Stumbling into Love
Page 10

“Tell me.” I roll to my back so that I can see her face as she talks.
Her hands lift away; then she makes some kind of internal decision and puts them on me again, beginning to massage my pecs and shoulders.
“On my twenty-first birthday, my friends thought it would be smart for me to start drinking at a legal age by ingesting tequila.”
“Christ.”
“Yeah, that about sums it up. That night, I ended up shirtless in Times Square, singing ‘I’m a Little Teapot,’” she says.
My hands flex at my sides at the idea of anyone seeing her the way I have. God, what the hell is she doing to me?
“Thankfully, the officer who got the call about a girl singing and running around topless in Times Square took pity on me when I puked all over him. Instead of arresting me like he could have, he made my friends take me home. He followed us all the way there, then gave us a warning that the next time we wouldn’t get off so easy.”
“You got lucky.”
“Believe me, I know. That is also the last time I ever drank tequila. Now if I even get a whiff of the stuff, my stomach turns and I find myself running for the nearest bathroom.”
“I hate hot dogs,” I tell her, wanting to share something about myself. I feel the need to, even if it’s about something stupid.
“You hate hot dogs?”
“I can’t stand them. When I was six, my parents got divorced.”
“I’m sorry.” Her hands go still and her soft eyes meet mine, causing something in my chest to get tight.
“Don’t be. Some people are better apart. Believe me, my parents are those people.”
“Is that why you hate hot dogs?”
“No,” I laugh. “My dad took me for the summer the first year after they divorced, and he had no idea how to cook. So we had hot dogs at every meal. Hot dogs and eggs, hot dogs and mac and cheese, hot dogs in spaghetti. I swear, if someone would have drawn my blood after that summer, my cholesterol at six years old would have been through the roof.”
“Poor kid.”
“Yeah. Since then, I can’t even look at a hot dog without wanting to get sick.”
“That sucks. There is nothing better than sitting out under the sun at Mets stadium, drinking a beer, and eating a hot dog while watching a game.”
“I’ll have to take your word for that, gorgeous. I might drink a beer, but you will never see me eating a hot dog.”
I notice how her pupils dilate when I say the word gorgeous.
Just when I think I’m getting somewhere, she quickly looks away.
“You should flip back to your stomach so I can finish working on your back.”
“All right.” I roll to my stomach, and for the next half hour we are both completely silent. She works my muscles from my shoulders to my calves. I don’t fall asleep even though my eyes get heavy. I want to stay awake the whole time so I can soak in the feeling of her touch, the way her hands glide over my body. I try to memorize every single second since I’m not sure when her hands will be on me again.
“All done,” she says softly when a chime sounds in the room.
I lean up on an elbow.
“I’ll let you get dressed. Just come out when you’re ready.”
Even though a part of me knows that the smart thing to do would be to let her walk away and come to me if that’s what she wants, I know I can’t do it. I want her, and I want to figure out why she keeps acting like she doesn’t want me, too. I can see it in her eyes and by the way her body reacts to me. She does.
Taking her hand before she’s out of reach, I sit up on the side of the bed. “Go out with me tonight.” I hate how vulnerable I sound to my own ears.
“Go out with you?” she repeats.
I wonder why the hell she can’t seem to believe that I want to spend time with her.
“Have dinner with me.” I pull her a step closer.
Her bottom lip disappears between her teeth before she releases it and gives me a nod.
“If that’s a yes, I’m going to need to hear you say the word . . .”
“Yes.”
“Good.” I rub my thumb over the pulse at her wrist and feel it beating hard. “I’ll pick you up at your place at six.”
“I’ll meet you at the restaurant.”
I want to insist on picking her up, but I can tell by the look in her eyes that she won’t give in. Knowing I need to pick my battles right now, I don’t fight her to get my way.
“All right, we’ll meet at the restaurant,” I agree. I give her the name of the place I have in mind before she leaves the room.
Once I’m dressed, I head out into the main part of the office and find her laughing with a guy—not just any guy, a good-looking guy who is standing way too damn close.
I clear my throat and watch as her head swings my way. My instinct is to puff up my chest when the guy looks me over, sizing me up.
“Wesley, this is my friend Edward. Edward, this is Wesley.”
I take the guy in. He’s tall, with the body of an athlete. His hair is short and his jaw is clean, which fits with the suit he has on. He looks like a sleazy banker.
“Nice to meet you.”
Edward lifts his chin, and I do the same in return before looking at Mackenzie. I move toward her with purpose, needing and wanting to stake my claim on her in some way.
“See you tonight,” I tell her as I drop a kiss on her cheek.
I feel her breath come out in a puff across my ear. I lean back, searching her gaze and feeling self-satisfied when I see that her eyelids have lowered and her face has gotten soft.
“Yeah, I’ll see you tonight,” she whispers.
I swear it takes everything in me to leave her there with another man. It kills me a little when I hear her office door shut and lock behind me once I’m in the hall. Then I remind myself that she’s not mine. That still doesn’t stop the caveman in my head from growling. Mine.
Chapter 4
COMPLICATED
MAC
Stripping out of my clothes, I take a seat on the side of my bed in my tank top and panties. I scratch my hands down my face, thinking about tonight. I have a date. Not only do I have a date, but I have a date with Wesley. I couldn’t believe it when I looked up and found him standing in my doorway this afternoon wearing jeans, his leather jacket, and boots. His hair was mussed like he had run his hand through it a few dozen times. I had thought that I was imagining him since I had just taken his number out of my desk and dialed it—but I hung up before I pressed the last number. It wasn’t until he said my name and stepped toward me that I realized he was really there.
Flopping back onto my bed, I close my eyes. I think about the scars on his shoulder and his tortured expression when I asked about them. There was something about it that made me want to crawl into his lap and hold him, to tell him that it would be okay. I don’t know what happened to him, but I know that whatever it was still affects him. He shut down completely when I brought it up. That stung. I didn’t know how to react or what to say, so I pulled away in response.
Only that wasn’t working for me, either. I didn’t like the distance or weird energy that settled over us like a wet blanket just then, which is why I told him about being arrested when I was younger. I wanted to make him smile or, better yet, laugh. I didn’t expect him to open up to me and tell me about a piece of his childhood in return, but he did. That made the connection I feel with him grow a little more. It also made it easy for me to agree to go out with him. Well, that and the fact that he looks at me like I’m already his.
At that thought, my skin tingles and my body hums. Intellectually, I know I shouldn’t find it as hot as I do that he seems so possessive about me, but my body has other ideas. There is something powerful in knowing that I can cause those kinds of emotions. When he saw me talking to Edward, I thought for a moment that he was going to storm across the room, pick me up, toss me over his shoulder, and carry me away with him.
I swallow, and hard anxiety hits the pit of my stomach. Reality crashes down around me like a ton of bricks. The last time I thought I had a connection with someone, I was very, very wrong. Am I just as wrong this time around? I need to stop thinking of this thing between us in terms of something serious. I should just think of it as a little bit of fun. No-strings-attached fun that won’t lead to me being brokenhearted. I shouldn’t assume anything more. We are just two people who are attracted to each other and who have over-the-top, out-of-this-world chemistry.