Chasing Temptation (17 page)

This time she didn't shake her head in disagreement. Instead her teeth impaled her bottom lip, turning the pink white as though caging his name on her lips. A volatile emotion stirred in the air.

He gripped her hips and plunged deep inside of her. He pulled out so achingly slow his legs shook from the intensity. He steadied himself for a moment, and then he wrapped his arms around her thighs until there was no other way for her to move but up and down on his shaft. With the new position, he plunged once again. A strangled moan escaped her lips.

He paused to give her time to back out, to ask for something different, but she didn't. So, he started off the same way, slow, hard, then deep, until he was pounding into her, praying for oblivion so he wouldn't feel the emotion rising in his chest.

“My name,” he ground out.

His control was slipping, and she had to feel it with every stroke. Yet every time she said anything but his name he would slow down, not letting either of them reach a climax. Punishing them both for being too stubborn.

“Let's just call it a tie?” She offered, but he couldn't.

Not with the knot in his chest growing each time he moved away from her and wanted her back, snug and all around him. He pulled her down until her ass hung over the desk, arms propping her up. He picked up the pace at a different angle this time.

When he got to the point that had been torture before, she clenched around him so tight and then so, so wet.

“Nate,” Lynne cried.

She was the first to break, and he knew it cost her. He'd shattered the resolve she'd put in place. He'd won. There was no satisfaction in the victory. He felt dirty. It was too late to take the action back. His own climax made it impossible.

“Lynne,” Nate said without her asking for him to do the same.

Once again Nate held a bowl of steaming roast beef in his hands. He would get the damn dog today. An animal less than twenty pounds would not beat him. He had dealt with more worthy opponents.

Like doing his best not to tackle Lynne out on the street, rip off her clothes, and—much more worthy opponents.

Lynne edged closer beside him. “Why do you keep trying to catch that stupid dog?”

Nate said, “She doesn't want to be out here. I can tell.”

“What do you know? She's been running away from everyone for six months.”

He caught movement coming from the bush. “You have to trust me.”

Silence. “How do you know?”

“I know determination. I know what it takes to get what I want. Nothing would stop me. If she didn't want people to see her, she'd take the side streets or come out late at night.”

Nate refused to meet her eye when he spoke. It was the only way the words could form. He didn't want to see whatever lurked in her gaze. Yes, he still intended to put her out of business.

The sex, the new underlying emotions involved―ones he didn't want to think too hard about—didn't change his goal. Nate didn't want her to get the wrong idea about the change in their relationship.

“Ah, yes, determination. The life blood and the detriment of whatever it is we have going.”

He finally glanced at her. She seemed resigned, not mad as he'd expected.

“Lynne—”

She held up her hand. “We didn't make any promises to each other. We're grown ups. We both knew going in that we still planned to fight. In bed is the only place we can agree.”

He snorted. “We fight there, too.”

She smiled, but the smile was off. Nate hated that and knew there was nothing he could do. Neither defeat nor backing out was an option. He'd been working toward this deal for years.

He opened his mouth to remind her, but Suzie broke through the bushes. The dog’s nose lifted into the air and her gaze zeroed in on Nate. He took a step into the street. Another step, and the dog didn't move. Her attention was divided between him and the bowl in his hand.

“Despite the outcome, I admire your determination,” she said.

He forced himself not to turn. The words washing over him felt like absolution. “Lynne—”

She shushed him. “Suzie is moving toward you.”

He went down on one knee, placed the bowl in front of him, close enough so he could grab the dog but far enough away the animal had a sense of security.

If Nate lunged and missed, he wouldn't have enough time to make another grab. So he waited. After five minutes, and Suzie had almost made to the bottom of the bowl.

Slowly, Nate offered his hand for the dog to sniff. Just as cautious Suzie licked his fingers, and finally her tail wagged.

He grabbed the scruff of the dog's neck and lifted her. Her little body trembled in his arms. He made soothing sounds, but she continued to shake beneath the gentle brush of his hand.

“You hungry, Suzie?”

He leaned down, slowly placing her on the ground in front of the bowl again. Her small brown eyes flicked from him to the bowl to the street. He reached out to pet her. In a move so quick it barely registered, Suzie grabbed the rest of beef in her jaws and ran.

He smelled Lynne before she laid a hand on his shoulder. “You were just rejected by a ten-pound furry female.”

He laughed. “I don't know how I should feel about that.”

“But you're right. She doesn't want to be homeless anymore.”

He nodded. “I'll come out here every day until she trusts me enough to come home with me.”

She went quiet a moment. “We're not talking about the dog anymore, are we?”

They weren't, but Nate didn't really believe she wanted an answer. It made the moment too fragile. Made him too fragile.

He turned his back on her. “Tomorrow. Same time.”

“Yeah,” she murmured behind him.

That night Lynne narrowed her eyes at the bushes, waiting for movement. There wasn't any. The knees of the tight black leggings held bits of leaves and dirt. She wiped her hands on the equally tight but long black shirt before putting her lips together to whistle.

“You're in love,” Jeremy said behind her. His jeans were black and in the darkness she could still see the words on his shirt:
It’s a B&E, Baby
.

“I'm insane,” she corrected.

“Same difference.”

She wanted to argue but refused because...he might be right. “I know you aren't the one to talk. You've been sulking since Monday. What did Sylvia do? Put the whammy on you?”

“We broke up.”

Lynne crouched on the dirt, faced him. His jaw line was tight, and he didn’t quite meet her gaze.

“I'm sorry,” she said.

“Don't be.” He shrugged, kneeling beside her. “She decided it was best for her career.”

She'd been so caught up in her own drama to have asked Jeremy about the details. She bumped him with her shoulder. “Did she say that in no uncertain terms?”

“Might as well,” he said, dejected.

Lynne thought of her own life and pursed her lips. “Women say the damndest things.”

Clearly, she was speaking for herself and what she'd said with Nate the last time they had sex. Nate had wanted to brand her, to brand both of them, because he had cried her name too. He'd done it without her asking, as if he needed to make them even again.

No. Lynne revised the thought. As if he wanted to say it but couldn't until she'd said his name first. After they'd been able to catch their breath, she had fixed herself up and left.

Despite their best efforts, they couldn't ignore the shift in their relationship. The knowledge of that shift had been in the air that afternoon when they stood outside their stores waiting for Suzie. The emotions they refused to put a name to still hung around when they made excuses to not see each other that night.

So, low spirits all around.

Likely because of those low spirits, Jeremy didn't comment again when Lynne whistled. She waited a beat and nothing.

“I don't love him,” she said in her defense. “I feel guilty for what I'm going to do. There's no question. I'm keeping Hart and Style. You know, he made the first move on the proverbial chessboard. He's a businessman. He should be able to withstand the consequences.”

They hadn't made any promises, Lynne reminded herself, hoping this time she might believe the words. Didn't matter he'd told her the real reason he wanted the store, or that they had broken the keep-it-impersonal rule when they had had sex.

Those changes only brought along guilt. The kind that kept her up at night and occasionally shot pangs in her heart. Hence her being out at midnight with a bag full of roast beef, looking for a dog. She readjusted the leash draped around her neck.

Jeremy pushed aside a push and then settled back on his haunches. “Let me get this straight...” Jeremy began and she had to brace herself. “You tell yourself lies and then you feel better about the situation?”

She glared at him. “Get out of my head. If you don't, I swear I'm going to interrogate you about Sylvia. I might even step in to see what I can do to fix it.”

“You disappeared for a while today. Where'd you go?”

She whistled again, ignoring Jeremy's question. Anyone with a brain would know what she had done on her late lunch break. When she returned, her cheeks had been flushed, her hair a tangled mess, her dress wrinkled as though it had been bunched in someone's fist. She and Nate—not exactly subtle.

But that wasn't important. Jeremy's problem was.

And it's easier to fix.

Lynne said, “I'm going to guess Nate is the reason why she broke things off with you.”

“I'm not asking to be nosy,” Jeremy evaded the observation, “but I have a hundred dollar bet going you guys did the deed.”

“We're playing ‘Ignore the Obvious’ tonight?” She paused, really hearing what he'd said, then turned around to Jeremy. “I'll tell you when, but you're going to have to give me something.”

“Something?”

Her voice when sharp. “I'm teaching you a lesson to not bet on other people's lives.”

Jeremy blushed. “I had my money on you guys...” He waggled his brows. “...two days after at the date.”

She counted the days in her head. “What were the odds?”

He told her.

“That would give you two grand,” Lynne said. “You owe me a thousand.”

He choked on a gasp behind her before saying, “You were holding out on me.”

She smirked. “Well, everyone needs a few secrets to keep their lives...lively.”

Lynne whistled again. For a moment only silence and then a rustle of leaves ahead. Placing a finger over her lips, Lynne squinted and saw skinny legs shaking behind a bush. She slowly pulled out a slice of roast beef. It was her mother's. The dog would succumb; there was no doubt of that.

She held it in her hand and barely breathed. Suzie suddenly came out of her hiding spot. The dog inched closer, and Lynne leaned forward. The dog didn't have a collar with tags claiming her. She moved her hand, fingers inching to the bag full of roast beef, and laid another piece in front of Suzie. It must have been her imagination, but the dog seemed to sigh when she came forward. Her small jaws clamped over the slice of meat.

Lynne reached forward, but the dog didn't bolt. Suzie let Lynne grasp the skin on her neck and lift her. Cradling the dog to her chest, Lynne stood. Suzie happily ignored her and kept eating.

“She can eat,” Jeremy said.

“No telling how many home-cooked meals she's gotten.”

Suzie didn't try to jump out of her arms. Maybe she had given up the fight, had finally found home. Lynne placed a collar and leash over the dog’s head. Given the dog was making nom-nom sounds in her throat, Suzie probably didn't know she was giving up the good fight while eating her weight in food. Lynne frowned at the dog and fed her another slice.

Jeremy mused, “You have the magic touch. You didn't need me.”

She scratched the dog's neck and the small jaws kept working at the meat. “Maybe the dog needed to find the right people to trust.”

“Whatever. I can get out of these black clothes now. People might think I was trying to do a B and E.”

“Lame.” Not able to force a smile to her lips, Lynne took her time walking to Main Street, still unsure if the dog would be willing to go into such a public area.

Suzie finished the last piece of beef and then snuggled into the crook of Lynne's arm. By the time they reached the front of Nate's shop, the dog had fallen into a deep sleep.

With one hand she knotted the end of the long leash on the Craine Fashion's glass door handle. She frowned at the overhang then talked Jeremy out of his shirt, knowing he had at least a tank top underneath, to make a makeshift nest. The shirt and overhang would be enough to shelter the dog for the few hours she would be outside. Lynne crossed her arms, not sure why she was leaving the dog, not even sure why she cared.

Jeremy, in all his wisdom, said, “I think we need booze after this,” he said.

She agreed. “Don't tell anyone what we've done.”

“I'm not about to admit I've caught a dog for another man. Your secret's safe with me.”

“He'll need the dog,” she murmured.

“I'm telling you, you're in love.”

“I'm strange, mixed with insane. Didn't I mention guilt earlier? I'm going to kick his all-business ass right out of town. I thought I walked away from that part of me a long time ago.”

“You have an eye for fashion. You have a sharper eye for what the women in this town want. You've been calling it something else, but it's a talent that’s steeped in a business mindset.”

“I hate you so much right now.” She looped her arm through his.

“You've been lying to yourself. Everyone does it to cope. Now if you can just admit how much you love him and that’s what you're feeling, not guilt, all will be wonderful in the land of Oz.”

“If
you
could just admit you don't want to fight for Sylvia, you would stop psychoanalyzing me and all will be fine in Oz.”

“We definitely need to go to the bar and get shitfaced.”

“You're right indeed, my friend.”

They walked a few steps from the slumbering dog.

“Jeremy, can you give me a moment?”

He examined her face in the dark and then nodded. Lynne pulled her cell phone out of her bra and dialed the number. It was answered even at this late time of night.