Who knew I could be this brazen. Scratch that. This insane! To conceal the uncertainty of my runaway plan, I leave my expression unfazed.
“Do you even know what you’re doing?” he growls.
“Just a friend helping a friend.”
Though I’m half naked, all of a sudden I’m fearless at the challenge to make him want me. His mood clouds with lust. I can tell I’m affecting him on every level. He can’t hide from it any longer. He kicks off the floor and approaches. His soaked white T-shirt sticks to his golden skin, revealing his perfectly formed hard angles. Pecs. Six-pack. Biceps. Triceps—all the major muscle food groups are available in one sexy package, waiting to be unwrapped.
This image propels my bravery, or recklessness, for what I do next. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world, I slide one arm up the doorframe and settle my other hand on my hip, working my curves like a lingerie model. I bite my pouty berry-tinted lip.
He’s waging a conflict in his mind. It’s written in his flexing fingers. They’re clenched at his side. He seems to be contemplating whether he should reach out and touch me. Do it, I secretly beg. I want him to make the move. He needs to touch me first.
“What are you waiting for?” I purr.
“Is this what you want?” His hands move but not in my direction. They reach for the hem of his own soaked shirt. He flips it over his head, peeling the fabric from his body. Now he’s topless too.
My breathing halts, mouth parts, and gaze falls to his chest.
On another day I would shy away from this. On another day I wouldn’t be doing this. But today, right now, I’m too far into this charade to step back. I’ve created this character of myself that’s gutsy and assured, and now I have to play along until I succeed or I’ll look weak, and I refuse to appear weak.
His chestnut hair tussles in a perfect mess and his tanned skin glistens from the water explosion. Evan’s more beautiful than I could have imagined, but there’s a far bigger problem. My agenda’s faltering at the mere sight of him. I’m fighting the need to reach out and place my hand on his chest with my every rapid heartbeat.
He drops his soaked shirt to the floor and inches closer, like he’s daring me. He’s close enough to kiss but pauses in the danger zone where our bodies are parallel, inches apart. His hot breath swirls over my bare, chilled skin. Heat builds a wall between us. Evan’s taking everything so slow it’s turning me on even more. My nipples perk. My chest rises to meet his. He glances at them, seeming to notice the change, and smirks.
He’s onto me. He knows what I’m doing. He’s playing me like I’m playing him, and it’s working. When I can’t stand anymore, two words tumble out in a whisper, “Touch me.”
My lips tremble when he leans in on command. His breath stirs the hair near my ear, causing a loose strand to tickle my neck. I ease my head aside to quell the itch. He’s skimming my collarbone, the swell of my breast, and my neck. Wherever his gaze or breath touches, goosebumps plume across my skin, while the sensation of them plunges into my core.
And then he answers.
CHAPTER 14
“You don’t know what you’re doing? Do you, Cait?” Evan emphasizes my name. It’s one of a few times he hasn’t called me Cat.
He continues, “If you want to play games, fine, but I’m not giving in, no matter what you do. I won’t sleep with you. Like I said, you can’t handle one night with me.”
I grit my teeth as his words transform my horniness into outright anger. When he sidesteps me and marches away, I’m ready to explode. He argued this reasoning the last time we kissed, but this time I can’t let him leave without a fight.
“Who the hell are you to tell me what I can and can’t handle?” I turn to him.
He doesn’t respond, he keeps moving, striding for the front door. His arms swing determined at his side until he’s shuffling into the hallway.
It’s here I notice that for the first time ever, Mr. Gusterson’s standing in the hallway watching us. He’s wearing a fuzzy brown bathrobe. He was the man playing the VR game with Mrs. Venti. And now he’s watching me with the keen wrinkled eyes of a seventy-year-old who hasn’t seen a half-naked woman since the last millennium. I gasp and cover my breasts.
Evan nods to him as he passes and jogs down the stairs, running away.
“Idiots,” Mr. Gusterson mumbles, shakes his head, and waddles into his apartment. He slams his door behind him.
I rush to shut my own door. With palms pressed against the back, I pound my forehead into the wood. He’s right. I’m an idiot. My plan backfired again. You deserved this.
Despite this setback, I have a more pressing problem. I still have no functioning hot water in my shower. So now I’m working on a plan to bathe at Aggie’s for the foreseeable future.
Something slips under the door. Glancing down, I find an envelope near my heels. A groove pinches between my brows. I squat to retrieve it. When I listen close, a pair of heavy shoes traipse down the stairs. I stand and rip open the envelope. It’s heavy, so I turn it over and dump out the contents. A key slides into my open palm. Next I remove a handwritten note.
“I’m staying with a friend tonight. You can use my apartment. Everything will be fixed while you’re at work tomorrow. —E.”
Unbelievable. I shake my head. I can’t figure this man out. One minute he’s flirty, thoughtful, willing to do anything to help by offering me his shower, making me dinner, and saving me from a broken plate and doctoring my scratched leg. In the next he’s a concoction of conflicting signals I can’t interpret. He’s perfect until he’s not. Perhaps it’s his player attitude? The unanswered question is, why am I the only woman he doesn’t want to play?
The whispers rush back in to answer. You’re not good enough, cool enough, or pretty enough. They warned me I shouldn’t travel this road. They gave me every reason to stay away from him, but I can’t. My will to win him is stronger than the whispers. And that’s why I’m taking him up on his offer. Is there a better way to know my opponent than to snoop in his apartment?
CHAPTER 15
I step onto the balcony in need of some fresh air. The building’s front door creaks open and snaps closed. I grip the railing and glance over the edge to find Evan marching down the stairs, across the sidewalk, and stepping into the street. He’s changed into dry clothing: jeans, running shoes, and a dark pullover. A backpack’s slung over his shoulder. By the hasty way he moves, he appears eager to escape me.
He waves down a taxi from a group of passing vehicles. A yellow cab stops, red break lights shining. Evan opens the back door and hops inside.
I harrumph as I watch it speed away, slipping into traffic before heading north. Back inside I fall into my big chair with a whomp and anchor my feet on the ottoman. I kick off my shoes and slink farther into the cushions, releasing an exasperated breath. I reach for his handwritten card. I flip it between my fingers as I replay every time Evan propositioned me. Looking back, I’ve counted many. Most of the time I ignored him. It wasn’t until Aggie’s relationship proclamation that I started to pay attention. Why is it okay for him to do it and not me? Has he been full of crap this entire time? I pinch my lips.
This craziness has gone on long enough. I toss the card aside, not caring when it lands on the floor. I need guidance from someone, even if that someone is Aggie. I dig my cell from my pocket and speed-dial her number before pressing the phone to my ear. She picks up on the fifth ring. Her voice is garbled. I check the nearest clock. It’s early. Is she sleeping already?
“Get over here,” I tell her, regardless.
“What’s going on?” I can see her pout in my mind.
“No time to talk. Knock on apartment 1A’s door.”
I hang up, keeping it cryptic.
Thirty minutes later there’s a knock on Evan’s front door. I’ve been here a few minutes. I cross the room to open it. Aggie appears on the other side, arms crossed and blonde hair springing in every direction. She gives me her pout. The same o
ne she’s probably had since I called her. She pushes past with an attitude.
“Whose apartment is this?” She stomps in, removing her puffy coat. She’s wearing flannel banana pajamas. She kicks off her sparkly Uggs, leaving them wherever they fall. She’s angry for being beckoned from bed.
I shut the door, grab her hand, and lead Her Royal Crankiness into the hall. I flip on the light switch and point to the photo of Evan, the one where he’s working on the Habitat house, half nude and looking like a marble statue of a Roman god.
“You remember my landlord?”
Aggie’s suddenly awake, eyes wide, face inches from the bare-chested photo. She can’t peel her interested gaze away. “Are those real?” She lifts her finger to press his abs like each one is a button on her cell phone.
“Very real. And they look even better in person.”
Her back straightens. “Did you finally sleep with this slice of man-meat lovers, deep-dish pizza and not tell me?”
Her words rise to an annoyed pitchy squeak before she continues. “Living vicariously through you when you do something awesome doesn’t work unless you give me all the details.”
“I told you already, I tried. He won’t give in.”
“Why the hell not? You’re stunning... when you’re not all Texas Chainsaw Massacre.” The light brightens behind her eyes. She gasps. Her mouth forms an O. “That’s why you’ve been dolled up lately. It’s because of him. Isn’t it?”
“That’s what I’m telling you. I tried. I took your advice to heart. I mean, you know what happened the other night—”
“I remember.” She holds her hand flat in the air making a plane noise before it dive-bombs and crashes.
“Well, yeah—okay. Sure. But...”
“Tell me this,” she says and drifts to the sofa, and I follow. She sits before asking, “How was your kiss?”
“How was it?” My brows crease. Even though our kiss has been at the forefront of my mind for weeks, I can’t tell her it was the first I can ever remember, that it made my toes curl, my pulse race, my skin heat, and my legs wrap around his waist and tug him closer. I allow my gaze to wander the floor. “It was—nice.”
“Nice?” she guffaws. “You pulled me from bed for nice?”
“That reminds me, why were you in bed so early?”
“Don’t change the subject.” She points.
I sigh. “Okay, fine. It was hot. We have this gravitational thing.” My fingers and hands twist in a tight maddening motion of energy as if the wild gesture will explain how I feel about him.
“Gravitational?” She looks unconvinced.
“Chemistry?” I try a new word and scrunch my nose. “After I told him I wanted him for one night, no strings, he pushed me away and said he couldn’t be with me because I couldn’t handle it. That I wasn’t that type of girl, and he doesn’t want a girlfriend.”
With her eyes wide, she sinks back into the fluff of the couch. She folds her arms. All gears are cranking behind her pale blue eyes.
“Say something.” I slap the arm of the couch.
“I’m still shocked you tried.”
“I tried again—earlier tonight.” I wince.
“You didn’t.” She cups her hands over her mouth and yelps like she’s imagining the disaster.
“He rejected me again.
“So you back off and move on. It’s not like you don’t have a waiting list. On to James, right?”
“That’s the thing. I’ve built up Evan in my head and made it this competition I can’t lose. And... I think... I think I like him.”
Aggie looks worried now. One of the few things I’ve learned about myself from after is I’m obsessive about winning to an unhealthy level. I can never surrender.
Even my parents relayed this in stories about my younger years: not when I ran track in high school, not even for selling Girl Scout cookies. If I had to buy every box myself, I would. Competition and winning are in my DNA. I had seen the proof in the years after when I crushed my placement tests and returned to college. Then I proceeded to finish at the top of my class. I’m always improving my running time, and at work I need to close deals. There’s a reason I’m the youngest associate at Grayson & Wade.
“I know what you’re thinking, but I know he likes me too. For whatever reason, he holds back.” It was all he could do to keep his hands to himself tonight.
I continue, “And that night we had dinner, he seemed happy Lou had broken up with me. He even mentioned he checked up on me at work. I assume through Linden. Aren’t those things you do when you’re into someone? There’s a spark between us even if he can’t admit it.”
Disbelief settles on her face. “What’s going on with you? I can’t talk you into anything for over a year and now Evan has you telling lies, dressing in red, and hot and bothered?”
“You’re right. What the hell am I doing?” I raise my hands in protest.
“You need to back off of this one. If you must, dress sexy or play your little head games with him, but from a distance. You don’t want to fall into the stalker category.”
“Why are you suddenly so reasonable? What happened to your crazy side?” I groan and slouch into my seat, mentally exhausted. She uses the opportunity to kick up her legs and rest her feet on my lap.
“I think I came on too strong with Paul. It sort of sucks, and I don’t want you dealing with the same thing. I’m telling you, it’s killing my mojo. He’s all I can think about. I mean, look at my new socks.” She wiggles her toes.
I grab them in shock. “Black socks?”
“I know. Not a sparkle, not a bead, not even a pattern.”
“The horror.” I play along.
She retracts her legs and crosses them. She leans closer with a serious face. “Did we do a Freaky Friday, Big, Hot Chick, Vice Versa, 13 Going on 30, switchy-body thing? Are you still you? ’Cause I’m not sure I’m still me.” She squishes her boobs with her splayed hands.
I cup mine. “Nope, mine are still small. And yours appear huge, as always.”
Her face relaxes, looking relieved.
“So where’s Evan? Does he know we’re in his apartment? Or are you already in stalker mode?” She peers around.
“He was nice enough not to leave me without hot water for another night. He gave me his key and went to stay with a friend.”
“I see what this is.” She settles back against the arm of the sofa.
“Please tell me, because I’m at a complete loss.” I rub my hands over my thighs. “All I’ve seen since I moved here is Evan with a different girl at Mr. Moon’s every week. You know he has to be bringing them home. I don’t understand why I can’t be one of them.”
“Maybe he’s already with someone and that’s the friend he went to stay with. Or maybe you’ve been misjudging him. Maybe he’s a nice guy who thinks it wouldn’t be fair to sleep with someone that he has to see every day.”
Aggie’s words strike me dumb. She’s right. I should leave this alone. Who am I to push myself on someone? Especially when they might have a friend with benefits already—or something. Maybe Evan would be uncomfortable seeing me every day afterward. I didn’t bother to ask him because I’ve been too focused on my own selfish goals.
At the revelation, I’m undecided if I’ll stay the night. I can sleep in my own bed and return in the morning to use the shower. But who am I kidding? Being here is too enticing. Even if I’m stepping away from my little game, I need to know more about him. Now that I’ve set my sights, I’ve been looking at him in a new light, questioning what he’s about and why I haven’t paid attention to him in the past. In two dangerous words—I’m curious.
Yes, we’ve talked a lot over the last year, but he’s always hidden behind that teasing macho facade. One look at his photos and anyone can see he’s more than that. He’s caring. He’s adventurous. And despite turning me down, he’s shown me kindness. Regardless of the idiotic words that come from his mouth when he’s teasing me, his actions build a diffe
rent image. It’s an image of someone who gives a damn.
After Aggie leaves and I’m alone, I drift from one section of the condo to another, dragging my finger over the furniture. I don’t open drawers or dig in closets. I only look at what’s on the outside like a guest in someone’s home. Something I owe him for being nice enough to allow me to stay.
There are medals from winning marathons and photos of his extended family. A piece of paper sits under one. It’s a sign-up confirmation notice for the same race I’m training for. I slide the paper back into place and move on. He likes to cook. Gadgets and ingredients line the kitchen counter. And there’s that one closed door, the one in the hallway that might be an office or bedroom, but it’s locked when I jiggle the handle. I make my way to his bedroom.
Now the entire apartment is dark except for a small reading light next to his bed. I lie on the mattress, allowing my head to sink into his feather pillow. I smell the scent of him—rain and leather and all man. He likes nice things. His sheets are the highest thread count. Expensive watches rest on his dresser.
None of these things matches the man he portrays. If anything, the items in his home remind me of his brother, Linden. Even though Evan comes from a wealthy family, he doesn’t flaunt that part of himself. Though his apartment is nice, he could be living the life of a trust fund baby in a luxurious high-rise, but he’s not. It’s another mystery.
***
My eyes snap open. I sit ramrod in bed, the covers falling away. For a moment I’m disoriented, forgetting I’m at Evan’s. My fingers grasp at the sheets. I’m unsure how long I’ve been asleep, but I’m sure I heard something. I peer toward the hall and listen. The building cracks and I stiffen. It could be nothing; the building could be settling. Still, I slide my legs over the mattress and I stand to investigate.
I tiptoe across the room to grab the nearest weapon, a baseball bat perched on a stand on Evan’s dresser. With it clenched in my grasp and raised over my shoulder, I quietly pad across the floor toward where I thought I heard noise. One foot at a time, the wood floor squeaks beneath my shaking limbs as I approach the living room. Then I hear it again. Crack, crack, crack. I crouch deeper and clench the bat. The living room light snaps on and I ready myself to swing at the figure creeping around the couch.
Ten Thousand Points of Light Page 9