She made him feel like a horny teenager, barely able to control himself. He’d tossed and turned all night, contemplating the variety of ways to bring her pleasure. In the process, he made himself crazy with need. The quick hand job in the shower this morning hadn’t done a thing to ease his ache. If anything, it ratcheted his lust even higher.
As he turned onto Atlantic Avenue, he glanced at the clock on the dash. He doubted the bar would be open at eleven o’clock on Friday morning, but since it was the only address he had, that’s where he’d start.
How would Sunny take the news of the Blackout selling? And closing?
Idiot, how would you take the news of being out of a job?
For a startling second, the thought brought him a sense of relief. Talk about crazy. He’d worked too hard, too long, to get to this point in his career. How could he possibly feel relief at not having a job? Besides, it would be a little difficult to continue supporting two households without an income.
As he pulled into the Blackout parking lot, he noticed the beat-up Honda Civic and Ford Ranger—both on the downward spiral of life—that were there last night. One of those cars must be Sunny’s, and the prospect of seeing her again kicked his heartbeat into double time.
The inside of the Blackout was dark and appeared to be deserted, but he tugged on the door handle anyway. Locked. He cupped his hands and peered inside, like Robby did last evening. Oh, shit. He would have been able to see everything. The only saving grace was that Sunny’s back had been to the door.
He retraced his steps, then kept going until he rounded the back of the building. On the far side, he found a set of steps leading to what appeared to be an upstairs apartment.
The door at the top flew open and Robby burst through the doorway. He was halfway down the stairs before he noticed Gavin standing at the bottom. He jerked to a stop, eyes narrowed and full of suspicion. “What are you doing here?”
“Uhhh…” Gee, that sounded intelligent. But Gavin was caught so off-guard, he couldn’t come up with anything better.
The kid’s expression said he wasn’t any happier about Gavin’s presence today than he was last night. Trying to appear as friendly and nonthreatening as possible, Gavin took off his sunglasses and tucked them into his pocket, then let his hands fall loosely at his sides. With the fine hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention, and his internal guidance system sending off warning flares, he couldn’t form a proper response.
Taking his silence as an unwillingness to answer, Robby said, “Yeah, I guess that was a dumb question.” He dropped down to the next step and jerked his head toward the door at the top. “I assume she’s expecting you.” He continued downward, and as he brushed past Gavin, muttered, “And she bitches at me for me being on the make all the time.”
Gavin was still standing flat-footed and dumbfounded when Robby fired up the Ford and spun tires out of the parking lot. His gaze slid to the door at the top of the stairs, and a feeling of dread sank into his bones.
He propped a hand on the railing and thought things through. It was possible Sunny and Robby leased the upstairs apartment from the owner. It would be to Mr. Black’s benefit to have someone living on property, someone who would be right there to take care of things. It would also make things easier for Sunny and Robby and cut down on their travel expenses of getting to and from work.
But the owner had listed this address as his…
Shit…
Gavin pinched the bridge of his nose and tried not to finish the thought. Or her address.
He had a terrible feeling things were about to get awkward. There wasn’t any point in delaying the inevitable, so he drew in a deep breath, then headed up the stairs.
Chapter Eight
Gavin knocked on the door, which was left slightly ajar in Robby's hasty exit. It swung open, and he found Sunny standing on a stool, reaching into an upper cabinet, an oversized T-shirt barely covering the curve of her ass.
“What did you forget?” she asked, twisting toward the door. Her T-shirt shifted and—because his eyes were glued to her ass—he caught a glimpse of her pink thong. His gaze slid higher, and through the thin, cotton fabric, he could tell she wasn’t wearing the necklace. Nothing but beautiful Sunny under that shirt.
Time stood still. He hadn’t left last night… and hadn’t been to work this morning. The need to touch and taste her was as strong as it had been in the bar twelve hours earlier, and the desperate drive to have her consumed him.
He lifted his gaze to her face. Her eyes were smudged with last night’s makeup, a sucker stick hung from her mouth, and her blond hair tumbled around her face and shoulders in a just-out-of-bed tangle.
His fingers twitched and burned with the need to touch her, and he cursed the southbound flow of blood that left him lightheaded and aching from teeth to toes.
Sunny squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, as if clearing cobwebs. When she opened them and found him still standing in the doorway, her nose crinkled and her forehead creased with confusion. At least she didn’t seem to be alarmed at finding him on her doorstep, only puzzled.
When she lifted her hand to take the sucker from her mouth, he caught sight of a tattoo circling her wrist. She was wearing bracelets last night, so he hadn't noticed it. He sure noticed it now.
Holy hell. One more item to add to the ever-growing list of things he found so fascinating about this woman.
She smiled awkwardly and raised an eyebrow. “When you said you'd call, I thought you meant on the phone. And”—she laughed nervously—“I sort of thought you meant at the bar.”
“Surprise.” Talk about understatements.
Her gaze dipped to his shoes, then casually made the climb to his face. Going by her heavy-lidded, glassy-eyed look and the way she worked the sucker with her tongue, he guessed she was as affected by the magnetic pull as him.
“Can I come in?” he asked, pushing the door wide open so he could see the entire kitchen. The walls were a cheery yellow, the cabinets a bright white. A hand-painted border decorated the top of the walls, and painted grapevines surrounded the doorway leading into the living room. A small, round table and two chairs sat in the middle of the room; a window seat filled the space below a large picture window overlooking the beach.
“Sure.” She moved a step lower on the stool and sat on the edge of the counter. The T-shirt rode high on her thighs, and her bare feet swung freely. Her gaze turned assessing as she asked, “How did you know where to find me?” She stiffened and her eyes widened. “Did you follow me last night?”
Her tumbled hair, short shirt, and smooth legs distracted him to the point of almost forgetting his reason for being here. He blew out a breath, then shut the door behind him. “No, I didn’t. Although I should have, because it would’ve kept me from worrying.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I’m looking for A.L. Black.”
She narrowed her eyes and squinted at him like he was a bug that needed to be squashed. “Why?”
He took a step closer. “I work for Holden Enterprises. We…” No, not we. “Max Holden is interested in buying this property. All of his phone calls have gone unreturned, so he sent me to find the owner.”
In the blink of an eye, her demeanor shifted from guarded to combative. Her pupils narrowed to pinpoints. Her lips compressed around the sucker stick, and the rapid rise and fall of her chest had him a little concerned she might hyperventilate.
So, that’s what ten feet of mad looks like.
In a completely inappropriate response to her anger, his heart rate picked up and sweat broke out on his forehead. He didn’t like that he’d upset Sunny, but seeing that fiery passion—even if it was in the form of anger—cranked his damned libido into maximum overdrive.
“The property isn’t for sale.”
He wanted to loosen his tie to get oxygen to his burning lungs, but that would send a clear signal he was hot and bothered. And if he’d learned anything over the years, it
was to never give his thoughts or feelings away. “Mr. Holden is willing to pay a generous sum. More than enough for…” He hesitated, wanting like hell to refer to A.L. as Mr. Black. But he knew, deep in his gut, he was staring straight into Ms. Black’s gunmetal gray eyes. “The amount would be more than enough to purchase another building and move the bar elsewhere.”
With slow, measured precision, Sunny stepped off the stool and stalked toward him, stopping only when they were toe to toe. Because she was so much shorter than him, she had to crane her neck back to look him in the eye, but the size difference didn’t slow her down or intimidate her at all.
She threw her shoulders back and glared with unyielding determination. “You can tell Mr. Holden this property isn’t, nor will it ever be, for sale. Regardless of his generous amount.” The last was spat out in a way that suggested rather than offering a large sum of money, Holden Enterprises was offering her a flaming pile of dog shit.
Gavin drew in a deep breath and glanced around the cheerful kitchen. He’d looked forward to seeing Sunny’s house, spending time with her, and getting to know her. This wasn’t the way he envisioned it happening.
But he was here, and he needed to continue this conversation. He glanced at the inviting yellow-and-white checked pillow on the window seat. Moving toward it, he asked, “Can I sit for a minute?”
***
Sunny eyed her surprise visitor and debated the wisdom of allowing him to stay. Being angry didn’t lessen the staggering awareness flowing between them, or the extreme pull she felt from it. Rather than being turned off, she found herself imagining how fabulously intense make-up sex would be.
As she considered the possibility, a whisper of a memory floated through her mind… Who owns this place?
She knew something he said last night bothered her, but she got so caught up in the magic of his mouth and hands, she forgot to go back and figure out what it was. The memory was crystal clear now.
“You used me.” She jabbed a finger at his chest. “You asked me who owned the bar, but you already knew. Was your plan to get me all sexed up, then spring this on me? Did you think if you got me crazy, out of my mind, I’d be agreeable?”
Shock flashed over his face first, then anger, then a blank mask that erased all emotion. “I didn’t know you were the owner until I walked into this kitchen. Last night, I thought I was sent to take notes so we could replicate the bar in one of our resorts. That’s why I asked for the owner. I also meant to get the names of the artists, but I got a little sidetracked.” His face might have been a calm mask, but his words were heavy with emotion.
His surprise at realizing she was the owner seemed sincere, but she was wary of it being an act, another attempt to get close.
Unfortunately, if that was his goal, it seemed to be working. Standing this close, his spicy masculine scent filled the air around her and seeped into her lungs. His blue eyes, looking at her with a mixture of anger and desire, heated her from the inside out. And the primal drumbeat of need still throbbed.
“No.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “No?”
“No, you can’t sit down.”
He stilled to the point of barely breathing, and she had a brief moment of lucidity. This was where she showed him to the door and told him to never return. But the lust pumping through her veins won the battle over logic, and she heard herself say, “Not until you reach into the top cabinet and find the coffee.” She shrugged and took a step back so he could move around her. “I’m a little bitchy until I’ve had my morning brew.”
His eyes flickered with amusement and the corner of his mouth kicked into a lopsided grin. “Then by all means, let's find your coffee.”
While he rummaged through the cabinet, Sunny stood off to the side, sucked on her Dum-Dum, and admired the rear view. Through the loose-fitting dress shirt, she watched his back and shoulder muscles ripple and crawl as he moved boxes and jars around. His tailored slacks fit his tight butt just right, then hung loosely on his long, muscular legs.
She worked so hard suppressing the urge to grab a handful of his spectacular ass she made herself dizzy. Or maybe it was a lack of caffeine, her highly aroused state, and Gavin sucking all the air out of the room.
After sorting and rearranging the contents of the cabinets, he turned to her with a grave expression. “I have bad news. There isn't any coffee.”
She sighed and wilted into one of the kitchen chairs. “I knew you were going to say that, but the news is still devastating.”
He laughed and rested a hand onto the counter. “I’d be happy to get some. Just tell me where to go.”
She waved the offer off and pushed to her feet. “I’ll go get it.” Allowing someone else to fix her problems wasn’t part of her genetic makeup.
She paused and glanced at Gavin, considering what to say or do. He came to buy her place. She said no. And yet, here he stood.
What did that mean? Was he also considering picking up where they left off last night? Easy enough, since she was barely dressed—a detail he’d definitely noticed.
"Do you mind if I go with you?” he asked.
“Why?”
He stepped forward and brushed a stray curl from her face, then gave it a tug before tucking it behind her ear. “My plan was to spend the day in Anticue. Can I start by spending part of it with you?”
How could she possibly refuse when she felt that tug in a million other places besides her scalp? So what if he was here to buy her business. She wasn’t selling and nothing would change her mind, so what would be the harm in spending some time with him?
She stared at his lips and remembered the way he made her come with that wicked mouth. She closed her eyes and gulped. She really wanted to know what else he could do with that mouth. And those hands. And his…
She flipped her eyes open and met his stare. “Nothing, and I mean nothing, happens until I’ve had my coffee.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, and heat blazed from his blue eyes. “I’ll be waiting outside.”
***
Gavin stepped onto the small stoop at the top of the stairs, loosened his tie, and rolled up his sleeves. The temperature must be close to eighty, which was above average for this time of year, but frigid compared to the blast-furnace heat he'd experienced in Sunny's kitchen.
The second he saw her in nothing but a T-shirt and skimpy panties, his blood had turned into a lava flow. The longer he stayed with her in the small space, the worse it got. And when she stared at his mouth like he was breakfast, he thought he would erupt. Christ, she was the sexiest woman he’d ever met, and it took every ounce of self-control he possessed to keep his hands, tongue, and dick to himself.
It was obvious that, along with her physical beauty, she possessed a sharp wit and tender heart. She was a feisty, successful businesswoman. And, after seeing her personal space, he suspected she was one of the artists who created the pieces he admired last night. The whole package triggered a primal, Neanderthalian response deep in his soul that he didn’t understand.
He pressed his hands to the railing and leaned over far enough to see the beach. The property was oceanfront, but the building sat back a hundred yards from high dunes, which provided a small measure of protection from the surf and storm surge.
How had a young, single woman come to own and run this place on her own?
“You ready?”
He straightened and turned to find Sunny behind him, wearing a pink tank top, Daisy Dukes, and flip-flops. Sunglasses rested in a mass of curls piled on top of her head, and another sucker stick hung from her mouth… grape, based on the smell.
He didn't know how far they had to go, but watching her slide that sucker in and out of her mouth would undoubtedly make it the longest trip of his life.
When they reached the parking lot, Sunny headed to the far side where the Civic sat. He paused by his SUV and opened his mouth, ready to offer to drive. But when he caught a glimpse of Sunny out of the corner of his eye—hand o
n waist, weight shifted to one leg, massive amount of attitude—he snapped his mouth shut.
“My car may be old, but it’s clean. You don’t have to worry about getting your expensive suit dirty.” She dropped her arm, straightened her shoulders, and kicked her chin out. “Or, you can stay here.”
Gavin paused, waiting to see if she would say more. Comments like this offered valuable insight into a person’s mindset and might provide useful information for re-approaching her about the sale of her property.
It also gave him insight into Sunny, the woman. And at the moment, that was most important.
Sensitivity to perceived socioeconomic differences usually developed one of two ways: a childhood of lack, or a previous life of luxury now lost. He thought of Callie and her friends. No way had Sunny grown up like them, so he was going with the first scenario.
He found the idea of her struggling, or even wanting something she couldn’t have, unacceptable. His beast rose to the surface, declaring he’d take care of her. She’d never want for anything again.
Jesus, he needed to get a grip.
He cleared his throat and lifted a shoulder. “I was going to drive because it’s the gentlemanly thing to do.” Hoping to lighten the mood and see her smile, he added, “This coffee thing seems pretty serious. I didn’t want you going into withdrawals while behind the wheel.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders relaxed and her chin dropped. “Sorry.” Her gaze shifted from his vehicle to hers and back to his again. She worked her mouth around the sucker a few times, then said, “I think I'm already pretty close, so…” She dropped her keys into her bag and headed his way. Stopping next to him, she flashed a sheepish smile and said, “We might want to hurry.”
He threw his head back and laughed. Everything about this woman was a delight, and he was happy just being in her presence. Propelled by an uncontrollable need to touch, he slung an arm around her shoulder and pulled her to him for an impromptu hug.
Last Call (Book #2 - Heat Wave Series) Page 7