Hooked #2 (The Hooked Romance Series - Book 2) (6 page)

“I thought you wanted to live in Wicker Park?” I
asked him, my eyes flashing. In my head, nothing was better than Wicker Park.
Nothing.

“I do, of course. But later. Wouldn’t it be nice to
live by the lake?” He wrapped me in an embrace, there in front of the door. I
felt, again, like we were a part of something bigger—something stronger.

Finally, I struck my finger against the doorbell and
waited. On the other side of the thick door, I could hear a baby crying; I
could hear a woman—Mel?—calling to the baby. “It’s okay! It’s okay!”

Drew and I exchanged glances, both of us at once
happy that we hadn’t had children yet—that we hadn’t reached this state of
apparent “bliss” that included screaming and baby poop.

Finally, Mel appeared on the other side of the door,
baby Jackson strewn across her left shoulder. “Darling,” Mel said, leaning
toward me. I grabbed her in a big hug and placed my lips on baby Jackson’s
head.

“Is he all right? He’s crying?” I whispered with
great emotion. I was never sure how to be around babies.

“Oh, he’s fine. He just was hungry. But we’re taking
care of it.” Mel grinned, showing all of her wide, white teeth. “And you’ve
brought a friend?” Suddenly, I watched Mel’s jaw drop. I assumed, in that
moment, that she thought he was so gorgeous, so perfect,
perhaps
too perfect for me. But instead, she screamed into the hallway; “ANDREW?”

My eyebrows arched over my eyes. “What?”

But Drew, beside me, had wrapped Mel into a broad
hug, as if they had known each other all their lives. I looked from head to
head, at the way their eyes closed as they embraced.

“Oh, god. It’s been years!” Mel cried. “Hank! It’s
Andrew!”

“New York Andrew?” This was the voice from the other
room. Hank, Mel’s husband, turned the corner and approached them, a bit of
pasta sauce on his shirt. He shook his head, reaching his hand out to Drew.
“God, buddy. It’s good to see you again.
You been
in
the city long?”

Finally, Drew spoke. “Just a few weeks, actually. I
was meaning to call you both. God. I did NOT think this was where we were
coming. I thought you guys still lived in Old Town.”

Hank shook his head. He placed his hand across the
back of his neck. “Nope. Nope. We moved here a bit before the baby was born.”

“That’s right. You know, my mom mentioned you had a
baby. But I didn’t know he was this adorable. Or small.”

Mel leaned across and handed baby Jackson to Drew.
My eyes were wide as I watched the interaction take place. “What’s going on?” I
finally sputtered. Everyone seemed to know each other so well. “How do you guys
know each other?” I tried to calm my face down. I felt, suddenly, like I was
the stranger in the room—like I should be the one to leave to let everyone
catch up.

Drew turned toward me, bobbing Jackson like a
natural pro in his left hand. “Oh, gosh. Molly. I didn’t know we were coming to
see Melanie.”

“And I didn’t know you were bringing Andrew over!”
Mel called out, clapping her hands together. Her eyes were bright, happy. She
didn’t look like the normally tired, aging ballerina she normally did.
“Andrew’s my nephew.”

I looked from Mel to Drew and back. “Nephew?” I
asked. Drew was clearly many years older than Mel. I knew he was thirty-three,
and Mel was only twenty-eight.

But Mel just waved her hand in the air. “You know.
My mother had me like—what? Twenty-two years after she had your dad, my
brother?” She turned back toward me. “Anyway. My brother had already had this
little guy over here by the time I was born. We grew up together, him and me.”

“I went to see you perform so many times at Loyola.
You were the perfect prima ballerina. I can’t believe this.” Drew was shaking
his head, peering down at the small baby in his arms. “What a wonderful thing.
I heard you were a dance instructor these days, keeping the dance in the
family?”

And because Mel hadn’t been trained, because she
didn’t know, she casually spouted these words, giving away my entire
cultivation; “Oh, yes. I’m just Molly’s assistant at Molly Says Dance. You
know, she’s a marvelous dancer.”

Drew’s eyes were suddenly on me. He looked at me
earnestly, still bobbing the baby. “I see. I didn’t know you were a dancer.”

I nodded, feeling naked. I swallowed slowly.

But it didn’t seem to matter. Not then. This was
suddenly a family gathering. Hank rushed us into the dining room, where he had
set out a giant platter of spinach lasagna. He picked Jackson up out of Drew’s
arms and swept him to the back nursery.

“He’s getting so big,” Drew offered to Mel. I felt
strange, thinking I should have said these words to her, instead.

“Oh, gosh. It’s going too fast. But now that I don’t
have work these days, I’ve been able to catch every little thing he does. He
actually tried to crawl the other day, can you believe it?”

We all sat down at the table. Hank and Mel sat on
opposite sides of the table, and Drew and I also sat across from each other.
Hank passed around the rolls, then the lasagna. The cheese swept from the platter
to my plate easily. I looked toward Mel, feeling I should speak. “This looks
delicious, Mel.”

Mel nodded. Her eyes were brimming. “I can’t believe
this guy—this Drew fellow you told me about—is our Andrew! My nephew! Can you
believe it?”

“There’s a lot I can’t believe,” I murmured,
stabbing my fork into the lasagna before me.

“So. What brings you to Chicago?” Hank asked Drew.

“I’m opening a bookstore here. I’ll still own the
New York ones, of course. But this new one is my next project. I wanted to come
back to my hometown. Be with family. Like you folks.” Drew held his hands on
his chest. “Molly. Can I pour you some wine?”

Something in my head was buzzing. I nodded. “Of
course. I’d love some wine.”

“Molly doesn’t turn down wine. She’s a smart girl,”
Mel said, winking at me. My face burned for a moment.

Drew walked around the table, pouring everyone
glasses of wine. I watched as Hank’s chubby face grinned up at Drew, his
relative. I felt so strange. The entire dinner was feeling like an out-of-body
experience.

“So. Andrew. Mel was actually telling me just last
week that you’ve been wrapped up in a bit of charity work these days?” Hank
stabbed some cheese lasagna into his mouth and looked at Drew with beady eyes.

Drew cleared his throat. Charity work? I wondered.
He hadn’t mentioned anything like this. Here, I had thought he was so typical,
just trying to peg me into a notch on his belt before moving onto another lady,
anyone else.

“Right. Well, in New York, I was very much involved
in Habitat for Humanity, some homeless shelters. That sort of thing. In
Chicago, I’ve been looking into that, as well. I want to do good things with my
money.”

Mel nodded at him, completely soaking up everything
he said. My heart was beating wildly in my chest.

“Also. I want to donate to the school systems here.
This was where I grew up, you know. And I got a good education. But I think—I
think the way the school system is now, it doesn’t give children a good chance
to move up in the world. I actually sat down with the school board of Chicago
this past week, and we worked out a payment structure—how much they need, all
that.”

“I certainly feel a lot better about sending Jack to
school here, knowing there are people out there looking out for him and his
peers,” Hank said. Mel, on my other side, nodded her head. I noticed she was
nearly in tears.

“Andrew. You were always so kind-hearted.”

“Well. Being kind-hearted only goes so far,” Drew
murmured, placing his fork and knife down beside his plate. “Now, I have the
good fortune to go with it.”

Mel turned toward me. I could read the expression in
her eyes so clearly. She wanted me to ask Drew—in that moment!—if he would lend
me money to help me buy back the dance studio. But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

As if on cue, Drew asked us about it then; “So.
How’s the dance studio? Are you guys in an off-season, now? Melanie, you said
you weren’t working lately? And Molly—do you do that alongside the PR work?”

I sputtered for a moment before answering. I noted
that Mel had busied herself with her lasagna, not wanting to answer. Drew’s
eyes were unwavering, so assertive,
so
kind. “You
know. Yes. The dance studio is just taking a hiatus right now. We had a—a show
recently. And so. I’m giving the girls a break.”

“I see. And you’re focusing on the PR stuff now?”
Drew took another bite from his lasagna.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I mean. Dance is my
real passion; it’s what I went to school for. Butler University.”

“A renowned dance program,” Drew murmured, nodding.
It didn’t seem like he cared even a little bit that I was a dancer; it didn’t
seem like he thought it was strange or dirty. After all, I supposed he had
grown up with Mel—who had made dance her life in the years before she had met
this raucous Hank sitting next to me.

“Right. Yeah. But. I didn’t make it. Not quite.”

Drew leaned his hand across the table and touched my
hand. “Darling, don’t think that way. You are doing so well, teaching other
children the art of dance. I think that’s wonderful work.”

I looked up at him, then, realizing the complete
undercurrent of his heart, the complete good-natured way he looked at me. Had I
completely misjudged him? Did I not really understand who this man was?

We ate our lasagna and drank our wine in general
good humor after that, telling jokes and discussing anything and everything. I
even laughed at a few of Hank’s jokes. I noted how happy Mel was in her life,
with her husband and her baby, and I started to resent this life of hers more
and more. She had never truly told me she was unhappy; maybe this was what she
wanted, after all?

After several hours, Drew and I decided to take our
departure. I kissed Mel on both cheeks, and we exchanged knowing looks. She
knew how much I cared about this person—this person I had more or less called a
sex god before I knew that Mel had actually grown up with him (and probably
didn’t want to know about his sexual prowess).
 

Drew wrapped his arms around both Mel and Hank,
thanking them joyously for having us to their home. “Molly and I appreciate it
so much,” he said. He spoke of us like we were a couple, like we were together.
My heart burned with the joy of it.

“And tell little Jackson good night for us,” Drew
whispered before we left, as the door opened and sent us into the exterior
foyer. “He’s more beautiful than I can say.”

CHAPTER
SIX

Drew and I scurried down to the Porsche, laughing
about everything that had just occurred. I was giggling so zealously in the
elevator that I lost my breath. “What the hell kind of coincidence is that?” I
asked him, shaking my head. “I met you in a coffee shop. And now—turns out you
grew up with my best friend?”

“She’s my aunt,” Drew said, laughing along with me.
He shook his head. “I mean. I didn’t know anything about your dancing
background. Maybe I would have sensed something—some connection when you spoke
about her. But I have to say. That was one of the bigger shocks of my life. And
I’ve been shocked before.” He winked at me, then, and took my hand in the
elevator, planting a great, extravagant kiss atop my lips. I felt the earnest
pull in my pussy. I wanted him.

Drew pushed me up against the elevator wall and
pushed the small bit of dark green lace down over my breasts, bringing them out
bouncing into the world. I sighed, as he wrapped his thumb and forefinger over
my nipple. He looked at me with intense eyes. “I’m going to make you come so
hard later,” he murmured.

I nearly churned with passion, with drive to make
love to him.

We grabbed hands and started rushing toward the
Porsche in the garage. He pulled the car door open for me, and I flung myself
in the driver’s side, just waiting for him. “Come. Come,” I whispered as he
rushed around to the driver’s seat.

Finally, we were rushing south on Lake Shore Drive,
past the spewing lake and the whizzing cars. I wanted him so bad. He was such a
gentleman, using his money for the good of the world, supporting Mel and I in
our dance career. My head was spinning. He was a good person; a good guy.

I reached across the seats and began unbuckling his
belt.

“Oh, baby,” he whispered to me.

I unbuckled and then unzipped his pants, revealing
his enormous, pulsing dick. I wondered how long he had had a hard on—if we had
been sitting there, horny for each other in the dining room of Mel’s house for
hours. I knew I had been.

“I want you so bad,” I whispered. I felt my eyes
grow hot. I wanted him inside me; I wanted to feel his dick in me. I started
rubbing his dick with my hand. He moaned, trying to keep his eyes on the road.

“Yeah, baby,” I called to him. “Yeah.” He reached
over his seat and grabbed at my wet, dripping pussy with his full hand. I
gasped, nearly coming all at once in that moment.