Crash Point-epub

by Mari Carr

  Justin laughed when he spotted Chloe’s flushed cheeks. “See,” he pointed at her, making her blush even more. “That’s what Ned’s going to bring to the calendar. I’ve done my part.”

  Chloe scowled at her brother for embarrassing her, then she caught a glimpse of jealousy in Blake’s gaze. Revenge reared its beautiful head.

  “I’m not going to lie, Justin,” she said as she fanned herself. “I’m really looking forward to Ned’s day to pose. He’s February, and I’m envisioning putting him on my bed with red silk sheets, completely naked, except for a box of chocolates covering his—”

  “I think we get the gist,” Justin said, cutting her off and pretending to shudder. “We don’t need to hear the dirty details about your photo shoots with all those sexy bachelors. Good thing you’re single. You can have some fun as you work.” He winked at her, careful to make sure Blake couldn’t see his face.

  Chloe loved her oldest brother and his nose for mischief. She had absolutely no intention of posing Ned that way and Justin knew it, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t help her get a few digs in at Blake.

  “I didn’t realize the photos were going to be risqué,” Blake said.

  Mama frowned. “Neither did I.”

  Oops. Chloe would have to tell her mom she was joking before she left today or she was liable to receive concerned phone calls from every woman on the fundraising committee tonight.

  The rest of the meal passed much more easily than Chloe would have expected. Conversation turned to innocuous things as Justin described his latest project and Caliph and Jennifer talked about the long weekend trip they’d planned to take to Key West. Blake was a polite guest, answering questions about his work and complimenting her mother’s cooking.

  Once dessert and coffee had been consumed, the family began to rise. Jett and Justin made their goodbyes, both claiming to have other plans, while Zac, Jennifer and Caliph went to the living room to watch TV. Her mother was tidying the kitchen, which left Chloe alone with Blake.

  Blake peered toward the kitchen door. “Let me pop into the kitchen to thank your mom and then I’m going to head out.”

  Chloe nodded as Blake disappeared into the kitchen. She walked to the front door to wait, anxious to see the frustrating man on his way. Her insides felt like churned butter and she was tempted to move Blake’s photo shoot forward, simply so she could get it over with.

  She cheered herself up with a mental pep talk. She’d meet him at Lake Pontchartrain—she had no intention of ever getting on his motorcycle again—take the pictures, then turn around and walk away. This time, it was Blake who was going to see taillights. The whole thing shouldn’t take more than three or four hours. Surely she could survive that much more time in his presence.

  “That’s a deep thought.”

  She was startled by his voice, jumping slightly when she realized Blake was standing right next to her.

  She put her hand on the doorknob, ready to get him the hell out of her mother’s house, but paused. “Should I pat you down to make sure you aren’t sneaking off with something?”

  She felt horrible the moment the words crossed her lips, but there was something about seeing Blake again that was bringing out the worst in her. She didn’t consider herself a bitter person by nature, but for days, all she’d been able to summon was cold, hard anger. Well, that…and lust.

  Blake took her comment in stride, lifting his arms. “You won’t hear any complaints from me. Take your time on that area below the waist. Lots of pockets down there.”

  She blew out an exasperated breath, though she was able to admit she’d walked right into that one. “Don’t be such a pig.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who offered. I’ve never looked a gift horse in the mouth. Should I turn around?” He spun, lifting his hands to the wall. The position sent her eyes straight to his ass, which he wiggled for her amusement.

  One brief burst of laughter escaped before she could shut it down. Damn him. “Turn around and get out, you idiot.”

  “I love your laughter.”

  Chloe tried to ignore the tug his soft comment evoked. It had always been there between them—this electrical current that flowed hot and powerful, tying them together in ways Chloe could never understand…or fight. It was always sparks, heat, energy and painful need.

  “Walk outside with me.”

  Blake had her hand in his before she could refuse. It appeared his take-no-prisoners attitude was still there as well. She’d followed his lead when she was nineteen because she was young and inexperienced. If he still thought she was that same silly girl who would come merely because he beckoned, he was destined for disappointment. She tried to pull her hand away, but his grip tightened.

  They participated in a mini tug-of-war all the way to his motorcycle. Once they were there, he reached for a helmet. “Hop on.”

  She laughed at his audacity. “No.”

  “Get on the bike, Chloe. You need to get away for a little while. I can see it in your face. When is the last time you escaped, letting wind and the road take over until you forgot everything and everyone?”

  Ten years ago.

  She didn’t say it aloud, but something in Blake’s expression told him he knew the answer. “I’m not getting on the motorcycle with you. Not now. Not ever again.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Blake—”

  “Our photo shoot, remember? We’re taking the Harley to the lake.”

  “I have too much equipment. I’ll follow you there in my car.” She was pleased to see she’d stumped him with that. Clearly he hadn’t taken that into account.

  Blake leaned against his motorcycle casually. “So what are your plans for the week?”

  She shook her head at his audacity. “None of your business.”

  He lifted one shoulder at her dismissal. “Maybe. Maybe not. You taking pictures of the manhandler?”

  Chloe felt an uneasy flutter in her stomach. Blake Mills on a mission was never a good thing. He had the tenacity of a pit bull when he wanted something. She’d always blamed that on the fact he’d basically had to raise himself, given his father’s disinterest in his son and his lack of mother.

  “Again, none of your business.”

  “Give me your phone.”

  “Why?”

  Before she could stop him, Blake had one arm wrapped around her waist, the other diving into her back pocket. She placed her hands on his chest, intent on pushing him away, but the man was solid muscle, his chest rock hard. Once her phone was in his hand, he released her and took a step back. It bugged her that she hadn’t been able to break free on her own.

  He clicked the cell on, taking her to task for her lack of a passcode. He went to the contacts page and, as she watched, added his name and phone number.

  “I’m deleting that.”

  “No. You’re not. At least not until all of the calendar pictures have been taken. You’re going to be alone with these guys and, while your mom and the committee might trust their characters, I’d feel better if you had my number handy. You feel threatened, even just a little, you call me. Okay?”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Oh yeah?” Blake turned her phone off, grasping her once more. “Prove it.”

  “What?”

  He slid her phone into her back pocket, taking advantage of the opportunity to run his fingers over her ass. She tried to shove him away, but she’d have had more luck moving a mountain.

  “Break free from my hold and I’ll delete the number myself.” His arms tightened around her.

  Chloe’s mind whirled over all the self-defense moves her brothers had taught her when she became a teenager and got boobs. The more her body developed, the more intensive their training. “I don’t want to hurt you.” She put as much bravado into her tone as possible.

  Blake laughed. “Of course you do.”

  She noticed he’d positioned himself so that his balls were protected and her
bent arms were trapped against his chest. She marveled at how familiar, yet different Blake’s body was. He’d always been tough as a young man, his body lean and fit, but now…

  Chloe couldn’t help but wonder what drove Blake to work out so much. Why did he need to be so damn strong? Blake had only shared skeletal notes of his childhood with her, never giving details. All she’d had to go on was his scant information, usually shared by accident, and her gut feelings. Yet, she’d always viewed him as a wounded beast, striking out at the world as a means of defense. Chloe had also thought she was safe from his swing, assumed she was different.

  She’d learned the hard way how wrong she was.

  “Don’t, Blake.”

  His arms loosened slightly. “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t set your sights on this. On us. It’s not gonna happen.”

  He didn’t move, continuing to hold her close. All of his attention, all of his focus homed in on her. She’d been the center of his universe for three glorious months. She remembered how special and wonderful that had been. Even so, it wasn’t worth the inevitable pain that followed. She wouldn’t play the fool for him again.

  “I get it, Chloe. I’m sure you think I don’t, but I do. If I were a better man, I’d accept that I hurt you, that you have every right in the world not to trust me and I’d keep my distance. You didn’t deserve what I did to you and I’m not real sure how to make up for that. Maybe I can’t. But the thing is, I’m going to try because I’m not a good man. I’m a selfish bastard. And I want you. I never stopped wanting you.”

  Chloe’s lungs seized as she struggled for air. There was determination written on every line of his face, but more frightening than that was the hunger in his eyes. She’d seen it before—in the faces of the foster kids her mother had taken in over the years. The kids had always looked like they were starving to death, like they would do whatever it took to get a bite of bread. Chloe knew that hunger wasn’t literal. What those kids—like Blake—wanted more than anything was love. Unconditional love.

  “I can’t give you what you want. Not the forgiveness. Not the understanding. And not the…” She couldn’t say the word love to him. Couldn’t let that single syllable out in his presence. “I’m not the girl I used to be.” She wasn’t sweet, trusting, or gullible anymore. He’d squashed those characteristics out of her, stomped on them until they simply vanished.

  Blake released her waist. She had only a split second of freedom before he took her face in his hands. She wanted to shove him away, but she was rooted to the spot. “Yes. You are. You’re still that girl and a hell of a lot more. But I’m more too. And I want a chance to prove that to you.”

  She started to shake her head, but Blake’s grip tightened. “Blake—”

  Her denial was cut off with a kiss. The second his lips touched hers, she was transported back in time. Their first kiss had been right here, in almost this exact same spot. They’d spent weeks circling around each other at the sub shop, her flirting while he made completely inappropriate but entirely hot sexual innuendoes. Then one afternoon, he’d offered her a ride on his motorcycle and she’d accepted. They had ridden around the city for nearly an hour as Chloe clung to his leather jacket and breathed in the humid Louisiana air. They’d stopped at the French Quarter, walking along the crowded streets until dusk, talking about everything and nothing. When he’d pulled up in front of her house that night, Blake had gotten off the Harley, taken her face in his hands and kissed her.

  It had felt just like this—exciting, scary, overwhelming, powerful. And then—like now—Chloe had been helpless to do anything other than accept.

  Helpless.

  The word jarred, going through her like nails on a chalkboard.

  She placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed. Blake clearly hadn’t anticipated her refusal as he stepped back, slightly off balance at her rough shove.

  “I’m going inside.”

  He smiled. “Running away isn’t going to save you.”

  Her pride piqued. “I’m not running. I’m finished with the conversation. I’ll text you later this week once I’ve found a place to take your photo for the calendar. We’ll get it over with and then, this,” she waved her hand between them, “is over. Again.” She stressed the last word, letting it punctuate her sentence like an angry accusation.

  Of course, Blake didn’t acknowledge anything she’d said. “We’ll see.” Then straddled his bike, put his helmet on, fired up the engine and pulled away.

  Chloe balled her hand into a fist, wishing she had something—anything—to punch. Blake infuriated her, pissed her off, left her struggling to keep her wits.

  She released a loud “argh!” then muttered every bad name she could think of as she returned to the house. The front door had only just closed behind her when she heard her mother calling out for her to come to the kitchen.

  She sighed. The kitchen window faced the front yard, which meant her mother had no doubt witnessed the entire scene with Blake. Great. Her Sunday just kept getting better and better.

  “Did you need help with something?” Chloe asked, half-heartedly hoping for a reprieve. She didn’t get it.

  Her mother was sitting at the small kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee and looking wearier than Chloe had ever seen her.

  Mama shook her head, then pointed to the chair across from her.

  Chloe decided to take the bull by the horns. There was no purpose to beating around the bush. “I guess you saw Blake kiss me.”

  Her mother didn’t reply at first. “Actually, no. I didn’t. I didn’t think it was my place to spy.”

  Chloe bit her lip, wondering if there was any physical way to kick her own ass. “It didn’t mean anything.”

  Her mother smiled, though the expression certainly didn’t depict happiness. “Aren’t you tired, Chloe?”

  Chloe was. Exhausted. But she couldn’t understand how her mother knew that. “What do you mean?”

  “Anger takes a lot of energy to maintain. You’ve been holding on to your Blake fury for nearly a decade now. Doesn’t that leave you drained?”

  Chloe swallowed heavily. Truthfully, until running into Blake this week, she thought she’d let go of all those old hurts. If someone would have asked, Chloe would have laughed and sworn she didn’t have any feelings for the man one way or the other. This past week had proven that belief false. She was harboring more pain and rage than she’d thought possible. And her mom was right. It was wearing her out…dragging her down.

  “I was just surprised to see him again. It sort of knocked me back to a bad time. But it’ll pass soon.”

  “No. It won’t. None of this is going to go away until you forgive him.”

  Chloe’s temper sparked. “Forgive him? God, Mama. At some point, you’re going to have to stop being a doormat, stop letting people take advantage of your kindness.”

  “I don’t think it makes me weak to try to find the good inside people. That’s not being a doormat. It’s being compassionate.”

  “And look what that compassion got you. Blake stole two hundred dollars from your purse. That was our grocery money for the week. Maybe you don’t remember how tight times were back then, but I do. We barely made it until payday at the end of the month.”

  Her mother reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a wad of money, tossing it onto the table between them.

  “What’s that?” Chloe asked.

  “Blake just gave it to me. Five hundred dollars. To replace the money he stole and to make restitution for the platter.”

  “That doesn’t cover it. Grandma Jeannette’s platter was a family heirloom—irreplaceable. It was the only thing that survived the fire that destroyed everything your family owned. You were just sixteen and you lost everything. Everything except that platter. Maybe you think three hundred covers it, but I don’t.”

  Mama sighed. “Chloe, you’re not mad about the money or the platter.”

  Chloe wanted to deny it, but couldn
’t. In some ways, it was easier to maintain her fury over tangible things. That was simpler to explain to her mother. To herself. If she delved deeper, she’d have to admit to things she couldn’t find the words to express.

  “He said he loved me. Then he left without a word. Just disappeared for ten years. I guess in some ways he did me a favor. He taught me not to be such a sucker, not to believe everything someone tells me.”

  “Have you ever considered there might have been a good reason for his departure? Have you asked him why he left?”

  Chloe shook her head. She wasn’t interested in exploring ancient history. “It doesn’t matter now.”

  Mama reached across the table and took her hand. “Of course it does. As long as this is hurting you, the reasons matter. It’s time to swallow your pride, Chloe, time to put aside your anger and get some answers. Otherwise, I’m afraid you’re destined to be tired for a very, very long time and I couldn’t stand to see that.”

  “I’m sorry I called you a doormat. I didn’t mean it.”

  Her mother grinned. “I know. Now…about this plan to have Ned posing nude…”

  Chloe laughed, then spent the next hour reassuring her mother she and Justin were joking and that the calendar would be perfectly respectable.

  Chapter Three

  Blake leaned against the wall of the building, watching the front door of the Blue Note. Chloe was inside the bar, taking photographs of one of New Orleans’ most talented and lusted-over jazz musicians. He wanted to pretend he was here to simply keep an eye on her. After all, one of the men posing for the calendar had apparently tried to manhandle her, and while he knew Chloe was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to be close by…just in case.

  Unfortunately, he knew the truth. He was so jealous, he could hardly see straight.