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A Good Man

Page 17

by Rosanna Leo


  “I’m not in the mood right now, hun.”

  “Seems to me the only time you’re in the mood is when Michael’s watching.”

  Whoa. So the kid wasn’t as naïve as he’d thought.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I’m not an idiot. I know you’ve been using me to put on a show for Michael because you still have the hots for him.”

  “Michael and I are through.”

  “And yet you can’t stop staring at him and talking about him.”

  “He’s my colleague. We have a professional relationship. I need to talk to him.”

  “But you wish you could do more.”

  “You know what, Jacob? This isn’t working for me.”

  “But—”

  “When we hooked up, we agreed it was a bit of fun. A fling. I really thought you were mature enough to handle it, but I guess I was wrong.”

  “Lacey, please. Don’t walk away.”

  “Look, if I thought you could give me the space I need, I’d hang in there, but—”

  “But you still love him.” When Jacob’s voice broke, Michael felt for the kid. He’d only been her pawn and the game had ended for her. The cat had grown bored with its mauled mouse and wanted juicier prey now.

  “I’m sorry. I want a man in my life, not a boy.”

  “I’m not a boy.” Jacob cursed and stormed off, his heavy footfall sounding on the pavement. Michael saw him as he marched down the road toward his car, shoulder hunched, hands shoved into his jeans pockets.

  For a split second, he was tempted to check on Lacey, to see if she was okay. However, from his spot behind the trailer, he heard her tittering to one of the makeup ladies she passed.

  “Oh my God, Rochelle, that kid was so clingy. I mean, he was great in bed. The young ones never get tired, but he wouldn’t leave me alone. ‘Lacey, you’re so hot. Lacey, I love you so much.’ Blah, blah, blah. Honestly,” said Lacey, still oblivious to Michael’s presence. “What was I thinking? Maybe Mommy will comfort him when he goes home.”

  What had Michael ever seen in her? The same things Jacob had, he supposed. It bothered him to think he might have been so shallow. Clearly, he’d been willing to overlook several glaring personality defects because of her attractive face.

  He’d been a sucker. When he looked at her now, he saw anything but beauty.

  Swallowing his distaste, he finished loading up his truck and headed into the backyard to see Emily.

  Now there was real beauty. With her honest smile and her good heart, she belonged on a pedestal in a museum. He supposed someone who ran in Lacey’s circles might look at Emily and see flaws. Those birthmarks on her cheek, the ones he loved kissing. Then there was her cute belly, so smooth he wanted to rub his face all over it.

  Some might call her hippy.

  She was bloody well perfect in his books, and he couldn’t wait to explore her body again, to elicit the whimpers and moans that made his cock stand at attention.

  As he neared the back gate, Eli walked in the opposite direction, knees muddy from the dirt.

  “Hey. Em’s out back.”

  “I know.”

  Eli grabbed his arm. “Go easy, tiger. You don’t want to explode that ticker of yours.”

  Of course, his brothers had figured out he’d slept with Emily. He hadn’t said a word to them, but they had eyes. “My ticker’s fine.”

  Only, as he encountered her in the backyard, on her hands and knees, he realized his heart was in grave danger. Smiling, he leaned up against the back gate and watched her for a moment. Digging in the dirt, trying to dislodge some stubborn roots under the soil, she hadn’t noticed his arrival. On all fours, she made for a sweet picture.

  “Careful, Dimples.” He approached and tapped her butt. “Keep bending over like that and I might forget we’re in mixed company.”

  “Michael.” She looked over her shoulder, her eyes lit. “Someone might see.” Although her stern tone was meant to chastise, her wide smile indicated her good humor.

  “Everyone’s headed home. Besides, let them see. I don’t want to hide away, Em.”

  She got up on one knee and groaned. Reaching for his hand, she let him help her up. “My legs are killing me. I think I’ve been on my knees all day.”

  “You’re giving me such fantasies, woman.” He glanced around, just to be sure no one was watching. “One kiss.” He stole it, grazing his lips over her cheek.

  Her body stiffened under his touch. “That’s it for now, big boy. I’m sorry. It wasn’t all that long ago the Handymen crew thought I was engaged, remember?”

  “I know.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you back. Believe me, I do, but not only do I have my own reputation to consider, there’s yours as well.”

  “You’re worried about our reputations? That’s adorable. Don’t you think it sounds old-fashioned?”

  “I know, but my head’s all over the place. Michael, I don’t want anyone to think I cheated.”

  “It’s okay. I understand.”

  “Would it make any difference if I told you I was totally distracted today while Eli was trying to teach me about proper placement for shrubs?”

  “It might, depending on what distracted you.”

  “Oh, just the memory of you doing certain things I can’t mention right now.” She nodded over his shoulder.

  He turned and spotted Eli on his return. “How about you come over to my place tonight? We can talk about…certain things.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “You kids ready to call it a day?” Eli asked.

  “Yeah.” Michael slapped his thighs and smiled at her. “Another good day, Em. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Right. Tomorrow. Have a good night, guys.”

  “Good grief.” Eli walked away, talking over his shoulder. “Don’t put on a show for my benefit. Everyone knows you guys are an item. We’ve been putting bets on it since day one of the shoot. Sayonara, love birds.” He disappeared around the side of the house.

  Michael pretended to pout. “And to think I was so discreet.”

  Emily tackled him and began kissing the length of his neck. “The soul of discretion.” She nibbled his earlobe. “Would it be wrong of me to beg you to take me in the house that used to belong to my grandmother?”

  He ran his hands over her backside and ground against her, letting her feel his painful erection. “No, I think Nonna likes me. She just whispered in my ear. She’s okay with it.”

  She hopped into his arms and he carried her toward the side entrance of the house. He snatched a couple of pecks but couldn’t kiss her properly, at least not while he was watching where he was walking. Once he got her inside the house, though, all bets were off.

  Someone appeared at one of the windows. Lacey looked at them and raised an eyebrow. Her mouth fell open, as if she wanted to say something through the glass, but she turned and hurried away.

  Michael stopped walking and put Emily down.

  “Aren’t we going inside? Or would you rather do it out here? Naughty. We might need to go into the tool shed so the neighbors don’t hose us down.”

  “We’ve been spotted, Em. Lacey saw us just now.”

  “I see.” She searched his gaze. “If you want to call it a night…”

  “I do.” He reached for her hand and kissed it. “But I want to call it a night with you. Come home with me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Your car can stay here overnight. I’ll drive you back to your place for some clothes and we can drive in tomorrow…together.”

  She nodded, but he could see the Lacey sighting had spoiled the mood. It was up to him to restore it.

  He pulled her close and nuzzled her neck. “I know the timing is crappy, but I don’t care who sees us together. We know the truth and we know you remained faithful to Trent until the end. I want to be seen with you. I would be proud to have you on my arm.”

  Her smile made him fee
l light and free.

  “There’s only one problem,” he teased.

  “That being?”

  “With all the yard work, you got very dirty today. I think someone needs to scrub you down.”

  “Hmm.” She slid her hands into his jeans back pockets and squeezed his tush. “I don’t suppose you have any soap at your fancy house in The Kingsway.”

  “I do have a bar of soap. If you play your cards right, I might drop it.”

  “And here I had you pegged as a nice boy. You’re evil, Michael Zorn.”

  Grinning from ear to ear, already determined to show her just how evil he could be, he led her out of the backyard.

  * * * *

  As Michael drove up his driveway, Emily tried not to gawk as she took in the size of his home. She’d always known some of the houses in The Kingsway were grand. After all, it was one of Toronto’s wealthiest neighborhoods. She almost had to crane her neck to see the whole building

  For one thing, it sat back from the road, so it appeared even bigger. With a gray stone exterior, it featured leaded pane windows, a winding walkway and a striking red door. The paving stones in front looked brand new, with not a single chip. Eli’s handiwork, no doubt. From her vantage point in the driveway, Emily spotted the tip of one of Nick’s showstopper decks in the backyard.

  Michael parked the car and turned off the ignition. He turned to her, his mouth curled in a shy smile. “We’re here.”

  “Michael, you live in a mansion. Does it come with a butler?”

  He snorted. “Please. As if I’d know what to do with a butler. It does, however, come with an awesome man cave.”

  “I can only imagine. Maybe I should have showered at my condo. I feel guilty tracking dirt inside.”

  “Em, I’m a contractor. I’m always dirty. Nothing wrong with a bit of sweat and grit under your nails.” He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth, groaning as he tangled his fingers in her short hair. “You taste so good, even filthy.”

  “Um, your neighbor is watching.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “That’s Mrs. Sanders. She’s a shameless curtain-twitcher and likes to scowl from her back window when the boys and I have a beer on the deck in the summer.”

  “Poor thing. Maybe she’s angling for an invitation.”

  “Right.” As he opened his car door, he waved. “Mrs. Sanders. You look nice today. Your pedal pushers are a lovely shade of orange.”

  Mrs. Sanders mumbled something and retreated into her open garage.

  Emily got out of the car and giggled. “I’m pretty sure that lady is running my photo through some database to see if I have enough money to step foot in The Kingsway.”

  He looped an arm around her shoulders. “Stick with me, sweetheart. I’m sure my presence will elevate you in the eyes of others.”

  As he unlocked his door, she elbowed him in the gut. He opened the door for her and slapped her ass in retaliation when she squeezed in front of him.

  Emily made a show of wiping her shoes, at least five times each, and removed them by the door. Michael walked in wearing his work boots, only kicking them off after he realized he’d tracked in some mud. The main floor felt cozy, despite its grandiose dimensions. Warm colors and lots of dark wood gave it an intimate feel. That and the humungous fireplace she spotted in the living room. “It’s beautiful. I almost don’t know what to say.”

  “Come in. Let me show you around.” He led her to the fireplace and Emily ran her hand over the stonework, the same variety that comprised the exterior of the house. “Would you believe it was a fixer-upper when I bought it?”

  “No way. It’s a show home.”

  “Not at first. When I saw it initially, I remember being sad because it seemed neglected. Unappreciated. Great features that no one seemed to recognize.” Michael smoothed his hand over her lower back. “Like a beautiful woman who’s made to feel inferior.”

  Kind of how Trent made me feel.

  “It must have been a big job.”

  “The kitchen was the hardest part.” He led her down a tidy hallway toward the kitchen in back. “It had to be gutted. I renovated everything from top to bottom.”

  Emily touched a finger to the new black granite counter, almost sighing when she spotted the state-of-the-art stainless appliances. It was still very much a man’s kitchen, decorated in modern neutral tones. Not a single flower or frill decorated the place, but everything was clean and fresh. Michael cared for it, that was clear. “You put in all this cabinetry, all these fixtures, yourself?”

  “My brothers helped. It’s been a labor of love but also a place for us to experiment.” His face reddened. “I wanted to make a home suitable for a family. The sort of place anyone would want to return to at the end of a hard day.”

  A sanctuary. The house oozed warmth and good vibes. If Emily lived there, she might add a couple of feminine touches, maybe a splash of bright color here or there, but the room was no less beautiful in her eyes. She could just imagine Michael holding court in the kitchen during a party, handing out beers and bowls of chips. She joined him in the middle of the room and wrapped her arms around his waist. “It’s gorgeous. You should be proud.”

  He cupped both her cheeks and nibbled her bottom lip. “You’re gorgeous.”

  She leaned into his kiss, relishing the salty tang of his skin. He was right. There was nothing wrong with a little bit of healthy sweat.

  He ended their kiss, his chest reverberating with frustrated desire. “Maybe we could do the rest of the tour later.”

  Emily began to unbutton her shirt. “I think I’m too dirty to walk around such a nice house anyway.”

  “Definitely too dirty.” Michael bent down and scooped her up, throwing her over his shoulder.

  She let out a whoop, temporarily winded. “You did not just throw me over your shoulder like a caveman.”

  “Seems I did.” He ran his hand over her ass and everything in her tightened with need. As he headed toward the stairs in the hallway, he let his hand slip between her legs. “I’ll have to bathe you myself. I’m not sure I can trust you to do a good enough job. You might miss a spot, but I won’t.”

  He walked upstairs and down the hallway, seemingly unbothered by her weight over his shoulder. Using his foot to gently kick aside the bathroom door, he entered. When he set her down, Emily gasped.

  It was the bathroom haven of her dreams. Boasting an oversized soaker tub in the corner, as well as a walk-in shower big enough to hold a rugby team, the entire room was covered in calming neutral tiles. Soft white towels beckoned from a cabinet in the corner. The vanity consisted of one of those cool sinks that sat on the counter, rather than under it. Burnished fixtures shone from the sink and shower. A Roman blind hung over the picture window. The sunset through the window bathed everything in a rosy glow.

  All Michael’s talents, all his love and energy, had gone into this room, infusing it with personality. She didn’t ever want to leave, especially not when he was standing before her, removing his work clothes with a methodical air.

  “You’ve gotten quiet.”

  “I’m awestruck at what you’ve done with this place. You have such talent.”

  “Thanks.” He removed his outer shirt and peeled his T-shirt off as well. A thin line of grit ran around his neck, where it had collected in his collar, but it didn’t mar the picture in any way. If anything, he looked virile and manly and so sexy he stole her breath. “I want you to feel at home here, Em. It’s important you feel at home with me.”

  A pang sliced through Emily’s chest, somewhere near where her heart lay. Had Lacey made herself at home here?

  Why was she thinking such things with a glorious half-naked man in front of her? She’d never been the sort to get paralyzed by doubt, but ever since Trent had made a mockery of their union, she wondered constantly.

  He slid her shirt off her shoulders and eased it down her arms. “I want to take care of you. Let me.”

  Chapter Seventeen
/>   Emily nodded, too twisted with strange emotion to reply. She couldn’t remember the last time a partner had expressed a desire to take care of her in any way. She’d been doing everything for herself for such a long time and it was hard to relinquish control. In taking charge of their lovemaking, Michael wasn’t trying to overpower her. If anything, she could tell how much he wanted to please her.

  He moved over to the large shower stall and reached in to turn on the water, taking a moment to find the right temperature. As he did, her mind spiraled through a hundred memories. Michael’s comments about the fixer-upper had hit home. In sleeping with Veronica, Trent had made her feel second-rate, like Cinderella sitting at home in the attic, listening to the belles heading out for the ball. Emily had never been the sort of woman to wait and pine for her prince to come. Trent had taught her that princes were flawed. He’d taught her to be suspicious.

  As Michael stood before her, he presented a very different sort of prince, one whose armor didn’t appear tarnished in any way.

  Perhaps she just hadn’t discovered the imperfections yet.

  She was sure he was suffering from PTSD. The thought had bothered her all day long. Once or twice, during quiet moments on set, she had tried to talk to him about the issue, but he had deflected each question. He’d built up such huge walls as far as the shooting was concerned, and she couldn’t fault him for it. But surely those walls had to come down so he could breathe and sleep easily. Like the interior wall at Nonna’s house, it had to come down to let the light in. Emily wasn’t convinced she could help him demolish his barricade.

  He walked back to her, unzipping his jeans. Her gaze followed the slow descent of the zipper, mesmerized. Her breath seemed to halt as she was confronted by his rock-hard chest. He slipped his fingers under the open flaps of her shirt and removed it for her. He seemed intent on doing the work, so she let him continue. He teased her bra away from her skin, one strap at a time. Kneeling before her, he removed her socks, jeans and panties. When he kissed her belly, she sucked it in.

  “Don’t.”

 

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