His Invitation

by Tanya Gallagher

  “Gerber daisies,” she supplied.

  “Those.”

  She grinned back at him. “I like those too. I’m not picky.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. You want to see the room?”

  She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “That’s what I’m here for.”

  “Ladies first.” Deacon waved Emma in front of him with another smirk. Why did she have the feeling that this time he was checking out her ass?

  The room was spacious but not huge, with a queen-sized bed and a small desk in the corner.

  “It comes fully furnished,” Deacon said.

  She looked over her shoulder to meet his eye. “Someone left this bed behind?” She stroked her hand over the polished wood headboard. It was finely-crafted and solid. Probably expensive. “It’s so pretty.”

  He shrugged. “No one left it. It’s mine.”

  She nodded. When she’d told Bex that she was looking at apartments, Bex had said, “Ask questions. Look for red flags.” So Emma opened her mouth again. “Why are you looking for a roommate, Deacon?”

  He flashed her an amused look. “To pay half the rent.”

  A wise guy, huh? Fair point.

  “Okay, but what do I get out of this?” she asked.

  “Other than a place to live?”

  “Yeah.” Emma cocked her hip and assessed him. “Do you have any special skills?”

  Deacon gestured at his body again. It really was a selling point. “I’m handy.”

  Or was it handsy?

  She narrowed her eyes, and he grinned back at her.

  So much for Bex’s plan. Between the smirk and the panties, this guy wasn’t just flying his red flags—he was practically hosting the damn Bad Idea Parade.

  Still. Something about him made her want to stay. To get to know him. And how much of a jerk could a guy be if he had a picture of kids on his fridge?

  “So why are you looking for a place for only two months?” Deacon asked.

  Emma waved her hands in the air. “There are some changing circumstances in my current living situation, and I need to move quickly. Living here would give me enough time to figure out where I want to live next without having to pay a ton for moving expenses.”

  “I don’t know, I have a feeling if you move, you’re going to want to stick around.”

  “Maybe.” Emma bit her lip. He might be a little cocky, but he wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. And Deacon, at least, didn’t look like he was going to get himself pregnant, which counted in his favor.

  “What do you say, Emma?” He smiled at her like he was enjoying some inside joke, and she blushed. On second thought, he had eyes so hot he could probably get a girl pregnant just by looking at her. “Want to make this roommate thing happen?”

  Emma met his eye and straightened her shoulders. She wasn’t the type of girl to back down from a challenge. “Deacon Whistler, you’ve got yourself a roommate.” She stuck out her hand for him to shake. “How soon can I move in?”

  Chapter 2

  Emma knocked on the door five minutes before she was supposed to arrive to move in. Luckily, Deacon was dressed and not lounging around in his boxers like he had been earlier this morning.

  He swung open the door, and she stood in the threshold of his apartment—or, rather, their apartment—with her tiny hands wrapped around the handle of a giant purple suitcase. She wore a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a skinny black tank top that hugged her generous curves, and her blond hair fell in waves around her shoulders.

  Lucky him. This roommate thing was going to be fun.

  “So, I realized I don’t have a key yet,” she said with a smile. “I feel like that’s something I should have.”

  Deacon grinned. “Probably. Especially because the door locks behind you if you’re not careful.”

  “Good to know. Wouldn’t want to get locked out in my unmentionables.”

  An image of her in skimpy lingerie flashed through his mind. “Actually, that could be pretty damn entertaining.”

  Her lips curved. “For you or the neighbors?”

  Better not answer that. Deacon waved her into the apartment. “Come on in.”

  “Thanks.”

  He dropped his gaze to the suitcase. “You sure you’ve got that? It’s big enough to knock you over.”

  Her blue eyes sparkled at the challenge. “I’m stronger than I look.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Emma wheeled the suitcase into the apartment as if to prove her claim. She disappeared into her room, then emerged a minute later. “I’ve got more stuff in the hallway, and a few friends are going to help me with the second load of my things.”

  Deacon shoved a hand into his pockets. “Do you want help or do you want me to stay out of your way?”

  “Actually, if you could help me grab one of the boxes in the hall, that would be great.”

  “Lead the way.”

  He followed her into the apartment building hallway and chuckled at the small tower of boxes she’d stacked in a pyramid shape.

  “What?” she asked.

  “That configuration’s very precise of you.”

  Emma hauled the top box into her arms. “What can I say?”

  He lifted one of the remaining boxes and grunted at its weight. “Jeez. What do you have in here?”

  “Um…accessories, I think.”

  “That sounds ominous.”

  She tsked. “Don’t be such a guy.”

  He braced the weight of the box against his chest and followed her through their front door.

  As Emma crossed into the living room, her foot caught on the rug, and she launched forward. She tried to catch herself, but her hands flew out and the box she carried slipped from her grip. It crashed onto her foot, and Emma let out an impressive string of curses.

  Deacon dropped his box onto the floor and caught her by the elbow.

  “Save some of those words for the dictionary,” he teased. “Ankle spanker? What the hell even is that?”

  She smiled through her pain. “I think we’re going to have to do something about this rug.”

  “Didn’t seem to be a problem in my life before you arrived. Maybe it’s you.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled.

  “I’ll go get some ice.”

  She nodded and rubbed at her ankle. “Thank you.”

  He returned from the kitchen with two beers instead and handed one to Emma. “I’m fresh out of ice packs, but maybe this will help.”

  She laughed, and the sound was a light in the darkness. “I’m not sure if I should drink it and take the edge off or hold it on my ankle.”

  “Why not both?” He set his beer on the edge of the coffee table and jerked his head toward the couch. “Can you walk on it?”

  Emma set her foot down, testing it gingerly. Before she could announce her assessment, something made him reach for her, lifting her as she squealed. She rocked against his chest, looping the arm with the beer around his neck and using the other to steady herself on his shoulder.

  A jolt of electricity shot through Deacon’s body and the air went charged. Emma was just inches from his lips, and his hands were on her soft body, and she smelled like cotton candy.

  Oh, Jesus.

  Emma drew in a quick, sharp breath that mirrored his own.

  So, she was affected by him, too, huh?

  He carried her a few feet and dropped her gently on the couch. Then he flopped down next to her and gestured at the beer in Emma’s hands. “Sorry, Blondie. I didn’t get you flowers. Consider this the equivalent of a housewarming present.”

  She handed him his bottle. “Cheers to that. And to being roommates.”

  “To being roommates.” Fingers crossed this was all a good plan.

  Emma cracked open her bottle, wrapped her pretty lips around the mouth of the glass, and took a long swig of beer.

  Holy shit. That sight raised a few erotic fantasies in his mind.

  Emma looked out the window
and giggled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  She propped her injured ankle on the coffee table and wiggled back against the couch cushions. “I don’t know if I’ve had a good day-drinking session in a while.”

  “It’s a Saturday morning. Pretend it’s a mimosa or something. Or a margarita.”

  “A margarita before noon?” She lifted an eyebrow.

  Deacon shrugged. “I’m a promoter for Pináculo Tequila. So, yeah. A margarita.”

  She smiled back at him like this was an intriguing discovery. “Okay, then. We’re going to have to talk about the perks of your job.”

  The doorbell rang before he could say anything more, and he motioned toward the door. “I take it those are your friends?”

  She nodded. “Must be.”

  He set down his beer and walked across the room to pull open the front door. A thin redhead and a guy with dark hair stood in the hallway.

  “Is Emma here?” the woman asked.

  “Yes!” Emma called from the living room.

  Deacon opened the door so they could step inside, leaving it propped open behind them. “Emma had herself a little accident this morning.”

  “You make it sound like I’m a dog who peed on the floor,” she complained. “All I did was trip on the carpet.”

  He grinned and offered her friends a handshake. “I’m Deacon.”

  They introduced themselves as Bex and Gabe and followed him into the living room. Bex flew to Emma’s side and grimaced at Emma’s ankle. Her leg was sort of red and swollen, but she seemed to be able to wiggle it just fine.

  “You okay?” Bex asked.

  “I’ll live.”

  Gabe touched a finger to his lips. “I don’t know, Emma. Are you sure you’re not just sitting on your ass so we can do the real work?” It was a gentle tease, and Deacon could see how much Emma meant to them.

  “My room is down the hall on the right,” Emma said to them. “Any chance you might be able to just drop the boxes in there?”

  Gabe nodded. “We’re on it.” He and Bex disappeared in the direction of the elevators, and Deacon sat back next to Emma.

  He nudged her shoulder with his own. “Should we help them?”

  The shoulder she lifted was touched with pink sunburn under the strap of her tank top. “Nah, it’s okay. They owe me one.”

  “Oh yeah?” Deacon took a swig of his beer, but the cold liquid that slid down his throat did nothing to cool his heated body.

  “Let’s just say I helped them get together, and no one’s going to complain about a banging sex life.” Emma caught the look on his face. “What?”

  “Where do I start with that? The fact that you know about their sex life or that you set them up?”

  She smirked. “I guess that depends on what you find more interesting.”

  There was only one right answer even though it wasn’t true. “So tell me about your friends…” he led.

  She laughed like she knew he was full of shit. “Okay, Deacon. If you must know, I’m an excellent matchmaker.” She gave a wry twist of her lips, which looked especially soft. “For everyone except myself.”

  “Huh,” he said. “Like some witch’s curse.” She cocked her head at him, and he cleared his throat. “You know, like in fairy tales where a witch has some magic power, but she can’t use it on herself.”

  She snorted. “I think you’re talking out of your ass. But yeah, same principle.”

  “It’s a shame,” was all he said. But it wasn’t at all. Because she’d just very happily confirmed she was single. And that was even more intriguing than her friends’ sex lives. Maybe.

  Deacon jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Well, I’ve got to head out to work in a little while, but your key’s on the counter. Make yourself at home.”

  It was a shame to leave Emma all alone on the couch, but at least now Deacon had a reason to come back.

  Chapter 3

  Emma’s eyes popped open in the dark, and her brain instantly churned awake, though it had to be the middle of the night. She felt for the alarm clock she’d left on her bedside table and turned its glowing face in her direction.

  4:30 a.m.

  Crap.

  The last time she’d woken it had been 3:15. Clearly, sleep was not happening tonight. At least the nightmares weren’t back. This was old-fashioned insomnia, not the kind born of a slow-growing dread.

  She flipped her pillow and punched it into shape, then lay back with a sigh. It wasn’t the pillow’s fault. It wasn’t the bed’s fault. Everything hugged her body like a cloud.

  It’s just being in a strange environment, she told herself. You’ll get used to it.

  A crash echoed out in the living room, and Emma tensed. Goosebumps raced over her arms, and a clammy sweat broke out on her skin.

  No.

  Not here.

  Not again.

  The building was supposed to have security.

  Another noise from the living room, like heavy furniture being dragged across the floor. And then there was a moan.

  Emma’s chest tightened. Oh dammit.

  What if someone was hurt?

  She forced herself out of bed and grabbed the box cutter she’d used to slice open packing tape earlier today. She held her breath as she cracked her bedroom door, but no one jumped out at her, so she took one shaky step down the hallway. And then another. With her third step, she could peer into the open kitchen and living room.

  A burst of movement on the couch caught her eye, and blood rushed to her face. The room spun and then settled back down.

  Deacon was fucking a brunette on the couch.

  On her couch.

  Noisily.

  Holy shit.

  The girl’s back was to Emma, so from here all she could see was Deacon’s face. He sat with his head tipped back against the cushions and his hands on the girl’s ass, while she ground up and down on his cock.

  Emma didn’t hear herself make a sound, but she must have gasped because Deacon leaned forward to shoot her a heated, satisfied smile. She froze, and his eyes locked on hers, so hot that her own clit throbbed and her pulse skyrocketed. She’d never considered herself a voyeur, but there was something inherently arousing about watching two beautiful people have sex in front of her.

  The muscles in Deacon’s sculpted torso flexed as he moved, and his long fingers stroked the girl’s ass while his gaze stayed focused on Emma’s. His eyes were dark and hooded with arousal. His look was a challenge. An invitation.

  One she wasn’t going to accept.

  Emma squeezed her thighs together. This might be the hottest and most infuriating thing she’d ever witnessed in her life. She needed to get out of here, but she was glued to the floor.

  Dammit.

  “Room for three,” Deacon drawled, and his voice was enough to break the trance.

  Emma could feel herself turn scarlet, feel her pulse in her neck, in her clit.

  She turned on her heel and ran.

  Emma woke with her mouth dry, her brain fogged, and her head underneath her pillow.

  She had a distant memory of shoving the pillow over her ears to block out the noises from the living room last night. Once she had heard them, she couldn’t un-hear them, but she could try not to hear new ones.

  Why did last night feel like there was a porn being filmed in her new house?

  Emma shook her head. There was no way the scene with Deacon and the girl on the couch had really happened. She scanned the room, and her eyes landed on the box cutter. Not carefully balanced on the stack of boxes like she’d left it yesterday before bed. But sitting in front of her alarm clock, where she must have tossed it in the middle of the night.

  Crap.

  Last night really had happened. And now that she was up, there wasn’t a chance of her going back to sleep.

  Emma thumbed through one of her boxes and found her favorite cozy sweatpants. She wiggled into them, pulled a sweatshirt over her head, and cracked her bedroom
door.

  Other than the AC ticking quietly in the background and the humming of the refrigerator, heavy silence filled the apartment. Unlike last night, she was reasonably sure she wouldn’t run into anyone.

  Fingers crossed.

  She padded to the kitchen and blew out a deep breath. She was the only one around.

  Good.

  It was still too early in the day to face Deacon. Sara and Max might have been loud about getting it on, but at least they did it in private. And what was she even going to begin to say to Deacon? Hi, last night was fun? Thanks for turning me on? Get yourself a room?

  She rummaged under the kitchen counter until she produced a rag and an almost-empty bottle of fabric cleaner. Then she hauled the supplies into the living room and dropped to her knees in front of the couch. She sprayed the cleaner over the whole couch and scrubbed at it with the rag.

  When the couch was clean, Emma turned her attention to the coffee table. Last night’s escapades had bumped the table out of position and scattered the remote controls on the floor. She frowned and climbed to her feet to collect them. Guess the couple couldn’t be bothered to clean up after themselves.

  “Didn’t know the room service came free.”

  Emma jumped at Deacon’s teasing voice. She whirled around to find him standing over her shoulder, very, very shirtless. A low-slung pair of pajama pants hung around his hips, held up by the flimsiest drawstring she’d ever seen.

  They looked like they could come right off.

  His muscles rippled in a way that made her a little sad the pajamas didn’t drop to his feet right then.

  She snapped herself out of it.

  “Yeah, well, I felt the need to sanitize out here.” She peered over his shoulder. “Your girlfriend still around?”

  “Not my girlfriend. And, no, she’s not here.”

  Emma’s shoulders relaxed.

  Deacon moved past her to sit on the couch, dropping onto it before she could warn him.

  He sprang up with a shout. “Jesus! That’s wet.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “Like I said, I sanitized.”

  He ran a hand over his butt, drawing attention to his sculpted muscles. Had he even showered since last night?