It didn’t have anything to do with the fact that being with her was beginning to be a drive he couldn’t ignore. Not that he wanted to. The kind of woman that cared about their friendship was exactly the kind of woman he needed in his life. Somebody like Brooke. Well, not somebody. It had to be her. She just didn’t know it yet.
He’d been hit-on no fewer than six times before getting a taxi cab home, and none of them had done a thing for him. Beautiful women who’d hardly registered a blip on his radar. Brooke was in his head twenty-four seven. He didn’t know how she’d done that when he’d only occasionally thought of her over the past ten years. Okay, about once a year. But seeing her again, right in front of him, had brought all those memories back to slam into him like a freight train on steroids.
He found Brooke lying on her back outside her front door, staring up at the dark night. Odd. When he approached with the flashlight, she turned her head in his direction.
“Thank God, your batteries work!” she said from the ground.
Billy shined the light directly on her. This was especially cruel, and he began to wonder if Brooke secretly hated him. She wore some kind of barely-there lingerie that showed her milky white shoulders. The thing hardly managed to cover her thighs and her long curvy legs were bare, feet covered by fuzzy dog slippers.
“Any particular reason you’re on the floor?” He squatted down next to her.
“I have the best view right here,” she said with a completely straight face.
“The best view of —?”
“The moon, you ninny!”
He looked over his shoulder. “Ah, yeah. The moon. It’s just a sliver tonight. But it can be enjoyed in a standing position as well.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“Yeah.” He offered her his hand, and pulled her up.
“My flashlight’s batteries were dead, so I came outside for the moonlight.”
“What about your cellphone?” He held open the front door for her, shining the light into the dark room.
She slapped her forehead. “Great idea. Where is it? I’ll need to hold it until the lights come back on. Help me find it.”
They found it next to her purse on the table, and she used it to light her way to the couch. “I hope the charge holds. How long will the lights be out? Do you have any idea? How long till morning? Do you what time the sun rises? I’m not one hundred percent sure since the time change.”
She sounded like a wind-up doll someone had pulled repeatedly. All at once, he understood. “Brooke? Are you afraid of the dark?”
She looked like a sex siren advertising a new cellphone plan as she held it up in her hand like a display and kept glancing at it. “Define ‘afraid.’ If by ‘afraid’ you mean I feel like I’m going to die when it’s pitch dark, that I can’t take in a solid breath of air, okay then, I guess I’m a little afraid of the dark.”
A little? Sounded like a full-blown phobia to him. Brooke Miller, finally afraid of something. He’d never imagined for a moment it would be the dark. He joined her on the couch. “Want me to stay with you? Until the lights come on.”
“Sure, but only if you want to. That’s a nice big flashlight.” She said this with the same tone of reverence in her voice a teenaged boy might bestow on his first sweet ride.
He slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. She was trembling. “Would you like to hold my big flashlight?”
“Okay,” she said and put her cellphone on the couch’s armrest. “This all probably seems silly to you.”
“Nah. You’re talking to a guy who used to shower three times for good luck on game day, and before my first batter-up I made sure to look right, then left, then right again. And of course, make sure to have bananas for breakfast the morning of the game.”
“Bananas?”
He nodded. “It would help if I could rub Scott’s head twice for good luck, but he couldn’t come to every game so that had to stop. And then of course I had to put on my socks before my boxers. The order was vital.”
“Of course.”
“Don’t laugh. The night I did that particular ritual for the first time I pitched my first no-hitter. It all seemed to contribute to whether or not I had a good game. Don’t ask me why. Baseball is full of superstition.”
“You jocks are weird.” Brooke snuggled into him, laying her head on his chest.
He caught the scent of her hair again. Cranberry. Good enough to eat. But he was getting ahead of himself. While she practically crawled in his lap, he fingered the edge of her nightie. She hadn’t worn this for him, because unless she was psychic she couldn’t have predicted this particular outcome. “Were you expecting someone?”
Brooke raised her head and shone the light in his face, making him blink. “No!”
He moved her arm, and the flashlight, down. “Take it easy, Bungee. I wondered because of um, what you’re wearing.”
Brooke sighed and made a little sound in the back of her throat, as if she’d only now remembered what she was wearing. “I hope you don’t think I’d kiss you the way I did this afternoon and then be— expecting someone else.”
He might be pushing his luck, but still he asked. “Why, then?”
“You know, Hotshot, a girl buys nice lingerie and every once in a while she might decide to put it on even without a guy around. Just to feel pretty. Besides, it stays on longer that way.”
“Good point.” He’d wanted to take it off since he saw her lying on the ground in front of her door. Amusement mixed with full blown lust, another first.
Brooke laid her head down on his chest again, which didn’t make any of this easy. “And, if I have to, I can always take care of myself.”
He hoped she hadn’t heard the sharp hiss of his breath, but just picturing Brooke— taking care of herself— was not an image conducive to a steady heart rate. He swallowed.
“I love the way I’ve left you speechless.”
“Face it, that’s not hard for you to do.” He forced himself to think about puppies and kittens. One thing he wouldn’t do was press his advantage on a weak and vulnerable Brooke. She’d stopped trembling in his arms, at least. He glanced at his cellphone.
Brooke raised her head. “Who are you calling?”
“PG&E. I want to see how much longer before these lights are back on.” Please people, make it soon. My physical and mental health might depend on it.
She laid her head back on his chest. One arm was clinging to his waist, the other still holding the damned flashlight. “You can go if you’d like. I don’t mean to keep you here.”
It had never occurred to him she would think he had better things to do, or any place he’d rather be. He kissed the top of her head, as he listened to the recording of the outage update. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Thanks, Hotshot.”
He hung up. Sounded like it could be a while. “How long have you been this afraid of the dark?”
She spoke as softly as he’d ever heard Brooke Miller speak. “I was a typical kid, afraid of the dark. Always had a night light. But it got bad in college the year our part of the city had a brown-out. I had a roommate that was never in our dorm. Of course the power went out when she was off with her boyfriend somewhere. I’ve never seen it so dark before, or since then. I stayed in my room alone and waited. I’d only been there for a few weeks so it wasn’t like I had any friends to call. And the other people on my co-ed floor were having way too much fun out in the halls. I didn’t feel like hooking up with someone whose face I couldn’t even see, and that’s what it sounded like they were doing out there. I locked the door and hid under the blanket. I’ve been terrified ever since.”
Just the thought of Brooke alone in that room, far away from home, and he found that he held her tighter. Even pulled her into his lap a little bit. “I should have been there. I would have been if—”
“No, you would have been in the jocks’ dorm. They had the best one, across the campus from mine.”
“Right,” she said “But I don’t think I would have made the Dean’s List had you taken that scholarship.”
“Yeah?”
“You would have been one huge distraction.”
“I don’t know about that, but I would have given it a hell of an effort.”
“I’d like to see you give it an effort now.” Brooke straddled him, and the flashlight dropped to her side.
Like a clock striking the hour, the lights suddenly went on. Brooke startled in his lap. Light radiated as though someone had turned the sun dial to high. He blinked to adjust his eyes. Every light in the room was on, but Billy couldn’t take his eyes off the woman in front of him. Brooke blinked a few times, but didn’t move from his lap. She gazed at him, her eyes soft and pliable with heat. Staring at his mouth.
He took the invitation, and this would be a whole lot better with the lights on.
Chapter 11
Mind numbing fear combined with body slamming lust turned out to be the biggest thrill Brooke had ever experienced.
Forget skydiving and bungee jumping. All she needed was Billy and the dark. No use in pretending she didn’t want him. Didn’t need him inside her like she needed her next breath. Billy lit her up from the inside out, right down to her bone marrow. She might have fantasized this moment dozens of times in the past, but it hadn’t come close to the searing reality.
Then the lights came back on, and it seemed like the sun itself shined in her cottage. Spraying light all over what she was about to do. Because this couldn’t happen, boss or not.
Not her and Billy.
Friends were one thing, but how could she yearn for someone who represented everything she hated?
But damn it, she had ten years ago and still did now. The lustful feelings had never gone away. And every time he had smiled at her, every time he signed her petition to save the whales, or whatever her cause du jour at the time just because she’d asked him to, he’d stolen another piece of her heart.
Now she had her heart back in one piece. He couldn’t just waltz back into her life and start taking pieces of it again.
She scrambled off his lap before they’d both done something they would regret. This made twice now that she’d nearly attacked the man. Or was that three times? Good, she’d already lost count.
He turned off the flashlight and stared at her, a puzzled expression on his face. Achingly vulnerable, heartbreakingly sexy. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? I came on to you.”
“Uh, Brooke? I’m not exactly fighting you off.”
“Of course not. You’re a gentleman and you don’t want to make me feel cheap.” She glanced down at her nightie. Great. Giving him a free show. “Look at me!”
She ran to her bedroom for her robe and the ratty one was closer. So what. A deterrent would be handy right now.
Billy joined her, arms braced in the doorway of the bedroom. “Good idea. Your little couch is too small for me.”
She tied the robe tight around her waist. “No! I didn’t come in here for the bed.”
“You think that stupid robe is going to stop me? It’s made out of cotton.”
How was she supposed to get out of her bedroom when he blocked the frame with his big hot body? She drew in a deep breath. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“Why not?”
Why not? As it so happened, she had a list somewhere. But for right now, she’d have to fly by the seat of her pants. For starters he now knew about her phobia.
She’d never been this naked in front of a man, and she hadn’t even taken her clothes off.
He didn’t wait for an answer as he stepped toward her and reached for her, his strong arms pulling her close. “You don’t have an answer, do you?”
She put her hands up against his hard chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. “I— I do have an answer—”
“Not one good enough for me.” One sexy finger tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
“You and I are from two different worlds.”
“Doesn’t feel like that,” he said.
He kissed her then, rough and a little bit wild and she closed her eyes pretending for a second she would let him into her heart again. Let him in so he could walk away without a word.
She pulled away after a few minutes. Those kisses of his were going to be the death of her. Her lips were nearly as bruised as her heart. “No. Stop.”
He let her go, stepping away. “This isn’t over.”
“It has to be.”
He walked through the doorway, turning once to give her a pointed look. “The only thing that has to be is you and me in your bed together. Or mine, if you’d prefer. To be honest, we don’t even need a bed.”
His words wrapped around her southern region and went straight to the soles of her feet. She couldn’t move.
Once he was gone she took a solid breath of air, now free of the absolute maleness of Billy Turlock. She couldn’t understand how he managed to pull her in the way he did. Good looks were one thing, but he kissed with such authority and passion, being both rough and tender at the same time. He made her skin too tight.
The digital clock in the kitchen flashed the number twelve. She’d need to reset all the clocks because of the power outage. And buy new batteries and extra flashlights. She grabbed a piece of paper and started to make a list.
Yeah, she needed to get a handle on this phobia of the dark. A grown woman should be able to face such a ridiculous groundless fear. She was a daredevil, not afraid of anything. Except Billy had reminded her there was one thing she feared more than the dark. Right now that fear had morphed into a six foot tall long-haired baseball player.
Sleep. She needed to rest now, and forgot about the man who’d left a trail of heat in his wake.
Brooke folded up the blanket he’d pulled over her and threw it on the loveseat. They’d both been here not long ago in near total darkness and yet she’d felt safer than if every light in the house had been left on.
And wasn’t that the scariest thing of all?
*****
The next morning at Henry’s Market, Brooke crossed batteries off her list. Two twelve packs of double As should last through a few power outages. She’d have to get the flashlights at the hardware store, since Henry’s didn’t carry those.
All morning long she’d fought to keep her thoughts of Billy in line. She would not daydream about him. She would not remember what it felt like to be in his arms, to feel the heated waves of intense desire nearly electrifying the room. She would stop thinking about the kissing.
Well, one challenge at a time.
Next on her list: milk, Munster cheese and fruit. She pushed her squeaky-wheeled cart to the dairy section.
Ophelia Lyndstrom from the fabric store, Sew and Tell, nearly bumped into her shopping cart right next to the milk aisle. “Brooke! Is everything really all right? You seem perfectly normal.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Probably just another rumor thread in town. Well, she’d squash it like a fly. She kept moving towards the milk aisle, Ophelia following.
“Keith told me you flipped out at Serrano’s and had to be restrained.”
Brooke stopped her cart and turned. “Restrained?”
“Yes, apparently some irate patron called George a horrible name and you hauled off and slugged him. I believe in company loyalty, but isn’t that taking it a bit too far?”
For the love of Pete, the rumor was so far removed from the truth she wasn’t sure how to respond. “I didn’t hit anybody.”
“Then why did Keith say that?” Ophelia really did appear confused.
“I’m sure he heard wrong. You know how rumors get around.”
“You’re right. Probably just an exaggeration, as usual. What did happen?”
“George
and I had a parting of the ways. I don’t work for him anymore.” Brooke leaned in and reached for the fat milk this time. Screw the two percent . Sometimes you just needed fat. “Maybe I was a little loud when I handed over my resignation, but we’re good. Everything’s fine.”
“I heard you’re at the old Mirassu winery now.”
Why bother talking when everyone already knew everything? “Yes, under new ownership. You’ll be hearing more soon.”
“You know I’ll support whatever you do, honey. What about the photo? Was that you? Some say it’s you but I’m not sure. It kind of looked like you, but I couldn’t see your face.” Ophelia blushed.
“What photo?” But even as she asked, Brooke feared she had the answer to the question.
“Billy Turlock kissing some woman in the Chardonnay row. I would have picked the Cabernet row myself, but there’s no accounting for taste. White wine is good with fish, and that’s about it. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes, but where did you see this photo?”
“On Stephan’s blog. Someone should really stop him. He has no shame, but what can you do? It’s the Internet. God help us all.” Ophelia threw a nonfat carton of milk into her cart.
Brooke whipped out her phone right in the milk aisle and found the blog.
Ophelia looked over Brooke’s shoulder. “That’s the one.”
Front and center on Stephan’s blog lay a photo of her and Billy emblazoned with the caption: Love in the Afternoon?
Retired ball player Billy Turlock wastes no time when it comes to the ladies. In this photo of him and a local woman it is clear that if not love, there’s at least lust in the air. I’m offering fifty dollars to whoever comes up with the name of the woman Billy has in his lap. I do have my suspicions, but I need evidence…
Somebody Like You (Starlight Hill Series Book 2) Page 14