Why didn’t he have boyfriend potential? And since when did he care?
Alana didn’t know enough about him to dismiss him as a long-term boyfriend. Unless there was some sign he wore that only women could see. Not good enough for the long haul. She couldn’t know that he’d never been good enough for any woman he’d ever let himself care about. His mother and Beth—after that, he just hadn’t opened himself up to it. Alana reminded him of all he’d been missing; stuff he’d convinced himself that he didn’t want.
He shook his head, hoping to shake loose his thoughts. He was drawn out of his hang-dog thoughts when Geoff said, “You don’t want a beer?”
“Uh, yeah. Where’s the closest concession?” Cole replied.
Alana gave him a knowing smile when he got up, as if she knew he’d been ogling her and wanting to touch her all along. “Dos Equis for me, please.”
Javier walked down the bleachers, looking hung over, which according to his sisters, wasn’t anything new.
“Bro.” They clasped hands, and bumped chests.
“What are you doing here?”
“Your sisters invited me.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be down here visiting me? You didn’t even answer my texts last night.”
Fuck Javier for warning him away from his sister then asking him to do a favor for said sister. And now, he gave him shit about hanging out with both of his sisters at the least likely place to seduce either one of them.
He shifted on his feet, and looked back at Alana and her sister in their seats. She wasn’t looking at him. “I met a girl. I was busy with her.”
Javier held his hand up to high-five him, but Cole ignored it and gave his friend a hard stare.
“Tell me about her. Where did you meet her?”
Cole couldn’t get into details. Alana didn’t seem cool with her family knowing that they were hooking up. And Cole didn’t think Javier’s view on the matter had changed in the past forty-eight hours. Instead, he told as much of the truth as he could. “I met her when you ditched me on New Year’s Eve. Not much to say. She’s cool, but I’m only here for a week.”
Alana was more than cool. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her the night before. Thinking about how he wanted to fuck her again, and looking forward to spending time with her today, not fucking.
“You shouldn’t have that look about a chick with an expiration date.” Javier clapped him on the arm. “That’s living the dream.”
Javier had a point, and Alana had made it clear that they were a temporary thing. She hadn’t even wanted to tell her sister that they were having a thing. “Yeah, but I might like her.” He crossed his arms over his chest. Geoff stood mute, apparently not interested in gossiping about who Cole was fucking and for how long. Good man. “We were just going to get a beer.”
“Lame.” Javier snorted. “Speaking of beer, I’m thirsty.” He pointed towards the breezeway.
“You sure you need one?” Cole asked.
Javier narrowed his eyes, but followed him to the concession stand.
* * * *
As soon as Cole and Geoff were out of earshot, Carla poked Alana in the side and said, “You guys are doing it again, aren’t you?”
“You can’t tell Javi. He’ll freak.”
“Eh, it would serve him right for acting like such a Neanderthal half the time.” Carla tried to get a look at Cole’s backside as he made his way up to the concourse. “And honey, I don’t blame you. He was looking at you like you’re dinner.”
“I was dessert before you called last night.” Alana couldn’t believe that the words popped out of her mouth. She put her hands on her face. Carla let out a bark of laughter.
“Lady, if anyone deserves a good time with a man who looks like that, it’s you.”
“What do you mean?” Alana was a little offended. Sure, she worked hard. But she made it to family events, got to the gym, stayed close with Carla.
“I just mean that he doesn’t seem like the long-term type. But everyone deserves a little Mr.-Right-Now once in a while.”
Her mood, which had been flying high all day, quickly deflated. The reminder that Cole was a fling, nothing more, made her want to go home right now. Carla’s words made her feel heavy, like she needed a nap. Something about the way he looked at her today—owned her with a wink and a smile—made it feel like it could be more than it was. Carla’s words were a necessary but unpleasant reminder that he wasn’t for her.
She wouldn’t get to have his hot mouth doing dirty things to her forever. He was going to leave in a week. He would move out and on, and she would have to witness a parade of women that he brought around her parents’ place. Because he would be part of the family. Once the Hernandez family brought someone in, it was impossible to get out. The idea put a sour taste in her mouth. It was a huge mistake to get involved with him. Huge.
Her thoughts must have shown on her face. “Don’t look so glum. Just enjoy the now,” her sister said.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“I know I’m right. I’m always right,” Carla said, picking imaginary lint off her ruffly tank top.
“And humble, too.” It occurred to Alana that just because her sister had dated a lot before she settled on Geoff, she had definitely settled on the pasty accountant. “Are you sure you’re right about your own love life?”
Carla sucked in her cheeks and leaned back. Her wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses probably hid a deadly glare. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, I just never saw you with a guy like him.” Alana knew she’d put her foot in it. She was the only one in the family who hadn’t questioned Carla’s life choices—repeatedly—and her sister didn’t take kindly to critiques from Javi or their parents. Carla had admitted that she’d chosen Geoff to please their father. Even after two days with Cole, Alana had been ruined for that option.
“Maybe that’s because I finally decided to stop dating guys like Cole.”
“What do you think he’s like? He’s been nothing but a perfect gentlemen.” She hoped her skin didn’t flush and betray that the only times he hadn’t been—like in his hotel suite and on her dining room table.
“Oh, come on. Are you really that naïve?” She wasn’t as naïve as her sister thought. “Do you think he’s going to marry you and have babies?”
“What do you mean by that?” Her voice rose. Alana didn’t want to fight with her sister. Not when Cole and Geoff would be back any second. But she wasn’t going to let it go.
“He’s just not the guy who takes out the trash or cleans up a diaper blowout.”
Alana ground her teeth together. She realized that her sister wanted her to be happy, but only when it was on her terms. She might have decided that she was ready to deal with diaper blowouts and trash duty, but Alana wasn’t. As much as she’d always thought that’s what she wanted, her time with Cole made her realize that she hadn’t been having any fun with her life. She wasn’t going to throw this time away just because her sister had seen the light and wanted someone to be bored with.
“I’ll believe it when you’re walking down the aisle, Ms. Impulsive.”
“Impulsive? I’m not the one having one-night stands.” Carla was yelling now and several other fans turned around to look at them. If Alana wasn’t mistaken, one of the outfielders had turned when Carla said “one-night stand.”
“Be quiet. I’m entitled to a little fun. And yes, you are impulsive. But now, you’ve decided—impulsively—to settle down with someone so boring that you fall asleep during sex.” Alana should stop talking now, but she wasn’t done with her mad. She pulled up the lock of hair that usually covered her forehead and pointed to a tiny scar. “Remember, I have to wear bangs because of you.”
“I was five.” Carla’s voice was a hiss.
Footfalls on the concrete steps near their seats got closer, so the conversation needed to end. Carla’s lips were so pur
sed that she’d get premature wrinkles, and Alana’s jaw was so tight she would probably get a migraine.
When she saw who followed them, she realized that this family outing could get much worse. Javi strolled down the stadium steps, which meant that she wouldn’t be able to sneak off early with Cole.
“How did my sisters steal my friend during his vacation?”
“We’re prettier than you,” Carla said.
“And we smell better.”
Javi leaned down and kissed both her and Carla on the cheek before settling in behind her and Cole.
Javi kept talking about some party that he was going to bring Cole to. With models. Wall-to-wall models. Both of her siblings seemed determined to piss her off today.
She couldn’t remember ever being this pissed at her brother. And then she was angry at herself for getting jealous of models. Fucking models. On top of her anger at Carla, her skin was burnt by the time they left the game. Not even Cole’s furtive glances and grins—when Javi’s attention was on something else—improved her mood.
Until the first baseman’s at-bat song came on. Cole looked over at her as the player approached home plate and to Bobby Brown singing about “a big butt and a smile.” Then he winked. The heat of it went all the way to her toes.
Chapter 9
Cole was glad he’d feigned a stomachache while he washed himself quickly and then shampooed and conditioned Alana’s hair in her shower fit for two. They’d had to leave the game separately; Javier had believed his excuse, but Carla’s raised eyebrows had said she knew that Cole and Alana were going to be together.
Alana moaned softly and leaned into him as his fingertips skimmed over her scalp. Fuck hanging out with models. This was where he wanted to be. After not being able to touch her all day at the game, he couldn’t stand being apart from her, even to bathe. His dick wanted him to grab her by the thighs, push her into the shower wall, and sink in for the rest of the night, but he’d promised to fulfill her fantasies. Being mauled by a wild man was not one of those fantasies.
What disturbed him more than his desire to fuck her again was that he wanted to linger in the shower with her and trace the freckles on her shoulders with the tips of his fingers until she shivered and begged him to move his fingers lower—much lower.
Cole imagined future afternoons like this one. Except he wanted to sit next to her with an arm draped across the back of her seat. He didn’t want her smiles—the ones meant just for him—to be secret. He couldn’t figure out why this girl made him ache for more. Was it because she was off-limits and, according to her brother, way too good for him? Or was it because the way she looked at him and the sounds she made when she touched him unlocked something inside him? Something that made him feel alive again?
After he’d rinsed the conditioner out of her hair, she reached for him. He summoned willpower that he didn’t know he had, covered her hand, and turned off the shower.
“After dinner,” he said.
“But, I want . . .”
“Remember who’s in charge of that tonight.” According to his dick, saying no was much more painful for him than it was for her. But, as he was drying her off, he heard her stomach growl.
Resolved: dinner first, then sex.
Alana bundled herself up in an adorable, fluffy robe that somehow still made him want to take her down the bathroom floor and have his way with her. She suggested going to dinner at her favorite restaurant. Some high-falutin’ small plates felt a lot more like a date than anything they’d done before. The idea of dating Alana spread warmth through his chest.
Cole looked down at his dark jeans, chambray shirt, and shit-kicking boots. He didn’t know why he’d thought he could get away with taking her out in a Canadian tuxedo. He beat himself up until he saw she looked at him like she expected an answer.
He touched his shirt and said, “I’m okay like this?”
“I’d like you better without the shirt, but restaurants tend to frown on chest hair in their soup.”
“Talk much more like that, and we won’t make it to dinner.” His stomach growled then, and she rolled her eyes. He liked seeing her like this: carefree and playful. That’s what he was here for. He was her fun. His insecurities had no place in this little affair.
She started for her bedroom to get dressed. She popped her head around the corner. “You won’t regret it.”
“I already do.”
When she entered the living room dressed in a long-sleeved yellow wrap dress and pink and gold stilettos, Cole let out a long whistle. She’d blown out her hair so it hung straight over her shoulders. She was wearing something pink and glossy on her lips, but no other makeup that he could see. Her perfect, freckled skin didn’t need any fancying up.
“I have no idea how I’m supposed to get through a meal with you looking like that. Not only am I going to have to pay attention to what fork to use, but I’m going to have to fight off every man who lays eyes on you.”
Alana blushed. “It’s only fair. I’m going to have to beat down every woman who looks at you with my handbag.” He didn’t think he looked like anything special, but her thinking so made lightness spread through his chest.
She reached out and rubbed his beard. “I like this.” He loved it when she was affectionate.
“I gathered that.” He winked at her and they walked out to his truck. When he helped her in, he felt her hip and realized she wasn’t wearing underwear. “Now, that’s going to get you punished.”
Alana smiled. “Why, sir? I thought you’d like the easy access.”
“I like it, but you’re still getting a spanking when we get home. I’m going to be too hard to eat.” She got in the car and patted his thigh.
“I doubt that, sailor.”
Cole liked this saucy side of Alana, almost more than any other side.
When they arrived at the restaurant, Alana was greeted a little too warmly by the chef de cuisine, whom she introduced as a friend from grade school. Cole had to work to smile and shake the man’s hand instead of growling. In the car, Alana had guaranteed him that that food was amazing. With all the stomach rumblings, it was probably best not to murder the man cooking for him.
His flash of jealousy over Alana took him by surprise. He’d never been jealous with Beth, never worried she wasn’t his, not until the very end.
The hostess, apparently another friend of the Hernandez family, seated them in a corner booth with plenty of privacy. Cole sat next to her rather than the other side of the table; he wanted to be close to her.
As soon as the hostess left, Cole leaned over and whispered, “You are in so much trouble.”
* * * *
Alana’s mouth went dry and she croaked, “Me? Why?”
“Because now I won’t be able to concentrate on my food. I’ll be thinking about your wet cunt under the table.”
Alana hid her face at Cole’s course language, but she was also turned on by it. If she hadn’t been wet before, she was as soon as he nipped her earlobe and then looked at his menu like he hadn’t just said something that would scandalize everyone in the restaurant.
Fortunately, Alana knew what she wanted to eat. She wasn’t sure that she could read right then. She lost even more brainpower when Cole reached his hand under the edge of her dress. After what he said, she expected him to touch her intimately. Right in the middle of a restaurant. But he didn’t. He rested his hand on her knee and rubbed circles on the sensitive skin inside with his calloused thumb. It drove her even crazier than if he had fingered her under the table. She was certain that she looked feverish, and she stumbled over her words when the waiter, a sweet-faced young man, came to take their order.
She was starving, and they both pounced on several small plates of savory bites without taking breaks for conversation or breath. The food, Cole’s big body next to her, and the romantic ambience were heady. She liked the way his mouth closed over the steamed mussels, crispy pigs’ ears, duck c
onfit. The pace of their voracious eating didn’t slow until the food was gone.
He smiled at her when she went for the last piece of duck. She asked, “Why aren’t you married?”
His smile faded, and she cursed her own bluntness until he responded. “Almost was.”
That sort of cryptic response wasn’t going to stem her curiosity. “Almost?”
He sighed and put down his fork. “You really want to do this?”
Honestly, she didn’t know what “this” was anymore. Heavy conversations were why people always got hurt when they tried to be friends with benefits. When you spent time with someone, got naked with them repeatedly, you wanted to know more about them. She felt like she could ask him questions—like she had the right to—because the physical intimacy was there. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to be open with him in return. They hadn’t even had sex since the first night, but once you’ve showered with someone, their romantic history was fair game in her view. Plus, his frustration at her question made her want to know even more.
“You can’t give an answer like that and not expect a follow-up.”
“I almost forgot you were a lawyer.” He just stared at her and gave her the sex voodoo gaze that made her panties disappear that first night.
“Answer the question or I’ll treat you as a hostile witness.”
He licked his lips before answering, like what he was about to say left a bad taste in his mouth. “I got dumped.”
“I find that hard to believe.” Who the fuck would dump a sex god?
“Believe it.”
“What did you do?”
When he looked at her then, there was no sex magic in his eyes, and there wasn’t a shit-eating grin just below the surface. There was sadness and some vulnerability. Like he didn’t want to tell her, as though he was afraid of her response. Not like the man she’d spent time with over the past few days.
Stroke of Midnight Page 8
