by G. K. Brady
“Good. Keep it that way. You have your hands full as it is … being a tiger tamer.”
Her quizzical look returned.
“You tamed Tyrone, right?” he said before she could spit out whatever might be on the tip of her tongue.
To his great relief, her expression eased into a half-smile. “I wouldn’t have dreamt of trying to tame Tyrone, and he was docile to begin with. Domesticating a wild beast like you would be an even bigger challenge, and I’m not sure my ego is robust enough to withstand your adoring female fans.”
“You’re the only fan I care about. You are a fan, right?”
“Oh, most definitely. Especially of this.” She waved her hand between them.
He pulled her to him and kissed her slowly, thoroughly. She tasted like peach nectar, and he lingered, savoring her tongue and her sweet lips.
“Wild beast, huh?” he murmured into her mouth. “You’re pretty wild yourself.”
“Hmm,” she said. “I see where this is headed. Maybe we each need a little something to keep up our strength.”
“I like the sound of that. And I like these.” He slid back the covers, pushed her on her back, and teased her beautiful bare breasts with his tongue.
She giggled, ruffling his hair. “Careful, buster. You’re playing with fire.”
“That’s the idea. Don’t go away.”
He rolled out of bed and pulled on his flannel pants, then treaded to the kitchen. In the midst of making PBJs, his computer chimed. Internet must be working again. On his way back to the bedroom, he paused to scan the screen. His heart rate accelerated. Placing plates heaped with sandwiches on the table, he slid into a chair, opening an email. He moved on to a couple more.
He was sending replies when she called out, “Is my beast lost in the wilderness out there?”
“Be right in,” he hollered back.
“I’m getting cold.”
“Can’t have that. Your warmer-upper’s on his way. Better get ready.” He picked up the plates and hurried back to bed.
“What were you doing?”
He handed her a sandwich before taking a chomp of his own. “Setting my plans to return to Denver with you tomorrow.”
“What?”
“Got an email from the PD. Long story short, Jackie was caught trying to sneak out of the country. She’s being extradited back to Colorado. Annnd turns out Dad, Marion, Cooper, and Emily are blowing through town this weekend, and we’re having dinner together Friday. I’d like you to meet them.”
“But T.J.’s still using his place.”
He shrugged. “I can always grab a hotel.”
She seemed to appraise him. “I have a guest room you can use.”
He arched his eyebrows. “Yes, you do. If I’m a good boy, will you upgrade me to your room?”
“We’ll see,” she teased. “Might take some convincing.”
He relieved her of her half-eaten sandwich, setting it on the table. Then he pulled the covers off her and gathered her up in his arms. “I’ll start on it right now.”
CHAPTER 26
Ahead of Myself
“Triceps for four,” the instructor on the video announced cheerily. Paige lay on her back on her living room floor, head turned toward the TV as she bent her elbow and lowered the pink barbell to her shoulder. Up, down. Up, down. How can she smile, heft these things, and not even breathe hard?
“Bridge,” the instructor sang out, and Paige lowered her arm while obediently raising her hips off the floor in time with the happy, impossibly thin, bouncing workout girls on the TV. Once, twice, three times. Eyes still glued to the screen, she jolted when something big straddled her, and her fourth rise slammed her hips into said something big.
Above her, his beefy arms bracketing her shoulders, Beckett was in mid-pushup, a grin plastered on his face as he lowered his body to the floor atop hers. He shot back up, hefting his bulk on his arms. And down again.
“Bridge,” he called out in a falsetto, sounding nothing like the video instructor. His light blue eyes twinkled, and perspiration glazed his forehead. And his neck. And his taut, well-defined biceps. And doubtless the sculpted pecs flexing beneath his sweat-stained T-shirt. “C’mon, get those hips up!”
Paige gulped air. “I can’t! I’m laughing too hard.”
“No excuses,” he barked. With each downward swoop, he pressed his lower body against hers a little harder. Was that …? Yes, that was growing harder with each pass too.
“You’re all sweaty!” she laughed, pushing against his shoulders as he lowered himself again. This time, he didn’t rise up, locking his lips on her neck instead.
“I’d like to get a whole lot sweatier,” he mumbled as he kissed and nibbled, sending shards of pure pleasure to her core. “Then you can lather me up in the shower.” His voice had grown husky, and he was trailing hot kisses along her throat, down her chest, as he balanced himself on both elbows in a plank.
A squeak escaped her. He nudged her sports bra with his nose, and his tongue and lips continued their onslaught. Her hands snaked under his shirt, over his slick back; his muscles smoothed and flexed with his movements. She vibrated with a mind-melting desire to have all his sweaty skin against hers.
Stabbing his tongue at her sports bra, gaining no purchase, he began tugging at it with his teeth. “This damn thing doesn’t move,” he growled.
“That’s the ide—” Her breathless words were cut off by his mouth on hers, demanding and possessive. Positively toe-curling.
He sat up and yanked his shirt over his head. A split second later, his shorts and underwear joined it. She’d never known anyone who could strip so fast.
“Bridge,” he crooned.
Laughter and lust bubbling in her blood, she thrust her pelvis upward, and he wiggled her yoga capris and panties down her legs, sliding them off her pointed toes.
She pretended a protest. “What about my workout?”
“This is your workout—the cardio part.” His mouth traveled down her chest again, landing on her Spandex-covered breast, which he sucked and chewed, turning her nipples into tight beads as he grunted an exaggerated “mmmm” from the back of his throat. Amid her giggles, he plucked at the sports bra and finally gave up. She sat up to wrestle it off, but he’d moved on, dropping his head between her legs. Omigod. Her eyes rolled back, and she emitted a groan of pleasure as she reclined, her fingers tunneling in his hair, the bra and workout girls utterly forgotten.
.~ * * * ~.
When they arrived at Marco’s restaurant several hours later, Paige’s glow from the interlude had faded, and a moth swarm-fest had taken over her stomach.
“Are you nervous?” Beckett leaned down to her ear as the hostess led them in a winding path to their table.
“Yes. I haven’t met anyone’s parents in so long, I can’t even remember.”
“Well, I’ve never introduced my parents to anyone, so we’re even. Don’t worry. They’ll love you.” He squeezed her waist. “You look gorgeous, by the way.”
“So do you.” She looked him over, trying not to lick her lips, trying not to picture what was under the leather bomber jacket, the gun metal-gray button-down, and the faded jeans. Trying not to let the sexual energy oozing from him fog her brain more than it already had. If she gave in, she’d be like every other woman whose eyes were glued to him right now—every other woman ready to pull off every scrap of his clothing and throw herself on top of him … or under him … or anywhere close to him.
Crap! Why am I with Chris Hemsworth when Eddie Redmayne would do? No one looks at him, but he’s still sexy. Kinda.
Beckett had to know all those fluttering, come-eff-me-eyes were on him. The man moved like a lion on the plains, being sized up by every lioness ready to kill for him and give him a litter of cubs, and Paige’s chin lifted a haughty inch or two when he didn’t grace his admirers with a glance.
They were the first to arrive, and after they took their seats, his eyes devoured her as though she wer
e the only woman left on the entire planet and survival of the species rested with their mating. His scorching gaze broadcasted his eagerness to get started on repopulating the planet right there, right then, dedicated survivalist that he was. The two of them had been doing a bang-up job of it so far, and if not for her IUD, they might have been on their way. She went warm and tingly all over.
They’d spent a dizzying week together since their return from the mountains, their two worlds orbiting around one another as they reached toward a compatible rhythm in their combined everyday lives. Beckett worked on DeFunked business and trained, ever hopeful for that call, while she prepared for closings and her next project. Sort of. Paige’s focus had gone missing, lost in a drunken daze of carnal bliss. She feasted on Beckett’s attentiveness, his juicy kisses, and his powerful body, easing in his company while holding her doubts at bay. Even Katie was growing to accept his presence without threat of fainting.
Was it possible Paige’s doubts—about him, about another relationship so soon—had been groundless? Maybe, just maybe, being with Beckett would work.
He squeezed her hand under the table, pulling her back to the present. “They’re here.”
Her eyes snapped up, and she nearly shook her head. A slighter, darker version of Beckett was headed toward them, the same lopsided grin on his face. Behind him trailed a very pretty blond woman. Beckett jolted from the table into his brother’s embrace, doing the whole man-hug, man-pat thing with vigor.
The blond extended her hand. “Hi. You must be Andie. I’m Emily, Cooper’s fiancée.”
She knows who I am?
The brothers broke apart, and Cooper turned to Paige. His eyes widened, and he glanced at Beckett, his grin broadening.
Beckett introduced them. “Coop, this is Andie. Her real name is Paige Anderson.”
“You can call me Andie.” Paige leaned in to shake his hand, but Cooper pulled her in for a hug.
“Hey, that’s enough,” Beckett warned, playfulness in his deep timbre.
Cooper held her at arm’s length, not taking his eyes from her. “Good job, Beck!” he enthused as if she weren’t there. Okay. Wow. I’m being held—and complimented—by Liam Hemsworth. Heat rose from her chest to her eyelashes.
Now Beckett was hugging a broad man with glasses whose gray-fringed head reached Beckett’s nose. Behind him was a thin birdlike woman with fine russet hair and bright brown eyes that shimmered with tears as she looked on.
The man cuffed his nose while he watched the woman reach for Beckett. Their greetings were center-stage viewing for the entire restaurant, and whether it was because these gorgeous men were dead ringers for movie star brothers, or whether it was the charged air of their reunion, Paige couldn’t say.
Beckett’s father turned to her and clasped her hand in both of his. They were rough and thick, like a farmer’s, and she felt instantly at ease.
“This is Andie, Dad. Andie, my father, Woody Miller,” Beckett announced.
Woody smiled at her, warmth filling bright blue eyes magnified by lenses. They were as piercing as Beckett’s. “Such a pleasure to meet you, Andie.”
Tears pricked her eyes for some unfathomable reason, and her return greeting came out in a croak. He seemed to understand, chuckling as he patted her hand.
Later, when Paige finally glimpsed the time, hours had passed. Her sides ached from laughing with this family that resembled one she’d always dreamed of, a real-world parallel of a 1960s TV sitcom. Beckett’s reassuring hand had been around her shoulder, on her arm or her thigh, telegraphing his claim throughout the meal. She liked it. She liked being here, with Beckett’s family, and she liked watching him in this ordinary, humble atmosphere.
The time came for good-byes, and Woody pulled her aside, cocooning her hand in both of his. He fixed her with a blue gaze filled with emotion. “I’m so happy you’re in my son’s life, Andie. I don’t know how much he’s told you, but he and his mom were peas in a pod, and when Elayne died … well, she took a big chunk of him with her. The money and fame came to him at such a young age and only made things worse, and I thought we’d lost him.” His voice cracked, and he paused for breath. “But seeing him with you, I know my boy will be all right.” He kissed her hand.
Paige could only nod for the logjam wedged in her throat—a logjam comprised of one half gratitude and one half abject terror.
.~ * * * ~.
Beckett lay on his side, Andie’s bare back snugged against him, her head tucked under his chin. They’d made love, and she was drifting off. He could tell by her breathing, by the way her body softened in his arms. He’d been studying her, her signals, and hoped to graduate at the top of his class someday. Andie 101. Andie 201. Andie 1001?
Gathering her in a little closer, he kissed her shoulder. “Andie?”
“Mmm?” She shifted and tugged his hand to her heart.
“I’m not waking you up before I leave tomorrow. It’s too early.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“It’ll be a helluva long few weeks without you, pixie.”
“I thought it was only ten days,” she mumbled.
“Yeah. A few weeks.” He kissed her shoulder again. “I wish you could fly out, even for just a night. I’m going to miss you,” he whispered.
She looked at him over her shoulder with a sleepy smile and reached her hand back to run her fingers through his hair. “I’ll miss you too, Beck, but absence makes the fond grow harder.”
“What?”
Her smile turned impish. “You heard me. It’ll spice up our sex life.”
He belted out a laugh. “I don’t think my heart can take any more spice.”
“Too much for the All-Nighter? I figured I’d be too vanilla for you.”
“How can you be too vanilla? Besides, vanilla’s my favorite flavor.”
Cooper’s voice ghosted through his head. I was ready to marry her after a week. I didn’t want her to get away. Beckett got it now.
“When I get back,” he said, “I want to talk about making this more permanent.”
A little flinch, then she rolled over, facing him, and batted her eyes. “You want to rent my guest room?”
He touched her nose. “Funny, pixie.”
Her arms circled his neck, resting carelessly, as if they’d always done it, as if they belonged there. He splayed his hands over her sides, then slid them to her back. She was so small, and she felt so damn good. Her gaze dropped to his mouth and stayed there, and her generous lips curved a little higher. He hovered his mouth over hers, torturing himself, extending the moment.
“I’m serious,” he breathed.
She never said a word. Just kissed him stupid all over again, making his heart rate climb, driving most everything from his mind. Ten days would be forever.
.~ * * * ~.
Days later, Paige was reclining on her couch staring at the TV, feet resting on the coffee table, a glass of wine in hand, missing Beckett fiercely. Never knew I could be so lonely without the big lug. Her phone vibrated. She glanced at the screen and swiped the green icon.
“Gwenn! What’s happening, girlfriend?”
“Henry just got a last-minute assignment to Denver, and I’m coming with him! My folks are watching the kids.”
They squealed in perfect time. Some things never changed, thank goodness.
“His firm’s putting us up,” Gwenn continued, “but my time’s free while he works, so—”
“Yes! I’ll clear my calendar for girl time.”
“Yay! I can’t wait to see you. Will Beckett be around?”
“No, he’s been in Chicago on business and just got settled in Vegas. He was supposed to start his photo shoot tomorrow morning, but a model no-showed, so they’re bringing in a new one. The schedule’s delayed a day.”
“Uh-oh. Beckett in Las Vegas with nothing to do?”
Paige barked out a laugh. “I know. Beckett and lots of scantily clad women. A dangerous combo. But he’ll be busy working on an offer to buy his co
mpany, so he’s hunkering down in his room. Er, suite.”
“Whoa! Didn’t know he was selling.”
“It’s a sweet deal he can’t pass up. He couldn’t share details, but he’ll get a solid seven figures for his half.”
“Wow. Back to the big time.” Gwenn paused. “Does that worry you?”
“I’d be lying if I said no. How will he act if the world becomes his oyster again? What if something more exciting comes along? Something exotic with long legs? It’s bad enough having women ogling him all the time. What happens when his gorgeous face is plastered across magazines and he has oodles of money? If he reverts to his bad-boy self, he’ll drop me like a broken hockey stick. Assuming I don’t run first.”
“You don’t really think he’d do that, do you, Paige? Besides, if the payoff’s in the low seven figures, the oyster might be kinda small compared to what he used to make.”
Paige sighed. “True. But that number might climb. His ex-manager, Jackie? The FBI’s running the investigation because she fled across state lines. Beck says the lead agent told him they found a bunch of bank accounts scattered around the country, and there’s a chance he’ll get back some of the stack she stole. Eventually.”
Gwenn whistled softly. “Well, it’s about time he was on karma’s winning side. Of course, having you should be more than enough good karma.”
“Thanks, Gwenn.” Paige’s chuckle was hollow. “I am dealing with Mr. Charming, though. Sometimes I hold my breath, thinking this can’t be real, it can’t be this good, and it’s going to burst into flames and turn to ash.”
“You’re having fun, Paige, so go with it. Just take it easy with eyes wide open. Who knows where it’ll lead?”
“That’s funny coming from you, Gwenn. You’re the one who told me to guard my heart.”
“Sweetie, we both know that train left the station a long time ago.”
CHAPTER 27