Caught in the Act (The Davenports)

by Law, Kim

“Even if you’re doing things you don’t want to do?”

  “I never said I didn’t want to do them,” she protested. “I love my family. I love my mother. Of course I want to be there for them.”

  “But you also want to be bold.” His gaze held hers. “Color outside the lines.”

  “I—”

  “Try out for the play,” he urged. “Do what you want to do.”

  The moment was too heavy, but his words were also making sense. She shook her head. She wasn’t that person.

  “You were bold the other night,” he told her. “You were going to kiss me.”

  She gulped. “I was.”

  “If your phone hadn’t rung, I think you would have.”

  She nodded again. She most definitely would have.

  “Why?”

  Who asked a girl why she wanted to kiss him? She glared at him.

  “Why, Cat? Were you just curious after all these years? We were kids back then. I’m sure a lot has changed.”

  She had been curious, but that hadn’t been why she’d gone up on her toes. “Not exactly,” she murmured.

  His thumb stroked a heated circle on the back of her hand. “Bored?”

  She shook her head. It hadn’t been boredom, either.

  “I would have kissed you back, you know?”

  “I know.” She lifted her other hand from where it rested in her lap and put it over both of theirs. “I was counting on it.” Her forward words sent a streak of excitement racing through her.

  His pulse picked up beneath her fingers as his hand clenched hers.

  “I was going to take you to bed after you kissed me,” he told her.

  She gulped as the tension between them increased.

  “Why?” she asked, the word almost taunting. She didn’t know where it had come from, but she could feel that boldness coming on again. Same as it had the other night on her deck.

  One side of his mouth twitched up. “Because I wanted you.”

  “Because you were curious?”

  He shook his head. “Nope.”

  “Because you were bored?”

  “Oh hell, no.”

  “Then why?” she prodded.

  He tugged and she leaned closer, then he released her only long enough to cup her face in his palms. He put his mouth inches from hers. “Because you’re sexy as hell and I haven’t been able to think of anything but you since you drove up in your boring little four-door sedan.”

  She gave him a sardonic twist of her lips. “It’s a rental.”

  His head dipped closer, and her heart thudded against her chest. “You don’t drive a sedan in Atlanta?” he whispered. The words seemed to scrape slowly down her body.

  Why in the world were they talking about her car?

  She wet her lips, wishing he would close the distance. She wanted his mouth on hers. “I drive an SUV.” Her voice became breathless. “A Volvo.”

  His lips grazed over her then. Barely. And she moaned when he stopped.

  “No wonder you came looking for me,” he said.

  She edged her chin forward, reaching for more, but he inched back.

  He put enough space between them that she could see his eyes once again. “Why were you going to kiss me the other night, Cat?”

  She blinked, the action feeling as if it were in slow motion. She’d started to kiss him the other night because she’d wanted to do what was not expected of her.

  She reached for his glasses instead of answering, and pulled them from his face. Then she went up on one knee. Her arms closed around his neck, and she whispered in as sexy a voice as she could dig out, “Because I wanted to.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CAT’S MOUTH CLOSED over Brody’s so fast it caught him off guard. Even though he’d been goading her into it.

  He slid his arms around her, pulling her tight against his body, and his coat slipped from her shoulders. Both of his hands went immediately to her back. It had been far too long since she’d been in his arms, and he wanted to make sure she didn’t get away too soon.

  She felt—tasted—sinful.

  He’d pushed her to see if he could bring back the boldness she’d exhibited on her deck, and apparently it had worked. He liked this side of her.

  Hot lips devoured his. Then she closed gently around his tongue and sucked him inside her mouth. He was left without a drop of blood in his head.

  “Cat,” he whispered when he could get in a quick breath. He strained with the effort to not stretch her out on the bench beneath them. One hand slid into her hair and he tightened his fingers around a handful of silk.

  “What?” She sounded frustrated, and he wanted to laugh at the giddiness of it.

  Of them kissing. Right there, in the middle of the night. With the wind whipping around them.

  This was exactly what they should be doing.

  Her arms looped tighter around his neck and her breasts pressed high on his chest, and he lost every last thought he had in his head.

  “Surely you don’t want to talk more,” she whispered urgently into his ear.

  He shuddered at the feel of her hot breath. Hell no, he didn’t want to talk more. But he paused . . . something felt off.

  Oh yeah.

  Fuck.

  He was a Harrison.

  Could he do this when he had no intention of telling her the truth about his father?

  And he most certainly had no intention of telling her. The one time he’d gone down that path it had backfired in a spectacular way.

  But how much of a dick would sleeping with her, without telling her the truth, make him?

  There was also the issue of knowing that her mother had come between them before. It wasn’t relevant to the here and now, but he suspected Cat would appreciate being made aware of the fact.

  “Brody,” Cat moaned into his neck. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

  She pressed into him with undisguised desire and he said to hell with it. He was going to be a dick. It was his life. If he couldn’t kiss who he wanted, when he wanted, what was the point?

  He tightened his fist in Cat’s hair and pulled just enough to tilt her head back. She stared up at him. The light circling above them glowed over her face, showing her heavy eyelids and parted lips. Short, hot breaths bathed him. God, she was beautiful.

  “That was a hell of a start,” he murmured. “Especially since it’s been such a long time since we’ve tried this. But I think we can do even better.”

  He angled his head then, and swept his tongue deep inside her.

  Her response was a full-body-shaking moan, and he almost cried out loud at the pleasure that coursed through him.

  Cat shuddered as Brody’s hands explored her body. They roamed with intent and purpose. Like a man who knew what he was looking for. His mouth was no less demanding. He plundered and pillaged, leaving her panting for more, then quickly headed off in the direction of her ear.

  He was not kissing her as though this was merely going to be a kiss down memory lane. No. She squeezed her eyes shut as his teeth nipped at her earlobe, and her nipples tried their best to bust free of her bra. Brody was kissing her as if he intended to soon strip her of her clothes.

  And she was going to let him.

  She arched her neck as he made his way over the sensitive spot below her ear, and her whole body trembled at the mastery of his touch. In seconds, he’d brought places on her body to life that hadn’t been awake in years. She gripped him to her, silently begging him not to stop. She wanted this. And she wanted more.

  It may be uncouth to go to bed with someone so fast, but it wasn’t as if she was a kid anymore. She had limited time before her children showed up. Limited time to try new things.

  See something you like, go for it.

  Made perfect sense to her.


  As long as she kept it out of the news.

  She gulped for air as his mouth hit the dip at the base of her neck. Only two minutes ago, she’d been freezing, thinking they were on the back side of crazy to be sitting out in the cold, and now she was hot enough to toss her clothes and christen the bench.

  But really, she was thirty-five. Women of her age didn’t have sex on public benches. Even if they were there all alone.

  She pictured the convertible waiting for them in the parking lot and almost giggled.

  That she could do. The backseat of Brody’s car? Heck yeah. She’d never had sex in the backseat of a car before. Who better to do it with than the boy she’d lost her virginity to?

  She dug her fingers into Brody’s hair as he traveled farther down her body. His whiskers skimmed the more sensitive skin above the neckline of her dress, and every hotspot in her burned feral. She literally vibrated in his arms. For someone who hadn’t had a man touch her in years, this was not healthy.

  “Brody.” She pulled back. She couldn’t catch her breath enough to say more. She was not going to think about her actions; she was just going to go with it. She wanted that fling.

  When he looked up, she was struck by the raw passion in his features, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he looked at every woman he kissed like that. She gulped.

  It was potent stuff.

  And it added a drop of fear to what they were doing.

  This was just sex, right?

  She bit down on her bottom lip.

  He seemed to realize that neither of them were speaking, only staring at each other as they attempted to catch their breaths. Then he reached down to the ground and picked up his suit jacket. He slipped it around her shoulders.

  “I’m not cold,” she told him.

  His movements stalled, both hands at her shoulders. “No?”

  She shook her head. “That’s not why I stopped.”

  “Then why did you?”

  She couldn’t hide the smile. “Because I just had the craziest idea that involves you, me . . . and the backseat of your car.”

  His face went momentarily blank, and then his eyes widened. He shot a frantic look toward the parking lot.

  “You want to do it in my car?” he croaked out.

  Sheesh, he didn’t have to sound repulsed by the thought. It wasn’t like they’d get it that dirty. She gave a hesitant nod. “It seemed like a fun idea.”

  “It’s . . .” he started. Then he snapped his mouth shut.

  The look on his face was priceless. Boys and their toys. But really . . . she was offering sex.

  “Brody?” she asked carefully.

  “Yes.” He nodded. Then he nodded again, his movements more vigorous. “Yes,” he repeated. He stood and thrust a hand out to her. “My car.”

  She leaned back. Her fingers gripped the lapels of his jacket and tugged it closed around her. She stared up at him in the dark as reality began to seep in. Damn, but she wished he hadn’t had that pause. “You’re right,” she forced herself to say. This was best. “We shouldn’t.”

  “No. We should.” The horror-stricken look this time seemed to come at the realization that he’d royally screwed up. “Really,” he insisted. He reached for her again. “You just caught me off guard.”

  But the blood rushing through her had slowed. She’d begun to think.

  Did she really want to do it in the backseat of a car? In public?

  Where anyone could show up and catch them.

  Suddenly she pictured the two of them plastered across CNN, her dress bunched at her waist. Her children watching the news.

  Brody’s glasses were clenched in her hand, so she shoved them out to him. “Here.”

  Damn. She’d really wanted that sex.

  He took the glasses at the same time his shoulders slumped. “I just totally blew that, didn’t I?” he mumbled, and she couldn’t help but see the teenager he’d once been. Bless his heart, but he was too cute.

  “It’s probably best we don’t anyway,” she admitted, though it pained her to say so. She stood and they turned as one for the sidewalk. “We just lost sight of things for a moment.”

  “I was just an idiot,” he lamented. “How about we go back to my place—”

  “No.” Her word silenced his.

  He let out a heavy sigh, and together they walked side by side. When they could see the parking lot, she looked over at him. His hair was standing on end again, but this time she fought the urge to brush it down.

  “Hanging out is good,” she told him. “We should just do that. Or maybe . . .” She shrugged, not feeling the half smile she tried to give him. “I don’t know. Maybe not even that.”

  “No.” The word shot out of him. He stopped and turned to her. “Maybe we don’t do this,” he said, waving a finger back and forth between them. “Though I’m not sure not doing this is the best idea either. But say we don’t.” He tilted her face up to his. As he looked at her, his features softened, and his thumb slid along her jaw. “I’m not just going to disappear, Cat. I live next door to you. I like talking to you. I like . . .”

  He went silent, and she held her breath. “What?” she whispered. “You like . . . what?”

  With a shake of his head, he blew out a breath. “You,” he said, emotion filling the word. He kissed the tip of her nose. “I like you, Cat Davenport. Just like before. We just . . .” He shook his head instead of finishing, and glanced off in the distance.

  But she understood what he was saying. They just got each other.

  They fit.

  She nodded. “Okay,” she agreed. She didn’t want to push him away. Not so soon after finding him again. The thought of not having him to talk to over the next few weeks was distressful. Even more so than witnessing his reaction to the idea of sweaty sex in his classic car.

  Though funny now—kind of—his reaction had stung.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologized, as if aware she was thinking about that moment. The words came out a mix of sincerity and frustration, and once again, his gaze locked on hers.

  “Me too.”

  But really, this was better. No complications. No risk of the media catching wind that there was anything more between them than being neighbors.

  And no chance of someone plastering a “relationship” in the news.

  She did not need her children hearing something like that.

  “But don’t write me off just yet,” Brody teased. He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “You kind of woke something up in me back there.”

  He turned to the car before waiting for her to reply, and she smiled secretly to herself. She’d kind of woken something up in herself, too. The heady need to not simply have sex, but to have hours on end of sweaty, calorie-burning, needing-more-than-protein-and-flaxseed-the-next-morning copulation.

  She needed orgasms.

  And she needed them to come at the touch of a man’s hands.

  But reality was reality. And in the real world, she was a mother. Not to mention, part of a family whom the entire world was watching. None of that was going to change.

  They reached the gravel of the parking lot, but before she could take a step forward, Brody scooped her up.

  “I can walk,” she complained, even though she knew it was an empty statement.

  “And I can carry you,” he told her.

  So she shut up and let him carry her.

  Her heart did break a little as they crossed the parking lot, though. Not because of what they didn’t do, but because of what they’d lost so long ago. She would have liked the opportunity back then to find out what would’ve happened if nothing had changed. If she could have come back the next summer.

  She would have loved to know how far they could have gone. First loves were special like that.

  But that was an
cient history. The past was the past.

  He got to the car, but instead of putting her down, he studied his backseat, his mouth pursed as if in deep thought. Finally, he shifted his gaze back to hers. “We still could?” he offered hopefully.

  She laughed and shook her head, suddenly feeling more upbeat than she had in ages. Even if she did still want a long night of doing things a responsible single mother shouldn’t do.

  She dropped her head to his shoulder.

  “We’re good, Brody. Really. And it was good to get this out of the way. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

  If she were being honest, what had happened there tonight had been as much about the past as anything.

  But she wanted to live in the present.

  And in the present, she wanted to have fun. She lifted her head from his shoulder, her thought surprising her. “I just made a decision,” she said.

  “About?” There was optimism in his voice, and one more glance shot toward his backseat.

  The smile on her face felt as if it might have physically reached her ears as she giggled at his antics. “What time are auditions tomorrow?” she asked.

  His attention swung back to her. “Why?”

  A bubble of unguarded happiness began taking hold, and she gave him an easy shrug. “Because I want to try out for your play.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MR. HOLLISTER?” AMY’S small hand reached high in the air Monday morning as Brody tried hard to concentrate on the task at hand. He was teaching about US landmarks that day. At least trying to. He’d started with the monuments found in the country’s capital, but so far had only gotten through the Washington Monument.

  The hour had also been disrupted so the whole class could go to the bathroom—twice—and upon each return, it had taken more than ten minutes to get everyone back under control. Then there was the fact that he’d spent the better part of the class time glancing toward the doorway. As if Cat would show up the way she had the week before.

  “What can I do for you, Amy?” Brody stooped to the rambunctious little girl and made sure his voice remained calm. Surely he could pull off patience for five more minutes. Normally he loved teaching these classes at the museum, but today he’d wanted to be anywhere but here. He wanted to be with Cat.