Engaging the Bachelor (Pulse) (3 page)

She worked to insert the key, but her hands were shaking so hard she couldn’t get it into the lock. “Getting us out of these things.”

“Maybe I’m not ready to set you free.”

“Too bad.”

The key slipped from her hand, and they both bent down and reached for it at the same time. Fingers brushed—intimate, soft—lingering a moment too long. She drew back like she’d been burned, but not before she caught the clean scent of his skin again, a beautiful reminder of the night that was permanently etched in her memory. Desire bombarded her, and she made a noise to cover the moan rising in her throat as his hand closed over the key.

His gaze slid over hers, his eyes glistening invitingly. He slipped the key into the lock and freed them. “Maybe I’ll hang on to these.” Handcuffs dangling from his finger, he bent forward, and put his mouth near her ear, the warmth of his breath on her face eliciting a shiver. “I might want to use them later.”

She snatched them back and jumped up. “Maybe I’ll use them on you.” Having taken care of herself for as long as she could remember, she was an independent woman, one who always called the shots. This take-charge attitude of his flustered the hell out of her and teased the hungry ache between her legs.

He followed her up, straightening to his full height. A wicked grin tweaked the corners of his mouth. “If that’s the way you want to play it, I’m game.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She shook her head. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what?”

“Bid on me. I’m not interested in rekindling anything with you.”

“What makes you think this was all about you? I’m just trying to help out with your cause.” He pushed one hand into his pocket, looking for all the world like he was nothing more than a generous benefactor. But she knew better. Mr. Innocent, he was not. “You weren’t auctioning any women, and I wasn’t about to bid on some dude.”

“Why not? It’s for a good cause.”

“Yeah, but I like a date who can hold her own, one who is a little rough and tough.”

“You’re saying these guys aren’t rough and tough?”

He gave her a lopsided grin, and a laugh escaped her before she could stop it. “Not like you, they’re not.” His warm hand caressed her waist. “But don’t worry, there’s a cure for that.”

She eyed him, refusing to let him know his touch turned her to putty. “Oh, yeah? And what might that remedy be? You?”

His fingers splayed, and a flash of heat moved through her. Instead of answering, he asked, “Ready?”

She pushed on his shoulder to send him away, but he didn’t budge. Cripes, she’d have a better chance of moving an eighteen-wheeler with her finger than him. Rock solid and full of rigid determination, he stood there waiting like he had all the time in the world.

“Sorry, Sailor Boy, but I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone.” She tapped the podium. “I still have work to do so you might want to go home and get a good night’s sleep. You look like you could use it.”

Instead of backing off, he stepped closer, the blue in his eyes darkening and derailing her ability to think with clarity. “I’ve waited ten years, Gemma. Tired or not, a few more hours aren’t going to hurt.”

Shit, she wished he wouldn’t stand so close. It was messing with her last working brain cell. “When I get done here, I have to take Gracie for a walk.”

He arched a brow. “Gracie?”

“My guard dog,” she explained, and twirled the handcuffs around her fingers.

“I like dogs.”

“She doesn’t like men. If you get within five feet of her, she’ll probably bite.”

“With a name like Gracie, she doesn’t sound like she’d hurt a fly.”

“I never said she had anything against flies,” she replied, her voice light, teasing.

What the hell am I doing?

She was a known flirt, but the last guy she should be playing games with was Carson.

He laughed, amusement lingering in his eyes when he said, “I’ll take my chances.”

She gave a casual shrug, enjoying the easy banter between them more than she would have liked. “Fine then, don’t blame me if she takes your leg off.”

“Leg or no legs, you’re having dinner with me.”

“I don’t remember you being so bossy.”

He arched a brow, the look in his eyes challenging. “Oh, so now you remember something about me, do you?”

“No…yes…I mean…” Shit. Of course she remembered. Ten long years had passed, and she still couldn’t forget his kisses, the soft sweep of his hands on her body—gentle one minute, greedy the next. Arousal wound through her just from the memories.

Honest to God, how she was going to make it through a date with him without wanting an encore was beyond her.

Wait. Why the hell couldn’t she just get him naked and have her way with him—again? Why not satisfy a curiosity—what would he be like in bed after all these years—and scratch the itch that still stirred deep within her. Once he demonstrated that he cared only about himself and his needs, she’d be able to forget about him once and for all, and get on with her life.

Or not
.

Chapter Three

With the auction finished and the bar empty, Carson shouldered his backpack and followed Gemma outside. He stood in the parking lot while she locked the door behind them. Darkness had fallen over the town, the only illumination coming from a nearby streetlamp. She turned to him and tilted her head, a defiant gleam in her big brown eyes.

“It’s late. Are you sure you still want to do this?”

As tired as he was, he wasn’t about to let her out of his sight, not after finally finding her. “I’m sure.” He looked over his shoulders and scanned the empty parking lot. His car was still at the hospital. With no other vehicle in sight, she had to be traveling by foot, and while the neighborhood was fairly safe, the idea of her walking alone at night didn’t sit well with him.

“Can I give you a lift?”

“I’d rather walk.”

“Okay,” he said, turning toward the tree-lined walkway that wove past the hospital and through the core of downtown. He took three steps then stopped. Why wasn’t she following? He craned his neck to see her. “I thought you wanted to walk.”

She pointed up. “I live in the loft upstairs.”

“Oh.” Carson spun and followed her gaze. A narrow set of stairs on the side of the building led to the upper floor apartment. He hadn’t noticed it before now. “Do you want me to wait here while you get Gracie, or do you want me to come up?”

She shrugged and hiked her purse higher on her shoulder. “It’ll take me a few minutes to get changed so I guess you can come up and wait.”

He arched brow. “Oh yeah?”

“Don’t get any ideas.” She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. “I’m just changing my clothes and getting my dog.”

He stepped in toward her, their bodies close but not touching. “Ideas?” He softened his words and coiled one long strand of her hair around his finger. “What kind of ideas do you think I might have, Gemma?”

She tugged away from him. “Oh, that I have ulterior motives for inviting you up.”

“Such as?”

“You’re a smart guy. I don’t think I need to spell it out for you.”

“Apparently you do,” he teased, holding his hands up, palms out to display his innocence. “I wasn’t suggesting anything other than coming up to wait.” She was right, of course. He did have all kinds of dirty thoughts and ideas about what the two of them could do inside her apartment. Feigning insult, he scoffed. “I think maybe
you’re
the one with the ideas. How do I know you’re not trying to get me alone to have your way with me?”

She shook her head. “Are you always so annoying?”

He laughed. “Annoying? Women have called me a lot of things. You know, like hot stuff, adorable, and stud muffin… But annoying was never one of them.”

“Stud muffin? Who calls you that, your grandmother?”

“Jesus, that’s just wrong.” He made a face like he’d just sucked a lemon. “What kind of weirdo are you anyway?” he teased. “Grandma would never say something like that to her grandson.”

“Her friend, then? Someone older.”

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly.”

“Then what exactly would you say?”

He kicked at an imaginary pebble. “I’m pretty sure Ethel is at
least
a year younger than Grandma.”

Gemma laughed. “Come on, Stud Muffin,” she said, and then mumbled something else under her breath and started up the steep flight of stairs. He followed behind, her sexy body dragging every dirty idea he ever had to the forefront of his brain. Her skirt lifted with each step, exposing the soft swell of her tanned backside. Christ, did she sunbathe in the nude? A groan caught in his throat, and she stopped and turned.

“What now?”

He coughed. “I’m not complaining, but you might want to wear panties with that uniform.”

She ran her hand over the back of her skirt, smoothing it over her luscious ass, and scowled at him. “I
am
wearing panties. Maybe you should just stop looking so hard.”

He adjusted his pants. No sense in hiding what she did to him. “Key word being hard, Gemma.”

She glared at him, but he didn’t miss the twitch in her lips. “This is dinner and nothing more. Just so we’re clear, I don’t owe you anything other than that.”

“Right. Dinner. I know.” He coughed again. “But just so
you’re
clear, I do want to have sex with you again. I don’t believe in playing games, unless of course handcuffs are involved, so I figured I might as well get that right out there in the open.”

A beat of silence, and then, “I appreciate your honesty, but I’m not having sex with you, Carson.”

His cock twitched at her feeble protest. “Say that again.”

“I’m not having sex with you, Carson.”

“No, just that last part.”

She eyed him and her sweet pink tongue snaked out and brushed over her bottom lip. Was she trying to kill him?

“Carson.”

“Yeah, that’s it. I want you to say it just like that when I’m inside you.” He kept his expression deadpan when her mouth dropped open in a silent
O
. He probably shouldn’t be trying to rattle her, but she was just so damn sexy when she was thrown off her game—and yeah, she was playing with him as much as he was playing with her. There was a connection between them whether she wanted to acknowledge it or not. The push/ pull was palpable, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to use everything in his arsenal to explore it further.

She blinked several times and then gave him a punch on the shoulder. He slipped down a step and grabbed the rail to hold on. Damn, those boney knuckles hurt like hell. He rubbed his arm, but he liked that she could take care of herself.

“What was that for?”

“Oh, like you don’t know.” He shrugged like he had no idea what she was talking about. “Okay, that’s it. You deserve this.” She fished her keys from her pocket, darted up the steps, and opened her door. “Gracie,” she called out, and the biggest, ugliest pit bull he’d ever set eyes on came barreling down the stairs toward him.

“Holy shit.” He nearly fell when the dog rammed her nose into his crotch. He gripped the rail harder, and winced as she buried her face between his legs as if she was settling in for the winter, or a late night snack. A growl rumbled in Gracie’s throat, and pain shot through him. He bent forward and cursed, bracing himself for the loss of his manhood.

“Gracie,” Gemma called, a note of panic in her voice as she slapped her leg. “Here, girl.”

Gracie backed off his crotch, and one large mitt the size of a baseball glove pawed gently—playfully—at his shoulder. So, she wasn’t after his balls? Carson reached for her paw when a long wet tongue swished across his face—his mouth specifically.

He wiped his face with the back of his hand. “Jesus,” he cursed. Gracie was the last one he thought he’d be French kissing tonight. Her tail beat against the wooden steps, her whole body curving and snaking with excitement. Some guard dog she was turning out to be.

“Gracie,” Gemma said again, her voice firm. “I said come here.”

Gracie spun and ran back up the stairs, and Carson took a minute to catch his breath. “So, that’s Gracie, the man-eater.”

“You okay?” Gemma asked, skipping back down the steps, the vibrations going straight to his aching testicles.

“Of course I’m not okay. I nearly lost my balls.” He put his hand between his legs to make sure they were still there. One. Two. Thank God.

“I’m sorry, Carson. She gets excited at times, but honestly, she wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Yeah, we’ve already established that. She likes flies, hates men.” Gemma sank onto the step, and he lifted his head to find her hand over her mouth, working to stifle a chuckle.

“I never expected her to do that,” she said.

Her eyes glistened, and it was all he could do not to pull her hands away, kiss that sweet mouth of hers, and turn her laugh into a moan. “You think this is funny?” he asked, his voice unnaturally high.

“No.” The one word was muffled behind her palm. He liked seeing her relaxed like this. Like that night so long ago. No facade, no lies, no performances. Damned if he didn’t want that again—just once.

Carson sucked in a breath. “She nearly turned me into a eunuch.”

She rolled her eyes at him and laughed harder. “I hardly think so.”

He straightened and groaned. “Does she greet all guys like this?”

“I don’t normally…”

She stopped speaking, as if she’d said too much. But the implication was there. She didn’t normally bring guys home. Why the fuck did that make him so happy? He just wanted to have sex with her again. Heck, maybe a dozen more times while he was home for the summer. Then he’d have her out of his system and move on, like he always did. He wasn’t sure why he had such a restlessness inside him, but he never liked to stay in one spot too long. Fortunately for him, his career allowed him to move around to different ERs whenever he got the itch to leave.

“Can we go inside so I can sit?”

She reached for his arm and put it around her shoulder. “Here let me help you.”

He didn’t need the help, but he’d be an idiot to refuse it. He slipped his arm from her shoulder and slid it around her waist, enjoying her soft curves as she guided him inside. Gracie sat on a plush dog bed, her tail thumping, eager for attention.

“I’ll be right back.” Gemma pointed at one of the two chairs at her small dinette set. Worry shadowed her eyes. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.” She turned to Gracie and wagged her finger. “Gracie, you play nice.”

Carson stood there and let his gaze move around her place. The wide-open loft consisted of a kitchenette, a two-person table full of stones and jewels, and a compact living room that contained only a worn leather sofa, coffee table, and a small television.

“How long have you lived here?” He shrugged his backpack off and set it by the table.

“I’m just here for the summer.”

He dropped into a chair, and adjusted his pants over his aching balls. “Yeah, me too.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, I just got into town, and I’m staying at my parents’ cottage until I find a place. They’ll be moving in for the summer next week. You at least remember that place don’t you?” he teased.

“Vaguely,” she replied.

He looked over the jewels and tools scattered on her table, picking up a stone and examining it more closely. Did she make jewelry? “So you’re just working at the bar for the summer?”

“Yeah, for some extra cash. I’m subletting my apartment in Brooklyn for the summer. Janice offered me this loft rent-free so I jumped on it. Andy used to live here, but she and Janice just moved into a house not too far from here.”

“Janice?”

“Andy’s mom. She bought Score a few years back. She used to work at the hospital and saw a need for good nutritious food for the staff. Apparently if you’re not a patient at the hospital, you soon would be after eating the cafeteria food.”

He laughed. “I’ll remember that. Is Andy a nurse?” She was dressed in nursing scrubs at the bar. But then again, Gemma was dressed as a naughty nurse. So far, only the naughty part applied.

“Yup, she followed in her mother’s footsteps,” Gemma called out, bringing him back to the present.

At the mention of mothers, he thought of his own, and his gut clenched. He was looking forward to seeing his folks, but another summer of them trying to marry him off gave him a rash. He’d do just about anything to get them off his back.

“What about you?” He picked up a ring and placed it in his palm. The piece was intricate and interesting. “Did you follow in your mother’s footsteps?”

Silence. He glanced down the small hall and caught a glimpse of Gemma moving around inside the bedroom, stripping off her nurse’s uniform and pulling clothes from her dresser. The gentleman in him urged him to look the other way; the man in him told that guy to fuck the hell off. His teeth snapped as he clenched his jaw and focused on the dog.
Fuck me.
He went down on one knee and cupped Gracie’s face.

“No,” she finally said, and from the pain behind that one word, Carson suspected he’d hit a sore spot. “I’m a jeweler.”

Dropping the subject for the time being, he rubbed Gracie’s ears, and she pushed against him. “Hey, girl,” he said. “You like that?” Gracie whined. “It’s like this—you be nice to me, and I’ll be nice to you. So next time I come, leave the balls alone, no French kissing, and I’ll give you an ear rub.”

“Do you have a dog?” she called out.

“No, I always wanted one, but I’m never in one place long enough. Plus I work long hours. It wouldn’t be fair to any pet.”

He gave Gracie another rub and climbed to his feet. “How long have you had her?”

“Just a couple years. She’s a rescue dog. I wasn’t lying when I said she wasn’t that fond of men.” A rustling sound reached his ears and he resisted the urge to steal a peek. “She’d never bite or anything, but when I have her at the park, she growls at the guys, especially the bigger ones. I think her previous owner was a man. Strange that she likes you.”

His fingers clenched. Any person who’d hurt an animal was the lowest form of life. What the fuck was wrong with people?

“You okay?”

Her voice was close this time, and he turned to find her standing a few feet away. “What?”

Her gaze moved over his face, and he scrubbed the stubble on his chin. She blinked up at him. “You look like you want to kick something.”

“Yeah, the guy that hurt her.”

Gemma went quiet for a moment, thoughtful, her lips curving into a smile. He seized that minute to let his gaze drop. He took in tight jeans that hugged her curves, and a white, V-neck T-shirt that exposed the soft swell of her breasts. She came closer, and he grew rigid with arousal when he caught the floral scent of her shampoo. Beautiful didn’t even begin to describe her. Sure, she was hot in her nurse uniform, but seeing her in her casual clothes, relaxed and real, was just about the sexiest damn thing he’d ever seen.

“You might want to grab a sweater. It’s cooling off,” he said, before all his blood rushed to his dick.

“That reminds me.” She rushed to her room and came back with his Nautica hoodie.

His brain stalled for a moment. “Is that—?”