I
catch a glimpse of something in his eyes, something that makes my
whole body shiver in anticipation.
He
wants me.
And
desire? That’s something I know how to deal with. It’s
not messy, or full of doubts. It can be easy. Simple.
Fun.
I
take a step back, into my dark hallway, and give him an inviting
smile. “It sounds like a good idea to me.” I reach out
and place my hands on his chest, running my fingertips over the
smooth, soft fabric of his shirt. Will gives me a rueful smile—but
he takes a couple of steps closer, too.
“Didn’t
I say something about not making out with you?” His voice is
low and sexy, and the look he shoots me is tense with desire.
“It’s
OK,” I whisper, hooking my finger over the collar of his shirt
and pulling him to close the distance between us for good. Something
about him so close makes everything click into place, just right. I
lean in and drop a kiss in the spot where his jaw meets the curve of
his neck. “Promises are made to be broken.”
I
feel him tense. Will pulls away a little, looking down at me with a
curious expression in his eyes. But before I can think, he takes
another couple of steps, walking me back until I’m against the
wall, the lights off, shadows cloaking us in a dim silence.
“Not
with me,” Will says softly, lifting my hand to his lips. He
brushes a soft kiss over the back of my knuckles, keeping his steady
gaze fixed on mine. He turns my hand over, kissing my palm this time,
a slow whisper of contact that sends shivers racing through my entire
body. I can’t look away. He kisses my wrist, the hollow of my
elbow, all the way up to my bare shoulder, leaning close, pressing me
back against the wall with a look of such intensity in his eyes, it
takes my breath away.
Heat
floods through me. Will bends his head, continuing his slow,
devastating trail of kisses along my collarbone, and up the sensitive
curve of my neck.
Oh
. . .
His
fingertips caress my other arm, then tilt my chin to the side as he
dips and kisses my throat, all the way up to the corner of my mouth.
I turn, eager to capture his mouth with mine, but Will just moves to
the other side of my neck, his mouth roving, hot and growing in
hunger.
God,
it feels so good.
My
senses are alight, every soft touch swooping through my body in a
wave of heat and pulsing desire. My thighs clench, just the whisper
of his fingertips and teasing mouth enough to make me ache for him.
All
of him.
I
reach to pull him in closer, but Will takes my hands and slowly pins
them up against the wall by my head, watching me with that unreadable
hazel stare. My pulse kicks at the dominant gesture of his firm grip;
my body arches towards him in anticipation, but Will just smiles.
“You
don’t know me yet,” he says softly. “But I’m
a man of my word. So as much as I want to fuck you the way you
deserve to be fucked, I’m going to keep my promises. At least
for tonight.”
His
dirty words send a shudder through me. Will sees, and his lips curl
in a triumphant smile. He leans in closer, until his lips brush my
ear. “I don’t know why you’ve got those walls built
so high,” he murmurs in my ear, still pinning me in place. “But
sooner or later, you’re going to realize I’m not like the
other guys. I don’t play games, I don’t run scared
because a woman wants to call the shots. I can give you everything
you need.
Everything
,”
he says, his eyes flashing with sensual promise.
“So
you just take your time,” Will says, sliding his thumb over my
damp, open lips. “And when you’re ready for a real man to
show you what it feels like, you just let me know.”
He
releases my wrists, and then he’s gone: sauntering away into
the darkness, leaving me weak-kneed and dizzy in my doorway—and
so turned on, I could melt into a pool of pure desire.
And
he didn’t even kiss me goodnight.
Will’s
parting words sound awfully like a challenge—the kind I’m
usually only too happy to take. Any other man, and I would be
plotting ways to seduce him by now, to cut right to the end of the
chase and get to the part that has us in bed, driving each other
wild.
But
he said it himself, Will’s not playing games.
I
throw myself into work for the next week to distract myself, showing
houses and drumming up new listings, but still, his steady stare
finds a way to infiltrate all my quiet moments, making my heart beat
faster at the memory of his wicked promise, and my body ache,
reliving every soft, devastating touch. It’s tantalizing—and
still so far out of reach. I’ve had just enough of him to know
he can make good on his word, but not enough to even be close to
satisfied. Damn it, this man knows exactly what he’s doing, and
for some reason, he’s set on driving me crazy.
It’s
working.
I
vow to put him out of my mind, but instead, I find myself watching
out for him all over town. At the rate I’ve been running into
him, I half-expect to see him around every corner, but instead, it’s
like he’s disappeared. No calls, no texts, no running into him
at the market over a stand of fresh peach jam; I should be relieved,
but instead, it’s like an itch I just can’t scratch. Too
many nights I’ve fantasized about getting in my car and driving
over to his place: just showing up on his doorstep in my skimpy
lingerie—and nothing else. He said to come find him, and I know
where he lives, but still, something’s holding me back.
When
you’re ready for a real man
. . .
His
words turn over in the back of my brain, tempting me. There’s
no doubt he’s all man, but the real question is, am I ready for
him? I’ve told him straight-up that I’m not interested in
a relationship, but something tells me he’s not a guy who’ll
settle for anything less.
With
him, it would be all or nothing. Sink or swim. I can already tell the
fall would be incredible.
But
what if I find myself drowning in the end?
“I
know Kit’s pre-school gossip isn’t exactly red-hot news,
you could at least pretend to be listening to me.”
I
look up. Lottie is sitting on the park bench with me, snatching a
lunch break while Kit plays nearby. “Sorry.” I give an
apologetic smile. “Just thinking about . . . work
stuff.”
“Sure.”
She smirks.
“Things are really busy at
the office,” I insist. “Thanks to Fran’s tips, I
managed to land a couple of new clients this week, and I have a
meeting with Marcie this afternoon.”
“So
the hot, rich craftsman has nothing to do with it?”
My
head whips around. “I never said that—”
“Relax,”
she interrupts, grinning. “I got all the gossip from Sawyer.
So, Will was a big-shot Wall Street guy, huh? I wonder what made him
pack it in.”
“I
don’t know, he never said. But he’s been around?” I
ask, zoning in on the important details. “Sawyer didn’t
tell me they were hanging out. Did Will . . . say
anything about me?” I add, trying to sound casual.
“Why,
do you want him to?” Lottie shoots back.
I
pause. Do I? I’m still no closer to figuring out how I feel
about him, or what I want. But still, his presence itches at me,
tantalizing, and just out of reach.
“Anyway,
you don’t have to worry,” Lottie continues, slurping on a
juice-box. “I haven’t heard anything. The man doesn’t
kiss and tell. But, you do,” she adds, fixing me with a
quizzical stare. “And I’ve heard exactly nothing about
this date of yours. What gives?”
I
shrug, picking at my sandwich. “There was no kissing to tell.”
Lottie
snorts in disbelief.
“I’m
serious!” I protest. Her eyes widen,
“So
you must really like him then!”
“No!”
I yelp. “What? No. Why?”
She
gives me a sidelong look. “C’mon, Dee. This is you we’re
talking about. He’s hot, single, and willing. If you didn’t
care, you would have broken off a piece of that man candy and taken a
bite by now.” Lottie makes a suggestive face.
“Stop!
I do have
some
self-control.” I laugh and playfully push her. “Maybe
nothing happened because I don’t feel anything for him, and
we’re just going to be friends.”
“Sure.
Maybe.” Lottie smirks, but I can tell she doesn’t believe
me—and the problem is, neither do I.
“Want
to come fishing this afternoon?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Sawyer and I are heading out on the creek.”
Lottie
wrinkles her nose. “I still don’t get why you like it.
You just sit around in a rowboat for hours, trying to murder poor
smelly fish.”
I
laugh. “Because the sitting around is relaxing. And you know
Sawyer, he can’t stand to hurt anything. We wind up throwing
most of it back.”
“Gee,
sounds great, but I’ll pass.” Lottie grins. “But
come over tomorrow? We could do pizza and a movie.”
Her
smile slips a little, and I remember, those were her regular Saturday
night plans with Eva, when she was in town. However much I’m
missing my BFF, Lottie is missing her sister just as much. “Sure,”
I say, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Count me in.” I
check my phone, then wolf down the rest of my lunch. “I better
get back. Marcie promised me five minutes before she heads out for
the weekend, and I want to tell her all about my new clients.”
“And
how perfect you’d be to take over,” Lottie grins.
“That
too.”
I
say goodbye to her and Kit, then head back across town, striding fast
as I try to get my mind focused back to the most important thing in
my life right now: proving to Marcie I’ve got what it takes to
take over the business when she finally retires. I know I’m
young, but my sales list speaks for itself: nobody knows this town
like I do, and nobody else can give Oak Harbor Realty the energy and
direction it needs. I’ve been hustling hard ever since those
part-time jobs in high-school, but now I finally feel like my dream
is within reach: a business of my own, something I can build and
really be proud of.
I
step into the offices, ready to set my tasers to “charm.”
Marcie is in her office, so I grab the bakery box I picked up earlier
on my break and go tap on her door. “I was at Franny’s,
and I couldn’t resist.” I hold up the box. “Key
lime pie, it’ll take you right to the tropics.”
“Ooh.”
Marcie brightens. “Sounds delish.”
Step
one, sugar high. Check!
I
set the open box on her desk with two forks—then sit back and
let her dig in alone. “How’s the boat?” I ask,
nodding to the magazines she’s got spread on her desk.
“Oh,
it’s great,” Marcie replies, through a mouthful of pie.
Her bright red hair is blown out into its usual bob, and she’s
wearing her uniform of a flowing chiffon blouse and linen pants;
chunky gold bracelets on each wrist. “We just got done
redecorating, and Bob can’t wait to take her out on the open
water . . .”
I
smile and nod as she continues talking, telling me every little
detail about the new slip they’re renting down in the Keys, and
the tour of the islands she’s been planning all year. Even
though it’s annoying sometimes to be the only one busting my
ass around here, Marcie deserves the break; with two kids full-grown
and a beach house calling, I can’t blame her for checking out.
“When are you heading down next?” I ask, when she pauses
for more pie.
“That’s
what I wanted to talk to you about.” Marcie suddenly looks
serious. “Bob’s been talking, and, well, there’s a
big Parrothead get-together in Key Largo at the end of the month.
We’d love to take a couple of weeks and cruise on down there;
get the old girl wet. I know it’s last-minute, we’d leave
in a couple of days, and it’s our busiest season—”
“I
can handle it!” I exclaim.
Marcie
pauses. “Are you sure? I was thinking of just closing up shop,
give you a chance to take some vacation, too. You haven’t had a
day off since, well . . . I don’t think
you’ve ever even called in sick. And all these weekend open
houses—”
“I’m
happy to help,” I insist, spying my opportunity. “You go
cruise, and I’ll take care of everything here. You don’t
need to worry, I’ve got it covered.”
Marcie
wavers. “Well, we do have a lot of clients looking right now,
and I’d hate to leave them in the lurch.”
My
clients
.
“I
promise, I don’t mind running things. It won’t be the
same without you,” I quickly add, in case I seem too glad to
have her gone. “But I’ll do my best.”
“You’re
a gem,” Marcie beams. “What would I do without you?”
Cruise
on off into the sunset,
I think, but give her a smile instead. “I’m just happy to
help.”
Help—and
prove the office can run so smoothly without her, she’ll never
have to worry about leaving it in my hands again. And if Marcie has
so much fun down there in Florida she decides to make it a permanent
move? Well, I’ll be ready to take over for good, just like I’ve
always wanted.
I
happily wrap things up for the weekend, then head home, quickly
changing into some cut-offs and sneakers before I go meet Sawyer down
by the creek. I know Lottie doesn’t understand why I love
fishing—none of my girlfriends ever do—but it’s
been a hobby of mine ever since I was a kid. My dad taught me, and we
would spend the whole afternoon out on the water, sitting there with
our lines floating in the water, and a cooler of soda pop and
homemade sandwiches at our side. Even when I got older, and spent my
weekends out at parties or down at the beach with my girlfriends, I
would still make the time every month for our fishing trips; those
relaxed afternoons just talking and laughing, feeling the lines catch
when we finally got a big one. That’s what made it even worse
when he came clean about his affair. All those afternoons, he’d
been lying to me, chatting about school and his work like nothing was
wrong, when all the while, he’d been living this secret life,
fooling us all.