by Johnson, Cat
"Is my car ready?" I asked my housekeeper.
"I’ll check."
"Don't worry. I’ve got it." The grin on my face grew wider as I strode out the door and hopped on the elevator. Past the glass lobby doors, I spotted EJ's perfect ass bending over the engine of my new race car.
"You're making me late for work." I reached for her waist and planted a kiss between her shoulder blades.
"Just putting on the final touches." Her gorgeous green eyes met mine, and time stood still.
"That's my girl."
I had spent the last two years literally drifting through life. And then one day, even though I didn't deserve it, everything changed. I got the opportunity to let go of the past, start anew, and be better.
It was as Mom had once said, "When you least expect it, life will drop a second chance at happiness in your lap. Take it and don't look back.”
I planned to do exactly that. EJ was mine to keep.
About the Author
Diana A. Hicks is an award-winning author of steamy contemporary romance with a healthy dose of suspense. Kirkus Reviews called her debut title, Love Over Lattes, “A sexy and irresistible tale for fans of contemporary romance.” She also writes sci-fi romance under D.A. Hicks.
When Diana is not writing, she enjoys hot yoga, kickboxing, traveling, and indulging in the simple joys of life like wine and chocolate. She lives in Atlanta and loves spending time with her two children and husband. Connect with Diana on social media to stay up to date on her latest releases.
https://www.amazon.com/Diana-A-Hicks/e/B078XPNJZY
https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/y7a1b9
Cupid’s Target
Melinda De Ross
Old crushes die hard… When Lexi gets a second chance to make Harper realize she exists, will she screw it up—as she has her entire life?
1
“Not much can beat the sight of a beautiful woman holding a big gun.”
I rolled my eyes at the voice behind me. Boy, like I hadn’t heard that line a million times! Briskly, I removed the magazine, checked the pistol’s chamber, and set it on the desk. Then I pressed the button to call up the paper target. I was already bored with this one-sided conversation, but as I turned around I had to make an effort not to gape. Instead of the leering bubba I’d expected, a familiar pair of ocean-blue eyes stared mischievously at me.
“Harper. It’s been a while.” My legs went rubbery under my black track pants.
Strolling toward me, he flashed a perfect smile. “Hey, Lexi. I didn’t think you would recognize me.”
Fat chance I could forget those broad shoulders and dark hair, with the same stubborn strand that fell over his forehead and seemed to slash his right eyebrow.
As crushes on best friends’ brothers go, mine had to be the most memorable in history. I couldn’t be more grateful to Jamie for not passing on my silly love letters to her brother. That would have made this moment mortifying instead of simply awkward.
I forced a smile. “You look a lot like Jamie. Besides, she mentioned you’d be visiting Houston. Needed a break?”
“What corporate lawyer doesn’t need one from time to time?” He shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing around the outdoor shooting range. “Look at you. You’re a target shooting trainer. I can’t think of a cooler job.”
I took off my yellow goggles, massaging the bridge of my nose where I knew they’d left a mark. Damn it! I’d hoped I would look more glamorous the next time we met—but it was not to be.
“Well, someone had to follow in my daddy’s footsteps.”
“You certainly know what you’re doing.” He stood next to me, whistling as he saw the twenty-something tiny holes grouped in the center of the paper target. “Impressive.”
“Thanks.” I turned my head toward him, guided by the musky scent of his aftershave. God, he was mouthwatering! The gawky boy who’d moved to Austin fifteen years ago to study law was now a gorgeous man, who no doubt looked just as great in a suit as he did in a T-shirt and jeans. He was still slender, not the body-builder type, but thanks to well-developed muscles he filled out his clothes just right.
“So what are you doing here?” I asked before I started drooling. “I mean at the shooting range.”
He shrugged. “I thought it might be fun to learn. Jamie mentioned you worked here.”
I pinned him with my gaze, which my sister often called ‘Disney Green’—because apparently all evil Disney characters had green eyes. Not that I was evil, but in my job it helped to be intimidating.
“I teach target shooting as an Olympic sport, Harper, not for fun. What do you plan to shoot?”
“Just paper targets.”
“No people, no animals?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Are you a psycho?”
He gave me a panty-melting grin. “How about we do lunch later, and you can decide?”
“Uh… Let’s get through the morning first.”
I swallowed with difficulty. This first encounter after such a long time might be too intense for me to handle. Of course, Jamie had told me her brother would be spending the weekend in Houston with her, her husband, and their two kids, but never in a million years did I imagine he’d come here on a Friday morning. Didn’t he have a better way to kill time while Jamie and her hubby were at work and the kids at school?
Shaking off speculation, I reached for my Glock. “Okay, I suppose I can let you shoot a few rounds.”
He grinned. “Much obliged, ma’am.”
I put up a fresh target, handed him goggles and ear plugs, then loaded the gun. I motioned for him to stand in front of the shooting desk and stepped behind him.
“Here, grab the pistol with your left hand and grip the handle with your right, comfortably but firmly. Don’t touch the trigger until you're ready to fire. Always keep the barrel trained toward the target’s line. I’ll explain how to take aim.”
I showed him where the safety was and how to release it when he was ready to start shooting. As I taught him the proper position and spread his legs wider with my own, currents of long-forgotten lust washed over me. Touching him, smelling him, feeling his body next to mine was a dream come true. After wanting someone for so long, having a chance to actually be next to them felt surreal. I suppressed an urge to pinch myself.
At my prompting, he raised the gun, aimed, and pressed the trigger slowly, as I’d taught him, releasing the first shot.
Bang!
The recoil travelled through his body and into mine with an almost sexual punch. Okay, so I was taking advantage of the situation and standing way too close to him, but come on! I’d been fantasizing about this moment for fifteen years. When, in this lifetime, would I ever get another chance to stand behind him, one hand resting lightly on his waist, the other touching his bicep? I would lose my license if I did that to anyone else, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“Not bad,” I said after the first five shots. “Want more?”
He lowered the pistol and turned slightly toward me. “Hell, yeah... A lot more.”
2
About thirty shots later he was slowing down. The humid July air was getting hotter by the minute. Although my shoulder-length blond hair was tied back into a ponytail, sweat beaded on the back of my neck.
Harper was probably hot too, because he took out the magazine and set down the gun. Turning to me, he removed the goggles and ear plugs.
“Whew! I think that’s enough for now,” he said, smiling.
Although I was nearly six foot tall, he had a few inches on me. Thankfully I’d shaped up over the years, and while I was still skinny, I wasn’t as flat as a board anymore.
I smiled back. “Was it good for you?”
“For a first time, yes. But I need a lot more practice.”
“You’d need more than a weekend for that.”
What the hell was wrong with me, flirting so shamelessly? Well, I knew my reasons; what were his for playing along? Aside f
rom the fact that he was a born womanizer?
I started putting things away. Harper offered to help, but I declined.
“Thanks, Lexi, this was fun. I owe you,” he said once I was finished. “Didn’t you have any trainees scheduled today?”
“Nah. Friday is a slow day, unless we’re preparing for a competition.”
“Do you still participate?”
“In some, yes. It’s an addictive sport. Once the bug gets into your blood, it stays there,” I joked.
He laughed softly. “I remember you started training when you were about fourteen. Your dad was a coach here back then. I’d always wanted to join the club.”
“So why didn’t you?” I asked, puzzled.
“Are you kidding? My dad thought any sport other than football was a waste of time. Besides…”
As he trailed off, I arched my eyebrows, wanting him to continue. He stared at me intensely.
“The temptation was too dangerous. I was eighteen, you were a cute—no, gorgeous—fourteen-year-old girl. That’s the definition of jailbait.”
If it were anatomically possible, my jaw would’ve dropped.
“You knew I existed?” I blurted out.
He made a snorting sound, staring down at his Nikes. “Of course I knew. I just couldn’t do anything about it. Then.”
He looked back up at me, his blue gaze so direct, so expressive that it felt like a gut-punch. Or more likely a deeply intimate caress. I moistened my lips, and his eyes followed the tip of my tongue.
Harper had liked me. We could’ve been together, maybe. The magnitude of the revelation left me speechless. Regret was pointless, as were ‘what ifs’. What was there left to say now?
As though reading my mind, he took my hand, swinging it playfully in a friendly kind of way. “So how about lunch? I would love to catch up.”
The last thing I wanted to do was catch up—which was why I hadn’t been to my high school reunion and had zero social life. I glanced down at myself.
“Sorry, but I’m not exactly dressed to go anywhere. Besides, I promised Mom I would help her sort out some things.”
“How is your mom? And your dad?”
“They’re fine, both retired. They’re trying to sell the house and move to Florida—the American dream of retirees. Just like your folks.”
He grinned. “My parents love Florida. It scares me how well they fit there.”
We both laughed. Harper held on to my hand. “How about dinner then?”
I couldn’t look at that handsome face and say no. To anything. I nodded even before my brain made a decision.
“Sure. What time?”
“Pick you up at eight?”
“Okay.”
He took out his phone. “Give me your address. Or… Do you need a ride home now, or did you drive here?”
“Actually, I came by bus. I’m between cars right now.” No need to give him the details about the recent, nasty, rusty death of my thirty-year-old Ford. She’d done her job, poor old gal.
“That’s perfect. I’ll drive you home, then I’ll know where to pick you up tonight.”
Not waiting for a confirmation, he headed out. All I could do was follow.
“Don’t you have plans with Jamie, Pete, and the kids tonight?” I asked as we walked toward the parking lot.
“Not really. I’ll have plenty of time to spend with them. We talk on the phone and do so many video calls it feels as if we live together.”
He stopped in front of a bad-ass Harley Davidson, which I recognized from its good ol’ days. Jamie and I used to watch him drive off whenever we had a sleep-over at their house, leaving us to swallow his dust. To my fourteen-year-old eyes, he looked like a god of sex and masculinity. As I watched him put on his helmet, I realized nothing had changed. He still was the sexiest man I’d ever laid eyes on.
He handed me the spare helmet. I stared dumbly at it.
“Um, I’ve never been on a motorcycle,” I said, sounding as stupid as I felt.
His mouth turned upward in a smile. “There’s a first time for everything. Here, let me.”
He slid the helmet onto my head and leaned over to fasten it under my chin. He was standing so close that I only had to lean forward a fraction toward those sensual lips, and…
“Done. Put this on, too. I need to buy a new one; this doesn’t fit me anymore.”
Before I knew it, he turned me around and helped me into a black jacket. Instinctively I wrapped it around myself, mesmerized by the scent of leather and man. His scent.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Hop on and hold on to me.”
He’d already straddled the bike in an expert, flowing motion. Ungluing my eyes from the sight of his rock-hard ass gloved by washed-out denim, I stepped forward and tentatively climbed behind him. I supposed having his toned thighs behind mine would have been better, but the other way around wasn’t too shabby either.
“Hold on tight.” He revved the engine. “Do not let go under any circumstances. Ready?”
“Ready.” I closed my eyes and slid my hands around him, feeling his hard pecs and washboard abs under my trembling fingers. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
3
Seven p.m. arrived much too soon. My set deadline was to be ready by then, but of course I wasn’t. I’d spent hours sorting out boxes of stuff with my mom, pausing to look at old photos or funny drawings I or my younger sister, Carly, had made decades ago. Unlike Dad, who couldn’t get away fast enough, Mom still had doubts about selling the house, feeling as if she were selling all our family memories with it. I did my best to encourage her by reciting all the inspirational memes I could remember, such as “Home is not a place, it’s a feeling”, and “People matter, not things.” Thankfully, it worked—so much so that I barely got away in time to arrive home and jump into the shower.
At least I’d helped ease her anxiety, which meant a lot to me. I’d also kept my own at bay, but now that the moment was approaching, I was getting more nervous by the minute. I, Alexia Brown, had a date with senior heartthrob turned bad-ass lawyer, Harper Williams! My skin still bloomed into goosebumps every time I remembered what he’d said, that getting close to me had been a dangerous temptation.
Well, being close to him was now a dangerous compulsion for me. I was walking on egg-shells. Brad had singed my heart, but Harper could turn it to ash if I wasn’t careful. That thought dimmed my enthusiasm, allowing my pulse to normalize as I dried my hair, and then did my makeup. I kept reminding myself this wasn’t really a date, it was dinner with an acquaintance—nothing more. In two days’ time he would return to his life in Austin, and I would return to my undisturbed spinsterhood. I shouldn’t read anything into tonight’s encounter.
I shimmied into a little black dress, put on a pair of black heels, and brushed my hair, letting it fall straight down my back. I applied red lipstick that matched my nail polish, and was just putting on my favorite scent when Harper messaged me to say he was in front of my building.
So much for playing it cool. As I took the elevator ten floors down, my hands shook so badly I dropped my phone while trying to shove it in my purse. I quickly checked my teeth for lipstick before the elevator doors opened.
It was still hot outside, but a hint of coolness hovered in the air, promising a breezy night. I stood on the sidewalk looking around. Harper climbed out of a sleek, black BMW stationed haphazardly. He wore black—a dress shirt open at the neck and slacks. The epitome of elegance and success, he could easily model for Yves Saint Laurent if he chose to. He looked stunning, his eyes an electric blue in contrast to his freshly-shaven olive skin and dark attire.
As he sauntered toward me, I was trapped by his gaze roaming over me from head to toe.
“Hi there. Sorry I didn’t come to the door, but I didn’t know the floor or apartment number. You look incredible.” He bent to kiss my cheek, European style.
“Thanks. You, too.”
I hoped I didn’t sound as br
eathless as I felt. Why did my knees turn to jelly each time he got close to me? It must be his cologne, probably some fancy stuff based on pheromones and God knew what sexy-smelling fumes that made women lose their good judgment along with their panties.
He opened the door for me, and I climbed into his car. It was spacious, with creamy leather seats and enough leg room to accommodate a giraffe. It smelled like him—expensive, almost erotic. I gave myself a mental slap. I hadn’t had sex in over two years, and obviously it was addling my brain. I should have worn some granny panties. That would have prevented me from thinking anything was erotic.
He climbed behind the wheel and started the engine, then named a restaurant I’d never heard of, asking me if I wanted to go there.
“It’s new, and Jamie says the food is great,” he added.
“Sure, let’s give it a try.”
The restaurant was on the top floor of a high-rise—an upscale island of butter-colored sofas and square tables overlooking the city skyline. Soft lights adorned the high ceiling, and a discreet band played smooth jazz at the perfect volume.
I realized Harper had made a reservation only after the maître d' led us to a table next to the floor-to-ceiling windows, addressing Harper as Mr. Williams. This was a date alright, and I was beginning to wonder what Harper was expecting at the end of it.
A waiter brought us champagne, crystal glasses, and leather-bound menus.
“Are we celebrating something?” I asked.
“Well, I would say seeing one another after fifteen years deserves a celebration. Don’t you agree?”
I cocked my head. “I suppose, although I assume there are a lot of people whom you haven’t seen in that span of time. Shouldn’t they be here, too?”
He gave me a lopsided smile. “I’m not into group activities all that much. I just wanted to spend time with you in particular, learn what’s new in your life, that kind of thing.”