by Erika Wilde
Holding up a sign with her name in bold type, Leo scanned the crowd in the terminal. She wasn’t about to assume he remembered who she was based on their one class together. Four years had passed, and though she still had a thing for him, she was undoubtedly nothing more than a distant blip of a memory for Leo. His girlfriend at the time had been tall and beautiful and sophisticated—whereas in college Peyton had been pegged as the short, average, cute girl that hot guys always seemed to overlook.
As the travelers in front of her dispersed in different directions, Leo’s gaze skimmed past her, then bounced back as she pulled her bags toward him. As she approached, a slight frown creased his dark brows as he stared at her face—as if she looked familiar and he was trying to place her. She was pretty sure she still looked the same, except for her hair, which had changed drastically since college. What was once long and straight and fell halfway down her back was now cut to her shoulders, and instead of being a slave to a hot iron, she’d learned to embrace her more natural waves for a casual style that was easy and effortless to maintain. She now had wispy bangs, and on a whim, she’d recently added blonde highlights to her mousy brown hair.
Despite the anxiety wringing her stomach into knots, she managed an amicable smile as she closed the distance between them, trying not to let those intense eyes of his wreak havoc with her equilibrium. They were an intriguing mix of brown and green with a touch of gold shot through the irises, and she knew depending on his mood, those colors shifted and changed. Sometimes turning light with amusement, or more of a brown hue when he’d been contemplating a chemistry equation. But there had been one time in particular that they’d darkened for the briefest moment with lust before he’d quickly regained his composure . . .
When she finally reached him, he lowered the sign he was holding as recognition finally dawned across his features.
“Holy shit. Peyton Bishop,” he said in shock, clearly not remembering her name until he’d recognized her face and put all the pieces together in his mind. “Chemistry, right?”
He was a good eight inches taller than her five-foot-six frame, and she had to tip her head back slightly to meet his gaze. “You remember?” she asked, surprised and a little pleased by that revelation.
His grin was slow and mischievous, giving her a glimpse of his sexy dimple through the light layer of scruff along his jaw. “It’s kind of hard to forget the girl who literally knocked me on my ass in the middle of the campus, then proceeded to straddle me in a short little skirt while feeling me up as everyone walking by gaped at us because it looked like you were molesting me.”
Her mouth opened, then snapped shut as heat seared her cheeks. Seriously? Out of all their time together, that one isolated, humiliating, awkward incident was what he chose to bring up and focus on? “For the record, I did not feel you up.” At least not deliberately.
He chuckled, the warm, deep sound affecting her body way too intimately, as did the way his eyes made a much slower, more deliberate perusal of her figure. She was dressed in an oversized pale pink sweatshirt that reached her thighs and black leggings, which she’d worn for comfort since it was such a long flight, but her nipples were not immune to that visual caress and responded accordingly and without her permission . . . and yes, he noticed.
“You can’t deny that your hands were rubbing all over the fly of my jeans,” he said, his voice amused as he shared that recollection.
Her face was on fire. “I was making sure that you were okay!”
In her defense, she’d been a tad bit eager after hearing him call her name. She’d been so excited that he’d sought her out after class that she’d whirled around so quickly that her book bag had smacked him in the groin—because she was less than graceful and a little clumsy and that’s just how things seemed to work out for her. When he’d bent over in shock and agony while cupping his family jewels, she’d leapt forward to stabilize him . . . but instead she’d tripped them both up to the point that they’d tumbled to the ground, with her sprawled on top of him.
And yes, once she’d straddled his thighs, her hands had pressed and gently prodded against his crotch in a panic—she swore it had been an automatic and instinctive response, though if she’d been thinking logically, she would have realized it was highly unlikely she could have broken his dick…until he’d groaned—from pain or pleasure, she wasn’t quite sure which—and grabbed her wrists and yanked her hands away. That’s when mortification had set in, and when she’d looked up into his eyes and seen how feverish and dark they were, not with pain but with heated awareness, her entire body went soft and lax on top of him.
He’d recovered from that moment much quicker than she had and promptly put an end to their compromising position, but the incident had left her shaken, much too aroused, and unable to forget that brief connection between them.
“I’m just messing with you, Pixie,” he said lightly, taking pity on her obvious embarrassment, even after all these years. “You’re still just as adorable as you were back in college.”
He’d given her the nickname Pixie during one of their lab assignments, mostly to tease her for being much smaller than him, and she was surprised he remembered that, too. “I’d like to think I’ve grown and matured from cute and adorable over the past few years.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being cute and adorable,” he said, his voice warm and sincere as he reached out to gently tug on a wavy strand of hair. “Though I have to say I love the new haircut and style. It’s kind of sexy.”
Her stomach tumbled with pleasure at his compliment and the fact that he was touching her, if only her hair. “Kind of sexy” was at least an improvement from adorable. “Thank you.”
He tipped his head to the side, regarding her more curiously now. “So, is there a reason you called my company and insisted on having me, specifically, pick you up from the airport?”
“Yes, there’s definitely a reason.” She exhaled a deep breath, shifting on her sneakered feet as travelers continued to weave around them. “And it’s kind of a long and complicated explanation and requires that you not only have a really good sense of humor, which you seem to still have, but hopefully an open mind about helping out an old friend.”
“Okay.” Intrigue infused his deep, masculine voice. “You have my attention.”
His interest was better than an outright rejection, which she was grateful for, but standing in the middle of the airport wasn’t where she wanted to have this conversation. “So, are you free for the next few hours to go somewhere for dinner and to talk?”
“Sure. I’m open for the rest of the night,” he told her as he took the handle of her bags for her. “Where would you like to go?”
She gave him a rueful smile. “Preferably somewhere that serves strong drinks, because I’m going to need one before I proposition you.”
Chapter Two
Ahhh, Peyton Bishop, Leo mused as he led the way to the Escalade in the cool, spring evening air. Sweet, amusing, and yes, cute. He hadn’t made the connection at the office because it had been years since he’d seen her, but as soon as recognition hit, all those past memories of their short time together in chemistry came flooding back. She’d been the reason he’d actually enjoyed the class and looked forward to lab. Because they’d worked well together—even if she was a bit clumsy and awkward—and she never failed to make him laugh. She was one of the few girls he’d met in college who’d been guileless and real.
Amanda Rockwell, the girl he’d intended to marry and spend his life with, had been another. Yet the two women couldn’t have been more opposite and different, in looks and personality. Whereas Amanda had been sophisticated and refined and all Southern Belle, Peyton had been gregarious, unassuming, and so fucking adorable he always seemed to have a perma-grin around her.
But he’d been in a committed relationship, and as much as he’d liked Peyton and had even been attracted to her, he was a one-woman kind of guy and didn’t play the field like a lot of his friends did
. And he’d been so certain that Amanda was the one . . . until she’d blindsided him by calling off their wedding right before the ceremony, essentially putting a knife through his heart and leaving him to question what he’d done wrong . . . and why he hadn’t been enough for her.
Nearly two years had passed since that day, and while the pain of her rejection had dulled, it definitely had made him cautious with women, his emotions, and his heart—which had essentially gone on strike after Amanda. For the most part, he found it much easier to pour all his time and energy into his company, rather than indulging in a string of meaningless dates or hookups.
As they neared the vehicle, he cast a sidelong glance at Peyton, who seemed preoccupied and even a little nervous about whatever this proposition of hers was. Leo was dying to know the details, but it wasn’t as though he had anything else to do tonight, and extending his time with her over dinner appealed to him.
More honestly, she appealed to him, as did the way she’d blushed so uncontrollably when he’d mentioned that day on campus, when he’d only meant to get her attention so he could ask for a copy of her notes for the chemistry finals the following week. Instead, he’d ended up with more than he’d bargained for, with her busting his balls—literally—and then tripping them both up so that he’d ended flat on his back with her squirming on top of him.
That wasn’t even the worst part of it . . . No, it had been her hands and fingers fluttering along his dick that had the initial pain in his groin morphing into an inappropriate meet and greet. He’d never cheat on Amanda, but hell, it had been difficult to remain indifferent to being straddled by Peyton’s lean, toned thighs, knowing that his jeans and only a thin pair of panties beneath her skirt were the only things keeping them from doing something really dirty.
Even after he’d jerked her hands away, it had taken her a few moments to realize that he’d sprouted a boner because of all her touching—that’s how artless she’d truly been, with her wide eyes and flustered expression. He smiled at the priceless memory, knowing things might have ended up much differently with him and Peyton if he’d been single . . . but he hadn’t been available, so the point had been moot. And besides, he’d truly been in love with Amanda, and although another girl had piqued his dick’s interest because she’d been fondling him, he did have some self-control.
Arriving at the Escalade, he hit the unlock button on his key fob, then opened the passenger-side door for her to get inside.
She arched a brow at him. “Do all your customers sit up front with you?”
“No, not usually,” he said, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth. “But you’re not a normal customer, either. You’re a woman about to proposition me.”
“True.” She grinned back at him with a bit of the sass he’d enjoyed in chemistry. “But I am a paying customer, so I just thought you’d put me in the back seat.”
He had a flash of a thought that he’d really like to put her somewhere much more interesting, like his lap. Maybe reenact that day in the park and see what the outcome might have been if he’d been able to slide his hands up her thighs and beneath her skirt—He abruptly cut off that line of thinking and forced himself to dismiss the hot images of her sitting astride him. Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him?
“No, you’re not paying,” he insisted as she stepped up on the running board to give herself a boost into the leather seat. “First thing tomorrow morning, I’m having my secretary reverse the charges on your credit card. This ride is on me.”
She glanced at him, and he didn’t miss the relief that passed across her features. This pickup request hadn’t been cheap, and now that he realized who’d requested him, Leo wasn’t about to make her cough up the astronomical fee meant for wealthy executives.
“Thank you,” she said, her soft smile expressing her gratitude as she fastened her seat belt. “I really do appreciate it.”
He smiled back, struck by her expressive, pretty blue eyes. “It’s the least I can do for a friend.”
He shut her door, and after putting her bags in the back of the SUV, he slid into the driver’s seat and maneuvered them away from the airport and toward a casual restaurant where they could talk about whatever was on her mind. Currently, she was looking out the window and fidgeting in her seat, clearly anxious about something. She was starting to make him feel restless, too, and he tried to put her at ease.
“I take it you live in New York, or were you just visiting there?” he asked, genuinely curious about her life since college.
She finally glanced at him. “No, I live there now. I moved to the city a few years ago, after graduating. I got a job at a new up-and-coming fashion house as a junior apparel designer, which has been a great experience and exactly what I’ve always wanted to do.” As if realizing she was wearing a sweatshirt and leggings, a far cry from the height of fashion, she gave him an impish look. “Uhh, and don’t judge me by my current wardrobe, which is strictly for travel.”
“Hey, no judgment here, as long as you don’t analyze my casual, laid-back wardrobe and lack of style.” He was definitely a no-frills kind of guy, unlike his brother Aiden, who always looked so well put together in his tailored suits and ties and actually enjoyed wearing them.
“Hey, you’ve got plenty of swagger,” she said as she reached over and rubbed the soft material of his jacket between her fingers—making him wish that she was touching him instead. “Leather jackets are one of those things that are a timeless trend. They never really go out of style. And yours looks nice and well worn, which is even better because it makes you look cool, and like you’re not trying too hard to impress like a brand-new jacket would. It totally gives off an I-don’t-give-a-crap-what-anyone-thinks kind of vibe.”
He chuckled as he briefly met her gaze. “Ahh, goal accomplished then, because that’s exactly the attitude I was going for.”
They’d gotten off track, and Leo rerouted the conversation back to her. “So, if you live in New York now, what brings you back to San Diego?”
“A visit,” she replied. “My parents are still here, and my cousin is getting married next weekend, so I’m here for that, too.”
“Ahhh,” he said, though he still had no idea what any of this had to do with him.
“You seem to have done well for yourself.” She changed the subject once again, and he let her, for now. “I mean, going from being a Lyft driver in college to owning your own car service company with a fleet of high-end vehicles is pretty impressive.”
“I do have a partner, but yeah, I’ve been very fortunate, and the business keeps growing.” He suddenly felt as though he was at a disadvantage with her knowing so much about him. “I take it you’ve followed me on social media?”
It was a normal, casual comment in this day and age of Facebook and Instagram when following old friends was the norm, but for a moment, a panic-stricken look passed across her face before she averted her gaze.
“I, uh, yeah,” she said, her voice sounding . . . strange.
“Then you must know that Amanda and I never did get married.” Might as well get that out in the open.
She glanced back at him just as he exited the freeway. “Yes,” she replied. “I assumed you didn’t get married based on your relationship status. I’m really sorry it didn’t work out.”
Leo waited for that punch-in-the-gut feeling that always accompanied the memories of his wedding day that never happened. That humiliation of being publicly rejected in front of family and friends, even as Amanda tried to soothe the unexpected breakup with an “it’s me, not you” consolation speech—even after they’d made so many plans for their future together, which included starting a family of their own. The bitterness and resentment he’d harbored after that day was thankfully becoming a distant pang.
“It’s better than ending up divorced,” he said, meaning it, because clearly he wouldn’t have made Amanda happy in the long run. And he only intended to get married once in his lifetime.
Being on the si
delines of his parents’ divorce had cemented that decision for him, even though he’d only been a teenager at the time of their split. While his father had been solely responsible for the dissolution of their marriage, Leo remembered his mother’s devastation during a time in her life when she’d been battling cancer, and how the entire foundation of their family had been shaken and torn apart because of his dad’s selfish choices. That kind of emotional fallout was something he never wanted to experience in his own marriage . . . or have his own kids have to be a part of.
Before Peyton could ask details of what had happened with Amanda, Leo reached the Wood Ranch Grill and turned into the parking lot. The restaurant sold casual fare and offered strong cocktails, as Peyton had requested.
They were quickly seated at a booth inside, and after a few minutes of perusing the menu, they ordered something to eat and drink. Once his Sam Adams and her margarita were delivered, she lifted her large glass, met his gaze, and exhaled a deep breath.
“Might as well end this how it all began,” she said, a cheeky smile on her lips.
He inclined his head in confusion. “With a margarita?”
She nodded as she took a big gulp of the tequila-infused drink. “Or four or five, maybe more. I lost count after a while. Those margaritas got me into a lot of trouble.”
He had no idea what she was talking about. “That’s . . . cryptic.”
She set her glass back down on her napkin and pushed back the reluctance he saw in her eyes. “Let’s just say I did something really stupid after consuming too many margaritas, but tonight, my limit is just this one.”
“You know you’re killing me with curiosity, right?”
“Not purposely. I swear,” she said, rubbing her hands along her thighs. “I’m just a little nervous that after I tell you what I did, you’re going to think I have a major screw loose.”