by Kyra Jacobs
She ducked behind him again, brushed her hand gently across his back, and lifted his other arm.
“Find anything else?” he asked.
“Not so far.”
“You know,” he said, hamming it up. “I think I’m starting to feel a sting.”
“You do?” Kayla lowered his arm. “Where?”
“On my face.” She moved to stand before him, that damned bowl of paste in her hands. How could he get her to put it down? “Above my left eye. Do you see it?”
“No. Where?”
He raised a hand to point to his left brow, careful to keep the other hand clamped onto the top edge of his towel.
“I…I don’t see anything,” Kayla said, her gaze intent on where he was pointing. “Bend down a little.”
He did, but only a tiny bit. With a sigh, she set the bowl aside and placed a hand on each of his shoulders, pulling him down to eye level. Her lips were only a whisper away from his. “I still don’t see—”
“Don’t you?” Brent’s eyes drifted shut as he drew in a breath and savored her scent. Lilac and vanilla. He wet his lips. “Maybe you’re not looking hard enough.”
“Well, I don’t know how I could miss it this close up.”
“Me, either.” Brent leaned forward and claimed her mouth with his own. All his worries about stings and shock and last good-byes vanished in an instant.
Kayla froze.
What was Brent doing, kissing her now? After he’d just had a near-death experience? Maybe he really was going into shock. Kayla pulled back, breaking the kiss, and ignored the way every neuron in her body threatened to rebel.
“I’m not done,” she said, as much for herself as for him.
“Sure you are.” His voice was low. And seductive. Far too seductive.
Could someone in shock sound like that?
Kayla put a hand on his chest to stop him from stealing a second kiss. His solid, warm chest. She swallowed hard. “Wait.”
“Why?”
He pushed her hand aside and leaned in for another kiss. Kayla turned her face, but Brent simply changed targets. His mouth grazed her jawline and slid down to the hollow beneath her ear. A shudder rippled through her body as his warm breath tickled her neck.
“Because clearly you’re going into shock. How far is it to the nearest clinic?”
“I told you, I’m fine.” His free hand reached up and tugged at her ponytail. Her chin tipped up, leaving her neck exposed. Brent’s lips traveled just beneath her jaw, from one ear to the other. “You worry too much.”
Ha, wasn’t that the story of her life?
His teeth pressed softly into her left earlobe, reminding her that right now, she had every right to worry. And not just about whether or not the man had gone into shock. If he kept kissing and nibbling, she would soon join him.
“But we shouldn’t.” Kayla stepped back and felt the bathroom countertop dig into her hip.
“Why not?” Brent reached out, grasped a handful of shirt at the small of her back, and pulled her toward him. “I thought we were past all the formalities by now.”
Before she had a chance to squirm away again, his lips pressed into hers. The kiss was gentle, nearly a caress. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t going into shock. But if that was true, then what was he doing? Surely he knew whatever this thing was between them couldn’t work. She refused to lead him on or hurt him like that.
And yet she was unable to resist kissing him back, unable to keep her body from melting into his. It was as if she were a puppet, and Brent controlled all the strings. Heat rolled off his muscular, naked torso, sending shivers racing up and down her body. The clean smell of his body wash permeated the steamy air. Something clean, earthy, and all man.
Desire raced through her like wildfire. By sheer willpower Kayla managed to break their kiss, before things got out of control. Before she truly couldn’t say no.
“This isn’t about formalities,” she said, gasping for breath. “I’m trying to be responsible here. And…realistic.”
“Realistic? About what?”
Brent’s face was a whisper away from hers, his stormy gray eyes mesmerizing. He nipped her lower lip and when she gasped in surprise, he claimed her mouth once more. His hand left the small of her back and wove into her hair, trapping her lips against his. The kiss lengthened and grew in intensity. He pulled her closer still, and Kayla found herself again starting to cave, to give in to desire.
But desire didn’t pay her bills, and neither did Brent. She arched back, straining to put space between them.
“Stop, just stop, all right? You’re not thinking clearly. Your life is here, in Mount Pleasant. But mine’s back in Indiana.”
“No,” he said, his face suddenly serious. “You think your life is back in Indiana. But what kind of life were you really living?”
Surprise washed over her. “What are you talking about? I have a good life there. I’ve got my dad, a great job at Wayne—”
“No.” He pulled her away from the sink and turned her around so her back was against the opposite wall. Then he planted a hand on either side of her shoulders, boxing her in. “You’ve fooled yourself into believing that place cares about you. That they appreciate your creativity and your hard work. Well, it’s bullshit, Kayla. They’re using you. Sucking the life right out of you for their own gain. Can’t you see that?”
“No.” Kayla felt her temper rise another notch. “No, I’m good at what I do. One of the best. They know that. They value my work.”
“But they don’t value you.”
He leaned forward and kissed her again, less gentle this time. With more authority. Kayla shook her head and broke free from his lips, refusing to give in.
“Yes, they do.”
“Oh yeah?” He leaned down so his eyes were level with hers, their steel grays barely containing his sudden, inexplicable fury. “Then why didn’t they punish anyone else last Friday?”
She glared at Brent. How many times had she asked herself the same question since that awful meeting in Jacober’s office? Self-doubt washed over her anew, but she fought to ignore it.
“I don’t know, I’m not them.”
“But you do know. And yet you still defend them?”
Kayla thumped her fisted hands on the wall of man before her. “They could have fired me, Brent. Kicked me to the curb with a pink slip in hand. Instead, I got a slap on the wrist. They cut me a break because they do value me as an employee.”
She stared up at him, willing him to believe her. Willing herself to believe the same thing. But his scowl remained, his eyes dark. Kayla shook her head and sighed. “It doesn’t matter, anyway, because I’ve already pulled together the perfect idea for our next big bid. They’ll have to bring me back now so I can help with design and bring it across the finish line.”
“Great.” Brent withdrew and threw his arms up. “So, you’ll go and convince them they can’t live without you, and then what, Kayla? Sweep it all under the rug? Pretend it doesn’t bother you that they didn’t trust you enough to hear you out?”
“Stop it!” She covered her ears. “You don’t understand. I’m not a quitter, and I’m not going to leave just because I don’t think I was treated fairly!”
“No?” Brent’s volume mirrored hers, and he closed the distance between them once more. “Then what would be a good reason to leave? Because I sure as hell think that’s a pretty damned good one.”
“You don’t know anything,” she cried, pounding a fist against his chest. Traitorous tears welled in her eyes, spurring on her anger. “You don’t know what it’s like, being a woman in a man’s world. Having to prove yourself all the time.” She pounded at him with her other fist. “Trying not to feel. Not to care.”
Kayla pounded both fists onto his chest, one then the other. And again. Tears trickled down her cheeks, but still she didn’t stop. And he didn’t stop her.
Left, right. Left, right. Left, right.
“I don’t want to feel. I don�
�t want to care.”
But this outburst wasn’t just about her career, or Wayne Advertising, or Phillip Jacober. It was also about Kayla facing the collapse of a carefully constructed wall of steel she’d built around her heart. A collapse that had begun the moment she’d collided with Brent Masterson in that silly diner. And despite her best efforts, she’d been unable to stop it.
A sob escaped her as Kayla’s arms fell limp at her sides. Instead of turning her away, Brent pulled her in to his red and battered chest. His big, strong arms wrapped around her exhausted frame, and he rested a cheek on the top of her head. “Shh, it’s all right. You’re all right.”
“I thought I’d lost you,” she whispered into his chest. “I was so scared you were drowning, and I can’t swim, so I paced the shoreline, helpless. And all I kept thinking was how I couldn’t save you, just like I couldn’t save my mom.”
Brent’s arms tightened around her.
“But I didn’t drown.” His voice was quiet as he cupped her chin and lifted her face toward his. “And you never have to lose me, ever, if you do just one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Stay.”
Chapter Nineteen
Brent watched Kayla’s red-rimmed blue eyes widen. “Stay?”
“Yes. Here, in Mount Pleasant.” He brushed his thumb along her damp cheekbone.
She sighed, then rested her face against his chest. “If only it were that easy.”
“It is that easy.”
“No, Brent, it’s not. I’m not some carefree kid fresh out of college. I have an apartment. Bills. Responsibilities.”
“But those are all things you can walk away from and start over with up here.”
“But what about my dad? I can’t just leave him there. Alone.”
Brent had no answer for that objection. He sighed and kissed the top of her sweet head. Vanilla and lilac flooded his senses, distracting him from his mission to win her heart. Maybe it was time he changed tactics, appeal to her physical side…
His lips moved to the top of her ear. Then just below her ear. She shivered in his arms. Brent could nearly taste victory.
“He’s a grown man, Kayla.” His lips brushed across her neck as he spoke. “He can—”
A song erupted from somewhere close by. Something upbeat and modern, yet instantly annoying and far too loud for the small bathroom. Kayla disentangled herself from him and reached for the cell phone in her back pocket.
“Sorry, hang on.” She glanced at the number on its screen. “Huh, no idea.”
With a scowl, she silenced the phone and shoved it back into her pocket.
Brent snagged the belt loops on the front of her jeans and pulled her back to him. “I get the feeling you spend entirely too much time trying to please everyone else.”
“I do no—”
She stopped. Listened. After a moment, he heard it too: another man’s voice. Only this one sounded very small…
“Oh, crap!” Kayla dug the phone back out. “Hello? Daddy! Yes, sorry, must have hit the wrong button. What’s up?”
Speak of the devil.
Brent frowned as Kayla made her way out of the cramped bathroom. Nothing killed the mood like family interference. All he could hope now was that she’d keep it short. Politely excuse herself and come running back to him. He craned his neck to see where she’d gone.
“You’re where? He did? Uh-huh. And what did he say? Oh.”
So much for keeping it short. With a sigh, Brent walked out into his bedroom as well. He padded over to his dresser barefoot and glanced over at Kayla. Her cheeks were still flushed with what he hoped was desire, but her face had grown serious. Never a good sign with her.
She’d been checking him out in the bathroom, though. Maybe if he could sufficiently distract her, he could get Kayla off the phone and away from thoughts of her father. He gave his towel a small tug and let it fall to the floor. After a brief moment he turned his head her way, nonchalant. Kayla had her back to him, engrossed in the conversation and oblivious to his striptease. She stroked the top of Bear’s silky head, her eyes focused on something off in the distance outside his bedroom window.
So much for that idea.
Brent pulled a pair of skivvies from his dresser and stepped into them, then swiped his towel off the floor and traded it for a pair of semi-clean jeans hanging off the back of a chair.
“…I don’t know, Dad. I mean, it’s not like Joe is going anywhere. Who knows what kind of stunt he might pull next?”
Ah, that’s my girl, Brent thought with a satisfied nod. Some of what he’d said to her in the bathroom must have soaked in. He made his way over to his closet and yanked a clean tee off a hanger.
“Yes, I know. I know, Dad. You’re right. Yes, maybe I should give him another chance.”
Brent tugged the shirt on with a growl. Even without hearing the other side of her conversation, Brent could tell her father was laying it on thick. Couldn’t he see how detrimental this guilt trip would be to her in the long run?
“Yeah, I’ll wait to hear from him. Yes, he’s got my number. Okay, I will. Love you, too.”
She hung up and stood there, staring down at her phone. Bear pressed his body closer to hers, eager for her to resume petting him, but all she offered was a halfhearted pat on the head. With a snort, he sunk to the ground.
I feel your pain, buddy. I feel your pain.
Brent cleared his throat. “Everything all right?”
Kayla tucked the cell back into her pocket. “Right as rain,” she said, her answer unconvincing as she avoided his gaze. “You warm now?”
“For the most part.”
“Good.” She started toward him…and kept right on going. “We should probably get some food in you.”
Brent stood there, mouth ajar, as her footsteps echoed down the stairway. Damn it, he’d been so close. He snapped his jaw shut and gave himself a mental slap. Now was not the time to give up. She was still here, alone, with him. And she had yet to give him a solid no.
Until she did, it was still game on.
Kayla set the remains of her sandwich down and groaned. “I ate way too much.”
“Ruby packs like she’s feeding an army, always has. I had to choose a career involving manual labor just to burn off the million calories a day she tries to cram down my throat.”
Kayla laughed and started to clear the plates from their picnic blanket. She thought they would stay indoors, to keep Brent warm. But he’d come downstairs with an old, mammoth-sized quilt insisting that since Ruby had packed them a picnic then, darn it, that’s what they were going to have. Before she’d been able to volley a decent rebuttal, he’d marched out the door. And because outside offered a whole lot more space to put between her body and his, she’d followed.
Now he lay on his back, eyes closed and stretched out like a cat sunning himself beside a window. With Bear inside and a thick wall of woods surrounding the side yard, it was gloriously quiet. Nearly intimate. As if they were the last two people on earth.
Kayla wished she could hit pause on some universal remote and freeze time.
She set their dishes aside and let her gaze drift back to Brent, who looked utterly at peace. The worry lines that typically flanked the corners of his eyes and lips had disappeared. So had the guarded, scowling man who had done his best to keep her at arm’s length earlier in the week. He’d been easier to resist, acting like that. But now…
“You’re staring at me.”
Busted. “Just trying to see if your chest is still moving.”
“You really are a terrible liar.”
“Whatever.” Kayla lay down and stretched out on the blanket as well, careful to leave what seemed like an appropriate distance between them. “You know, when Tommy and I were kids, we’d drag blankets like this out into the backyard and stare up at the clouds for hours, making up stories about the shapes and animals we saw.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Mmm hmm. The clouds today wou
ld have made for some great stories.” She glanced his way, suddenly self-conscious. “Sorry, I bet that sounds silly. We can go if you need to get back.”
“Nah, relax for a bit.”
“But aren’t you behind schedule?”
Brent snorted. “I haven’t had a day off in over a month, so I don’t think one afternoon is too much to ask. Besides, it’s clouding up. Rain’s coming, I can feel it.”
“Feel it? Let me guess—in all those manly, broken bones of yours?”
He cracked one eye open and threw her a grin. “Bingo.”
Kayla turned toward him and propped herself up on one elbow. “You never did tell me what exactly you broke, or how.”
Brent’s eye slid shut once more. “Knuckles, mostly. On my right hand.”
“Pick a few fights you maybe shouldn’t have?” she teased.
“Oh, I didn’t start fights, I ended them. Someone had to defend Miles’s scrawny ass.”
Kayla sucked in a quiet breath. “Miles got picked on as a kid?”
“Yeah,” Brent grinned now, his eyes still shut. “Miles wasn’t always the tall, handsome chick magnet he thinks he is now. He was a late bloomer, one of the shortest kids in our class up until our sophomore year in high school. You’d think he’d learn to keep his mouth shut, but oh no, not Miles. There were a few bullies who liked to single him out. Only, instead of walking away, the little shit would turn around and taunt them.”
“He’s lucky you had his back,” Kayla said, her voice soft with awe.
The grin faded from his lips. “Yeah, well, I was there for him, and he’s been there for me. It’s what friends do.”
Friends. The word pricked at her heart. She’d had friends, lots of them, back in high school. Handfuls in college, too, until her mom got sick. Once Kayla assumed the role of caregiver to her mother, there was little time for anything else. College got put on hold for a year, along with her social life. The friends she’d abandoned finished school a year earlier than her. Most had since moved away, all had moved on. Not that she could blame them. The passing of her mother had changed her—stolen her innocence, rearranged her priorities. No one seemed to understand her after that. No one but Tommy.