Text Me

by Shelley K. Wall

  When his other hand slid up the outside of the fabric and a thumb stroked across her breast, her mind cleared instantly. In fact, her entire body jumped to attention. His attention. Her ears thundered like a freight train. Ironic, because if this didn’t stop soon, she was going to be run over with the “stupid” disease. The stupid disease that might possibly see them both naked on that humongous mahogany conference table behind him.

  “Um, Carter?” She shoved against his chest halfheartedly.

  For a second, he didn’t budge. When he finally stepped back, his eyes were lidded and soft. Was he having the same stupid thoughts? He glanced at the table and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry about that, Abby. I wasn’t really planning to … ”

  She looked at the latched door and raised a brow.

  “Okay, maybe this time I was, but before. In there,” he gestured down toward the employee kitchen, “that wasn’t planned. You should—”

  She glanced at the time on her phone. “I should go. I have to get back. You can just send me a floor plan and tell me what you want in each room. I can work off that.” She scrambled in her bag and pulled out a card. “Here’s my e-mail address. Just send it there.”

  She flipped the latch and whipped open the door. She needed to get away. Fast. Far enough away so she could catch her breath and put everything in perspective. Only he grabbed her arm and held her tight.

  “I promised you lunch.”

  “I never said yes.”

  “So, say it now.” He leaned his forehead against hers and damned if she didn’t want to turn that latch back into place. She didn’t.

  “Just lunch?”

  “Sure. You hungry?”

  Did he really just ask that? She bit back the groan. She wasn’t hungry before he kissed her. But now? She was ravenous. Only there wasn’t a restaurant within miles that would satisfy her craving. Did it matter she wasn’t who he thought? Instead, she was lying and cheating and hiding important details at every turn. Or word.

  Correction, she hadn’t really cheated. His best friend had. Only he thought she was the best friend. Her head started to throb. No. He hadn’t thought she was anything other than herself. She was the one that had things all messed up. She had to tell the truth—but it was so incredibly complicated. He was texting her as the friend, she knew about the ex’s relationship, and she’d never said a word. Plus she was deceiving him by continuing to send messages and respond when he did.

  This was all Caroline’s fault and Abby intended to tell her so. Had she not sent that first message, this would never have happened. She would never have gone to that restaurant looking for him. But the incident in the park with Ruckus had nothing to do with that.

  Carter grinned. Some of the lipstick had actually wiped off on him. What would his office think? She reached up and stroked it away with her fingers.

  This was all wrong. She wished she could ditch the entire project, and him. Only, she needed the work. She needed any work, really. She couldn’t afford to turn down a job simply because one of her clients gave hot-as-hell kisses that made her want to—a crazy image of him flew through her mind. Naked.

  “Yeah, I’m hungry.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  If the scent of flowers was an aphrodisiac, then Abby’s red fingernail polish and lips combined to be the ultimate visual topping. Better than walking by the lingerie store on Fifth Street. She wrapped the nails around her tea glass and brought her lips to the edge for a sip. Bam. Gut-wrenching heat that made him want to taste them again. He didn’t dare look away.

  He’d followed her to a diner she recommended and was surprised they had the same taste in food. Simple, easy, and a nice quiet atmosphere where you could talk. He noted the way the booth walls rose and wrapped them in a perceived solitude. They could probably take up where they left off at the office and not a soul would notice. Maybe just another taste of those lips. He scooted toward her.

  She adjusted the same amount. In the other direction. Okay, message received.

  “Carter, have you been here before?” She looked around the room.

  Was she seeking an escape? He wouldn’t blame her if she did. The kisses were just a spur of the moment impulse. He glanced at the lipstick on her tea glass. They were an impulse driven by the need to taste that. Was he sorry? Hell, no. He’d do it again in a second.

  “Sometimes. Listen, about my office—”

  “Like I said, just send the blueprints and tell me what you want. I’ll get it done. I can probably deliver everything by next week, depending on what’s on the list. Will that work?”

  He shook his head. “No. I mean, sure, but that wasn’t what I meant. I was talking about—”

  She swept those fingernails out and laid them over his hand and squeezed. “Don’t. Let’s not talk about that. Please.”

  He registered the desperation in her voice. “Okay.”

  “Good.” She gave a weak smile.

  Carter watched her movements with interest. “So, just curious, how did a Midwestern girl end up down here?”

  Abby shrugged. “Dumb luck, I guess. After graduation, my parents gave me a week-long trip to Europe. It had always been a dream of mine. Of course, they hadn’t trusted me to go alone, so my brother, Jason, chaperoned. I met Caroline in Edinburgh. You know, Scotland. She was making a trip down the famous pub crawl from the castle … and we were shopping for kilts. I had made a bet with Jason and he lost. The pay-up was to wear a kilt as long as we were in Scotland.”

  “Did he?” There was no way in hell he’d put a skirt on, but one had to admire a guy that wasn’t afraid to.

  She giggled. “Technically, yes. He had swim trunks under it. Said it was too windy over there and he wasn’t interested in baring his ass to the world. It was ironic, coming from a guy who later strode down a nude beach sans the very same swim gear.”

  He swallowed hard. Had she been on that beach too? That thought was pretty damned—interesting. “They have nude beaches in Scotland?”

  She choked out a bit of her drink and covered her mouth with a napkin. “Of course not. It’s cold and windy there year round. Who’d want to think about swimming in that climate? No, that was later. You know what they say, when in France … ”

  “Do as the locals do.” He really wanted to ask if she’d done so but decided against it. “That must have been one hell of a trip. Scotland, France. You met Caroline there?”

  “She had just graduated too…from journalism school. Said she was going to explore the world and write first-hand experiences. She had a grant from some newspaper that was supposed to turn into a news journalist job in New York eventually. She stayed with us until Italy then took off for some exotic island I’d never heard of. I can’t remember the name.”

  “Pretty brave for a girl that age.”

  “She’s never been shy. Her dad had been a journalist and she thought it sounded glamorous. Although he disappeared when she was a kid so it doesn’t seem too great to me. She called me a month later and we talked for hours. Apparently, she was coming home—to Texas. She wanted me to visit for a while. I couldn’t wait to get away from home. My parents were driving me crazy. Every time I turned around they’d invited some random young “successful” guy for dinner and conveniently left me alone with them.”

  He hitched a brow. “They were setting you up? Why? You’d just graduated. They should have been helping you find a job, not a date.”

  Abby cleared her throat. “Actually they wanted to do all of that. I was supposed to join the family business like everyone else…and I did for a while. Then one day I sat in this meeting with these arrogant jerks and realized that I’d very likely be in meetings like that for the rest of my career. And my parents wanted more than a date—they wanted a husband. There was something freakishly boring about it. Apparently, in their book, any girl that isn’t married when she leaves college is likely to be a spinster forever. Not to mention, they hated my idea of studying landscape architecture … though
t it was useless.”

  “Wow. Supportive.”

  “Yep. Not much has changed either. Anyway, I came here and Caroline introduced me to an old boyfriend that got me a job, so I stayed. She and I roomed together for a while then went our separate ways. Caroline was more a night owl and I was too much a morning person. She’s still my best friend ever, though.”

  An odd partnership if you asked him. By the way she’d talked at their dinner together, Caroline was wild to the point of crazy. Abby was the grind-master work-a-holic. Okay—crazy was the common denominator. “What do your parents think about the new business? They must be happy for you, being an entrepreneur and all?”

  She dropped her eyes to the table then looked away. “I don’t really know. They haven’t said a word so far. Before I opened, they had a lot to say—none good. They thought I was making a mistake putting all my savings into a business. Now, no call, nothing. I think they … forgot.”

  “Parents never forget that kind of thing. Maybe they’ve tried calling and missed you?”

  She shook her head. Her teeth scraped over her lip and trembled—was she on the verge of tears?

  “Nah, I am one of the middle in a brood of five. They forgot. Or maybe don’t care? It doesn’t matter. I gave up waiting on their approval years ago.”

  Based on her expression, that was a lie. She still wanted approval—in fact, he’d bet she was craving a little at the moment. “Then it’s their loss. You’ll be the talk of the town soon.”

  The waiter arrived and took their orders then disappeared. No, this idle conversation wasn’t going to work. He had to say something. He thrummed his hands on the table. “I’m sorry. I have to say something. I’m not one to—I just—Shit.” He ran a hand through his hair then lifted his lips in a grin. “It was fun, okay? That’s all I wanted to say. It was hellacious fun.”

  She took another sip before answering. “It was, wasn’t it?”

  Their food arrived within seconds and they ate and talked baseball and about her shop, and he told her a few things about his work. She had the most animated way of talking. Her hands, eyes, face, and even her feet kicked into the conversation sometimes. He noticed because she’d added the red polish on her toes too. They peeked out of the heels that showed off her slim ankles when she slid sideways in the booth.

  Lunch ended so quickly, he wanted to order again. Unfortunately, the time on the wall made it obvious they both needed to get back to work. Her car was near and she left him at the restaurant door in such a rush, he was barely able to say good-bye. Maybe she feared he might try to kiss her again.

  Back at work, things got crazy in a heartbeat. Roger followed him as soon as he stepped from the elevator, advising that their project deadlines had changed. The customer he’d seen last week liked the presentation and needed product faster. Therefore, they needed him to rework his proposal. Yikes. Roger rattled off the details and handed him a paper with notes then told him to call them.

  “Oh, and that was the running chick earlier, wasn’t it?”

  He nodded, not willing to say more.

  “You brought her here? What were you doing in the lunchroom? Lindsey said you looked like you were making out. Don’t tell me you did it on the table, I’ll never eat in there again.”

  Carter’s mouth fell open. “Seriously? You guys are gossiping simply because I gave her a tour of the office? Grow up. She has a plant service that does corporate maintenance. I asked her to give me a quote.” He strode around his desk, dropped his keys on the top, and fished through the stack of paper and phone messages.

  “Yeah, and what other kind of maintenance is she doing for you?” Roger’s raised brow was more than annoying.

  Carter wadded the paper he’d just read and tossed it at him.

  The guy darted out the door but not before throwing another question at him. “Hey, did you find out if they’re real?”

  Carter growled and shook his head. When his cell beeped with a group message from Roger, he glanced at the screen and ignored it. Childish idiot. None of his business.

  • • •

  Carter took runner in lunchroom. I mean to lunch

  Abby didn’t care much for Carter’s friend, or his comments. What a slimeball. Carter did NOT tell them that, did he? Abby stared at the screen, her face heating. The message was a reply to the lunch message from before. Was that what the whole thing was about? A guy’s curiosity on the status of her breasts? We’d just see about that, wouldn’t we?

  A dozen other comments flashed after the first, which made her blood boil more. Nothing from Carter though. He was irritatingly silent. She wasn’t sure whether to be glad or furious. What a bunch of losers. Well, according to the rule “judge a man by the friends he keeps,” Carter was given a verdict. Over. Not that they’d even started anything yet. Or would, because she wasn’t interested—not anymore.

  Still he’d kissed the brain cells right out of her head. And gossiped to his friends immediately after. She’d fix that. Why not? His friend had already screwed one ex, why not make it two? Technically, she wasn’t an ex but still—she picked up the phone and punched in a message.

  Oh, they’re real alright. Perky too. U should see the rest of her.

  There. What do you think of that, Mr. Kiss-and-Tell? Her stomach clenched. She should feel better about standing up for herself with a bunch of sex-starved gossiping never-left-high-school boys. She didn’t. A flurry of text responses chorused and she couldn’t bear to see what other gross remarks they’d made.

  In fact, the rest of the day her body ached with the realization she’d been a conquest in his circle of friends. Something they’d goaded him to prove, and he’d done it. He’d done a hell of a job too. All she could think about was that damned lunchroom door and his mouth trailing kisses across hers while his hands did other things. Dammit. I’m such an idiot.

  “Well, you sure showed him.” Caroline gave her the eyebrow-hovering look that plainly said and made a fool of yourself to boot.

  “Who cares? Those guys are a bunch of teenagers—talking about things like that. He set me up to go out with him so he could test out their theory. You think they made a bet on it? I mean, look at these babies. Can I help it if I have kind genetics?” Abby thrust her chest out and lowered her eyes to observe. Genetics were only part of it, and Caroline knew as much. She ran several miles a week and spent at least another hour at the gym every other day. Releasing the breath she’d held, Abby grimaced. She’d had little time to exercise since the store opened and she needed to get back to the routine.

  “Well, if they made a bet, I wonder which way he picked. Real or bedazzled?”

  “Does it matter? I mean what kind of guy does that? The wrong kind, obviously. No wonder the chick dumped him for his best friend.” Abby threw a hand to her mouth, embarrassed at the insult. “Do you think that was a set-up too? Maybe one of the guys goaded him into it just to see what would happen?”

  “Wow, did you really turn that jaded over night? Talking about the silicone hills on a woman isn’t the same as stealing her.”

  Abby rolled her eyes. Caroline didn’t get it. “Need I remind you he wasn’t just talking about them? He was actually tasting and feeling and—”

  Caroline held up a hand to stop the conversation. “Please, spare me the details. I don’t want to know. Okay, wait, yes, I do. Exactly how far did he get? I mean, were you horizontal when he felt you up? Or just getting started?”

  Abby threw the tape dispenser at her. Fortunately, it was plastic and Caroline was fast. It missed, glancing off the corner of a pot before hitting the floor and splintering.

  “Way to go, boss. Should we chalk that up to employee theft—or abuse? Now we have to buy a new one.”

  Whoosh. The door burst open. The steady rain had prevented the normal pedestrian traffic from venturing through; the only customer that would step in had to be serious. Abby scraped the broken plastic into her palm, dropped it on the counter, and turned to make a sale.


  “You slept with Jackson?” Carter’s face was ashen as he stomped forward, splattering drips across her floor.

  “Excuse me? Is that really a question you’re entitled to ask? Who I’ve been with? I mean you hardly know me. Just because you—we—oh, forget it. Look, you had your fun. Now get lost.” Abby whirled around and disappeared into the stockroom. Where did he get off asking? He was the one that locked her in a conference room, kissed her brain cells dead, then embellished the details. What did he care who she slept with? Or didn’t in this case. It wasn’t like he’d made it that far. Thank God for that. At least she hadn’t been a total moron and had held onto at least one or two cells of gray matter. She’d never been the type before and wasn’t likely to start now.

  The door to the stockroom bumped her behind when it closed at her back. Her hands shook. She’d squeezed the plastic so hard it carved a small cut in her palm. The patter of Caroline’s shoes was the only sound in the other room. Her muffled voice followed. “Soooo, I’m Caroline.”

  Abby peered through the one-way glass window in their office, thankful she’d had it installed. Of course, it had been for an entirely different reason. She wanted to make sure they’d see customers who entered if they were in the stockroom.

  At the moment, it was also convenient for watching Carter fume. His eyes widened as recognition hit. He didn’t take the hand Caroline extended. His were shoved in his pockets and didn’t budge.

  “Caroline, huh?” His eyes narrowed. “Tell me, Caroline, who likes to take pictures and spy on people—how well does Abby know my friend Jackson, really?”

  Caroline’s head started to turn toward the window, then she corrected herself. She squared her shoulders and straightened. “Um. Well, I’d say she has his number memorized. Just like you know which parts of Abby’s anatomy include implants, you sorry turd.”