Ready for You (11 page)

“Why did you stop playing baseball?”

“My dad asked me to
come
work in his construction company.”

“Like building houses and stuff?”

“Pretty much.”

“Wow. Can I see sometime?”

Rocco glanced at Chiara. “Sorry, but it’s against the rules, usually.”

“Aww.
I never get to do anything fun. And Dad and Danny won’t play ball with me and they won’t build stuff either.”

“Max…” Chiara said in warning. His tone bordered on a whine.

“How about I read you this book?” Rocco said. He and Max settled back.

“I’m sorry,” Chiara said. “Did you want something to drink?”

“No thanks. I can’t stay long.”

Chiara walked into the kitchen anyway, unable to watch the cozy scene in front of her. She drank a glass of water while she listened to Rocco’s expressive, deep voice read to Max about the fateful day in Mudville. After she set the glass on the counter, she moved to the doorway. Look at him, so kind and handsome and…maybe she wouldn’t be alone if she and Phil divorced. Maybe she should stop being afraid and leave Phil. She leaned against the door. Yes, she’d been afraid, that was it. She still was.

“’But there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey has struck out.’” Rocco finished and looked up at her. She stood tall and clasped her hands.

“But then he makes his own team of his daughters and they win,” Max said.

“I hadn’t heard that,” Rocco said.

“Sure, it’s in the video I just watched. Wanna see?”

Rocco stared at her. She tingled and fought off the image of him pressed against her, his hands…she crossed her arms over her chest. He rose. “I better go,” he said. “Maybe, I mean, you take care.” He shook Max’s hand.

“Can I play outside?” Max asked.

Chiara nodded. Her throat tightened dangerously. She opened the door for Rocco and Max, who bounded out into the front yard. He ran around the side, opened the gate, and ran into the back yard. Chiara knew he would probably play there in the fenced yard for a bit.

“Nice boy,” Rocco said.

“So’s yours,” she said. “He…”

“Yeah.”
He faced her but his eyes focused on her shoulder. “Obviously this all was a mistake.”

She shifted her feet. She wasn’t sure what he meant. “If I…” She wanted to ask what he would do if she left Phil, but the words choked in her throat. She coughed.

“Enjoy your life,” he said, still not looking her in the eyes. “The one you’ve got.”

“You too,” she said almost in a whisper. That told her what she needed to know. She had a lot of other questions, but none of them mattered much when he was blowing her off. She didn’t even allow herself to watch him walk away, but his truck’s powerful engine gunned sending a jolt through her. Tilting her head, she walked into the back yard, shutting the gate behind her.

Chapter Thirteen

“Dammit!” Rocco shouted as the pain seared through his finger. It had only been a few hours since he left Chiara’s house and he hadn’t been able to concentrate. Of course, his lack of sleep the last couple nights might have something to do with it.

“Hey, you all right?”
Juan asked with a raised eyebrow. Rocco had never done anything
so
stupid and careless as to miss his mark with the hammer.

“Yeah, fine,” he said. He waved his hand and continued his work. His finger throbbed but he ignored it. At least it centered his pain somewhere other than his head or his chest, which had both tightened without relief since Saturday. Thankfully, he’d just seen the family so he wouldn’t have to see them again for awhile. He’d rather be alone right now.

He lay in bed again that night, staring at the ceiling. He’d been a little more restless the last six months or so, but nothing like this. Was Chiara in bed with her husband? Were they having sex? He sat up and clutched his head as a shock of pain jolted. He rose, went into his bathroom, and shook a couple Advil into his hand. He swallowed them down and walked into the living room. Flipping on the TV, he slumped into the couch and stared at the flashing images. Maybe this would work again, though he was getting too old to sleep on the couch, especially when he didn’t need to. His eyes flicked around the room, a mistake since all he saw was Chiara and how beautiful she was when they kissed, how eager she’d been to touch him. Shutting his eyes, he hoped for sleep, though even that didn’t guarantee Chiara-free hours.

Two evenings later, he started from his slumped position on the couch when the phone rang. He let the machine pick up, not even bothering to answer hearing it was Shawn. No doubt his son only wanted to know if he’d gone to the AA meeting, which he hadn’t. Rocco didn’t need to sit in a stuffy room listening to people’s sob stories and drama. He’d managed fine these last two years without it. And if he wanted a beer every once in a while, was that really a big deal? So he’d had two beers with his chicken burrito, it was worth it to get some sleep, to finally relax a little. He almost hadn’t realized how tense he’d been these last weeks until he got that tiny buzz. He had discipline--he could make
that six pack of Coronas last through the weekend
.

And by Friday night he did still have a couple beers in the fridge. So what if the reason for that was an acquaintance of his, a very pretty one in fact, invited him out for a drink. Usually he made some excuse about why he wasn’t drinking, but he figured a couple beers in the bar
was
better than drinking alone. Besides, obviously he was doing something right since she invited him back to her place.

As he drove to her apartment a few minutes from the bar, he tapped the steering wheel. Probably all this craziness with Chiara was because he hadn’t had sex in a month now. Yes, he should have thought of that before. Now he would be able to get over her.

Tina didn’t have any hesitation, either. She moved right in for a kiss as soon as the front door shut. He squeezed her ass, not bad, but not as rounded as Chiara’s. And her taste, like cigarettes and beer, not sweet and fruity and savory like Chiara. His brow creased as he tried to focus on Tina. Her tongue squelched into his mouth where Chiara’s had teased and darted. Fingering her perky breasts, he was only reminded how full and responsive Chiara’s
were,
where Tina’s stayed smooth under his touch. He grunted, almost disgusted with his thoughts, with his inability to maintain. She pushed back and he breathed deeply.

“You don’t really seem into it,” she said.

“I’m always into it.” He tried to use his smooth, deep voice but it sounded tired and unconvincing.

“I don’t think your homeboy agrees,” she said with a flick of his limp dick.

He grimaced. “Maybe…” No, he wouldn’t stoop that low again. He wouldn’t blame her for his own shortcomings. Maybe he had grown a conscience--it sure was a creepy, sneaky thing. “I better go.”

She shrugged. “I’ll walk you out.”

“Going back out?” he said.

She smiled. “A girl has needs. See you around.”

He waved and climbed into his truck. Now what? He couldn’t even keep it up?
Except he could, too much even, with Chiara.
Shit. He let loose a string of expletives as he drove up First Street. His forehead pounded. He turned onto High Street but passed his own street before turning into Chiara’s. He stopped and turned off his lights.

There, on the stoop, she
sat,
the house dark behind her. He actually heard his heart beat. He ran his hands over his hair as she stared into the truck. She knew it was him, even if she might not be able to see him. Her hair waved around her soft face, all her curves silhouetted in the low streetlights. She walked toward the truck. He could almost see her sleek thighs under the light skirt she wore, a tiny tee doing the same for her breasts. Barefoot, she opened the door and hopped into the passenger seat. Heat, sweetness, and seduction swirled around him. She took in a deep breath. Her exhale tickled the hairs on his arm.

“I thought…” she said.

Even her voice moved him, almost prim and proper but for that cadence of sultry naughty sliding through every word.

“Me too,” he said. He hadn’t thought they’d see each other again.

Their eyes held and caressed each feature of the other’s face. The tiny worry marks on her usually smooth forehead, her cute little nose, her deep sparkling eyes, full lips, rounded chin, each begging to be kissed. He should start with one of those cheeks, the right one that got a miniscule dimple when she smiled. But she wasn’t smiling. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Your boys asleep?”

“They’re at my parents’.”

“Where’s he?” Why did he ask?
Because he needed to know.

“In bed.”

“Were you?” His throat tightened, though he knew she wouldn’t say she’d just had sex with her husband. Shit, her husband.

“Not exactly.”
She grasped his hand, traced his fingers. He leaned sideways into his seat. “I couldn’t…” She blew out a breath. She couldn’t have sex with anyone else either. They were meant to be.

He smiled and slid next to her. His mouth perused first her cheeks, forehead, smooth now, over the unseen bump on the bridge of her nose, jump to the chin, before settling into her lips, her sensual, life-altering lips. Yep, things worked just right.

Their knees touched and he pulled her closer. His hands stayed on her back, trembling, undecided what sweet spot to touch. She knew. With the speed of a throw to home to catch out a runner, she undid his pants and pulled him out. She moaned. Their tongues shifted into overdrive. She teased his balls before she began. His cock swelled in her hot hand. His fingers gripped her shirt. He wanted to feel her too, but her rhythmic, powerful movements made him lightheaded. A gurgle sounded in her throat and she squirmed. A pause in kissing to catch their breaths let him study her fiery cheeks.

“My dirty girl,” he whispered. His voice went deep and hoarse before he moaned. Their breathing quickened as did her touch. She went for his neck with her mouth, ravenous. “Chiara,” he exhaled as she finished him.

He sank into the seat back and she rested on him. Licking his lips, she shuddered against him. After a few minutes just breathing together, he groped in the back for a towel. She took it from him and caressed him clean. He shut his eyes and smiled as she redid his pants for him. They kissed again.

“You need to make me work harder for you,” he said. He was pretty sure she’d come too.

She smiled, the dimple accentuating her mischievous tone. “I’m multi-talented. What did you have in mind?”

“Come home with me and I’ll show you.”

Her smile faded and she glanced back at the house. “I can’t,” she whispered.

He kissed her, deep and long. She trembled when he whispered in her ear. “You can. You want to.” Giving her earlobe a quick suck, he continued. “I’m going to do a lot of that, especially on all your sweet lips, before I have you screaming my name.
All night long.”

She
laughed,
a sexy challenge. “What about the morning?”

“Morning, noon, and night.”

“How do you know I’m a screamer?”

“You will be when I get to you,” he said, fondling her.

Her little sigh of pleasure warmed his neck. She nodded and leaned into her seat. He started the truck.

“Wait,” she said.

He glanced at her and saw. They both stared at the house. The lights were on. She ducked down but he kept his eyes on the windows. The curtain twitched. Shit.

“Is he opening the door?” she asked, her voice strangled in panic.

“No. Go in and tell him. I’ll come with you if you want.”

“No, I’ll go.” She smoothed her skirt and pulled at the hem of her tee.

“Do you want me to wait?”

She sat up, glanced at the house, and shook her head. “I can walk over to your house in a bit, okay?”

“You sure?”

“Mm-hum.
Give me about half an hour.” Twisting her hair, she stepped down from the truck, carefully shutting the door. She smiled weakly at him and walked to the front door. She looked back and he nodded to her before she walked in. He drove home.

These empty rooms wouldn’t be empty anymore. He walked around turning on the lights, peering into each room with fresh eyes. He’d have to hurry that remodel of the second bathroom, maybe he could hire one of the guys to help. The bedroom near the living room would be good for her boys. They could buy bunk beds and a dresser, maybe take them shopping for some new toys and books.
About twenty years and as much tension rolled off him as he surveyed the space.

Chiara would be here soon. He tidied his room, folding down the sheets and putting away his clean clothes which were stacked on the edge of the bed. She would be here all night, tomorrow, every day. He grinned as he ambled into the kitchen. She would cook in this kitchen, they would be in it together, maybe watch TV in the living room before going to bed every night.

Sure, not everyone would like them living together but he would make it okay. As soon as her divorce was final, what did that take, about six months? Then he’d surprise her with a nice ring…he chuckled. If his mom and Sabrina could hear his thoughts they’d either squeal or faint. He sounded like a woman almost, planning and projecting.
Especially when there was enough to occupy his mind about tonight.
But his brain jumped again, to the trip to San Diego. Maybe she could go with him and Sabrina. Chiara could show them around, where she went to college and all. Walks on the beach--damn he’d love to see her in a swimsuit, some bright little thing, but not too little because she knew how to tease his senses. Taking a deep breath, he glanced around the living room. Everything was tidy and as ready as it could be.
Only about ten more minutes.

He should walk over and meet her. She might have a couple bags and need help carrying them. Grabbing his keys and cell, he went out the door. He actually felt a spring in his step. Whistling, he strode toward her house.