Stone in Love (3 page)

Keeping his lips on hers, Charlie stepped forward, pinning Lindsay against a wall. He locked his fingers into hers and raised her arms above her head. His mouth widened, his tongue searching deeper. He moaned an erotic sigh into her mouth.

Lindsay opened her eyes wide at the sound. This was happening too fast, and wasn’t part of her immediate life plan. She needed time to think this through.

In a display of self–control she’d never been capable of before, she broke off the most delicious and passionate kiss she’d ever experienced. “I better go.”

“I’ll see you out,” Charlie said, and followed her to the door.

Lindsay dredged her cell phone out of her purse. “I better get your number, so I can call you with details about this weekend.”

“Sure.” He took the phone and typed in his information. He handed it back to her, and lowered for another kiss.

Lindsay put her hand against his chest, and backed away. “Goodnight.”

Charlie stepped to the side. “Goodnight.”

Chapter Five

Lindsay drove erratically on her way home. More than once she had veered off, her tires roaring when she hit the ribbed concrete. Right now wasn’t a good time for her to go falling in love, or lust, or whatever it might be.

She had been on a serious job hunt that had suddenly taken a back seat. She couldn’t afford any distractions. Now she would have to expend energy on their camping arrangements, and how to evade seduction. If she hadn’t met Charlie, the only thing on her mind would be shopping for a new sleeping bag, and waiting for the phone to ring with a dream–job opportunity. Things were getting complicated.

Walking toward her apartment, Lindsay heard loud rock music playing and knew Ireland was up to something. The beer cans on the bar in the kitchen were no new thing. Nor were the clothes scattered across the living room. A pair of blue–jean shorts, a black bikini top, some flip–flops, and a sheer half–shirt led a trail to Ireland’s bedroom.

Lindsay’s head pounded to the beat of the blaring music. She knocked on the door and there was no answer, so she took the liberty of walking in.

“Hey,” Ireland said, waving with one hand and holding onto the new silver pole with the other. She wore only a G–string. At least her long, blonde hair covered her exposed breasts.

Her newest boy–toy relaxed on the red velvet sofa that Ireland had insisted on keeping in her bedroom. She’d purchased it from a thrift store downtown for twenty bucks a few months ago. She loved that sofa so much that she gave up her queen–size bed, electing to sleep on her beloved prized possession instead. She said it made her feel sexier.

“Since when did you start bringing work home with you?” Lindsay asked, adding, “Nice pole.”

“I know, right? I’m doing that new, sexy workout that comes complete with DVDs and this fitness pole.”

Fitness pole? Okay … if that’s what you want to call it.
Lindsay had to cover her mouth and turn her head, to keep from laughing. The girl had a rock–hard body, that’s for sure, but she was as dimwitted as the day is long, God bless her.
Might as well work with what you got.

“Jeffrey over here put it up for me,” Ireland said, pointing to the guy with wrinkled jeans and a Harley T–shirt. His oily hair looked like he’d just come in from the rain. What color
was
his hair anyway? Gray? Green, maybe? Who knows? The last guy had rainbow–bright hair.

“I invited him to go camping with us this weekend. You don’t mind, do ya?” Ireland asked, just before she wrapped her legs around the pole and hung upside down, squeezing her breasts together. Was she actually licking her lips and giving the Harley guy the do–me look right in front of Lindsay? This was wrong on so many levels.

Lindsay averted her eyes. “Sure, whatever.” This was a disaster in the making. She closed the door and went to her own bedroom.

“Linds,” Ireland said from the other side of the door. The tone of her voice had mellowed. She could switch back and forth between stripper and normal mode in a hot second.

“What?” Lindsay said, removing her makeup with an Olay wipe.

Ireland let herself in and closed the door. “I didn’t mean to upset you. If you want, I’ll tell Jeffrey not to come. Y’all haven’t been introduced, and you might feel funny spending the weekend with a stranger.”

Lindsay stretched out on her bed with her arms behind her head and her feet crossed. Ireland sat beside her.

“It’s okay,” Lindsay said, “because that makes two of us. I also invited someone without asking you.”

Ireland’s mouth dropped. “You didn’t …. You invited the guy from the beach, didn’t you? That’s great!”

“Not really. I don’t even know myself when I’m with him. I get nervous, and weak, and literally freeze.”

“That makes no sense to me. I’ve never seen you act that way around a man. You’re a sexy little kitty, and men bow to you when you walk in the room.”

“I know. In the past I’ve used and abused guys, not giving them a second thought when I was through with them. In my defense though, none of them ever went out of their way to wine and dine me. This guy is different. The way he looks at me is like he’s looking into my soul. It scares me. He’s a manly man … an educated man … the perfect man.”

“So, what’s the problem?” Ireland asked, wrinkling her tiny, button nose. “You’ve never given any guy a chance to love you. Maybe this guy roped your heart before you had a chance to ‘use and abuse him’,” she said, air quotes and all.

Damn.
That’s exactly what she was trying not to do—with Charlie or any guy. She didn’t want to end up married, overweight, and underachieved.

She’d had to work small jobs over the years, saving the money for higher education. That’s why she started college late, at twenty–two. The daughter of a painter and a housewife, her parents couldn’t afford to pay for it, and didn’t exactly encourage it, either. She had to make her own way, and was proud of it. If she couldn’t experience the rewards of her hard work, she would have wasted her time.

“Well, the timing is wrong,” Lindsay said. “And who said my heart is available for the roping? I certainly didn’t. But I already opened my stupid mouth and invited him camping. I will have to at least get through that.”

“Oh, you poor baby, having to spend time with a rich man who can give you anything you want.”

“How do you know he’s rich? Just because he lives in a beach house? Maybe his dad left it to him in his will.” Or, maybe he’s a successful pilot, but Ireland didn’t need to know that. His money didn’t mean a damn thing to Lindsay, anyway.

“I just assumed. I once gave a rich executive a dance, and he invited me to his yacht in Bora Bora for the weekend. Do you think I could’ve ever afforded to see Bora Bora on my income? No. But I went and had the best time of my life. Just relax, Linds. Give yourself a chance to see what the guy’s all about. It’ll be fun out in the woods. If you get ticks, he can pick them off you.” Ireland winked and pranced out of the room.

Lindsay snagged her cell phone from her purse, and skimmed through the contacts list to Charlie’s number. Just before she hit ‘send’, she changed her mind. She’d furnish him with details later … if she called him at all.

* * *

Charlie opened the medicine cabinet above the bathroom sink, and sifted through the contents inside. If he had any condoms, they’d most likely be out of date by now, anyway. Unable to find what he was searching for, he grabbed his keys and wallet, and headed out.

Thursday evening and still, Charlie hadn’t heard from Lindsay. Why didn’t he get her number when she was at his house the other night?

He should have known by her resisting his kiss that something was off. All he knew about her was that she lives in Goose Creek (which wasn’t
that
small of a town), and that she drives a red Ford Focus. How could he possibly find her among 50,000 people? And why didn’t he ask where she worked? He could have at least gone there to talk to her. If he did talk to her again, he wouldn’t make the same mistake.

He resigned to think positive and drove to the closest pharmacy for some essentials—just in case he might need them this weekend. That was wishful thinking on his part, but a man had to be prepared.

Driving home from CVS, his cell phone rang. Good, it was Phil returning his call.

“Man, I heard you really fouled–up your chances with Rachel,” Phil said. “How could you leave the poor girl hanging like that?”

“Rachel—is that the flight attendant with the auburn hair and the big, fake—”

“Yeah, that’s her. She’s hot, and she was into you, but you’re not going to get another chance. You blew it, man.”

“I didn’t want the first chance. I told you not to set me up on one of those ridiculous blind dates.”

“I know a man has certain needs, and as your friend, I know yours haven’t been taken care of in how long now?”

“A while … but I’m okay with that. I needed a drama–free existence for a while. I didn’t need another cheating bimbo. I was nearly tied down by the last one.”

“God man—what was she?—the second or third woman who did that to you?”

“Something like that. It’s to be expected though, when you hook up with girls at a bar or the gym. Which brings me to the reason I called you earlier. I need a favor.”

“What’s that?”

Charlie had to stop the car while the swing–span of the Ben Sawyer Bridge opened, allowing access for a large boat to pass through the channel. “I met a lady in the most unexpected way, and she is an angel—nothing like the women from my past. I’m spending the weekend with her, and I need to borrow your van.”

“The love machine, eh? Sure man, you can borrow it. Sounds like you’re making the most of your off–week. How’d you meet her?”

“Her name is Lindsay, and she blocked my driveway. That’s why I had to stand up what’s–her–name.”

“Are you kidding? She showed up at just the right time then, huh?”

“She certainly did.” Charlie had resolved to live the rest of his life as a bachelor, but Lindsay had thrown a wrench into his plans … and knocked him off his feet.

The bridge closed and Charlie proceeded across. The setting sun illuminated the water with a copper glow, and the smell of pluff mud loomed in the air. He cruised at a low rate of speed, ticking off the driver of the close–following Mercedes. He didn’t care. His eyes were fresh to the beauty around him, as was his heart. Seems Lindsay Martin had cleared the cobwebs away.

* * *

Around eight o’clock that night, Charlie was swimming laps in the pool when his cell phone rang on the patio table. He toweled off and answered.

“Charlie?” a female voice said.

“Yes, this is he.”

“It’s Lindsay.”

“Hi. I’m surprised to hear from you. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to call.”

“I know. I shouldn’t have waited until the last minute. I’m just leaving a job fair, and it lasted longer than I expected. Are you still up for camping?”

“There’s nothing else in the world I’d rather do. So, we’re still on?”

“Yeah, we’re on. Here’s the itinerary.—”

“Lindsay?” Charlie interrupted.

“Yes?”

“Why don’t we meet for drinks first? Then we’ll talk about the weekend?”

“It’s getting late. I probably shouldn’t.”

“Yes, you should. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I can’t wait another two days to see you again. You can even pick the place. I’ll come to Goose Creek if you want.”

Lindsay thought about it. On Thursdays, Ireland and some of her friends go to trivia at The Crust. Lindsay had gone a few times and had enjoyed herself. The DJ played all kinds of pop and rock music, which made for an entertaining atmosphere, especially when the drunks started dancing. It was sort of a hole–in–the–wall place though. She hoped it wouldn’t be too understated for Charlie’s tastes, but at least she would feel more comfortable on her home turf.

“I know a place with a fun crowd. I don’t know if it’s your kind of hang out, but—”

“What’s the name?”

“The Crust.”

“See you there in thirty minutes.”

He didn’t need an address, or have any other questions about the establishment? Oh well, he’s a pilot … he shouldn’t have any problems with direction.

* * *

Lindsay had stopped by the apartment, and changed out of her business fuddy–duds into a sexier ensemble: blue jeans and a Dodgers tank top with the team logo in rhinestones.

Each group that played team trivia had a name. When Lindsay had gone in the past, she’d suggested the name “Dodger Blues”, for her favorite baseball team. The name stuck, and on the nights Ireland and her crew played without Lindsay, they still used it. Most likely the Dodger Blues had a losing record by now; kind of like the real team. Lindsay didn’t care who made fun of her for liking a West Coast team … her
man
was on that team.

Lindsay pulled into the small strip of shops and found a parking place right next to Ireland’s old clunker. She drove a 1970s Volkswagen Beetle that had left her stranded ten times over the two years Lindsay had lived with her. Probably wouldn’t be long before it broke down again. It’d been a record eight weeks since last time.

Lindsay took a seat at their regular spot—a tall, rectangular table with bar stools.

Asher, Ireland’s brother, sat at the other end with some random girls.

He loosened his grip around one of the girls and came down to sit next to Lindsay. “Finally decided to come back to me?”

“No.” Lindsay said, turning her back to him. He walked around to face her. “Buy you a drink?”

“No.”

“Why you got to be like that, girl? We had a good thing one time.”

“Exactly—
one
time. Leave me alone. Had I known you were going to be here, I wouldn’t have come. Where’s your sister?”

“Around here somewhere,” Asher said, walking off. “Peace out.” He went to the other end of the table and pulled a different girl into his lap.

Ugh, how disgusting
. Lindsay still couldn’t believe that she’d hooked up with him a year ago. He was good–looking with his blond hair and baby blues, but that was all he had going for him. He was scrawny, at least two years younger than Lindsay, and had the immaturity to prove it.