Wild at Heart (Healing Harts)

by T. J. Kline

  “You know, I’ve only looked at one woman that way, and I almost married her.” Blake’s voice had grown suddenly serious.

  “Almost?” Bailey turned toward him, worried by what she heard in his tone. Blake wasn’t one to talk about his personal life and it surprised her that he’d brought it up.

  His eyes were shadowed by a dark, pained expression. “You need to weigh all your options, Bailey, because that guy doesn’t look like the type to give up easily and I’m not sure you should want him to.”

  CHASE COULDN’T TAKE his eyes off Bailey with her date, the “hot doctor.” The guy seemed polite enough but Chase didn’t like the way he kept buying her drinks, even after their meal and he’d stopped drinking, like his intent was to get her drunk. He could only imagine what the tool had in mind for her once he managed to accomplish that task. Chase wondered if the good doctor had any idea how many drinks it would take to inebriate Bailey, because he knew exactly what it would take. He’d spent many a party on The Ridge growing up, watching her drink men under the table and laughing at their antics. But with every shot glass she lined up on the table, as she cruised along the border of tipsy, Chase grew more anxious.

  “Wild Hart, get your butt up here and sing us a song.” The guitarist laughed into the microphone and the crowd cheered, encouraging her to get onstage.

  Bailey shook her head, waving off the request until Blake twined his fingers into hers and pulled her toward the front of the room. Chase watched them, jealousy gnawing at his gut and desperate to put his fist through something, wondering exactly how many dates they’d been on. This couldn’t possibly be their first; they were far too comfortable with one another. As illogical as it sounded, he couldn’t help but hate the guy a little and wondered what he might be able to dig up with a background check.

  As Bailey stepped onto the stage, Chase completely forgot about her date as he disappeared into the crowd of dancers. Her eyes scanned the crowd forming around the stage on the dance floor just before they fell on him. A sly smile spread over her lips as she turned her back on him to speak to the guitarist, giving him, and every other man in the room, a perfect opportunity to admire the dangerous curves she sported. Bailey slipped her black biker jacket down her arms and tossed it to her date, hidden somewhere in the shadows on the side of the stage, making the silver chains around her neck tinkle slightly as she reached for the microphone. The drummer counted out his beat as he tapped his sticks just before the guitarist launched into the driving beats of Carrie Underwood’s “Cowboy Casanova.”

  The instant stir of desire kicked him square in the gut as her eyes met his with the first lyrics of the song. There was little doubt she was singing it to him. Like a siren, her voice surrounded him, teasing and taunting him with the lyrics, seducing him as he watched her sway onstage and work the crowd. As he listened to the lyrics, he wondered if she meant them, if they applied, or if it was just wishful thinking on his own part. He was so focused on Bailey that he didn’t even notice the dark-haired beauty who stepped in front of him until Gracie stood up and positioned herself between them.

  “Hey, Chase. Come dance with me?”

  “Kristen.” He took a step back as she slid her hand over his chest, her dark eyes making it clear dancing wasn’t what she had in mind, but he knew he’d be hard-pressed to find a reason to turn her down. Everyone in town knew her sights were set on getting married and she was simply looking for the prospect most likely to gain her standing in town politics. His gaze slid back to Bailey as she moved across the stage and turned to face him during the chorus, changing the lyrics from blue to green eyes. No one else seemed to notice, but it left no doubt she was singing about him. A sly grin curved his lips as he winked at her and cut his glance toward her date.

  “Come on, Chase. Dance with me.” Kristen’s voice was breathy as she pouted, reaching for Chase’s chin and turning his face toward her.

  He needed some kind of distraction, immediately, and Kristen seemed the only one available. Bailey obviously didn’t care whom he danced with; she had her own date with Hot Doctor to worry about.

  “Uh, sure.” Downing the last of his beer, he slipped his hand into Kristen’s and cued Gracie to stay before leading his partner to the dance floor. She might not be the woman he wanted to be holding in his arms but, in spite of her machinations, she was a far better choice than the blonde onstage he couldn’t help undressing with his eyes. Kristen was safe. He could remain emotionally detached with her. She didn’t come close to reaching his heart.

  As the final strains of the song played, the band immediately slowed tempo with Gloriana’s “Good Night.” Kristen scooted closer, winding her arms around his neck and laying her head against his shoulder. As much as Chase tried to avoid it, he couldn’t help but watch Bailey. Her beautiful harmonies fell all around him as she sang about new love, but he didn’t miss the hurt he could see in her eyes and felt the weight of his guilt fall over his shoulders.

  Why did he always seem destined to hurt the people he cared about the most? Bailey, Justin . . . Lance? As Rachel and Mason could attest, Chase was just one heartache after another, just looking for a place to strike. He couldn’t do that to Bailey, couldn’t drag her down with him.

  Unfortunately, that didn’t lessen his longing. He didn’t want to be dancing with Kristen; he wanted to be twirling Bailey around the room. He didn’t want to be watching Bailey from afar on her date; he wanted to be the man holding her hand across the table, the same one taking her home. Instead, he had his arms around a woman whose one major fault was simply that she wasn’t Bailey.

  “I have to go.” He didn’t even bother to explain himself. He cued Gracie to come and dropped several bills on the bar to settle his tab. He didn’t even know how to explain his hurry to Kristen. All he knew was that if he didn’t get out of here, away from the soft strains of Bailey’s voice, he was going to make another mistake, and that was something he couldn’t afford to do.

  Chapter Ten

  CHASE SAT IN his truck, parked across the street, and watched Bailey’s date turn the key in her lock as he helped her into her house amid their laughter, oblivious to the extra pairs of suspicious eyes. Gracie growled quietly in her throat and he reached over to run his hand over her head, smoothing down the fur raised over her neck.

  “Don’t worry, I feel the same way, girl. If he tries anything, he’s in for an ass-beating.”

  He’d been trying to convince himself that he’d come by only to make sure Bailey got home safely, but he knew better. He was searching out some way to remind himself that she had no interest in him and was off-limits. Watching her stumble inside with her date made his stomach clench, knowing there was a good chance Bailey was leading him into her bedroom even now. As much as he hated to admit it, she looked like she enjoyed Hot Doctor’s company and he’d made her smile far more than Chase had recently. Everything in him wanted to head to the door and bang it down if he had to. Whatever it took to stop what he suspected what was happening, even while he knew it was the best thing that could happen. If Bailey found someone else, someone right for her, he would distance himself knowing she was happy. He could keep his promise to Justin and talk to her about staying, citing her new love as a reason, without looking suspicious.

  The light from the front porch flickered slightly as it came on and Bailey’s date appeared in the doorway again. Chase briefly wondered if he shouldn’t alert one of the deputies on duty where they might pick up a doctor driving drunk but thought better of it. He knew the guy had stopped drinking before their meal arrived. He’d been watching, and he hadn’t been lurching or weaving as he walked Bailey to the door. In fact, he’d practically carried her inside. Even sober, there was no possible way he could have had time to take advantage of her in the few minutes he’d been inside. The mere fact that he was leaving so soon spoke volumes for his character and Chase wondered if Hot Doctor wasn’t such a bad guy after all.

  Damn it. Chase would have loved to have a co
ncrete reason to hate this guy.

  He watched as Hot Doctor—damn her for making him think of this guy that way—headed toward his BMW parked along the sidewalk, feeling a small measure of gratitude that he’d gotten Bailey home safely. It took him off guard when the guy paused at his car door before turning on his heel and walking directly across the street to Chase’s truck, raising his hand in deference.

  “I saw you as soon as we drove up and, no, I don’t think she noticed.” Chase didn’t miss the cocky smirk. “Don’t worry, she’s all tucked in.”

  “Really.” Furious jealousy skittered through his chest, making him want to kill this man after all. Chase’s knuckles grew white as his fists clenched around the steering wheel. It took every ounce of self-control to keep from getting out of the truck and pummeling this man’s face.

  “Whoa! Not like that. Bailey and I are just friends, I swear.” Blake laughed at the surprise Chase was sure he could see in his face before glancing at Gracie growling low in her throat in the passenger seat. “There is nothing going on between me and Bailey. Never has been and never will be.”

  “Why not?” Chase cursed his tongue, wishing he could take back the question he wasn’t really sure he wanted an answer to.

  Blake looked back toward the house before fixing Chase with a serious expression. “She’s got her heart set somewhere else and, while I adore her, there’s just no spark, although she’s the best fake girlfriend I’ve ever had. I’ve been off the market for a long time.” Chase didn’t want to admit to the relief he felt course through him at the other man’s words, even as he heard the melancholy in Blake’s voice and his gaze shot to the man’s ringless left hand. “You know you want to go check on her, Prince Charming. If only so you can sleep tonight knowing I’m not some serial killer. She’s on the couch.”

  Chase wasn’t sure what to think as the doctor climbed into his car and pulled away. Common sense told him Bailey was fine, but he’d never forgive himself if anything happened to her. Not to mention how her cousins would blame him. He got out of the truck with Gracie at his side and made his way to the door. Raising a hand to knock on the door, he took a step back as Bailey opened it, an inebriated smile spreading across her face.

  “Well, well, look who’s here,” she complained, sliding a hand up the door frame, trying to balance herself as she closed her eyes. “My personal bodyguard.”

  He was surprised to find her still standing, let alone awake. He’d expected her to be passed out. “I’m just making sure you got home okay, Bailey. Why don’t you head to bed and sleep it off?”

  “You’re so bossy.” She slurred her words and turned her back on him, leaving him to follow her inside.

  Chase didn’t miss the way she stumbled, or how her hand trailed over the wall to help keep her upright. Bailey was smashed, something she rarely was, and it usually meant trouble. Gracie ran into the house before he could stop her, rushing to Bailey’s side as she leaned her back against the wall in the hallway. He shut the door behind him and turned back toward Bailey just in time to see her slide down the wall and sit, her legs stretched out in a V front of her.

  “I’m so tired,” she complained, burying her forehead into her hands. Gracie nudged her elbow. “The whole room is spinning.”

  “Can you walk?” He squatted down and looped her arm around his neck to help her stand.

  “Of course I can.” She giggled and Chase realized she was on the downward slide of her buzz, caught midway between still having fun and an emotional breakdown. “Let’s get a drink,” she announced, pulling her arm from his shoulders and heading for the kitchen.

  “Oh, I think you’ve had plenty.” Chase pulled her back toward him and she tripped over Gracie. He caught her as she fell against his chest.

  “You can’t tell me what to do, too, you know.” She poked her finger against his shoulder, trying to right herself.

  “Gracie, go lie down.” Thankfully, the dog immediately obeyed. He wished he could convince Bailey to listen as easily and looked down at the woman in his arms. “I’m not trying to boss you around, Bailey. You’re the most independent woman I’ve ever known,” he agreed. “I’ll make you a deal. If you head to bed, I’ll bring you a glass of water and some aspirin to ward off the monster hangover you’re going to have in the morning.”

  She leaned against him, her palms splayed over his chest, and smiled up at him. “I’d rather you bring something else to my bed.”

  Chase felt his heart lurch in his chest, almost as painfully as his arousal, which instantly sprang to readiness at the insinuation in her words. Winding her arms around his neck, she took another step closer as he halfheartedly tried to extricate himself. His fingers circled her wrists, pulling them down to her sides. “Bailey,” he warned.

  “What is wrong with you, Chase?” She pouted. “I get that the first time you kissed me it was because of Julia.” She slid herself from his grasp, her fingers playing with the short hairs at the nape of his neck sending a shiver of need down his spine. He could smell the whiskey on her breath mixed with the sweet, intoxicating scent of her hair. Her lips moved closer to his mouth, mere inches away, close enough that he could feel the moist heat of her breath. “But yesterday, before everyone drove up . . . there was no excuse that time.”

  His hands slid up her arms, holding her steady as she swayed into him again. “It was—”

  “What? A mistake?” Her lips brushed over his as he spoke.

  His hunger for this woman coiled tightly, ready to strike out and consume him. His loyalty to Justin was the only honorable thing left in his life. He’d made a promise and he intended to keep it. Giving in to his desire would only chase her away in the end. How could he face his best friend knowing it was his fault she’d left?

  But this was Bailey, the woman who haunted his dreams, the woman he’d longed for from afar for years. The feel of her body pressed against his, the heat of her hands on him and the spicy scent of her breath as she whispered his name were too much for him to resist.

  “You have no idea what you’re doing,” he growled, trying desperately to control the yearning threatening to drown them both. She probably wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning. He doubted she had any idea what kind of fire she was playing with. But, then again, that was how Bailey lived—always on the edge of danger.

  She laughed quietly against his lips. “Oh, yes, I do.”

  Before he could set her away from him, she rose on her toes, her mouth capturing his, her tongue dipping inside. She was sweet and spicy, innocent yet seductive, and too much temptation for any man in his right mind to turn away from. His hands left her arms to move down her back and pull her closer, his fingers closing around that perfect curve of her rear. She sighed into his mouth and Chase couldn’t get enough of her—the taste of her, the heat. He had to touch her. The hand at her back moved under her shirt, the satin of her skin burning with longing. This time, she didn’t sigh, she whimpered and pressed herself more fully against him.

  Sheer pleasure shot through every cell in his body and he was grateful for the wall behind him that kept them both upright. As his hand found the curve of her breast covered in nothing more than thin lace, his lips found her neck, his body aching for release. His thumb brushed over the already tight peak and she shivered against him.

  Bailey’s fingers moved over the buttons on his shirt, deftly working them through the holes before sliding his shirt open. She might be drunk, but it hadn’t affected her fine motor skills.

  She’s drunk, you asshole.

  Like a bucket of ice water, the realization doused his desire. There was no way he would take advantage of this situation, regardless of how much he wanted her, or how much she seemed to want him. He couldn’t hurt her. Making love to her sober would be bad enough, but while she was drunk was unforgivable.

  Chase looked down into her face as she opened her eyes. The dark pools of sapphire glittered with desire and she smiled up at him. “What?”

&nbs
p; Chase shook his head, still fighting the lust raging through him, and cupped her cheek in his palm, letting his thumb trace the hollow. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are? Bailey, we—”

  Her smile grew even wider. “Why are we still talking?” She reached for the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head, tossing it aside in the hallway.

  Chase was going to explode, he had no doubt.

  Bailey slid her hands over his stomach, letting her fingertips play over the ridges of his abs and linger at his belt buckle as he sought to find any way to fight the lure of her enticement. He stared down into her face, searching for something—anything—to make it easier to refuse.

  Football, car racing, criminals . . . Lance.

  That was enough. Chase was alive and Lance was dead. As much as he wanted to follow his instincts now, to make love to Bailey and let the consequences be damned, he’d followed his instincts before and it had only ended in regret. He didn’t want to walk that road again, and making love to his best friend’s cousin—a woman off-limits, a woman who wanted to leave to chase dreams that didn’t include him—was asking for a world of regret.

  He bent and scooped Bailey into his arms. She squealed in surprise and Chase could feel the pleasure emanating from her as she pressed kisses to his shoulder and chest, her hands roaming over his flesh. He made his way down the hall to where she directed him, pushing open the door to her bedroom with his foot, and settled her on the bed. She eyed him coyly but he could practically read her thoughts—the same ones he’d been having only moments before.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Chase left the room and hurried into the kitchen. He’d no more reached the doorway before he had to double over, gulping for breath and fighting to maintain control of his senses. He braced his hands on his knees, willing himself to regain his restraint as Gracie glanced up at him curiously from her position on the rug in front of the sink. He needed to remember why he was here—his promise to Justin that he would convince her to stay, to help protect her—and that didn’t include making love to her. He wasn’t an animal.