Harlequin Desire June 2020 - Box Set 2 of 2

by Karen Booth

  Hell’s fire. I merely stared at her. She hadn’t had sex in five years? I couldn’t have been more shocked.

  After giving myself a second to comprehend her news, I said, “That’s crazy, I mean, it’s just so…” Before she misunderstood my reaction, I anxiously added, “I haven’t been with anyone since I got sober.”

  Now it was her turn to stare at me. “I hadn’t expected that you…” She shook her head. “It’s weird that we both…”

  Yeah, weird. I didn’t even know what to say next.

  She paused before she asked, “Do the women who follow you online know? Is that why they’ve been calling you unattainable?”

  “No. They only say that about me because I haven’t shown any interest in them.” It wasn’t because they knew that I gave up sex. “I prefer not to advertise what I do. Or don’t do,” I clarified.

  She shifted the dog in her lap. He was falling asleep, his eyes drifting closed. “Me, neither.”

  It made me feel strange that I was the last guy she’d been with. The last man to be inside her. To make her come. It almost seemed romantic. But I knew that it wasn’t.

  “I really was the wrong guy for you,” I said.

  She sighed. “You were wrong for everybody back then.”

  “I still am.” I shrugged off my discomfort. I wouldn’t know how to do a relationship if it smacked me over the head. “Just call me Mr. Wrong.”

  “Well, that’s funny,” she replied solemnly. “Because after I ended it with you, I decided that I was going to wait for Mr. Right. That I wouldn’t sleep with anyone until he came along. I’m hoping he’ll be the man that I marry someday.”

  “The white picket fence thing.” I’d never pictured her in that role. But I’d never pictured her anywhere, except naked in my bed.

  She lobbed a curious look at me. “While we’re on the subject, why did you stop having sex?”

  Lucky for me, I had a solid answer. “Abstinence is part of my sobriety program.”

  “Through what? AA?”

  “No, but it’s something similar at a private rehab center. Kirby introduced me to it. We both attend meetings there.” I explained without going into too much detail. “It’s an outpatient program. Not one of those places where you check yourself in.”

  “And they advocate abstinence for two whole years? That seems like a long time for a program like that.”

  “Typically, it’s no dating and no sex for a year. But after my first year was up, I just wasn’t ready to jump back in.”

  She sent me another curious look, snaring me with her next question. “When will you be ready?”

  “I don’t have a guideline to follow.” As badly as I wanted her, I was already losing ground. “I guess I’ll just know. But for now, I’m still trying to figure myself out. What about you? Have you at least been on some dates?”

  “Yes, but it never amounts to anything.” Her shoulders drooped. “The chemistry just hasn’t been there.”

  My chemistry with her was a bitch. I could feel it tightening its noose around me. “I haven’t even kissed anyone.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “Me, neither.”

  I cleared my throat. “Not even on any of those dates?”

  She opened her eyes. “I don’t kiss on first dates anymore, and none of them ever got past that point.” She glanced at the sleeping bulldog. “I’ll bet Pete would kiss me if he could.”

  I watched her with anticipation. “Sloppy dog kisses don’t count.” But my mouth on hers would. I wanted to do it in the worst way.

  When Alice lifted her head, our gazes locked. The rain was slashing against the office windows, intensifying the moment. Neither of us spoke, not one word, not one syllable.

  I finally said, “I feel like I’m in junior high again.”

  She blinked at me. “Is that when you had your first kiss?”

  “With tongues, yeah. How about you?”

  She winced. “I was in elementary school. Fifth grade, at someone’s birthday party. I went into a closet with a boy I liked.”

  “Damn, girl. You really were a wilding.” I tried for a bit of humor. “Do you want to go back into my closet with me?”

  She broke down and laughed. “You wish.”

  Darned right, I did. My heart jumped when I said, “I can only imagine how good a kiss would feel after all this time.”

  “Really good,” she said, her voice turning soft.

  We stared longingly at each other. But we didn’t lean forward or put our mouths together. It seemed too risky, too wrong. We were former lovers, in the midst of celibacy, and this wasn’t a path either of us was supposed to be taking.

  No matter how hot and satisfying it would be.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Alice

  I wanted to kiss Spencer, so help me I did. He was arousing me from the inside out, just the way he used to.

  He ran a hand through his hair, and I went warm all over. I imagined running my hands through it, too. It fell across his forehead, the thick dark strands messy from the rain. God, he was tempting: so familiar, so gorgeous.

  So celibate.

  Somehow that should have made him seem safer, but it didn’t. He was making me feel like a sex-starved mess. Spencer had changed, but he wasn’t any better for me now than he was before. I needed someone who was ready to settle down and raise a family. I needed security, not a recovering alcoholic, trying to find himself.

  To keep myself from staring at him any more than I already had, I glanced down at the dog. Pete was still out like a light.

  “At least he isn’t snoring,” I said, trying to make regular conversation. We couldn’t keep talking about how good a kiss would feel or how long it had been since we’d had sex.

  Spencer seemed relieved that I changed the topic. He quickly replied, “Pete used to snore. He had breathing problems when we took him in. We had his palate surgically corrected. He had a few other health issues that we dealt with, too. As you can see, he’s totally fine now.”

  “Where did he come from? What’s his background?”

  “He was left at a kill shelter, and his time was almost up when we heard about him.” Spencer blew out a tight breath. “I guess his owner didn’t think he was worth it. It makes me sick, the way some people treat their pets, as if they’re just so damned disposable.”

  “I think the work you’re doing here is wonderful.” I was impressed by how nurturing he seemed and how much he obviously cared. Would he be a gentle lover now? There’d never been any sweetness during our affair, no snuggly warmth. As much as I’d wanted him to hold me afterward, he just hadn’t been the type.

  I shook away the memory. But somehow, the longing remained. “What about Candy and Cookie? Were they left at a shelter, too?”

  “They were orphaned. They’d been alone in the house with their owner when she accidentally fell down the stairs. She died on impact, from a spinal cord injury.” He frowned and continued with, “The dogs were so traumatized, they dug their way out of the yard and started living on the streets. People tried to catch them, but they just kept running away. Then I found them hiding under my front porch.”

  “Really? You found them yourself?”

  He nodded. “They were dirty and matted and covered in burrs. Candy’s legs were scraped up, and one of Cookie’s ears was torn. I called a mobile vet, and he came out to the house and tended to them. Since there wasn’t anyone associated with their owner who was able to take them, I offered to let them stay with me until I found another home for them.” He drew his knees up. “But I got attached and kept them instead. After that, I decided to start a rescue. There’s a lot of work that’s involved in running a place like this. It didn’t happen overnight.”

  I pondered the story he’d told me. It was certainly better than mulling over our past. “I never really though
t about what happens to pets when their owners die.”

  “My mother died in a similar way. From a fall.”

  “Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry.” He’d mentioned his mom earlier, and now he was talking about the manner in which she’d left this earth. It didn’t get more painful than that. I shuddered and asked, “Were you with her when it happened?”

  “No.” He glanced at his shoes, at the bits of mud and grass on them. “I was at school, and she was home, painting the beams in our apartment. The ladder tipped over, and she suffered a head injury.” He kept studying his shoes. “She thought she was okay at first, but then she started feeling dizzy and confused and called a friend to take her to urgent care. But by then, her brain was already starting to swell.”

  He finally lifted his gaze. He’d done more talking today than he had in the entire time I’d known him.

  Before he slipped back into his old silent ways, I said, “It must have been awful for you, going to live with your aunt and uncle after something so traumatic.”

  “Yeah. It pretty much sucked.”

  “Which one of them is your blood relative?”

  “My aunt. She’s my mother’s older sister. They came from a dysfunctional family.” He paused slightly. “Their dad was an alcoholic.”

  I gauged the discomfort in his eyes. Those dark, brooding eyes. “I heard it can be hereditary. The alcoholism,” I added, making my meaning clear.

  He shrugged it off. “My grandfather was a mean old cuss who died from liver disease. I hardly remember him.”

  “At least you weren’t a mean drunk.”

  He snared my gaze. “I was rough with you in bed.”

  Was it necessary for him to remind me of that? “We were both rough with each other.” I used to rake my nails all over him, clawing and scratching. “It’s just what we did.”

  “I know, but I should have been gentler.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said, even if it did. I’d always left his apartment feeling lonely and confused.

  He replied, “I’m sorry if I wasn’t more romantic with you.”

  His apology went straight to my heart, making it skitter. “Is this part of your sobriety? Saying sorry to all of the women you never cuddled?”

  No.” He spoke lower, raspier. “I’m only saying it to you.”

  I tried to act normal, to not let my emotions show. “I appreciate your concern, but it isn’t necessary.”

  He watched me, a bit too closely. “I just don’t want you feeling bad about the past.”

  Or letting it affect the present? It was too late for that. I wasn’t just struggling with my memories, I was troubled by his current association with Kirby, too.

  “How well do you know my sister and Brandon?” I asked. I’d never told Mary about my affair with Spencer, and she’d never mentioned his name to me, either. But that didn’t mean they weren’t acquainted.

  “I’ve never met Mary. Or Brandon. My friendship with Kirby doesn’t extend to his kids. Not that I have anything against them. It’s just easier for me to keep my relationship with him private.”

  “That makes sense, I suppose.” It was easier for me, too, to keep my sister out of the loop. She knew that I used to sleep around and that I was waiting for the right man now. But we didn’t have major conversations about it. Mary had been through enough with me when I was a kid, always worrying about my wild side. Before those reckless feelings came flooding back, I said, “I better get going.”

  Spencer frowned. “You don’t have to run off.”

  “I’m not.” Thankfully, I had a reason for leaving. “I’m having lunch with Tracy today, and it’s all the way across town.” I had plenty of time, but it was still a good excuse. Besides, I was eager to see her. Unlike Mary, I used Tracy as my confidante. I’d already told her about Spencer, talking about him on and off throughout the years, and now I would be telling her even more. “It was nice seeing the rescue and meeting Pete, but I really have to go.”

  He was still frowning. “Then I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “All right. But how do I…?” I was concerned about startling the sleeping bulldog.

  He bent over to help me. “Just roll him off you. He probably won’t even wake up.”

  We moved Pete together, and he landed belly side up, with his feet in the air and his tongue lolling to one side.

  “Told ya,” Spencer said, and we both smiled.

  I climbed up off the floor. He stood, too. At least the tension was gone. But I knew how quickly it could return.

  We retrieved the jackets we’d worn, put them back on and left the rescue, heading back into the rain. We didn’t chat along the way. But we’d said plenty already.

  He took me through a side gate that led to his driveway, where I was parked.

  I started to unzip his hoodie to return it to him, but he said, “You can keep it until next time.”

  “I have my own in the car.”

  “If you take it off now, you’ll get soaked.”

  That was true. The rain was coming down hard. If only it would knock some sense into me. I was losing my mind, fantasizing about giving up my celibacy for him. Would he stop being abstinent for me, too?

  Struggling to keep my wits about me, I deactivated the alarm on my Prius. Spencer looked as if he wanted to eat me alive. Or at least nibble me to death.

  I imagined feasting on him, using my mouth in ways I knew he would enjoy. I glanced away, trying to keep my cool. Working for him wasn’t going to be easy, but I couldn’t bail out, not with how badly I needed this job.

  “I’ll be in touch,” I said, forcing a professional air.

  He nodded, and I ducked into my car and started the engine. He stood in the rain, looking tall and dark and shadowy. I put the shifter in reverse and backed out of his driveway.

  Desperate to escape.

  * * *

  I wore Spencer’s jacket to lunch. I could have switched to mine, but I was already wearing his. Or that’s the excuse I used. Truth was, I just wanted to keep something of his next to me. My hunger for him was crushing my common sense.

  I sat in the cramped entrance of the mom-and-pop diner and waited for Tracy to arrive. She wasn’t late; I was actually a little early. But it gave me time to catch my breath. Or try to. There wasn’t a table available yet, anyway.

  When Tracy showed up, she breezed in like the rough-and-tumble country girl that she was. She’d been raised on a dusty old horse farm by her rodeo cowboy dad. Her mom died when she was in middle school. All these lost mamas, I thought. Hers, mine, Spencer’s.

  I stood to greet her, and we hugged. After we separated, I stood back and said, “Wow. Check you out.”

  Beneath her straw Stetson, her long brown hair tumbled over her shoulders, as pretty as could be. Her jeans fit her to a T, but she had one of those sensually curvy bodies that filled out every seam. Without makeup, she had wholesome features. But she knew how to doll herself up. Today, her eyes were as smoky as mine, only they were blue, like the sky on a brighter day.

  “I’m trying to fool people into thinking I’m still a celebrity,” she replied.

  “You’ll always be a star to me.” She certainly looked the part, even if her success had been short-lived. She’d spent most of the money she’d earned fixing up her dad’s property. She’d bought herself a place, too. But everything had faltered so quickly, she was fighting to keep her mortgage afloat. She’d been through hard times before. One of the things we had in common was growing up poor.

  The hostess escorted us to a vinyl booth near a window. When it came time to order, we both chose the special: baked macaroni and cheese and collard greens. Comfort food was another thing we had in common. So was sweet tea with lots of ice.

  After they brought our tea, Tracy asked me, “How did your meeting with Spencer go?”

&nbs
p; “Terrible.” I didn’t hold back. I was used to sharing my screwed-up feelings with her. “It was like going back in time, with how badly I want him again.”

  She reached for her glass. “Maybe you’re just getting cabin fever. Or celibate fever, or whatever.”

  “He’s celibate, too.”

  She gaped at me. “No way.”

  “Yes, way.” He was as inactive as I was.

  “Dang, really? A guy like him? Why is he keeping all that manliness to himself?”

  I repeated what he told me, about him being a recovering alcoholic and abstinence being part of his program, even if he’d carried it out for longer than the usual year.

  “Is he struggling with his sobriety?” she asked.

  “He said that he can handle the temptation of drinking, but I think it’s more difficult for him than he’s willing to admit. Of course, that’s just my opinion. I’m not an authority on addiction.” Not unless my attraction to him fell into that category.

  “It’s tough to know what another person is going through. But we’ve all got some sort of problems, don’t we?”

  “Yes, we do.” And mine were escalating now that I’d seen Spencer again. “You know what makes it harder? Spencer is super close to Kirby. Kirby even helped him with his sobriety.”

  “Yikes.” Tracy screwed up her face. “That’s major. You can’t mess with that kind of bond.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Kirby had been clean and sober for a long time. But when he was drinking and using, he’d hurt a lot of people. He’d even published a bestselling biography about his wrongdoings. He’d left Mama out of the book, though. He didn’t acknowledge her until after she died, for all the good that had done. “I hate how Kirby expects to be absolved for all of the terrible things he did.”

  She took a long, cool sip of her tea. “You’re the only person out there who hasn’t forgiven him.”

  And rightly so, I thought. “Speaking of apologies… Spencer said he was sorry for not being more romantic when we were together.”

  She watched me with empathy in her eyes. “I’ll bet that made seeing him even harder for you.”