He wants her. All of her.
NYPD sniper Matt Donovan is in Hell. Instead of driving his best friend’s little sister home from college, he’s stuck with her roommate—a fresh-faced ray-of-sunshine with a body that makes grown men weep. There’s no way he’ll allow himself to taint the little vixen, no matter how hard she tries to tempt him, so he resigns himself to the longest—and hardest—drive of his life.
Matt’s obvious attraction suits grad student Lucy Mason just fine. She had no idea her brother’s best friend was so deliciously hot. Knowing he’d never have his wicked way with his buddy’s sister, she lies about her identity and seduces him. But Matt’s no fumbling college boy. His desires run deep—and dark—and he wants to teach Lucy what wicked really means.
Matt’s demanding appetites only make Lucy want more. But when her cover’s blown, he’s furious—even as his hunger for her becomes insatiable. Matt can’t trust anyone, least of all himself. And he knows all too well that darkness always destroys the light…
Information:
Title: Staking His Claim (Line of Duty)
Author: Tessa Bailey
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Length: 222
Release Date: February 2014
ISBN: 978-1-62266-476-4
Imprint: Brazen
Excerpt:
©2014 Tessa Bailey
Chapter One
The studio audience inside Lucy Mason’s head gave a collective, sympathetic awww.
Ditched again.
“This was supposed to be our week, Sasha.” Lucy picked up her iced coffee and plunked it back down, never taking her gaze off her best friend. “Ill-advised exploits, questionable fashion choices. Educational museum trips.” She mumbled that last part, since it hadn’t exactly been part of their monthlong discussion. “I can’t believe you’re blowing me off for a dude.”
Sasha winced. “I know. I know. It’s just…Carter.”
“Carter.” Lucy’s brow wrinkled. “Is this the same Carter who made a pass at your mom when she came to visit?”
“That was a misunderstanding.”
“I’ll just bet.” She moved her drink in jerky circles on the table, letting the tinkling ice cool it even further, hoping a sip would cool the fire in her throat, brought on by the need to shout. Minutes before she and her roommate were set to depart Syracuse University, where they’d both, at long last, completed their respective master’s programs, and her plans were being crushed by a guy who’d once pissed himself on their couch after too much tequila. Unacceptable. As if this violation of the “chicks before dicks manifesto” weren’t bad enough, her brother, Brent, who’d been their designated ride to New York City, had bailed at the last minute.
God, I’m sorry, Luce. Something came up with Hayden’s family. She’s presenting her father with some fancy-ass award and if I don’t go, she’ll castrate me.
Her brother wasn’t one to hold back. Even if it meant talking to his sister about his balls. Going to live with him in their childhood house in Queens at the age of twenty-five was going to be a real scream. Until she became gainfully employed and found her own place, that is. Thanks to her growing list of potential employers alphabetically arranged in an Excel spreadsheet, it wouldn’t be long. In the meantime, she’d have to set some ground rules, like no testicular talk. Or making out with his fiancée anywhere her eyeballs might encounter it.
In his place today, her brother had sent his friend Matt Donovan. Another cop. One she’d never met, but based on Brent’s suggestion to bring oodles of reading material for the drive, she gathered Matt was not a sparkling conversationalist. It hadn’t bothered her much, knowing she’d have Sasha to chat with in the backseat, but now that option was no longer on the table. Truth be told, she felt a little slighted.
Okay, a lot slighted. Her brother and best friend making for greener pastures within twenty-four hours of each other didn’t do fabulous things for her ego. They hadn’t meant it that way, she rationalized. They loved her. Still, it was two more instances she could add to her list of times she’d come in second place. Lucy Mason, salutatorian. First runner-up at the debate team finals as an undergrad. Hell, just this week she’d been named second in her class, among the other language majors. While these were certainly accomplishments, sometimes it felt like no matter how hard she tried, someone always beat her by an inch. Sasha and Brent ditching her for their respective lovers was no different.
Pity party of one, your table is ready.
Trying to dispel the useless feeling, she took a long pull on her iced coffee. Sasha had a healthy glow to her deep-brown skin, excitement shining in her eyes that hadn’t been there this morning. Just because she hadn’t had sex since Lost was on the air didn’t give her the right to be a begrudger. “So what are your plans instead? You better be doing something amazing. Seriously, I want goose bumps.”
Sasha did a little dance in her seat, accompanied by a squeal. “We’re borrowing his cousin’s house at Cayuga Lake. Just me, Carter, and a handful of naughty DVDs.”
Lucy perked up. “What? Like porn?”
“No. Like Cruel Intentions and Wild Things. Movies where girls make out so as to guarantee a good evening for yours truly.” Sasha tilted her head. “By the way, you have never looked as enthusiastic in your life as you just did when porn entered the equation.”
“Lower your voice,” Lucy whispered.
“Porn-o-graph-y!” Sasha belted out, opera-style, drawing every eye in the coffeehouse.
Lucy shook her head. “I’m so not going to miss you.”
“Liar. You will pine for me.”
“If you drown in Cayuga Lake, I will clear out your sex toy stash as promised, but that’s all I can guarantee you. Not a single line of poetry will be penned in your honor.”
“At lease I’ll die happy.” Sasha rose and came to join Lucy on the bench, where she crushed her in a tight hug. “Hey, I’m really sorry. You know that, right?”
“Yeah,” Lucy murmured into her friend’s hair. “Now go on. Get.”
Sasha pulled back to study her. “Listen, if I die in an unfortunate water skiing accident or too many orgasms—”
“Or both.”
“Or both.” Sasha nodded. “Don’t dump my stash. I hereby bequeath all manner of pleasure machines to you, my pasty, studious little friend.”
Lucy feigned surprised pleasure. “Me? I-I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll put New York on its knees this week.” Her friend’s expression suddenly turned serious. “Don’t use my bailing as an excuse to hole up with a stack of books. You’ve earned some fun, graduate. Have at it.”
Lucy stared after Sasha thoughtfully as she exited the coffee shop. Her friend knew her too well. Initially, when Sasha canceled on her, there had been a tiny little punch of relief in her chest that she was off the hook. That she wouldn’t have to put herself out there as planned, but could continue her two-year streak of hiding from the unknown. Safe in her self-imposed introversion. She hadn’t always been this way. No, no. Her first four years in college had been spent exploring the Mason daredevil gene she’d inherited. Right up until she’d organized an on-campus bonfire in protest of censorship in their textbooks, landing her in jail overnight. Hello wake-up call. Needless to say, her brother had lost his shit and been forced to re-mortgage his house to bail her out. Not to mention covering the fines she’d incurred.
Since her night in the big house, she’d spent her days and nights busting her ass to make her family proud, instead of inspiring ceaseless rounds of head-shaking every time her name came up. Making sure Brent knew she didn’t take for granted the tuition he worked two jobs to provide. In the very near future, she would have a job that would finally ease the pressure from his shoulders. She could finally pitch in to support her parents and her other older brother’s family while he fought overseas. Her family would take pride in her, instead of taking cover every time she entered the room.
That staunch dedication to success hadn’t left room for much more, and she’d allowed her social life to dwindle until Sasha’s recaps of Saturday nights were her main source of entertainment. As soon as she had a steady income and a place to call her own, she’d been planning to remedy that oversight. Then again, maybe Sasha had a valid point. What better place to kick off her new lecture- and homework-free life than a week in New York City?
The bell tinkled over the coffee shop door, drawing Lucy’s attention. Had Sasha changed her mind? Or maybe she’d forgotten someth—
Lucy’s thoughts drained, as if her brain had turned into a colander. Every muscle in her body coiled tightly as a man stepped right out of every woman’s fantasy and somehow materialized in the coffee shop. Before anything else registered, she noticed the way he walked. He moved like he was walking toward a lover. A lover he planned on thoroughly roughing up before making her scream obscenities into a pillow. The sensual, detached movement of his hips was a complete contradiction to his eyes and jaw, however. They were set firmly, making him look ruthless. Unmovable.
Dark hair, dark expression, dark clothing. He was just…several shades of dark. Except for his eyes, she amended as he coolly scanned the shop. His eyes were light gray. In the midst of all that darkness, they stood out like silvery marcasite.
She couldn’t stop her gaze from tracking downward, over broad shoulders, a wide chest, and a heavy leather belt that rode low on his waist. As if a good stretch would reveal his happy trail and that cut vee leading into his jeans. Speaking of jeans, good Lord, the man’s ass was a bona fide work of art. As he strode toward the nearby counter to place his order, his work boots not making a single sound, those tight buns set off a choir of rejoicing angels in her head.
Then he opened his mouth to address the barista and the angels’ mouths snapped shut.
“Can you tell me where 39 Juniper Street is located?”
Huh? Lucy’s spine went rigid. That was her address. Perhaps he was looking for someone else in her building? She and Sasha shared a two-bedroom in an off-campus dwelling, in which there were at least twenty other apartments. That had to be it. This work of male perfection could not be the boring, stuffy ex-military sniper her brother had sent to squire her down to the city. Brent’s description could not have painted a different picture. No, this guy had to be looking for someone else.
The barista behind the counter looked like she’d just gone for a swim in a lake full of stupid. “What?” She cleared her throat and smiled. “I mean…what?”
Buns of Glory sighed. “Thirty-nine Juniper. My GPS says it’s nearby, so I thought I’d walk the rest of the way. Can you point me in the right direction?”
Another barista joined her. “What?”
Now Lucy sighed on his behalf. Communication must be difficult when your ass whittled the opposite sex’s vocabulary down to one word.
“Never mind, I think I can track it down.” He gave a faint smile and Lucy swore she could hear panties hit the floor. “I’ll take a medium coffee to go. Black.”
Not the sugar-and-cream type. No surprises there.
Barista Number One appeared to finally regain her senses. “Are you visiting someone at the college? I haven’t seen you here before.”
He handed her a crisp bill. “No, I live in Manhattan. I’m just here to pick up a girl.”
Oh shit. He is Matt Donovan. That was Lucy’s first thought. Her second? If her brother had condoned her spending hours in a confined space with this gorgeous man, he had quite a lot to learn about her.
“So…are you picking up just any ol’ girl or a specific one?”
Oh, for the love of double Spanx.
“Specific.”
“Lucky girl.” Barista Number Two with the gem! “She must be pretty special to drive all this way.”
Matt took the paper coffee cup she offered. “Actually, from what I hear, she’s kind of a nuisance.”
Inside Lucy’s head, the studio audience broke into a barrage of oh hell no’s. She sat up so straight in her booth, she would have feared spinal damage if she could manage to think past her annoyance. A nuisance? On top of her double-ditching that day, the word was like water being poured over hot sauna rocks. They caused her anger to sizzle and snap dangerously. Somewhere underneath all that, a stab of hurt existed, but she didn’t want to acknowledge that just yet.
He picked that moment to turn and lock eyes with her across the ten feet separating them. She had the satisfaction of watching his coffee cup pause halfway to his mouth before continuing its journey toward sculpted, masculine lips. Long-denied heat trickled through her, cutting right through her bout of self-pity. Desire. It had been a long time since she’d felt it. Perhaps that was why it tumbled through her midsection now after having been raveled up for years. As if he’d projected the image into her head, she saw those distracting lips feasting on her neck. A neck that had surely turned candy-apple red thanks to the direction of her thoughts.
Feeling this insistent attraction to her brother’s best friend was inconvenient at best. Nor could she act on it. Based on what she’d been told about him, he was the honorable type. The voice of reason in their dude foursome. He would never make a move on “Brent’s little sister.” Especially when said little sister had been painted as nothing more than an irritating pest.
Unless, of course, he didn’t know who he was putting the moves on.
Matt still watched her closely, but his expression showed no signs of recognition. Apparently Brent hadn’t passed on a formal dossier complete with recent photos, because Matt was looking her over in a very on-limits kind of way. And boy oh boy, she liked it. Her nerve endings were tingling, nipples pebbling underneath her tank top in a way that had nothing to do with the air-conditioning. When his attention shifted to her bare legs visible beneath her cutoff shorts, warmth settled between her thighs. Was it her imagination or had he just growled at her?
Lying about her identity would be wrong. So very wrong. She couldn’t do it. Could she? Her ethics professor would shit a brick. Not to mention, something told her this man wouldn’t take kindly to being duped. Her only alternative was to stand up right now and introduce herself as Lucy Mason before it was too late. It would guarantee she arrived safely in Queens, untouched. Hot and bothered with no weapon to combat it, save the five-fingered one attached to her wrist. No closer to shedding the boredom wrought by the last two years.
It sounded horrible, but she was woman enough to admit that, on top of wanting this insanely hot man, her ego needed a little boost. She’d been dateless for too long, she’d been ditched by everyone, and now she’d been labeled a nuisance. Maybe just this once, she could get hers and say to hell with the consequences, the way she used to. The dormant daredevil inside her stretched and looked around sleepily.
Lucy pushed back her chair and stood. Pasting what she hoped was a flirtatious smile on her face, she walked toward Matt and extended her hand. “I couldn’t help but overhear that you’re looking for 39 Juniper.”
He grunted into his coffee. Not exactly the reaction she’d been looking for. No matter, she’d just have to try again. After all, she hadn’t gotten to be second place in every competition under the sun without learning a few tricks along the way. Garnering her courage, she ran a hand through her curls and cocked one hip. His teeth sank into his lower lip. There. Now she had his attention. “I’m Sasha, Lucy Mason’s roommate. Looks like you’re here to give me a ride.”
Chapter Two
Hop on, baby. I’ll give you a fucking ride.
The thought blew swift and furious through Matt’s consciousness before he banished it, locking it safely behind a steel-reinforced door. This girl, the one who stood in front of him looking like a virgin sacrifice sent to tempt his sanity, wouldn’t last five minutes with him before she ran off screaming. He knew that, and yet he couldn’t look away.
Her deliciously unpainted mouth moved and words came out, but it took his brain an extra second to catch on. One hell of a feat, since he prided himself on staying razor sharp at all times. His training had drilled the importance of being consistently alert into his head. His profession demanded it. Yet in under a minute, this girl had managed to test that will, effectively cutting off all blood flow to his brain and sending it straight to his groin.
Fuck, she’d made him hard. In public, no less. Before uttering a single word.
On some level, he resented that.
She had spoken, however, and was now looking at him awaiting a response. What had she said? Sasha. Wants a ride. Focus, Donovan. You’re acting like one of your friends, drooling over some girl, when you know that shit isn’t for you. Will never, ever, be for you.
Matt took a sip of his coffee to buy himself some time. Now he remembered why the name Sasha rang a bell. Lucy Mason’s roommate. The roommate he’d agreed to share a vehicle with for the next couple hours on the drive back to New York City. Jesus. At least he’d have Brent’s pesky sister riding shotgun, preventing him from doing something patently unwise. Like pulling over at the first opportunity and divesting this girl of her frayed jean shorts in his backseat.
Get a handle on it. Now. Before you can’t.
Reluctantly, he dragged his gaze away from the embodiment of temptation before him and skimmed a glance over the coffee shop, looking for an entirely different girl. One resembling a linebacker. With a brother the size of a small mountain, Lucy couldn’t be too far behind. No luck. As far as he could tell, there wasn’t a single fart joke–telling Brent look-alike among this crowd. Although to be fair, he didn’t have a clue what Lucy looked like, nor had he had time to find out. Driving to Syracuse had been a last-minute favor to his friend, one he’d grudgingly accepted under threat of being forced to endure an afternoon of wedding plan details. He hadn’t been able to get behind the wheel fast enough.
“She’s not coming,” said the temptation, her voice low and smoky. “Lucy, that is.”
“Excuse me?”
“Lucy blew us off for her newest boyfriend and his lake house. It’s just you and me.” She shoved her hands into her pockets, anchoring them lower on her hips. Goddamn.
Matt welcomed the spark of irritation over this new development, hoping it would distract him from the succulence of her navel. No dice. Did she know what she was doing? She had to. It was impossible for a female to radiate that kind of come-and-get-it sexuality without realizing and utilizing it to her advantage. Any amount of time spent alone with her would be a mistake. Lucy’s bailing on Brent, and in turn him, was an annoyance in itself. Toss in five foot three inches of gorgeous, fresh-faced girl and he was entering dangerous territory.
Miles away from his usual type, she shouldn’t be affecting him this way. When he occasionally let himself explore the need he kept shoved down deep inside him, he went for curvier women. Women with some meat on their bones who could withstand what he dished out. The girl peeking up at him under strawberry-blond curls was what men commonly referred to as a “spinner.” Petite, passionate, and pliable…one you could switch into a different sexual position without removing yourself from her heat.
While these thoughts were doing nothing to alleviate the growing problem in his jeans, they reminded him why he couldn’t have her. He’d had enough women make passes at him in his life that he knew an invitation when he saw it. If he chose to interpret the flirtatious curve of her mouth, the swaying of her hips as an offer, his particular form of accepting that offer would send her packing. Right now, she looked at him and saw a decent-looking man, a departure from the younger, hoodie-sporting guys she met on campus. She didn’t see what lurked beneath. The side of him that would come out once he got her naked. Her playful demeanor would turn to shock in a heartbeat. He’d scare the hell out of her.
“That is, if you don’t mind me bumming a ride.” Her smile had started to slip in his extended silence. “You wouldn’t leave a girl stranded, would you?”
Oh yes, she knew exactly what she was doing. Appealing to his protectiveness, his former military, present law enforcement side. Apparently Lucy had passed on basic information about him before blowing everyone the hell off. When he saw a flash of irritation cross her features when he didn’t answer right away, lust twisted in his midsection. She had fire, this one. Still, he needed to make damn sure he kept his distance. She was not for him. Even if his impulses were demanding he throw her over his shoulder and find the nearest, darkest corner to introduce his tongue to her stomach, lower.
Distance. Boundaries. He cleared his throat. “How fast can you get your things? I need to get back to the city.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Our apartment is across the street. Meet you outside in ten?”
“Fine. Get moving.”
He actually saw her teeth sink into her tongue. To keep from shouting? Why did that make him feel like laughing? Instead, she turned on a sandaled heel and marched out of the coffeehouse, giving him an uninterrupted view of her ass swishing in those brief jean shorts. Fuck. Keeping his hands off her for the next four hours was going to be a challenge. Hopefully his abrupt attitude had bought him the silent treatment, rather than a long car ride full of watching those lips move. Imagining them on his flesh. Imagining them parting on a surprised whimper when he brought his hand down hard on her backside.
Think different thoughts. Now. In an attempt to distract himself, he slipped his cell phone out of his jeans and called Brent, just to make sure the giant idiot knew how thoroughly he and his sister had wasted his time this afternoon. It went straight to voice mail. He checked his watch and saw it was already late afternoon. The function Brent was attending to honor Hayden’s father would just be getting under way. Guess the ass-chewing would have to wait until tomorrow.
Matt pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He could add today’s events to the growing list of reasons he kept mostly to himself. His best friends, Brent and Daniel, were the only ones he’d let get remotely close and they were still kept firmly outside the wrought iron perimeter he’d built around his life three years ago. When his world had imploded.
To be fair, Brent and Daniel hadn’t really consulted him in the matter of their presence in his life, just barging in and making themselves at home. He made regular attempts to push them to a safer distance, but they always fought their way back. Involving him. Doing him favors without his knowledge or consent. He wished like hell they wouldn’t. Those unsolicited actions obligated him to do things like this. Driving four hours to pick up Brent’s little sister only to find out she’d lived up to her sterling reputation by ditching the entire trip and leaving him shit out of luck, getting ready to endure an ungodly test of his will.
Sasha. That exotic name didn’t fit her at all. She looked like a Stacy. Or a Skipper. Something bouncy to account for those curls that made his hands itch to pull them. Hold her steady while he worked himself in from behind.
Matt dragged a hand down his face. This was going to be the longest four hours of his life. Considering he’d spent a huge chunk of his twenties fighting overseas, spending days at a time monitoring targets from his sniper’s perch without moving a muscle, that was truly saying something. Through the window of the coffee shop, he watched Sasha lug a suitcase twice her size across a manicured lawn and plunk herself down on top of it, arms crossed, chin raised.
Five minutes early.
This time, he couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped him.
…
All right, this seduction was definitely not going according to plan.
Lucy slid a glance across the console of Matt’s sleek black sedan, watching him under the cover of her eyelashes. He hadn’t looked at her once since loading her suitcase into the trunk, instead keeping his gray eyes glued to the road, jaw tight with obvious frustration that he’d been saddled with some unknown party for the afternoon. As soon as she’d introduced herself as Sasha, he’d lost his expression of blatant interest, shutting down as if on cue. Surely off-limits little sister didn’t encompass little sister’s roommate? Based on his closed-off demeanor, it clearly did.
Problem with that? In addition to being attracted to him in a sweaty, breathless way that made her crave an ice bath, he now presented a challenge. That part of her that loved being tested and coming out on top was now stretching and lacing up its sneakers. Even with his unfriendly vibe, maybe even because of it, she wanted this man. For the last six years, she’d watched her friends take home men from parties for much lesser reasons. She’d admitted just how much she wanted him to herself during her mad dash through her empty apartment, unpacking her razor to shave her legs and bikini line in just under two minutes, before slathering on lotion and breaking for the sidewalk. It would have been a cold day in hell before she took longer than the allotted time. Had he commented on her punctuality? No, he hadn’t. Had he even peeked at her newly smooth gams? No, he hadn’t.
Phase two it is.
Her game was a little dusty, since she hadn’t used it in a couple years. Apart from a short-term boyfriend when she’d studied abroad in France, she’d never had a steady man in her life. Just the odd date and obligatory one-night stands that came with the college experience. Matt would require a little extra oomph. She could practically feel the do not touch warning radiating from his side of the car. Why did that turn her on even more?
Lucy sat a little straighter in her seat, casually glancing down at her body. She wasn’t half-bad, right? At least, she used to think so. Her boobs had been hidden underneath a Syracuse sweatshirt for so long, they might have shrunk a little from disuse. Her legs might be a whiter shade of pale, but summer had only just started. No one had a tan yet, right? She slumped back down in her seat. Obviously her body wouldn’t be her most useful tool on this mission to get laid by this sexy beast of a cop. She’d just have to dazzle him with her wits.
“So do you make it up to Syracuse often?”
Fail.
Matt shot her a look that said is she serious?
“No, I don’t. I came to retrieve Lucy.” He pushed a hand through his black hair. “I’m not big on sightseeing. Or last-minute plan changes.”
“You know, I kind of sensed that.” Impatient with herself, she crossed her legs. Wait, had he looked that time? “I don’t know what you’ve heard about Lucy, but she’s actually kind of awesome. Don’t judge her too harshly. Hot guy with a lake house. You can’t pass that up.”
“I assure you, I could.”
She gasped. “He makes a joke? Pull over, I’m feeling dizzy.”
“Maybe it’s the smell of that vanilla lotion. How much did you put on exactly?”
That brought her up short. Not only had he noticed her efforts, he’d spent the last half hour being vexed by them. She couldn’t get a read on this guy, couldn’t get a hint of what he was thinking by looking at his stoic face. With a single finger, she punched and held the button to crack the passenger-side window. “Better?”
A grunt served as his reply. After a minute, though, he surprised her by breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Major?”
“Sorry?”
His hands flexed on the steering wheel. “You just completed grad school, right? What was your major?”
Shit. She hadn’t anticipated the questions. Did he know what Lucy had majored in? Probably not, since he had no clue what she looked like. Of course, the only details Brent would pass on would be her shortcomings. She owed him a nice, sisterly punch in the gut when she got home. For now, it was best to stick with a close version of the truth, so she didn’t lose track of fabricated stories. An uneasy feeling settled in her belly. This game wasn’t quite as fun as she’d anticipated. “Double major. French language and art history.”
He studied her for a moment, appearing to reevaluate her, before returning his attention to the road. No flicker of recognition, though, only surprise. “Do you have plans?”
She nodded. “I have offers from several smaller museums. A few in New York. One in Paris. The Louvre, actually.” It felt like a jinx to finally say it out loud. As if voicing the offer of a lifetime, working as a research assistant in the world-famous museum, might make it disappear in a cloud of sparkly dust. She wasn’t necessarily thinking about taking the job, since she’d already been away from home for so long. But every once in a while, she’d open the e-mail containing the offer and reread it out loud. In a French accent. “I spent two years studying in Paris and I’ve always wanted to go back. But I’m taking a week to decide.”
“One week?” Another measured glance in her direction. “That’s a pretty quick turnaround.”
Lucy shrugged. “I’ve got some business to take care of.” Realizing the conversation was turning too personal, not a good idea when she was pretending to be Sasha, she ended that line of questioning by reaching into her purse and pulling out the week’s itinerary. If she had to face the city solo, she might have some adjustments to make.
A beat passed. “What’s that?”
“My plans for the week. Or former plans, I should say. I doubt I can bike tandem through Central Park by myself.”
“Lucy left you in the lurch.”
“Hot guy. Lake house. Cruel Intentions on DVD.”
Matt snorted. “What else is on your list, Sasha?”
Something in her chest pinched when he used her roommate’s name, but she determinedly cast it aside. “Do you really want to know?”
He frowned at the windshield. “That bad, huh?”
She held the list, pretending to read it. “Crash a wedding at the Waldorf. Rappel down the side of a forty-story building. Break a billionaire’s heart.”
When he sent her a dark look, she merely winked at him to assure him she’d been joking.
“Very funny.”
“About time you noticed.”
“Oh, I noticed.” His gaze raked her thighs, moved up her belly and over her breasts. The air-conditioning blasting through the interior of the car became totally inadequate as Lucy’s body heated like a furnace. “Believe me, I noticed.”
Her breath escaped her in a shaky puff. “Yeah? Are you planning on doing anything about it or ignoring me until we reach New York?”
“Ignoring you isn’t exactly an option.” He sounded almost angry. “Not when you’re sitting that close, smelling that damn good, with your thighs falling open to fuck with my head every other mile.”
Oh my God. Who the hell was this guy? In the wake of his words, her body began to hum like an electric generator. “Y-you only answered half my question.”
His jaw flexed. “I’m dropping you off in New York the same way I picked you up.”
“Bored?”
He shook his head. “Clean.”
Lucy reeled a little under the impact of his unexpected answer. That single word told her so much about him while at the same time, spawning a hundred more questions. He thought touching her would…tarnish her? It didn’t fit in with the arrogance he wore on the surface. She opened her mouth to ask him to clarify what he’d meant, then decided against it. The set of his mouth told her she’d be wasting her time. Delving any deeper would just shut him down completely.
She took a breath and glanced back down at her itinerary. “There’s only one important activity on the list. The rest is just funny business.”
“Funny business.”
Lucy nodded. “Correct. Thursday, however, is important. It’s the sixtieth anniversary of my grandfather proposing to my grandmother.”
“You’re celebrating with them?”
“Actually, Matt, they’re dead.” She shook her head. “Way to bring up a painful subject.”
He shot her a look, smirking when he saw she was kidding.
She let her head fall back on the headrest. “He popped the question on a bench in Central Park. I’m going to be there for the exact minute it happened.” She shrugged. “Kind of like a tribute.”
“You won’t be alone for that, at least. Someone will probably be asleep on it.”
She covered her eyes. “Please, stop. Your optimism is blinding me.”
Without missing a beat, he handed her his sunglasses. Lucy put them on.
Before she could ask him how he saw through such dark lenses, something under the hood of the car snapped, screeched and fell into a thumping pattern.
“Serpentine belt,” Lucy said automatically as Matt cursed, pulling the car onto the shoulder.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” If Matt had spent any amount of time with Brent, he knew about the Mason family obsession with cars. Diagnosing his engine trouble would definitely tip her hand. “I said…I don’t like how that felt.” He shot her a suspicious look, but ultimately climbed out of the car. She debated a moment, then joined him under the hood he’d propped open. Seeing the frayed belt, she let herself enjoy a little surge of pride at being correct. “Uh-oh. That looks bad.”
He was already dialing his phone and didn’t answer. When what Lucy assumed to be roadside assistance answered, he rattled off their location perfectly and described in exact detail the engine’s condition. His words were clipped and precise, telling her how close attention he paid, even when he appeared to be lost in his own world. She needed to remember that.
“How much is it going to cost to tow it back to New York?” Matt asked into the phone, before wincing at the answer. “How about the closest garage? Fine.”
He hung up.
“That sounded promising. Tow back to New York too expensive?”
Matt cast a look down the busy highway. “It literally would have been highway robbery,”
A laugh bubbled from her throat. “At least you’ve maintained your relentless sense of humor.” She stepped back as he closed the hood. “So, what now, Chuckles?”
His throat worked as he grazed her with another head-to-toe perusal. In that moment, she got the odd impression that she made him nervous, but that couldn’t be right.
“Good question,” he finally answered, with all the enthusiasm of an undertaker.
Chapter Three
He was actually checking into a roadside motel with the rosy-cheeked girl next door. If she knew, if she had even an inkling of the thoughts bombarding his mind, she would have taken her chances hitchhiking the rest of the way to New York City.
They’d ridden in the tow truck to the nearest garage, whose mechanic had informed him they could have a serpentine belt ordered for his car by morning. Which meant they were stuck overnight, still three hours from home, in a convenient motel adjacent to the garage.
Convenient. Right.
While they waited for the slow-moving motel clerk to wake up his ancient computer, he decided it would be safer to book her a separate room. He didn’t trust himself having her within reaching distance. Throw in a convenient bed and time to kill…he’d be screwed in more ways than one.
Right on cue, the clerk lifted his head. “One room?”
“Yes,” Sasha chirped.
“Two,” he answered at the same time.
Doing his best to ignore the way her tempting lips pursed in disapproval, he handed the clerk his credit card. When he saw the man eyeing Sasha with not-so-subtle interest, he nearly snatched it back. He didn’t like the look on the clerk’s face. In fact, it kind of bothered the shit out of him, especially since he’d brought it on by claiming they required separate rooms. So much for retaining his sanity.
“On second thought, just one room,” he said, holding on to the card until the clerk met his eyes. Hopefully, a room with two double beds and a decent enough cable hookup would keep him distracted. Matt almost laughed out loud at that. A teeming swarm of locusts couldn’t distract him from her. She stood beside him silently, chin set with unflagging positivity, enveloping him in that cinnamon-vanilla scent that seemed to get more noticeable with each passing minute. He wanted to mingle that scent with his own, drag her down onto a flat surface and smell every inch of her skin to determine where it radiated from the strongest. Then…God, then…he wanted to hear several screamed apologies, back to back, for making his cock hurt so badly.
You can’t do it. Remember the damage you’ve caused.
The clerk cut off his disturbing thoughts by handing him back his credit card. He stared at Sasha the entire time. “All set for room number fourteen.”
She smiled. “Thanks. Is there somewhere to eat around here?”
“Not within walking distance, I’m afraid.” His hands moved furiously over his desk before handing her a stack of glossy, colorful menus. “Lots of takeout choices. Or I could take you to pick you up something. I get off in—”
“Thanks, we’ll manage,” Matt interrupted. Apparently the clerk was as slow as his computer. Putting his hand on the small of Lucy’s back, he led her out of the office. A glance at a mounted blue sign had him turning right. “If you want something to eat, I’ll get it for you.”
She held up a Domino’s menu with a flourish. “I swore after grad school, I’d never order another Domino’s pizza. Didn’t even make it one full day.”
“I’ll let you pick the toppings.”
“Oooh. A humorist and a gentleman.” She grinned up at him, blissfully unaware of his sudden desire to hand-feed her, bite by bite, watching her mouth accept the food he offered. “Be careful or you’ll be stuck with me longer than a night.”
“Don’t jinx me.”
“I’m growing on you. I can tell.”
Matt bit back a sudden smile. How many times had he been required to do that today? As they walked, his thumb eased under her shirt of its own accord, finding a dimple at the base of her spine. He almost groaned out loud, wishing he could drop to his knees and explore the valley with his mouth. Bumps raised along the skin of her neck as he watched, telling him she felt it, too. It was alarming, how quickly the pulsing need had risen. He could usually keep it leashed until it came time to engage in the actual physical activity. With this girl, his leash had been pulled taut since the moment he laid eyes on her in the coffee shop. Now it threatened to snap. He desperately needed to keep himself in check, for the entire night. But in his current state Matt worried he might not even make it to their room.
He took a deep breath and removed his touch from her skin, wanting to feel the shifting warmth again instantaneously. Green eyes watched him curiously, as if she wanted to say something, but she held out her hand for the key instead. When he followed her inside, it was a struggle not to drag her down to the floor and erase that curiosity once and for all.
Donovan, you’re losing it. Reel it back.
Sasha set her purse down on the bed and picked up the telephone. “Pepperoni and black olives?”
He hated black olives. “Your choice.” As she placed the order, Matt was painfully aware that he paced the motel room like a starved lion. When she finished her call and flopped back on the bed, he came to a standstill. Jesus, he needed a distraction. Something to keep his mind off her exposed stomach. “So how do you know Lucy?”
She sat up slowly. “Right, Lucy. Um, we met skinny-dipping, actually.”
Perfect. Just the distraction he needed. “How’s that?”
“A group of my friends sneaked in after hours to the college pool. Illegally, I should add. We thought we were total badasses. Until we walked in and saw Lucy already swimming a naked breast stroke.”
Matt felt a tug at the corner of his mouth, even as his body reacted to the image of Sasha, dripping wet, emerging from a pool. “Sounds like the Lucy I’ve heard about.”
In what seemed like an absent gesture, she ran a hand over the comforter. “How come you’ve never met her? From what Lucy told me, it sounds like you’ve been friends with her brother for a while.”
He leaned back against the table and crossed his arms. “I’m not big on family barbecues.”
“No sightseeing, no barbecues. Are you sure you’re American?”
This girl made him want to smile and snarl all at the same time. If that had ever happened before, he sure as hell couldn’t recall it. Since her question didn’t require an answer, he used the opportunity to ask something that had been weighing on his mind since his car had broken down. “Where am I dropping you off tomorrow?”
A long pause. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, when we reach the city, who are you staying with?”
“A friend,” she answered too quickly.
Something dense and dangerous settled in Matt’s belly. The arrival of jealousy was unwelcome and inappropriate. They didn’t have a relationship beyond driver and passenger. He knew that, but rationalizing with the feeling didn’t make it go away. “Male or female?”
“Marsupial.”
“Sasha.”
She visibly winced and the feeling only increased. This girl he was lusting after, feeling territorial over, had a boyfriend. “Female,” she answered finally. Matt wasn’t sure he believed her, but her softly spoken word calmed him relatively. At least enough to keep at bay the images of her with another man. Delivering her to that other man.
He nodded toward the remote control attached to the bedside table with Velcro. “Why don’t you find something to watch? I’m going to rinse off.” In the ice-cold shower.
Looking relieved that he hadn’t pursued the subject of where she’d be staying, she nodded, flipping on the television as he passed. Matt walked into the bathroom, turned on the light, and pressed his forehead against the door. Without hesitation, he dropped his hand to the front of his jeans to massage his weighty erection. He had to bite his lip to keep from moaning. Since he’d walked into the damn coffee shop, he’d needed to relieve the pressure and now he’d finally get his chance. He couldn’t stop himself from picturing Sasha’s teacup-sized breasts. The way her nipples had beaded in the air-conditioning of his car. The pale smoothness of her inner thighs. How he’d like to mark them with his teeth.
When he heard a gasp, followed by a groan, outside the bathroom door, it took Matt a moment to realize the sound hadn’t come from his fevered imagination. He held his breath and listened, frowning when he heard it again. Before he even registered his own movement, his hand closed around the doorknob and flung the bathroom door open.
Sasha squealed and dropped the remote control like it was on fire. He realized then, the sounds were coming from the television. A man and a woman, in the throes of orgasm, writhed and bucked on a four-poster bed, cheap art hanging in the background. Porn? She was watching porn?
He pinned Sasha with a look, but she was too busy searching for the remote underneath the bed, ass pointed straight up in the air. “It was the first channel that came on, I swear.” Her voice was muffled, but he could just about make out her rambling words over the screams of ecstasy coming from the television. “And it’s the weirdest thing because I don’t even watch porn, but it came up this morning over coffee with a friend. Crazy how things work, isn’t it? No porn for years, not a hint of it, then bam, it’s everywhere.”
Matt stood very still, trying his best to find humor in the situation, because she was so clearly lying. Porn definitely got her motor running. But at the end of the day, he was a man. When a gorgeous girl in jean shorts is waving her ass at you, an ass that has been haunting you all day, against a backdrop of moaning and slapping flesh, any attempt at maintaining control is compromised. Desire, thick and urgent, arm wrestled with his willpower as his feet started to move. Toward her? Toward the door? He didn’t know.
Finally, she sat up on her knees, face flushed from embarrassment and exertion. Her lips were parted and chewed-on. Beautiful. So fucking beautiful. And clean. He shouldn’t.
With his control hanging by a string, Matt strode for the door. Just before he reached it, he felt her push up behind him. Hand frozen on the knob, he sucked in a breath as her hands coasted over his ribs and ran up his pectorals with just enough pressure to make his eyes close.
“Don’t go,” she whispered.
The leash inside him snapped.