Not Quite Perfect (Oakland Hills Book 3) (27 page)

He ground his hips into her pelvis, reminding her they were just getting started, and she felt the heat fill her up again, felt her mouth go dry, every inch of her aware of every inch of him.

Their gazes locked. Talk stopped. He shrugged off his shirt and watched her with dark, serious eyes as she unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down over his hips. He was hard and ready, pushing at his boxers, and she swallowed over the dryness in her throat before hooking her fingers under the waistband and jerking them down.

She had to take a moment to drink in the sight of his erect maleness, the broad shoulders, the thick hair darkening his chest, his strong, muscled thighs. No more business casual. God. Her knees wavered.

He hooked an arm around her and pulled her to him, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her jaw. “Do you like it fast or slow?” His breath was warm and moist on her skin.

She couldn’t breathe. “Fast,” she whispered. “I like it really, really fast.”

Before she knew what was happening, his hands were roughly claiming her bottom, shoving her panties down her legs to the floor. Then he was driving her to the bed, tumbling her onto her back, climbing on top of her, kissing her mouth, her ears, her neck, her breasts, her belly, then pushing her thighs apart and burying his face deep inside her. His hair on the soft skin of her inner thighs was almost as delicious as his tongue everywhere else. She heard a scream, realizing with a gasp as she clutched the sheets that it was
her
, arched her back and, laughing, gave herself up to the pleasure, the gentleness and the roughness, the blinding delight.

And then he was inside her, thrusting hard, calling her name, and she was gasping his, digging her nails into his back, crazy with him, crazy for him, and they lost themselves in the frenzy and came together in a silent shout, and then collapsed: damp, entwined, spent.

Later, through a distant, sleepy fog, she felt his lips brush her temple, soft as a breath.

“April,” he said.

Chapter 23

O
N
M
ONDAY
MORNING
, A
PRIL
WALKED
into the art room a minute after eight, sipping her coffee and thinking about how much she liked Zack’s laugh. It came at you all at once, a tsunami of mirth, knocking you over with its sudden force. After the hot sex, he’d made a second pizza—on sliced sourdough bread this time, since the dough was long gone—and they sat in bed listening to her funniest stories about temping in San Francisco over the past five years. At one point he laughed so hard, he flipped off the edge of the mattress and landed on the floor, laughing harder when Stool lunged for his sausage.

It was impossible not to like a guy like that. She was almost ready to give up trying. Or pretending she was trying at all.

As she sat down in her seat, she saw the pile of work she’d left there the Thursday before, not recognizing any of it or what she was supposed to be doing and when. She could’ve blamed her poor memory on the wedding, but that wasn’t it—she was preoccupied with skin, muscle, sexy blue eyes, laughter, and orgasms.

She’d done it again. She’d sacrificed her goals to get laid. She’d cashed out the kids’ college fund and wasted it at Vegas. She’d fallen off the wagon, been kicked out of rehab, violated parole.

She sipped her coffee and turned on her computer, smiling. Being bad always felt so good. The worst part about what she’d done was that she didn’t regret what she’d done, not yet.

An evil voice in her head told her he only wanted sex, that he might look like a nice guy with depth, the kind of man she’d never been with before, but he was really the same: he was just lonely and wanted to get laid. She was fun and easy, a natural candidate, and soon it would be all over and she’d never see him again.

She told the voice to shut up. Even if it was true—and part of her was even more terrified to think it wasn’t, that this was serious—the damage was done. They’d crossed the line. And would do it again soon.

Smiling, she ran a finger over her lips. They had plans scheduled for the following night—dinner and a movie, their first real date. They would’ve gone tonight, but she was babysitting Merry. She’d almost asked Bev if she could find somebody else to sit, but stopped herself because she didn’t want Liam to find out.

She glanced at the clock on the computer, wondering if Zack was in the building.

No. He wasn’t working today; he was preparing something for a previous client, the one he’d had before Fite. He’d told her he usually had two or three jobs going at once, the only way he could reliably make a living.

“Just like me,” she’d said.

He’d pulled her close, spooning her. “Two peas in a pod.”

It was hard thinking about that inevitable future, knowing how soon it was coming. His six months at Fite ended in May. Come June, he’d be starting another job at the other end of the country, over two thousand miles away, his home.

She’d always been reckless, but this was an entirely new level of peril for her. She really liked him. Respected him. She wanted to bring him little presents and see him smile, surprised, and then look at her with appreciation, admiration, desire…

Maybe six weeks was long enough to get him to change his mind about moving back to New York. She’d always worked fast—hell, for her, six weeks with one guy was like six years for somebody else. He could find another job out here. He was interested in high tech, wasn’t he? Why look for software companies on the East Coast when Silicon Valley was right here?

Struggling to get her mind in the present, she launched the drawing program and scrolled through the files. Teegan expected a dozen sketches and a screen print design for the new baby line before a ten o’clock meeting. She had to hurry.

Before she knew what she was doing, she had her cell phone in her hand and was starting a text. She got as far as
hi xoxox wassup cutie
before she deleted the message, turned off the phone, stuck it into the bottom of her bag, pushed into the back of a drawer, and locked the cabinet shut.

The first step was admitting you had a problem. Zack was a problem. She had him. She’d had him more than once, actually.

Problem, problem, problem.

Then again, maybe the only problem was wanting him and not having him. Wanting him and having him was
no problemo
.

Shoving aside the memory of him giggling on the floor with pizza sauce on his chin, she worked on the sketches over the next hour. The tug of the phone in her drawer, her only link to him, was a constant, nagging pressure. If she were a smoker craving a cigarette, she’d have a chance to light up in the alley during break time. She’d stand around with other similarly afflicted coworkers, getting her fix, enjoying a little camaraderie.

She tried to imagine the reaction if she and Zack got their fix there, too.

This was insane. She needed somebody to knock some sense into her. She picked up her desk phone receiver and called Virginia. “Power walk during lunch today?”

“What about the baby?”

“Not until two today. I thought we could walk to the Embarcadero and back.”

“Why?” Virginia asked.

“What do you mean? It’s good exercise.”

“Did something happen at the wedding?”

April rubbed a plastic seam on the phone. “They got married. Is that what you mean?”

“You know it’s not,” Virginia said.

“Look, if you don’t want to walk, just say so.”

“It depends if you’re going to tell me what happened,” Virginia said.

April sighed. “We can stop by the ATM so I can give you your hundred bucks.”

“I knew it.” Virginia’s voice was both eager and wistful.

The light on her phone started flashing. It was almost ten. She still had the baby T-shirt to do. “See you at noon.” She hung up and switched over to phone mail.

Teegan had left a message, wanting to know when the polka dot running pant logo would be in the system for her to make colorways for the meeting.

April’s stomach turned inside out. Logo? She swallowed and called Teegan back. “Which running pant logo are you talking about?” She heard the dread in her own voice.

Teegan paused for a full five seconds, long enough for the coffee in April’s stomach to curdle. “What do you mean,
which
running pant logo? How many do you think there are?”

April knew that was a trick question. There were countless running pant logos, but Teegan was implying that the one
she
needed was obvious. Sadly, April didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about. Had the memory been obliterated in the afterglow of her hedonistic weekend?

No time to figure it out now. April scrolled through the computer for all the recent work she’d done. “Do you have a file name?”

“You haven’t done it?” Teegan asked flatly.
 

“No. But if you—”

The sound of the receiver hitting the cradle struck April’s eardrum. She jumped back, not expecting such a violent end to their conversation. Teegan was bitchy and critical, but never overtly enraged.

Heart beating fast, April held the phone for a second before putting it down. Then she stared at it, waiting for it to ring. The meeting was in twenty minutes. There was time for her do it if it was important. She’d proven she could be fast.

When the phone didn’t ring, April opened up the design she’d started for the baby tee—a chain of daisies, nothing fancy—and exported a copy into Teegan’s folder, where she’d asked her to put it earlier.

The usual procedure was for her to email when she was finished, but the meeting was in ten minutes now, and she might not see it in time.

She rubbed the intensifying muscle spasm in her shoulder for a few seconds before dialing Teegan’s number again. For good or ill, it went to voicemail. She left a message letting her know the daisies were done, and hung up.

Nobody called or emailed for the remainder of the morning. She sat at her desk, working through other projects, cleaning up old ones, checking Teegan’s folder for any sign she opened it and made revisions, seeing no change.

At noon she packed up and walked to the lobby, eyes locked on the elevator for sign of Teegan or her team leaving for lunch.

Virginia handed over the headset to a woman from purchasing who covered reception during lunch, and followed her out onto the street.

“You look terrible,” Virginia said, looking her up and down. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“I couldn’t.” April looked up at the sky: no rain, no sun, just gray. The cold wind felt good on her face. “I was home, just couldn’t fall asleep.”

Virginia looked behind them at the Fite building entrance. “Nobody can hear us. Tell me everything.”

“Everything?”

Virginia stuck her rubber band in her mouth while she pulled her hair into another ponytail. “Mm-hm.”

“You were right. I couldn’t resist him. Spent Saturday night with him and then went to his place yesterday. We’re seeing each other again tomorrow night.” April unbuttoned her jacket and sucked in fresh air. “God, what a shitty day.”

“Yeah, your life sounds rough. Sex with a hot guy all day and night. Poor you.”

April smiled weakly. “Teegan’s gunning for me. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“She scares me.”

“I just don’t understand why she hates me so much. I do good work for her. Great, actually. If she gets me fired, she won’t have anyone.” April was certain Teegan did want her fired, and would use today as evidence against her. “I just don’t understand why.”

“Kate Huck—she’s a merchandising assistant in Women’s—says Teegan wants Rita’s job. It’s her only shot at management.”

“But Rita’s coming back. She’s just on family leave.”

“Everyone expects Rita to get promoted,” Virginia said. “Bev likes her. She’s turned people she likes into vice presidents.”

“That’s crazy.”

“I’m just telling you the rumor.”

“Teegan can’t even draw,” April said. “Can she?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she figures she’d hire freelancers to do what she couldn’t.”

“Leaving her to do what, text her friends and take selfies all day?”

“Hey,” Virginia said. “Don’t knock the life until you try it.”

“I did try it,” April said, snorting. “It loses its appeal after a few years.”

Virginia turned the conversation back to Zack, wanting to know everything, and April shared as many details as she was comfortable sharing, which was not as many as usual. Something about Zack, knowing he wouldn’t like to have his sexual prowess described on Mission Street, no matter how complimentary she was, kept her vague and euphemistic in her descriptions.

When they got to the hot dog stand at the Ferry Building, the only meal they could afford at the trendy spot, she turned toward the buildings at the base of Bay Bridge and wondered if Zack had anyone to talk to about her. If she was important enough for him to want to.

Six weeks. She didn’t need to make big plans, or expect the sort of perfect ending her brothers had—she just needed to convince him to stick around a little while longer, maybe another six months.

Surely that wasn’t too much to ask of the universe. Not a lifetime; just a small piece of one. Then he could escape to his high-powered life in New York, and she’d… get back to her own art at home, and save up the money from making polka dot screen prints for Teegan and other fashion minions to get her own place. Or not. But she didn’t need to figure that out now.

While she ate her hot dog, she tried to think of charms, sexual and otherwise, that would make leaving her unthinkable come the first of June.

If only she could think of some she hadn’t used already.

* * *

For the rest of the month of April, they enjoyed themselves.

Never at work—although April had tried to lure him into a closet on the second floor filled with fabric remnants one morning, which he escaped (barely) at the last minute—but their evenings and weekends were a pleasure-seeking, goofy wonderland.

May arrived, hot and dry, and they still hadn’t talked about the future.