Wilde Magic (Wilde Women Book 3) (17 page)

“Big square dancer, are you?” she said with a giggle.

“Circle left,” he replied as he pushed her at the car door and crowded close. “Now answer the question or I’m gonna find out for myself.” His hand was slowly snaking the bottom of her dress up her thighs as he threw down the taunt.

She grabbed his wrist to stop the ascent. “My sisters warned me about guys like you.”

“Got a category all of my own,” he joked. “Mr. Sexy Pants, I believe. Right?”

“Uh huh. An exclusive, I’m sure. And my sister calls you Paws. Because of the grabby thing. Now unhand me Mr. Tyler or I’ll be forced to adjust the height of my knee.”

He roared with laughter. “Holy fuck! Did you just threaten to knee me in the nuts?”

“Yes I did,” she laughed right back at him. “But even so, I don’t feel your hand behaving.”

“Tell me then.”

Her smile was full of humor when she replied. “Well, you’re wrong. Not a thong and not bikini’s and definitely not commando.”

“What the hell else is there?” Cal chuckled and then a truly funny visual crowded his mind. “Oh, shit! Wait a minute. A chastity belt? Is that it? You’ve got the goodies locked up?”

“What is wrong with you?” her laugh was pure joy.

“Vivid imagination. Family trait. Now stop stalling and explain yourself, young lady.”

“Okay, you big bully. Seamless hi-rise panties. No lines. All over coverage.”

He considered this tidbit of information and nodded. “I have a lot to learn about unmentionables. But do me a favor, would you?”

“What do you need?” she immediately asked.

With a wicked leer, he pinned her with a look. “Flash me getting into the car. Pleeeeease,” he added like a whiny kid.

“No can do. Not without a ring on it. Sorry. My unmentionables are for private viewing only.”

While she got situated in the car, all he could do was shake his head, astonished. With that simple statement, she told him in a way that only a moron couldn’t understand that she wasn’t anyone’s plaything.

Let the games begin.

“T
Y, COME SAY HELLO TO
my designer. Her services are all the rage right now. Got her re-doing my whole house. Especially the bedroom, if you catch my meaning. You might want to show her what you’ve got. At the villa that is.”

Cal heard the snicker and wanted to punch Kevin Bartholomew’s face in for being such a dick. Jesus Christ. Clearly, he was with someone, so this douche nozzle swooping in out of nowhere, leering at ‘tessa and immediately making dumb comments about doing his designer? Yeah. That wasn’t going to fly with him. Ever.

Taking a brief sip of his usual apple juice and seltzer, he shifted closer to the girl at his side and gave off a territorial vibe. “Kevin. This is my girlfriend, ‘tessa. Please watch your fucking mouth unless you want my fist coming out your asshole.”

He felt ‘tessa stiffen slightly, but she did nothing to correct his wording.

“Ease off the pedal, my friend,” Kevin drunkenly burbled. “No offense to your not-so-little lady intended.” The obvious and insulting reference to ‘tessa’s considerable attributes made him see red.

Cal almost punched the idiot’s lights out when he grabbed her hand and planted a disgusting, wet kiss on her knuckles.
Fucking a-hole.

When the prick didn’t release her hand and stood his ground, even drawing what Cal could see was her clenched fist closer to his chest while his eyes fixed on her boobs, he very nearly exploded. Thing was, there was no need. The Contessa of Skippy stuck her cute little nose up in the air and fixed Bartholomew with a withering glare.

“I don’t recall giving you permission to touch me.”

The other guy looked shocked by the scathing put-down.

“Now you either release my hand, stop staring at my chest and apologize to Mr. Tyler for being a shithead or I’m going to cause a scene. A scene that will make you look like king of the losers. Your choice.”

Her brilliant smile reeked of snark. He wanted to throw up his hand for a high-five. Cal watched Kevin swallow. Hard. The guy also dropped her hand like it was on fire, colored beet red and hung his head. Wow, how the hell did she do that so easily?

“Sorry, Ty.” Without another word, his teammate spun on his heel and scurried away.

“I detest men like that. Cup size is not an indicator of intelligence or lack thereof.” Though the words were spoken softly, he heard them loud and clear. He’d figured this out about her pretty quickly. “Can we get some air, please? This room smells like a Beverly Hills elevator. Ugh.”

A Beverly Hills elevator. Jeez. She was priceless. And right. The air in the reception room was heavy with enough perfume and cologne to choke a dog.

Quickly taking her drink, he put both their glasses on a table and took her elbow, turning ‘tessa in the direction of towering French doors leading to the terrace. Once they were clear of the noisy, crowded room, he immediately apologized. “I’m sorry about this. These receptions make shit-tons of money, so it’s hard to say no.”

Outside, a cool breeze made breathing a pleasure. So did listening to the tap, tap, tap of her heels on the stone. The view from the long terrace afforded a stunning view of Rome with the Gianicola off in the distance. The setting sun made the city rooftops, distinctive architecture, churches and monuments appear washed with a spectacular golden hue. It was one of his favorite vistas and tonight, the sky, a smoky blue melting to pinks and purples was putting on a wondrous show.

“No need to apologize.” She gave a half shrug and flipped some hair behind her shoulder. Tilting her head to look at him, he saw her mouth curve in a smile. “My dad is a college professor. I grew up making nice at all sorts of receptions just like this.” Nudging him playfully, ‘tessa’s eyes twinkled when she snickered, “Fund raising. The ugly elephant in every room.”

“Yeah, well, I hate this shit. Hate most these people, too. Fuck my life, y’know?” Cal said the words quickly and then looked away. It wasn’t what he meant to say at all, but this is what she did to him. Seeing through his macho bullshit came far too easily to the young girl who was shaking him up in ways he wasn’t entirely comfortable with.

He let out a harsh breath and rolled one shoulder while turning his head back and forth to ease the tightness. They’d been standing, milling about for ninety minutes and he’d been fine until now but a fire bolt of heat and pain rushing along his spine and into his hip caused a rough sounding half grunt to rumble from his mouth.

“Ty?” Her hand was on his bicep. He felt the power of her touch right through his suit. Poker-faced, she watched him closely and spoke in a hushed murmur. “What’s wrong?”

He looked heavenward and inhaled deeply. What’s wrong? Shit, man. A simple question with a complicated answer. What’s wrong? Cal closed his eyes tight and groaned aloud. Fuck. He’s what was wrong.

But, he didn’t say that. Couldn’t. Not out loud, so he went with a partial truth and hoped it’d be enough. “My back is fucking killing me.”

Very, very hesitantly she quietly asked, “Do you need to take something?”

Goddammit. He heard the concern and the challenge in her question. This wasn’t what he wanted for this evening. Not at all. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“No,” he answered. His hands tightened into fists at his side. He needed to get control of what was happening before shit got ugly. “But I need to sit down.”

She took his hand and squeezed. “It’ll be okay.” Gently pulling him, she turned and headed for the rear of the terrace where darkness and shadows hung. Getting his uncooperative legs moving took more effort than it should. Dismayed that his phantom agony would choose this occasion to rear its angry head, Cal followed with an unsteady limp.

’‘tessa maneuvered them into the shadows and found a secluded corner with a huge potted tree that helped block them from the curious. Relief washed through him as she moved him around until his ass rested against the ornamental stone balustrade and he could relax.

Dropping her bag on the edge of a huge planter, she surprised the holy fuck out of him by stepping into his space to box him in. It was a move he knew well since he used it on her all the time. What sent his surprise skyrocketing to astonishment were her hands on the buttons of his vest followed by the sudden lifting of his shirt from the waistband of his pants. Deftly unbuttoning just the bottom few, she made enough room to slide her hands from his waist around to his back. Cal was pretty sure he stopped breathing. That’s the only way to explain how lightheaded he felt.

“Relax.” He felt the quiet words on the side of his face as she came even closer. Her gentle hands were rubbing small circles on either side of his spine. He felt a tingling sensation and then heat when she pressed her fingers into his flesh. Cal went rigid as bolts of lightning shot upwards into the back of his neck. Releasing a pained grunt, he was mortified when his upper body began to tremble and shake. In another thirty seconds, he was going to break down sobbing in her arms if she kept this up.

“Breathe with me, Ty. Nice, slow, deep breaths. Don’t fight what you feel. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

On a deep inhale, he breathed her in. Instead of the usual warm vanilla and coconut scent he expected, she smelled of a subtle perfume with seductive undertones that short-circuited his brain. It reminded him of the Eternal City. Ancient, mysterious, tantalizing.

Her hands continued what they were doing. His fists relaxed. He ran his hands up and down the skin of her arms exposed by the open sleeves of the fluttery dress.

They continued breathing together, her hands doing strange things on his back while he clung to her arms. Eventually, the sharp pains subsided and he was left with a jumble of sounds in his head. Voices from the past mixed with the usual noise.

Her touch was magical. He relaxed and let what she was doing take him over. The idea of staying there, pressed together while her talented fingers did crazy things to his body—well, he’d be a dumb ass to pretend he wasn’t entertaining the thought.

When ‘tessa took in a deep breath and arched back so she could see his face, his reflex was to smile into her old soul eyes. His smile faded instantly when she cocked her head to the side and asked, “Tell me why you do this, Ty. Why do you pretend that dancing with death each time you drive is who you are? I don’t get it. You just said it. You hate this stuff. So why? Why are you thousands of miles from home living a life that I don’t think fits you?”

He answered without hesitation. Without thinking. This was one response he always had at the ready.

“Yolo,” he told her. And then a dark memory burst free from the corner of his soul where he kept it locked up. Fuck.

Yolo. Jeez. She frowned. So much random stupid fuckery was associated with the over-used phrase. You only live once. Charlie hoped he was kidding, but knew he wasn’t. Especially since the words were spoken with an edge of sadness. The second he said them she felt his mood shift dramatically.

“You’ll have to do better than that. Yolo is all well and good but I’m not a mind-reader so how ‘bout a little more?”

He raked his fingers through her hair and fingered a soft curl. His pensive scowl concerned Charlie. She knew instinctively whatever this was explained a whole hell of a lot. Maybe even why he wasn’t bouncing back from the accident. All of a sudden, even without him elaborating, so many things made sense. His body was resisting the life he’d chosen. This man was far more broken than he let on. In his soul that is, where nobody could see.