Hot Seduction (7 page)

Fiona turned toward Tammy. “You and Cody should really get together. You're both flirts.”

“No!” Serena said.

“What?” Tammy asked. “Are you staking a claim on him?”

Serena shook her head. “Nobody will ever be able to claim Cody Mallehan,” she said. He'd made that clear to her.

But that was good. She didn't have time for romance right now.

Tammy touched Serena's empty shot glass. “This
is
about him.”

“Not at all.” At least not entirely. She uttered a heavy sigh. They were her friends, so she brushed aside her pride and told them about her disappointment at the bank. And because they were her friends, they offered commiseration and support and another round of shots.

Fiona squeezed her hand. “I'm sorry.”

But it was clear she understood why the loan had been refused. Serena understood, too. But it had been her last hope to pay off the lawsuit without having to sell the house.

“Maybe I should have seduced Gordon,” she said to Fiona. Maybe he would have given her the loan, then. He'd made it very clear that he was still interested in
her
. Just not in her business.

Fiona laughed.

“It'd make more sense than seducing Cody,” she said.

Tammy snorted wine out of her nose. “What?
You
tried to seduce Cody?”

“Fiona told me to,” Serena said.

“Why?” Tammy asked.

“So he wouldn't sue me.”

“Why are you so worried about that?” Tammy asked.

She told her about his slipping in the bathtub.

“You saw him naked?” Tammy asked dreamily.

Heat rushed to Serena's face, and she could only nod as her throat closed up with remembered desire.

Tammy waved her hand in front of her face, as if she were imagining it, too. “That explains why you would think about it. But I figured he'd already be in your bed by now.”

His dog occasionally was. But not him. “He's not my type,” Serena said. She'd been saying that a lot lately.

“A man that good-looking is every woman's type,” Tammy said.

Fiona laughed. “Not Serena. She needs a more serious guy. She needs someone like Braden.”

“She needs another drink,” Serena answered for herself as she got the waitress's attention this time. She didn't need the drink because she could already feel the alcohol in the warmth of her blood. But she'd make do with it since she couldn't have what she really wanted. The loan.

Not Cody.

8

“S
INCE
WHEN
DO
YOU
not want to go to the bar?” Wyatt asked Cody as he held open the Filling Station door for him.

Since he had someplace he would rather be—at the house with Serena, making sure she was all right. Was that her he'd seen earlier leaving the bank? And if so, why had she looked so upset? What was going on with her?

“Remember he has a concussion,” Dawson said. He was behind Cody, nudging him through the door. “It can affect someone's personality.”

Maybe that was his problem. But he hadn't been able to get Serena off his mind even before he'd hit his head. She was so damn sexy with that hair and her body...

And...

Even now—in the crowded bar—he thought he could hear her laugh, which was ridiculous given how sad she'd looked earlier. But had that been her then? He'd been three floors above her and hadn't gotten a good look at her face. Maybe he'd just imagined it had been her on the street, too, like he imagined her in his bed every night.

“The girls have our booth,” Wyatt said.

“We can sit somewhere else,” Braden said as he followed Dawson. Wyatt had insisted on their boss coming along to the bar, too. Since Braden's divorce, Wyatt had made it his mission to keep him from brooding alone in his office.

“No, we can make room,” Wyatt assured him. “Fiona can sit on my lap.”

Cody glanced toward their usual booth at the back of the bar near the pool tables. And his heart stopped for just a moment when he saw Serena there, her head thrown back as she laughed.

He hadn't been mistaken; he had heard her—that distinctive, husky, sexy-as-sin laugh of hers. She was here with Fiona and Tammy.

“And Serena can sit on yours,” Wyatt continued.

Cody liked that image—of Serena's sexy tush pressed against his groin, her hair tickling his face and his throat as she leaned back against him—grinding her hips against his. Then he realized Wyatt hadn't been talking to him; he was talking to Braden.

Their superintendent nervously chuckled. “Another one of Fiona's wild friends?”

“No!” Cody said. Serena wasn't wild; she was sweet and serious.

And based on her flushed face and bright eyes, it looked like she was slightly tipsy now. Or maybe even more than slightly...

He had never seen her drink anything stronger than iced tea at the house.

Wyatt chuckled. “I figured you wouldn't get anywhere with her. Serena's too smart to fall for your flirting.”

She was.

“So she's smart and beautiful,” Braden mused as he stared at her with obvious interest.

“I think you two would have a lot in common,” Wyatt told him.

Cody's stomach lurched as he realized Wyatt was right. Serena was a lot like Braden; she took responsibility for everyone, even him. She took care of people.

“I don't think she's looking to get involved with anyone right now,” Cody cautioned them.

Wyatt laughed. “Just because she turned you down flat doesn't mean she doesn't want to date a nice guy.”

But she hadn't dated anyone as long as he'd been living there. And Stanley, who shared everything he observed, had said he hadn't seen her go out with anyone either.

The kid had wondered why. He obviously had a crush on her, too.
Too?
Did Cody? Was that what this was? A crush like he used to get on teachers who'd been nice to him? He'd gotten over them quickly enough when he'd been moved to another foster home and another school.

He would get over Serena, too, when he moved out to Washington to become a smoke jumper. He had every intention of applying for that position and following his plan. Nothing had changed for him.

He shrugged. “Whatever,” he said. “I just didn't want to see the old guy get shot down.”

Braden wasn't really old, probably just a few years over thirty. But he seemed older—at least to Cody, who wanted nothing to do with being responsible for anyone else.

Braden snorted. “I'll be fine,” he said. “In fact it may surprise you how much game this
old guy
actually has.”

Cody should have been happy to see his boss like this after how devastated he'd been following his divorce. Wyatt, who slung his arm across Braden's shoulders and steered him toward the booth, was obviously thrilled.

Cody couldn't have been less so. He didn't want to watch a man he liked and respected hit on a woman he wanted. He'd barely been able to admit it to himself, so he couldn't say it aloud, especially not in front of Wyatt and Dawson who would consider this poetic justice for all the times Cody had hit on their women.

Maybe he should rename Annie and call her Karma—since it was such a bitch.

* * *

F
IONA
HAD
BEEN
RIGHT
. Braden Zimmer was a very nice man. He was also good-looking with his short brown hair and serious brown eyes.

But he wasn't Cody. Cody was the man Serena couldn't stop staring at. He sat at the end of the booth, in a chair he'd pulled up to the table. He was quiet, almost like he was brooding. She wasn't the only one who'd noticed.

“What's wrong with you?” Wyatt asked. “You finally realize you have no chance of stealing my woman?”

Cody chuckled, but it sounded forced—at least to Serena. “Thought I'd lull you into a false sense of security for a while,” Cody told him. Then he wiggled his dark blond brows over green eyes that twinkled with wickedness. “I'll wait until her bachelorette party to have my way with her.”

Tammy giggled. “The only way you're attending that party is as the entertainment,” she said. “You can be the stripper.”

“What would be the point?” Wyatt asked. “Everybody's already seen him naked.”

“Especially after his little bathtub incident,” Dawson said. “Glad I'm not taking EMT calls anymore. Poor Owen.”

Wyatt snorted with mock-disgust. “The whole thing was probably staged just to get attention.”

Serena had briefly entertained that idea—before she'd realized he was actually hurt. But it had already been too late then. She'd seen him in all his naked glory, and she couldn't get that image out of her mind.

“Hey, I'm not the one who got mistaken for a male stripper,” Cody said with a pointed stare at Wyatt.

Wyatt raised his hands defensively. “That wasn't me—that was the boss. I had to defend him from a bunch of drunk women during male stripper night at that new club in town.”

“Exotic dancer,” Braden corrected them with feigned snootiness. “I was mistaken for an exotic dancer.”

In addition to being good-looking, he was funny and charming, too. What was wrong with her? Why wasn't she attracted to him? He was sitting close to Serena, but he wasn't making her pulse quicken or her skin tingle—not like Cody did with just a glance.

“There's your entertainment,” Cody told Tammy.

She shook her head. “Then I guess you're not getting into the party. The only males allowed will be taking it
all
off.”

At the thought of Cody stripping off his clothes, heat flooded Serena. Crammed into one side of the booth between Braden and Dawson, she struggled to draw a deep breath. But she couldn't get any air.

“Are you okay?” Braden asked her.

“I think I need to leave,” she murmured.

She'd had too much to drink—which wasn't much. A couple of shots and a glass of wine over a couple of hours. But she had always been a lightweight; that was why she didn't go out very often.

That and the fact that she needed to be home for her boarders. She wouldn't have gone out today if she hadn't hired a home health aide to come in for Mrs. Gulliver and Mr. Stehouwer. She wouldn't have dared to leave them alone. The aide would make sure they were cared for, and the stew she'd left in the crockpot would feed Stanley and Mr. Tremont, if he came home. She'd thought she'd seen him a little earlier in the bar. So maybe he'd eaten here.

“Can you drive her home?” Fiona asked Braden. “You should see her house. It used to be a stagecoach stop. It has a porch that wraps around the first floor and a balcony that wraps around the second story.”

Serena wished she was out on the porch now—where she could breathe. It wasn't just the alcohol or Cody that was affecting her. The very real possibility that she would be forced to sell the house was making her panic.

Fortunately Dawson slid out of the booth so she could move. But as she slipped out, she teetered on her heels. Dressing up had been a waste of time. Gordon hadn't been impressed with her business attire or her acumen.
Your tenants don't even sign leases, Serena. You have no guarantee how long they will stay
.

Cody had already warned her that he wasn't staying. But he was there for her now; he was the one who wound an arm around her waist and steadied her.

In addition to the physical support, he gave her that fluttery feeling again—that unique, pulse-tripping, skin-tingling sensation.

“It would be stupid for Braden to drive all those miles out of his way,” Cody said, “when Serena and I are going to the same house.”

Braden had followed her out of the booth. “It's no trouble,” he chivalrously insisted. “I would love to see her house.”

“It'll be dark soon,” Cody said.

Serena had no idea what time it actually was. She'd come straight to the bar after her late afternoon meeting had gone so wrong.

“And with the woods all around it,” Cody continued discouragingly, “you wouldn't see much of the house at night. It would be stupid to try now.” He sounded almost surly. Why was he talking to his boss that way?

She glanced up at him and found his focus on her face. There was concern in his green eyes. Was he worried that she'd had too much to drink and Braden might take advantage of her? She doubted that; his boss seemed too nice for that.

Now, Cody...

She shivered at the thought of his taking advantage of her—and how much she would undoubtedly enjoy it.

She turned back to Braden. “Thank you,” she said. “It was nice meeting you. But Cody's right. We are going to the same house. It makes the most sense for me to ride with him.”

“You don't usually leave this early, though,” Wyatt remarked to him.

Cody touched the puckered wound on his forehead. “Aftereffects of the concussion.”

“Are you sure you should be driving then?” Fiona persisted.

She and Wyatt obviously wanted Braden to bring her home. Apparently they had become one of those couples who were so disgustingly happy they had decided to play Cupid for their friends.

At the moment Serena didn't care; she just wanted to leave. She wanted to go home and enjoy her house while she still had it.

“I'm medically cleared to drive,” Cody said. “I'm just tired.”

So was Serena. “I'm tired, too,” she murmured. “I'm sorry. I'd just really like to go home. Now.”

Cody didn't wait for the others to agree. He began to steer her through the crowded bar.

“It was nice meeting you,” Braden called after her.

She turned back and waved at him. He looked disappointed, like Gordon had looked when she'd turned down his offer to go out to dinner that evening. He hadn't understood that she might not want to eat with him after he'd crushed all her hopes and dreams.

Cody's arm tightened around her waist as he guided her over the peanuts and around the other patrons. His hip bumped against hers; his thigh rubbed against her.

She giggled.

“What's so funny?” Cody asked.

“I have two really nice guys interested in me,” she said. “But I'm going home with
you
.”

“You don't think I'm a nice guy?” he asked as he led her out the back door to the parking lot.

Due to cold winters and hot summers, the asphalt had buckled. Her heel got stuck in a crack, and she nearly fell. She would have—if his arm hadn't tightened around her even more.

“I think you can be kind,” she said. What he was doing for Stanley was very generous. “But you're not a nice guy in the way that Braden and Gordon Townsend are.”

“Who the hell is Gordon Townsend?”

She wasn't about to talk about the bank officer, so she just shook her head, which was already light from the alcohol. She swayed again, and her legs threatened to fold beneath her.

Maybe Cody was sick of trying to hold her upright because he just lifted her, as if she truly was a light weight. Fortunately he didn't sling her over his shoulder, fireman-style, or she might have hurled. One arm beneath her knees and the other around her back, he cradled her against his chest.

She was tired and a little drunk, so she laid her head on his shoulder. She wished she could rest all her burdens there. His shoulders were wide enough to carry them. But he wasn't the kind of guy she could count on to be there for her.

So why was he the man she'd wanted to go home with?