by Aly Martinez
Who the hell made tuna noodle casserole at all anymore? Whatever. It didn’t matter. She’d made it for me.
I didn’t stand up as much as I turned, put a shoulder in her stomach, and lifted her off her feet.
“Tanner!” she squealed as I headed for the stairs. “I’m in a dress.”
I smoothed a hand down her ass to make sure she was covered—and also to cop a feel.
“Turn off the stove and lock up when you leave,” I called to Andrea and the rest of the stragglers as I took the steps up to my real home as quickly as one could with a laughing woman thrown over their shoulder.
I went straight to my bedroom, threw her on the bed, and then followed her down. I caught my weight on my palms at either side of her head, planking above her before gently settling my weight on top of her. Her simple black sheath dress was too tight around her thighs for me to fit between them, so I rolled to my back, taking her with me.
“What are you doing, crazy?” she asked.
“I’m kissing you, for probably the next twenty minutes, so I’m going to need you to clear your schedule with Robb.”
Her laugh morphed into a moan as I took her mouth.
And then I kissed her.
Not “casually” or “slow” or anything else our relationship was supposed to be.
No. I kissed Rita Hartley like a woman I not only could fall in love with, but one I absolutely would fall in love with.
We just needed to take some time, grow this thing between us into the highest peak it had always been meant to be.
I’d give her time to heal and get back on her feet.
And she’d give me tuna noodle casserole because I’d had a bad day and she’d had an hour after work.
Together, we’d rule the world. Or, at the very least, sit on the couch, holding hands and laughing as it burned down around us.
I was fine with either option because they both included her.
For twenty minutes, I kissed Rita, frantic and needy. Our hands roamed and our bodies rolled, but we never took it any further.
When our mouths finally broke apart, we were both out of breath, but a pair of matching smiles split our faces.
Rita rolled to her back, an arm crooked over her face. “So I take it you’re a tuna noodle casserole guy?”
I flipped to my stomach, propped myself on my elbows, and forced her arm away so I could see her. “I’ve never actually had it.”
“Then what was the caveman act about?”
“You cooking for me. No one does that when you’re a chef.”
Her nose crinkled. “No one?”
“My housekeeper once boiled me a dozen eggs because they were expiring and she didn’t want them to go to waste.”
“Jeez, that’s depressing.”
“It was.” I hooked an arm over her stomach and dragged her over until she was halfway under me. “But, now, I have you, so it’s not anymore.” I wasn’t talking about the tuna noodle casserole, and judging by the way her face softened, we both knew it. And damn if that didn’t stir that something deep inside me all over again. “We need to talk about something shitty. Do you want to do that now or after we eat?”
Her frown caused a crinkle between her brows. “Shittier than why you taste like cigarettes?”
I rolled my eyes. “Great, are you one of those people who’s going to lecture me about quitting?”
She offered me a patronizing glare. “My best friend is a pulmonologist. What do you think?”
“Fiiiine,” I drawled. “You’ll be happy to know that I’ve been trying to quit for several months and only smoke a couple cigarettes a week now. Sometimes in the mornings. Sometimes when something stresses me out. There? Are you happy now?”
Her shoes hit the floor one at a time, and then her legs tangled with mine. “I’ll be happy when that cigarette count becomes zero. But I’m not going to nag you about it. You’re a grown man and can give yourself lung cancer if you want.”
“And that’s you not nagging me?”
With a devilish glint, she whispered, “Oh, honey, you have no idea how good I am at not nagging. But if this shitty stuff we need to talk about isn’t your cancer sticks, what is it?”
I sucked in a deep breath and shifted the rest of the way on top of her to cage her in. “Greg stopped by today.”
Just as I’d expected, her face got hard and then a waterfall of rage rained down over her. “Here? Like your house?”
Yep. She was going to lose her mind.
“Yeah. Apparently, he had a PI following us. Snapped some pictures. He told me if we didn’t break it off he was going to use them to prove adultery so you walked away from the divorce with nothing.”
By the time I’d finished talking, her eyes were huge and the storm brewing inside was so powerful that I could almost feel the winds.
“He did not say that,” she hissed, squirming beneath me. “He did not fucking say that!”
“It’s okay. Just relax, I took care of it. Hear me out—”
I would never understand how she did it, but one second later, she’d Harry Houdini’d me and was out from under me and pacing the room. “He cheated on me for six damn months, got her pregnant and everything, and now, he’s going to claim I’m the adulterer? He can keep it all. I don’t want a damn thing from him.”
“If he can prove it, the judge could deny you alimony.”
“Fuck his money! I never wanted alimony in the first place. I want my car. That’s it. He can have everything else. The day those papers are signed, we’re done. Forever. I don’t want a damn check in the mail once a month reminding me of the biggest mistake of my entire life.”
“Rita, babe, come here. I wasn’t done talking.” I sat up and reached for her, but she dodged my hand as she continued to pace.
“Is your next sentence that he’s buried in your backyard and we need to go on the lam together?”
I laughed. She was so fucking cute—and scary. Very, very scary.
Standing off the bed, I pulled her into a hug. “I’m going to take care of it, okay? I need you to call your attorney first thing in the morning and have them send over everything they’ve done so far to my legal team. They’re taking over and I want them to be able to hit the ground running.”
Her body was still tight, but she rested her chin on my chest as she peered up at me. “What the hell are you talking about? I can’t afford your legal team. I could barely afford the retainer on my lone attorney whose office is above a cupcake shop.”
“A cupcake shop? Seriously?”
She shrugged. “A little chocolate frosting afterward really took the sting out of our appointments.”
“Okay,” I drawled, giving her a tight squeeze. “It’s official. Call Frank Fondant and tell him he’s fired. No fucking way you’re going against Greg with an attorney who goes home every night smelling like vanilla extract.”
“Stop. He’s really nice, and so far, he’s—”
“Fired, Rita. Effective immediately. And don’t give me shit about paying the team. You know good and damn well I’m not going to let you pay.”
She pushed out of my arms. “Then I’m keeping my attorney.”
“No, you’re not.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and glowered. “Yes. I really am. This is my divorce, Tanner. I appreciate what you’re trying to do. I genuinely do. But I can handle Greg. What I can’t handle is using you like every other woman you’ve been with.”
My head jerked to the side. “You aren’t using me. I’m telling you it’s happening.”
“And I’m telling you it’s not happening. You just freaked out because I boiled some noodles and dumped a can of tuna in a bowl for you.”
I gripped the back of my neck to keep from reaching for her again. “You forgot the peas.”
“Right. See. Frozen peas are not the gift you think they are. Neither are yoga pants or simply sitting on the couch with you.”
“They are to me.”
Suddenly, her whole body softened like I’d transformed into a puppy right before her eyes. “And I love that they are to you because it makes doing something nice for you that much easier. But I also hate that they mean so much because I hate that no one cooks for you, or is comfortable enough with you to wear lounge attire, or content enough to just spend time with you without an ulterior motive. I don’t want to be one of those women.” She walked over and rested her palms on my pecs. “I will allow you to use your connections to get us into every restaurant in the city, but I draw the line at you spending thousands of dollars on my divorce. That’s just crazy town, Tanner.”
I stared down at her, noticing for the first time that her lipstick was smudged around her mouth and her hair was disheveled from where my hands had threaded through it while we’d made out like teenagers. It was then that I realized she was more beautiful than any other woman I had ever met, and not because of the way she looked—which at the moment was rather ridiculous.
It was just… That was the exact second I realized I’d found her.
I cradled her face in my hands and used my thumbs to clean up the pink smears around her mouth before dipping down to kiss her. “Do you remember when I told you how I’d always assumed that, when I was done living the fast life, I could just flip a switch and find the person I was meant to be with?” I kissed her again. “You flipped that switch. And not because of peas, yoga pants, or hanging out. You flipped it in ten short days because you’re you and there is roughly a one hundred percent chance that I’m going to fall in love with you, Rita Hartley.”
Her eyes sparkled with unshed emotion, so I kissed her again.
“But, in order to do that, I need to get your ex out of your life. If he tries to drag this shit out, that is time I do not have you to myself. And that is time I am not willing to sacrifice. So believe me when I tell you that unleashing my legal team on your divorce is purely selfish on my part. Because I want you, Rita. All of you.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but I kissed it closed.
“Don’t make a joke right now. None of this is funny.” I tipped my head, squinting one eye. “Well, except for the part where I’m falling in love with a married woman I haven’t even had sex with yet. But I’m sure Porter will spend the rest of his natural life making fun of me for that. Honestly, as long as you’re there laughing too, I’m okay with it.”
This time, she kissed me. “Oh, Tanner.” She guided my hands down to her mouth, where she kissed one palm and then the other. “You really suck at casual, honey.”
I grinned. “Only with you.”
“Okay. I’m going to admit that you are kind of freaking me out right now, but I’m choosing to chalk it up to you being weird.”
“Fair enough. Now, say yes to my legal team.”
She cut her gaze away. “Fine. Call your fancy attorneys and tell them they’ve got the job. But only because I don’t want to waste time arguing with you. Whatever you were cooking downstairs smelled really good and I’m starving.”
My smile was unrivaled as I went in for another kiss. All I got was her palm in my face.
“Tanner. Food. I need to stress-eat about everything you just said.”
Yeah. I’d found her.
Rita and I spent the night on my couch watching Game of Thrones, my legs propped on the ottoman, hers propped on top of mine. She moaned as she ate filet with Asiago cream sauce, and I grinned like a Cheshire cat as I ate tuna noodle casserole, peas and all.
* * *
“Please,” I cried, fisting the top of his head.
I was on his bed, one week later, my hips swiveling as his tongue swirled my nipple, but not one damn thing was playing between my legs.
Catching his hand, I guided it down to my panties.
He groaned and it vibrated deliciously against my nipple. But that was all I got. That was all I ever got with Tanner. And on this particular Saturday morning, I was at my wit’s end.
Over the last week, we’d been doing our best to find time together. Per my—Tanner’s—attorneys, we’d been staying low profile so as not to give Greg any more fuel while they worked their magic.
This meant no more hanging out at my place, impromptu lunches, or dinners out—not even Antojitos. It also meant I hadn’t gotten to attend the opening of The Tannerhouse.
It sucked, but Tanner had hired a security guard for the gate at his place, so when he’d gotten home that night, looking like he was dead on his feet, I was sitting on his couch, waiting for him.
Tanner’s lawyers were more than just good. They were gooooood. Within a day of them taking over my divorce, Tammy, along with half the nurses at North Point Pulmonology, had been subpoenaed to testify about Greg’s affair. Greg was fuming, but after my attorney filed some fancy request for no contact, he hadn’t so much as glanced in my direction. No more flowers or texts. Just blessed radio silence.
It was the first time since I’d found the messages from Tammy that I felt like I could actually breathe again.
Though breathing probably wasn’t the best use of my time. But denial had become a way of life.
I was pretending I didn’t need to find a less costly place to live.
Pretending I didn’t need to find a new job.
Pretending I didn’t need to take a good long look in the mirror and figure out who the hell I was.
And I was pretending harder than anything else that Tanner Reese wasn’t falling in love with me.
Don’t get me wrong. I liked Tanner. A lot. He was fun and sexy and sweet. Funny enough, given that the public thought he was a total playboy, he was a little innocent and a lot goofy.
But I was in no place to even entertain the idea of falling in love again.
We could have been perfect together—if I’d met him nine years earlier, when my heart hadn’t been on the mend and my ability to trust hadn’t been shattered into a million pieces.
But I couldn’t turn back time any more than he could heal me.
However, as I was on my back, my hips swiveling, his tongue swirling my nipple, but not one damn thing playing between my legs, none of that mattered.
My thoughts at the moment were very singular.
“Please, I need to feel you,” I moaned, tugging on his hand.
I hadn’t made out with a man so many times since…well, ever. But Tanner never, ever, never ever ever ever took it any further. It was driving me insane.
Luckily, I hadn’t gotten off on his leg like a dog in heat again.
Unluckily, it had taken a massive amount of willpower not to.
His mouth was nothing short of spectacular, and a few days ago, when it had drifted down my neck to my breasts, I’d nearly come unglued. But, despite an embarrassing amount of begging, I’d yet to convince him to have sex with me. I had no clue what he was waiting for. He kept telling me we were taking it slow.
But what could it possibly hurt to fuck me senseless? I swear I’d never been more sexually frustrated in my life.
Tanner, on the other hand, didn’t even seem affected. Well, that’s not true. He was always hard—beautifully thick, showing from behind whatever pants he was wearing. But he had either the patience of a saint or a blister on his palm because he never once acknowledged any discomfort.
“Slow,” he murmured against my nipple.
“Noooo, please no more slow. I’m dying here.”
His head popped up, his eyes dancing with humor. “I can’t be certain, but I don’t think anyone has ever actually died from sexual neglect.”
I threw my head back against the pillow. “Oh, goodie. I get to be patient zero.”
He crawled up the bed using his elbows, kissing my shoulder before my lips. “You want to dry-hump me again?” he asked, his voice thick with humor.
I cut him a glare that only made his smile grow.
Chuckling, he rolled out of bed, his long cock tenting the front of his low-hung sleep pants. “I promise I’ll fuck you soon, you saucy minx.”
�
��Soon as in you’re going to grab a condom?”
He shook his head. “I’m going to take a shower.”
I threw the covers back. “Okay, I can do shower sex.”
He shot me a smirk over his shoulder. “Keep it in your pants, Hartley.”
“I’d rather we both got rid of the pants!” I yelled as he shut the bathroom door.
Groaning, and with no other choice, I accepted my new status as born-again virgin and decided to ease my pain with caffeine.
Righting my shirt and then not righting my sleep shorts since they hadn’t gotten mussed in the first place, I padded barefoot from his bedroom.
I’d spent the night with Tanner several times and had become well versed in the layout of his mini kitchen, but on this particular morning, there was a new addition.
A woman.
I froze mid-step as she turned to face me.
She was older but far from old. Fifty maybe?
Her pretty face lit as soon as she saw me. “Oh, hi there.”
“Hi?” I replied.
She got busy with a rag on the counter. “I’m just tidying up in here. I’ll be out of your hair in a minute. I try not to clean on the weekends, but Tanner has called me off a lot recently, so I figured I’d come in and play catch-up this morning. Hopefully, Romeo was able to put his dirty underwear in the hamper before you got here.”
Ah… The housekeeper.
“Yeah. It was fine.” Smiling awkwardly, I walked to the edge of the kitchen, the space too small to comfortably fit us both. “Can I sneak in for a minute to grab some—”
“Coffee?” she finished for me.
“That’d be great.”
She went to the Keurig, tipping her chin to the stool on the other side of the bar. “Cream or sugar?”
I followed her direction and settled on the stool. “Both.”
She didn’t have to walk as much as pivot around the confined space to gather everything. She placed it all in front of me before swinging back around to retrieve my coffee.
“Thanks,” I chirped.
“No prob.”
She went back to the Mr. Clean routine, and when I was done concocting my perfect cup of joe, I debated if it was ruder to stay or go.
