Very Wicked Things (13 page)

Yes. But there had to be a way out of this without involving my ex.

She stirred the soup. “I didn’t say anything in front of Cuba, but the two men that came slapped Sarah around.”

Horror filled me. I clutched the counter, and my words came out garbled. “
Whhaattdoyoumean?”

“When she told them she didn’t have the money, they hit her.” Her eyes blinked rapidly. “She has a bruise on her left cheek.”

Bile rose up and my stomach churned. I paced around the kitchen. “I didn’t see it when I went in there. Does she need to go to the doctor?”

She shook her head, her normally bright face pale. “We put ice on it as soon as they left. Poor thing, she was hysterical.”

I licked my lips. “Maybe we need to go ahead and schedule a nurse to come in. You can’t watch her every minute I’m not here. You have your bingo nights and your dates. It’s not fair for you.”

She nodded. “You know I don’t mind watching her, but you’re right. I’ll call her doctor tomorrow and get a list of references.”

But where would the money come from to pay for that? We had to sell this house first.

And then Heather-Lynn completely took my mind off of Sarah.

“That Cuba sure is a fine piece of ass. Mmm-hmm. No wonder you fell for his charm last year. I’d tap that.” She jiggled her hips.

I chuckled at her silliness, but then stopped, remembering all too well exactly how his smooth moves had reeled me in last year…

“I had a dream about you. A good one,” a deep voice said, right as I took a giant bite from my peanut butter sandwich. I looked up, ready to shoot down the guy who was yanking my chain in the cafeteria at BA.

“Yeah? Is that so?” I said, checking out the fine specimen who stood across the table from me. Over six feet tall and breathtakingly handsome, stood Cuba Hudson, a divine creature who looked as if he’d just stepped off the cover of Bad Boy Magazine, rich jocks edition.

We were in the same history block this semester. And don’t think I hadn’t noticed him.

He was the most gossiped about guy at BA. I’d eavesdropped on plenty of sex convos about him. Apparently he had a giant cock and great stamina. Whatever.

“What’s the joke? I said, talking around my chews. Time was precious. I only had ten more minutes of lunch before my Geometry class.

He seemed perplexed and sat. I checked behind him and then over my shoulder, but no one seemed to be encouraging him. Huh. At first, I thought Spider might have put him up to messing with me, but he was in detention this week for fighting.

Cuba smiled. “No joke. I dreamed about you.”

“Do tell,” I said, eyeing the black knit shirt he wore, not missing how it clung to his chest. Then, because I’m practical, I wondered how much he spent on it. I bet it was designer; I bet for the price of his shirt, I could eat out for a month.

He leaned in. “You may not know this, but my mother’s a gypsy. She tells me what my dreams mean.”

“Really?” I said. “I thought your mother was Brazilian. Aren’t gypsies Romanian?”

“My father’s side is Romanian.”

“Ha.” I packed my lunch up. “Everyone knows your dad is Archie Hudson, owner of the Dallas Mavericks, and as American as apple pie.”

He grinned.

I got out my math homework and ran a quick finger down the page, checking the answers. Maybe if I ignored him, he’d go away. I didn’t have time for a rich boy who went through a new girl every month. And why would this hot as hell guy be interested in me anyway? With my consignment shop wardrobe and plain features, I wasn’t exactly his type.

He didn’t seem to be in a hurry to go, so I gathered my things and shifted my body to get up from the table.

“Wait,” he said. “You didn’t ask about the dream. Don’t you want to know?” He blushed, and I watched in amazement as it spread up his neck, across his face, making even the tips of his ears turn a delightful shade of red.

Could he be for real?

I settled back on the hard chair. I did have a few minutes, I suppose. “Okay, I’m curious. Tell me about this dream.”

He smiled big this time, his lips tilting up in a delicious way. A perfect mix of white and Latino, his skin was the color of pale honey, his longish, dark hair streaked with red high-lights from the Texas sun.

I stared at him, perhaps blatantly, getting sucked in by his unusual eyes. Bordering on bizarre, they were nearly yellow, and right now they stared at me as if I was a tall drink of water and he was dying of thirst. Huh. How many other girls got this particular look from him? I’d wager about one or two a day.

He cleared his throat. “It started out with you in this blue dress, cut down to here.” He grazed his hands down to his stomach. I eyed his obvious hard abs.

“Blue isn’t my color. I’m more of a black girl. Sometimes grey.”

“My dream and it is your color.”

Well, okay then. I nodded.

“Anyway, this dress had lace on it and…I don’t know…stuff. And it matched your eyes, a deep blue like a stormy sea.”

“You’re very poetic,” I commented, cocking an eyebrow.

“Thank you.” His tone was serious, but his mouth twitched.

I chuckled. I couldn’t help it.

“I made you laugh. I like it,” he said in a deeper voice, like he was sharing a secret with me, something just between the two of us.

“Okay, blue dress, very revealing. Is there more?” I asked, waving my hand. Let’s get this over with. Sarah and I could laugh about this at dinner tonight.

“You had on these amazing heels. I don’t remember the color. Maybe an animal print. But I do remember they made you tall, your face almost level with mine.” He rubbed his chiseled jaw. “I liked those shoes.”

“Like these?” I stuck out my leg, showing him my plain Jane flats. Same thing I wore every day.

His heavy-lidded eyes lingered over my legs a millisecond too long for it to be casual, and my breath quickened. Oh, he was good. Very good.

“No, but I like those too,” he said, eyes at half-mast.

Really? Dude was lying. These shoes were functional only.

“Your legs are long, Dovey. It’s hot.”

I straightened up in my seat. “I don’t think I like where your dream is headed.”

“No, it wasn’t like that. It was just you standing on these stone steps, maybe in front of a museum or a library waiting for someone. And when I showed up, you ran straight into my arms. Like we were a couple.” He bit his bottom lip, worrying it, his teeth scraping across it in the most mesmerizing way. “And then I kissed you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Tongue?”

“Most definitely,” he murmured.

“Long? Short?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Hot and deep. Languorous.”

“Languorous? One of your SAT words?”

He grinned. “It means leisurely and unhurried. It fits”

Oh. That was, um, well…

I nibbled on my nail, visualizing it: me…him…those full lips.

“Is that it? No nudity?” Did I sound disappointed?

He put his elbows on the table like he was settling in. “Nope. Isn’t it enough to be the most romantic kiss known to mankind?” He sighed. “Incredible doesn’t even touch it. The way your mouth fit to mine was perfect.”

Oh. My toes wanted to curl he was so smooth. What girl doesn’t like to hear that a hot guy had a sexy dream about her? But still.

I said, “This is good stuff. Maybe you should turn it in to Playboy.”

“There wasn’t any sex, so I don’t think Playboy would want to hear about it.”

He crossed his arms, and I stared at his tat, a twisting vine of gorgeous red roses that encircled his entire arm, from the top of his wrist all the way up under his shirt. The vine was thick with green leaves and long, sharp thorns. One lone black rose caught my attention. I’d always wanted a tat, and I had a thousand questions for him on the tip of my tongue. How far did it go? Did it dip over his shoulder and go down his back?

I opened my mouth to ask, but stopped myself just in time.

Inquiring about his tat was not the smartest move. He was bad news.

The bell rang.

“Okay,” I said, standing. “This was fun but I have class.”

He rose and grabbed my backpack before I did. “I’ll walk you.”

I shrugged. If the rock star of BA wanted to slum and walk me to class, I’d take it.

We walked out of the cafeteria together while it felt like every girl there watched, some openly glaring at me, some looking at me in confusion. Yeah. I understood that one.

“This is me,” I said, stopping at my Geometry room door.

He handed me my backpack, letting our hands brush. I froze at the delicious sizzle I felt when we’d connected. Oh.

“I bought two tickets to see Les Misérables in a few weeks. Primo seats. Wanna go?”
he asked.

“Guys like you aren’t part of my plan,” I said. Amen, sister.

“If that’s a challenge, then I accept.”

I arched a brow. “No challenge, just the truth.”

He hesitated, and I saw a flash of insecurity on his face. “Okay, tell me straight. Are you just completely disinterested in me? You say one thing, but your body is saying something else.”

“My body?” I may have raised my voice. He was crazy.

“Yeah, I’m getting this vibe from you. Makes me want to ditch school and drag you out to the barn at the back of campus where we can be alone. Maybe it’s all me, I don’t know, but I think you feel it too.”

Whoa. He went fast. “You really put yourself all out there, don’t you?”

“Maybe. If this is my only shot, I’m going for it.” He paused. “Let me in, Dovey.”

“Why me?”

And then he blew me away.

He sang out in a low voice, “Why do birds sing? Why do phones ring? Why does my heart fly? For all I know, you’ll make me cry. Why do fools fall in love? Why were you named after a dove?” He stopped and grinned.

My mouth opened. “That was the most atrocious thing I’ve ever heard.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “It was pretty cheesy wasn’t it?”

I nodded. “Award winning crap.”

“Don’t tell anyone I sing silly songs,” he said teasingly. “Football players are supposed to be tough and mean.”

Hmmm, visions of him in tight football pants came to mind. “Everyone says you’re pretty good on the field. That no quarterback is safe.”

“Maybe you can come and watch me play? I could use my own personal cheerleader in the stands.”

Ah. No. That was not me. I am not that girl.

“I’m pretty busy.” And then I said something ridiculous. “But I’d love to see you in uniform.”

His eyes widened. “That can be arranged. Maybe you could wear your little ballet skirt?”

Visions of him slipping his hand up under my skirt flashed through my head. Maybe I’d unlace his football pants, see what all the fuss was about him. Maybe he’d fall in love with me and—

I mentally slapped myself. Hold your horses, Dovey Beckham. This boy was wicked.

One side of his mouth tilted up. “Ah, I shouldn’t have said that. You’re thinking dirty thoughts.”

“Am not.”

“Uh-huh.” His lids lowered.

My breathing escalated and heat settled in my body and I strained to be closer.

Perhaps I’d jumped to conclusions about him.

Maybe Cuba was more than just his reputation.

Yeah, right. I was blinded by lust. Even a nun would crack under the charisma of Cuba Hudson.

“Get to know me, Dovey. Let’s hang out. I promise I won’t bite unless you want me too.”

And what a picture that made in my head.

And that cinched it. I inhaled a cleansing breath. “I appreciate your balls in coming up to me. I even applaud your whole ‘I dreamed about you’ line, because it was smooth. Just the right amount of humor with a touch of sexy. It’s obvious you’re a master at picking up girls, a real charmer. And the kissing part? That was excellent. Very subtle, and just enough to get my mind to thinking about us...you know…kissing.” My words faltered. “But at the end of the day, it won’t work. We aren’t compatible. We come from two different places. You’re rich; I’m not. You like to party; I don’t. You like high heels; I don’t wear them. Good grief, your friends call you Hollywood. Then there’s me. I work my ass off to get everything I have. So yeah, not feasible.”

He straightened up. “I’ll meet you outside your building after dance. I want to see you again before I go home.”

I sputtered. “No. I just gave you a list of reasons why we can’t go out.”

“Yeah, I may have missed some of it. I was watching your mouth move,” he murmured. “Got distracted by your lips.”

“Is this a joke?” I asked.

“I don’t play pranks.” He waved his hands between us. “We have a connection. I knew it the moment I sat down with you. You want to resist me, that’s fine. It’s like foreplay.”

He slid off his leather varsity jacket and wrapped it over my shoulders. “Meet me after your ballet practice. You can give me back my jacket then. That’s all. No more songs.”

But I kinda liked the way he sang.

Then he turned and sauntered away.

“Bad juju,” I murmured to no one is particular, stroking the supple texture of the coat. I made sure no one was looking and buried my face in the collar, inhaling his scent, sandalwood and musk. I wanted to wrap my whole body in it and roll around on the ground. I wanted to wave it around like a matador in front of all the snooty girls in my class. I wanted to take it home and sleep with it, maybe cuddle up to it like a teddy bear. Then I burst out laughing. Craazzzy.

And so, after ballet practice was over, I didn’t meet him like he’d wanted. Nope. Instead, I ran clear across the quad and left his jacket draped over his Porsche.