Searching for Disaster (8 page)

“I bet. I always wanted a big family.”

She stiffened at the twinge of pain. And he would. With some other woman. Izzy wanted to kill her already and he hadn't even had his first date with Kinnections. “It's good most of the time. Other times, it was challenging.”

He paused from eating and speared her with his gaze. “Was your family a reason you turned to drugs?” he asked.

His direct question was honest and real. She hated when people acted embarrassed about her past, or spoke to her gently, as if she were fragile glass ready to shatter. They worried that she'd slide into some weird depression or burst into anger from talking about her drug habit. She gave back as much honesty as he could take and knew it would only help solidify their innate differences. “Not at all. There was some trouble with my parents for a while. My dad is an alcoholic. He took off and left us for a year, and everything fell apart. But he got sober, came back to prove himself, and Mom eventually forgave him. I had some daddy issues for a while, but he's not the reason, Liam. There is only one reason I turned to drugs. Myself.”

He leaned forward, not releasing her from his stare. “What do you mean?”

“It's hard to describe. It was almost like something was . . . broken inside of me. I had this yawning emptiness and a constant restlessness that urged me to push things. I lived on the edge, trying all the time to make myself feel better. At first, sex helped. Being bad helped. I loved any type of adrenaline high or danger because it gave me a rush yet also gave me a calm I couldn't seem to find elsewhere. After high school, I decided to forgo college to travel, and that helped soothe the demons for a while. But they were always there, almost like a constant hum in my head. I started smoking weed and found it extended my peaceful time. No humming, just a glorious stillness. It made me happy.”

She paused, but he reached across the table and snagged her hand. The slight tingle from his touch lit up her arm, but his hand was warm, and strong, and comforting, so she held it. “Go on,” he said quietly.

“Then I found coke. And it was so much better than weed. I became everything I'd always wanted. Fulfilled. Happy. Strong and powerful. I was like a goddess reborn on that stuff. So I kept wanting more, but then my best friend, Raven, began to worry. She wanted me to avoid the coke and began watching me more closely. I began to sneak it in. I lied to her. I said bad things to hurt her so I could be alone and get high. I drank in between the highs and always needed more money to buy stuff. I hung out with the party crowd, though, so there seemed to always be something I could snort for free.”

Oh, how she remembered that time in her life so vividly. When every object was sharp and overly bright. How she began losing herself and caring less and less about the people around her. How she cared less and less about the consequences of her actions that began to cause pain.

“What happened then?”

“It got bad. I got lost. Raven tried desperately to get me into rehab. I ended up leaving to go back to my family's house, and tried living there for a while, but they knew I was using. I was mean, real mean. At one epic family dinner, I came coked up and began screaming in front of my nieces, and my father finally threw me out of the house. Told me I was not welcome until I got clean.”

“Where'd you go?”

She gave a half shrug, but the memories struck. “Everywhere. Anywhere. I crashed at friends' houses, slept in my car, haunted college campuses where I knew the pickings were good. Then one morning I woke up completely naked on some side road. My clothes were strewn everywhere. I have no idea if I had sex with one person or many. I didn't remember a damn thing. And you know what my first thought was?”

“What?”

“When I could get more cocaine.” She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “And that's when I realized what had happened to me. I was nobody. Just some naked junkie dumped on the side of the road. I'd done that to myself. I got dressed, went inside, and called Raven. She came and got me, drove me straight to rehab, and I checked in. It was a long haul, but I feel good about my life now. But it's not a life that's easy.” She eased her hand away and forced a smile. “That's what happened after you left. And now you can understand why this won't go beyond dinner.”

He was quiet for a while. Izzy knew he was sifting through her words, trying to find the polite way to be supportive yet back away from his initial vow of pursuit. Dinner had served its purpose. Maybe he wanted to cut the night short and leave. She wouldn't blame him. So she waited for his decision.

“It only proves one thing to me, Isabella. You failed as spectacularly as you lived. You don't do anything half-assed. You own an inner strength that's as fierce as a tigress's. And you're not only a fascinating woman, you're real, honest, and not afraid to face your mistakes head-on. To me, that's someone I not only want to have dinner with but want to know on a much deeper level.”

Her eyes widened.

“Since I have a feeling my admission freaked you out, I think we should talk about that another time. For now, let's enjoy our food. Have you ever tried fried ice cream?”

“What?”

“Fried ice cream. I've heard it's their specialty here, very decadent. Make sure you leave room for dessert. Now let me tell you a funny story about this bust Stone and I did that turned into a comic cluster.”

He launched into a vivid retelling of his experience, seemingly done with their serious conversation. Shocked at his response to her confession, Izzy picked up her fork again. Her thoughts spun wildly, but she concentrated on his words and began eating.

HE WANTED ISABELLA
MACKENZIE.

Bad.

Devine watched her posture relax as she began to realize the serious side of their conversation was officially over and he hadn't run out the door. Now that her shields had been lowered, he enjoyed watching the mischievous light in her dark-blue eyes when she teased him, and the easy laughter that burst from her lush red lips. Every nugget of knowledge she shared about her life was stored like a nut for winter within his mind. This woman made him feel more alive than anyone before, and he wasn't about to let her slip away. His entire dating history was bursting with a stream of women who had all been eager to take their relationship to the next level. There was nothing wrong with any of them. And each time he tried to push himself to settle in, compromise, be a father and husband as he'd always longed to be, something inside stopped him.

Because nothing was right.

His inner core yearned for something more. Years spent searching yet not finding. Because he'd already found it six years ago. In a college dorm room with a lost young woman who'd stolen his damn heart within a few dark hours.

Stupid. Ridiculous. He didn't work like this, and his feelings contradicted everything he'd once believed about himself. Devine believed in logic, not one-night stands that turned into love. But when he'd seen her again, it all fell into place for the second time. She fit.

Was it love? Impossible. Right? Lust would be acceptable, but he didn't just ache for her body. He ached to hold her gently, stroke her hair, comfort her. He longed to talk for hours, telling her everything he'd never shared with anyone. He imagined spending evenings together, holding hands, watching TV, doing all the daily tasks couples embarked on in a relationship.

But that would make her run. He needed to move slowly so she didn't spook. His plan was quite simple: do everything in his power to spend as much time with her as possible until she became used to him without realizing it. The problem was Kinnections. He certainly didn't want to be hooked up with another random woman at this point, but it was a gateway into seeing more of Isabella. He'd work on it.

They feasted on dessert, and he enticed her to take a stroll down Main Street. The crowds were winding down, and lone couples sat under umbrellas, sipping their last cappuccinos or eating ice cream, trying to squeeze the last ounce out of a warm fall evening. “I think I'm going to get a dog,” Izzy announced.

He stopped and stared at her. “You're kidding me. I swear I just told Stone that I was ready to adopt a dog myself.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. My house has a great yard. Every time I go out there to rake leaves or do random cleanup, I feel like it's wasted. Would be nice to share my time with a dog.”

They resumed walking. As their hands swung, their fingers brushed. “Arilyn mentioned taking me to her shelter. It's nice that she encourages animals in her bungalow. Most apartments don't allow it.”

“You have a favorite breed? Big? Little?”

A smile lit her face. “Don't really care. I want one who speaks to me. My family has always had dogs, and my sister Alexa is a lot like Arilyn, very involved in the local shelters.”

“Yeah, I don't do too much charity work. Kind of embarrassing. Work just fills up all the corners.”

“I've been thinking of volunteering at one of the narcotics groups for teens. My mentor said she thinks I could be a big help just by sharing. I'm not sure if I'll be any good at it.”

“You will. You'd relate well to teens. There's no bullshit with you.”

Her laugh, husky and thick like honey, rose in the air and stroked his ears. His dick thickened. “Maybe you're right. I used to fear nothing. Once I got sober, I realized I was afraid of everything. Stupid, right?”

Devine couldn't help himself—there was no way not to touch her. He made the leap and intertwined his fingers with hers. His soul sighed. “‘Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear,'” he quoted.

A frown ruffled her brow. “Damn. Umm, Roosevelt.”

“Nope.”

“Wait! Mark Twain!”

“And how are you not a college graduate?” he teased.

“I swear I'm not a huge reader, but I like quotes. Stories about people who overcame odds or used their fame for good.”

“That's reading.”

She laughed again. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

They walked the rest of the way back, hands clasped, enjoying the still, starry night, caught in a moment Devine knew he would always remember. When they returned to the car, he opened her door and drove back to her cottage.

The air changed between them, charging up like a battery gone haywire. His fingers clenched the steering wheel with each passing mile, as he didn't know how to break the climbing tension. He pulled over to the curb and turned to her.

“I had a really nice time.”

She refused to look at him, fiddling with her seat belt. “Yes, me, too. Thanks for dinner. I better go.”

She flew out of the car.

Cursing under his breath, he climbed out and followed her. When he reached the top step, her odd fear had leaked away and been replaced by the fierce determination he adored. “Look, it was a great night but we made a deal. I don't need you escorting me to the door, or making moony eyes and pretending this is going to be something it's not.”

Navy-blue eyes burned with temper. His dick wept and it was all he could do not to back her against the door and kiss her savagely. “I don't make moony eyes at anyone. I take offense to that remark.”

“Good night, Liam.”

He moved into her space. “Are you attracted to me?”

The air escaped her lungs in a soft whoosh. His gaze flicked down her body, noting her tightening nipples against the fine lace of her bodice. She was practically shaking, and they hadn't even touched yet. “That's a ridiculous question.”

“No it's not. Are you attracted to me?” She shifted her weight, struggling for the answer. “If you're not, I'll leave. I'm not out to force myself on anyone. But don't lie.”

“I don't lie!” she said hotly.

“Are you?”

“Yes! But I don't intend to do a thing about it. This experiment is over, Liam. You need to finish what you started at Kinnections and we need to avoid each other. You deserve a woman who can be a perfect wife. You deserve kids and a white picket fence and dogs. You deserve it all.”

He leaned in. “So do you,” he growled. “Maybe it's time I prove it.”

Shock and arousal dilated her pupils. Her lips parted for air. “I'm not out for a quick screw,” she shot out. “Just because we did it once doesn't mean I'm an easy target.”

“Sweetheart, you couldn't be easy if you tried. I knew even that night you were the one who chose, not the other way around.”

Her arms lifted as if to touch him, then dropped back down as if she'd gotten burned. The intoxicating scent of her invaded his nostrils: sweet and spicy, tinged with feminine arousal. He'd allowed her to lead because she needed to feel in charge, but he also knew when actions spoke louder than words. In his job, and his life, Devine followed an instinct that had never guided him wrong—an innate sense of when to push and when to back off.