Twenty Times Tempted: A Sexy Contemporary Romance Collection

by Petrova, Em

  I slide into the sheets and take a sip of water before placing it back on the side table. I probably shouldn’t pick at it, but it’s bugging me. How does Nick really feel about Rob? His words before, when he expressed his disgust about the way Rob treated me… I didn’t even pick up on it but I’d always believed Nick was kind of blinded to Rob’s behavior like I was in the beginning.

  Guys worshipped Rob and though I knew Nick was too smart for that, their shared history—growing up as friends—seemed to have cemented their friendship forever. It always prevented me from telling Nick absolutely everything. Like how Rob had struck out at me. But maybe Nick saw most of it anyway. He is a damned clever guy after all.

  And I’m an idiot. I smack my pillow and try to get comfy. I am an idiot. I know I am. I’ve got a hot, amazing guy lying on my couch and my experience with Rob is holding me back.

  Shit. I put an arm over my eyes and will myself to sleep. I do not need to be thinking about Nick right now. I should be moving on, getting my place sorted and considering buying a new car. One that hasn’t been involved in drug trafficking.

  I shake my head. Oh, Rob, what went so wrong with you?

  ***

  I’m not sure when I fell asleep but I must have since I was having all sorts of weird dreams about Rob and Nick. Rob was trying to persuade me to sell drugs for him at the hospital and Nick just got angry about his T-shirts. And then it got heated. Nick started stripping off my clothes and Rob said he could have me.

  I rub my eyes, my head thick from not enough sleep and grimace as I sit up and glance at my clock. I’ve only slept for a few hours. My skull pounds a little and the need for coffee forces me out of bed and into the bathroom to change. I choose what to wear carefully, wondering how Nick will view me in my worn jeans and tank top.

  He said he wanted a girl who looked incredible in scruffy jeans, I remind myself. I push the thought away. So what? I need to clean up today so it’s not like I can wear my best clothes and they’re hardly revealing.

  I run a brush through my hair and dab on a little powder, especially under my eyes where the bags are starting to show. Then I do my mascara, pop on some lip balm and put my hair up into a high ponytail.

  I glance in the mirror. Cute, I guess. Nothing to go crazy over though I do clean up nicely when I put the effort in. I definitely don’t understand what inspires those looks from Nick though.

  Deliberately opening the door slowly, I peer out. He’s not in the kitchen but it’s early and we had a real late night. I tiptoe into the living room and see him sprawled across the couch. Smothering a laugh, I admire him. Yes, I admit it. Admire him. One leg is almost on the floor, the other hangs off the end of the seat. An arm rests across his chest while the other is above his head. Weirdly his hands attract my attention. I recall how warm and strong they were when he held my hand. And how rough and sensual they were against my skin.

  His T-shirt rides high, giving me a peek at the taut, tanned skin below and the line of dark blond hair. Tingles race down to my fingertips and I have to curl my hand to resist tracing the line. Or maybe even tasting it.

  I step forward and release a screech as a sharp pain pierces the sole of my foot. Nick is up and has his arms around me within seconds while I hop up and down.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My foot… Shit. Ow. I think I’ve stepped on something.”

  He looks around. “Yeah, probably a piece of your vase. What were you thinking walking around barefoot?”

  “I wasn’t thinking! I forgot, okay?”

  With a muttered curse, he scoops me up and sits me on the couch.

  “You’ve got bare feet,” I mutter accusingly as he drops down next to me and coaxes my foot into his lap.

  “Well, my feet are a lot tougher than yours.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him but he ignores me. Sounds like some manly rubbish to me. I squeak as he probes my foot. “I bet you’d scream too.”

  His teeth flash and he gives my foot a rub. “No blood. I think you’ll live.”

  “Gee, thanks, Doctor Jackson.”

  He stands, steps gingerly over the vase shards and points at me. “Don’t move. Do you have something you can put on your feet?”

  “Yeah, my shoes are in the bottom of my closet.”

  He disappears into my bedroom and I take a moment to study my foot. He’s right. No damage really. It still hurts though. I wrap my arms around my legs and wait for him to return. I can’t believe I got caught watching him. Hopefully he didn’t realize I’d been standing there long.

  Nick returns holding up a pair of sneakers.

  “What? No heels?”

  “I was trying to be practical,” he says with a grin as he hands them to me and I slip them on.

  “Well, thanks.”

  “Though there’s a hot little red pair I’ve taken a liking to.”

  “Well go ahead, though you might have trouble squeezing your big feet into them.”

  He chuckles. “I meant I’d like to see them on you.”

  “Yeah, well those are one of those pairs you buy and they just sit there and look pretty. I doubt I’ll ever get the chance to wear them.”

  “Babe, I’d do anything to give you the chance to wear them. Your legs in those heels…” He groans and I flush.

  The banter is gone again and we’re serious once more. His gaze is determined and I fidget before getting up from the couch. Does he say these things on purpose just to rile me or what? I straighten and make for the refuge of the kitchen. There’s countertops and stuff that will create a nice, safe barrier between us. Then I won’t have to worry about flinging myself into his arms.

  Sorting out the coffee pot, I call to him as he strolls in, looking as at home as ever, “You want a bacon sandwich?”

  “Do you need to ask?”

  I roll my eyes as I pull some bacon from the fridge and grab a pan. He settles himself at the breakfast bar and I point the pan at him. “I don’t know how you look like that when you eat so much crap.”

  He lifts one shoulder. “Just blessed I guess.”

  He’s being modest. He works out like crazy, especially since the accident. But I don’t need him to know how much I admire him for getting fit again right now. I’m weak enough around him already.

  “Well, why don’t you get your blessed body into the shower while I make breakfast?”

  “Do I smell?”

  Yes, of sin and everything I’ve ever wanted, I want to say. How does he smell so delicious still? I sigh and slap my pan on the stove. “Just get in the shower.”

  He chuckles and I wonder if he realizes how much he’s getting to me, how much he’s wearing me down. I don’t want to be worn down, honest I don’t. I can’t handle a relationship with a soldier again, let alone with all the crap that’s going on right now.

  I hear the shower turn on and I toss some butter into the pan and start the bacon. There’s something soothing about doing something mundane and ignoring the mess that is my apartment. And the fact there is a ridiculously hot, naked guy in my shower. I slap a palm to my forehead. Must. Stop. Thinking like this.

  By the time he’s finished, the sandwiches and coffee are ready, and I’ve swept aside some of the chaos to make room on the breakfast bar. Nick saunters in, rubbing his hair with one of my hot pink towels. That draws my attention first. No man should suit hot pink but somehow he does. And then it’s the fact he’s topless and his sweatpants are riding pretty low. I’m confronted by bare, slightly sheening, chest.

  I gulp and raise my gaze to his face.

  He raises a brow and grins. “Sienna?”

  I’ve been struck dumb. I can’t find my voice. Never mind that I had Nick entirely naked in my bed not long ago, or that I had him between my thighs. Nick’s body is not something you can take in when totally unprepared. You need time to brace yourself for the sight. Especially when it’s… wet.

  To distract myself, I fuss over the plates and the coffee and sit down, biting
straight into my sandwich and nearly burning my mouth.

  “Geez, Nick, you couldn’t take two seconds to put a top on,” I say as he chucks the towel into my bedroom and sits next to me, all muscle, ink and taut skin.

  “It’s dirty.”

  “So you’re going to spend the day shirtless?”

  “Maybe,” he says between mouthfuls of sandwich. “This is good.”

  There’s a crumb hanging off his lip and I want to lean over and lick it off. My legs shake as I pull on my restraint. “You can’t walk around shirtless.”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  “It’s not good manners!” I resist the urge to scream. He is doing it on purpose, I’m sure of it now. “I offered you a clean T-shirt yesterday.”

  “I’m not wearing one of Rob’s.”

  “I didn’t peg you as the squeamish type.” Now I’m trying to goad him into some kind of reaction.

  Nick pauses and places down his sandwich. He swivels to face me and urges me to do the same. His hands end up on my jean clad legs and I scowl. He looks so serious. Very unlike Nick.

  “I know that Rob and I were best friends but… we drifted apart. I didn’t like a lot of things about him. I stuck by him but it doesn’t mean I approved of his behavior, especially toward you. I need you to know that, Sienna.”

  I feel myself fluster a little. Why’s he telling me this? “Look…”

  “Our friendship was one of those that you don’t really understand why you’re still friends but you just are. We went back a long way and I always felt kinda responsible for him. We looked out for each other as kids. But when you two got engaged, his behavior became more extreme. I guess I hoped one day he’d go back to just being the cocky kid I knew, but he was too far gone.”

  “So why did you put up with his shit then?”

  He squeezes my knees and straightens. There’s doubt in his expression. “Cause I couldn’t leave you alone with him.”

  “God, Nick… you’re not my keeper, you know? You can’t look after me the way you look after your soldiers.” I bite my lip. Does he feel responsible for me? Maybe he’s not even that attracted to me. People like Nick are born leaders. The kind of guy who takes everyone under his wing. Perhaps he wants me under his wing and is mistaking it for attraction. The idea makes my heart sink.

  With a shake of his head, he turns his attention back to his sandwich. “I want to take care of you, babe, I won’t lie, but there’s much more to this than that. And you know it.”

  And as if he hadn’t said anything poignant at all, he begins eating again and picks up the scattered remnants of yesterday’s newspaper and starts reading.

  I finish my breakfast speedily, throw back my coffee, and dump everything in the sink. I have to move away from that naked torso as quickly as possible. When I go into my living room, I fight not to cry again. Having Nick here has kind of distracted me from the mess but that crawling sensation is creeping over me. The one where you know some stranger has been touching your stuff. People say it all the time after being burglarized. It’s not so much about the stuff that’s gone missing but the fact there was someone in your home—the whole invasion of your privacy thing.

  That’s how I feel now. It chills me slightly as I wonder what they were searching for. I don’t get it. Everything Nick said was right. I’m not rich or important. Why would they trash my place for no reason?

  I begin to put my books back on the bookcase, grimacing as I notice some of the torn pages. Nick comes up behind me and crouches down to help. He has his old top on again. Thank God. And I must admit, he still smells good, damn the man.

  “They go in alphabetical order,” I say quietly as we stack the books.

  He chuckles but does as I say and soon we have them all back on the bookcase. We both stand back to admire our work.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know? I bet you’ve got stuff to be doing.”

  “Nope. Not a thing.”

  I narrow my eyes at him but he gives nothing away. I’m about to say something else when the phone rings. I dash into the kitchen and grab the receiver from the side.

  “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Wright?”

  “Yes that’s me.” It’s a man. Deep and gruff. My stomach twists slightly.

  “It’s Detective Matthews from Glenwood P.D. I just wanted to let you know that we got a match for the fingerprints we took from your apartment yesterday. A small time drug dealer by the looks of it. An Albert Hudson. Thing is… we sent someone to pick him up and he’s nowhere to be found. We’re looking out for him but…” I can practically hear his shrug. A break-in where nothing goes missing is hardly worth wasting their time on. “Any idea why he trashed your place?”

  There’s an accusing tone to his voice and I bristle. What? Does he think maybe it was a drug deal gone wrong? I’m the victim here and now I’m feeling guilty all over again. “I’ve never even heard of the man,” I say primly.

  “Well, we’ll be in touch if we pick him up. Let us know if anything does come up missing.”

  “Right, okay. Thank you, Detective. I’ll do that.”

  The detective offers me a curt goodbye and I raise my gaze to see Nick standing in the doorway, resting against the doorframe. “Well?”

  “Apparently the prints they lifted were from a drug dealer.”

  Both Nick’s eyebrows shoot up but he remains silent.

  “They went to his address but he’s not there. I doubt they’ll find him.” I snort. “I don’t think they care to find him.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He takes a step forward, locks his gaze on mine. “I don’t like this, Sienna. It’s all a little strange. First you’re attacked and now this. And it just happens to be about drugs.”

  “What? Don’t tell me you think I’m involved with drugs too? Because that’s what the Detective practically accused me of.”

  “No, but there’s too many things pointing to trafficking. It’s something to do with Rob.”

  “Shit.” My legs tremble slightly and I lean against the counter top. “But they must know Rob is dead.”

  “Yeah most likely. Look, I don’t know what’s going on but I don’t like it. You’re going to have to be extra careful until they get the guy.”

  “If they get the guy.”

  His expression turns grim. “Let’s hope they do. Otherwise we might never figure out why they’re coming after you.”

  “Coming after me? Nick, you make it sound like I’m in the middle of some drug war or something.”

  “Babe,” he gives me a stark look, “you are in the middle of something.”

  ***

  I prop my hands on my hips and survey the living room. Aside from the fact a few vases and candles had to be thrown, it looks almost like it was before. But something’s missing. The place is too quiet. I try to ignore the idea that the missing thing is Nick.

  He’s staying the night—wouldn’t let me even argue on that point—but he’s gone back to base to pick up his uniform and some clean clothes. Tomorrow’s Monday and it’s back to work for him. I’ve still got another day off. I’m not sure I want it. The notion that there’s some guys out there gunning for me because of Rob’s behavior scares me, makes me feel antsy.

  Especially when I don’t even know what they want. Were they trying to scare me when they trashed the place? Nick suggested they weren’t looking for me, seeing as I was gone only a short time. They must have been watching, waiting until I left. I’m not sure if that’s better or worse. It appears they were searching for something. I only hope they found it and that’s it.

  Regardless, Nick has volunteered to stay for a few nights. Part of me is relieved. Now the enormity of it all is sinking in, I’m not certain I’ll feel comfortable on my own at night for a long time. But more time with Nick is a really dangerous thing. I can’t even look at him without remembering his mouth hot on my skin and what he looks like naked. You’d think one time together would get it out of my system
but if anything it’s worse. Like it’s fed my addiction and now I want more.

  And Nick clearly wants more. He’s pushing me deliberately with his flirty comments. I don’t remember him ever being like this before though he always was a flirt. But that was when Rob was alive and there was always this slight distance there that my marriage created. A sort of respectful boundary. Even if the chemistry had sizzled just behind that boundary. We’d always both ignored it.

  I stroll into the kitchen and open the fridge, pondering what to do for dinner. I used to enjoy cooking but Rob was not the best guy to cook for. He preferred a beer and some nachos, but I’ve been hoping to get back into it. I had all these ideas of digging out my old cookery books but I quickly discovered cooking for one is a bore. What’s the point in going to all that effort if you’re the only one who appreciates it?

  But Nick likes good cooking. I smile to myself. A way to a man’s heart… Shit, I don’t want his heart, what am I even thinking? As I study my bare fridge, I realize I’m going to have to pop to the convenience store. There’s one around the corner. A week of night shifts means I’ve hardly got any food. Italian is the way to go. Something hearty like lasagna and homemade garlic bread.

  After taking stock of what I’ve got in the cupboard, I grab my keys and handbag, and check the lock on my door on the way out. The locksmith has put in some fancy double locking thing so I’m hoping that means no more break-ins, though he told me rather dryly that if someone really wants to get in and doesn’t care about the noise, they can kick almost any door down. It’s only the law that prevents people running around and breaking into houses every day. His words weren’t exactly reassuring. It’s kind of worrying that the stability of society hangs on words written on paper somewhere and the fear we all might get caught.

  I suck in the late afternoon air and strangely feel a little like skipping. I’m looking forward to cooking for Nick. Maybe it’s the idea of some kind of normalcy in my weird life. Things have definitely been far from normal recently. It feels like I’m learning to walk again. On my own. And everything I understood about my previous life is being slowly eroded away. Rob wasn’t just an alcoholic or a foster kid or a guy with the kind of charisma that draws everyone to him. He was a drug dealer. God, I knew he was messed up, but I never realized he’d gotten that deep.