Dead Man's Bluff (15 page)

“Thought or hoped?” Drew ground out, his dark gaze locked
on the guy who was shadowing her, wearing a smug grin that’s just pissed Drew
off even more. He waited until she came close enough, and then his hand shot
out going to her upper arm. His intention was to drag her away from Chris,
before Drew did something he’d regret, but Chris snatched her from him tucking
her behind his back, shielding her with his tense body. “I don’t think you want
to go there?” Drew warned through gritted teeth. He motioned with a hand, “Now,
move aside.  She’s engaged, if you haven’t notice the damn huge rock on her
hand.”

Chris took a step, shoved at Drew’s chest; Drew
recovered from the shock that this guy was actually going to push him to go
there and held his ground like a slab of concrete. Chris sneered, “Not to you,
she’s not. I haven’t heard her say she wants to go anywhere with you.”

Drew vaguely heard Megan and Emma in the back
ground, but he was too stoked to care: his heart was pounding, his blood
boiling. He could actually feel his body vibrating he was so angry. Both guys locked
intense gazes only inches apart. “Last warning, BACK THE FUCK UP!” Drew
growled.

Whack!! Megan screamed! Drew staggered backwards,
bent over, clutching at his jaw. She was on him in a second, her hands
affectionately rubbing a bicep. She croaked out, “Are you okay?” She aimed a
look of contempt in Chris’s direction. “You hit him! You didn’t have to hit
him!”

Drew’s bottom lip already felt like it was the size
of a golf ball.  It was also numb. He worked his jaw, stood upright and smeared
the blood away the heel of his hand, spitting the blood from his mouth onto the
ground.  “Emma, take her up on the porch! Now! I’m about to beat this
MOTHERFUCKERS ASS!”

“Come on, then,” Chris taunted. “Let’s see your
best…If you got any!”

“No! Drew, look at me…please, just walk away,” Megan
pleaded still clutching his arm.

“Better listen to the girl…” Chris continued to
taunt.

Drew’s muscles tensed under her hand. Oh hell. He
really wanted to hit this guy. Bad. His fist was already clenched, ready to
deliver. Every instinct he had said to do it. The guy was begging for an ass
whooping. It’s what everyone expected him to do, even the guy. Megan blocked
his view of Chris, and every time he attempted to glare past her; she followed
his gaze, always staying right where all he could focus on was her green eyes.
Her words were breathy and she was still having a little trouble keeping her
balance, “Please, Drew, let’s just go inside. Okay?”

He
reached out, and cupped a hand to her cheek. She gasped as if he’d caught her
off guard. Her eyes fluttered closed.  All of his anger diminished. He had
nothing to prove to anyone, except her. “Okay,” he answered with as much
reluctance as a person can have.

Walking
away was always the hardest part. ♠

The screen door slapped closed. Chris and Emma stood
there, alone. An awkward silence engulfed them. Neither one of them said a word
to each other. Not able to stand another minute of not knowing what was going
through her mind his eyes slid to hers, surprised at the disappointment showing
on her face. Okay, she was making him feel like shit. He occupied his time with
something more productive, wincing as he shook out his fist, opened and closed
his fingers, his knuckles bleeding from where he must have caught a tooth. Finally
he said low, “Don’t look at me like that. The guy deserved it.”

She took hold of the railing and stepped up on the
bottom step, making her close to his height. Her black heels still swung from
her fingertips. “Why? What did he do? You barely know Megan. It’s almost like
you had an ulterior motive for picking a fight with him?”

He studied each of the features of her face with
great interest and then his gaze slowly traveled down the whole packable to her
bare feet. Something about a woman barefoot really turned him on, and it had
nothing to do with a woman being barefoot and pregnant. It made him think of
taking long walks on a deserted beach with someone like her. He couldn’t help
grinning at the thought of her in a bikini. He took a step closer to where she
was standing.

“Don’t even think about trying what you did earlier!”

“What’s that?”

“Kissing me.”

He chuckled, “Way I remember it…you kissed me.”

 “Yeah, well that was before you hit my friend.”

“I hate guys like him, okay! He’s spoiled! His rich
daddy has always given him everything he wants! He’s never had to work for anything,
never had to know what it’s like to do without! You’re right… I wanted to
rearrange his face!”

“Such hatred for someone you don’t even know,” she
murmured her blue eyes skimming his face. What was she searching for? Answers
to why he was like he was. Hell, he hoped she’d share those answer if she found
any, because sometime he didn’t even understand himself.

He deliberately placed a hand on the railing next to
hers, his little finger brushing against her thumb suggestively, the smallest
touch, but one he felt straight to his groin. What were they talking about? Oh.
Drew. The last thing he wanted to talk about right now.  “I’ve known guys like
him my entire life. I know his type.”

She slid her hand away from his on the railing. “I
forgot. You’re the authority on types.”

“Just his.”

“And mine.”

He buried his hands into his pockets as his
smoldering gaze connected with hers. “I know you used me at the bar to make
another guy jealous. That’s your type.”

Her eyes widened a fraction, but she recovered. And
she didn’t deny it. “You’re perceptive, I’ll give you that.” She moved closer
to him, although her blue eyes remained cold and distant. She rose up on her
tip toes, her mouth next to his ear. “But you might try getting to know people,
before you judge them.” Pulling back far enough to look him in the eyes she placed
a splayed hand on his chest, warmth bleeding through the fabric of his sweater.
“You have Drew all wrong. Jonathan Mackenzie treats his son worse than he treats
other people and that’s real sad, since that’s the only parent Drew’s ever had.
While you’re going around being envious of him…You think about that.”

“If you know him so well… why aren’t you dating
him.” His lashes lowered as he focused on that pretty mouth. It was as if he
was already addicted to the taste of her, the feel of her tongue against his.
His body hummed, suffering through withdraws, wanting more.

“For starters…he’s madly in love with Megan. Second,
he’s like a brother to me,” she returned. He choked on his spit, but she
ignored his sudden discomfort... “He moved out here to get away from everyone
comparing him to his father, and he can’t even get away from it here, because
of self-absorbed assholes like you.”

She turned on her heels. He appreciated her loyalty
to a ‘friend’… and he appreciated the great view of her rear-end as she climbed
the steps in that mini skirt, the way her blonde hair swung in loose curls on
her back, and the sexy way she tried to convince herself that she hated him.   

He called out, “Mind telling me which room I’m
supposed to sleep in?”

“You’re the genius. You figure it out.” ♠ 

Sixteen

Drew sucked air in through his teeth and tensed. His
reaction had little to do with the fact that Megan was dabbing a cotton swab
soaked with peroxide on the gash across his bottom lip and more to do with her
lightly blowing at the cut.

Was she trying to torture him? Or was she trying to
get herself kissed?

She smelled like drunk lilac and it caused a heady
stirring deep within him. They were standing face to face by the bed. She was making
preening sounds as she inspected his battle wounds up close.  

Her words were whispered, “I’m sorry. I can’t
believe he hit you.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t hit him back,” he stated
in a hoarse voice doing his best to control his breathing and the overwhelming
desire to push her back onto the bed. Taking every advantage he could of the
situation, he eyes skimmed every delicate feature of her face like a guy who
hadn’t seen the woman he loved for over two years.

Her green eyes collided with his. She said, “Yeah
that surprised me too.”

“Filly, about earlier…”

“Don’t, Drew. It’s not something I want to talk
about.”

“We have to talk about us sooner or later.” He
offered her a mischievous grin hoping it earned him points. “If I were you…I’d
do it while I’m wounded…so you have the upper hand.”

Her smile was weak and brief. “There is nothing to
discuss and there is no…
US
.”

“You know that’s not true. There has always been an
…us.”

He felt her sway, still unsteady from the alcohol
and his hands went to her upper arms. His thumbs seized the moment to enjoy the
silkiness of her warm flesh. Her gaze lowered to his bare chest as if she’d just
realized he was only wearing a pair of jogging pants. She cleared her throat,
stepped back removing his hands from her arms and putting some breathing room
between them. “You didn’t seem too enthused about talking two years ago.”

“That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is you thinking you can have
whatever you want whenever it’s convenient for you.”

He dragged a hand through his hair and sighed. “Convenience
has nothing to do with this and you know it.”

“All I know is… I feel like I can barely keep my
eyes open and my head is spinning.” She turned, crawled on her hands and knees with
the pace of a snail onto the bed, not even bothering to pull back the covers
before lying down. Her right cheek smashed into the mattress. She was still
wearing her red dress and appeared so innocent and childlike it made him feel guilt
almost unbearable. If he ever had a daughter and some asshole did what he’d
done…he’d castrate him, right after he beat the shit out of him.

Drew knelled beside the bed and swept hair that had
fallen into her face aside, tucking it behind an ear. Her long lashes fanned
against skin the color of a sandy beach. He said, “At least let me help you out
of the dress so you’ll be more comfortable.”

“I am comfortable.” She mumbled as if she was
hovering somewhere between consciousness and dreaming. “You’re just like every
other guy, Drew Mackenzie. You only want what you can’t have. That’s all this
is about… your bruised ego.”

Drew exhaled, resting his forehead on the side of
the mattress. He’d really screwed up. Maybe she was right and Mackenzie’s were
destined to only love women they could never have. ♠

Seventeen

Chris hesitated in the narrow hallway debating which
bedroom to try first. It shouldn’t be that difficult to figure it out. The open
door at the end of the hall obviously led to the bath. That left two choices:
the door on his left or the door on his right. He could see an open set of
stairs that led to the second floor, where there was probably more bedrooms,
but he would start on the first floor. All he had to find was an empty bedroom.

He pulled his right hand from a pocket and stretched
for the door knob on the right, but froze whenever he heard voices coming from
inside. Shit. Wrong room. It’s the one on the left then? He drew back his hand,
and sighed. This all could have been prevented if she just would have told him.
He turned and twisted the door knob, pushing open the door to his left.

Darkness and silence greeted him. Good sign. He took
several steps inside the room the toe of his shoe nudging something lying on
the floor. He bent and came back up holding the gold shirt Emma was wearing
earlier. The fabric was silky between his fingertips and it smelled of Emma. He
swallowed hard imaging what it would be like to run a hand over her flawless
skin. Tossing it back to the floor, he was about to turn to leave when the
worse idea he’s probably ever had in his life slammed into him.

His curious gaze traveled the room: the simple twin
bed, one small night stand, the khaki colored area rug thrown over the hardwood
floors, and the cracked closet door with a full length mirror covering the
length of it. He’d expected more: a four poster bed you had to use a ladder to
crawl up into fit for a princess, everything grand and frilly. His gaze went
back to the twin bed and the girl asleep in it, his Goldilocks.

He carefully pulled the bedroom door shut behind him,
blocking out the light spilling in from a small lamp in the hallway. The only
light left was from the moon sneaking its way through the blinds covering one
window. Quietly he crept to the side of the bed peering over at her still body to
make sure she was asleep. She was lying on her side facing the wall, her blonde
hair fanned out over a pillow. She appeared peaceful, sweet even, so different
from the venomous girl he’d met only a couple of hours earlier at the bar. It
almost made him feel guilty. Almost.

What he was about to do was shitty. Or bold as hell.
He couldn’t decide which. His heart palpitated in his chest so loud he was
afraid she’d hear it, wake up, and punch him in the gut. Taking a deep breath he
convinced himself she deserved this, since she’d used him. He toed off his
shoes and shed his socks, and reached behind his head grabbing hold of his
sweater tugging it off in one swift movement. Next he dropped his pants giving
them a gentle kick to the side.