Читать онлайн книгу «Good with His Hands» автора Tanya Michaels

Good with His Hands
Tanya Michaels
The right man for the jobReal estate agent Danica Yates did everything right. She found the right man, waited the right amount of time to get engaged and planned the perfect wedding. Then everything went very, very wrong. Now Dani is left with one unworn bridal gown, one canceled honeymoon and one jerk of an ex-fiancé. The bright side? She can finally make her move on the gorgeous man known only as Hot Architect…Except that Sean Grayson is actually Hot Architect's Even Hotter Twin Brother. But before Sean can admit his real identity, the chemistry between them takes over, fierce and demanding. He can't refuse her, or turn away from the blinding want that consumes them both. He knows he has to admit the truth…and convince Dani that the wrong brother is definitely the right man!


The right man for the job
Real estate agent Danica Yates did everything right. She found the right man, waited the right amount of time to get engaged and planned the perfect wedding. Then everything went very, very wrong. Now Dani is left with one unworn bridal gown, one canceled honeymoon and one jerk of an ex-fiancé. The bright side? She can finally make her move on the gorgeous man known only as Hot Architect...
Except that Sean Grayson is actually Hot Architect’s Even Hotter Twin Brother. But before Sean can admit his real identity, the chemistry between them takes over, fierce and demanding. He can’t refuse her, or turn away from the blinding want that consumes them both. He knows he has to admit the truth...and convince Dani that the wrong brother is definitely the right man!
“I’m too busy imagining kissing you to think straight...”
Except Dani’s imagination hadn’t exactly stopped with kissing.
Right now, she couldn’t bring herself to care about playing pool. She wanted Gray’s mouth on her, his hands on her. Since she couldn’t seem to find her voice, she met his eyes, confident that the longing she felt was clear in her expression.
Even though it had only been hours since they’d encountered each other at the office, it felt as if she’d been waiting forever for him to kiss her. His mouth settled over hers, and she parted her lips in invitation. She buried her fingers in his hair, surprised at how silky it was. Their kiss was salty and spicy, and her body pulsed with sensation.
Gray kissed the same way he shot pool, with bold assurance and innate skill. His possessiveness nearly made her moan, and he pulled back, teasing, nipping at her lower lip. She was glad she was balanced between him and the pool table. Despite her mocking his earlier boast that he made her weak in the knees, the longer he kissed her, the less steady she felt.
Lifting his head, he reached for the eight ball on the table and swiped it into a pocket. “Oops.” His breathing was rapid, his voice strained. “Guess I lose. Ready to get out of here?”
Wordlessly, she nodded. If she were any more ready, they’d be arrested for public indecency.
Dear Reader (#ulink_6b582746-98af-5829-85bc-55b7b4d868a4),
Like the characters in this book, I live in the Atlanta area. One of my favorite things to do here is attend plays at the always entertaining Shakespeare Tavern. Since I’m a fan of Shakespeare’s mistaken-identity comedies, it’s fitting that my first book for Mills & Boon Blaze is a The Wrong Bed story.
On the day of her would-be wedding, Danica Yates decides that instead of brooding over her ex-fiancé’s recent elopement, she’ll celebrate her newfound freedom. By seducing the hot architect who works in her office building.
Her plan works great—except that she unknowingly propositions the architect’s twin brother.
Aside from being physically identical, Sean Grayson is nothing like his studious, workaholic twin. Sean is impulsive with a track record of being just a bit wild. When a sexy brunette asks him to help her forget that it was supposed to be her wedding day, Sean can’t resist saying yes.
But before the night is over, Sean starts to realize Dani may be his perfect match. How can he convince her they should have a real relationship—especially once she learns he hasn’t been completely honest about his identity?
I hope you have as much fun reading my Mills & Boon Blaze debut as I did writing it. Look me up on Twitter (@TanyaMichaels (https://twitter.com/tanyamichaels)) or facebook.com/AuthorTanyaMichaels (http://www.facebook.com/AuthorTanyaMichaels) and let me know what you think!
Best,
Tanya
New York Times Bestselling Author
Good with His Hands
Tanya Michaels


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
TANYA MICHAELS, a New York Times bestselling author and five-time RITA® Award nominee, has been writing love stories since middle school algebra class (which probably explains her math grades). Her books, praised for their poignancy and humor, have received awards from readers and reviewers alike. Tanya is an active member of Romance Writers of America and a frequent public speaker. She lives outside Atlanta with her very supportive husband, two highly imaginative kids and a bichon frise who thinks she’s the center of the universe.
Thanks to Mills & Boon editors Kathleen Scheibling and Johanna Raisanen for welcoming me to Blaze and to writer Lila Bell for the timely reminder of how exhilarating it can be to try something new.
Contents
Cover (#u6fb6d5e7-b65a-5f79-a03d-374195340797)
Back Cover Text (#u715684f9-3fca-5913-856c-f1a7b1b94814)
Introduction (#ub0a635dd-37e4-5f09-b860-0c02cbe1d5dc)
Dear Reader (#ulink_3a34c13c-b697-5b5d-ab97-4119803009d6)
Title Page (#ue28ccf47-f173-5650-b345-89f0271e2c0d)
About the Author (#u13b08b71-e2b4-5815-b0a3-37ba309e7f8c)
Acknowledgements (#ube965fa6-6497-5a01-abb5-a875f92eba67)
1 (#ulink_c8b78848-2549-51e7-b797-756fdefbe9e7)
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Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
1 (#ulink_4b0d65a2-12a5-5e6e-b2df-4d0e59978d1b)
AS A REAL-ESTATE AGENT, Danica Yates couldn’t live without her cell phone. Clients and potential clients called at all hours to ask questions, make counteroffers and set up meeting times. But, so help her, if one more person texted another pitying variation of “How are you holding up?” Dani was going to run over the damn phone with her car.
For her smartphone’s sake, she hurried through the parking lot, away from looming vehicular phonicide and toward the relative safety of her office building. More well-meaning texts and calls were inevitable. She’d already fielded a few in the weeks since her broken engagement, but just as the people in her life were beginning to drop the subject, Tate had made his big social-media announcement last night, spurring more unwanted sympathy.
Grimly hoping that Tate Malcom’s hairline would recede and his man parts wither, she dropped her phone into the pocket of her lightweight trench coat. Spring in Atlanta was fickle. This particular Wednesday morning, it was only ten degrees above freezing, but by afternoon, she’d probably be coatless and running the air-conditioning in her car.
As she passed a row of blooming Bradford pear trees, the heels of her boots clicked decisively against the pavement. She loved the black leather boots and their defiant three-inch heels. After Tate’s self-deprecating jokes about her “towering” over him—she was five-ten to his five-nine—she’d mostly worn flats during their relationship.
Well, screw that. She hadn’t straightened her hair since their breakup, either, abandoning the sleeker look for dark brown corkscrew curls that fell halfway down her back, adding extra volume and height. Reaching for the front door, she took a moment to reassure herself that the woman reflected in the glass didn’t look jilted and pathetic. You are determined and successful and you will be far too busy today to spare that worm Tate another thought.
First, she was going to stop by the coffee place on the first floor for a much-needed chai latte. Then, with her mind sharpened by caffeine, she would resume negotiations on the Hanlon house and score her client as many concessions as possible. She would schedule more house showings for next week. She would not think about how she should have been in Maui next week. On her honeymoon. As Mrs. Danica Malcom.
When Tate had called her last month to worm out of the wedding that had been scheduled for this Saturday, she’d canceled the week of vacation allotted for her honeymoon. But she’d left this weekend free. In retrospect, perhaps that had been a mistake. What was she planning to do on Saturday? Mope? Stare at the useless bridal gown in the back of her closet? Definitely not. Sulking wasn’t her style.
So what if she was single? Dani kicked ass at her job. Focusing on that could help get her through the next few weeks, as well as boost her bank account. Some of the homes for sale in affluent Fulton county neighborhoods would bring very generous commissions.
As she entered the posh office building, the scent of coffee wafted down the corridor to meet her. She was still early enough that there wasn’t yet a line stretching into the hall. The small coffee shop was wildly popular with those who worked in the twelve-story building. There was also a food court on the atrium level, but only one of the vendors opened for breakfast and the hot beverage options were limited.
She was just passing the elevator banks when her phone chirped, signaling a text. Had the owners of the two-story colonial in Dunwoody made a decision on her clients’ offer? Without breaking stride, she pulled out the phone. The text was from Katie Whitman, Dani’s passive-aggressive cousin who’d been furious that Dani hadn’t asked her to be a bridesmaid.
I just heard!!! Like it wasn’t bad enough he dumped u 3 wks before the wedding, now he’s eloped? U poor thing. Ur better off w/out him. Total d-bag.
Dani growled involuntarily at the “poor thing.” The d-bag assessment was accurate enough, but—
A muffled curse in a deep male voice cut through her preoccupation, followed by a pointed “excuse me.”
Jerking her head up, Dani realized she’d nearly collided with a man exiting the coffee shop. And not just any man. She’d almost caused Hot Architect to dump his drink down the front of his expensive suit jacket. The dark-haired, broad-shouldered man—who was taller than her in spite of her heeled boots—worked for the design firm that took up the other half of the fifth floor, down the hall from the real-estate brokerage.
“I am so sorry.” Shuffling back a step, she jammed the offending phone into her pocket. “I—”
“No harm done.” His lips curved in an expression too fleeting to be deemed a true smile.
“But I feel—” Like a dumbass klutz. At one time, her father had been an Army Ranger instructor; Dani had been raised to be athletic and have quick reflexes. She’d helped get the Lady Vipers, her high-school basketball team, to the state championship. She was not clumsy. “I feel guilty,” she concluded, trying to recall his name.
She’d overheard people calling him Mr. Grayson, but she wasn’t sure about his first name. Ben? Bryan? The receptionist in Dani’s office just called him Hot Architect. Since Dani had been engaged, she’d gone out of her way not to notice him or learn more about him.
Well, you’re single now.
Very, very single. She was also close enough to appreciate his ice-blue eyes and the sexy contrast between his light gaze and thick hair even darker than hers, the last shade between brown and black. “Can I buy you a pastry to make up for it?” she offered impulsively.
He held up a small brown bag, indicating that he’d already fulfilled his pastry quota for the morning. “Maybe some other time.” He spared another not-quite smile, then continued on his way, giving her a wide berth as he rounded the corner toward the elevators. Apparently, he wasn’t drawn to women so busy snarling at their cell phones that they almost mowed down pedestrians. Go figure.
Then again, Dani was a goal-oriented person who welcomed challenges. Staring down the now-empty hall, she squared her shoulders. Coaxing a real smile from Mr. Grayson, one that actually reached those arresting eyes, had just made her to-do list.
* * *
BY LATE FRIDAY AFTERNOON, Dani had stopped second-guessing her decision not to work this weekend. Self, I’m sorry I ever doubted you. It would be for the good of all humanity if she avoided clients for a couple of days.
Normally, connecting buyers with a new house gave her warm fuzzy feelings. Growing up on assorted military bases, Dani used to wish for more stability, a true home. She liked to imagine her clients getting involved in their new communities, maybe raising families. But now, on the eve of her canceled wedding, she was finding it difficult not to gnash her teeth as she showed a redbrick three-bedroom to the Parkers, a pair of adorable newlyweds. They were currently debating whether to hang their wedding portrait in the foyer or over the mantel.
“The picture will look great anywhere,” said the besotted husband. “How could it not when the bride in it is so beautiful?”
Dani managed not to roll her eyes. Sure, his petite auburn-haired wife was beautiful. But was that any guarantee he’d stay faithful?
When Tate had told Dani the international software company he worked for needed him in their Helsinki home office for four months, they’d made plans to visit each other and talk often. She’d gone to Finland once, after he’d had a few weeks to get settled, and he’d come to Atlanta for her birthday. The four-month assignment turned into six, though, and the time difference made phone conversations inconvenient. Still, Dani had seen plenty of military families overcome separation. She’d believed she and Tate could make the relationship work.
She certainly hadn’t expected him to cheat on her. Dani had initiated sex more than he did. When he’d first gone overseas, she’d emailed him a provocative picture of herself. He’d asked her not to do it again. He’d claimed it reminded him of what he couldn’t have, but she’d thought she detected a note of censure in his tone.
Well, he was out of her life now. Maybe she’d have a photographer take a picture of her scantily clad and hang that over her mantel.
Returning to the task at hand, she led Mr. and Mrs. Cute Couple to the recently remodeled kitchen, elaborating on the house’s particulars. Two-car garage, plumbing on a septic system, great school district.
“Oh, we won’t have to worry about school for years,” the woman said dismissively. “We’re in no hurry to have kids.”
Her husband pulled her into his arms. “Agreed. I want you all to myself for a while.” Bending down, he whispered something in her ear that caused a happy blush to steal across her face. Then he kissed her.
Hellooo—standing right here. But antagonizing clients was unwise for someone who worked on commission, so Dani kept her thoughts to herself. Giving the Parkers a moment of privacy, she meandered to the bay window and studied the pine trees and dogwoods dotting the generously sized yard.
Behind her, Mrs. Parker giggled. “We’re going to check out that master bedroom one more time, just for a second. I want another look at...the closet space.”
Yeah.
“Feel free,” Dani said with a tight smile. The previous inhabitants had already moved out, so at least she didn’t have to worry about the frisky newlyweds hitting someone else’s mattress. She figured they just wanted to steal a heated kiss or two.
Meanwhile, she tried not to feel bitter or envious; her neglected libido had been making itself known lately. She wasn’t usually one for casual sex, but how was it fair that she—who’d been faithful to a fault—was going without while the cheating scumbag who’d replaced her with someone who “makes a man feel needed” was getting busy with his new bride? Excuse the hell out of me for being able to open a pickle jar without assistance.
When Tate originally called off the wedding, it had been difficult not to hope he met with some freak accident—like an anvil falling on his head. But she’d told herself to be adult about the situation. Wasn’t it better that he ended things before the wedding instead of deciding afterward that they’d made a mistake? So instead of wishing him dead, she’d merely hoped that the next house he bought had termites and mold in the walls.
What she hadn’t yet known was that getting dumped was only half the story. Earlier this week, he’d asked her to dinner. Since she had a box of his belongings to give back to him, she’d agreed. The diamond solitaire engagement ring was not among the returns. She’d hocked that to help cover nonrefundable wedding expenses she and her dad had incurred.
When Tate had broken up with her from the safe distance of Europe, he’d mentioned that “someone else” had helped him realize he didn’t fully love his fiancée. But Dani hadn’t expected that faceless someone to return to Georgia with him. As she’d learned during their strained dinner together, Tate and Ella had eloped last Saturday—exactly one week before he’d been scheduled to marry Dani.
“You deserved to hear it from me, in person, before we begin announcing it to family and friends.” He’d adopted an expression of such condescending concern that she’d been tempted to punch him in the face. “I know this must be very hard on you.”
“Not so much.” She’d risen from her chair, abandoning a perfectly yummy shrimp carbonara. “Ella is welcome to you.”
Truthfully, after six months of living on separate continents, Dani didn’t miss him as much as she would have expected. She was almost as ticked off about the months of one-sided celibacy as she was about his defection. She’d always found serenity through physical outlets. Right now, frustrated and wanting to reclaim some feminine pride, she could really use a long night of sweaty, athletic—
“Danica? I think we’re done inside the house.” The lanky man and his auburn-haired bride had returned. “If you’ll walk us through the yard and the garage, that should do it. Annette and I need some time alone to talk over everything we’ve seen today.”
“Of course. Right this way.” She opened the back door, leading them out onto a narrow deck. “The deck was added on, but the owners hired a professional to build it.”
She often warned clients to be careful of homes full of DIY projects; not all of them held up well over time. Sometimes, amateur wiring jobs went up in flames. Substandard roofing collapsed. Kind of like her love life.
* * *
THE CELL PHONE vibrated in the dashboard cup holder. Dani groaned. Another pitying relative or acquaintance? But then she glimpsed the picture of her best friend, Meg Rafferty, on the screen. Under different circumstances, both women would have been en route to the famous Swan House right now for a rehearsal dinner. Afterward, there was supposed to have been a bachelorette party hosted in the lingerie store Meg co-owned.
Using the phone’s earpiece, Dani answered. “Hello.”
“It’s officially after five o’clock,” Meg said. “A socially accepted time for booze. Want to meet somewhere for drinks?”
It was a Friday night. If they went out, would they be surrounded by couples on dates? Showing that last house to the Parkers had been all the exposure to couples Dani could stand. A girls’ night in was a possibility, but Meg had recently moved in with her current boyfriend. Which leaves my place. When her last lease ran out and she hadn’t been able to negotiate anything shorter than six months, she’d moved into a tiny, unimpressive apartment. She wasn’t supposed to have been there this long. The plan had been for her and Tate to house hunt when he returned from Europe. Meg knew how much Dani disliked the “temporary” apartment. Every time she came over, she vacillated between sympathy and outrage on her friend’s behalf.
“Thanks for the offer,” Dani said, “but I’m way behind on paperwork. I want to use the free evening to catch up.” Liar. She sighed. “Actually, what I really want is to get laid.”
There was a startled pause, followed by a snicker. “I can’t help you there.”
“Don’t worry. You aren’t who I had in mind.”
“Wait, there’s someone specific? Why have I not heard about him?”
“No, no one specific. I just meant...” Yet she couldn’t help envisioning Hot Architect. This morning, they’d passed again in the hall and she’d made a comically exaggerated show of watching where she was going so as not to bump anyone. Amusement had twinkled in his pale blue eyes, and his lips had twitched. She’d almost rated a grin.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch the end of that sentence. Did you lose your train of thought or are you going through a tunnel? Or,” Meg added knowingly, “did you suddenly remember that you suck at lying? Out with it! Who is this mystery man who has you hot and bothered?”
“You remember that time you picked me up at the office for lunch and Judy was rhapsodizing about the architect who works down the hall?”
“Bryce Grayson?”
Dani smacked her hand against the steering wheel. “Bryce, yes! I knew it started with a B. Thank you.”
“I’ve caught glimpses of him.” Meg gave a low whistle. “Nice. I mean, I only have eyes for Nolan, of course, but...damn.”
“Exactly. I worked hard not to notice him while I was with Tate, but now I am a free woman.” A free woman with a healthy sex drive.
Bryce was going to smile at her soon, and the natural next step would be conversation. With any luck, they wouldn’t stop there.
2 (#ulink_5f2ae3c4-05e6-55aa-afa3-dce88bae4853)
SEAN GRAYSON WINKED conspiratorially at the perky woman in yoga pants. Between the cartoon character on her T-shirt and her braided pigtails, she looked more like a teenager than his twin brother’s secretary. “I really appreciate your taking time out of your Saturday to let me in.”
She shrugged. “This is on my way to the gym. Just promise to lock up when you leave or Bryce will have my head on a platter. I’d better scoot, or I’ll be late for Zumba.” Pausing in the doorway, she asked over her shoulder, “You know what would be hilarious? If Bryce had the same idea and he’s secretly at your office right now, setting up a surprise for Monday.”
Bitterness stabbed at Sean, an unpleasant sensation somewhere between loss and anger. Alone in the spacious offices of Bertram Design Associates, he tried to imagine stepping into the trailer on his current job site and finding it filled with balloons and streamers. Never in a million years. He and Bryce might be identical twins, but these days, they had little in common besides looks and a shared birthday.
Bryce, older by nine minutes, had always been more studious, diligently making A-honor roll and graduating high school as valedictorian. Sean had excelled in different areas, like industrial arts and varsity football...and making time with the varsity cheerleaders. Despite different interests, the two brothers had encouraged each other. They’d been close. Then Bryce had been awarded a major scholarship to a college out of state.
Sean stayed behind, working for their dad’s roofing company and pooling his money with his parents’ to afford a trade school degree, eventually working his way up to supervising construction crews. When their dad suffered a heart attack—minor, but alarming—Bryce had been too busy with finals to come home. There were holiday breaks and summers when Bryce chose plans with his frat brothers or staying on campus for intern opportunities over visiting his family. After graduation, he’d returned to Georgia, but he’d been different. He was more polished and educated than anyone else in the family, and he never let Sean forget it.
Most of the time, Sean told himself it was natural for siblings to grow apart, no big deal. But his last girlfriend had accused him of being jealous of his successful, intelligent brother. “He has the prestigious degree, the loft condo and the class. You’re a glorified handyman. No wonder you resent him.”
Was Sean here in part to prove her wrong? To try to recapture some of the old camaraderie? Knock off the introspective crap. You’re here to hang some balloons and heckle him about being old.
It was only fair, considering how often Bryce had lorded his nine-minute head start on life over his “little brother” when they were kids. Sean also had a gift to leave on his brother’s desk. He’d scanned a section of one of Bryce’s first blueprints and paid a friend with graphics art talent to turn it into a one-of-a-kind multicolored kaleidoscope print. Sean had framed the resulting artwork and wrapped it in black “over the hill” paper. He hoped Bryce would hang the print in his office.
Or was the customized art too funky for the uptight man Bryce had become? Although Bryce was a decent architect, his main role in the company was getting permits passed. He was the person who crossed the t’s and dotted the i’s. As if his occupational habits were taking over his personal life, with each passing year, Bryce grew more rigid. His DVD collection of pretentious, independent films was probably alphabetized. Most of Sean’s DVDs weren’t even in their proper cases.
Unlike his brother, Sean lived in the moment, enjoying spontaneity. Why overplan the journey? In his experience, life offered many interesting detours.
* * *
OF ALL THE ways Dani could have spent Saturday afternoon, hiding in an empty office so that concerned friends couldn’t call her home line or drop by to check on her was definitely in the pathetic top five.
Granted, she’d spent the past few hours putting herself in a strategic position to reach her goal—the youngest top seller to graduate to a flat desk fee instead of splitting commission with the brokerage—but was it really healthy to be so practical? She was a scorned bride. Shouldn’t she be finding catharsis in some kind of outrageous behavior? In her career, following the rules and setting goals worked well. In her love life? Not so much. Tate was the one who’d cheated, yet he was happily married while she was alone.
When Meg had announced she was moving in with Nolan, a pharmaceutical sales rep six years her senior, after dating him only a couple of months, Dani had cautioned her exuberant friend that it was too soon. But Meg had defied conventional wisdom and seemed perfectly happy with her choice. Meanwhile, Dani had tried to do everything right with Tate—spending a year and a half getting to know him before they got engaged, being completely supportive of his needing to work out of the country—and she’d gotten screwed.
If this were a movie, she would have taken her canceled honeymoon to Maui all by herself and fallen in love with one of Hollywood’s leading men amid a learning-to-surf montage and funny luau scene. Well, it’s not a movie. So she could either stay here and continue her downward spiral into feeling sorry for herself or she could call Meg. Maybe last night’s invitation for drinks still stood. Or maybe Dani should look around the area for paintball places with evening hours. She sort of liked the idea of wearing her pristine white wedding dress to a paintball battle. If nothing else, the sight would unnerve her opponents.
She heaved a sigh. It wasn’t the bridal gown’s fault that Tate was too insecure to spend his life with a strong woman. She shouldn’t take out her rage on a seven-hundred-dollar dress. But she could totally take it out on a pitcher’s worth of margaritas.
Resolved, she shut down her computer. There was one nice thing about her abysmal little apartment; it was only two adjoining parking lots away from a neighborhood bar. She could easily walk home after a few drinks. The bar was a nice place with pool tables and a Saturday happy hour she might still make if she left now. Maybe Meg could meet her there.
Dani would call her from the car, once her cell phone was plugged in to the charger. She’d “accidentally” forgotten to charge it this morning. At least, that was the story she planned to give anyone who’d been unable to reach her. Her father had called three times alone that morning. Lord knew how many voice messages awaited her.
When Dani had arrived at the office, she’d been wearing a three-quarter sleeved semitransparent blouse over a lace-edged red camisole and white denim skirt. But the air-conditioning didn’t run on the weekends and the day had turned into one of those humid summer previews when Mother Nature demonstrated what Atlanta had to look forward to in June, so she’d shrugged out of the blouse. Now she scooped up the discarded garment and her briefcase, suddenly eager to escape the barren office and the loneliness it represented. She could imagine how Tate would gloat if he knew she’d spent the day here alone.
But it turned out the building wasn’t entirely deserted. As she juggled her belongings in her arms to lock the brokerage door, she heard footsteps in the hall behind her. She glanced back immediately; her dad, who’d been far more comfortable teaching her self-defense than taking her bra shopping, had coached her to be aware of her surroundings.
Her eyes widened. Hot Architect! It was like a sign. Or fate, if she believed in such nonsense. For today, be a believer. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he echoed. “I didn’t think anyone else was cooped up in the building on such a gorgeous day.” His lips quirked in a lazy half smile, his gaze dropping in a brief but appreciative once-over before returning to meet hers. “Never been so happy to be wrong.”
He was flirting with her? His unexpectedly playful tone was like diving into cold water on a scorching summer day—an initial shock to the system, but damn it felt good.
Although he still hadn’t given her a full smile, humor danced in his eyes. “I hope your presence here on a Saturday afternoon doesn’t mean you’re a stuffy workaholic,” he teased. “That would be tragic. But I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.”
“You’re here, too. Workaholic tendencies?”
She could almost believe the man she normally saw in well-tailored suits was a workaholic. But now? Lord have mercy. His dark hair was rumpled. With no trace of styling product, it looked shaggier yet sexy. He filled out a pair of jeans in a way that could make a grown woman weep, and his T-shirt... She tried not to gape, scarcely believing how he’d hid those biceps under his suit jackets.
He crossed his arms over his chest, giving her a great view of corded forearms. “I wouldn’t describe myself as a workaholic.” This time, instead of the half smile, he flashed a wicked grin. “But I don’t stop until the job’s done to everyone’s mutual satisfaction.”
Her mind raced, full of suggestions on how such satisfaction could be reached. Hadn’t she promised herself that when he finally smiled at her, she’d make a move?
“Are you on your way to the elevators?” he asked.
“Stairwell, actually. I prefer physical activity.”
His grin widened. There was a bracketed indentation to the right of his mouth, not deep enough or boyish enough to be called a dimple, but close. “Sounds like you and I have a lot in common.”
Two days ago, she’d offered the innocuous suggestion of buying him a pastry. Now she wanted to offer a whole lot more than that. Dinner, maybe. And dessert, back at her place. Slow your roll, Yates. The guy doesn’t even know your name yet. “I’m Danica, by the way. My friends call me Dani.”
“Mine call me Grayson. Or just Gray.” He reached out to shake her hand, his fingers calloused and warm against her skin. She suddenly wanted to know what that touch would feel like along the rest of her body.
“Do you have anywhere you have to be?” She blurted the question before she could change her mind. “Because, personally, I’m dying to let off some steam.”
Heat flared in his eyes, his smile fading into something more intense. “What did you have in mind?”
“For starters, a drink at a bar I know.” The delicious way he was looking at her made her reckless and lightheaded. “After that...well, I guess we’ll see.”
He stepped closer. They weren’t touching, but the proximity was intimate. Her body prickled in heightened awareness and if her hands weren’t full, she’d be fanning herself. “Consider my evening cleared.”
Wow. She was really doing this. Exhilaration and desire were a potent mix, an electric buzz along her nerves.
They fell in step together, and he opened the door for her when they reached the stairwell. Dani walked up and down these same concrete steps on a daily basis, but it had never felt thrilling or sexy before. Gray’s presence heightened her senses, made her more aware of her own body. As she descended the stairs in front of him, she swore she could feel his admiring gaze drop to her hips and butt. The ogling wasn’t unwanted. After all, she was the one who’d propositioned him. And holding the attention of such an incredibly sexy man made her feel powerful and feminine. Boldly sensual.
While she’d never been shy, even she was surprised at how brazenly she was behaving. She’d daydreamed about making a move on him when he finally smiled at her, but she’d had no idea how hot the chemistry would be between them. It made her wild impulse to take him home feel inevitable rather than insane.
Still, one-night stands were uncharted territory for her. At this precise moment, tasting his kisses seemed like the best idea she’d ever had, but would she feel that way the next time they ran into each other outside the coffee place? What would it be like to stand in line for a latte behind a guy who’d seen her naked?
As they reached the exit, she took a deep breath. “No matter what happens tonight, you don’t have to worry that seeing me will be awkward when Monday rolls around or that I’ll crowd you.”
“Monday?” he echoed. Evidently, he hadn’t thought that far ahead yet.
She gave him an earnest look over her shoulder, wanting to clarify that there were no strings. “I’m definitely not looking for a relationship. I was supposed to get married in...” She consulted the slim gold watch around her wrist. “Forty-five minutes. My fiancé eloped last weekend with the woman he was seeing on the side. Right now, I need to have a really good time and forget the whole mess.” Permanently, if possible.
Did her words make it sound as if she’d picked him at random? “I’ve been thinking about you all week,” she added. “And it seems like the attraction’s mutual. What do you say, Bryce?”
He frowned.
“Gray,” she corrected. He’d said the nickname was what his friends used, and she was hoping they would become very friendly before the night was over. “Want to help generate a little amnesia?”
3 (#ulink_fea3e108-12a5-5aee-9177-ec95911aac70)
IDIOT, IDIOT, IDIOT. Sean wanted to howl at the bitter unfairness of the situation, at his own stupidity. He was in his brother’s office building, so why the hell hadn’t it occurred to him that the stunning brunette had mistaken him for Bryce? Maybe because no one had confused the two of them since second grade. They were too dissimilar.
The disappointment at hearing his twin’s name from Dani’s full, cupid’s bow lips stabbed deep. The idea of his brother flirting with her, touching her... His hands clenched into fists at his sides. Then again, she must not know Bryce, or why would she have introduced herself? Sean spared a moment of contemptuous disbelief for his permit-seeking, suit-wearing brother. The man worked down the hall from a woman who looked like this and had never even asked her name?
Idiocy must run in the family.
As he mentally berated both himself and his brother, Dani’s forehead crinkled. “Damn,” she sighed, regret lacing her husky voice. Had she taken his silence as rejection? “Was I too forward?”
“What? No. Actually, I like that in a woman.” A lot. She was gorgeous, with her wild fall of dark hair and her long, lean body, but what made her sexy as hell was the sense that she knew what she wanted and wasn’t shy about going after it. When she’d first seen him in the hallway, the awareness in her gaze had been like a wave of heat, burning a tantalizing path.
He’d always been drawn to brunettes. In her body-hugging top, nails painted a fearless red, she looked like his fantasy made real. But, odds were, when he told her he wasn’t Bryce, she was going to be mortified.
They’d reached the parking lot. When he informed her of her mistake, would she bolt for her car? She’d be gone from his life as suddenly as she’d appeared. Everything inside him protested at the idea.
Guilt warred with lust. Sean was ready and willing to help her forget her problems and bolster her wounded ego. But she wants Bryce. Except, Bryce wouldn’t have been any good to her. Mr. Rules and Regulations would never go home with a woman whose name he’d only just learned; he’d be appalled by the very idea. If Dani wanted a good time, then she had—however inadvertently—chosen the right brother.
Even Sean’s ex-girlfriend, the one who’d despaired of his never amounting to anything, had said so. Tara’s parting words echoed in his mind. “If you and that sophisticated twin of yours could be combined into one person, you’d be the perfect guy. He’s the one with ambition and smarts...but, let’s face it, you sure know how to show a girl a good time.”
Unaware of his mental anguish, Dani smiled. “As long as I’m being blunt and inappropriate anyway, can I just say, now that I’ve seen you in short sleeves, I think it’s a shame you wear all those jackets?” Her gaze went to his arm, as tangible and arousing as a caress. She was attracted to him. Specifically.
It was impossible not to return her grin. “Want me to flex or anything? I live to serve.”
“Then have that drink with me,” she coaxed.
He took an involuntary step closer, breathing in her honey and vanilla scent. How could any man refuse her? “Absolutely.”
* * *
I CAN’T BELIEVE I’m doing this! Dani’s gaze darted to the rearview mirror, as if she had to make sure Gray’s SUV was still there. Without the physical evidence, this seemed more like a naughty daydream than real life. Her skin was tingling all over. Between adrenaline and hormones, she had to squeeze her fingers around the steering wheel to keep them from trembling.
Back in the parking lot, before they’d gone to their own cars, she’d thought he might kiss her. She’d barely been able to tear her gaze from his mouth. Had he been able to tell how hard her pulse was pounding? She’d been so turned-on that anything they’d done would have felt natural. The drive to the bar, however, allowed just enough time for nerves to creep in.
It had been months since she’d had sex and years since she’d been with anyone other than her ex-fiancé. Needing moral support, she instructed her phone to call Meg.
“Hey,” her friend answered, sounding relieved. “I’m glad it’s you! I’ve been trying to give you space today, in case you didn’t feel like talking, but—”
“I don’t mean to cut you off, but we don’t have much time.”
“Well, that sounds dramatic. Like, you’re fleeing the country from bad guys and need to tell me you’ve left something important in a bus-station locker. Or you’re going to ask me whether you should cut the blue wire or the red wire.”
Dani laughed. Apparently, all the action movies she made her friend watch had left an impression. “I went into the office today, and Hot Architect was there! Well, Gray.” In the military, nicknames were common; she rarely thought anything of using them. But calling him Gray felt intimate and gave her a rush of pleasure. “Short for his last name, Grayson.”
“You’re already on a nickname basis?” Meg asked, sounding impressed. “You work fast.”
You don’t know the half of it. “I have to tell you something, and if you love me, you won’t talk me out of this.”
“This promises to be good,” Meg said cheerfully. “And I think we both know I’m the ‘jump out of the plane, worry about the parachute on the way down’ friend. You’re the voice of reason who talks me out of things. Or tries to—I rarely listen to good sense.”
Maybe Meg’s “seize the day” attitude is rubbing off on me. “Gray’s in the car behind me right now, following me to the bar in front of my complex. And if things go well over drinks...”
Meg let out a squeal of delight. “You’re taking him home with you!”
“I haven’t decided for sure.” The hell you haven’t, her libido argued. “Would sleeping with him be completely crazy?” Not that sane had gotten her anywhere, except dumped and relocated to a crappy apartment.
“Crazy’s what you need tonight. Celebrate your freedom! Instead of tying the knot, you can tie up Hot Architect.”
Dani grinned. “So much for any worry that you might judge me for seducing a stranger.” Despite how often their paths crossed, she knew almost nothing about him.
“No judging! But for safety’s sake, check in with me tonight and again in the morning. If I don’t get proof of life, I’m showing up at your place with Nolan.”
Morning? Recalling how good Gray looked in his black T-shirt, she shivered. What would it be like to wake up in those muscular arms? Assuming he was the kind of guy who stayed the night instead of leaving afterward.
“I’m not getting up early just so I can run out for a paper with the date on it and send you a picture,” Dani joked, “but I will text you.” She was grateful to have someone who looked out for her. The two of them had met in the waiting area of a salon four years ago, striking up conversation over the trials of curly hair in a humid climate, and now they were as close as sisters. Meg had even tried to fix up Dani with one of her brothers, saying that if things worked out they could be sisters-in-law.
“I’m keeping my phone by me for the rest of the night,” Meg said. “And hoping for salacious details.”
Dani braked at a red light, swallowing hard. The bar was on the left just on the other side of the intersection. “I’m about to turn into the parking lot.”
“Okay. All kidding aside, there’s something you should consider. As your best friend, I have to ask...are you wearing good first-impression underwear? Please tell me it’s something from the store!” Meg extended Dani a special friends-and-family discount.
Dani laughed, her nerves dissipating. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m wearing plain cotton. The set matches. Do I at least get credit for that?”
Would Gray have preferred something lacy and silk to the basic sky-blue pieces? Then again, depending on how the evening went, maybe she wouldn’t be wearing them for long.
* * *
DANI CONGRATULATED HERSELF on fitting the car into such a narrow parking space—it was admirable that she’d done a precision job considering her shaky hands and accelerated pulse. She figured the adrenaline in her system was one part nerves, two parts sheer sexual anticipation. By the time she’d taken a deep breath and gathered her purse, Gray had reached her driver-side door.
He opened the door for her and extended his hand to help her out of the car. Old-fashioned gallantry, or was he simply as eager to touch her as she was him? His fingers grazed her palm, which she’d never considered a sensitive part of her body before today. Now, sensation shivered through her.
“Thanks,” she said, hearing the slight, breathless catch in her voice.
“It seemed like the chivalrous thing to do.” Though his expression remained deadpan, wicked humor glinted in his eyes. “Wouldn’t want you to think you were out with less than a perfect gentleman.”
“Honestly? I’d rather spend tonight with an imperfect one.”
That earned her a low, rich laugh. “Then you definitely have the right guy.”
As she preceded him inside, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior. The bar had a cool, cave-like feel, with few windows overlooking the parking lot and street. But it was a classy cave—no smoke or scarred tables—boasting a quality list of domestic and imported beers.
Gray looked around. “Private booth, or would you rather sit at the bar?”
As nice as the private part sounded, she felt too restless to sit. Being this close to him had her buzzing with energy. “Third option—pool table. Do you play?”
“Yeah.” He smiled sheepishly. “But I should warn you, I can get pretty competitive.”
Something else they had in common. “That’s okay. My friend Meg says I redefine the word.” Dani had taken a game night with the Raffertys a little too seriously last summer, and Meg’s family still teased her about it. But Major Yates had raised his daughter to be goal oriented. Sportsmanship had been more of an afterthought.
Gray smirked. “Then this should be interesting.”
At the bar, they asked about table availability and got a set of balls. Cues and racks hung by the tables. The cashier assured them a waitress frequently circulated the pool area and would take their drink orders soon. To the right of the main seating area, a short set of stairs led down to a recessed pool hall. The row of six pool tables was separated from the rest of the bar with a railed half wall. The opposite wall was completely mirrored, reflecting a rainbow of neon from various beer signs.
Two of the tables were still vacant, and Dani went immediately to the one farthest from other players. A drink menu sat on the railing between a couple of leather-topped stools. Gray picked it up, flipping through the laminated pages.
“You want a look at this?” he asked.
She shook her head, gaze locked on his. “Not necessary. I know exactly what I want.”
Being cheated on was tough on a girl’s self-esteem. But with one steamy glance, Gray managed to restore any confidence she’d lost over the past month. For a second, he looked dazed, and it was heady, having an effect on a man so ridiculously sexy.
He recovered quickly. “Well, don’t be shy. Let’s hear it.”
You. On that pool table. “Draft beer.”
“So you don’t go for the froufrou drinks?” He tilted his chin toward a waitress at the far end of the pool hall. On her tray were two foamy drinks in varying shades of pink and something bright blue in a glass the size of a small fishbowl, complete with a swizzle stick of impaled fruit.
“Drinks with paper umbrellas have their place,” Dani said. “Like, if I’m poolside at some tropical resort. Champagne—expensive champagne—is for when I close on a high-dollar property, tequila shots are for bad breakups, sangria is for TV show marathons with my best friend. But draft beer is for when I’m about to kick some guy’s ass in eight ball.”
“Then maybe you should be more concerned about the right drink for when you fall a dismal second.”
She grinned, liking the pure challenge in his voice. “I don’t know what beverage that could be. You’ll have to tell me after you lose.”
The waitress reached them a few seconds later. Dani ordered a Belgian white they had on tap. Gray asked for a dark ale. As the waitress departed, the two of them selected cue sticks and continued quizzing each other on the right cocktails for increasingly absurd occasions.
“When your team wins the Super Bowl?” Gray asked.
“Alabama slammer. What about if you win an Academy Award?”
“Famous gold statue? Goldshläger, obviously. Toasting your fortieth birthday?”
“Something sophisticated and grown-up. A martini, maybe?” She shrugged. “I’m nowhere close to knowing that one.”
“Me, neither. Monday’s my thirty-fourth birthday.”
“Oh.” His birthday was in two days? “Happy birthday.”
He gave her a wolfish smile. “As early celebrations go, today has been off the charts.”
Did he see her as his gift to himself? She swallowed, hoping she lived up to his expectations. “Perfect cocktail for a zombie apocalypse?”
“Rookie mistake. Zombie apocalypse is the time to stay sober. It’s critical to keep a clear head and steady shooting hand for those all-important double taps.”
She laughed. “Good point.”
After the waitress returned with their drinks, Gray clarified that they were playing basic eight ball and that they had to call their intended shots.
“Hell, yes,” Dani insisted. “Miss your pocket, lose your turn.”
He set the plastic triangle on the green felt. “Ladies first?”
“Or we could lag for the break,” she said, suggesting the more official method of shooting a ball off the far rail. Whoever’s ball came back closest would break.
“Serious player,” he said approvingly. “Most of my construction buddies just flip a coin.”
Construction buddies? Dani knew it wasn’t uncommon for architects to visit build sites, so it shouldn’t surprise her that he had friends among the construction crews. Yet she had trouble picturing the man who normally wore expensive suits, the one who was so reserved he’d never fully smiled at her until today, trash-talking construction guys over beer and pool. She started to tell him that he seemed different, which she meant as a compliment, but she couldn’t think of a way to say it that wouldn’t make him sound previously aloof or stuffy. Weren’t most people more likely to loosen up on the weekends? So stop overanalyzing and just be thankful you ran into him on a Saturday.
They each selected a solid-colored ball and shot for the foot rail. The balls rolled back, hers stopping a fraction of an inch before his.
“Your break,” she said.
“Close, though.” He gave her a look of mock regret. “I guess a player with your skill isn’t likely to do the girl thing, huh?”
“Girl thing?”
He sipped his beer. “You know, where you ask a big strong guy to help you with your form so he has a reason to put his arms around you.”
Dani stepped forward, leaning her pool cue against the railing. Looking intrigued, he set down his beer as she moved closer, invading his personal space.
She reached for his hand. His fingers were cool from the beer, but heat rolled through her anyway. “I’m a woman, not a girl. If I want a man to touch me, I don’t need a lame excuse.” She settled his hand on the curve of her hip, her pulse kicking up a notch when they were close enough that they could have been kissing.
His eyes were mesmerizing, light-colored but blazing with intensity. “Good to know.” Raising his free hand, he traced her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. Desire had been sparking inside her since the moment he’d smiled at her in the office hallway, but now a pang of sharp arousal jolted her—and they were fully dressed in a public place. Imagining the kind of magic he could work in the privacy of her apartment left her dizzy.
If she didn’t move away from him, she would be in no condition to shoot pool accurately. Which might not matter in the larger scheme of things, but she had to admit, part of her wanted to impress him.
When she stepped back, reaching for her drink, Gray gave her one more scorching look, then took his place at the table. The competitor in her wanted to watch the balls scatter and check for strategic positioning; the female in her was having difficulty looking away from the back of his jeans. When he’d said earlier that he liked physical activity, it had obviously been more than innuendo. He was in fantastic shape.
“You’re up,” he said, drawing her attention back to the game.
She scanned the table. He’d pocketed the seven, so she was stripes. She called the eleven and leaned down to take her shot. Recalling the appreciative way she’d watched him shoot, she stole an involuntary glance toward the mirrored wall at the last second. His reflected gaze locked on hers—avid and hungry—and she fumbled her shot. The eleven rolled in right where it was supposed to, but the cue ball followed.
Annoyed with herself for the undisciplined lapse in concentration, she let loose a stream of profanity.
Behind her, Gray laughed. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“Actually, she died when I was a baby.”
He paled. “Oh, God. I’m—”
“You didn’t know.” Whenever she told someone about her mom, she felt as if she should be sadder, but she didn’t remember the woman at all. The deepest sorrow she’d experienced was for her father’s loss. “My dad raised me and, incidentally, taught me most of the bad words I know. He wasn’t above swearing at soldiers if it motivated them, and sometimes he forgot to turn it off at home.”
“Military, huh?”
She nodded. “Army.”
“My father had his own roofing company and took on a lot of small construction jobs for extra income. He was careful, but anyone who works with tools that often is gonna catch his thumb with a hammer from time to time or run afoul of a circular saw.” He smiled. “Colorful words abounded. Of course, he swore me to secrecy. Mom would’ve had a fit if she’d known the vocabulary I was picking up in the garage.”
He surveyed the table, nostalgia fading as he immersed himself in the game. Using the conveniently positioned stripes, he knocked in two easy shots before having to stop and think about what he wanted to do next.
“If I were a show-off,” he said, “this is where I’d impress you with some fancy trick shot.”
She smirked over the rim of her beer. “In my experience, guys who really know how to handle their sticks don’t need to compensate with trick moves.”
“Need? No. But nothing wrong with spicing things up every now and then, right?” Giving her a suggestive smile, he executed a perfect behind-the-back shot.
She bit back her own smile. “I refuse to contribute to your ego by applauding that.”
“You can admit I make you weak in the knees. I won’t lose respect for you.”
She snorted. He sank a fourth ball before finally missing. Dani used the opportunity to reclaim her dignity with a great stop shot. The waitress brought another round of drinks while Dani pocketed two more, steadily closing the gap. But then she was left without a shot. Even as she banked the cue ball as best she could, she held no real hope. Sometimes, physics was against you.
Gray returned to the table. She sipped her beer, watching in admiration as he ran the table. His cockiness at pool was well warranted. After knocking in the eight ball for the win, he sauntered back to the railing with a satisfied smile.
“Now I wish we’d bet something,” he said. “Or that I’d suggested strip pool.”
The idea was appealing, if either of them had a pool table at home. She slid off her stool and began gathering the balls to rerack. “You can’t play strip pool in public.”
He joined her at the table, leaning close as he lowered his voice. “Sure you can.” His breath feathered against her ear, a tantalizing tickle of warmth. “You just have to remove things that aren’t obvious to everyone else in the room.” For the second time that night, he cupped her hip. Then he traced a finger across the denim, just above the elastic band of her panties. “Like...earrings.”
His outrageous teasing made her laugh, and she shoved against his chest. “You are a bad man.”
He dipped his head in agreement. “Being bad is my best quality.”
4 (#ulink_f6f6c46c-eedb-517e-ae6e-628918f839cf)
“NICE JOB.” IT was damned uncommon for Sean Grayson to smile when he lost, but he couldn’t help an admiring grin as Dani pocketed the winning ball in their second game.
She was a worthy opponent. Plus, she was sexy as hell. Watching her lean over in that narrow skirt that hinted at naughtiness without actually revealing anything lessened the sting of defeat. “Best two out of three?” It was a logical suggestion, given that they were currently tied and that the waitress had just brought them a basket of chips and salsa to go with another round of beers. Yet, the longer he spent here with Dani, the more desperate he was to get her alone.
The heated glances they’d shared had escalated to casual—and not so casual—touches. He wanted her. Badly. If his jeans grew any tighter, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep playing.
“One more,” she agreed. Her dark eyes gleamed with pleasure. Because she was having such a good time? Or because, like him, she was looking forward to what would follow their next match? She’d made it clear with her flirtatious words and body language that she desired him every bit as much as he desired her. “I hate to end on ties.”
He chuckled. “Right? There should always be a clear winner. My mom used to get aggravated at me and my brother for being too compet—” He stopped abruptly. With Dani calling him Gray, like most of his buddies did, and that way she had of grinning up at him as if he were the only man in the world who mattered, he’d almost managed to forget that she thought he was someone else.
“Lost my train of thought,” he mumbled.
She nodded absently, her easy acceptance of his fib making him feel like scum. As far as she knew, she had no reason to mistrust him. “You go ahead and rack ’em,” she suggested. “I’m going to run to the ladies’ room.”
Five minutes ago, he would have watched her cross the pool hall, enjoying the view and the graceful, confident way she moved. Now, he was preoccupied with guilt. His almost-mention of Bryce had taken some of the shine off the evening.
A beautiful woman who was supposed to be at her own wedding reception right now had entreated him to show her a good time and help her forget a broken engagement. When he’d agreed, he hadn’t been thinking any further than this evening. But now, thoughts of his brother brought unwelcome reality with them. Unless he swung by Bryce’s house tomorrow and somehow convinced his twin to quit his job and never step foot in his office again, odds were, Dani would run into him at some point. Even though she’d stipulated that she only wanted someone for tonight, that she wouldn’t cling or act differently afterward, Sean couldn’t let her face someone she mistakenly believed she’d been intimate with.
Sean could give her exactly what she wanted—a raw, passionate night with a near stranger to keep her mind off the wedding that hadn’t happened. But before he left, he’d have to find a way to tell her the truth. In which case, she’ll probably never speak to you again.
The realization sucked. He’d known within moments of meeting Dani that he was attracted to her, but over the past couple of hours, he’d discovered he really liked her. She was smart and sassy, shot excellent pool, didn’t seem to have a pretentious bone in her body and, when provoked, had the R-rated vocabulary of a cranky trucker. She was all wrong for Bryce, but exactly the kind of woman Sean could picture himself falling for—except he wouldn’t have the chance to fall. They only had tonight.
Which was what she’d wanted in the first place, he reminded himself. She wasn’t ready to consider relationships or dating. She’d been very clear about her request—a single, reckless night. And if that was all he got, he planned to make it count.
* * *
BY WINNING THE second game, Dani had put herself back in the running for overall victory. In theory, she was good enough to win their final match, too. Yet she was having a hell of a time trying to focus. Ever since she’d returned from the ladies’ room, it seemed as if the sexual tension between her and Gray had grown even more electric, crackling all around them with its own magnetic pull. He was as wickedly charming as he’d been all night, but there was no more playfulness in his expression.
Now, the way he watched her bordered on predatory. He was biding his time but would eventually pounce. And she couldn’t wait.
She swallowed, her throat dry with anticipation. She flagged down the waitress and requested a glass of ice water. Though she was hardly impaired, three beers had softened the edges of the world. She knew what was going to happen after this final game, and she wanted to be able to participate fully, alert enough to register every delicious detail. When morning came, she didn’t want her memories of the night to be vague or hazy. Especially not if Gray was as good in bed as she expected.
Lost in prurient thoughts, she miscued her shot. She was still muttering curse words when he joined her, tugging gently at one of her curls.
“You have quite a mouth,” he drawled.
“That a complaint?” she asked, knowing from his expression it wasn’t.
“Yes.” His gaze slid to her lips. “Because your mouth has been distracting the hell out of me all night. I’m too busy imagining kissing you to think straight.”
Same here. Except, her imagination hadn’t exactly stopped with kissing.
Despite her innate competitive streak, right now, she couldn’t bring herself to care about pool. She wanted Gray’s mouth on her, his hands on her. Since she couldn’t seem to find her voice, she met his eyes.
When he cupped her face with his hands, she experienced a giddy rush of excitement. Even though it had only been hours since they’d encountered each other at the office, it felt as if she’d been waiting forever for him to kiss her. His mouth settled over hers, and she parted her lips in invitation. She buried her fingers in his hair, surprised at how silky it was. Their kiss was salty and spicy, and her body pulsed with sensation.
Gray kissed the same way he shot pool, with bold assurance and innate skill. He speared his tongue into her mouth, his possessiveness nearly making her moan, then pulled back, teasing, nipping at her lower lip. She was glad she was balanced between him and the pool table. Despite mocking his earlier boast that he made her knees weak, the longer he kissed her, the less steady she felt.
His hands dropped to her hips, and he pulled her tightly against him. The hard length of his erection was unmistakable. An answering need pooled between her thighs. As much as she was enjoying their kiss, suddenly, it wasn’t enough. The sensual hunger blooming inside her had turned ravening.
He must have felt the same way. Lifting his head, he reached for the eight ball on the table and swiped it into a pocket. “Oops.” His breathing was rapid, his voice strained. “Guess I lose. Ready to get out of here?”
Wordlessly, she nodded. If she were any more ready, they’d be arrested for public indecency. A hundred detailed fantasies were bursting to life in her mind, but they all required the same starting point—getting this man alone. Immediately.
* * *
IRONICALLY, DESPITE DANI’S urgency to reach the seclusion of her apartment, the walk across the adjacent parking lots was taking twice as long as usual. Probably because she and Gray couldn’t keep their hands off each other.
The starlit line of trees around the perimeter of her complex offered far more privacy than a pool hall. Gray spun her into his arms, taking her mouth in another kiss that made every nerve ending in her body sing with pleasure. But the pleasure was edged with rising desperation. Her breasts ached to be freed from their confines, bared to his touch. The humid spring night around them was silky against her skin, so soft it was a tease. She needed his calloused fingers on her, needed friction.
She moaned into the kiss, dimly aware that she was rubbing her body against his. “My place.” She tugged his lip between her teeth. “I want you, but not so badly that I’m willing to embarrass myself in a parking lot.” Only half sure she spoke the truth, she quickened her pace.
With his long legs, he easily matched her stride. “Dare I ask what you are willing to do?”
She could hear the smile in his voice, knew he was kidding, but that didn’t stop her fevered mind from creating vivid images in silent reply. “Keep up and you’ll find out.”
It wasn’t until she turned her key in the lock that she experienced a tiny splinter of shyness. Beyond the physical intimacy of what they were about to do, there was a certain amount of intimacy in simply bringing him home. She’d leased the place a few months ago, when she was still engaged, and had never had a man here.
As if sensing a change in her mood, Gray massaged her neck soothingly, circling his thumb at her nape, applying just the right amount of heavenly pressure. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Resolutely, she opened the door. “I was just thinking I should warn you, I’m not the world’s most diligent housekeeper.”
She flipped on the lamp that sat on a small entry table along with her mail. It didn’t offer much illumination, only a minimal rebuff against the darkness beyond. Still, it was enough that he’d be able to notice her habit of haphazardly kicking off her shoes when she walked through the door. Open-toed pumps and platform wedges were scattered about, some fallen on their sides like defeated warriors in a mythical shoe battle. Since she hadn’t expected to return from the office with a date, she hadn’t bothered to tidy the client files, property brochures and books on real estate that cluttered her living room.
“I mean, I’m not a slob,” she defended herself. She never left the apartment with dirty dishes out, and she’d put fresh sheets on her bed just last night. “But my place wouldn’t pass military inspection.”
“No worries. I’m not the neat freak in my family. My...”
When he didn’t finish his sentence, she glanced over her shoulder and found him frowning. Nice going, Yates. You had a very sexy man all hot and bothered five minutes ago, then ruined the moment with your inane chatter about housekeeping.
“Danica.” His gaze bore into hers, troubled. “There’s—”
“Sorry,” she interrupted. “I don’t know why I’d waste a single second thinking about something like laundry or dusting when I could be doing this.” She stepped toward him, not stopping until their bodies touched. His hips cradled hers, the heat of him potent even through his jeans, and her breasts were cushioned against the unyielding muscular wall of his chest.
She meshed her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. Not that it required any effort. He was already lowering his face to hers. But at the last minute, he shifted direction. Instead of meeting her lips, he kissed her jaw and worked his way down the excruciatingly sensitive line of her neck. He bit gently, then less gently, and she trembled. His hands palmed her butt, kneading, making her inwardly curse her skirt. She wanted closer contact, wanted to wrap her legs around him.
He lifted his head long enough to ask, “You’re sure? That you want me?” There was an oddly vulnerable emphasis to his words, but she was too lost in sensation to analyze it.
He couldn’t tell the effect he had on her? Her pulse was thundering, and she was so wet, she half expected to scent the musky perfume of her own arousal. Her voice was hoarse but audible. “Never been more sure of anything.”
That was obviously the permission he’d needed. His mouth captured hers, feasting. The kiss they shared was deep and wet and gloriously carnal. Not breaking the contact between them, she shuffled back a step with vague thoughts of her bedroom on the far side of the living room. His hands fisted in the hem of her camisole. She obligingly raised her arms, ending the kiss long enough for him to lift the material over her head.
They’d moved away from the slight glow of lamplight in the doorway, but even in the shadows, Gray growled approval at the sight of her breasts covered only by pale blue demi cups. He outlined the swell of one breast, and her nipples contracted to even tighter points. She shifted her weight restlessly, slick with need. It was inexplicable, how the delicate brush of his finger over her skin could trigger such a powerful response. He circled one rigid tip, and she arched her back, reflexively offering herself up for further exploration.
But when he slid his fingers beneath the cotton of her bra, pinching lightly, it was almost too much. She nearly lost her balance.
“W-wait.” Clutching his arm for support, she raised a foot and unstrapped first one high-heeled sandal, then the other. Pivoting, she kicked them under the coffee table by the couch so they weren’t lying in the path to the bedroom. This evening was going to end in mind-blowing orgasms, not someone tripping over discarded shoes.
Before she could turn back around to face him, his hands settled on her denim-clad hips. He kissed his way from one shoulder blade to the other. He traced her spine to the top of her skirt, then pointedly tugged the waistband.
She reached for the button above the zipper but paused. “I feel underdressed, comparatively speaking.” Twisting to look back at him, she grinned. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
He whipped off his shirt and balled it up, tossing it in the general vicinity of the coffee table. As he quickly stripped off socks and shoes and fumbled with his belt, she watched over her shoulder. She greedily drank in the sight of his chiseled chest and abs, cursing herself for not turning on more lights. The man was living art. His shoulders were broad and strong, his chest dusted in dark hair that added to his virile air. His torso tapered to an impressively ridged six-pack that she would have assumed was airbrushed if she’d seen it in a photo.
When he stepped out of the jeans, her eyes widened in renewed appreciation at the erection outlined in snug boxer briefs. He was male perfection. And, for tonight, he was hers.
“Your skirt,” he said, his voice thick with expectation.
She gave a quick shimmy, letting the unzipped skirt slide down her legs. He hauled her closer, so that they were pressed together. She swiveled her hips, grinding against him, hearing the way he sucked in his breath, loving that his reaction to her was every bit as strong as hers to him. He reached between them to unhook her bra. Her muscles were so taut with anticipation she struggled to shrug free of the material. He skimmed his fingers over her midriff, upward. But before he reached her breasts, he changed direction. She let him get away with a second teasing pass before grabbing his hands and cupping them over her. His low chuckle, more vibration than sound, rumbled through her.
He plucked at one nipple, making her gasp. “Is that more what you had in mind?” he murmured against her ear.
Yes. She arched into his touch, words escaping her when he repeated the movement, this time tweaking both at once while he kissed her shoulder. She rocked back against him, the movement more instinct than conscious volition. He slid a hand past her hipbone, his fingers curling beneath the thin fabric of her panties to graze her skin.
She was both frantic for him to reach the throbbing juncture between her legs and a touch apprehensive that, once he did, she’d ignite like a roman candle. She had a fanciful image of herself, sated in boneless aftermath, her apartment a smoldering ruin around her. When he began lowering her panties, she had a moment of clarity.
“Condoms,” she blurted. That was nonnegotiable, something they needed to agree on before either of them was fully naked.
“Of course.” His acceptance was immediate, although his voice was gruff. “Jeans pocket. In a minute. First...” His fingers parted the dewy folds at her core, expertly targeting where she was most sensitive. She whimpered, moving against him with primal urgency, reaching out blindly for a way to steady herself.
He steered her toward the couch and splayed his hand on the small of her back, gently urging her forward. She bent over the arm of the sofa, the leather cool against her bare skin. He eased a finger inside her, and she bit her lip.
“Condoms,” she repeated. Now.
“Right.” His voice echoed with the same hunger surging through her.
She heard the rustle of his jeans, the thud of a wallet hitting the floor, the discreet rip of foil. His talented fingers returned, working their magic and heightening the frenzied need inside her until she almost screamed into the sofa cushion. Then he gripped her hips in a hold that bordered on bruising and thrust into her.
He withdrew partially, then pushed back even deeper. It felt so damn good. As their rhythm increased, she raised her hips to meet him, their bodies coming together with enough force to send her up on her toes. Already, a wicked, shimmering pressure was building, spreading through her body as she tightened around him. He reached around her, his fingers stroking just above where they were joined, and she cried out. The pressure broke, exploding in ripples of pleasure that radiated through every cell of her body.
Somewhere in the glittery starburst of bliss, as Gray pistoned his hips again and found his own release, she had a single coherent thought. Pretending that nothing had happened when she saw him again on Monday would be a problem. Having experienced this shattering, all-consuming ecstasy, how would she ever have a simply platonic exchange with him again?
5 (#ulink_59fecd9c-2283-5537-aa20-9fdbf424b0f3)
SEAN CONSIDERED HIMSELF pretty fit, but right now—sprawled across Dani’s couch with her tucked against him—he wasn’t sure he would ever catch his breath again. Should his heart still be pounding against his rib cage? At least the spots in his vision were clearing, which made it easier to appreciate the view of the naked brunette in his arms. Technically, they were both too tall for the sofa, but even given the awkwardness of his legs hanging over the side, he was surprisingly comfortable.
Dani’s head rested on his chest. She sighed happily. “That was...”
“Very athletic of us. I wonder if the Olympic committee has ever considered adding couch sex as an event.”
“You’d definitely be on the medal podium.”
“Both of us,” he corrected. “Pairs event. Singles isn’t nearly as much fun.”
“Or as sweaty.” She propped herself up on one arm. “I’m feeling pretty sticky. Care to join me in the shower?”
There was the slightest note of shyness in her invitation, which he found endearing. It was difficult to imagine such a forthright, sensual woman feeling bashful. But forthright didn’t mean invulnerable. He recalled the flash of emotion in her gaze when she’d confessed that her ex-fiancé had eloped with someone else.
“I would love to join you, assuming I can still move.” He wiggled his toes experimentally.
She unfolded herself from their tangle of limbs, raising her arms over her head and stretching her spine. Then she stood, grinning over her shoulder. “I’ll try to save you some hot water, but I can’t make any promises. It doesn’t last long.”
Watching her stroll across the room, her nude body outlined by the illumination coming through the window, helped him rediscover his energy.
She’d left her bedroom dark as she passed through, but light spilled from the bathroom. It was pretty basic—navy towels that matched small area rugs and a clear shower curtain imprinted with dark blue swirls. With the exception of the curling iron and cosmetics on the counter, he wouldn’t have guessed the room belonged to a woman. His ex had fancy soaps no one was allowed to use, lace-edged washcloths and scented candles on a shelf above her tub. She’d also favored lots of sweet-smelling potpourri; visiting her apartment was like being trapped inside a raspberry. Dani didn’t need pastel throw pillows or ruffled curtains to highlight her femininity—it was stamped on every curve of her body, from her lush lips to the graceful arch of her foot.
Standing beneath the spray of water, she smiled at him through the translucent curtain. “Here to wash my back?”
“Something like that.” He stepped over the side of the tub, joining her.
Squeezing into the narrow bathtub was like cuddling on the couch all over again—crowded, yet not uncomfortable. He liked being here with her. Too bad you won’t be with her much longer. The thought was a dark whisper in his mind, an unpleasant reminder that their time was limited. When he told her the truth tomorrow...
“Here.” He reached for the shampoo bottle she held. “Let me.” He squeezed some of the citrusy shampoo into his palm and worked it into a lather.
With the water temporarily taming her curls, her hair hung even longer than it had dry. He took his time, massaging her scalp, working the shampoo through each strand, enjoying her soft mmm of contentment. She was gratifyingly vocal, making it easy for a guy to tell when he was doing something right.
After he’d finished with both the shampoo and conditioner, she turned in his arms, snuggling against him as she dotted kisses along his collarbone. “That felt good. I can’t remember the last time I was this relaxed.”
“What can I say? Making you feel good is addictive.” He tipped her chin up with his finger and kissed her. With their earlier urgency somewhat mellowed, this kiss was slow and leisurely. The sex had been incredible but, in retrospect, he wished he’d taken more time to explore her body, to find all the secret places that made her moan and writhe.
He straightened abruptly, reaching for the bottle of body oil on the shower shelf. “You know, you should never underestimate the importance of moisturizing.” He started to pour the liquid into his palm, then changed his mind, drizzling it directly across her shoulders and chest.
Her earlier lassitude was gone, her dreamy expression replaced by an eager gleam in her gaze. How was it possible for someone’s eyes to be so dark and so bright at the same time? He rubbed the satiny oil in lazy circles across her skin. When he caressed the undersides of her breasts, her head fell back, lips parted on a noiseless sigh.
He brushed a thumb over one taut peak. “I didn’t get the chance, earlier, to taste you here.” An oversight he meant to correct immediately. He bent his head, swirling his tongue around her nipple, then sucking hard.
She made a sound low in her throat that reverberated off the tile walls. If it weren’t for his realization that the water pelting his skin was turning increasingly cool, he could happily stay here for hours. Reluctantly, he let her go.
“You weren’t kidding about the short-lived hot water,” he complained. “If we don’t get out of here, we’re going to turn into popsicles.”
“Told you,” she said ruefully. As she drew back the shower curtain, she added, “It’s probably just as well. I’m starting to get light-headed from hunger. Not that I was thinking about food while you were... With your mouth on me, I can’t think at all.”
“We’ll have to test that theory later. There are other places I still haven’t had the chance to kiss you,” he drawled, his voice full of wicked intent.
She stilled, her eyes wide and her cheeks rosy with color. It took considerable willpower not to scoop her up and carry her to the bed in the next room. But then she blinked, shaking off her reverie and grabbing an oversize blue towel. She handed him a matching one.
Wrapping herself in terry cloth, she tucked in the corner so that it formed a mini-dress. “I really am starving. Three beers and a handful of chips does not a dinner make.”
“You sure?” He secured his own towel around his waist. “I have a number of buddies who would consider that fine dining.”
“I just hope I have actual groceries. I put in what feels like a hundred hours of work this week.”
Including going to the office on a Saturday. “Are you always so driven, or were you going out of your way to stay busy?” he asked tactfully. The days leading up to the aborted wedding must have been tough.
“Both. My colleagues call me ambitious.”
He managed not to wince at the word. Once she knew more about him, would she share his ex’s opinion—that Sean was going nowhere simply because he didn’t wear expensive suits to work? He was currently the lead builder on a new phase of a luxury subdivision. He’d worked before in brick and concrete neighborhoods where every house looked alike and the only landscaping attention was given to the token shrubbery surrounding the pool area and private tennis courts. This subdivision, on the other hand, had personality in addition to the community pool and clubhouse. Flowering magnolia and dogwood trees offered shade and color in generous-size yards; stately pines marched along property lines. It struck him as the kind of dream neighborhood his parents would have loved to raise him and Bryce in, had they ever been able to afford it.
“I’ve always been goal oriented,” Dani continued as she flipped on her bedroom light. “And I don’t mind busting my ass to meet those goals.” She shot him a grin. “But I try not to let it make me stuffy.”
“Definitely not the word I would use to describe you.”
Her apartment was so small there was no hallway. The living room sat in the center, with a kitchen and bedroom at either end. Now that there were more lights on, he was getting his first real look at the place. A flat-screen television hung on the wall, above a shelf of DVDs. Most of the titles he glimpsed were action movies.
“You bowl?” he asked, spotting a turquoise bowling bag in the corner.
“It used to be a weekly tradition for me and my dad. He gave me a ball for my birthday a few years back, but it’s been a while.”
“That him?” Sean asked, noting the framed eight-by-ten on a small end table. It looked pretty recent. Sean knew the stern-jawed man with silver hair was her father even before she nodded. The man had the same dark eyes as his daughter—and the same air of determination.
“Yep, that’s the Major,” she said, affectionate pride in her voice.
In the kitchen, a couple more photos were stuck to the refrigerator with pizza delivery magnets. One was a shot of Dani in a tank top and sunglasses, a runner’s number pinned to her shirt.
“Last year’s Peachtree Road Race,” she said, following his gaze. “The other one’s me and my friend Meg.”
The two women sat on the deck of a boat, crossing their eyes comically and raising bottles of beer.
“She barely looks old enough to drink,” he commented. “Or...I don’t know.” It wasn’t that the pretty woman literally looked underage. It was more a sense of innocence and youthful merriment. Strawberry-blond ringlets framed a cherubic face with a button nose, a smattering of freckles and a sweet smile. “If I had to guess, I’d say she either teaches kindergarten or directs a church choir. Maybe both.”
“She owns a high-end lingerie store and sells the occasional sex toy at private parties.”
While he absorbed that bombshell, Dani added, “I actually need to send her a quick text to let her know I, uh, got home okay. Excuse me for a sec?” She retrieved her cell phone from the purse she’d dropped as soon as they entered the apartment.
Sean continued his informal study of her place. Her personal mementos seemed limited to the three pictures he’d seen. Because she wasn’t overly sentimental, or because she’d removed any keepsakes that included her ex? Sean had an irrational urge to punch the unknown former fiancé in the nose. He hated the idea of any guy hurting her.
“Okay. Food,” Dani said decisively. She swung open the refrigerator door, frowned at the array of takeout containers, then checked the freezer.
Watching over her shoulder, Sean laughed. “Takeout food, beer and pizzas? You have the body of a swimsuit model, but the refrigerator of a frat house.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and I suppose your fridge is full of kale and imported brie?”
“Touché.”
The kitchen was small enough that Dani could preheat the oven without even stepping away from the fridge. She pulled a square box from the freezer. “I doubt college boys splurge on gourmet Mediterranean veggie pizzas. This okay with you?”

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