Covered In Paint: Book Five of the Art Of Love Series (5 page)

“ I guess ‘
the heart wants what it wants’
,” Brooke whispered, quoting one of her favorite Emily Dickinson poems.

Then she shook her head at her silliness because she couldn’t recall a man ever inspiring her to think of poetry as well as what lingerie to wear on her way to seduce him.

Hopefully the sooner she slept with Drake Barrymore, the sooner she would get over this silly, romantic infatuation she had for the older man.

It had to be that one insane kiss at her mother’s house. Well…and the way he’d flirted with her at the art gallery opening.

She couldn’t stop thinking about him, or wanting to kiss him again, even though her logical mind informed her daily that a forty-two year man was more suitable for a woman her mother’s age than for her. Unfortunately, the rest of her body was refusing to listen to any solution which didn’t end with her getting naked with Drake.

Shrugging her shoulders at her circular thinking, Brooke chalked up her obsession to raging hormones. At thirty, she was allegedly hitting her peak. As far as she could tell, her mother hadn’t peaked yet. Maybe it wouldn’t happen given her unique female gene pool.

“It’s okay Brooke,” she said to herself, as she tossed her belongings into the back seat. “No matter how old or young, men are all pretty much the same when the lights are out. Drake Barrymore is not ‘the one’. He’s just the one for now. A couple of weeks of hitting the sheets, and you two will be nothing more than good friends who slept together once upon a time.”

But the excited, hopeful gaze of the woman she saw in the rearview mirror didn’t look like it belonged to Jessica Daniel’s daughter. Instead, it belonged to some daydreaming woman Brooke had never seen before.

Chapter 4

At six that evening, Brooke climbed into the miniscule condo shower space she’d inherited from Shane and reached for her favorite bath gel. Once again, she found herself wondering how in the world a guy the size of her giant stepbrother had ever used the space. Her amusement drifted away as the pleasant scent of the soap mixed with the steam. Her long curly hair was mostly protected under a giant shower cap and Brooke was glad she’d decided to skip that part. Her hair literally took hours to dry naturally, which was her preference.

She started to climb out and then remembered she hadn’t done her usual monthly exam. Reaching one arm over her head, she used three fingers to circle her breast and check for anything unusual. Finding nothing, she switched to the other side, raising the other arm high. She was almost finished when she felt the tiny hard knot.

Frowning in resignation, she lowered her arm. She had been totally freaked out the first time she’d found one. There had been several tiny lumps in the past, but they fluctuated with her monthly cycles, appearing and disappearing. Maybe she needed to ask her doctor about trying a different kind of birth control. She would have to do some research about it…and move up her yearly exam.

Stepping out of the shower at last, Brooke wrapped a big, fluffy towel around herself. She looked in the mirror, amazed as always to see a replica of her mother staring back. It was disconcerting to look so much like the woman who bore her. She had even gone through a phase in high school where she had done nearly everything possible to destroy their similarities. Oh, there was no denying her mother was beautiful. Over the years, she had learned to appreciate her genetics, including the long, curly hair that came from her mother.

But today she did find herself wondering what Drake saw when he looked at her. It was a bad sign for her to worry about whether the man she desired compared her to her mother. No one wanted to be just a copy. Such a petty concern was a part of an old pattern, held over from previous boyfriends talking endlessly about her mother after meeting her. Jessica Daniels had always been the sort of ballsy, outspoken, and openly flirtatious woman men gravitated to and liked innately. And it wasn’t like her mother ever held back her outrageousness for anyone’s benefit, especially not her daughter’s.

Not that she would change her mother—not really. It was…just Drake. The man had her questioning everything about herself, and she didn’t know why. Shaking her head at her crazy thoughts, she smiled as the towel slid to the floor. She stared at the naked woman staring back at her.

“Woman, you need to get laid and stop obsessing about stupid things,” Brooke advised her reflection.

Grinning as she thought about what to wear under her t-shirt and jeans, she turned her head back and grinned with pride at the perfectly toned ass she planned to cover with the most seductive black lace teddy she owned.

Her body warmed at even the thought of his slow, intense gaze gliding over each seductive inch as it got revealed. She truly hoped Drake was as tired of waiting as she was.

***

Brooke wanted to laugh. Earlier Drake had inspired her to think of poetry, which seemed totally silly now as she studied him while he was brooding. What was that quote about best laid plans coming to ruin? Brooke couldn’t remember, but she was sure it would have been appropriate if she could have recalled the exact phrase.

Because she was both starving and resigned, Brooke picked up another slice of pizza while she could. The five teenagers who had descended on the four boxes earlier would undoubtedly head back for more soon. Having a total meal with Drake Barrymore looked like it was going to be an impossible feat one more time.

Choosing to brood instead of eating pizza with them, Drake leaned against the island of his kitchen, his hand wrapped around his glass of red wine in a frustrated death grip. His frown made her happy in some ways.

It helped to know she wasn’t alone in her suffering. Not much help, but some, Brooke concluded, digging for her good humor as she chewed.

“Come on, Drake. Get rid of your funk, and eat a slice of pizza. You can’t run your son off just because you intended to seduce your date. That would be setting a very bad example,” Brooke teased, swiping at the pizza sauce on her lip with her tongue.

Drake’s grunted in reply, irritated when it only made her laugh. “Glad you think this is so amusing,” he grumbled.

Brooke shrugged and wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. “My mother always put my needs ahead of her date’s. Seeing you do that with Brandon, I’m appreciating her more and more. In fact, because of tonight, I’m thinking I probably owe my mother a few dozen apologies for interrupting her plans when she was dating.”

Drake shook his head, his mouth twisted at one corner. “It’s my own damn fault. Brandon doesn’t have any reference for me bringing home a date. I thought I was being clear about my plans for the evening, but I guess I might need to be a bit more blunt in the future.”

Brooke was rarely rendered speechless. Her stupor over Drake’s revelation lasted for at least thirty full seconds. “You can’t be serious. You never brought anyone home with you—ever? Not in all the years you’ve been single?”

She smiled at his absent head shake in reply. It was nearly impossible to imagine someone who looked like Drake wasn’t dating a different woman every week. That probably just meant she was right about the brooding, handsome man being still hung up on his dead wife. Well, if it was the case, it was definitely time for Drake to stop pining for someone who was never returning. If he was the kind of man who required an obsession to be involved with a woman, she was more than ready for her turn.

“So do you want me to play bad cop and tell Brandon what he interrupted?” Brooke asked, sliding off her stool to stand. She really liked the way Drake’s gaze fell to the floor and slid slowly up her to stop on her face.

“No. That would just embarrass all of us, and I don’t know how he would react. Can we…?” Drake drifted off, swore, and looked away.

Despite the circumstances, Brooke snickered again. “You’re sexy all the time, but you’re
really
sexy when you’re frustrated. It makes want to do wicked things to see if I can improve your mood.”

Delighted when he narrowed his gaze and glared in response, she walked across the floor to where he stood. “Kiss me, Dr. Barrymore. This date is another disaster, but the pizza was good. And if you’d had at least one piece, I wouldn’t have ended up eating alone this time.”

“You don’t understand. I have chicken breasts marinating in the refrigerator,” Drake said, slipping his hands around her waist, even as he heard the yells of several boys in the next room. “I could ditch the boys and come home with you. We could cook a real dinner there.”

Brooke laughed and hugged him to her. “Tempting. God—very…very tempting. But do you want the first time to last five minutes or five hours? You know you’d just have to come right back here tonight.”

Drake lifted a hand to the back of Brooke’s head to grab a handful, his fingers digging into her curls as he pulled her hard against him. He tugged her forward until her laughter stopped.

Then he fell into her gaze again, wondering if Brooke could feel the internal connection being forged. God, he hoped so.

“I’m into quality, not quantity. I guess I’ll wait.”

Brooke nodded as much as she could against his grip on her. But it was his mouth descending hotly that took away her control. His tongue dove into her mouth to tangle with hers. She fell against the front of him, the breath leaving her as she caved to his demands.

A throat clearing had her pushing off Drake in panic. She turned to see Brandon grinning at both of them. Seeing Drake’s glare turned to his son, she pinched his side, blushing as Drake swore, and switched his glare back to her.

“Give it up. We’re busted,” Brooke declared, stepping away and smiling. “You explain it—if you can. I’m heading home to grade papers.”

“Grade papers?” Drake exclaimed, his mind reliving her falling against him in surrender. Damn Brandon’s timing. “Seriously?”

Grabbing her purse full of condoms, which were obviously not going to see any action that evening, Brooke nodded and sighed as she walked to the door. Looking at Brandon as she left, she winked, happy to see the kid now looking as embarrassed as she and Drake felt. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see Drake swiping a hand across his face.

“That’s two, Dr. Barrymore. Third strike and you know what happens…” Brooke warned, twirling a hand in the air behind her as she jogged out. She was deliberately playing stupid so she wouldn’t have to think about how much she wanted Drake to finish his seduction of her.

When her phone buzzed with a text message, she read it and sighed while climbing into her car. Shane and Reesa were sneaking to the apartment for an hour. Damn it. She had told them she wouldn’t be home until later tonight. She couldn’t make them suffer just because she was. Now what?

Sighing as she backed out of Drake’s driveway, she activated the speaker feature on her phone and speed-dialed the one person who always made time for her.

“Hello. Larson residence.”

Brooke smiled at the sultry voice. “Hey, Mom. Are you up for some company tonight? My date stood me up again.”

She smiled when her mother laughed loudly and swore.

“You’re in a pretty jovial mood for a woman who keeps getting stood up.”

“Yeah. It’s surprising me too. He’s just so damn cute. I think I’m obsessed.”

“Told you so.”

Brooke laughed. “Got time for me? I could be there in ten minutes.”

“Come ahead, darling. I’ll open a bottle for us. Will is volunteering at some sort of fundraiser tonight. I was working, but got bored just before you called. Now I’m excited. We’ll have a little wine and whine party.”

“Sounds wonderful. See you shortly.”

***

“Why didn’t you take Drake home with you when he offered? I’m sure that would have been a lot more fun than spending the evening with me.”

Unless Brooke was completely angry, her penchant for thinking before she spoke could mean five full minutes might pass in silence. To help pass that time, Jessica ate another cheese and cracker while she waited for her too serious daughter to answer.

Brooke sipped her wine as she stared off at a wall which separated Will’s work area from the part of the yard they sat in. “If you didn’t have this outdoor heater, it would be too cold to sit on the patio. It’s May. It should be much warmer in the evenings.”

“Why are avoiding the question? Avoidance is not your style. Just say you don’t want to talk about Drake,” Jessica chastised, arching an eyebrow.

“Do you know how strange it is to be discussing my sexual interest in a man my mother knows almost as well as I do? No matter how long we’ve done this intimate girl-talk thing, I still find it weird to confess things about men to you,” Brooke declared.

Jessica shrugged. “Why? I like Drake. I probably would have picked someone closer to your age for you to obsess over, but you turned up your nose at your stepbrothers when they were still on the market. Since they are both prime specimens of the male persuasion, I could only conclude you were looking for someone more seasoned.”

Brooke burst out laughing. “
Seasoned
?”

“You know what I mean,” Jessica said, shrugging as she smiled.

“I’m not sure Drake would like being described as
seasoned
. It’s not like he’s Will’s age, Mom. Forty-two isn’t all that old. He’s closer in age to Michael. Or
you
, for pity’s sake. And I have no idea if he’s seasoned or not yet.”

Jessica laughed at Brooke’s denial. “I think I really like that word. Wonder why I’ve never used it before? Will is definitely
seasoned
, which makes me the luckiest woman on earth.”

Brooke shook her head. “And now we go from discussing my sex life to discussing yours. What do normal mothers and daughters talk about over a glass of wine?”

“How would I know?” Jessica demanded, laughing again. “Can I at least guess about what has you running scared?”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “Sure. Every Larson I know is an armchair psychiatrist. Why shouldn’t you be one now? Take your best shot at analyzing my woes.”

Jessica pretended to ponder her answer as she ate a couple more crackers. Then she lifted her gaze from her food to her daughter’s wary one.