Honeytrap (10 page)

As the ceiling fan whipped around, stirring the warm air, I decided to finally unpack my suitcase. I kept tripping over it, anyway. Also, the task would keep me away from going on my computer to see what Rex had e-mailed to Lana yesterday. Was he going to harass me some more about Micah?

I put that fiddling devil out of my mind, concentrating on fishing my clothes out of the suitcase and folding them into drawers. I'd only gotten started when I heard a sound outside.

Footsteps?

“Evie?” I called out.

No answer, so I crept to my bed, starting to reach under it for the knife. Cold panic writhed in me.

“Not funny, Evie!”

I waited to hear her voice, but instead, I realized that the footfalls were heavy—boots on cement. I grabbed the knife handle.

And even when goddamned Micah Wyatt appeared at my sliding glass door, leaning against the wall, I didn't let go of the weapon.

“Unbelievable,” I said through gritted teeth. Unfortunately, my sex drive wasn't so unhappy—it was jigging around like it'd just scored for the win. It was also very aware that I had my pajamas on, and my nipples had gone hard under the thin white linen.

“Saw your light on,” he said, his gaze lowering to my chest, then back up. He smiled like he'd struck gold. “So I thought I'd see if you were okay. You left the theater in a hurry, Sunshine.”

“Don't Sunshine me.”

“Aw, now, Shelby, you're severely limiting my expressions of endearment. You don't like ‘Angel' . and now ‘Sunshine'?”

“Why're you here?
In my pool house?
”

It looked like he was about to say that he'd just explained that to me, but I nixed the small talk.

“Do not tell me you were just driving by, that you happened to be in the neighborhood, blah-blah-blah. You can't even see my room from the street.”

“You can if you're walking by and crane your neck real hard, looking over the side gate. That's how I saw you opening the window. Besides, it's dark next door, so I doubt anyone's home to see me over here. We're as private as private can be.”

“Did you say you were walking or
stalking
?”

He thought that was funny. “If I had your phone number, I wouldn't have to go to such extremes.”

I shook my head, my hand loosening on the knife handle. I wasn't sure if he was dangerous enough for a cut, even though he was dangerous in other ways.

“Why were you walking in my neighborhood?” I asked.

“Why does anyone walk anywhere?” Without further explanation, he strolled right inside.

My mouth dropped open. The cojones on this guy.

He stood in the middle of my room in faded jeans and a sexy T-shirt, his hair tied back and an approving look on his face as he planted his hands on his hips.

“Nice paintings,” he said.

“Evie and I did them.” Why was I explaining anything to him? “I didn't say you could be in my room, for God's sake.”

“Rooms have a lot to say about a person, which is more than I can boast about the conversations we've had so far.” He wandered over to my desk, motioning toward the computer. “I'm guessing this is the scene of the crime with old T-Rex, where Lana Peyton had her way with him.”

Yup, he felt comfortable enough to just come right out and say things like that. But I didn't see the point in denying it. “I used a laptop for her. It's dead now, bugged out on me during the last week of school, like it held on for as long as it could.”

He jerked his chin toward me and the bed. “You hiding something under there?”

I decided it might not be a bad idea to bring out my weapon of choice.

“Well, look at that.” He laughed. “You're full of surprises.”

And he wasn't? I shoved the knife back in its place, letting go of it, and he ambled toward my TV, ignoring Jimmy Fallon and leaning against the wall. “You should've had a knife under your bed when you were dating Rex. Maybe you'd have a whole lot less problems.”

Hah
. “It's a habit when I'm home. I have it nearby, like a security blanket.”

“You seem to have more than a few bad habits, Angel.” At the reminder of this afternoon, he winked at me, grinning in that lopsided, über-sexy way that always got me going.

And now was no exception. My heart pinged, my belly whirled.

“
Why
are you here?” I stood. “To tease me about this afternoon? Or maybe you want to poke fun about how you made such progress on that bet of yours? Whatever the reason, you'd better do it before my mom and her friends get home.”

He tucked his hands under his armpits, still leaning. “The bet doesn't exist anymore. Remember?”

Sure
.

I waved him on. “Feel free to gloat. Get it all out.”

“I'm not here to gloat. Why would I have to when you enjoyed every second of that movie as much as I did?”

He was too much. “Did I mention that my mom doesn't care for you—or should I say, your reputation? You don't want to be here when she is.”

“Your mom loves me. Me and the twins are good customers at the café.”

“You overestimate your likeability factor. When it comes to her daughter, Mom will fight you off. And she has three live-in friends who'll back her.”

Micah cocked one of those wicked eyebrows. “Just what is it with those friends, if you don't mind my asking?”

Maybe he'd leave if I answered.

“You're wondering if they're all lesbians?” I knew what the town thought. It was just one more thing for them to talk about. “I can only speak for Mom, and the answer is no. They all meet on artsy-fartsy boards and Mom invites anyone who needs some ‘time away' to work at the café and live the gardening artist life for as long as they want. Some are divorced, some are having a midlife crisis, but that doesn't mean they're all loving up one another.”

“I heard your mom hasn't really dated anyone since your dad . . . whoever he was.”

He was dangling bait, as if waiting for me to grab onto it. When I didn't, he went on.

“Truthfully, I don't know about your dad firsthand. But I wasn't lying when I said there're ways to get you the story on him.”

Nope, still didn't believe him.

God, I had to get him out of here, and it wasn't just because I didn't want Mom to discover him. I didn't trust myself around him, with my pulse chopping through me and my lips feeling swollen again, remembering that kiss.

Just like he remembered it also, he moved away from the wall, sauntering toward me. With every step, my heart hopped.

“You gonna kick me out of here, Shelby?” he asked in the same whisper he'd used in the movie theater.

The nearer he got, the more I backed up. I stumbled back onto the bed, retreating there as if that was going to get me away from him.

When he came to the mattress, he braced his hands on either side of me, his face so close to mine that I could see the true color of his eyes now—gray with green flecks. I could smell his skin and the mint on his breath.

His voice traveled through me, a string of low shivers. “Tell me to leave, and I will.”

It didn't come as a surprise to me when I didn't.

My heartbeat was shredding my eardrums, playing them like a wild song I'd never heard before, as I leaned away from Micah.

But still so, so close to him.

“If people knew you were in my bedroom,” I whispered over the low murmur of my TV, “I'd never hear the end of it. And I'm not just talking about from my mom.”

“You worry too much.”

He ran a slow look from my face to my chest, where my camisole wasn't hiding much. Then his gaze meandered back up again. Damn, that smile made me think this didn't have to be such a bad idea after all.

He continued. “You saw me handle Mrs. Holland at Jimmy's. I know what to say to women, and your mom would let me get away with a lot of monkeyshines, too, if I could just have a word with her.”

“Could you be any less modest?”

“Probably, but I couldn't be more right.”

He stayed there, inches away from me. I could hear him breathing, and that familiar, sparking tension started to press against me—in me—so hard that I closed my eyes, then forced them back open.

I must've had some kind of new determination in my gaze, because Micah laughed, rolling to his side on the mattress, where he rested on his elbow, stretching out and watching me.

Had I zinged him enough to make him back off?

I went right on zinging. “I see you've made yourself right at home now.”

His gaze was on my chest again, and my nipples beaded even more, if that was possible. “This is a comfortable bed. Maybe I'll stay for a
long
while.”

When I scooted away slightly, backing against the wall and crossing my arms over myself, he laughed again. Then, in a move that confused me more than anything, he reached over and grabbed a chenille blanket from the footboard and shook it out, laying it over me.

I didn't know what to do for a moment. He was covering me up? This had to be some kind of trick.

But he rolled to his stomach, getting more comfortable, his long legs hanging partway over the bed. I tucked the folded blanket below my arms, hugging it.

He said, “Here's the real truth about how I came to be here. I walked blocks and blocks tonight, left the Camaro at the shop. Told my cousins I needed some peace and quiet away from them since we've got people in the house.”

He meant girls. “And you didn't stick around for that?”

“Wasn't in the mood.”

That had to be a new one. Or was he playing the devoted Romeo right now, showing me that I was the only one for him—for the time being?

I have to say his strategy was kind of working. I mean, on a base level, what girl doesn't like to think that she and she alone has won over the impossible heart of a player?

But I wasn't nearly won. “Let me translate what you're actually saying. You had a plan. You walked over here so no one would recognize your car in the neighborhood, then you snuck into my side yard where you could peek past the gate to see if I was home. Subtle. And maybe even a little creepy.”

“Creepy is for guys who pursue uninterested women.”

How could I argue about that?

“Also,” he said, “I figured I'd only cause a spectacle driving to your curb and blowing my horn to get your attention.” He traced a cherry blossom branch on my bedspread, his fingers long and sturdy, a hint of grease under his nails. “And that wouldn't work because I promised secrecy to you.”

Well, he was keeping up his end of his own bargain. “What would it take to get you to stop?”

“For you to tell me that you genuinely don't want me around. But the thing is, Shelby, every time I think you might say it with conviction, you don't.”

He was right. And I couldn't say it now. He made me feel so good after months of feeling bad, made me feel like I was special in a way, that I mattered enough for him to go out on any limb for me.

But that was the problem with Micah in a nutshell—he was catering to my neediness, just like he'd sniffed it out in me.

He'd started skimming the bedspread pattern with his fingertips again, but this time, he was closer to my bare thigh. My skin prickled, as if he was drawing pictures on me and not the cloth.

I cleared my throat. “So basically, I can't say anything you would believe about leaving me alone.”

“I'd suspect they were only words.”

“And what do words mean, anyway, right? Rex said plenty of words to me he didn't mean.”

He acted like I'd splashed cold water on him. “Rex again?”

It occurred to me that Rex might be the one subject that would eventually push Micah away, so I went with it. “I saw him this afternoon, at the Texaco. Jadyn stopped by to have a word with me and—”

“Ah.” He suppressed any and all smiles.

“Girls do talk, you know.”

“About . . .”

“You, of course. How you ruined her and have me next on your list. And how you like married women, too.” The hairs on my arms were standing up, the skin on my legs goose bumping as he followed a branch pattern to within a half inch of my thigh again. “If you were a nice guy, you'd tell everyone that you came on too strong with her and accept responsibility for the seduction, and you'd leave committed women alone.”

“I've said before—everyone I'm with makes their own decisions. They're all adults.”

“But you're a power player. Just look at you, in my room, uninvited.”

He traced the rest of the branch pattern, finally slipping his finger along the bottom of my thigh. I flinched away, and he laughed. But then he sobered.

“The only married women I've been with have already had it in mind to end their relationships. I get more credit for destroying their wedded bliss than I deserve with them.”

Hmm.
“And with Jadyn?”

“I didn't know everyone would pile on her like they have. I knew she was with the Great Rex Alvarez, but . . .”

“You've never been in a small town like Aidan Falls before and you had no idea how vicious people can be about protecting the ones they adore. I'm not buying it.”

“Okay, you're right about that,” he said. “I grew up in a smaller place but spent my teens in Dallas. They're not so talky in the city.”

I wanted to ask what he'd been doing in Dallas, who'd been taking care of him, where he'd started out before life in the big city and how he'd come out here to Aidan Falls as this fully formed country boy. But he didn't want to talk about that obviously.

No, he had lightly grabbed onto the bottom of the blanket he'd given me, like he meant to tug it away. A mist of sweat had settled on my skin—the blanket was a layer I didn't need in the night's warmth—and I loosened my grip on it. Maybe I could just cross my arms over myself again and cover up.

But he didn't tug. He kept me on edge, waiting for the moment he would expose me.

My motormouth ran, fueled by my nerves. “As I was saying, Rex dropped by the Texaco. He was with all his cronies, drunk as skunks, and he had a few words for me and Jadyn. I think he was showing off to his buddies about what a big man he is by tearing into the women who wronged him.”

“That's a shock to you?”

“Not these days.” Now Micah did start to pull lightly on the blanket, and I let go without making a big deal, hoping he wouldn't remark on it. Smoothly, I covered myself with my crossed arms. “He sent me an e-mail yesterday, too, but I haven't opened it.”

Micah was definitely distracted now. Success.

“When're you going to read it?” he asked.

“Some time or another.” I tightened my arms. “Rex is only playing games. I know that, because he sent this particular message to . . .” Did I want to bring up Lana Peyton? Oh, why not. I was already in the thick of explaining. “He contacted an old account. The one I was using to see if he was as faithless as I'd thought he was.”

“Lana Peyton's.”

When I paused, Micah lifted a hand in casual acknowledgement. “I know all about it, Shelby. Who doesn't?”

Words came bursting out of me. “You also know that I'm not really her.”

“Sure.”

“Because that's why I think you're chasing me. You believe I'm that girl who puts out and will give you some of that, too. But I think you're also pursuing me because you've got that thing about Rex, and you love to take away the one thing from him you can steal—his girls.”

Wow, that'd been a bunch of gunpowder, all lit up and exploding. But if I'd expected to blast him out of my room, I'd misfired.

He was still on my bed, giving me a look so earnest that my heart curled around the edges.

“At first, the idea of you appealed in both of those ways,” he said with his characteristic bluntness. “But then I saw you in the shop, and . . .”

He didn't finish. I wasn't sure I wanted him to.

The TV droned in the background as we both just sat there, awkward as hell. But then, as if he couldn't handle the tension, he shifted to his side again, grabbing both my legs and maneuvering me away from the wall so that I was somehow almost laid out straight on my bed, absolutely breathless. He moved over to my right as I rested both palms against his chest in a half-hearted attempt to keep him at a distance.

Pulse, thudding. Body, pounding all over, aching for him again.

“Forget all this talking,” he whispered, inches from my mouth.

He coasted his fingers over my hair, but my ponytail was bunched beneath my head like a blond pillow, so he didn't comb through it. Instead, he lowered his mouth until it brushed mine with a kiss so soft that exquisite agony bloomed from my center and outward, spreading all along my body.

My fingers grasped his T-shirt, mindlessly bringing him closer.

He kept kissing me, brutally slow, my mind breaking into blitzes of fervent color, showering down and down until I felt like a thrashing collection of scattered, electric parts. Unlike Rex, Micah didn't push my limits. He kept the kiss romantic and endless, as if he could've spent all night sipping at me and petting my neck with his knuckles. When he finally came up for air, he nuzzled the sweet spot below my ear.

“Is this still a bad idea?” he asked against me.

“The worst.”

He knew I was lying, and he laughed into my skin, making me wiggle as I pulled at his T-shirt again. I wanted to ask him about that mysterious scent that traced his skin, wanted to ask if he was always just pretending to tell the truth so that when he told a lie, I'd believe it.

Not that I cared so much about that right now.

He rose up on an elbow, looking down at me. “We were interrupted at the movies.”

“Thank God.”

Another smile from him, lighting its way through me, intensifying my pained cravings.

“Where
did
we leave off?” he asked.

I remembered—with his hand under my sweater, his fingers inside my blouse, bringing me to repressed excitement. And he clearly needed no reminder, because he carelessly started working at the top button on my camisole.

Should I tell him to get out of here, for real now?

No
, my hormones screamed.
Just a few minutes more
.
Just a little more and then . . .

He undid that button, then another, and before I could get a hold of my senses, he had my top all the way open. Air from the fan whooshed over me, offering its own caresses. But it was the languid heat of his gaze that made me rest an arm over my head, made my eyelids heavy as I gave him a lowered, anticipating look.

From what I saw on his face, I knew I'd never been appreciated this way before. With Rex, everything had been quick, urgent, and he'd never taken the time to just . . . look. So many times, I'd been eager to please him, but I didn't have to do a damned thing with Micah now. Making him smile seemed natural.

He gently stroked his fingertips over one bare breast, tracing the swell of it, paying such erotic attention that I couldn't look away from him.

“Dammit, Shelby,” he whispered. “You're killing me.”

Ur killing me Lana
.

Rex's online words to Lana Peyton—the other woman—jarred something in me, and I turned my face away from Micah, reaching for my gaped top and fumbling it closed as I sat up.

He slowly got up, too, but I didn't stop long enough to see his face and what he might be thinking.

Cockblocked
. That's what was probably running through his mind. I couldn't believe I'd gone this far
again
.

“I can't do this,” I said.

He didn't respond, only sat on the edge of the bed, running his hands over his hair. He was staring at the floor.

Once more, words got the better of me, gushing in desperation. “I think I have ulterior motives—I could be trying to inflict more damage on Rex by letting you . . . do what you do.” I couldn't even say “seduce me,” because it was looking more and more like this thing with Micah was as warped as my lingering, toxic relationship with Rex. Maybe I was even using Micah to move on from my ex, knowing a player was as temporary as they came.

But at least he wasn't like Rex in one other way: I wouldn't ever have needed to honeytrap Micah because he was so open about being a man-whore. At least he was Mr. Right in that respect.

Micah rose from the bed, his expression unreadable. Tin-can laughter from the TV provided an ironic soundtrack as he moved to the sliding glass door.

But before he left, he turned to me, as serious as I'd ever seen him.

“You're gonna fall for me one day, Shelby,” he said.

And with that, he disappeared, slipping away as easily as he'd arrived, leaving me at loose ends once again.

***

I seemed to sit there forever, my head fuzzy, fumes of thought curving every which way.

Had he really said what I thought he'd said? Could Micah Wyatt really be that thick, thinking I was going to fall for him emotionally? And why had I gotten the heart-stopping impression that he'd truly meant it?