by Jill Shalvis
“All I’m getting at is how can one really great night without strings be a bad idea?”
“Red.” Christ. He was only human here. “We have a past. That makes it impossible to do the no strings thing.”
“Hey, I can make a no strings night work with just about anyone.” Her smile turned self-mocking. “It’s a special talent of mine.”
He’d held the same talent. In fact, in a true ironic twist, the last person he’d had any deep, emotional ties to had been her. Knowing that, there was no way for him to make just talking to her casual, much less a physical intimacy.
If they slept together, she’d do him in for sure.
“You know what I want?” she asked softly.
His body leapt in spite of himself. Yeah, he was pretty clear on what she wanted. To escape, to forget. She’d just never wanted it from him before. “The oblivion of a good orgasm.”
She closed her eyes, hiding. She was good at that too. “Besides an orgasm. I want to go home, Joe.”
“That’s easy enough.”
“I need a ride.”
No. Don’t offer. Don’t say a word. “I’ll take you,” his mouth said, clearly disconnected from his brain.
She smiled at him, the kind that used to grab him by the throat and squeeze until he couldn’t breathe. Then she nudged his shoulder with hers, an old gesture that brought him back years.
He nudged her back, and with a laugh, she staggered toward the water, laughing, losing her balance. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her upright, knocking her right into his body.
Bracing herself with a hand to his chest, her fingers curling into him, her grin slowly faded. “You know what gets me?”
“Um…” His mind raced. “The ridiculous price of gasoline?”
“No.”
“The amount of crumbs at the bottom of a box of cereal?”
“Silly.” She smiled, but it was a sad one. “What gets me is that you sound the same.” Her fingers tested the strength of him, from pec to pec. “But you sure don’t feel the same.”
Her touch made him want to roll over like a puppy and expose his underside. He stepped back so that her hand fell free. “We’d better go.” He turned toward the way they’d come, flinching when he felt her hand on his arm.
She just danced her fingers to his shoulder, down his spine, slowly but not tentatively, tearing away his defenses as only she could. “Don’t,” he managed.
Her other hand joined the fray.
God, don’t. “Red—”
“You feel good, Joe. Warm. Strong.”
Not strong enough to resist this, but he gave it a valiant effort. He had to, or lose it, because with her, only with her he felt far too vulnerable.
Take that, Kenny, he thought. I did it. I found the woman I could actually let in.
Only I can’t really do it because she can’t be trusted to stay in.
Chapter 7
Take me home, Joe,” Summer whispered, and stroked her hands up his back.
Taking her home would be bad, Joe thought. Very bad. But she kept touching him and suddenly he couldn’t remember why.
Because she’s leaving.
Because she’ll hurt you.
Oh yeah, now he remembered. Turning to face her, he encircled her wrists with his hands.
She merely leaned into his chest, their hands squished between them, and looked at his mouth.
A low, rough groan tore from deep in his throat.
Reaching up, she kissed his jaw.
He hissed out a harsh breath and tugged her hands behind her back, pinned low on her spine. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but that meant she was helpless, pressed against him. He could feel her breasts, her belly, the outline of her thighs, and before he could pull away she arched into his hard-on with a little hum of pleasure.
And just like that, he was a goner. Dipping his head, he did what once had been his greatest fantasy. He covered her mouth with his and dove headfirst into a kiss that rocked his world, curled his toes, and drained the blood right out of his head.
When they had to break apart or suffocate, he stared at her, unable to catch his breath. Had he thought her helpless? She smiled up against him, her mouth still wet from his, with so much promise in her eyes he would have followed her to the damn moon, which meant he was the helpless one here. Send out a life vest, he was going down. He let go of her but she merely slid her arms around his neck and nibbled at his throat. When he groaned again, she sank her fingers into his hair, changed the angle of his head to suit her, and took his mouth.
Damn it, he was not going to do this, but then she murmured to him, stroking him with her hands, her tongue, her body, and he began to drown after all. “Red.”
“You’re shaking,” she said with surprise.
“I know.” He was the biggest fool on the planet, a fool who had to touch her. He ran a fingertip over her jaw, down her throat. Over her collarbone.
“Kiss me again,” she whispered, and outlined his lower lip with her tongue.
That was all it took. Some big, bad, tough guy he was. He sank into what she offered, giving it back, until they were both shaking. His hands and mouth couldn’t get enough of her.
“Mmm.” Eyes closed, she let out a long, catchy sigh. She had her hands beneath his shirt, touching skin to skin. “You kiss so amazing. Where did you learn to kiss like that?”
His fingers dug into her hips, squeezing. He didn’t want to talk, he wanted—
She sank her teeth into his lower lip and tugged. His knees nearly buckled and the next kiss lasted even longer. The urge to drag her down to the sand shocked him back into awareness. He was breathing like a lunatic, and had one hand gripping her ass, the other cupping her breast. Even as his senses began to clear, his thumb stroked over the hardened tip of her nipple, once, twice.
She gasped and her head fell back, exposing the beautiful, tempting line of her throat. He leaned in to taste her there and she let out a sexy little moan. “See how easy it is to forget all your troubles?” she gasped.
His mouth open on her, he went still. He’d been about to inhale her whole, but he closed his lips and set his forehead to hers. Forget his troubles? She was his troubles!
“Home.” She kissed one corner of his mouth, then the other. “Take me home, Joe.”
Incredibly bad idea, but they moved in silence along the soft, giving sand, with the waves occasionally sloshing over their feet as they went, thankfully not running this time, and when he stopped at the sleek black classic Camaro parked near Creative Interiors II, she laughed. “This used to be your fantasy car! When did you get it?”
He shrugged off the vague embarrassment. “A few years back.”
“You ever make out in it?”
“Red.”
She laughed at the look on his face. “Well, I hope you have. That’s why you always wanted it, remember?”
“I wanted it,” he corrected, having to laugh at her, at himself, “because of the power of the beast.”
“Ah, yes, the size of the engine.” Her eyes flashed warm and affectionate. “What is it with men and the size of their…toys?”
“Ha-ha. Just get in.”
She put her hand over his and tried to take his keys.
“Hell, no,” he said.
“Come on.”
“Do you think I’ve forgotten who taught you to drive, and that you suck at it?”
“I’ll have you know I no longer plow into mailboxes.”
He lifted the keys up over his head. She was tall, but not quite tall enough, and he decided he was a sick, sick man to enjoy how she tried to climb up his body to get the keys. “You had two glasses of champagne.”
“Far too long ago,” she replied.
“Maybe next time,” he said, knowing there wouldn’t be one because he was going to get smart and stay far away from her. Any minute now. He waited until she buckled up before he hit the gas. The car leapt to life, and she whooped with glee as they took off.
She’d always been able to do that, find the joy in the moment. He’d never been nearly as good at it, but he felt a surge of joy now, for no reason other than the car was running like a sweet thing, the wind blew fresh sea air in his face, and…and Summer was smiling at him.
She’d kissed him. He’d kissed her. Amazing, she’d murmured, and he had to agree. He felt her glance at him, but pretended not to notice, pretended not to be hard as a rock as well, wondering what the hell he’d been thinking to be taking her home. She was bad for him, bad for his mental health.
He was absolutely not going inside her place. No way. Maybe he should chain himself to the seat just in case he forgot that fact.
She gave him directions and he pulled onto a street lined with small, narrow cottages sitting on the bluffs above the ocean. “Why aren’t you staying with your mom?”
“I did that first night, but Chloe’s friend was staying here, and she left for Maine for the summer, and I thought I might enjoy the location…” She trailed off with a lift of one shoulder.
“And…”
“And what?”
“And the real reason you’re staying here instead of with your mom?”
“I don’t know.” Her gaze skittered away. “I think my family’s just waiting for me to leave.”
“Maybe because you have a history of doing exactly that.”
“But not this time.”
“They’ll come around.” When he turned off the engine the night was quiet and dark, and they might have been alone in the world. He gripped the steering wheel as if it were his lifeline, anchoring him to a reality that was slowing slipping away.
“Thank you,” she said.
“I didn’t do anything.”
Wasn’t going to do anything.
“Come inside.”
Yes. Yes. “No.”
“Why not?”
Her hair glimmered in the night. Her eyes were bright and clear and full of the things they could be doing to each other. She’d pulled her legs beneath her but he could still remember how perfectly long and smooth and tanned they were, and at the thought of how they’d feel wrapped around him, he nearly drooled like a knuckle-dragging Neanderthal. He held on to the steering wheel for all he was worth. “Because.”
“Good reason.”
“Okay, how about because you’re feeling vulnerable, and so am I.”
“Because of Cindy?”
“Not because of Cindy, no.”
“Because of the fire?”
Because of you. “Look, it’s been a long night all around. A rough one.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and when he dropped it, she had sympathy and compassion welling in her eyes and he had to close his. “It’d be better if you stopped looking at me.”
“Better for who?”
“For me.”
She didn’t stop looking at him.
“You should go in,” he said a little desperately.
“It’s such a beautiful night.” She leaned back, tipping her face up to the night sky, apparently in no hurry to go anywhere. The white sundress glowed in the night air, her expression open and caring. “We could just talk.”
He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Maybe a bag over her head would help.
“We used to talk for hours,” she said. “Remember?”
Yeah, he remembered. He remembered lying with her in the warehouse eating, laughing. Being. But he wasn’t that kid anymore.
“Did you go to San Diego State on your scholarship as planned?”
“Red—”
“Play along, Joe. Talk to me. Unload.”
“Why?”
She laughed. “Such a guy. Come on, it won’t hurt.”
He sighed. “Yes, I went to State.”
“Did you love it?”
He shrugged. “I worked a lot. Studied a lot. It’s all a blur now.” He sighed into her expectant face. “Yeah, I loved it.”
“Now you,” she said.
“Now I what?”
“Now you ask me a question.”
Do you really use orgasms as a stress relief? “Were you happy out there, doing your thing?”
She smiled. “I was.” The smile slowly faded. “And I figured I could be that happy here, too, but I can’t seem to quite manage it. I think it’s because all those years ago, I left wrong. It’s like I have to fix that before I can go on.” She met his gaze. “I was young and stupid to leave here the way I did. I honestly didn’t realize what I had, with my mom, with you. That relationship of ours…the truth is, I’ve never been able to replicate it.”
Going there was a bad idea. “Red—”
“I hate that I hurt you, Joe.” She put her hand on his. “Come inside with me. Please? Let me make it up to you.”
Her soft, sensuous voice slid right through him, cut down his defenses as effectively as her sad smile did. “Why?” he asked. “Because we’re both lonely?”
“Yes, because we’re both lonely. A good orgasm banishes loneliness, I promise you.”
“How about pain? Does a good orgasm banish pain too?”
Her eyes lit, and her soft laugh echoed around him. “Absolutely.”
Good Lord, the woman looked like sin personified. He wanted her so badly his jeans were cutting off circulation to some critical parts, but she’d been right. He had learned quite a bit about control over the years. Slowly, with great effort, he sat back until the door handle cut into his spine. “I’m not going to be the scratch to your itch, Red.”
“You’re not?”
“And I most definitely don’t want to be your pity fuck.”
“Your pity—” Her eyes flashed. “Maybe I just wanted to be with someone tonight.”
“I’m not that someone. I can’t be.”
“Because it’s me and I once hurt you?”
“Because it’s you and I can’t seem to keep the distance you require.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “Let me make sure I understand. You do want me.”
Only more than my next breath. “Yes.”
“But you’re afraid it won’t be just sex? Honestly, Joe, that’s just…” She lifted her hands helplessly.
“Yeah,” he said grimly. “Words fail, don’t they?” With more strength than he knew he had, he got out of the car, moved around to the passenger door and opened it for her. She brushed past him, then turned back. “It doesn’t have to end like this tonight.”
“But what about tomorrow night? Or the night after that?”
“Just so happens I’m free those nights too,” she said.
She was going to kill him. “Red.”
“Right.” She stepped back. “You’re not.”
“Not for this. I’m sorry.”
“No. No, that’s okay.”
Calling himself a fool, he leaned back against his car, folded his arms over his chest and waited for her to get inside.
Halfway to her door, she glanced back. “You’re going to be in your bed tonight, cursing yourself for being alone when you could have been with me.”
“That is the absolute truth.”
She just stared at him for a long beat, then unlocked and opened the front door. She turned the light on inside, illuminating herself like a fish in a fishbowl.
He drank her up, all those long limbs and shiny hair. She leaned back against the doorjamb, imitating his stance.
A face-off. He wouldn’t go anywhere until she was inside, but she didn’t seem to be in any hurry. “Lock the door,” he said, hoping she would before he forgot himself and went after her.
Her lips twisted in a wry smile. “Sweet dreams.”
“I doubt they’ll be sweet.”
“That’s your own fault. I hope you’re aching and yearning and in need of a cold shower.”
“Should I wish you sweet dreams back, Summer?”
She shut the door on that.
Her light went off.
He let out a slow breath, not sure whether he hated her, or still loved her.
Chapter 8
Summer slept restlessly. She got up before the crack of dawn and grabbed her hiking gear. There was an early staff meeting at Creative Interiors II, right before the big opening day, but she still had several hours before that, so she drove northeast to Palomar to hike among the towering conifers and oaks.
When she’d finished, she felt better equipped for the day, and smiled as she showered and changed before heading to the new shop. She had the VW’s windows down so that the gorgeous morning could show off its bright sunshine and already warm breeze. She breathed it all in and promised herself another long hike tomorrow.
She pulled into the parking lot of the store at the same time as Chloe. Her cousin got out of her car and looked Summer up and down. “Where did you run off to last night?”
Summer looked right back. Chloe’s green-tipped hair shimmered in the morning light, matching her eye-popping green miniskirt and tank top. “You look like a lucky charm.”
“Nice subject change. What happened, you get hot monkey sex?”
“Hot monkey sex?” Summer laughed. “Who gets hot monkey sex?”
Chloe put her hands on her hips. “Did you or did you not do it with your fire marshal?”
“Since when is he my fire marshal?”
“Do you ever answer a damn question?”
“No. But I didn’t get hot monkey sex.” But she’d wanted to. God, she’d wanted to. One touch of Joe’s yummy mouth to hers and she’d nearly imploded. He’d been hard and sexy, and she loved how his wary eyes softened when he kissed. He put everything into it, too, knowing when to linger, when to go slow, how to drive her crazy with just a nuzzle of that mouth and a touch of his tongue. “We’re just old friends,” she said. “You know that.”
“He’s a hottie. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”
“He’s changed a lot.” And she still couldn’t believe he’d let her walk away last night. A rejection, and damn, that had hurt. It’d been a long time since a man had turned her down. Actually, a man had never turned her down. Joe was her first. The thought made her feel melancholy, and she eyed the bakery across the street. “The doughnuts smell good.”
“You don’t eat doughnuts.”
She did if she was stressed enough.