by Clare James
The thought of that had me clearing my throat, well before my stomach started going off at the mention of lasagna. I was a hot mess, but lasagna was one of my weak spots. Getting freaky was another.
“Well, come on in then,” Jenna said, shaking her head as she opened the door to her place.
“What?” I asked, trying to hold in another stomach growl.
“Playing coy, are we?” She looked at me expectedly. Her mask was nowhere to be found.
“I don’t do coy,” I told her. It was true, I was always direct, straight to the point.
“Okay, do you need your invitation engraved?”
Smartass.
“You’re inviting me in?”
“I can’t just leave you out here wasting away when I have enough food to feed the neighborhood, can I?” She tugged my arm, pulling me across the threshold.
And just like that, she was sweet again—The Dr. Jekyll version of Jenna. She had these two shades I was coming to know well, and hell, maybe even appreciate. She was definitely a mystery. I never knew who was going to show up.
Still, it didn’t feel right to go inside. What would Tabby say?
“It’s just a meal, Michael,” Jenna said softly, seeming to understand the battle going on in my brain.
She was right. It was just noodles. And sauce. And some cheese. That’s all. Going in there and having my fill of those three items wasn’t a betrayal, was it?
My body must’ve decided for me, because a minute later, I was in her place. It was nicer than mine. New appliances, and paint, and maybe floors, too. Didn’t surprise me; it was pretty obvious that Jenna had our landlord under her little thumb.
It was cozy, with all the girly touches that guys never could get quite right. The things that made a place a home. My mom had been great at that, too. Tabby’s, however, was challenged in that way. Our place in Illinois had all the charm of a stuffy office building.
“Have a seat,” Jenna said, motioning to the table. “I’ll grab another place setting.”
I did as she asked while Ruby and Molly came over to sit at my feet. Oscar came in for a quick pet, but then just as abruptly, he turned around and found a corner and began licking his balls.
It didn’t ruin my appetite in the least.
Jenna served salad and bread and pasta that made my mouth water. I don’t think I talked for the first ten minutes of our dinner. Jenna didn’t seem to mind—that girl could shovel it in with the best of ‘em.
She told me about her week and I could see why she was as hungry as I was. We were both running on fumes with work and classes. At least there was an end in sight. Spring break was next week and things would slow down for ten glorious days. Tabby and Noah were going to Mexico, so I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone or even leave the house if I didn’t want to. I wondered about my neighbor.
“Are you going anywhere for spring break?” I asked her, finding myself hopeful that she’d be around.
“Just the shelter,” she said. “Well, if my boss will let me. She’s trying to get me some time off since it’s been so crazy the past few months.”
“Have you been there for a while?” I couldn’t help the cop in me coming out. I’d thought about nothing else besides my career for the past year, and spent every waking moment on books and training, so it only made sense.
“A few years, since Gloria took it over,” she said in between bites.
That’s right, I read about the new owner. I hated ruining the taste of my meal with all this work stuff, but I wanted to know.
“The place on Cleveland, right?”
She nodded.
“It’s pretty run down,” I blurt like an idiot.
“Well, you don’t mince words, do you?” She took a huge bite of her bread. “Actually, I have a friend with a foundation who’s going to help out with that.”
Fuck, I hated the way she said friend. It seemed she had too many willing guys around at her beck and call, and for reasons I couldn’t name, it bothered the shit out of me.
“You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?” Again, I had no filter. But she didn’t seem to be bothered, so I continued. I needed to know more about what made her tick.
“How so?” She sat up straight, setting her fork down.
“On campus, your minions follow you around, hanging on every word you say. And the guys follow, dropping at your feet. You have a dog in a pet-free complex, and your apartment is much nicer than mine with a bunch of new shit that doesn’t resemble any of the units I looked at in this building. And now, you say you have a friend who’s going to take care of the animal shelter where you work.”
Her eyes grew wide, but her expression was pinched. She started chewing on the inside of her cheek.
Maybe that was a tad too much?
Shit, someone needed a brush up on his interrogation skills because he was fucking this right up. And thinking in the third person wasn’t helping matters.
Grilling Jenna this way, wasn’t going to give me the answers I was looking for. And what was I looking for anyway?
“Been watching me, have you?” she asked, now painting a bored look on her face. She was faking it.
“Maybe a little,” I admitted.
“Well, don’t believe everything you see,” she paused, “or hear.”
She pushed away her plate, and my chest hurt, knowing I’d made her lose her appetite. Why couldn’t I just leave things alone?
Because you want her, that’s why.
It was true, and maybe I was looking for something to deter me. A justification for the things Tabby said about her. I was trying to prove that everyone else was right, because my own feelings were igniting under the surface and I didn’t want to get burned.
“So tell me how it is, then,” I challenged.
“Okay,” she agreed, looking more engaged now. “I hang out with the minions on campus because I don’t have real friends, okay? And I don’t want to be alone. It’s easy with them. Like attracts like, and you know what they say, once a mean girl...”
She turned away from me slightly and Oscar came to sit by her side. Without looking, she reached down to pet him.
“I haven’t been in this apartment long, it opened up last year after the landlord had it remodeled. The dumbass who lived here before fell asleep cooking a pizza and the entire kitchen went up in flames. So I guess that’s why it doesn’t look like the other units in the building.”
I closed my eyes and sunk into my chair. I’m a jackass.
“And the guys,” she continued. “I had a few missteps after my brother died, maybe you heard about that from Tabby or Noah?”
I nodded. They had filled me in on more than I needed to know, and suddenly it felt like such an invasion of privacy. Tabby was only trying to protect me from Jenna, or maybe, protect herself, but it still didn’t feel right. Yet Jenna continued to open up to me and talk about the tragedy that night. I couldn’t imagine the pain she’d had to endure.
“The accident was my fault,” Jenna said, and I understood that guilt more than she knew.
“Accidents aren’t anyone’s fault,” I told her. “That’s why they’re called accidents.”
She shook her head, not wanting to hear that. “I know what you’re trying to do, I’ve been to enough shrinks. And I’ve come to terms with a lot of it, but the simple fact is that I should’ve stayed sober and drove us home instead of letting my little brother do it. I’ve learned since then that my mistake doesn’t mean I’m a worthless human being, but I do need to take responsibility for my role in his death.”
“That sounds surprisingly healthy.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I have bad days.” She laughed, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Once I came back to school, I didn’t really care about anything other than finding ways to escape, even for a little while. So I had a few one-night-stands, and that’s all it took to get a reputation. At the time, it didn’t matter to me because I was so numb. But sometimes—actually most o
f the time—I didn’t even sleep with the guy, but he still needed his story. So there you go.”
The blood started boiling under my skin. And the more Jenna talked, the more similar her story sounded to Tabby’s. How was I the only person who saw it?
My voice softened then, feeling that same overprotective streak slicing through me. Though that’s where the Tabby/Jenna similarities ended. At least where my feelings were concerned.
Jenna made me ache, and had every hair on my body standing on edge. She was this heat. This awareness. And I hated, hated, that she’d been used.
“And now?” I couldn’t stop the fucking interrogation because I needed to know how badly she was still hurt. I needed to know if there was a chance for more. There was something between us that I couldn’t shake, and hell if the past week had helped matters. No, it only intensified the feelings. The thoughts. Shit, the way she invaded my brain whenever I was trying to alleviate the pressure behind my fly.
“Now, I try to keep things simple and fun,” she said. “No strings, I am not into relationships.”
I couldn’t tell if that was a warning or an invitation. She’d been ready to say yes when I asked her to show me around the neighborhood that first day, I know she had. And hey, I was the king of simple and fun, no strings.
“Why are you looking at me like that again?” she asked, practically stumbling over her words. And Jenna didn’t stumble.
I was happy to know that I had an effect on her as well.
“I think you know,” I told her, not changing the expression on my face.
I knew damn well what she was seeing. Pure want. Pure need. Good. She should finally know what she was doing to me.
“I thought you didn’t like coy, Michael?”
Okay, so the snark was back—the Jenna I’d come to know. This was all her, the real her, without all the pretense, the clothes and hair, and presentation. And I’d take the understated Jenna any day of the week. The natural face with that porcelain skin that made her look younger, more innocent, that she was. The pert nose and those calculating eyes, but now they weren’t so much calculating as they were careful—considering our situation. And yes, it sure as shit was a situation.
One we’d take care of one way or another.
9
Jenna
I think you know.
That’s what he said to me when I asked why he was staring. I think you know. His eyes were black, his expression edging on threatening, and I’d practically gone into heat.
Oscar looked over at me and shook his head.
The air was crackling with tension, the rush of energy bouncing off the walls with nowhere to go. My heartrate kicked up to my aerobic training zone—the sweet spot in running, where my breathing was comfortably hard, but I could hold the pace for a long time. I would not crumble just because I had a hot guy in my apartment who may or may not have been interested in making a move on me.
I pushed the last of my lasagna around my plate, unable to eat another bite. When I glanced up from the noodle carcass, Michael’s eyes had lightened a little and I wondered if the moment had passed. I certainly wasn’t going to poke that hornet’s nest—someone could get hurt. By someone I meant me, so I put my mask back on.
“You eat like a linebacker,” I said, moving on to a safer topic.
“I was so hungry, you don’t even know.” He moved the napkin off his lap and placed it on the table before he began shredding it.
Lucky napkin.
I searched my repertoire of witty innuendo, flipping through all of those comebacks I was known for, and got nothing. Nothing. I was so incredibly out of practice at this, and I rarely spent time with someone who mattered. As much as I hated to admit it, I cared about what this guy thought, and that was a dangerous position to be in. With Michael, I didn’t think I could ever be on my A game. With him, I had a feeling that there’d be no games at all.
He’d notice. He noticed everything. The two sides of me. The girl who had to be perfect and untouchable. And the me who was trying so hard to start over, but was always prepared to run away if I had to.
But I didn’t want to run away anymore. I wanted to run toward something for a change.
Michael had become important. I don't know why or how, but he did. Being around him made me feel like I was getting away with something—something extra that I wasn't supposed to have.
Whenever I passed him a dish over the course of the evening, the back of my fingers brushed the front of his. That ghost of a touch was more than I’d felt from another human being in so long, and my reaction was visceral. The connection ignited a fire inside, burning low in my belly.
From the destruction of his napkin to the wickedness of his eyes, he wasn’t in any better shape than I was. We both tried—unsuccessfully—to ignore it.
Silence swelled in the room as Michael watched me and I watched him. The night was ending. We both knew our time was almost up. This was a stolen moment and one we probably shouldn’t repeat. It seemed like he was reluctant to go, but I couldn’t tell if that was just my wishful thinking. I was very reluctant to let him leave.
It reminded me of something I hadn’t thought about in a long time. When Ben and I were little, Dad would always take him outside and do “guy stuff.” Throw a ball around, mess with golf clubs, anything that had to do with sports, really. I always followed along, and Dad would indulge me as long as Ben was there. I never wanted our time together to end, and as Dad would try to wrap it up, I’d say, “Not yet, Daddy. Not yet.” Usually followed by “One more, Daddy. One more.” One more pitch of the ball, or push on the swing, one more race down our street. It was one of the only times I didn’t feel so lonely as a kid.
That’s what this dinner felt like to me. I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t want the loneliness to seep back in. I wanted to scream, “Not yet, just one more. One more.”
I couldn’t meet Michael’s eyes because I knew they’d pull me in and make it even harder for me to say goodnight. And by the end of the evening, I’d put on and taken off my mask so many times I was exhausted. Not that my efforts mattered anyway, because he could see right through it all.
“Jenna,” he said softly.
“Yeah?” I answered. We had already walked to the door and I was looking for something, anything, to fidget with so I wouldn’t have to face him.
Michael wasn’t having it.
“Jenna,” he said with more force this time. “Look at me.”
I flashed my gaze up to him and then back down, quickly.
It wasn’t enough for him. He placed a finger under my chin and tipped my face up to his so I had no choice this time. His eyes were soft, but intense. Not quite black as they were before, but they were dilated, and his lids were slightly hooded. It made me wonder what my eyes looked like to him in the moment. Were they giving me away? Could he see that he had broken through the wall that not many people had? Did he know how desperately I wanted him to stay? Could he tell I needed his touch?
Did he know he was dealing with a completely sex-starved, socially awkward, recluse?
The corner of his mouth quirked up just then, and I thought yes, maybe he did know.
“Thank you for dinner,” he said as my eyes tore away from his and focused on his mouth. He licked his bottom lip, and the flickers flashed in my stomach again. Sparks working toward a flame.
I nodded, unable to find my words when he was invading my space.
His lips moved closer to my face, and I swallowed, bracing myself.
My throat went try. My hands shook. And that flame took hold inside me. I didn’t want to wait for him. I wanted to kill the daylight between our bodies while my hands tangled in his hair. I wanted to know what he tasted like. There was so much I wanted, but in the end, I couldn’t do any of those things.
And instead of his lips descending on mine, they veered left, and landed on the shell of my ear.
“I know you thought I was afraid to be alone with you, but just so you k
now,” he said with a ragged breath that I felt from the top of my scalp all the way down to my toes, “I’m not afraid of anything.”
He pressed his lips on my cheek, and then he was gone.
10
Michael
I. Am. So. Fucking. Lame. It’s 3:00 a.m. and I can’t sleep, wound so tight that I jump at the slightest sound from next door. I kept going over my dinner with Jenna in my mind. And that stupid kiss at the end of the night. Her cheek…what the hell was I thinking? I should’ve captured her mouth, slammed her back against the door, and took her on the freaking couch for Christ’s sake. Instead, I opted for a chaste peck on the cheek like I was her favorite uncle or something.
I’d gone soft. And though Jenna showed me her vulnerable side, I knew she didn’t need soft. But this protective streak took up more of me than I wanted it to. And in my effort to be a stand-up guy, I’d completely forgotten what a woman like Jenna needed. Hell, I’d forgotten how to take what I needed
So instead of a sexy, willing woman tangled up in my bedsheets, I was alone and wide awake in the middle of the night fantasizing about the vixen who’d been tormenting me ever since I moved in.
And on top of it all, I was hot, sweaty, and irritated as all fuck.
She wanted me, I knew she did. The heat between us, the electric current that sparked at the briefest connection, couldn’t be ignored.
The fact that she wasn’t right for me made the situation even worse. It made me want her more. My eyes rolled back into my head thinking about the way she had touched me the first time. I’m a creepy fuck for thinking this way, but when she slipped in the courtyard and her hand grazed across my dick it did something to me. Of course it did. But I mean something more than physical, and I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about how it would feel if she did touch me deliberately. If she wanted me.
Christ, why was it so hot in here?
