Hit & Miss Groom

by Misty Evans

  Except some days, his shirt collar grew too tight and his lungs didn’t want to function under his perfectly pressed shirt. Suffocating. He was suffocating at work.

  On top of the donor meetings, his parents had dropped by, one after the other. Mom used the pretense of bringing him lunch. His father had pretended he didn’t know Martha would be there.

  Their real agenda had been to talk Alex into organizing and attending a team-building weekend getaway next month. Normally, he was all over group events to raise trust and communication among the staff and volunteers, but now…

  A familiar pinch hit him in the lungs. Shutting his car door, he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar. Bracing his hand against the roof, he closed his eyes for a second.

  He visualized the racetrack, the wheel in his hands. He could hear the growl of the engine, feel the tires gripping the pavement. The smell of petrol and burning tires hung in the air.

  In a heartbeat, he was off the line. The crowd cheered as he blew down the track…

  Freedom.

  Victory.

  He opened his eyes and took a deep breath.

  Yep, could do that all day.

  When he was on the track, he wasn’t Alex McIntyre. He wasn’t the son of John and Martha McIntyre, or the developmental director of 3 Wishes Foundation with hundreds of kids and their families counting on him.

  He was simply a man with a need for speed, one with a high-performance vehicle and the best regional time trials in Southern California.

  The vise around his chest eased and his lungs expanded. Lately, that visualization had been the only trick to keeping his anxiety under control. That, and imagining Val in his bed.

  You have to keep things cool tonight. If you’ve already got a hard-on when you walk in the door, she’ll kick your ass out faster than you can say, “I want to be your sex slave, Van.”

  Straightening, Alex removed the tie the rest of the way, sticking it in his back pocket. But his mind refused to stop thinking about being Van’s sex slave and the naughty ways he could use that silk tie on her body to increase her pleasure.

  You’re making progress. Do not blow it tonight, dipshit.

  As he took the steps to his front door, he couldn’t help glancing through Van’s living room window two feet away.

  The light from a table lamp next to the sofa shone on her laptop sitting on the coffee table. She was pacing in front of it, talking, as if someone were sitting on the sofa listening.

  Ms. Business was dressed in a hot little red pencil skirt and a white blouse that draped seductively over her breasts. Alex stood mesmerized, not only because he wanted to inch that skirt up over her shapely hips and take her right there on the living room floor, but because power and confidence radiated off of her like a natural-born leader.

  Natural-born firecracker is more like it. A firecracker that would burn him good if he actually ever got close to her.

  How many times had she practiced this presentation? Over the phone, she’d sounded worried, but from the looks of things, she was in her element.

  Clasping her hands in front of her, she spoke directly to the couch, then pointed behind her as if there were a screen with her latest Power Point slide on it. Alex had been through a lot of meetings in his time at 3 Wishes. Many people, even upper level managers, bumbled their way through presentations because they never put any work into them. Not so with Vanessa.

  Overachiever.

  God, why was that so sexy?

  Alex leaned an inch to the right, making sure no one was actually sitting on the couch. Nope, it was just Van. Good. He’d change and bring over the Thai.

  Van went to the coffee table and clicked something on the laptop, then picked up a packet of papers. Holding them up, she spoke to the couch again and flipped through several pages until she came to the one she wanted. One of her graceful fingers pointed at the heading on the page and she went into another spiel, back straight and those beautiful dark eyes direct and purposeful. She stopped, grabbed a set of notecards, and bit her bottom lip as she looked through them.

  Alex wanted to drop to his knees and beg, Take me, I’m yours.

  His cock was rigid, tenting out his pants. At this rate, he was never going to make it through the night without throwing himself at her feet. Definitely needed to stop watching his favorite power woman and go change clothes. Probably should take a long, cold shower.

  He fumbled with his keys, dropped them, and fumbled with them again. Images of Van kept flashing through his mind like a movie reel.

  The second time he dropped the damned keys, he gave up. Adjusting his pants, he walked down his stairs, over to Van’s, and took hers two at a time.

  Just a little eager there, buddy?

  He rang the bell, and keeping the takeout bags strategically placed, he smiled what he hoped was a friendly, and not sexy, smile as Van answered the door. “Dinner is served.”

  The confident woman he’d seen through the window vanished. A shy grin crossed her face for an instant and she touched her hair. “You’re early.”

  Seeing her through the window was one thing. Seeing her up close and personal overloaded his senses. “I can come back if you’re not ready.” Please don’t make me come back.

  “No, it’s fine.” She opened the door wide, avoiding his eyes and raking her top teeth across her bottom lip. “Come in.”

  Alex froze. “Fair warning. You do that lip thing again and the just friends deal on the table is off.”

  Her eyes snapped up to his, wide and beguiling…and maybe a little annoyed. “What lip thing? I didn’t do a lip thing.”

  Was she teasing him or kidding herself? Alex grinned, not caring if it was friendly or downright wolfish.

  Good thing he’d brought his tie.

  * * *

  She should not be flirting with him.

  She wasn’t flirting with him. He was flirting with her. What she shouldn’t be doing was entertaining it. Because one slip, and the memories of their night in Jersey would come flooding back. His lips his fingers, his…

  Shit, and there they were. Damn him.

  But, he’d brought food, and it smelled delicious. “We are just friends, remember? And barely even that. We’re going to forget all about what happened in Jersey.”

  He tilted his head and studied her, his baby blues roving over her body. Somehow he managed to make her feel naked with that gaze. “You can pretend all you want, but you can’t take my memories away.”

  He leaned into her as she stopped at her kitchen counter, blocking her path. His voice was soft when he said. “Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can still taste you.”

  He then gently placed the bag of food on the counter and took three very large steps back, shoving his hands into his pockets.

  Van wasn’t sure how long she stood there, momentarily stunned by how good he smelled. Her brain searched for reasons why she couldn’t let him scratch that itch again…and again…and again.

  He grinned. That Cheshire cat, shit-eating, smug, make-her-want-to-slap him grin. He knew the effect he had on her and he was enjoying this.

  Immediately her brain snapped back as if someone had released the elastic. On a hard exhale, she said, “Let’s eat.”

  Before she could even grab the plates, he was whizzing around her kitchen handing her utensils, glasses, and plates. Several times he got locations wrong, but he seemed totally unfazed. He even dished her plate for her.

  Being served in her own house. Wow. When the man wanted to put on the charm, God help any woman in his path.

  “I saw you working on your presentation through the window.”

  Oh fantastic, he’d seen her talking to herself. “Uh, yeah. Talking everything through helps me. I have to say it out loud. I can’t just read it and go.”

  “No it’s perfect. You have no idea how many investors and fundraisers I meet who fly by the seat of their pants.”

  Van poured them a glass of white wine each and took a bite of he
r drunken noodle. She moaned in delight. “How did you know what I’d want?”

  Alex covered his mouth as he spoke around a bite of curry “I pay attention. We had enough planning sessions for the wedding that I know you go for drunken noodles with shrimp. Sometimes you get Pad Thai, but usually drunken noodle. And before you ask, your extra red pepper flakes are in the bag.”

  Sure enough, when she rummaged around in the plastic, there were the extra packets. He really did pay attention.

  That was part of what made him so dangerous. It would be easy to get caught up in that. Easy to think she was the sole focus of that attention. Easy to get hurt that way. “Thank you.”

  “I still don’t know how you can eat it like that. Aren’t you burning a layer of dermis off your tongue?”

  Van shrugged “The Major—I mean, my father—is Panamanian. I grew up eating spicy foods. You want a bite?”

  She held out her fork and raised an eyebrow in challenge. Only a second too late did she realize that she’d pretty much asked him to bite her.

  His pupils dilated, but instead of a snarky comeback, he took a large gulp of wine. “No thank you. I’m saving room for dessert.”

  The sheer intensity of his gaze told her what he planned for dessert. She flushed but met his gaze. “Funny, I don’t see anything sweet.”

  That sexy grin of his appeared again. “Take off your clothes and I’ll show you.”

  Van threw a spare set of chopsticks at him. “Incorrigible.”

  “I can’t help it, you’re very sexy. It’s messing with my mind.”

  “I’m hardly sexy.”

  “Oh, come on,” he scoffed. “You’re a sex bomb. You showed up at my housewarming party in red leather pants, and there wasn’t a guy there who didn’t look twice. You know how beautiful you are. And you know your effect on men.”

  How did she make him understand? “I’m not fishing for compliments. Nor am I particularly insecure about my looks. It just doesn’t matter. Dad always told me that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. One person will think I’m sexy and someone else won’t. I can’t take it personally, nor can I dwell on it. It’s just noise. I can only focus on what matters to me.”

  “Wow. That’s one way to make sure you’re levelheaded.”

  She shrugged. “Not the only way he had.”

  As if detecting the hint of bite to her statement, he changed the subject. “Will you do your presentation for me?”

  “What?” There was no way. She’d be nervous enough without him watching her. Assessing her. Likely picturing her naked. “I don’t think so.”

  He wiped his mouth and finished off his wine. While pouring himself another glass and topping off hers, he added, “Come on, it’ll help you to do it in front of someone, especially if you’re presenting tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow? “Uh, this presentation isn’t for another two weeks.”

  Alex blinked several times, then laughed hard. “You were the girl who did all her homework the day it was assigned even if it wasn’t due for weeks, weren’t you? And started studying ahead of time for tests.”

  Van occupied herself with a spring roll. “There’s nothing wrong with being prepared.”

  “I agree. I just think you take it to a whole new level.”

  “Well, while you can get away with procrastinating, I can’t.”

  “Sorry, I teased you. I actually kind of love it. I know any vacation we take will be planned to the hilt.”

  “As if I’d go on vacation with you. When I go on vacation, I want to relax. You’d drive me nuts.”

  He waggled his eyebrow. “I try. Now come on, show me your presentation.”

  He did have a point, if she could do it in front of him, then she’d have no problem in front of the CEO. Alex unnerved her more than all of those C-level guys put together.

  After he helped her clean up, they adjourned to the living room. By now she didn’t even need to look at the notecards, but she held onto them in case she had a change to make.

  Alex sat back and relaxed on her couch. With his arms spayed on the backrest and his lounging position, he looked more like a male model bad boy. Focus, Van.

  Shoulders back. Feet square. Don’t touch your face.

  But even as she ran through her rules and started her presentation, she knew she was off.

  She kept touching her hair. More than once she tugged on her skirt. Worst of all, she turned her feet in as she stood under the scrutiny of his gaze.

  Alex leaned forward. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “What?”

  “Why are you nervous?”

  “I’m not nervous. Why would you say I’m nervous?” Okay, yeah, that was a little shrill. She modulated her tone. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine. I watched you outside for a minute, you had no problems whatsoever. You’ve usually got that no nonsense, doesn’t-suffer-fools-thing down pat. It’s sexy as hell. So why are you nervous right now?”

  If anyone asked her why she would share a vulnerability like this with him later, she would have said she had no idea, but before she could stop the words, she blurted out. “I hate public speaking. Loathe it. It’s why I work so hard at presentations. To make myself more comfortable. If I have it memorized I won’t fuck up. And if I’m prepared and ready, there’s no need to be nervous. Having you sit there in front of me before this presentation is perfect is throwing me off.”

  “Why are you putting yourself through this if you don’t like to present?”

  “It’s part of the job. I’m up for a promotion. I need to get it right if I’m going to move into management…”

  He stood and tugged her to him. “You’ll do great. Just remember that none of these people are as smart or as prepared as you are.”

  Van braced herself a second too late for the onslaught of his scent. He smelled like fresh air and solidness and male. His warmth wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. There was something in his eyes, and she would have sworn he was going to kiss her. If this were Vegas she’d put money on it. But he didn’t. Instead he gave her a hug.

  His body was welcoming and for a split second she let herself indulge and nuzzled in. When he pulled back, she almost cried out at the loss, but her brain came online and stopped her.

  “Why don’t you sit next to me and do it again?” he suggested. “Better yet, tell me what parts you’re unsure about. I can help.”

  Something about the way he said that made her believe him. He was sincere. This wasn’t part of the Alex act, but somehow it was more worrying. “Thanks, but I’ve probably done enough for today.” She changed the subject because she couldn’t stand the look he was giving her. “And don’t think we’re not going to talk about the racing suit I saw in your room.”

  He shifted back and put a little space between them. His muscles tightened and the mischief in his eyes vanished. “What about it?”

  What had she just stepped in? “I’m sorry. None of my business.”

  “Sorry.” He closed the gap between them. “I was waiting for you to tell me how dumb racing is.”

  She didn’t understand. “Why would I say that? I don’t know much about it, but I know they’ve put in a lot of safeguards into the sport. I mean it’s not like you’re street racing, right? And if you have a suit it means you’re serious and you’ve been doing this long enough to know how to be careful.”

  His booming laugh warmed her from the inside. “Want to come meet my parents so you can tell them that?”

  “They don’t approve?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “You’re a grown man. You don’t need their approval.”

  The devil was back with his mischievous smile. “Well, you would know how grown I am.”

  She smacked him. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

  “Not around you, no.”

  She ignored him as best she could. “So stock car or Formula One?”

  Alex stared for several seconds. “I f
ucking love you, you know that?”

  Oh shit. The only thing more alarming than having the word love tumble out of Alex’s mouth was the warm, glowy feeling it gave her.

  Stop it. Stop it now.

  Alex didn’t realize she’d taken a trip to crazy town. Clearly he hadn’t meant love, because he started excitedly talking about Formula racing. She snapped her focus back after shoving the l-word into a locked trunk at the back of her mind.

  For the next twenty minutes she got her education in the sport, although he didn’t specifically talk much about his own racing.

  “So do you race often?” she asked when he came up for air.

  “Every weekend I can. There’s actually a race in Vegas in a few weeks. I’m pretty stoked about it. Nervous too. But I’ve been looking forward to it for months. You should come.”

  “C-come? Me?”

  He nodded slowly. “Yes, like C-O-M-E, not C-U—”

  “Alex!”

  “What? You looked confused. I was being helpful. I mean, I can help you c—”

  “Oh my God, you have to stop.”

  “Fine, but I would like it if you, uh, turned up at the race. I’ve never had a cheering section before.”

  Absolutely not. She had better things to do with her time. Getting tied up with him was just a distraction.

  Even though the part of her brain that always said no was clearly functioning, when she opened her mouth, what came out was. “Why not?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I guess I am,” she said with a laugh. “I mean, I’ll need to double check my calendar, but I do—”

  He interrupted her with a kiss. Firm and coaxing, he ratcheted the heat up from zero to a hundred degrees in seconds. His hand caressed her cheek and he angled his head, deepening the kiss. His tongue slid over hers, coxing, teasing, owning it.

  Van’s head swam. The combination of good food, wine, and Alex made her more relaxed than she’d been in weeks. Since the wedding.

  He kissed her expertly, shoving all thoughts of anything else outside of her mind, filling it again with only thoughts of him.

  He growled low in his throat and adjusted their position so she lay back on the couch. With his body pressing into hers, she gladly gave over control to him. If it meant he would keep touching her. Maybe if she just had a little taste, she could walk away.