His Frozen Heart (28 page)

The breath I had been holding
released. The taxi cab had barely cleared the parking lot when I
dialed Officer Brown a second time. “He just left. He’s in a
Green-taxi, headed north on Gordon. He’s with a woman. I haven’t
seen Grey.”

Officer Brown’s voice answered back
urgently, “You said he saw you?”

“
Just for a second, then he
went into the bar. He didn’t see me when he left the
bar.”

“
I’ll call the cab company
to get a location on the taxi. Don’t go inside.”

“
I don’t plan to.” I gave
one final jerk on my key, and it pulled free of the lock. I no
longer wanted to go inside and talk to Chris. I didn’t want to go
back to my empty house, even if that had been an option. Libby
could be awake by now, but I knew Larry would be there to take care
of her. The only thing I wanted in this moment was one person,
holding me against him, blocking out all the things I wanted to
pretend weren’t going on in my life. I unlocked my car, fired up
the engine, and pointed it toward Dave’s.

Just before I pulled onto Dave’s
street, Officer Brown called me. “The cab dropped him in a parking
lot. I’ve got men canvassing the area. We’ll find him.” I thanked
him for the update. Fear ebbed as Dave’s garage came into view.
Mark wanted me to pretend we hadn’t seen each other tonight. I
couldn’t do that to Dave. I’d have to find a way to tell him that I
had seen him, but gloss over the fact that Mark refused to meet
him.

Chapter 20

I pulled in front of Dave’s garage. He
must have been watching for my car from the upstairs window because
the moment my lights touched the door, it lifted open. My heart
danced as I saw Dave in the corner pressing the lever to let me
safely back into his world. His hair was wet; either he had just
worked out or he was freshly showered. Either possibility was
inviting. I got out of my car, my eyes locked on his. As we stood
across the garage from each other, neither of us spoke to the
other, but the torrent of desire between us was palpable. Dave
reached for the lever to close the garage door behind my car and
wordlessly began climbing the steps to his apartment.

I followed him. When I cleared the top
step, all the lights were out, and candles danced lightly in the
darkness on nearly every flat surface of his apartment, giving just
enough light for me to see his silhouette standing in the center of
the room. He was perfection in the flesh. I succumbed to stunned
silence as my body drew closer to his.

When Dave brushed against me, the
familiar heat he generated in me returned. I grabbed hold of him
like there would be no tomorrow. Remembering how delicious his
chest looked under the towel last night, I wanted to see it all, to
feel his flesh against mine.

The t-shirt he wore was just as tight
as the one he wore last night. I wrapped my fingers around the hem
of his shirt and gave it a tug up. Surprisingly, his hands pulled
it out of my grip, anchoring it in place. He hadn’t been a lady’s
man in high school; maybe he was insecure around women. I couldn’t
be sure, but it felt like some sort of game he wanted to play; I
was as competitive as they come and loved a challenge.

I slipped my hands under the back of
his shirt, allowing my hands to glide over the smooth skin beneath.
Dave’s breath hitched in response to my touch, and before he could
disarm me with one of his kisses, I grabbed hold of the material a
second time and pulled hard to lift it over him.

Dave stopped me a second time,
securing the shirt, then he distanced himself from me. A curtain of
rejection billowed over me. What kind of signal was he sending me?
The candles gave the apartment a romantic feel. The look in his
eyes and the warmth of his touch were a welcomed invitation. His
insistence that his shirt stay on made no sense. What was the
turmoil going on inside him? I believed his longing burned just
under the surface with mine. Had I imagined it?

Dave had stopped several paces away
from me. My eyes drank in his silhouette: his sculpted body was a
true work of art. Men with bodies in the same league as Dave’s
normally walked around in as few clothes as possible. He had had a
tough life growing up, so maybe he was shy about his body. What
little I knew of his past had been difficult. Maybe he hadn’t told
me every grim detail. Maybe there were physical scars he didn’t
want me to see.

Maybe I needed to give him some space.
There weren’t many places to go off to in the apartment for any
kind of privacy. Actually, other than the bathroom, there weren’t
any places for privacy. I began to wonder if I had crossed a line.
Glancing toward the stairs, I considered going down to the lobby of
his garage, or maybe to my car. I didn’t want to force myself on
him.

Dave walked over to his enormous bed
and lay down, much the same as he had done last night. Conflicting
emotions ran rampant within me. Part of me wanted to escape to the
seclusion of my car and forget his rejection, while the more
convincing part of me longed to go stretch out on top of him where
he lay.

I asked, “Did I do something
wrong?”

His flirtatious smile beamed at me
with humor in his voice, “No.” He patted the space beside him on
the bed, as his voice returned to the silky sound from earlier,
“Come lie down with me.”

The sound of his baritone request
launched a fresh wave of butterflies in my stomach. Even from
twenty feet away, Dave’s eyes were locked on mine. His seductive
look drew me to him as my body responded of its own accord. Before
I could talk myself out of it, I was seated beside him on the
bed.

Neither of us spoke. I watched him
intently, looking for any sign that he had lost interest. His gaze
held me locked in place. Dave leaned toward me, barely brushing
against me. I felt the heat from his skin as I longed to feel the
softness of his lips against mine. I wanted to reach out to him,
but I didn’t want him to push me away. After the silence between us
became nearly unbearable and neither of us made a move for the
other, I asked, “So that kiss yesterday. . . any
regrets?”

The black pupils of his eyes were so
dilated in the diminished light that they had nearly swallowed the
walnut color whole. His eyes narrowed when he answered, “No.
You?”

His hand tentatively found mine, while
his eyes refused to look away. He began gently stroking the top of
my hand: his feather light touch made circular motions on my skin
causing goose bumps to erupt along my flesh. “Only that you haven’t
kissed me like that since.”

In one fluid motion, Dave rolled
toward me, pressing his weight against me, as his lips sought mine
like a precision missile. I welcomed his lips as his hand continued
doing its dance along my side, under my sweater. I deepened our
kiss as a sensual groan escaped him. My arms guided him as he
pressed himself against me.

I wanted my skin against his, to feel
the friction of our bodies colliding in the dimly lit room.
Whatever had given him pause as we stood just minutes ago seemed to
have evaporated: he wanted this as much as I did. I tugged at his
shirt again, but he took my offending hands in his and held them
where they couldn’t pull his clothes off. Uncertain what to make of
his action, I asked, “Are you okay?”

Dave shook his head, “I’m fine. I just
don’t like my shirt off.”

His words stung. So I was taking this
further than he wanted it to go. I concluded he wanted to slow
things down, just rekindling our friendship rather than starting
anything more. My hands went limp in his as I eased my body away.
His eyes snapped open wide as regret colored his face. “Shit.
Candy, don’t.”

I turned toward the opposite wall, I
murmured, “Don’t what?”

His voice begged, “Don’t move away
from me.”

I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t understand
what was going through his head, and on top of everything else
going on, I didn’t think my ego could take a crushing blow. The “I
just want to be your friend” line would be more than I could take.
I didn’t move.

Dave’s voice sounded defeated. “Oh,
hell. I might as well tell you. You’re going to find out
anyway.”

“
Tell me what? Let me guess
– you have a girlfriend. You aren’t over a recent breakup? You
aren’t at a place in your life where you have room for me. Go
ahead. Whatever you’re going to tell me, I’m fine with it.” My
voice was peppered with resentment, ready for whatever stupid
rejection he was going to throw my way.

He turned my body toward him as a shy
look took over his features. “Uh, no. Nothing like that. You’ll
probably think it’s funny. And just so you know, I prefer funny to
creepy.” He paused as if trying to get up enough courage to go on.
“So I was out on a date with a girl just after graduation. We had
both landed a couple fake ID’s and were wearing them out. I was
lit, so was she. We thought it would be fun to go out and get
tattoos.” Dave paused, as if assessing my ability to keep up with
the conversation.

I let his words marinate for a second.
He had been on a date, he was drunk, and he thought it would be fun
to get a tattoo. The pieces fell into place – he had a woman’s name
tattooed on him and didn’t want me to see it. From his desire to
keep it hidden from me, it was probably an “Eternal Love” or sappy
“Love of my Life” design. Jealousy flared for no good reason as I
felt my eyes narrow on him. My reaction was absurd. Who cared if
another woman’s name was permanently written on his
chest?

Dave studied me for a minute before
deciding, “I can tell from your reaction you’re going to see it and
think it’s creepy. So I’ll just do us both a favor and keep my
shirt on.”

My posture stiffened. What kind of
idiot gets the name of a girl he hardly knows tattooed on his
chest? The words were out in a flash, “So what was her
name?”

Dave leaned in questioningly,
“Who?”

“
The girl you went and got
a tattoo with?”

Confused, he answered, “Jill. I still
see her every now and again. The guy she’s dating owns that purple
custom downstairs.”

Now it was my words that were
confused. He had tattooed her name on his chest, and now her
boyfriend was one of his customers? “That’s got to be
awkward.”

He shook his head, “No, not really.
She and I only went out the one time.”

“
Wait, you just said you
see her every now and again. What’s that mean?”

He smiled as if he had to explain a
horrifically complicated concept to a moron, “I mean when her
boyfriend comes into the shop – I see her then. I don’t hook up
with her or anything.”

“
Oh.” I wanted to be okay
with it. I’ve made some tragically stupid decisions – not stupid
enough that any of them were permanently etched on my body – but
some things I wasn’t too happy about after I had done them. We both
lay there awkwardly on the bed. His hand reached for mine. I didn’t
push it away, but I wasn’t overly eager to pick up where we had
left off just to be shut down again. Curiosity got the better of me
when I rolled over on my side and said, “Show me.”

Dave grinned. “I’m a betting man. And
I’m betting that if I show you my ink there are only a few possible
outcomes. Most of them are bad,” he paused. A charming grin that
reached all the way to his eyes studied me until he continued, “I’m
not willing to risk it. My shirt stays on.”

His summation of the possible outcomes
made me giggle. “What if I promise not to react one way or the
other after you show me?”

Dave’s head cocked to the side in
consideration, but answered, “Not good enough.”

“
What if I promise no
matter what it looks like, I know that it was done when you weren’t
in your right mind?”

He smiled, not the sweet grin from
before, but the perfect wide smile of a Cheshire cat. “I didn’t say
I wasn’t in my right mind. I said I was drunk.”

“
Whatever. Show
me.”

Dave’s hand began gliding up my arm.
Sternly I accused, “You’re purposely delaying. Either show me now,
or I’ll think of all the worst possible tattoos you could have. If
it’s really bad, I promise to wake up before you every morning and
color it in with a black Sharpie.”

“
Every morning?” I worried
that I had said something wrong and began thinking of something
clever to say to cover up the fact that I would like the idea of a
sleepover at his place for more than just a couple nights. His lips
began nuzzling my neck, whispering kisses just under my jaw. Heat
spread over my skin as my body made me more acutely aware of his
touch. His breath was labored and with each new sensation, I fell a
little deeper under his spell. Dave turned toward me, hiking his
leg up over my hip and pressing his body firmly to mine. “Just
promise me you won’t think I’m creepy.”

Creepy? Images of skulls, zombies,
even a swastika came to mind, but I needed to know. “I
promise.”

Dave eased off of me, boosting himself
into a seated position on the other side of the bed. He shook his
head as if having an internal argument with himself. I faked
disinterest, taking my boots off and setting them beside the bed.
He turned away from me, his muscular back facing me, and then in
one quick motion removed his shirt and proceeded to fold it into a
six by six square laid neatly beside him. Nearly a minute passed
before I heard an audible sigh and he turned toward me.