He hadn’t seen them again after that.
He’d practically been raised by his maternal grandparents, though. He’d lived with them until he was fourteen. Then he’d been placed in the custody of the state of New York.
“You’re Doc and Kitty’s grandson?” she said as if she was trying to make sure that she had the story straight.
“Last I checked.”
“I didn’t know Rita had two sons.”
“Rita’s my aunt. My dad was their son, Miles.”
“Oh…” Recognition washed over Leah’s beautiful face. It was obvious that his grandparents had told her about his dad. Which, weirdly, meant she might know more about the man than he did.
His father had died when his mother was still pregnant, and when he was born, she’d moved them back to her home state of New York so they could be close to family.
She’d never liked to talk about his dad. Over the years, Lance had asked her about him, but she always just got quiet and sad, so he stopped asking. And now, he couldn’t ask.
“I’m sorry. About your dad.”
“I never met him. He died before I was born.”
“I’m still sorry.” Empathy radiated from her expressive green eyes. When she looked at him, he felt raw. Exposed. He felt like she saw things other people didn’t.
He didn’t want anyone seeing anything.
“So is there a room for rent…or…”
“Oh shit!” Her arms flew up and she moved to the side. “Come in. I’m so sorry!”
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see when he stepped inside Casa Leah, but this was definitely not it.
Bowls, plates, and cups were overflowing in the sink. There were red Solo cups, Styrofoam containers, Chinese takeout boxes, and paper bags from several different fast food restaurants covering what he assumed was the kitchen table. He turned his head and saw that there were several pizza boxes on the coffee table. Oddly enough, it didn’t stink though. There was actually a pleasant scent in the air.
It reminded him of those Febreze commercials where people were blindfolded sitting in rooms covered in garbage and they say they think they are in a field of wild flowers, or at a beach, or that they’re surrounded by fresh laundry.
“Did you have a party?” Or ten.
“No. I’ve been busy.” Her tone and stance were defensive.
He’d seen the show Hoarders before and wondered if this was how it started.
“Do you want to see the room?” she snipped.
Lance could honestly say that if any other person on this earth was standing in front of him asking him that question his answer would be hell, no. But there was something about Leah. Something he couldn’t seem to resist.
So despite her living in squalor, he found himself saying, “Yes.”
Chapter 4
Leah’s pulse and mind were racing as she walked down the hallway to show Lance the room. Her mouth was watering and her entire body tingled with…she didn’t know. Was it anticipation? Lust? Nerves? Or D: all of the above?
She could feel him behind her. His presence was not something that she’d be able to ignore. With each step they took toward the room she’d be showing him, the tornado of reactions inside her spun faster and faster. This was a bad idea. He was way too hot for her to keep her hands—and other parts—to herself.
The smart thing to do would be to give him a recommendation for an Airbnb in town. She knew several people that had rental properties that they posted on the site. That would be the responsible, safe thing to do.
Or maybe this was the ultimate test. If she could resist Lance, then she’d know that she was truly reformed. He screamed bad boy with a heart of gold. Well…he screamed bad boy, anyway. She might be projecting the heart of gold part. It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened. Although, he was Doc and Kitty’s grandson, so he couldn’t be all bad.
No! She shook her head slightly. She was not going to go down that path. That was what she always did: created narratives around men and pretended that those versions were the real thing.
What did she actually know about Lance?
He was the Taylors’ grandson, who she’d never heard a peep about before today.
His father died before he was born.
He rode a motorcycle.
He was so hot he could melt glaciers in a snow storm. He smelled so good she wanted to rub up against him like a cat in heat.
And he had eyes that she wanted to drown in.
Yeah…I might be in trouble.
They reached the room at the end of the hallway. She kept her feet firmly planted in place as she leaned in and flipped on the light. With the arm she’d just used to illuminate the area, she waved up and down spokesmodel-style. “So, this is it.”
Lance walked past her and she felt a wisp of electricity brush her arm. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or if his upper arm had actually grazed her. Either way, a shiver raced down her spine and she inhaled a shaky breath.
She watched, captivated, as he moved around the space. Her old room appeared so much smaller with him in it. Part of that was due to his large, chiseled frame—but it was more than just his sheer mass. His presence was dominating and all-encompassing. He was like a magnet, sucking everyone and everything into the invisible force field of sexiness that he effortlessly possessed.
It was all she could do to keep her feet cemented in place and not follow him into the bedroom. It was the one she’d spent five years in before Bea had moved out and she’d switched to the master.
She wondered what it looked like through his eyes. Unlike the living areas in the rest of the house, it was cleanish.
He walked over to the dresser at the far wall and opened a drawer.
Hoping to sound unaffected by him, Leah cleared her throat. “It comes furnished, but if you want to bring in your own—”
“Bra?” he questioned as he lifted Leah’s black lacy bra from the top drawer.
She’d been looking for that.
If he expected her to be embarrassed that he’d found her bra, he’d be sadly mistaken. Leah didn’t really do embarrassed.
Growing up, her dad had been in local politics. Her parents were always worried about what other people thought, or how they were being perceived. If she had a dollar for every time her mother told her to “stop embarrassing me,” she’d be a millionaire.
At a very early age, she’d determined that she’d never care about what anyone thought of her. She’d be as outrageous and misbehaved as she wanted to and everyone could just suck it.
“If dressing up in ladies’ underwear is your thing, then yes. I can throw in the bra.”
He grinned and started to put the garment back in the drawer. She crossed the room and snatched it from him. “If you find the matching panties, let me know.”
Heat flared in his sultry chocolate brown eyes and Leah’s knees went weaker than Bea’s coffee. She’d never experienced the sensation that inspired the iconic SWV song she’d played on repeat in middle school, but now she knew it was a real occurrence.
On wobbly legs, she decided to steer the conversation away from her undergarments. “So, what do you think? Will this work?”
He didn’t break eye contact and the intensity of his stare shot up several degrees. “That depends.”
“On what?” her question came out in a breathy exhale.
A fantasy instantly played in her head where he replied, “On if I get to see you in your bra and panties.” Her inner walls clenched at the thought.
“On the lease agreement,” he answered.
“Oh. Right…” Even though she knew it was ridiculous, she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed at the much more appropriate but far less porny answer. She rattled off the same info she’d planned on putting in the ad, but her mind was still playing out the scenario of him asking to see her in her bra and panties.
“Would you be willing to go week to week? I don’t know how long I’ll be in town
.”
Suddenly the thought of him leaving after only a week caused yet another swell of disappointment to rise in her. Which was yet another reaction that fell smack dab in the completely ridiculous category!
“Sure, that works.”
“Do you want me to get a money order or…”
“You can Venmo me.”
“Okay.” Lance pulled out his phone and instead of telling him what email was connected to her account, she took his phone from him and typed it in.
“Leah Lovelace at Gmail dot com?” He read her email back to her then lifted his cocoa-colored peepers up to hers.
The look in his eyes didn’t hold one ounce of judgment but she found herself feeling defensive anyway. “I’m not a porn star, I just thought that name was hot.”
Holding her gaze with his dreamy stare, he stated plainly, “You don’t need any help in that department.”
Leah had received many a compliment in her life. She’d had men tell her that she was the most beautiful woman in the world. She’d had them wax poetic about her eyes, lips, and—not to toot her own horn but toot-toot—her bangin’ body. None of them had hit her as hard or as deep as the subtle response that Lance had just given her.
She wished she hadn’t moved her chaise lounge, AKA fainting chair, into the master bedroom because she was swooning. Hard.
Retreat!
The voice in the back of her head screamed the word at her. She needed to get out of Dodge, away from the man that could reduce her to a puddle of lust in .0000001 seconds flat.
She needed to tell him where the bathroom was and excuse herself to go watch the love triangle she’d paused. Murder. Yep. That’s what she needed to douse the flames of desire that Lance had ignited. If that didn’t do it, she was really screwed.
She took a deep breath, ready to bid him adieu when she heard herself say, “I was about to watch Snapped and finish off a bottle of Pinot. Would you care to join me?”
NO! NO! Why did I say that?!
Murder or not, she really was screwed.
Her only hope was that he would decline. Lance was her Obi-Wan Kenobi.
* * *
The last thing that Lance needed to do was spend one-on-one time with this woman. Forget the fact that he was in very real danger of popping wood like a middle school kid going through puberty—he was done with women. Especially women that tempted him the way that Leah did.
Not that any other woman had ever tempted him even a fraction as much as she did. Leah was as charming as she was sexy, as endearing as she was hot, as cute as she was sultry.
He was by no means a boy scout, but one thing he’d never done was mess with drugs. He’d seen firsthand what drugs can do to a person. His mom had suffered with addiction up until she’d passed away the year before.
Still, even though he hadn’t experienced them personally, Leah reminded him of what a drug must be like. Instinct told him that he’d never get enough of her.
He was already aching to spend more time with her, to hear the next word that came out of her mouth. To see her next reaction to something and notice all the little things.
He’d already noted the way she bit the corner of her mouth and the way she scrunched her nose. He wanted to know exactly what emotion was behind those tics. He wanted to know everything about the woman standing in front of him.
But he’d seen where that sort of desperation and addiction led and it was nowhere good.
He was in town for a very specific purpose and he needed his head to be clear and his mind to be right to accomplish it. That would never happen if he allowed himself the pleasure of spending time with Leah.
No, his mind was made up. He’d stay tonight because he was exhausted and it was late, but tomorrow he would look for another place to crash. He’d have to eat the week of rent he’d just Venmo’d her, but that was a small price to pay to keep the monkey off his back.
So it surprised the hell out of him when he opened his mouth to politely decline but instead heard himself saying, “Sure.”
Her reaction to his agreement was even more unexpected. Her lips pursed and she gave him a slight nod as if that wasn’t the answer she’d expected. Or wanted.
Had she just been asking to be polite?
He didn’t really get that vibe from her. He doubted that this woman did much out of obligation. So was it a test that he hadn’t passed. Was she someone who liked to play games?
The answer to that question didn’t seem as cut and dry as whether or not she did things out of obligation.
She turned and headed back the way they’d come and he followed behind her doing his best to keep his eyes on her shoulders. He couldn’t let them stray south, to the hypnotic sway of her ample hips or the seductive lines of her thighs and calves. And he sure as hell didn’t dare veer north, to the gentle curve of her exposed neck.
Leah was a walking masterpiece. The artist in him wanted to study every curve, line, and dip in her body. The man in him wanted to do a lot more than study them.
“I hope you like Snapped.” Leah sighed as she flopped down. “It’s my guilty pleasure.”
Lance had no idea what Snapped was but damn, he loved hearing the word “pleasure” come out of Leah’s mouth. He did his best to ignore it as he lowered down on the opposite end of the couch.
She picked up her glass of wine, the one that was balanced between two old pizza boxes, and tucked her feet beneath her. When she did, he noticed that she had a tattoo high up on her right hip. He only got a glimpse, but he thought it looked like a flower. He wanted to ask her about it, but he knew that the most common response to being asked about a tattoo was to show it and, damn, that was the last thing he needed.
If she did that, he wasn’t sure the zipper of his jeans would be able to contain his body’s reaction.
“So you’re in town to visit your grandma?”
He felt a small measure of relief. Conversation about grandparents was a classic boner-killer.
Focusing on the question itself, Lance nodded. His grandmother’s fall had been the catalyst for his trip to Harper’s Crossing, but not in the way Leah was probably assuming.
“I love Doc and Kitty. They are such amazing people. They’re practically family.”
Lance again nodded. He assumed Leah was right, but in truth, he had no way of being sure. They were actually his family and he didn’t know them at all. He was hoping to change that.
Sitting on the couch just feet away from her, he did his best to ignore the tension flowing between them. It was palpable, just like it had been in the laundry room. Whatever they had going on, he was sure that he wasn’t the only one that felt it. Leah looked like she’d seen a ghost when she’d opened the door to find him standing on the other side.
She fidgeted and he wasn’t sure if it was because she was one of those people that were uncomfortable with silence or if it was due to the raging sexual tension between them.
After several minutes, she paused the show—which was just as well since he hadn’t even been watching it—and shifted toward him. He waited, intrigued as to what the change in body language meant.
Her head tilted to the side just like it had earlier in the laundry room. “So, is this your thing?”
“You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“The whole mysterious, strong, silent thing you’ve got going on. Does that work for you?”
“Work for me how?”
“I bet it does.” She spoke matter-of-factly then sipped her wine, maintaining eye contact. He found himself entranced by the flecks of gold that floated in her crystal-clear emerald gaze. The sway of her hips wasn’t the only hypnotic thing about her. Given enough time, he’d probably discover at least a hundred more.
When she lowered her glass, the pink tip of her tongue slid between her lips. Arousal surged in him at the erotic sight. His mind knew that she was just licking off excess liquid, but his dick had other ideas about what she could be licking.
With
the same brisk tone in her voice, she continued, “You don’t talk. So that means women can just fill in the blanks about who you are. They can make you fit into whatever fantasy they have because they don’t really know you.”
He’d never really thought about it like that before, but it struck a chord. He began to wonder if she might be right. Not that he gave a fuck what the women in his past had thought about him. They were manipulating liars who only cared about themselves. Lance didn’t give two shits about what story they’d made up in their head about who he was or wasn’t.
“Not that you need the help. I mean…look at you.” Irritation laced her words.
A smile tugged at his lips as he leaned back against the cushions. Leah was nothing if not entertaining. He figured there was a compliment in there somewhere. “Look at me?”
“Don’t,” she said flatly. She took another drink and then set her glass down. “You can put that fishing rod away. I’m not going to take the bait. I’m not going to tell you what you already know just so I can feed your already very healthy ego.”
He didn’t know if it was accidental or on purpose, but Leah’s gaze landed on his lap, directly at his crotch, when she said the word, “healthy.”
“I’ve heard it called a lot of things but ‘healthy’ is new.”
Her eyes shot back up to his and the air between them crackled with electricity. It was so palpable that the hairs on his arms stood on end. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest he wondered if she could hear it.
Her lips parted as they continued to stare at one another. The only sound in the house was their breath, which verged on ragged panting.
At some point, he realized they were leaning in toward each other. It was slow and gradual, and even hotter for that languid pace. He felt like he might be in a trance.
When they were mere inches apart, he stood abruptly, breaking the spell. “It’s been a long day. Thanks for the room on such short notice.”
Just One Look - Leah and Lance (Crossroads Book 15) Page 4