Nobody's Fool (12 page)

“Yes?”

“Would you like to dance with me?”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. Better late than never.”

“Get a grip.” For an insane moment, she nearly said yes, but that was a bad idea for more reasons than she could name. She pushed against his solid shoulder. “I'm not going to dance with you. It's four in the morning and you are just too smooth.”

He rocked back. “So that's a no?”

“It's a no.”

“So if I can't make up the dance, how can I make it up to you?”

“You don't have to.” This honesty thing was like a contagious disease. “Because if we're laying it all out there, I have to confess I may have had a small crush on you as well, and it was part of why I reacted so . . . strongly.” It tumbled out of her mouth in a rush and her cheeks were hot by the time she'd finished.

His teeth flashed in his darker face. He cupped a hand around his ear and leaned into her. “Say what, Miss Holly Partridge? You're going to have to say that again. I'm not sure I understood.”

“You heard me.” She squirmed as his grin widened across his face. “Until I realized what a stupid git you were.”

“And a prat?”

“And a wanker.” Holly's smile widened across her face.

“All boys are wankers, Holly.” His voice grew wicked. “It's because we spend nearly all day thinking about girls.”

“Ew!”
She pushed him with her feet.

He held her ankles still. “Let's discuss your crush on me instead. Why don't you tell me all about it?”

He walked his hands up the outside of her legs, bracketing her hips.

“It's old news now,” she said.

He'd moved closer to her, putting his mouth within range. “Does this mean I'm forgiven?”

All one of them would have to do was lean forward. “Maybe.”

The thrum of desire pounded against her eardrums, reverberating through her body and pooling between her thighs.

His answering desire glinted clear in the slumberous heat in his eyes as they caressed her face and moved down over her breasts.

Her chest rose and fell sharply as her breathing got messy.

“I'll take a rain check on that dance.” His voice stroked along her senses.

He felt it, too, and the knowledge jacked up her heart rate and she pressed her thighs tightly together.
Oh God.
She still wanted him as much as she had when she was a girl. Except it was more potent now; it was a woman's need her body understood and craved.

He leaned forward and she sat there like a mongoose watching a dancing cobra as he moved closer. His cheek was slightly rough against hers. “I think I should get out of here.”

“Uh.” It was meant to be a vehement denial, but it sounded horribly ambivalent.

He got up and left. “Good night, sweet Holly.”

Holly deflated so fast her head whirled. She wouldn't have made much effort to stop him if he'd wanted to stay. Thank God he hadn't forced them both to that conclusion.

 

 

Josh shut the door behind him with a soft click. He could damn well forget sleeping now. He was so hard he ached. God alone knew how he'd got up and walked out. She was as turned on as he was; he had felt the heat coming off her skin. Unlike him, however, she wasn't too thrilled by the idea.

He wanted to make love to Holly Partridge. He wanted to love her long, hard, and sweet like she deserved. To make love to her until those tiny brackets of dissatisfaction disappeared from the corners of her mouth.

Fucking limp dick Steven couldn't do that.

But now he needed to run or he was going to turn right around and finish what he'd started. His man beast yowled and whined as he pulled on his running shoes.

And exactly when had the man beast done anything but lead him into trouble—by the dick? “Shut the fuck up.”

Chapter Twelve

Holly didn't know when Josh slept, or even if he slept, because by the time she got out of bed the next morning he was gone. Needless to say, she hadn't gotten a lot of sleep after his wee hours visit.

A text from Steven hadn't helped. He wasn't sure she would be back in time for his faculty dinner and informed her he would be taking Judith from the languages department.

It didn't bother Holly one bit. And, for the first time, she wanted to know why it didn't and if it should.

She padded across the floor and tried to ease the tension creeping into her neck.

Her skin felt stretched too tight to contain all the shit going on inside her. The various parts of her life had assigned places, little boxes to keep them neat and orderly. As long as the order was maintained, she could cope.

Josh refused to stay in his box of
that ass from high school
. And then there was Portia, who had bust out of her little compartment and run for freedom.

Six days since Portia had left Ontario. Two days of scouring Willow Park and still no Portia. The steady tick of time passing in her head grew louder. It fought for attention with the increasing clamor of what ifs.

Holly couldn't go there or she would lose it.

She wandered through the tomblike quiet of the apartment into the kitchen. Looking for something to do, she opened the fridge and checked out the contents.

Josh had agreed to stop for groceries yesterday, amused by the notion that she intended to cook a meal from scratch.

Holly pulled a carton of eggs from the fridge and cracked them into a bowl. They inhabited two entirely different universes, she and Josh. Their worlds may have briefly intersected in high school, but that was some time ago.

His condo was the bomb. Part of her plain envied his charmed existence. Her mundane world revolved around paying the mortgage and making ends meet. It seemed at times as if she had skipped her youth and gone straight to middle age. No teenage rebellion or twentysomething rocking out and setting the night on fire, only responsibilities and more of the same the next day.

Holly added milk and seasoning and whisked the eggs. Now she was thirty and there were days when the noose grew too tight. She only had herself to blame. Emma and Portia were dependent on her, and she kept it that way. She never insisted the twins make their business turn a profit or live on their own.

The twins dithered around, playing shop and living with their big sister, and it was getting pathetic.

Codependent, Grace had accused her of being, and there was enough truth to the accusation to get Holly fighting her way out of the corner.

The eggs hit the pan with a happy sizzle and Holly pushed at them.

“Hey.”

She jumped and turned to greet him, her cheeks hot. “Hey.”

He'd been running, and she kept her eyes trained on his face and away from his tanned, sweaty chest. His shoulders filled the doorway to the kitchen.

Holly turned away. “I'm cooking breakfast.”

“I see that.” His voice came closer. “What are you cooking?”

“Eggs.” Holly stirred the eggs in the pan. “I'm cooking enough for both of us.”

“Great.” He came up behind her and her brain stalled. The heat coming off him was worse than the heat of the stove in front of her. He was having that effect on her again. She tried to ignore it, but his hands were firm and hot against her hips. “I think this is the first time someone has ever cooked in this kitchen.”

“Um?” She tingled at every point where he touched her. Her sense of order slipped further away and she needed it back. It all pressed down on her, fighting for space she didn't have inside—Portia, her, Steven, Josh and this crazy thing going on between them. Her breath came out in a juddering sigh.

“Holly?”

“Yes?”

“Is everything all right?”

“Everything's fine. Great.” Her voice rose and Holly cringed.

He dipped his head over her shoulder. “Is it Portia?”

Holly's pulse quickened as his whisker-roughened cheek skimmed against her ear. “Partly.”

“So what's the other part?”

“You.” Her voice came out ragged. “You're freaking me out. Everything is spinning out of control and you're making it worse.”

His hands tightened on her hips before he let her go and stepped back. “Okay.”

“No, it's not okay.” Holly dragged in a deep breath. It was that or totally lose her shit. She took the pan off the heat and placed it on an unlit burner. Her heart roared in her ears as she snapped off the gas and turned to face him. “Cards on the table? In the spirit of our truce and all?”

“Let's see what you got.” He dropped his hands from her hips and moved back a step.

Holly slid from between him and the stove. She relaxed with some distance between them but moved to the other side of the kitchen island just in case. “I think you're flirting with me, and I can't deal with it when I need to concentrate on finding my sister.”

“I know how important finding Portia is to you.” He planted his hands low down on his hips and dropped his head. The back of his hair stuck to his neck in an absurdly vulnerable way. “And if you really want the truth, I'm trying my damnedest not to flirt with you. Apparently it's an epic fail.”

“Oh.”

A ghost of a grin chased over his mouth. “Are you speechless?”

“A little.”

He laughed. “I like you, Holly, but I'm also trying not to be the asshole who hits on the girl with bigger things on her mind.”

“Oh.” It was all she had. Her mind emptied and heat prickled beneath her skin. She wished she hadn't opened this can of worms because now she had a committee meeting happening in her head. Parts of her were ridiculously happy at the idea of him wanting to hit on her and another part knew she absolutely shouldn't be. This was so many kinds of wrong it nearly blew her mind.

His eyes deepened to indigo. “I meant every word, Holly, but I'm not going to leap on you or make a dick of myself.”

“Are you saying you're attracted to me?” Holly nearly banged her head into the fridge. That was the question she'd asked?

His teeth flashed white across his face. “Yup.”

Shivers chased over her skin. Her knees got iffy and she edged her butt onto a stool. Oh boy, she was way, way out of her league. “I can't.”

“I get that.” His face grew taut, but his voice was as calm as ever.

“Good.” She ignored the quiver of disappointment in her gut. “Because nothing could happen, even if you were . . . attracted, which I'm not sure you are. But if you were, it couldn't, so it's all good.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his hips against the counter. “Why are you so sure I'm not attracted to you?”

“Why?” Holly gaped at him. She could write him a book on why not. “There are many reasons why.”

“Give me one.”

“Okay.” Holly ordered her thoughts. “You and I, we might as well live on entirely different planets. You have all this.” She gestured to the condo around them. “And you go to places like that bar.”

He stayed silent, listening.

Holly warmed to her theme. “Even your sports shorts are fancier than anything I own.”

He unfolded his arms and gripped the counter on either side of his hips.

“I don't do casual, and you have girls throwing themselves at you. And look at you and look at me.” Holly waved her hands between the two of them.

He raised an eyebrow. “And by this you mean . . . ?”

“You're beautiful,” Holly burst out, her face growing hot. “Dammit, you only have to look in the mirror to see it.”

Josh stilled.

Holly almost stuttered to a halt, but her mouth didn't get the idea. “I'm not like you. I'm not like those girls in the bar.”

“Can you forget those girls?”

“No.” And God help her if she ever did forget. “I can't because they're what your life is about. I'm not one of them. You have to see that.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes. No.” Holly ground to a flustered stop. “It doesn't matter because even if all of that was out of the way, there's still Portia. And Emma. I have responsibilities and I can't just . . .” She waved her hands again, out of words.

The exhaust fan hummed in the silence.

He kept his gaze on her and Holly couldn't look away.

“I don't like games,” she said, breaking the deadlock. “I don't like them. I don't know how to play them.”

“Okay.” He pursed his lips. “I think you sell yourself short, but let's go with it. You don't like games?”

“No.”

“And you're sure I'm playing games with you?”

Holly blinked at him in confusion. “Well, what else?”

“Oh, I don't know.” The corners of his mouth turned down. “Like, maybe I do think you're incredible and I really like you.”

The breath rushed out of her as if she'd been winded. Men like Josh Hunter didn't fall for girls like Holly Partridge. Except he'd told her last night how much he'd liked her in high school, and he was standing here, looking effortlessly gorgeous and telling her the same thing. Holly put her hands up as if to ward him off physically. “Don't.”

“Don't what?” A small frown creased his forehead. He straightened from his slouch against the counter.

Holly's mouth went dry. “I don't do this sort of thing. I'm not sure what you want from me.” Her voice shook. “I'm not sure what all this is about. You and me, and what you said last night and now.” She waved her hand expressively. “Here.”

A shadow of a smile ghosted across his face.

“You're laughing at me.” It scraped against her raw emotions.

“No.” A smile broke free over his face. “You're so honest it takes me by surprise every time.”

“I don't play games.” Holly stamped on the rush of panic bubbling up inside her.

“Okay.” He strolled around the corner of the island. “You keep saying it. I think I might be getting the message.”

The air between them compressed as he strode over to where she sat. Grasping her stool, he spun it neatly until she faced him with her back to the counter. He leaned down until his arms rested on either side of her hips, pinning her on the stool. “Let me return the favor.”

His eyes flickered over her mouth and lingered before reaching her eyes. He kept his stare direct and keen.

Holly forgot how to breathe. She even forgot how to move, just slumped there with her heart going like a steel drum.

“No games and no bullshit. You are overbearing, difficult, argumentative, and prickly as hell, but it doesn't seem to make a difference because I like you anyway.”

“Thanks.” She wasn't happy with his description of her, but he'd probably earned the right over the last couple of days. She'd been all of those things and more. Besides which, her brain stuck on the other thing he was saying; the thing about liking her.

“And most of what you say is true,” he said. “We do live different lives and we desperately need to find your sister. And you know what I'm going to do about it?” He cupped her face between his big palms.

“What?” The quiver in her belly took over her vocal chords.

“Nothing.” His lips burned her forehead in a light kiss. “I'm going to keep my hands to myself and help you find your sister.”

A bigger surge of disappointment shot through her. “You are?”

“I am, because that's what you need the most right now.” He nodded. “But as for the rest of what you said, about someone like me not liking someone like you, that's total bullshit.”

“No, it's really—”

“It's my turn to speak.” His hands tightened on her jaw. “You're beautiful, funny, clever, and so incredibly loyal to your sisters it blows me away. You throw your whole heart into loving someone and it leaves me in awe. Any man would be lucky to have someone like you in their corner, Holy Holly Partridge.”

Her insides melted into a puddle and slid into her Converses. She really wanted to believe what he said, but she knew better. “I'm not—”

He shook his head. “I'm not done yet. You're also sexy as hell, and since you want the cards on the table, brace yourself, because I might have a bigger crush on you now than I did in high school.”

No amount of bracing could have prepared her for that, and she blinked at him like a rabbit in headlights.

“Now ask me what I'm going to do about that.”

“What are you going to do about that?” Had her brain left the building?

“Absolutely nothing.” His beautiful eyes filled her vision.

When her lungs worked again, she dragged in a deep breath. “Okay.”

A naughty grin split his face. “Unless you throw yourself at me like those girls in the bar, and then all bets are off.”

“You're messing with me.”

He laughed softly. “Only partly.”

“Which part?”

He dropped his hands and straightened. “I think I'll take a shower now.”

Holly sat in a state of paralysis as he stalked across the condo to his bedroom. He left the door ajar.

The shower turned on.

He would be stripping off his shorts and climbing under the spray. What would it be like if she followed him? She wanted to march down the hall, rip off her clothes, and climb into the shower with him. She wanted to grab his big hands and put them on her body. She wanted to press her skin against his and have his mouth hot and hungry on hers. Yes, she most definitely wanted all of those things, and it scared the crap out of her.