Somebody's Ex (9 page)

“I have to change clothes so I’ll
shower at my place.”

“Yeah, sure. That makes sense.”

She deserved more than a peck on
the cheek, too. He leaned down to kiss her lips. He didn’t say thanks for last
night because it seemed trite. “See ya.”

A decent good-bye, noncommittal. As
he started his truck, he remembered that he’d invited her to do laundry at his
house tonight.

He wasn’t sure she’d show up. While
that shouldn’t have mattered because they weren’t having a relationship and
he’d already told her he didn’t want one, he knew he’d miss her if she skipped
his place to go to the laundromat.

Shit.

* * * * *

Double shit. Randi hadn’t called
his cell though David had given her the number. He didn’t know if she was
coming tonight.

He’d been thinking about her all
day.

“I’m talking to you. Where’s your
head, David?”

In his pants. In Randi’s pants. It
wasn’t prudent to tell his father that. Luckily, they’d finished the cutting
over an hour ago, and all they had left was clearing the scrap and heading to
the dumps. Jace had some wedding crap to attend to with Taylor, and Mitch lit
out half an hour ago, too.

“Sorry, Dad, what was it?”

“I asked if you would talk to your
brother. Some bug’s been up his butt the last couple of weeks.”

“And which butt would that be, Jace
or Mitch?” David didn’t really want to know.

“Mitch. Take him out for a drink
and find out what’s up with him, would ya?”

David snorted and shook his head.
Mr. Fix-It.
Talk with your brother and fix him up.
He hadn’t fixed
things with Jace. He wouldn’t even try with Mitch.

“Can’t do it, Dad. Got a date.” He
threw an armload of branches onto the pile in the trailer.

His dad raised one eyebrow. “Should
I be telling your mother anything important?”

“It’s a date. That’s all. Not
someone serious.” He’d screwed Randi, that was all. All that intensity crap was
just that—crap. He didn’t even know her. She was a good lay.

The thought made him wince.

His dad waggled his eyebrows, but
laid off. “Tomorrow then, or Friday. I’m sure Mitch’ll hold till you get to
him.”

Mitch could rot in his own
self-made hell.

David sucked in a breath. Anger,
seething, had risen so quickly it took his breath away. His gut ached with it,
his blood boiled, his muscles tensed. He gritted his teeth.

“Later, Dad. Gotta go.”

He eased his bunched fists. In a
minute, he’d start yelling at his old man like a maniac. And for nothing. It
wasn’t his dad’s fault that David couldn’t get his shit together, much less
Mitch, for that matter.

He took one more deep breath, then
another. If Randi didn’t show, she didn’t show. He didn’t give a damn. Yes, she
was more than a good lay, more than a screw, but they still weren’t serious
together.

And Mitch could handle his own
goddamn bug.

“That’s it.” He slapped the side of
the trailer, flipped the tarp over the load, and tied it down. “Can you handle
the dump on your own, Dad?”

“Sure.”

“Good. I’ve got something to take
care of.”

He stopped at home long enough to
shower off and change his clothes. It was four o’clock. Randi hadn’t gotten
home last night until close to six, which meant she’d probably still be working
at her parents’ shop. He’d find her there.

Dinner was still on, as far as he
was concerned. He’d pleasure her again, better than last night. He wanted her
to burn, hot, hotter, until this thing between them burned itself out. He
needed her to burn the flare of anger from his soul.

The shop was dark and cramped, the
three aisles narrow, the shelves filled with cans, bottles, and packages jammed
with candy. The checkerboard linoleum was clean but dingy. Two register stands
stood to the left at the front of the store, and in the back, the refrigerated
section hummed.

“May I help you?”

Short, plump, and white-haired, the
woman was probably the same age as his mother, but the lines at her mouth
drooped as if she frowned more than smiled.

“I was looking for Randi.”

“Papa, he’s looking for Randi.” Her
voice rang out with a sing-song Scandinavian lilt. The name sounded softer and
more feminine coming from her lips.

For a moment, David wanted
desperately to perfect the lilt gracing the name.

Randi’s father was no less round,
but taller, and he had twenty years on his wife. He must have been middle-aged
when Randi was born.

They stared at him with blue eyes
identical to Randi’s.

The man spoke first. “You’re
looking for my daughter?”

“Yes. She works here, right?”
Somehow he felt like a sixteen-year-old showing up for a prom date and driving
his dad’s car for the first time.

“And you are?”

“David Jackson.”

“And how do you know Randi?”

Carnally. Exquisitely. “Her car
broke down the other day, and I helped her into town.” He couldn’t say why, but
he knew in his gut that saying she ran out of gas would be the worst
explanation he could give.

The old man grunted out a Norwegian
word and flapped his hand. “That cursed truck. She’s in the back. Working.”

It would have been better to call
her on her cell. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to make it past Papa. “I’ll
only take a moment of her time, sir.”

Eyeing him, the old man seemed to
think about the “sir,” then finally waved his hand, this time in the direction
of a swing door at the back of the shop.

Low-pitched whispering followed him
down the aisle. Various meats and cheeses filled a dairy case, and on the
bottom row, tubes of caviar. He still hadn’t licked the stuff from any luscious
body parts beyond her throat and back.

Tonight, he’d perform that duty.
Tonight, he’d bury himself inside her enough times to quench this craving.

With a sudden intense need that
bordered on insanity, he wanted her now. Manic. She screwed with his emotions
as well as his mind. She was dangerous in ways he hadn’t dreamed.

But he wanted her. Badly. Tonight
was too damn far away.

* * * * *

The warehouse was hot, muggy, and
dusty. Randi had opened the windows along the rafters and turned on the fans,
but hot air only produced more hot air. She’d stripped off her blouse sometime
after the last UPS pickup, and now wore only a thin camisole and her shorts.
Pops would pitch a fit, but no customers would come back here to see her.

Sitting on the top step of the
ladder, she fanned the top of her camisole. Her makeup was melting. She’d
prayed for air conditioning every night the first six months she’d come home,
but Pops said it would cost a fortune to cool the warehouse. Perishables,
including chocolate, were stored in a refrigerated room, but canned or bottled
goods filled the racks around her.

Come on, she’d wanted to scream.
The warehouse isn’t that big. Pops hadn’t listened. He never listened.

Today he was on the warpath. She’d
forgotten a special order he’d left on the bench that should have gone out
yesterday.

I told you and told you how
important this was.

She’d been thinking about David.
And Pops had taped the note to the calculator, which she never used, instead of
amidst the sticky notes lining the worktable’s cubby holes.

She’d been a day late and a dollar
short all her life. She’d overnighted the package, and it would still get there
at the same time. She’d pay for it out of her own pocket.

Picking up her clipboard from the
shelf, she got to her overheated feet. The tennies were boiling her hush
puppies, but sandals were a no-no in the warehouse. What if she dropped
something? Huffing out a breath of air, she began staging an order in the
basket hanging from the side of the ladder.

Something tickled her leg just
above her knee. Without looking, she swatted at the irritating insect. The
thing skimmed the back of her legs, both legs, then delved straight up through
the bottom of her shorts.

David grinned up at her. “I
couldn’t resist those cheeks peeking out at me.”

“You are so bad.” He was oh-so
good. Last night had definitely driven the point home. “What are you doing
here?”

“I wanted to remind you about
dinner and laundry.”

She’d been trying
not
to
think about it. That peck he’d given her this morning had spoken of
run-and-hide. Then again, she’d done her own run-and-hide into the shower. Only
she’d hoped he’d follow her. Instead, she’d found him dressed and ready to go
in the living room.

“You could have called.” She thrust
her chin at the cell phone sitting on the countertop.

“But then I wouldn’t have gotten to
do this.” He pressed higher, squeezing her bottom.

She slapped at his hand playfully.
“Stop that. What if my dad walks out here?”

“We’re two aisles over. We’ll hear
him before he sees us.”

She almost smiled, but that would
spoil the game. “He walks very softly.”

“Then let’s hide so I can put my
hands all over you.”

“Noo...”

Hoisting himself onto the second
step, he grabbed the clipboard out of her hand, set it on a shelf, then lifted
her down with a tight grip on her waist.

“You’re kidding, right?”

His eyes burned. “I want to touch
you. Now.”

He captured her chin in his hand
and took her mouth with a deep kiss, all tongue, robbing her of her breath.

“Now. Let me touch you. I can wait
for the rest later.”

“Just a quickie,” then she grabbed
his hand and practically hauled him back toward the freezer.

David wanted her. She didn’t care
about anything else. She hadn’t from the moment she first laid eyes on him.

Cool air rushed over her body as
she threw open the walk-in’s door. It felt so good.
He
felt good at her
back as he hustled her inside, then closed them in.

“Does it lock?”

“No.”

“All right. I’ll be quick. I
swear.”

He backed her up against the wall
inside the door. There wasn’t a speck of light, just hot hands sliding up her
shorts.

“Christ,” he murmured against her
throat, all warm breath and questing lips. He overwhelmed her, turned her
upside down. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, then glided through his
hair, begging for his kiss.

Taking her lips with his mouth and
tongue, he lifted her, pulling her legs to his waist. Openmouthed, he devoured
her. Pinned to the wall, her legs wide, she rode the ridge of his erection. He
rocked into her, making love to her despite the layers of cloth between them.
His hands found their way beneath her camisole, captured her breasts in an
almost painful grip. Then his mouth followed his hands, sucking her nipple
hard, kissing it, biting lightly. Electric shocks traveled straight down her
center, pulsing in her clitoris.

He backed off slightly to yank the
snap of her shorts.

“David.” She gasped, tugging down
her top to cover her breasts. “David.”

He didn’t listen to her protests,
undoing her zipper by pulling on her waistband. She wasn’t even sure if she
was
objecting.

“So hot, so freaking hot.” He
shoved his hand into her thong, a finger as deep into her as her shorts would
allow.

She panted, hot and needy. “David,
please.”

“Come. I want to hear you.”

“David.”

“Come on, baby.” He worked her,
whispering encouragement.

“We can’t.” But she was so very
close. Just a throb away, just a mindless scream, just a—

The door slammed open, and a pool
of light spilled across the interior, passing just beyond their feet.

“Randi, what are you doing?”

Holy ever-lovin’ Moly, dear God,
I’m dead.

Jerking his hand out of her shorts,
David pressed deeper against her to hide the gape of her open zipper.

“Pops.”

Her legs slid down David’s until
her feet touched the floor. Her shorts were undone, and the scent of sex was
all over them. She wanted to die.

Her father simply closed the door
on them.

David let out the breath he’d been
holding. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go that far.”

He righted Randi’s camisole over
her breasts and belly, then reached down to zip her shorts.

Somewhere between touching her on
the ladder and shutting them both inside the refrigerator, he’d gone from hot
and hard to totally out of control.

“I’m sorry.” It was easier to beg
forgiveness when he couldn’t see her eyes.

“It’s okay. But you better leave.”
Her hands shook against him as she took over the task of fastening her shorts.

And suddenly he couldn’t stand not
seeing her eyes. “Where’s the damn light switch?”

All she did was open the door a
crack to allow in a stream of light. It wasn’t enough to gauge her full
expression, but it was enough to reveal the stark lines at her mouth.

“It’s okay,” she repeated. “I’m
twenty-eight years old, and I’ve been married.” She shrugged. “This is just
embarrassing. He’ll get over it.”

“I’ll tell him it was my fault.”

She gently pushed away from him. “I
think it’s better for me if you just sneak out the back door so I can handle
it.”

He’d never sneaked out the back way
in his life.

Shit. His MO was sneaking out the
front door while she slept.

“Please. For me,” she begged, her
hand on his wrist. “Let me do it my way.”

It didn’t set well that her way was
the easy way for him.

She pushed him away so she could
once more smooth her top, then ran her fingers through her mussed hair. Her
lips were plump and swollen, her nipples still peaked beneath the cotton.

She spread her hands. “Please,
David, just go.”