Hard Curves (Dangerous Curves Book 2) (10 page)

“Oh, God.” She bit her lip. “I’ve bawled all over your perfect shirt and stained it. You’ll send me the dry cleaning bill?”

“Good Christ, Naomi,” he said roughly. “I don’t give a fuck about a shirt, OK? I’m worried about you. Are you alright?”

She forced herself to meet those gray eyes, and suddenly she wanted to be totally open with him. If he was going to be honest enough to tell her how he felt about her, then the least she could do was return the favor. She’d spent a lifetime avoiding hard conversations, and using alcohol to give her the courage to say what was really on her mind. But Matt deserved the sober truth – and she was going to give it to him.

“Not really,” she said quietly.

He studied her pale face. “What can I do? Tell me.”

“Can we – can we talk?”

“Hell, yeah, we can talk.” He put his arm around her shoulders, started to steer her towards the exit. “Let’s go. Grab your coat and I’ll meet you at the door.”

“OK.”

Exhausted and wrung out, she went to her office to get her coat and clutch. She made the mistake of looking in the mirror in her attached bathroom, and she sighed. Her nose was bright red and she had raccoon eyes.

Very attractive. Well, at least he won’t be too sorry that you pushed him away now, huh?

She grabbed a Kleenex and wiped the worst of it away, then fixed her hair, as if that would help the situation. She put on her coat, went back out in to the main room. She skirted its edges, keeping to the walls, avoiding most people, nodding and smiling at those she made eye contact with, thanking God for the half-light. Finally, she got to the entrance area.

Matt was standing there in his leather jacket. When he saw her, some of the tension went out of his face.

“OK, let’s go. I’ve got my car right out front.”

“I can drive.”

“No way.” He was abrupt. “You’re not driving when you’re upset. There’s black ice out there.”

“I can –”

“No. Come on.”

She almost protested again, then she realized that she was actually pretty unfocused, and it was probably safer for her to not be behind the wheel of a car like this. She followed Matt to a sleek Jaguar, and she blinked when he unlocked the passenger side door and held it open for her.

“Ummmm,” she said. “No undercover SUV tonight?”

He grinned at her. “When I get all dolled up, I drive the Jag.”

“Oh.”

Sweet God. Just when I think the man can’t get any sexier, he goes and proves me wrong. Yet again. Damn him.

The drive to King’s apartment was mostly silent. He drove carefully, glancing at Naomi every once in a while. She looked scared to death about something, and his heart squeezed to see her like this. When she’d been crying in his arms, he’d had to beat back the urge to sweep her off her feet, drag her home, demand to know what had happened. He’d kill whoever had hurt her; he’d fix whatever had upset her. All she had to do was tell him what was going on.

Just point me in the right direction, honey, and I’ll take care of it, whatever the hell it is. You’ll never have to worry about it again, I promise you.

They arrived at his building, and they parked in the underground garage. He ushered her on to the elevator, escorted her down the long hallway to his apartment. When she stepped in to Matt’s home, she looked around in surprise. It was warm and bright, and Callie’s art was displayed all over the place. His place was like hers, with an open-plan kitchen and living room area, though his was much bigger.

He took her coat. “Go in to the living room, OK? You want anything? Beer? Tea? Water?”

“No, thanks. Nothing.”

“Go sit. I’ll be there in a minute.”

She wandered in to the living room and sank down on to the sofa. She watched Matt in the kitchen: he removed his blazer, rolled up the sleeves on his dress shirt. At the sight of those huge, tattooed forearms, her mouth went dry.

He just looked so primal, so strong, and in the oddest way, the elegance of the shirt only emphasized it, somehow. The man was pure animal with a veneer of playing-by-the-rules; his wildness was barely held in check. She wanted him to let loose all over her, to see him sweaty and panting as he ground in to her willing body.

Stop it. Stop it right now. You’re just here to pay him a basic courtesy – to tell him the truth.

He opened a beer and she watched him sit down across from her. He drank, set the beer on the coffee table between them.

“OK, Naomi.” He leaned forward, intense and focused. “Talk to me.”

She hesitated for a few seconds, then slowly reached in to her clutch, pulled out her personal talisman. She set it on the table in front of him. King looked down at the bright purple chip, wondering why it had a number ‘nine’ inside a triangle; it was when he saw the words ‘recovery months’ that the penny dropped. He stared at her, then his eyes focused on the bottle next to the sobriety coin. He froze, horror-struck.

“Fuck!” he said, and bolted to his feet. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

He strode in to the kitchen, dumped the beer down the drain, rested the bottle in the sink. He spun to face her. “Naomi… I am so, so sorry. Are you OK?”

“Yeah,” she said, and tried to make a joke. “I was never much of a beer-drinker. I was a white wine girl, through and through. Though, to be honest, when I got going, I’d drink anything… beer, shots of Jagger,
numerous
Long Island Iced Teas. Sometimes all in the same night.”

King didn’t even crack a smile. “I’ll be right back.”

He left the kitchen and she heard water running. Mystified, she sat and waited. He came back now, wiping his mouth.

“What did you do?” she said.

“Brushed my teeth. I want to sit next to you, and the last fucking thing you need is alcohol fumes on my breath.”

“Oh.”

King sat down on the sofa now. “Are you alright? Really?”

“Sure.”

“I mean, after the auction? There was wine there tonight.”

“Yeah, well.” She exhaled, hard. “I had a few – moments.”

“
Fuck
,” he said again.

“You need to learn a new word.”

“Yeah, sorry about my mouth. I’m just – I’m worried about you.”

“Hey,” she said, touched. “I’m OK, I promise. I’ve been doing this for a little while, and I’m slowly getting better at it.”

He gestured at the coin. “For nine months at least.”

“Nine months, two weeks, six days, and….” She consulted her watch. “…about six hours, give or take an hour or two either way. I’m a bit fuzzy about exactly what time I stopped drinking that night. Or, actually, that morning.”

He shook his head. Christ, he hadn’t seen any of
this
coming. “Damn, Naomi.”

“I know.”

“Is this why you were crying? Because you had a moment at the auction? Maybe you got scared or panicked?”

Oh, God. Truth time, girl.

“No, that wasn’t it. I was feeling upset about – about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You’d just told me that you’d had hopes of us getting together, and I was upset that it won’t happen.”

King took her hand. “You want it to happen?”

“Yes.” Her voice shook as she finally told him the truth. “I really do. You’re the most amazing, generous, gorgeous man I’ve ever met, and I want to be with you so much… and I can’t.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This whole time, he’d assumed she was pulling back and staying away because of his shady reputation, his questionable activities. To find out that she wanted to be with him too, that she wanted it as much as he did, was like the sun coming out after a long, cold winter. King was warmed, dazzled, blinded by the brightness that was Naomi’s trust in him.

I can’t believe she told me any of this… that must have been fucking terrifying for her.

“Why can’t you be with me?” he said quietly.

“Because of my recovery process. It’s part of the AA philosophy that you should be in recovery for a year before making any major life changes, or starting a new relationship. Lots of people don’t wait, or they don’t think it makes a difference to them. But I’ve talked to my sponsor about it many times, and I really think that I
do
need to wait a bit longer.”

“Why do you think that?”

She sighed. “Because I’m still trying to figure out how to live my life sober, just as it is. I need to be able to cope with stress from my job and my Mom without a drink. And if I were to throw in a romantic relationship and all the emotion and energy that it would involve, it would just derail everything. You know? It would be a major distraction from the work I still need to do.”

“OK. So I’ll wait until you’re ready to be with me.”

She started. “I’m sorry. You – what?”

“I’ll wait for you.”

Naomi couldn’t think of a single, solitary thing to say to that. Finally she said, “Why would you do that?”

“Are you kidding me?” Matt’s eyes were as gentle as she’d ever seen them. “Because you’re the most astonishing, giving, beautiful woman I’ve ever known. You’re worth waiting for.”

“I am?” she whispered.

“Yes. You are.” Lightly, he ran his finger over the curve of her cheekbone. “Don’t you know that?”

Mute, shocked, moved, she shook her head.

“Well, you should, and I’ll make sure to tell you that every day.”

“You still want to be with me? Even though I’m – I’m an alcoholic?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

Naomi felt tears starting again and she lowered her gaze. He knew what was happening, though, and he pulled her against him, holding her as she cried. His lips were in her hair, his hands on her back and shoulders, and he just let her come back to him when she was ready.

After a few shaky minutes, she pulled away, and sighed when she saw new black mascara streaks on his white shirt. She was surprised she still had any left to smear all over that pristine white surface after her bawl-fest at the auction.

“God,” she said. “All I’m doing tonight is blubbering all over you and your gorgeous shirt. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind.” He cupped her face in his hand, wiped some tears away with his thumb. “I’ve got my arms around you, and that’s all I want right now.”

“It is?” She bit her lip. “You don’t – you’re not disappointed that there isn’t going to be any more kissing for a while?”

His eyes sparked. “Well, maybe a tiny bit. It
was
pretty fucking amazing kissing.”

“It was,” she agreed.

They smiled at each other.

“Actually, there is
one
more thing that I want,” King said.

“What is it?”

“I want to be able to call you ‘honey’. And ‘baby’ and ‘sweetheart’ and several other things in that vein.”

She felt a smile cross her face. “Because we met in a bar?”

“No. Because I’m now officially courting you.”

She laughed aloud. “You’re
what
-ing me?”

“Courting you. Also known as wooing you.”

“Isn’t that something that was done in sixteenth century Scotland or something, with noble families? Months of long walks and talking in the parlour over tea?”

“Yeah. So?”

“So I prefer to sit on my ass and watch movies, and I like coffee more.”

“Yeah, me too, so we’re off to a roaring start.” King touched her hand. “Technically, when courting there should be no physical contact, but hell baby, I’m only human, so I need a bit. Is that OK with you?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“But you take your time, OK? Take as much time as you need… we’ll do this slow.”

“Matt… it’s not like the year thing is set in stone, you know? I mean, it’s more of an internal sense of being ready. I may feel strong enough to be in a romantic relationship next month, or it may be a year from now.” Her dark eyes were anxious. “You get that, right? That it may take longer?”

“I do get that, and it’s fine.”

“And – would you date while we were doing this? Like, you’d have coffee with me and sleep with other women at the same time?”

His face softened. “No. No way. It’s just you and it’s just me.”

“And it wouldn’t bother you to go without – without sex?”

“Nope.”

She thought about his womanizing reputation. “I find that very hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“Because – because – I’ve heard that – um –”
This is awkward. How do you tell someone that you’ve heard they’re a gigantic man-whore?

“You’ve caught wind of my man-whore rep, huh?”

She blinked.
Oh. That’s how
.

“Truth time, Naomi.” He traced small circles on her palm. “When I’m single – which is most of the time – I have one night stands occasionally. ‘Occasionally’ isn’t every night, or even every weekend. Maybe twice a month.”

“And – and using the crash rooms? At Curves?”

Wow. She got an earful, huh?

“Sometimes. Every couple of months.” He took a deep breath. “When I’m single, I have sex with women who don’t want more than that. But when I’m with someone? I’m with
her
and nobody
but
her. I’m an all-in kind of guy, honey. For me, it’s all or nothing, and there’s fuck-all in between.”

God, she wanted to believe him…she really did. But her instinct to not trust men was strong and it had been drilled in to her for years. He saw it in her face and he got even more gentle, more careful.

“I want you, Naomi. I’ve wanted you since you came to my office and lay down the law about not calling you ‘honey’ and not accepting my donation. You’ve got guts and you’re gorgeous and baby, that is a fucking
lethal
combination. It stopped me dead in my tracks, and all I’ve wanted was just the
chance
to be with you. I’d have walked on my knees through broken glass just for one minute of holding your hand, touching that perfect skin. Now that that chance is here, you think I’m going to blow it on some casual one-nighter? No way. No damn way. I want
you
. Just you, nobody but you. And if you tell me that I have you, then you’re mine and I’m yours, and that’s the fucking end of it.”

She bit her lip, everything in her body longing to believe him.