Authors: Mackenzie Crowne
She removed the box’s lid and rested it against the bench leg on the floor. “I’m packing up a piece for delivery.”
He watched in silence as she crossed the room to take
Yearning
from the top shelf. When she returned to place the sculpture into the box, he slanted his upper body toward hers for a better view. “Nice.”
“Thanks.”
Studying the clean lines of the delicate form, she couldn’t help but agree. Her fingertip traced over the woman’s reaching hand and she sighed. Each sculpture held a little piece of her heart, but this one was more. It had come from her soul. Though she hadn’t understood as she bent over her workspace the morning she met Tuck and shape had emerged in the twisting wire, the sculpture was a self-portrait. A soul-deep cry for what could be.
As if she’d spoken aloud, Tuck straightened at her side. “Does it bother you? Letting it go?”
She whipped her head around to look at him, but if there was a deeper meaning in his question, it didn’t show. Simply curiosity was all she found.
She looked away. “A little.” She’d given Ronald her word, and she wouldn’t back out now but, in truth, she regretted seeing the piece go. She shrugged and gave her pat answer. “But art is meant to be shared.”
Tuck smiled as she twisted open the tie on a bag of Styrofoam peanuts. “I’m sure the new owner appreciates the sentiment.”
She poured a waterfall of packing peanuts into the box and dipped her hand inside to spread it around. “It doesn’t have a new owner.” She added more peanuts and kept her eyes on what she was doing. “Yet. I agreed to do the Art Council’s show.”
When he said nothing, she turned her head and met his gaze.
A small smile softened his face. “Another fear put to rest, huh? Good for you. I’m proud of you.”
She jammed her shaking hand into the box. “Don’t be. I’m scared to death.”
“But you’re doing it anyway. That’s what counts.”
“Maybe. Unless I puke on Ronald’s dress shoes.”
Tuck slumped back against the bench with a grin.
She bent to retrieve the wooden lid from the floor, while reaching for her power drill. Tucked beneath the power tool, her fears list skittered across the surface of the bench. He twisted his upper body, picked up the sheet of paper, and scanned her handwriting. “What’s this?”
The drill clattered to the bench top, and she snatched the paper from his fingers. “Just some doodling.” She folded the sheet in quarters and jammed it into the front pocket of her jeans, but from the way his mouth tweaked in a pleased smile, he’d had enough time to ascertain the contents.
Thank God I refrained from adding that stupid heart.
“When’s the show?”
Apparently, he wasn’t going to make an issue of seeing his name on her doodle list. That so worked for her. A ragged breath shuddered in her chest. “Friday night.”
“Are you going to invite me?”
Shit. She hadn’t thought that far. Training camp started on Monday, which meant he’d be gone by Sunday night at the latest. She didn’t want to miss a moment of the three days they had left, but after their Yankee stadium fiasco, his appearance at the show would only cause problems.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Disappointment clouded his eyes. “Because someone might make the connection between us? I’m not sure artsy types spend a lot of time at Yankee stadium or watching ESPN.”
“
I
did.”
“Only because I dragged you there.”
When she opened her mouth to make a further argument, he held up his hand.
“The thing is, I leave for Syracuse on Sunday.”
Oh God. She wanted to slap her hands over her ears and chant la la la so she wouldn’t have to hear him say,
it’s been fun, but now it’s time to move on
. Not yet, her heart cried. They had several more days left in their agreement and damn it, she wanted them.
Instead of stomping her foot like a spoiled little girl, she nodded. “I know.”
He slid his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans. “I’ve got this team thing tomorrow, but after that I planned on locking you away in my condo and not letting you go until it was time to leave.”
“You did?” Relief made her legs go weak. She clutched at the edge of the bench.
He nodded, pulled his fingers from his pockets, then immediately shoved them back in again. “And speaking of my leaving, we need to talk about our…arrangement.”
Her heart sunk almost as quickly as her gaze dropped to the floor.
“I think we should renegotiate.”
“What?” Her head snapped up, and she stared at him wide-eyed. Geez, was Kris psychic too? She mentally slapped the stray thought aside and clamped down on a slightly hysterical grin by flattening her lips. If he wanted to renegotiate, that meant he wanted more time. A good sign.
He tugged his hands from his pockets once more only to shove them through his hair.
Why, he’s nervous.
A
really
good sign.
“I know we were both firm on the three week limit, but I want more.”
Oh, so do I. So do I.
Her heart leaped, and her sudden loss of breath had nothing to do with panic. Could it be Gracie was right? Had he lost his heart as well? Her eyes slid shut in sweet wonder.
He cleared his throat, and when her lashes fluttered open, she was surprised by the hard slant of his face. He shook his head. “Look, it’s no big deal, I just thought if you weren’t seeing anyone when I got back, and I’m not seeing anyone, we could get together.” He picked up a stray piece of wire from the bench and twisted it in his fingers. “You know, for old time’s sake.”
He dropped the wire, and it pinged to the bench, the same way her heart fell to the floor.
Oh, God. Tears prickled behind her eyes and she turned, blinking them away. “Sure. For old time’s sake.”
So much for thinking he wanted more time with her. Why bother taking their agreement into the realm of a relationship, when friends with benefits was so much more convenient? But casual sex with a man who moved on to yet another woman every couple of weeks would never work for her.
Her list crinkled in her pocket, and she pulled it out. She held the folded paper up over her shoulder so he could see, but didn’t open it and didn’t look his way. “I made a list of everything I wanted to accomplish through our…arrangement. As you probably saw, I hit every goal but one.”
The scrape of his boots on hardwood reached her as he shifted his feet. “Your father?”
Not even close, you dipshit
. She tossed the list to the bench and picked up the wooden top for the crate. “Yeah.”
“Are going to see him?”
“No.” She fit the top to the box and scooped up the drill.
“I think you should. What your father did to you was unforgiveable, but this is about you, not him. You’ll regret not finishing it down the road.”
“Yeah, well, life is full of regrets.” The whine of the drill pierced the air, and using more force than was necessary, she sealed the crate. Gritting her teeth, she buried screws into the corners while she imagined staking all four of his limbs to the wall. When she finished, the silence was deafening.
“Are we still on for dinner?”
Surprised by the question, she turned. Though his face had lost some of its tension, his eyes didn’t quite hold their usual warmth. Actually, she shouldn’t be surprised he intended to continue along with the status quo. From the beginning he’d had one agenda. Obviously, that hadn’t changed.
Instead of telling him to go fuck
himself
, as she should have, she nodded. What the hell. As Kris said, the guy knew his stuff. If sex was all he was willing to give her, she’d take it. For now.
She could always put a hit out on him once they were done.
* * * *
Tuck winced as a door slammed shut on the second floor. After cramming her tools into various drawers and calling Ronald to tell him curtly the piece was ready for Putnam’s courier, CC stomped upstairs to shower. Tuck slid his gaze to the power drill. Though he’d wanted to, he hadn’t offered to join her. No telling what kind of weapons she might turn on him while he was in a vulnerable state.
Her anger made no sense. Hadn’t he backed off and played it cool when her eyes slid shut and she started to withdraw? If anyone should be pissed, it was him. He’d never asked a woman for more before—not in the sense he meant with CC, anyway—and she wanted more too, even if she was too fucking stubborn to admit it. A woman didn’t melt into a man’s arms as if she couldn’t get enough of him if she didn’t.
He had no doubt he could sweet talk her out of her snit, but he’d have to be more careful about bringing up their future next time. The red checkmarks on her list proved how stubborn she could be. A woman who refused to back down in the face of such adversity would be a tough nut to crack, but crack her he would.
He might be looking at third and long, but he wasn’t foolish enough to let her go. That meant he’d have to find a way to keep her. He sucked at his teeth and stared at the empty staircase. An in-your-face offense had put him on the scoreboard earlier in the game, and he wasn’t one to screw with what worked. Slipping his cell phone from his pocket, he called in the special teams.
* * * *
“I didn’t realize you’d branched out into the restaurant industry.”
Tuck slid his keycard through the lock and opened the door to his condo. “I haven’t, but trust me, you’re not going to starve.”
She brushed by him to step inside and he smiled. At her prickly best, Little Ms. Sunshine didn’t employ the silent act like most women when they had a man in their crosshairs. No, CC fell back on sarcasm, and he preferred her style.
He shut the door and leaned against it as she stood in the foyer and looked around. When she turned to face him, she bared her teeth in a chilling smile that would have frightened dogs and small children. “What’s the plan? A bowl of Cocoa Puffs and then we get naked, or are we eating in bed?”
“Either works for me.” He pushed off the door and strode by her, heading for the small dining room off the living area. “But I have something a bit more substantial than breakfast cereal in mind.”
He stopped at the panel door. Turning, he cocked his head at her in question. Her smile dripped with imitation sweetness as she stalked toward him and froze comically when he slid the panel aside. She stopped short. He glanced over her shoulder into the room he’d ventured into only once since he’d purchased the place, and raised an impressed brow.
Pure blind luck had found Gracie in the city when he called requesting her help. She’d outdone herself, as had Dominic, the head chef at Reuben’s, his favorite restaurant. No doubt they’d both exact a stiff price in payback.
Elegant in its simplicity, the glass dining table gleamed in welcome. An open bottle of wine chilled in a sterling carafe at one end. A fat candle, surrounded by white rose buds and greenery, sat in the center. Matching green linen rested on stark white porcelain dinnerware. The sparkling wine glasses reflected the candle’s flickering light.
“Slick.” CC stabbed him with a sidelong glance before continuing into the room. She wandered over to the side table and lifted the lid on the first of three chafing dishes. Her emerald eyes cut to his beneath a fan of dark blond lashes. “Elves?”
“Something like that.” He grinned and stepped to the table to pull out her chair.
She sniffed, replaced the lid, and slid into her seat. Her napkin snapped crisply as she spread it across her lap. “I hope you don’t expect me to serve you. I’m starving.”
He eyed the centerpiece and hoped Gracie hadn’t slipped a camera into the blooms. Jake would bust a gut laughing. Just in case, he gave his friend something to think about. Dipping his head, he brushed his lips across a spot on the back of CC’s neck he’d discovered was ultra-sensitive.
“Me too,” he whispered in her ear.
The delicate shudder rolling through her made him smile, and he straightened.
He retrieved the wine and held the bottle before her. At her silent nod, he splashed the golden liquid into their glasses, then turned to the side table to fill their plates. A low growl rumbled in her belly when he placed the plate of tender beef medallions, fluffy lobster pie, and steamed asparagus in front of her.
He chuckled at her blush and slid into the chair across from her. “Dig in, sunshine.”
You’re going to need the fuel.
She forked up a portion of buttery shellfish topped with golden breading and slipped the tines between her lips. With a low moan, her eyes drifted shut. He shifted in his seat and picked up his wine glass for a healthy swallow.
Her eyelids fluttered open, and she took several more bites of lobster before stabbing an asparagus spear. Eyeing him, she nipped off the feathery top and jerked her chin toward his full plate. “I thought you were hungry.”
“I am.”
“You aren’t eating.” The asparagus spear disappeared in three more crunching bites.
“Oh, I plan to.” He set the wine glass onto the table and fingered the stem.
A smirk flattened her lips at his purposeful innuendo, and she picked up her knife. “I appreciate you pulling out the big guns like this,” she sliced through a medallion then brought the fork to her lips, “but the whole seduction routine isn’t necessary.” She popped the morsel of meat into her mouth and chewed. “I think we both know I’m a sure thing.”
He grinned and picked up his fork. “That wasn’t the case a couple of weeks ago.”
“A couple of weeks ago I didn’t know what I was missing.” Though her words were uttered with a cheeky lightness, resentment was broadcast in her glittering eyes. “And you were worried about despoiling the virgin.” She slid another piece of meat into her mouth and shook her head. “The rumors about you were right. I succumbed to your practiced technique with barely a whimper.”
His good humor crashed at her biting tone. Jesus, what was it with women? Did they belong to a secret society that taught them how to deliver a dig with deadly accuracy? Yeah, he’d been with a lot of women. So fucking what? Since meeting
her
, he hadn’t been able to think about another woman, much less practice his
technique
on one, and it was about time she knew it.