The Opposite of Wild (21 page)

He set her back from him, his eyes heated with desire. “Come over after you’re done here.”

She touched her lips. They still tingled from his kiss, her body drenched in pleasure. She nodded once, smoothed her hair, and walked shakily back to the event.

“What happened to you?” Rachel asked when she appeared at the book sale table.

“What do you mean?” Liz smoothed her hair again.

“Your hair is a mess, and you’re glowing. Did you just…”

“Shhh,” Liz said.

Mrs. Peters, her old first-grade teacher, was next in line and looked Liz over. “She’s right. You are glowing.”

Liz’s ears burned. “I stepped outside. It’s hot.” She patted her hair. “And windy.”

“O-kay.” Rachel gave her a knowing smile.

“Excuse me,” Liz said. “I’m going to get some water.” She fled the room. She was going to kill Ryan for leaving her in this state in front of Rachel, her first-grade teacher, and half the town. But first she was going to have her way with him and make him pay. She smiled in anticipation.

~ ~ ~

A couple of days later, Liz tried to look inconspicuous sitting at the end of the bar at Garner’s while Rachel sat a few seats away, waiting for a blind date. It wasn’t too crowded on a Thursday night, so Liz figured she should be able to hear their conversation. If not, they’d worked out a signal—Rachel would clean her glasses. Given the signal or any obvious hint that the date was going badly, she was to step outside and call Rachel’s cell. Rachel could then make a speedy polite exit.

Her friend toyed with the skinny straw in a glass of sangria, having already eaten the maraschino cherry and orange wedge. She wore a purple ribbon on the end of her braid so Burt Boone, Janelle from the bookstore’s cousin, could find her.

Liz inclined her head toward the entrance. A thirty-something man with black hair parted to the side and an impressive build had just walked in. He wore a Superman T-shirt complete with a giant S on the chest. He scanned the bar with his X-ray vision, looking for Rachel. Liz bit her lip to hold back a giggle.

Rachel turned and moved her braid to the front, where the ribbon was plainly visible. “Are you Burt?”

“Are you Rachel?”

“Yes. Nice to meet you, Burt.”

“Ditto.” He signaled to the bartender. “Bud.” He slid onto the barstool between Rachel and Liz. Perfect. Liz would be able to hear everything he said.

Rachel looked happy that her date wasn’t a troll.
Go, Janelle
.

“Can I see your glasses?” Burt asked, reaching for them.

“Sure, I guess.” Rachel handed them over.

Burt slid the black-framed lenses on. “Who do I look like?”

Rachel studied him and his Superman T-shirt. “Clark Kent?”

“Exactly. Thank you.” He handed the glasses back and downed half his beer that had just arrived, ending with a discreet belch. His eyes wandered to the TV across the bar, where a Red Sox game was starting.

Rachel sipped some sangria and waited. A long moment passed.

Surely he wouldn’t ignore Rachel on their very first date?

He did. The pull of the game was too strong. Liz waited for the signal from Rachel.

But her best friend wasn’t giving up yet.

“Janelle tells me you’re a big reader,” Rachel said loudly.

Burt reluctantly peeled his eyes away from the TV. “Oh yeah, I read all the time.”

Liz’s hopes for her friend soared. Now the date would really take off. It was perfect—Rachel loved books, Burt loved books. What better thing to have in common with the owner of a bookstore?

“What do you like to read?” Rachel asked.

“Comic books, all kinds. But I’m especially a fan of Superman, given our resemblance. Feel these guns.” He flexed his biceps.

Rachel stared at his arm. “No, thank you.”

“It’s okay. Touch ’em. I don’t even need that fake padding in my Superman costume.”

Rachel gingerly touched a muscle. “Very nice.” She took a healthy swallow of sangria.

Burt gave her a sly smile. “How do you feel about role-playing?”

Uh-oh. Now Rachel will give the signal.

Rachel narrowed her eyes at him, getting mad instead of fleeing the scene like any sensible blind-date victim would. “What did you have in mind?”

Burt took that as encouragement. “I have costumes. You could be Lois Lane to my Superman. I’ve got a business suit like girl reporters wore in the forties and a press badge. It looks real authentic.”

“I don’t think so.” Rachel enunciated each syllable clearly.

“Or you could be Wonder Woman,” Burt went on agreeably. “I’ve got that one too.”

Rachel picked up her drink and stood. “I don’t think this is going to work out, Burt. Have a nice night.”

“Wait! Do you know anyone who might be into the superhero thing? Doesn’t have to be a brunette. I have a smokin’ hot wig.”

“No,” Rachel said between clenched teeth. “I don’t know another woman to set you up with. Goodbye.”

Burt pursed his lips, looking like a very cranky Superman. “Yeah? Well, this ball game is a lot more interesting than you.” With that, he turned back to the TV.

Liz met Rachel at the front of the restaurant. Her friend was still clutching her sangria. “I’m sorry, Rach.”

Rachel sighed. “My mother wants to set me up with a nice Jewish guy.”

Alan Zinkman appeared out of nowhere. “I’m a nice Jewish guy. Why don’t you go out with me?”

Rachel turned and shot him a withering look. “It’s hard to feel special when
you
ask me out, Alan. You’ve asked out nearly everyone in town. It’s like you don’t care who it is, you’ll be with anyone.”

He leered at her. “Only the pretty ones.”

She rolled her eyes. Alan headed for the bar and chatted up Cindy Rukowski, a pretty woman who worked at the dry cleaner’s.

“Nachos?” Liz asked.

Rachel lifted her sangria in the air. “Yes.”

Liz found them a back booth where they could have some privacy.

Rachel slid in to the booth. “I’m sure one day I’ll laugh about all this, but right now it sucks.” She drank to that.

“I don’t know,” Liz said with a straight face, “I think you’d make an excellent Wonder Woman.”

Rachel’s lips twitched.

“As soon as you order that invisible airplane from the Superhero Transportation Dealer, you’ll be all set.”

Rachel laughed.

The waiter arrived with water and took their order for a jumbo nachos deluxe.

Rachel stirred her sangria with the straw. “So are you still seeing Ryan?”

Liz nodded. “Yeah, I see him, here and there.”

“I have to live vicariously through you. What kind of dates does he plan? Are they romantic?” Rachel sipped her sangria.

Liz shrugged. “I usually show up at his place.”

“So he never takes you out?”

Liz leaned forward to confide, “I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want to see him late at night for”—she lowered her voice—“you know.”

Rachel’s eyes went wide. “Omigod, Liz, you just show up for sex, and that’s it?”

“Shhhh…yes.”

“You realize you sound like a guy.”

Liz sipped her water and considered this. A flash of insight into the male psyche occurred to her. It was freedom, pure and simple.

“This is the new Liz,” she explained. “The grab-life-by-the-balls Liz.” At Rachel’s shocked expression, she added, “I borrowed that from Maggie.”

“From his grandmother?” Rachel asked incredulously.

“Yes. Old Liz would’ve sat by the phone wondering if he’d call, wondering where the relationship was going, wasting so much time and energy analyzing every detail.” She raised her palms. “I just let all that go. It’s very freeing. I show up when I want. I leave when I want. I’m happy, he’s happy. Can I be honest?”

Rachel gave her a wry look. “Please do.”

“For the first time, this guy thing is easy.”

Rachel sipped her drink, looking thoughtful. “Don’t you care about him?”

“Of course I do, but I’m not going to make a fool of myself and get my heart trampled on.”

Rachel’s lips pressed tightly together like they did just before she said what was on her mind. Liz braced herself.

“It sounds like you’re not giving him a fair chance,” Rachel said.

“Okay, let’s say I spend a lot of time with him. I get attached, start imagining a future for us when there isn’t one. Rach, he’s never had a serious relationship, and I think there’s a reason for that.”

Rachel stirred the straw in her drink. “Maybe he never stuck around because he just hadn’t met the right person. Maybe he was just waiting for you.”

A tiny flutter of hope went up in Liz’s heart and then quickly died. The cold, hard truth was that Ryan had never given any indication that his feelings for her went beyond a quick lay. She’d had it right the first time.

“You sound like a Hallmark commercial,” Liz teased. “Where’s the jaded Rachel I know and love?”

Their food arrived, and they dug in. Liz took a chip covered in cheese, sour cream, and guacamole and bit into a little bit of gooey heaven.

Then Rachel ruined it. “All I’m saying is if the sex is good, why not add in the boyfriend stuff. The sex is good, right?”

Liz nodded enthusiastically. “Maybe that’s why it’s good. It’s not like we have anything in common.”

Rachel bit into a chip and washed it down with sangria. “If one of you doesn’t step up, then you’re both idiots.”

Liz smiled. “At least we’re satisfied idiots.”

“Braggart.” Rachel flagged the waiter. “I’ll take another sangria, please!”

Chapter Twenty

Three weeks later…

Ryan had had enough. More than a month of booty calls and Liz still wouldn’t go out with him in public. Which was why he found himself driving to her apartment on a Tuesday night after another weekend where he only saw her
after
she went out with her friends, which better not have included a guy.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in irritation. She just showed up at his place late at night and started taking off her clothes. His fingers stilled. He couldn’t complain about that part. She was like a lit match in his arms, burning and writhing against him, driving him insane with lust. But, every time, she left while he was sleeping—even the few times he’d stopped by her place. Would it kill her to have breakfast with him? Was she having breakfast with some other guy?

It was irritating the hell out of him.

Casual was fine. He was used to casual. He just didn’t want her to be with anyone else. He parked his car and shut off the ignition. He was beginning to understand the women in his past who’d complained about his lack of commitment to a relationship. You just didn’t know where you stood with that person.

He got out of the car and slammed the door. Hell, he wasn’t looking for a
relationship
; he just needed to know she wasn’t with anyone else. He took the stairs two at a time to her second-floor apartment and pounded on the door.

“Ryan, come in,” Liz said, stepping back from the door. “Is everything okay?”

She wore her Snoopy T-shirt again, and he itched to get his hands on the smooth, creamy skin underneath it. But first he needed answers.

“Fine.” He stepped inside and began to pace the living room. “Look, I’m not saying you have to do one thing or another…but you have to admit we never even ate breakfast together, and when two people spend the night, you might expect a little scrambled eggs…” He jammed a hand in his hair and stopped pacing. “So, what’s the deal?”

“You want scrambled eggs?” Her eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

“No, it’s not that,” he muttered, pacing again. He wasn’t getting his point across. “I don’t care about scrambled eggs. I mean, you have other friends; that’s fine. You should have friends. And I’m not saying anything about a relationship, just when two people…” He stopped and rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, you and me.” He paced again. “When you and me, you know, keep sleeping together, and I’m not complaining about that. That’s
great
, but then…”

“Yes?”

He stopped pacing to look at her. She waited, head tilted to the side, looking curiously at him.

He tried again, slicing a hand through the air. “A guy has a right to know.”

“Know what?”

Just spit it out. Talk is not your strong suit.

He crossed to her, pinned her with a hard look. He’d know if she was lying. “Are you seeing anybody else?”

She shook her head, eyes wide and innocent. “No, are you?”

“No. Okay, good. So don’t, okay?” He grabbed her waist and pulled her close, inhaling her delicious vanilla scent. The tension went right out of him as he held her in his arms. He dipped his head, his mouth brushing over hers. “Just be with me.”

“Okay,” she said on a sigh.

He cradled her face, kissing her tenderly to seal the deal. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he lost himself in her soft mouth. She made those little moans that drove him crazy as he deepened the kiss, hungry for her again. She came to life in his arms, kissing him wildly, her hands roaming all over him as she pressed her hot little body against him, pushing him to the edge.

He couldn’t take things slow. He had to have her.
Now
. He didn’t bother taking off her T-shirt, just worked off her panties. She grasped his hair, nipped at his bottom lip. She was hot and wet, and he couldn’t wait anymore. He worked himself free, lifted her so her legs were wrapped around him, and took her against the wall. Her moans drove him as he pounded into her, staking his claim.
Mine, mine, mine.
At the last second, he slipped a hand between them and stroked her, making her come with a throaty scream that sent him right over with her.

He didn’t release her. Merely gave himself a moment to recover; then wrapping his arms around her, their bodies still joined, he carried her into the bedroom.

He spent the night, spooning her, breathing in her scent, stroking her soft hair. As soon as he heard her stir in the morning, before she could make her usual getaway, he rolled on top of her and took her again.

They had their first breakfast together at her kitchen table. She made him scrambled eggs. He took care of the toast and juice.