Going All In (7 page)

His thumb joined his finger and slowly slipped the button free. “In my fantasy, you’re wearing those high boots, a short skirt—minus the tights—and a low-cut blouse that comes down to here.” His finger slipped down the center of her breasts until he met with the resistance of another button.

Her mouth parted farther, showing him her perfect white teeth and a tiny glimpse of her pink tongue. His mouth watered and his lips actually tingled as he stared at her mouth and imagined kissing the ever-loving shit out of her. As if reading his mind, she drew her lower lip in between her teeth and chewed nervously. Christ, it required every ounce of self-control he possessed to not take over the job for her.

However, his focus became diluted when she dropped her hand to his thigh and wrapped her fingers around the excess fabric of his relaxed-fit jeans and twisted. A moan pressed against the back of his throat, making it difficult to breathe as she twisted a little more and pulled the coarse fabric tight against his rapidly expanding cock.

Warning. Warning. Warning.

He needed to heed the screams of his mind and get the hell away from Callie as fast as possible. But with her holding his jeans captive, he was locked into place and incapable of breaking free.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her friends—the same ones who hadn’t paid her any attention when she felt threatened by Slimeball—watching her now with great interest. He had no idea how long he’d been sitting there or if the slug was still watching, but the truth was none of that mattered. Despite his internal warning system, he wasn’t ready to leave her yet.

She had a great seat in the front and probably wouldn’t want to go back to the bar to hang out with him and the boys, but he didn’t want to bail on the guys—

His randy side cut to the chase. He and Callie could get the hell out of here altogether and go back to his house… which circled him right back around to her being a good girl and Kevin ripping off his nuts. He twisted his head to work out the uncomfortable kink the image created and tried to come to grips with leaving her and going back to his seat at the bar. Alone.

“Um, Cal… you going to introduce us to your
friend?
” The blonde’s nasally tone and emphasis on
friend
made Wade’s skin crawl.

Callie didn’t break eye contact with him right away, but the burning desire in her eyes dissipated into regret and something that looked a lot like despair. He’d seen this look before. It was similar to the expression Miranda wore at the beginning of their relationship when she was forced to introduce Wade to her friends.

All of his old resentments toward Miranda and every one of her ilk burst to the surface. As his demons reared their ugly heads to point out he was a fool for thinking she wouldn’t be embarrassed about mixing it up with a blue-collar laborer, he leaned back in his chair and gave her room to negotiate away from him. But thank all the saints in heaven above, she didn’t let go of his leg and she didn’t move away. Instead, she scooted a little closer to the edge of her chair—and him—as she turned her head to look at her friends.

“This is Wade. We work together.”

The friend closest to her smiled politely and gave a little wave. The one on the end, the one who asked to be introduced, stiffened like someone had poked her in the ass with a cattle prod. Damn if he didn’t wish he could do it for real.

At least part of his dilemma was settled. Sitting here with Callie and her friends was out of the question. Leaning forward and settling his elbows onto his knees to keep the conversation private, he said, “Our seats aren’t all that great, but you’re welcome to join us in the bar.” He smiled and notched his eyebrow playfully. “It’ll make it easier for me to keep you safe. At least from that other guy. I can’t make any promises about you being safe from me.”

He kind of hoped the half-joke would scare her off, and when she dipped her head, bashfully reiterating she was as inexperienced as he suspected, he had a heart-dropping moment where he thought his non-wish would come true. But then, to his surprise, she grabbed her purse with one hand, his hand with the other, and said, “I’m going to sit with Wade. I’ll catch up with y’all later.”

*

Callie knew there’d be hell to pay for leaving their exclusive, front-row table in favor of hanging out with the common folk in the back bar, but she didn’t care. Normally one to avoid conflict at all costs, she found herself hoping for an argument with Jen, one that might be the impetus Callie needed to finally set some boundaries.

Her heart pounded in rhythm with her feet as Wade dragged her along behind him through the crowded club. Getting through a crowd this size normally required a thousand “excuse me’s” and even more jostling, but not with Wade leading the way. A simple “’Scuse me” did the trick, and most of the time, he didn’t even need to say that. He just moved in the direction he wanted to go and the crowd parted.

She put her free hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. Apparently, the old saying was true… Size did matter.

He didn’t slow his pace until he reached a group of four men, two seated, two leaning against the bar, all watching with more than mild curiosity. As they approached, Wade nodded to the one with dark hair and piercing blue eyes seated closest to them. The guy rolled his eyes, grabbed his beer, then shifted his weight to the side and rolled off the stool.

She assumed Wade asked him to move so she could have the seat but was unprepared for the sudden lift onto the newly vacated seat. “There ya go, princess.”

She squeaked, then stiffened and sucked in a breath at his use of the moniker.

He released her so fast he practically dropped her, then took a long step back. He tilted his head to the side and studied her from the corner of his eye. His gaze dropped to the pounding pulse in her neck, then down to her heaving chest—neither of which were because she’d jogged across the club behind Wade, but because being this close to him had the same oxygen-starving, heart-racing effect on her.

He moved back in a half-step closer. “I didn’t scare you.” When she confirmed the observation with a nod, he said, “Then you must not like being called princess.”

“No.” She glanced away. “My dad used to call me that.”

He blinked a couple of times, trying to connect the dots, then his eyes widened as the picture came into focus. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” A slow, easy smile crawled across his full lips as he brushed her hair off her shoulder. “That’s a shame, because you remind me of that princess in England. You could be the Princess of Pawleys Island.”

“That’ll be tough since I’ve never been to Pawleys Island.”

His mouth dropped open and his eyes narrowed. “Seriously?” When she did a what-can-I-say palms up, he shook his head with further disbelief. “It’s like thirty miles down the road. How could you never go there?”

“I guess I’ve never had a need.” She bit her lip and tried to hide her smile and said, “I have been to England, though.”

He tossed his head back with laughter. “Of course you have. Okay, we’ll add a trip to Pawleys to your new bucket list.” Something shifted in his eyes as he held her gaze, and she wondered what was so special about Pawleys Island. Clearing his throat and his eyes, he said, “Whatcha drinking?”

She’d already had two margaritas and didn’t need anything else, but she was nervous as all get out and needed something to settle her down. “A margarita.”

After flagging down the bartender and placing her order, he shifted to the side so she could see his friends as he made introductions. Starting with the guy closest to him, the one who’d given up his seat for her, Wade said, “This is Tyler, a royal pain in my ass that I only keep around because the statute of limitations hasn’t expired on a few things, and I can’t afford to cut him loose.”

She recalled their lunchtime conversation about Tyler as she smiled and shook his hand. The affection shining in Wade’s eyes proved how much he cared for his friend, but Tyler, who was shorter and thinner than Wade, didn’t have much of a light in his eyes. A smile rested on his mouth, but his blue orbs were dull and lifeless, revealing the deep-seated pain Wade had spoken of.

Tyler’s brother, Alex, was next. He was shorter and stockier than Tyler, but the two looked so much alike she wondered if they were twins. Next came Matt and Garret, and given their barely contained laughter, she figured Wade was in for as much grief as her. His, however, would probably be good-natured ribbing, not condescending ripping.

After taking her drink from the bartender and nodding to have it added to his tab, Wade said, “We all grew up together and have been friends forever. Despite the horrendous hangovers I have to deal with, I love having them come to visit.”

More verbal jabs were exchanged, making it obvious how close the guys were. She was about to ask him how he ended up in Myrtle Beach on his own, but the opening band took the stage and conversation became impossible. She made a mental note to ask him about it later, grabbed her drink, and settled in for the show.

Two and a half hours later, Callie’s body was a humming, tingling, vibrating mess. The residual echoes from the electric guitars rang in her ears, but the pulsing beat thrumming through her central nervous system had nothing to do with the drums and everything to do with Wade.

He’d dialed back on the earlier hammer-down flirtations, but several times she’d noticed him sliding the ends of her hair through his fingers or smiling at her more intimately than was usual for casual co-workers. His smell, smile, and eyes were dangerous. Throw in the killer body she’d been pressed against all evening, and she didn’t stand a chance against his magnetic pull.

When Jen and Tiffany stood and grabbed their coats, indicating they were ready to leave, he brushed her hair away from her ear and leaned in close to be heard over the noise of the electrified crowd. “Are you riding with them, or do you want me to take you home?”

He didn’t act like a guy trying to get into a girl’s apartment and ultimately into her pants, but she still shivered as his warm breath caressed the side of her neck. Her hormones and imagination joined forces to create a host of enticing images, heartily encouraging her to accept his offer. But it was silly for him to make the trip when Raul had to go to her condo building anyway to drop off Tiffany.

When Tiffany held up Callie’s coat, silently asking the same question, she sighed regretfully and held up a finger. Returning her attention to Wade, she said, “Thanks for the offer, but I need to ride with them. I’ve had a great time tonight. Much better than I expected thanks to you.”

He smiled and muttered, “Yeah, funny thing about those expectations.”

It wasn’t unusual to run into him at the office or on one of the job sites, but it also wasn’t a daily occurrence. Careful not to sound too desperate or clingy, she lightly asked, “Will I see you at work tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure. Hopefully I’ll be at The Chesapeake tomorrow, finishing up so I can get ready to move on to Anticue.”

Like Pavlov’s dogs experiencing a conditioned response, her breath caught in her throat and she froze. “Anticue?”

“Yeah, I’m getting ready to start a bed and breakfast renovation up there.”

She knew the property and clients well, but hearing that Wade would be working on the project, rather than Kevin, caught her off guard. She took a moment to run a quick mental and emotional scan to assess how she felt about that and was thrilled to realize she didn’t have any feelings one way or the other.

It had taken her a long time to come to grips with the fact that Gavin wasn’t ever going to see her as anything more than a surrogate sister, and she rejoiced in the knowledge that she had finally reached the point of full acceptance.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around.” She slipped her purse over her shoulder and prepared to hop off the barstool, but Wade stepped in front of her and blocked her escape.

“I don’t know what these guys have planned over the next couple of nights, but I promised you a campfire, and I haven’t forgotten.”

The gold-and-yellow flecks in his brown eyes were hypnotizing, and his scent wrapped around her like a comforting pair of arms, drawing her closer to him. But she refused to let him see how strongly he affected her. Again.

She’d done enough of that earlier in the evening when he reduced her to a quivering mess with a simple brush of his finger. And when he looked at her like she was the most enticing woman in the world and slipped the button of her blouse loose, she’d nearly begged him to strip her bare just to save her from a heat stroke.

But as Jen always pointed out, Callie was a prude.

And he was a playboy.

And that was a no-win proposition for her.

Before she could continue her internal debate on why all of that mattered, he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, pressed his soft lips to hers, and kissed her so tenderly it knocked the breath out of her. When he drew back and put a few scant inches between them, she stared into his eyes, searching for a clue as to what the kiss meant.

He seemed equally confused by his actions but recovered quicker than her. Flashing her a wolfish, egotistical smile, he said, “Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”