by Gail, Stacy
Probably not, on all counts.
It didn’t matter, Payton told herself, irked with the whiny pity party kicking inside her. She wasn’t their victim anymore. The person who walked through the doors of Bitterthorn High’s gymnasium was no longer the ugly duckling they’d bullied. Her once frizzy brown hair was now smooth and sleek, her teeth a study of gleaming perfection after years of enduring braces and retainers. Her tormentors could suck it hard as far as she was concerned. She didn’t need their validation. Why would she? She believed in herself, and that was all that mattered.
Now, she thought, dropping the chain she was chewing on. Time to bounce before she puked her guts out.
“At last, my evening is complete.”
Startled by the voice so close to her ear the breath teased her hair, Payton snapped around to find herself captured by the greenest eyes she had ever seen.
Wiley.
Payton’s throat closed with a click. Her blood stopped dead in its tracks. The planet might have even paused in its cosmic rotation. With a conscious effort she locked her knees before they could take the easy way out and buckle beneath her, and it took every ounce of strength she had not to lick her lips and smooth her hair back. She’d patted herself on the back too soon, she despaired even as she battled against the desire to run, or hide, or curl into a fetal position. Coming face-to-face with a roomful of almost-strangers was a snap compared to meeting the sorest point in her past.
The years had been good to Wiley Sharpe. Too good. How was it possible the added maturity of ten years only made the virile impact of this man all the more potent? Seriously, how was that fair? He should be balding or graying, or something, damn it. But no. His hair was still the thick hammered-gold pelt she recalled all too well. The remembered feel of it sliding beneath her fingers as she’d comforted Wiley so long ago after his father’s sudden death made her fingers tingle. His movie-star features had become more defined with age, stronger and elegantly carved compared to the boyish features of his youth. There was the slightest dent in his nose where he’d had it broken by a bully, yet that one imperfection only enhanced the overall character of his face. His jaw was rugged and square, and the brackets on either side of his full yet masculine mouth were more pronounced, as though he smiled far more often than he frowned.
Knowing devil-may-care, love-’em-and-leave-’em Wiley “the Coyote” Sharpe, Payton was sure that was the case.
She never should have come back.
Those irresistible grooves deepened, and she had an insane urge to trace them with her tongue. “Let me guess. You don’t remember me.”
As if forgetting him was even a possibility. “Wiley Sharpe.” In a fascination she couldn’t help, Payton watched those eyes darken with surprise and a simple, almost erotic pleasure. Damn, the man was hotter than the surface of Mercury and he wasn’t even trying. “I remember you very well.”
That sensual pleasure spilled into his smile. “Really?”
“Really. I could never forget someone so determined to be nothing more than a dumb jock.”
As she’d hoped, that smile was replaced by the consternated frown he’d always seemed to reserve just for her. “Sweet-tempered Payton Pruitt. You haven’t changed a bit.”
“You must need glasses in your old age.” She wasn’t the same, Payton wanted to shout, overwhelmed by the irrational desire to check her appearance in the mirror. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve grown up.”
“There’s a difference on the surface, maybe.” His gaze traveled all the way down to her French-pedicured, toe-ringed feet before running back up the same path, the visual inspection as thorough as any doctor’s. But the appreciative glitter in his gaze was anything but clinical. “Scratch that. No maybes about it. There’s a stunning difference on the surface.”
To her horror, his perusal made her suddenly sensitized nipples push against the fabric of her dress. “I, uh... Thank you.” Wow, smooth.
“But it is still just on the surface. Beneath it all, you’re the same know-it-all brat who always has to have the last word.”
Her melting defenses did an instant flash-freeze. “If I seemed like a know-it-all to you, it was only because you refused to use your brain for anything other than an ear separator. Furthermore—”
“See what I mean? Always the last word.”
Payton opened her mouth, then shut it on a chagrined half laugh. “You jerk. You always could push my buttons.”
“Ah, but then there are so many from which to choose.”
“I guess I haven’t changed, at that.”
“Not in that respect.” He took her hands and squeezed them in such a friendly manner she couldn’t find the strength to pull away. “But I’d be willing to bet there have been quite a few interesting changes in you.”
“That’s what happens when you grow up.” He was the exact same lady-killer she remembered, Payton reflected on a sigh. Though to her, Wiley had shown another side—the not so attractive side of impatience, grudging tolerance, resentment and, at times, open hostility.
Lucky her.
Not once had he looked at her in that special Coyote way. The only consolation she’d had was that he’d never shown his countless fangirls who he really was beneath the mask. When his father died from a massive coronary, it was Payton to whom Wiley had come for comfort. He’d trusted her enough to let her see the imperfect person he really was, and she’d told herself how lucky she was to have that trust. It had almost been enough to cover the hurt that he’d never looked at her through the eyes of the playboy.
Almost.
“Well.” Unsettled by that long-ago yearning, Payton pulled her hands from his. “One other thing that hasn’t changed about me is that I’m not a big fan of crowds.”
“You’re not leaving?” Undaunted by her retreat, Wiley caught her fingers once more. “You just got here.”
“I didn’t intend on staying long.”
“Ten minutes isn’t long.”
“Then yay for me, I’ll succeed in my objective.” This time she didn’t bother with subtlety when she pulled her hands away. “Don’t sweat it, no one’s going to miss me.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that.”
Before she could come up with a suitable reply, he reached around her to hold the gymnasium door’s push-bar handle closed, his arms like steel bands on either side of her. The irritated glare she shot him was answered with an angelic smile. “Come on, Payton, you can’t leave yet. We haven’t even had the chance to swap lies about how great our lives are now.”
“I wouldn’t be lying.” Flustered, she tried pulling in a breath he wouldn’t hear, but that was almost impossible with him parked right up front in her personal space. It was insane how claustrophobic he made her feel; it wasn’t like she was trapped and running out of air, after all.
It just felt like she was.
“Wiley, please.” Payton crossed her arms, so annoyed she could almost overlook the heat beginning to pulse between her legs. While horrifying, the pure physiological reaction wasn’t exactly unexpected. The man had her caught in a heart-stopping non-embrace, the solid wall of his body mere inches from the tips of her breasts. His eyes kept her pinned to the spot, and the warmth radiating from him was so heady she gave serious thought to swooning. “I didn’t come here to play games.”
“Yeah? Why did you come here?”
“Um, let’s think. I was invited?”
“You could have stayed away, but you didn’t. Why?”
Jeez. “Wiley—”
“Why?”
“Stop badgering me!” Frazzled, Payton shot him an exasperated look. “I had to come here to prove something to myself, okay?”
He tilted his golden head in what looked like understanding. “What was it that you needed to prove?”
“Wow.
It’s amazing how you think any of this is your business.”
“I’m that special combination of nosy and unable to take a hint. What did you need to prove?”
“That I’m as good as anyone here.” Then she shook her head. She had to be out of her mind to blurt out a decade-old insecurity he’d helped build up. “It’s no biggie, okay? I just had to face all the childhood traumas so I could finally put it behind me.”
“Payton.” His expression softened with a compassion she had only glimpsed in the boy she’d known a decade ago. “I can understand that.”
A disbelieving scoff escaped her. “Right. Sure you do.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Think about it, Wiley—you were literally the most popular person in school. You never dreaded lunch hour, because that was when an entire table would clear out if you happened to sit there. You never had to suffer the humiliation of never being asked to dance. You can’t imagine how crushing it was to be laughed at by the older girls because I hadn’t yet begun to wear a real bra. You were never chosen last in gym class or called nasty, ugly names, or had your locker vandalized every other week, or had your school desk moved out into the hall because no one wanted to sit next to you. I don’t think you can comprehend just how difficult it was to force myself to walk through these doors again.”
His eyes narrowed, and an emotion she couldn’t define darkened his expression. “From your point of view, I guess I do lack the basic intelligence to understand the pain you suffered, and maybe you’re right in thinking that.”
She blinked, baffled. That wasn’t what she meant at all. “No—”
“But I do understand.” With his expression once more lightening, he straightened away from her. “And while I can’t erase those past hurts, I can remedy at least one of them.”
Still baffled, she stared at him. “Remedy...?”
He smiled with patented Coyote charm and held out a hand. “May I have this dance, Payton?”
She started to raise her hand before she ruthlessly checked it. “I’m all grown up now.”
“I’m seriously aware of that. So?”
“So I don’t need your pity.”
“Believe me, pity is the last thing I’m feeling. Unless, of course, you can’t dance.”
“Watch it, pal. I haven’t been a wallflower my entire life.”
“Prove it.”
Those pesky buttons. Payton sighed. She had never been able to resist a challenge and damn it, he knew that all too well.
Wiley, you stinker. You haven’t changed a bit.
Bidding a fond farewell to the plan of leaving the reunion and the past behind for all time, Payton slid her hand into his and gave the point to him. “Lead the way.”
Chapter Two
Wiley had always prided himself in his capacity to enjoy life’s simple pleasures. An ice-cold beer after a sweltering midsummer pickup basketball game with his best friend Donovan. The hot-blooded speed of his ’63 Corvette. Winning a difficult case after sweating bullets over a legal strategy.
But holding a soft, sweet-scented woman tall enough to fit his lanky frame in all the important places had to be the greatest pleasure of all.
Even if that woman was Payton Pruitt.
Resting his cheek against her hair, Wiley breathed in her scent of roses and smiled. Who would have thought he’d enjoy holding Payton, former tutor and thorn in his side? But it went even further than mere enjoyment. From the moment he spied her across the gymnasium, with those whoa-nelly legs and a body graced with subtle curves, he’d forgotten all about his problems. From that moment, getting her into his arms had become his only mission in life.
Now, with that exquisite body pressed against his, he couldn’t help but wonder what other missions he could accomplish.
“I can feel you smiling.”
Payton’s familiar dry tone pushed his smile into an all-out grin, and he shifted to look into her dark eyes. “I was thinking this evening wouldn’t have been complete if you hadn’t shown up.”
The dubious lift of her brow told him she wasn’t buying it. “I almost didn’t come, actually. Would you believe I threw away that stupid invitation seven times?”
He whistled, impressed. “That has to be some kind of record.”
“If there hadn’t been a convention in San Antonio all this week, I wouldn’t have come.”
“Convention?”
“Medical convention.” She let her gaze drift around the crowded gym. Discomfited without knowing why, Wiley squeezed her hand to bring her attention back to him. “I’m scheduled to give a lecture on the importance of outfitting every trauma center, emergency room and clinic with child-sized instruments as standard equipment.”
“So you made it.” He’d never doubted it for a moment. “You’re a doctor now.”
“Specializing in family care and pediatrics.” Payton nodded, her expression so serious he caught a glimpse of the solemn girl she’d once been. “That was always the plan.”
“I remember.” Strangely enough, he was remembering a lot about her. About them. He’d resented the hell out of Payton—or, more accurately, he’d resented he’d needed her help. But as they’d gotten to know each other, they had forged a rapport he’d never found with anyone else. There had never been any pressure to put on a dog-and-pony show for Payton, or dazzle her with the Coyote charm. With her intellect she would have seen right through it anyway, so he’d never bothered. Of course, that meant there were times when she’d seen him at his worst, but even that was okay. She’d accepted him anyway.
How would Payton react now, if she saw him at his best?
Wiley’s mouth curled again, this time without humor. What he was thinking—what the feel of her warm, willowy body swaying like an erotic fantasy against his was making him think—was out of the question. Way out. Dr. Payton Pruitt, child prodigy and certified genius, wasn’t the kind of person who could take playing around in stride. Unlike so many of the women he’d known, Payton had always been the epitome of serious, and he respected that. Too bad for him that made her untouchable.
If only she didn’t feel so damn good against him.
To distract himself from the heaviness coiling behind his zipper, Wiley tried to focus on a little harmless conversation. “What happened to you after college? The last I heard, it took you three years to go through premed at Baylor.”
She nodded. “After that, I went to Houston to study medicine. That’s where I live now,” she added with a shrug that lifted her breasts against his chest. Electricity jolted through him so hard and hot he almost lost the ability to understand the language she was speaking. “On my twenty-fifth birthday I was accepted into a private medical group with a promise of partnership within two years. Quite a present, wouldn’t you say?”
“Outstanding.” Lord, she was a stunner. Had her dark eyes always been so bedroom-hot seductive? “Do you still wear glasses?”
“Glasses? Yes, for reading and other close work.”
“Good.”
Her laugh held bewilderment. “Good?”
“It reminds me of the old Payton I knew.” Wiley smiled to mask the dangerous sexual awareness closing around him like a fist. What Payton was making him feel—the breathless excitement that made his skin too tight for comfort—was coming at him like a sucker punch, and he didn’t have a clue how to handle it. This wasn’t some random woman he could amuse himself with for the night, only to send her on her merry way with a kiss and a vague promise to call. This was Payton, for God’s sake. Best to think of her as the Baby Brain he’d once known, rather than a hot-as-hell seductress who could make him hard from all the way across the gym.
No, damn it. He wouldn’t think of that. And he wouldn’t let himself feel it, either. Payton was out of his reach, and that was all there was t
o it.
He just had to keep remembering that.
* * *
The beat of a bluesy tune twined around the couples crowding the dance floor, but Payton never noticed. She was so wrapped up in the man who held her, they might as well have been locked in an isolation chamber. On a desert island. In the exact geographic middle of nowhere.
Wiley Sharpe.
The hysterical urge to laugh bubbled up, and Payton had to work at wrestling it back down. Back in the day Wiley had been her nemesis, her secret fantasy and her only acquaintance in Bitterthorn High. She refused point-blank to call him a friend. Even now that label was far too anemic for what he’d eventually come to represent in her life. And with that realization came another—she had told Wiley she’d come back for herself, and while that was true, it wasn’t the whole truth. As Wiley’s thighs brushed against hers in an illusion of seduction, she could secretly cop to another reason.
She’d come back for him.
“So.” She backed away on the excuse of looking up at him, when her real goal was to avoid that brain-melting friction of thigh against thigh. “Now that I’ve impressed you with my life’s resume, let’s talk about you.”
He grimaced, and it was as charming as his smile. “Boring subject.”
“Not to me.”
He looked around the room as if he would find the answers there. “I doubt you’ll believe me.”
“Why? Are you going to lie?”
“Of course not.”
“Then I’ll believe you.”
“Fine. I’m a lawyer. Really,” he added defensively and stared hard at her, as if daring her to laugh.
