Wanting It All: A Naked Men Novel

by Christi Barth

  He let his head loll forward. Staring at the grass, Knox muttered, “That’s…a lot to take in.”

  It was a lot to put out there. Madison hadn’t ever shared her Grand Plan with a man. Especially not one with the potential to participate in it. So what if she’d jumped the gun a bit? Better to get the truth out there.

  “This isn’t exactly a third-date conversation,” she said. A nervous laugh slipped out. Knox still didn’t look up. “I get it. And I wasn’t planning on dumping all this on you for a while yet. No reason to bring it up until I gauged just how compatible we really are. If this thing we’re doing ended up being just a few weeks of fun? There wouldn’t have been any reason to freak you out with the reason I moved out here.”

  That brought his head up with an audible snap. “Hang on. You moved to D.C. to find a husband?”

  “I had a few big reasons. Yes, that was one of them.” Probably not a good idea to bring up the third reason she moved out here right now. It would just muddy the conversational waters. “I’m not knocking the entire male population of the forty-ninth state. I’m just saying that I wasn’t finding the kind of men out there that I want to father my babies.”

  Knox shot to his feet. He paced to the edge of the reflecting pool. Stood for a moment, which let her appreciate the tight curve of his ass. Might as well enjoy the view in the middle of a fight, right? To offset the tension that was rolling in thicker than fog. Because his stance, as taut as an elk-hide drum, let her know Knox wasn’t done hassling her about this.

  Finally, he turned around, hands fisted at his sides. “Look, this is the twenty-first freaking century. No woman I know strategizes marriage above all else. Sure, women want the big white dress and the picket fence. But nobody—nobody in her right mind—changes her entire life around just to find it.”

  He could disagree. He could disagree vociferously. But Madison would not stand for being talked down to as if she’d gone off her rocker. So she stood up, too. Which reminded her that being mostly naked for a flirty dinner was fun. Fighting without clothes on, however, made her feel completely naked.

  “I had a goal. I implemented a plan to reach my goal. As a businessman, you should comprehend that course of action. And you should respect me for being up front about all of this.”

  “Then you should respect that I’ve been up front from the start about not dating with a diamond solitaire burning a hole in my pocket. I know Annabeth and Summer filled you in on my reputation. I like to date.” He held up his index finger. “Have a good time,” a second finger lifted, “and then move on.” Knox jerked his thumb to the side. “Period. It isn’t that I’m not looking for a life partner. It’s that I don’t want one.”

  Now he was just being pissy. “Stop exaggerating. Everyone wants to get married, eventually.”

  If he shook his head any harder and faster, it’d fly off and go spinning across the lawn like a Frisbee. “Not everyone. Not this guy. Women are an all-I-can-grab buffet line. That’s how I want to spend the rest of my life. I see a woman I want, I go for it. End of story.”

  Okay. If he wanted to use the stupid metaphor, she’d just pick it apart. “I don’t understand. What makes a buffet better than a nice, white tablecloth restaurant?”

  “Have you ever been to a champagne brunch buffet? Choice upon choice upon choice.” Knox gestured to each row of marble columns in turn with one flailing arm. “Nineteen kinds of salads, roast beef, ham and turkey, a whole table of desserts. You can’t ever get bored. They have everything.”

  Could he truly be that dense? Madison pulled his arm down. “You’re wrong. A buffet doesn’t have everything. What it does have is a plethora of mediocrity. And it all runs together into a plate full of forgettable slop. Anyone who serves up that many choices isn’t giving you quality. Quantity over quality does work for popcorn shrimp. It does not work in finding someone who will treasure and guard your heart for years to come. If you pay for the best in every other aspect of your life, why wouldn’t you want it in your love life?”

  Knox pulled out of her grip. Then he quickly crossed to put the picnic basket between them. Every time he moved now, it was farther and farther away from her. “Damn it, Madison, that’s my point. I’m not looking for love. I’m not looking to settle down. Or to settle, period.”

  Okay, it stung. Madison knew that, again, after only three dates that wasn’t an insult directed right at her. Still, standing here in her underwear, it sure felt like it. Like he’d just said he refused to settle for the too-tall, big-boned hick whose entire annual salary probably wouldn’t cover the watch on his wrist.

  With jerky motions, Madison gathered her clothes into a pile and dressed. “I repeat, I’m not looking for—or even hoping for—a proposal tonight. I haven’t decided yet if you’re a viable match. You might very well not be good enough for me.” The sling was petty, but felt justified after his “settling” jab.

  “Let me get this straight.” Knox yanked on his clothes, too. He left his shirt unbuttoned to stomp back all the way to the columns, shake his head, and then turn to hurl his words right at her. “I’m supposed to keep hanging out with you. Having sex with you. All the while being evaluated like a fucking racehorse stud?”

  Why did he have to put such a negative spin on a perfectly normal process? Madison worked to suppress her own burbling anger. Okay, she’d caught him by surprise. The need to vent a little was understandable. She’d seen this reaction before.

  Fine. She just needed to get him to stop focusing on what he perceived to be the downside of her revelation. Because this whole thing might end up being a moot point. Or…a quasi-funny story told at their wedding reception.

  She smoothed her shirt, making sure to let her hand linger as it followed the curve of her breast. Sure enough, the motion caught Knox’s eye like a homing beacon. With what she hoped was a come-hither smile in the near-full moonlight, Madison said, “We’re having fun, right?”

  “I was.” Knox jammed his feet into his shoes. One was still soggy from its swim in the reflecting pool. “Until you informed me of your need to get married, basically before the first snowfall.”

  Easy misconception to fix. This time she put an innocent spin on her smile. Hopefully. “I’m not in a rush. I want to do this right, not do it fast. You’re the one who said that when you see something you want, you get it. I see the future that I want. I’m just trying to get it.”

  “Why drag me into it? Your future is exactly what I don’t want. Relying on one person to keep me happy for the rest of my life. I get a new phone every sixteen months. New pants every season. I’m not a long-term kind of guy.”

  Madison firmly believed that everybody wanted a life partner. Some people were just too scared to admit it. Which she could work around. “You’ve kept those roommates of yours around since high school. That’s a long-term commitment.”

  “They’re family,” he said swiftly. “All of them—and my mom. That’s different.”

  How could he not see that it was exactly the same? That she wanted to make a family, too? And that his obvious devotion to his friends and his mother was one of the things that made him so darned perfect for her? “Oh, for God’s sake, Knox. You said yourself that lots of women want to get married. I’ve simply prioritized it.”

  “And I’ve de-prioritized it.”

  “Look, nothing has to change. We keep having fun for as long as it feels good.” Madison held out her hand. Her smile was beginning to feel as tight as her peppermint mud mask. Talking about this any more would just frustrate both of them. She wasn’t proposing, for crying out loud. Merely giving him full disclosure.

  He shouldered her bag and slowly took her hand. “Just fun. That’s all I’ve signed on for.”

  For now. “That’s the plan.” She stooped to blow out a candle.

  “Don’t bother with that. I’ve got someone coming to clean all this up in half an hour. The votives will gutter themselves by then anyway.” Knox led them back toward the parking
lot.

  It was a shame. She wanted to see more of the vast garden with its shadows and slices of moonlight. But the mood was definitely spoiled. Knox needed some space to stop pouting. She’d make sure that their next date was pure, frothy fun. No mention of love or commitment. “If you’re right, we’ll fizzle out. There’s no reason to look so spooked.”

  He reached across to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. Which proved that despite his surliness, Knox wasn’t done touching her. It proved that he still had a yen for her. Madison bit her lip so her smile wouldn’t turn smug. The terminology didn’t matter. The labeling, the talk of the future didn’t matter. Their conversation, their chemistry—ultimately that was all that mattered. And they seemed to be as combustible as pop rocks in soda.

  “You’ve got this whole nefarious scheme that’s like an undertow in every date now,” he complained.

  Madison squeezed his arm. She couldn’t get her hand all the way around, which was deliciously impressive. “With these biceps? I’ll bet you’re a strong swimmer.”

  “I can stay afloat. Can’t outrace a tidal wave, though.”

  She got the message. She’d back off. Drop the subject. But if he did turn out to be the perfect candidate, then Madison had no compunctions about drowning him in love.

  Chapter 8

  “Why are we having an official house meeting?” Josh grumbled. He stood with his arms braced on the wrought-iron bannister by the patio door, as if ready to bolt back inside to his favorite cooking show given half a chance.

  Knox waved for him to join the other guys already kicked back on loungers flanking the stone fireplace. No fire, of course, but there was something misty coming out of it that should keep them from being eaten alive by mosquitos. He’d had enough of that on Sunday with Madison. It’d been yet another unexpected and unwanted twist to the evening. After trying not to scratch in embarrassing places during a staff meeting today, Knox had faked a phone call to go out in the hall and seek relief.

  “Get your ass down here and find out,” he ordered.

  “Foodapalooza starts in ten minutes. They’re touring a cheese hall in Belgium.”

  Knox would never say it out loud, but he was pretty sure that if they had to cut back to a single cable channel, Josh would choose a cooking channel over the soccer station. And then they’d all have to beat him senseless. “There’s going to be a foodapalooza down here. Jerry’s bringing out brats and dogs and Italian sausages to grill.”

  Sure enough, that got Josh to vault over the bannister, barely clearing the hibiscus before landing on the slate patio. “Your bribery worked. This time.”

  Riley passed him a beer. “It works every time. If he’d told you that we had chips and onion dip, you’d have sat your ass down without even thinking about your stupid food show.”

  “Hey, as much as I like watching food, eating it’s always better.” Josh whipped off his stained Capitol Grilled uniform T-shirt to match the rest of them in just swim trunks and straddled the deep red cushion of a lounge chair. “Still want to know why we’re being bribed.”

  Actually, Knox did, too. As happy as he was for any excuse to drink beers and grill on a nice summer night, it was technically his house. Which made it highly unusual for anyone else to call a meeting. He did it only to announce something fun like a trip to watch the World Cup or to argue over the theme for the Christmas tree. Last year it’d been video-game characters. Knox was leaning toward suggesting an all Marvel movies tree this year. Mostly because he wanted Thor’s hammer as the tree topper.

  “It’s June twenty-first,” Griff announced.

  Josh rolled his eyes. “Whoop-di-frigging-do. Is that some stupid made-up holiday? National Hot Dog Day?”

  Knox would believe it. One of his researchers had informed him that June was National Adopt a Cat Month and tried to force a nine-year-old calico on him. Right. Because a house filled with five men and a butler screamed pussy appropriate. Although maybe it did, given that wording…

  “Thanks to the Fourth of July right around the corner, we have to record two podcasts this week. A skeleton staff at SER for the holiday means everything gets prerecorded.” Griffin tapped the screen of his iPad. “Which also means we have to come up with topics for two of them. This is a brainstorming meeting.”

  They all groaned. The podcast had turned out to be more fun than expected. Actually doing it, at least. No downside to shooting the breeze with his best friends for an hour. Being all businesslike and coming up with discussion topics? Nobody enjoyed that part. But they all equally respected and feared their producer, Lara.

  “I’ve got a solution.” Josh dove elbow-deep into the chip bowl. “Logan’s missed how many recording sessions so far? I say it’s time to make him pony up with the brain work.”

  Riley pulled a handful of ice chips from the steel bucket holding the beer and threw it at him. “Brilliant, Hardwick. We’ve been trying to track him down for months. Now that you’ve hit a lazy patch, you’ve got a way to make him materialize and do your work?”

  Josh skipped one of the ice pieces across the hot tub. “Nah. That’s Knox’s problem to solve.”

  “Really?” This was not the day—or the week, for that matter—for Josh to needle him. Knox was used to being in charge. Calling all the shots. Madison had pulled the rug out from under him, and he still hadn’t regained his balance. So he’d damn well throw his weight around where he could. He rose from where he’d been crouched, fiddling with his iPod playlist. Took three long strides to glare down at Josh. “At what point do you plan to start pulling your weight, for once?”

  “Hey, I cook on Jerry’s nights off.”

  “You know, mostly we go out,” Riley helpfully added. “Since we feel guilty about having you cook when you’ve spent all day doing it.”

  Knox hammered the point home. “When you do cook for us, it’s because you want to test out a new recipe for your food truck. We’re actually doing you the favor. Not the other way around.”

  That got Josh vertical and right in his face. “What bug crawled up your ass, Davies?”

  “I pay Jerry to run our house. I don’t pay him to do everything under the sun you’re too damn lazy to do. You plan to outsource your blog post to him next?”

  The ex-linebacker himself walked out carrying a tray of food, still with a slight limp from the injury that had derailed his career and landed him in their household. He stopped at the foot of the stairs when he heard his name. “Everything okay out here?”

  Knox took the tray from him and set it on the built-in counter, hard enough to rattle the dishes. “Everything you did is great, Jerry. The grill’s hot, the beer’s cold, the table’s cleaned off. I might have an issue with your choice of music, but we’ll argue about you making a playlist based solely on The Voice coaches some other time.”

  “You want me to get started on the grilling, boss?”

  “We’ve got this,” said Griff. He grabbed the tongs and waved him off. “Thanks, Jerry. We’ll clean up, too. Go get yourself a cold one.”

  As the screen door slapped shut, Knox stalked back to Josh. It felt good to focus his frustration like a laser and aim it at him. Because trying to unleash it on Madison hadn’t worked at all. She’d sloughed off every argument he’d thrown at her. And then sexted him last night like nothing had happened. Maddening. Infuriating. Damned impossible to resist.

  “See? Everyone has a role to play.” Knox jabbed a finger at Josh’s chest. “You stick to your role, and it works. If you don’t, then we’ve got fucking chaos.”

  Griff put a hand on each of their shoulders and pushed them in opposite directions a few steps. “I’d say we’re pretty close to chaos right now. And not because of Josh.”

  “Yeah.” Suddenly, Riley was there, too. He gave a casual hitch to the American flag swim trunks they’d all gotten for last year’s Fourth of July roof deck party. “What did crawl up your ass, Knox? You don’t usually flip out like this.”

  So? Wasn’t a guy
allowed to flip his lid in his own backyard? He shouldn’t have to explain. Living with four guys meant they didn’t talk things to death. It was supposed to, anyhow.

  Josh just spread his arms to the sides with a look of disgust. “Since when do we have roles?”

  “And if we do now, can I be the sexy lady-killer?” Riley scrubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “I haven’t had a date in two weeks. I feel like if women saw my role on, say, a monogrammed shirt, they’d be more clear on the fact that they’re supposed to be throwing themselves at my feet.”

  “Everybody take a seat,” Griff ordered. He used his serious, Coast Guard lieutenant, squadron commander voice. He’d used it only twice on the ACSs. Once when they accidentally set off an entire container of fireworks and needed an extinguisher. And a second time when FBI agents came by to do a background check on Knox, and Josh started to tell the story of their testing Knox’s drones by smuggling a package of Cuban cigars over the Canadian border.

  Naturally, they all now dropped—immediately—into loungers, with the corresponding squeaks of vinyl meeting asses.

  Griff stayed standing. He pointed at Riley. “You haven’t had a date in two weeks because you clocked so much overtime your eyes should be bleeding. You’re in between investigations now, just doing cleanup. Stop working so hard. Go find a girl and have some sex before your blue balls explode.”

  “Thanks for clearing up my motivation.”

  Griff picked up his iPad and dropped it on Josh’s legs. “You’re in charge. Of brainstorming tonight, and of leading the discussions when we record. We’ve all taken a turn at this except for you. I know why you’ve been avoiding it, but it’s good practice.”