Knowing You

by Maureen Child

  “You want to tell me what this is all about?” he demanded.

  “Nope.”

  “Fine. I’ll tell you.”

  She snorted, but kept her gaze on that damn computer screen, and suddenly Paul knew how he must look when someone was trying to get his attention. Damn it.

  “You’re pissed off at Nick and taking it out on me.”

  “Sure. Whatever.”

  “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  Slowly Stevie’s icy blue gaze lifted to his. “You’re wrong.”

  Paul ignored his self-preservation instincts and walked around the edge of her desk. Stopping right in front of her, he bent down, grabbed her upper arms, and dragged her to her feet. She yanked free of his grasp, but since there was nowhere to go in the tiny office, they still stood just a breath apart.

  A low, fierce growl sounded out just before Paul felt a stabbing pain in his ankle. “Hey!”

  “Scruffy, no!” Stevie said it quickly, instinctively, even though she probably regretted stopping the little mutt from chewing on Paul’s foot.

  “What is that?” he asked when the bag of fur let go of him and scooted under Stevie’s desk.

  “It’s a dog. Why do people keep asking me that?”

  “The latest?”

  She nodded. “I found her last night.” She turned her gaze back up to his. “Just before I sent your brother packing.”

  Relief pushed its way through Paul’s heart. She hadn’t let Nick inside. Hadn’t talked to him. Kissed him. Hadn’t … He should have known. But he’d been so sure that Stevie would once again take Nick back into her life the minute he turned on the charm.

  “So you’re not pissed at Nick. You’re pissed at me,” he said.

  One corner of her mouth quirked, but there was no humor in the half-smile. “Ah, we have a winner, folks! You’ve won a year’s supply of Turtle Wax. Thank you for playing.”

  “Knock it off, Stevie.” He glanced down to make sure the little mutt wouldn’t attack again in Stevie’s defense. But the wild-haired thing had crawled back under her desk. So he felt free to give his attention to the furious woman in his arms.

  She swung her hair back from her face. “Why?”

  “Because I want to know why the hell I’m getting frostbite just by looking into your eyes.”

  “You know,” she said, “for a smart guy, you’re pretty stupid.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “Fine.” She planted both hands on his chest and shoved. He didn’t budge an inch. Huffing out a breath, she gave that up and snapped, “You want to know why I’m mad? Think about it, Paul. Last night? At your mother’s?”

  “Yeah?”

  She actually growled, which Paul considered a real hint of danger. Hell, she sounded meaner than the little dog had.

  “You practically had your hand up my crotch at the dinner table.”

  He remembered. Hell, he could almost feel her damp heat now. He hadn’t been able to keep from touching her. Feeling her warmth. Even the threat of his mother sitting at the head of the table hadn’t been enough to make him keep his hands to himself.

  “Then Nick started talking and you pulled away so far, you might as well have been in New York.”

  He scrubbed one hand across the back of his neck. True. “Yeah, well, everyone started talking and—”

  “Not everyone,” she interrupted. “Just Nick. Then your mother starts in on the happy couple routine and you pull even further away. What’s the deal here, Paul?”

  “You’re pissed because I stopped touching you even though we both agreed that we should stop?” Hell. Wasn’t the best defense a good offense?

  “I’m pissed because of why you stopped.” She shoved at him again, and this time he moved enough to let her scrape through, brushing her body against his, just enough to set it on fire. “Nick talks, you pull back. Mama gives me that orange blossom/June wedding look and you practically disappear.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “No, it’s not,” she said hotly, shooting him a look that should have killed him. “It’s simple. I figured it all out just a while ago.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Oh, yeah. You don’t really want me. You just wanted to know that you could get Nick’s old girlfriend in the sack.”

  A red haze colored the edges of his vision and Paul had to squint just to keep her in focus. His blood boiled and a temper like she’d never seen before bubbled in his guts, churning until he wanted to shout, just to let some of it out.

  But Stevie was still talking. Still going on, her voice rattling in the tiny office, her words bulleting into his body like a shotgun blast, peppering his skin. Thunder roared in his ears and he had to struggle to hear her. But damn it, he wasn’t going to miss a single word of it.

  “Congratulations, stud,” she said with a sneer. “You finally managed to one-up your brother. Feel better now? Feel good? You managed to screw me and Nick at the same time. Good for you. Now get out.”

  She turned her back on him and pretended to stare out the tiny window at the small square of blue sky overhead. But Paul wasn’t fooled. Her shoulders were so tight, her body was practically humming. Her words still echoed in the room, slamming into him again and again and feeding the rage that swam through his bloodstream at such a pace he could hardly breathe.

  “You finished?” he asked.

  She nodded sharply.

  “Good.” He grabbed her, spun her around in his grasp, and then pulled her tight against him. Her head fell back, her hair spilling loosely, brushing across his hands as he held her shoulders in a grip that she’d never get out of. “My turn.”

  “You don’t get a turn.”

  “Wrong.” His gaze locked on hers for one long minute, then slipped past her eyes to slide across her cheeks, her nose, her mouth. Every damn thing about her fascinated him. Even her vicious temper and ridiculous ideas. Damn it, if he had any sense at all, he’d be rushing out of this tiny room and letting her think whatever the hell she wanted to think. At least then, it would be over. He could stop thinking about her. Stop dreaming about her. But he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t walk away like this.

  “You’re an idiot, Stevie.”

  She tried to jerk free, but he held her fast.

  “Forget it. You had your say, now I’m going to.”

  “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Tough shit.”

  She inhaled sharply, as if preparing to blast him again with another hot earful, but then she changed her mind, clamped her mouth shut, and glared at him. Probably figured the best way to get rid of him was to humor him.

  “You think I liked knowing Nick was coming over here?” he demanded. “You think I got any sleep last night, wondering if you two were doing a fast bounce on the mattress?”

  “Thanks so much—”

  “My turn,” he reminded her with a steely voice and a tightening of his grip on her arms. “What was I supposed to do? Say, ‘Don’t go to Stevie’s. I’m sleeping with her now’? We both already decided we didn’t want anyone knowing what happened between us.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “And you’ve known me most of my life. You really think this is about me one-upping Nick?”

  Her bottom lip quivered, and for one horrifying moment, Paul thought she was going to cry. And if she did, it’d kill him. Damn it, how had this gotten so far out of hand? He’d only wanted to find his own life. To move on. To leave boyhood crushes behind him. Now he was in deeper than ever and wasn’t sure how to get out. Or even if he wanted out.

  “I can’t believe this,” she muttered. “This is just so not how I saw my life. Sleeping with both brothers. Well, only one. But everyone thinks I’m sleeping with the other one and no one knows about you and then even you think I’m sleeping with Nick, and if this gets any weirder they won’t even let us on Jerry Springer.”

  He smiled in spite of everything. Stevie babbling was just something that would always make him smile. “At
last. A bright spot.”

  “This isn’t funny.”

  “Yeah, I know. But it’s not a crisis, either. As for Mama … she’s got plans to marry off Tina and the kid’s two years old. Mama’s plans mean nothing.”

  “You pulled away last night,” she accused. “The minute Nick started talking, you pulled away from me.”

  He let his hands slip from her shoulders down her arms to the sides of her breasts. So close to heaven, he could almost feel the sweep of sensation pouring through him. She shivered and it rippled along his spine like a slow, teasing touch. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

  “No excuses?”

  “None that make any sense.”

  “Swell.”

  “I want you,” he said tightly, his voice a low rumble of sound that echoed in the small room. “That’s honest, too.”

  She took a breath, then let it slide from her lungs in a soft sigh. “Yes, but it doesn’t solve anything. Doesn’t change anything.”

  Paul reached up and brushed her hair back from her face, his fingers smoothing across her skin with a gentle light touch that sizzled between them. “Maybe it doesn’t have to. Maybe it’s enough all by itself.”

  “For how long?” Stevie trembled inside as her body turned to liquid fire with the simple touch of his hand. Her knees wobbled, and when he eased her back onto the edge of her desk, she went willingly. Hey, it was better than falling over.

  “How long do you need?” he asked, and dropped one hand to the damp, hot heart of her.

  Stevie gasped and arched into his touch. He bent and took her mouth with his as he caressed her right through the fabric of her jeans. Why? How? How could he do this to her so easily? How could she keep allowing herself to wander down this amazing path? Where was all her self-control?

  Then thought died under the onslaught of too many sensations. She moved against him, arching, rocking, moaning. Papers scattered, pushed off the edge of the desk to fall in a silent snowstorm to the floor.

  He cradled her in the crook of one arm and parted her lips with his tongue. He tasted her, explored her mouth, giving and taking with a need that built and swarmed inside him like a summer storm pounding at a tin roof. His hand worked her body, kneading the denim and the tender flesh beneath. He rubbed her core and tasted her sighs as she gave herself to him silently, completely.

  He felt the rush of satisfaction as the first tremors crashed through her body.

  Stevie’s hips rocked wildly and she clutched at his shoulders, hanging on for dear life as he pushed her higher and higher and finally over the precipice, only to catch her and hold her tightly as she fell.

  CHAPTER TEN

  BUT WHEN THE TINGLING tide of satisfaction settled into a low hum, Stevie came back to her senses and sat up, pushing Paul away. Shaking her head, she scooted off the edge of her desk, bent down to pick up the scattered papers, then stacked them neatly on the desktop.

  Turning, she faced him. “This didn’t solve anything.”

  “Didn’t know it was supposed to.”

  “Paul.…” His name came out on a sigh. There was so much. In her heart. In her mind. And none of it made sense. And trying to talk to Paul about it didn’t help. Lately it seemed as though anytime they were in a room together, they started out talking and ended up breathing heavy. Hell, nothing about her life made sense anymore.

  When she and Nick broke up, Stevie’d thought her heart was irreparably broken. She’d put all of her hopes and dreams into that relationship and losing them had about crushed her right back into the lonely little girl she’d been when she’d first arrived in Chandler. But she’d lived through the pain of his betrayal. She’d taught herself to ignore the flash of sexual heat she’d always felt around him until now there was nothing left. But Paul was different.

  In so many ways.

  He was her friend, first. For too many years, he’d always been there—a shoulder to cry on, an understanding ear to whine to. And damn it, she missed that. She missed being able to call him and just talk. To rag him about the latest succession of women strolling through his life. To tease him about how he spent too much time at work and not enough time just enjoying his life.

  Damn it.

  She missed him.

  She missed her friend.

  Oh, the sex was great. Fabulous. First-class. Better than anything she’d ever experienced before. But was that all it was? Was she just a passing blip on his radar screen? Okay, fine. Even she didn’t really believe that he was simply using her as a means of finally trumping his twin. That so wasn’t Paul.

  But at the same time, she had to wonder if she wasn’t just making the same mistake she had before. Was finding something in Paul another way to hang on to the Candellano family? And how could she trust her own judgment? She’d been miserably wrong about Nick. What if she reached out and made a grab for Paul only to discover she’d made another mistake?

  No. She couldn’t risk it. Because this time, if it all fell apart in her hands, her heart wouldn’t survive the pain.

  “I thought you were going to be using the new software I brought you last month.”

  “Huh?” Stevie blinked at the shift in conversation, then looked at Paul, bent over, tapping at her keyboard and studying the computer screen.

  “The new bookkeeping system I got for you,” he said, sparing her a quick glance as his fingers flew over the keys with a sure, steady stroke that reminded her just how talented those fingers were. “You said you were installing it.”

  Well. From the sublime to the boring. “I was, I just didn’t have time to—”

  “It only takes a few minutes.”

  “Sure, if you’re Wonder Boy.”

  He shot her a quick grin that melted her teeth. “Aren’t you lucky that Wonder Boy happens to be here?” He pulled out her chair, plopped down into it, and leaned closer to the screen, squinting just enough to look sexy as all get-out.

  “Paul, you don’t have to do this now.”

  “No problem.”

  Stevie shook her head. He’d never leave now. He was on the hunt. Like some ancient warrior going after the prize buck in the forest, Paul wouldn’t stop until he’d hunted down every last whatsis and whosis in the computer program. “Where’re your glasses?”

  He patted his T-shirt, then shrugged. “Didn’t think I’d need ’em this morning.”

  “So come back when you’ve got ’em.”

  “Nah. I can do it. You’ll be up and running in a few minutes.”

  “Great,” she said, perching on the edge of the desk to watch him work. “Then it shouldn’t take me more than a month or two to decipher the book that explains how to use the darn thing.”

  He didn’t tear his gaze from the screen, so Stevie studied him while he talked and worked.

  “You don’t need to know the whole book. Just the parts that you’ll be using. I can show you in no time.”

  He shoved his right hand through his hair impatiently and Stevie smiled. He was so busy concentrating, his chair could catch fire and he wouldn’t notice. Focused. That’s the word she’d use to describe Paul. Whatever he happened to be doing at the time held his complete attention. Whether it was installing a new computer program or stroking her body into a frenzied state that only he could ease.

  Oh boy.

  Stevie shifted a little on the desk, suddenly warm and liquid again. Amazing how he could do that to her without even trying. He’d just blasted her senses with the quickest, sexiest hand job she’d ever known and now here she sat, eager and primed for more.

  Was this what her life would be like from now on? Her gaze locked on Paul. Her friend, fixing her computer—and her lover, torturing her body.

  “You really need a new computer, Stevie,” he muttered as figures flashed across the screen. “I mean, you’re driving a tractor and the rest of the world has Ferraris.”

  Typical. That computer was almost brand-new. But unless it was the biggest and the fastest and the flashiest, it was just secondhand s
crap metal to Paul. She smiled to herself as she listened to Paul’s muttering get thicker and faster. This is the Paul she knew. The man she’d missed so much. The man she was comfortable around. Now all she had to do was figure out how to mesh this Paul and the new Paul into her life—without messing everything up.

  Too bad she didn’t have a book telling her how to do that.

  * * *

  Rosie’s café was packed.

  Not all that surprising, Stevie thought, considering Rosie Halloran made the best chicken salad in Central California. Although, with the fall weather turning downright nippy, Rosie’s homemade soups would be a draw, too.

  A small place, Rosie’s had all the charm of a welcoming home. Lace curtains hung in the windows, wide oak beams crisscrossed the walls and ceiling, and what looked like candlelit chandeliers hung from the rafters on draping black chains. The twenty or so tables sprinkled around the room were mismatched and no two chairs were alike. Each of them had an upholstered seat in wildly clashing fabric, and together they somehow seemed to meld into a country kitchen sort of feel. Fresh daisies in tiny cobalt blue vases sat on every table, and heavy silverware lay across thick linen napkins.

  The view of the ocean was spectacular from any of the wide windows—though the ones up front also boasted a front row seat for the smacking of waves against the rocks. Salt spray dusted the pristine glass, droplets shining like gold dust as the afternoon sun danced across the panes.

  Rosie did a huge tourist business, but her mainstays were the locals, who were always crowding the place, looking for a break from cooking themselves. Stevie glanced around at the crowd and smiled warily at Virginia, sitting alone at a table for three. The older woman gave Stevie a regal nod, then returned her attention to her surroundings. Wouldn’t want to miss a chance at any gossip.

  A knot of tension tightened in the pit of Stevie’s stomach. Great. The Terrible Three would be within eavesdropping distance from her and Mama.