Blogger Bundle Volume VI: SB Sarah Selects Books That Rock Her Socks

by Kathleen O'Reilly

  “Ashley lives here. We met on a plane.” David obviously didn’t intend to keep things simple.

  “You met on a plane to Chicago? Today?” Christine looked shocked, and Ashley started to explain, but David got there first.

  “No, it was a while back. It works for us,” David said curtly, and that was one way to end that conversation.

  Chris sat silently, sipping his beer. Christine, still polite, bless her heart, was not deterred. “So, what do you do, Ashley?”

  “I own some boutiques in town. Ashley’s Closet. Naperville, State Street, Wicker Park, Lakeview. I’m in fashion,” she added stupidly.

  “I haven’t heard of it, but I love to shop,” said Christine, completely unnecessarily.

  “You should visit,” answered Ashley, completely unnecessarily.

  “I will,” Christine replied, and Ashley prayed she was only being polite.

  Meanwhile, David and Chris hadn’t said a word. Ashley glanced at David and then smiled at Christine. “Do you mind if I go outside for a minute? I get a little claustrophobic sometimes. I have so many phobias, sometimes I can’t keep track. David, can you come with me?”

  He flew off the couch, and they walked briskly outside, down the three steps to stand under the lone elm tree in the yard.

  “You’re claustrophobic?”

  “No,” she said, leaning back against the hard, stabilizing bark of the tree. She needed support right at that moment.

  “I’m sorry,” he blurted, and while she had been ready to give him a large piece of her mind for dumping her in this unprepared, the apology stopped it at once.

  She pulled once at his tie. “I’ll live. Will you?”

  David nodded once, but his eyes still hurt, and now she knew why. It wasn’t Christine that had sliced him in two. It was his brother. She couldn’t imagine the betrayal, but the pain she understood all too well. With a husband or a wife, you could sign a paper, and they were no more. With a brother, or a sister, the pain cut deeper, the anger more cold. It was blood.

  Ashley didn’t like to think about the years that Val had drank herself into oblivion. It was so much easier to pretend it had never happened. Apparently David dealt with his pain the same way.

  Not caring who was watching, Ashley slid her hands around his neck, and kissed him. His broad arms wrapped around her like a lifeline, and she liked being needed. He’d bailed her out a few times, for once, she could return the favor. He rested his forehead against her own. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

  “You have nothing to be sorry about. We’ll get through it.” Then she would chop his brother into small pieces, but that would be left for another day. And honestly, she did like Christine. The woman was back to being a bitch, albeit a stupid bitch, because she had picked the wrong brother, but Ashley wasn’t about to complain.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Should I kill him for you?”

  He laughed, a rough, awkward sound, but it tugged at Ashley’s heart just the same. “You’d commit capital murder for me?”

  “In a heartbeat.”

  “I love you, Ash.”

  She grabbed his hand and squeezed, and they went back to confront the evil bitch of an ex-wife and David’s back-stabbing son-of-a-bitch brother.

  He’s calling you Ash? That’s my nickname. I don’t like him, Ash. I don’t trust him.

  Ashley smiled at David, pushing the voice aside for now. Sometimes procrastination could be a very useful thing.

  FOR DAVID, it was four hours in the bowels of hell, but he survived, and actually by the end of the night, he had talked with Chris about the apartment, and they agreed to split the proceeds in half. David didn’t feel the need to be petty anymore. Ashley did that to him—kept him from being juvenile and vindictive.

  The anger was still there, the rage, but it didn’t burn so hot anymore.

  In the last four years, Chris had changed some. There was a cut of gray in his hair that hadn’t been there before, and there were neat lines bracketing his mouth, but when Chris looked at Christine, there was something in his eyes that should have made David hurt, but didn’t. Maybe he should have visited here earlier, he wasn’t sure, but he was here now.

  Okay, they would never be as close as they had been, but maybe…

  As the evening went on, Ashley stuck to him like glue. Almost—dare he say it?—flagrantly possessive. It surprised him, that protective streak within her. He’d never seen it before, except maybe once, when she took off from Miami to find her sister. It was just one more reason that he loved her. Every time he was with her, he found new reasons to love her. New things about her that pleased him, comforted him. He’d never thought about needing someone. In a lot of ways, he hadn’t needed Christine, but at that time, David didn’t need anyone. He was so sure that he owned the world.

  Now he knew better. Now he knew that he could need.

  With Ashley, things would be different. Ashley loved David. David loved Ashley, and he was going to do everything in his power to make this permanent. She’d love it in New York. All he had to do was convince her to move with whatever means necessary, and David was nothing if not creative.

  He found her eyes, Christine was showing her the latest in art deco vases, and Ashley moved across the room, coming to sit on the arm of his chair. “You about ready to go?” he asked, because he’d done his duty, he’d made his peace. All he wanted to do now was get back to the hotel, bury himself deep inside Ashley and make up for fourteen days lost.

  She loved him.

  Her smile was slow and wicked, and made him catch his breath. Suddenly, he couldn’t wait to leave.

  “Let’s call a cab,” he suggested.

  “You don’t want to take the train back?” she asked, and obviously people in Chicago weren’t as efficient about their transportation as New York.

  David leaned closer, pitched his voice low, but he didn’t care who heard, he was more interested in tasting the side of Ashley’s neck. Right below her ear, where the skin felt like silk. “We’re not far. The cab will be faster.”

  Ashley, his wonderful Ashley, jumped up from her seat and clapped her hands together. “All right. I bet you guys have to get up early tomorrow. I know I do.” She took Christine’s hand, pumped once. “Great to meet you. Come by the store.” Then she looked at David, her smile falling a few points. “It was nice to meet some of David’s family. I can see the resemblance. You’re lucky to have him.”

  Chris stared at the carpet, and after one phone call and ten minutes of waiting, the cab honked outside, and thank God, that was over.

  Christine waved them off as if everyone were the best of friends.

  Once Ashley and David were safely in the cab, speeding away from Christine and Chris and Norwood Park, David dove in and took Ashley’s lips. She curved into his arms, her mouth opening, her tongue teasing his. He shouldn’t be making out in the backseat of a cab, but these were desperate times, and he was a desperate man. Her fingers grabbed his thigh, moved higher to cover the bulge at his fly, and began to move in the most supremely confident way.

  Oh, hell, yes. “Tell me you’re going back to the hotel with me.”

  Ashley slapped the seat, not the reaction he wanted. “Crap. I need to call home. They don’t know where I am.” Quickly she plucked her phone from her purse and punched in a number, and David sat silently willing his cock to be patient.

  “Val, hey, it’s me. Listen, I got tied up at the store. It’s going to be late. I probably won’t make it home tonight.”

  At the store?

  “I know, it’s a pain. I hate inventory.”

  He was inventory? It was the middle of June. Who did inventory in the middle of the month? She didn’t need to lie about this. And if she was going to lie, she needed a better lie.

  “No, no, I don’t need your help. I’ve got the staff here. We’ll finish up, and I’ll just sack out in the back. No need to worry. How was your day�
�? Excellent. Give Brianna and Mom a kiss, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She clicked off the phone and David told himself it didn’t matter. Then he promptly asked her, “Why didn’t you tell them?”

  Yeah, it mattered.

  Carefully she shrugged. “They don’t need to know.”

  There was something strange in her face, something evasive, and it bothered him that she needed to keep their relationship secret, as if there were something wrong with it. There was nothing wrong with it, and everything right with it.

  Still, she was an adult, she knew her family better. He should let her handle it the way she needed to handle it.

  And still he couldn’t shut up. All right, it bothered him. He wanted to be understanding and sensitive, and all those “good” qualities, but he wasn’t. She had told him that he didn’t like to admit things, so fine, he admitted things. It bothered him. He turned to Ashley and tried to reason. “You’re an adult now, so who cares? It’s no big deal. If you don’t tell them, it makes it a big deal. You should say something, Ashley. Tell her the truth.”

  “I’ll do it when the time is right,” she told him, which did nothing to make him feel better. In fact, it only made it worse. “I just wanted to get through tonight…and we did.”

  “Yeah,” he said, and he settled her against his shoulder. “We got through it.”

  Still she didn’t relax. He could feel the tension in her shoulders, her neck. He only wished she would trust him to fix what was wrong with their being together. He could, he knew he could. All he had to do was convince her family he was the perfect man. A challenge? He was up for it. For Ashley, he would do anything.

  WHEN THEY GOT BACK to the hotel, Ashley felt oddly unprepared. He loved her, she loved him. Okay, fine, now what were they supposed to do about it? The first second he entered the room, he put away his jacket, and pulled at his tie. Ashley blinked twice, noting what was obviously his evening ritual. How odd; she had never known. Fascinated, she sat in the black leather desk chair, and watched David proceed with his life. He was heading to the bathroom before he noticed.

  “What?” he asked.

  “This is new.”

  He thought for a second. “It is. I like it. You like it?”

  “I do.”

  “Good,” he said, wandering off to the bathroom.

  Eventually he poked his head around the corner of the room. “You didn’t bring pajamas, did you?”

  And he was nervous. “No.”

  “Okay. I’m fine with that.”

  She thought for a second. “David, do you sleep in pajamas?”

  “Not since the divorce, but I’m usually alone. I packed some tonight.”

  “Why?” she asked, because she wanted to understand how his mind worked. It was a mystery all unto itself.

  “It seemed rude not to,” he explained.

  Ashley giggled. “Now you get shy?”

  “I’m not shy. It just doesn’t seem right. What if you get offended or something? Women and men, they’re different. They think about things differently.”

  She curled her feet up under her. “Yeah?”

  “Fine. Laugh at me, but I’m telling you, there’re men who aren’t so sensitive.” He pushed at his hair, and the cowlick reared up in the back. “Do you mind if I check in with the office? I’m expecting an answer on something. It won’t take more than two to three minutes.”

  Ashley shook her head. “I don’t mind.”

  He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the laptop from his case and settled down to work. While he sat there, she watched him contentedly. She’d never seen him work before. His eyes were always moving, and he was fast on the keys, his fingers flying, which didn’t surprise her at all. She’d seen those fingers in action—on her.

  He hadn’t been kidding about the time. No more than three minutes later, he shut the lid and stowed the computer away. “Thanks. We’re in the middle of earnings season. It’s a zoo.”

  Then he held out his hand, sat down on the bed, legs splayed and pulled her between them. “Thank you for staying.”

  “Well, you’re in my town. It’s the least I can do.”

  He kissed her once. “I appreciate it.” Then his mouth moved to her neck, tickling her with his stubble. She giggled and he raised his head. “Do you want me to shave? I can shave.”

  “No, I like it.” And she liked this. He was new, too. Strange to see such an arrogant man so unsure about domesticity. Domesticity. She had been worried about it, now it sounded like bliss. She settled in between his thighs. “How was it tonight?” she asked, when his mouth returned to nuzzle her neck.

  “Fine.”

  Ashley sighed, frustration and pleasure mixed together in one disjointed sound. “You don’t have to tell me ‘fine.’ I was there. It was miserable. I want to know how you were feeling.”

  He raised his head. “Can we not talk about my feelings?”

  And now he was ruining all her fantasies of what domestic bliss should entail. “Why don’t you want to talk about your feelings? I like talking about your feelings.”

  Long, efficient fingers worked the buttons on her shirt. “I think you secretly delight in other people’s misery. You’re a closet sadist.”

  “How did you know?”

  “It was the beady gleam in your eyes that gave you way, Marquise de Sade,” he told her, then he took her blouse and hung it up in the closet, right next to his jacket. David McLean was a tidy man. She liked that. She liked having a man to pick up her socks, not that she would throw down her socks, but it was comforting to know that if she did, he wasn’t too proud to pick them up.

  She stood, stripping off her pants, a straight-line pair that she had bought from a tiny shop in Galena. They were elegant, looked pricey and wrinkled like the devil. She handed them to him, just to test her theory. “I don’t have beady eyes,” she told him, watching as he headed for the closet.

  Ashley grinned when he returned and his hands lifted her face to the light. “Let me see. Definitely beady. Shifty even.”

  His fingers unhooked the clasp on her bra, his hands gliding over her breasts, his sigh pure male satisfaction, like a cold beer in August, or a win in extra innings. For a moment, she surrendered to the lovely idea of being the cause of said satisfaction, but there were bigger things to consider. Namely, whether passion and domesticity could be wrapped up in one package. “You know what’s on TV tonight?”

  “I admit I didn’t check.” He shucked the last of his clothes, began to put them all away, and as she studied the irrefutable evidence of his arousal, she realized that yes, passion and domesticity could coexist nicely.

  “The original Halloween is on television. Can we watch it?”

  He turned, hanger in hand, wearing only a disconcerted frown. It was truly a lovely picture. “I’m in town for twenty-four hours, and you want to watch television?”

  Ashley considered pointing out the three minutes that he had spent working on his computer, but decided that would be small of her. “Stay another day,” she offered instead, laying out on the bed, a not-so-virginal sacrifice clad only in a demure scrap of innocent white silk.

  David took a long, hard look, considered the offer, scratched the dark stubble at his jaw. “I’d have to juggle things.”

  “Juggle. You’re a good juggler,” she told him, watching with a pleased smiled as he climbed into bed. “Besides, we have to talk to Horatio Moore tomorrow. He’s the guy in Wicker Park.”

  “Oh, God. I had forgotten,” he said, stretching out next to her.

  “Already you’ve forgotten your mission?” Ashley tsked, her avid gaze wandering over the exquisite easy-to-wear lines of his body. Highlighting the collection were strong, masculine arms that were never too big, never too rough. The broad chest was iconically male, accentuated by two sharply defined whirls of hair that trailed low in a fanciful temptation that drew the eye lower still. The long, lean legs were an eye-pleasing frame to an ass that belonged in a Cal
vin Klein ad. Completing the look was the bold design of his cock, long and thick with classical styling, the perfect combination of both form and function.

  He made her silly with lust. Her nipples perked, her demure scrap of white lace now thoroughly damp. As an analyst who evaluated things daily, David noticed…and caught her wrists, pulling her closer. “My only mission is to pleasure you.”

  “Then you have to stay another day,” she insisted, and he slid the demure scrap down her legs, tossing it over the side of the bed. Obviously there were limits to his orderly nature.

  Her mouth grew dry with anticipation. He sat up against the headboard, pulled her back against him, skin to skin, and his hands traced over her breasts, flirting with her thighs. “I’m supposed to be in San Jose tomorrow.”

  “San Jose?” She blew a raspberry. “They don’t deserve you. Chicago deserves you.”

  “I can be persuaded,” he said gallantly, and against her back, the long ridge of his erection bucked in agreement.

  With lazy eyes she watched them in the mirror, his body blocked by hers, except for the warm hands cupping her breasts, the unwavering thumbs at her nipples that stoked a pulse between her legs. “I accept that challenge,” she offered, brave words from a woman being steadily seduced into submission.

  His mouth played with her neck, her ear, and she cocked her head to one side. “Introduce me to your family,” he whispered, and instantly she stiffened.

  “Not this time. Maybe next.”

  “Scared?” he asked, his mouth still against her neck, but his hands were still.

  “No.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yes,” she admitted, her posture hardening from happily distracted hussy to not quite so stupidly distracted anymore.

  David’s busy hands resumed their task, and Ashley relaxed again. “You don’t have to be. Honestly, I’m not that intimidating.”

  “It’s not you I’m worried about.”

  “Who are you worried about?” he asked, showing an apparent fascination for the sensitive skin below her ear. Happy sensitive skin.