MisMatch (A Humorous Contemporary Romance) (6 page)

Eli bit back a groan as he recalled the way
Jessica had moved on the dance floor. The taste of her breasts as
he'd slid a finger into her moist depths, the way she'd come around
his fingers, begging him to fuck her already. They way he'd taken
her on her front doorstep.
Shit.
He'd
totally lost control of that situation. From the moment he'd locked
gazes with her last night, he'd been using the wrong head to think
with. His cock jerked in umbrage.

And God help him, his brain's response was
to run the memory reel of what else they'd done after they’d
finally made it to her bedroom. How he'd tossed her on that high
four-poster bed of hers and slipped into her from behind while he'd
tugged on her hair.
Fuck
. That memory did
a number on him, and his cock reached the painful hardness point.
She was blonde. She’d lost the wig in the hair tugging.

She'd been so hot and sweet at the same
time.

Hot and sweet or not, he had to get the fuck
out of here. Hanging out and fucking her again was not part of the
program. Besides, in the harsh light of day, she was likely to
remember that he wasn’t her type. Whatever the hell that meant.

She hadn't seen the animal inside. Sure,
deep down she must have known, otherwise she wouldn't have taken
him home last night, but last night, his reins of control had
slipped. Today, after some solid rest, they'd be back in place, and
he would not be her type.

Eli wasn’t sure why, but that stung.

Who was he kidding? She was clearly into the
bad-boy type. If the multiple ear piercings hadn't clued him in at
the club, then the nipple piercing should have. And even if by some
miracle he'd missed the parting gift of that piece of hardware,
there'd been the intricate Sanskrit tattoo along her spine. And the
one on her inner thigh, and the one above her hip bone as well as
the swallow on her shoulder. This woman was trouble, and if by
chance she wasn't, she was definitely looking for it, and he did
not have time for this.

He'd made Sam a promise to get him
representation, then maybe, just maybe, Eli could back off for a
little while and focus on something other than keeping his brother
out of trouble.

Who was he kidding? That might never
happen.

He glanced around for his clothes and spied
them in littered heaps all over the floor. A sock and boxers there.
Another sock and shirt there. Pants in some corner with the shoes.
Hell, when he'd had her in the doorway, he hadn’t even undressed,
he'd been so desperate to sink into her.
Idiot
. He inhaled deeply then attempted to slide his
arm out from under her. Pain sliced though his chest as he thought
about walking away, and he immediately locked the feelings away. He
wasn’t a four-year-old about to lose his favorite toy. Though it
sort of felt that way.

Eli was careful not to wake Jessica as he
dragged on the remnants of his ravaged clothing. She’d ripped his
shirt in an effort to get it off him. The memory made him
smile.

Jessica snored indelicately and rolled over.
The sheet that had covered her slipped, exposing the tips of her
lush breasts. All he could focus on were her breasts and their dark
pink areolas. And how they tasted. God, how they tasted.

Taking a calculated risk, he bent and kissed
her forehead, then whispered, “I’m glad you told me your name.”

It took him thirty minutes to make it to
Sam’s studio in Hollywood where his twin greeted him with his usual
panache. “Eli, you look like hell.”

Eli met Sam’s gaze then brushed past him to
stalk into the studio. Scratch that, he more like lumbered. He
wasn’t sure why he felt like shit. He didn't even have that much to
drink last night.
Duh, maybe cause you were up
half the night screwing your brains out.
“Thanks. I know I
can always count on you to make me feel better.”

Sam shrugged before picking up a paint brush
and heading back to his hanging canvas. “Just saying. Rough
night?”

The last thing Eli needed was Sam thinking
he was out drinking and carousing. “No, just a long night. I didn't
sleep much.”

Sam eyed him. “Don’t I know it.”

Eli scoffed and loped over to the fresh pot
of coffee. If he could just get a full cup into himself, maybe he'd
start feeling human again. “What the hell is that supposed to
mean?”

“It means that my usually pin-neat brother
is sort of a disheveled mess at seven in the morning. Your hair is
out of sorts, and your clothes are wrinkled.” Sam’s eyes widened.
“And torn. Considering you have a nicer closet than half the women
I sleep with, that’s unusual. And given that you’re rolling through
at nearly the ass crack of dawn, I'd say this is your rendition of
coming off a glorious bender or the walk of shame.”

Eli opened his mouth to speak, but Sam
continued.

“And given my history with the devil’s
nectar and other things, and the fact that you are as anal about my
recovery as you are about your clothes, there’s no way that you
would show up here hung over. So that leaves a walk of shame. And I
got to tell you big brother, I need to meet the woman who can
rattle you.”

“I'm not rattled.”
Bullshit
. He'd actually
slept
with a woman. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.
He didn’t want for sex, but he could never relax enough to actually
fall asleep with a woman in his bed. That was why he preferred to
go to their place, that way he could just leave and go home and get
some rest. But at Jessica’s he'd literally passed out.

“Whatever you say, man. I think it's great.
A woman will give you someone else to worry about besides me.”

“No woman, Sam. I'm just wreck-tired is
all.” Then, because he didn’t want Sam probing into his shit, he
said, “You brought down the house last night. I don’t think there
was one unhorny woman in the place.”

Sam grinned. “I aim to please.” Cocking his
head, he added, “Now if only I could get paid more than a hundred
and twenty bucks for booking the event.”

“You didn’t sell the piece?”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Did you see who was in
there? The young-fabulous-and-broke set is too worried about making
rent to be able to afford that kind of a piece, and the MILF art
groupies just creep me out.”

“They have money, Sam. Besides, you’re not
afraid of a couple of horny cougars, are you?”

Sam sneered at him. “Ha. Ha. Someone decided
to play Kevin Hart tonight. One of them offered me a grand if I'd
recreate the whole club scene back in her car.” He shuddered.
“Gross.”

Eli blinked at his brother, then after a
moment, unable to contain the roar of laughter bubbling up, he
released it. “You've got to be kidding me.”

“I really wish I was. Why couldn't I find a
hot, young heiress to buy it and make me a pet?”

“We need to get you some better exposure,
bro. I'll make some more calls this week. I think I have a lead on
a couple of managers. They mostly do actors, but it's worth a
shot.”

Sam's eyes widened. “Ooh, ooh ooh ooh!” He
put down the brush and started searching the stacks of papers,
receipts, and wrappers on his utility table. “Where the hell did I
put that thing?”

“What thing?”

“There it is.” Sam snatched a business card
off the counter. “Some artist manager dropped off their card after
the show for me. You know anything about them?”

Eli frowned as he took the proffered card.
He been sitting at the bar all night and hadn’t seen anyone hand
anything to Gabe. But then again, he’d been distracted by the pixie
in the wig.

He fingered the bold lettering and examined
it. It read:
J. Stanton Artist Management
.
Good card stock, great design. “No, but I’ll do some research.” The
name Stanton was a familiar one in the Los Angeles art circles, but
he didn’t know if this was some fake trying to capitalize on the
name.

“Cool. Oh, and I set an appointment for
tomorrow. It would rock to start doing legit exhibitions and get
away from the club scene.”

Eli's senses went on alert. The hairs on his
neck stood up. “You need to call Jocelyn?”

“Already called my sponsor. I know how to
take care of myself, E. You don’t have to do it forever.”

Said the guy who’d been on the brink of
death not so long ago. “Yeah, I know. I’m just your brother. It’s
my job to worry.” Rolling his shoulders, he asked, “What did she
say?”

“Well, for starters, she told me to stay
away from clubs. I’m going to meet her for lunch today.”

“Sound advice.” Guilt gnawed at Eli’s gut.
He’d asked Sam to move to L.A. with him when he got the new
assignment. Had that been a mistake? He sure as well didn’t want a
repeat of that night in Seattle, when he’d found Sam lying in his
own vomit in the middle of a crack den. The memory made Eli’s
stomach roll. If Sam wanted to paint, Eli knew he had to get him a
chance to make a real go at it. The right way. “I’ll check out the
manager for you. I’ll see what I can dig up by tomorrow.”

Sam wrinkled his nose. “Actually…” His voice
trailed off.

Eli took another swig of coffee sure he
wasn’t going to like what Sam had to say. “Spit it out.”

“I was sort of hoping you’d go in my place.
I know art. But there’s too much riding on this. You know how I get
stressed out.”

Eli knew Sam was playing him. His brother
was the charmer in the family, but Eli was the one who kept a level
head. “Sam, this isn’t a good idea, man. You’ve got to learn to be
able to do this stuff regardless of the pressure.”

“C’mon. Just this time. Once I’m settled
with a manager, they can handle all the negotiating stuff for
me.”

“We’re not kids anymore. You can’t just
exchange one of us for the other.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “We’re carbon
copies.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah okay, I get it.”

“One of these days, Sam, you’ll be the death
of me.”

Sam was busy smudging a paint line on the
canvas. Eli wasn’t sure his brother had heard him until he softly
said, “Hey, E?”

“Yeah, man?”

“Thanks.”

***

Jessica had awakened alone. Under normal
circumstances she preferred it that way, but when she’d blinked her
lids open, she’d half expected to find the sex god in her bed. What
they’d done last night went so far beyond anything she’d ever done
before. Hell, a one night stand wasn’t new for her—just that level
of connection. And the man knew his way around a woman’s body and
how to please. He also knew what got him off. He’d guided her in
exactly how he’d wanted to be touched, how fast, how slow.
Everything about last night had elevated her bar. Now, he was
gone.

A herd of elephants stampeded through
Jessica's frontal lobe, and she wished for death. But she still
made it to Izzy’s place with a smile on her face, no matter how
forced. She wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to see her
goddaughter.

She strolled into the expansive living room.
The expansive space was decorated by clean but comfy contemporary
furniture. Modern art pieces as well as Izzy's photographs
decorated the walls. Foamy bumpers clung to the corners and edges
of every sharp corner she could see. Kara sat on the floor in all
her chubby-cheeked afro glory, merrily gnawing and drooling all
over a toy giraffe that was supposed to help with teething.

“Hey, guys, I see you started unpacking
already. You—”

Izzy took one look at her, tossed the remote
to Jason, and said, “You’re in charge.” With a mixture of
determination and concern in her eyes, Izzy strode right for
Jessica, grabbed her hand and led her upstairs.

As soon as she deposited Jessica on the bed,
Izzy surreptitiously glanced around, opened one of the dresser
drawers, and procured a box of chocolate. “I swear, if I don’t hide
these, Jason and Nick will eat all of them. Not to mention, Kara
will keep reaching for them saying ‘ocolate ‘ocolate. So I eat them
in secret. There you have it, the shame of an old, married
woman.”

Jessica giggled. Leave it to Izzy to
immediately make her feel better.

Izzy frowned. “What’s the matter, sweetie?
Just tell me before I start thinking the worst.”

Jessica sighed. “I, uh, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit. You’re wearing plain jeans and a
gray T-shirt. You’re lucky enough that you don’t need makeup, but I
happen to know you love your eyeliner like I love chocolate, and
you’re not wearing any. Plus you have no wig on or feather
adornment or anything. Your nail polish is even chipped. The
Jessica I know is all about her fun. What gives?”

Well, if she didn’t want an emotional
probing, she supposed she shouldn’t have come to see Izzy. “I met a
guy last night.”

Izzy’s eyes went round with surprise, and
she leaned forward. “Do tell.”

“Uhm, yeah, he was, you know—” Jessica
hemmed and hawed, hoping Izzy would let it go. If the headache
wasn’t bad enough, she kept having flashbacks to the hottest orgasm
she'd had in over a year. Which normally she wouldn’t mind. But
along with memories of the orgasm came memories of the intimacy.
The way he'd held her. The way he'd made her look at him, insisted
on knowing her name, insisted on not being just some faceless,
nameless one night stand. Another flash of his jade green eyes in
her memory, and she could feel the dampening of her panties.
Shit
. She needed to get a grip.

“Don’t beat around the bush with me, young
lady. I want my well-deserved deets.”

“I took him home, Izzy.”

“Wait, to your house? Jess!”

Jessica winced. “Well technically to
your
house.” When Izzy didn’t crack a
smile, she said, “Look, I know okay. I already changed the alarm
code and the gate code in case he saw me enter them. And I needed a
locksmith anyway; my key is sticking, so in case he took a spare
off my keychain or made a copy, I’ll be covered. And I’m going to
sweep for bugs later with this kit I got from the spy store.”