MacNamarasLady (16 page)

Totally miserable, she rubbed her hand over
the plush throw blanket that covered her legs. “It’s too late, anyway. I told him
it was over.” She shredded the tissue in her hand as a deep well of loneliness
and nothingness opened in front of her. All her well-laid plans were in ruins.
None of them mattered anymore. Not without T.S.

“It’s never too late.” Candy was an
optimist and while Missy loved that about her friend, she herself was more of a
realist.

“You didn’t see him or hear him. He was so
cold, so withdrawn.”

“I know what you’re going through.”

Missy frowned. “No you don’t.”

“Yes,” Candy countered. “I do. You have to
promise me you’ll never repeat a word of what I’m about to tell you. Ever.”

The seriousness in her friend’s tone had
Missy sitting up straighter. “I promise.” Candy was her one true friend and
she’d never betray that.

“I found out that Lucas had been in prison
when he was a teenager. I reacted without thinking and almost threw away the
best thing that ever happened to me.”

Missy’s head was whirling with disbelief.
“Lucas?” The man was tough as nails, but he owned a coffee shop. Heck, he made
the best brownies on the planet. And he’d been in prison?

Candy nodded. She straightened the hem of
her sweater. “He assaulted a man. Almost killed him.”

“God have mercy.” Missy fell back against
the cushions, hardly able to believe what she was hearing. “Who?”

“It doesn’t matter. What does matter is
that Lucas made a mistake and he paid dearly for it. He turned his life around
and made himself into the man he is today.” Tears pooled in the corners of
Candy’s eyes. “He’s strong and loyal and I love him so much. I can’t imagine my
life without him.”

Missy handed Candy a tissue as the dots
suddenly connected in her sluggish brain. “That’s where T.S. and Lucas met,
isn’t it? In prison?”

Candy nodded and used the tissue to dab
beneath her eyes, careful not to smear her mascara. “They were both young and
had no priors, so they eventually got kitchen duty together.”

“Why was T.S. in prison?” Missy had a deep
need to know.

Candy shook her head. “I don’t know. Lucas
never told me. But even if I did know I wouldn’t say. That’s his story to tell.
You need to ask him.” She glanced at her watch. “If you’re okay, I need to get
home.”

“Sure.” Candy had certainly given her a lot
to think about. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this.” Missy had put her
friend in the middle of things. T.S. was her husband’s best friend.

“Don’t worry about it.” Candy leaned down
and gave her a hug. “Everything will work out.”

Missy wished she had her friend’s optimism.
Deep down she didn’t believe in happily ever after, at least not in her own
life. After she saw Candy out, she dragged herself into bed and curled up
beneath the covers. She felt cold without T.S.’ large body curved around hers.
In such a short time she’d grown accustomed to having him there.

“What have I done?” Tears rolled down her
face and seeped into her pillow.

* * * * *

“Women. Who needs ’em?” T.S. lifted the
bottle in mock salute and then took a swig of beer. It was only his second but,
in spite of his determination to get drunk, he found himself counting. He
couldn’t help himself. He never got drunk. Never let his life get out of his
control.

Control, what a joke
. His life had blown up around him, thanks to one tall, sexy lady.
Don’t
think about her
, he told himself. She’d been quick enough to toss him away
when she found out something about him she didn’t like.

It wasn’t like she was perfect. The woman
definitely had issues of her own.
But she doesn’t have a criminal
background,
the logical little voice in the back of his head countered.

Lucas kicked back on the sofa and crossed
his booted ankles. “Unfortunately, my friend,
we
do.”

He shook his head. “You might need ’em, but
I sure as hell don’t.” Okay, so now he wasn’t lying just to himself but to his
best friend. This was turning out to be one of the shittiest days on record in
a long time.

“You keep telling yourself that.” Lucas
rested his beer bottle against his jean-clad leg, his fingers dangling it.
“Candy’s over at Missy’s. She called all upset.”

Perverse as it was, T.S. was glad Missy was
upset. It proved she felt something about him. On the other hand, he hated the
idea of her being upset about anything. Shit, he sounded like a girl. Next
thing he’d be needing to get in touch with his feelings or some crap like that.

He shrugged. “What Missy does is no longer
my problem.” That was something he was going to have to get used to. She was
out of his life. Gone. What was between them was done.

The thought of not waking up next to her in
the morning, of having her naked body snuggled next to his, having her beneath
him hot and moist and begging him to take her— He shut off that line of
thinking as every muscle in his body tensed and his cock swelled behind the
zipper of his jeans. He could feel the sweat on his brow and absently swiped at
it with the back of his hand.

The front door opened and closed as Candy
walked in. Lucas was on his feet immediately. “Hey, sugar.”

T.S. looked on as Lucas met his wife at the
door with a kiss. Candy was so much smaller than her husband, but there was no
hesitation as she went up on her toes to return his embrace. There was such
trust, such love between them that a pang of envy touched his heart.

Put it away
,
he ordered himself. That wasn’t for him. Lucas had gotten lucky. Candy was one
in a million.
So was Missy
, that nagging voice in the back of his head
protested. She might be one in a million, but she obviously wasn’t his one.

He started to stand, but Candy waved him
back to his seat. “Don’t rush off on my account. Sit. Stay for a while.” She
took off her coat and hung it by the door. Her boots came next. Lucas took her
hand and led her to the sofa, pulling her down beside him.

He lowered his butt back down on the chair,
watching Candy like a man might watch a lit stick of dynamite. He hoped like
hell she wasn’t going to start on him about Missy. The women were best friends
after all. If there was something he understood it was loyalty and friendship.

“How are you?” Her softly asked question
made his chest ache.

He shrugged. “I’m okay. It’s no big deal.”
He toyed with the bottle in his hand, eventually putting it on the table in
front of him.

“Give her some time.” He wished she’d stop
talking about it but Candy was just getting warmed up. “Missy was really hurt
by this. It hit her hard.”

A fresh spurt of anger surged through T.S.
“And you think I wasn’t? She came out of nowhere with this, threw it at me and
then left.” That’s what hurt the most. After everything they’d been through
together, she hadn’t even asked for his side of the story.

Candy nibbled on her bottom lip, concern
filling her face. Great, now he felt even worse. It was a wonder Lucas hadn’t
popped him one for upsetting his wife. “I gotta go.” He pushed to his feet.

Candy bounded off the sofa, took a step
toward him and threw her arms around him. He held his arms out by his side, not
quite sure what to do. He shot Lucas a pleading glance but the ass just sat
there and grinned.

“Ah, thanks.” T.S. awkwardly grasped Candy
by the shoulders and gently moved her away from him.

But she wasn’t going to let him escape that
easily. She grabbed his hand and held on. “Don’t leave. Not yet. Did you have
dinner?”

He didn’t want dinner. Wasn’t the least bit
hungry. He wanted to go home and wallow in his anger and hurt. He wanted to go
back in time and do things differently. He should have stayed away from Missy.
He’d known she’d be nothing but trouble. And he’d been right. They could write
that on his damn tombstone when he died: He was right. Too bad he hadn’t
listened to himself. Would have saved him a world of hurt.

Of course, he’d never have known the
sublime pleasure of sex with Missy either. The way her eyes darkened when she
was aroused. The soft little sounds she made when she was getting close to
coming. How her nails dug into his ass when he fucked her hard and fast.

Shit
. He had
to stop thinking about her. He was getting a hard-on while he was in mixed
company. Not good.

“I really should go.” Home to his empty
apartment. To the silence broken only by the sound of the television. Not that
he’d ever been lonely before. But then he’d never had anything to miss.

He could always get out his little black
book and call a female friend or hit a bar and find a willing woman. His
erection promptly died. Well, shit. Seemed his little buddy didn’t want any
woman but Missy. And wasn’t that a kick in the pants.

He was well and truly screwed. Missy meant
more to him than he wanted to admit. Somehow she’d gotten beneath his barriers
and made him start to believe in miracles. He knew better.

Candy turned her pleading brown eyes on him
and he knew he was sunk. “Stay.” She didn’t wait for a reply but tugged him
toward the kitchen. “Lucas made the best chocolate cake in the world yesterday
and there’s still some left. It won’t take me long to make some coffee to go
with it.”

Almost two hours later, T.S. unlocked his
front door and let himself into his home. The low hum of the refrigerator was
the only sound to break up the quiet. He closed the door and locked it.

Missy hadn’t been here often, maybe three
or four times. He much preferred to go to her place. It felt more like a home. His
apartment was just a place to sleep and eat and watch television.

He kicked off his boots and hung up his
jacket, staring at the barren walls. He’d lived here for years but hadn’t
bothered to do much beyond move in furniture, his books and music. Oh, the
place was a showpiece in terms of architecture and finishes. He had granite
countertops in the kitchen and stainless steel appliances.

But none of that mattered.

The apartment was empty. Just like him.

“Shit.” He dragged his fingers through his
hair in frustration and tried not to think about Missy. He didn’t want to know
how she was doing or what she was doing. “Liar,” he muttered.

The phone rang and his heart began to race.
Maybe it was Missy. And maybe he’d won the damn lottery. He didn’t think so. Common
sense prevailed and reminded him it was probably his mother. He was supposed to
have called her tonight.

He could have let the machine get it but
that would be too cowardly. He plucked up the receiver. “Hi.”

“Theo, how are you?” His mother’s warm voice
washed over him. No matter what else he could say about his crappy life, his
mother had always been there for him, always done her best.

“I’m okay. Sorry I didn’t call earlier. I
was out. Just got in.” He turned the conversation around to her. “How are things
with you?”

He listened with half an ear as she chatted
about the goings-on in the neighborhood and the wonderful day shopping, she and
her friend, Dotty, from the apartment next door had had. “That’s great, Mama,”
he added when she finished speaking.

She paused and, even over the phone lines,
he could hear her thinking hard before she spoke. “I do not like to interfere
in your life, Theo,” she began.

“I know. And I appreciate it.”

“But,” she continued, “you do not sound
happy, my son.”

“It’s nothing.” No way was he talking about
Missy to his mother. “Listen, I’ve got to go.”

“Okay.” Her voice was soft with
understanding. “But I am here for you if you need me.”

His chest tightened and his voice was rough
with emotion when he finally answered. “I know, Mama. You always were.” He hung
up the phone and headed to the bathroom. He was dirty and sweaty after a day’s
work. But more than that, he needed to wash away this day.

Fifteen minutes later, he flung himself
down on his bed. Naked, he lay there in the dark trying not to think. It didn’t
work.

He wondered what Missy was doing and if she
was having better luck than he was not thinking about them.

Chapter Eleven

“You can’t go on like this.”

Missy looked up and found Candy standing in
the doorway to her office. She didn’t pretend not to understand what her friend
was talking about. It had been a week since she’d last seen T.S. One long,
unending week.

God, how she missed him. His sense of
humor, his steadiness, his hard hands on her body in the middle of the night.
Stop
it
, she admonished herself. She did miss the sex and the closeness that
came after it, but she missed much more than that. She missed eating dinner
with him, talking to him about her day. He always had a different way of seeing
things that helped her figure out what to do with a problem.

Heck, she’d even missed Sunday afternoon
football with him. She’d sat in front of the screen, dry-eyed and alone, unable
not to watch it. Which wasn’t good.