by Jill Shalvis
She looked straight ahead through the windshield. “Nothing to be sorry for. You’ve changed your mind. You can’t handle it. No biggee.” Disturbingly distant, she put the key in the ignition. “Get in, Kent. I’ll drive you home and walk from there.”
“And then what?”
“Then you leave me alone.”
Leave her alone. Was he really supposed to be able to do that?
Hunkering down, ignoring the pain in his ankle, he leaned into the car, putting a fist on either side of her hips, caging her in so that she had no choice but to look at him. “Becca-”
She simply started the car and put it in gear. “Better get in,” she said casually, revving the engine. “I know how fond of your toes you are.”
AT SIERRA LAB’S weekly staff meeting, everyone currently involved in a project read off their latest progress.
Becca was up.
She had the most erotic voice, Kent thought, lost in it like a stupid lovesick fool.
Around a table laden with donuts, bagels, croissants and various juices sat Dennis, Jed and two of Kent’s other lab techs, Sally and Tiki.
Despite himself, Becca continued to hold Kent’s attention. Her eyes were intent, her body leaned forward toward the others as she spoke.
She loved her job and it showed.
She was upset with Kent and that showed, too.
She hadn’t spoken to him all morning, despite his repeated attempts to get her to talk. He’d asked, as he’d trailed her down the hallway, if she was okay.
Yes.
That was all, just yes.
He asked if she was mad at him.
No.
She wasn’t mad. She wasn’t anything, but late for their meeting, and could he please remember they were at work and not on their own personal time?
Dammit, I’m the boss, he’d called after her as she’d rushed down the hall, away from him, hips gently swinging, skirt flying, legs flashing.
Frustrated, he’d followed her into the meeting.
Her hair shone under the lights and so did her green eyes. Kent sat there morosely and lost the train of what she was saying. Instead he tapped his pencil against his thigh and wondered yet again how he’d never noticed her eyes before, when they intrigued him so much now, and knew it was because she no longer wore her glasses.
“I liked those glasses,” he muttered.
“I’m sorry, Kent…what?”
Startled from his sulk, he looked up to find everyone looking at him. Everyone except Becca. Great. “Nothing.”
Jed took the floor next and Kent quickly lost track of his project too, as he stared at Becca. The new Becca. He liked her all pretty and polished, anyone would. She was beautiful.
But the truth was he liked her natural, too, without the makeup and the hair. Without the fancy clothes.
He missed her jeans.
“What?” several people asked him at the same time.
“What what?” Kent said, confused.
“Jeans,” Dennis repeated patiently, his eyes full of mischief. “You miss her jeans. Should I bother to ask whose jeans you miss?”
Kent didn’t dare glance at Becca, but he heard a clunk and couldn’t resist.
She had dropped her head to the table. Her ears were red.
“Nothing,” Kent mumbled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Dennis nodded seriously, his mouth quirking with barely repressed laughter. “Uh-huh. Maybe you ought to try to stay with us here today, boss.”
“Just continue.” He couldn’t believe the calm in which they did, especially Becca.
How had she forgotten what had almost happened between them? Had she forgotten their kiss? She couldn’t have. He could live to be a hundred years old and never forget that kiss.
Suddenly he registered everyone’s collective gasp. With dread, Kent looked around. Becca was beet-red again and he closed his eyes. “Don’t tell me, I said that out loud too.”
“Yep.” Dennis didn’t bother to hide his grin now. “Is there maybe something you’d like to share, Kent? Something about…” He glanced at Becca, who studiously avoided everyone’s gaze. “About a kiss, perhaps?”
“Yes,” Tiki said, laughing. “Tell all.”
“Or maybe we should be asking Becca?”
Everyone in the room seemed to be enjoying Kent’s and Becca’s discomfort immensely. Becca on the other hand, looked as though she wished a huge hole would open up and swallow her alive.
“How about it, Becca?” Dennis lifted one eyebrow. “Anything new?”
“Dennis?” Kent interrupted politely.
Dennis turned to him, still grinning. “Yes?”
“Shut up.”
Everyone laughed at that, but there was more than one speculative glance divided between himself and Becca, who had stopped avoiding him to glare at him. He couldn’t blame her. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed and she rolled her eyes and looked away, doubling the distance between them.
He wasn’t helping his cause any. And what cause was that? Hadn’t he’d known this was a bad idea from the very start?
He should just let it go.
That would be smart. No more rhapsodizing over her voice, no more mourning like a lovesick dweeb over her eyes. They’d just forget about this attraction. They were grown-ups, they could do it.
Becca passed him a quickly sprawled note.
You’re off the hook. I’m going to find another adventure. Go away.
Good, he thought, waiting for the relief to hit him. She’d made it so easy.
There would be nothing more between them, they were free to go on with their lives. He liked his life, quiet and simple. No permanent ties.
Yep, things were good.
Really good.
But damn if a small part of him wondered what she’d do now. Becca was different, special, she needed someone who would appreciate her, and he had the sinking feeling by turning away, he’d made the biggest mistake of his life.
Around him, the meeting continued. Tiki was speaking and everyone was listening.
Yeah, Becca had made it real easy for him. So why did he feel so miserable?
Across the table, his gaze met hers. “I can’t do it, I can’t go away,” he said to her. The thought of his life stretching out in front of him, long and lonely, didn’t seem to hold the same appeal it used to. “I don’t want off the hook.”
Abruptly, Tiki stopped talking, and everyone stared at him.
Becca rose to her feet in one fluid move. Another few steps and she was at the door. “This is really my fault,” she said to him. “Don’t feel badly.”
“Wait!” he called to her as she turned to leave.
“I thought I knew what I wanted,” she said, clearly conscious of their audience as she kept her gaze down. “And it was all great, really great. Especially the makeover, which gave me the in with you. But it’s no longer enough, Kent. I’m sorry.”
Wait. Makeover? Did she really believe that had made any difference to him? “Becca-”
“No.” Her smile came straight from the gut, and it was so sad and wrenching, it nearly broke his heart. “Don’t say anything. Goodbye, Kent.” She closed the door behind her.
When she was gone, everyone turned to Kent, eyes wide and curious.
“Well, that meeting went well,” he said.
LAKE TRAFFIC WAS LIGHT, it took him only a few minutes to get to the salon.
Summer looked up from her client when he limped in. She gave the woman’s hair a gentle pat, whispered something, then came toward him with a welcoming smile.
No tight black dress today, but a snug skirt beneath a cropped top and an open denim jacket. Young chic. She was gorgeous, and by the confident way she sauntered over to him, Kent knew that she knew it.
“Dr. Dreamboat,” she said, laughing when he grimaced at the nickname. “What can I do for you? A manicure? Pedicure?”
“No,” he said, backing up a step, imagining himself tied to a chair and h
aving his ticklish feet worked on. “Nothing for me. I came about Becca.”
Summer’s smile faded. “Is she okay? Hurt? Sick?”
“No.”
But something in his expression must have tipped her off. She took his arm and led him past her client, smiling at the woman and promising to be right back.
Her office was a cool, white, comfortable room made interesting with lush, green plants. She gestured him to a chair, and once he sat, she leaned back against a small, neat desk. “What’s the matter with Becca?” she asked.
“Me, mostly. But it’s also your makeover.”
“Excuse me?”
Kent rolled his shoulders. “It’s confusing, but she wanted this new adventurous life-style and she thought the new look could give it to her.”
Summer crossed her arms. “Don’t be silly. This makeover has been good for her. She’s even gone out on a date. She would never have done that before, she’d never have made the time for herself.”
While that was fascinating information Kent filed away for later, he couldn’t let this go. “Yes, she’s definitely come out of her shell. She’s on a mission for a good time.”
“So give her one.”
That he’d wanted to do exactly that didn’t escape him. “I’m off the hook apparently,” he said wryly, and at her narrowed brow, he shrugged. “Her words.”
“You idiot. What happened?” She sighed when he didn’t answer. “And here I thought you were so smart.”
“Are you going to help me here or not?”
“Why?”
“Why? What kind of question is that?”
“A good one,” she said evenly. “You care about her.”
“Yeah. So?”
“You also love her.”
As far as shock value went, it was a good one. He could feel his lungs constricting, closing off air. “I’ve got to go.” He was at the door, his throat tight, his heart pounding, when Summer stopped him.
“You know what I think, Dr. Dreamboat? I think you’re a big phony.” Her voice softened, filled with sympathy. “You’re far more involved here than you want to be, aren’t you?”
Well there was a news flash. “Look, are you in or not?”
She studied him, then smiled. “You can put away that dark, gorgeous scowl. I’m going to help your sorry hide, even if it means I have to resort to bribery.”
9
T HE NEXT MORNING Becca literally had to drag herself out of bed. What she really wanted was to bury herself beneath her blankets.
But in the warm bed her problems were only magnified. Some good this makeover had done, she thought crossly as she showered, ignoring the blinking answering machine. She knew who the messages were from, but she wasn’t ready to hear what the tall, warm-eyed, far-too-sexy Kent had to say.
Fine. He was probably sorry.
So was she, because now she needed a new adventure when what she really wanted was him. Grabbing a bagel, she surveyed her closet. It was…empty?
Great. She’d forgotten to pick up her dry cleaning. Again. Glancing down at the sunshine yellow demi-bra and matching bikini panties she wore, she had to laugh. All the hot lingerie in the world wasn’t going to dress her suitably for work.
Tossing on old jeans and a T-shirt, grumbling about the waste of money for the silk and lace, when clearly she was going to go to her grave without ever experiencing an orgasm, she got into her car.
Ten minutes later, she came to a stop in the parking lot of the small dry cleaners and could only stare in shock.
A large hand-lettered sign in the window said “Electrical Problems. Closed Till Noon.”
“Everything I own is in there,” she muttered. Everything except her underwear, she reminded herself. There was always a silver lining. She still had the best lingerie in town.
With a sigh, she got out her cell phone and called Summer, begging her to meet her at the salon where she could pick out an outfit for the day.
Then she got back into her car and headed for Summer’s Place, which was locked. She sat on the steps to wait, but twenty minutes later, she looked at her watch and frowned.
Where was her sister? Without her, Becca was stuck going to work looking like…
“Well, there’s the Becca I know.”
At Kent’s husky and oh-so-familiar voice, Becca pulled her baseball cap closer around her ears and stared resolutely at the water.
“I was hoping you hadn’t tossed those jeans and that hat.”
She heard the smile in his voice and knew if she looked at him, his killer grin would melt her.
So she kept her eyes on the lake.
“Ah, you’re still upset with me.” Uninvited, he sat next to her. “That’s okay, I’d be upset with me, too. Anyway, I figure you’ll have to talk to me eventually.” His body brushed against hers. “Even if only to tell me what you think of me.”
“Oh, I have no problem telling you what I think of you,” she said. “You have a big mouth. You’re a chicken. And-”
He laughed a little, and her tummy tightened at the sound. “Yeah, I get the picture.”
Sighing, she turned and found him looking at her with such affection, her heart squeezed. He’d folded his long, rangy body beside her. It was silly, embarrassing, but she melted a little at just the sight of him and that stirred her temper because he didn’t feel the same way. “Why are you here, Kent?”
“I’m actually not certain,” he admitted.
Flattering. “Well go be not certain somewhere else, would you?” She tried to move away, but he stopped her, put his big hands on her arms and looked deep into her eyes. “You’re making this difficult.”
“I’m making this difficult?”
“I care about you,” he said carefully, making her go absolutely still. “Very much.”
Her heart simply stopped.
“And I want you in my life, but-”
With an abrupt thump, her heart started again. “No.” She stood up, backed away. Dammit, not again. Her ticker couldn’t take this roller-coaster ride. “No buts.”
With a grip of gentle steel Kent held her still, made her look at him. “But,” he said firmly. “The reason Summer isn’t here is because she called me and I told her not to come.”
She broke free and stared at him. “You what?”
“I thought-”
When he found himself talking to her back, he groaned. Becca didn’t care, she kept going, heading directly for her car, but despite his limp, he passed her and blocked the door. She tried to evade him, but it was like trying to go around a pit bull. A six-foot tall, one-hundred-seventy-five pound pit bull with determination and grim regret blazing from his gaze.
“Don’t you want to know why?” he demanded.
Because it was useless trying to get past him, she blew a stray hair out of her face and glared at him. “Okay, I’ll play. Why did you come instead of Summer?”
“Leaning on Summer to create an image of yourself isn’t necessary.” Ruthlessly, he held her gaze even when she felt the blush of embarrassment creep up her face. “You don’t need to look perfect to change your life-style.”
“Then why don’t you want me?” she blurted out, then covered her face. “Forget I said that. I have no idea why I-”
“I want you,” he assured her. “But there’s more than just wanting involved here.”
Thinking was difficult since he’d somehow managed to plaster his body to hers again, all his tough, ready muscles to her softer, more giving body. He felt big. Hard. Sexy. But it was his scent that did it; his familiar, male scent that had her yearning and aching, and far too close to tears. To lose it now, in front of him, would just top off the day. Again, she tried to turn away, but with a heart-breaking wordless murmur, Kent pulled her even closer, slid those incredible hands of his over her back, then cupped her head, so that her face was pressed to his throat.
“Let me go,” she whispered shakily. “You don’t want to be here.”
“I can under
stand why you’d think that, seeing as I’ve been an ass, but I really do want to hold you.”
Pride demanded she resist, but he paid no attention to that, just continued to hold her tight, one hand softly, gently, rubbing her spine, his other stroking her hair as he gave her a hug that wrenched at her emotions as nothing else could have.
For that moment, she felt so protected. So cherished. But the compassion, the utter empathy pouring from his gaze, humiliated her.
“You’re important to me,” he said when she struggled free. “I don’t want to lose you, Bec.”
“But you don’t want to keep me, either.”
“Define keep.”
“A commitment.”
He tilted his head. “The let’s-go-out-to-dinner-every-Friday-night kind of commitment, or the let-me-park-a-toothbrush-in-your-bathroom kind of commitment?”
Hating the sudden neediness that swamped her, she closed her eyes. “Forget it. Okay? Just forget it. It’s not your fault, I changed the rules on you in the middle of the game, wanting more than you can give. Not very fair of me, I know, but I can’t seem to help myself. But I really need you to just drop it. Right here, right now.”
She turned away then, she had no choice, not when her own emotions were so dangerously close to the surface. Not when, with the slightest encouragement from him, she would have followed him to the ends of the earth.
THE KNOCK came at dinnertime. Becca glared at her front door, certain it was Summer coming to make amends for being a no-show that morning.
But Becca wasn’t ready to make amends, even if she did know most of her anger was self-directed. She’d had plenty of time to dwell on that since she hadn’t gone to work. “A mental health day,” she’d told Cookie when she’d called in.
She’d convinced herself she deserved it because she’d never taken a personal or sick day before.
At first, she’d attempted to distract herself with reading. Then with school work. But nothing could make her forget how she’d left things with Kent. She didn’t want to think about the hurt in his dark, lovely eyes, or what would happen now.
To take her mind off her troubles, she’d gone shopping, thinking it was time for yet another adventure.
