His First Choice

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “Did she?”

  “I have nothing upon which to base an opinion. I don’t know what life was like for her before I was born. My parents were great to me. I don’t remember them being bad to her. But I was five years younger than she was. I have no clue what went on after I went to bed at night.”

  He turned them around and headed back up the beach the way they’d come. Wondering if Kacey was a good cook. And wishing, completely selfishly, that Lacey had had time to make their dinner.

  Not because she was a better cook. As far as he’d been able to tell, both of the sisters were well schooled in the kitchen. He just wanted to eat Lacey’s cooking.

  Which probably made him a sick puppy. Or just weird, at the very least, a weird dude.

  “She used to tell me that I wasn’t wanted. That I was a mistake. That I was ugly and everyone laughed at my sorry ass. She’d pull my hair just to see if she could make me cry. And then mock me if I did. And if I told our parents, she’d make life twice as miserable.”

  He’d learned how to stay out of her way. And later, how to placate her. Because life wasn’t perfect and wasn’t meant to be easy.

  They’d switched hands when they’d turned around. Lacey’s palm was cool from the night air. He wanted to hold her. To lie on the beach with her and lose himself in her, to pleasure her so thoroughly that she forgot the bad parts of his world existed. And hers, too.

  To help them both forget that people weren’t always kind to one another.

  In a perfect world, maybe they were.

  But in reality, everyone had a bad side. Issues. Hurts that didn’t heal as well as they could have.

  “When I grew taller than she was, stronger than she was, she resorted to tears,” he said, remembering out loud under the cover of the darkness that was falling. “She’d use tears as a threat and point out to me how our father was a sucker for her tears, giving in to her every single time she cried.”

  “Was she right?”

  “About Dad? Pretty much.” And he understood that. Every single time Levi cried, it took a piece out of him.

  “After that I gave her whatever she wanted most of the time. It was easier than dealing with the muck she’d conjure up.”

  “Was she nicer to you?”

  “Tressa’s words last night were kind compared to the things JoAnne continued to say to me. But they were only words. I learned to deflect the barbs for the nonsense they were, and to pity her.”

  “Didn’t Levi say she’s coming to stay with you?”

  “Right. Yes, she is. Later this summer.”

  “So...things have changed since you grew up?”

  “Nope...” He grinned. Because life really was kind of a joke sometimes. “She’s pretty much as bad as ever.”

  “Then why...?”

  “My folks asked me to put her up.” He let his shrug finish that sentence.

  “Did they also tell her she had to stay with you?”

  “What? No, of course not. It wouldn’t do any good if they had. JoAnne has no problem defying our parents.”

  “She wants to stay with you.”

  “I guess.” He hadn’t given it much thought. “It’s a small thing,” he told her. He stopped, turning her until they faced each other, touching, front to front.

  “You want to know what I know?” he asked, gazing down at her in the moonlight—and in the glow from the lights farther up on the beach.

  “What?”

  “That I have so much to be thankful for I’d be a fool to waste my energy crying over the things I can’t change. I’ve got a boy that brings me joy every single moment of every day. A job I love and that provides a better than average income. I’m my own boss. I can make my home whatever I want it to be because I’m the guy who knows how to do that kind of stuff. And I’m on the beach with a woman who I never thought I’d meet...”

  He stopped himself.

  “I never thought I’d meet you, either.” Lacey filled in his silence, understanding.

  And, with those words, sealed his fate.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  THEY WENT OUT again on Saturday. Kacey was back at Jem’s, though Lacey hated that her sister was spending so much time babysitting. Not that Kace seemed any the worse for wear. She looked more relaxed and was laughing out loud a lot more than Lacey could remember her doing.

  Hard to believe that in another week she’d be gone—back to the craziness of her Hollywood life.

  Lacey had worn another one of Kacey’s dresses that was loose fitting and just a bit shorter and fancier. Jem had told her he wanted to take her out someplace nice.

  And he had. On one of their city’s dinner cruises. They’d had steak and lobster by candlelight, seated outdoors at a balcony table with live music playing softly in the background. She remembered asking for honey mustard dressing on her salad. And liking the bread. She probably would have a hundred little image memories when she looked back on the night. But as they drove from the harbor back to her house, all Lacey could think about was Jem.

  The way she’d caught his eye in the candlelight. The sound of his laughter when she’d been telling him about the time she and Kacey had hidden behind a sign in a subway station and had taken turns popping their heads out from behind it on opposite sides without leaving enough time for a person to have moved from one side to the other...

  He’d put a tie on with dark pants and a white shirt and she just couldn’t stop consuming him with her senses. The musky scent. The slightly rough working-man hands that held her hand or touched her cheek so tenderly. The intense way he looked at her.

  She ate dinner and left the boat hungry.

  For him.

  Life wasn’t perfect. And might not be easy. But there was no doubt in her mind anymore that Jem Bridges was more to her than just a man she’d met. More to her than any man she’d ever met.

  They hadn’t talked any further about Tressa, other than for Jem to say that his ex-wife and Amelia were spending the weekend at the beach with a couple of Amelia’s friends.

  Lacey also hadn’t talked to him about her suspicions regarding Tressa as a perpetrator of domestic violence against Levi. And Jem, too. She wasn’t his counselor and couldn’t be objective. She didn’t want to say something that would do more harm than good.

  But she hadn’t forgotten. She knew that sometime before Tressa’s custodial visit the following weekend, she was going to have to let Sydney know about the scene she’d overheard between Jem and his ex-wife. The verbal abuse she’d witnessed. After she told Jem that she was going to call Sydney.

  She just kept hoping that he’d come to the realization on his own, after everything that had happened with Levi—social services bursting into his life, the talks they’d had.

  He was a thinker, someone who faced things head-on rather than avoided them. A doer. He didn’t run away from problems.

  She wanted to give him time.

  In the meantime, she wanted to give him...her. Not just her body, though she wanted that, too...but...

  They reached his truck and he held the door open for her, pulling out the stepstool he’d surprised her with earlier so she didn’t have to step up so high in her dress.

  Always the gentleman. A man’s man who’d protect those he cared about with his life. And yet...one who also seemed to respect a woman’s abilities as equal to his own. His willingness to look at his ex-wife as a whole person, to see her good, her value, had shown her how he respected women in a way nothing else could have done.

  She fully believed now that Jem was a victim of domestic violence. But he was the least likely victim she’d met during the course of her career. She had no doubt that he had scars, markers from the damage done to him—psychological and emotional—and yet he was a well-adjusted, emotionally alive, funct
ioning adult. This spoke to her of his strength of character, his determination to be the best he could be.

  She watched him walk around the truck. His ass looked the best in those pants.

  God, she had it bad.

  They were about two blocks from her house when he said, “I want to make love with you.”

  “You’re welcome to come in for a while.” Her tongue practically stuck to the roof of her mouth. She’d never made an appointment for sex before. Or talked about doing it beforehand.

  “I’d kind of planned to. I just want my intentions clear before I enter your home.”

  The look he sent in her direction made her feel like a puddle on his seat. The trembling of her lips was her giveaway and she gave him a weak smile.

  Good thing the inside of the truck was dark.

  “I don’t think you do this lightly,” he said.

  Was that going to be a problem for him? So...she’d change. Immediately. She could find a way to be casual about sex. Because she didn’t want to live without knowing what sex with him felt like.

  “I don’t, either,” he told her.

  Desire raced through her veins, but her mind slowed. “I didn’t think you did,” she said.

  “What Tressa said the other night...”

  She didn’t want his ex-wife there, but she experienced a moment of thrilled relief with the confirmation that he was thinking through the situation they’d left hanging openly right in front of them. But she still didn’t want her there.

  “We already talked about that...” Unless Tressa was a problem for him. It was pretty clear that the woman still considered him her property.

  Lacey had assumed the problem was Tressa’s. Was it Jem’s, too? Was he feeling guilty?

  The darkness was her friend, hiding her humiliation.

  “The thing about Tressa is...there’s usually a grain of truth in the things she says. That’s why her words can be so lethal. She hits her mark and then screws it all out of proportion.”

  “I don’t know what you’re telling me.” If he wanted her to believe he’d been a male prostitute, she just wasn’t going to buy it. He’d told her he’d never been unfaithful to his wife.

  “After my divorce...I went out with a woman I didn’t know. Slept with her. And never saw her again. Tressa...found out about it.”

  “You slept with a woman you didn’t know was safe?” The thought stopped her in her tracks.

  “Hell, no.” The disgusted tone of his voice had her wishing she hadn’t asked that question. He pulled up in front of her house and put the truck in Park. “She was a perfectly respectable woman—a nurse. The sister of a colleague. She was open to having a relationship. I wasn’t.”

  She nodded. Waited.

  “I am now.”

  Oh. God. Okay. Well...

  The silence took away her ability to exhale. Or speak. And then all the air left her in a gush that had been building. And building.

  She opened her door and jumped down, grabbed his hand as he met her on her side of the truck and walked with him, unsteadily, up to her door. “My bedroom’s this way...” she said as the door closed behind him, pulling him along down the hall. She’d changed her sheets that morning...and was ashamed for a moment, like she’d been planning this.

  “Wait...” He didn’t move.

  She didn’t want to wait. Afraid that the moment would pass, that this...thing...would end. And she’d never know... Looking into his eyes, she wanted to know exactly what he needed. So she could give it to him.

  “I don’t want to rush,” he told her. “I have a feeling this is going to be something we’re going to remember for the rest of our lives, and I want to savor every second of it.”

  “In that case, sir, could I tempt you with a glass of wine?” She’d never felt so stupid, so out of control and immature. And so...needy.

  They’d held themselves to one glass a piece at dinner in deference to the fact that he’d be driving as soon as they docked.

  “You can tempt me any way you’d like.” He followed her into the kitchen and pressed his hardness up against her backside as she reached for the glasses. With shaking fingers she poured the wine, managing to get most of it into the glass.

  She turned, handing him a glass. “Here’s to a first time we’ll remember forever,” she said.

  He clicked his glass against hers. “To remembering forever,” he said in return.

  That was the moment Lacey admitted to herself that she was falling in love.

  * * *

  HE HAD NO idea he could feel as though he was making love without undressing. Or touching.

  Wineglass in hand, Jem wandered outside to the footer he’d poured where Lacey’s dream room was going to be. He wrapped himself up in the feeling of being in her home. Her space. Alone with her.

  He wanted to strip off his pants and bury himself in her. And he wanted to keep them on and enjoy knowing that he was going to bury himself in her.

  “I heard from the inspector today,” he said, toe to toe with her in what was going to be the middle of the room. He pushed himself into the V between her thighs.

  “Why didn’t you say so?”

  “As soon as I saw you in that dress tonight, all I’ve been able to think about is getting you out of it. I completely forgot my good news.”

  “We have the go-ahead?”

  “I planned to pour the floor tomorrow, if that works for you.”

  “I think it’s pretty clear that anything you plan works for me.”

  Her fingers skated up his thigh, stopping just below his ass.

  “Why do I get the feeling we aren’t just talking about building a room here?”

  “Maybe because we aren’t?”

  Their wineglasses were full...and in the way. Taking hers from her, he set them down on the newly inspected footer. On his way back up, he grabbed the bottom of her dress, pulling it up with him and dragging it over her head.

  And things were almost over before they’d begun. Her panties were lace. Her skin the same honey golden color all over. Her thighs went on forever...

  She put one thigh forward and a hand to her waist, drawing his eye to the curve of her hip, a flat belly.

  His penis throbbed. Painfully, but he ignored the irritation.

  And now he could no longer even pretend to ignore the fact that she hadn’t been wearing a bra.

  “You aren’t playing fair.” He groaned, reaching for the button at his waistline.

  “I’m not playing at all,” she told him in such a sultry voice he had to try to capture it. With his mouth.

  His fly was unzipped as he planted his mouth on hers. Finding her tongue with his. Immediately. Hungrily.

  He still wasn’t touching her with anything other than his lips. He didn’t trust himself. Didn’t want everything to end. He wanted a beginning that lasted forever.

  “Oh, my God...” he whispered raggedly, pulling the tie from around his neck to drop it in the dirt. His shirt followed right afterward.

  “Time is money, you know,” she told him.

  “There is no amount of money that could pay for this time right here,” he told her. He stepped out of his pants and briefs all at once, left them puddled on the ground and approached her. He’d take her on the wall. In the dirt. Any way he could think of.

  “I like how eager you are,” she whispered, her gaze on his crotch. She stood up, turned her back to him and, leaving her dress where he’d dropped it, walked into her house.

  Unable to tear his gaze from the white lace-covered backside, Jem grabbed a packet out of his pocket, dropped his pants again and sauntered slowly in behind her.

  Two could play her game.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  LACEY HAD NEVER h
ad a thing for muscled working men. Had had no idea how sexy construction workers could be. She and Jem were in her room. She was a lady. A queen. He was strong. Solid. Gorgeous. And he wanted her. She touched his chest. He rubbed his penis against her leg. She kissed him. He picked her up off the ground and held her suspended against his rock hardness.

  He hadn’t touched a single erogenous zone and she felt as though every one of them had been loved repeatedly.

  Her nipples were hard. She was moist. And he prolonged the misery by running fingers down her back and stopping just above her tailbone. Licking her belly button, but no lower. Or higher.

  “Jem,” she finally moaned. “I need you.”

  “I know, Lace. I need you, too.”

  “Then...”

  “Shh.” Standing, he let his jutting maleness slide between her legs as he touched a finger to her lips. “The longer we hold out, the higher we’ll fly.”

  She didn’t know about that. If he didn’t hurry, she might very well fly without him.

  And this from a woman who had a history of being grounded.

  * * *

  HE KISSED EVERY part of her that he’d seen over the past couple of weeks. Her hands. Her arms. Her calves and feet and knees. Her ears and neck. Her chin and cheeks.

  He kissed her shoulders, sliding himself over her body.

  “You’re going to know me all over.” He heard the words at some point and realized he’d said them aloud.

  “Please, Jem.”

  But he helped her bear the pain and gave himself a pleasure he’d been imagining for weeks. With two fingers he touched her nipple and rubbed gently across the tip. She cried out, moving her hips.

  Lowering his head, he took her nipple into his mouth. Not for too long, though. Just long enough to keep her wanting.

  He moved to the other side and played with that tight bud with his fingers and lips. Then gulped when she grabbed his penis.