“I don’t kiss and tell,” Carrie said, biting back a smile.
The women eyed her. Their romance book club had started as a singles book club (now some of the members were engaged or married) and they always shared the details of their love lives. She knew she wasn’t doing her part, but hell. She was done with doing what was expected of her. She wasn’t looking for love. As far as she could tell, love was a quiet domestic arrangement like her elderly parents, or suffocating like her and her controlling ex. Either way, it promised a lifetime of boredom and responsibilities. She wanted passion. And Zach was willing to give it to her.
Hailey propped up on her elbows, a vision in pink—teeny pink bikini, pink-framed sunglasses, pink lipstick, and matching polish on her fingers and toes. She was a former beauty queen with long strawberry blond hair, pale blue eyes, and flawless skin with the heart of a die-hard romantic. For other people, anyway, not herself. She was Clover Park’s one and only wedding planner, a self-professed love junkie and happy ending facilitator. “I completely understand your discretion, Carrie. You’re a classy lady. Speaking of classy ladies, would anyone like to go on a date with Ethan? I’m trying to show the rumor that he’s a sex addict wasn’t true and that he’s a perfectly fine candidate for ladies like us.”
The women tittered. Poor Ethan. The rumor of his sex addiction was a whole other crazy story. Suffice it to say, he was not a sex addict, but the rumor had stuck, as often happened in small towns. Hailey was determined to right that wrong. She was keen on everyone having a happy ending.
Carrie pulled a bag of potato chips from her cooler and offered it to Hailey. “Why don’t you go out with him?”
Hailey waved the chips away. “No time. Too busy building my business.”
“But you have time for us,” Carrie said, passing the bag to Sabrina.
Hailey sighed and pulled her long hair up, fanning the back of her neck. “Men are work. You ladies keep me sane.” She dropped her hair and looked around the group. “Anyone for Ethan? You don’t have to be alone with him. I’ll get him to Garner’s on Thursday after book club. Just smile and flirt so everyone knows he’s cool.”
“Can’t,” Ally said. “I’m getting back together with Dean next month.”
“I’m with Zach for now,” Carrie said.
“For now?” the women echoed in near harmony.
“Once through her sex list,” Ally explained. “Not in order, though. Bad boys don’t follow rules.”
Carrie chomped on a chip. “Can you just say wish list?”
“Carrie!” Sabrina exclaimed. “You’re driving us crazy with these little hints.”
“Yeah,” Lexi chimed in. “Come on, it’s us!”
“How bad is he?” Missy wanted to know.
“The sex list is more like a wish list,” Carrie shared. “To make up for what I missed with my ex. Zach’s cool with everything.”
Hailey pushed her sunglasses up and gave her a hard look, her pale blue eyes piercing. “This is quite possibly the worst idea I’ve ever heard. You simply can’t go through with it.”
Carrie frowned, annoyed. If she wanted a fling, she could have one. She couldn’t think of a single good reason not to. “Why not?”
“Because you’re a good girl,” Hailey explained in a patient voice. “This will get messy with hurt feelings, and guess who’s going to feel that hurt the most?”
“Her,” Ally said, pointing to Carrie.
Hailey dropped her sunglasses back in place. “Yes. I know you, Carrie, you have a sensitive loving heart.”
Carrie clenched her jaw, biting back the sharp remark that immediately came to mind. Do I have to be a bitch to have fun? She knew Hailey had good intentions. It was just that Carrie had finally gotten up the courage to go for it and she wanted her friends to be happy for her, not hold her back. She spoke in a carefully controlled tone. “I can handle a fling.”
“You should get to know him,” Hailey insisted. “Give him a chance to get to know you and make something real.”
“But—” Carrie started.
“I say this out of love,” Hailey said, reaching over and giving Carrie’s arm a squeeze. She lifted her fingers, probably full of sunscreen, and discreetly wiped them on her towel. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I hate to say it,” Ally said. “But Hailey’s making a lot of sense.”
Carrie pasted on a smile. “Thank you for the warning, but I’m fine with something temporary. I want that. And even if I wasn’t fine with it—” she held up a finger “—which I am, it doesn’t matter because he’s heading overseas first chance he gets and I’m staying here for grad school. No way I’m taking a pass on my teaching assistantship with full tuition coverage just to follow some guy to who-knows-where.”
“What happens after you’re through with the list in a week or two and he’s not overseas?” Hailey asked. “What if you run into him with the guys or around town?”
“I’ll be polite,” Carrie replied tightly.
Hailey spoke in a gentle tone. “But you might have your happy ending if you’d just give him a chance.” She meant the whole romantic thing—everlasting love culminating in a wedding. The idea of being forever trapped in a relationship made Carrie’s stomach roll. People changed, not always for the better.
Missy, a tough redheaded woman who never sugarcoated anything, put her two cents in. “Marriage isn’t for everyone. It was a bad fit for me. You go for it, Carrie. Enjoy yourself.”
The women dove enthusiastically into a debate over marriage and what it meant—an opportunity for happiness or a lifetime of hard relationship work. Carrie ignored all that, instead gazing serenely at the lake, reveling once again in post-bad-boy bliss. But then Hailey asked a question that triggered Carrie’s automatic good-girl guilt.
“What if you end up hurting him?”
She hadn’t given any thought to it because he’d seemed okay with everything. Finally she said simply, “He said he didn’t want a relationship.”
Hailey let out a long sigh. “Fine.” She turned to the group. “So no volunteers for Ethan?”
The women were quiet. No one was eager to be set up by Hailey. Give her a little encouragement and she kept going with the hard-driving persistence that worked so well for her business. People’s love lives were a bit trickier.
Hailey pulled a pink baseball cap out of her tote and pulled it low over her forehead. “I will simply have to give Ethan extra attention myself.”
“This oughta be good,” Missy muttered under her breath.
“What?” Hailey asked.
“I said it’ll be good for him,” Missy said.
“And Josh!” Ally put in, which had them all cracking up because it was exactly what was on their minds. Josh Campbell, the bartender and manager of Garner’s, had previously been a paid escort for the many weddings Hailey planned. When that arrangement went down in flames, they’d begun a hilarious frenemy one-upmanship that escalated from spicy peppers slipped into nachos (Josh’s move), rumors of an affliction that caused impotency (Hailey’s move), to running out of Hailey’s favored mojito ingredients (Josh’s move), to rumors of Josh’s tiny banana (Hailey’s move), to rumors that Josh was the one who got away. Poor Hailey, that last one was Josh’s extremely effective move that everyone in town believed due to their palpable chemistry. Carrie and her friends all thought the frenemy thing was a cover for what Josh and Hailey really wanted—each other.
Josh would not take it well if he had to watch Hailey cuddle up to his friend Ethan. Maybe this would make Josh step up and finally make the move they all suspected he wanted to make on Hailey. And that Hailey secretly longed for.
Hailey shoved her sunglasses back on. “Josh can kiss my ass.”
Or not.
Chapter Five
Zach strode through Curtains & More, telling himself he hadn’t really lied to Carrie by not explaining he was actually a respected anthropologist and not a bad boy. It wasn’t like she’d asked
what he did for a living. But it was a point of pride for him that he acted honorably, always honest, always keeping his word. A twinge of guilt had him gritting his teeth as the words he’d heard so many times as a kid rang through his head. He’s a bad seed. You can’t trust him. Sneaky, a liar and a thief. His parents’ reputation had stuck to him. They’d been in organized crime. They weren’t the muscle; they were the brains. His dad died before Zach was born. His mom, he remembered. She loved him, played with him, and taught him stuff. At three she taught him how to read, at four she taught him basic addition and subtraction using gummi bears, and at five she taught him “life skills.” Namely how to pick locks, break a window without damaging your hand, and how to blend in a crowd. She left him at six with a friend for what was supposed to be a week and never returned. After two weeks, his babysitter took off for places unknown with her boyfriend, leaving him alone. He’d wandered to the corner store, stole a hot dog from the case and ate it and shoved another one in his pocket for later. But then he got greedy and stole some gummi bears. Social Services picked him up. That was his first foster home.
He ran away so many times no one wanted to keep him. A runaway who regularly stole food and cash was a pain in the ass. He’d used all his “life skills” in running away, looking forward to the day when he found his mom and could tell her all about it. That day never came. At nine he landed in the same foster home as Ethan, who told him to quit being a stupid runaway because his basketball team needed a tall kid. That was when he met the Campbell brothers and their dad, Joe, in the Police Athletic League. He ran away once more a month later, but by then Joe had his back. It was Joe who tracked him down, helped him get the answers he needed about his mom, and let Zach know he didn’t have to run away anymore because he was now home with his new family. Zach was smart enough to know when he’d lucked into a good thing. Besides, his mom had died attempting a jewel heist. Sounded like something out of the movies. Except real life wasn’t that glamorous. Someone else got to the jewels first. When she tracked them down to a drug cartel in Mexico, she’d attempted to steal the jewels with some backup muscle. None of them made it out of there alive. He liked to think she did it as a way to secure a future for the two of them. The alternative—greed—just pissed him off.
He stopped in the curtain rod section, looking for some of those tie things that held curtains open. He wanted thick velvet for Carrie’s Jane Bond fantasy. Yeah, he’d figured that one out. “Call me Bond. Jane Bond.” Pretty obvious she wanted to try some girly light bondage. See? Even if he did leave out a small occupational fact, he was actually doing an honorable thing, keeping her safe and protected while she experimented. Seriously, was he just supposed to let some random asshole she met in a bar tie her to the bedposts and do God knew what to her? This bad-boy ruse was a noble calling for him. In some ways, you could say he was her knight in sexy armor.
His mind wandered back to the day before, Carrie on top, her face an expression of pure feminine bliss as he held her by the hips, controlling her movements, making her take more and more, pushing her past the first orgasm to a deeper one that had her screaming his name. He’d flipped her under him so damn fast, driving hard and deep, no holding back, and she’d loved it. Fuck. He felt himself getting hard. He looked to the ceiling, trying to think of anything but that. Okay, maybe his intentions with her weren’t completely noble. He’d always held back in the bedroom, trying not to be too aggressive, too rough, but with Carrie he could be himself. She’d welcomed his natural aggression from that very first night when, in a haze of lust, he’d lost control. His usually carefully choreographed moves of slow seduction deserted him when she bit his neck hard enough to sting and then tried to climb his body, urging him to take her. He ripped her panties and took her fast and furious right up against the wall, pounding into her as her shouts of ecstasy rang in his ears. Yes! Yes! Yes!
Great, now he had full-on wood.
“Can I help you?” an elderly white-haired woman wearing a red Curtains & More smock inquired.
He shifted slightly so he wouldn’t be brought in on an indecency charge. “Yeah. I’m looking for—” he cleared his throat “—velvet curtain ties.”
“Oh, you have to buy them as a set with the curtains. Right this way.”
He followed the woman to the adjacent section.
“What color, dear?” she asked.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Well, what color are your walls?”
A rare heat crept up his neck. “I got it from here, thanks.”
“Oh, well, okay. I’m Jean if you need anything else. I’ll be right over there straightening the hand towels.” She pointed. “See, right across the aisle.”
“Thanks,” he muttered.
As soon as she left, he started feeling up the curtain samples, looking for the right thickness and softness. Sure, he could’ve used some rope from the much more manly hardware store or even a couple of his ties, but he wanted something that wouldn’t chafe Carrie’s delicate skin. It was his first time initiating a woman into sexual pleasure and he took that honor seriously. He found a deep blue velvet that felt right, grabbed the set, and headed for the register.
Damn, a long line. He stared at the curtains, hoping she’d be available tonight. The more he thought about Carrie and her “traditional” ex—translation: controlling repressed jerk—the more he thought she needed the role play of bad boy, naughty girl to fully experience the passion she craved. It was abundantly clear to him that she was a good girl trying on the naughty-girl role. Not only did she have a naturally sweet demeanor, even when she claimed to be “pissed off,” but she’d also taken the time, the first night they’d met, to have a frank discussion of his medical history, previous partners, and favored birth control on the drive over to his apartment. A very responsible good-girl thing to do. She then informed him that the minute his pants were down, condom had to be on because she couldn’t wait to have him inside her.
Don’t think about it.
He was never going to get rid of this woody if he kept thinking about naked Carrie. He pictured her in that sexy purple dress she wore when he’d first met her at Garner’s. Okay, now this was just pissing him off. There was no way he wanted her approaching another guy in a bar, looking for a willing participant for her wish list. He was willing and able. Case closed. The best part was, neither of them were truly vulnerable as long as they played a role.
All of that led him to the conclusion that he was still an honest man, acting honorably in both word and deed. And, damn, he couldn’t wait to tie her up.
~ ~ ~
Carrie didn’t care if it made her look too eager, she texted Zach on her break during her shift at the hospital on Monday. So what if they hooked up yesterday? She had a lifetime of deprivation to make up for.
Carrie: I get off work at nine. You around?
Zach: Yup.
A man of few words, but who needed words for hot alpha sex?
When she got home that night, she took a shower and used the vanilla body wash she knew he liked. She also had grapefruit and lavender, but she figured she’d stick to what worked. She took the time to do her hair and makeup and put on her decadent new matching black silk bikini-style panties and pushup bra set. Her underwear drawer was neatly divided into the work side—plain white cotton bras and panties—and the pleasure side—silks and satins and lace. Not that she’d ever worn this sexy stuff for Edward. He’d hated the one time she’d bought some sexy lingerie, said she looked like a prostitute and it was beneath her. She’d felt such shame, but no more. This beautiful stuff was all new for her new life.
She slipped her little black dress on and then, the final touch, the slutty black heels. Zach had a thing for the heels, leaving them on her that first night. Until she’d accidentally stabbed him in the back with one of the spiky heels. Still, they were by far her sexiest shoes.
She grabbed her phone and saw she had another text from Zach. This wish list is a monogamous thing
.
She pressed a hand to her heart, touched by the unexpected sweetness. His focus was solely on her. And since hers was likewise, she texted back. Duh.
She had no need to find another man when Zach was already doing such a fantastic job. They’d already accomplished three of the seven things on her list—wallbanger, oral sex, and woman on top. At this rate they’d be finished in less than a week. Unless she asked for a repeat of some stuff. He had offered two weeks.
She stuffed her phone in her purse and rushed out of the bedroom. She didn’t want to think ahead like that. Too much good-girl behavior for her taste.
Ally wolf-whistled from the sofa, where she was watching a hospital drama that drove Carrie crazy with the medical inaccuracies. Geez, hire a consultant so the audience could have an honest authentic view of hospital work. “Sexy mama!” Ally hollered, waggling her eyebrows.
“Thank you! Heading to Zach’s.”
“You spending the night?”
Carrie halted. “Oh, I don’t know.”
“You did last time. Text me so I don’t worry if you don’t come home.”
“I’m sorry. Did you worry last time?”
Ally waved that away. “Yes, I worried, but then I figured you were so overdue, you probably pulled an all-nighter.”
Carrie hesitated. Now this was awkward. She didn’t want Ally to worry, but she didn’t know if she’d pull another all-nighter or if she’d finish and be ready to go. This fling stuff was so complicated. Finally she just decided not to worry Ally. “I’m spending the night. Don’t wait up.” If she came home early, no big.
“Have fun and don’t tell me about it.” Ally returned her attention to the TV. “It’s too depressing with my drought situation.”
“Ally.”
“La-la-la, can’t hear you.”
“Bye.”
She stepped outside and the door next door popped open. Great. It was her eighty-year-old neighbor Larry, aka the lucky accidental recipient of her very explicit sex list. His white hair was neatly combed and he wore a red silk robe loosely belted with an abundance of white chest hair showing. His legs were scrawny and bare. “Hello, Larry. How’re you?”
Bad Boy Done Wrong Page 4