Not That Kind of Girl (3 page)

It was for the best. Roxanne knew she was too much for him to handle. She was too much for any man to handle. That concept was introduced to her in childhood, with her own father. It was a pattern that would repeat itself through high school, college, then after college, and, most recently, with Raymond Sandberg—the one man she’d convinced herself was mature enough to appreciate everything she brought to the table.

Whoops
. She’d been wrong on that one, hadn’t she? But it would be the last time she’d ever be wrong about a man, because she understood now. There was no man for her. There never would be. And it didn’t matter if two of her best friends had recently been sucked into the vortex of love. She would have to be okay with that. She would have to find her own peace. She was a strong woman, and if anyone could do it, Roxie could.

She shook her hair back over her shoulder, then slowly turned to face him. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Look, Ian—that is your name, right? Did I remember it correctly?”

He offered her a small smile. There wasn’t even the slightest flicker of hurt in his green eyes. Her insult seemed to bounce right off him.

“Elias Jedidiah Gallagher,” he said. With dramatic flair, he swept up his hand to pluck his big black cowboy hat off his head. He placed it on his heart and bent at the waist. “At your service,” he added.

He was such an ass. Roxanne wanted to grab that ridiculous hat and whack him upside the head with it.

The Appaloosa whinnied loudly in Roxie’s ear.

“But you know that, of course,” he added, his voice teasing and pleasant. “We talked for a long while at Rick and Josie’s wedding, and there was a strong attraction between us. We both felt it. And we discussed how I might help you with your rescue dog’s aggression issues.”

“She’s cured,” Roxie said, smiling. “I no longer need your help.”

“And I distinctly remember giving you my card.”

“I must have thrown it away,” she said.

“Before or after I turned you down for that lunch date?”

Roxie enjoyed a bit of clever banter as much as the next girl. In fact, that was something she could never get enough of with Raymond. They would spar, and their words would heat up and the double entendres would fly, and they’d end up rolling around in bed together, enflamed with desire. Raymond might have been almost thirty years her senior, but the man had been sizzling
hot
. Whoever said the brain was the primary sexual organ knew what they were talking about.

But, since Roxie had no interest in banter with Eli, clever or otherwise, she decided to put an end to the barnyard ambush. One ambush per day was her limit anyway, and Mrs. Needleman had gotten to her first.

“Unfortunately for you, Ian,” she said, “cowboys don’t do anything for me.” She stifled a yawn. “But I do know a girl with a major cowboy fetish. Want her number?”

“The name’s Eli.”

“Whatever.”

Eli nodded broadly. “Right. I think I understand now,” he said. “The sheer force of your indifference toward me sent you racing out the kitchen door the moment I arrived. Is that it?”

“You flatter yourself,” she said, her heart now at a full gallop in her chest. She didn’t want any of this. Not the spark. Not the crackling attraction. Not the racing pulse. It had to end. So she delivered what she was sure would be the final blow. “Anyway, you had your chance. You blew it. I don’t give second chances.”

Now
that
got a flicker out of him. Understanding flashed in his eyes, but disappeared immediately. Eli had no comeback. He returned the hat to his head and tugged at the brim, as if to announce his imminent departure.
Good riddance to him,
she thought.

Suddenly, Roxanne felt something nudge her butt so hard her feet left the ground. She flew forward. She slammed right up against the front of Eli’s solid body. She screamed. Eli grabbed her by the shoulders and steadied her, her toes just grazing the dirt. She leaned back awkwardly.

“Seems you got goosed,” Eli said, smiling.

Roxie whipped her head around in time to see the traitorous horse lope off to the other side of the paddock. When she returned her gaze to Eli she noticed that his eyelids were heavy and his attention had shifted to her chest, throat, mouth. Then she became agonizingly aware of the touch of his strong fingers on her upper arms. Next she realized their bellies were pressed together. The front of her thighs were smashed right into his hard …

Oh, God
.

She began to squirm. She squealed in frustration. “Let me go,” she said between clenched teeth.

He didn’t. His grip on her stayed gentle but seemed to deepen somehow. Roxie kicked but her feet barely skimmed across the dust. His gaze returned to hers and locked in. And that’s when the strangest thing happened.

Her body began to flood with a sensation she could only call “ease.” A warm, steady, calming relief that washed through her, softening her and opening her up. Everywhere.

No way was she falling for that shit.

“Settle down, sweet thing.”

The words had been delivered in that deep-river voice. His muted green eyes smiled.

Settle? Down? Sweet thing?

Just four little words and it felt as if the earth had stopped turning. That comment was condescending, domineering, insulting, and, at the same time, strangely arousing. His hands maintained their grip on her as he lowered her feet to the ground. She became a little light-headed. She didn’t know what was happening. The sensations swirling around inside her were confusing. Scary. Intense. Sexual. She resented all of it.

And if she hadn’t despised Eli Gallagher before, she surely did now. How dare he touch her like this? How dare he talk to her with that languid voice? How dare he treat her like a wild stray animal who needed his gentle touch?

And who the hell did he think he was, knocking her off balance like this? If she’d wanted to experience ease and calm she would have gone out and gotten it the normal way—with a prescription!

“Don’t ever put your hands on me again,” Roxie managed.

“I won’t hurt you, Roxanne.”

She felt weak. Way too warm. She wanted to escape his grip but couldn’t seem to muster the energy. It took every bit of strength she possessed to shake her head side to side. “No,” she whispered.

“You’re safe with me.”

And that’s when it happened. Out of nowhere, for no good reason, a sob erupted from her throat. Before she even realized what was happening, the calm had punched a hole in that giant bubble of rage and grief inside her, and it all came flooding out in one long, searing moan. There was no stopping it. She wanted to die from shame.

Eli kissed her. She knew immediately that the kiss wasn’t designed to stop the outburst. Its fierceness only demanded more. The kiss—the heat, the pressure, the need—it wrenched the emotion right of her.

No
. This was impossible. This was nuts! She wouldn’t allow it. No man would ever again lull her into being a stupid, hopeful, defenseless, emotional, babbling idiot the way she’d been with Raymond. She would never leave herself vulnerable like that again. It had been a sacred promise she’d made to herself. No man—Eli Gallagher included—was worth the loss of her self-respect.

She shoved so hard that he lost his grip on her, with both his hands
and
his lips. Roxie gasped for breath and tried to find her bearings, quite aware of how Eli’s eyes had widened with confusion. She turned and ran. Her feet pounded the hard dirt. Within minutes she was in her car heading south on Highway 121, on her way home to San Francisco, where she would undoubtedly shove everything back in its proper place, the way she always did.

Chapter 2

Eli stood on the wide front porch of Rick’s Sonoma Valley estate, watching her make her getaway. Roxanne Bloom’s little square hybrid car kicked up so much dust as it bounced down the lane that he could barely make out the bumper sticker advertising her livelihood:

www.i-vomit-on-all-men.com

A C
YBER
H
AVEN FOR THE
S
PURNED AND
B
URNED

He chuckled, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. True, there were an infinite number of things he did not know or understand about this life, but two things were beyond doubt: that woman’s poor dog could not possibly be “cured,” because the woman herself was a complete disaster; and he had no business messing with an emotional powder keg like that one, no matter how fucking beautiful she was, even if he planned to stay in California for the rest of his days. Which he did not.

Eli shook his head, collapsed into one of the big wooden porch rockers, and crossed an ankle over a knee. He’d kissed her. He’d grabbed her and held her tight against the front of his body and just devoured the girl. Then he’d felt empty when she pulled away. He could sit there and ask himself what had happened, but he already knew. It had been all instinct. Drive. Fever.
Shiii-it
. He made a living telling people they needed to be calm and stable. What a joke.

He clamped his eyes shut and winced as the memory of Tamara invaded his thoughts. Yes, the last time he’d lost his composure with a woman was about a year ago, when Tamara had freaked out and started packing her bags. The irony was that what happened with Tamara hadn’t even been as emotionally charged as what just happened with Roxie. Or as
hot
. Eli opened his eyes with a groan and rubbed a hand across his face, realizing he’d been damn lucky with Roxie, lucky that they’d been out in the open. If they’d been behind closed doors, it could have been worse. It could have been a repeat of Tamara. He might not have been able to control himself.

And the last thing he needed was to send another woman racing off into the night, right? The last thing he needed was another reason to feel like a complete hypocrite.

He took a deep, steadying breath, comforted with the knowledge that he’d be moving back to Utah soon, putting an end to his Roxie Bloom problem. All he had to do was turn down any future social invites from Rick and Josie and he could get out of California without having to see her again. It might be the chickenshit way out, but at this point, it seemed like the wisest option.

Eli leaned back into the chair and thought about home. He’d thoroughly enjoyed working as a canine behavioral consultant for Rick Rousseau’s pet store chain. It was unexpected, but it had turned out to be a productive and profitable partnership. He’d helped a lot of dogs and owners find their balance. And he’d been paid well for his services. But Eli had always known it would be a temporary gig, a fact he’d shared with the Celestial Pet CEO from the beginning.

Eli had explained that he’d come to Northern California to deal with some unfinished family business and would be leaving as soon as possible. Rick had hired him anyway.

“Are you kidding?” Rousseau had asked, laughing. “I’ll take you for a week if that’s all you’ve got.”

Eli smiled to himself. It still amused him that despite his efforts to avoid the limelight, he’d become famous. Online dog training forums alone had made him a celebrity, and his reputation preceded his arrival in San Francisco.

But his stay in California was coming to an end. Eli knew that, with only two candidates left on his list, the search for his biological father had resulted in a couple new friends, but certainly not what he was looking for—the man who’d brought him into the world.

The last time he’d spoken to his mother by phone she’d had this advice: “Come home, honey. You’ve done your best. Some things are not meant to be.”

Eli let his head fall back against the rocker, suddenly aware of the heaviness in his chest. His mom had never wanted him to find his father in the first place, so she’d be thrilled if he came home empty-handed. So yeah, he’d be headed back to Utah soon. With no idea who his father was. And no idea where things might have gone with Roxanne, had the circumstances been different.

“Hey, man, I thought your thing was whispering to dogs, not yourself.”

Startled, Eli swung his head toward the teasing voice. He laughed when he saw Rick and his business partner, Teeny Worrell, crossing the wide porch and heading his way. Had he been mumbling to himself? Jesus! He was worse off than he thought.

Eli managed a grin. “Turns out that some days I
am
the dog, Teeny.”

Rick and Teeny laughed as they lowered themselves into nearby rockers.

“Are you seeking refuge from the toxic estrogen levels in there?” Rick tilted his head toward the front door, behind which the baby shower was still in full swing.

Eli chuckled. “Not really—just taking a moment to regroup.” He didn’t miss the quick
I told you so
look Teeny shot Rick.

“So you had an encounter with the Man-Eater?”

Eli laughed at Teeny’s keen observation. “How did you guess?”

“ ’Cause you got that ‘I barely escaped with my balls intact’ kind of stare,” Teeny said. “We’ve all been there, my brother.”

“What could she possibly have against you?” Eli asked, perplexed. “You’re not even the enemy.”

Teeny shrugged. “She had no way of knowing I was a gay man when we first met. To her, I was just another one of
them,
just another opportunity for target practice.”

Eli sighed. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Gotta love her, though,” Rick said. “Roxie’s been through hell and has come out on top—even made a career out of it.”

“She’ll net six figures this year,” Teeny added, clearly impressed. “She’s got advertisers beating down her door at this point—you know, feminine hygiene, Midol, self-help books, shit like that.”

Eli nodded. “Good for her.”

“I was walking down Market Street the other day and saw a woman wearing one of the Web site T-shirts,” Rick said. “I tried to approach her, just to tell her that Roxie was a friend of mine, but she pulled out a container of Mace before I could open my mouth.”

Teeny chortled. “You lie like a dog, Rousseau.”

“Hey, it’s probably happening to some poor guy, somewhere,” Rick said, grinning.