Stripped Raw (5 page)

“There’s a mob
of women,” Deacon cries. “No fucking way am I going in there. They’ll put my balls in a sling.”

“Don’t be a pussy,” I say, circling the parking lot in front of Kenzie’s little storefront. The lot is full, with a line of women extending outside the front entrance. The bitch slap she gave Deacon has catapulted her into sudden stardom. I park illegally. What’s one more ticket to add to Deacon’s pile? As soon as we make our way towards the shop, women start yelling Deacon’s name. We take our place at the back of the line, but fingers are wagging in Deacon’s face left and right.

Then I see her. Kenzie steps to the front door with Tessa by her side, clearly wanting to see what all the commotion is about. “Let’s go,” Deacon whines. “These women are crazy.”

I don’t take my eyes off of Kenzie, who is quickly approaching. “Just do what I told you,” I say to Deacon, who starts towards the front entrance doing his best to avoid Kenzie, who is stomping her way towards me.

“Are you just stubborn or. . . .” she fumes.

“This isn’t about you,” I say, nodding towards Deacon, now standing in front of Tessa. “You aren’t the one who needs to apologize here. He is. I watched the interview. I saw his reaction to Tessa’s photo. I know that’s what triggered you.”

She glances towards her sister, who is wiping her eyes. “You brought him here to apologize to Tessa?”

I shrug and think I see her softening a little. “I shouldn’t have lied this morning. That’s no way to start a relationship.”

“So why did you?”

I take her hand and pull her towards an alley on the side of her shop. I’m not about to have this conversation in front of a mob of emotional women. “Because I knew I’d take care of Deacon, get him to back off. And. . . .”

“
And
?”

I grin at her and figure it’s best to keep up the honesty. “Because you look a lot better than Deacon, and I wanted to get to know you.” She blushes a bright red. She can’t deny that she likes me, even if she doesn’t want to. Maybe things can get back on track after the whole Deacon fiasco. But I know I don’t have much time. Work is waiting. I glance down at my watch.

“Don’t see many watches like that,” she says.

“It was my dad’s. He inherited it from my grandfather. I’m not sure how old it actually is. My dad died when I was pretty young.”

“I lost my mom when I was young,” Kenzie says.

“I’m sorry,” I say, giving her a little smile. “My mom kept the watch for me. Even when money was tight, she wouldn’t sell it. She gave it to me when I finished law school. It’s really the only thing I have left of him. But I’ve got a great stepfather now, and Deacon’s not so bad once you get to know him.” She raises her eyebrows. My phone starts ringing in my pocket. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she says. “You can answer. It’s a workday. My phone’s been ringing all day, too.”

I look down at my phone then up into her eyes. This is an easy decision. The phone goes right back into my pocket. “It’s my secretary. I’ve got a meeting pretty soon. I’m sure she’s just reminding me.”

“You sure?”

“Some things are more important than work.” Her smile reaches all the way to her eyes, and I know I’ve won her over. Jurors get that same look sometimes. It’s how you know when you’ve connected with them.

“Well, since I called your stepbrother a ‘pencil dick’ on live television, let’s just call it even,” she says, laughing. I love how easily she laughs. I miss that—laughter.

My stomach flip-flops a little. I’d forgotten how hard dating can be, how shitty it can make your stomach feel, but how light it can make your heart. Kenzie tucks a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. I’ve seen her do that several times—her little nervous tell. She probably hasn’t gone on a date in a while, either. That’s good because I’m sorely out of practice with the whole damn process.

The sun brings out the highlights in her dark auburn hair. I lock my fingers with hers, while stealing a glance at the curve of her ass. “Better go save Deacon from the mob of angry women. I’ll walk you back. I don’t want you to get lost.”

She laughs again. “You’re learning all my little secrets already.”

“Tell me another secret,” I say.

“Confession time?” Kenzie stops and rubs her lips together. “I’m not a morning person.”

“Oh, will I be getting to see you. . . .”

“Kane!” Deacon calls out as he steps around the corner into the alleyway.

“Guess you need to go?” Kenzie asks.

“Not yet.” I motion to Deacon to give me five more minutes then pull her closer to me, drinking her in, the auburn hair, perfect legs, deep brown eyes, tits pushing against the tank top. I can stare at her all day. “When I was fifteen, I went on my first date. I walked the girl to the door, but I was too scared to kiss her. I was so pissed at myself that night. I promised myself I’d never do that again.” I move in a little closer, my eyes on her full lips. “I promised myself if I ever really wanted to kiss a woman, I’d do it.”

I look into her eyes, then to her mouth, then up into her eyes again, asking permission, and when her eyes close, I know I’ve got it. Her mouth parts just slightly, and, like a feather, I brush my lips against hers. Maybe I should stop, but I don’t—I can’t. The moment my tongue touches hers, all bets are off—no way can I settle for just a peck on the lips. But as much as I want to hike her legs up to my waist and bang her up against the wall, I know better and know she deserves better. With my dick yelling at me that I’m making the wrong decision, I take a small step back and her eyes slowly open.

Kenzie straightens her posture and flashes a cute, coy smile. “When I was sixteen, I went on my first date. The boy dropped me off at home and didn’t kiss me. I spent all night wondering why. I promised myself if I ever really wanted to kiss a man, I would.”

She puts her hand on my chest, and I like where this is going. If this is how dating works now, it’s fine with me. I can get used to it. I love the feel of her hand on my chest. My secretary, my work, Deacon, everything else—it can wait.

She gently touches my chin to tilt down my head. I’ve never been so impatient for anything in my life more than feeling her lips again. She brings me closer, my breath now her breath. Just as her lips graze mine, she turns my head and kisses me firmly on the cheek.

I can’t help but smile, completely whipped by her already. Can she be more adorable? “Later,” I whisper, but it sounds more like a promise—a promise I intend to keep.

*

After my most
unproductive workday ever, it’s quitting time. I usually don’t mind working late. It’s actually become the norm for me, but I can’t get much work done today. In fact, I only bill a couple of hours, which I can safely say is Kenzie’s fault. She has all my attention without even trying. All I can think about is her hot body, the rush of electricity every time I touched her, how she looked when I heard her talking about her vibrator.

I turn into Kenzie’s shop like I’m being drawn here by some mystical force. That’s a lie. The force isn’t so mystical. It’s currently eight inches long and rock hard.

But it’s dark and all quiet outside her shop now. Maybe she’s still working inside? I probably should’ve called first, given her some warning. But I’m already here. What the hell? Why not? I knock.

Adrenaline courses through my body—not knowing if this is the right move or not. But no one’s coming to the door. I’m about ready to leave when I see Kenzie peeking through the blinds and quickly dropping them. She’s not opening the door. I’m standing here like an idiot!

I hear mumbling inside. I’m not sure if she’s talking to me, so I lean in close and put my ear against the door. She’s talking to herself, asking herself what I’m doing here at this hour, complaining that she’s a mess again, and that I can’t keep seeing her like that.

But I already saw her through the blinds, and Kenzie looked beautiful to me. I’m going to give this one more shot. I knock again. After a moment or two, she opens the door just slightly and sticks out her head. “I was hoping you’d still be here,” I say, smiling like a damn fool.

“I’m working.”

“How about a break?” I ask, putting my hand on the door.

“Well, um. . . .” She bites her lip but opens the door, so I walk inside. “When you said ‘later,’ I didn’t think you meant tonight. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“Guess I should’ve called,” I say, seeing she’s in what I think are pajamas. “Do you live here, too?”

She turns bright red, but I’m not sure why she’s embarrassed. “It’s just temporary. There’s a little apartment in the back. I’ve been here a few months now. Saves on rent.”

“Makes sense,” I say, reaching for her hand. “How did you make out with the line of customers?”

She tells me the line kept steady all day, and she stayed open late to see everyone, not wanting to turn anyone away—customers placing new orders with Kenzie Lingerie and folks who showed up just to take a picture with the girl who put Deacon Barnes in his place.

“Did Tessa stay late to help?” I ask.

“I sent her and Zoe home mid-afternoon. They were both wiped out. I don’t want to overwork Tessa.”

Apparently she’s never had this kind of business before—over a hundred new orders to process. And I can tell she isn’t sure how she’s going to manage it all. Clearly, she’s stressed about it, and I hope she’s considering hiring some part-time help. She takes a deep breath through her smile, but the weight of it all is clear.

“It’s impressive you’ve done all this by yourself,” I say, pulling her a little closer.

She places her hand on my chest again, but this time it’s to stop me. “Deacon? It’s nice he apologized to Tessa, but. . . .”

“Look, there’s nothing for you to worry about. He knows I took you to lunch.”

“And that just made him back off?”

“I haven’t gone on a date with anyone since my divorce, so I think he was happy for me and didn’t want to ruin it.”

“That’s actually kind of sweet.”

“He has his moments,” I say. “I wanted to ask you something. I watched the interview online this afternoon. When the interview started, before Deacon asked you a question, before you even said a word, there was a strange look in your eye. You were smiling, but something looked off. Were you just nervous or something else?”

“You could tell?”

“I’m trained to pick juries. It’s my job to notice things,” I say. “What was off?”

“Deacon made a pass at me. He ran his hand up my knee and thigh while he was across from me. I smacked his hand about five seconds before we went on the air. Everyone in the room, producers, cameraman, I’m pretty sure they all heard or saw it.”

“Deacon never told me that part. I’m sorry he did that,” I say and begin to think of creative ways to kill my stepbrother. “Show me around?”

“My place isn’t much,” she says, pointing to her lingerie catalog. “The stuff in here is pretty cool.”

I flip through a few pages. “Tessa looks beautiful in those photos.”

Kenzie nods. “She was so excited she looked like she had cleavage.”

“I can see why you were pissed at Deacon,” I say. “How bad is she?”

“Stage four breast cancer—twenty-nine years old.”

“So young. Is she your only sibling?”

“I have a stepbrother, Sawyer. You’d like him. Sawyer’s always making jokes, cutting up, goofing around.”

“What’s the prognosis?”

“I’m not giving up,” Kenzie says.

And the way she says it makes me wonder if there isn’t anything this woman can’t do. “Tessa’s been through different treatments?”

“Couple rounds of chemotherapy. And she recently had a double mastectomy, but it hasn’t done any good,” she says. “Let’s talk about something else.”

Kenzie’s eyes lower to the ground. No tears come, but I know I’ve hit a nerve. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I know you’ve had a long day.”

“It’s okay,” Kenzie says, tracing a finger along Tessa’s photo. “It’s just hard to talk about. Even though she’s my stepsister, I love her like she’s the real thing. She’s always been so beautiful—homecoming queen, head cheerleader.”

“I think
you’re
beautiful,” I say, and she quickly rolls her eyes. “You don’t think so?”

“I’ve always been the one you want to babysit your kids,” she says. “I’m the good girl, very responsible, girl-next-door type.”

Should I tell her I took the virginity of the girl next door? Probably not. “I think you’re more than that,” I say, taking a step closer to her. That wasn’t a line. I really mean it. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think so.

I inch even closer, but she looks confused—a little like she wants me to kiss her, a little like she wants me to screw her, but mostly like she doesn’t want me to do anything more. I can’t blame her; we only met a few hours ago. Deacon is wrong about the one night stand thing. This woman isn’t looking for a hookup. I’m not, either. One night with her wouldn’t be enough. So I take a step back, my fists clenched at my sides to redirect my energy.

“That was my first catalog,” Kenzie says. “I plan on doing two a year.” She reaches for a sketchbook on her work table. “This is what I’m working on for the next line. I’ll be photographing them pretty soon. The line is inspired by men’s clothing, so pinstripes and. . . .”