by Melissa Blue
“You never used to be this pushy.”
Her cousin grinned. “I know.”
She laughed. The test took some time and the reports were halfway done. She could use an extended lunch if it meant heels. And seeing Tristan. God, just the thought of him made her stomach flip-flop. Her brain bombarded her with common sense, probability factors and a slew of things not steeped in a single emotion. She wavered. She was just going to see him. Return the ring because she hadn’t known his address to give it to him; plus, it was polite to return it to him in person.
Yeah.
So, that was what she’d do. She’d return the ring while wearing heels, a silk dress and looking like something he should throw in bed and ravish. Not that she’d fall into bed with him.
She wouldn’t.
She calculated the probability and changed that to maybe.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Tristan lifted his hand to knock on the guest house’s door. The light yellow trim fit perfectly on the little house that had good bones for its age. He dropped his hand back down when the door opened.
He had every intention of starting off with an apology. He couldn’t change the man he used to be. His gut ached because he’d told her in a way that left no room to reply or react that didn’t involve disgust, shock, anger—pretty much everything but a thoughtful consideration. His confession made her believe he wanted her gone. He could see that now—not then, because he’d been too wrapped up in fear that she’d hate him. And that fear was what ensured it.
But that didn’t matter, because she answered the door in a silk dress and heels that made her feet look feminine and dainty. He’d seen enough photos in the albums at Joce’s place to know what she normally looked like. Buried, hidden in baggy clothes as though they could make her disappear. His mouth dried and his heart thudded.
“Keri.” All the other words he had disappeared with the sight of her again, finally.
She reached up to her hair. “I didn’t—What are you doing back here?”
He wanted to drag her to him just so he could take in the warmth of her body and her scent. “Wasn’t sure if you knew I’d be here and rather—I just wanted to give you a heads-up I’d be here. If you wanted me to go, I’d go.”
She blinked. “Oh.” She shook her head. “Give me a moment.” She motioned for him to wait and disappeared into the house.
When she came back to the door, she handed him the ring. Silence thickened between them. He chuckled at himself and her. “I came so we wouldn’t have an awkward moment, somewhat like this, in front of Joce and Ian.”
She laughed. “Yeah. Ian would get frustrated and Joce would just kick you in the balls.” She glanced down. “Thank you.”
She lifted her hand and dropped it back to her side. She met his gaze, her tongue dragged over her top lip.
His gut tightened. “Do you?”
Her lids lowered. “Do I what?”
“Want me to leave?”
Heat simmered in her gaze. “At the moment I want what I shouldn’t.”
He stepped forward. “What’s that, Keri?”
Her breath shuddered out and her breasts moved with the motion. “You look like you want to bite me.”
“I do.” He took another step until his fingers could brush the skin revealed by the low-cut dress. “Shouldn’t is such a confining word.” He touched her and everything in him felt fluid, right.
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t back away. “You know what? I’ve been thinking.”
“Aye?”
She inhaled. “And I came to the conclusion that sometimes my brain gets in the way of action.”
He didn’t want to be hopeful, but it showed through his voice anyway. “What action?”
She fisted her hand in his shirt and dragged him closer. Her mouth slammed into his and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him. He had enough thought to kick the door closed before pulling her to the floor. Hardwood. He tightened his hold and rolled so she wouldn’t have to take the brunt of his weight and the harsh flooring.
She nipped his lip and tugged away. “My brain is telling me we should talk.”
“We will.” He grabbed a handful of her hair with one hand and kissed her again, harder. With his other hand, he still held the ring. Maybe they didn’t need words or thoughts. They’d share plenty soon enough, but actions meant more to him. They never lied, they never conned. She needed reassurance, no doubt, that he was here and would be as long as she’d have him. She wouldn’t notice what he’d done, but he’d know.
Once he was done, he tangled his fingers with hers and held her hand. She moaned, her body giving and melting into him.
There.
Right there.
He felt her give him her everything.
*****
What are you doing?
Kissing the man I’ve fallen for.
Stop.
Can’t.
And really, she couldn’t, but her brain kept right on screaming at her. So much so, she broke the kiss, trying to catch her breath. She’d missed the taste of him, the feel of him, just the way his blue-gray eyes hazed over whenever he looked at her.
It didn’t make sense to miss him the way she did, but every night she’d awakened the past month, she’d crave for his arms to be wrapped around her waist. Or one hand cupping her ass, claiming her as his even in his sleep.
They were all primitive little beasts on the inside. Territorial. Needing a tribe, a home. She claimed him with her mouth again because her stomach felt weightless. She sprawled over him possessively, not caring about the words they should have said first. She should have. She should lift and tell him they needed to work through a lot, but he was there and she’d missed him.
Her brain roared. She pulled back and it hurt physically to break that intimate contact. “Why? Why did you write me those letters?”
“I missed you. I couldn’t think of a way that could possibly earn back your trust, but I wanted to talk to you. Any way I could.”
He could fake sincerity. He could tell her exactly what she needed to hear, but why would he? What did he get from her? “Why?”
He frowned, running a hand over his hair. “We were pretending to be a couple and I wanted it to be real. I wanted to be the kind of man you could love. I put your needs before mine and I barely knew you, but it mattered that I did. I’ve always regretted my past, but for the first time I wished to be a better man. You made me feel like I could be.”
She pressed her face against his chest to beat back the tears. “But why me?” she mumbled into his shirt.
“You’re smart, funny, sexy as fuck. Any man with half a working brain should look at you and see perfection.”
She lifted and narrowed her gaze on him. He was smiling but it lit his eyes in a way that made her want to kiss him again. “You’re exaggerating.”
“Could be the dopamine my brain’s swimming in, but I doubt it.”
“Big words. I shouldn’t believe you.”
“You’re right to be hesitant. I am still a con man. Will always be. I’ve gone honest, but that I can never change. If you want me to leave, I’ll go. I’ll tell you goodbye and never bother you.”
She closed her eyes and kissed him again, but her mind calculated the probabilities of them sticking it out. Her brain doubted and got in the way of what her heart felt. But logic played out all the scenarios of a man who could have anything and then choosing her to fool. She wasn’t rich. She had nothing but herself to give him.
Could that be all he wanted? Was she his whisper?
He hadn’t lied to her. He may have been scared to reveal his heart, but he hadn’t lied. And they were primitive little beasts. He wouldn’t be here unless he wanted her. He wanted her to be his tribe. What hoops would she force him to jump through to prove it to her? When would she accept that not every man was paying her lip service?
He cupped her cheeks with both his hands. “Forgive me if you can. I won’t push. I�
�ll go.”
Logic. She closed her eyes and used it. From the moment they met she’d pretended to be a different woman. Provocative, sexy and everything she usually wasn’t. And what had he done? He’d made sure she could be. He’d soothed her, gave her exactly what she asked for; he protected her, treated her in a way that left no doubt her needs were the most important. He’d known what she needed. Everything in her wanted to do the same for him.
Maybe it took a con man to see her, really see her. How could she hold it against him now? She’d tried normal men. Maybe she could trust the one man who could see through her pretense, who could tell her inane and odd facts about sex when her brain refused to shut down, who’d touch her and make her heart race. She didn’t need normal—she needed a former con man who could know her deepest desires and not let her feel an ounce of shame for them.
“I forgive you.” She pressed her lips to his. “Now what?”
He closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them, his gaze shone bright. “You’re wearing my answer.”
It wasn’t until he said those words that she felt the weight of the ring on her finger. “Oh.” He was capable of taking her breath away. “Oh,” she said again, unable to think of anything else to say.
He grinned. “Sounds like we won’t make it to the housewarming.”
“I didn’t really want to go anyway. I’m not a people person.”
He feathered a kiss over her cheekbone. “I am a people person, but I didn’t want to go either. I showed up because you were going to be there.”
“Yeah?”
“Aye.”
She kissed him again, longer, deeper, until all she could think of was him. This man was hers and she wanted nothing more than to be his. Her heart and head agreed, finally.
BIO
Melissa Blue’s writing career started on a typewriter one month after her son was born. This would have been an idyllic situation for a writer if it had been 1985, not 2004. Eventually she upgraded to a computer. She’s still typing away on the same computer, making imaginary people fall in love.
Where to find me online:
My Blog
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Where you can sign up for my newsletter to get updates on new releases:
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Other Titles by Melissa Blue
Under His Kilt, Under The Kilt
Jocelyn Pearson is determined to spend her last month as a twenty-something doing everything she’s too busy or scared to try. Her imagination runs wild and then fixates on Ian Baird. He’ll be working at the Langston Museum for a short stint as a consulting curator. He’s Scottish. He believes sex is fun to be had. He’s the perfect choice for a fling. She only has to get him break his rule about sleeping with co-workers. Seducing a man was on her bucket list…
Ian is no one’s fool and knows exactly what Jocelyn wants—him. If she didn’t work for the Langston Museum, he’d be more than happy to oblige any and every fantasy she desired, but she’s the curator. She’s sweet, inexperienced and well liked by everyone including the museum owner and director. Ian can’t risk losing such an important contact for his consulting business. Not even when everything within in him craves a taste of her.
When Jocelyn sets her sights on him, there’s no way Ian can deny her. They agree their affair will end in thirty days. No emotions, no entanglements, just sex. The closer the end date looms, they start to question if it’s possible to walk away. They’ll either have to come to terms of what they’ve become or stick to their original agreement.
Everything He Dreamed, Palmer Island Series
Phoenix Taylor takes one look at Tony Creed and knows she’s in trouble. Everything inside her screams run. If she didn’t need the finishing bonus from Everything You Need, she’d listen to her gut. The company has hired her as project manager to build cabins on Palmer Island and work with Creed Construction. Tony’s the general contractor and there’s no way to avoid him. Just when she has a plan to move on and close the door on a very dark chapter in her life…there he is. Falling for the contractor with the wicked smile and infectious charm doesn’t fit into her plan. She’s not ready for that captivating emerald gaze or the trouble Tony can surely cause her heart.
Tony Creed has forced his father to draw up a contract that explicitly states this will be his very last job before going on a much needed vacation from the family business. The pressure’s getting to him, and he feels himself turning into his father, a hard and heartless man. He just needs a break, period. He doesn’t have the time or energy to give this simmering attraction between him and the new project manager. All he wants to do is focus on building the cabins for the next six months and be a free man. After all, he’s not looking for anything, but her vivacious personality has his mind wandering back to her much more than he wants to admit.
They just have to keep things light, which is hard at first, and then just impossible when something just a little supernatural intervenes on their well-laid plans.
Weekend Lover, Down With Cupid Shorts series
The weekend that started it all…
Sebastian Clark’s intentions are simply to buy Nicole, a beautiful stranger, a drink, make her laugh and disappear before dawn. As a publicist for Snapshot, his days are long and his moral code is to always keep things light. Until he touches her and lust fades any lasting hold on common sense. His questionable motives pave a road to unbelievable pleasure.
Nicole Harrison is on the fast track for a promotion at Limelight, a PR boutique. She’s given up dating, especially handsome men. They tend to suck up time and sometimes common sense. Sebastian has the ability to do both. One single night won’t break her own rules and Nicole gives in to temptation.
The boundaries are clear—no last names, no shared details. She has only to walk away to end the affair. One night turns into three, and her naughty little weekend becomes more than just sex.
One night of consenting pleasure sets Sebastian Clark and Nicole Harrison on a course that could ultimately destroy them both, or bring them a love for all time…
Down With Cupid, Down With Cupid Shorts series
Two months after a weekend of forbidden pleasure should have been more than enough time for Nicole Harrison to forget Sebastian’s charming smiles and wicked kisses. During those nights together, Nicole temporarily left behind her driven lifestyle as a publicist and took what she wanted, experiencing freedom and the wild abandon of their reckless agreement. And that’s the hardest part to erase from her memory.
Unfortunately, one detail was tantamount—Sebastian Clark is a publicist and now he’s gunning for her job.
Sebastian never allows himself to get tangled in knots by a woman, and, yet, he can’t stop dreaming about Nicole’s silky thighs and ripe lips, how she’d shuddered under his touch. He doesn’t need a woman who is more of a shark than he when it comes to PR, except he’s seen every, single soft inch of her. Now they’ll have to work side by side and somehow ignore what feels like unfinished business.
Will the weekend they spent together turn out to be more than they could have ever imagined, or will past hurts and career ambitions stand in their way? Only Cupid knows…
Excerpt from Under His Kilt
CHAPTER ONE
“Not one kilt anywhere?” Flabbergasted by this notion, Jocelyn Pearson stared at Ian Baird. Her sort of boss stood across the museum’s expansive storage basement. She tried to wrap her mind around the busted myth and couldn’t.
“When I think of Scotland,” she continued, “I imagine men wear kilts like men in America wear jeans. Casual. No muss. No fuss.”
Her ramble teased a smile out of Ian and put another crack in his impenetrable façade. She held her breath for a three count and let it out slowly to contain the primitive surge of attraction. A month and still that simple facial tick made her want to launch herself at him.
Big wooden crates filled the dark room below the small museum. The crates separated them, but didn’t seem like much o
f an obstacle when all she wanted was to close the distance.
“I’m not saying you can’t find one.” The sensuous curve of his lips could have tempted a saint. “It’s just not everyday wear. Before you ask, we also wear boxers when we do.”
His words implied he’d worn a kilt.
Oh, God.
Ian in a kilt…drool. Her skin tightened and flushed beneath her soft cotton dress shirt. She’d never seen him out of his uniform of a slate gray slacks, dark suit jacket, white dress shirt and black tie. The expensive silk clung to thick, sculpted muscles, but she couldn’t help but picture him in a Cameron Clan plaid. Absolutely commando—no matter what he said—just waiting for the right breeze to lift up the material and expose just a bit more of him.
She balled her hands. Her fingertips itched to trace the seam of his mouth. “Next you’re going to tell me there’s no Santa or Easter Bunny.”
His blue-gray irises darkened and his nostrils flared. “Aye. Your parents lied. Those fuckers don’t exist.” He spoke low, husky with just a hint of a Scottish burr.
Her high heels rasped over the concrete floor as she shifted another step from him. “Good, because I planned to be naughty this year.”
Tension rippled through his frame. No doubt with the coil of muscles that made up his sleek physique he could have vaulted over the row of crates if he wanted to. “You? Naughty? Aye, right.”
She liked that they’d built up a rapport, and because they had, Jocelyn grinned at his perplexed expression from her announcement. “Aye. Naughty. Me.”
He grunted out a soft tut. “Not like ’oy.’ You’re not hurting. Just say ’I’ like I went to the shop.”
She tried again. Her effort to infuse a false burr coaxed out his low rumble of laughter. “Good, Lass.”