One Night of Trouble

by Elle Kennedy

  When she’d walked up to the bar earlier and seen AJ, all the nasty comments she’d endured back then had buzzed in her mind and instantly triggered her hostility. She’d probably been ruder than she should have, considering AJ had never ganged up on her the way his cheerleader friends had. But he’d still been present for it, and when she’d spotted him behind that counter, her hands had involuntarily circled into fists as long-ago anger and embarrassment crept in like a puddle of oozing tar.

  “C’mon, you’re not allowed to drop a bomb like that and not follow through,” he said quietly, intently studying her face as if trying to place her.

  Brett met his gaze head on. “We went to high school together.”

  A crease dug into his forehead. “No way. I would totally remember you if we did.”

  “Why? Because of the tats?” She gestured to her ink. “I didn’t have these back then.”

  “Not the tats.” Heat darkened his expression. “Your eyes. They’re so dark they’re almost black. I’d never forget eyes as sexy as yours.”

  Oh God, he was flirting with her.

  AJ Walsh was flirting with her.

  She suddenly had the most ridiculous urge to sprint to the ladies’ room and make sure she looked okay. That her hair wasn’t tangled and her mascara hadn’t run. It was sad, really, how one blast from the past could turn a person into a stammering, insecure teenager all over again.

  Or how one flirty remark from a guy who’d never given her a second glance in high school had caused the teenage girl inside her to do wild, excited cartwheels like the cheerleaders AJ used to hang out with.

  Fortunately, the older Brett stepped in and kicked teenage Brett in the shin before she could make a total fool of herself.

  “Yeah, well, my eyes haven’t changed, and trust me, we went to the same school. AJ,” she added meaningfully.

  “The same grade?” he challenged.

  She almost lied, just to make him feel bad about not knowing who she was, but she wasn’t that much of a jackass. “I was three years behind you,” she admitted.

  Triumph lit his expression. “Ha. See? I definitely would’ve remembered you if you were in my class.” He shrugged. “I didn’t really chill with anyone younger than me.”

  “Too cool for us young’uns, huh?”

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  The teasing smile he shot her made her heart skip a beat, and when he took a teeny step closer, she was floored by the sheer size of him. Whoa. He was a lot bigger than she remembered. He’d always been tall, but now he was ripped.

  As his broad, muscular frame towered over her, she couldn’t help but gape at his arms. Sleek, powerful biceps poured from the sleeves of his snug black tee, and his chest was so deliciously defined she could see the individual ridges of muscle rippling beneath the fabric of his shirt.

  She was momentarily dazed, incapable of doing anything but full-on ogling.

  Crap. It was impossible to dwell on the bad memories when he was smiling at her like that, especially when AJ’s only crime in high school was being too damn popular for his own good.

  “So do I ever get to learn your name, or are you withholding it as my punishment for not knowing who you were?” he asked, that boyish grin widening.

  “I’m Brett.”

  “Brett…not usually a girl’s name.”

  She sighed. “My mom was obsessed with Hemingway. She named me after a female character from one of his books.”

  “The Sun Also Rises,” he said with a nod. “I love that book.”

  It didn’t surprise her that he knew exactly which book she’d been talking about. Another thing she remembered about the guy—he wasn’t your typical dumb jock. Nope, AJ Walsh had been the absolute perfect package. Smart, funny, gorgeous, athletic. It was just too bad he hadn’t had better taste in friends.

  “So tell me,” he said, sounding pensive. “What heinous crime did I commit back in the day to get you all grumpy and scowly?”

  “Nothing. You did nothing.” She paused. “Some of your friends weren’t so nice to me, though.”

  “Ah. Let me guess—the cheerleaders.”

  A wry smile lifted her lips. “Bingo.”

  “Who tortured you? Tamara? Edie? They were usually the ringleaders for any nastiness that went around.”

  “Double bingo. Those two made my life miserable for a while.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  He sounded so genuine that she felt a pang of guilt for being rude to him before.

  “If I’m being honest, I didn’t pay much attention to what the girls were up to,” he admitted. “I was pretty focused on football.”

  “I remember.” She paused. “Did you ever go pro?”

  “Yes and no.” Before she could question that cryptic remark, he changed the subject. “So what brings you here tonight? Did you come with friends?” He rapidly answered his own question. “Wait, of course you did. Those were a lot of margaritas you ordered.”

  And not a single one had been for her.

  Which was seriously ironic, because Brett couldn’t remember the last time she’d visited a club without the intention of getting plastered.

  But that was the old Brett. The wild, up-for-anything Brett who used to climb on bar counters Coyote Ugly-style and dance the night away.

  The new and improved Brett didn’t get into those kinds of shenanigans anymore, and truth be told, she was proud of herself for cleaning up her act. But with the pride came shame, which tugged on her insides as she thought of the conversation she’d had with her brother Mike last month.

  When he’d flat out asked her if she was an alcoholic.

  She’d honestly been able to answer no, but there was also no denying she hadn’t made the best choices in the past. Yes, she knew when to cut herself off, and she was perfectly capable of going for weeks, months, and even years without a drop of alcohol. Her problem wasn’t getting drunk, but the decisions she made when she was drunk.

  Like hooking up with the worst possible men for her—ahem, Troy—or staying out late and missing work the next morning. Or not paying her bills on time because she’d been too busy partying to remember when stuff was due.

  Now that her father and brothers were monitoring her like prison guards, she couldn’t afford to make those kinds of mistakes any more. She was twenty-six years old, not a dumb kid or a reckless teenager or a self-destructive young adult. It was time to grow up. Six months ago, she’d vowed to herself and her family that she would start making smart decisions.

  “It’s my friend’s birthday,” she told AJ. “We’re here to celebrate.”

  At the thought of Jamie, a lump of guilt rose in Brett’s throat. In her attempt to conduct a bad-influence cleanse, she’d had no choice but to distance herself from some of the more destructive people in her life, and unfortunately, Jamie and the girls fell under that category.

  To make matters worse, her friends definitely weren’t on board with her new-and-improved lifestyle. From the moment the group had arrived at Sin, the girls had been coaxing her to get drunk with them, which was not only disappointing, but disheartening. If the roles were reversed, there was no way she’d be dangling carrots of temptation in front of her friends. She’d support their choices without question, and it saddened her that they couldn’t do the same for her.

  “I think I’m taking off soon, though,” she added.

  “I thought you were the DD,” AJ said with a frown.

  The lie she’d told him brought another jolt of guilt. “Naah, not really. The girls plan on closing down the place and taking a cab home. I was going to head out around midnight. Do you know what time it is now?”

  AJ pulled a cell phone from his back pocket and glanced at the screen. “Eleven fifty-eight. Looks like you’re about to turn into a pumpkin. Did you drive here?”

  She shook her head. “I’m calling a taxi.”

  “Or…” His eyes gleamed recklessly.

  Brett’s throat went dry. �
�Or?”

  “Or I could drive you home.”

  Uh-oh.

  Big uh-oh.

  The awareness that had sizzled between them earlier returned in full force, leaving pinpricks of heat along her bare arms. The air was cool and she’d left her coat inside, but she wasn’t cold. Not by a long shot.

  She knew exactly what would happen if she let AJ drive her home. She might have willpower when it came to alcohol, but around this man? With his sandy-blond hair and chiseled features and sparkling green eyes? And that incredible body? And throw in the fact that she hadn’t had sex in six months?

  Willpower? Fat chance.

  “What do you say, Brett? Do you want a ride?” No missing the way his voice went husky at the word ride.

  Oh boy. Oh boy oh boy oh boy.

  This was not the AJ Walsh she remembered. Back then he’d come off as a gentleman.

  Right now there was nothing gentlemanly about him. His expression was downright smoldering, broad body radiating pure sex appeal.

  If he took her home, she knew it wouldn’t end with her walking up to her apartment alone.

  But she still had to make sure she wasn’t misinterpreting that look on his face.

  “What are you really asking me?” she said bluntly.

  “I’m asking if I can take you home and screw your brains out.”

  Her thighs clenched so hard she almost keeled over. Okay, well, that certainly left nothing to interpretation.

  “Judging by your response, I think you like the sound of that.” There was something smugly male in his voice.

  Hers was embarrassingly squeaky and as weak as her attempted ignorance. “What response?”

  He flashed a knowing smile. “What, you think I can’t tell when a woman is attracted to me?”

  Nope, this was not the AJ she remembered. The golden boy was gone, replaced by a primal creature teeming with raw sexual energy. The electricity in the air was liable to burn her alive.

  “Y-you…” She swallowed hard. “You don’t seem like the kind of man who does stuff like this. Sleeping with someone you’ve just met…”

  “Why do women always take it upon themselves to decide what kind of man I am?”

  “Am I wrong?” she challenged.

  After a beat, he gave a sheepish grin. “Fine. I haven’t had a lot of one-night stands. But…” His eyes burned. “I have a feeling not going home with you tonight would be the biggest mistake of my life.”

  She didn’t have time to absorb that intense answer, because suddenly he was touching her.

  Holy hell. The air damn near incinerated when his callused fingertips stroked her wrist, sweeping over the roses inked on her skin.

  “Let me take you home, Brett,” he said roughly. “Let me show you who I am.”

  Her breath got stuck in her lungs when he brought his other hand into play. He traced the line of her jaw before sliding his palm behind her neck, then dragging it higher so he could thread his fingers through her hair.

  His touch was magic. Sweet and gentle and—or not, she amended when he gave her hair a sharp tug. He nudged her head to the side to bare her throat, his spicy, masculine scent drugging her senses as his head dipped and he planted a hot kiss on her even hotter flesh.

  Brett gasped at the sharp sting of teeth nipping her neck. “I know who you are,” she stammered. “Or at least I thought I did.”

  A dark laugh fanned over her skin. “I’m pretty sure you thought wrong.” He planted an openmouthed kiss right beneath her ear.

  She moaned.

  “Christ, you smell so fucking good.” AJ rubbed his cheek on the side of her throat, his stubble scratching her hypersensitized skin.

  He still hadn’t kissed her on the mouth, and her lips were trembling in anticipation. When he released her and took a step back, she actually whimpered in disappointment.

  “My car’s parked in the back,” he said huskily. “Why don’t you say good-bye to your friends and then meet me in the parking lot?”

  God, she should say no.

  But what came out was, “Don’t you have to go back to work?”

  He smiled. “I’m co-owner of this place. I can take off whenever I want.”

  The revelation that he owned the club barely registered. She was too focused on the curve of his lips, too entranced by the seductive smile that once again brought an ache to her core.

  “Final answer?” he drawled after her silence had dragged on too long.

  Say no.

  Are you crazy? Say yes!

  Her brain and her libido were fighting a battle inside her, and she struggled to reconcile the conflicting pleas. She really should say no. She was supposed to be making smart decisions these days—a one-night stand with a guy she knew from high school was not a smart decision. It was a reckless one.

  But…damn it, he was so gorgeous she couldn’t look away. And her body still tingled from his skillful touch, his hot mouth on her neck, his intoxicating scent.

  She took a breath. “Yes.”

  He tipped his head. “Yes?”

  “Yes, I’d like you to take me home.”

  There. She’d said it. No turning back now.

  She would walk the smart-decision path tomorrow. Tonight, she was taking a detour.

  She was choosing reckless.

  Chapter Three

  The car ride was riddled with fits and spurts of conversation, which only highlighted the problem with spur-of-the-moment decisions—they rarely ever stayed spur of the moment, at least not unless the invitation for sex was immediately followed by said sex. But since there’d be no sexing until they reached Brett’s apartment, she had no choice but to make small talk with the man whose bones she desperately wanted to jump.

  “Turn left at the next light,” she told AJ, who sat behind the wheel of his black Jeep.

  The slight crease in his forehead revealed that he was sensing her nervousness, and he was right to sense it. At the moment, her palms were clammy and her heart was pounding so hard it was all she could hear.

  It wasn’t a matter of not being attracted to him. Because she was. So badly her panties were soaked. But…this was AJ Walsh. All the girls in high school had fantasized about the guy, doodling his name in their binders, praying he’d say hi to them in the hall. Brett might have been an outcast, but she hadn’t been immune to AJ’s charms. She’d fantasized about him just as hard as everyone else, and a part of her couldn’t believe those old girlhood fantasies were about to become reality.

  “You okay?”

  His deep voice penetrated her thoughts. Blushing, she glanced over and nodded. “I’m good. You?”

  “I’m just fine, angel.”

  Angel.

  God, now that he’d given her the nickname, he didn’t seem inclined to stop using it, and each time the husky word rumbled out, a shiver rolled through her.

  She rested both hands on her thighs, discreetly wiping her damp palms on the front of her jeans. Music poured out of the car speakers, the volume so low it was barely audible, but her brow wrinkled when she recognized the song.

  “Is this the radio?” she asked.

  “No, it’s my iPod shuffle. Why?”

  “You listen to Concrete Blonde?”

  “I listen to a lot of things.” He raised his eyebrows when he saw her face. “Why do you look so surprised?”

  “I don’t know…I guess it just doesn’t seem like something you’d listen to.”

  “There you go again, making assumptions. So, tell me, what did you expect me to listen to?”

  She thought it over for a moment. “John Mayer?”

  A laugh popped out of his mouth. “Nope, can’t say I’m a fan.”

  “Taylor Swift?” she suggested.

  That got her a sheepish grin. “I’m not gonna lie. I think I have one or two of her songs on the shuffle.”

  Brett sighed. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. We all have our guilty pleasures. Mine is Miley Cyrus. I blast ‘Party in the USA’ w
hen I’m cleaning the house.”

  The song in the car faded out, then switched to the faint sounds of hip-hop, which told her that AJ hadn’t been kidding. Apparently he did have an eclectic taste in music.

  They went quiet again, and as they got closer to her apartment, her nerves returned. AJ might have said he was okay with one-night stands, but she didn’t quite believe him. No matter how dirty he’d acted back at the club, he still had good guy written all over him. His short, perfectly styled blond hair, crisp trousers and formfitting T-shirt gave him a preppy vibe—and in her experience, preppy men were usually all about relationships.

  Well, Brett wasn’t looking for a relationship. Her last one had been about as healthy as deep-fried pizza covered in chocolate, and now that Troy was no longer part of her life, she was beginning to question her habit of throwing herself headfirst into relationships. She invested so much of her heart and soul into them, to the point where she lost sight of the rest of the world.

  But she didn’t have time to give 100 percent to a man right now, not when too many things were up in the air at work. And if she finally convinced her father to let her run the shop, her free time would become even more limited.

  “Brett?” They’d reached a stop sign, and AJ was looking at her expectantly. “Where to now?”

  “Oh. Turn right. There’s a shortcut on this one-way street that will take us right to my apartment.”

  A few minutes later, after he’d found a free parking space in front of the Korean general store she’d directed him to, he turned to her with a skeptical expression.

  “You live here?”

  “Yes, AJ, I live in a grocery store,” she cracked. “I sleep near the deli section. Bathroom’s by the frozen foods.”

  He flashed a sheepish smile. “I guess that was a stupid question.”

  “Duh.” She gestured to the curtained windows above the store. “My apartment is up there.”

  Her pulse sped up as they got out of the car and headed for the narrow entryway next to the dark storefront. The street was quiet and deserted, as it always was past ten o’clock. The silence was one of her favorite things about the neighborhood. Rent in Allston Village was usually pretty steep, but Brett had gotten a great deal because her landlords adored her. The Kims owned the family-run general store below her, and since she’d tattooed all six of their sons on the cheap, Mr. and Mrs. Kim had been happy to let her sublet their apartment during their extended visit to Korea. She had a one-year lease for now, but she was keeping her fingers crossed that they’d let her stay longer. The couple’s eldest son, Daniel, had told her the other day that his folks were considering buying a house when they returned, which meant the apartment would be hers to keep renting.