Blurring the Lines-nook (4 page)

Talking about those things in a public venue, where it all seemed fun, light, and
silly, was one thing. Staying with that guy in the privacy of his home was another.
I had seen how he looked at me today when I was wearing my skimpy pajamas. It’d been
a long time, but I wasn’t immune to recognizing male interest. And the idea had both
warmed my blood and scared the hell out of me.

Burke was a great guy. But he was a wanderer, a guy who flitted from continent to
continent and woman to woman. That was his right. But I wouldn’t risk screwing up
the best friendship I had just to satisfy some quick physical need. I didn’t care
how gorgeous he was with that dark curly hair and those pirate eyes. Even if he would
be open to something more, I wasn’t capable anyway. Harris had broken something in
me that couldn’t be repaired. I could never give my heart to someone again. Not when
the person could shove it back at me at any minute and tell me my love wasn’t good
enough.

Burke stepped into the condo behind me carrying bags of takeout. The smell of soy
sauce and garlic wafted in with him. “Ready for some grub?”

“I will never turn down China Heaven.” 

He grinned, that dimple appearing—the only physical feature he shared with his brother.
Harris had been sandy-haired and lanky like his mother. Burke was all his dad—dark,
broad-shouldered, that hint of natural tan from his Cajun bloodlines.

“A full belly, a beer, and maybe a bedtime story, then you’ll be good to go. Just
watch.” Burke set the greasy bags on the granite countertop in his kitchen. Unlike
my place, his condo was in a converted warehouse building that boasted all the modern
amenities. No old souls here.

I set my things down and headed to a stool at the countertop. “Bedtime story?”

He reached into the fridge and pulled out two bottles of Abita IPA. He popped the
tops and slid one my way. “Yep. I never got to tell you about the desert.”

Or Miss Georgia.

I grabbed the beer, trying to play off the nerves that rushed through me at the thought.
Last thing I needed was to have one of his R-rated stories dancing in my head as I
tried to sleep. Even knowing the stories were about other women didn’t seem to temper
my body’s reaction to his tales. My mind could cleverly switch out the Girl of the
Week and put myself in her place in a blink. They were all faceless to me anyway—his
lovers. He never talked about their appearance. Only about the things they did. That
was what my mind locked onto. What he would look like doing them. How it would feel
to be part of it. My cheeks heated, embarrassment and guilt co-mingling, and I busied
myself with serving up my plate of food.

I’d be sure to tell him to stick to the almost-starved-in-the-desert and bugs-the-size-of-your-face
stories tonight.

We ate in quiet companionship for a few minutes, and I realized how odd it was to
be sitting here with him at his place. What would Harris think of this? Despite the
brothers being close, Harris had never seemed comfortable with me having my own friendship
with Burke. Maybe I should’ve never told Harris the story about how Burke and I had
kissed one night when we were fifteen in a wine-cooler infused game of Truth or Dare.
I had thought it would be a funny story to tell him—how I’d had my first real kiss
trying to prove that I wasn’t a chickenshit to his brother. But Harris had scowled
and asked me straight out if I had a thing for Burke.

I had. When I was fifteen. A silly teenage crush inspired by that kiss. It’d been
quickly squashed when Burke moved on to some other girl, and Harris had asked me out
on a date. But I’d kept that part of the history to myself that night when I’d seen
how angry Harris had gotten.

It hadn’t been a fight, but it’d been an almost one. The kind where the apartment
goes quiet for the rest of the night because each of us was chewing on our own annoyance.
I’d never seen Harris get jealous before. He was the star of his family, the successful
stockbroker, the Columbia graduate. But thinking back, seeing that jealousy was the
first time he showed me a glimpse of the secrets behind the surface—that in some ways,
he didn’t feel up to snuff. I wished I would’ve recognized it then.

Burke’s gaze lifted to mine, and he set down his fork. “What are you thinking about,
cher
? You have a serious look on your face.”

I forced a half smile. “Nothing really.”

“Don’t give me that. You’re a loud thinker.”

I twirled my noodles around my fork, watching them go round and round. “You ever wonder
if he can see us? You know, like whatever the after may be, if the dead can somehow
observe the living?”

He sniffed. “No. Can’t say I believe in any of that. I think when we’re gone, we’re
gone.”

I peered at him, but he wasn’t looking my way anymore. His stubbled jaw was set and
he was taking small jabs at his plate of lo mein. “Okay. Good to know.”

He let out a breath and set his fork down. “Look, I’m not trying to be a dick. Everyone’s
beliefs and faith are their own business. If believing there’s something after gives
you comfort, that’s great. But, for me, I don’t buy it. I think this is the only chance
we’ve got—win, lose, or draw. This is it. So you better grab the most you can out
of this life.” He shrugged. “And honestly, the thought of any of my dead family members
watching me gives me the creeps. No, thanks.”

My neck prickled, the sounds of last night haunting me. “I know what you mean about
that part.”

He frowned, his attention on me again. “Wait. Is that what’s keeping you awake at
night? You think Harris is creeping around or something? You think he’s watching now?”

It sounded completely crazy when he said it like that. “Not exactly.”

His gaze didn’t leave mine. “You weren’t joking about searching for ghosts, were you?”

I cringed. This was not a conversation I wanted to have with Burke. Or anyone for
that matter. “It’s not that. I just—I don’t know.”

“You don’t know
what
?” He shifted his body so he could fully face me. “Tell me what’s going on.”

I shook my head and poked at my chicken.

“Gretch, don’t do that, don’t ignore me.”

“Fine.” I nudged my plate away. “Sometimes I feel like he’s here, okay? I know it’s
stupid.”

Burke gaped at me for a long moment and then slid off his stool, his expression morphing
into what I’d come to recognize as his game face.

“What are you doing?” I asked, tracking his progress.

He stepped around the counter and put out a hand to me. “Stand up.”

I eyed his offered hand. Wary.

“Come on. I can disprove your theory right here.”

I took his hand and stood.

He tilted his face toward the ceiling. “Bro, if you’re hovering around here somewhere,
feel free to kick my ass for this.”

Before I could put together what his words meant, Burke dragged me to him, cupped
my face, and lowered his mouth to mine. Lips on lips. Warmth on warmth.
Boom! Crash!
The kiss shocked me into a stupor. All I could process was his mouth against mine,
hands gripping me, and the sound he made in his chest at the contact. But then he
brushed the tip of his tongue along my lips, and all at once, my senses kicked into
full, pumping awareness. The scent of the Gain detergent he used, the salty taste
of soy, and the forbidden feel of his mouth. My lips parted and invited a deeper kiss
without me consciously willing them to do so. His tongue slid gently into my mouth,
and I groaned. My hands found his waist and gripped his T-shirt like I’d fall if I
didn’t keep hold of something.

It was so different from the one kiss we’d shared so long ago. That had been two awkward
kids figuring things out. This was
not
that. This was a man who knew how to take a woman down with one sensual sweep of
his mouth. This was the Burke I’d heard about. The one who got any woman he wanted.
The one who told me those sordid stories.

That was when reality kicked in the door to my lust-filled brain. I was kissing my
dead fiancé’s brother. I was kissing my best friend. I pushed back with a panted gasp.
“Burke, stop.”

His eyes were heavy-lidded, the look on his face all danger and erotic promise. But
he didn’t move forward. Instead, he licked his lips and held out his hands, his smile
soft when he spoke again. “See,
cher
, nothing. No breaking dishes. No slamming cabinets. You and I both know my brother
well enough to know that he wouldn’t let me do that to you without a fight. If Harris’s
ghost is around here, he would’ve done something about it.”

I blinked, still suspended in that stunned state for a few seconds more. Then, not
knowing how else to channel everything that was coursing through me, I got pissed.
The anger rushed straight up my spine and out to my limbs. I shoved him hard in the
chest. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He frowned as he rocked back a step, though he didn’t seem fazed by me yelling at
him or pushing him. “I’m sorry, Gretch. But you needed to see that there’s no one
watching.”

“You didn’t have to kiss me to show me that!” My heart was beating too fast, and my
voice came out too shrill.

He shrugged. “You didn’t have to kiss me back.”

I gaped at him, slack jawed, then grabbed a handful of fortune cookies and threw them.

He raised his hands to fend off the attack, laughing. “Hey, not the cookies. Those
could hold the key to our future.” He caught one of the cellophane-wrapped cookies
mid-air. “And it was just a kiss. It’s not like we’ve never done it before.”

“When we were
kids
.”

“Yes, you’re much improved.”

“Ugh!” I stepped forward and shoved him again. “You need to warn a girl before you
maul her.”

He lifted a brow and grabbed my wrist, his eyes holding a wicked gleam. “Fine,
cher
. Next time I’ll warn you.”

“That’s not what I—” I pulled my arm free. “Never mind.”

Somehow all this arguing was making my blood heat as much as the damn kiss. I needed
him to stop touching me and looking at me like he wanted to kiss me again. Goddamn
Burke.

Burke
. I’d kissed Burke. Shit.

I sank down onto the stool, all the adrenaline draining out of me at once, defeat
hot on its heels. “Don’t do this, okay?”

His playful expression fell instantly. “Hey, whoa, what’s wrong? I’m sorry. I was
only messing around. If I forced—”

I held my hand up, halting him. “You didn’t force anything. You’re right. I kissed
you back. But I can’t do this.”

“Do what, Gretch?” he asked, his gaze softening.

“Kiss. Let you look at me like you want me in your bed. I can’t—I need these lines.”
I pushed my hair behind my ears, that old familiar melancholy moving through me like
a choking fog. “I know we keep it light and flirt sometimes, but you’re my closest
friend. If we crossed that line and messed things up…if I didn’t have you—”

“Oh,
cher
.” He moved forward and gave my shoulder a squeeze. “I was just trying to come up
with a way to make you feel better and prove that no one was watching. I screwed up.
I’m sorry. Sometimes I act before I think.”

I put my hand over his and gave him a little smile. “Sorry I shoved you.”

“I’ll survive.”

I swallowed past the anxiety that had welled up. “And you’ve improved, too. Not so
sloppy of a tongue.”

He laughed, the genuine sound breaking some of the tension. “Good to know. Miss Georgia
said the same thing last week.”

I batted his hand away and snorted. “I
thought
you tasted like peaches.”

He touched the tip of my nose. “I could say something really dirty right now.”

“Like you’ve ever held back before.”

And just like that, the weirdness between us dissipated. This was Burke. A kiss to
him was just a kiss. He doled them out rather indiscriminately. He’d only been trying
to prove a point. We could move on from this.

“Now stop trying to flirt with me and let me have my dessert.” Burke opened the fortune
cookie he’d caught, and I grabbed one of the broken ones from the floor. He looked
down at his fortune. “Hmm, profound.”

“What’s it say?”

“You first.”

I pulled out the little slip of paper and tossed the cookie shards onto the counter.
“
News from afar will bring you a special visitor.
”

“Ooh, a special visitor,” Burke said in a singsongy voice. “Sounds like someone’s
about to get her first period.”

I snorted. “What’s yours say, smartass?”

“In case of fire, keep calm, pay bill, and run.
”

We laughed at that one, and thankfully, the rest of dinner passed without anymore
serious talk. I helped him clean up, polished off another beer, and then headed to
my room. By the time I took a bath and crawled into bed, I felt hopeful that I could
actually relax and grab some sleep.

But after an hour of tossing and turning, I was still wide awake, staring at the ceiling
fan go round and round. Goddammit. Nightly torture, we meet again.

A creak sounded from the other side of the room and the door opened a fraction. I
froze. But then Burke poked his head in, checking on me like some damn den mother.
I shut my eyes and tried to appear like I was sleeping.

“You’re a terrible faker,
cher
,” he said from the doorway.

“Shut up. I’m asleep.”

He made some sort of man grunt and stepped inside, a shaft of light from the hallway
angling across the floor. “You decent?”

“Depends who you ask. But I’m dressed.”

He shut the door and walked to the side of the bed. He’d changed since I’d seen him
last, the polo and slacks replaced by track pants and a purple
Geaux Tigers
T-shirt. Somehow he seemed even broader in the loose clothes, that well-honed body
shifting beneath them. “Scoot over.”

“Why?”

“I promised you a bedtime story and, obviously, you’re waiting with bated breath to
hear it.”