Seeing Red (18 page)

Summer had never seen her cousin look so open, so vulnerable in her life, and her heart swelled in sympathy. “Well, I think you should stay seated, for one thing.” She glanced at Braden, and her heart started to beat faster for Chloe. God, to be looked at like that. Joe had, when he’d been buried deep in her body, so deep she’d lost herself in him.

She’d loved it. Why hadn’t she told him she loved being with him like that?

“What do I do?” Chloe whispered desperately.

“Smile?”

“I don’t know if I can. I want to cry.”

“No. Crying would be a mistake. Don’t let him see how much this means to you. Suck it up,” Summer demanded.

“Okay.” Chloe forced a smile that hardly quivered at all. “How’s that?”

“Good.”

“I’ll just keep remembering he wants to throw me away simply because it’s time to move on.”

Summer didn’t respond because she’d thrown plenty of good people away simply because it was time to move on. The wrongness of that was something she’d have to live with.

Braden wound his way through the other customers and came close without so much as a glance at Summer. And the cool, bad, tough Chloe threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck.

Braden stared down at her, his cool visage nowhere in sight as he hauled her up from her bar stool, wrapped his arms around her and held on tight.

“I thought you were leaving,” Chloe murmured.

“I couldn’t go without seeing you again.” The look on his face broke Summer’s heart. He did love Chloe. He loved her with everything he had.

So why was he leaving at all? Feeling like a voyeur, Summer slipped off her bar stool. She wobbled and had to blink to clear her vision. Wow. Strong drinks.

The bartender was watching her. She hitched her chin toward Chloe, who was now kissing Braden as if their tongues were fused. “Make sure he drives her home, okay?”

“Will do,” he promised. “How about you?”

“I’m going to call for a ride.”

“Good idea.”

She made her way outside. Night had fallen, and it was still drizzling. She leaned carefully against the building and pulled out her cell phone. It was midnight. Later than she’d thought.

Who to call? She hit the ON button and dialed Tina.

But the very male, sleepy “hello” that resonated through the phone into her ear and through her body was not Tina’s. It wasn’t Bill’s either.

It was Joe’s. Huh? Stupefied, Summer clicked the phone off. She glanced at the number she’d dialed and groaned.

Her fingers had dialed Joe without her brain’s approval. Bad fingers. She tried again with the slow precision of a person who’d had three double strawberry daiquiris. This time she went for the twins’s cell. Sure they enjoyed hating her guts but this was a family emergency, and even dysfunctional families stuck together. The rain sifted down over her like cooling fingers on her hot face as she waited.

“Are you going to hang up on me again?” asked a slightly bemused Joe.

Ohmigod.
What was the matter with her fingers?
“Sorry,” she said quickly. “Dialed wrong.” She hit OFF and touched her forehead with the phone. “Concentrate, damn it!”

Before she could call her mother next, the cell vibrated in her hand. Knowing what she’d see, she peeked at the caller ID, then winced. “Hey,” she said casually.

Joe no longer sounded sleepy. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry I woke you.”

“You don’t sound like yourself.”

That he knew her so well no longer surprised her. That it made her want to cry did. She wasn’t going to get mushy over just the sound of him, she wasn’t. But why hadn’t she called a cab? The answer was rather revealing she decided shakily. “Look, I dialed wrong.”

“Twice.”

“Huh?”

“You dialed wrong twice. Who were you trying to call this late?”

“I don’t know.” She tipped her face up, closing her eyes as the rain soothed her. “I’m a bit off my center here.”

“Yeah. Join the club.”

The utter weariness in his voice cut right through her happy little fog. “Joe?”

“Good night, Red.”

He was going to hang up. Panic gripped her. Not her typical kind of panic attack, where she couldn’t breathe, but a new kind, a vice on her heart, squeezing out terrifying emotions that she nearly choked on. She imagined him sitting in his bed, all rumpled and sexy with it, maybe without any clothes on, and her body tingled. “I got a phone call tonight. It threw me off. And then I drank Chloe’s stupid pitcher and it turned out to be doubles, and now I can’t—”

“You’ve been drinking? Where are you?”

“Outside of Tooley’s.”

“By yourself? In the rain?”

“Yes, but—”

“Get back inside. I’ll be right there.”

“Joe, wait. I—”

But he’d already clicked off.

“Fine.” She sighed. “I’ll wait.”

For him, she had the feeling, she’d always wait.

J
oe hung up the phone, got out of bed, and staggered into clothes. Ashes lifted her head from her spot at the foot of his mattress and eyed him sleepily.

“Come on,” he said, and she jumped down and ran happily to his feet, ears flapping, tail wagging.

She was always thrilled to be with him, no matter what was going on. Odd how nice that was. He scooped her up because it was faster than waiting for her to try to keep up, and they headed off the boat, down the marina, and to his car.

The rain came down steadily, looking like silver sheets beneath the streetlight’s glow. Joe took I-5, heading toward O.B., and pulled into Tooley’s. Before he could get out of the car, Summer appeared at the passenger side. She put both hands on the window, fingers spread wide, then grinned at him. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself.” He came around for her, and bent to open the door, but she had all her weight planted as she leaned on the window. She was staring at her fingers. “You got here fast.”

“I had visions of you deciding to jog home,” he said dryly.

“Nah. I already ran tonight.”

“You did?”

“After you wouldn’t jump my bones.”

He hardened himself to her dubious charms. “I thought you were going to wait inside for me.”

“I knew you’d come fast.” At that she lifted her head and grinned at him again. “No pun intended.”

At that, he had to laugh. “I have no defense.”

“Well, actually, you do. By the time we ended up on my floor that night, we were both charged, lit, and ready to go off like a firecracker.” She grinned. “Hey, you outlasted me.”

“By about two seconds.” Her casual recount of what had been one of the most memorable two minutes of his life, both aroused and embarrassed him.

“Joe,” she said simply, and set her forehead to the window. Then she straightened and leveled him with her eyes. In them there was a lingering amusement, but also a sadness that nearly brought him to his knees. Reaching out, he stroked a wayward strand of hair from her eyes, and then because he was a glutton for punishment, let his fingers trail over her cheek just for the sake of feeling her soft skin.

Closing her eyes, she pressed her lips to the palm of his hand, and then without another word, let herself into his car, where Ashes mauled her with lashes of her tongue.

Joe came around, slid behind the wheel, and hauled the puppy off her. Summer smiled at him as she reached for her seat belt. Her hair lay in soft fiery wet waves about her face, which was slightly flushed. Her eyes were glossy, too glossy, and she couldn’t match up the seat belt fastener to click it in. “It’s broken,” she said.

He took it from her and popped it into place.

“So strong, Superman Joe.”

“Cut it out.” He revved the engine and drove out of the parking lot.

With a smile, she leaned back and closed her eyes. “I love this car. All powerful muscle, like its owner.”

He glanced at her but she didn’t open her eyes. Hair whipping around her face, she wore a small, secret little smile on her lips that said she’d have a good time no matter what was going on because life was too short. She’d learned that lesson long ago, and so had he.

Ashes hadn’t learned anything but the joy of sticking her head out the window and drooling on the glass.

“Nothing beats this,” Summer said after a few minutes. “A nice drive, a nice, rainy night, a nice…” At that she opened her eyes and looked at him. “Friend?”

He nodded, and she relaxed again, closing her eyes.

A nice friend. It’s what he’d promised her, though it was going to kill him.
She
was going to kill him. He pulled onto her street and turned off the engine. “Wait here,” he said, and was rounding the trunk of his car when she opened her door and tripped getting out. She sat on the wet curb and grinned up at him as Ashes bounded from her seat to Summer’s legs.

“You never listen.” Joe bent and scooped Summer up in his arms. “Ashes, come.”

Summer sighed a dreamy little sigh, slipped her arms around his neck, and settled her face against his throat. “Love it when you do the he-man thing.” She pressed her lips to his skin.

“Stop that,” he said.

“Okay.” She bit him instead.

The feel of her teeth sinking into him shot arrows of heat straight to his groin. “Red—”

“I love the way you say my name.” Pulling back, she smiled at him. “All thick and husky. Like you’re turned on.”

He was, but it was more than that. It was the warmth and affection in her eyes, the way her right eyetooth was slightly chipped from that headfirst fall she’d once taken off the monkey bars in third grade, the light smattering of freckles across her nose. It was the way she held on to him, like he was the most important thing in her world, at least at the moment.

She laughed a little, and he looked into her face and thought,
you are the silliest, more adorable, sexy drunk I’ve ever seen.

“You have the prettiest eyes,” she sighed. “All four of them.”

Asking her for her keys would be useless, so for the second time he let himself in the back door of her cottage. “You should lock this thing up better.”

“I know. But then how would you tuck me in? You are going to tuck me in, aren’t you?”

He didn’t bother to answer that question because in all truth, he had no idea what the hell to do with her.

“I want a bubble bath.”

“You’ll drown yourself. Maybe a shower.” He took her into her bathroom and set her down. When her feet touched the floor, she weaved and sat down right there on the tile. “I think I need help.”

Oh no. No, no, no.
No.

She removed each sandal with the exaggerated care of the elderly or the extremely inebriated. Then she began to wriggle out of her loose sleeveless dress, which took her a long moment, several curses, and finally a giggle as she got stuck with her arms tangled in the material, stretched over her head, her belly softly jiggling as she laughed breathlessly.
“Uncle.”

He stared down at her, having to laugh too. God, he wanted to gobble her up.

She flopped to her back. She still wore her coral tank and black biker shorts, and according to the muffled snorts he could hear beneath the dress covering her head she was still cracking herself up. With a sigh, he bent and grabbed the soft dress and pulled, freeing her.

“Only a few more garments to go,” she said, grinning stupidly at him from flat on her back.

He stood over her, his hands now jammed in his pockets to keep them to himself. “You’re on your own, baby.”

With a big huff she rolled over and got to her knees. “If you could start the water.”

He flicked on the tap and turned back to her, immediately closing his eyes because she’d wriggled out of her tank and was shoving down her shorts.

She wore nothing beneath either and her glorious long tough body imprinted itself on his brain as she stood.

“You can look,” she assured him, stepping toward the shower, doing a little shimmy that made his eyes cross and all the blood drain out of his head for parts south. “And you can touch.” She waited a second, standing there free as a bird and more beautiful than any single mischievous drunken minx should ever be allowed to look. “
Please
touch.”

“No.”

She looked so disappointed he might have laughed but he had no working brain cells left. “Get in the shower, Red.”

“All right.” She opened the glass door, then weaved for a second, forcing him to leap forward and grab her. Hands full of naked woman, he gritted his teeth, steadied her, then shoved her into the water.

Her scream pierced the air and made him smile grimly.

“It’s cold!” she shrieked.

“The better to sober you up,” he said, suddenly enjoying himself immensely, and left the bathroom. Ashes was asleep on the couch, curled up with a pillow like she belonged there.

The wind had picked up again, and branches of the trees alongside the cottage brushed the windows. The lights flickered a few times as he paced the living room. He needed to get home, needed to be at work early in the morning, but he didn’t want to leave until the water turned off, until he knew Summer was in bed and safe.

She was a grown woman, he reminded himself. There was absolutely no reason to tuck her in, to make sure—

“Oh, good,” she said softly from the doorway. She was wrapped in a light peach terry cloth robe, her long hair combed and dripping, her feet bare, her eyes unusually dark and solemn. “You’re still here.”

“I was just leaving—”

“I think the power’s going to go.”

Indeed, it flickered and she looked around uneasily.

“You’re used to being without power,” he reminded her. “You’re outside for weeks at a time.”

“Yeah.” She bit her lower lip. “But it’s not exactly the dark I’m afraid of.”

Against his better judgment, he moved close. She had a light sunburn on her nose, and a small smile on her naked lips. Even as he looked, her tongue darted out and nervously dampened them. Her eyes were clearer now, her earlier joviality replaced with far more complicated things. “What are you afraid of?” he asked quietly.

“Being alone.”

A drop of water ran from her jaw, down her throat, and into the robe. He thought about the body beneath the terry cloth and felt his knees wobble. “Look, I’m trying to be the good guy here. You’re under the influence—”

“You ruined that buzz with the icy shower.” She slipped her hand in the robe pocket and came up with a condom that made him want to groan.

“I’m leaving,” he said, feeling like a damn saint because hell if he wasn’t every bit as head over heels for her as he’d always been. But he couldn’t let her do more damage, not when she had one foot out the door.

He couldn’t live through that again.

A gust whipped around the outside of the cottage, and again the branches brushed the windows. Summer jerked and stared wide-eyed at the dark windows. “I wish there were shutters here.”

“It’s just the trees—” He frowned at how pale she’d gotten. “This isn’t you, you’re not jumpy over a storm. You love storms.”

“Yeah.” But she eyed the bare windows uneasily.

“Red.” He put his hands on her shoulders and waited until she looked at him. “Talk to me.”

“I’d rather…” She glided her hands up his chest, wound them around his neck, and tugged, then planted her mouth to his, making him groan. He tensed, planning on pulling away because hell if he was going to let her distract him with sex again. Hell if—

She slid her fingers into his hair, and God, he loved that. Loved the feel of her hands on him, the way she tilted her head to gain better access to his mouth, loved the way her tongue danced slow and sinuous over his.

A crash from the kitchen had them both jumping in surprise. Joe whipped around in time to see the back door blowing in the wind after slamming open against the wall. “I must not have kicked it shut hard enough,” he said, and moved toward it.

Summer flattened herself back against the archway between the hallway and the living room, her heart ramming against her ribs. Just the door. Her fear was definitely irrational, even to her own murky brain, but for the moment she couldn’t think, couldn’t put it all together.

Joe came back, gazing at her face as if he might gobble her up if given the chance, and her nipples went hard and her thighs trembled. She launched herself at him, with one goal in mind.

Sexual oblivion, the way only he could offer it.

His hand stroked down her back and then up again as she burrowed against his big, warm, wonderful body. She slid her arms around his waist, sighing at the solidness of him, how it felt to be pressed tight, held tight. She arched a little closer and felt his mouth on her neck, just beneath her ear.

He unclipped his pager and gun, set them on the end table, and backed her against the archway, trapping her, kissing her neck again, making her moan. At the sound, he dragged his mouth down a little, burrowing beneath the terry cloth.

It wasn’t enough, it still wasn’t enough. A voice deep inside told her that this, with him, might never be enough but she shoved that aside, and reached down to untie the belt on her robe.

“You’re going to kill me,” he said huskily, eyes locked on hers.

“Then you’ll die a happy man tonight.”

He choked out a laugh at that. His gaze ran down her body. Her thighs trembled, and between them, she went damp as she shrugged and let the robe fall. “Touch me, Joe.”

His jaw was tight and bunching with tension as he lifted his hands and cupped the weight of her breasts, letting his thumbs rasp over the tips like the material of her robe had, only better. They hardened further.

With a rough sound, he once again backed her to the archway. The plaster was cool against her back and buttocks, while Joe was hot against her breasts and belly and thighs. There was something erotic about being naked while he was fully dressed. It made her feel weak and quivery, and yet so powerful at the same time, but then he sank to his knees, nudged her thighs apart and kissed her between them, and thinking became optional.

He glided his big, knowing hands up her legs, used his thumbs to spread her open to suit him, and then bent in and put his mouth on her.

Her head thunked back against the wood.

“How am I doing?” he murmured.

What? How was he doing? Couldn’t he tell?

“Red?”

And then she remembered. He wanted her to stay with him, no escaping, no vanishing in the moment, and suddenly she felt very,
very
naked. “Uh…”

“Good?”

“Yes,” she managed. “Good—”

He laughed softly and did something with his tongue…and added a finger…oh god…and then he hummed a little “mmm-mmm, nice” or something equally dizzying, and then she was a panting, writhing wreck, trembling on the very edge. The bastard held her there, pulling back just enough to make her sob in frustration. She tightened the grip she had on his hair and looked down at him, vulnerable not because of her position but because she was letting him look deep into her eyes.

You don’t see me, he’d said. But she did. God, she did. Didn’t he know that was the problem? That every time they did this, he dug himself further into her heart? “Joe,” she whispered, her throat tight, her eyes burning. “Don’t you even think about stopping.”