The Sweetest Fling (A Stupid Cupid Book) (3 page)

Claire opened her mouth to speak, her eyes meeting Jace’s. In them, she saw conflict. And desire. It wasn’t just her, was it? He felt it, too?

Just one kiss. She could do this. If she didn’t, she would regret it forever. “Can I ask you something?”

Jace waited a full beat, then nodded. He laced his hands behind his head, and then dropped them. The scent of him pressed near Claire’s senses. She blinked slowly, balling her fists. “Will you promise not to get mad?” She didn’t know why she asked this. There was that inner tween again, escaped from summer camp.

Again, Jace nodded. “Promise.” And he didn’t do that stupid scout’s honor thing. “Ask me anything.”

His voice was raspy. Claire’s heart beat in her ears. Her skin tingled. Glorious heat spread through her. All the wrong of it slipped away.

“Can I kiss you?” Claire asked, her eyes steadily meeting Jace’s so that she could catch every nuance of his reaction.

Jace’s eyelids lowered, and his lips parted. Claire wanted to just do it, to lean over and touch her lips to his, right or wrong be damned. But, Jace might freak. This was her almost boyfriend’s twin brother. And while Tyler and Claire were hours from being over with, they weren’t yet.

Claire swallowed, waiting for Jace to answer. His stare slowly fell to her lips, then returned, equally slowly. “You want to kiss me.”

God, yes. Every ticking second ratcheted the urge up higher. Her lips on his. Her hands on his stubbly jaw and throat. She nodded.

His Adam’s apple bobbed. He didn’t take his eyes off of her.

He shut his eyes tight and put a fist to his forehead, and something in Claire broke away. He couldn’t say yes.

But he didn’t say no.

Her mind raced with all the reasons not to. And in the end, only one reason to kiss him anyway held strong.

“Tomorrow, I’ll be gone. For good. I can’t date Tyler feeling like this.” She took a steadying breath. “About you.”

There. She said it. In a span of hours, she had developed bizarrely intense feelings for him. Attraction that ran beyond skin deep.

Jace groaned, looking at the ceiling.

Carefully, she scooted over to him. He adjusted his leg and she eased up onto his lap. He wouldn’t look at her face, and he didn’t touch her. But he didn’t push or move away. Guilt whispered in the background somewhere. All Claire could really hear, though, was that thought.
She’d be gone. Forever.
Could she live not knowing at least what those perfect lips felt like?

His thighs were hard bulges of muscle under hers. The contours of his chest were outlined in his T-shirt. Claire’s hands shook as she laid them there on the thin cotton. Heat emanated from him and into her.

Jace’s eyes met hers.

The space between them seemed to fall away.

A small gasp escaped her as Jace’s hand pulled her closer, shifting the covers. Claire’s new thought was a prayer for him not to stop, for time to stop, and whoever was up there to gift her with just one kiss.

His other hand came up to tuck a lock of hair away from her face. His rough fingers grazed her cheek. Her hands fisted into his T-shirt. He shifted again so that their faces were a breath apart. Claire licked her lips, the mental whisper in the background becoming a shout.
They couldn’t undo this!

Not this look, or that touch, or the heat or hardness under her. She shoved the voice back. This was her only chance. He ran his thumb over her lower lip. She pushed her chest closer to his, her breasts grazing his pecs. She breathed in his breath and waited, hoping. Scared. And nothing else mattered. Not finals, not the LSAT, not her parents, or breaking up with Tyler.
None
of it. Only this, only him, and only now.

Jace.

Claire closed her eyes and ran her hands up into his hair. Her thighs settled at his waist and there could be no doubt—he wanted her.

She wanted him. Her body and her heart hungered for a scrap to take with her tomorrow. The hunger drowned out the guilt. She wriggled closer. She touched his jaw, his shoulders. She pushed her breasts full against him. His hands traveled oh-so-slowly down her back and down her rib cage, settling on her waist and threatening to move upward.

Or to push her away.

Just kiss me. Please. Don’t make me kiss you first.

He jerked upright, his arms tightening. “Did you hear that?”

Her ears roared. She straightened. She shook her head, listening. His eyes darted around the room, and then back to her. In a swift motion, he picked her up and switched their positions.

“Wait here,” he whispered, tossing the blanket over her.

She lay very still under the rough old blanket. Who was it? Tyler? Millie? Shit. Her stomach got a little sick. The adrenaline should have sobered her up. Instead, she grew a bit drunker. Her body became more aware. Of the texture of the blanket, the sofa beneath, even her clothes had increased effect on her hyperaware skin.

She needed soothing, and her mind latched onto the notion that Jace was the only thing that could do it. From the kitchen, the shush of the refrigerator door opening sounded. Muted voices. She couldn’t make out the genders, though.

She dared a peek just as Jace came back in, a glass of water in hand. He motioned for her to cover up. “Good night,” he called out.

No answer.

A creak on the stairs sounded from heavy steps. Claire stiffened. Her mouth went dry. Then Jace sat right on her. With a grunt, she pushed and rolled, coming up from under the blanket to smack him on the thigh. He dodged her, stood, and then offered her a hand. “It was your BFF.”

Claire took his hand. He pulled her to stand in front of him, his fingers lacing into hers. “Wanna get out of here?”

Should she stay? Should she go? She swallowed. A commitment to all of the consequences of coming downstairs tonight loomed in her mind. Nothing else, no one else, in all her days, had ever made her feel this way. She couldn’t let it go. Not yet.

She nodded, and followed him out the front door. Seeing her bare feet, he piggybacked her down the driveway and crossed the street to a small, grass-covered washout, where he plopped her down.

“What are we doing?” she asked, wrapping her arms around herself.

He put up one finger, left, and returned with a couple of blankets. Settling down and sitting close to her—touching but not—he finally answered her. “We’re making sure that we can live with ourselves for the rest of my life.”

* * * *

Millie Match chewed her lower lip and paced the bedroom floor. She knew somewhere down there, Claire was hanging out with the wrong brother. If so, everything, and she meant every last thing, would fall apart. She had not spent the last six months in this assignment to have it end like this.

She’d mixed the potion, she got Claire and Tyler together in a super romantic setting. But Claire went and got distracted.

She was a Cupid. She could fix this.

Maybe if she woke Tyler up. She looked down. Nope. That man was passed out. Cold

A seriously awful thought struck her—what if Claire thought Jace was Tyler?

No. No way. They didn’t even walk the same. No, Claire was just hanging out, oblivious to Millie’s carefully woven plans for a match. Okay, maybe carefully wasn’t the right word. More like tossed together. And she knew where she had gone wrong.

The drink.

She’d screwed up the love potion. Well, not love so much as nudge potion. She’d just needed to help Claire see Tyler for the ideal guy that all the files and all her instincts said he was. Tyler Hayes was
perfect
for Claire!

Her supervisor was going just love this one. Hadn’t he warned her? Hadn’t she learned from the debacle in Seattle? He’d sigh, scowl, and then contact Karma Court to see just how badly the consequences went. Millie’s gold bracelets jingled with each pace of the room, a keen reminder of her seven-match sentence.

Basically a life sentence.

Nudging Tyler over, Millie lay down on his bed and stared at the textured ceiling, waiting for her brain to think up something to do about this.

Sleep, wake up, drive home sounded like the only things she could do. Except for maybe interrogating Claire to see if there was some slim way to salvage her latest Cupid miss by a mile.

Tyler snored. She looked over. Sleep, yeah. Just not in here.

~~

Chapter Three

The scent of bacon and the clamor of dishes and people in the kitchen brought Jace out of a heavy sleep. He stretched out his legs and let sleep ease away, the threads of a dream unraveling. He’d dreamed of Claire and of the ocean. The tide had been coming in over their feet, and Claire had leaned in to whisper. But a breeze was all he’d heard. And then ... bacon.

He rolled over, and wakefulness took over. He remembered.
Claire.
Last night. They’d stolen moments. His eyes flew open to verify what his body had already sensed. Claire was gone. How many hours had she lain with him on the couch? A gut-deep ache formed around the surge of happiness the memories stirred.

It was wrong to feel so good about last night.

No one could call foul. No one could say that they’d crossed a line.

But they’d gotten close.

Jace tossed away the blanket, but didn’t get up. Shafts of sunlight warmed his legs. The world felt different today. It had more color. More detail. He inhaled the bacon scent again and a little tremble of excitement ran through him. He’d see Claire. He’d see if it was more than the night, more than the champagne.

He’d see her face.

He couldn’t even begin to guess how easy it would be to hide the feelings she ignited in him. Would she be able to? They had to. He wouldn’t hurt Tyler.

What time was it? Claire and Millie would have to drive back soon. San Diego was a good six hours away. Claire had to think. So did Jace. They’d agreed. If there were a way, any way that they could be together ... they would be—eventually.

Damn. A rush of warmth gathered in Jace’s gut at the mere idea. He put a hand to his forehead. What was it about that girl? He’d never acted like this before. Ever.

He heard the
thump
of footsteps coming through the dining room. A little zing of anticipation ran through him. He sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “Jace. Breakfast.” His dad.

“Be right in,” he said, impressed with how normal his voice sounded. How unchanged.

He grabbed some clothes and hit the upstairs bathroom. Aside from the goofy grin that kept climbing up his cheeks, his reflection didn’t look any different. Good. So, then, no one would know.

Downstairs, Helen Fletcher was running her kitchen with years of efficiency. Jace gave his mom a kiss on the cheek then joined his dad. He half expected one of them to ask him to spit out the canary in his mouth.

If anyone would be able to tell, it would be his mom. Helen knew her children far too well.

“No one else up yet?” Jace asked, popping a chunk of cheesy hash browns in his mouth.

His dad shook his head. Just then, the front door opened in the next room—as if to dispute him.

“Smells delicious, Mom,” Lawrence, his new brother-in-law called. He shut the door after them.

“Yes, very,” Ashley chorused as they entered the kitchen.

“What are you two doing here?” Helen said, clearly pleased. “You don’t want to spend your first day as husband and wife with us, now do you?”

“Don’t be silly, Mom,” Ashley said, kissing her cheek. “You know no restaurant food will compare to one of your breakfasts.”

Lawrence kept a smile fixed on his face and waited for his new wife to sit down before he did. Jace grinned. Lawrence looked like he didn’t quite know how to take the Fletcher clan. No one could blame him, least of all Jace. They were a tight knit handful of a family.

“Well, I suppose it’s a good thing I made extra, just in case,” Helen said, beaming.

Enjoying how Lawrence did his best to dig in and joined the banter, Jace focused on Ashley. He loved to razz his sister and a little teasing would help get his mind off of Claire. Where
was
Claire?

“So,” he said in a jovial aside. “How was the wedding night? Did you bust out the whips and leather for Lawrence?” He wiggled his brows and forked another slice of bacon to his plate. “Showed him who wears the pants?”

“Yeah,” Ashley said, piling a pancake on her plate. “It was fine. I mean,
good
. It was good.”

Jace frowned a little. He’d expected a punch to the arm, but not this. What had happened? “You okay, Sis?”

“Where’s Tyler?” Lawrence asked no one in particular, giving Jace a warning look.

He could only guess Lawrence meant for him not to ask about last night again, but guilt at the mention of Tyler took over.

“You know,” Helen said, towel fisted to her hip. “I thought he’d be back by now, but he isn’t. Airport traffic, probably. You know how it gets with all that construction they’ve always got going on.”

Airport
traffic? But Millie and Claire were driving home.

“He’ll be here. Only been an hour or so since they left,” her dad said.

“Two,” her mother corrected. “Almost three. But he left his phone. I tried it already.” Helen tossed the towel over her shoulder and shrugged, but worry wrinkled her brow.

Worry raced through Jace’s chest, quite close to the area of his heart, where secret joy still hid. If something happened to Tyler—no, he would not allow himself to consider such an awful thing. Nothing had happened. No accident, no car troubles, and certainly no last-minute confessions from Tyler’s soon-to-be ex-girlfriend.

Claire had said she was ending it with him, hadn’t she? And that the breakup had nothing to do with Jace—or last night? That she’d been planning it for some time?