Captured at Nightfall (Capture My Heart Love Story) (16 page)

What was he doing to her?

Her lips were full, still swollen from his brutal kisses. A trembling index finger brushed over the center pad of her bottom lip and she sighed, eyes fluttering close. The feel of his mouth on hers . . . the
way
he kissed her . . . geeze, Louise. He didn’t
just
kiss her . . . he possessed her; consumed her; dominated every inch—every cell—until all rationale evaporated and she transformed into some wild woman.

She’d never in a million years pick herself out of a crowd and think she was eye-catching. But how
Matthew treated her . . . she felt beautiful when he was with her.

What in the hell was she doing to herself?

She had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that the “L” word may be involved somehow, and that had her scared to death.

Matthew
was just so consuming.

Thus, the panic attack.

Giving
your everything to someone who was so guarded, so private, and who disappeared all the time; well, it probably wasn’t the smartest move Allie had ever made. But then, her brain tended to vay-cay up in La La Land anytime Matthew came around. And besides, she couldn’t help who her heart chose, could she? Good for her or bad, Matthew had most assuredly taken up residence in that particular organ.

The front door
s to the PPMS building opened and the unmistakable physique that could only belong to Matthew Lynch made its exit, and then turned to face the building, obviously waiting for someone.

Allie
’s cheeks simultaneously cracked apart to accommodate a big ol’ cheesball grin while she scooped a pair of her panties off the passenger-side seat and stuffed them in her clutch.

A
well of giggles trilled up her throat as she imagined Matthew’s expression when she casually slipped them into his pocket later.

Yes, this wa
s going to be a fun night.

She shut off her ignition and climbed out of her car.

Deep. Breath.

Her eyes trained on
Matthew’s back while nervous hands smoothed the skintight, black dress she’d borrowed from Lainie. The lacy tops of her garters were barely covered at the halfway point up her thighs. It had been a ridiculously expensive luxury—the lingerie. She’d
never
spent so much on herself before. Especially for something like underwear. All that silk and lace made her feel like a sex kitten, though. Matthew’s sex kitten, actually. So, really, it was worth it.

Smiling like an idiot,
Allie stepped down off the curb to cross the street and froze.

Two little boys with red hair barreled out PPMS doors and launched toward
Matthew’s opening arms. He swung one squealing boy up onto his shoulder, while the other one railroaded him in the gut. Laughing, and looking carefree in a way Allie had never seen him before, Matthew grabbed that boy, too, and tossed him up onto his other shoulder before he started heading toward a waiting cab.

Oh
. . . No!

The world began to recede around the edges as a fuzzy black hole centered right
around Matthew. She choked on a wave of nausea that washed over her, too horror stricken to look away—or run away for that matter; which was what she was doing in her head—both hands clawing at her face in a perfect impression of Edvard Munch’s Scream painting. Unfortunately, the nausea only compounded when the tiny figure of a woman—super model?—wearing a perfectly tailored cream dress over willowy legs that didn’t seem to stop for miles clipped onto the scene. A quaff of black curling hair framed a face other women would die to have: she was all dark, smoldering eyes and red lips, parted in a sexy, Mona Lisa smile. She walked up to Matthew and put an arm around his waist. Showing familiarity. Lots of it.

Oh, shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

As they reached the cab, the woman rose
up to tip toes and kissed Matthew’s cheek.

He was freaking married!

Oh, please n
o
!

Allie
had slept with a married man.

The wheels started cranking on overdrive as she searched back for some clue.

His finger. Had there been a line from a wedding band?
Shit
, she couldn’t remember.

All the time he’d been gone . . . oh . . . shit!
Double shit!

Tears brimmed in
Allie’s eyes. What they’d done together!

As the woman—wife—and kids got into the cab
Allie turned to flee.

She was going to lose it.

I have to get out of here . . . like, now.

A horn blared and she jumped.

Crap, she’d been standing in the middle of the crosswalk for who-knew-how-long, staring at Matthew. Her tongue felt thick, like she couldn’t get his name off the roof of her mouth.

The horn blared again and
Matthew’s attention was drawn right to her. She scrambled back to the sidewalk, fumbling in her purse for her keys. Just as she pulled them free, Matthew came up on her. She actually smelled him first. And
damn
him, he smelled incredible: like cloves mixed with aftershave—all sex and testosterone.

“
Allison?” That voice melted her on contact, all mocha caramel triple rich fudge supreme.
Forbidden
fudge supreme!

She kept her eyes on the ground.

Oh, she was miserable.

His hand ran up her waist and back, urging her to tu
rn toward him. Those hands! Where they’d been! She couldn’t stand it!

When she refused to turn,
Matthew asked, “Allie, what’s wrong?”

She couldn’t face him. She just couldn’t.

The peek at his reflection in the car window being the best she could manage, her voice quivered all over her words, “I was just leaving.”

“I can see that.” A pinch of skin appeared between his eyebrows. “Why?”

Her hand flattened over the side of the car and she sucked in a breath through her nose. Not very lady like, but it was better than strangling him. “I—I saw you with your . . . er . . . kids.”

“My
”—he blinked—“kids?” He went ridged and Allie saw the light bulb blaze to life over his head. “Oh, shit, Allie. They’re not mine.” He spun her around easily, even though Allie’s heels were digging in—difficult considering she was wearing six-inch stilettos.

Wide green eyes bored into hers. “
Allie, those are my
brother’s
kids. Stacy is my
sister-in-law
.”

“
Stacy,” she whispered. The model had a name. “But the kids looked just like you.”

His fingers dug into her shoulders while his eyes narrowed. “Like my
family
, Allie. Like my mom, too.”

Her chest started to loosen its crush around her heart. Was he telling the truth?
Damn it, this was so messed up. “You swear to God you’re telling me the truth,” she rasped.

Matthew
’s face relaxed a little. “Yes.” His eyes closed. “Allie, yes.”

“Where was your brother, then?”

His face went pale and he swallowed. “He’s dead.”

“Oh.”
Oh, geeze
, why did she have to ask him all the wrong questions? “I’m sorry, Matthew.”

His throat clenched around his Adam’s apple. “It’s okay.”

Allie sucked in a shaky breath. “I’d like to meet them.”

His
eyes tightened as he tried to pull out of the grief that had covered him so quickly. “Sure. Okay.” A small smile, then, “Stacy would love that, actually. She’s in town for a few days and won’t stop nagging me about doing something together.”

Allie
felt her smile relax a little more as the last of her doubts finally dissipated. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He eyed her speculatively. “You’re okay? You don’t think I’m a cheating bastard?”

She laughed. “No.”

“Good, then. Come on.” He offered her an arm. “And I won’t even mention how you nearly got yourself run over just now.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not a word about it, huh? Good thing you’re not a control freak, stalker type that flips out about every little thing.”

His eyebrows rose while his mouth curled up with a whole lot of
who-just-flipped-out-over-little-things
? “Good thing.”

As she
burrowed her hand into the crook of his elbow, he leaned into her, his lips brushing her throat. “By the way. I’d like to pull up that dress you’re wearing, bend you over this car, and take you till we both can’t walk.”

Oh, my.

***

Allie
had no idea as to what Matthew would think constituted the word “date” in his book. She worried she’d end up skydiving or alligator wrestling or something. Okay . . . maybe not the alligator wresting, but she
had
worn the dress just as a precaution. Physical dare devil-dom was
so
not her forte.

Imagine her surprise when they ended up at a high end dance club in uptown Scottsdale.
Matthew dancing was not an image she’d ever conjured. Punching Chuck Norris in the face or ripping out someone’s throat, sure.

T
his was going to be interesting; kind of like doing cartwheels on the ceiling.

They got a table in a secluded corner where the two of them could share some privacy.
Matthew ordered a plate of oysters for them to share, along with a beer for himself, and a—what the hell—yager bomb for Allie.

When their drinks came
Matthew’s lips lifted with his trademark half-smile.

“What?”
Allie asked.

“You’re drinking.” He took a swig of his beer—regular
American-crafted this time.

She eyeballed the darker liquor inside the golden Red Bull.
“Why not?”

“You don’t like being out of control.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “I’ve given up on control since I met you.”

A frown pulled down the corners of his mouth.

“I didn’t mean that as a
bad thing
, Matthew.” She steepled her fingers to rest the tip of her chin over them.

How to explain
?

Her lips pursed and her index finger slid to the rim of her glass. “I guess I haven’t reall
y had a chance to be compulsive”—No, she shook her head, that wasn’t the right word—“Young,” she amended.  “I didn’t get much of a childhood. My mom did the best she could, you know, being single. But her needs tended to override motherhood. She was lonely. Went through a lot of guys. She worked her tail off during the week. I only saw her for an hour at night when she was in-between shifts. But then on the weekends; well, she was out with her friends in search of Mr. Right.”

Allie
paused to regard Matthew’s sculpted face. His lean cheeks and hard jaw; the perfectly proportioned nose slicing down to a set of full lips that could twist with cruelty or tenderness in a flash. And his eyes, so dark and brooding; darker still when he made love to her. She so, totally got why her mom had craved a relationship. A real one, with
real
companionship. Not just a companion, though, but a true partner. Someone who complimented your weaknesses with their own strength. And who you could share responsibility and trials with; joys and accomplishments. Both of you pulling and giving in perfect unity.

How could you go through life knowing the possibility was out there and never being able to find it for yourself?

“I never blamed her.” She sighed. “I
wanted
her to be happy. But . . . saying that, it left me alone. A lot. Homework, school dances; heartaches; insecurities; and awards. I did it all on my own. You could say it made me independent. But it also forced me to grow up fast. And to depend on only myself. If my world came down it was no one’s fault but my own. How it’s always been.”

She eyeballed her drink and her mouth pinched together. Without another word she tossed it back, eyes burning, throat burning, chest filling with heat and carbonation.

“Here’s to second chances. To freedom. Life and happiness.” Wow, her eyes were watering. And boy, did she know how to ramble. She leaned back in her seat and shut up, letting the liquor do its job and hopefully dissuade some of the humiliation that she was feeling from what she’d just said.

Matthew
slipped out from the table and stretched his hand down to her. His eyes were a soft, mossy green. “Dance with me, Allie.”

Gladly.

She held on tight as he whisked her onto the dance floor and into a heated wave of gyrating bodies and pulsing music. Breathless as always, she wrapped her arms around his neck and knotted her fingers through the hair at the base of his skull. As he started to sway along to the rhythm of the music, his hand fanned over the base of her spine, fingertips brushing the top of her buttocks as he pressed her into his hips.