In my hurry, I jammed my house key halfway into the lock on my car door. I jerked at it, but the key was stuck. I looked back toward the entrance, praying Teddy stayed inside. I wiggled the key which had no business being in the lock, peeked over my shoulder again while continuing to jiggle it. My breathing was labored, my heart pounding in my chest. A streetlight flickered to my left as a flashback of security cameras being knocked out at the gas station blew through my memory.
This was it. I’d done a great job hiding from everyone until now. These thugs would catch me here, where it all began. I looked for somewhere I could run to while still desperately trying to remove my house key from my car door. I reached into my purse, pulled out my cell, and hit redial on my phone. Officer Brown’s voice answered in earnest, “Officer Brown, how can I help you?”
Although no one was anywhere near me, I crouched down beside my car and whisper-shouted, “It’s Candy. He’s here. Teddy’s at Bank Shot right now. I just saw him.”
“Has he seen you?”
“Yes. He’s here. I’m in the parking lot. Please hurry!”
“Get somewhere safe and stay there. I’m five minutes away. I’ll call it in.”
Feeling the rubber of the tire up against my shoulder, my eyes remained fixed on Bank Shot’s front door. I felt the iciness of the pavement coming up through the sole of my boots. Shivers began to take hold of me, whether induced by the cold or the fear, I’d never know. The stranger who had helped me when Mark had me dangling in mid-air was nowhere to be found.
A taxi pulled up to the front door; it was one of the new Green-taxis in a Toyota Prius. The front door opened. Teddy opened the back door of the taxi as his eyes scanned the parking lot over the roof of the car. I stayed crouched at the height of my wheel well, hidden in the shadow. I had an excellent vantage point to see him, but he would have had to know I was there for him to see me. A lady with a ruby-red dress and porcelain skin followed him out of Bank Shot as he held the door for her. When she disappeared inside the car, Teddy took one more concerted look around the lot, then tucked into the back seat with her.
The breath I had been holding released. The taxi cab had barely cleared the parking lot when I dialed Officer Brown a second time. “He just left. He’s in a Green-taxi, headed north on Gordon. He’s with a woman. I haven’t seen Grey.”
Officer Brown’s voice answered back urgently, “You said he saw you?”
“Just for a second, then he went into the bar. He didn’t see me when he left the bar.”
“I’ll call the cab company to get a location on the taxi. Don’t go inside.”
“I don’t plan to.” I gave one final jerk on my key, and it pulled free of the lock. I no longer wanted to go inside and talk to Chris. I didn’t want to go back to my empty house, even if that had been an option. Libby could be awake by now, but I knew Larry would be there to take care of her. The only thing I wanted in this moment was one person, holding me against him, blocking out all the things I wanted to pretend weren’t going on in my life. I unlocked my car, fired up the engine, and pointed it toward Dave’s.
Just before I pulled onto Dave’s street, Officer Brown called me. “The cab dropped him in a parking lot. I’ve got men canvassing the area. We’ll find him.” I thanked him for the update. Fear ebbed as Dave’s garage came into view. Mark wanted me to pretend we hadn’t seen each other tonight. I couldn’t do that to Dave. I’d have to find a way to tell him that I had seen him, but gloss over the fact that Mark refused to meet him.
Chapter 20
I pulled in front of Dave’s garage. He must have been watching for my car from the upstairs window because the moment my lights touched the door, it lifted open. My heart danced as I saw Dave in the corner pressing the lever to let me safely back into his world. His hair was wet; either he had just worked out or he was freshly showered. Either possibility was inviting. I got out of my car, my eyes locked on his. As we stood across the garage from each other, neither of us spoke to the other, but the torrent of desire between us was palpable. Dave reached for the lever to close the garage door behind my car and wordlessly began climbing the steps to his apartment.
I followed him. When I cleared the top step, all the lights were out, and candles danced lightly in the darkness on nearly every flat surface of his apartment, giving just enough light for me to see his silhouette standing in the center of the room. He was perfection in the flesh. I succumbed to stunned silence as my body drew closer to his.
When Dave brushed against me, the familiar heat he generated in me returned. I grabbed hold of him like there would be no tomorrow. Remembering how delicious his chest looked under the towel last night, I wanted to see it all, to feel his flesh against mine.
The t-shirt he wore was just as tight as the one he wore last night. I wrapped my fingers around the hem of his shirt and gave it a tug up. Surprisingly, his hands pulled it out of my grip, anchoring it in place. He hadn’t been a lady’s man in high school; maybe he was insecure around women. I couldn’t be sure, but it felt like some sort of game he wanted to play; I was as competitive as they come and loved a challenge.
I slipped my hands under the back of his shirt, allowing my hands to glide over the smooth skin beneath. Dave’s breath hitched in response to my touch, and before he could disarm me with one of his kisses, I grabbed hold of the material a second time and pulled hard to lift it over him.
Dave stopped me a second time, securing the shirt, then he distanced himself from me. A curtain of rejection billowed over me. What kind of signal was he sending me? The candles gave the apartment a romantic feel. The look in his eyes and the warmth of his touch were a welcomed invitation. His insistence that his shirt stay on made no sense. What was the turmoil going on inside him? I believed his longing burned just under the surface with mine. Had I imagined it?
Dave had stopped several paces away from me. My eyes drank in his silhouette: his sculpted body was a true work of art. Men with bodies in the same league as Dave’s normally walked around in as few clothes as possible. He had had a tough life growing up, so maybe he was shy about his body. What little I knew of his past had been difficult. Maybe he hadn’t told me every grim detail. Maybe there were physical scars he didn’t want me to see.
Maybe I needed to give him some space. There weren’t many places to go off to in the apartment for any kind of privacy. Actually, other than the bathroom, there weren’t any places for privacy. I began to wonder if I had crossed a line. Glancing toward the stairs, I considered going down to the lobby of his garage, or maybe to my car. I didn’t want to force myself on him.
Dave walked over to his enormous bed and lay down, much the same as he had done last night. Conflicting emotions ran rampant within me. Part of me wanted to escape to the seclusion of my car and forget his rejection, while the more convincing part of me longed to go stretch out on top of him where he lay.
I asked, “Did I do something wrong?”
His flirtatious smile beamed at me with humor in his voice, “No.” He patted the space beside him on the bed, as his voice returned to the silky sound from earlier, “Come lie down with me.”
The sound of his baritone request launched a fresh wave of butterflies in my stomach. Even from twenty feet away, Dave’s eyes were locked on mine. His seductive look drew me to him as my body responded of its own accord. Before I could talk myself out of it, I was seated beside him on the bed.
Neither of us spoke. I watched him intently, looking for any sign that he had lost interest. His gaze held me locked in place. Dave leaned toward me, barely brushing against me. I felt the heat from his skin as I longed to feel the softness of his lips against mine. I wanted to reach out to him, but I didn’t want him to push me away. After the silence between us became nearly unbearable and neither of us made a move for the other, I asked, “So that kiss yesterday. . . any regrets?”
The black pupils of his eyes were so dilated in the diminished light that they had nearly swallowed the walnut color wh
ole. His eyes narrowed when he answered, “No. You?”
His hand tentatively found mine, while his eyes refused to look away. He began gently stroking the top of my hand: his feather light touch made circular motions on my skin causing goose bumps to erupt along my flesh. “Only that you haven’t kissed me like that since.”
In one fluid motion, Dave rolled toward me, pressing his weight against me, as his lips sought mine like a precision missile. I welcomed his lips as his hand continued doing its dance along my side, under my sweater. I deepened our kiss as a sensual groan escaped him. My arms guided him as he pressed himself against me.
I wanted my skin against his, to feel the friction of our bodies colliding in the dimly lit room. Whatever had given him pause as we stood just minutes ago seemed to have evaporated: he wanted this as much as I did. I tugged at his shirt again, but he took my offending hands in his and held them where they couldn’t pull his clothes off. Uncertain what to make of his action, I asked, “Are you okay?”
Dave shook his head, “I’m fine. I just don’t like my shirt off.”
His words stung. So I was taking this further than he wanted it to go. I concluded he wanted to slow things down, just rekindling our friendship rather than starting anything more. My hands went limp in his as I eased my body away. His eyes snapped open wide as regret colored his face. “Shit. Candy, don’t.”
I turned toward the opposite wall, I murmured, “Don’t what?”
His voice begged, “Don’t move away from me.”
I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t understand what was going through his head, and on top of everything else going on, I didn’t think my ego could take a crushing blow. The “I just want to be your friend” line would be more than I could take. I didn’t move.
Dave’s voice sounded defeated. “Oh, hell. I might as well tell you. You’re going to find out anyway.”
“Tell me what? Let me guess – you have a girlfriend. You aren’t over a recent breakup? You aren’t at a place in your life where you have room for me. Go ahead. Whatever you’re going to tell me, I’m fine with it.” My voice was peppered with resentment, ready for whatever stupid rejection he was going to throw my way.
He turned my body toward him as a shy look took over his features. “Uh, no. Nothing like that. You’ll probably think it’s funny. And just so you know, I prefer funny to creepy.” He paused as if trying to get up enough courage to go on. “So I was out on a date with a girl just after graduation. We had both landed a couple fake ID’s and were wearing them out. I was lit, so was she. We thought it would be fun to go out and get tattoos.” Dave paused, as if assessing my ability to keep up with the conversation.
I let his words marinate for a second. He had been on a date, he was drunk, and he thought it would be fun to get a tattoo. The pieces fell into place – he had a woman’s name tattooed on him and didn’t want me to see it. From his desire to keep it hidden from me, it was probably an “Eternal Love” or sappy “Love of my Life” design. Jealousy flared for no good reason as I felt my eyes narrow on him. My reaction was absurd. Who cared if another woman’s name was permanently written on his chest?
Dave studied me for a minute before deciding, “I can tell from your reaction you’re going to see it and think it’s creepy. So I’ll just do us both a favor and keep my shirt on.”
My posture stiffened. What kind of idiot gets the name of a girl he hardly knows tattooed on his chest? The words were out in a flash, “So what was her name?”
Dave leaned in questioningly, “Who?”
“The girl you went and got a tattoo with?”
Confused, he answered, “Jill. I still see her every now and again. The guy she’s dating owns that purple custom downstairs.”
Now it was my words that were confused. He had tattooed her name on his chest, and now her boyfriend was one of his customers? “That’s got to be awkward.”
He shook his head, “No, not really. She and I only went out the one time.”
“Wait, you just said you see her every now and again. What’s that mean?”
He smiled as if he had to explain a horrifically complicated concept to a moron, “I mean when her boyfriend comes into the shop – I see her then. I don’t hook up with her or anything.”
“Oh.” I wanted to be okay with it. I’ve made some tragically stupid decisions – not stupid enough that any of them were permanently etched on my body – but some things I wasn’t too happy about after I had done them. We both lay there awkwardly on the bed. His hand reached for mine. I didn’t push it away, but I wasn’t overly eager to pick up where we had left off just to be shut down again. Curiosity got the better of me when I rolled over on my side and said, “Show me.”
Dave grinned. “I’m a betting man. And I’m betting that if I show you my ink there are only a few possible outcomes. Most of them are bad,” he paused. A charming grin that reached all the way to his eyes studied me until he continued, “I’m not willing to risk it. My shirt stays on.”
His summation of the possible outcomes made me giggle. “What if I promise not to react one way or the other after you show me?”
Dave’s head cocked to the side in consideration, but answered, “Not good enough.”
“What if I promise no matter what it looks like, I know that it was done when you weren’t in your right mind?”
He smiled, not the sweet grin from before, but the perfect wide smile of a Cheshire cat. “I didn’t say I wasn’t in my right mind. I said I was drunk.”
“Whatever. Show me.”
Dave’s hand began gliding up my arm. Sternly I accused, “You’re purposely delaying. Either show me now, or I’ll think of all the worst possible tattoos you could have. If it’s really bad, I promise to wake up before you every morning and color it in with a black Sharpie.”
“Every morning?” I worried that I had said something wrong and began thinking of something clever to say to cover up the fact that I would like the idea of a sleepover at his place for more than just a couple nights. His lips began nuzzling my neck, whispering kisses just under my jaw. Heat spread over my skin as my body made me more acutely aware of his touch. His breath was labored and with each new sensation, I fell a little deeper under his spell. Dave turned toward me, hiking his leg up over my hip and pressing his body firmly to mine. “Just promise me you won’t think I’m creepy.”
Creepy? Images of skulls, zombies, even a swastika came to mind, but I needed to know. “I promise.”
Dave eased off of me, boosting himself into a seated position on the other side of the bed. He shook his head as if having an internal argument with himself. I faked disinterest, taking my boots off and setting them beside the bed. He turned away from me, his muscular back facing me, and then in one quick motion removed his shirt and proceeded to fold it into a six by six square laid neatly beside him. Nearly a minute passed before I heard an audible sigh and he turned toward me.
As my eyes took in the tattoo on his chest, my mouth gaped. Even after he had prepared me, I wasn’t prepared. My breathing sped up and tingles spread from my head to my toes. It wasn’t creepy. It wasn’t even remotely offensive. It was the most unexpected cartoon tattoo I had ever seen. On top of his beautifully sculpted chest, directly above his heart was a tattoo of a bright red heart. The heart had big brown cherub eyes, white gloves and sneakers, with oversized cartoon lips. It looked a lot like one of the M&M guys from the commercials. The heart’s two little gloved hands were holding a red and white striped candy cane.
I was speechless. His eyes desperately searched mine. He made no excuse and didn’t try to play it off like it was a joke or anything; instead he quietly offered, “I told you I’ve had a crush on you forever.”
I sat motionless, my eyes darting between his chest and his eyes. “You have a tattoo of a candy cane on your chest?”
“Yeah. Still want to wake up early and cover it up with a Sharpie in the morning?”
My hand was drawn to the happy cartoon figure smil
ing back at me from his muscular chest. My finger traced the outline as the implication of the happy message crashed on me.
“You were on a date with a girl and got this? What did she say?”
“I think she assumed I had a strange fascination with Christmas or something. She didn’t try to talk me out of it. She sort of egged me on when I said I wanted a candy cane over my heart. She’s the one who told me to get a cartoon heart holding the candy cane. People get dumb tattoos all the time.” His eyes bore straight into mine, “This one means something to me. I was letting the world know that my heart wanted to hold you.”
Frozen in place, my memory raced to yesterday morning after finding him in his garage. He had confessed he had always had a crush on me – I had dismissed it. The proof of his feelings were staring at me. I wanted to gather him in my arms and get lost in his embrace. I wanted all the fear and craziness in my life to evaporate so I could truly enjoy this moment. I stammered, “I don’t know what to say.”
Dave’s lips were at my ear when he answered, “You don’t have to say anything.” His hands slid under my shirt and glided across my skin. The goose bumps returned at his touch. He whispered, “Just promise me you’ll be here when I wake up tomorrow.”
“I promise.”
Dave kissed my neck, gently nuzzled the sensitive skin by my ear lobe then slid under the covers. He held the comforter up for me to slide in beside him. Before accepting his invitation, I walked over to each of the candles still dancing in the darkness and blew each one out. When I returned to the bed, I slid my sweater off and climbed in beside him. Dave’s massive body spooned against me.
My head rested on his bicep, as his other arm draped over me, gently motioning circles on my front. His whisper so low, I barely heard his words, “I love that you are here.”
His Frozen Heart Page 20
