by Cari Quinn
God, this man was going to be the death of her. Or help her find a whole new life.
“Can’t refuse that offer. Just let me put Telly in my room.” She rushed over to the cage, distinctly aware of the stubble burn between her thighs. Ouch. At the last minute, she shrugged into the robe he never wore that hung on the back of the door. Not that she needed to get dressed since they were alone in the house, but it felt weird to wander around bare assed in her best friend’s home.
And her lover’s.
Her grin spread while she hurried down the hall. Telly probably wouldn’t like being sequestered, but she’d give him extra treats to make up for it. After that performance, Brad needed his rest.
She pushed open the closed door, frowning. Hadn’t she left it open?
Her gaze lasered in on her bed and the person reclining there, her swaddled ankle up on a pillow. “Finally. I thought you two were going to get cited for noise violations.” Kim dragged out her earbuds and lifted her brows. “I only have one question.”
Sara still hadn’t remembered how to breathe yet. This was bad. Very bad. “Okay.”
“Are you lying to everyone about sleeping with my brother or just your best friend?”
Chapter Eleven
Sara set Telly’s cage on the floor. Why wasn’t Kim at Greg’s? And why had she thought lying was a good idea?
She glanced down at Brad’s robe and tucked in her boob. Luckily it had only made a partial escape. Thank God she’d covered up. “Uh, can you repeat the question?”
Kim sighed. “I thought we were best friends.”
“We were. We are. I swear. This doesn’t have anything to do with us.”
“You don’t think so? If I was banging your brother like a drum—and lying right to your face about it, while living under your roof—you don’t think you’d mind?”
“Well, when you put it like that…”
“Yeah, I’m putting it like that.” Kim crossed her arms and gazed up at the ceiling. “What happened to us telling each other everything?” She held up a hand. “Clarification. I’m not asking for details in this case. In fact, I expressly forbid you from telling me anything personal as it relates to Brad. Except maybe why you scream like a banshee when you come.” She pantomimed gagging. “Never mind. TMI.”
“I do not.” Sara sat on the edge of the mattress and bit her lip. If it had been anyone but Kim, she probably would’ve crawled under the bed, but she had enough dirt on her friend to use as leverage for a lifetime. Still, the crawling thing was tempting. “Do I?”
“You so do. I would’ve been jealous, if I hadn’t been disgusted.”
Kim’s peevish tone struck her as funny, so funny that she fell on her side, laughing, and clutched her stomach. Either her multiple orgasms had shaken something loose or the relief of knowing her secret was out had tipped her over the edge. “Sorry. I didn’t think you were home. I wouldn’t have—we wouldn’t have—”
“Yeah, like you weren’t home the other night when I asked you to stay away. At least you played music to disguise the moans. Though what was up with ’Ticket To Ride‘?” She made a face. “That isn’t some weird sex song of yours, is it?”
Sara composed her features. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
Kim pitched a pillow at her and hit her square in the head. “Bitch. You’re on thin ice already.”
Sara blew out a breath, her good humor fading. It had been nice while it lasted. “Brad wanted to tell you. He begged me repeatedly not to lie.”
“With his past, he’s not exactly a fan of deception. I knew it was all you. Which both hurt more and hurt less, because I know you’re über-cautious.” Kim grunted and twisted her top half to face Sara so she didn’t jar her leg. “You have to know that I’d never begrudge you happiness, no matter where you found it. Don’t you?” Kim’s big blue eyes, so like her brother’s, sheened with tears. “Especially if it meant you might end up my sister for real someday.”
Sara’s throat locked up. “Don’t. See, this is what I was afraid of happening.” She covered her face with her hands. “I can’t handle it along with everything going on with him, which has already been totally unexpected and wonderful and so confusing that I’m still not sure which way’s up. I’ve already had those crazy thoughts myself, and it’s too soon, I can’t deal—”
“Hey, breathe.” Kim stroked her hair. “I didn’t say I was planning a wedding. I said maybe someday. If you and Brad break up, it won’t change a damn thing with us. You’re my sister whether we share a last name or not, Carmichael, so stop being stupid before I’m forced to beat you with my crutch.”
Sara wiped her eyes with the corner of her comforter. They weren’t wet, just itchy. “What crutch? You refused to get one.”
“Greg loaned me one he had.” Kim wrinkled her nose. “I’d rather hop.”
“How’re you going to dance at the benefit? Normally you get up on the tables.”
“Meh. I’ll have to chair dance or something equally lame.” Kim grinned. “Or maybe I’ll settle for making out with Greg in the kitchen. He always wanders toward the food.”
“Greg…that name is so familiar. Wait, you’re not talking about that Greg? The cook in the cafeteria?” Sara’s eyes widened. “But he’s only—”
Kim cleared her throat. Loudly. “Greg is over thirty. I’m a baby puma compared to you.”
“You’re right. He’s not too young, he’s…fresh. Uncontaminated.” She and Kim shared a grin. “At least until you got your hooks into him.”
“I can’t believe you’d say that. Why, I told him I hadn’t been with many men when we got together, so he insisted on trying everything in his bag of tricks to please me. You know how those young guys are with their issues. Actually, never mind. Please don’t overshare.” She covered her ears. “La la la.”
Sara had to laugh. “Ah. The performance issues. I wondered what that meant, since you were screaming your fool head off when we went upstairs.”
“I don’t scream. I purr. Rambunctiously.”
Sara laughed and tipped her head against Kim’s. “Me too.”
“No, you scream. And I do mean screaaaam.”
“Shut up.”
Kim flashed her a sly smile. “I’m beginning to see all the ways I can torture you with this information. This will be the most fun I’ve had all year. Even makes up for Greg—” She broke off, shaking her head. “Never mind.”
“What? Tell me.”
“Why should I? You hold out all the good stuff on me.”
Sara grabbed both of Kim’s hands. “I won’t ever again. I promise. No matter what happens with Brad, I won’t hold back.”
“Well, I’ll know some of what goes on, since you’re both blatantly obvious and hello, you live here.”
Sara shut her eyes and waited until she was sure her voice wouldn’t wobble. “I’m sure my apartment will be ready soon.”
“What? Why? I thought you liked it here.”
“Well, yeah, of course I do, but me and Brad being a couple changes things. If I keep living here, it makes it seem like—”
“Like this isn’t just something we’re doing to pass the time? Like we’re in love?” She whipped her head toward the doorway, where Brad slouched against the frame in a pair of jeans. He strolled into the room, looking more sinful than any man had a right to, wad of tissues sticking out of his back pocket and all. He scooped an arm around Sara’s shoulders and laid a kiss on her that made her already trippy head spin. Why didn’t they ever shut doors in this place? Or spray the walls with heavy-duty soundproofing? “You’re right. It does.”
As close as they’d come to making the declaration earlier, hearing the actual words “in love” set off a tremble in her belly. She didn’t want to get into this in front of Kim, but she’d be damned if she held anything back from him. Not when they were starting all over again.
“You may end up wanting things I can’t give you,” she said softly, hoping he got her meaning without her having to
spell everything out. Though she would if she had to. “I know that’s in the future, but I’d hate for you to go without something that matters so much. It isn’t fair.”
“No, you know what isn’t fair to me? Thinking things like that and keeping them to yourself, instead of getting them out so I can tell you you’re sweet for worrying, but stop it. What’s meant to happen will.” He gathered her hair in his hand and pulled her cheek against his hot, bare skin. “All I need is you. The rest will happen when and if.”
“And if it doesn’t?” she pressed, darting a glance at Kim. Ah, to hell with it. She couldn’t take the chance he thought she was referring to anal sex or something. At least she didn’t have a problem with that. “Let’s say something crazy happens and we decide to get married.” At Kim’s whoop, she pointed at her friend. “Take it easy. For the sake of argument, let’s say we did, and you wanted children. What if that ship’s sailed and I can’t have them? Then what?”
“Then I immediately run off with my twenty-year-old receptionist and have three sets of twins.” He scratched his shoulder. “Guess I better put that ‘now hiring’ ad in the paper soon, huh?”
She shook her head, refusing to laugh. “I’m being serious, Brad.”
He knelt next to the bed and cupped her face in his big hands, his callused fingers scraping her cheeks with infinite gentleness. “There’s always adoption, and to me, that’s not a second choice. That’s a damn good first choice. When and if,” he repeated. “One bridge at a time, okay? Just trust that I’m right by your side, and whatever happens, we’ll cross it together. Now are you going to stay here with us, where you belong?”
She glanced at Kim for help and found her watching with a raised brow. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
This time Sara couldn’t restrain a laugh. What a duo they made. “I don’t want to leave. Ever. I’d be happy to stay here until you kick me out, but—”
“Then it’s settled. You’re not relocating. Except maybe to my room,” he added, his breath a warm, minty promise against her lips.
Kim snorted. “Yeah, he’s got a special, extra long drawer for King Kong.”
Because she seriously did not want to know, she met Brad’s glimmering gaze. “Is that an invitation?”
“Gold-plated, baby. So what do you say?”
She grinned and wove her fingers through his messy hair to tug him close for another kiss. “I say yes.”
Kim rolled on her back like a demented turtle, trying to scoot away on the messy bedding and failing miserably. “This is all toothache-sweet, but my eyes, my eyes!”
Brad laughed and leaned across Sara to plant a kiss on Kim’s head. “Thanks for being awesome about this, sis.” He gave Sara a sharp look. “I told you she would be.”
“Give the girl a break. What does she know about people? She hangs out with sex-crazed parrots who really need to be kept out of the bedroom. Too much incriminating evidence.” Kim shoved a suddenly coughing Brad back and slung an arm around Sara’s neck. “So who wants some pizza?”
Sara glanced at her alarm clock. Nope, she hadn’t gotten confused about what time of day it was. Barely nine a.m.. “I know you guys are the masters of the late-night snack, but who eats pizza this early?”
“We do.” Brad grabbed Sara’s hand and tugged her to the door while Kim struggled to her feet. She glared at her brother’s retreating back though he didn’t seem to notice. “And now so do you.”
Sara had to grin. “It’s like an indoctrination.”
“A ritual. A fertility celebration if you will,” Kim called, determinedly bringing up the rear.
When Brad chuckled, Sara poked him in the ribs. “Don’t get any ideas, wise guy.”
He pulled her close and kissed her temple. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Sara Smile.”
Brad dragged the tines of his fork over his plate, only vaguely aware of the benefactor droning on at the podium. He was talking about sustainable habitats and showing slides, and it was all very interesting. Or it would’ve been, if Brad hadn’t had a different preoccupation—mainly his very sleek, very sophisticated date. She sat with her hands folded primly in her lap, poised to drive him wild at the slightest provocation. She’d even worn her glasses.
Best of all? She’d been using her honeysuckle special occasion stuff all week. When he’d asked what she was celebrating, she’d told him the fundraiser. He preferred to believe she was commemorating them.
Every now and then she peered over her shoulder at him to make sure he was paying attention, and her cute little nose twitched each time he crossed his eyes to make her laugh.
The moment she faced front again, he resumed staring at her backless dress. There were few things more alluring than a woman’s naked back. Especially his Sara’s naked back. Or her front.
He reached for his water to soothe his dry throat—for some reason, he’d gotten the bug way worse than Sara, must have been some super adaptive strain—and tried not to smile. So he was gone for the sexy, smart doctor. Who could blame him?
He’d happily wake up to her for the foreseeable future, on the way to the rest of his life. But one incredible thing at a time, he mused as swing music swelled from hidden speakers and couples started to move toward the dance floor.
Huh. Imagine that. He’d missed the end of the speech.
As Kim hobbled to her feet and started to swing her butt in her version of dancing while her date looked on in bemusement, Sara leaned close. “So what do you think? Tonight hasn’t been half bad, right?”
“Not at all.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and rubbed his nose over her hair. She’d clipped it up again, but he’d yank it out later. “And you’ll notice, no one has laughed at you showing up with me. I haven’t gotten one boytoy comment yet. Except from you, since you objectify me so.” He gave an indignant sniff, pleased to hear her laugh. That sound was better than birds singing. The only sound he preferred was her orgasmic moans, and the best was a mix of the two.
“Silly, they won’t say it to our faces. It’ll be behind our backs.”
“Do you honestly care?”
She gave him her serious doctor look before she smiled. “No. I don’t. Not anymore.”
“Good.” He trailed his fingertips down her shoulder blade and enjoyed her shudder. “Me either. Especially since you ordered that ‘mechanics tighten all my screws’ T-shirt.”
Laughing, she shook her head at him. As she often did. But he didn’t care, because she really had bought that shirt. And hell, he couldn’t argue with the sentiment. She certainly seemed happy with the service he was providing.
He hadn’t gotten over all his insecurities in her direction yet, namely those that involved his lack of an investment portfolio and membership in an alumni association from some fancy university. Getting there, though. How could he concern himself with that when her eyes lit up every damn time he entered the room?
And vice versa. Times one thousand.
“Want to dance?” She brushed her lips over his baby-smooth jaw. He’d shaved and cut his hair and suited up in a tux, all for her. Must be love. “I have a surprise for you, if you’re good.”
“What if I’m bad?”
“You get two surprises.”
He stood, moving just in time to get her chair. Stubborn woman never let him do a thing for her, except sexually. Then she could get quite demanding. “Consider me bad.”
“Oh, I already do.” Grinning, she led him to a secluded corner of the dance floor. He reached for her, but she’d already turned away to fumble with the hem of her dress. Had to be a loose thread or something. She turned back and slipped into his arms. “Show me your moves, O’Halloran.”
They danced for two songs. As great as it felt to hold Sara close and to know all the other men knew she was his—though she’d vetoed the Property of Brad O’Halloran tattoo he’d suggested for her back—he couldn’t wait anymore. “So where are my surprises?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” She
pressed something into his palm. It was hard and warm. And wet. Very wet.
He opened his hand and frowned, not understanding. “A giant marble?”
Her sudden gust of laughter took him by surprise as she leaned toward his ear. “Remember those ben wa balls?”
He literally swayed on his feet. Then he grasped her hand tightly in his, her hidden treasure trapped between their palms. “Is the other where I think it is?”
She blinked innocently. “I’m not sure what you mean. Maybe you should check for yourself.”
With a growl, he whirled for the exit. She laughed and matched him step for step. Together they pushed open the glass doors that led outside, exchanging grins.
“Let’s go home,” he murmured.
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Cari Quinn wrote her first story—a bible parable—in 2nd grade, much to the delight of the nuns at her Catholic school. Once she saw the warm reception that first tale garnered, she was hooked. She attempted her first romance in junior high, long before she'd ever read one. Writing what she knew always took a backseat to what she wanted to know, and that still holds true today.
Though she also fires up her computer as a graphic designer, proofreader and editor, she can’t resist the lure of disappearing into a world of her own creation. Now she gets to pen sexy romances for a living and routinely counts her lucky stars. The only thing she loves more than writing is hearing from readers! Visit Cari at www.cariquinn.com and email her at [email protected].
Sometimes it’s not just the tide that rises…
Full Moon
© 2013 Mari Carr
Second Chances, Book 2
In the two years since her divorce was finalized, Josie Jacobson’s life has become one long, boring routine. Work, home, repeat. She has her hands full as a single parent, and while she’s not looking for a serious relationship, she sure wouldn’t mind getting laid.
When her friend, Zoey, challenges her to make a New Year’s resolution for a second chance at happiness, Josie goes one better and creates the “Howl List”. Every full moon, she will indulge in a different sexual fantasy. Right at the top? Sex without strings.