Touch Me (23 page)

Road, speed, a machine under his command.

Complete control.

It was the gas gauge that ended his good time

Hell, no, he wasn’t going to finish on a sputter. So he spun the car around to retrace his route, pushing it a little more. Turning back onto quiet residential streets, he edged off the accelerator, but couldn’t resist keeping it a traffic-ticket levels.

His adrenaline had kicked in twenty miles ago, with the wind whipping through the open window, the day smelling like sunshine, the pungent scent of sage scrub and chaparral, and tires on blacktop. He wasn’t ready to give up his drug.

As he approached the dead-end street where the gym friend lived, Payne goosed the gas. Then, from nowhere, a figure stepped into the street, distracting him.

For a moment, the car wobbled and, heart in his throat—he overcorrected. The 34’s ass shimmied and he fought for control, finally coming to a sliding stop, half a foot from damn-her-hide Rose Dailey.

He jumped out, sweaty and a little sick. “What the hell were you doing stepping into the street?”

“Looking for you. Why are you driving?”

His stomach was still rocky and he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “I could have killed you.”

“Why are you driving? You can be such an idiot.” She looked more than a little pissed-off.

He was the one who was pissed-off! She’d said she loved him and now that wasn’t staying where he’d stuffed it, in its safe little compartment. One look at her and he remembered everything about the moment. Her trusting weight against him, the smell of his shampoo in her hair, the curve of her ass against his softening cock.

If he was really going to die, that would be the moment he picked.

Well, the one right before she said that goddamn phrase. His fingers tightened on her. “You’ve got to take it back.”

“No.” Her eyes narrowed. “You
are
an idiot. You’re not cleared to drive.”

“Not that. You’ve got to take back the loving me.”

She went still and her eyes turned watchful. “Why?”

Because it wasn’t going to stay safely in the damn compartment! “Because you can’t. You don’t know who I am.”

“Of course—”

“Where I came from.”

“Yes, I do.”

“What I wanted to do to you that night.”

Her mouth opened, closed.

Yeah, now they were getting to it. Something he’d never wanted her to know, but now it was the only thing that was going to save her from himself.

“I was an eyelash away from fucking you that night at the Velvet Lemons compound.”

She jerked in his hold.

“That’s right, my girlfriend’s little sister.” He let that sink in. “I hadn’t fucked the girlfriend, but I was all ready to do the girlfriend’s fifteen-year-old little sister.”

“I was a week away from my sixteenth birthday.”

“You were jail bait nonetheless, and yet I wanted you so bad…” Dropping his hands, he turned away from her. “That’s when I knew how corrupt I was.”

“Payne—”

He turned back. “You showed that to me with that one sloppy, awkward kiss.”

Her face went red.

“I had plenty of opportunities 24/7 to get off at the compound. Since I was like twelve.”

She blew out a breath. “I know that.”

“And that night there was a big party and I could have had sex with women with enough expertise to tie my dick in a knot like other women tie the stem of a maraschino cherry.”

“Lovely,” Rose said, frowning.

He ignored her. “But I was totally ready to take you back to my room after that one kiss. Seduce you. On the way I would have scrounged up some disgustingly sweet wine cooler or made you a big glass of lemon drop martini, all the better to get you buzzed. Then I would have laid you down on my sheets and stolen your virginity.”

“But Payne…” She lifted her arms, let them drop. “You
didn’t
do any of those things.”

“Yeah. And not touching you that night was the one noble thing I’ve ever done, Rose.” He had to make her see. “On the heels of that one noble thing, I vowed never to give a woman the wrong idea about me and what I can offer to her. So I drag out the Lily excuse if I have to or I date women like the Berrys who want nothing more than a good time.”

“Those women have fake boobs,” Rose said, scowling.

“And shallow hearts, just like mine, where love won’t take root. That’s why we get along so well.”

She drew in a long breath. “Payne…”

“Please, Rose.” He ran his palms down her arms and then linked their fingers. “You have to take it back or else I never truly did that noble thing.”

Her big gray eyes widened.

“Please.” He squeezed her fingers. “You’re too nice to take that away from me, Rose.”

A long moment passed, then she yanked her hands from his. “Fine then,” she said, with a decided flounce and a fierce scowl. “I don’t care a whit for you. But I’m not taking back the idiot part.”

Since he often thought that himself, he decided he was satisfied.

Chapter Thirteen

“Males make me furious,” Rose said to the one in her arms. Then she bussed her nephew’s tiny nose. “Present company excepted, of course.” She shifted her weight on her feet, rocking the baby who’d been fussy since his parents left for an afternoon out.

Marcus stared at her, then his mouth quivered again.

“No, sweetheart, none of that,” Rose crooned. Lily had left a bottle, but she didn’t think it was hunger that made the little boy unhappy. An upset stomach, she suspected, since he’d spit up on her not ten minutes ago. Though he’d mostly hit the towel she’d thrown over her shoulder, she suspected the back of her shirt wasn’t entirely clean. “Shall Auntie change?”

But he wailed when she tried putting him down, so she shrugged and gathered him close again. “Okay, okay. Don’t worry. Auntie’s going to make it all better.”

But who was going to make it better for
her
? Or
what
would make it better? So far, she’d been stoking her ire at Payne as a way to assuage her humiliation.
You’ve got to take back the loving me.

Why had she blurted that she loved him in the first place?

Because she’d seen through all his moves in the shower. At first he’d treated her like fragile glass, washing her with such care, until he’d caught himself. Then he’d transformed, thinking his raw sexuality would somehow warn her off.

As if. She’d loved it.

So she’d admitted she loved him.

The words had slipped out and his instant rejection of them—the way he’d gone stiff and silent—had made clear they weren’t welcome.

The next day—
You’ve got to take back the loving me
—he’d made absolutely certain there was no confusion. Standing on the asphalt, he’d been so serious, so intense. Talking about shallow hearts, where love couldn’t take root.

Talking about those
triplets
.

She frowned. Maybe she didn’t love him after all.

And maybe she should never have come to L.A. looking for adventure.

The doorbell rang, startling Marcus, his little body jerking and his face turning red before belting out some fearsome complaints. Rose changed her hold, dancing a little as she tried comforting him. Whoever was at the door could go away. She and her nephew didn’t need company. The delivery guy could leave the package at the door.

The bell rang again. Marcus keened.

Fine. Rubbing the baby’s back, Rose stomped toward the door. “This better be important,” she told her nephew.

Throwing open the door, her line of vision was taken up by a huge floral arrangement made up of at least three dozen roses in every color. Her heartbeat tripped.
Payne?

Then the bouquet lowered and she stared, even more astonished. “Blake?”

“Hi, Rose.”

It was her ex. There was no mistaking the man’s tailored suit, striped tie, meticulous haircut, and polished shoes. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought you flowers.” He shoved them toward her, but with her hands full of baby, she could only step back.

So he stepped in, looking about. The small foyer opened to the living room and she gestured toward the coffee table with her chin. “You can set them down there.”

Once he did so, Blake turned, and slid his hands into his pockets. “Well, Rose.” His gaze roamed over her, then his eyes narrowed. “What are you wearing?”

What was she wearing? Glancing down, she understood his surprise. Her suitcases were still unopened and she continued to dress herself in Lily-wear. Today it was a pair of white jean shorts that had been tie-dyed in bright pink, blue, and green. She’d topped it with a matching green tee and wore a pair of Lily’s gladiator sandals—white leather with ties that criss-crossed all the way from her ankles to her knees—just because they were kind of funky and she’d wanted to try them out.

They also exposed her brightly painted toenails.

In Seattle, she’d always selected muted polish to go with her muted, accountant personality.

Instead of explaining all that, she shrugged. “It’s warm here,” was all she offered.

Blake’s gaze moved to the little boy who was snuffling against her shoulder. “That’s the baby?”

“Yes.” She half-turned to show off the infant’s face. “Meet Marcus.”

Blake seemed less than impressed, but he pulled out his phone and snapped off a couple of photos. “Your father instructed me to text him new pictures.”

“Oh.” Rose didn’t know what to make of that. “You came all the way here for photos of my dad’s grandson?”

“Of course not.” He laughed, but it sounded tense. “I came to apologize.”

Her eyes widened. When she’d walked out a few months before, he’d not expressed any remorse whatsoever. “Oh,” she said again.

“And I came to get you back.”

“
Oh.
” Shock made her retreat a step. “Um…”

“Can we sit down?” He glanced around.

“You can, but Marcus is feeling fussy, so I’d better stay on my feet.”

“I’ll stand too, then,” he said, shrugging.

It reminded her that Blake wasn’t a complete jerk. And it made her feel a tiny bit better about herself, because she’d begun to wonder about her judgment. The men she picked, the move to L.A. Then she noticed her ex was staring. “Have I grown another head?”

He smiled a little. “It’s just…you don’t look like yourself. The different clothes. Your hair’s longer and kind of messy. And what’s that smell?”

She had to laugh. “My new perfume. Eau de Baby Barf.”

He chuckled. “I’d forgotten your sense of humor.”

Enough of the chit chat, Rose decided. “I’m still confused about your sudden appearance.”
Get me back?

“Your dad said you’re returning to accounting.”

“I am. I’m going to do the books for an auto salvage yard.”

“You should rejoin the firm instead. Return to Seattle and move back into our condo.” He hurried on, as if he didn’t want to give her a chance to refuse. “I’m not with…her any longer. That was stupid. I was feeling…pegged, I guess. Like our future was lining up too neatly and I needed to try something else. You know, make sure or—” He ran his hand through his hair. “I really can’t explain it, Rose. I just know it was wrong of me to do that to you.”

Rose sucked in a breath. It
was
wrong of him to treat her that way, but some of what he’d been feeling wasn’t unfamiliar to her. That life, their life together, had been suffocating her and when she’d come to L.A., she’d wanted to break rules too. “Blake—”

“I liked how we were. It made sense. I want that back.”

Except there was no passion between the two of them, which made for a comfortable, yet tepid bed. Tepid life. How to make him understand? “I changed my own oil.”

He blinked. “Why would you want to?”

“Because I didn’t know how to before. Because it’s something new. Because I enjoyed being challenged.” Payne had said she wouldn’t like getting her hands dirty, but she had. At the salvage yard. In a garden. “It was real.”

“Um…” He glanced to the side, glanced back at her. “Is this a test? I take my Lexus to the dealer, but…”

She smiled at him. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that I came here wanting new experiences as well. I don’t want to return to the old rut in Seattle. You must have felt that too, the rut, or else you wouldn’t have cheated.”

Wincing, Blake stared down at his shoes. “I don’t know what to do. I feel like a worm.”

“You were a worm.” Hey, it had to be said. “But you can get something out of the experience besides the curses I brought down on your head.” She smiled a little to let him know she was—kind of—kidding.

“But I want to go back—”

“No, you really don’t.”

He tilted his head toward the ceiling. “Then what? I feel stuck in this misery too.”

“Go forward. Make some more messes—just not at the sake of someone else’s heart. Instead date someone new, or change jobs, or take up fly fishing like you always talked about. Court a bit of disaster.”

His expression turned dubious. “Am I going to be grateful to you for this advice later?”

“Not me.” But Payne Colson, maybe, because thanks to him she was her own glorious mess and she’d vowed not to regret it for a second. Blake’s visit was a good reminder of that.

Still, once her ex left, with a last, uncertain backward glance, she didn’t feel that much happier. To distract herself, she decided to load up the diaper bag, put baby Marcus into the car seat in her sister’s Honda, and make a trip to the salvage yard.

It looked so much better than it had, she decided, as she drove up and pulled around back. Even the long grasses popping from the furrows in the asphalt had been mostly eradicated. As she strolled toward the office building, she detoured to Jeb, who was poking at a few strays with a weeding tool.

“How’s it going?” she asked, smiling at him. She enjoyed her interaction with the twins.

“Okay.” He smiled at her, then bent to give attention to the baby in the carrier, making a funny, exaggerated face. Marcus responded by kicking his feet and waving one wild fist. “No Payne?”

The turn of phrase punched her heart a little. “No Payne. His brother commandeered him for tux shopping today.”