04 - Born to be Wilde.txt (8 page)

"A roadside bomb in Iraq," he said, his tone brusque. "An IED, actually."

An improvised explosive device, she thought with a shudder, grateful that he hadn't ended up a casualty.

Her fingers stroked and kneaded over his solid stomach and across his impressive six-pack abs. "What was it like in the service and Iraq?" she asked, curious to know. "Was it really bad?"

His long, sooty lashes slowly lifted, revealing eyes that were carefully guarded. "Why do you want to know?"

She shrugged and glided her hands over his ribs to his chest and solid pecs, bringing her closer to his gorgeous face and his watchful expression. "No matter how many times I asked, Zach wouldn't tell me anything. He refused to talk about the war or his time in the service."

"There was a reason for that, Lora," he said quietly. "There wasn't a whole lot of good stuff to talk about."

And it was clear that Joel didn't want to discuss it, either. "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry." He closed his eyes again and released a heavy sigh. "I didn't mean to be rude, but our time in the service wasn't a pleasant experience. We saw and did things that no one should ever have to deal with, but we did what we needed to do. What was necessary. For our country, and to protect our own men that we fought side by side with for days on end."

Joel spoke matter-of-factly, but there was an underlying thread of emotion beneath his impassive attitude. Lora had no doubt that Joel and Zach had seen their share of death and heinous attacks, and she respected them both for risking their lives to save others. But at what cost to their own mental state, she wondered?

As much as that question plagued her mind, Lora let it go and finished up their session. She spent a good amount of time on his arms, shoulders, and neck, and felt him relax once again beneath her skilled hands. She worked out any last lingering stress and tension, and when she was finished, she lifted her palms from his body and stepped away from the table.

"You're all set," she said in a low, soothing tone as she recapped the bottle of oil and turned the heat off the stones. "I hope you enjoyed the hot stone massage."

"Ummm, I did." He moved to a sitting position, thankfully remembering to hold on to the towel covering all his manly assets. "Ashley said I'd feel like a new man afterward, and she wasn't kidding. That was beyond anything I could have imagined. Thank you."

"It was my pleasure." More than he would ever know. "Your clothes are behind that screen in the corner, and you can get dressed as soon as I leave the room." She started for the door.

"Wait," he said, stopping her before she reached the exit. "We're not finished yet."

She turned back around and tipped her head, which caused her ponytail to brush across her shoulder. "Did you want another massage session?" She honestly didn't know if she could handle another hour or more of touching that body of his in a platonic manner.

"No. Not another massage, though the thought is very tempting." He winked at her, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously. "Actually, I want you to go out with me tonight."

A tiny thrill raced through her, until she remembered her hectic schedule that left little time for a social life. It was Friday, and that meant a late night shift at The Electric Blue. "I can't," she said, unable to disguise her disappointment and regret. "I'm working at the bar until closing."

"Tomorrow night, then?" he asked hopefully.

Normally, she worked a full day and night on Saturdays, but she'd managed to free up the entire day. Sydney had offered her the evening off, which Lora had taken, since it was rare that she had a weekend night off. As for the spa, one of the other massage therapists had asked Lora to switch her Sunday day off with the other woman's Saturday, and Lora had jumped at the chance to have an entire day and night to herself.

"Actually, Saturday is my only full day off this week." And she really did have errands to run and things she needed to catch up on that she'd been putting off for a good week, like laundry, grocery shopping, and paying bills.

"And what better way to spend the evening than with me?" He treated her to one of those devastating grins. Coupled with the fact that he was sitting only feet away from her, completely naked beneath that small towel and looking like a Greek god, she was hard pressed to resist.

She shifted in her rubber-soled shoes and bit her bottom lip, seriously considering his very persuasive offer. There were so many reasons why she ought to turn him down, but whatever was happening between her and Joel, she was oh-so-tempted to throw her normal caution to the wind, go for it, and enjoy whatever he was willing to give.

It had been so long since she'd done anything just for the sheer pleasure of it. And longer still since she'd had such a sizzling, captivating chemistry with a man, along with a connection that went beyond the physical. She liked the way he made her feel, so why not?

The best part was, she knew the score going in, and so did Joel. She wasn't looking for anything permanent, not with her erratic work schedule and visions of opening her own spa, and Joel had made it clear that he was a confirmed bachelor, and liked it that way. There would be no unrealistic expectations between them, just a few fun, enjoyable dates, and hopefully a whole lot of hot, satisfying kisses.

"Come on, Lora," he cajoled when she took too long to answer. "I'll even pick you up on my bike and take you for the ride of your life."

Oh, he was definitely pulling out all the stops to sway her, and there was no denying that he'd wanted her to think about that fast and fierce conversation they'd had the previous night, along with her being the first woman to ever ride his bike with him.

She was hooked. "Okay, I'll go out with you tomorrow night, but it's only because I really want a ride on your motorcycle."

He chuckled and watched as she crossed the room to one of the counters and pulled open a drawer to retrieve a pad of paper and a pen. "Hey, that works for me."

She jotted down her home and cell phone numbers, and her address, then turned back around to give him the piece of paper. Realizing he had nowhere to put the information—not unless she wanted to tuck it into his itty-bitty towel—she set the note back on the counter for him to get later, when he was dressed. "You can pick me up at six."

"Perfect." He grinned like a man who was very pleased with his powers of persuasion. "I'll be there."

She left the room with a smile on her face, thinking that Sydney would be very proud of her for saying yes to Joel.

Chapter Five

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IT was nearly four o'clock in the afternoon when Sydney arrived at Cassie's high school for her conference with Cassie's math teacher. She'd left her daughter at home, mainly because she wanted to know what was going on with Cassie without any ready excuses or interruptions during her meeting with Daniel Barnett. She wanted direct and uncensored information so she could decide how to get Cassie back on track—pronto.

She entered through the school's main gates and followed the directions Cassie had given her to Building C. She passed through the quad area, and other than seeing a few teenagers and staff on campus, the place was fairly deserted, which made sense, since it was Friday and the start of the weekend for teachers and students.

Finding the two-story structure, she entered the quiet building and headed down the long corridor toward the math wing, the sound of her heeled boots echoing in the hallway. Her gaze took in the rows of metal lockers lining the corridor, the glass case filled to capacity with student awards, and the colorful posters taped to the walls announcing an upcoming dance.

A dull, disconcerting sensation settled in the pit of her stomach, and she tried to shake it off. It wasn't the first time she'd been to Cassie's high school and walked the halls, yet doing so never failed to bring back memories of her own teenage years and how very difficult and painful high school had been for her.

As a freshman, she'd not only had the stigma of being a foster kid who wore used and outdated clothes purchased at the Salvation Army, but being a fourteen-year-old pregnant teen living in a halfway house made her the target of gossip, ridicule, and scorn. No one cared to know the circumstances of her past, or her pregnancy—they only chose to believe that she was a tramp and a whore, and the kind of girl that would screw any guy interested in getting into her pants.

But what hurt more than the rude stares and whispers behind her back was the fact that the boy who'd taken her virginity and fathered her baby, her own foster brother, had only reinforced the notion that she was a slut who put out, and that made her the target of unwanted advances from other guys, as well. The only person who'd remained a true friend through those four torturous years had been Lora Marshall. Sydney knew she never would have made it to graduation without her best friend's love, support, and understanding.

High school had been nothing more than a means to an end for Sydney. Despite how hard it had been to raise a toddler during those years and still maintain a B average, she'd been driven to get her education and be more than her heroin-addicted mother had amounted to. She'd also been fiercely determined to give Cassie the kind of life and unconditional love that she, herself, had grown up without.

As for Tim Carson, the guy who'd fathered Cassie—a boy that Sydney had truly believed had loved her and who had said all the right words to get her to have sex with him—well, he'd denied any part in her pregnancy. And his mother and father, Sydney's foster parents, had immediately thought the worst and accused her of trying to trap their son by claiming the child was his. Then they'd promptly given her back to the state to deal with. Since no one wanted the responsibility or hassle of taking in a knocked-up teen, she'd been assigned to a state-run halfway house for unwed mothers.

Her memories of her teenage years weren't fond ones, but she'd learned a whole lot of hard, emotional lessons during high school, and especially from Tim Carson. He'd been the first to teach her that guys took one look at her voluptuous body and curves and wanted only one thing: to fuck her. It had been a perpetual occurrence in her life when it came to men, but instead of allowing the situation to make her bitter, she'd learned to use her sensuality and seductive figure to her own advantage. To get what she wanted, too—whether it had to do with business or her own physical pleasure. Her decision had served her very well over the years, not only putting her firmly in control of any sexual situation, but also allowing her to keep emotions out of the equation.

She refused to let any man exploit her the way that Tim Carson had. When she went out with a guy, she knew exactly what she was getting into. To that end, she preferred to date men who were out for a good time and nothing more. She had a daughter to raise and a bar to keep successful in order to pay off her business loan, and she didn't want or need the distraction of entanglements or attachments getting in the way of her priorities. Which wasn't an issue since she never let a man get close enough to threaten her emotions.

Arriving at Daniel Bamett's classroom, she inhaled a deep breath to regain her composure and redirected her focus to why she was here today. Because of Cassie, and to discuss any potential problems that her daughter was having with math.

She opened the door, stepped inside, and found Daniel standing at the front of the room. His back was to her as he wrote the following Monday's class assignment on the chalkboard, and he gave her a quick glance over his shoulder, and added a polite, "I'll be with you in a minute," before finishing up his task.

As he jotted down page numbers and a note to the class that there would be a test at the end of the week, she casually strolled her way toward his desk. A moment later, he dropped the chalk into a tray and turned around to face her. Her mouth quirked as she took in Mr. Preppy's attire—with his navy chinos, long-sleeved button-up shirt, and matching tie, he was the epitome of a conservative, traditional type of guy. The kind she wouldn't normally give a second glance because he was so opposite of the rough-and-tumble bad boys that normally drew her eye.

Yet she had to admit that Daniel Baraett was very nice looking, in a clean cut, polished sort of way. There was no denying his wide shoulders and a lean body he obviously kept in shape. His thick, dark blond hair was cut short and neat, and his features were nicely chiseled. His eyes were a warm shade of brown that reminded her of the fine whiskey she served at the bar, or rich caramel, depending on how the light reflected off his irises, and he had a mouth that was decidedly sensual and prompted her thoughts to stray down a very naughty path she had no business traveling with this particular man.

"Hi, Sydney," he said, and extended his hand toward her as a friendly smile curved the lips she'd just fantasized about. "Thanks for coming in. I appreciate it."

"Of course." She shook his hand, all too aware of the heat of his large palm against hers, and how long and strong his fingers felt wrapped around her hand. In contrast to his undeniable masculinity, she almost felt delicate… when she was anything but.

She pushed the ridiculous notion from her mind and kept her thoughts strictly on business. "Nothing is more important than my daughter and her education, Mr. Barnett." And she was determined to make sure that Cassie had every advantage, and the grades to get accepted to a reputable university. Sydney might have scratched, clawed, stripped, and slept her way to being able to open her own business because she'd lacked any type of college degree, but her daughter would hopefully never, ever have to stoop to that kind of level. Not if Sydney could help it.