“But Mel would—”
He wanted to shake some sense into her. “We’ve got something really interesting here, El. I’m not asking you to marry me or anything, but I don’t want to just slam the door and pretend we never met.”
“A friends-with-benefits sort of thing?”
Only Ella could come up with that kind of terminology. The girl was the queen of keeping herself at a distance. “For now you could call it that.”
He could feel her hesitation.
“Well, that’s…I mean, it could be…”
Not wanting to push her, he just let her stammer on while he rubbed circles over the tense muscles of her back. After a long moment she leaned back and smiled up at him.
“You’ve got my number. Call me sometime and we’ll see what happens.”
Well, it was something. He returned the smile, then leaned in to kiss her. Just as the kiss started to heat up, tempting him to carry her right back up the stairs, she broke away.
“I have to go. But this has been one heck of a send-off.”
His body rebelled at her words, but he released her. “Then go. Drive carefully, El.”
She honked as she drove away, and Matt debated what he’d do with the rest of his time in Chicago. A week ago he’d had big plans of late nights out with the old crowd and drinking beer with his brothers, but now he was having a hard time dredging up much interest.
That in itself was odd.
He locked Ella’s apartment and walked the six blocks to Brian’s. He couldn’t call his brothers—the family thought he was in Atlanta, and he’d have a devil of a time trying to explain to his mother why he lied and avoided them all week.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, startling him. He’d had it off since Sunday and only just turned it on this morning. He hadn’t even checked to see how many calls he’d missed or how many messages were waiting for him. He’d been so caught up in Ella, he’d completely forgotten everything waiting for him at the office. With his firm’s number showing in the display, the real world came rushing back.
His assistant was on the other end, practically frantic. “Where the hell have you been? I was about to call the Chicago PD and file a missing persons report.”
The lazy, relaxed feeling he’d grown used to this week began to evaporate. “Long story, Debbie. What’s up?”
“What’s up?” Debbie’s voice rose two octaves as she spoke. “You drop off the face of the earth in the middle of the Cooper contracts and never call to check in and you’re asking me what’s up?”
And with that, his vacation was officially over.
As the Chicago skyline retreated in her rearview mirror, Ella had time to think. Away from the intoxicating confusion Matt created just by breathing near her, she sought clarity.
It was slow in coming.
Matt’s sudden eagerness to pretend there could be something between them—even if it was just basically being bed buddies—confused her at first, but once the afterglow of good sex began to fade, she started to understand. Well, somewhat.
Trying to reconcile the Matt she’d heard about for years with the Matt she’d just spent the week with was enough to make her head hurt. Aside from the fact she didn’t seem like Matt’s type, Mel had claimed—and even Matt substantiated it—that he was a workaholic and in no hurry to commit to anyone.
Which, now that she was thinking clearly, explained so much. She was “safe”—no threat at all to his current lifestyle or his plans to make partner and find a nice girl to settle down with sometime in five years or so.
Maybe that was why she was open to his ideas. After all, he wouldn’t expect much from her, so she’d never have to worry he’d want more than what she was able to give. He was pretty “safe” for her as well.
Traveling that hour on a plane for a little sexual release once in a while was starting to sound like a pretty good idea. Maybe she could keep Melanie and Brian in the dark and eliminate the messiness factor.
Who am I kidding? Once Matt gets home, he’ll realize we were nothing more than a fling and move on. He would forget about her soon enough and go back to his grand five-year plan.
Trying to be objective, she told herself that would be the better development. No muss, no fuss.
Then why didn’t it feel that way?
She shook her head. Since when did she have this appalling need to self-psychoanalyze?
Why hadn’t she stayed with her earlier plan instead of telling him to call her sometime? She’d been trying to avoid messiness and here she was smack in the middle of it.
She had to get control of herself or else she was going to need real therapy.
City and suburbs had given way to trees and hills without her noticing, and she was surprised to see the big sign welcoming her to Kentucky.
She rolled down her window and let the cool evening air blow over her and chase away the fog in her head. This was reality. She was headed home and to a new part of her life. The past week would make for a fun memory, but it had a golden tint because it wasn’t really real—just an interlude in an otherwise normal life.
It had been fun. Amazing, actually. But she had to be realistic.
No harm, no foul. No one’s heart got broken, and no one’s feelings got hurt.
Now she just had to work on forgetting him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ELLA walked along the beach enjoying the last warm rays of the sun as it sank below the horizon. The waves lapped at her feet, the water of the Gulf of Mexico cooling as the temperatures caught up with the calendar. Roscoe, her neighbor’s eight-month-old Great Dane puppy, joined her as usual, bounding ahead to bark at sandpipers and seagulls before circling back to hurry her along. It was the Friday after Halloween and summer was officially over, but there were still a few tourists on the beach taking advantage of the just-warm-enough weather and off-season rates to grab one last long weekend before the winter set in and the snowbirds arrived from up north.
The thought of the influx of winter residents from the snow-laden states made her think of Chicago and Mel, which quickly led her thoughts to one particular Yankee transplant. Not that Matt had been far from her mind at all in the past three weeks; he had a way of sneaking in no matter what else she tried to focus on.
She’d dived headfirst into her new job just two days after the moving truck left, figuring work would be the best cure for the homesickness that niggled at her late at night. But while SoftWerx challenged her, it didn’t bring any sort of satisfaction, and she blamed Matt for sowing discontent in her chosen career field.
It didn’t help that Matt turned out to be serious about that “let’s be friends” thing. Although he never called, he did send fun, flirty e-mails pinging into her in-box, and much to her own amazement, she’d begun to look forward to seeing his name in the return-address field. She’d even flirted back, enjoying it.
Well, until last week, at least, when Matt told her he was going to a meeting in New Orleans and asked her to make the drive over for the weekend. That had pretty much stopped her in her electronic tracks. Matt was safe to flirt with when he was in Atlanta, but seeing him again wasn’t something she was quite ready to deal with just yet.
“What do you think, Roscoe? Should I have gone to New Orleans?” The black puppy trotted tiredly beside her on this last leg back to the house, but looked up when she said his name. She patted his head. “It’s a tough call, I know.”
Roscoe wasn’t helpful, but he had been a good listener on these walks, particularly when it came to the confusing nature of her feelings for Matt.
She liked him. He liked her. For someone else, it would be so easy. Ha. Each e-mail moved her a little closer into dangerous territory. They were close to becoming actual friends now. That wasn’t what she’d planned on.
Instead of forgetting him, she was getting to know him better and she was constantly being reminded of the guy who had almost made her let down her guard.
That guard—the one Melanie kept dogging
her about—was what had kept her sane and grounded all her life. Matt was a loose cannon in her otherwise orderly life. He was a nice interlude, a fantasy that had been fun to explore, but the reality was far too complicated to contemplate.
And that was the exact reason she hadn’t agreed to meet Matt in New Orleans. His invitation had been a wake-up call, reminding her of her earlier intention to limit any contact with Matt whatsoever. And, more important, why she’d come to that decision. She’d claimed she was too busy at SoftWerx to get away, but it was a flimsy excuse, and she figured he’d seen straight through it.
“Too late now, right, Roscoe?”
But Roscoe ignored her, not even perking up his ears at the mention of his name. Then, with a bark that belied his usual playful puppyness, he took off across the boardwalk toward her house behind the dunes.
From her vantage point on the boardwalk, she could see her back porch and the man standing on it who had caught Roscoe’s attention. A lost tourist, probably. It wasn’t uncommon for tourists to get lost and end up knocking on her door looking for their vacation rental. Heck, she’d even had a couple try to move in—locks were important around here for that simple reason.
Roscoe’s barking gained the man’s attention, and he turned in the direction of the sound. She watched as he spotted the dog first, then traced Roscoe’s path in the direction of the beach to where she was stepping off the boardwalk. She was finally able to get a good look at the man, and when she did her heart skipped a beat.
Matt. What on earth was he doing here?
She struggled to find her equilibrium as he called out a greeting to her. She wanted to be angry that he was here without an invitation—especially since she’d turned down his invitation for the weekend—but part of her was thrilled.
“Hey, El.”
Be cool. “Hi, yourself.” She accepted the quick kiss on her cheek before adding, “What are you doing here?”
Matt laughed. “Nice to see you, too. I—Ooph!”
Roscoe, still barking with excitement, jumped on Matt, both paws landing squarely in Matt’s crotch. After grabbing the dog’s paws and dropping them gently to the ground, Matt squatted to pet the slobbering dog without exposing himself to clumsy puppy feet. Roscoe reveled in the attention, rolling onto his back to give Matt access to his tummy. When Matt complied, Roscoe’s big head lolled back in doggie delight.
I know exactly how you feel, Roscoe.
“Who’s this?”
“That’s Roscoe. He belongs to Molly across the street. He tags along when I walk on the beach.” At the sound of her voice, Roscoe seemed to remember where his loyalty should lie, and he scrambled back to his feet to stand at her side. She pointed her finger at the blue cottage almost identical to her own. “Go home, boy.”
Head drooping, Roscoe obeyed.
Brushing sand and dog hair from his jeans, Matt stood. “Nice place.”
She crossed her arms and leaned against the porch railing. “At the risk of sounding rude, I’ll ask you again. What are you doing here?”
Matt cocked an eyebrow at her. “Well, if Mohammed won’t come to the mountain…”
“I told you I was busy this weekend. Work, you know.”
“Yes, and you’re a terrible liar—even by e-mail.”
So he’d figured that out, too. She shrugged and dug the door key from her pocket. “I never realized I was so transparent.”
“It’s just part of my job, ma’am.” He grinned. “It’s a lawyer thing.”
The smug look on Matt’s face bordered on smackable, but he was just too cute to deny. And since she could admit to herself, at least, that she was glad to see him—even if it did cause heart flutters—she opened the door and ushered him in.
Matt’s eyes widened at the mess that greeted him, and she smothered a chuckle. The furniture was in place, but the stacks of boxes, barren shelves and blank walls seemed to catch him off guard.
“Lord, El. Am I going to have to unpack you, as well?”
That did cause a chuckle. “Hmm, the free labor is tempting. Especially since you did such a good job packing those boxes. But, no. I’m having some work done on the house, now that I’ll be living here full-time, and there’s no sense unpacking before the contractors arrive. Would you like something to drink?”
He nodded, and the mindless task of playing hostess gave her something to do with herself. Matt’s presence seemed to cause the room to shrink, and it felt like the heat had kicked on. Distance, she thought. Distance is what I need. The bar counter separating the kitchen from the living room was a flimsy barrier, but she seemed to breathe a bit easier with it between them.
Matt stood on the other side of the counter and nodded at the roll of house plans. “I can’t believe you’d jump right in to house renovations. I would’ve thought you’d want to settle in first.”
“Gran and Gramps always wanted to expand this place—add another bedroom, extend the porch and screen part of it in, redo the kitchen—but they never seemed to have the money. Gramps had those plans drawn up years ago, but something always came up and it never got done. This job at SoftWerx finally means I’ll have the money to do what Gramps wanted.” Matt was watching her closely, so she hurried on. “No time like the present, right?”
“So the job’s going well?”
She plastered a smile on her face. “Oh, yeah. I’m really busy and there’s a learning curve to navigate, but it’s really challenging and a really great opportunity.”
Matt smirked. “Really?”
Stop babbling. Damn Matt anyway for rattling her about her job. She needed to get control of herself and make actual conversation. “You know what? I’m hungry. If you’re here for a visit, why don’t we go get some dinner? I’d offer to cook, but once again, you’ve caught me with my cupboards bare.”
“I kinda like catching you ‘bare.’”
Heat rushed to her cheeks and at the same time desire curled through her belly. It was a strange combination. Only Matt could embarrass her and turn her on at the same time.
“I know a great place. Let me go get changed.” She forced herself to walk calmly to her room. As she shut the door behind her, she suppressed the urge to bang her head against it. This was insane. She wasn’t supposed to be seeing Matt anymore.
What a mess.
Dinner. Dinner would be safe. She could get her head screwed back on straight and decide what to do next.
Fifteen minutes later she knew exactly how wrong she was. Placing herself in the close confines of Matt’s sports car was a monumental mistake. Why couldn’t he have gotten a regular rental like normal people? Something midsize, with plenty of space inside. No. Matt rented a little red sports car, which meant his big body took up a great deal of the front seat. She was close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin, and if she moved too much, her arm slid against his, raising all the tiny hairs on her arm from the contact.
To make matters worse, the faintest whiff of his scent clung to the inside of the car, and every time she inhaled, she got light-headed at the rush.
She tried to sit very still and breathe shallowly through her mouth.
“Are you okay?”
Not in the least. “Fine. The restaurant is just up on your left.”
She was out of the car the second it stopped moving, not even waiting for him to come around and open her door. Matt arched an eyebrow at her quizzically, but said nothing as they walked in.
The hostess showed them to a battered booth, and she slid in to her side, grateful for the table’s width between them. But when Matt’s long legs bumped hers, she knew it was going to be the longest meal of her life.
She flagged down their server.
“I’d like a very large, very cold, very strong margarita, please.”
Of all the ideas Matt had about what he would do once he and Ella were together again, battling seafood wasn’t one of them. His visions always centered on Ella naked and writhing beneath him, those gorgeous legs of hers
wrapped around his waist as he slammed into her. Instead the only legs he was fondling at the moment were hard and spiny and formerly attached to a crab.
Ella had been a nice distraction once he returned to Atlanta and his assistant dumped a pile of paperwork on his desk. Firing off e-mails took no time at all and provided a break when he needed one. She never initiated contact, but she always replied to his messages. It was a simple, easy friendship, but he spent far too much time thinking about her.
He’d been more than a little disappointed at her refusal to meet him in New Orleans this weekend. The mere idea had filled him with enough erotic fantasies to cause possible embarrassment if his mind wandered during a meeting. While Ella might be surprised at him for showing up on her front porch, he couldn’t be that close to her and not at least try to see her.
But he hadn’t been prepared for the need to get her to the nearest horizontal surface that had hit into him the moment she appeared on the boardwalk. If it hadn’t been for that puppy’s unerring aim…
Instead he found himself sitting in a restaurant that could best be described as a dive, wrestling his dinner out of its shell.
“Hold this side and twist when you pull. You’ll starve to death before you get enough meat out doing it your way.” In demonstration, Ella deftly pulled the crab leg apart, and the meat slid out in one perfect piece. She dipped it in butter and popped it in her mouth. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste. “Yum.”
His body reacted instantly. He’d seen a variant of that look directed at him. As her tongue snaked out to lick a drop of butter from her bottom lip, sweat broke out on his brow and he shifted uncomfortably. The woman even made shellfish erotic. Enough small talk. He needed to get her out of here. Now. He reached for his wallet.
“How’s work?” she asked, completely unaware of the thoughts in his head.
The question stopped him from doing the ridiculous and dragging Ella out of the restaurant by her hair, caveman-style. He settled into his seat and reached for his beer, hoping the cool drink would magically cool his libido.
The Secret Mistress Arrangement Page 8