Battlescars (8 page)

“I love to people-watch,” she said. “That’s why I love places like this. I can look at people and nobody thinks it’s strange.”

“What’s the weirdest thing you’ve seen while people-watching?”

He watched her brow furrow as she contemplated the question. “Weird? I’m not sure. There are the occasional homeless people with carts filled to the brim with random things. Sometimes there’s car trouble. But there are plenty of interesting things, like seeing couples fight, or seeing parents have a meltdown over their kids not behaving. Usually just behavior that you might not expect to see in public.”

Dyson was listening to her, but he was clearly watching something across the street. He stared for a moment, and then looked back at Kayla. She looked puzzled and somewhat annoyed.

“Were you even paying attention?” she demanded.

“Speaking of behavior,” he said, and pointed toward the balcony across the street.

Kayla looked up. He watched her face as she saw the couple there, the pretty woman and the handsome man who were facing one another on a balcony across the street. They must have believed that they were hidden from view as they began kissing passionately on their terrace above the street. Dyson looked around at the other diners and realized that the angle of the umbrellas hid the couple from everyone else – everyone but those at the end table that Kayla and Dyson occupied.

Kayla’s face flushed bright red. She pulled her eyes away and fiddled with her napkin, but then she looked back, as though she couldn’t help it. She was simply drawn to the vision up there on the balcony, much the same way he was. But rather than continue to look up, Dyson watched her, much more interested in what she was thinking and feeling than in what was happening on the balcony.

Finally Kayla looked away, staring at the table. “We shouldn’t be watching,” she said.

The waiter showed up and took their order. Sandwiches and chips all around. Dyson glanced up again when the waiter left and almost choked on his water. Kayla looked up at the same time and together they watched as the woman unbuckled the man’s belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and slipped her hand inside. The man pushed against her, his hips thrust against her hand. Dyson heard Kayla gasp in surprise as the man ran his hands underneath the woman’s skirt and it became clear that she wore nothing beneath it.

Dyson tried not to look up again, but he knew what was happening, and so did his body. He was hard and hot within seconds of seeing it, and he spent the next few minutes trying to convince himself to calm down. He had had a few ungentlemanly thoughts about Kayla, sure, but being so turned on that it was physically obvious would not be a good way to end their afternoon.

Kayla tried to make a point of ignoring them too. But her composure was suddenly gone, and she looked as though she wanted to bolt as she fiddled with her fork. She shifted in her chair and took a deep breath. Dyson recognized all the signs of a woman who was turned on but knew that it wasn’t appropriate. He grinned – it was nice to see a break like this in her careful façade.

Kayla met Dyson’s eyes, and, with an embarrassed smile, glanced back up to continue watching the show above them.

The couple still kissed, and the man had wound both his hands in the woman’s hair as he pulled her body toward his. He was clearly unable to wait a moment longer, as he shifted his pants lower on his hips and picked the woman up as she wrapped her legs around him. As he slowly thrust into her, her back against the balcony wall, the couple looked into one another’s eyes as if they were the only two people on the planet. The pace increased, and just as the waiter appeared with their sandwiches, the woman had thrown her head back in obvious ecstasy.

Flushed and flustered, Kayla forced herself to look away and thanked the waiter as he set the sandwiches on the table. Dyson found her discomfort absolutely delicious.

“So what do you think of your job at the college?” Kayla asked, searching desperately for a way to shift their attention away from the very public display they’d just experienced.

Dyson opted to let her change the subject and concentrated on telling her about the work he did, how he got the job and what he thought of his boss. By the time he had finished his account and they’d started to eat, the couple on the balcony – certainly far more relaxed than Kayla and Dyson – had disappeared inside. Kayla glanced up and saw That the spectacle was over, visibly relaxed and settled in to eat. Dyson saw the way she looked at him from time to time, though, and he could see that there was a heat in her gaze that hadn’t been there before.

“Why don’t we ditch this place and get something to drink?” she asked when the plates were almost empty.

Dyson raised an eyebrow in surprise. “I thought you didn’t drink.”

Kayla shrugged and for a moment she looked defensive. But then it dissolved into a winsome look. “Not often. Not much at all. But I just feel like…well, I’m just in the mood to have a little something.”

Dyson wasn’t about to let a good thing like this slip out of his grasp. If she wanted a drink and she was inviting him to go with her, then he would be more than happy to buy her an entire cabinet of liquor. “Where would you like to go?”

“Why not the usual place?”

Dyson grinned. “Has that become our place, then?”

She gave him a look that was meant to be cutting but just showed him how amused she was. “The usual place, I said. I didn’t say ‘our’ place.”

“But you wanted to, didn’t you?”

Kayla laughed out loud, and Dyson decided that he loved the sound of her laughter.

Kayla was a lightweight, which wasn’t a surprise. If she never drank much, then going through a few shots and a tall fruity cocktail would surely send her spinning. What he didn’t expect was how she would start to talk when she had a few drinks in her.

“You know, the first night we met? Here at this very bar?” She smacked the bar with her hand as if making a point. “The men that were bugging me? They reminded me of dear old dad.”

Well, this was a surprising turn of conversation. Dyson took a sip of his beer. “Want to tell me about your dad?”

Kayla snorted. “No, actually. I don’t talk about the bastard unless I have to, and even then it’s only because someone has another question about where he ran off to, for whatever reason. You know, like the police department. They ask me every year or so.” She shrugged. “Like I would bother to get in touch.”

“With the police department or with your dad?”

“Either. Both.”

She sipped on her drink, suddenly moody. Dyson had already learned that her mind moved like quicksilver when she was tipsy or close to drunk. It was interesting to see this side of her, the woman who was letting go of responsibility a little and letting her hair down, both literally and figuratively. He wasn’t sure how close she was to actually being drunk yet, but he was damn sure happy she was talking instead of playing it cool.

“My father isn’t the brightest bulb in the box.” Kayla thought for a moment. “No, actually, I take that back. He might be utterly brilliant. He’s managed to get away with so much that it’s hard to believe he’s still out there, free to continue to mess up lives the way he does.”

“No love lost there,” Dyson said.

“That’s an understatement.”

Dyson studied her. He was beginning to understand a bit of her personality, and why she had been so cold toward him. What must it have been like to grow up with someone like that? And how did he mess up Kayla’s life? He looked at the beer in his hand and set it on the bar, contemplating things.

“Those guys reminded you of him…why? Something they did?”

Kayla threw her head back and took another sip. The neon lights shone down on her hair, giving it a strange auburn glow. Her skin looked cool in the light, like porcelain, like she was a doll that might break if you touched her the wrong way.

“He’s an alcoholic,” she said, then cocked her head, thinking. “No, he’s a drunk. A terrible, violent drunk. Calling him an ‘alcoholic’ sounds too generous.”

“Those men weren’t drunk,” Dyson said.

“No, but they had the smell of it on their breath. And they wouldn’t take no for an answer. Daddy dearest always has to be right, you know? He can’t stomach the idea that someone would tell him no, or disagree with him. If you know more than he does, watch out! He’s liable to take you down.”

She mimed a punch, and Dyson winced.

“Anyway,” she went on, chatty as could be now that she had a few drinks in her, “my Daddy issues have made it tough to get close to any man, as you can imagine.”

Dyson nodded. He watched as she sidled a little closer to him. She put her hand on his knee, and the warmth of it made his body react in all sorts of inappropriate ways. Under any other circumstances he would have welcomed such an advance, but this time he just sat still, not sure how to handle it.

“I really wanted to go home with you that night,” she said.

Dyson’s head spun. He was instantly hard, something that he knew he wouldn’t be able to hide if she moved that hand up any further. He took a sip of his beer and watched them both in the mirror. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright.

“Why didn’t you?” he asked.

“Because I’m not that kind of girl,” she giggled, and then removed her hand. But Dyson watched as she unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, giving him a quick glimpse of a lacy black bra underneath the cotton. He put the back of his hand against his mouth to keep from groaning.

“No, you’re not,” he finally answered.

“But I could be.”

She downed the last of her drink and turned to him. She slid one hand over his thigh and the other one over his shoulder, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “Want to take me home?”

Dyson turned to look at her. What had he just heard? She looked right into his eyes, then closed hers and moved forward, about to press her lips to his.

He should have been chivalrous. He should have pushed her away. He knew it, and he knew that he might regret what he was about to do, but it was just a kiss – just a single kiss. That would be okay, wouldn’t it? It wasn’t something that would make her feel like a slut when she woke up in the morning, would it?

The instant that her lips touched his, all his thoughts fled. There was nothing but this warm, willing woman that he was so intrigued by, finally letting him taste her. He opened his mouth slightly and put his hand on the back of her head, deepening the kiss. She tasted like pineapple and rum, like coconut and something else, some sweetness that had to be natural to her. The sounds of the bar faded away as he increased the pressure, slipping just the tip of his tongue inside her mouth and savoring the sensations until he had to catch his breath. Dyson separated from her slowly, with little kisses at the corner of her mouth, making it clear he didn’t want to stop, but he had to.

Kayla pulled back, looking at him with those bright eyes.

“Well, it’s about damn time,” Dyson teased, giving her an easy grin, even though his heart was pounding.

“About time?”

Dyson shrugged. “Well, you know, you have kept me a whole football field away from you all this time. It’s enough to give a man’s ego a big, fat bruise.”

She suddenly grinned. “Your ego is bruised?”

“Terribly.”

She gave him a salacious look. “Let me see it. Maybe I can kiss it and make it all better.”

Dyson laughed hard. The sound got the attention of the bartender, who glanced his way and reached for another glass to pour from the tap. Dyson held up his hand and shook his head. The bartender paused a moment, surprised, then shrugged and put the glass away.

“No more alcohol for your ego?” she asked.

Dyson closed his eyes and shook his head. “No more alcohol for you,” he said. “I think you might be drunk.”

“You think?” She leaned forward again, tipping her face up for another kiss. Dyson gave it to her, this time taking it slow and easy. If he might only have this night with her – if she was only going to be like this until she came to her senses – then he was going to at least get a few more glorious kisses. Once she woke up in the morning, she might not want to see him again, especially when she remembered all the things she had revealed about herself and her past.

The kiss was over far too soon, and Dyson wanted more. The bulge in his jeans was so hard that it hurt, and he wanted more than anything to take her home and have his way with her. But she wasn’t in the kind of state to consent to anything, and he still considered himself an honorable man, regardless of what others might think.

So it was with real regret that he gave her a small kiss on the lips and said, “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“Excellent decision,” she said.

“And I will kiss you goodnight on your doorstep,” he clarified.

Kayla protested, but Dyson held firm. It was time to go home, even though he didn’t want to end their evening. He wanted to learn more about her, both about her past and about what she was like between the sheets. But he was too honorable and honest to take advantage.

Once outside the bar, Kayla started walking in the opposite direction of his car. “Hey, Kayla, wait – it’s this way!”

She turned to look at him and stumbled slightly, catching the wall with her hand. “My apartment is within a few blocks of here,” she said. “I walk everywhere.”

“Okay, but wait…are you sure?”

She swayed on her feet a little, but gave him a winning smile. If she had been wearing high heels she would have gone down on the asphalt. He never dreamed he would be grateful a woman had worn tennis shoes instead of heels, but sure enough, he was. He hurried to catch up with her and got there just as she stumbled one more time. This time it was his arm that she caught.

“My hero,” she said, and giggled. Then she looked straight up at the night sky and took a deep breath. “I think I may be a little drunk.”

Dyson chuckled. “You’re still brilliant, even when inebriated.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s true! How many women your age are handling a heavy school load and juggle part-time jobs at the same time? How many people get the kind of grades you do?”