Gentry

by T. S. Joyce

  “Have you heard a word I’ve said?” she asked, arching her ruddy brows at him.

  “No,” he said honestly. “I was thinking about last night.”

  Blaire jerked upright, and her cheeks instantly colored with the prettiest pink he’d ever seen. “Dirty stuffs?” she asked innocently.

  “Yep.”

  “You swear you don’t have a girlfriend before we continue this conversation.”

  Gentry chuckled darkly. “Trouble, no woman has ever been willing to put up with my shit. You’re free and clear to chase me.” What was he doing? He shouldn’t be encouraging the flirting, but he couldn’t help himself. She was so damn fun to mess with, and that sexy blush was staining her cheeks even darker now. It made him want to say filthy things to her.

  “I chased a man once, and it didn’t work out so well.”

  “Your ex?” he asked, trying for nonchalance, but his fists clenched up in his pockets with the urge to choke the shithead who hurt her.

  “Yep. I’ve realized chasing men isn’t for me. Maybe this time I want to be chased.”

  The vision of her as a pretty white rabbit and him as a big bad wolf flashed across his mind. If she knew what kind of monster he was, she would never say things like that.

  Blaire popped the trunk of her rental car, and as tempting as it was for him to stand back and perv-watch how her ass pressed against her tight jeans, he couldn’t let her work alone. Instinct wouldn’t allow it, so he helped, then shut the trunk when they were done. “Get in the car and turn the heater on. I’ll get rid of the cart.”

  Her eyes got all mushy like he’d done something heroic, and Gentry couldn’t help the smile that took his face as he pushed the cart into the line with the others. He really liked making her happy. He also liked that she was easily pleased. Blaire suited him.

  He jogged back over to her car, scanning the parking lot for any prying eyes because he couldn’t stand the thought of not saying goodbye for some reason. He shouldn’t do this. It was dangerous and could get them both hurt, but Gentry couldn’t stop the urge to touch her.

  So he leaned into the open window, kissed her, pushed his tongue into her mouth in a single stroke just to taste her, then sucked on her lip hard and eased out of her car. It was a second of intimacy, but the stunned smile on her lips made it worth the risk.

  “See you in Hunter Cove,” he said through a smirk as he stepped back.

  Blaire was just sitting there, touching her lips with her fingertips, staring at him with those pretty green eyes. “Okay. Thank you.”

  Thank you? Gentry’s smirk deepened to a Grinch smile. He’d kissed her into shock or something. God, he’d never wanted a woman like he wanted her. Trouble, trouble, trouble.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets as she eased out of the parking spot, and then just like at the cabin when she’d driven away from him, Gentry watched her go until he couldn’t see her anymore.

  Inside of him, Wolf howled to go after her.

  Blaire didn’t have to worry. She was definitely going to be chased.

  Chapter Nine

  Blaire flipped the page over and began reading the next. This manuscript was rough, but she was really trying to stick with it through chapter three at least to give the author a chance to find her stride. Blaire had been an acquisitions editor for years but had only found a couple of breakout authors. Her boss called her “too picky in this market,” but the only thing that kept her motivated to keep going at this career was the idea that there was some unknown author out there with a hidden brilliance who just needed a shot. She wanted to be a part of a career like that. She wanted to be the one to breathe life into that first manuscript and help push the author onto the first leg of their journey to the top of the mountain.

  The studly studmuffin laved his lick-pad up her stomach, and pumped his fishing rod faster into her tackle box. Suddenly he howled out her name as his baby gravy sprayed into her echoing treasure cavern…

  Nope. Blaire slammed the first couple of chapters back on top of that horrifying page in a desperate attempt to evict the words “baby gravy” from her mind for eternity. She’d had high hopes about this one, but once again, she would be sending a rejection letter. That was the downside to her job. She was a dream-crusher to many in her quest to be a dream-maker for one.

  She heaved a sigh and stared out the window again. Gentry had been gone all day. She’d had all these plans to make dinner, entice him over with the rich smell of pasta, and then possibly seduce him because, despite the fishing rod reference her poor mind had just been exposed to, she was in a constant state of arousal.

  That would be one Gentry Striker’s fault.

  But he’d been MIA, and she’d had a vacation dinner for one and a big glass of wine. Before she’d left home, Blaire had printed out a dozen manuscripts thinking it would be romantic to read actual paper books while on her snowy vacation, but she didn’t feel like working tonight. She felt like more kisses, like the one Gentry had surprised her with in the grocery store parking lot.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop touching her lips and imagining the way his mouth felt and tasted. The way his short facial scruff felt against her soft skin, or the way her stomach did flip-flops when Gentry had pushed his tongue past her lips.

  She hadn’t been kissed like that in…well…ever. The way she was with Gentry couldn’t be compared to anyone else, not even Matt.

  Her phone lit up and vibrated against the counter in front of her. Ashlyn’s name came across the caller ID, and Blaire smiled as she answered. “Yes, I’m still alive, no I didn’t get lost for long, and no, I’m not working. Anymore.”

  “Ew, Hayward, please tell me you didn’t bring manuscripts with you on freaking vacation.”

  “I can’t help it. I left for this trip last minute, and I wasn’t caught up. I have deadlines, you know.”

  Ashlyn made a gagging sound.

  “I do have something that will make you happy, though.”

  “Good, my day sucked balls. I need good news.”

  “Wait, what happened?”

  “Gary from the office downstairs asked me out again.”

  “Butt-grab Gary?”

  “Yes, he won’t take no for an answer, and I got stuck, literally stuck, in the elevator with him this afternoon. I’m pretty sure he was the one who pulled the alarm. He tried to kiss me. I almost pepper-sprayed him.”

  “Ash, it’s time to go to HR about him.”

  “Yeah I know, but I hate being a whiny rat. I wanted to handle it on my own and just be done with it. Tell me good news so I can stop imagining his fish lips coming at my face.”

  “Okay, okay, guess who I called a little while ago?”

  “I swear to God if you say Matt, I’m going to reach through the phone and give you two purple nurples.”

  Blaire covered her nipples protectively on instinct. Ashlyn didn’t bluff about that stuff. “No! I called that realtor you told me about. Andrew.”

  Ashlyn gasped really loud into the phone. “Say it fast, Hayward.”

  “I’m putting the house on the market.”

  Ashlyn crowed like a rooster so loud Blaire had to pull away the phone. “Finally ladies and gents, she is moving on from Matt the Chode!”

  “Don’t call him that. He was family for a long time, and he wasn’t so bad.”

  “Cough, cough, bullshit, you are too forgiving. You should move to my apartment complex. We can be neighbors.”

  Blaire giggled and leaned her elbows on the counter. “I haven’t thought about where I want to live yet, but I’ll start looking when I get back.”

  In a softer voice, Ashlyn said, “I knew this vacation would be good for you. I just had this feeling when I was looking for cabins that this one was special. And look. Day one of getting out of here and out of that damn house you used to share with him, and you already sound so much happier.”

  And here was the moment. It was the moment she was supposed to tell As
hlyn about Gentry because, really, he could be credited with starting the change in her. Oh, she had no grand illusions about them ending up a couple and having a hundred babies and growing old together, but he’d made her realize something pivotal. She wasn’t dead, and neither was her heart. And holding on to Matt would only hurt possible relationships in the future. Gentry made her want better. He made her want companionship again, flirting, sex, affection, having someone be there to ask how her day was, and her listen to their day in return. She wanted someone to eat meals with, and that wasn’t going to happen in a house full of the ghost of her broken marriage.

  But right as she parted her lips to tell Ashlyn about the man who was creating big changes in her heart, headlights arced across the front window, and the studly studmuffin himself was home.

  A huge swell of relief filled her. It was as if she’d released a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. Maybe it was from him coming home last night all beat up, and she was worried. Or perhaps a little piece of her thought he would bolt and not come back until her vacation was finished. He’d been upfront with his urge to roam.

  “Hey, I have to go,” Ashlyn said. “My mom has called three times, so it must be important. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. No working!”

  “I’ll try not to.”

  “And take lots of pictures and send them to me so I can live vicariously through you while I karate chop Gary’s kisses away.”

  Blaire snorted. “Okay deal, I’ll send you snow pictures tomorrow. It’s beautiful up here. There’s even a wolf.”

  “Oh, get pictures of the wolf. I want that, too. Gah, Mom is calling again. She’s probably on Web MD freaking herself out.”

  “Tell her I said hi.”

  “Will do, bye-bye now.”

  Blaire ended the call and grinned big when a knock sounded at the door. She really liked that he came to see her before he even went into his house.

  When she opened the door, he stood there in an unbuttoned tan winter jacket and tight V-neck sweater, exposing the top of the perfect line between his pecs. His winter hat was pulled low, but it’s dark color made his green eyes look even brighter. Arms locked against the door frame, he canted his head and gave her a crooked smile that made her ovaries go boom.

  “I got you a birthday present,” he said in that sexy, deep rumble of his.

  “Is it…something dirty?” she asked hopefully.

  “Oh, it’s filthy.” His smile stretched wider, and inside, her inner sex goddess bounced and clapped like a seal.

  Gentry pulled something from his back pocket and handed it to her.

  It was a paintbrush.

  “Filthy, huh?” she asked in a dead voice.

  “Oh, we’ll have paint all over the place,” he said in a phone-sex operator voice. His smile was obnoxious.

  Blaire crossed her arms over her chest. “Perhaps I don’t want to spend my second night of vacation painting.”

  The smile dipped from his lips as he pushed off the door frame. He shifted his weight and looked off into the woods. “Painting isn’t the point.”

  “What is?”

  He leveled her with a look. “Spending time with me.”

  She inhaled sharply at what he did to her heartbeat. “Is this…is this like a painting date?”

  “I don’t date.” When a soft sound came from his chest, he shook his head hard. “I can’t, but I want to spend time with you. I have a million things to do around here to get it fixed up to sell, but you’re only here for six more days, and I don’t want to waste our time together.”

  She really liked the way he’d said our time.

  Slowly, she took the paintbrush from his hand and ran her fingers across the soft bristles. “Let me get dressed in some old clothes, and I’ll be right out.”

  Standing aside, she nodded her head for him to come in and hoped to God it was as smooth as she’d tried to make it. Gentry was really good at winks, head nods, and smexiness, while she still felt like an amateur with this flirting stuff.

  Gentry strode in with the smooth gait of a lion as he stripped out of his jacket. She made a beeline for the bedroom so she could get dressed in a rush and stare at him again that much faster.

  “Wear something warm,” he called from the other room.

  “You’re telling me to put more clothes on?” Blaire stared into her drawer of old night shirts and pouted.

  “Or you can wear nothing,” he suggested. “I’ll be happy, but you’ll freeze your perfect little ass off.”

  “I like that you called my ass little, ya liar.”

  A deep chuckle sounded from the other room, and then, “You read books?” The soft noise of paper rustled, and she imagined him skimming the manuscript that was sitting on the counter.

  “Yeah, lots of them. Read page eighteen.”

  More papers rustled as Blaire pulled her hair into a high ponytail, and then Gentry huffed a laugh. “Baby gravy?”

  Blaire giggled and shoved her legs into a pair of leggings with a hole where her inner thighs had rubbed it threadbare. She called these her “easy access pants,” but Gentry didn’t need to know that. “I’m an acquisitions editor for a publisher. I read a lot of manuscripts and pick the ones to bring to my boss. I try to get the good ones contracts so they can distribute through the publisher I work for. Contracts, editing, marketing…there is an entire machine in my office. I’m just the first cog.”

  “Do you read paranormal romance?” he asked.

  His tone had gone serious and dark, so she pulled on the black, thigh-length tunic sweater she’d bought on clearance for four dollars and poked her head out of the room.

  “Like vampires? Nope, not my department, though I wouldn’t mind reading something different. I mostly consider contemporary romances right now. Sometimes I look at motorcycle club romances if I’m getting antsy for a change, but then I’m right back on contemporary.” She sat on the floor next to the door and shoved her feet into her snow boots. Distractedly, she admitted, “I used to love to read. It was my passion, and I thought this would be the perfect job for me. But it’s different when you do your passion for a corporate setting, you know? Now reading is work, and I don’t read the books I want to anymore, just the ones the publisher thinks will sell in the current market.”

  “Why don’t you read outside of work?”

  “Because I’m exhausted. I was overdoing it, overworking myself, bringing my work home, obsessing with staying distracted after my marriage fell apart, and I just…I don’t know…lost the passion for reading a good book outside of work. It’s like, if I have any extra time outside of the office, I don’t want to be doing something that reminds me of my career anymore. It’s the part I miss most, getting lost in a story that I don’t have to pull out of to think about the plot, characters, believability, and whether my boss will go for the book or not.”

  Gentry was bent over the counter, fidgeting with the corner of one of the pages, his eyes trained on her tight-clad legs. “How many manuscripts did you print out for this week?”

  “Twelve.”

  “Where are they?”

  “My room,” she muttered, tying her laces.

  Gentry strode into her room and returned shockingly fast with her work satchel. “You can print these out again?”

  “Yeah, they’re saved on my computer,” she murmured, following his progress toward the fireplace with her gaze. “What are you doing?”

  “Freeing you up to actually take time off.”

  He dumped the manuscripts into the hearth and reached for a box of matches on the mantel.

  A part of her revolted at the idea of burning manuscripts, but as the flames caught on the edges, she thought perhaps Gentry had a point. If they were in the house, she would work this week, and it would take away from the time she had off.

  “My best friend would like you,” she murmured, drawing her knees up and watching the fire build. “She didn’t want me to work this week either.”

  “The one
who booked you this vacation?”

  “Yeah. Ashlyn. She kept me sane the last few years.”

  Gentry leaned against the mantle, his back to her as he said, “She wouldn’t like me for you if she knew me, Trouble.” Then he cast her a quick, blazing-eyed glance over his shoulder and straightened his spine. With a plastered smile, he asked, “Are you ready?”

  “Do I look like cat woman?” she asked, standing and dusting her bottom off. Her all-black skintight outfit was the oldest she had, but she also cared about being cute for Gentry. He looked like a runway model, and right about now, she looked like a starless night in a pushup bra, who was sporting some seriously obvious panty-lines.

  He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Trouble, you don’t want to be a cat around me. You look sexy as fuck, though.”

  She gave him a cheeky grin. “Then yes, I’m ready right meow.”

  Gentry chuckled and rushed her, picked her up with his forearms resting right under her butt cheeks. “Oh, right meow?”

  Blaire let off a little hiss and gripped her claws into the back of his neck.

  “Retract those claws, kitty cat, or you’ll be asking to get fucked against the table over there.” Gentry’s voice had gone silken, filled with promise.

  The smile fell from her face. Whoa, he was good at putting hot images into her head. Her, naked, boobs down on the table, legs locked and splayed. Him driving deep inside her, hard, his face focused as he gritted out her name, his powerful body flexing with every thrust...

  Gentry’s nostrils flared slightly, and the expression on his face turned serious. He settled her on her feet and backed off. He wouldn’t look her in the eyes anymore. “Come on, Trouble. We have to travel to get where we’re going.”

  Blaire was still unstable, swaying slightly, and all her brain cells were currently focused on the churning sensation low in her belly. “Wait, what? I thought we were fixing up the cabins.”