Casual Affair (Timid Souls Book 2)

by Melanie Munton

  Heart disease ran in his side of the family, and it was something that had always worried us with him. He wouldn’t take good enough care of himself without Mama’s help so our worry was justified.

  He scoffed. “It’s fine. You know she worries over everything.”

  “Daddy,” I chided as I got in my car and started the ignition, “you need to listen to her. You know that’s how Papa’s problems started. It isn’t somethin’ you should ignore.”

  He sighed the sigh of a tired man, well past his prime but not ready to leave us all yet. “I know, darlin’. I’m alright.”

  I headed for our townhouse, distracted from the rush hour traffic thanks to our conversation. He asked how the business was going and told me about his and Mama’s recent vacation to Hilton Head. It was a good end to my day and start of my evening.

  I had hung up with him by the time I walked through the front door. For some reason, I didn’t feel like going anywhere tonight. I wanted to get out of my uncomfortable work clothes and open a bottle of wine, and follow it by another. The last thing I wanted to do was put on a dress I couldn’t breathe in, heels that killed my feet, and go prowling the bars for another companion for the night. I just wasn’t down for that scene at the moment.

  I’d actually been feeling like that a lot lately.

  Weird.

  But I was not about to analyze the possibilities of why I felt that way. That kind of freaked me out.

  An hour later, Felicity breezed through the front door to find me sprawled out on our living room couch, three glasses into the bottle, and watching Drop Dead Gorgeous, a favorite of ours. She dropped her bag and purse on the floor and plopped down beside me, snatching the wine glass from my hand and taking two huge gulps. She didn’t usually drink very much, so I figured there was a reason for this and I couldn’t help but smile.

  “Had a meeting with Gabe today, didn’t you?” I asked her.

  Gabe Wexler was a millionaire and had recently become a client of ours. And Felicity was crushing on him…bad. In her defense, he was a downright beautiful man, so I completely understood the attraction. But he hadn’t asked her out yet and my sister was one of the shyest people on the planet.

  If he didn’t make a move soon, I wasn’t sure that Felicity had the gumption to ask him out herself. She had just never had a lot of confidence when it came to men. That was another area we differed in.

  “Yeah,” she mumbled, sounding disappointed and frustrated. “Nothin’ but polite handshakes and friendly smiles, like always.”

  I felt for her, really. Not having a guy’s attention the way you wanted to sucked.

  “Well, you know where I stand on the whole situation.”

  She sighed and closed her eyes. “You know how hard it is for me to put myself out there like that. I always jumble my words and I sound like an idiot. I don’t want to embarrass myself with him, especially if he says no and then I’m stuck workin’ with him, knowin’ that he rejected me.”

  I took the wine glass back from her and finished it off myself. “Hon, you’re thinkin’ way too much about this. It’s only a big deal if you make it a big deal. Besides, you said you thought he liked you too, right?”

  “Yeah, but he doesn’t exactly wear his emotions on his sleeve. I could be readin’ his signals completely wrong.”

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  She made some humming noise, effectively terminating the conversation and we turned our attention to the TV. I started quoting lines from the movie in that same northern accent the actors used—“Hey, Amber. Did you get my smokes?”—never failing to crack Felicity up.

  She looked over at me when she finally caught her breath. “Not goin’ out tonight?”

  I didn’t turn my head, just stared straight ahead at the television when I answered, “Nope. Not in the mood.”

  I felt her stare remain on my profile and I sensed that she wanted to ask me more, the questions probably on the tip of her tongue. But she didn’t. She stayed quiet and eventually returned her attention to the hilarious murdering beauty queens on the television.

  Thank God, too.

  Because I wouldn’t have had any answers for her.

  ##

  For the first time in a while, I actually slept in the next morning. I had been blessed with the ability to recover very quickly from a long night of drinking, even if I was nursing a pretty grueling hangover, and was usually up early every Saturday for my morning run.

  This morning, though, I allowed myself to relax and enjoy a slower, steadier pace to the start of my day. Something I wasn’t very accustomed to.

  But I was still going for my morning run. I needed the exercise to clear my head.

  There was a craft convention downtown this afternoon that Felicity and I were going to go to together—we could often get new design ideas from the various vendors—but I had nothing planned for my morning. After telling my sister where I was going, I headed out the door and started along my usual route through the city.

  It was a hot morning and I was already building up a good sweat within the first half mile. I was suddenly wishing that I had put on sunscreen because with my short spandex shorts and Dry-Fit tank top, a lot of my skin was exposed to the blistering morning sun. Since I normally ran at a much earlier time, the sun was never something I had to worry about.

  I tried to keep my mind clear of everything that had been occupying it the night before when I was trying to fall asleep. Unfortunately, there was only one face that kept flashing through it. One voice that was ringing in my ears. One night that was so potent in my memory, it felt like it had happened yesterday.

  No man was allowed to take up residence in my head for that long.

  I was pissed at myself for it.

  I had to evict him and fast.

  Because this was such a different Saturday morning than I was used to, I decided to change my route a little and headed toward the park two blocks away. It had a decent track around its perimeter, so I figured I could go around it a few times before heading home.

  When I entered the park, I noticed there was a large group of guys playing soccer in the big grassy area in the middle of the park. My interest was piqued, especially when I noticed they were divided up between shirts and skins. Jackpot.

  I certainly wouldn’t mind something to look at while I exercised. Maybe it would make up for my lack of male companionship last night. I started running along the path, bringing myself closer to the guys.

  And then my world stopped.

  Because I recognized one particular stubbled face among the panting, sweating bevy of men.

  Zane Price.

  And great Abraham Lincoln, he was on the skins team.

  I was staring, quite obviously, at Zane’s bare chest, hardly believing what I was seeing. I mean, I had seen it that night we had sex but not in the daylight where his tanned skin glistened under the sun’s rays. And not while he was playing a sport that allowed me to ogle his bulging muscles, which were flexing and tightening with his exertion.

  It was the hottest thing I had ever seen.

  I hadn’t even realized that this park was only a few blocks away from his apartment. And let me just say that despite what the movies and books might tell you, it’s actually pretty hard to just randomly run into the one person you can’t quit thinking about, especially in a city this size. So, needless to say, I was sort of in a state of shock to be staring at the star of all of my most recent fantasies.

  I had literally stopped on the path to watch the sight before me like a crazy stalker, which was of course the moment that Zane’s head whipped around in my direction and his eyes connected with mine. He squinted for only a second before realizing it was me and a huge smile broke out onto his face.

  Why did he have to smile at me like that? Like he was genuinely happy to see me?

  It wasn’t the first time he’d done it and I was quickly learning that I was never able to say no to him when he looked at me like
that.

  He yelled at the rest of the guys to pause the game for a minute and ran over to me, my pulse spiking with every long stride he took.

  “Bea, hey,” he greeted, stopping in front of me, that damn smile still on his face. “What are you doing here?”

  Eye contact, Bea.

  Don’t make it obvious that you’re basically drooling over him.

  Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

  I looked down.

  And oh, boy. He looked even bigger and better up close.

  My British crumpet was built.

  Wait, he wasn’t my anything. Snap the hell out of it, Bea.

  “Um. I was just out for a run,” I said to his abs. Like, I was actually having a conversation with his six-pack—my eyes hadn’t met his during that whole sentence. I don’t think I’d ever before used the word lickable to describe any part of a man. But dammit, Zane’s abs were so very lickable.

  He cleared his throat. “My eyes are up here, Bea.”

  I finally snapped out of it and looked up at him. There was amusement on his face and he was clearly trying not to laugh. But his eyes were soft as he looked at me, tender even. My face flushed and I looked away from him altogether, mentally berating myself for looking so stupid and desperate in front of this man. I didn’t get easily embarrassed in front of guys, so this was a brand new experience for me.

  Zane Price kept throwing me off-balance in a big way.

  “Sorry,” I muttered. I was three seconds away from bolting before I could humiliate myself further. “I’ll let you get back to your game.”

  I started to turn away but stopped when he spoke again, that deep accent caressing me from head to toe. “Would you care to join us?”

  I bit my bottom lip, considering it. It was rare that I passed up an opportunity for a game of anything, and I definitely loved soccer. But I wasn’t sure if playing with this man would be a good idea.

  Because all I’d been wanting to do lately was play with this man.

  “Well, I—”

  “Unless, of course, you’re too intimidated to play with a bunch of big, brawny men. A little thing like you might not be able to keep up.”

  Dammit, he knew how to play me, how to hook me.

  The look he had on his face was both knowing and devious. Bastard.

  And I took the bait.

  “Please. You soccer players are the biggest wimps of all.” I started walking toward the group of guys without waiting on Zane.

  He caught up and walked beside me, looking down with a challenging smirk. “Maybe your football players are, here in America. But we Brits are men,” he said, dramatically puffing out his chest and flexing his biceps.

  I won’t lie, I was impressed.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  His smile just got bigger. “Great. You can be skins.”

  ##

  Chapter Six

  Zane

  How does this woman keep getting sexier?

  The fact alone that Bea had been willing to play with us pleased me because a lot of women would have been hesitant to be the only girl playing with a bunch of unruly men. But the fact that she was actually really good at football?

  That was a huge turn on for me.

  And apparently not just for me.

  I had noticed some of the other blokes checking out her ass in those tight shorts or zoning in on her tits, which bounced with every move she took. Their attentions irked me. Possessiveness snaked around my spine and made my blood boil every time I saw it. I knew that Bea wasn’t mine, but there was something going on between us. And although I didn’t know what it was yet, I knew what I wanted it to be and I damn sure didn’t like any other guys imagining the same thing with her.

  And anytime any of them actually came into contact with Bea?

  I wanted to stomp over and rip their arms from their bodies.

  I think Bea quickly found out that we weren’t a bunch of “wimps.” This was the same group that I often played rugby with, and some of those habits transferred over to our football games. Meaning, we tended to be a bit rougher than was really necessary. Everyone was sure to take extra care around Bea, though, because we weren’t about to shove a woman to the ground. But it didn’t surprise me when she knocked a few of us on our asses.

  Based on our first night together, I should have remembered that the woman gave as good as she got.

  “Oi, Price!” Danny yelled over at me from a few feet away. “You going to stare after your little lass there or are you going to play some defense?”

  I guess my admiration was no secret, either. Good thing Bea was down at the other goal or I would have had to connect my fist with his face.

  “Sod off!” I shouted back.

  He just laughed. That wanker.

  Just then, our team scored on their goal, causing cheers to break out and backs to be slapped.

  “Blimey bloody bollocks!” This came from Bea, who had a scowl on her face and was kicking at the grass.

  We may have taught her a few curse words.

  Everyone burst into laughter at hearing those words spew from her mouth. Her southern accent made our British slang sound hilarious and my heart warmed every time I heard it. Although she tried to hide it and act annoyed, the corners of her mouth quirked up into a small smile at their laughter, despite the fact that her team was now down by two goals.

  I loved her competitive nature. It meant that she was passionate about what she was doing. And I had been completely joking about Bea being on the skins team. But she had agreed to it and said she would play in her sports bra if she needed to, though I could tell she was only trying to get a rise out of me. It had worked, too. Even though I knew she hadn’t been serious, the mere thought of her removing any clothing whatsoever in front of all these horny tossers made me want to throw her over my shoulder like a cavemen and lock her up in my apartment so no man could ever lay eyes on her again.

  This reaction, along with many others I’d had since meeting her, cemented my decision to try to take the next step with her. It was clear that she was still jumpy and relationship-phobic but I had a plan.

  Basically, I was going to trick her into dating me.

  I didn’t say it was a good plan.

  We’d already proved that we could have fun together without having sex. I could tell she had a good time at the bar with me and Mike last week, which was why I opted to not invite her over to our place that night. I wanted her to stew on it a little and realize that there might be more than just sex here.

  Today was another great example of how we could enjoy each other without always making it sexual. So, my plan was to keep getting her to hang out with me like this without calling these encounters “dates,” throw some sex in there because we knew we both wanted it, and pray that she would develop the same feelings that had already bloomed within me.

  I wouldn’t use trigger words like “boyfriend” or “girlfriend”, “exclusive”, “commitment”, or anything else that might give her heart palpitations. Labels obviously freaked her out, so I wouldn’t use them and we wouldn’t call it what it was: dating.

  I was just enjoying her way too much to not give us a chance and see where it could go. I was not going to focus on the fact that I would be moving back to England at the end of the year. That was months from now and I didn’t even know what could happen between us. It gave us plenty of time to figure it all out.

  “You were out of bounds, Gardner!” one of the guys yelled at another.

  “Rubbish! You’ve got piss poor eyesight, Crafton.”

  Then, they went at each other. It was just a skirmish; it happened often enough in these games and they’d get over it after a roll or two on the ground. We all just stood around and waited for their lovers’ quarrel to end. When I looked over to my left, I saw Bea watching me with a single-minded intensity and everything below my waist stood at attention.

  It wasn’t something a man could necessarily control
when a gorgeous woman looked at you like that.

  Oh yeah. She wanted it.

  I’d known it from the second I saw her eyes first rove over my body today. And I couldn’t have been happier with that response. Suddenly, arousal hit me with such force, I almost ran after her and tackled her right there on the grass.

  I needed to get her out of here, quickly.

  Fifteen minutes later, the game was over. Bea’s team had lost by one goal but I don’t even think she noticed or cared. Because she was looking at me with fire in her eyes, licking her lips like she wanted to eat me alive.

  That was enough for me.

  I walked over and stopped inches away from her. “Got your car here?” My voice came out low and gravelly. I was so hard it was painful and it was making even speaking difficult.

  She just shook her head and I could hear her breathing heavily, though I knew it wasn’t from the game.

  I just nodded. “Good. Follow me.” It wasn’t even necessary to speak in complete sentences at that point. We both knew what was about to happen.

  We started to walk away together when Mike shouted, “Hey, you two! You going to come get a pint with us? I feel like getting knackered!”

  Bea laughed and I looked back over my shoulder at him. “We’re good. You lot go on ahead.”

  And before I turned back around, I looked him in the eyes and communicated without words if you come home before I give you the go-ahead, I’ll beat the living piss out of you.

  He smiled in understanding.

  I drove like a bat out of hell back to my flat.

  I was already hard as granite but when Bea reached over the seat and began to stroke me through my thin gym shorts, I was so close to just stopping alongside the curb, pulling her onto my lap, and taking her right there in my front seat.

  Then, the little minx leaned in and put her dirty mouth right at my ear and began to whisper. “I want that inside me. I want you to rip my clothes off the second we walk through your door. And I want you to take me hard and rough, just like you did that first night. Can you do that for me?”