Not in Her Wildest Dreams

by Dani Collins

  He kissed her, tasting like the wind off the ocean. “I believe I’ll take you up on that, beautiful.”

  He pried her hands off the drawer pulls—she’d forgotten she had arms—and turned her, guiding her onto her hands and knees as he slid his own between hers from behind. Her fatigued arms trembled. She felt her breasts sway, felt the prickle of his hairy, sweaty thighs between hers. Felt the weight of him against her buttocks, his arm wrapping around her hip so he could reach to explore the slippery territory between her thighs, penetrating gently.

  “Oh.”

  “Okay?” he murmured.

  “Yes. That feels really good.” All that time he’d been driving her wild he hadn’t penetrated her at all. She hadn’t realized how badly she needed the completion of the act.

  “There’s a mirror on the dresser. I can see you biting your lip.” A mirror? The man was absolutely depraved. “If you’re too sensitive, I’ll try to take it slow.”

  “Actually I want you to shut up and fuck me. Hard.”

  He pushed in and held himself there. Deep. His splayed fingers bit into her hips. “Okay.”

  “Yes,” she groaned, clenching her fists in the quilt, trusting him to make it good.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sterling was yanked out of his sex-induced coma when Paige sat up. She slid her feet off the edge of the bed, baring his shoulders with the drag of the blankets and caused a rush of cold air down his front where her warmth had been spooned against his chest and thighs.

  “S’up?” he asked, reaching out, wanting her against him so he could sink back into unconsciousness.

  “I fell asleep. Why did you let me fall asleep? It’s getting light out.” She stood, pulling the covers even more askew. “Where are my clothes?”

  Coming up onto his elbow, he tried to activate his brain enough to think of an argument that would keep her here. He wondered why it felt necessary. He wasn’t looking for sex. After last night, he’d about used up his lifetime allotment of sexual energy and would be lucky to get a hard-on before he died. No, it was just her warmth and softness he was after.

  Oh, hell. He’d turned into a cuddler.

  “I can’t find my clothes.” She stood, her torso backlit by the gloomy half-light of an overcast morning, her nipples peaked with the chill.

  “That’s a shame.” One or two nerve endings had some juice left in them. Points below his waist were coming back to life. “Come back to bed.” He wanted to make love to her.

  “They’re in the living room, aren’t they? Why did you let me fall asleep?”

  He didn’t like that blaming tone, almost let her go padding down the hall without responding, but was awake enough, and irritated enough, to climb from the bed, drag on his jeans and follow her.

  “I came out here to blow out the candles and bank the fire,” he said catching up to her. “When I got back, you were flatlined. I was talking to you, took off the blindfold, gave you a shake, but you were out. I tucked you in and went to sleep. I guess I should have dressed you and carried you home?”

  She tsk’d, and looked beneath the sofa cushions. “I can’t find my bra.” She was already in her jeans and pulled on her T-shirt. “Can I trust you to return it without doing something like hanging it off my antennae in the parking lot at work?”

  “I’ll leave it in the lost and found.” Hello. Sex god over here. Do whatever I want, remember? He folded his arms against the chill of the parlor.

  “That’d be great, thanks,” she said, deeply sarcastic. “God, my eyes feel like sandpaper. I shouldn’t sleep in contacts. I didn’t wear a jacket, did I?” She hugged her arms and headed for the back door.

  This was why a man hated to let a woman get under his skin. Every cell in his body wanted to go back to bed with her. Instead he was turning into the faithful dog that couldn’t bear to have her out of his sight, had to make sure she got home all right. At this rate, he’d be sitting by the window, waiting for her return.

  Like he wasn’t doing that already.

  He snagged his Harvard jacket off the back of a kitchen chair and caught up to her as she straightened from tying her shoes. He draped it over her shoulders, caught the collar in both fists and held her for a kiss that searched for something of last night in it.

  He almost got it, but then she pulled back, bouncing on her toes. “I have to go.”

  “I’ll walk you.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Her tone told him this wasn’t about inconveniencing him.

  He was insulted. “We are so past this. Consenting, unattached adults are allowed to have overnighters.”

  “I know.”

  “And if I were anyone else, you wouldn’t care who knew, right? I thought I was the one supposed to be ashamed of being seen with you.” He regretted it as soon as he’d said it. Felt like his skin was being removed as she pushed his jacket off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor then slipped out the back door without looking at him.

  “Paige.”

  She must have run the minute she got outside because she had already disappeared around the fence when he got to the porch.

  Damn, she moved quietly. He couldn’t see her. He listened hard, as he stood on the raised porch. After a few seconds, he saw her come out from behind the trees, approaching her basement door.

  He saw the glow of the cigarette at the same time she did. She halted, her pale silhouette facing a shadowed one.

  “Little sister’s been out past curfew,” Lyle said, his voice clear in the morning air.

  ~ * ~

  Paige was still turning over Sterling’s remark about how he was supposed to be ashamed of her. Maybe the comment had been nastier than necessary, but there had been some truth in it. He wasn’t embarrassed to be seen with her and she hadn’t looked at it from his point of view, hadn’t realized it might sting his ego.

  And then, here she was. Busted.

  “I’m proud of you, Paige. Finally showing Fogarty colors.”

  And there it was. It took a dozen women to turn a Fogarty man into a womanizer, but it only took one man to turn her into a whore.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  “Breakfast.” He showed her the cigarette, took a long pull and exhaled a cloud. “Going to work. Gotta be on time so Golden Boy won’t fire me, hey Boss?” he said, turning his head.

  She followed his gaze, saw Sterling standing at the end of the fence.

  “Are you going to be a jerk about this?” she asked Lyle.

  “How do you mean?”

  She didn’t want to ask if he was going to spread gossip at work. She knew with the honed instincts of a taunted little sister that the one way to have hell fall upon you was to tell Big Brother what you most feared.

  “You want to take shots at me, you take shots at me,” Sterling said, his voice low, but carrying easily across the yard. “Leave Paige out of it.”

  “He is such a fucking white knight. I can see the attraction, I really can, but you know, when it comes down to it, he’s not going to stick with a Fogarty. You can take that to the bank, Pidge.”

  She ignored the blister of pain, wanted to defend their relationship, but wasn’t confident enough to do it.

  “We need to talk,” she said instead, keeping her voice low.

  “About?”

  She glanced toward Sterling, still at the fence, and murmured, “Invoices for car parts.”

  Lyle snorted. “I wondered if you’d come across those. They don’t have anything to do with anything. Ignore them.”

  She hugged herself, wishing she’d kept Sterling’s jacket. “I can’t.”

  “You’d better. You won’t like what happens if you don’t.” He dropped his cigarette and stepped on it. “See you at work. I’ll let them know you’re sleeping late.”

  ~ * ~

  Lyle got out of the driveway before she could catch him. His disregard for the invoices had shocked her. She was even more infuriated that he hadn’t just gone inside, but through the ho
use and out again, driving away.

  Unable to fall back asleep, she went in to work early, still gritty-eyed even though she had switched to her glasses, hungry because her churning stomach wouldn’t accept food, and still in agony because Lyle had basically admitted he was guilty of stealing from the company.

  Stupid invoices. Something had to be done. Sitting on them had been just plain wrong, but if she brought them to light now, Lyle was going to accuse her of choosing her libido over family. And if he hadn’t broadcasted her affair with Sterling already, which she was pretty sure he hadn’t because he would think they had an unspoken deal to keep each other’s secrets, he would definitely open up on the subject once she accused him of embezzling.

  At which point Sterling would distance himself from both of them, not that she would blame him.

  She rubbed her arms, chilled despite the sweater she’d pulled on over wool slacks.

  What should she do?

  She had plenty of time to debate her options because neither Sterling nor Walter showed until almost lunch, then it was only Sterling.

  “Where were you?” he asked, grasping the top of the doorjamb and using it to stretch. He was wearing a Roy Furnishings sweatshirt over jeans. “There was an LFBA meeting this morning. Dad was speaking.”

  “Really? Since when did we know that?”

  “Since my mother knocked on my door to collect me at eight o’clock this morning.” He gave her a weary look. “I left you a text.”

  She checked her phone. “You did. Sorry.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He yawned and lowered his arms. “It was just another ‘rah-rah Dad’ thing that Mom cooked up. The place was packed, though. I’m impressed.”

  “Is he downstairs?”

  “No, they’re on their way to city hall, to put in his paperwork.”

  “Oh.” So she had to wait a little longer to talk to Walter about Lyle. That shouldn’t be such a relief.

  “Wanna go away this weekend?” Sterling asked.

  “What? Where? When?” She glanced past him to the hall, alarmed.

  He rolled his eyes. “Tonight. Now. Seattle, Canada, Hawaii. I don’t care.”

  Her mouth hung open while temptation beat in her throat. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have a lot to do.”

  His eyelids came down to a bored half-mast. “Like?”

  Oh, for heaven’s sake, didn’t the man have any easy questions, like whether Oswald had acted alone? “Stuff. The audit.” Embezzlement. Crime.

  “Whatever keeps you from being seen with me?”

  She shuffled her stapler around on her bare desktop, miserable. It ate her alive when he was angry with her.

  She looked up at his silence, hoping for a hint of thaw, and was arrested by his profile, sculpted and evenly proportioned as he looked down the hall, watching for whoever was making the steady clip-clip noise coming up the stairs.

  God, he was handsome. Genuinely handsome. Not in a long-lashed pretty way or a roughly hewn wicked way. No, it was clean lines and strong features, confidence in his bearing and intelligence in his expression that combined to make him so good-looking.

  Heat slithered through her and when she thought about the things they’d done last night—hoo. A tingling pleasure flushed body-wide beneath her skin.

  Then there was that tenderness he was capable of showing, the draping of a jacket over her shoulders, the lazy assumption that she would want to spend the weekend with him. It lit a sweet fire in her that went beyond mere physical attraction. Beyond even the silly infatuation she’d been struggling against. It was more encompassing.

  It might be love.

  Oh, no.

  “Could you dig up some inventory files for me?” he said to whoever approached.

  “Why do you need them?” Olinda asked, coming alongside where Sterling stood in the doorway.

  Sterling’s brows went up a fraction. “Because someone has to look at them, but Paige doesn’t have time.” He turned his attention back to her, cool. “She’s in a hurry to finish her audit and leave.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  Olinda brightened. “Really? What exactly do you need?” she asked Sterling.

  Sterling told her, and Olinda said, “Quinn’s office or your dad’s?”

  “Quinn’s. Dad’ll be in later.”

  Paige bit her lip. She wanted to go away with Sterling, not confront her partner about her brother’s embezzlement.

  “Can I talk to you?” Olinda asked Paige.

  “Um, sure.” Paige glanced at Sterling, but he was walking away. She pressed her feet to the floor, wished she could follow him and make up, but Olinda came in and shut the door.

  Olinda made a production of shimmying her backside into the chair, crossing her meaty calves, and kicking her two-tone-blue Payless pump, while Paige ate her heart out over driving Sterling away.

  “I can’t find last year’s deposit book.”

  “I have it.” Paige pulled it from the box at her feet along with the other files that incriminated Lyle. “I was going to work at Dad’s yesterday before I got called in to do those interviews.”

  “Oh.” A roll of neck flesh underlined Olinda’s chin as she slouched in disappointment. “Are you really almost finished with the audit? Am I going to see my money soon?”

  “Don’t spend it yet, Olinda. Even when I get the audit finished, I still have to negotiate the sale.”

  “What about selling the house?”

  Paige pinched the bridge of her nose. At least Rosie had got that job at the salon. It sounded like she was planning to stay in Palm Springs even after Grady came home.

  “Dad needs somewhere to live when he gets back,” she pointed out. “He’s comfortable there and so is Lyle.” She began emptying the remaining files from the box.

  “I never should have divorced him,” Olinda said on a sad sigh. “I mean, you mature a bit, you start to see a little straying isn’t the worst thing you might have to put up with in a marriage, right?”

  Paige privately choked. A cheating spouse was pretty freaking awful, thanks. And there was more to her father and Olinda’s break up than any of them talked about.

  “We all wish we could have a windfall, but at least you can count on the monthly check,” she reminded. Why couldn’t Olinda be happy with that?

  “But I could pay off my mortgage and start investing for my own retirement. You really don’t have any idea how much longer?”

  “No, and I can’t finish the audit until—”

  “Until?” Olinda prompted.

  Paige had the folder with Lyle’s invoices in her hand. She knew how Olinda felt about Lyle, but maybe the bookkeeper knew something Paige didn’t.

  “Is there a problem with something I’ve done?” Olinda prompted, splaying a fearful hand over her cleavage.

  “No. Nothing’s come to light that I haven’t already brought to your attention except—” Paige hesitated, then thought, what the hell. Maybe Olinda knew exactly what had happened here. Maybe that’s why Lyle had been so blasé.

  Opening the folder, she showed the contents to Olinda. “Do these invoices ring any bells with you?”

  Olinda leafed through them. “Not really. Should they?”

  “I just wondered if the reimbursement to the company was processed differently from the other ones.”

  “Why would they be reimbursed?”

  “They’re car parts.”

  Olinda drew in a dramatic breath. “He’s been stealing? Is there even going to be any money?”

  “It’s pocket change,” Paige hurried to state, rubbing a spot in the middle of her forehead where it felt like an ice-cream headache was glaciating. “Not much in the big scheme of things. It’s just that I have to straighten it out before I can get back to the audit.”

  “Leopards don’t change their spots, do they?” Olinda huffed, adjusting the flowing lace on her sleeve.

  Paige held back getting into the mid
dle of Olinda’s dispute with Lyle, only said, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to anyone until I’ve gotten to the bottom of it. I thought you might have processed things differently for some reason. I’ll ask Walter about them today. Follow due process.” Even if it killed her.

  Would it?

  You won’t like what happens.

  No. Lyle might say mean things, and he might do some truly dreadful things to her car, but he wouldn’t hurt her.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  By the time Olinda brought him the inventory records, Sterling had forgotten he’d asked for them, mostly because he’d only requested them out of a desire to dig at Paige.

  Nevertheless, there was the genuine problem in that the inventory numbers in the computer disagreed with the actual number of pieces counted in Paige’s audit. Someone had to reconcile the variances. It might as well be him.

  He dropped the records on the corner of his father’s desk. One more job he’d have to complete before he could leave.

  He wasn’t going to be ready to go when she was. She might pound his brains out while she was stuck here pounding numbers, but the minute the audit was done, she was cashing out and leaving Liebe Falls.

  The knowledge was gnawing an ache into his gut, while her rejection of his invitation to go away for the weekend corroded higher up, in his chest region. When had he handed her the power to hurt him? No woman in his life had ever been granted that privilege. He knew better.

  Not after Paige had done it the first time.

  So what would he do? He couldn’t leave anytime soon. He had started too many projects. Every single one was necessary and he had no one to hand them off to.

  Olinda cleared her throat. She was still hovering.

  “Something else?” he asked, bordering on hostile. I’m brooding here.

  “Has Paige talked to you about Lyle?”

  He sat back. “I don’t know. What was she supposed to tell me?”

  “Of course she hasn’t.” Olinda huffed big enough to stir the layers of lace dripping off her stately chest. “Probably because she knows you’d deal with it a lot faster than she will. ‘Due process,’ she said, and who knows how long that’ll take. She molly-coddles him, you know.”