He took a long, slow pull off his beer, mulling options. The honorable thing to do would be offer to help her out. He certainly owed Drew that much. But helping Reagan meant spending more time around the most fascinating woman he’d ever met. He wanted her like ice in the middle of a desert. Everything else aside, he didn’t dare entertain that idea. She was recently widowed, and only a bastard took advantage of a woman’s grief. Not to mention, he didn’t even want to consider what she’d do when she found out he was responsible for her husband’s death. She’d probably tell him to go straight to hell. Lord knew he wasn’t a hero, deserving of her esteem.
Walking away, however, meant breaking his promise. Even more unacceptable. He still had his honor, and he refused to let it become any more tainted.
He leaned forward and set his beer on the coffee table. “How about I cut that tree off your roof, at least, before I take off?”
Reagan’s eyes widened a fraction, then she gave him a nervous smile. “My contractor will probably show up tomorrow.”
Right. Guys who wanted work didn’t no-show. And evidently, she knew how to pick the rotten ones. Man, if Drew had been here, he’d have had the first guy’s ass in a sling before he could skip town. Damn it. Why did Reagan have to be the one to suffer in his absence? She deserved better than being jerked around.
That sealed it—he was helping her out.
“Well, if he shows, he’ll have that much less to do.” Alex shrugged. He had four days before he had to be back for the party his sister was trying to pass off as a picnic. Saturday afternoon. Not that he intended to spend that much time with Reagan. Cutting down a tree would take a handful of hours, max. “I’ve got some time today. Might as well put it to use. That’s what friends do, right? Help out friends.”
At her furrowed brow, he hurried to add, “Drew would have wanted this.”
Her frown deepened inexplicably, but she agreed with a terse nod. “Okay. I’ll help you.”
Like hell he’d let her climb up there and risk injury. All he needed was that on his conscience as well. “Nope, I’ve got it.”
Reagan let out a heavy sigh. “At least let me take you to dinner, then.”
Dinner with the one woman he should run far away from. An awkward dinner, no doubt, if their stilted conversation so far indicated anything. Hell, he didn’t know what to say to her. Half of him wanted to apologize for Drew’s death, and the other half of him wanted to grab her up and kiss her senseless.
“That’s really not necessary.”
“And it’s not necessary for you to climb up on my roof and cut down a tree.” Her smile was smug.
“Point taken.” He grabbed his beer and downed the last of it. “All right then, dinner it is. I’ll get to work. Tools are in the basement, right? Off the garage?”
She stood quickly and didn’t look at him as she answered, “No, I moved them to the shed out back.”
Damn, he’d never seen her so…uncomfortable. Normally, she laughed and teased. A wave of guilt washed over him. Here he was fighting to keep his hands off her, and she clearly still grieved. Hell, he was probably a reminder of Drew. God knew she brought back memories.
Alex sighed and pushed off the couch. “Listen, Reagan…if my being here makes you uncomfortable—”
“I’m good, really.” She smiled the first genuine smile since he’d arrived, making her blue eyes twinkle with warm light.
“You sure? I know it’s not easy—”
“It’s fine.” Her smile brightened, and she touched his elbow. “I just wasn’t expecting all this.”
Where her fingers rested against his skin, little currents of electricity sparked. He tensed against a razor-sharp surge of desire. Damn, he couldn’t remember how long it had been since such an insignificant touch affected him so powerfully.
This is wrong. She belongs to Drew. She won’t want you anyway once she learns what you did.
With that reminder, Alex jerked his arm away and hurried out the back porch door. He made a beeline for the work shed out back, a quaint little outbuilding that matched the house’s sage green and white color. Expecting to have to navigate around the woodworking tools and sawdust-covered floor, Alex stopped abruptly in the doorway and stared in disbelief. Neat shelves now lined the walls with every tool Drew had kept in the basement sitting in its own space. The floor had been swept clean; not even a trace of sawdust remained. She’d set plants under false lighting down the length of the worktable. No hint lingered that this had ever been Drew’s private sanctuary.
Odd. As close as Drew and Reagan had been, Alex would have assumed she’d leave a few things lying around as mementos. Lord knew Alex would have, if his wife had died. He wouldn’t have been able to stand the thought of tearing apart her space.
And what was with moving the tools out here? What had she done in the basement, then?
He pushed the questions aside, determined to focus on the roof. What Reagan did was really none of his business. Everyone coped with grief in their own way. Maybe the reminders were too much to bear.
He grabbed the chainsaw, checked the gasoline and oil, and then hoisted the lightweight extension ladder onto his shoulder. Toting both across the lawn, he made his way between Reagan’s house and Desi and Chance’s to the tree that had been neatly split in half.
After assessing the best plan of attack, he decided to leave the upright portion of the tree to someone who knew more and to tackle what had broken off and smashed her front porch. He secured the ladder to the corner of the main wall and made his way up.
What he found when he set foot on the roof, however, only pissed him off. From the car, he’d assumed the missing shingles were just that—shingles sheared off from high winds. Up close, he found a different story. Not only were the shingles missing, but the damaged area was much larger than it looked from the driveway, and making matters worse, one section of plywood had been broken clean in half. If it rained, her front room would absolutely get wet.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. Drew would never have let this happen, never let Reagan live like this. He’d have hired someone to take care of this immediately, even if it meant phoning from overseas.
The front door banged beneath him. Reagan walked across the front lawn to a small, recently planted sapling in the center of the yard. She dragged the hose from the opposite side of the house and dropped to all fours to work with the mulch around the sapling’s trunk.
His gaze locked on her shapely thighs beneath her jeans shorts. The legs were cut just high enough that when she pushed back, he glimpsed the faintest hint of her ass. That sight was enough to make another part of his anatomy stand up and take notice.
Jesus, she’d fit into his hands perfectly. Hips just wide enough to make a man’s mouth water. Strong legs. Trim little waist. Was she bare beneath those shorts, or did she indulge in sexy little panties? And if he knelt behind her, the way she pushed back as she moved…
He grimaced as his brain ran away with logic. Drew would spit nails if he knew what Alex wanted to do with that perfect bottom. This was wrong on so many levels—he had no business fantasizing about Reagan, no business thinking about anything but cutting down this tree. If he had any sense at all, he’d leave before he did something he couldn’t take back.
But he’d given his word. He’d promised to make sure Reagan was doing okay. From all the evidence surrounding him, she was far from all right. Almost as if she was avoiding the truth of everything around her. No matter how much he wanted to run, he couldn’t walk away.
Chapter Three
As twilight began to cast shadows throughout the neighborhood and cicadas struck their eerie song, Reagan’s stomach growled. She rocked back onto her ankles, pulled off her gardening gloves, and appraised the flowers she’d planted around the base of her new tree. The dogwood had been a gift from Desi, a symbol of the new life she’d begun, and she’d given it the day Reagan’s counselor told her he didn’t think she needed his services any longer. She’d
grown. Put the abuse behind her and no longer let it form her world. Sure, she’d carry the scars—not just the physical ones—but she’d healed. The rest she’d have to learn through living.
And this little sapling was her constant reminder that she’d never again be a victim. The flowers were just eye-catching, and their vibrant colors made her happy.
Her stomach growled again. Definitely time to eat.
Satisfied the flowers were appropriately planted, she stood and stretched and then turned to see how Alex was coming along. The chainsaw had stopped a few minutes ago, and as she scanned the roofline, she caught sight of his bare back. He faced the rear of the house, doing something with the roof she couldn’t ascertain. But what she could see wreaked havoc on her mind.
He’d taken his shirt off at some point, and the fading sunlight cast a sheen over defined muscles that bunched and pulled as he moved. Mouthwatering—the man was the definition of eye candy.
As if he sensed her staring, he straightened and looked over his shoulder. The twist of his torso revealed a solid black tattoo that spanned his left bicep and shoulder. She couldn’t make out the design from the distance, but that ink fascinated her. He was such a contrast to Drew, who wouldn’t have inked his body if someone had held a gun to his head.
How many women had played with that tattoo? Traced it with their fingers? Explored it with their tongues? A vision of her doing just that gripped her so hard her womb contracted. Longing surged through her veins. God, what was the matter with her? He was so off-limits. Even if he wanted to acknowledge the attraction buzzing between them—and she was certain he wouldn’t—she could never be herself around him. Could never share the truth of what Drew was really like outside his unit.
Besides, it wasn’t as if she wanted to get involved on a deeper level. She’d found freedom, and she wouldn’t be chained again.
She shoved all thought of exploring Alex’s naked, sweaty body out of her mind and called up to him, “Are you hungry?”
He moved closer to the damaged edge and wiped his forehead with the crook of his elbow. “Starved, but I’m a mess.”
She chuckled. “I do have a shower.”
A slow, teasing grin spread across his face. “Your water actually works?”
“Hah.” With a middle-finger salute, she made her way to the rickety front porch. “Funny man. Come on, before I starve to death.”
Taking care not to rip the door off its broken hinges, she entered her house and made for the kitchen to wash her hands. When she finished, Alex stood in the doorway between her living room and kitchen.
Up close and personal, he was even more of a sight to behold. His sun-bronzed body was hard and sculpted from collarbone to waistband. Her gaze followed the faint trail of dark hair that ran between firm pecs, down a washboard belly, only to disappear beneath the fly of his jeans. She tried desperately to stop herself from looking lower, but her willpower failed, and she dipped her gaze to the sizable bulge the denim couldn’t fully hide. A shiver stole over her as yearning arced through her body. Eye candy, indeed. What she wouldn’t give to explore by taste.
Suddenly aware of the path her thoughts had taken, she jerked her gaze back to his face.
Deep green eyes glinted so hot her breath caught and her throat went dry. She licked her lips, inadvertently drawing his attention to her mouth. His gaze remained fixed there, and in the heavy silence that enveloped them, his breathing hitched.
Or was it hers?
She couldn’t tell. But before she melted into a puddle right here in her kitchen, she needed to escape. With someone else, she might have entertained the idea of a one-night hookup to get her back into the world of living. Yes, Alex McCray might be a walking sexual fantasy, he might even share her uncontrollable attraction, but he’d never betray Drew’s memory by indulging in her.
“Shower’s upstairs,” she murmured.
Her words broke the spell that enveloped them. With a shake of his head, Alex cleared the heat from his gaze. “Shower sounds great, but these clothes…” He held out his balled-up, sweat-stained shirt. “Maybe we should stay in for dinner.”
Oh, no. If they stayed in, she wouldn’t be able to resist. Before she could stop her tongue, she’d spill all the reasons why it was okay for them to have sex. Starting with the fact that Drew had beaten the shit out of her more times than she could count, and he didn’t deserve either Alex’s or her loyalty.
Though maybe it wasn’t necessary to confess if they were only talking one night of earth-moving orgasms.
No. It would never work. The ties that bound them ran too deep for a meaningless romp. Sex with Alex would be meaningful, even if she wanted it to be strictly physical. She’d desired him for too long. Harbored too many secret fantasies.
She glanced back at his handsome face, the damp dark hair sticking out at odd angles. His expectant look prodded her for an answer.
She inclined her head toward the shower upstairs. “Go ahead and clean up. I have some of Drew’s old clothes around.” One box remained, one she’d intended to send to Goodwill at the end of the week. With a little luck, it wasn’t full of winter clothes.
Alex answered with a nod and turned toward the stairs. “Towels still beneath the sink?”
“Yeah.”
She waited until he reached the landing before she jogged to the basement for the box. Luck was in her corner, and the contents revealed shorts and shirts. Drew had been rangy, compared to Alex’s stronger build, but they’d already confessed to sharing BDUs if one or the other had neglected laundry and needed a spare.
But the more Reagan looked at her former husband’s clothes, the more an uneasy feeling swirled in her belly. She couldn’t stand the idea of looking up from her dinner and seeing Drew sitting across from her. Didn’t want to see Drew in Alex at all.
These would never suit.
She turned and bolted up the stairs, out the back door, and across the lawn to Desi’s house. Reagan let herself inside the screened-in back porch and knocked on the living room entrance. Please be home, please be home. Chance was about the same height as Alex, and daily workouts at the gym gave him nearly the same build. Maybe not quite as broad across the shoulders, but it would do in a pinch. And this was definitely a pinch.
Desi answered with a perplexed frown. “Reagan? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” She glanced back at her house, aware of the ticking clock. “I need to borrow some of Chance’s clothes. Jeans and a shirt. Socks, too.”
Desi let out a laugh. “What on earth for?”
“Alex is here.”
Desi’s laughter died off with her blink. “Alex McCray?”
Reagan nodded vigorously. “He dropped in this afternoon and worked on my porch. I’m taking him to dinner, but he wanted to change. I can’t stand the idea of him in Drew’s clothes. Help me out, please?”
“Sure. I just did some laundry. It’s on the kitchen island.”
She disappeared inside her house, only to return in a handful of seconds, carrying a pair of stonewashed denim jeans and a heather green, collared tee. A pair of socks sat on the neatly folded bundle.
“Thanks, Des. I owe you big time.” Reagan clutched the bundle to her chest. She turned to flee back to her house.
“Reagan?” Desi called after her.
She stopped in the open doorway. “Yeah?”
A warm smile lit up her best friend’s face. “Don’t be afraid to enjoy yourself. You do have needs. And we both know how long it’s been.”
Reagan snorted. “Right. He’s Drew’s best friend. So not going to happen. See you later, and thanks again!” Before Desi could offer more advice she didn’t dare consider, she bolted back to her house.
As she slipped into her kitchen, Alex’s voice rang out. “Reagan? Where’d you put those clothes?”
“Right here!” she called, hurrying up the stairs. “I’ll set them outside the door.”
“’Kay, thanks.”
She put t
hem on the floor and hurried into her bedroom to change as well. She freshened up after Alex left the bathroom.
Desi’s words drifted through her mind as she stripped out of her clothes. Don’t be afraid to enjoy yourself. Was she afraid? What if Alex could separate sex from everything else? Could she?
The chances of something happening between them were about as likely as finding a genie in a bottle. But if opportunity arose, and she had to choose between always wondering what it would be like to have his body possess hers or taking what he offered, she could separate enough.
After all, it had been a long, long time since she’d wanted a man the way she wanted Alex. Wasn’t it time to follow the advice of her counselor and live life? Sleeping with Alex didn’t mean making commitments. It didn’t have to be complicated.
Did it?
To hell with it all—she’d think herself into an even bigger mess. This was Alex, someone she knew well, and attraction aside, she enjoyed spending time with him. She wasn’t going to screw up a night out with nerves and debating appropriate actions. She’d be herself. Like she’d been since the day she’d met him.
…
Alex made his way downstairs, tugging at the collar of his loaner shirt. It was a little tight across the shoulders and chest, and combined with his still-damp skin and the humidity in Reagan’s un-air-conditioned house, it clung uncomfortably. The jeans were a good fit, at least.
He sank onto the sofa with a frown. The way Reagan had eaten him alive with her gaze still left his body overheated, despite the cool shower. How the hell was a man supposed to resist that sort of temptation? They’d been skirting around a simmering attraction for years, but there had always been an easy way to set it aside. Now, it was like setting a jar of chocolate mint cookies in front of him and telling him he could look and smell but not take a bite.
And he wanted a bite. He wanted a goddamn feast.
He reclined with a quiet groan and closed his eyes. The entire situation was just too weird for comfort. Drew’s wife, his house, the memories of time spent here together waged war against the here and now and his damn honor. For Christ’s sake, she was his late best friend’s widow. He shouldn’t have been attracted to her when Drew was alive, and he sure as hell shouldn’t be attracted to her now.
Shatter Me Page 2
