Unexpected Rush

by Jaci Burton

  "Nice to meet you, Raquel."

  Barrett took a seat next to Drake and the guys. Raquel had decided to sit on his lap. He didn't have much of a problem with that. She wore a short, barely there dress that slid up her perfect thighs, so he rested his hand on her butt while he and the guys talked football.

  Tunes were rockin', the hard liquor was flowing, and it was a good night. They all went out on the dance floor for a while, and Barrett was treated to Raquel's moves.

  She had plenty of them, which included her cupping his crotch and squeezing his dick.

  Then she draped her arm around his neck, ground her pussy against his cock and talked dirty in his ear.

  And he didn't have a hard-on. What the hell was up with that? He'd only had one whiskey, so it wasn't as if alcohol was affecting him.

  He could have Raquel either in the private area of the VIP lounge or out in his SUV if he wanted her. He could take her home and he knew they could have a good time together. She'd made herself more than available. But for some reason, she left him cold. Maybe it was because his thoughts kept straying to someone warmer, with liquid amber eyes and curves that kept him up at night.

  Try as he might, despite Raquel's roaming hands and killer body, his mind was firmly on Harmony tonight.

  Which was all kinds of wrong, but there it was.

  He stayed about two hours, then leaned over and told Drake he was heading out.

  Drake frowned. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing. Got an early meeting with my attorney in the morning, so I can't be hungover."

  Drake nodded. "I'll see ya."

  Much to Raquel's disappointment, he had to tell her he was heading out--alone.

  He breathed a sigh of relief when he walked out of the club and to his SUV.

  He normally got into the club scene, and while he'd enjoyed hanging out with the guys, the women just weren't doing it for him tonight.

  Maybe because only one woman was doing it for him.

  And he had to find a way to get her out of his thoughts so he could go back to life as normal.

  Seven

  Barrett spent most of Saturday trying to talk himself out of going over to Harmony's place.

  In the end, he couldn't figure out a legitimate reason why he shouldn't go that wouldn't make him look like a total wuss. So he decided he'd suck it up and do it. They could be friends. She was going to be working with him, so this was as good a time as any to get used to being around her.

  He got into his SUV, turned up his radio and hit the highway.

  He did the grocery shopping first, then drove out to her place. When he'd last come here with Drake, he'd paid no attention to where they were. Now he took the time to notice the community. Pretty nice complex with a good view of the water. He could see why she chose this location.

  He parked and grabbed the grocery bags, walking the short distance to her door. He rang the bell and waited.

  She didn't answer.

  He frowned and rang the bell again.

  She finally opened the door, wearing a yellow and white sundress that was tight on top and full at the bottom and made him notice her body in ways he had no business noticing.

  "Hey," she said with a smile. "I was on the phone. Sorry it took me so long."

  "Not a problem."

  "Come on inside. It's hot out there."

  He walked in, thankful she had the AC cranked up. "Feels good in here."

  "It'll feel even better once you have something to drink. You can unload those bags on the counter." She led him past the small living area.

  He stopped and peered into the bathroom.

  "Got it painted, I see. The green looks good."

  "Thanks."

  "So, whatever had you upset is out of your system now?"

  Her lips quirked. "Yes."

  "Good to know."

  He stepped into the kitchen and laid his bags on the counter.

  "What would you like to drink?"

  "A beer would be good."

  "Coming up." She opened her refrigerator and pulled out a beer, handing it to him.

  "Thanks." He took out the chicken and slid it into her refrigerator, then pulled up a seat at her kitchen island and popped open the beer, taking a couple long swallows.

  "Nice place."

  "Thank you." She smiled. "I fell in love with it as soon as I saw it, and I knew it had to be mine. The view from the bedroom balcony is fantastic. I'll give you a tour later."

  He wasn't sure he wanted to be anywhere near her bedroom. She was already too tempting as it was. "That sounds great."

  She took a peek inside the grocery bags. "Interesting."

  His lips curved as he took another swallow of beer. "I'm going to rock your world tonight."

  She swiped her fingertip along the condensation sliding down her glass of iced tea. "I look forward to that."

  Her warm brown eyes melted him when she said those words, and his dick got hard.

  Dammit.

  "I meant the food, Harmony."

  She blinked an innocent smile. "Of course you did."

  "We discussed the rule."

  She shrugged. "That's your rule, Barrett. Not mine."

  Damn she was frustrating. "It's a rule I intend to adhere to."

  She reached across the island and patted his hand. "Whatever you say. So, would you like to see my town house? It'll give you an idea of my decorating style."

  He got the idea she'd just patronized the hell out of him, and he wasn't sure how to feel about that. But he wasn't about to continue that line of conversation, so the best thing to do was let it drop. "Sure."

  "This is obviously the kitchen. I bought into the town house before it was built, so I chose the countertops, backsplash, cabinets and all the hardware."

  The kitchen was spacious. It had dark maple cabinets with dusky gray quartz counters and stainless steel appliances. The white and gray glass herringbone backsplash seemed to work well with everything else and wasn't wild or crazy.

  She moved around the island. "The flooring is actually a porcelain tile that looks like hardwood. I had it put in throughout the house."

  It was a dark terra cotta color, and really looked like wood flooring. "I like it. I definitely might want to consider it for my house."

  "I thought you might. Easy to clean, holds up much better to our high humidity than wood floors. We'll talk about it when it comes time to order flooring."

  She led him into a spacious second living area.

  "This is the family room, where I spend most of my time because of the view. It has a balcony as well." She went to the doors and opened them, walking him out onto what was a decent-sized deck.

  "I sacrificed backyard for two decks and a view," she said, as she stepped out next to him.

  The view of the water was pretty awesome. "This is nice. But I guess no dog for you, huh?"

  She laughed. "Sadly, no. My hours are so erratic I don't think it would be fair to get a dog anyway."

  He turned to her, leaning an elbow against the wood rail. "I remember when I first met you. You told me that after you graduated college you were going to get your own place because you wanted a puppy and your mom was allergic, so you couldn't have one at her house."

  She frowned. "I said that? I don't remember."

  "You told me that the first day we met. You told me a lot of things, because you talked all the time and never shut up, but that's the one thing that stuck with me the most."

  She laughed. "I did have a tendency to talk a lot, especially when I was nervous."

  He cocked a brow. "I made you nervous?"

  "Exceedingly."

  He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help stepping closer, breathing in that sweet, citrusy scent that always seemed to surround her. "You don't seem nervous now."

  She stepped in as well, her fingertip tracing circles around his forearm. "I am most definitely not nervous around you now, Barrett. Back then I was young and inexperienced and not accustomed
to being around extremely attractive men like you."

  This was dangerous territory and he knew better than to court that kind of danger. He should put his defenses up and maintain his distance.

  But damn if he wanted to right now. Not when Harmony's mouth was painted a sweet, kissable shade of plum, and her tongue swept out to lick across her bottom lip, tempting him to lean in and take a taste. Or maybe even a bite.

  She leaned in, expecting it. So easy to grab hold of her and take what she offered, what they both wanted.

  But then he thought about Drake, and how betrayed his best friend would feel if this happened between Harmony and him.

  Nope. Not gonna happen. He took a step back. "So how about I cook us some dinner?"

  He read the disappointment on Harmony's face, but she immediately masked it with a smile. "Sure. I'm anxious to see if you can really cook."

  He moved in beside her as they headed downstairs. "Honey, I never say what I don't mean."

  She lifted her gaze to his. "I'll file that comment away for some future date."

  He had no idea what she meant by that, but when they got back into the kitchen, she started unpacking the grocery bags.

  "I have no clue what you intend to do with all that stuff, but I'm happy to help."

  He shook his head. "Oh, no. You laid down the challenge and told me men fail you in the kitchen. You just sit there and watch. I've got this."

  Harmony had no idea what Barrett was going to cook for her today. He'd asked her if she had an outdoor grill, which she did, so she knew he'd be grilling whatever he cooked, which suited her just fine, since it was hot and she wasn't keen on the idea of using the oven.

  She watched as he used the meat mallet she'd provided for him to pound the hell out of the boneless chicken breasts until they were small rectangles. Then he melted butter in a bowl and added lemon juice and zest and set it aside.

  "What are you going to do with that?" she asked.

  He looked up at her. "You'll see."

  He took another bowl and mixed parmesan cheese, fresh basil, garlic and more butter.

  Whatever it was he was doing with that concoction, it made her hungry.

  He laid the flattened chicken breasts out and filled them with the parmesan mixture, then folded the chicken over and secured each one with a toothpick.

  "Oh I see," she said. "Stuffed chicken breasts."

  "You got it."

  He got out wooden skewers and soaked them in water while he sliced a red, yellow and green bell pepper, a red onion, zucchini and a yellow squash. He mixed up a marinade of olive oil, salt, pepper and garlic, then tossed the vegetables in the marinade.

  "We'll let those sit for a few minutes while I start cooking the chicken."

  He stepped out onto the downstairs balcony where she had her grill.

  Huh. Maybe he did know what he was doing after all. If so, he'd be the first man she'd ever known who had.

  Typically, when she dated a guy, she did all the cooking while he sat back with a drink in his hand, metaphorically scratching his balls, waiting to be served.

  She had no problem with traditional gender roles. She knew how to cook and she did it well. She actually enjoyed it. But she was also a professional career woman and she worked as damn hard as men did. Just once she'd like to date someone who appreciated that, who understood how hard she worked and would surprise her by having dinner on the table when she came home.

  Hell, she'd be happy dating a man who would offer to do the dishes.

  Her friend Alyssa was right. Harmony knew there were awesome men out there, the kind who could appreciate her. She just hadn't found one yet.

  Though, focusing her attention back on Barrett, she found a glimmer of hope as she sat back, sipped her tea and watched him prepare the meal.

  So unusual. But yet another reason to like this man.

  He came back inside, and as he walked by she breathed in the grill scent on him.

  Actually kind of an aphrodisiac.

  "So where did you learn to cook?" she asked, as he pulled the vegetables from the marinade and laid them on a plate.

  "My mom. And surprisingly, from my older brother Flynn. He's taught me a few new cooking tricks over the past year."

  Her lips ticked up. "Not the typical types of things one hears uttered from the mouth of a big, well-muscled man."

  He laid his hands on her kitchen island. "Now that's a sexist statement."

  "Probably. But still, you just don't look like the cooking type."

  "There's a cooking type? Do you ever watch cooking shows?"

  "Frankly, no."

  "Trust me, there's no cooking type. There are people from all walks of life who enjoy cooking, from kids to women--" He leveled a devastating smile on her. "Even men with muscles."

  She could tell she'd hit a raw nerve. "I'm sticking my foot in my mouth with this conversation, aren't I?"

  "Maybe a little. Which is the only reason I'm here today cooking you dinner."

  She didn't buy it. "The only reason?"

  He picked up the plate of skewered vegetables and made his way to her back door. "Trust me, Harmony. It's the one and only reason."

  She smiled as she checked out his retreating form.

  Only reason her ass. He could have said no, and he didn't. He was here because he wanted to be here.

  "Guy rule" be damned. She intended to take full advantage of their evening alone together.

  Eight

  Chicken was done, and just in time because the vegetables had a nice grilled edge to them. They looked tender and just about cooked to perfection.

  Barrett might not be a master cook, but he'd learned enough from his mom and from Flynn to work his way around a kitchen, and definitely a grill.

  He liked food. All his brothers did. His mother made sure they could take care of themselves in the cooking department, at least as far as the basics. And now that Flynn was opening a restaurant, Barrett had learned a thing or two about upping his game beyond just eggs, burgers and tossing a steak on the grill.

  Like tonight's dinner. When he'd been out in San Francisco visiting Flynn several months back, his brother had showed him how to fix the stuffed chicken breasts with grilled vegetables. Not hard, really. It had become one of his staple meals.

  As he loaded the finished chicken and vegetables onto plates to carry inside, he wondered why no guys had bothered to fix a meal for Harmony. Even bacon and eggs could be impressive if done the right way--and at the right time.

  Men were such douchebags sometimes. And the old ways of thinking that women were supposed to do all the cooking were long gone. His mother, a former career attorney, had made sure to teach all her sons that rule. She might have given up her career to stay at home with her kids, but that didn't mean she did all the work around the family ranch.

  Everyone pitched in. Which didn't mean the boys did the outside work while Mom and his little sister, Mia, did the cooking and cleaning inside the house, either. According to Mom, guys were more than capable of cooking a meal, doing the dishes, and scrubbing toilets. Just as women could operate the tractors outside.

  Barrett had grown up doing it all. He'd like to think he was pretty well-rounded.

  He carried the plates inside and laid them on the dining room table. Harmony had already set the table.

  "Perfect timing," she said, coming into the dining room from the kitchen. "I just opened a bottle of wine."

  "I'll go wash my hands, then we can eat."

  He dashed into the bathroom to wash up, then met her back in the dining room.

  "I have to admit, this all smells really good," she said, as he pulled a chair out for her at the table.

  He took a seat next to her, anxious for her to take a bite of the chicken.

  Instead, she lifted her glass of wine and tipped it toward him. "Thank you for coming over to cook dinner for me."

  He tipped his glass to hers. "You can thank me after you've tasted it."

  Her
lips curved. "Are you nervous?"

  "No. Confident."

  "Good. I like my men confident."

  Her men. Barrett was not one of her men. Never would be. But he was confident--he just needed her to eat the damn food so he could get the hell away from her sweet scent and the temptation to run his hands over her soft skin.

  She finally set her wineglass on the table and cut into the chicken. He waited while she took a bite and swallowed.

  Her eyes closed and she made a sound--a moaning sound. He resisted groaning in response.

  "This is excellent."

  He slanted a smile at her and started eating.

  "Okay," she said after she'd had several bites of the chicken and the grilled vegetables. "You can cook."

  He took a couple swallows of wine. "Did you think I was lying?"

  "No. I don't know. Maybe I did. I'm frankly surprised. My last . . . well, let's not go there."

  "Let's do. Tell me about bathroom counter guy."

  "Levon? He was . . . high maintenance."

  "In what way?"

  "His clothes had to be impeccably pressed. I'm pretty sure the only things that ever went into the washing machine were his underwear, and even that is suspect. Everything else went to the dry cleaner's. His house was spotless. He had cleaning people come in three times a week."

  Barrett raised a brow. "A bit of a neat freak, huh?"

  She cut into another piece of chicken, then waved her fork at Barrett. "That's an understatement. He yelled at me once because I forgot to take my shoes off at the front door. He didn't want his precious mahogany floors scratched. And I was wearing tennis shoes at the time."

  "What an asshole."

  She laughed. "Yeah, kind of. At least not the kind of man I wanted in my life long-term. I like a neat and orderly house, but if I want to toss my purse on the dining room table, I'd like to know the man in my life isn't going to have a nuclear meltdown over it."

  "Definitely the wrong guy for you."

  "I agree."

  They finished dinner, carted their plates into the kitchen and loaded them into the dishwasher. Barrett picked up the bottle of wine from the dining room table and they settled into the living room.

  What he should be doing is making a fast exit. But he didn't want to be rude by eating and running, so he'd stay a few minutes longer. Then he'd make a clean getaway, having fulfilled his obligation.

  She kicked off her sandals and pulled her legs up on the sofa, then picked up her glass. "You got the contracts?"