hand. If either of them did.
“What if your sparring partner walks in on us?” she said.
His enigmatic smile returned as he pressed her against the wall. The tile was cold against her already over-heated skin. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t,” he murmured as he lowered his head.
The moment his lips touched hers Carly responded eagerly. He pressed her mouth open, his tongue taking hers. The soul-drugging kiss pushed what little reason she had aside as his hands made quick work of her jeans and her panties, pushing them to the floor. Hunter sought the warm flesh between her legs, teasing her until she trembled, slick against his fingers. Her body’s ready response was so quick it was almost embarrassing.
It’s only lust, Carly.
&nb
sp; Carly pulled her mouth a fraction from his, surprised her voice was so unsteady. “I thought I was supposed to be seducing you.”
His mouth moved to her neck, his fingers making her body sing, and he said, “You’ll get your turn.”
Hunter pressed well-placed, open-mouthed kisses on her shoulder, tasting her on his way to her breast. Her skin tingled in the wake.
Struggling to get the words out, she said, “Just remember—” His lips landed on a puckered tip, searing her nerves, and she arched against him. She closed her eyes and went on. “You promised two rounds.”
One hand on her hip, the other between her legs, he drove her insane, his mouth traveling down her abdomen with intent. His words whispered across her belly. “When did I do that?”
“You bought a second condom.” Her voice was weak. “That’s an implied promise, isn’t it?”
“Guess we’ll find out.”
She hoped they would, but she was too immersed in mind-bending pleasure to tell him.
Fire licked her veins, incinerating her every thought as his mouth crossed her hip on the way to her inner thigh. Carly instinctively spread her legs a little more, a welcoming gesture, and Hunter took full advantage of the invitation, replacing the teasing fingers with his mouth.
Her heart imploded, sensual forces gripping her hard. With a sharp hiss, Carly dropped her head back. His lips, teeth and tongue worked their spell on her body. So focused. His movements deliberate. Skilled. Strategically planned for maximum pleasure. Until Carly was shaking, the nape of her neck damp with sweat.
As his lips drove her closer to the sun, Hunter slid his hands up her belly to cup her breasts. His thumbs circled the tips, and solar touchdown became a near certainty. Back pressed against the cool tile, her body suffused with heat, Carly gripped his shoulders, her thighs trembling. Eyes closed, she gasped for breath. Flames of desire climbed higher, blinding her with white-hot light. Until Carly’s body finally launched fully into the inferno. The orgasm consumed her, fanning out in a fireball of pleasure, and she called out Hunter’s name.
