by Julie Kenner
He motioned to his workclothes. “Doubt they even know who I am. Just the local, very dedicated handyman here to look at your floors, ma’am.”
“My floors?”
“I promised to teach you how to stain concrete.”
He heard the soft intake of her breath, then his own name on a whisper. “That’s…wow.” Her voice broke, and she held the door open, ushering him in. “Just floors, though. I want us to be clear.”
He stepped over the threshold. “What if I call you from the other room? Can we go beyond floors if we’re both on speakerphone?”
“Ty…”
He pushed the door shut, leaving the box of tools and stains on the front porch. “I’ve missed you,” he said, taking a step closer and praying she didn’t back away.
“I’ve missed you, too,” she said, holding her ground and answering his prayer. “But there are rules.”
“I don’t recall any contract. No fine print.”
“When we…on the phone…we were setting up boundaries.”
He reached out and stroked a single curl of her hair, letting the soft length of it caress his skin, the sensation so damned erotic he wasn’t certain he could stay there with her. Not if she wanted him to behave himself. Because right then, behaving himself was the last thing on his mind.
“Ty? Are you listening?”
“I’m a rule-breaker, Claire. Always have been.”
She licked her lips. “Well, I’m not.”
“Maybe you should be.” He stepped closer. “Break a few rules with me, Claire. I promise, you won’t regret it.”
Her eyes met his, and the sadness he saw there just about did him in. “Can you promise me that? Because already I have regrets. I don’t want to, dammit. I don’t want to regret a minute with you, but—damn.” She turned away, moving into her still-a-war-zone of a living room, while he stood, a bit shell-shocked, not at all sure where to go from there.
All he knew was that he couldn’t stand to see her so miserable, and he went to her, putting his hands on her shoulders, then pressing his lips to her ear. “I would never do anything to hurt you. Or make you regret. Never. So tell me, Claire. Do you want me to go?” He didn’t want to, but if that’s what she needed, then damn it all, he’d walk right out that door.
He felt the rise and fall of her shoulders as she drew in air, then stiffened, apparently coming to a decision. “No,” she said, slowly twisting around to face him. “I don’t want you to go. I’ve missed you so much, but we can’t do this. How can we do this?”
“Easy,” he said, leaning forward, her lips seeming to beckon him on. “We do it like this.” He brushed his lips over hers, softly, giving her time to pull away, but desperately hoping she wouldn’t. Some guardian angel somewhere was looking after him, because she didn’t bolt. Just the opposite. She opened herself to him hungrily, her mouth claiming his, her arms going around him and pulling him in close.
“I MISSED YOU,” she said. “So help me, Ty, I’ve really missed you.”
“I don’t know how I stood not being able to touch you,” he said, and his words floated over her like warm honey. For so many nights now she’d been fantasizing his hands on her body, and now he was there, right there in her arms. And although she knew it was stupid and crazy and possibly a career killer, right then she didn’t want him anywhere else. As much as it would kill her when he left—as much as any public hint of their relationship could rip her career to shreds—it didn’t matter. All that mattered was this moment. This man.
She didn’t know if that made her irresponsible or merely human. She didn’t much care.
“Rules,” she said, pushing gently away, almost done in by the longing she saw on his face, his eyes reflecting back what was in her heart. “This time, there really are rules, Ty.”
“Anything. Right now, I’d pretty much agree to anything.”
She laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind for when I get you naked. Right now, I just want to lay down the ground rules.”
His brows rose. “Shall I call a notary?”
She grimaced. “You’re funny. Now knock it off so I can tell you.”
He brushed a kiss over her nose. “Thank God you let me through your door,” he said, and although she silently seconded the thought, all she said was, “I let you in because you had stuff for my cement. I expect new floors, you know. Otherwise we’re talking a serious bait-and-switch.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Although I should probably get brownie points for Tawny Martin,” he said.
“Excuse me?” Tawny Martin had won an Emmy for her work the previous year on one of the season’s most popular television shows. “Are you saying what I think—”
“She’d be happy to do the auction. Her son has a learning disability. It’s a pet cause for her, and she has ties to Dallas. Her sister lives here.”
“Ty! Thank you!” She pulled him into a big hug, then gave him a rock solid kiss. “MJ will be ecstatic.”
“Just so long as you are,” he said.
“Believe me. I am.”
“So can we forget the rules?” he asked, hopefully.
She stared him down. “Rules,” she said firmly. “No blogs or papers or Tweets or anything. No pictures. We show up in any sort of compromising position, and it’s over. Some reporter starts shooting down my chimney, and it’s over. I can’t do that.” She closed her eyes, thinking about the way it felt to have seen the picture of their kiss. The uncomfortable curl in her belly when everyone she’d ever met in her life sent her an e-mail. Even the one’s with simply “you go, girl” messages had freaked her out. It wasn’t that she couldn’t handle the limelight, but if she was going to be photographed, it was going to be because she’d just been elected judge, or was debating her opponent or had just won a high-profile appeal.
Not because she stood on her tiptoes when she kissed.
“I think we can comply with your parameters,” Ty said. “Should we buy disguises?”
“What?”
“You know. Wigs. Trench coats. Fake moustaches. So we can go out into the world incognito.”
That time, she laughed even harder. “God, I have really missed you.” She hooked her arms back around his neck, and pressed her body up closer. “I think we can skip the disguises. All we need to do is stay inside. Personally, I think the bedroom is the perfect place to hide to avoid the press.”
“Sweetheart,” he said, scooping her up into his arms. “I like the way you think.” And with Hermione twining between his ankles in her own version of a welcome-back, Ty carried her to the bedroom, thankfully not tripping despite the eager feline.
“Sorry, cat,” he said, toeing the door shut. “No one else allowed in here. How do we know there’s not a camera on your little kitty collar.”
“Bite your tongue,” she said.
His grin was pure deviousness. “You bite it for me,” he said. And, so help her, she did. Their kisses were wild. Their clothes removed with a fierce abandon, because, dammit, who cared about seams and stitches and cotton or silk when it had been days—days—since they’d seen each other. It was hedonistic, and wild and wonderful, and when he slammed inside of her, both of them so desperate their clothes still hung on arms and legs, she cried out with the force of the orgasm that crashed over her, so much more powerful now that it was the man himself touching her—filling her—and not just memory and desire and fantasy.
They collapsed together, sweaty and breathing hard, and grinned at each other. “We’re good,” Ty said. “We can make this work, Claire.”
Damn, but she hoped that was true. “Rules,” she said, again. “We follow the rules, we see what happens. I’m not jumping into the deep end, Ty. Not with my career. Not with my heart.”
He took her hand, stroking the pad of his thumb over her skin. “We go however fast or slow you want. Whatever you want, Claire. You just have to say.”
But that wasn’t true, she knew, because what she wanted was for him to stay in Dallas. Ri
ght then, though, she was content with him staying through the night. For now, they could take it one day at a time. For now, they could hide in her house and pretend like real life and the press didn’t exist.
It was a nice fantasy, and now that Ty was back in her arms, it was one she was happy to indulge. She didn’t want to be the girl who had a fling, but she didn’t want to be without him, either.
Sometimes, you do have to step away from that line in the sand.
“You’re thinking,” he said, stroking her cheek.
“Sorry. I promise I’ll stop. Or try to, anyway.”
“Maybe I can help,” he said. He gently rolled her over and straddled her, then traced his finger from her chin all the way down to her navel, and Claire had to admit that his plan was working. And when he dipped his mouth to follow the path of his finger, she couldn’t even admit that. Because the thoughts in her brain were such utter mush that she couldn’t even recall what they’d been talking about.
She wasn’t even Claire anymore. She was just want and need and lust, and it was Ty who was giving that to her. Ty who was making her whole, filling her up.
It was Ty that she loved.
And right then—for that single moment—that would have to be enough.
IN THE END, it turned out that the guys Ty hired made the whole staining concrete process look one hell of a lot easier than it really was. About the only upside to the whole messy, multiple-day experience was the time spent in sweaty close quarters with Claire, and the fact that she now looked at him like a hero every time she stepped into her living room.
“It’s so pretty I shouldn’t put the furniture back,” she said.
“No problem. I’ll just give Goodwill a call. I’m sure they can haul all this stuff away.”
“Soon they will,” she said. “I furnished in early American thrift so I could buy real pieces once the walls and floor were done.” She grinned up at him, her expression like Christmas. “Want to go to the furniture store?”
“You little vixen,” he quipped, which had her rolling her eyes. “Yes,” he said more seriously. “I’d love to.”
In the end, they went together, him in a baseball cap, and her in big sunglasses and her hair in a ponytail. It was ridiculous—if anyone was really paying attention they’d undoubtedly recognize them—but the charade made Claire feel better, just like the fact that she’d given him a clicker for her garage door, so that now he could park inside and walk in through the house, bypassing the front door all together.
“Have you talked to your parents?” she asked as they were getting close to the store.
He glanced her direction, surprised. But she’d turned and was looking out the side window, making her expression unreadable. “Some,” he admitted. “My mom. She thinks I’ve ruined your life and that my job is unworthy. It wasn’t a pleasant conversation.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s just…” She trailed off. “Never mind.”
“Wait,” he pressed. “What?”
“It’s just that if you’re wanting to avoid Dallas because of them, I thought that perhaps there might be some way for you guys to mend fences.”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “Sometimes, things are lost causes, no matter how much you don’t want them to be.”
Her lips pressed together in a tight line. “Like you staying.”
Her words twisted through him, their sharp edges slicing and dicing him. “Claire—”
“No. It’s okay. I understand. But it’s a big town. You could be here years and not even know they’re in the same city. You’ve already been here six months and haven’t seen them, right?”
“It’s not just them. I have things I want to accomplish. Things outside of the corners of this city.”
“I take it commuting’s not an option.”
“I don’t think there’s a five-o’clock shuttle to Frankfurt,” he said, then reached over and took her hand as he waited for the light to change so that he could turn into the furniture store parking lot.
“Never mind,” she said. “I’m breaking my own rules, aren’t I? Getting all serious and needy.”
“I don’t mind,” he said softly. “I need you, too.” And although they didn’t solve anything, Ty thought the possibility of finding a middle ground was coming closer. It was almost as if he could reach out and touch it. It was there, he knew. It had to be. Because he wanted it so desperately, he couldn’t even fathom the possibility that there was no way for them to make this work.
Although they may not have solved their relationship issues, Claire’s furniture issue was wrapped up in record time, and by lunch the next day, she had a fully furnished living room and was dragging him off to small, funky shops to find local art and knickknacks to bring the room to life.
The days and nights were like a whirlwind, especially now that Claire was back at work during the day and he was working nights at Decadent and any time that he could squeeze in at Heaven. And although Claire’s job was rather cush for an attorney, with a traditional nine-to-five schedule, she was also putting together the fund-raiser, and her evenings were often filled with a variety of phone calls regarding various auction items or catering emergencies.
On the whole, the scene at Claire’s house was downright domestic, and Ty had to admit he liked it. More than that, he had to admit that for the first time in his life, he actually wasn’t looking forward to leaving Dallas. It felt good going back there at the end of his workday. Welcoming. Not like his childhood home where he’d felt like he needed to sneak in and then go hide in his room until he could escape the next morning. No, Claire’s house was a home, and he’d settled into its two thousand square feet one hell of a lot better than he’d ever settled into the six thousand square feet he had back in Los Angeles.
All about perspective, he thought. That, and the woman beside you.
He couldn’t imagine a time when he’d ever be tired of her. So far, they’d run the gamut in conversation, covering everything from movies to television to the benefits of backyard box gardens to whether Firefly or The X-Files was more enduring. They laughed and joked and made love and Ty was certain that if someone pinched him, he would realize it was all a dream.
He really hoped no one would be cruel enough to pinch him.
“So I was counting my pennies,” she said one night as they were lazing in bed. “And I don’t think there’s any way I’ll be able to win your auction.”
Said auction was the next day, and Ty would be lying if he didn’t admit to being at least a little bit nervous. “I could lend you the money,” he said.
“You most certainly could not! That’s cheating.”
“Is it? The money all ends up in the same place.”
“Ty, you could outbid anyone who’s likely to come to this thing. That’s like rigging the thing. Not happening.”
He lifted his hands in surrender. “Fine. No problem.”
She shot him a sideways glance. “Just don’t like whoever wins more than you like me.”
He laughed and pulled her close. “No worries there. Do I at least get the honor of taking you to the ball, Cinderella?”
She pressed her lips together, and he held his breath, hoping she was ready to back away from her edict that they avoid public outings together as a way of preventing any more media snafus. This time, however, lady luck wasn’t on his side.
“Us together at a charity function after all those photos?” She shook her head. “It looks too much like a date.”
“It can be a date.”
She shook her head. “Dammit, Ty, let’s not do this. We both know dating isn’t going to go anywhere for us. You’re leaving, in case it had escaped your notice. And the whole world damn well knows it. And I’m not willing to be just one of your harem in the press. I’m just not. So don’t even ask me to go there.”
“Fine,” he said, surrendering. “I’ll just shoot you heated glances across the dance floor.”
“Good,” she said. “I’ll be doing the same near the chocolate fountain.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m sorry. I know it’s a pain, but it’s important to me.”
“You could travel with me, Claire. Come to Europe. Spend time with me on the road.”
“And practice law when?”
“The Internet’s a wonderful thing.”
She shook her head. “I require an office. Hell, I require a home base. Seriously, I don’t work well when I travel. And more than that, my career is here. The reputation I need to build is here. No one in Italy gives a flip if I’m elected to a county judgeship.” She cocked her head. “Why don’t you stay here? Buy a house. Utilize that amazing invention called the Internet, and only rack up frequent flier points when you absolutely have to.”
“Claire…”
“Hard isn’t it? Having the voice of reason tossed back in your face?”
“Eventually,” he said. “Eventually we’re going to come together on this.”
Her mouth curled into a smile, and she kissed him. “I hope so. Because I’m beginning to wonder how the hell I ever lived without you.”
“Believe me, sweetheart,” he said, pulling her in close, “I know the feeling.”
11
TY MIGHT BE THE ONE being auctioned off, but Claire was a wreck. An absolute wreck, and she paced the back of the ballroom, trying to keep all of her nervous energy under control. So far, the fund-raiser had gone amazingly. The bids for lunch with Tawny Martin had topped the two thousand dollar mark, and all the other silent auction items had been snatched up at great prices. Claire had even already given her speech, so it wasn’t as if she had that to be nervous about.
And now Ty was up there, talking so eloquently about the challenges he’d faced growing up, and she was so damn proud of him, and she was seriously—seriously—regretting not letting him fund her bid, because she was pretty certain she was going to have to jump whoever won the auction behind the building, just to keep the shameless hussy’s mitts off her Ty.
