“I told Ma we needed to check about dinner with you first.” Walker took a turn, his line of sight following her for a moment.
“Well, sure. Of course.” She wouldn’t undo Ma’s invitation, but she wasn’t sure how she felt about all of this, either. He was bulldozing his way into her life. Heidi was being human, but only because of Walker. Somehow it didn’t seem fair.
How did Walker reach her daughter when Cleo herself was such a miserable failure?
“I called your mechanic to find out about the car,” he said when they’d stopped at a light.
“Oh?” She recognized the edge in her voice. So Jimmy had talked to Walker but hadn’t called her back?
“It was the solenoid. He didn’t have one in stock, so he ordered one, but it’ll be a couple of weeks. I’ve been searching the Internet to see if we can get one here sooner.”
We? She glanced back at Heidi, who watched the exchange with rapt attention.
Traffic flowed. She didn’t want to sound ungrateful or bitchy. Yet she was taken aback. It was too fast, too much. But with Heidi in the car, she really had to think hard before she said anything. “Uh, thanks for doing all that checking.”
Then she winced, remembering the paramount issue. “Did he happen to say how 140
The Wrong Kind of Man
much he thought the whole job would cost?”
“Well, you practically have to take the engine out to get to the solenoid.” He glanced at her as he took the turn onto her street. “Five hundred. And another hundred for the part. But I think I can get it down to more like fifty if I find it on the Internet.”
Her stomach sank. “I . . . Well . . . thank you for looking for the part.”
Okay, step back a minute. Don’t panic. She had the fifty bucks to pay Walker for the part, and Jimmy would let her pay on installment. Things could be a lot worse. But how was she supposed to get up to the restaurant if it took two weeks to get the part? She’d have to rent a car. Another expense. Walker pulled up in front of the house. “Not a problem.”
He was invading her life, taking over. She wanted to resent it. She could take care of herself and Heidi and her mom. She might be having a few money problems, but she wasn’t a complete failure.
Yet she felt herself blowing in the wind because it felt so damn good to have a little help. Jimmy, while he’d been great to her, didn’t have time to search out a cheaper price. If Walker and his contractor friend could fix the ceiling? She didn’t want to even think about how much it would cost to find her own contractor, and in the end, how would she know she wasn’t being ripped off?
Oh man, she could get used to this. Scary thought. The men she picked had a tendency to walk out just when she started depending on them.
IT WAS EVEN SCARIER HOW WALKER STEPPED RIGHT INTO HER little family as if he belonged. He’d driven Cleo back and forth to work like a regular soccer mom. Ma invited him for dinner four nights in a row, and tonight, Friday, she’d cooked a feast.
Ma had seated him at the head of the table as if he were the man of the house. “Ma, this is the best roast beef and Yorkshire pudding I’ve ever had,”
Walker enthused.
It wasn’t. Ma had used a lower grade of meat because they couldn’t afford the good stuff. The homemade gravy and Yorkshire pudding, however, went a long way to improving it. Ma glowed beneath the praise. Walker drove a nice car, dressed well, had good manners, teased her, complimented her cooking, and that was enough for Ma to grant acceptance.
“Gran makes the best Yorkshire pudding.” Heidi beamed, getting her two 141
The Wrong Kind of Man
cents in as if afraid she’d been forgotten.
Her mother and daughter had been taken over by aliens. That had to be the explanation. Or Walker was a magician with hypnotic powers. Moms, daughters, and animals adored him. In less than a full workweek, Walker had captivated her family, tracked down her solenoid, made measurements, written lists, and gotten deals on the materials for the bathroom repair which he and his friend Barry would start tomorrow morning. Walker also made delicious sex with her every night in out-of-the-way nooks on the way home from the restaurant. She wanted to resent how easily Ma and Heidi accepted him, how inadequate she felt because it seemed as if she were a total screwup, yet Cleo experienced the same mesmerizing tug herself. Between the hot sex, the sense of being important, cared for, and special, she was hook, line, and sinker for the guy. It was all too good to be true, but oh man, she wanted more of him. He winked at her across the dinner table. “Pass the salt, please, honey?”
Honey? “Sure, sweetheart.” She gave him both the salt and the pepper. Too good to be true? She didn’t even know if he was for real. Cleo was waiting for it all to bite her in the ass. She knew it was coming, because her life was not this easy and simple. The worst thing, though: when Walker left, what would that do to Heidi?
WALKER WAS PUSHING TOO HARD, TOO FAST, AND HE KNEW IT. CLEO had been pensive all the way to the restaurant. He’d half expected her to say she’d find another way home, but she’d pecked his cheek and climbed from the car almost in a daze, nodding her head when he said he’d be back for her at ten. He was a sucker for a damsel in distress, and though Cleo would rather die than admit it, she was in distress. Walker had a habit of assessing a situation, determining what was needed, and moving forward to solve the problem. Things were black and white: Her car needed fixing; he made sure it was repaired ASAP. Ma groused about the ceiling; he offered a solution, especially since Barry owed him a favor. Walker had warned him to liquidate his stock portfolio before the market meltdown. The bathroom job would cost barely more than the materials. As for Heidi, well, she was as pretty and fragile as a porcelain doll and starved for a father figure.
He felt at home in the worn-out kitchen, as if he were part of the small family. Walker had never belonged to anyone or anything, but he’d found he 142
The Wrong Kind of Man
liked the feeling.
He was overstepping bounds with Cleo big-time. If he wasn’t careful, it would blow up in his face as Isabel had warned. Yet, like a smitten puppy with his tongue hanging out and his tail wagging, he hit the restaurant at exactly five to ten.
Igor the maitre d’ wagged a finger toward the back. “She’s in the locker room, down the hall, door on the right. I’m pretty sure she’s alone in there, but knock.”
A locker room for employees. He’d known Bella’s was posh, but wow. He tapped on the door. A moment later, Cleo stuck her head out. “Oh, it’s you. Come on in. I’m the only female working tonight. Almost ready.”
The place was compact, two rows of lockers one above the other, a wooden bench, a makeup mirror and vanity with sink, a door beside it that was probably the lavatory. Sweet setup.
Her purse open on the bench and a small cosmetics bag on the vanity, Cleo repaired her lipstick in the mirror. She rolled her lips to smooth it in place, then puckered. After applying a slash of blush to her cheeks, she pulled her hair loose of its bun and fluffed it.
He felt the irresistible urge to bite the tender skin of her neck just above her collar. To mark her. The slow, steady pump of his heart beat against his chest wall. His blood shushed through his veins. His cock stirred to life. He wanted her now, couldn’t wait for one of their little secluded spots on the way home. His body clamored for her.
WALKER WATCHED HER IN THE MIRROR, EVERY MOVE SHE MADE. Cleo’s skin heated.
She’d gone over and over it in her mind. Between orders, on her break, as she waited at the bar for a tray of drinks.
Could it be so bad to let him help her? Heidi seemed better. After what happened with Phil, Cleo had been terrified of Heidi’s resentment, but maybe she’d worried for nothing. After all, her daughter couldn’t get that attached in just a matter of weeks. Maybe Cleo was due for some good luck, even if it only got her past fixing the car and the bathroom. She was so used to worrying about the future that she forgot about being grateful for today. It was so good
to see Heidi smiling instead of grousing. All because of Walker. 143
The Wrong Kind of Man
“I’m not sure how I’ll pay you back for all your help.”
He was on her in a moment, his muscled body molded to her backside, his face next to hers in the mirror. The move was so fast it made her breathless. That was Walker, driving her a hundred miles an hour, the scenery flashing by so quickly she couldn’t stop to think, only react. She was reacting, all right, her skin on fire, her nipples taut, her pussy wet for him.
“Pay me in sexual favors.” His voice was husky, deeper than normal. His heart beat against her shoulder blade, cock throbbing along her spine.
“Sexual favors, yeah,” she whispered. Later, when he’d slowed down enough for her to think, she might regret it, but now it seemed like a hell of an idea. He slid his arms around her waist, bending to her neck, nipping her throat.
“You’re salty,” he murmured against her skin. “I like it.” He licked her clean in that one spot.
She felt it all the way to her toes as if it were an erogenous zone.
“So. You’re the only woman working tonight?” He raised his eyes to catch hers in the mirror.
“Yeah.”
He popped two buttons on her blouse, opening her cleavage, and delved inside. Her nipples were already beaded, and Walker pinched. “Anyone going to check on you in here?”
Her knees weakened. She shook her head, her hair brushing his cheek. He went for the button on her slacks, tugged the zipper down, all done slowly, gently. She could think now if she wanted to, stop him. Cleo didn’t. The risk was low, but she wouldn’t have cared if it were greater.
“Do me, Walker,” she whispered as if it were more than a mere sex act. “Do me really good.”
“Oh baby, you need to ask for more than that.” He slipped into her panties, nudging her legs apart from behind with his knee and sliding into her cleft. Her body sizzled at the touch.
“You’re wet. You been thinking about this all night?”
She nodded.
“Say it,” he seduced, his gaze on her in the mirror as he circled her clit.
“Yes, Walker, I thought about this all night.” Between all the doubts and fears, shoulds and shouldn’ts, there’d been this, his touch, his kiss, his cock. She was a slut; this would always be what she came back for. 144
The Wrong Kind of Man
10
“I LOVE SEX,” CLEO WHISPERED FOR HIM, AND HIS BLOOD RUSHED past his eardrums.
Her body was slick, sweetly fragrant, hot to the touch. Walker would make her come first before he gave in to his own need. He burrowed deep, filling her with two fingers, then pulling out to circle her clit. Her ass twitched and shimmied against him, caressing his cock. Eyes closed, she bit her lip, moaned, and he loved watching her pleasure in the mirror. He enjoyed taking a woman this way, but taking Cleo was unique for the emotions that simmered in him. Her skin flushed pink against her white work blouse; her nipples pearled beneath the material. She parted her lips to draw in air as if she couldn’t get enough and rocked against his fingers, creating her own rhythm and taking him with it.
“Oh man.” Planting her hands flat on the vanity, she pumped her hips as if his cock was buried deep inside her, then her body stiffened, her face tensed. She scrunched her eyebrows together and squeezed her lids tight as she trembled and quaked, but didn’t cry out. The sight was magnificent, the play of ecstasy across her features shooting a thrill through him. Yet it seemed that one small part of her mind knew where she was and held back.
She allowed herself only one brief gasp. “Oh God, Walker.”
He didn’t let her come down off the high, pushing her slacks and panties over her hips. He shucked his jeans to his thighs, sheathed his cock with a condom, and leaned over her. Pressing her breasts to the counter, he drove deep, forcing a moan from her.
Holy hell. Nothing had ever felt quite this extraordinary nor touched him in quite this way. As if his cock had become a part of her.
“Please,” she said on a sigh, opening her eyes to impale him in the blue ocean depths. “I need it, Walker.”
He tangled his fingers with hers. Leaning his elbows on the vanity, his forearms snug against hers, Walker fucked her hard, his body pounding hard into hers, her pussy squeezing him rhythmically. The position had never been more perfect, allowing him the sight of her face, highlighting her concentration as he 145
The Wrong Kind of Man
transported her out of herself, her scent rising to intoxicate him, her neck bared for his predatorial bite, a claiming. As he sucked her flesh into his mouth, she moaned, pushed back, cried out the way she wouldn’t let herself before. As her pussy contracted around him, Walker poured all he had, all he was, deep inside her, losing sense of everything around him except the slickness of her flesh, her scent, her taste.
He came back to himself to find her brilliant blue eyes on him in the mirror. Sharp, they saw everything.
“That was good,” she whispered, as if the noises they’d made had drawn someone to the door.
It was better than fucking good. He wanted to stay like this, but he knew it couldn’t last. With his arms around her, he rose, pulling her with him. His cock barely managed to stay inside her, yet he wasn’t ready to let go.
“That was one sexual favor,” he said to her reflection. “It’ll cover the solenoid.” He’d found the part yesterday, had it overnighted to Jimmy. He wouldn’t tell her about the express charge.
She laughed, and God, the sound touched him deep, at the very heart. Bending slightly to rotate her hips, she sent a surge through his cock. “I should be the one paying you. You’d be worth beaucoup bucks.” She laughed once more. “Ooh, I could be your pimp, and we’d be rich.”
Her words hit like a wrestler’s body slam, his gut tensing for the blow as he suddenly thought of all the women who had paid beaucoup bucks for him. What if she found out? Isabel was right. He’d needed to tell Cleo in the beginning. It was too late now. He couldn’t risk it.
“What’s wrong, Walker?”
He was standing there like an idiot. “Just thinking how good that was.” But his smile cracked his lips as if they were made of stone. He would simply give up the life, and there would be no reason for her to know. Walker bent at the knees and pulled free of her. It was like pulling loose from his mooring.
CLEO COULD ONLY STARE AT HIM AS SHE TUGGED UP HER PANTIES and slacks, zipping them. The lines of his face grim, Walker cleaned up silently, tossing the condom in the trash can beneath the vanity. She had the sudden need to throw a tissue on top so no one would see it. Her heart beat too quickly, 146
The Wrong Kind of Man
out of control. Something was wrong. She’d done something to lose him. Said something. But what? She couldn’t remember. In the throes of orgasm, had she stupidly said how much she wanted him, needed him, please don’t ever leave, that kind of garbage? Men freaked at that needy stuff. Oh man. She glanced at her watch. They’d been in here twenty minutes. Igor would be suspicious. She buttoned her blouse.
Walker watched, his gaze unsettling her.
“What?” Okay, she’d mentioned something about women paying beaucoup bucks for him. Maybe he was pissed that she would be willing to share. “I was just joking about the pimp thing.”
He busied himself fastening his jeans. “I know.” But now he was avoiding her gaze.
Okay, fine. Men were touchy. They always said women were, but a lot of times, men were worse. She shoved her lipstick and blush back in her cosmetics bag, returned it to her purse.
“Cleo, it’s not you,” he said behind her.
Hah. That was what men said when they were getting ready to do the brushoff. This was why she didn’t let men into her life anymore. Heidi was enamored with him, and Ma was getting out the good china. How was she supposed to tell them Walker had suddenly gotten cold feet? It would crush Heidi all over again. Stupid, stupid.
“Cleo.”
She dropped her purse on the bench, turned, and jammed a fist on her hip.
“What? I’m not asking for anything.” All right, she wanted more, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to admit it. “I know you like to play the field, you’ve got a lot of women, and I’m not expecting you to suddenly drop them and—” She stopped. He had a look in his eye. Wary. Uncertain. Nervous?
Cleo thought about all those women. He seemed to have regulars that he dated, but many came and went. Regulars. What about those times he let his dates pay for dinner? Such a ladies’ man, wining, dining, and then he let them lay out their credit cards? She’d never thought that fit his personality. There was his missed date the night he took Cleo to Fright Fest. It hadn’t bothered him one whit that he’d been stood up. He always had condoms. He knew all the naughty pull-outs along the road, had the blankets in his trunk. As if he left them there for any opportune moment . . .
147
The Wrong Kind of Man
I should be the one paying you. You’d be worth beaucoup bucks. No. It couldn’t be. Ridiculous. But that was what she’d said, and he’d gone all weird and serious on her. Oh my God. The canceled date, the blankets, the wine, the cheese, the movies, the perfect little spot hidden from everyone and condoms in his pocket. He’d switched her out for another woman, but he’d fully intended to have sex with whoever it was. It wasn’t as if Cleo didn’t know that, but something suddenly seemed staged about it all. “Please don’t tell me that’s what it really is. All those women.”
She’d have felt better if he’d cocked his head and said, “Huh?” But Walker didn’t say anything, not a word. He who was never without words, always charming, always with the right thing to say to make women feel good. The perfect date.
Because women paid him beaucoup bucks?
Cleo stared him down just as she did Heidi when she thought her daughter was hiding something. No one could withstand a mother’s glare.
Mine Until Morning Page 16