The Idea of You (8 page)

“Your parents must be so proud. Where do they live?” Emily asked.

“It's just my mom. She lives in Dallas.” Alaina gave a tight smile before taking a drink of wine. “Nice and far away.”

Emily's forehead creased. “You aren't close?”

“No. We both prefer it that way.”

“Thanks for a great dinner, Kyle,” Rob interjected, perhaps to redirect the conversation before it could slam into the trainwreck that was Alaina's mother.

Chloe stood and started collecting dishes. Tori and Sara did the same.

“Should we do something?” Derek asked.

“Like introduce Alaina to your cut-throat games of pool?” Sean asked. He leaned around Tori, who was picking up plates, and looked at Alaina. “Make sure you talk to me before you choose a cue.”

She had no idea what that meant but nodded. “Okay.”

Alaina hadn't played pool in a long time. It sounded kind of fun, but she was focused on Evan. And dessert.

It was like an invisible cord was strung between them, linking them together, and it pulsed with excitement and energy. Did he feel that way, too, or was she completely fooling herself?

“I was kind of hoping for movie night,” Sara said. “Alaina's stories put me in the mood.”

“I can't believe you're turning down an opportunity to school everyone at pool.” Dylan stared at her. “Are you my fiancée?” This was met with laughter from around the table. Even Evan cracked a smile.

Alaina leaned closer to Evan. “I take it Sara's good at pool?”

He turned his head, bringing their mouths close enough that she could probably kiss him. So tempting. “The best.”

She couldn't help staring at his lips or imagining them tangled with hers, his tongue invading her mouth. She thought of the theater downstairs. If they sat in the back in the dark . . .

Evan abruptly stood and took his and Alaina's plates to the kitchen. Alaina got up and poured more wine into her and Evan's glasses. “More wine anyone?” she asked.

Just about everyone answered in the affirmative, and Alaina ended up using multiple bottles to refill all the glasses.

Chloe picked up her wine. “What movie should we watch?”

“I suppose it would be weird if we watched one of Alaina's,” Maggie said, coming back to the table.

“It's fine with me,” Alaina said, though she secretly hoped they wouldn't. Watching herself made her uncomfortable. In fact, she hadn't even seen a handful of her performances and likely never would.

A phone rang on the counter.

“Whose is that?” Rob asked.

Kyle reached across the granite and picked it up. “Mom's. It's Liam.”

“Go ahead and answer it,” she said.

Kyle slid his finger across the screen. “Hey, douchenozzle. You missed another fine family feast.” His smile faded, and he handed the phone to his mother. “He wants to talk to you. He sounds serious.”

“Doesn't he usually sound serious?” Derek asked.

Emily took the phone and retreated into a small office off the kitchen.

Alaina turned to Evan, who'd come back to her side of the table. “What's going on with Liam?”

He shrugged. “No idea.”

“So, what about the movie?” Maggie asked. “Action-adventure? Rom-com? Sci-fi?”

Alaina knew what Evan would pick. “I love sci-fi. That was my first love. And fantasy.”

“Really?” Evan's gaze lingered on hers a second longer than usual.

“I told you I loved
Lord of the Rings
. And
Aliens
is one of my absolute favorite movies. Ripley is maybe the greatest action heroine ever written.”

“Classic,” Sean said, joining them. “Maybe we should think about a reboot for you.” He said this with a smile, but she sensed he was only half-kidding.

“That's total sacrilege. And anyway, I don't think I could do it. They approached me about the prequel a few years back, and I just couldn't say yes. I was afraid I would mess it up. I feel simultaneously bad and excited for all the young actors doing the next
Star Wars
movie. Amazing opportunity, terrifying responsibility.”

Emily came back into the kitchen, and the conversation died down. “Is everything all right?” Sara asked, moving toward her.

Emily looked pale—it seemed as though things were
not
all right. “Liam was in an accident. He'll be fine, but he dislocated his shoulder and has a hairline fracture in his wrist.”

Rob joined her and immediately stroked her back. “How the hell did he do that?”

Emily looked up at her husband, worry etched in her face. “Heli-skiing.”

Kyle dropped a towel on the counter, his brows pitched low over his eyes in either concern or irritation, maybe both. “He's going to kill himself one of these days.”

“Sometimes I wonder if that's the point,” Tori murmured. She'd moved next to Sean and slid her arm around his waist.

Liam had a death wish? Alaina shook her head. This family could star in their own movie. But then, she guessed they had with the reality show.

“I think I'll skip the movie.” Emily turned, her brow creased with concern, to Sara. “Will you and the others take care of the kitchen?”

“Already on it, Mom,” Kyle said. Derek was assisting him with loading the dishwashers.

Rob and Emily disappeared from the kitchen, their heads bent together and their hands clasped. It was an incredibly sweet image, and it tied a knot in Alaina's chest.

“I think I'll skip the movie, too,” Evan said. His baritone thrummed through Alaina.

She turned to face him, effectively blocking Sean and Tori from their conversation. “What? Why?”

He didn't look at her—
surprise, surprise
. “I just remembered I have something to do.”

Disappointment sliced through the pleasant haze of desire she'd been floating in all evening. “What about dessert?”

He shrugged, appearing absolutely unfazed. “I don't think there is dessert.”

She blinked at him. “We talked about
dessert
earlier.” Was this a cue he wasn't picking up on? Had he not understood the coded flirting that afternoon? “You know . . .
dessert
?”

Comprehension dawned in his eyes. “Right, dessert. Um, tomorrow?”

Tomorrow.
She'd been looking forward to . . . what? Sex? Yeah, she'd thought they were going to have sex. And he'd been . . . Hell, she didn't know what he'd been looking forward to. Nothing, apparently.

“Sure,” she said coolly. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

He nodded, then said good night to everyone else and left the kitchen.

“Well, I'm still up for a movie, if you are,” Tori said.

“Why not?” Her evening had moved into unsalvageable territory, so why not catch a flick, enjoy some good company, and get drunk? She grabbed her glass and one of the still-f bottles from yesterday. “I've got the wine.”

Tori grinned at her. “Then let's go.”

As Alaina made her way downstairs to the theater, a niggling voice at the back of her mind told her to be patient with Evan, that he was worth waiting for.

Just a bit louder, however, came the admonition that she'd maybe just dodged a bullet. Her life was headed in a direction that was bound to become even more complicated, and adding Evan into the mix would be a mistake.

E
VAN YAWNED AS
he walked up the stairs to the garage apartment at about ten to one the next day. He'd stayed up far too late working on Alex's book. Liam's accident had given him a jolt of an idea for the story, prompting him to go upstairs to work on it into the early morning hours. He'd slept a little late but had still squeezed his workout in. It was the one part of his routine he simply couldn't compromise.

But it was okay, as he was still early to pick up Alaina. He knocked on her door and waited. And waited.

He knocked again. Still nothing. Impatience growing, he knocked a third time. Silence.

He pulled his phone from his back pocket and pulled up her number. He'd done as she'd suggested and gotten her cell from Sean. He typed in a message:
Where are you? I'm standing outside the door.

He leaned against the wall on the small landing while he waited for her to come to the door. Still nothing. He pounded on the wood. His phone vibrated.

I decided it was a nice day for a walk. Your dad gave me the key and directions to the homestead.

Shit.

If she went exploring around there and looked too closely at the cabin . . .

He jogged down the stairs and out the door, then around the garage to the path that would take him through the woods, over a small rise, and eventually to the homestead. Thankfully it
was
a nice day—cool, but sunny.

Less than ten minutes later, he arrived at the 130-year-old house and went to the door. It was locked. Where had she gone? If she'd returned to the apartment, he should've passed her on the path.

He circled the farmhouse but didn't see any sign of her. Apprehensively, he made his way toward the cabin. He went through the copse of trees and down the hill to the creek. As he neared the small structure, his fears were confirmed. There, standing outside the front door, was Alaina.

Irritation propelled him to move more quickly. “What are you doing?” he called out.

She turned and shaded her eyes against the sun. “Just looking around. Does someone live here?”

He stopped a few feet from her. “No. You aren't supposed to be here.”

“Why not? Is there a problem?”

“Yes, this is private property.”

She dropped her hand from her forehead. “I didn't realize.”

He had to get her away. “You shouldn't be here.”

“What's the big deal? Hey, did I piss you off or something last night?”

“What?” He glanced at her, blinked, and averted his gaze. She looked a little irritated. “No, you didn't piss me off.”

“Are you sure? Because you're being kind of a jerk, and you were a total jerk last night.”

Evan tried to think of what he'd done. “I don't understand.”

“I thought we had plans. You know, the
dessert
thing. Next thing I know, you're cutting the night short without so much as an apology.”

“We didn't have specific plans.” He'd remember that. He remembered flirting with her at the underground pub after they'd kissed. Had she taken that as a solid . . . date? “I told you I suck at social situations. I didn't understand.”

“Listen, if you aren't interested in me, that's fine. I'm cool with just being friends. But I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't lead me on.”

Lead her on? “I didn't mean to. We kissed. I thought you liked it.
I
liked it.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Of course I liked it. It's why I was looking forward to last night and was disappointed that it didn't happen.”

He felt bad about that. He didn't like upsetting people, especially since he could almost never tell when he had. “I'm sorry you were disappointed.”

“Are you at least going to tell me why you left? Was it something I did?”

He glanced at her again but couldn't remotely read her expression. Frustration bunched the muscles in his shoulders. “I, uh, it's private.”

“Oh.” She maybe sounded disappointed again.

“Like the stuff you don't like talking about,” he said.

“I see. Well, I'll leave you alone, then.” She walked forward, and her shoulder caught his bicep. The touch was like a shock of electricity. And it reminded him of the incredible lust he'd felt yesterday afternoon. Why, exactly, had he decided writing Alex's book was a better idea than doing the dessert date thing with Alaina?

He pivoted toward her. “Don't go. Can I show you something?”

She narrowed her eyes. “What?”

He liked her. He felt bad that she was disappointed. He had a yearning in this moment for human connection—both physically and emotionally. And the secret he'd been keeping here was burning a hole in his mind. He suddenly couldn't contain it anymore, nor did he want to.

He pulled his keys from his coat pocket and unlocked the door to the cabin. “Come in.”

She walked past him as he held the door, shooting him an uncertain glance as she went.

He closed the door behind him and, out of habit, flicked on the space heater in the corner. “This is my office.”

“Your office. Way out here. I don't understand.”

“What's to understand? I work here.”

“But you live in a huge house with actual heating.” She looked at the space heater. “Why do you work way out here?”

“Because I want privacy.”

“Should I sit down so you can explain this properly, or do you not intend to do that?”

“See how terrible I am at communicating?” He pushed his hand through his hair. “I work here because I have a secret job. I'm working for my family's company, only they have no idea it's me. I used a fake company and a fake name. They never would've let me do the job. No one knows I can be creative or artistic. No one but Alex. That's why I left last night. I'm writing his book. I had an idea, and I just had to work on it. I wasn't thinking about you or any plans we'd made. I—”

She held up her hand and shook her head. “Whoa. Stop. I don't understand. You have a secret job? You're writing a book? Is that the same thing? Maybe we should sit down together, and you can explain this a little better.” She smiled that famous smile, and it did crazy, ridiculous things to his insides. Things that should set him off, make him uncomfortable. But it made him feel . . . happy.

He took two steps until he stood directly before her, then he cupped her face and kissed her. Intimate contact was always such a crapshoot if he didn't explicitly discuss it with the woman he was with. He took a risk picking up on the cues—did she even want him to kiss her? God, he hoped so.

Her hands gripped his sides through his leather jacket, and he assumed that meant she liked what he was doing. Then her mouth opened beneath his, and he knew she liked it. Because if he were misreading that, he would just have to fucking give up on ever being able to understand.

He slid his hands back to her nape, cradling her head as they deepened the kiss. Their tongues met, sending sparks sizzling throughout his body. She tightened her hold, her fingers digging into the leather but barely making an impression on him through the layers of clothing.

His coat wasn't zipped. He let go of her so he could shrug out of it. The garment fell to the floor, and he put his hands on her again, touching her shoulders, pulling her against him.

She came eagerly, her chest bumping his and her hands curling around his neck. The kiss, briefly broken by their movements, reignited. Kissing wasn't something he'd enjoyed the first time he'd tried it, or even the second, but he'd realized he'd had to find the right person. Touching lips and tongues, inviting another person into an intimate space, had been hard for him to get his head around.

She pulled back and stripped her coat, a puffy down jacket, away.

“I didn't used to like kissing,” he said.

“Really? Why?”

“It felt . . . gross.”

She lifted her hand to her mouth. “Oh no, I'm not gross, am I?”

He shook his head, smiling. “It was the wrong person, I guess.”

“And I'm the right one? Wait, tell me you've kissed more than one other person.”

“Of course I have.”

She exhaled. “Good. Not that it matters.” She shook her head. “Why do I think I'm way more experienced than you?”

“Because you probably are. I didn't even have my first kiss until I was eighteen and out of high school.”

“That's . . . insane. Compared to you, I'm a bit of a tramp!” She laughed, and he realized she was kidding.

“I wasn't interested before that. I liked girls, but . . . The whole relationship thing was more than I could handle. It probably still is.”

She touched his hand, her fingers twining with his. It was a simple gesture, but it was erotic at the same time. He looked down at their hands together, imagined holding her like that as he drove between her legs. A white burst of lust clouded his vision momentarily.

“Do you want to go?” she asked softly.

He squeezed her fingers. “No. Do you?” He forced himself to look at her, to see inside of her and allow her to do the same to him.

She shook her head. “I hear what you're saying about relationships being hard. They're hard for me, too. Complicated. I haven't been with anyone in a couple of years, and I wasn't looking to change that. But you . . . You're different. I can't make promises—”

“I can't either.”

“Then this is damn near perfect, isn't it?” She wore a plaid button-down shirt and began to undo the buttons. One by one, they opened, and the shirt fell apart, exposing a white camisole. Her breasts pushed up against the top.

“
You're
damn near perfect.”

She dropped her shirt to the floor and kissed him again, her hands on either side of his head, holding him as she plundered his mouth. He loved the pressure of her touch, the feeling of being wanted as much as he wanted her.

He pressed his hands against her back, his fingers digging into the skin above her camisole. He moved one down until he felt the swell of her ass through her jeans. He stroked her, then cupped the curve, almost lifting her against him.

Her pelvis thrust into his, her heat rubbing his erection through their clothing. It was too much. He wanted to feel her bare flesh next to his. He moved his hands back up to her shoulders and pushed her away, breaking the kiss. “Is this what you want?”

She pulled at the back of his neck. “Yes.” Her mouth found his again, and he curled his hands into her flesh.

She backed up toward the couch he had against the far wall. “There's a couch behind me, right?” she asked between kisses.

“Mmm-hmmm.” He pulled up her camisole and yanked it over her head before tossing it behind him.

She released his neck and sank down on the couch. “My boots.” She unzipped one and worked it off.

He watched, unable for a moment to get his brain to work. She was already on the second boot before he knelt to help her take it off. She wore polka-dotted fuzzy socks pulled up over her skinny jeans. But she quickly stripped them from her feet and threw them aside. She wiggled her toes, and he snapped his head up to see her grinning at him.

She reached for his shirt. “You have too many clothes on.”

Before she could grasp the hem, he pulled it up over his head and threw it away. Then he kicked his shoes off and brought his knees up, one at a time, so he could dispose of his socks.

He unbuttoned his jeans, but her voice stopped him. “Uh-uh. Let me.”

Her hands came around his thighs, and she tugged him toward the couch. She pushed his hands aside and finished what he'd started, pulling his zipper down, then dragging the jeans over his hips. He arced toward her, his hips moving almost of their own volition.

She cupped him through his underwear, her warm palm cradling his stiff shaft. He closed his eyes, almost unable to bear the sensation. It wasn't new, and yet it was unlike anything he'd ever experienced.

Then he was aware of her slipping his underwear down, her fingers grazing his ass and then skimming along his thighs as she stripped them away. When they hit his ankles, he kicked them free.

Her breath gusted over his cock as her hand closed around his balls, lightly squeezing. Then her lips caressed the tip, and he thought he was going to explode.

“Alaina.” He gritted the word between his teeth. It was all he could manage. Words—coherent thought—escaped him as she slid her tongue along his length and drew him into her mouth. Her jaw dropped, and she swallowed, allowing him deeper than he'd ever thought it was possible to go. He'd had blow jobs from Michelle and honestly hadn't enjoyed them all that much. The feeling was too intense, the orgasm hard but fleeting.

But Alaina did it differently. She sucked him slowly, deeply, her tongue working a magic he'd never dreamed existed, her hand working his balls and the base of his cock in a way Michelle had never done.

His muscles tightened as the pleasure built. All of his nerves thrummed, and his senses were laid almost painfully bare.
Almost
was the key—it felt amazing. Everything was heightened, but not so that he was overwhelmed.

Then again, he hadn't orgasmed yet.

Damn, he wanted to. Blood rushed to his cock, and he tensed. “Alaina, stop.”

He'd wound his hands into her hair at some point and now pulled her away from him. He looked down at her dark blonde head, wishing that he'd watched her suck him. Next time . . . if he was that lucky.

She tipped her head up, and her eyes were dark—more brown than green. “Too much?” Her voice had dropped to a sultry tone. And her lips were dark pink and moist. It took a monumental effort not to slide himself back into her mouth and fuck her.

Instead, he pushed her back onto the couch and went to kneel between her legs.

“Wait.” She tugged her camisole over her head, revealing a white lacy bra that pushed her breasts up and created a snug cleavage he could easily slip his cock into. Michelle liked when he did that. Would Alaina?