Catching Mr. Right

by Misti Murphy

  His hair is thick silk in my hands. Dark, and slightly wavy, twisted around my knuckles. Sam’s gone.

  Instead, I see Casper. Feel him between my legs. He groans and licks, grumbles and strokes his fingers inside me, touching that part of me only my vibrator ever seems to really reach. A heavy, hot ache of pleasure unfurls inside me, a darkness that eats at the edges of my vision. He drags me closer and closer with each swipe of his tongue, each thrust of his fingers.

  “Casper,” I cry out, clinging to him. My thighs squeeze his head, my hands hold him as close as we can get while I squirm against his mouth.

  He glances at me, his dark eyes hungry and hot. A solid wall of muscle, he rises up, crawls over me to press his lips to my mouth. They’re covered in me, slick with my arousal. I taste myself on him as he kisses me, then he grasps my hips and flips me onto my belly. His wide palm smooths down my spine and over my ass as he settles on his haunches between my legs, then he brings his hand down hard on one cheek. “Mandy, girl, I am going to devour you. I’m going to make you feel in ways you didn’t know are possible, and the only way I’m going to stop is if you make me.”

  I fuck myself harder, sparks lighting up with each stroke, the vivid image of Cas right behind my eyelids. It’s so real I can almost taste his sweat, the mint he chews. So intense I can smell the musk of his skin, rich and spicy like leather. My inner walls spasm as I rub as much pleasure from my orgasm as I can before my own touch becomes painful.

  Dropping my hand to my side, I wait for my breathing to slow down, for my heart to stop pumping so fast. Maybe I don’t feel all that guilty about being attracted to Cas, but that doesn’t make me any less confused. Why does he affect me so much when I’m clearly destined to be with Sam?

  My phone rings from inside my bag hung from the bedroom door handle, and I sit up. There’s no point in lying here wondering about Cas when I need to be working on making Sam fall in love with me. Picking up my shorts, I wrinkle my nose. Cas couldn’t keep his eyes off them.

  Maybe they’ll have the same effect on Sam.

  Chapter Thirteen

  SAM

  I put down my phone and rub at my temples. I’m starting to get a real headache from all the hammering, the pounding, the chaos. Josef’s worried that the restaurant won’t be up to scratch before opening night. He’s right to be concerned, considering we don’t have a head chef yet, and the contractors keep telling me they’ll need extra time to ensure everything is done. And I swear to God, if I see another flash of pink through the big front windows I am going to lose my freaking mind.

  So many times today, I’ve thought I spotted Mandy. A couple times I’ve raced out the front door to find that she’s nowhere to be seen. I can’t get her out of my head. Especially after I accused her of stalking me last night. After I kissed her last night.

  Another girl wearing pink walks by, and I refuse to look. Okay, I do.

  Shit, it’s her. She doesn’t stop in; keeps walking up the street. I snag my phone and yell out that I’ll be back in five minutes. Not that anyone cares. They’ll probably take a break as soon as I leave. Stepping outside, I race after her. “Hey, Mandy, wait up.”

  “Huh?” She turns around. “Oh, it’s you.”

  “Yeah, it’s me.” The way she doesn’t say my name, or doesn’t react as if excited to see me bothers me more than it should. “I wanted to apologize again for last night. I shouldn’t have been such a jerk to you.”

  “That’s okay.” She continues up the street. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Great. And to make it clear, that kiss didn’t mean anything. Too much—”

  “It’s forgotten. Didn’t mean anything,” she calls without turning around.

  “What the hell?” Startled, I stare after her like a stunned mullet. Something has to be wrong for her not to be flirting with me, doesn’t it? Not that I’m worth flirting with in the first place. From our short acquaintance, from everything Summer’s told me about the girl, she’s incredibly goal orientated. Today she seems lost and without a plan.

  I chase after her. “Mandy, are you okay?”

  “Sure. Never better,” she says, flatly.

  Grasping her arm, I keep her from leaving. “No, you’re not. What’s going on?”

  She glances up at me, and this time I notice her eyes are watery bright. Her lids are puffy, her lashes webbed together. She sniffles, and I reach for a handkerchief. Girl tears are something I’ve learned to always be prepared for, thanks to my sister.

  “Thanks,” Mandy says, taking the cotton square. She wipes the rims of her eyes and her nose before holding it out to me.

  “You keep it.” I push it gently back at her. “Now tell me what happened. If this is about that creep—”

  “He’s not a creep. And you need to stop thinking he is.” She shakes her head. “You two would probably get along if you took a moment to be nice to each other.”

  “Not going to happen.” Wouldn’t matter if he was the nicest guy on the planet, wouldn’t matter if we were friends before this whole thing with Mandy. I can’t stand her being with him. If she were dating a younger guy at least it would make sense, even if I’d still be fighting this attraction. But that’s not the point. “I want to help.”

  She winces and wrings the handkerchief between her hands. “I just got the call letting me know my grandmother passed away.”

  “Shit.” I squeeze her elbow, slide my hand up her arm to tug her closer. “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t know what to do.” Biting her thumb, she frowns. “There’s not really anything I can do, so I thought I’d get some ice cream.”

  “Sure.” I wind an arm around her shoulders, bring her close to my side. If she weren’t grieving, I’d be worried about my ability to hold her without trying to kiss her again. “Let’s go do that. My treat.”

  ***

  “Were you and your grandmother close?” I take a sip of my milkshake while I wait for her to answer. It’s cool under the brisk breeze from the air conditioner above the table we’re sitting at in the ice cream shop. I really should stop drinking this vanilla shit. It’s got to be bad for my heart. I need to remember to have my cholesterol checked when I’m back in L.A.

  “Not really.” Mandy digs her spoon around in her sludgy, mint and chocolate ice cream, then sets the paper cup aside on the white plastic tabletop. “Not at all, I suppose. She hadn’t talked to me in almost five years.”

  “Oh?” That’s unexpected. This girl is always effervescent. So bubbly and charismatic, it’s hard to believe that anyone would struggle to like her. She could charm the heart out of an ice sculpture. Or a man who should know better.

  “She was the only family I had left,” she explains.

  “Surely not.” I can’t imagine having no family. Even though Summer and I are virtually on our own these days. But there are two uncles and an aunt on our dad’s side if we ever needed them. “Don’t you have any cousins? Aunts? Uncles?”

  “I wouldn’t know.” She sighs and picks up her ice cream, peers into the sloppy mess. “I was adopted. I don’t know anything about my birth parents.” Glancing up, she gives me a tight little smile that quivers her bottom lip. “You understand. Family is so important to you. I wish I had been as blessed as you and Summer are to have each other.”

  “You could find your parents. There must be some way to search for them. If you want I can look into it.”

  “You’d do that for me?” Her gaze is cautiously hopeful. “You’d actually help me look for my real parents?”

  “Yeah, I would. If you wanted me to. I need to go back to the restaurant for a few minutes, but then we can head back to my hotel to look on the internet to find out what you need to do.” I get out of my chair.

  She stands too. “Thanks, Sam. I appreciate this so much. Really. The idea of having to face all this alone is a bit more terrifying than I want to admit.”

  “Anything for Summer’s best friend,” I tell her, because when it comes to
my sister I would do anything, and she would want me to help Mandy. Also, I’m finding it harder and harder to turn down this girl, especially when she’s not trying so hard at being flirtatious.

  Perhaps she’s too young, and nothing is going to change that, but she’s not as childish as I had myself convinced. “Come on, let’s go.”

  ***

  Mandy’s sitting on the edge of my bed, her knees tucked up to her chin, her bare feet pulled in close with her hands clasping her ankles. Those pink shorts are slightly dangerous to a man’s health. Especially when you add her smile and laughter to the mix. My laptop’s open on my thighs, and it’s a balancing act trying not to drop it with my erection pitching a tent in my suit pants.

  I divested myself of my collared shirt as soon as we got to the hotel, dropped it over the back of the tufted feature chair in favor of my undershirt, maximum air conditioning, and an ale. Mandy settled for vodka from the mini bar and a bottle of pink lemonade that she mixed in a teacup, and sipped at with her middle finger crooked in the air while she eyeballed my chest. She didn’t say a word, but her teeth found her lip in a dick-jerking manner.

  Strange girl.

  Eccentric, guileless woman.

  That Mandy sits somewhere in between is becoming more evident each time we meet. Being around her is almost an adventure. “They say once you’re eighteen you can apply to get your original birth certificate. It might give you a little information that can help, depending on if your adoption was closed or not. “Do you happen to know?”

  “I have no idea. All I know is that I was adopted, and that it happened in Denver. But I don’t even know if my grandmother kept any documentation or information about it.”

  “Well let’s cross our fingers that your original birth certificate at least has your biological mother on it. You didn’t think to apply for it before now?”

  “Honestly?” She picks at the ends of her hair in a methodical manner. “I haven’t had the best of luck. Looking for someone who probably doesn’t want me to find them?” She pulls the band from her braid and shakes her hair out over her shoulder. “I’m still not sure it’s a great idea, but I can’t stand the idea I have no one.”

  “You’re not on your own.” I set the laptop on the floor beside my chair, and scoot forward to grasp her knee. “You know that, right?” I stroke my thumb across the curve of her kneecap. “A girl like you can’t possibly have a problem finding people to adore her.”

  “You’d be surprised.” Her eyes spark with sadness that she shutters away so quickly it might not have been real. It’s probably me. I’m seeing things because I’m concerned about her. Because she had to be in shock this afternoon and when that wears off she’s going to need someone. It probably shouldn’t be me. If I were smart I would call Summer and tell her to come over.

  Instead, I slip from the chair to the bed and sit beside Mandy. She leans into my side, still curled up with her knees to her chin. Her cheek rests on my shoulder, and I clasp my hands together in my lap, so I don’t touch her the wrong way, because my mind keeps coming back to that kiss last night and the way she felt with her knees pressed into my sides. “You have Summer. And Claire. I know you have friends.”

  Twisting her head to face me, her lips so close to my jawline the warmth of her breath makes my skin tingle, she asks, “What about you? Do I have you?”

  “Mandy.” I rub my palms together. How am I supposed to answer that? How do I tell her that the answer is no but yes, without confusing her? I don’t want her to form the wrong idea about us, but I’ll always be no more than a phone call away.

  “Don’t worry. That wasn’t some sort of come on. I’m taken, remember?” She shifts her weight from my shoulder and torso and the heat of her dissipates.

  “That’s good.” Just once I’d like to consider my life from the perspective of a younger man without my experiences to color his vision. One who doesn’t have the knowledge of my age, who doesn’t wonder how many years he has left, and doesn’t follow the rules of social engagement. My sister flaunts it and she’s happy. I wish I could see past it. I wish I could forget how much it hurt to be the one who was left behind because when I was younger I didn’t use the sense I have now. “Really good.”

  I turn to face her, only to find her gaze roving where my white T-shirt clings to my torso. Her lips, slightly parted and glistening, beckon to pick up where we left off last night. My knees sink into the mattress as I crawl closer to her. “We need to keep this platonic. Friends.”

  “Yes,” she whispers. Her gaze locked on me, she puts her palm up to my shoulder. “We should be friends. Summer would like that.”

  “Then yes.” I push against her hand and she tips back against the pillows. “You have me.”

  “I have you,” she repeats. “Sam Sweets, I always knew you’d be mine.”

  “Christ, Mandy.” A feral sound shoots from deep down in my cock right through my torso and up my throat. Mandy Pearce is in my bed, whispering sweet nothings about how she always knew we’d end up here. I shouldn’t touch her, especially while she’s coming to grips with tragedy. Especially when it doesn’t change a damn thing. She’s still too young, and I’m still going back to L.A as soon as Josef’s restaurant opens here. And I still have to work out how to call off my assumed engagement to my boss’s daughter.

  If anything, that knowledge should be driving me right from the bed to my phone so I can call Summer to take over the dangerous task of being Mandy’s friend. Instead I surge forward to catch her mouth. Our tongues clash and lick at each other. I suck and nip at her lips and she does the same, whimpering into our kiss. Both her hands are on my shoulders, one squeezing the muscle there, the other smoothing down my back and trying to pull me on top of her.

  This is insane. It’s madness. Crazy.

  She’s like sweet lemonade quicksand, and I am sinking into her kiss. I yank at the pink tie on her shorts while she pushes and tugs at my T-shirt. When I rear up to remove it, she fumbles with my belt until it finally comes free and she can get her hands on my fly.

  “Sam,” she mumbles against my lips, her fingers hesitating on my zip.

  I yank her shorts down past the paler skin of her hips and some alluring black lace. Bowing over her, I push up her shirt and press my lips to the spot above her navel. Below it. On the lace of her panties where I can smell her arousal. She’s taut skin over feminine curves, light gold and silver, sweet and tart under my tongue. “Mandy?”

  Across the room my phone starts ringing. Then Mandy’s cell starts playing a tune of its own. She presses her lips together and tries not to laugh, her body shaking with holding it in. I huff out a breath as I sit up. Mandy Pearce is a man’s wet dream come true, and for one brilliant second I got a taste of that. My heart still beats so damn hard. My skin vibrates with the electricity of our stolen moment. If I was younger… freer…

  “We should answer those,” Mandy props herself up on her elbows as both our phones continue to ring. Mine vibrates across the glass tabletop in a wave of thunder before nose-diving onto the carpet. Hers just doesn’t quit.

  “Yup. Yeah.” I jump off the bed, crossing the room to pick up my phone. Summer’s name lights up the screen. “My sister. I should take this. Sum, what’s up?”

  Mandy nods, tying her shorts before grabbing her bag. Her eyes widen and light up for a second and she smiles, then she frowns as she lifts her phone to her ear. It has to be him, doesn’t it? The creep, the sleaze, the guy she’s dating instead of me? The man she probably doesn’t realize makes her smile even after a shitty day and the stupid choices we were both about to make.

  He doesn’t have my hang ups. He’s probably all in, and how the hell could he not be with a girl like her? I wish it was me. Except, I can’t in good conscience entertain any kind of future with her when this is the age during which she should be having adventures and enjoying herself.

  So I try to take her to bed instead? While she’s in shock over her grandmother. What the hell
was I thinking? What kind of asshole am I? Summer would kill me. She’d throw a cupcake at my head or something, and yell about how Mandy isn’t the type of girl one simply fucks with.

  “Cas? Is everything okay?” She picks up her bag and slings it over her shoulder with a grimace at me and a quick finger wave at thigh level, then she heads for the door. “No, no. I’m okay. I’m fine. It was a shock. I just needed some time on my own.”

  “Bye,” I mutter.

  “Are you talking to me?” Summer asks.

  “Of course. Why?” I try to pay attention.

  “Because I asked you if you saw Mandy and you said bye.”

  “Oh. Uh, I was talking to room service.”

  “Right. You haven’t seen Mandy then? We’re worried about her. Her grandmother passed away, and I haven’t been able to get hold of her.”

  “Nope. No.” I scratch the top of my head. Mandy didn’t mention she was with me when she was talking to Casper. It has to be because she felt guilty for what just happened, because she has feelings for the guy, right? And she doesn’t need one stupid moment where I may have taken advantage of her grief wrecking everything for her. So I probably need to keep the time she’s spent in my hotel room our little secret, for her sake. Even from my sister. Especially from Summer if I don’t want to answer a million questions about why I had Mandy alone in my hotel room when she’s vulnerable. “No I haven’t seen her at all today.”

  “All right then. Call me if you see her, please.” Summer sighs.

  “Will do.” I hang up and toss my phone on the bed. Not telling anyone that she was here with me is the smart thing to do. The only thing that we’ve done right this afternoon. Though we only kissed, but we were so close. I need to be more careful, need to make sure I use my head around the girl so it doesn’t happen again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  CASPER

  Claire enters the kitchen and walks purposely toward the coffeepot. It’s a fairly normal part of my day now. One I don’t particularly notice, except for the past hour she’s been in and out like a whack-a-mole in his hole and not actually drinking her coffee. Back turned to me, she puts her laptop and a bunch of paperwork down on the counter and busies herself making yet another cup. “Have you gotten a hold of her yet?”