Baddest Bad Boys (20 page)

“You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Hugh’s getting married to—”

“Someone named Veronica.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “I’ll be damned.”

“You didn’t know.” She came back to the table and sat down, looked wryly amused. “Men. Amazing what they don’t talk about.” She picked up her coffee mug, held it with both hands, and looked at him over its rim. “Hugh met Veronica in September. It was love at first sight. He proposed to her a couple of weeks ago.”

He shook his head. So that was it. During their call yesterday, Hugh hinted he had some news, but said he’d save it until they could get together. Now he knew what the news was—he was happy for Hugh. The guy was programmed for a wife and kids.

“I really can’t believe he hasn’t told you,” she said and raised her brows.

He swept his gaze over the woman across from him; her tumble of golden hair, smoldering blue eyes, the smile playing over her full mouth.

A rush of pure adrenaline jerked his chain, and happy as he was for his brother, he was suddenly even happier for himself.

“I didn’t think he’d ever do it,” he said.

“Most of you get roped up sooner or later, and Hugh’s crazy about Veronica. A trip to the altar makes perfect sense.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

“I didn’t think he’d ever get over you.”

4

Mac watched a flush creep up Tommi’s neck, bloom in her cheeks, and waited for her to deny his brother’s feelings, make light of them.

“Hugh and I had that out years ago,” she said.

“And?”

“We agreed to be friends. I love your brother. Just…not that way. We’re friends. Nothing more. And that works for both of us.”

“And this Reid character, what do you feel for him?”

She put her coffee down. “Why this sudden interest in my relationships?”

“Answer my question, and I’ll answer yours.”

“I thought I did answer it. Last night.”

“I’d like to hear it again. In daylight.” He wanted to be sure, because he never messed with another man’s woman.

She knit her brows, gave him a wary look. “Reid’s a thief, probably a violent one. The more distance I keep between him and me, the happier I’ll be.” She tilted her head. “So, why the questions?”

Mac had boxed himself in. He owed her an answer; he just wasn’t sure she was ready for it. Hell, he wasn’t sure he was. What he did know was that he wasn’t going to let his dick—untrustworthy at the best of times—make a fool of him. If he was going to have this woman, it would be on his terms. “Why don’t you put on some clothes? We’ll take a walk. The rain’s let up,” he gestured to the gray day outside the kitchen window, “temporarily at least.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

“I’m not sure you’re ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“To talk about sex…with me.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t play the shocked ingénue. She simply rose and walked to the window, looked out for several seconds before she turned to look at him again. “You’re to the point, I’ll give you that.”

He shrugged, tried to look more at ease with this conversation than he was. “We’ve got some time to kill. And I want you.” He paused. “But I guess you’ve heard that a few hundred times.”

“Not with quite the cold-blooded approach you’ve taken.”

Mac went to stand in front of her. With one finger he touched her chin, lifted her face to his, wanting to see the depths of her eyes. “Trust me on this, sweetheart. There’s nothing cold-blooded about it.” He bent, brushed his mouth over hers. A charge shot through him, a blue-hot, thousand-volt charge—and the damn floor dropped out from under his feet. He pulled back, saw the kiss in her eyes, the dark, expectant hunger of it.

She wanted more.

He wanted more.

But not yet.

“How about that walk?” He ran his knuckles over the cream of her skin, down the line of her throat. “You’re tight as a drum.” And he knew exactly how to loosen her up.

She blinked, one of those slow, where-am-I kind of blinks, then slipped sideways, pulling the sash on her robe tight. He could span her waist with his hands. “I’ll be right back.” She headed quick-time to the stairs leading to the second floor. On the landing she stopped, frowned. “My staying here? It isn’t dependent on going to bed with you, is it?”

“No.” Why he felt insulted she’d ask, he had no idea.

“Good,” she said, “because while I’ve done a few less-than-admirable things in my life, I’ve never exchanged sex for favors. And I’m not starting now.” With that she headed up the stairs and disappeared from view.

Mac stared after her. The woman was no slouch in the straight-talking department herself. He liked that.

If he didn’t watch it, he’d start liking her.

Which wouldn’t be smart, and if he was anything, he was smart, and careful, and determined to be detached, especially when it came to his current housemate. Getting in deep—on anything but the physical level—with Tommi Smith would be nothing but trouble. When he decided to settle down with a woman, which he would sometime in the distant future, he didn’t want to worry about her having one eye on him and the other on the lookout for her next conquest.

 

Tommi wriggled into her jeans, did up the six fly buttons, and snuggled into a cream-colored sweater. She brushed her hair and pulled it back roughly in a tortoiseshell clip. She frowned at her white sneakers…not the best in this weather, but they’d have to do.

When she was done and she’d caught her breath, which had been untrustworthy since she’d closed the bedroom door behind herself less than ten minutes ago, she sat on the chair near the window and stared out at the misty afternoon.

That kiss…

She sorted through her ragtag thoughts, stunned she hadn’t given Mac a good shin-kick and stormed out like the good and proper girl most mothers raised their daughters to be. Trouble was, she hadn’t had a mother, only a father who hadn’t had time for her. And she’d never quite considered herself proper, but even if there had been a man or two too many, there hadn’t been enough to put her in the running for the Susie-does-Seattle award.

Not even close.

Now here she was, in a lodge at the back end of the world, seriously considering going to bed with Hugh’s brother.

Which makes me either crazy or sex-starved.

Damn it, she liked sex. Wouldn’t apologize for that. She especially liked sex with talented lovers. Lovers at ease in their bodies, and easy with hers. That lovin’ feeling…A hard, powerful male body straining for release. Sensations of polished steel over brushed silk. The musky scent. The heat of desire in his eyes when he explored her body, stroked her warming skin…rubbed her clitoris with a deft finger. Tasted her.

The rush of coming and coming…

She crossed her legs, tight, and inhaled deeply. At least she’d been smart enough not to go to bed with Reid. She’d come close—he’d made all the right moves—but something held her back. Instincts, plain and simple.

Instincts she needed now, more than ever. Closing her eyes, she listened for those subtle whispers to tell her what course to take. But this time they weren’t so clear. In one ear they urged her toward Mac’s bed, Mac’s body. In the other they murmured, be careful.

A woman never knew when one more mistake would be one too many.

She decided to heed the be-careful signal, reminding herself she’d come here to be safe, not sorry.

If she was in the market for a fresh load of regret, all she had to do was go to bed with Mac before she’d thought it through.

He shouldn’t have kissed her—if you could call the soft meeting of their lips a kiss. She touched her mouth and her breathing stalled. She compressed her thighs against the tiny pulses playing havoc at their apex. If the barest touch of his lips to hers made her body throb—where it had no business throbbing—they’d be lethal applied to more vulnerable body parts.

She wanted that…Mac over her, in her, his mouth on her breasts and his hands—

No! She did not want to sleep with Mac. It was nothing but a sexual hum, a dark coaxing from a traitorous body. She would not listen. Hugh was her friend and by extension so was Mac—or could be if she played her cards with common sense. Better to gain a friend than a lover. She wasn’t about to mess things up to have rash, mindless sex.

She went to the closet and rummaged for a jacket. Too light, but it would have to do. She headed for the door.

A walk was a good idea. It would clear her head. The farther she and Mac stayed from roaring fires, big, comfy sofas, and even more comfy beds, the better off they’d be. Trudging over soggy earth under rain-drenched trees on a freezing November day would definitely put the thought of sex on hold.

Mac waited at the door, wearing the same yellow rain slicker he’d worn when she’d arrived yesterday. He eyed her jacket.

“Here.” He handed her a hooded fleece pullover. “Put this on under your jacket. The wind’s a killer.”

“Thanks.” She pulled it on and he helped, opening the neck area wider so she could more easily poke her head through. When the clip holding her hair came loose and fell to the floor, he picked it up, looked at her, and slipped it in his pocket.

He forked his fingers through her long hair, tucked it in the hood. “Leave it down,” he instructed.

“You planning on using it to drag me to your bed?” She asked, not sure how she felt about his caveman tactics.

“Would it work?”

“As a first move, I’d say it’s a nonstarter.”

“Too bad. Those early boys had a good thing going.” He came close to smiling.

“Do I detect the glimmer of a sense of humor?”

“Not when it comes to you, Smith. You’re serious business.”

She let that go, didn’t want to ask what he meant by it, because on some level, the idea of being Mac’s serious business made her uneasy.

Outside, the weather huddled, wraithlike and unpredictable, the clouds heavy and dark, the air salty and ocean-damp. Wind stabbed them with cold, sharp gusts, and mist, low-lying and eerily opaque, drifted among the trees.

Tommi filled her lungs with fresh air and looked around. It was so dark when she arrived last night, until now she had no sense of the property around the lodge. It was beautiful, she thought, so deeply green and mysterious. Two or three cleared acres accommodated the fishing lodge which was settled back from a deep cove protected on both sides by rocky outcroppings. With towering cedars and hemlock ringing three sides, and the broad expanse of the Pacific Ocean forming a moat on the other, the camp was a fortress in the wilderness.

She couldn’t see where they’d walk, unless it was in a circle or along the pocked and rutted road she’d come in on.

“This way.” Mac said. “I want to show you something.”

He pointed to what looked to be an impenetrable wall of trees on the far side of the camp. “Lead on.” She fastened the last button on her jacket, already intensely grateful for the fleece Mac gave her.

Closer to the trees she noticed a cave-like opening. Mac went in first, holding back a tangle of bush so she could follow. She stepped onto a narrow, rough path, a gauntlet of puddles, sludge, sodden leaves, and jutting stones. And, if she weren’t careful, enough eye-level branches to either smack her stupid or take out an eye.

“It’s steep in places, so best you stay behind me. It isn’t far.”

“What’s not far?” she asked.

“You’ll see.”

Tommi was happy to wait, because in seconds it was all she could do to keep up with him as he strode, sure-footed, along the winding path. She let him do battle with the malicious slapping branches while she watched her white sneakers morph into mud-caked combat boots.

Fifteen minutes in, she smelled the sulfur, saw the steam. Another five and she saw a pool several feet below them. There were cedar-plank steps leading down to it, but Mac didn’t take them, just stood at the top.

“A hot spring!” She stepped up beside him, looked down.

“One spring, three pools.”

The enticing waters, bubbling up from the earth’s depths, shivered at its surface to catch shadow and daylight with equal ease.

She breathed in the stew of sulfur, cedar, and sea air. The mix was sharp and heady, like some ancient spice wafting ahead to herald a rare and sumptuous meal. “It smells so”—she searched for the word—“exotic.”

“There”—he pointed to the upper of three pools—“is the source. About 115 degrees. Too hot to use. The water cools as it meets the air and flows over the rocks. The third pool is formed by a waterfall from the second.” He shifted his hand to the last of the three pools. “It’s about 85 or 90.”

“Amazing.”

They started down the cedar-plank steps toward the ocean. “Watch your step,” Mac warned. “The stairs get slippery.”