Hotter Than Ever (Out of Uniform) (11 page)

Laughing, she rested her elbows on the smooth black granite and admired the ease with which he moved around in the kitchen. He got the bacon going, then leaned against the opposite counter and whisked the eggs in a glass bowl, all the while watching her with curious dark eyes.

“What’s the final answer then?” Aidan slanted his head. “Can men be simultaneously sexy and adorable?”

She replied with no hesitation. “Yes. They totally can.”

A heated look passed between them, identical to the one they’d shared yesterday within seconds of meeting. And unlike yesterday’s Dylan-provoked desire, her attraction to
this
man made sense.

Actually…nope, still didn’t make sense, seeing as she was attracted to Aidan in a confounding, primitive way she’d never experienced. Everything about him teased her senses—his rumpled dark hair, the perfect chest beneath his faded Chicago Bears T-shirt, those dimples. And he smelled so darn good; his lemony-scented aftershave mingled with the aroma of sizzling bacon in the air, and she honestly couldn’t decide which scent was more intoxicating.

Last night she’d been convinced this man wanted her. This afternoon was no different. Her striped off-the-shoulder tee and black yoga pants were by no means indecent, yet Aidan’s gaze was so seductive, so intense and appreciative, she felt like she was buck-naked.

A crackling sound interrupted the moment of awareness they’d been having. When Aidan turned to tend to the bacon, she quickly took a deep breath and ordered herself to stop drooling over the guy.

“So who didn’t appreciate your honesty?” he asked curiously.

“Chris, for one. He hated how blunt I was, especially if I said something he didn’t want to hear.”

“Like what?” Aidan lowered the heat on the burner and moved on to the task of scrambling the eggs, but he glanced over his shoulder every few seconds, encouraging her to go on.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly shy about voicing my opinion when it came to his country-club friends. Those people are such jerks—you should have seen the way one of the partners’ wives treated our waiter one time. And the racism in that club was unbelievable. It made me sick, and Chris didn’t seem to give a shit. He just shrugged and said that deep down everyone’s a little racist. Can you believe that?”

“Chris doesn’t sound like the nicest guy.”

Sadness washed over her. “I thought he was. I thought he was amazing, actually. When we first met, he was so passionate about the law and making a difference. He was excited to work in the prosecutor’s office and clean up the streets and all that jazz. But instead, he took the job that Lowenstein offered, and suddenly his whole personality changed.” She bit her lip in dismay. “He got all prissy and pretentious, and started acting, I don’t know,
entitled
, I guess.”

“From what Dylan has told me, Chris was always a bit on the conservative side, and I’m pretty sure Dylan mentioned that Chris intended to work for a big defense firm from the start.”

Claire frowned. “Yeah, I don’t know how much I really trust Dylan’s word.”

“You should,” Aidan said frankly. “He’s probably the most honest man I’ve ever met. And the most honorable.”

“Honorable?” Bitterness rose in her throat. “I haven’t seen any indication of that, and trust me, he’s had many opportunities to prove me wrong.”

“What exactly has Dylan done to give you such a skewed view of him?” Aidan’s tone was more curious than angry.

“Maybe
your
view is the skewed one.”

“Trust me,” he mimicked, “I know everything there is to know about Dylan Wade. The guy’s got a heart of gold. It’s fucking exasperating at times.”

Claire opened her mouth to argue that clearly Dylan’s fabled heart of gold didn’t extend to his mother, then thought better of it. She wasn’t prone to gossiping, and she knew Shanna would be humiliated if she knew Claire was blabbing about her private business with a stranger. Besides, nothing she said would change Aidan’s mind about the man he obviously cared very deeply about.

The man Claire had practically sexually assaulted last night…

Crap. Did Aidan know about the kiss? It suddenly occurred to her that he might, and her cheeks grew hot.

“Is there a reason your face just turned redder than a fire engine?” Aidan teased.

She gulped. “I was just wondering if…uh, did Dylan tell you what happened last night?”

“Hmmm, he did not. Why don’t you fill me in?”

Aidan walked to the counter and set a plate in front of her. The aroma of bacon and eggs floated into her nose, and when her stomach didn’t churn with sickness, she realized that, miraculously, she really
had
managed to avoid a hangover.

She accepted the fork he handed her and speared into some eggs, avoiding his eyes. “It wasn’t a big deal. I just kissed him.”

He didn’t answer.

In fact, he stayed quiet for so long that Claire had no choice but to lift her head so she could study his expression. What she saw in his dark eyes wasn’t betrayal or outrage, but genuine interest.

Aidan dragged one of the stools around the counter so they were sitting across from each other. “Huh, he failed to mention that to me.”

Claire sighed. “Don’t be mad at him. I’m sure he was just too horrified and disgusted to want to talk about it.”

Popping a strip of bacon into his mouth, Aidan chewed for a few seconds, then said, “Shit, I didn’t get us any drinks. You want OJ, water or coffee?”

“Coffee.” Confused by his unfazed reaction, she watched him make his way over to the coffeemaker, which he’d clicked on when he was cooking. “So, wait, you’re not mad? You don’t care that your boyfriend kissed someone else?”

“Boyfriend probably isn’t the right word,” Aidan admitted as he returned to the counter with two cups of coffee. “We’re…friends.”

“With benefits,” she pointed out. “I mean, you sleep together.”

“Yeah.” He shot her that dimpled grin of his. “We don’t share a room, though. That son of a bitch is a major blanket hog.”

His words instantly produced the image of the two men sleeping in the same bed, which succeeded in getting her all hot and achy. They must have tried that particular sleeping arrangement at least once in order for Aidan to know that Dylan stole the blanket, and her pulse sped up at the thought of their tanned, muscular bodies entwined together between the sheets.

“You’re doing it again,” Aidan teased.

“Doing what?”

“Blushing.”

“You seem to have that effect on me, I guess.” Casting her gaze downward, she focused on eating her breakfast. Well, brunch, seeing as it was past noon.

“So how was it? Did you like kissing him?”

His mocking inquiry sent a shiver rolling through her. “It was okay,” she lied.

He responded with a deep laugh. “Bullshit. Dylan’s a damn good kisser. I bet you were turned on like nobody’s business.”

The memory of Dylan’s rock-hard erection grinding against her pelvis flashed through Claire’s head. Her core clenched. Nipples tingled, hardened and poked into her sports bra. Ah crap. Why had she chosen to wear a cotton sports bra? There was no way Aidan would be able to miss the outline of her nipples through her shirt.

From the way his gaze burned with desire, she knew he’d noticed, all right.

“I was drunk,” she said. “Everything feels good when you’re drunk. But believe me when I say it won’t happen again.”

“I’m still not sure why it happened in the first place.”

“I, uh, wanted to see if you guys are really attracted to women.”

There was a beat. Then he burst out laughing. “You needed empirical evidence, huh? Couldn’t just take our word for it.”

“Like I said, I don’t think much of Dylan’s word.”

They both fell silent as they finished their food, but it was a comfortable silence, free of tension and long enough for Claire’s embarrassment to slowly fade away. Aidan didn’t seem to care that she’d kissed Dylan, so maybe she didn’t need to make a big deal about it, either. So what if she’d made out with Chris’s brother? It had been a drunken, foolish error in judgment, never to be repeated.

Across from her, Aidan raised his cup to his lips and sipped his coffee, drawing her gaze to his mouth. God, he had such a sensual mouth, so very sexy, but there were no laugh lines around it. It was odd—she got the feeling he didn’t laugh very often, and yet the sound of his laughter had already echoed in the kitchen several times today.

“I need to ask you a question,” he said suddenly.

She wrinkled her forehead. “Um, shoot?”

“How do you feel about football?”

The random query sparked a laugh. “I love it,” she confessed. “Football is about all my dad and I have in common. When I was growing up, we would watch the games together every Sunday. My mom would bake cookies for us and stay out of our way.” She smiled at him. “Is that the right answer?”

His answering smile caused those cute dimples to pop out. “Definitely the right answer. But tell me this, who do you root for?”

“The Niners. Duh.”

His expression turned grave. “Uh-oh. Now
that
was the
wrong
answer. There’s only one team worth rooting for, and that’s the Bears.”

“No self-respecting San Franciscan would cheer for any team other than the Niners, and
especially
not an east-coast team. Jeez, Aidan.”

“You know, Dylan is a Niners fan too,” he told her, arching his eyebrows. “So maybe you two have more in common than you think.”

“I doubt it.”

“So stubborn, aren’t you, sweetheart? Must be a redhead trait.” Still grinning, he slid off the stool and picked up his empty plate. “Hurry up and finish your breakfast, Claire. We’ve got games to watch. And believe me when I say I’m going to thoroughly enjoy watching your team get their asses kicked.”

Chapter Six

Dylan did an honest-to-God double take when he walked into the living room later that afternoon. Followed by a triple take, because the last thing he expected to find was Aidan and Claire on the couch watching football together.

Almost instantly, a strand of irritation wrapped around his spine. “Hey,” he said curtly. A glance at the flat screen only added to his bad mood—San Fran was losing 17-3.

Aidan nodded hello. “How were the waves?”

“Nonexistent.” He marched over and dropped a green Tupperware container on the glass coffee table, right in front of Claire. “Here, this is for you.”

She looked confused. “What is it?”

“Cupcakes. Our buddy’s wife, Shelby, owns a bakery in Coronado, and she insisted I bring something back for you.”

“For me?” Claire’s confusion deepened. “Why?”

“Call it a getting-dumped-at-the-altar present.” His tone was harsher than he’d intended, but he wasn’t in the mood to apologize.

He’d been looking forward to coming home and shooting the shit with Aidan, not spending time with his brother’s ex, but it was clear that Claire wasn’t going anywhere. She was curled up on the couch with her knees tucked up, and either he was imagining it, or her socked feet were pressed up against the side of Aidan’s thigh.

Nope, not imagining it.

Didn’t they look cozy.

“Oh, that was nice of her, I guess,” Claire said. “Tell her I said thank you.”

“Will do.”

“Grab a beer and join us,” Aidan told him. “Your team is playing like garbage, but on the bright side, mine isn’t.”

“Yeah, because I’m
so
invested in your big, bad Bears.”

Rolling his eyes, Dylan strode to the kitchen. He returned a moment later with a cold bottle of Bud in his hand, but he didn’t sit on the same couch as Aidan and Claire. Rather, he flopped down on the second sofa, twisted off the bottle cap and took a long slug of beer.

“How are the boys?” Aidan asked.

“Same old. Seth and Miranda are having people over for dinner on Christmas Eve. They want us to come.” Dylan glanced over. “Do you know if you’re heading back to Chicago for the holidays?”

“I haven’t talked to my dad yet, but I’m guessing going home won’t pan out. He’s not big on the holidays.”

Since Aidan rarely spoke about his father, Dylan was damn tempted to push for more details, but he knew the other man would just clam up if he did. And with Claire sitting there, the chances of Aidan opening up were even slimmer.

Or so he thought.

“Are you and your dad close?” Claire spoke up.

Aidan shrugged. “More or less.”

“What about your mom?”

Dylan tensed. There was an unspoken rule in the condo when it came to Aidan’s mother—don’t talk about her. Ever.

And so it came as a genuine surprise when Aidan actually answered the question.

“She died when I was six.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Was she sick?”

“No. She…she got run down by a drunk driver when she was picking me up from school one day.” His voice thickened with pain. “She pushed me out of the car’s path but didn’t manage to get herself out of the way in time.”

Shock smashed into Dylan’s chest with the force of a jackhammer. Jesus Christ. This was the first he’d heard of it, and he had no idea how to respond.