Play Fling (A Stupid Cupid Book) (12 page)

Conveniently close at the meters was where
she’d parked. He, however, had parked in the E lot. There was no F
lot. “It’ll take me a good fifteen minutes to get my car and
another five to meet you back here.”

“It’s kind of dark out. I can just come with
you,” Michelle offered, her heels lifting off the floor. “I don’t
want to wait alone.”

No. Leaving her to wait alone wouldn’t do.
Neither would simply calling campus security. He worked for her
uncle. Elliott grabbed his shoulder bag, locked up and decided
hoofing it the whole way might make her think twice before going to
lengths to get his attention. He wished he didn’t feel so certain
but, he just knew, she was up to something.

Michelle kept up.

Halfway there, she waved and hopped at the
campus shuttle. It pulled over.

He should have just called security for
jumper cables and waited for them with her. But standing there,
while the sun sank, his mind electric from stolen moments with
Brooke as Michelle vied for his time, sounded miserable. He’d
rather walk in zero below than stand around avoiding Michelle’s
doe-eyed flirtation.

It was his own fault. She was cute. Sweet.
Eager. Going out for drinks with her hadn’t been harmless. Quite
the opposite.

They boarded and sat at the rear as the
shuttle chugged to life.

“I really appreciate this, Elliott. I’m such
a girl when it comes to these things.” Michelle’s weight leaned
against his. “I probably left the headlamp on again.”

The driver looked at them in the bus-sized
rearview mirror. “Your car dead again?”

Michelle covered a giggle. “Yes. Twice in a
month.”

“You need to get that battery checked,” the
driver advised. “Don’t just assume it’s your fault. Could be the
alternator. Now that’ll really leave you stranded.”

Elliott shifted in his seat. Shame on him for
thinking the worst of her. “He’s right. You should get it
checked.”

He dug his phone from his pocket. Battery
charged and at signal full bars? Check. Brooke might not be home
yet, though. If she’d even gone home. She could be meeting her
friend again for dinner like last week. Of course he’d remember
that now. He’d suggested the place for drinks with Michelle the
same night.

Showing up at any cozy Italian eatery with a
girl in tow wouldn’t have drawn the kind of conclusions he wanted,
though. Michelle would’ve seen romance, interest, and so might’ve
Brooke. He’d have looked like a jerk. Temptation had almost
outweighed the jerk factor but, last minute, he’d opted for the
sports bar up the street instead.

“…and he was actually going to try to charge
me six hundred and fifty dollars when it wasn’t broken or leaking
at all. Can you believe that?”

Shit. He hadn’t heard most of what she’d
said.

“Just need to take a guy in with you,” the
driver said, pulling over to the bench stop. “Find a friend or a
brother or somebody and take ‘em with you. Place’ll be straight
with you then.”

“Really? Just having a man there will help?”
Michelle stood first, glancing hopefully at Elliott.

Nope. Not him. He might be more street smart
than any grad student on campus but Michelle had no rights to his
hidden talents. He kept his mouth neatly shut as they de-shuttled
and made to his car. Why couldn’t Brooke call now? Right in front
of Michelle. He wouldn’t even have to have a conversation for
Michelle to guess a woman was on the phone. His mom had taught him
at least that much about women.

No call.

Once in his car, Elliott strapped on his
seatbelt, feeling Michelle measuring him up for the proposed
errand. Calculating how to snare him into a mechanic’s date fairly
oozed from her pores. Ditch the glasses, throw on some jeans and a
t-shirt…. “I know someone who can help you,” Elliott said, starting
his car.

“You do?” She leaned over, tucked her chin
down. “And who might that be?”

He was probably a jerk for not doing it
himself, schoolgirl crush or not. “My cousin.” Sure. “Gordon.”
After a workout, sweaty, his lawyer attitude up and running. Let
him flex his straight muscles.

Michelle sagged. “Your cousin? Um,
great.”

“I’ll call him now, in fact.” Elliott dialed
and drove down to the front campus entrance. His mind added fast.
Gordon knew Jason who knew Brooke. Somewhere in that equation, he
could get her number. If she was going to call him, she would have
by now. What they’d shared almost an hour ago wasn’t easy to walk
away from and not immediately miss.

Or was it? Was his body the only one
demanding more?

He left Gordon a message, pulled next to
Michelle’s car and looked over in time for Michelle’s mouth to hit
his. Her lips were full and soft and not Brooke’s. Elliott broke
away. Hurt shone in her eyes. He slowly shook his head and took her
hand. He couldn’t help but take her hand. Tears began spilling down
her cheeks.

“Hey, don’t cry.” He’d been pretty cold with
her tonight. Ignoring her, resenting helping her. Resenting her for
interrupting his chance with Brooke. He felt like a supreme jerk.
“You just took me by surprise there.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to come on so
strong.” Her words were soft hiccups. Even crying, she spoke
through a smile. “I just thought we really had a good time the
other night and I guess I thought you liked me.”

Jackass! How did he get himself in this?
What, to protect his position? To soothe his tattered ego? Hell, he
hadn’t even had designs on Brooke until he thought he could come to
her rescue. Then to buy her the books and expect her to fall at his
feet in love? Then when she didn’t, he took Michelle out.

Elliott squeezed Michelle’s hand. This was
his own damned fault. “Let’s get your car started.”

He didn’t want to spell it out, leading her
on or not. He wanted to be done with work and school and waiting,
miserable and kicking himself, for a phone call. Right time, wrong
girl.

Michelle’s lower lip quivered. “Can I ask you
something?”

Elliott ran a hand through his hair and shut
off the engine. He nodded.

“Am I pretty?”

“What? What kind of question is that?” Hot
guilt percolated down his shoulders. “Of course you’re pretty. Why
would you even ask me that?”

Her eyes gave him a fresh downpour. “Then
what is wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you, Michelle.”
Resentment peeled through him. Calculated or not, Elliott smelled
manipulation tactics. “Who said anything was wrong with you?”

He got out and popped his trunk. Jumper
cables lay under his gym bag. By the time he shut the trunk, he was
preparing to straight out ask her to exit his car. Through the rear
window, her shoulders heaved.

Throwing the cables on the pavement and
screaming in frustration wouldn’t help. Instead, he gritted his
teeth and knocked on her window. He motioned her out, vowing to
keep this simple, no matter how mean she made him feel for it.

The image of her intentionally draining or
disconnecting her battery came back. With no good reason to draw
such a conclusion outside of his gut reaction to her, he swallowed
it down. Didn’t matter either way. Whatever miniscule interest he
ever could have had in her died with that single question.

Did he think she was pretty? How could he
explain what a turn off it was? Why bother? She needed self esteem
and he couldn’t give her any. Telling her the truth would only make
it worse.

After an exaggerated moment, Michelle got out
and went to her car. Her sniffles rustled above the breeze blown
leaves. Elliott waited for the hood to pop, keeping his gaze on
it.

Michelle leaned out the window. “I’m not sure
how to open the hood. Can you help me?”

Elliott rolled back on his heels but nodded.
He took her seat behind the wheel, noticed the keys dangling from
the ignition.
Hey, why not?
Before she could protest, he
tested his idea, turning them. The car hiccupped to life. Elliott
got out, but stepped into a face full of sweater-clad cleavage as
Michelle lunged in for a grateful hug.

“I can’t believe it. How did you do
that?”

His phone vibrated in his pocket, urging him
to disentangle from her perfumed arms. She held on tight enough for
her feet to leave the ground, unperturbed by his lack of response
or the fact that he was digging for his phone.

He bent to get her feet grounded, unwound her
arms. “Unknown number” flashed on his phone screen. It vibrated. He
answered, too dumbfounded with relief to wait until he parted
Michelle’s way.

“Hello?”

“Elliott? Hi. It’s Brooke.”

Brooke! “Hi! I thought it might be you.”
Elliott fought not to grunt and tugged free.

Michelle stared up, hope and pleading mixed
in her eyes. Her eyes lingered on the phone. “Oh Elliott. I can’t
thank you enough.”

“Is this a bad time?” Brooke asked.

“No. Not at all. I’m just leaving campus,
now.”

Michelle looked ready to try anything.
Elliott’s gut tightened. “Can you hold on for a second?” he asked
Brooke. “Don’t hang up though, alright?”

Silence. “Okay. But, don’t break her heart on
my account.”

His gut punched. He lowered the phone and met
Michelle’s gaze. “Sorry, Michelle. This is important. No thanks
necessary, okay? I have to go.”

She hugged herself, and stepped back. He
could almost hear the gears turning though, so he left fast. Car in
reverse, Michelle in the rearview mirror, Elliott put the phone
back to his ear.

“Sorry about that.” He shifted into drive.
“Brooke? Are you still there?”

Chapter Ten

“Okay. But don’t break her heart on my
account,” Brooke said. Had she actually said that? What was
Michelle thanking him for anyway? And why do it so loudly?

Brooke stared at the ceiling. Her body zinged
from the adrenaline pumping through her. Over a simple phone call?
Granted, this call went beyond simple. Calling Elliott meant so
many things. Primarily, the possibility of a sexual encounter with
her professor’s assistant. No, no more lies. There’d be sex. Secret
sex. Lots of it. Unless she found the strength to convince him they
shouldn’t, in fact, commit such a sin.

Oh, but what a sweet sin he’d be.

Then there was the age gap. Grand Canyon big?
Or just a nice little gulch? She didn’t even want to know how big
it was. If she did give in to the lust begging her for attention,
would once be enough? Doubtful.

The sound of his voice in the background
rushed her with adrenaline. Still on hold, hope swarmed her chest.
He sounded rushed. She recognized Michelle’s nasal pitch. Her hope
angled downward, sending a wave of nausea up. Brooke shifted her
weight against her headboard and adjusted the phone. Sampson hopped
onto her lap.

Elliott did things to her.

Before he’d kissed her. Before he’d ever
touched her, he’d exposed an intensity for her, making her feel
singularly desired. She’d never felt this before.

She had to call. How else could she ever show
her face on campus? Oh, yes. Campus. Another risk. Showing her face
there, after a torrid—spectacular, carnal—night in his arms, then
seeing him and being forced to act casual would be too awkward.

She didn’t want to have to avoid campus. She
planned on taking more classes. And the Book Exchange, her
cathedral. She loved it there. Still, she had to call.

Rationally, she knew better than to feel
competition with the girl. Too young, too naïve and, in truth, had
nothing to envy Brooke over. Elliott should be dating someone like
Michelle, kissing
her
in his boss’s office. They’d have
loads in common. Not Brooke.

The image of him looking at Michelle the way
he had looked at her drove uncomfortable warmth over her shoulders.
She stood up and rubbed one.

Holding. Waiting. Mere seconds stretched like
an eternity. Words stuck in her throat. Her ears strained to hear.
Nothing but muffles. All sorts of unwanted images fogged her brain.
Michelle pawing his chest, simpering for a kiss.

She looked at her phone. Still connected.
Should she hang up? She didn’t know what to say to him, even now,
even after a litany of why not’s. Her heart stung with raw
emotions. Lust. Jealousy. Hope.

Her short drive home, she’d tried to drown
out the noise he’d created in her body. In her soul. Ridiculous
that one hot kiss had unraveled her. She’d found a familiar song,
turned the volume up, and shouted out the lyrics. She wanted him
and it went beyond her body’s reaction to his mouth. It went
deeper. She wanted to mark him as hers despite having no intention
of keeping him. Don’t let others have him, urged her primal
parts.

“Brooke? Are you still there?”

She exhaled. Craziness wasn’t like her.
Brooke paced her room, tension tightening in her limbs with each
step. He’d come over this minute if she asked. She could have every
last living inch of him, all hers, to explore. To take. “Yes. I’m
still here.”

And he could have her. One long, thorough,
inconsequential night. Sheryl Crow’s song echoed through her mind.
You’re my favorite mistake.
Maybe it was time she made
one.

Elliott half sighed, half laughed on the
other end. “I’m glad you called,” he said.

She smiled. “Me too.”

Now what? Invite him over? Beg him to be the
sensible one? Sell him on all the reasons she couldn’t sleep with
him—no, make that kiss him—again?

“I didn’t think you would,” he said.

“You didn’t?” Brooke sat back down on her bed
and patted Sampson’s head. Shadows of branches moved out her
window. “Why not?”

His car revved. A grinding sounded. “I don’t
know. Insecurity, I suppose.”

Yeah, right. A guy like him? With girls like
Michelle in the
Elliott
-
can
-
I
-
please
-
be
-
next
waiting room? “Interesting,” she said.