Win My Love (Love's Second Chance Book 3)

by Scott,Scarlett

  “What are you doing?” Her voice was a scant whisper of sound.

  A wicked and purely sexual smile curved his delicious lips. “I warned you that if you didn’t get dressed I’d take this off you. Your thirty seconds are up, Wynne. Time to pay the forfeit.”

  “I don’t think you should,” she protested, but it didn’t sound very convincing even to her. Secretly, every part of her screamed over and over again for him to hurry up and strip her already. Her common sense—the rational portion of her brain that had been all but silenced by raging lust—warned her that allowing him to get her naked wasn’t a complication she wanted in their relationship. But she wasn’t listening.

  “Why not?” He tugged until the front of her robe gaped, revealing most of her breasts.

  His hot gaze lowered, then rose to meet hers. “I need to touch you. Please.”

  She swallowed. Wasn’t that what he had said five years ago when she had given herself to him? I need you, Wynne. She had been stupid enough to believe him, to believe what they shared had been somehow different. Instead, she’d seen him the next day practically devouring the woman who would become his wife. He had left her with a daughter to raise. Wynne wouldn’t make the same mistake again. She couldn’t trust him.

  She turned away and yanked her robe together, tying the knot so firmly it felt more like she was wearing a corset than a bathrobe. “I can’t do this.”

  “Hell,” she heard him say behind her. “I’m sorry. I know we agreed this wouldn’t happen between us.”

  Wynne took a deep, calming breath, saying nothing.

  “I think I should go.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, turning back to face him, desperate for him to leave. “I think you should.”

  Her gaze drifted inevitably to his beautiful mouth and she couldn’t keep herself from wishing he had kissed her. Just once, she inwardly added. To have that mouth moving against hers, to be in his arms. Oh God. Her hormones had kicked into top gear. What was she doing? What was she thinking?

  Despite his pronouncement that he should leave, Derek remained where he was, his blue eyes intense. He looked sinfully sexy standing before her in the flower shop, at odds with the potted blooms and Valentine’s Day decorations surrounding him. He was such a potent, male force, and she couldn’t help but feel drawn to him. Derek Shaw was a woman magnet, no doubt about it, and Wynne—unfortunately for her—wasn’t an exception to the rule.

  “I thought you were going to leave.” She was aware that if he lingered much longer, looking at her the way he was, she would succumb. The willpower she’d found just moments earlier was fast fading. She was about fifteen seconds from melting into a puddle of sex-starved woman at his feet.

  Derek worked his jaw. “I don’t know what it is about you.”

  It wasn’t what she’d expected to hear, and his odd statement bothered her. “What do you mean?”

  He was silent for a moment before changing tactics. “Was that night as good as I remember it was?” he asked, then grimaced. “No. Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment as images rose in her mind. It had been better than good for her, even though he didn’t seem to recall much of it. Still, she wasn’t about to admit anything of the sort to him.

  “It couldn’t have been,” she said, opening her eyes to skewer him with a cool stare. “I saw you with your wife the very next morning.”

  “She wasn’t my wife then,” he said, as if that justified his actions. “I don’t even think we were seeing each other at that point.”

  She raised a brow. “You may not have been seeing each other, but you were all but having sex with her on Main Street. And it wasn’t part of the movie, either.”

  The man appeared to have no shame. He actually grinned at her. Grinned. “Do I sense jealousy?”

  “Of what?” she scoffed, intending to punish him. The old hurts resurfaced, banishing their recent truce to the back of her mind. “You were so wasted I’m surprised you even knew how to have sex. If she had to deal with that every night, I pity her. No wonder she’s divorcing you.”

  He flinched and she knew she’d hit her mark. “And yet you still slept with me. What does that say about you?”

  Wynne attempted a careless shrug. “Maybe I wanted to say I’d bagged a famous actor.”

  “If you were anyone else, I’d believe that. But I know you better.”

  “You really don’t know me at all,” she pointed out, still trying to keep her distance from him. She didn’t want to soften toward him any more, didn’t want him to say nice words of apology. It would just make falling back into his arms that much easier.

  Derek stepped closer to her, his gaze unyielding. “But I do. Don’t make me prove it to you.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Her voice was as uneasy as she felt. She backed up two steps as he closed in on her, a hawk preparing to descend on his prey.

  “I know that if I touch you right now you’ll melt into me,” he said, stopping only when his thighs brushed against hers. “That if I kiss you, you’ll kiss me back.”

  Wynne tried to retreat, but she ran into the counter, knocking her heel painfully into the solid surface in the process. The pain was completely forgotten as Derek closed in on her, his hands going to her waist, his head angling so their lips almost brushed. His breath feathered across her mouth in a tease and his scent washed over her.

  “And I know that if I wanted to, I could fuck you right here on this counter,” he whispered.

  His uncompromising statement shocked and thrilled her at the same time. Wynne swayed into him, her mouth tilting up to his as if the whole thing were an out-of-body experience. But their lips never met. Abruptly, Derek pushed away from her, his breathing as harsh as hers had become. He raked her with a stare.

  “But I don’t want to,” he said coldly, before turning on his heel and leaving, the bells on the door jangling as he went.

  At lunch, Wynne headed upstairs to Derek and Paige, not without some trepidation. She’d been giving a lot of thought to their situation and she’d decided that the answer to her problematic—and growing—attraction to Derek was to go on a date with someone else. Someone not blond, blue eyed, and movie-star gorgeous. One of her clients had been trying to set Wynne up with her son for a few weeks, and today she’d finally acquiesced. Since her mother had plans on Saturday, that meant she needed a babysitter.

  Derek and Paige were playing tea party when she found them. He actually flushed as he whipped a flower-bedecked party hat off his head and stood, looking simultaneously ridiculous and adorable amidst all the girlish toys in Paige’s room.

  “Wynne.” He flashed her his trademark sexy grin. “How’s your day going?”

  “Good.” Why did she feel like a traitor? Tamping down her guilt, she summoned up a matching smile. “Could I speak with you in private for a minute?”

  “Of course.”

  She waited until they were in the safety of the living room to make her request. “I’m going on a date and I was wondering if you could babysit Paige for me.”

  “A date?” His mouth tensed.

  “Yes.” She pushed a wayward curl behind her ear. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.” His response came almost too fast for her liking. “When?”

  “Saturday night.”

  “Ah. I see.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s just that a weekend date probably means he’s trying to get you into bed.”

  “He isn’t like that,” she defended, even though she wasn’t really certain. Derek’s suggestion had gotten under her skin.

  “Believe me, any man is like that when it comes to a woman like you.”

  “A woman like me?” she echoed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” If he was even hinting that she was easy, she would be hard-pressed not to sock him a good one right in the jaw.

  “A gorgeous woman,” he clarified, gesturing toward her. “Especiall
y a gorgeous woman who dresses the way you do.”

  While his use of the term gorgeous didn’t hurt, Wynne still wasn’t pleased. “What’s wrong with the way I dress?”

  “Nothing.” He flashed her a wicked grin. “I like your tiny skirts and your cleavage. Not to mention those long, luscious legs of yours. And if you ever want to keep a man from getting the wrong idea about you, don’t, for God’s sake, let him walk up the steps behind you.”

  Wynne was partially flattered by his comments and partially offended. On one hand, he seemed to find her attractive, but on the other hand, he also seemed to think she dressed like what her mother would call a “loosey-goosey”. And what was that nonsense about walking up the steps?

  “You always walk up the steps behind me,” she pointed out.

  “Exactly.” His grin widened.

  Apparently, she had mistaken Derek’s attempt to ogle her backside for chivalry. She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. “You jerk.”

  He shrugged, not looking even the tiniest bit apologetic. “I’m a man, not an angel.”

  “Oh, I know you’re not an angel. Believe me.” She thought for a minute, his earlier words replaying themselves in her mind. “Wait a second. What did you mean about a man getting the wrong idea about me?”

  “Are you really that oblivious?” Derek asked, his expression skeptical.

  Apparently she was. “Oblivious to what?”

  “To a man’s reaction to you.” He raked a hand through his hair. “When a man looks at you, he can’t help but wonder what it would be like to get you in bed. Don’t tell me you didn’t realize.”

  Actually, she didn’t. Wynne blinked, feeling as if she’d fallen into one of his movies. She knew she shouldn’t ask the question on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t resist. “Do you feel the same way?”

  “You forget I’ve already had you in my bed once.” He gave her a piercing stare. “But I’m beginning to think I never should have let you out of it.”

  The breath left her lungs. Oh God, one sentence from him and her knees went weak. In fact, all he had to do was say the word “bed” and she was rip-roaring ready to jump into the nearest available one with him. Why couldn’t she feel this crazy passion for someone else instead? It would make so much more sense, would leave her so much less vulnerable.

  “Derek, I thought we agreed not to get involved.”

  “I know.” He eyed her solemnly for a moment. “I’m just being honest with you.”

  “There are so many reasons why you and I can never go there.”

  “I know. But things can change, can’t they?”

  “You’re still legally married,” she pointed out, “and I have a date.”

  “Not for long,” Derek countered, reaching out and running his hand leisurely down the length of her arm. As caresses went, it was barely anything, but Wynne’s blood started boiling anyway. “My divorce is almost finalized—it’s just standard courtroom BS and lawyer posturing holding us up now. Besides, you don’t like your date that much.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just do.” Derek closed the space between them, his other hand gliding up over the curve of her hip to rest at her waist.

  “And?” Her gaze went to his mouth. Kiss me, she wanted to demand. Now.

  “And I know what you feel like in my arms, Wynne,” he whispered, angling his head toward her. “Fire.”

  Finally, the moment would come. Finally, he would kiss her. She could taste it on her lips, she—

  “Mama? Daddy?”

  Caught, damn it. Wynne jumped away from Derek and spun, a guilty flush rising to her cheeks as she caught sight of Paige.

  Paige tilted her head inquisitively. “What were you doin’?”

  “Nothing.” Wynne rubbed her suddenly damp palms on her skirt. “I have to go back to work now.” She forced a smile, sinking down to her knees and opening her arms. “Give me a hug before I go?”

  Paige gave her an exuberant embrace, and Wynne rose without bothering to spare Derek a glance. Forget lunch, she decided. For now, the best thing she could do was get as far away from Derek Shaw as possible.

  But as she started working on her Valentine’s arrangements again, one word echoed like a taunting litany in her head.

  Fire.

  Two nights later, Derek went for a long walk in the cold after Wynne finished up working for the day. It was Friday, Valentine’s Day. Not that he cared, but it was. What he cared about the most was that he needed to cool the fire simmering in his veins. He hadn’t touched her for two days, doing his best impression of a saint. So instead of indulging himself in some torrid hours with Wynne, he was walking, had been for an hour. The sun had long gone down and he was still crossing the maze of old city streets of Atlantic. And the fire was still there, threatening to burn him.

  There were a hell of a lot of reasons why Derek couldn’t sleep with Wynne. First of all, she was the mother of his child. Their relationship was working so well now—for the most part, anyway—that he hated to screw it up by sleeping with her. Second of all, she was right. His divorce had yet to be finalized, even if he and Trina had been separated for a year and a half. Besides all that, Wynne was the exact opposite of every woman he’d known in his life for the last fifteen years.

  Oh she was beautiful, more so than any of the other women he’d been with, if truth be told. But other than that, the similarities ended. She was loving and loyal, kindhearted and fiercely determined to pave her way in the world. He admired her for raising Paige for four years without asking for the monetary compensation she could have so easily gotten from him. He loved the way she soaked up every moment of motherhood as if it were a treasure, loved the way her face transformed when she saw Paige. He loved that every ounce of her beauty was God-given, not surgically enhanced. No Botox or collagen injections for Wynne, and unless he was mistaken—Derek generally thought of himself as a connoisseur of fine breasts everywhere, so he didn’t think he was—her exquisite breasts were real too.

  Damn. Did he have to continuously catalog her positive qualities? He’d already established they were all wrong for each other. She was the marrying kind of woman, the kind of woman who would choose one man and stay with him for the rest of her life. The fling she’d had with him five years ago had obviously been a rare moment of rebellion, because the woman he had come to know in the last month was not the sort of woman who flung caution to the wind and ended up in a stranger’s bed. She was passionate all right, but cautious enough to avoid a one-night stand.

  Derek, meanwhile, wasn’t even sure he would ever marry again. His experience with Trina had soured him, understandably so. And none of his relationships prior to Trina had been either long-lasting or particularly meaningful. He was the first to admit that being a young actor in Hollywood had afforded him endless opportunities for sex, and he had mostly taken advantage of them all. Of course, he liked to think he had matured somewhat since those days, but the bottom line was that he just didn’t know. He didn’t know if he had it in him to be faithful to one woman forever, and Wynne deserved nothing less.

  She sure as hell deserved better than a washed-up recovering alcoholic who had spent more years of his life drunk than sober.

  But damn it, he couldn’t seem to help himself. As Paige’s father, he saw Wynne every day. That much was unavoidable. Whenever he saw her, he felt an instant jolt. Inevitably, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself, and when he touched her, things got even worse. He liked to think he was just attracted to her body and nothing more, but that wasn’t really going to wash anymore. He genuinely liked Wynne, and for all the crazy, sappy reasons men never admit to aloud, including her personality.

  Muttering a curse, Derek turned back toward the hotel, passing by a closed, dimly lit antique shop and the 1950s-style ice-cream parlor Paige loved to visit. He reached into his pocket for candy, a silly habit he’d acquired in rehab but had never been able to stop. Peanut butter cups were his poison now.

/>   Suddenly, a shadowy figure leapt at him from behind a parked car and Derek braced himself to be mugged. But a white flash seared his eyes instead and he realized he was being photographed. It had been a while since paparazzi stalked him, and he hadn’t missed them.

  He blinked. “What the hell?”

  There hadn’t been any tabloid incidents since his arrival in Atlantic…at least not any he’d been aware of. But as his vision restored itself to him, he recognized the wiry figure of a paparazzo before him.

  “Hello, Shaw,” the slime ball said. “Where’s the chick?”

  “Leave me the hell alone,” Derek growled, stalking past him. He was the last person on earth who wanted to return to the glare of cameras, internet gossip sites, and glossy beauty salon mags.

  “What are you doing here, Shaw?” The guy persisted, following him.

  Derek looked over his shoulder. “If you want to follow me, you’re going to have to jog.” With that, he took off at a brisk pace back toward the hotel. If the paparazzo was going to trail him, Derek was sure as hell going to make him work for it.

  Wynne stopped in the hall outside Derek’s hotel room, second thoughts assailing her. She really shouldn’t be here, she knew, especially since being alone with him without Paige to interrupt could well prove ruinous. Or delicious, depending on how she chose to view the situation.

  But she hadn’t come here for any of that. She had come here to talk with him, to come to a mutual understanding about her date-to-be. Her conversation with Derek two days ago had haunted her, making her rethink her hasty acceptance of a blind date. She didn’t want to give any man the wrong idea, and she was afraid that by going out with him, she would. It wasn’t fair to use another man as a distraction for the man she truly wanted. Wynne had decided to cancel, and she wanted to let Derek know in person, but she also wanted him to know he wasn’t the sole reason for her decision. The last thing he needed was an even bigger ego.