Friends and Lovers Trilogy 02 - Charmed (19 page)

Chapter Eighteen

Cheating bastard.

Sofie refused to acknowledge how striking Chaz looked leaning against his luxury Mercedes in his single-breasted, pinstriped Armani suit. So he was classy as hell, and GQ gorgeous. So he had a lot of money. He also had a string of girlfriends. She could forgive many things. But not infidelity.

She willed her nerves steady as she thanked Trixie for the lift, and waved good-bye. Of all days for JP and Rudy to be fighting. The tension pinging off Rudy when he’d driven her to the Carnevale had been excruciating. She’d decided not to spend the night at their townhouse in the hopes that they’d talk things out, kiss, and make up. She’d phoned JP to let him know she was staying over with a friend, a bald lie, but if he knew she planned on spending the night alone at Viv’s he would have pitched a fit. Or called Lulu. The lie seemed the easiest solution. She certainly didn’t believe she was at risk.

Then again she hadn’t expected Chaz.

She summoned a mask of indifference as she walked toward the asshole who’d robbed her of her dreams. “Go away.”

He pushed off the car and nabbed her elbow. “We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t.” God, he smelled good—cedar and musk—his cologne, like his clothes, designer chic. But beneath the classy exterior beat the heart of a snake-oil salesman. If she wasn’t careful, in less than five minutes, he’d have her believing that those other actresses forced themselves into his bed, and that she was his one-and-only love. He was that smooth.

He grasped her other elbow and pulled her close, his blue eyes serene and as enticing as Caribbean waters. “I’ve apologized.”

She steeled her heart, hardened her voice. “Chocolates and roses. It’s like applying a Band-Aid to an amputated limb.”

He shook his head as though disappointed by a child. “Dramatic as always.”

A jab.
Good.
It hurt.
Even better.

She smirked. “Me, dramatic? A professional actress? Imagine that.”

“I made a mistake, honey.”

“So did I.”
I believed you when you said you loved me.

“I miss you.”

“You mean you miss the commission you made off my bookings.”

He pulled her into a warm embrace, tempted her with a seductive gaze. “Come home.”

She swallowed hard as the sky faded to purple and the automatically-timed security lamp flicked on, bathing the yard in romantic, pink light. “I am home.”
Okay. That felt weird.
Like she hadn’t dreamed of busting out of Jersey since she was old enough to walk.

His gaze flicked toward the house. “Rough neighborhood.”

Compared to Manhattan?
Was he nuts?

Chaz studied her face, grazed a thumb over her lower lip. “I’m ready to take this to the next level, Sofia.”

Her heart pounded. Not in anticipation, she realized, but in dread. He was going to kiss her, he was going to propose, and she was going to forgive everything.

He claimed her lips, his hands sliding to her ass. Chaz had a real thing for her firm, but plentiful booty. He seared her mouth with a ten-alarm kiss. She should’ve been on fire.
Where was the heat?

He eased back and smiled, an arrogant tilt of the lips that used to melt her bones. “I can give you what you want, Sofia. Security and countless orgasms. You’re a handful.” His gaze slid over her body. “But worth it. Come back to the city and move in with me.”

Move in?
Okay. She felt something
now.
Insulted, betrayed, disappointed, angry. Good enough to be his lover, but not his wife? “Fuck you.”

The bastard actually laughed. “I love it when you’re pissed.” He clasped her right hand, placed it over his bulge. “It means hot sex.”

She knew she was rattled, because instead of squeezing his nuts and inflicting much deserved pain, she wrenched away and slapped his face.
Big wussy deal.

He laughed. “God, you’re hot. Let’s take this inside, baby.”

Tears stung her eyes as he hooked an arm about her waist and maneuvered her toward the house. The sex, it was all about the sex. So what? She gave the best BJ out of his roster of lays, and as an award he was going to make her his live-in mistress? Numb with grief, she stumbled blindly forward. She was such a loser. Why didn’t she deck him? Why was she crying?

“Hey, asshole. Mind taking your hands off of my girl?”

Chaz froze, and then slowly swung around.

“Joseph?” Dammit, her voice actually
cracked.

Murphy’s sinister-sexy friend quirked a dark, dangerous smile. “Hi, babe. Sorry I’m late.”

Dressed in holey bell-bottom jeans, a bulky black sweater, and a sock cap, he looked like a thirty-something home boy. She didn’t know why he was here, but he offered her a means to save face. She swiped away tears, hoping it was dark enough that neither noticed the waterworks. “I only just got home, so … your timing’s perfect.”

Joe nudged Chaz aside. “Do you mind, dude?” He grasped Sofie’s hand and gave a gentle tug. She moved into his arms. Willingly. Naturally. He reeked of that horrid aftershave. She wanted to drown in it. He nodded toward Chaz. “Who’s the suit?”

Drawing strength from Joe’s badass attitude, she shot her ex a deadly look. “A salesman. But what he’s offering, I’m not buying.”

Joe smoothed his palm up and down her back, a comforting gesture as he eyeballed Chaz, and shrugged. “You heard her, pretty boy. Hit the road.”

Chaz smirked, gave Joe the once-over, then glanced at Sofie. “I don’t believe it.”

“Believe it.” She wanted to hurt Chaz Bradley. She wanted him out of her life forever. That’s the
only
reason she wrapped her arms around Joe’s neck and instigated an open-mouthed kiss. He didn’t seem to mind when she stuck her tongue halfway down his throat. In fact, he immersed himself in the ruse, palming and squeezing Chaz’s favorite part of her anatomy while kissing her blind.

Chaz cursed, at least she thought he cursed. Add deafness to the list of lost senses, along with smell. Touch and taste, however, ruled. Stone muscles and velvet tongue. Spearmint and licorice. For an instant she forgot this was an act, and gave over to the raw passion attacking every fiber of her pliant body. Joe’s kiss was so deep, so
tender,
she wanted to weep in admiration of its beauty.

“Make sure to get your pole smoked before you leave,
Joseph.
No one gives head better than Sofia.”

Now
that
she heard.

The kiss ended abruptly. Although Joe didn’t just stand there staring after Chaz as he sulked toward his Mercedes. Unlike her, he hadn’t been stunned stupid by the vicious taunt. He clamped a hand on Chaz’s shoulder, jerked him around, and socked him in the jaw.

The designer suited man staggered back, touched his manicured fingertips to his mouth, and spat blood. “Crazy hoodlum!”

“You’re half right,
Chaz.”

Sofie blinked as Joe advanced on her ex-lover,
a man he knew by name.
He reached back, pulled something out from under his sweater. A gun? Jesus, was that a gun? It was dark now, and they’d moved out of the wash of the yard lamp. Next thing she knew a door slammed and the Mercedes squealed away from the curb. She palmed her forehead as the red taillights faded quickly from view.

Joe stalked toward her readjusting his sweater. She didn’t see a gun, but she was certain he had one. Relatively certain. Whatever he’d done or said, he’d put the fear of God into Chaz-I-could-charm-a-snake-into-buying-shoes-Bradley. “You’re crazy,” she whispered.

“That’s the half your ex got right.” He grasped her arm and steered her toward the house. His touch was gentle, unlike his tone. The man was pissed. “Why didn’t you clip him in the balls or shin rake the bastard when he took liberties? I know you have it in you. I have the bruises to prove it. What the hell was with the girly slap?”

Her stomach rollercoastered as she tried to reconcile this volatile man with the one who’d kissed her into a blind stupor. “Just how much did you witness?”

“Enough to know you weren’t happy about him being here. I wasn’t going to interfere, but you disappointed me, babe.”

She jerked out of his grasp. “Don’t call me that. And screw you.” She was more angry with herself than Joe. He was right. She should’ve defended herself better. She practiced martial arts, for chrissake. But where Chaz was concerned it wasn’t that simple. A part of her, a desperate part, she thought with disgust, still clung to a dream. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk with Murphy.”

“He’s not here.”

“I gathered. Otherwise he would’ve been the one chasing off pretty boy.”

Sofie chafed. “I can take care of myself.” She
could.

“What the hell’s that?”

She moved forward and squinted at the gooey mess on the porch steps. “Someone smashed in Lulu’s jack-o-lantern. Damn, I thought the kids in this area were better behaved.”

Joe plucked a penlight from his pocket, shined it at the door. The culprit had used pumpkin pulp to finger paint a message on the window. “Any chance this is pretty boy’s handiwork?”

Sofie blinked at the word ‘TRAMP’ and moistened her lips. So this is what Chaz meant by rough neighborhood. He must’ve approached the house before he knew she wasn’t home. She shook her head. “It would’ve meant getting his hands dirty.”

“Wishful thinking on my part,” Joe said. “Preferable to the alternative.”

Sofie shivered. “Lulu’s stalker?”

“Doesn’t make sense,” he muttered while gesturing to her to hand over her keys.

She turned the knob, pushed open the door. “Lock’s busted.”

He shot her an exasperated look and then stepped in ahead of her.

“Be careful,” she warned, even though he was being a jerk. “There’s stuff everywhere.”

“I’ll say.”

She shimmied past a stack of boxes, peeked around his shoulder and gaped at a gigantic teddy bear and an array of floral bouquets blocking the main entrance. Her stomach churned with dread. Outside destruction. Inside
seduction.

“Where’s your sister?” Joe asked, after stooping and reading a gift card.

“Murphy’s house.” Before he could argue otherwise she latched onto his arm. “I’m coming with you.”

Fear is not an option.
Weak from her creative stint as aggressor, Lulu collapsed on top of Murphy, adopting the Marine motto as her own. She was also fond of “OohRah” and “Let’s rock and roll,” both of which she now equated with mindblowing sex.

Slick with exertion, she pressed a kiss to Murphy’s neck, tasted salt. Sweat was never so sexy. She sighed. “I saw stars. No, I saw another galaxy!” She didn’t care if he thought she was daft, she wanted him to know how she was affected by their lovemaking. When he didn’t respond, she noted his controlled breathing, lifted her head and saw that his eyes were closed. “Are you sleeping?”

“No, just having a quiet heart attack.”

She smiled. “Is that similar to seeing stars?”

He grinned.

Her stomach did a funny flip. How had she ever thought him quietly handsome? He was heart-stopping gorgeous. He lazed open his eyes and peered up at her with such intense affection, her breath caught in her throat.

He framed her face in his hands. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

Her pulse raced as he stared up at her for what seemed an eternity.
Okay.
Her turn to have heart palpitations. No one, not even the man she’d been married to for ten years, had ever called her beautiful. Cute. Perky. A living doll. But never
beautiful.
And not just beautiful, but f—
ing
beautiful! How was it that a vulgar word could sound so tender? Overwhelmed, she blinked back tears and summoned an ornery smile. Wiggling against his amazing body, she purred, “I like being on top.”

Smiling, he smoothed his hands down her back sending a delicious chill up her spine. “I got that distinct impression, tiger.”

Tiger. She liked that. She also liked the way he brushed his fingertips over her backside, eliciting sensual shivers. Desire knotted her belly, even as she second-guessed her lovemaking skills. “Was I too loud?”

“I like loud.”

“Too wild?”

He studied her a moment. Again, she caught that flicker of affection, as one of his hands came up to smooth her curls out of her face. “You were perfect, honey.” In the next instant, he finessed her onto her back. Stretched out alongside her, he propped himself on one elbow, using his free hand to caress her curves. “Lulu, when this is over, I don’t want this,” he interlaced his fingers with hers, “us, to end.”

“Wow,” she croaked past the lump in her throat. “So I was that good, huh? Who knew?” If she didn’t joke about it, she’d cry. All those years of trying to nudge Terry into trying something slightly exotic, just for the physical thrill. But Terry wasn’t interested in exotic. He was interested in making babies. Sex with Terry had been a means to an end. In the end she’d felt like a failure as a woman. Barren. Undesirable.

Murphy squeezed her hand. “It’s not about the sex, although—”

“I need it to be about the sex,” she blurted. She palmed her brow. What a stupid thing to say.