Someone Like You

by Jennifer Gracen

  Pierce’s heart squeezed in his chest, and something flowed through him he didn’t recognize, something fierce and consuming. Protective. His grip on her hand tightened. “Look at me, Abby.”

  She did, but with brows drawn, wary.

  “First of all, I’m sure he wasn’t laughing at you. Please don’t do that to yourself.” His thumb stroked the top of her hand, which felt small and soft in his. Her gaze fell back to the tabletop. “It actually doesn’t matter if he cared about you or not, because he was a fucking liar who mistreated you. But you cared about him, and that mattered.”

  Abby glanced back up at him, then out to the water.

  Pierce’s chest tightened as he continued. “He was a narcissist, and a liar, and a fucking coward, too. That’s why you didn’t hear from him again. Because he didn’t want to face you, knowing you knew the truth about him. The ugly truth, about his ugly fucking soul.”

  He saw her expression and realized she was really listening to him. So he went on. “It was easier for him to walk away. Run away. That’s what liars and cowards do. That’s all on him, not you.” He rubbed her hand a little harder, willing her to meet his eyes. “Don’t let him still have any power over you. Put him firmly in your past, where he belongs.”

  “I have.” She nodded, her gaze holding his, and exhaled a long, slow breath. “Thanks,” she murmured. “Really, thank you. And you’re right. But I’m okay now. I am. He is in my past now. Actually, this is the most I’ve talked about him in a long time. And I shouldn’t have. We’re on a date. I apologize.”

  “No, it’s fine. I asked, remember?”

  “That’s true.” The breeze lifted her hair again, making the fine strands dance. “Look, Pierce—I don’t love him anymore, and I don’t miss him . . . I just hate what he did, and how it made me feel once I found out everything. The deliberate, continued deception, the betrayal, how foolish I felt . . .” She sighed. “It took me a long time to get past that. And, because I was naïve, I was lied to by other guys before him, which made it a little worse. I had to ask myself why I attracted that kind of man and why I chose that kind. I had some soul-searching to do.” She took another sip of her drink. “So I did. I had to be alone for a while and I’m good with being alone now. I’m okay. Really.”

  Pierce swallowed hard. No wonder she’d been keeping him at bay. Not only did he have a terrible reputation with women that she’d unearthed, but she probably thought—and understandably so—that he was like Ewan, or those other guys. Womanizers and partying athletes weren’t exactly renowned for their honesty and decency. Damn.

  And she’d been right about one thing: he hadn’t realized, until she’d pointed it out, that the constant flirty attitude was his default setting for women, which made him come off as a snake to someone like Abby. He kept things light, he kept it cool . . . and kept himself detached. Hey, if a woman didn’t like him, she didn’t have to come back for another date. There had never been a shortage in that area.

  But he wanted Abby to like him. And he didn’t ever want her to associate him with someone like Ewan. She’d called him on his behavior, and she’d been right. Maybe he had some more work to do himself, too.

  “Hey, Abby . . . I’m glad I know about this. Know what, though?” He flashed a grin. “His loss is my gain. Thanks for breaking your moratorium and coming out with me tonight.”

  Her face registered surprise . . . and something that looked like cautious hope.

  He reached up with his other hand, holding hers between both of his. “Just for the record . . . I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a liar. ’Cause once you break someone’s trust, it’s done.” His eyes held hers as he continued, “I’m not married, never have been. I have dated a lot, and you know that. All I can do is promise you I won’t lie to you. Whether we only stay colleagues at soccer practice, or we move into something like dating, I will always be honest with you. Okay?”

  “That’s what they all say,” she murmured.

  Damn. “I know. But give me a chance, and you’ll see I mean it.”

  She said nothing, but her face flushed with color, giving her away.

  He squeezed her hand, still warm between both of his. “I’m sorry he hurt you, Abby. I’m glad you say you’ve healed. But like I said, don’t give him any more power. If you’re over him, move on and start dating someone else. Take all your power back.”

  Her eyes widened. “You sound like my sister.”

  “Then your sister’s smart. And we’re both right.”

  A little smirk lifted her mouth. Her smirk was sexy as hell; he wanted to kiss it off her gorgeous face. “Start dating someone else, huh?” she said. “Have anyone in mind?”

  “I do, actually,” he murmured, grinning back. “How do you feel about retired athletes?”

  Right then, the waitress appeared with their entrees. Abby pulled her hand out of his, but her smile stayed.

  As Abby’s Cobb salad was set down before her, and his filet mignon before him, Pierce mulled over how he and Abby did have something in common, whether she realized it or not. He knew a fellow self-protecting soul when he saw one. He knew why he lived life with his shields up and his heart behind stone walls. Now he understood that she did too, and why.

  It hadn’t made sense before, since she came from a close-knit, loving family—something he didn’t know the first thing about. And she liked her job, and had a seemingly normal life. It was the men in her life, and especially Ewan; that prick had really done a number on Abby’s heart and ego. It angered him. Abby was a truly decent woman. He hadn’t been around many, which was why her genuine nature resonated so powerfully with him. Hearing how she’d been played by that bastard, then her lingering sadness over how she’d been treated, made Pierce’s insides flare with hot rage. He wanted to find the guy and bash him into the ground.

  At the same time, he felt a hint of self-loathing that he couldn’t shake. Because the truth was, in the past, he had been that guy. And he and Abby both knew it.

  Now, at thirty-one, he wasn’t like that anymore. At least, he thought he wasn’t. But over the past two months, as he’d tried to look honestly at himself, a part of him had wondered if what happened with Victoria was some kind of karmic payback for the women he’d used or hurt in his younger years. Now, seeing the other side of it . . . a woman like Abby dealing with the aftermath of a thoughtless, selfish bastard’s actions . . . God, he hated that he’d possibly ever made a woman feel like that, and desperately never wanted to be that guy again. He was better than that now. Wasn’t he?

  “You’re awfully quiet,” she said.

  He blinked and cleared his throat. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

  “About what I told you?”

  “Yeah, partly.”

  She frowned. “I shouldn’t have said all that.”

  “On the contrary, I’m glad you did. It helps me understand you a little better.”

  “Okay. But can we change the subject?” Abby asked as she speared some of her salad onto her fork. “And not talk about this again? There’s no point. You wanted to hear the story, there it is. It’s all in the past.”

  “Of course. Believe me, I get not wanting to dredge up the past. But Abby?” Pierce made sure she met his gaze. “Thanks for sharing all that with me. For trusting me with it. I know that must not have been easy for you.”

  She nodded and took a bite, effectively closing the subject without another word.

  Chapter Eleven

  Over dinner, Pierce and Abby found things to talk about other than the kids on the team. The conversation flew easily through the meal and before they knew it, the waitress was clearing their plates.

  Night had set in, leaving the sky black and the skyscrapers as points of light. A few couples were dancing on the edge of the rooftop, by the outside bar. The music now was slow, seductive reggae, and Pierce tapped on his knee in time to the beat. He grinned as he watched Abby do a little chair shuffle of her own. Three glasses of wine and neutral topics o
f conversation had helped to loosen her up, and she swayed to the music with a sweet little smile on her pretty face. The soft, warm wind made her hair dance around her jawline and her sparkling eyes. He wanted to run his fingers through the pale blond strands, remembering that they were as silky soft as her skin.

  “You enjoying yourself?” he asked.

  She smiled a loopy smile and nodded. “I am. I really am. Are you? I’m not too uptight tonight? Or, correction, since the beginning of the night?”

  He had to chuckle. “Not at all. Not since we got here. I’m glad you’re good. So, just asking . . . are you drunk? Because I’m not sure.”

  “No! Just buzzed. Really buzzed. But not drunk.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. “Are you drunk?”

  “Nope. Slight, comfortable buzz. I handle my alcohol very well.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably a pro. Not me. I’m a bit of a lightweight. Which is tragic.” She giggled, a deliciously light sound. “Half Irish, quarter Scottish, quarter German—you’d think I’d hold my liquor better! But sadly, no.”

  With a grin, he got to his feet, pushing his chair back with a soft scrape as he stared down at her and held out a hand. “Dance with me.”

  Her dark blue eyes widened for a second, but she slowly got to her feet.

  They moved to the makeshift dance floor, where other couples swayed against each other to the sinuous groove. Pierce pulled her into his arms. She fit perfectly and felt so good. Her breasts brushed against his chest, soft and full, and he couldn’t help wondering what they’d feel like in his hands. They moved together well, the air between them coming alive with electricity. She rested her cheek against his shoulder as they danced. The music was perfect, the night air was perfect, the moment was perfect.

  The scent of her, clean, feminine, and a bit flowery, made his muscles tighten as desire looped its way through his body. His fingers glided slowly down her back, over her silky smooth top, until his hands rested on her hips. His face hovered only inches above hers as he murmured, “Abby, I’m dying to kiss you.” He stared deeply into her eyes. “But I won’t take advantage of a drunken woman.”

  “Who’s drunk?” Abby asked. “Not me.” Her heart was suddenly pounding so hard she found it difficult to draw breath. Could he feel her heartbeat pounding against his chest? “Besides, I told you I’m not drunk. Well, okay, maybe a little. Buzzed, really. Comfortably buzzed. I’m fine. Promise.” Oh my God, shut up! she yelled at herself in her head.

  “Thanks for clarifying.” Smiling, obviously amused, he leaned in and nuzzled his cheek against hers. The contact sent a shiver skittering over her. She almost literally swooned. “How’s this?” he murmured. “Is this okay?”

  Greedy lust curled through her belly, and for a second, she wondered if her legs would give out. “Yeah,” she croaked. “Fine.”

  “Great.” He inhaled deeply. “God, you feel good. You smell good, too.”

  Her heart rate sped up in a flash, pounding away like the traitor it was. Every sense seemed heightened, every nerve ending fired to life. But her capacity to make intelligent conversation had already left the building. “Um . . . it must be my shampoo,” she stammered. “I don’t wear perfume. My mother’s allergic.”

  She could feel his mouth curve up into a new grin against her cheek. She could barely breathe.

  “Abby . . .” His deep voice, saying her name in her ear so intimately, sent a new, stronger shiver down her spine and turned her insides to jelly. She edged closer, pressing herself against him.

  Someone behind Pierce bumped into him hard, shoving him up against Abby full force. His arms tightened around her, a subconscious gesture of protectiveness.

  “Gawd, I’m sorryyy!” a woman giggled at him. She’d obviously passed buzzed a long time ago. She swayed violently and said in a slurred voice, “I tripped, I’m so sorry. On my feet. I tripped on my feet.”

  “It’s all right,” Pierce said. “You okay?”

  “Yup, I’m great!” The woman laughed and swayed a bit. Her friend grabbed her elbow, apologized, and pulled her away.

  Pierce looked back down at Abby. He was still holding her tight, their bodies still pressed closely together, and she stared back up at him. He cupped her face with both hands and covered her mouth with his.

  She jumped and stiffened in his arms for a split second, then melted into him. He kept the kiss gentle as his warm lips coaxed hers to open for him. With a swoony sigh, she relaxed against him, and her mouth opened willingly under his. His tongue swept in, tasting of dark ale, tangling slowly with hers. Bursts of hot desire surged through her entire body, down to her toes. She whimpered softly into his mouth and his arms slid around her waist, bringing her even closer. Her hands made their way up his muscled arms to curl around his neck and grasp his warm skin as his mouth kissed, nibbled, and devoured hers.

  Her head spun at a million miles an hour. She was glad he had her locked in his embrace, because she felt weightless. She didn’t know how much was from the alcohol and how much was from pure heady pleasure, but the way Pierce kissed her . . . God, no one had ever kissed her like this. Hot, slow, deep kisses, searching and possessive. Time just slowed, got wavy around them. She was sure she was melting into a puddle in his strong arms. God knew she was already wet for him. Were others watching them? She didn’t care. Her fingers curled in his thick hair as she kissed him back, giving back as good as she got. With a low groan from deep in his throat, his hands tightened at the small of her back as he deepened the kiss.

  The song changed with a loud opening guitar riff, someone laughed nearby, and it brought Abby back to reality. She was making out with Pierce in the middle of an outdoor bar, filled with people. She made herself pull back. Resting his forehead against hers, he was as breathless as she was.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered, her eyes slipping closed. “That was . . .”

  “Amazing,” he whispered back. “I want more.” He brought her mouth back to his in a crushing, sumptuous kiss, his tongue slipping into her mouth again as his hands moved up her back. A soft moan of pleasure floated out of her; she loved the feel of him, the taste of him. Damn, he was a good kisser, a master at it. His mouth was a lethal weapon, and it was undoing her. Her self-control was weakening with every nip, every lick, every touch.

  But she pulled away again, trying to catch her breath. “Pierce . . . we should stop. Someone’s going to yell at us to get a room if we keep this up.”

  His eyes sparked as he grinned. “Nah. It’s New York City. No one cares. Don’t worry.”

  “I care. I’m not used to public displays,” she said, feeling her face start to heat. “It’s not my style.”

  He looked deeper into her eyes, a wicked glint in his smoldering blues. “First time for everything . . .”

  She snorted. “Right. I’m Queen Uptight, remember?”

  “Yeah. And I like that about you.” He brushed his lips against hers. “It makes me want to help you loosen up a little. Makes me wonder what it’d be like if you let yourself go. I’m dying to see that. . . .” He kissed her more firmly this time, lingering, consuming her. “I bet you’d surprise me. In the best ways. Hell, I bet you’d surprise yourself.”

  As she realized he meant in bed, her skin flushed from her chest up into her hairline. He laughed and dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose.

  “You’re so damn adorable,” he murmured. “And seriously beautiful. Do you know that?” His fingers caressed her cheek as he stared into her eyes. “I don’t think you do, Abby. You are.”

  God, he said pretty things. He was so smooth, so inviting with words. She had to remember that charm was one of his most used skills. She had to remember who he was. Slowly but firmly, she pulled back again. “I think I need a drink,” she said. “Of water, this time. No more wine for a while.”

  He nodded slowly, studying her for a long beat before he said, “Okay. Then let’s get you some.”

  * * *

  Three hours later, they were in
the backseat of the town car again, heading out of Manhattan and back to Long Island. They’d danced some more, talked some more, had another drink or two, and then gone for a walk around midtown to enjoy the city and its unique energy at night. As they strolled, he’d held her hand, stolen a few kisses . . . but now, in the quiet darkness of the car, it was all he could do not to throw himself at her.

  Slowly, with a suggestive smile, he pulled her closer until she was nestled into his side. She settled in, but he felt her hesitance, her uncertainty. The shadows of lights that passed outside played along her face. “Hope you’ve had a good time tonight?”

  “I have,” she smiled back warmly.

  “Good. It’s not over yet . . . but I’m asking you out again.” He grinned, then brushed his lips against hers. “I want to see you again, Coach. You up for that?”

  She reached up to trail her fingertips along the side of his face, over his lips, his jaw. “Yes. Okay.”

  “Great. When are you free?”

  “Um . . . tomorrow afternoon, then not again until Tuesday night.” She bit down on her lip. “Of course, we have practice on Monday night, so I’ll see you then . . .”

  “Not gonna be soon enough. Tomorrow afternoon it is.” His arm wrapped tighter around her shoulders and he kissed her again, lightly, a hint of things to come.

  She studied him and asked, “You really want to see me again so soon?”

  “Yeah.” His brows furrowed as he regarded her. “Why are you surprised?”

  “I . . . I don’t know.” She gnawed on her lip again, even as she edged closer into his side. “I just am. Nicely so, but I am.”

  Pierce felt something squeeze inside him. Her cautious sweetness lanced his heart. “Abby . . .” He didn’t know what he wanted to say, exactly. So he reached for her, gripping her face between his hands and pressing his lips to hers, intending to show her how much he wanted to see her since he couldn’t find the words.

  His kisses weren’t gentle this time. Hungry and demanding, his mouth ravaged hers, taking what he wanted, yet giving her what she needed. She met his desire, a clash of tongues, lips, heated breath. He leaned her back against the leather seat and she whimpered into his mouth. The erotic sound set off fireworks inside him, his need for her ripping at him with claws.