by M. S. Parker
He hardly ever smiled, which was a pity because he looked nice when he smiled.
If I stayed here…
No. No. No. I couldn’t do that. I was already way too attracted to him. The last thing I needed to do was worry about him smiling.
“Do I seem like the kind of woman who’d look at one place and get it without checking out my other options.” I shot one last look at the French doors. The chaise lounge…reading out there.
Dammit.
“Yes,” Didi said and glanced at Dash.
He shrugged. “It wouldn’t surprise me. You moved across the country for a job in a new field. Why not move into a house without looking at anything else?”
“And you did look at a few other places,” Didi reminded me. Apparently, she’d decided to play devil’s advocate. “This place is totally you, if I do say so myself. And there is no stick up the ass required.”
Dash looked confused as he quirked an eyebrow at Didi. For some reason, I found that utterly adorable.
“She looked somewhere else earlier yesterday – probably one of the gated communities.” Didi pressed the tip of her finger to her nose and swung her head up. “You know the type.”
Dash grimaced. “I do. And you’d be miserable at a place like that.”
“I know!” Huffing out a breath, I moved to the steps and jogged down before I gave in. I couldn’t be here. This was a horrible idea.
“Just what’s wrong with my guesthouse?” Dash asked, practically on my heels.
“Nothing!” Except it’s too close to you. I turned to glare at him and realized he was practically at my heels. “Good grief. What’s the deal? A place like this will be a piece of cake to sublet or rent. You could probably find somebody at the clinic who’d love it.”
He snorted. “Like I’m just going to hang up a vacancy sign in the break room. My luck, I’d end up with Gianna trying to move in.”
The second he said it, I knew he wanted to take it back. His face went red.
“That is…I mean…” As he sputtered to cover his mistake, I started to laugh.
“Maybe you should do that,” I suggested. “Granted, I don’t know if this place is quite her style. She really dug that minimalist restaurant one of the receptionists suggested to her. She might want to paint all the walls white. The floor too. Get rid of everything that has a speck of color, then put in gray furniture and accent with a spot of red.”
“The blood of her victims, no doubt,” he muttered, not quite managing to suppress his smile.
“See! You understand her already.” Beaming at him, I offered my phone. “She’s already saved in my contacts. I mean, she calls every day at least.”
His jaw went tight, eyes narrowed. “That woman is not staying in my guesthouse. I’d rent it out to…” He paused, clearly seeking something snide enough, then sighed. “Why in the hell don’t you just stay here? You can afford it. Even if I did charge an arm and a leg, and I don’t.”
“How do you know I can afford it?” I challenged him.
“I did exactly what you suggested I do.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I checked out your resumé. Actually, I checked out your entire personnel file, and that included your background check. Your parents could buy and sell me twice over, and that’s saying something.”
Irritation twisted in my gut. “That’s my parents, not me.”
Rankled now, I turned away from him and moved into the kitchen. Didi was there, but she’d lapsed into silence while Dash and I talked.
“Do you like to cook?” Dash asked in a change of subject so abrupt, it would have left a lot of people spinning.
Not me. Abrupt changes of subject were my specialty.
“I love to cook,” I said, sighing.
“There’s a nice kitchen,” he pointed out, like a realtor doing his very first showing. “And there’s a good view of the ocean. You won’t find a place like this for what I charge.”
Spinning around to glare at him, I demanded, “It almost sounds like you want me to move in.”
“I don’t not want you to move in,” he countered. “It sounds like you were thinking about it before discovering I was the owner. Is that the problem?”
Yes. I turned away from him, catching an amused look on Didi’s face. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Shit. He wasn’t going to let this go. Waving a hand between him and Didi, I asked, “Are you two related? Long-lost twins or something?”
Apparently, he could make weird subject changes, but he couldn’t keep up when someone else did it. “Huh?”
“You’re like a dog with a bone. Just like her. There’s nothing wrong with the house, Dashiell.”
“So, you’ll take it.” He looked satisfied.
What? “I…”
“Great!” Didi launched herself at me and planted a loud, smacking kiss on my cheek.
Over her shoulder, I saw Dash with a faint smile on his face.
“Hey, I didn’t say–”
“This is perfect,” she cut me off. “Christal and I are so ready for me to move in, but she knew I didn’t want to leave Dash hanging.” She rolled her eyes at me and caught my hands, squeezing them. “You know, if you want, you could move in tomorrow. I’ve been sleeping at Christal’s place so much that I don’t think I’ve slept in that big bed more than two or three times since Dash got it for me, so you could move that to the guestroom–”
“What do you mean you haven’t slept in it?” Dash jumped in.
The two of them began to bicker, and I realized, somehow, I had been steamrolled.
I was never steamrolled.
As she guided me over to the breakfast nook, ignoring Dash’s irritation, I caught sight of him out of the corner of my eye.
He was smiling now.
What in the hell had I just gotten into?
23
Dash
I woke up Tuesday morning with the echo of a dream beating in my head.
It had been about a naked Astra and the tub in the guesthouse. She’d been sitting on the edge when I found her in the house with Didi, and she’d been petting the damn copper.
Petting it!
In my dream, however, she’d been in the tub, in my lap, and I’d been petting her while she fed me strawberries, and I licked whipped cream from her lips. They were both delicious.
The whipped cream was Didi’s fault. She’d invited me over for dinner the night before, and I hadn’t been thinking about the fact that Astra had started to move in so soon. I’d been expecting something fast, like sandwiches, eaten while helping Didi pack up her things.
Instead, there had been a fantastic dinner. Chicken, sides of pasta and vegetables...and then strawberry shortcake for dessert.
From the first moment I’d seen Astra lick whipped cream from the corner of her lips, I’d known that I’d never be able to think of either strawberries or whipped cream without getting a fucking erection.
So I spent most of the day trying not to think about the dream, or her, or the fact that she’d be at the house when I finally went home.
And still, that damn dream was why I stayed out later than normal. I didn’t want to risk running into Astra. I wasn’t sure I could resist the living, breathing temptation that was my little mermaid.
Not my. She wasn’t mine. I couldn’t forget that.
“Temptation,” I muttered as I drilled a hand against my right eye socket.
It wasn’t temptation. It was an aggravation. She couldn’t even eat strawberries without making a spectacle of it. Aggravation was exactly the right word. And I was convinced if I told myself that enough, I’d believe it.
No, I wasn’t convinced, but I was determined to make myself believe that, because if I did, it was the next step to making it happen. Positive thinking, right?
The clinic had long since gone quiet, something that would become rare in the coming weeks. More and more of the administrative staff and personnel from other
departments were working late as we got so close to the wire. With the clinic opening at the beginning of the year, I was convinced I’d miss something, or forget to sign or file some important document and everything would go off track.
Normally, that was enough to have me concentrating with laser-like focus.
But not today.
Astra and those damn images of strawberries and whipped cream kept intruding on my thoughts.
Finally, I made it through the list on my phone’s planner, and the list my newly hired assistant had put together. As I left, I considered the quiet and thought about how it would be in a few weeks.
Decidedly unquiet, I hoped.
Even though I left over an hour and a half later than normal, I still didn’t go straight home. At this time of day, I’d get home in less than a half hour, putting it right at the time Didi usually had dinner, and I didn’t want to risk another invitation.
It had been a normal enough occurrence four or five days a week even before Astra moved in. When all of our schedules lined up, it was me joining her and Christal, but Christal would be working late most nights this week. I knew her rotation as well as I knew Didi’s after so long. So it’d just be Didi and Astra, without the buffer of Christal to prevent my best friend from trying to play matchmaker.
I wasn’t about to go back over to the guesthouse again and have temptation dangled in front of me. Or have her poke at me. Tease me. She seemed to find some sort of perverse pleasure in doing that. Like how she called me by my full name sometimes. My parents didn’t even call me Dashiell. At least not since I was a kid getting into trouble for taking apart my dad’s laptop when he said it wasn’t working. Or our toaster. Microwave. Xbox.
It was a good thing that my parents had been able to afford to replace the shit I kept destroying in my efforts to see how things worked. At least I’d grown out of that stage rather quickly.
Pulling through the gates, I shot a quick look at the guest house. Lights on. Everything looked normal.
Good. She and Didi were probably going through more clothes and stuff. Last night, Didi had gone on and one about what she should keep and what she should donate. Astra had joined in and talked about giving some of her stuff to the clinic.
When I told her it wasn’t necessary, she’d brushed me off.
She’d rolled her eyes. “We’re taking in a set percentage of low income clients, Dashiell. Not all of them will be coming with a full wardrobe, or even more than a pair of jeans and one or two t-shirts to their name. Having some clothing on hand for them to choose from helps add to self-worth, if done in the right way.”
And Didi had agreed with her, of course. After all, she’d been right.
That was part of the problem.
Astra was always coming up with helpful suggestions, and even when she wasn’t giving them to me directly – by way of email, technically – they were finding their way into my office, making it a lot harder to keep thoughts of her and whipped cream and strawberries out of my head. How the hell was I supposed to concentrate when I had to deal with interruptions during the day, people asking what I thought about this or that idea Astra had.
The HR supervisor wasn’t supposed to have that much insight into the clinical running of my place.
Then again, she’d spent several years working with troubled youth, so of course, Astra had a number of insightful suggestions.
That was part of why Frederick insisted she’d been an ideal candidate for the position.
Ideal…
I could think of a number of things she’d be ideal for.
I cut off that line of thinking as I pulled up to the gates, using the app on my phone to open them. It was late enough that I should be safe from an invitation I’d be forced to decline.
I was hungry, though. I reminded myself that I was entirely capable of ordering pizza or making myself a mountain of grilled cheeses. Maybe then I’d relax in front of the TV for a while. I rarely did that.
Out of habit, I glanced over at Didi’s as I drove by.
The sight of a bright red convertible had me hitting the brakes.
Frowning, I studied the car. It wasn’t familiar. At all. Sleek, sharp, and sexy, it all but shouted for attention, and there was no way I would have forgotten a car that looked liked that. If I wasn’t mistaken, that was an Audi R8 Spyder sitting in front of Didi’s house.
Not exactly Didi’s kind of car. Besides, she already owned one, and it was a more sedate, fiscally responsible choice. She wasn’t hurting for money, but there was a part of her that was still a Midwestern girl at heart, and she would have balked at buying a car like that.
As I got closer, I could see the dealer tags. A new purchase, then.
Astra.
Shit.
I needed to get out of there.
The front door opened and Didi poked her head out, waving at me. I told myself I was too polite to ignore it, and she was my best friend. Both things were true, but I knew those weren’t the only reasons. I’d told myself I needed to resist temptation, and here I was giving in at just the thought of seeing her. I was halfway up the sidewalk before Astra even appeared.
“I said I’d get it – oh.” Astra appeared behind Didi, lips twisting into a frown as she saw me. “You’re not the pizza.”
“No.” Didi looked amused. “He’s definitely not pizza.”
“We ordered pizza,” Astra said needlessly. “We heard the car and thought...well, okay, maybe I thought it was our food. I’m starving.”
She placed a hand on her stomach, and I had to fight not to let my gaze follow that unconsciously sensual gesture. Or maybe it just seemed sensual to me. Everything she did seemed sensual, an unconscious, slow seduction.
Clearing my throat, I said, “Sorry. I don’t even have a pepperoni.” My voice came out gravelly and rough, not even sounding like me. I coughed to clear it, ignoring the smug smile on Didi’s face. “I…ah, well, I’m going on home. It’s late and–”
My phone chimed a familiar beep.
I tugged it out, eying the display. “That’s your pizza.” I opened the gate with a swipe of my thumb and shot Didi a look. “If it had been the delivery guy, they would have to be buzzed through the gate. You know how that works by now.”
“Oh.” She laughed easily, green eyes dancing. “I thought maybe I’d forgotten to close it. You know me.”
“Yes, I do.” I gave her a hard look, letting her know that I was on to her less than subtle plan to set me up with Astra. “I better head on home. Have a good night.”
The lights of the delivery car splashed on me as I moved back toward my car. It pulled up right behind mine, blocking me in for the time being.
“It’s from Carlos’ place. He said he’d throw in some buffalo wings for you,” Didi called out from behind me. “I didn’t know if you’d eat while you were out. If you don’t want them, I can take them for lunch tomorrow. They’re quite delicious.”
Blowing out a breath, I turned and glared at her. She gave me an innocent smile while Astra jogged down the steps. She was dressed in cut-off shorts and a tank top that didn’t quite meet the waistband of those shorts. Too much skin bared, I thought as she moved toward the driver. Not because I had some antiquated idea of how a woman should dress, but rather because I didn’t like the thought of anyone else getting to see that much of her.
“You going to join us, Dash?”
The sound of her voice caught me off guard. If I’d been thinking, I would have said no. But I wasn’t thinking. Because I couldn’t think around her. So I nodded my agreement.
As I followed the women back to the house, I wondered if I’d have stupid, lust-ridden dreams about watching her eat pizza or buffalo wings tonight.
As crazy as she was making me, it was entirely possible.
24
Astra
The bed wasn’t right.
Standing in the doorway, I studied it and tried to tell myself that it wasn’t that big of a deal, but I knew I wouldn
’t be happy with it. It just didn’t look as good as the huge one currently in the spare room.
“If everything is okay, Miss...” The man who was in charge of the delivery had been hovering around me for the last couple minutes, clearly wanting me to sign for everything.
“Do you have another stop after here?” I asked as a plan formed in my mind.
It took some pushing, but I finally managed to find out there wasn’t another stop until after lunch. They absolutely had time to move things around a bit. Especially after I shared some cookies Didi and I made last weekend.
After they ate a couple, I had them move the brand-new bed set I’d bought into the spare bedroom, then bring the massive custom-made bed back into the master. Didi said she’d barely used it, and she’d sprung for one of those insane deep-cleanings on Monday that were guaranteed to make it like new. I slept on it last night, and it felt and smelled brand new.
So I might as well use it.
The bed set and mattress I’d purchased were top-of-the-line, but they didn’t look as good in the bedroom as the other one did. Didi hadn’t taken most of the big furniture, but when I’d come home from work yesterday and found that she’d cleared out the last of her things, the place felt far too empty.
So I’d gone shopping online for a few things that would make me start to feel like the place was mine. And since I’d never been the most patient of people, I’d arranged to work from home for a couple hours so I could take delivery, although I had to go in after lunch.
By the time they were done, I was satisfied with how things looked but was cutting it close to the time I needed to be leaving. My new car was nice, but it didn’t perform miracles.
“Thanks so much.” I smiled at the guys as they followed me back downstairs. “I have to be going. Don’t want to be late to work.”
I locked things up while they finished loading their odds and ends into their truck. It was a four-man job thanks to the size of the pieces I’d purchased, so it wasn’t just the heavy truck, but a pickup truck too.