Chasing Mrs. Right (2 page)

Chapter Two

As Roxanne led the way into the club, she couldn’t help glancing back at the man following her to make sure he was okay. He was so freaking tense she’d be surprised if his entire body didn’t hurt tomorrow morning. Muscles weren’t meant to be locked up like that. She should have let it go when he said he didn’t want to come back inside, but there was something about the haunted look in his inky black eyes that called to her. She couldn’t make herself walk away—or stop touching him.

Maybe it was the fact that she’d avoided male company for…a really long time. All that deprivation obviously made her susceptible to a beautiful man in need. Hell, him knocking her on her ass was the most action she’d seen in months. Even now, her skin tingled from the memory of his body cradling hers.

Loneliness hit her hard enough to take her breath away. A few hours wouldn’t hurt, would it? She’d just make sure he was okay, get a little recreational human interaction to go with her Band-Aids, and then go home. Everybody won.

They stopped in front of the elevator, and though she wouldn’t have believed it possible, he went ever tenser. Drawn by an impulse she couldn’t quite put her finger on, Roxanne stepped closer and slid her hand into his. “It’ll be okay. I promise.” What was she doing, making promises she had no way of following through on? Hadn’t her parents taught her better than that?

But apparently she’d done something right, because he smiled at her, the expression like a rainbow after a devastating thunderstorm. Damn. She abruptly decided she’d do a whole lot more than make promises to keep him smiling like that. Before she could make a fool of herself, the doors opened, and he followed her into the enclosed space, never once letting go of her hand.

As they slid past the country floor, Roxanne felt a pang of guilt. She’d promised she’d show up for her best friend’s big brother’s homecoming party, but it wasn’t like she knew the guy. But hanging out with a golden boy war hero and bunch of his friends didn’t sound like much fun after the day she’d had at work. She slanted a glance at the man standing next to her, clutching her hand as if it were a lifeline and doing what she recognized as breathing exercises.

Elle could do without her for one night.

The elevator doors opened, depositing them on the top floor. Roxanne could almost see the muscles in his shoulders relaxing as he stepped into the dim room. There were tables and a few couches scattered around the bar, each with their own lamp, taking up the central part of the room. Combined with the light music, it created a sense of intimacy and calm that couldn’t be found on any of the other floors.

She didn’t make a habit of hanging out on this floor on the rare occasions she actually came to Gabe’s bar—what was the point of going downtown if she wasn’t going to dance until her feet cried for mercy?—but it was definitely the right choice for this guy. She motioned at the room. “Couch or table? Your choice.”

He hesitated but finally led the way to a fainting couch in the corner. She didn’t miss that it was in the least populated corner of the room—or that it faced the exit. Before she could say anything, he guided her down and knelt in front of her to examine her leg. The feeling of his hands on her bare skin shorted out her ability to speak, the warmth of his fingers spreading way farther north than it had any right to from the innocent touch.

God, if she was reacting to this poor guy helping her out, it really had been too long since she’d been touched by a man—or anyone.

When he finally looked up, she was having a hard time drawing a full breath. Despite the fact that he knelt at a totally respectable distance from her, his presence dominated her awareness. Based on the sheer amount of muscle and the hard look of his face, she figured this guy had seen a thing or two—not all of it good—but he rotated her calf this way and that as if she were the most fragile thing in the world.

He took a deep breath as if steeling himself and said, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Before she could argue—and, really, what was she going to say?—he stood and strode to the bar. Roxanne didn’t make a habit of playing damsel in distress, but there was no defying the command he’d just given her. Even as she leaned back, she wondered what the hell she was thinking. Of course, the answer was that she
wasn’t
thinking. She’d taken one look at that too-pretty-to-be-real face and just…reacted. She could make excuses and chalk it up to loneliness, but the reasoning didn’t matter. Whatever this guy was running from, for a split second he’d needed her, and she’d responded to that need without making a conscious decision to do it.

“Here.”

She looked up in time to accept a shot glass filled with amber liquid. He set a small first-aid kit, two beers, and a second shot on the small table next to the couch, and knelt in front of her to touch her leg again. He looked…anxious. Almost as anxious as he’d been outside. But then, when he cupped her calf again, some of the wildness left his eyes and he seemed to relax a little.

Roxanne frowned. No way did she imagine the shift in his demeanor. Did touching her act as some kind of panic repellent? Feeling strangely hesitant, she reached out and set her hand on his shoulder, her thumb brushing his neck. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply the same way he’d done on the street when she touched his arm.

Interesting.

It was only then she noticed the cloth in his hand. “You know I was just kidding about playing doctor, right?”

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s barely a scratch. And I
do
know my way around a first-aid kit.”

He glanced at her, and there wasn’t an ounce of give in those eyes. “This is my fault. Take your shot and let me take care of you.”

His fault? Maybe, but she’d had worse done to her on accident during her Dark Days of Partying after she turned twenty-one, and not a single one of those guys had cared. Hell, she hadn’t really cared either. It wasn’t like he shoved her down on purpose, and she wasn’t all that good at letting other people take care of her—especially strangers who handled her as if she really mattered.

But she knew a losing battle when she saw one. Keeping one hand on his neck, Roxanne toasted him and downed her shot, trying not to hiss when he pressed the warm cloth to her leg. Okay, that hurt. A lot.

She reached for her beer next, the move bringing her face-to-face with this stranger. She froze, pinned in place by the heat in his gaze. Holy shit, where had that come from? One second, he looked ready to bolt, and now… She’d heard about those romance-novel looks—the ones the hero pulls out to turn the heroine’s knees to putty—but she’d never believed they existed. Considering the entire all-consuming-lust-that-turns-to-love-and-ends-happily-ever-after scene was bullshit, she figured the look was all part of the fiction.

She was so freaking wrong.

Then he blinked, turning down the heat enough to release her from his spell. She sat back, trying to convince herself that her hands weren’t really shaking. That she didn’t want him with a desire that wasn’t the least bit rational. But she did. God, she did. And it didn’t make any sense. Sure, he was by far the most handsome man she’d ever talked to, but Roxanne didn’t make a habit of being swept away by looks alone.

“Did I ruin your plans for tonight?” As he spoke, he carefully cleaned away the blood, revealing a small scrape. Damn, she was going to have to wear boots or tights until that thing healed.

Focus, Rox
. She sipped her beer, striving to sound unaffected even though she felt nothing of the sort. It was kind of difficult to play hard-to-get when running her fingers along his hairline at the top of his neck. But if her touch actually soothed him, she had no intention of leaving him hanging.

Not to mention she was enjoying touching him entirely too much to be safe.

“Nothing too important.” After all, she didn’t really have any connection with Elle’s brother. She was just there for her best friend. Speaking of… “Just a second.” Roxanne pulled out her phone and typed in a quick text to Elle.

Something came up, so I can’t make it. Coffee tomorrow to make it up to you?

Her phone buzzed almost immediately.
You aren’t missing much. It’s a train wreck. We’ll talk more in the morning.

Maybe it was good thing she skipped it, after all. She dropped her phone into her purse and dredged up a smile. “So, Charming, what’s a guy like you doing in a place like Spokane?”

“Charming, huh?” He smiled a little, but those shadows slid through his eyes, hinting that he had a whole lot more going on than just a pretty face. “I’m military.”

Ah, that explained the crazy tension thing he had going on. Despite the fact that she probably couldn’t throw a rock in Spokane without hitting someone associated with the Air Force base just outside of town, she didn’t make a habit of associating with men in uniform. They tended to have issues, and she had enough issues for multiple people.

Even now, there was a little voice inside her—one that sounded terrifyingly like her mother—that whispered for her to run away from this man. She’d never thrown caution to the wind before when it came to a stranger, even one who looked like Adonis, but despite the shadows in his eyes and the demons he was obviously fighting, Roxanne could almost
see
the sexual tension straining between them. He was staring at her like he wanted to eat her whole, and she was more than okay with that plan.

He ran his thumb parallel to the scrape, that small contact sending sparks shooting through her entire body. Who knew the calf was such an erogenous zone? She cleared her throat. “You didn’t take your shot.”

Without missing a beat, he downed the shot and then sat next to her, close enough that his thigh pressed against hers and he had to prop his arm on the back of the couch behind her. The added contact of his bare arm against her back did wonders for her dancing hormones. If she wasn’t careful, she could get addicted to how touching this man made her feel.

A frisson of fear spiked through her. When was the last time someone had affected her on the same level as this guy? Who’d made her entire body heat with just a look?

She couldn’t remember.

Run
, her mother’s voice whispered, more insistent this time. She knew what happened when people let their emotions get away from them—she’d seen the wreckage every day while she was growing up. Her mother had always claimed the reason things with her father went so far south was that they’d loved each other too much to begin with. No one could hold up that kind of love indefinitely, and there was no stopping it from souring, from turning into something a whole lot closer to hate.

Yeah, she’d seen what came from caring for someone too much. Roxanne had no desire to experience the kind of pain that came with loving someone.

She pushed her worries away. It didn’t matter if he seemed to affect her on a foundational level—he was a stranger. She’d never see him again after tonight. With that knowledge freeing up the last of her restraint, she leaned into him and laid her hand on his thigh, just high enough that his entire body went still. Pretending she didn’t notice, she said, “So, what do you do for fun?”

“Fun?”

“Yeah, you know. That thing you do when you’re not working. Gardening, Zumba, underwater basket weaving, you name it. Everyone has something.”

“I haven’t really had a lot of time for hobbies.” When she just stared, more than willing to wait him out, he sighed. “I spend a lot of time in the gym.”

Yeah, she could tell. There didn’t seem to be a soft spot on his body, though she was tempted to do a more thorough examination just to satisfy her curiosity. “Do you wear spandex, grunt a lot, and slap other guys’ asses while you mutter encouragement?”

“Actually, I usually just run until my thoughts stop circling.”

There it was again, that hint of something darker. “Is that the only thing that helps?”

“I’ve been told that I should try meditating, but all that time sitting still and being alone with my thoughts…” He shook his head. “I like to sweat out my stress. And this helps.” He motioned between them.

Whoa
. So she hadn’t been imagining the way he seemed to relax the more he touched her. Caution warned her to keep things light and flirty. “I bet you say that to all the pretty girls.”

“Only you.”

His low voice, paired with the smoldering way he was looking at her, damn near had Roxanne fanning herself. She scrambled for something to say that didn’t involve “sex” and “now.” What were they talking about? Oh, right. Exercise. “I get it—the whole sweating it out thing. I do yoga. Concentrating on breathing, and perfecting and holding the poses, actually takes a lot more effort than you’d think. It’s my happy place.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard it’s great for that. I’m not exactly a yoga guy though.”

“What? You mean you don’t want to work on your flexibility? I’m so disappointed.”

His grin was quick and wicked. “The advantage to being the guy is that I don’t have to be as flexible as my partner does.”

The image his words brought appeared in her mind, of her heels propped on his shoulders as he bent her in half, leaving her open and helpless. She wanted that. She wanted that badly.

Roxanne took a long drink, maintaining eye contact as she did. Then she leaned across his body to set her beer on the opposite table, letting her breasts press against his chest. It was a rookie move, but his breath caught in the same way hers did at the contact. She slid back into place slowly, prolonging the touch. “Good thing I’m flexible then.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth, and for a long moment, she thought he might make a move. Though part of her really wanted him to lean in and kiss her until she couldn’t think straight, there was another, more intelligent part of her that wanted to know more about him first. “You ever think about just taking off? You know, settle down on some deserted beach somewhere where there aren’t a ton of people?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Every damn day.”

She understood, at least on some level. One of the things she’d always done when the fighting between her mother and the current love of her mother’s life got too intense was put her headphones on and plan out all the vacations she’d take—ones she would never come back from. If this guy had difficulty dealing with city life—or whatever passed as it in Spokane—she could see why he’d want to get away. “I’m not going to say I totally understand, since I have no idea what your thought process is, but in your place I’d have considered a nice little beachside property in Mexico.”