Redesigned

by Denise Grover Swank

  I stiffen and sit up. “You want me to be your booty call?”

  His eyes widen. “No. No, that’s not what I meant.” He closes his eyes and groans.

  “Then what did you mean?” I try to slide over to the passenger seat, but Reed holds me in place.

  “Caroline, will you listen to me?” he asks in frustration.

  I purse my lips.

  His gaze softens. “I mean see each other, and of course this too. This is why we can’t stay away from each other.” His voice lowers. “But the next time we do this, I want it to be in a bed.”

  A thrill races through me at the thought of what we could do in bed.

  “We’re both consenting adults. We’re both between partners. We’re both incredibly attracted to one another. Why not?”

  Maybe because I’ve never been a casual-sex kind of person. I still can’t believe I did this. “I don’t know.”

  “But it can be more than just sex. I’m looking for more than a booty call. We can try to be friends too.”

  It sounds so wrong the way he says it. Try to be friends? Shouldn’t we already be friends? But he’s right. This thing between us is carnal and unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Can I really just walk away now that I’ve had a taste of it?

  Reed fondles my breast, and I suck in my breath in surprise. He grins at my reaction. “The only drawback I can see is that we might not get much else done.”

  My eyes narrow in concern. “You’re right, but I need to work on my collection. It’s not even about the grade anymore. I’m doing it for the kids.”

  “Like Desiree?”

  I drop my gaze. “Yeah.”

  “I’ll make sure you work on your project. You know how bossy I can be.”

  I laugh. “So if I agree to this, you think this gives you permission to boss me around?”

  “You’ll like it when I boss you around in a bed.”

  Electricity runs straight through my body to my pelvis.

  He pulls my mouth to his. “Say yes, Caroline. One word. Yes.”

  His mouth works to convince me, and my body responds, wishing we were closer to a bed.

  I’m not sure I have the power to resist this man. “Yes.”

  His grin turns playfully wicked. “You won’t regret it.”

  But I’m already worried I will. I’m not sure my heart will survive this.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The rain has all but stopped. I grab my panties and put them back on as I crawl back to my seat.

  “I’ll never be able to sit in this car again without thinking of you,” he teases while cleaning himself up.

  The first sign of embarrassment strikes. I look down and adjust my bra and begin to button my blouse.

  “Caroline.”

  I turn toward him.

  He lifts my chin. “We haven’t done anything wrong. There’s no reason to be embarrassed.”

  In the afterglow of our passion, uncertainty is slipping in.

  “What are you doing tonight?” Reed asks.

  “Working on my project.”

  “You have to eat. Let’s get dinner and then I’ll take you back to campus and jump your car. Lexi said your battery died.”

  Somehow I’ve forgotten about my car. This man messes with my head.

  But I’m not ready to leave him yet and I want to try the other part of this arrangement. “Okay. But I hate Indian food.”

  His eyes widen. “How can you hate Indian food?”

  I scrunch my nose. “Curry is disgusting.”

  He shakes his head in amazement. “Okay. How about Chinese? Then the continent of Asia won’t feel slighted.”

  I laugh. Who knew Reed had a funny side? “Deal.”

  Reed starts the car then leans over and kisses me senseless. “To prove to you that this can be more than sex, I’m going to take you to dinner, walk you to your classroom, and then leave you. I can assure you that will probably be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I’ll do it. For you.”

  I kiss him and smile against his lips.

  He drives to the restaurant, and we have trouble finding something to talk about. I give evasive answers when he asks about my past.

  I grew up with both parents. I had an older brother. I lived in Shelbyville. It’s the most he gets from me, but he’s just as evasive.

  “You grew up in Boston?”

  “Yes.” His answer is short and terse.

  In my flustered state of trying to fill the silence with conversation, I don’t even think when I say, “I’ve never been to Boston. I’ve only left the state once. My sixth-grade class took a field trip to the Atlanta zoo.” Why in the hell did I say that?

  He looks at me like I’ve just grown gills. “How is it possible you’ve never left Tennessee?”

  The way he asks makes me defensive. “I just told you that I have left the state. The last time I checked, Atlanta was in Georgia.”

  He shakes his head. “I mean, other than that.”

  The last thing I plan to tell him is that I couldn’t afford to drive out of Shelbyville, let alone the state. I decide to play up my state pride. “Everything I could ever want is in Tennessee. Why would I want to leave it?”

  “Then why are you trying to win a trip to New York with this fashion show?”

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “I thought I was asking you questions, not the other way around.”

  His scowl returns.

  “I know your sister, Lexi. Do you have any other brothers and sisters?”

  “No.”

  How are we supposed to have a conversation with one-word answers?

  “So why did you major in math?”

  This is the first time he’s relaxed since I started questioning him. “I love the complexity of it. The need to pay attention to detail. One missed step, one misplaced decimal point, and the entire problem is wrong. Then you either start over again or backtrack and figure out what went wrong.”

  I cringe. “Oh, my God. That’s exactly why I hate it.”

  His eyebrows rise. “You hate math? You could have fooled me when you helped Desiree with her homework.”

  “That was different. I can handle addition and subtraction. And even multiplication and simple division, but throw an algebra formula at me and I’ll run screaming.” I shift in my seat. “You said you were focusing on analysis of algorithms.”

  His eyes widen. “I’m impressed you remembered.”

  I smirk. “I’m not just a pretty face.”

  His gaze sweeps over me and ends at my eyes. He grins. “No, you’re not.”

  “So why that focus?”

  “When most boys were falling for girls in middle school, I fell for computers. I started teaching myself computer programming, and then I discovered Donald Knuth, the father of analysis of algorithms. He’s been my idol ever since. That’s why I wanted to go to Stanford.” He stops talking, as though he’s said something wrong.

  “So why didn’t you go to Stanford?”

  He gives me a tight smile. “Because I came to Southern instead.” The tone of his voice tells me this isn’t up for further discussion.

  When we get to the restaurant and order, I rest my arms on the table. “What are we going to tell people … about us?”

  His face is serious. “How about we tell them something completely crazy? Like we’re going out.” Then he winks.

  “I’m serious, Reed. This was your idea.”

  He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “I’m serious too, Caroline.”

  Holding his hand makes me feel more connected to him than anything we’ve done up to this point. He’s seen me in the most intimate moments of my life, but that was lust and sex. This is tenderness.

  “So if we tell people we’re going out, what makes this different than every other relationship in the world?”

  “The fact you’re with me until you find the man you’re looking for.”

  I feel like I’m a deer caught in headlights.

>   He sees my expression and leans toward me. “No guilt. The night I met you, you told me I didn’t stand a chance. I know this going in. I’ve seen the guys you date. High profile. High society. Old money. Dylan was an asshole, but I’m not sure what flaw you saw in Brandon. His money is deep-South old money. I would have thought that alone would interest you.”

  He makes me sound like a selfish, self-centered, gold-digging bitch. But then why wouldn’t he think that? He’s paraphrasing what I told him the night I met him.

  I feel nauseated. “Why in the world do you want to be with me after knowing that about me?”

  His jaw works and he glances at the door before turning back to me. His voice lowers. “Because sex with you is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. And honestly, I think the connection we have is once-in-a-lifetime. If it means I only get to have you until you find what you’re looking for, I’m good with that.”

  I’m still horrified that he’ll settle for being with me until I find his replacement. He sees this too.

  “Caroline, don’t worry about me. I’m a guy and guys think with what’s in their pants.” He winks but something’s missing. “We’re both getting something out of it. Hot, unbelievably fantastic sex and we haven’t even had a chance to take our time and enjoy it.” His voice lowers. “And I already have several fantasies of you I need you to act out. How do you feel about a schoolgirl outfit?” He grins.

  He’s teasing. But is he telling the truth about the rest? Tucker says guys think with their dicks. Isn’t Reed telling me the same thing? I should be humiliated and insulted, but Reed Pendergraft is a hot, sexy man trapped behind a tie and a stuffy degree. Most girls don’t care about the degree and find the tie sexy. I do too, but I like the way he looks right now, with his tie off and the top button of his shirt undone. Then I think about his shirt spread open in the car.

  “You were just picturing me naked, weren’t you?” he asks.

  I feel a blush rise to my cheeks.

  “If it makes you feel better, I was thinking about you naked too. That’s priority number one the next time we have sex. I want to see you completely naked. Wearing heels,” he says. “The ones you wore Friday night. The black strappy things that poked me in the ass when you wrapped your legs around me. When I close my eyes, I can still imagine you pressed up against the wall with your legs around my waist. Your hair hung over your bare breasts and your lips were red and swollen from kissing me.”

  If it were possible to have an orgasm without being touched, I’m sure I’m worked up enough over his word picture for it to happen right now.

  His smile is replaced by a look of molten desire. “God, I love the way you look when you’re turned on.”

  How can I want to sleep with him already?

  “We need a bed.” I force out in a breathless rush. “Now.”

  He takes my hand and traces circles in my palm. “We’ll have a bed. But not tonight. I promised to prove to you that I want you for more than sex. Dinner, then I’ll take you to the design lab.”

  “What if I want it? Then you have to give it to me. Our arrangement was for sex. The rest is superfluous.”

  Some emotion flickers in his eyes before his wicked smile returns. “No sex tonight. Driving you crazy wanting me is a bonus. Then when we have sex—in a bed—it will be even better.”

  The way I feel right now makes me want to argue, but the waiter brings our food, and I’m surprised to find I’m starving. I eat most of my chicken lo mein.

  “When I bring you to my apartment to fuck you, I’ll make sure I have plenty of food to help you regain your strength.”

  I’m slightly shocked by his coarse language. I’m totally shocked it turns me on so much.

  When we finish, Reed doesn’t want to linger. “First, you need to get to work. If you don’t get your work done, then you’ll blame our arrangement and call it off. I’m not willing to risk that when we’re just getting started.” He stops next to his car, pressing my back against the passenger door and placing his hands on either side of me. “But mostly, if I stay with you much longer, I’ll break my promise to not have sex tonight, and I hate broken promises.” He kisses me, his lips tender and tentative until I wrap my arms around him to hold myself up. His tongue finds mine, searching and coaxing. I moan again. I have such little self-control with him, I’d probably lift my skirt right here in the parking lot.

  And that scares the shit out of me.

  Thankfully, Reed pulls back and opens the door. On the drive to campus, he asks questions about my project and my designs for the kids.

  “Thanks for your help today.”

  “It was fun.”

  I laugh. “It was fun writing down measurements?”

  “It was fun seeing you do what you love.”

  “And what’s that? Strutting my stuff on the runway?”

  He takes my hand and twines our fingers. “That was definitely fun. As you swung your hips, I kept thinking about how gifted those hips actually are.”

  “Reed! There were children in the room!”

  “I didn’t touch you, although I should get a medal for that. But we better hope none of them were mind readers or they might need therapy after the things I fantasized.”

  “And what did you fantasize?” I ask against my better judgment.

  He grins, lifting his eyebrows. “Some things are better demonstrated than explained.”

  My imagination runs wild, and I feel flushed as he parks his car next to mine in the half-empty campus parking lot.

  “Are you sure you can’t break your promise?” I ask. “Just this once?”

  He leans over, and his lips hover over mine. “Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder.”

  I laugh. “That is not how that platitude goes.”

  He pecks me on the lips with a chaste kiss. “Same difference.” He gets out of the car and walks around to open my door. “If you give me your keys, I’ll jump your car and bring them back to you.”

  “Reed, you don’t have to do that.”

  He grins. “Isn’t that one of the perks of having a temporary boyfriend? Having him do things like jump your car?”

  I’d rather he jumped me, but I keep that to myself. “Someone forgot to put that in my last boyfriend’s job description.”

  His mouth parts. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “Nope.” I say, digging my keys out of my purse.

  I put them in Reed’s outstretched hand but his fingers close around mine, and he pulls me against his chest. Irritation simmers behind his eyes. “Promise me that when you find a guy, you’ll make sure he does that stuff for you.”

  I look up into his face, surprised at his insistence. “Reed, I’m perfectly capable of jumping my car. I’ve done it before.”

  “It’s not a matter of being capable, Caroline. I never doubted you were capable. In fact, I suspect you’re capable of a lot more than you give yourself credit for. But it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to have a guy who does it for you.” He releases his hold. “Do you need anything out of your car?”

  “Uh … no.”

  He takes my bag and starts to walk toward campus.

  “You don’t have to carry my bag.”

  He turns back to me, spreading his hands wide. “It falls under the category of he should do it anyway.”

  “Maybe I should have you interview potential boyfriends.”

  “I doubt you want that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ll never find anyone I think is worthy of you.” He snags my hand as we walk side by side, and I think about what he said.

  If Reed really feels that way, then why isn’t he fighting to keep me? Why is he so willing to let me go?

  I consider that maybe he likes the idea of sex without strings. But the truth is he thinks I’ll never consider him good enough for me.

  The thought sickens me. Yet, if I’m truthful, I love what I feel with Reed but the thought of committing to someone who won’t make a
lot of money brings me close to a panic attack. I’ve got a mountain of student loans and Reed has to have even more if he really went to an Ivy League school. I won’t make much money with this degree, idiot that I am for choosing it, and he won’t make much either. How would we pay off our student loans and survive, let alone raise a family? Superficial or not, I can’t let myself think about a long-term relationship with Reed Pendergraft.

  I can have the best of both worlds. A guy who gives me incredibly hot sex but understands my need for financial security. So why does it feel so wrong?

  When we reach the design lab, I stand outside the room. “This is it.” I point to the rectangular window in the door with my thumb. “You can come in if you want, but there’s not much to see. My designs are all on paper at this point.”

  “So what will you do now?”

  “I’ll pick one and work on it, coming up with a pattern and cutting out the fabric. If I can start sewing, all the better.”

  He tilts my head back and looks into my eyes. His hand caresses the spot where my neck meets my jaw, and my knees turn weak. How can he do that with one simple touch?

  “Do you have my cell phone number with you?” he asks.

  “What?” I can’t concentrate, caught in this lusty haze.

  “My number. Do you have it?” he repeats, but he looks like he’s having trouble focusing too.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Get out your phone.”

  I come to my senses and pull my phone of my purse.

  “Now put my number in and call me.” He tells me his number and when I call, he answers, lowering his voice. “Caroline Hunter, if your car won’t start when you leave, promise to call me.”

  “Okay.”

  He ends the call and puts the phone in his pocket. “But call me anyway, okay? Otherwise I’ll worry your car didn’t make it home.”

  “Why?”

  He looks at me like I lost my mind. “I jumped your car. That makes me responsible for you getting home safely.” His lips brush mine. “Promise.”

  He fights dirty. He knows he’s my kryptonite, and he’s using it to his advantage.

  “I promise.”

  His lips barely touch mine, and he’s driving me mad. “Get a lot of work done so I don’t feel guilty when I keep you in bed for hours tomorrow.”