More Than Meets the Ink (3 page)

From across the dance floor, he signaled her to join him, but she vigorously refused. No way. She was dead on her feet; those seniors had more energy than she did. Besides, she could salivate over him much better from a distance, thank you very much, where she didn’t have to worry about the steps and the turns, or about feeling mortified to be caught staring. And she’d done plenty of those things, the staring and the getting caught. He’d smiled wickedly every time, but thank God he hadn’t said a word about it.

It seemed that she’d done nothing but run into James the whole day. And it had been good. He was…compelling and damn distracting. Charming and funny, a shade of mischief in his eyes all the time, a ready smile on his lips. It wasn’t only easy to talk to him, but he also had a knack for making her laugh. Such a sucker-punch combination. It’d been confusing in the morning, but now, while dancing, it was lethal. No wonder she was unable to put two and two together.

James had walked her through the steps, joked with her, all while his big capable hands glided over her, gripping her waist, directing her body, making her hot and flushed with just a slight brush, with no more than a look. His actions seemed casual, but she’d have bet anything he knew damn well the effect he had on women. Probably reveled in it. That knowledge was in his bottomless eyes, in the way his lips curled up every time she blushed. Here was a man used to leading, a take-charge kind of male. And thank God for it because she’d been unable to put one foot in front of the other without tripping over or stepping on him. He must have thought she was musically challenged or terminally stupid, but the truth was her ears had been roaring so badly she’d barely heard the music, let alone any instructions he may have given her.

She would do well to remember guys like James were bad news, each and every one of them. Fun for a while, but soon their devil-may-care attitude got old. And she should also keep in mind that her last boyfriend—a responsible, well-mannered man—had bailed on her when she’d needed him the most, but not before claiming that her being a drag was a huge turnoff for him. He accused her of getting all needy and clingy too, suffocating him. Well, it wasn’t half his family that had just been buried or his family business going down the drain. Sorry if she was stressed-out, needy, and clingy, unable to be witty and entertaining or put him and his needs first. She didn’t have that luxury; she had responsibilities, even if Aidan hadn’t wanted to share them with her.

And that was a reliable man, basically a good man. Relationship material. She didn’t want to think what a bad boy would have done.

As the band took a break, James approached her, all easy smiles and laid-back playfulness, and pulled her out of her mental divagations.

“Here’s the gorgeous girl that bailed out on me and left me to dance all by myself.”

“I’m done; no more dancing for me.”

“I’m done too, dear,” Mrs. Samuels said with a huff as she reached them. “I’m off now. You’ll come by tomorrow to take down the curtains in my living room, yeah?”

James nodded. “I’ll be there, Mrs. Samuels; don’t worry. And have some of that delicious strawberry pie of yours ready. The last one you gave me I took to the guys in Boston, and they didn’t leave me a crumb.”

The old lady smiled, obviously pleased. “Yeah, yeah, just let me know when you’re heading back north, and I’ll bake a couple for you. And call me Violet, for Christ’s sake.” She stared at him for a second and then slowly shook her head. “I hope you’ll let me introduce you to my granddaughter. She’s a beauty; she’d make you a great wife.”

“Oh no no. I told you already, you’re the only one for me,” he said as he grinned at her.

Violet, easily seventy-five years old, slapped him on the chest and turned to leave. “Flattering rascal,” she murmured while walking away. “Don’t think I’ll let you off the hook with all that nonsense. Next time Tessa comes to visit, I’m hunting you down, do you hear me?”

Laughing, he turned to Tate. “Mrs. Samuels makes one hell of a strawberry pie. You have to try it.”

“You’re popular around here,” Tate said, impressed. This place must have an endless supply of granddaughters coming and going. He probably had a revolving door in his bedroom and a mile-long line at the entrance.

He winked at her. “Well, it’s nothing personal. Having the ability to climb a staircase without dislodging your pelvis will make you extremely popular around here.”

Tate melted into laughter. How he did that to her, she didn’t know. She hadn’t laughed for so long she’d feared her facial muscles had forgotten how. Apparently not; she’d known the guy less than twenty-four hours, and her face was already sore from the extra exercise.

“I’ve worked up an appetite with so much dancing. Let’s go for some burritos. What do you say, dance partner, interested? There’s this place I know nearby.”

She was famished, but she was going to decline. Or try to anyway, just on principle, but before she even got her mouth open, her stomach began rumbling, which, if his grin was anything to go by, he heard loud and clear.

“Okay, burritos it is.” She was having fun. Why not indulge a bit longer? And besides, if her body insisted on melting at the very sight of him, then the least she could do was suffer the humiliation with a full stomach.

“My pickup is this way.”

A pickup? That took Tate by surprise. “Where’s your Harley? Bad boys ride Harleys, not pickups. You know, the whole tough-assed biker dude attitude.”

He threw an amused look her way and placed his warm hand on the small of her back, gently directing her toward the parking lot. The heat seeping into her through his palm was overwhelming; liquid need rushed down to further dampen her core, and her already hard nipples hardened even more, making the beaded tips rasp wickedly against her bra, adding to her general state of twitchiness. Shit, this was embarrassing; he’d just invited her to eat burritos, not to fuck him under the stars.

“Bikes are fine, but I prefer pickup trucks,” she heard him say.

Her gaze followed his to a shiny black monster pickup, which of course fit his image perfectly.

“Well, I can see the appeal of it myself.” Tate knew nothing about pickups, but what was in front of her was definitely a badass’s ride. Elle would be sooo impressed.

Before she could climb up the passenger side, James lifted her from her waist and settled her on the seat. He even buckled her up, ripping a surprised gasp out of her when he loomed over her to do it. Oh boy, too much sensory data. He smelled so nice, like sun, soap, and man. If she left a wet spot on the seat, she was going to die of embarrassment.

He offered her a wicked smile before walking to the driver’s side, and after the engine roared to life, he maneuvered them out of the parking lot.

Unwilling to analyze her overloaded senses further, she groped around for something to talk about, anything at all that would divert her attention from the annoying way her body tingled. “Do you drive down here?”

He nodded. “I fly if I have to, but I love taking road trips, disappearing for a while. Nothing on my calendar, just miles and miles of road ahead. It’s liberating.”

She rolled her eyes. Of course he loved road trips; of course it was liberating.
Let’s hit the road, fling responsibilities out the window, and let others take care of the tedious business of making money and keeping the boat afloat
. Didn’t she know all about his kind!

“Do you take anyone along on those trips, or is it an all-by-yourself, solo thing?” she found herself asking.

He smiled knowingly. “Is that your subtle way of finding out if I have a girlfriend?”

“No,” she answered crisply. Wait, or was it? she thought, horrified.

“No, it isn’t your way to find out if I have a girlfriend? Or no, it isn’t subtle at all?”

She frowned at him, ready to snap and say neither, but before she got to answer, he continued, “No girlfriend.”

Duh
. What was she thinking asking such a stupid question? Of course no girlfriend. These guys never had girlfriends; they had babes, bootie calls, fuck buddies. Or deluded girls like Elle thinking they could change them. Not happening. It was a sure thing, as sure as death and taxes. Men like him entered your life, put you through the wringer, and dumped your minced remains the second you stop being amusing.

He turned to her with a questioning expression. “By the way, what made you think I’m a bad boy?”

Hello? What didn’t? She snorted. “Apart from the rogue looks, the macho attitude, the tattoos, and the ride? Not much really.”

“Don’t let appearances fool you. In essence, I’m a good guy. Golden.”

He offered her a cocky smirk, and Tate reciprocated with a well-rehearsed yeah-right look.

“Sure.” She chuckled and crossed her legs. Damn, the vibrations from the motor were so not helping. “Aren’t you all? Down to the last scout and choirboy.”

“I was never a scout, but I was a choirboy. Here, I can prove you’ve got me all wrong; one, I don’t own a Harley, and two, every one of my tattoos has been done by pros in reputable establishments while being totally sober. Both me and the tattoo artist.”

Tattoos? As in plural? Gosh, she should have known. She lifted her eyebrows in faked surprise. “No shit. And here I was thinking you got them in jail.”

James looked amused. “No jail tattoos; hell, no jail at all. I’m as clean as a newborn baby. Well, maybe a bit harder and bigger all over, but otherwise sparkling clean to my angelical Catholic soul. And let me tell you, I’m very selective with my tattoos. I have three, and all of them have a very special meaning, mark a certain point in my life.” He rolled up his short sleeve and showed her the dragon that swirled from his shoulder down around his arm in full. “I got that baby from a Japanese artist when I got my second black belt. I have another tattoo for when I came home after the military, and—”

“Let me guess, you got ‘Born to Kill’ tattooed on you for your army time?”

He barked out a laugh, surprise visible in his eyes. “Close enough. It says, ‘Hard to Kill,’ and that one I got after my divorce, not after the army. For that I got a group of Oriental signs that celebrates balance.”

“So if ‘Hard to Kill’ was the tattoo of choice for your divorce, which one did you get for your marriage?”

He shrugged. “None. I told you, I only have three.”

An uncomfortable silence followed his words and filled the cabin. Was it something she said? After all, she was quite rusty on bad boys etiquette. Then it dawned on her; mentioning marriage was probably a big no-no. Well, too late to take it back now. Turning to the window, she pondered what he’d said; three tattoos for three pivotal moments of his life—proficiency in martial arts, getting a divorce, and coming back from the army. Boy, was that self-explanatory or what? She should be already running for the hills.

“Um…thanks for dragging me and my mom out tonight to the line dancing,” she began, hoping to engage him again. Despite everything, she liked his company and regretted the charged silence. “She did seem to enjoy herself, made some friends. A lady invited us to a barbecue.”

His eyes glinted in knowledge. “Mrs. Nicholson. I know. I asked her to.”

“Did you now? Why?”

“Just broadening your friend base. Hoping you’d have other people to stalk.” He teased with that sexy smile of his.

“True.” Despite her light tone, it bothered her more than she’d ever admit that her mom hadn’t made any friends during her time in Florida. What had she been doing these past five months? Hiding at home? Bitching at James’s father about his cat? “We know how to make a fine first impression, don’t we? I guess you’re already considering moving your father to another condo on the other side of the complex before my mom loses it and takes out the big guns.”

“Oh, I don’t know; I think my father can manage just fine. And as far as I’m concerned, that was a five-star first impression. Meeting a sexy girl for the first time while she’s on her hands and knees with her cute ass pointing to the skies is a personal fantasy of mine.”

Her face was instantly on fire. In just one second the man had efficiently stunned her into silence, although her body had the reverse reaction. Everything that had been tingling before was now throbbing like hell. Damn mortifying. When had she turned into a ticking sex bomb? If he did as much as brush his arm against hers, she was going to spontaneously orgasm in his car—at the very least.

He threw a fast glance her way and chuckled, amused at what she was sure was a panicked expression. Or maybe he was just jerking her around; God knew she didn’t have the looks or the experience to hold the attention of such a specimen.

“Is it just the two of you, you and your mom?”

This subject was even worse; it’d get her weepy. “There’s my sister too.” She cleared her throat. “My dad and my brother died in a car accident a year ago.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking at her.

For a moment, Tate was afraid he’d press for details about the accident, like everyone else did out of morbid curiosity or wrongfully assuming she needed to talk.
Talk? Please, give me a break
! But James didn’t ask her anything.

“Mom and Dad had always talked about coming to Florida to spend their retirement years, so after the funeral, Mom decided to move down here. I guess staying home was too painful. My sis transferred from BU down here so she could keep an eye on her while I’m in Boston.” Yeah, because Tate was too damn busy trying to keep Rosita’s afloat to bother herself to come visit her mom more often than once every five months. It shamed her to her bones, but she could do nothing about it. Well, she could, but she wasn’t going to sell out, no matter how much her sister and her mother insisted.

“Anyways, Mom is just not herself right now, and Amy is very important to her. That’s why she freaked out so badly today. She needs to feel she controls something, you know? Even if it’s only a cat.”

He nodded. “She’ll be fine. Those kittens will improve, you’ll see.”

Tate burst into giggles. This guy was dangerous; even with her feelings in the gutter, he made her laugh again and again.