Bringing Home the Bad Boy (Second Chance #1)(55)

Brushing his knuckles along her cheeks, he said, “Never forget that sound, Ace. Stained my brain in the best way possible.” Not the gentlemanly type, he also pointed out, “Your face is red. Don’t want that, either.”

She palmed her cheeks with her hands to cool them, which didn’t help because her hands were warm from the hot coffee mug.

He took hold of her wrists and hooked them around his neck, turned her on her chair, and positioned himself between her parted legs. Her fingers were in his hair and her thighs were clamping his, and her heart was racing against his torso.

Tipping her jaw with his thumbs, he brushed her lips with his before the long, slow slide of his tongue entered her mouth. She melted into him, tasting coffee, tasting him, and never wanting the kiss to end. How long had she wanted to kiss Evan Downey? How jealous had she been the night she watched his son and he came home from a date with a girl who didn’t deserve him?

Not that Charlie deserved him. But this was a fantasy.

A fantasy…

That ended too soon.

He finished her off with a few soft, damp presses of his lips. “Get a shower and get dressed. We’re leaving for the Starving Artists Festival in an hour.”

Her eyes went to the wall clock though she didn’t register the time. “Do you and Asher have something today?”

“Yeah.”

“I can… I mean, you can go without me.”

He pegged her with a look she interpreted as one part confusion, one part unhappiness.

“No, Ace, we’re hanging out this week.”

“ ‘Hanging out’?”

He turned toward her again. “Yeah.”

What did that mean? “I have to work this week.”

“We’ll hang out when you’re not working.” He crossed the kitchen and started down the hallway. “I have to get a few things together for the festival. You have an hour.”





CHAPTER SIXTEEN




A slightly cool breeze blew in gray clouds that looked like they might bring rain. Luckily for Evan, he and Asher were under a tent, and the library had provided them with plastic bags so the kids wouldn’t have to subject their freshly signed copy of The Adventures of Mad Cow to the elements.

Asher was uncharacteristically quiet today. Evan thought at first he was hungover. After the signing wrapped and Mrs. Anderson’s two teenage lackeys were breaking down the tables, he asked him what was up.

“Nothing,” Ash grunted. He reached for a cigarette and lit it, pulling in a drag and sifting his gaze across the crowd. Evan watched, and because he’d been watching, he noted the very second Ash’s mouth went flat and his eyes went hard. He followed his buddy’s gaze across the park where Mrs. Anderson stood talking to Gloria.

He’d bet a million dollars it wasn’t the elderly librarian who’d caused Asher’s scowl.

“Shit, man,” Evan said.

“Shut up.”

“What happened?”

He crushed his cigarette under his boot heel and then picked up the butt and dropped it into a not-nearby trash can. Evan waited, arms crossed, but Ash didn’t come back. Instead, he walked across the festival and straight toward Salty Dog.

Looked like today, beer-thirty started at two p.m.


*


Evan had had about as much time with his friends as he could stand.

When Gloria showed up at Salty Dog, it was obvious she’d come with a chip on her shoulder. Charlie sat next to him and they each sipped their drinks while watching Ash and Glo passive-aggressively snipe at each other.

When they parted, it was awkward, not that those two noticed. Asher was ignoring Gloria, spinning his glass in one hand, and Gloria was examining her nails.

“Well,” Charlie said from the passenger seat of Evan’s SUV now. “That was fun.”

“Whatever you say, Ace.”

“Sarcasm,” she pointed out.

He pulled into his driveway and she hopped out of the car and took off down the edge of the street for her house.

“Where’re you going?”

“Home.” She walked backward toward her house. Away from him.

Dammit. This hadn’t been the plan.

He started after her, ready to toss her over his shoulder and take her into the house. Then he’d command her to take off her clothes and show her what she’d nearly missed out on with this duck-and-run maneuver.

“Come over in twenty minutes?” she called to him.

He stopped advancing and studied her grainy figure in the dark, unsure he’d heard her correctly. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

The word was quiet, but affirmative. He’d take it. He turned on his heel and walked to the house. Before she got too far to hear him, he called out, “Fifteen!”

In ten minutes he showed, unsure what to expect, but with a condom or three in his pocket.

Hopeful? Yeah. Hell, yeah.

At her sliding door, she was sitting at the desk, lamp lit, robe on, clicking something on her computer. Her face glowed in the soft light emitting from the screen. Instead of knocking, he lowered his arm and watched her.

Watched her delicate fingers work the mouse, the way she licked her bottom lip and dragged her teeth over it as her hazel eyes tracked the screen. His chest tightened, in a different way than usual. Sure, he noticed her physical attributes each and every time he saw her. But this…