by Lydia Rowan
“Since you already think I’m the world’s biggest nerd, I’ll confess. I love it, especially the actuarial work. I help people assess risk, try to give some semblance of predictability to this crazy world.”
“No such thing,” he said with conviction. “Life can’t be predicted and even if it could, you can’t control or change it.”
She looked ready to retort, so he said, “Take this little meeting. Did you predict when you left the house you’d run into me? And if you had, what would you have done about it?”
Rather than respond, she said, “It’s up here.”
As she spoke, her eyes brightened, the conversation of moments ago seemingly forgotten as she sped up to their destination. They walked through some fairly thick underbrush, Blakely seemingly uncaring of the rough grass and branches that whipped against her smooth calves and left faint red marks. Cody was at the ready, arm extended and prepared to reach for her if she showed any signs of distress, but she navigated like she was a pro, which, he supposed, she was.
When they broke through the underbrush, she stopped, and he stood behind her. It took a moment for him to realize that he’d lifted his hand to her waist and on second thought, he left it there, acknowledging how natural it felt and how much he didn’t want to remove it.
“Wow,” he whispered as he took in the space.
“Told you. Beautiful isn’t it?”
It was absolutely breathtaking. It appeared to be a small lake filled with crystal-clear water so translucent he could see directly to the bottom.
“We think it’s runoff from one of the springs. Probably an accident. We looked for the source for years, but we couldn’t ever find it,” she said as she stared down into the clear water.
“We?” he asked.
She turned then and stared up at him. “Yeah. Me and Matt. We spent hours and hours and hours here when we were kids. Of course, that was completely innocent,” she said, her eyes going dark with desire, “unlike what I have in mind for you.”
With that, she closed the distance between them, moving her hands to his back and letting her breasts and abdomen rest flush against his. She stood up on tiptoe, the motion smushing her breasts against his chest further as she moved against him. At the same time, he leaned down.
They met halfway, lips clashing against each other’s. She kissed him wildly, almost desperately, moving her mouth against his at a frantic speed. He put his other hand on her waist and then moved both up her body, stopping briefly at her breasts, the grazing of her hardened nipples through her blouse drawing a moan. When he reached her face, he gently cupped it in his hands and then broke the kiss.
As he watched, she slowly opened her eyes, which were still dark with passion and a desire so fierce, he wanted to take her right there. And she’d let him, he knew that for sure. But that wouldn’t do. When he took her—and he would—it wouldn’t be like this, rushed and hurried. No, he’d take his time, tease and coax her until she lost herself. Only then would he make them one.
She lowered herself until she was again standing firmly on her feet, and then, still gripping her face, he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her full lips. The gloss she wore made them amazingly smooth, so much so that he couldn’t resist pressing his lips against hers again and then again. The passion of the moment intensified and with it, his kisses. When she exhaled a sigh, he swooped in, brushing his tongue against hers and claiming her mouth as he would her body. She went limp against him, the diamond points of her nipples rubbing against his chest testing his resolve.
She pulled back, breathing hard and eyes glittering. “Please tell me you have condoms,” she said on a huffed-out breath.
“I do,” he said.
Without speaking, she reached for his belt with one hand and cupped his cock with the other.
“But I won’t be using them.”
She continued her ministrations and then stopped abruptly, gazing up at him, confusion marring her expression. He slid his hands back down her body and stopped at her breasts, holding the plump but not overly large flesh in his hands.
“Don’t worry, Blakely. We’ll be together. But not like this.”
He kissed her again, idly rubbing his thumbs across her nipples as he did, and again she pulled back.
“This is twice you’ve turned me down,” she said, her words breathy and husky. “I don’t know that I’ll let it happen a third time.”
Her eyes flashed, some of her arousal dampening and replaced with the distance he’d come to abhor. He tightened his hold on her breasts and tweaked her nipples harder as he leaned down to kiss her again, this time not stopping until he’d touched every crevice of the warm cavern of her mouth.
His heart pounded and his own breath was ragged, but her eyes again glittered with desire.
“Why don’t you give me a tour?” he asked.
After she gave him a piercing look that was simultaneously soft and yielding and yet filled with that stubborn frostiness that he’d come to enjoy, she took his hand and guided him around the small body of water.
Chapter Seven
“And who the fuck were all those people?” Verna said incredulously, the raucous laughter that followed the question piercing the quiet of Verna and Joe’s calm, sleepy neighborhood.
“It was your wedding!” Blakely said.
“You could’ve fooled me,” Verna replied. “I’d planned for fifty guests and there were what, like three hundred?” she said.
“It was more like five,” Joe interjected.
“Or five fifty,” Matt said.
“Well, I guess the minor miracle that was the Love-MacDermid union called for spectators, but I’m just saying, not even ten percent of those people had invitations,” she said.
Blakely gave Verna a faux-chiding look. “You’ve lived here long enough to know that people in this town could care less about invitations.”
“But Mr. Love looked pretty happy,” Cody added.
“You bet your sweet ass he was.”
“Hey,” Joe said, giving Verna a glare that was stern enough to make Blakely want to apologize and then, in an instant, his face softened and his love for his new bride shone through.
“Sorry, Jojo. Your ass is the sweetest. But anyway, we had enough food for fifty and from what I heard, everybody else went to Love’s. Daddy probably made enough to pay my dowry.”
As the fresh round of laughter died down, Verna stood and gestured to Blakely to follow her. She did and together, they left the balcony and headed into the kitchen, leaving Joe, Cody, and Matt outside. Ariel and Dani had left a little before dark and Amanda Adkins, the only other guest, had followed shortly, leaving Blakely and Verna with the guys.
Verna closed the sliding glass door and after freshening their wine, they headed to the living room. Blakely had only been to Joe’s house one other time, but she could clearly see that Verna had left her mark, that they were turning his house into their home.
“How did you guys decide which house to live in?” Blakely asked.
“Joe owns this one, and he’s so attached to his exhaustively researched and meticulously planned modifications to the floor plan, his garage, or as he says, his ‘truck’s house,’ and his generator, he couldn’t bear to leave,” she said with a roll of her eyes. A stranger might not recognize the love and indulgence in her sarcastic words, but Blakely could hear how deep the love between them ran.
“But you seem to be making your mark,” Blakely said, glancing around, noticing the pictures of Verna’s family and friends on the mantel and remembering the other woman relaying how she’d badgered Joe to let her turn the downstairs bedroom into an office space and storage for fabric.
“Yeah, the place is shaping up pretty nicely, I guess. Quinn’s was great, but this place really feels like home. All a part of nesting!” Verna said excitedly.
“Nesting? Already?” Blakely felt her eyes go wide, and Verna let out a full-throated laugh.
“Not literally, Blake. We’ll pr
obably wait until the ink on the license is dry before we even consider little ones. Though I can see the tongues wagging now, like they were when Quinn had Ethan, about me being in the family way before the wedding. Daddy would love that.”
“So you guys are speaking again?” Blakely asked.
She regretted the words instantly. Verna and her father had a fraught, very tense relationship, one that had reached a boiling point recently. Verna had shared the details of the rift, and while her friend had played it off and tried to credit her father’s blowup with helping her find her true passion for sewing and design, Blakely had hesitated in raising the issue. She understood all too well how touchy the subject of family could be and knew how tough all of the tension between her and her father had been on Verna. But none of that tumult was available now, and Verna, in typical fashion, just shook her head.
“Something like that. I’d have a fucking heart attack if he outright apologized, or even acknowledged that we’d had a falling out, but he’s been making an effort, you know, saying nice stuff about the shop, and me by extension, I suppose.”
“I heard him talking about it at the restaurant,” Blakely supplied.
“Yeah, he’s probably just amazed that I managed to keep it open for more than thirty days.”
“Or he could just be proud of you.”
“And I could be fucking Mother Teresa. Not literally of course.”
They both laughed. Blakely couldn’t give her too much trouble about her parents, considering the state of Blakely’s relationship with her own, so though she knew there was more to that story, she changed the subject.
“And how’s married life treating you?”
Verna got that dreamy, faraway look in her eye, the one she always had when she talked about Joe or thought about him. “It’s okay sometimes,” she said, though her beaming smile gave her away.
“I’ll bet it is. And how was California?”
“It’s wonderful. Beautiful, peaceful. I told Joe I don’t know why he ever left, especially not to come here,” she said.
“If he hadn’t left, he would never have found you,” Blakely said.
“You’re right, so I guess it was worth it in the end,” she said, a smile still lighting her face. And then her expression shifted to that mischievous look that made Blakely nervous.
“What?” Blakely said, narrowing her eyes.
“That was an amazingly sweet sentiment. Too amazing, especially for the Blakely Bishop I know and love. Has something—or someone”—she said ominously—“gotten to you? Broken through the hard shell to find the gooey center?” Verna waggled her eyebrows.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said stiffly. So what that Cody had been attached to her hip all evening. And so what that she hadn’t minded. That didn’t mean anything. Nothing at all.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, and she’s repeating herself,” Verna said to an imaginary audience. “I think I’m definitely on the right track.” She leveled an even, expectant stare at Blakely, managing to keep the amusement out of her face, though Blakely knew Verna well enough to know that it was there.
“Aren’t I the one who has the face that makes people confess?” Blakely said, trying to rebuff Verna’s intrusion.
“You do,” Verna said.
“Well, you’re doing a damn good impersonation right now,” Blakely grumbled.
Verna gave that innocent, who-me face that Blakely knew full well was a front. “I’m just asking. I mean, the way you and Cody were sparking off each other makes me wonder if you’re in the market for some hot SEAL action yourself, which, for what it’s worth, I highly recommend.“
Blakely almost choked on her wine, and after she’d regained her breath, she started to speak but lost the words in a fit of giggles.
“Is Verna behaving?” Joe asked as he entered.
“Never,” Blakely said.
Verna glanced over at Joe and then back to Blakely. “Saved by the bell,” she stated, “but don’t think this conversation is over.”
“This conversation isn’t starting, Verna.”
She set down her glass and stood. Verna did as well, and then the much-taller woman gave Blakely a quick hug. “Thanks for having me over. You too, Joe,” she said, waving at him. “I’ll see you guys around.”
“Not going to say good-bye to the other guests?” Verna said, smiling brightly, that devilish glimmer in her eye.
“Bye, Verna,” she said, rushing toward the front door.
Her friend’s laughter chased her out the door, and Blakely quickly got into her car. Verna had gotten far too close for comfort but on the other hand, it was great to have an excuse to make an escape without running into Cody, that kiss and her desire for him leaving her unable to trust herself, even when in the company of others. But, despite the rather hairy last few minutes, Blakely had enjoyed herself and if she was being truthful, the flirtation with Cody had been pleasurable as well. It had been subtle, something that had surprised her coming from Cody. Despite his cockiness, he struck her as a straight shooter, direct, but this evening, he’d been on his best behavior, no hint of the passionate kiss that they’d shared, or the fact that she’d asked him for sex twice, or the fact he’d turned her down twice apparent in his behavior.
She didn’t care what Verna said; Cody hadn’t given anything away. And she hadn’t either. Except that before dinner, during, and as they’d sat on the balcony talking, she’d let her gaze wander to him, and found his blue eyes on her, shifting from causal to scorching and back in less than a blink of the eye. So quick, she’d first thought she was imagining it, that maybe her own desire was tricking her, making her see things that weren’t there. But just before she’d gone inside with Verna, she’d glimpsed him again and known she hadn’t imagined it. And lamented that there was nothing she could do about it.
Or maybe there was.
On impulse, she drove past her own house and went to his. She pulled into his driveway, put the car in park, and waited. But it didn’t take long for indecision to hit her. This was crazy, and as much as she wanted him, she wasn’t going to continue to throw herself at him and be turned away. She had her pride to consider after all.
As the seconds passed, she realized that this whole situation was actually pretty damned embarrassing, and the longer she sat, the worse and worse the idea seemed. She reached for the gearshift, determined to peel out of here as soon as she could and hope that none of his neighbors had noticed her car in the driveway, a near impossibility in Thornehill Springs, but she needed to cling to something.
In a few short minutes she was safely back in her own driveway, her heart pounding furiously as she thought about the horror she would have felt if Cody had found her there, to make no mention of how she’d have felt if he’d again sent her away. Physical attraction was one thing, but something about Cody Sommers made her lose herself, and she needed to get herself back in check. Resolved to get herself back in hand, she exhaled, her heart slowing. As she prepared to exit the car, she again caught sight of the chip in her nail polish, and it again distracted her as it had several times during the evening. She needed to get that filled in and decided she’d try to repair it tonight just in case her technician couldn’t see her first thing in the morning.
Lights, blindingly bright, filled her rearview mirror, and her heart started to pound. There was no way she could leave now, and though a million thoughts rushed through her head, they were all a jumbled tangle, and she couldn’t latch onto one even marginally probable explanation for his presence here. She caught sight of the approaching person that could only be him, and when her mind clicked with the expected recognition, the beat of her heart shifted from fear to embarrassment to arousal in one pulse.
“You going to run me over, Ms. Bishop?” Cody said, leaning down to look inside her car window, gaze going to her hand, which tightly gripped the gearshift.
“I considered it,” she said, p
utting the car in park again, cutting off the engine, and then turning to face him.
“Is there a reason you’re here, Sommers?” she asked, hand clenched tight around the keys.
“I take it you’re not planning to invite me in?” he said.
“No,” she said, the tempo of her heart increasing. “I’ve done all the asking I plan to do.”
He said nothing and instead reached into the window and down, his fingers resting atop hers. Then he turned his hand and her car flared to life.
“My house. Ten minutes. You know the way.”
Without waiting for her to respond, he turned and walked back to his car with those military-precise strides and was pulling out of her driveway in a flash. She kept her gaze glued to the rearview mirror and watched as he disappeared down the road, the already frantic pulse of her heart ratcheting up even further. She’d intended to toss the ball back into his court, but he’d effectively parried it back into hers. The offer was dressed up as a challenge and left her powerless to resist.
She got out of the car to stand on shaky legs, having decided that the walk would do her good. The excitement that thrummed through her was so intense it was almost unbearable, and she hoped that the fresh air and bit of extra time would help her calm herself.
••••
It didn’t and when she lifted her hand to knock on Cody’s door, it shook. She dropped it quickly and clenched her fist tight, using the heartbeat between the knock and Cody opening the door to school her features to the extent possible. Cody stood, his body filling the door frame, his hand on the knob. Her gaze immediately found his and her breath caught in her throat. No one had ever looked at her with such naked and unabashed desire. He tilted his head and moved slightly, inviting her in. With a deep breath, she crossed the threshold, thinking this night would change everything.
But that thought and all others fled, leaving only that aching desire, and the feeling only intensifying when he closed and locked the door. He stepped in front of her and pulled the keys she hadn’t remembered she was clenching out of her hands and placed them on the small table by the door. Then he slid her oversize handbag off her shoulder and set it next to the keys. As he moved, she watched, and when he turned to face her and their gazes again clashed, she swayed slightly, her body seeming to demand to be closer to him before her conscious mind could even form the thought.