by Tawny Taylor
“And I appreciate your ability to forgive me,” he said.
Their gazes locked for a moment, and he felt another surge of emotion buzz through him. What was that feeling? Why did he feel it with this woman? What was it about her that made him think about her, dream about her?
She jerked her gaze down to stare at her plate, which still remained mostly full. “The food here is really good. I recommend the fried chicken.”
“Thanks, I’ll try it.” Needing a little break from the tension between them, he searched the restaurant for a waitress. The only waitress he saw was standing next to the counter, talking to the man who had been sitting with Michelle. “Is he a friend of yours?” He indicated the guy with a tip of his head.
“Yes. A friend.”
“Then I’m not interrupting anything?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. We’re friends. Only friends.” She flicked her gaze toward the subject of their conversation. “Carter used to be engaged to my sister.”
“I see.” He saw no reason to ask why she’d said that in past tense. “You have a sister?”
“I . . .” She bit her lip. “Kathleen died last year.”
Damn. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. You couldn’t know.”
Another wave of emotion washed through him, and suddenly he felt the urge to pull the sweet, strong, sexy little woman sitting across from him into his arms and hold her. Thankfully, the waitress chose that moment to approach the table. She looked at Michelle first, then him.
“Will you be joining Michelle for dinner?” she asked him.
He looked askance at Michelle.
“Sure,” Michelle said, sounding a little tense.
“Michelle told me your fried chicken is very good. I’ll take that, please.”
“Okay. Salad?” the waitress asked.
“Sure. Blue cheese dressing.”
“I’ll put a rush on your order.” She hurried off.
Michelle poked at the food on her plate. She definitely looked stressed. Talen figured it was probably because of him. Clearly the apology wasn’t enough. Or perhaps it was something else.
“If you’d rather I go back to my own table, I will,” he offered.
“No, it’s okay. Really.” She lifted her eyes to his, and he couldn’t help staring into them. They were a dark, cool blue, the shade of deep ocean water. “I don’t like being rude, but . . .” She sighed. “I’d sure like to understand what you are doing.”
“Doing?”
“You’re playing this weird game with me, and I don’t like it.”
Ah, the truth was finally coming out. “I’m sorry. If it seems I’m playing a game, it’s not intentional.”
“Then why are you so hot and cold? One minute you’re kissing me”—her gaze flicked to the side, and he followed the direction of her glance—“and the next . . .”
The waitress was heading their way, a bowl in her hands. She set the salad in front of him and asked if there was anything else.
“No, this is fine. Thank you,” he said. Then, when she was out of earshot again, he leaned forward and said softly, “I won’t offer any excuses for my behavior. I’ve been an asshole.” Looking into those gorgeous eyes, he felt something happening inside, unspoken words pushing to get out. He tried to swallow them down, but they kept surging to the surface again. I don’t know what I’m doing, what I’m thinking or feeling. When I’m around you, something inside clicks, and these urges surge through me. To touch you. To kiss you.
As if she’d heard his thoughts, her lips parted, forming a small O. But she didn’t speak. She simply sat there and stared at him. The longer she stared, the harder it became for him to inhale.
“I swear I’ve never been such an asshole before,” he whispered.
That confession earned him a tiny semi-smile, and instantly, he was breathing easier.
“Maybe I’m being a little bit of a bitch, too.”
“No, you aren’t.”
One of her brows lifted. “I shouldn’t argue with you on that point, I suppose. Okay. I’ve been a saint, and you’ve been an absolute bastard.”
His heart suddenly felt a hundred times lighter. “Good. Now that we’ve settled that, I hope you’ll be able to eat.” He plunged his fork into his salad, lifted it, and filled his mouth with lettuce and blue cheese dressing.
This guy was either a total nutcase or . . . what? He’s gotta be a nutcase.
Just her luck, she had a soft spot for crazy guys. Case in point, the one man she had ever had a serious relationship with. The man who had broken her heart less than a month before her sister had died.
There were some similarities between Greg and Tage. She didn’t know Tage well at all, but already she could see a few traits they shared in common. But one thing Greg had never been able to do was deliver what appeared to be a genuine, heartfelt apology. Nor had he ever been able to confess to any of his (many) faults. Not even when they were glaring in broad daylight. There were always excuses, explanations.
Maybe that was why she felt this little tug in her heart now, as she sat there watching Tage eat salad like he hadn’t eaten a meal in weeks. He barely seemed to be chewing. He was able to admit his faults. And he could apologize.
But she was terrified.
Not only did he confuse her with his on-and-off, hot-and-cold game he was playing. But he was also way out of her league in the looks department. And he was miles ahead of her in the experience department, she guessed from his confidence. Would he turn around and dump her the minute she let her guard down?
Would he find someone else, someone prettier, someone who wasn’t so freaking awkward around him? Like Angela.
Would he change into an egotistical asshole once he thought he had her? Given some time, would Tage fall into the same trap, of rambling off excuses for his mistakes?
Why me? she asked herself.
As she poked at her salad, her thoughts wandered. When they’d been alone in his car, things had been going so well. The way he touched her, kissed her. She could melt right there and then, just thinking about it. But then he’d abruptly cut things off, rattled out an excuse, and practically run away... only to go to a club and hook up with someone else. Why?
She wanted to know why, but it wasn’t really her place to ask. What explanation did he owe her? They weren’t dating. They were virtual strangers. He could sleep with anyone he wanted, even Angela, and so could she.
But still, she wanted to know why.
“Angela told me she met you at some kind of private club,” she said, thinking that might be a way to skirt around the issue while still getting to know him a little better. “Is it the yacht club? Angela is always talking about the parties she has with her friends at the yacht club.”
“No. I’m not much of a water person. I don’t care for boats.”
Something they had in common. “Me, neither.” She encouraged him to elaborate with a tip of the head.
He set his fork down and placed his empty salad bowl at the end of the table for the waitress. “It’s more of a . . . social club.”
“Like the Elks?” she offered.
“The Elks? I doubt it.” His lips curled up at the corners, as if he was trying not to laugh at an inside joke.
“I’m intrigued.”
That ghost of a smile faded. He studied her for a few minutes. “Maybe you should ask your friend about the club.”
“Now you have me really curious. What is it, some kind of secret cult or something?”
“No.” His gaze flicked to the side.
The waitress came tromping up with a plate in her hand. After asking if he needed anything else, she took away Tage’s empty salad dish, and in a blink she was hurrying off to take care of someone else.
Michelle’s gaze meandered over his handsome face. “I apologize if I’m being nosy. We don’t have to talk about the club anymore. I was just curious how the two of you met.”
“Why?”
&nbs
p; She didn’t want to say what she was thinking, but she felt she’d backed herself into a corner. “I’m assuming the two of you are seeing each other. Dating. Which is why . . . earlier . . . um, she told me . . . you . . .”
“I figured as much. We did have sex. But it’s nothing serious. There’s no commitment. It was just... a casual thing.”
“I see.” In truth, she didn’t see anything. Sex wasn’t casual to her. She didn’t sleep with strangers just for kicks. She slept with men she cared about, men who meant something to her. Which was why she’d had exactly two partners in her whole life. This guy clearly had very different thoughts about sex.
It was probably a good thing he’d run out on her that night, now that she thought about it. No, it was definitely a good thing. If she had slept with him and then he’d gone off and slept with Angela immediately afterward, she would have been hurt, confused, and thoroughly disgusted with herself.
That was it, she couldn’t eat another bite. She felt a little uneasy now. Uncomfortable.
His expression changed, intensified. “You don’t have casual sex, do you?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“I respect that.”
“Is that why you left?” she blurted, before she realized what she’d said.
“Yes. It is. In a way. I could tell you are . . . different. I could have stayed. But if I had, I would have slept with you that night. And eventually, you would have regretted it.” He pushed his plate aside and leveled a very serious look at her. “I’m going to be brutally honest with you. As much as I would love to strip off your clothes and take you, right here, right now, I won’t. I’m not the kind of man you need. No, correction, I’m not the kind of man you deserve.”
Her head spun at the dark hunger she saw in his eyes. A blaze of heat rocketed through her. Slowly, as the warmth faded, his words sunk in. When they did, a chill spread through her, snuffing out the fire his erotically charged gaze had ignited.
He wanted her. He. Wanted. Her.
But he didn’t want to want her.
9
This wasn’t happening. Her plan couldn’t be failing. Not after all the work she’d done to make sure everything would go perfectly.
It was time to make some changes, to look at other options. She could not fail. Everything that mattered hinged upon this.
Somehow she would turn things around.
As Kim Jong-il once said, “A man who dreads trials and difficulties cannot become a revolutionary. If he is to become a revolutionary with an indomitable fighting spirit, he must be tempered in the arduous struggle from his youth.”
She was a revolutionary.
A half hour later, the remainder of Michelle’s dinner (most of it) was in a foam box on the table. The bill was paid. By Tage. And his empty plates were stacked up, ready to be taken away. While she had gotten an answer to the one question that had been nagging her, she felt more conflicted and confused than ever.
Tage was interested in her. There was no denying that. But he was convinced she was wrong for him, or rather, he was wrong for her. And, from what she could tell, it had a lot to do with their different attitudes toward sex. He had sex with whomever he wanted, whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted. She did, too, but (and this was a big but) only if she was in some kind of committed relationship. She didn’t do one-night stands or friends-with-benefits. To her, sex was an expression of caring and trust and commitment. If she needed to burn off a little excess energy, she had a vibrator. It always had fresh batteries in it.
As she stood and picked up her foam carton and purse, her skin tingled. It was as if he somehow electrified her nerves when he came near. He didn’t even have to touch her. The air between them was always warm, too.
“Thank you for paying for my dinner,” she said.
“It was my pleasure.” He waved his hand toward the door, indicating she should precede him.
The skin of her back burned a little as she walked through the restaurant.
“See you next week,” Carter called from the counter.
She angled her body to give him a wave and a smile. “You bet.”
Tage stopped abruptly, a split second after she had, and placed a hand on her waist. The touch sent a current of energy buzzing through her body. The shock took her breath away, and a crazy, insane, completely out-of-character thought flashed through her head.
Sleep with him.
Feeling a little unsteady, she took a step toward the door. He reached around her and opened it. Outside, she pulled in a deep breath.
“Thanks again,” she said, sounding breathless, despite the huge gasp.
“Thank you. If it hadn’t been for you, I would’ve never known about this place. The food is excellent.”
“Glad you liked it.”
“I did.” His gaze scanned the parking lot. “Where are you parked? I’ll walk you to your car?”
“Actually, I walked here from work.” She motioned in the general direction of the building in which they both worked.
“Then I’ll drive you back. You shouldn’t be walking alone. It’s dark.”
She pulled the strap of her purse higher on her shoulder and tucked it back between her body and arm. “I do this every week. This is a safe part of town.”
“Even so, I would feel better if you let me drive you.”
She could tell by the set of his jaw and the tone of his voice that she wasn’t going to win this debate. And so she acquiesced with a nod. “Okay. Thank you. I accept your offer.”
Once again he placed his hand on her. This time it rested on the small of her back. She fought a shiver of sensual heat at his soft touch and let him gently steer her toward the sleek black car parked under a light. He opened the door for her, and she sank into the leather seat. While she waited for him to circle around to the driver’s side, she inhaled deeply. The car smelled good. Like leather and him.
He folded his large frame into his seat and started the car. The engine roared like a jungle cat. And it prowled, low and smooth, like one, too, as he steered it toward the road.
“This is a very nice car.”
“Thank you. I have a weakness when it comes to cars.”
“I have a weakness when it comes to handbags,” she confessed, lifting her latest purchase, a Louis Vuitton she’d bought secondhand from an online boutique.
“I guess everyone has a fault,” he said, laughter lifting his voice.
Relieved to have the tension eased somewhat, she slid a glance his way as they rolled up to a red light. Mistake. Their gazes locked, and it felt like all the air had been instantly sucked out of the vehicle. She parted her lips to try to pull in some air, and his gaze flicked to her mouth. A wave of sensual heat pulsed through her.
The chemistry she had with this man was insane.
He jerked his head, returning his eyes to the road. “We’ll be there in a minute,” he said. Whether he was telling that to her or himself, she wasn’t sure.
“Thanks again for driving me.”
“You’re welcome.” He focused on the road for the rest of the drive. At least, that was what she assumed. To be safe, she didn’t check. She stared out the passenger side window, silent, her hands gripping the foam box with her leftover dinner so tightly the top collapsed a little. When he finally pulled into their building’s parking structure, she was finally able to pull in a complete lung full of air. The oxygen to the brain was most definitely needed.
As he turned the car down a row, she pointed. “I’m parked down at the end.”
“Okay.” He pulled up behind her car and shifted his vehicle into park. Twisting, he turned toward her. She did the same, and opened her mouth to thank him. But before a single word came out, he had his hand cupped around the back of her head and was pulling her toward him.
Her heart rate kicked up to the stratosphere the instant their mouths touched. A little whimper slipped up her throat. She swallowed it back down, closed her eyes, and surrendered to the pleasure
his kiss was building inside her.
Warm. She was getting so warm. Everywhere. Her chest. Her face. Down there, between her legs. A second little whimper slipped up her throat. Her breathing rasped. The soft slough of fabric added another layer of sensual sound as he moved closer. Getting hotter, her body tensing, she caught the fabric of his sleeves in her fists and held on.
While he held her head in place, his tongue traced the seam of her mouth. Eagerly, she opened to him, welcoming his intimate invasion.
He tasted sweet, decadent. His kiss was intoxicating. It did things to her she didn’t think were possible. It scrambled her brains and ignited blazing fires through her whole body.
Just when she thought she couldn’t take another second of torment, he placed his hand over her breast. It felt like a lightning bolt blasted through her. With that blaze, what little resistance she had left burned up. Her brain shut down, and she was overcome with need. Desperate, overwhelming need.
Her spine arched, pushing her breast into his hand. Her hips started tipping forward and back as the throbbing heat between her legs intensified. She needed a touch, a stroke, down there, where the heat was the worst. She needed a big, hard cock pounding away this horrible need.
Somehow she found the strength to release his sleeves. While his mouth vanquished hers, her hands wandered down his body until they found the waistband of his pants. She tugged on his tucked-in shirt, pulling it out, and slid her hands beneath the crisp fabric.
Smooth skin. Soft like satin. With deep furrows between thick, bulging muscles. In her mind’s eye, she saw him shirtless, defined abs flexing, thick chest muscles clenching, arms bulging. Oh, he was glorious. The most beautiful man she’d ever seen. And he wanted her.
Blindly, she forced the material out of her way and explored higher, higher. One fingertip found a hard, pointed nipple. He growled. The sound vibrated through every cell in her body.
Take me. Please, take me now.
The hand that had been resting on her breast slid down her body to her stomach. Over her mound. Along one thigh. Under her skirt.
