Fat Chance (25 page)

“You went to a lot of trouble.”

He ran his finger along my chin. “You were in a lot of trouble.”

“How did you get from the mansion to the marina? What clued you in?”

“Some guy loading bait onto his boat called the cops to report seeing a woman drag another woman onto the
Checkout.
I heard that on the scanner and figured Gilmore Supermarkets and a boat named
Checkout
had to be a connection.”

“You came for me,” I said, almost teary.

“Right, so can we get back to the kissing part now?”

I reached around his neck and practically dragged his mouth to mine. He kissed me hungrily.

I was kind of aware that my back was against the wall. I was totally aware that his tongue was toying with the seam of
my lips and his hands bracketed my waist. Even with heels, I pressed up on my toes, wanting,
no,
needing to feel every inch of him.

His thumbs were making dizzying little circles against my rib cage. Moving higher and higher until his palm tested the weight of my breast.

I moaned against his mouth and slipped my fingers between us, searching for a belt, buttons, anything that would start the process of separating him from his clothes.

His mouth moved from my lips. My skin felt flushed as the sense of urgency kept building and building, turning my insides into something molten and dangerous. I found the bottom button of his shirt and twisted it free. My hand snaked higher, over silky hair and cement-hard muscle.

Our eyes met for a minute, then he reached up, flicked open my earring, and tossed it to the ground. Using his teeth, he drew my lobe into his mouth while his hot breath tickled my ear. His hand wandered off my breast to the front of my dress. He made quick work of the closure and stepped back as he pushed the edges apart.

His gaze scorched my skin before he dipped his head and planted a thousand little kisses just above the lacey edge of my bra.

“No fair,” I said, my trembling fingers unable to manage the buttons.

“Very fair,” he said, running the tip of his tongue through the valley between my breasts. “If I let you touch me, this won’t last very long.”

“It doesn’t have to,” I insisted, grabbing his waistband and letting my fingers slip inside.

“Yeah, it does,” he countered.

My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might rupture. Pounding, pounding…no,
knocking.

Somewhere, my sex-fogged brain connected enough neurons to realize someone was knocking at my door. Tugging my dress closed, I nuzzled his neck and whispered, “It’s probably my neighbor, Mrs. Hemshaw. I can get rid of her in a half second.”

Liam closed his eyes, and his head fell back as he raised his hands so I could duck under his arm. I quickly redid some of my buttons and called, “Just a minute.” Liam grabbed me around the waist and nuzzled and nibbled my neck. “I can’t button buttons when you do that.”

“I know.”

Pushing his head away from me, I went to the door and opened it. “Sorry, I-
Patrick
!”

His smile ebbed when he saw my disheveled appearance. It completely disappeared when he looked past me and saw Liam.

“What are you doing here?” I snapped.

“Don’t be mad,” he said, returning his gaze to me. “I left my wife.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, genuinely meaning it. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

“I know,” he agreed as he pushed his blond hair off his forehead. “I was hoping this would.”

His arm came out from behind his back. I recognized the gold crown on the red square box. Rolex. Quickly, because he surely knew he had my full attention, he flipped open the top. Nestled inside was the watch of my dreams: the Ladies’ Datejust with the pink oyster face surrounded by diamonds.

I swallowed both my shock and the urge to reach out and touch it.

“Patrick,” I stammered.

“Take it, Fin. We both know it’s the one thing you want most in the world. I want you to have it. I want you to have everything. And I want to be the man who gives it to you. Tell him to leave.”

I was distracted counting the diamonds that circled the watch face. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I said, “Who? Liam? No!”

“Liam, yes,” Liam mocked as he brushed past me.

I practically shoved Patrick to the ground to follow Liam. God, if he fell I hoped he didn’t scratch the crystal.

“Wait!” I called as Liam reached the Mustang.

He had the door open and was standing behind it, using it like a shield. I expected him to be angry, scowling, irritated, frustrated, possibly even hurt. I did not expect the calm, reasonable smile. “What?” he asked.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“Irrelevant.”

“It is my call. Patrick is my past.
You
saved my life.”

“And I helped Harold finish your house on time and under budget.”

I had a death grip on the door. “Thank you for that. For everything. Please,
please
don’t leave like this. I want you to stay.”

He leaned back as he slipped behind the wheel. “I want that too.”

I threw my hands up. “Then get out of the car.”

He hooked his thumb in Patrick’s direction. “Seems like you and that guy have some unfinished business. I would be one selfish bastard to come between you and the thing you want most in the world.”

Mustering all my nerve and choking on all my pride, I said, “No. I want you.”

“It’s good to want things,” he replied, his palm reaching up and cupping my cheek. “Don’t get all flustered. After all, I saved your life. I think that means you have to grant me three wishes.”

“Staying is not one of your wishes?”

“It’s all of my wishes,” he said matter-of-factly as he started the engine. “And I’ll be collecting soon.”

I watched him drive off, crushing my libido under his balding tires. “Not if I collect first!”