Incidental Contact (Those Devilish De Marco Men)

by Connor, Eden

  With Dan and Colton in committed relationships, the competition was sure to heat up for the last eligible De Marco brother. Everybody said Eric was a sex machine. If he was the kind to carve notches in his bedposts, Amy figured he had to suck up the sawdust with a Dyson and buy a new bed every six months.

  Colton was close to thirty, but much to Lila’s dismay, he had pretty-boy looks that made him appear closer to Amy’s age. Eric’s older brother Dan was so big, Amy found him intimidating, but she liked the distinguished touch of silver at his temples.

  Eric might be the shortest De Marco brother, but he was still a six-foot mountain of rugged, country boy sex appeal, from his clipped goatee to the holes in his worn jeans. Nothing pretty about him; Eric was pure male. He had his family’s trademark hazel eyes and bronze skin. His dark hair fell in waves to his shoulders. Laugh lines around his eyes gave him the seasoned look of a grown man. He copped an attitude that implied he knew something about sex other men didn’t know. Which is utter bullshit. Gotta be hype. He gets laid a lot because he’s drop-dead gorgeous, not because his equipment or technique is anything special.

  Dani Peyton sure looked like she believed the hype. “Well, well, Eric De Marco,” the redhead purred. “Dee said you had an appointment tonight. I was just going to run to the other side of the highway and grab a steak and a salad. Hop in, let me take you for a ride.”

  Eric was welcome to talk to every woman he knew, but Amy didn’t have a jacket on and she had to get to the mall office before it closed. She tried to pull her hand free.

  His grip didn’t loosen. To her amazement, he lifted their locked hands. “No, thanks. Amy and I are on our way to grab something to eat.”

  She thought for a moment Daniella might fall out of her car. The other woman stared at the possessive way Eric clenched her hand before raising her eyes to Amy’s face. “Amanda, right? I see you’re still in school.” Dani wrinkled her nose while she checked out Amy’s favorite Clemson jersey.

  “Amy.” She knew her days of wearing whatever felt comfortable were numbered. Now random acquaintances were trying to shame her into dressing up? “Yes, but I’m a senior. I’ll be teaching high school next fall.” Seriously, Mother, how’d you bribe the Devil to give you minions? For months now, every time she’d seen her mom, Alice Sizemore gave Amy’s clothing pretty much the same look.

  The De Marcos were a tight-knit bunch. The brothers worked together, lived within shouting distance of each other, and hung out after work. Since everyone in town was talking about Lila’s scandalous pregnancy, Lila had started talking back, becoming very outspoken. Imagining Daniella and her friend in the same room, Amy nearly laughed aloud.

  “Then you need to make sure she meets Tina.” Dani dismissed Amy in favor of looking at Eric. “That woman’s a miracle worker.”

  Eric squeezed her fingers. She looked up, startled to find his eyes on her, not Dani. “Tina’s a dresser. Not the furniture kind. The kind who helps people build a professional wardrobe.” He mimicked her earlier tone. Mischief danced in his eyes. Amy’s heart thumped at the glimpse of the old Eric, before all the uproar started over his mom’s killer. “She works here at the mall. I can hook you two up.”

  Shivering, Amy wished he’d give her stuff back and go make beautiful babies with Daniella. Transforming her image wasn’t going to take a miracle, surely. Just her entire savings and every dime she could earn.

  “I do free makeovers,” Dani added, narrowing her eyes. “You should definitely come see me. You need the works.”

  Not laughing was getting harder by the minute. With all the dark shadow and heavy eyeliner, Dani looked like she’d had “the works”, courtesy of Mike Tyson. Amy wanted to teach high school, not join the circus.

  Dani turned back to Eric, batting long lashes. “We should get together again real soon, big guy. Grab a nice bottle of wine and just kick back. You must be stressed over all this... mess... about your mom. A deep-tissue massage and a little sheet wrestling should help you relax.”

  Amy wasn’t sure what to call a woman with the self-confidence to proposition a man while he held another woman’s hand. “Bitch” didn’t seem adequate, but her behavior didn’t quite rise to the level of the C-word. Still, someone should turn a fire hose on Dani for using a term like “sheet-wrestling.” She darted another look at Eric, confident he’d be interested.

  A scowl darkened his handsome face. “Amy needs to get inside. See you later.” He tugged her forward, leaving the other woman behind.

  Amy was still amused by the idea of Daniella in a room with Lila. “You dated her?”

  He nodded and cocked a brow. “How do you know her?”

  “She’s related to a friend. I wouldn’t say I know her. Did you introduce her to Lila, by chance?” she asked, breaking into a grin.

  His eyes rounded and he clapped his free hand to his chest. “Do I look stupid? Baby Mama’s not in the best of moods lately. Lila’d eat Dani for a snack, then bitch at me for giving her indigestion.”

  Amy burst out laughing while they waited at the crosswalk for traffic to clear. “Not in the best of moods” was an understatement for the funk Lila’d been in. “I was a change of life baby. My mom says pregnancy after forty isn’t for pussies.” According to Lila, the experience was right up there with having teeth pulled without Novocain. Her friend was so miserable, she’d probably be happy to remove Dani’s the same way. The more Amy thought about that, the harder she laughed. After a moment, Eric joined in.

  He tightened his grip on her hand when they stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the mall entrance. “South Carolina needs a hate crime law,” one woman informed them, waving her sign. Eric shouldered past the picket line with a set jaw.

  Amy lost her urge to laugh. Any hate crime law would come too late to help the De Marco family, she feared. Her heart ached for Eric and his brothers. Part of why Lila was so miserable was because she’d confined herself to the house to avoid the reporters swarming the De Marcos, as well as any unkind comments about her love child.

  He held the door open. Shivering in the sudden warmth, she stepped into the busy food court, prepared for Eric to make an excuse, fork over her stuff, and beat it. Surely he could find something better to do. Not letting go of her hand, he wound through the milling shoppers, towing her behind like a car that wouldn’t start. He made a right out of the food court and onto the main concourse.

  She had to trot to keep up. Does he have to treat me like a toddler? She wasn’t going to lose a man who stood six feet tall, not when he had custody of her most valued worldly possessions. When she managed to pull alongside, he raked his long hair back from his face and peered at her.

  “Everybody’s got a damn axe to grind all of a sudden. I feel like a whet stone. I told Dan we should close the garage and make bumper stickers. Might make more money selling slogans than oil changes.”

  She wrinkled her nose, trying to take longer strides. The confession made by his mother’s killer had stirred strong reactions. “Only if you follow your customers home and yank ‘em off their bumpers. It’s not like anyone’s gonna change their minds. One sticker’s good for as long as they own the car. That won’t pay for your printing press.”

  He gave her another baleful look. “You can trust me. I’m a math major.” She grinned, trying to lighten his mood.

  He turned and stepped in front of her so unexpectedly, she banged into him. His body didn’t give. With a grip around her waist that made her cheeks scald, he took three steps, walking her backward. She searched his face, but saw no sign of strain, though her feet dangled like a rag doll’s. He plopped her on the edge of a planter.

  “Okay, ground rules.” Fighting to keep her balance, she clutched the shoulders of his fleece-lined denim jacket. He shoved his face close to hers. His big hands still held onto her waist—or rather, the baby fat Amy couldn’t seem to lose. Her new perch let her look him in the eye. She spied tiny gold flecks orbiting his pupils, though her head was spinning. �
�Every time you mention anything remotely political, I get to talk about sex.”

  Seriously, he’s a pain in the ass. She wasn’t the one who’d brought up the controversy swirling around his family. Leaves from the fake ficus poked through her sweatshirt and grabbed her hair. She felt like Jane of the Jungle. Cartoon version. “Nice, asshole,” she griped, bouncing the toe of her sneaker off his shin. “Sex? Rub it in, Honey Bee. All you have to do is snap your fingers, but I just—” Broke up with the only man who ever looked at me twice. Horrified by her near-admission, she pressed her lips together.

  Their banter should’ve been like teasing between siblings. He’d always treated her like a little sister. But this encounter felt... different. Amy’s heart skittered in her chest, but she was good at keeping her head on straight. Cut out the wishful thinking. This is just incidental contact, not a damn date.

  She’d attended his mother’s funeral, for Lila’s sake. If she lived to be a hundred, Amy doubted she’d forget that day.

  The memory swam in her mind, made vivid by being close to him again. She’d somehow ended up seated between him and Lila during the short service at the graveside. Shoulder to shoulder in the row of frigid folding chairs, she’d felt his broad frame shudder while the minister prayed. At the conclusion of the service, he’d thrown his arms around her. She suspected he’d been wiping his eyes before he had to thank folks for coming.

  Dan and Colton had clung to their women. Eric had looked so alone, she’d ached for him the most.

  Waiting in her car for her heater to thaw her hands, she’d watched him fall to his knees on his parents’ graves. Over and over, though the wind had been fierce, he traced the freshly-chiseled letters in his mother’s headstone with bare fingers, as though trying to know Iris Camille Chapman De Marco the only way he had left.

  He still wore the look she’d seen in his eyes that day. He smiled, but he didn’t joke the way he once had and most of the time, he had a little-lost-boy expression that made her heart twist.

  Yet, she also knew why Lila called him Honey Bee. Her friend joked that Eric was out to pollinate every flower in the county. Amy couldn’t blame him. If she looked like Eric, she might rub pollen on a few people herself, but to him, she’d be a weed. So this sex talk’s just teasing. If Dan’s girlfriend Cynda was right, Eric might not think about anything else.

  Before she had time to dial back the emotions brought on by the memory, he demanded, “You got someplace to sleep? I just remembered you had those clothes in your back seat at lunchtime. Saw ‘em when I pulled your car into my bay. Why do I think you moved them to the trunk so you could sleep in your car?”

  He must’ve overheard her talking to Lila when she got her oil changed. Lila offered to let her sleep on their couch when Amy vowed she wasn’t moving back into her parents’ compact condo. One royal battle over leaving home was enough for a lifetime. Moving the clothes had been the expedient way to search for her dress and shoes. She still had hours to worry about a place to crash for the night.

  Pinned by his gorgeous eyes, she couldn’t seem to form the words to explain. “W-what?”

  Eric tapped her nose with each word. “Bed? Tonight? Pillows? Sheets? Blanket?”

  Damn Dani for putting the term “sheet-wrestling” in her head. She had a mini-fantasy about rolling around naked in tangled sheets with Eric. Yeah, right. Her cheeks felt like she’d tried to iron them flat—as if—and left the iron in one place too long.

  Eric was a decent guy. Not what she’d call a nice guy, but he had a soft streak he hid from most people. Still, admitting she was homeless sucked. “N-n-ot... exactly.”

  His growl sounded annoyed. “Fucking women. Nothing can ever be simple. Which is it? Yes or goddamn no?”

  At her mother’s request, she’d spent two weeks sleeping on the couch at her parent’s place, so her mom could visit her sister, who was planning a huge summer wedding. Her dad couldn’t wash a load of clothes without breaking the washing machine, and he tended to shove tinfoil-wrapped items in the microwave. Alice was due back tonight. Amy could still take the couch, but she’d be damned if she wanted to lose her independence. Her mother would expect her to show up every night if she made the mistake of sleeping there once after Alice learned she’d left Drew. “N-n-ot really.”

  She’d thought moving out of Drew’s place would be a temporary separation. But three weeks had passed and she still didn’t want to go back to his apartment. She was in no hurry to admit to her mother she’d only been in love with the idea of playing house.

  There were things about Drew her mother never needed to know.

  “It’s gonna drop into the twenties tonight.” Eric made another growling sound. “Spit it out.”

  Her retort was a knee-jerk response, not flirting, just her usual smart-ass. “Or?”

  Unexpectedly, he smiled. Something caused the blue in his eyes to dominate the green, like her mother’s treasured mood ring from her hippie days. The sight made Amy’s heart as uncooperative as her tongue. He leaned forward until their noses touched. Heat from his body seeped through her shirt. His breath felt cool to her heated cheeks, but the stirring air made her lips tingle. Her heart took off like a scared rabbit.

  Maybe he didn’t realize he stood so close that her breasts, belly, and thighs were pressed against him. He couldn’t know every time he growled like a Rottweiler, her nipples stood up like tuning forks, absorbing the vibration. But she knew. Damn, did she ever.

  His voice dropped lower. “Okay, hold out. I dare you. I’d enjoy getting the answer out of you. And the longer you held out, the more I’d enjoy it.”

  Amy felt like the field mouse who was just going about its business and got snatched up by a hawk. She couldn’t look away. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move. All she could do was wait—for the flesh-tearing to begin.

  Except... she wasn’t a mouse, and calling Eric a hawk might be an understatement.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t be worried.” Hypnotized, Amy watched his lips move. She was startled when he slid his knuckle across her cheekbone. The light brush tingled in two distinct spots—places too far apart for her reaction to be normal. “Looks like you get hot pretty easy.”

  Seriously, I’m starting to understand why women line up to fuck him. What remained a mystery was why he was acting like he wanted to fuck her. Maybe he was under the influence of that blue moon phenomenon people were talking about, a second full moon in a single month?

  He slid his fingers through her hair, tugging her face toward his. “I owe you one, Amy,” he muttered. She froze, but her heart redlined when he pressed his lips to hers.

  Chapter Three

  Dee’s voice pierced the static of the milling crowds. “Eric, sweetheart, you’re early!” Outrage that Dee would use him to hurt Jeb made him reckless. Jeb Wilkerson was one of damn few men who didn’t act like a sore-tailed cat around Eric. He shoved his fingers through Amy’s hair, pulling her lips to meet his. He only meant to hold her in place until Dee saw them. I’ll explain later. Amy’s a good sport, she’ll understand.

  Then, her lips parted.

  Eric forgot everything but the sweet, hesitant way her tongue slid across his lips. She opened for him with a small moan when he sought to deepen the kiss. So soft, and damn, she tasted good. Her curves seemed to fit around him. He felt her hands slide around the back of his neck. The touch sent a whisper of want down his spine. Feeling her rounded thighs against his made him wonder how it would feel to part them and settle in for a long, slow fuck.

  “Are you gonna introduce me?” The hard yank on the back of his jacket reminded him of something annoying about Dee. She tried to mother him. When he rejected that effort, she’d do the big sister thing. Made his fucking head spin. Had to be that, because it sure as hell couldn’t be the little tomboy in his arms making his senses reel. Could it?

  He pulled away. Amy’s eyes were the color of coffee, straight from the pot. Even rigid with surprise, she felt soft. Her dazed express
ion was one a man took advantage of. It’d been a while since he’d seen that sexy haze in a woman’s eyes. Untangling his hands from her hair, he wrapped his arms around Amy, ignoring Dee. He pulled her to his chest, letting his palm rest between those adorable dimples above her butt.

  Amy made a sound of surrender that sank into his chest like water through sand.

  Her kiss was less hesitant this time, but she still gave off an innocent vibe that had the effect of sunshine on a slumbering bear, waking his dominant side. The noise from the busy mall disappeared. His only thought was, God, she feels so good. Amy’s scent went right to his head. Wanting more, Eric deepened the kiss.

  When he had to breathe, Dee was still there, damn her. Cutting him a glare through narrowed eyes, she nevertheless smiled at Amy. “He used to do that to me back in high school. Just pinned me to my locker and to hell with whoever was walking down the hall.”

  Christ, he wasn’t in her chair yet and she was on his nerves, yapping about high school. Plucking Amy off the planter before he went after kiss number three, he plopped her on the floor and muttered, “Amy, this is Dee Wilkerson. She cuts my hair.”

  Amy cleared her throat. To his satisfaction, she wobbled. In flat shoes. She offered their pest a vague smile. “That behavior would get you suspended now.”

  He tucked his arm around her, pulling her to his side, but neither his pointed introduction nor his gesture stopped Dee from giving him a heated look. “Got us suspended then, too. You don’t wanna know what we did those days. But you remember, don’t you?” The hairdresser’s hand on his ass increased his anger.

  The next thing he knew, Dee had her hands in Amy’s hair. “This is healthy, but you could really use a good cut. And your hair’s so thick, you should have it thinned regularly.”

  Amy suddenly looked like someone dipped her, face-first, into a bucket of transmission fluid. He didn’t disagree with Dee’s assessment, but he’d be damned if he planned to reward her for being rude, or for acting like a dog marking her territory. “We can’t talk right now, Dee. Amy has to get to the mall office before it closes. Catch you in a few.” Guiding Amy toward the office where his cousin, Phillip Chapman worked, Eric seethed.