Foolproof (6 page)

I knew that I’d wanted him to flirt back with me, but this had my player alert siren blaring. I’d met a bunch of smooth talkers, most of them not able to back up what they were saying, always playing the good guy until they got what they wanted. Then I’d be discarded like beer cans after a night of partying. Was Ryan different?

“Is that something you use to woo all potential conquests?”

He chuckled, his deep voice rumbling as my ear was pressed to his chest. “Did it work? Maybe I’ll try it tomorrow with my next date,” he teased.

He seemed to be joking about the date, but I couldn’t help the tiny thread of jealousy of the potential mystery girl that knotted in my stomach. I shoved his chest, his taut muscles flexing beneath my hand.

“Any other constellations on me? Need to make sure you’re sufficiently prepared for your hot date tomorrow.”

His thumb tracked down my arm, over my shoulder, and swept a loose strand of hair behind my ear. He shifted, my head cradled in his bicep as he hovered over me. His blue eyes blazed as he said, “I’d have to do a thorough inspection.” He tugged at my sweater. “Right now, there are too many clothes in the way. Wouldn’t want to miss any. Purely for the sake of research.”

Please, research me,
my body screamed.

I mentally side-eyed my all-too-eager body.
Play it cool, Horny Jules
. “Such a shame.”

His hand skimmed down my side, his warm skin burning a trail to my hip. “A travesty.”

“I don’t think that line will work on your date tomorrow.”

“What about you?”

Stick a fork in me. Totally done
. If words counted as foreplay, I was sufficiently ready to move past this base, on to the next. He seemed to like the straightforward type, so I went for that. “Yes.” I ran my finger along his muscular forearm. “All that big talkin’s gonna get you in trouble with the ladies.”

“I can show you just how much trouble my mouth can get into.” He quirked a brow and gave a wry smile.

Totally smug. And yet it worked for him. Because, heck, my body was willing and ready for his mouth in any capacity. His Adam’s apple slid down his throat as he swallowed. Guys like Ryan needed to be taken down a peg—that much confidence on anyone would surely go to their heads, but I couldn’t bring myself to deflate his ego. Not when that ego directly correlated with potential relief from my dry spell.

I drew in a breath, enjoying the scent of his shampoo. My lips were inches from the soft flesh of his neck, his hair a shaggy mess over his ears. Something magnetic pulled me into his orbit. What would his skin taste like? My mouth was close enough that I could get one lick in, just a quick taste. No harm in that, right? Any resolve that held me back wafted away with the slight breeze that ruffled his waves.

So what if I kissed this guy on a first non-date? Maybe the kiss would be so bad that I’d lose all interest in him. Or maybe it’d be great, and then I’d be in even bigger shit. Either way, I had to find out for sure.

I closed the distance and lightly flicked my tongue over his skin, planting a soft kiss below his ear, his sweet skin mixed with saltwater. An intoxicating groan came from his throat, vibrating against my lips. My center throbbed. God, if he sounded this sexy with just a kiss, how would he sound doing other things?

He shifted his head down, his rough stubble grazing across my cheek. We stayed there a moment, neither of us moving, our universe at the tipping point. This kiss would either send me into a tailspin on a blazing crash course into the hard earth, or have me rocketing to space.

Either way, I’d pushed us to the point of no return.

He pulled away, as if he could sense my hesitation. His eyes searched mine, asking silent permission as his tongue ran across his lips.

Screw it. I’d mold the universe into what I wanted.

I shifted out from underneath him and, in one swift movement, I rolled to straddle his legs and shoved his shoulders until his back slammed against the bed of the truck.

Lowering my face within an inch of his, I said, “Hit me with your best shot.”

His breath rushed out, a swirl of mint and graham cracker caressing my face. He knocked the cap off my head, grabbing the back of my hair, and pulled me into a kiss.

Our lips met, tongues pushing, fighting for control. My fingers tugged through his curls, our fevered tempo had me fighting for breath as the world around me fell away. He nipped at my bottom lip, and a shudder wracked through my bones. I was lost in his warm lips, his tongue, falling, falling, falling, until I was sure if we stopped I would collide with the ground at earth-shattering speed. His hands cupped my ass, his erection pressing into my stomach, and as I ground my hips into him, he groaned, the sound vibrating against my lips.

His hands worked their way up my shirt, skimming across every curve, cupping my breasts. I arched my back, my nipples hardening as I pushed farther into his palms, wanting more than anything for his hands, his mouth, to be on the other side of the fabric.

As my hands slid from his hair down his body, gripping his biceps, a giggle rang out from the distance.

Payton.

The Ryan-induced haze lifted momentarily, warning bells rattling against my skull. No guy had ever made me feel this way, so willing to give up everything with the flick of a tongue. I moved off him and sat on the edge of the tailgate, legs dangling over the edge, still a little breathless.

“Was that enough of a demonstration?” he said as he pushed a hand through his hair. “Or do you need more?”

God, I needed more. Which was exactly why I should debate this when I didn’t have his taste biasing my opinion. Just one kiss sent a tsunami of endorphins flooding my arteries. If I wasn’t careful, I’d drown in the wake.

Chapter Twelve

Ryan

That hadn’t gone as expected. Kissing was mechanical, a means to an end. But the second my lips touched Jules’s, it was like someone had punched me in the gut and tasered me at the same time. It made me
feel
, something I hadn’t done with a girl in a very long time. Which, quite frankly, scared the shit out of me. I was supposed to be the one doing the summer fling seducing voodoo and it took one kiss from this girl to slay me. I knew I needed to keep this casual, but the thought of not kissing Jules again left my stomach feeling gutted. I needed more of her.

Everything about Jules was different from anything I’d experienced. Something other than the fact that she looked sexy in my Baylor hat, which made me then wonder how hot she’d look in just the hat. Sprawled out on my bed. Yeah, I needed to put the brakes on that.

Like a cold shower, Dad sat in his office, reading something on his computer when I came in at a quarter past two.

“Have fun, son?”

“Yeah, just hung out with Blake and Payton.” I doubted Dad would mind if I hung out with Jules outside of work but didn’t want to give him any more ammunition.

I stood in the doorway, waiting to see what he would say. We hadn’t discussed a curfew, but I hadn’t had one since my senior year of high school.

“You know you don’t have to go to Texas at the end of the summer.”

This again.

“I know, Dad. I have a few more weeks to decide if I want to stay.” Which I wouldn’t. Nothing was keeping me here. If I couldn’t decide what I wanted to do the first three years of college, I sure as hell wasn’t going to commit to anything in the couple weeks I’d been home. I could really use a Hail Mary from the career book.

“I know Gary’s a good guy, but maybe you’re not cut out for the force.”

“If you think I’m not good enough to be a cop, just come out and say it, Dad.” Never mind the fact that
I
didn’t think I’d be a great addition to the force, not when I wasn’t passionate about it like Gary.

He shoved his hand through his hair and sighed.
Yeah, get pissed off. You do every time I’m around.
“That’s not what I was saying. You’ve just never shown an interest.”

“Yeah, well, I sure as hell don’t show an interest in Office Jax, either.”

“Can’t do much without a college degree. This is job security, too. I just want to make sure you’ll have a steady income. I care about you, Ryan.”

I froze in place as the air evaporated from my lungs. Wow. This was the first time since middle school that he’d told me he cared about me. Dad wasn’t the touchy-feely type—
I love you
, along with
I’m proud of you
—were lacking from his vocabulary. For Dad to say this…he was really putting himself out there. I had been a jerk to him ever since I’d been back. I’d been a jerk to everyone. He really didn’t deserve this. All of the anger I’d channeled since I stepped foot through the door dissipated.

“Thanks, Dad. I’m still looking at options in the book you gave me.” I fisted my hat, trying to give myself the extra push to put myself out there, too. If he was willing to play ball, I was willing to step up to the plate. “Maybe we could go over it sometime. Together. I’d like your opinion.”

Dad looked up from his paperwork and answered cautiously. “I’d like that.”

I nodded my head, not really sure where to go from here. This was uncharted territory. Civility was a rare occurrence in the DeShane household, but maybe we could change that.

“Night, Dad.”

“Night.”

I took the stairs two at a time and made my way to my room. Damn, this night was full of surprises.

Chapter Thirteen

Jules

I walked to the coffee shop at quarter till six. Counseling sessions weren’t possible without a twenty-ounce caffeine jolt. I sipped my latte as I strolled a block down to my psychologist’s office and prepared myself for the impending mental probing. Dr. Ahrendt loved to get up in my brain, stretching, prodding, and pointing out things I’d rather not face sometimes.

Skipping up the stone steps, I ripped open the door, the cool air conditioning spilling out of the office in a rush. Dr. Ahrendt’s personal office door was open. She sat in her black leather desk chair, swiveling side to side, intently studying a piece of paper in her hands. Her mocha-brown hair was pulled into a tight bun. Her whole look was crisp, from her tucked-in silk blouse to her black peep-toe pumps. This lady embodied style and class—a walking Vogue layout.

She smiled as I strode from the main reception area into her office. “Jules, so nice to see you.”

I smiled back and took a sip of my coffee. Tension always knotted my stomach before each session. Like, what if she found out something that made me certifiably insane? Or opened up some deep repressed memory that I was really adopted and maybe I’d been the daughter of someone from Hells Angels? Considering how my parents treated me sometimes, both were a distinct possibility.

“Take a seat. Make yourself comfortable.”

I plopped down in a plush tufted white chair and crossed my legs. “Thanks.”

She pulled out a clipboard and scrawled on the page with her black Mickey Mouse pen. Dr. Ahrendt loved Mickey Mouse. Mickey figurines littered her desk. Her lemongrass tea, in a Mickey mug, always permeated the room. Her office smelled fresh, comfortable. I glanced at the Mickey calendar next to her diplomas. I’d have to remember to get her something next time I went to Disneyland. It was cute. Somehow made her more real, like a person couldn’t be half bad if they loved an animated mouse.

“How are you feeling today?”

Confused. Frustrated. Like hitting myself over the head with your Mickey snow globe.
I painted on a smile. “Great.”

She scribbled something down on her notepad. My perfect-façade mask never worked with her. Didn’t even know why I’d tried. From across the desk, I couldn’t see what she wrote, but I assumed it was something along the lines of
client lying through her teeth.
“That’s good to hear. What would you like to discuss today?”

I decided not to bring up Mom or Ryan yet. Better to stick to something safe. “A new internship position opened up at the hospital. Payton wants me to apply.”

“Is that what
you
want?”

I sat back in the chair and mulled over the question. Did I want to tack on an internship for the fall? “I don’t know. I already have a lot going on.”

“Mm-hmm.” She scribbled something else down. Gah, what was she writing?

“But I don’t want to let her down, either.”

“And you think she will be let down if you don’t do the internship with her?”

I thought about that for a moment. Payton wasn’t the type to hold a grudge about that. God, she didn’t even get mad when I went for her boyfriend. Technically I didn’t know they’d dated when I first met Blake. Epic fail on both of their parts for keeping me in the dark and putting me in a super awkward position. So did I really think Payton would be upset if I didn’t apply for the internship? “Probably not.”

“Then why do you think you’re considering this?”

“I don’t know.” I combed my fingers through my hair and rested my elbows on my knees. “I just want her to be happy with me.” That’s all I ever wanted. People’s disappointment burrowed under my skin and laid eggs, the poisonous hatchlings invading every fiber of my being. I’d run myself into the ground before letting someone down.

“And you don’t think she would be if you didn’t do this?”

Brain overload. Too many questions. I squirmed in my seat, trying to remain calm, even though my neck and cheeks heated. “No, I guess she’d still be happy with me. I guess I would be disappointing myself.”

“Why’s that?”

Sweet Jesus, please stop
. This hit way too close to home. She knew the answer. The same one that landed me in this whole shit storm in the first place. “That I couldn’t juggle everything.”

“You’re not superwoman. It’s important to take time to appreciate life one day at a time.”

I let out a sigh and slouched into the chair. “I know. I just wish life would speed up sometimes. I feel like I’m stagnant.” More like swimming upstream during a dam break. Life moved at a slow-motion pace when I ached for triple fast-forward. I wanted success
now.

“That’s very normal. Progress sometimes doesn’t always feel like progress during the process.”

Preach it, sister.

I pulled into the lot ten minutes before my shift. Ryan wouldn’t be in for a few more hours, leaving my stomach rolling like a tumbleweed in this deserted parking lot. Was I nervous about seeing him? No, the tight coiling in my stomach was anything but nerves. It was decidedly not a smart thing to go for the boss’s son, especially when said son wasn’t going to be here long. Double strike against him when I knew he probably used that stupid Cassiopeia line on all his potential conquests. But did I listen to that rational part of my brain? No, because my brain was in perpetual power outage mode when it came to him. He wanted to get out of town as fast as he could, leaving everything behind in the dust of his half-aired Michelins. But I could keep this purely physical. With my heart out of the equation, I couldn’t get hurt.

Jack nodded at me from the Customer Service counter, and I gave a little wave as I made my way to the back to clock in. Once I punched in my ID, I walked to the staff workroom, put my purse in a locker, and tucked my shapeless shirt into my slacks.

With a quick teeth check, making sure I didn’t have anything hideous there when I smiled at customers, I exited the staff room and made my way onto the service floor. I eyed the ergonomic office chairs, wishing I could kick back in one with a latte and this month’s
Cosmo
. Instead, I took my place behind the Customer Service counter up front.

I slid next to Jack and waited for him to sign out of the computer. “Mornin’, Jack.”

He flashed me a smile and stepped aside when he logged out. “Morning, Jules. Do anything fun this weekend?”

Besides straddle your son and fantasize about doing bad things to those ridiculously nice biceps?
I couldn’t even look him in the eyes when I said, “Nope. The usual.”

“Good. Keeps you out of trouble.” He winked and stepped out from behind the counter onto the service floor. He turned back to me and said, “By the way, today is the last day to put in for vacation time for July. Let me know by the end of the day if you need any time off.”

“Thanks, Jack.” I needed to text Payton to nail down a specific date to go camping. She invited me to tent camp in the Sierra Nevadas with Blake. She promised there’d be no hanky-panky as long as I was in the same tent as them. Even I called bullshit on this, but as long as I didn’t hear any sleeping bag shuffling, we’d be okay.

Ryan strode through the door at five till noon, all shaggy hair and tight white T-shirt that clung in all the right ways to his body, especially his arms. He clutched the Office Jax shirt in his fist and his cell in the other. His brows furrowed in concentration as he furiously tapped something in his phone.

He shot me a smile that I was beginning to realize he didn’t give very many people, and my heart quickened in response.
No, heart, you’re staying out of this, remember?
I swallowed and took a deep breath, calming my hammering pulse. Ryan was the equivalent of ten cups of coffee to my system—cardiac arrest–inducing.

A few minutes later he was back.

“Have a good weekend?”

So we were playing it this way, were we? Avoidance 101. I aced that class. Heck, I was the fricken valedictorian of the program. My psychology professor once said people came in two types: dog people and cat people. Dog people liked to be openly praised, begging for positive attention. Cat people were the opposite. Give them direct praise and they retreated like they’d been dunked in ice water. Ryan had
meow
written all over that pretty boy face. In order to get anywhere with him, I had to skirt this, whatever
this
was.

“It was okay. This asshole dipped me in the ocean, then I got hurt, and he redeemed himself by playing doctor.”

“Sounds like he has potential.”

I stared him down. “Maybe. If you get past the bad jokes and hat hair.”

He smoothed his hand over his hair.
Ha.
“Something tells me, if anyone can, it’d be you.” His lips tipped up in the corners, and the skin around his eyes crinkled.

Did I just get him to admit he was interested in me? God, my psychology teacher deserved a hug. My dry-spell meter urged me to push further, even if this whole situation screamed bad idea. On a scale of
semi-sketch
to
where did I leave my panties?
this ranked a solid
what the fuck are you thinking?

Jack came traipsing out of the file folder aisle and over to where Ryan and I stood. “Ryan, you’re in the furniture department today. Our ad has chairs at 40 percent discount and I expect a lot of people pouring in this afternoon.”

I looked between the two of them. Seemed like the tension from the past few weeks had lessened, both of them finally looking like they didn’t want to tear each other’s heads off.

“Yes, sir.”

Oh, boy. Usually whoever worked the furniture department spent the majority of the day carrying chairs up to the register, meaning Ryan and I would be in close proximity for the next—I glanced at the clock on the computer screen—five hours. My pulse thundered in my ears and my stomach did this awkward fluttering thing as Ryan shot me a smile
. Play it cool, girl. It’s purely physical.

Jack had mad clairvoyant skills, because customers consistently streamed in around two. Ryan came up to my register, the sinewy muscles in his arms straining as he gripped a large box.

He propped the box on the counter and made his way around to where I stood. Reaching down to a stack of pamphlets underneath the counter, his forearm brushed my calf, the contact sending a jolt straight to my core. His coconut shampoo wafted past my nose, sending me back to our late-night beach trip. The warmth of his skin, the taste of saltwater on his neck after he had thrown me in the Pacific. His impressive erection that deserved a thorough inspection. The hell? I was turned on by calf grazes and shampoo? Was I in a fricken romance novel now? Next I would be fawning over his rippling abs and flowing hair. Crap. He did have nice abs.

It’s just his body. As long as you don’t start thinking about anything involving his personality, you’re okay.
Not a problem. Ryan was prickly, anyway. Made it easier just to want him as a one-night stand.

“Jules?” I snapped my attention back to Ryan, who was staring at me like I had lost a couple of screws in my head. How long had I spaced out in this Fabio romance of mine?

I cleared my throat and plastered on a smile. “Yeah?”

“Can you scoot over so I can ring him up?”

“Yeah, sure, sorry.”

I shifted a couple steps to the left and watched the screen as Ryan typed in his ID and rung up the guy. His arm grazed mine, his warm skin sending goose bumps skittering across my body. Shit, I needed to get this guy out of my system. He probably wouldn’t even be a good lay. Most guys were sorely lacking in the pleasure-giving category.

I could have your toes curling in twenty seconds flat. Two minutes, and I’d be at the top of that spreadsheet of yours.
Please let that be true.

The box shielded me from the customer and I allowed my eyes to flutter shut for a few moments, enjoying being this close to him. As the receipt printed, he leaned over and whispered, “You don’t know how bad I want to bend you over this counter right now.”

His words caught me off guard, sending a blast of liquid heat to my center and a shot of panic to my brain. I should be disgusted. I should slap him. I should—God, who was I kidding?
Take me into a room and do me already
. My breathing became shallow as I imagined him taking me on the counter, his strong hands gripping my hips as he slammed into me.

Wrong, wrong, wrong. Alert! Stop now!

But did my head listen? No, because I, Jules Carmichael, was brain-dead. Horny and brain-dead—an unfortunate combo. I shouldn’t be thinking about this at work, but an off-limits Ryan made for an even hotter fantasy. I looked around to make sure Jack wasn’t in the vicinity. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

Ryan liked to talk dirty. Though I’d never really done it before, I channeled my inner phone sex operator.

Let the games begin
.

With the box still concealing me, I bent over farther, my ass deliberately sticking out way past acceptable. I raised my brow and murmured, “Like this?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he closed his eyes, his hands gripping the register. Before I could do anything else to tease him, he grabbed the receipt, walked around the other side of the counter, and helped the customer to his car with the chair.

Jules: 1, Ryan: 0.

At five, Jack and Ryan walked up to the service counter. We closed early on Sundays, and I was counting the money in the till when Jack dropped the bomb.

“Seems both of you want the same weekend off in July. Amanda already requested that weekend for vacation, so I can only let one of you take it.” My heart sank. Of course he’d pick his son over me. “I’ve decided that the person with the most membership cards and protection plans sold before July third can have the weekend off. Sound fair?”

Oh, it was on like Donkey Kong. I shot Ryan a smug smile.

He shrugged, not even looking worried. “Sounds fair.”

Right as I put the cash bag in the register and logged out of the computer, Ryan came over with a wad of price tags. Normally, we changed the prices every Monday with the weekly specials. He handed me one, and I shot him a look. What was I supposed to do with this? He walked away without saying anything.