Knox (A Merrick Brothers Novel)

by Prescott Lane

  Actually, I don’t remember the last time I kissed her, or even the last time we slept together, for that matter. Both must’ve been before that fateful trip to California, but I don’t recall. If I’d known it was our last time together, I would’ve etched it into memory. I would’ve kissed her longer, deeper, slower. I know I took kissing her for granted, like her lips would always be mine, her body would always be in my bed.

  There came a time that I never thought I’d lay eyes on her again, much less be in her house, rubbing her legs, listening to her laugh.

  You don’t get second chances a lot in life.

  This is ours.

  “What?” Mae asks, looking up at me. “You’re staring at me.”

  “I was trying to remember the last time I kissed you,” I say, looking into her blue eyes.

  Without breaking eye contact, she reaches for the remote control, turning off the television. “I don’t remember, either,” she whispers.

  “Come here,” I say.

  She starts to sit up, and I take her by the waist, situating her legs so that she’s straddling my lap. My dick’s hard, and I can feel her heat. Her hands slip through my hair. We’ve had a couple first kisses, the one when we were kids, then the one when we were teenagers. This will be our third and final first kiss. It has to be. I can’t lose her ever again.

  “I feel like I need to tell you something,” she says softly.

  Maybe there is a man in her life. Maybe she just wants to be friends. Perhaps she doesn’t want to have a long-distance thing. Dear God, don’t let it be that she’s not on the pill, because I really don’t want to suit up with her.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I have on really ugly underwear,” she says, turning bright red. “I thought it would be a good deterrent, but now I don’t care.”

  She starts laughing. She’s adorably crazy. Smiling, I pull her to me, telling myself to remember this moment forever. The moment we get another chance. The moment I get to kiss her again.

  Leaning closer, her breath mingles with mine, her pink lips parting slightly. My mouth lands on hers, and the past five years melt away, like no time has passed at all. The feel of her mouth on mine is still fresh, familiar. Her lips are so soft, sweet. She moans quietly as our tongues meet, our kiss deepening.

  I’ve kissed a lot of women, some work related, others personal. But no one has ever compared to Mae, the way she tastes, how her body molds to mine. I move to her neck and whisper, “How bad are these underwear?”

  “Bad,” she says, breathless. “Really bad.”

  I want to do really bad things to her. Reaching under her dress, I grab her panties, yanking them. “Let’s get rid of them, then.”

  She suddenly leaps off my lap, straightening her clothes and hair. “What are we doing?” she cries.

  Shit! I moved too fast, but honestly, I’m not used to women turning me down, or wanting to wait. It’s all been too easy for me in the past. Clearly, I misjudged this situation. As much as I’d like to, I suppose we can’t just pick up where we left off.

  Getting to my feet, I take hold of her waist and reply, “Anything we want.”

  Shaking her head, she backs away. “I don’t think we want the same thing,” she says.

  My heart sinks. This is the last thing I wanted, for her to think I’m just here for sex. Nothing is farther from the truth. “Mae, I’m not here to use you. I want to be with you. I want us . . .”

  “Sex,” she says. “That’s what I want. No strings. No commitments.”

  My jaw hits the floor. Totally wasn’t expecting that!

  “You’re kidding?” I’ve certainly had those kinds of mutually beneficial non-relationships before. I’m not opposed to them. Any other time, I would welcome it, but not with Mae, not now. Not when I want more.

  “No,” she says, shaking her head. “We’re good at being friends. It’s obvious we have chemistry.”

  “Friends with benefits?” I ask, my voice getting sharper than I intend.

  “I figured you’d . . .”

  “No,” I say, leaving out the fact that it would never work. Those kinds of arrangements only work when there aren’t feelings involved. With Mae and me, feelings are flying all over the damn place.

  “You’re turning me down?” she asks, her hands flying to her hips.

  “Yep,” I say smugly.

  I expect something to come flying at my head, but instead, she starts crying. Oh God, what have I done? I clearly made the wrong choice. Should have just had sex! I reach for her, but she pushes me away.

  “I feel so stupid,” she says. “You can have any woman in the world. Why would you want me?”

  “Of course, I want you.”

  “Just go,” she yells at me. “Get out.”

  “Mae?”

  “Now, Knox! I’m not kidding. Get the hell out!”

  My stomach twists like it’s the morning after I’ve tied one on. Her tears are coming faster now. She shoves me out the door, slamming it behind me.

  Outside, I stand on her front porch, staring at the closed door. What the hell just happened? I must be crazy! I just turned Mae Sheridan down for sex. I’ve officially lost my ever-loving mind.

  One second, we’re hot and heavy. The next, she’s in tears. I know Mae. She’s not the type to have sex casually. I realize I haven’t seen her in a few years, but a leopard doesn’t change her spots. It took me years to get her into bed, and we were in love. Granted, we were young and virgins, but you don’t go from that to what I just heard in there.

  I’m a little slow on the uptake, but I suddenly realize what this is about. She’s scared. I hurt her. I hurt her bad. This is her way of testing the waters. She gives me her body while keeping a lock on her heart.

  I know I can unlock it, but not from out here.

  My mistake five years ago was that I got caught up in Hollywood bullshit, then I stopped fighting for her. I let her shove me out the door then, too. Not this time. I learn from my mistakes.

  I’ll never stop fighting for her again. I fly back through her front door, finding her on her sofa, still crying.

  “I do want you,” I say. “Even in whatever ugly ass underwear you have on.” A smile breaks through her tears. “It’s just that I want more. You just said we are great friends, we have great chemistry. You know what that equals? It’s not friends with benefits. It’s forever.”

  “Don’t . . .”

  “Haven’t you figured out why I’m here?”

  “Tell me,” she says.

  “I came back to fix what I broke.”

  “Knox,” she says softly, disbelief in her whisper.

  I hate the look in her eyes right now. She doesn’t believe me. She doesn’t believe I’m in this one hundred percent. “I know you’re afraid I’m going to hurt you again.”

  Her eyes tell me I’m right. “You promised me forever once before. Forever is too big a word.”

  “Friends with or without benefits is too little,” I say.

  “You sure you don’t just want a sex thing?” she asks with an embarrassed smile.

  “This will definitely be a sex thing,” I say, capturing her in my arms. “But it’s more than that.”

  “All I can promise is right now,” she whispers.

  Pulling her to my lips, I kiss her. I’ll work on forever later.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Mae

  He called my bluff last night. There’s no way I could ever just have sex with someone. It’s not who I am. I should’ve known Knox would know that, too. For one more night with Knox, I would’ve tried, though.

  I would’ve lost my heart to him again, but it would’ve been fun. Instead, when he took me to bed, we just talked. He caught me up on his brother, Ryder’s, life. I filled him in on what the past five years have been like for me. Work, family, travel—I left out past boyfriends. He didn’t need to hear about those epic fails. We could’ve just as easily been talking into our old cassette recorders. We were jus
t that comfortable with one another.

  I fell asleep to him twirling the curly wisps of hair framing my face, and I woke up this morning to his handsome face sharing my pillow. It should’ve been a romantic moment, but instead, my cell phone rang.

  Apparently, the higher ups at the conglomerate that owns our station want a face-to-face with me. My station manager seems to think this is good news, that they want to test my show in new markets. Normally, I’m left to do my own thing. I produce the ratings. They leave me alone, so this meeting is a bit out of the ordinary. But if my station manager isn’t worried, then I’m not going to worry, either.

  I wish I could say the same for Knox. While taking my work call, he checked his messages. His mailbox was full, and he’s been returning calls ever since. He’s currently pacing my back porch. From the looks of things, I’m probably going to have to replace a few boards. His hair isn’t doing much better; he keeps running his fingers through it over and over again.

  He catches my eye through the window, mouthing sorry to me, that it’s his agent. As far as I’m concerned, he never has to apologize for working hard. Knox is sexy in his own right. There’s no denying that. Yes, I’m attracted to his body, those killer eyes, his perfect, full lips, but a man has to be more than a pretty package. He needs to have a brain, a work ethic, a sense of humor. For me, there is nothing sexier than a successful man. And I’m not talking monetary success. I don’t care what his job is, as long as he works hard, and takes pride in it. I like a man who isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty, who values what he does for a living.

  I open the back door, and Knox lifts one arm for me to take my place beside him. I guess that’s where he thinks I belong. It’s certainly where I feel the most at home, but it’s harder to trust someone the second time around.

  It was easier to trust when we were kids. This was before he broke my heart, obviously, but kids are just more trusting than adults. Maybe that’s because they haven’t been hurt—yet. They aren’t jaded. Anytime you begin a new relationship, sure, you’re cautious, look for red flags, but when you’re giving someone a second chance, the red flags are already there. You’ve already seen them, felt them, lived with the aftermath.

  We might wish we could give someone a clean slate, but it’s not that easy. That’s why I’m going to take this slow with Knox. Things are different now than when we were kids. He’s a bonafide movie star. How would this even work? I like my privacy. That guy on my porch last night was nothing. Do I want paparazzi following me, the media critiquing my every move? I’ve been avoiding the spotlight for years with my radio show. Dating Knox would be the exact opposite of that. My secluded life in my little cottage would be impossible.

  So slow is the name of the game.

  I’m not talking about the physical part, either. I highly doubt that part is going to go slowly. I’m not stupid, but the rest of it—the feelings portion of this scenario—that’s the part where I have to put the brakes on.

  A second chance in my bed is one thing. A second chance in my heart . . . that will be much harder for him to win.

  *

  I’ve listened to him on the phone with his agent for half an hour now. Normally, my place is peaceful, looking out on the water, the flowers, but Knox is killing that vibe. At least I got him to stop pacing. We’re currently stretched out on the chaise lounge, me between his legs. One hand holds his phone, the other is holding mine. For the most part, I can’t hear what’s being said—though I do hear the agent saying something about threatening letters. Knox doesn’t seem to mind that—he’s probably used to it—and is only giving one-word answers, and that word is usually “no.” When he starts to playfully ram his head against the back of the chair, I snatch his phone from him.

  His blue eyes sparkle as he grins, not at all upset with me. Holding the phone to my ear, I hear some man talking about press junkets.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “Knox is busy right now.”

  “Who the hell is this?” the man barks.

  “The woman he’s busy with.”

  “You’re just one of many,” he says. “Put my client back on the phone.”

  “No,” I say, my heart dropping a little. “Oh yeah, well you’re just one of many. A dime a dozen, too.”

  I hang up, handing the phone back to Knox. He runs his fingers through my hair, pulling me into a kiss, but I don’t kiss him back. It’s not like I thought Knox has been pining away for me. I know he hasn’t. But it’s tough to hear what that asshole said. Tough to accept that everyone is going to think of me as one in a long line of women, a passing fancy.

  Knox pulls back slightly, searching my eyes. “What did Heath say to you?”

  That’s Agent Asshole’s name! I shrug, sitting up. “Just reminded me that you’re no choir boy. Nothing I didn’t already know.”

  His phone rings again, and he turns it off. “You can’t hold the past five years against me,” he says.

  “I know,” I say. “It’s just the average man has about seven sexual partners in his lifetime, and . . .”

  “How do you know that fact right off the top of your head?”

  “I do research for my show.” Grinning, he motions for me to continue. “I don’t need to know your body count or anything like that. It’s just, I liked being your first. Not your hundred and first.”

  He takes my hand. I’m not sure if he regrets the way he’s conducted his personal life, and I’m not going to ask. God knows, there are men I wish I never dated. Don’t think I slept with any of them, though. “You’re the first, the best, and how about I make you the last?”

  He flashes me that grin that always makes me smile. He’s such a smooth talker. “Please tell me I won’t be number one hundred on the long list of chicks Knox Merrick has banged?”

  “That would mean over the past five years, I’d slept with a new woman . . .” He looks up, doing some quick math in his head. “Every two and a half weeks.”

  I raise a questioning eyebrow at him. “That’s doable.”

  “Christ, Mae,” he says. “I have had some long-term relationships.”

  “Have you at least been a responsible man whore?”

  “Of course,” he says, releasing a deep breath. “I’m not an idiot.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, slightly relieved he at least has used protection. I’d think most men would avoid this topic at all costs, but his openness brings me some comfort.

  “I’m not gonna lie. I want you back in my bed,” he says with a devilish grin. The heat in his eyes makes my toes curl. “But I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as you need to.”

  I knew that already, but it’s still sweet of him to say it. “It’s just . . .”

  “You know for someone who makes her living talking, sometimes it’s like pulling teeth to get you to open up,” he teases.

  “I know,” I say.

  “And I know I hurt you,” he says. “We weren’t together, but me being with those other women hurt you. If I ever thought I’d have you back in my life, I’d have been celibate!”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Liar.”

  He pulls me close. “I’m not. Truth is, I’ll wait. We can use condoms. Whatever you want, but you should know that before I do any movie, I have a complete physical. The production companies insist on it. I’m healthy.”

  “This conversation is about as sexy as a root canal,” I tease, but I know it’s necessary and responsible, and I appreciate that he’s willing to have it.

  He tickles me a little. “I can have Heath fax you a copy of my clean bill of health if that will help ease your mind—and, of course, expedite things.”

  Giggling, I take a few steps off the porch and quietly ask, “Do you have to go back to California?”

  “Afraid so,” he says, walking with me. “Tomorrow. Lots of press stuff coming up. I’ll be going to New York, too, but in between, I’ll be here.”

  I’d be lying if I said that didn’t make my heart race with happiness. We’re really
doing this. Whatever this is. And this time, he’s a legitimate movie star. God help me!

  “I want you to think about coming to the movie premiere with me,” he says. “I’ll do my best to keep things between us out of the press between now and then, but if you come with me to the opening, that will be announcing to the world that we’re together.”

  “I . . .”

  “Think about it,” he says, kissing me sweetly. “As soon as the world finds out we’re together, your life will change. I need to know you understand that.”

  “The guy on my porch last night was a dead giveaway.”

  “It gets crazier than that,” he says. “I just want you to know what you get when you sign up to date me. It worries me, bringing you into this.”

  “Why? You don’t think I’ll fit in, or are you worried about whether I can handle it?”

  “Neither” he says, leaning his head onto mine. “This life, what you’ve built here. This is so much better than anything waiting for me in L.A.”

  “You couldn’t wait to leave Haven’s Point when we were kids.”

  “Now I don’t want to leave,” he says, looking into my eyes.

  Every cell in my body yells “stay,” but my heart overrules everything else. I’m still finding it hard to believe that this is real, and nervous about what the future holds. There are a lot of unknowns here, a lot I could worry about—the press, his past women, our own past—but no amount of worry is going to win with him staring at me like that.

  A car horn breaks our connection. Turning, I see Timothy’s old blue pickup truck pulling in front of my house. He hops out, sporting his usual beanie, and is followed by Gracie, who starts running toward us, carrying a huge container.

  “I tried to call,” Timothy says as he walks over to meet us.

  “I had a work call this morning,” I say, hoping I didn’t forget I was supposed to watch Gracie for them. “What are you doing . . .”

  “Auntie Mae, I bought bait. Can we go fishing?” Gracie asks.

  Timothy gives Knox and me an apologetic smile, running his hand over his daughter’s head. “Remember, baby, I told you we weren’t staying long.”