“I’mworking on it. People can change if they want to.”
CHAPTER 12
In the Air Tonight
“Ihave an upgrade for you tonight. The guest room.” Paige indicated a hallway onthe opposite side of the house from her room.
“Notthere?” Beckett pointed to her bedroom and winked. “You sure?”
Sheswatted him. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
Helaughed. “It wasn’t in the gutter. At all. It was in a far more pleasantplace.”
Hefollowed her and dropped his overnight bag beside a chair as he took in the cozybedroom. Not overly feminine, it was painted light blue and held quilts andantique pieces that made it feel broken in, like a favorite leather jacket. Aqueen-sized bed occupied most of the room. Definitely an upgrade from thecouch. A photo of a pretty woman with Andie’s coloring caught his eye. Herarm was around a girl, and they both smiled into the camera.
“Isthis you as a kid?” he asked.
“Yep.Me with my grandma. And that one’s with my mom.” She pointed to a photo of the girl—ateenager, actually—and a younger woman.
“Whatabout your dad?”
Sheshrugged. “I never knew my dad. Mom’s pretty vague with details. Sometimes Iwonder if I’m the product of a debauched night at an orgy. Could have been anynumber of men. It’s a strange feeling, not knowing one half of your familytree.”
Heinspected the picture more closely. The mom looked a little out of it, butAndie’s smile was broad and bright, lifting her cheeks to her eyes—the smilehe’d grown to crave, the one that revealed her dimple and seemed to rise fromher toes.
“Thisis a great picture.”
Shegrimaced. “Ugh. My face is fat, and my eyes are squinty.”
He setthe frame down and reached for her, pulling her close. “They are not,” hemurmured.
Shedidn’t resist, resting her hands lightly on his back. He buried his nose in hersilky hair, his breath stirring her strands, tickling him. God, she smelledlike vanilla and flowers and fresh sheets all rolled into one. Her fragranceand the feel of her soft breasts against him fired straight to his groin. Hewas neither drunk nor high, but his thoughts shot into overdrive, and his bodysuddenly blazed, consumed with a need he couldn’t recall experiencing before,lucid or not. Shit. Does she feel that?
Shestiffened, and he pulled away, stuffing his hands in his pockets so theywouldn’t wander, and he could rearrange a few things south of his belt.
Shesmoothed her hair and headed for the door. “Um, good night, Beckett.”
“Sweetdreams,” he croaked.
A longwhile later, he lay on his back in the dark, hands laced over his bare stomach,his thumbs tapping out a beat. Confused thoughts bombarded him. Where was thisall leading? Was his desire aroused by her or by the fact she was the closestfemale on his radar? What did she want, and could he give it to her? What thehell did he want? An hour ago, he’d wanted her. Badly. He still wantedher. Badly. To the point he was having this little conversation with himselfwith no hope of dropping off anytime soon.
Insteadof Andie, he pictured a recent hookup in the bed down the hall, but the thoughtdidn’t stir him. Not surprisingly, he couldn’t even recall that woman’s name.But the thought of Andie in that bed, so close, charged him as though ariver of electricity surged in his veins.
Well,shit! This isn’t helping.
For notthe first time, he considered climbing under Andie’s covers, taking his timeexploring her body, discovering what made her moan. Assuming she didn’t throwhim out and never speak to him again—a disturbing possibility—then what? A differentbody in Chicago? In Denver? Where did it end?
Learningthe intricacies of just one body, one woman, held a certain, undeniable appeal.So why had he never done that?
“Becauseyou’re a fucking moron,” he told himself. “You fuck up everything you touch.”
So Iwon’t touch Andie.
.~ * * * ~.
Clad inlong-sleeved tee and flannel pants, Paige rolled out of bed, the sun beaming inperfectly spaced shafts through her shutters. She stood and stretched andruffled her hair, then cautiously opened her door and padded into the hallway.The hardwood floor was cool, and it creaked beneath her feet.
Theguest room door stood open.
“Beck?”No answer. She peeked in. The bed was made, pillows placed in perfect orderwhere they belonged, making her shake her head. How can such a chaotic manarrange girlie pillows just right? She looked for signs he’d been there,but Beckett and his bag had vanished.
Evidenceof his presence lay on the kitchen counter, however, where he’d left his truckkeys and a note.
Mytruck’s bigger than your truck. Use it whenever and however you want. HopefullyI wasn’t too big an ass last night.
Seeyou soon,
B.
Paigedropped the note on the granite where it slid along the polished top and stuck underthe knife block. Oddly disappointed no instructions to “push it good” awaitedher on the coffee maker, she prepared herself a cup and plopped down at thekitchen table, chin in palm as she stared outside at orange mums and purple ashleaves.
She’dhalf expected to find him in her bed, but in the end, he’d kept his word. Shewas as much relieved as she was disappointed. Her long, restless tossing abouthad fired her imagination, and her mind had ventured to dangerous places.Places where Beckett covered her with his big, hard body, his weight pinningher to the mattress; where his skin combusted with hers; where his mouth was onher, possessing her.
Stopit.
But shecouldn’t stop it. Her thoughts zipped back to Beckett. She sizzled, a lingeringreaction to the way he’d looked at her last night, for a few fleeting momentsanyway—like a stalking, starving cat sizing up its prey. And she’d liked it.She’d liked the feel of his muscled body against hers, his spicy masculinesmell engulfing her, his warm breath on her hair—and his obvious arousal. Atleast she still had that effect on a man. Satisfaction oozed through her, warmand delicious.
Just asquickly, her insides twisted as icy shards sliced her. You’re not special.He looks at all women that way and reacts exactly the same.
Why didshe care? Being around him confused her. He stirred up her emotions like a boatpropeller in a silty lake, all murky
