Chapter Two
Chris Davenport took a long swallow of his scalding black coffee and let out a sigh.
Beer would have been better after this shitty day. It was too early for beer, though.
Coffee had to do.
Had to get through his next meeting in an hour--
The chair across from him slid against the floor, and the woman he’d noticed earlier sat down, her purse in her lap. Her and her friends had been staring when he came in. He’d met their stares, thinking his pissed off expression would be enough to deter them.
Evidently not.
He gritted his teeth. This was not what he needed.
The gal’s hands shook as she sat down.
He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
She clenched her fingers and took a deep breath. “Listen, uh...” She shook her head, closed her eyes, and opened them again. This time a big, and very fake, smile was painted over her features. But it didn’t distract from her very wide eyes, like a deer in headlights.
“Yeah, um, my friends and I...”
This won’t end well, Chris thought.
She bit her lip. “Well, shit.”
“Can I help you?”
She leaned forward, elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hand. “Here’s the thing. I’m sure you get hit on a lot, so I’ll make it really easy.”
“Not really.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Don’t get hit on a lot.” True enough. Though most of the time, it was because he didn’t give women the chance. He usually walked away before any attention went anywhere.
He had enough on his plate besides women troubles.
Though why he was still sitting here, he wasn’t exactly sure. Her little table hadn’t been the only one with eyes on him.
Felt like living in a damn fishbowl sometimes.
He’d been blessed with those Hollywood good looks all his life, and while he could use it to his advantage, most of the time he downplayed them with thick, dorky glasses. Made it easier to get stuff done.
“Seriously?” She stared at him. He got a good look at her hazel eyes as she brushed a loose brown strand of hair out of her face.
She was quite pretty, when she didn’t look so scared.
“Yep.”
She shook her head. “Dude, women need new glasses or something, because you’re hot as hell.”
This did make him crack a smile. Whether it was what she said, or how she said it, he wasn’t sure, but he found it extremely amusing.
“See, and OMG, that grin? Women should be falling all over you.”
“Do you have a point, or are you feeding my ego for the fun of it?”
“For the fun of it.”
He smirked.
“No, I’m kidding.”
“You’re not feeding my ego?”
“It wasn’t my intent, but if it floats your boat.” She brushed that same errant strand of hair out of her face again, the one that just did not seem to want to stay put. “Though, look, I sort of backed myself into a corner and said I could hook up with you. Now they’re expecting me to--”
“Hook up with me?”
She nodded.
“Your friends are kind of cruel. I mean, you don’t know me. What if I’m married? Or gay? You could be screwed.” He sipped his coffee. “And not in a good way.”
“You’re right. However, I don’t think you’re married. You obviously work outside--your skin has color, your hair looks sun-bleached, not salon-bleached, and there’s no tan line for a ring.”
“Maybe I don’t wear my ring when I work.”
“But you’d still wear it sometimes. There’d be some mark on your finger.”
Interesting observations.
“What else?”
“You’re some kind of business professional; men who do only hard labor don’t know how to shine up a pair of shoes like that.” She reached across the table and touched his chin, turning his head just a bit. “You keep your hair cut short, but you don’t have one of those high-fashion, high-maintenance haircuts.”
He pulled away. “And that tells you what?”
“That you’re probably not gay. Even the most conservative gay men tend to stay on top of the latest trends. Besides, if you were gay, you would have told me or run me off five minutes ago.”
“Anything else?”
“Well, I don’t think you wear contacts either. There’s a dent on the side of your head from the glasses. And those glasses look like they’ve been beaten to death. And dirty.” She pulled them off his face.
He stared at her. “What are you doing?”
“Seriously, can’t you wipe the lenses off?” She picked up the corner of the long top she wore and started wiping them.
“Give me my glasses back.”
“Here.”
He put them back on, and sure enough, he could see better.
And it pissed him off. “I don’t need a mother.”
“Wasn’t trying to be. You wanted to know why I didn’t think you were married or gay.”
“Where did you come up with all that shit? Think you’re a detective or something?” He wasn’t sure what bugged him more--that she saw all of it, or that she was on par with almost every bit.
“I left my magnifying glass at home.”
Now it was his turn to glare at her. “Seriously?”
“No,” she laughed. “It’s part of my job. I work for Future Investments.”
“Doing what? Security?” Though she didn’t look strong enough to arm wrestle, much less throw down a perpetrator.
She smiled. “Determining the best investments for people.”
He snorted. “And you, what, analyze everyone?
“Pretty much. Helps to know what kind of money I’m getting involved in.”
“Money is a big business.”
“You have no idea.”
Actually, he did. In ways he never thought possible, at least not a year ago. Now, however, it seemed all he did was worry about money.
“So what’s your name?” she asked.
“Chris.”
“I’m Harper.” She held out her hand for him to shake.
“Pleasure,” he said as he shook her hand. Regardless of the mood he’d been in when he walked in the door, he actually meant it now.
She was a pleasure to talk to.
And maybe…
He brushed off the thought. If anything, he’d get her business card, maybe give her a call. She might be a good contact in the middle of this business mess he was in.
She was quiet for a moment before she spoke.
“So, I have to ask you a favor, Chris.”
“What’s that?”
“My situation…”
“The one where your friends don’t think you can hook up with me?”
“That would be the one.” She leaned forward again, elbows on the table, and this time when she rested her chin on her hand, there was a twinkle in her eye. “I have an idea.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“I’m sure you don’t give a crap about me and my pride, so I’m asking--and I’d be begging if they weren’t watching--that you take me out to your car, drive around the block, and drop me off. I’ll be out of your hair, and I’m sure it’ll be enough that they’ll leave me alone.”
“How’d they damage your pride?”
She waved her hands in the air. “They were goading me--said you were out of my league.”
He smirked. “Doubtful.” The more he spoke to her, the more he thought she was actually right in his league. He reached across the table and took her hand. Her palms were moist. She was nervous.
Interesting.
“So you just need me to take you out of here? They won’t want to see my underwear or anything?” His fingers laced with hers and he caressed the back of her hand with his thumb.
She glanced at their joined hands, then back at his face. “I’ll just tell them you go commando.”
�
�You’re kind of feisty.”
“I’m also kind of a pain in the ass.”
“Is that a warning?”
“No, just my PSA for the day.”
He picked up his coffee with the other hand, and downed the rest of the coffee. “Are you ready?”
She blinked. “You’re going to do this?”
“I gotta be somewhere anyway.” He didn’t let go of her hand as she stood, and for good measure, he put his arm around her as they walked out. Surprisingly, she fit just right. Not too tall, not too short. Her curves, covered by her long blouse, felt nice as well.
Very Marilyn Monroe-like. He preferred women with curves.
She trembled as they exited the building. Her bravado from before must be wavering. Of course, she’d been trembling when she first sat down too.
He wondered if she was newly divorced.
He walked her to the side of his silver, full-sized Ford truck. He opened the door and helped her into the seat.
“This thing is huge,” she said as he closed the door.
He came around and got in the driver’s side.
She was leaning toward the window, looking down. “Are we going to eat the other cars?”
“Only the ones that get in our way.” He leaned toward her. “Hey.”
She turned. “Yeah?”
He put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her toward him. Their lips crashed together and heat zinged him in all the right ways.
Holy shit.
Who was this gal?
Chapter Three
Oh my god! Oh my god!
He’s kissing me!
And it’s hot as hell!
Chris pulled away, and his eyes were all heavy and sexy and I just wanted to rip those glasses off him and--
“You think that’ll help?” he asked.
Talk about dumping a cold shower on me. “Yeah. That should convince them.” I pulled away, slowly, because I’m sure it would look more convincing to my friends inside. That’s what I was telling myself, anyway. It didn’t have anything to do with how groggy that kiss made me feel.
Nope.
Not at all.
He eased back too, and buckled his seatbelt as the massive truck roared to life.
As he backed up, I glanced in the window of the coffee shop. Jennifer and Lindsay were fanning themselves.
“Should I drive you home?” He asked as he pulled the truck--in super slow motion, or so it seemed--out of the parking lot.
I shook my head. “I’m over on Rungar and Fifth.” It wasn’t too far, only a couple of city blocks away. I could easily walk it.
“I can take you.”
“You don’t have to,” I said. “Just drop me over on Rungar, and I’ll walk.”
He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t want me to know where you live?”
“Maybe.”
He smirked. I did tell him which side of the intersection to drop me on, which seemed a decent compromise.
“Did you walk to the coffee shop?” he finally asked after we’d driven a few minutes.
“No, Jennifer picked me up since I was on her way.” I patted the dashboard, and noticed that there wasn’t any dust on it. Which made me glance around. There didn’t seem to be anything out of place in the truck at all.
“Lord, you’re one of those guys, aren’t you?”
“What guys?”
“The ones with the immaculately cleaned vehicle.” I tried to twist around and see the bed of the truck, but there was a cover over it. “Oh wait, there’s your junk.”
He snorted. “Yes, I have tools in the back. Part of my job.”
“What do you do?”
“I mow lawns.”
I nodded. The hair and tan now made sense. “Must be making pretty good money with this truck…” Because it was not one of those little, cheap, drive-it-till-it-collapses trucks. This was a big, fancy, expensive one. There were jacks for phones to charge in the dash.
“This is my business vehicle.”
I raised my eyebrow. “No stickers on the doors.”
“I won’t mess up the paint.”
“Ahh. That confirms it. You are one of those guys.”
He shook his head. “And you are going to be a pain in my ass.”
I pointed at the side street he’d agreed to drop me on. “For like two more minutes. The turn’s right there.”
He turned down the residential road and pulled over as soon as we cleared the intersection. He threw the truck in park, and it rumbled underneath my butt as it idled.
“Here you go.”
“Thanks.” I undid my seatbelt and put my hand on the door. I adjusted my purse strap before I got out.
“What, that’s it?” he asked. I heard the clunk of his seatbelt unfastening.
I raised my eyebrow. “What else do you want?”
“This.”
He grabbed me and yanked me across the cab and into his arms. Our mouths met in a tangled mesh of lips. I struggled for a second--but more out of shock than anything else. It’s not like I didn’t want to kiss him. I really wanted to kiss him again. And again.
But I didn’t expect it.
He moaned. Or growled. Or something manly as his lips moved to my throat. Then I started moaning as he kissed my neck in that spot--the one that made all my nerve endings stand up and take notice.
Holy hell!
“Chris…”
He paused. “Say it again.”
“Uh, what?” I pulled away from him.
He met my gaze, his blue eyes looking even deeper than before, and I thought I could lose myself in their cerulean luster.
Wait.
Cerulean luster?
Since when did I wax poetic?
Chris blinked, and he let out a breath. “Nothing,” he said as he let go of me. “This is just…”
I pulled away. “What?”
He shook his head. “Listen, here’s your place. Nice meeting you. Later.”
I nodded.
Okay, somewhere in here, I’d done something wrong. Probably when my mind was waxing poetic about his eyes.
I wasn’t sure what it was, but I seriously wanted to know, because snap, this dude could kiss.
“Well, you’re an amazing kisser,” I said. “And I appreciate your help.” I reached into the outer pocket of my purse. “Here’s my card. If I can do anything for you…” I set it on the dashboard as I put my hand on the door handle.
He didn’t touch it. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Well, shit.
That didn’t go well.
Of course, what could I expect? I seemed to have left all my mojo back in college. I opened the door to climb out. “I think I can make it without a parachute, right?”
Not a word from him.
“Well, alrighty then,” I muttered as I scooted out and shut the door. I got on the sidewalk, and headed for my house. I wasn’t too far from home, only a handful of houses.
I wanted to turn and look back.
I really did.
But I didn’t have to.
He was watching me, I could feel it.
Chapter Four
Friday
Chris took off his glasses and rubbed his temples.
Today was not a good day.
So far, no good news had landed in his lap like he’d expected. After all, wasn’t what he put out there supposed to come back to him? He’d worked his ass off building up Velvet Touch Landscaping, and to have it all start crumbling down now? When things had finally been moving forward?
He glanced at a photo on his wall of his partner and family.
Guilt hit him. Chris’s partner hadn’t wanted to do this to him. No one wanted to deal with cancer.
“Son of a bitch,” he threw his empty water bottle across the room.
What was he going to do?
His cell phone rang. Chris didn’t look when he picked it up. Probably should have.
“Hey, brother dear,” came his sister
Brenda’s chipper voice. “How’s it going?”
“It’s going.” He ran his hand over his face. “What do you want?”
“Sheesh, you’re all snippy. Maybe I shouldn’t remind you about the barbecue tomorrow.”
Shit. He’d forgotten. Damn. “I remember.” Now.
“And FYI, Aunt Gladys will be there.”
His head started to pound. “So I should drink heavily?”
“Think that’ll stop her twenty-questions about why you’re single and childless?”
Chris’s gaze ran over Harper’s business card on the desk. “I have a plan.”
“Good. Because I’m not rescuing you from Aunt Gladys again.”
He said his goodbyes to his sister and picked up Harper’s card. It had been over a week since he’d met her. He hadn’t bothered calling, but only because he’d been busy with all the financial stuff.
Stuff that he couldn’t wrap his head around.
The logo of her employer, Future Investments, shimmered in the light, and he wondered if she would still be at work. It was after five.
Stop it. Just call.
She picked up on the third ring. “This is Harper.”
“It’s Chris Davenport.”
“Hello, Mister Davenport. What can I do for you?”
“From the coffee shop?”
“Oh! Oh yes. Chris. I’m sorry, I didn’t expect to hear from you.”
“Why not?”
“Because… well. Look, it doesn’t matter. What do you need?”
“A date.” He heard coughing come through the line. “Harper?”
“Sorry, water went…” she coughed again. “Water went down wrong.”
“Is this a bad time?”
“No, it’s fine. Um, you ah, said you needed a date? Did I hear that right?”
“Yeah. To a barbecue tomorrow afternoon. Are you available?”
“Actually, I am. What time?”
“I’ll pick you up around one.”
“Do I need to bring something?”
Chris had no idea. He’d never brought anything more to a barbecue than a six pack of beer. But in the back of his mind, he remembered his ex-wife making salad and bringing it. “Can I let you know?
“Sure.”
He nodded. “Good. It’s an informal family barbecue. See you tomorrow.”
He swore he heard her speaking as he hung up the phone, but it disconnected before he could make out what she said.
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