Every Road to You

by Phyllis Bourne

  He checked the time on his phone before exhaling and calling her.

  “I’m waiting outside,” he said when she answered, “with the engine running.” He’d added the last part hoping it would spark her to get a move on.

  “Sorry. I really thought I’d be ready,” she said, “but I had a last-minute emergency crop up at the office, and I’ve still got to pack, so you might as well come in.”

  Tia’s words ran together in a breathless jumble, and he imagined, like his ex and most women he’d known, it would take her hours to toss a few things into a bag if he didn’t get in there.

  Stifling a groan, he turned off the game and got out of the car. He didn’t want to do either. Not at the bottom of the eighth inning with the score still tied. Hopefully, he could hustle her out the door quickly and catch the end.

  He knocked twice on the front door and waited, taking in a window box filled with red geraniums and wooden wind chimes clattering in the early-evening breeze. A red Adirondack chair shared the small patio, and he had to admit it looked like a nice spot to relax at the end of a long day.

  Ethan was about to raise his fist to knock again, when the door opened, and Tia appeared. Her hair was piled atop her head in a messy topknot, and her face makeup-free except for the swipe of peachy gloss across her smiling mouth.

  She looked pretty.

  For a split second, he felt as if he was there to pick her up for a date instead of a road trip he’d coerced her into through an ultimatum bordering on blackmail.

  Ethan immediately extinguished the emotions swelling in him. This wasn’t the time or place for guilt or longing.

  Tia’s pleasant greeting had thrown him, he reasoned. He hadn’t expected it, not after the way he’d acted.

  Still, he’d take it. Anything to make the short journey ahead of them go smooth and fast.

  “It’s getting late and we really need to get on the r...” Ethan’s eyes slid downward, and his jaw went slack.

  Heaven help me.

  She wore a silky, orange top with a sexy pair of white denim cutoffs. He swallowed hard as his unbridled gaze roamed from the frayed edges at the top of her thighs, down the length of her legs, to her strappy wedge sandals. Toenails painted the same shade of red as the window-box geraniums peeked out at him.

  Ethan closed his eyes briefly and swallowed. Hard.

  Stick to the game plan. Stick to the game plan. He replayed the words in his head like a silent mantra, willing away the stirrings of a hard-on.

  “Come on in,” she said.

  He cleared his throat as he crossed the threshold into the entryway of her condo. “Like I said, we really need to get...” He paused and sniffed.

  No. His nose had to be mistaken. Then his stomach unleashed an unholy growl assuring him it wasn’t.

  She glanced down at the source of the sound, and her smile widened.

  “Is that b-bacon?” Ethan stammered, practically salivating.

  His stomach rumbled again, reminding him all he’d eaten today was a slice of toast.

  “It sure is,” Tia said. “I’m starving. Since I was making something for myself, I made enough for two just in case you were also hungry.”

  You’re wasting time, Ethan told himself. Tell her to toss a few rags into a bag and let’s go.

  Instead, he concentrated on keeping his eyes glued to the back of her head as he followed her, refusing to allow them to slip downward to those long, toned legs or the high, rounded ass showcased by those damn shorts.

  They went through to the living room. Tia inclined her head toward the sofa, and he sat down. The flat-screen television above the fireplace was muted and tuned to the Yankees game he’d been listening to in the car.

  Bacon sizzling in the pan was the only sound until she picked up the remote and took the TV off Mute. “Hope you don’t mind watching baseball,” she said.

  She was kidding, right? What red-blooded American male wouldn’t love the scent of frying bacon, a pair of dynamite legs and his favorite sport on television?

  It was a fantasy that ranked up there with sexy women dressed in French-maid outfits, Ethan thought.

  “Smells good in here,” he said aloud.

  “It’s nothing special, so don’t get your hopes up. Just BLTs,” she called out from the kitchen.

  Ethan stared unseeingly at the scores scrolling across the bottom of the television screen. He heard excitement in the baseball announcers’ voices, and the crowd erupted into cheers, but he was too busy trying to summon up his mantra. Only, his plan had been waylaid, a victim of legs, baseball and bacon.

  He didn’t know how much time had passed before Tia returned bearing plates with sandwiches on whole-wheat bread thick with slices of tomato, lettuce and bacon. She sat them on the smoked-glass coffee table and went back to the kitchen muttering something about peach iced tea.

  My favorite.

  Tia placed two tall glasses of tea on the table, and again, Ethan wondered if he’d stepped into some kind of parallel universe when he’d walked through her door. The woman who’d been nothing but a thorn in his backside ever since they’d met was suddenly morphing into a fantasy come to life.

  She sat next to him on the sofa, crossing those brown-sugar legs at the ankles. Ethan fisted his hands to stop himself from skimming his hand along one toned thigh to test if it was as smooth as it looked.

  “I hope you like it extra sweet.”

  “Huh?” He blinked, dragging his attention to her face.

  “The tea,” she said. “I may have gone a little overboard on the sugar.”

  “I like it sweet.” Ethan knew she meant the tea, but he was thinking about her glossy peach lips. He reached for his glass and took a long gulp.

  It was his favorite summer drink, made his favorite way. Yet, Ethan found it oddly unsatisfying. The more he stared at her mouth, the more he realized he was missing out on the sweetest treat of all.

  His gaze flicked from her lips to her eyes, searching for some small sign the attraction wreaking havoc on his self-control wasn’t one-sided.

  Tia’s brown eyes were locked on his mouth. She studied it the same way he had hers, and in that instant he knew she was as curious as him. And just as turned-on.

  Still, it wasn’t enough for him to see it in her eyes or in the rise and fall of her breasts with every quickened breath. He wanted to hear it straight from those glossy peach lips.

  “Tell me,” he said, struggling for the smooth, polished words that never eluded him in the courtroom. Failing to find them, he simply asked, “Is it just me?”

  “No,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper. “I want to taste you, too.”

  Ethan’s eyes never left her as he placed his drink on the table, then took hers from her hand and set it next to it.

  He leaned in and she met him halfway. Their lips brushed in a tentative kiss. The contact lasted less than a second but answered the other question plaguing him since she’d met him at the door.

  Yes, her peach-slicked mouth tasted as good as it looked, he thought.

  Tia moaned softly and her lips parted in a pant. Fueled by the breathless assent, Ethan threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her closer. He brought his mouth down on hers, and his tongue plundered the depths of its honeyed sweetness. She tasted like peaches. An exotic fragrance reminiscent of jasmine and hot summer nights clung to her skin.

  Ethan didn’t want to analyze it. All he knew was he couldn’t get enough of her taste, her scent. Of her.

  Tia’s hands gripped the collar of his shirt and tugged. The urgent movement closed the scant inches between them. She deepened the kiss, her tongue doing its own exploring.

  Ethan spread his fingers in her thick mane and the topknot collapsed, sending her hair tumbling to her shoulders. He buried
his fingers in it, reveling in the lush silkiness.

  One hand occupied with her hair, he smoothed the other over her bare thigh, unable to believe he was finally touching the legs that had starred in his daydreams.

  Toned muscle covered in satin. No dream could compare to the reality of her skin beneath his hand, and his cock stiffened on the spot.

  As if she’d read his thoughts, Tia lifted a long, lean leg over until she was straddling him. Never once breaking the electric connection of their mouths.

  She settled down on him, and the next moan he heard was his own. His hand moved from her thigh to cup one buttock of the ass that had mesmerized him from the moment he saw it swaying in those sexy shorts.

  As much as Ethan liked her in them, all he could think of was how to get her out of them as quickly as possible. His hand still tangled in her hair, he tugged her head backward and broke off the kiss before starting a trail of smaller ones down the column of her neck.

  “I told myself before I came here I could resist you,” he rasped against the rapidly beating pulse point of her throat.

  “And?” she asked.

  Ethan released her hair, bringing his hand to her face and caressing her cheek. He stared deep into her brown eyes.

  “I was wrong.”

  The stark admission ignited a series of heated touches and kisses that left Tia’s blouse somewhere on the floor and Ethan admiring her black lace bra.

  “You are stunning,” he said, looking from the exposed tops of her perfect breasts to her face.

  Tia’s hand moved to the V of her breasts to undo the front clasp of her bra, but he stopped her, placing his hand over hers.

  “Let me,” he said.

  Stop! a voice warned from the far recesses of his brain. Remember why you’re here.

  Right now, Ethan couldn’t recall anything other than how much he wanted the woman sitting on his lap, rocking against his cock. Nor did he give a damn.

  Tia threw her head back and Ethan moved in, intending to unfasten her bra with his teeth. Already, he anticipated her breasts free of their lacy restraint and the taste of her nipples when he licked them before taking one into his mouth.

  Face buried in her cleavage, he was flicking his tongue over her bra clasp, when an electric-guitar riff ripped through the room.

  Startled, Tia jerked and Ethan abandoned his quest.

  “What the...?” He glanced around the living room just as the sound of a motorcycle engine revving and the unmistakable beat of the classic rock tune "Bad to the Bone” blared from the television.

  Ethan stared openmouthed over Tia’s shoulder as a man with gray hair riding a motorcycle filled the large flat-screen television on the wall. In the background an announcer droned on about tiny blue pills producing big, long-lasting erections.

  The camera zeroed in on the glint in the old guy’s eye before panning to a woman with her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. Both wrinkled faces sported huge grins.

  Ironically, the television commercial had the opposite effect on Ethan’s own erection, which promptly shrank in his pants.

  It ended with the couple in the woods submerged to their necks in a claw-foot tub overlooking a river. They wore nothing but just-got-laid smiles.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Ethan told the actor in the commercial. He stood abruptly and Tia slid off his lap, her bottom hitting the carpet with a thump.

  He snatched her blouse off the floor and handed it to her. “Put this on and get packed,” he said. “We have to find my grandmother. Now.”

  * * *

  Tia didn’t know if she should be grateful or take off her shoe and throw it at the television screen.

  Her fingers trembled as she buttoned her blouse. She’d only intended to stall him.

  Carol had given her the info about Ethan’s favorite meal, and his baseball cap made it obvious he was a Yankees fan.

  Okay, Tia admitted. She’d also flashed a bit of leg.

  Still, she hadn’t set out to pull off some big seduction, and she certainly never intended to straddle him half-naked on her living-room sofa.

  Her friend had only asked her to slow her grandson down so she and Glenn could get a head start before he inevitably came after them, not jump on top of the man and try to screw his brains out. A flush of heat crept up Tia’s neck to her face. How had things between them spiraled out of control so quickly? How had she allowed herself to get so out of control?

  “Tia.”

  She looked up at Ethan’s proffered hand, the same one that had gripped her behind scant moments ago. She grabbed it, and he pulled her to her feet.

  Their gazes connected and Ethan’s dark brown eyes softened. Tia suppressed a shiver of pleasure as he ran his thumb back and forth over her hand. He said her name again, his voice a strained whisper, and she stared up at him expectantly.

  Abruptly, he cleared his throat and released her hand in a move so quick that Tia thought the brief display of tenderness had been a product of her imagination.

  “I’ll clean this up.” He turned his attention to their abandoned meal. “You go pack.”

  “But what about dinner?” she asked, the question sounding lame to her own ears.

  The lips she’d tried to devour earlier firmed into a hard line, his handsome features reverting him from the man who’d desired her to the one backing her into a corner with an ultimatum.

  “I’ll wrap it up to go,” he said.

  Tia retreated to her bedroom and closed the door behind her. Catching a glimpse of herself in the bureau mirror, she blinked at her reflection. The woman staring back looked every bit as wild as she’d behaved on the sofa.

  Tia licked her kiss-swollen lips, which still tasted of him, before grabbing a comb and raking it through her hair. As she secured it in a topknot, she flashed to Ethan tugging her head backward and raining kisses on her exposed throat.

  She blinked hard to push the image out of her head and focused on putting herself back together. Noticing her blouse was askew, she quickly undid and refastened the buttons. More images of them touching and kissing bombarded her, and Tia wondered just how far they would have gone if that untimely commercial hadn’t blasted them apart.

  Looking past her reflection at the white four-poster bed behind her, she knew exactly where they would have ended up. God help her, she thought. A part of her wished they were there in the bed right now. Finishing what they’d started.

  “Don’t be stupid,” she admonished her reflection.

  They weren’t on a date. He wasn’t her man. And while her earlier actions left no doubt that she was attracted to him, she wasn’t even sure she liked him.

  Tia yanked open the bureau drawer and began pulling out clothes. Attempting to rationalize her behavior made it all the more confounding. All she knew for sure was she’d never reacted to a man like that before, and it both scared and excited her.

  Dumping an armload of clothes on the bed, she plopped down beside them. If she was going to help Carol, she’d have to pull herself together and get this case of lust, hormones or whatever had come over her under control.

  Tia also needed to think. As hot as he was, Ethan Wright wasn’t a potential bed partner. Not for her. He was the enemy, and she had to take off her passion-tinted glasses and keep that fact foremost in her mind.

  “The man is basically blackmailing you,” she muttered, bolstering her case.

  “You ready to go?” A sharp knock accompanied the question rumbling through Tia’s closed bedroom door.

  “Not yet,” she called out.

  “It’s an overnighter at best, not a cruise around the world,” he said.

  Tia scowled at the door, pushed herself off the bed and threw open the French doors to her walk-in closet. She grabbed the small roller suitcase she used for over
night travel from the top shelf, tossed it on the bed and dumped her essentials inside. Glancing at her large suitcases, she toyed with packing them, too, to stall for time but dismissed the idea as lame.

  Tia rolled the small suitcase from her bedroom and collided right into Ethan’s hard chest. She stumbled, and he grabbed her arms to steady her.

  “I didn’t expect you to s-still be s-standing at the door,” she stammered, wishing away the goose bumps forming where his fingers touched her bare arms.

  He dropped his hands and glanced at his watch. “I wondered what was taking you so long.”

  “You didn’t exactly give me much lead time,” she snapped, the tingling gooseflesh replaced with pricks of irritation.

  Tia rolled her suitcase past him, down the short hallway. As she walked through her condo toward her front door, she couldn’t help noticing he’d left the kitchen and living room sparkling clean. The dishes had been washed and he’d packed the sandwiches into a small collapsible cooler she kept in a bottom cabinet.

  “Thanks for making dinner.” He picked up the cooler. “It was nice of you, considering...”

  Tia nodded in response. Nice had nothing to do with it, she thought. He’d put both her and his grandmother in this position, she reasoned. So anything she did to stall or sabotage his efforts was fair game.

  Ethan pulled his phone from his pocket. “I scanned Grandma’s list and emailed whatever else I could glean from her computer to my phone.”

  “Facebook stalking?” Tia shook her head at the lengths he was going to, to ruin his grandmother’s happiness.

  He frowned. “Actually, I couldn’t. She defriended me and set her account to private.”

  “Good for her,” Tia mumbled and then bit her lip to keep from snickering.

  Examining her face, his frown deepened. “Are the two of you friends on there or any other social-media outlet?”

  Tia shook her head again. Lying came easier when she didn’t actually say anything.

  “Why do I get the impression you wouldn’t tell me if you were?”

  Fortunately, he dropped the subject and opened the map app on his smartphone. “From what I gathered through her browser history, they’re headed to a comic-book-superhero museum in Metropolis.”