Never Been Ready (Ready #2)(2)

"Seriously Trish! I thought you were my friend!"

"I'm sorry, Leah. I am. I didn't know. I found out afterwards, when Susan was talking about it in the cafeteria. She was so proud. She thought she'd finally found her new sister-in-law. Man, she is going to be disappointed."

"I have news for her. She's never, ever going to marry that man off. The only chance she has is finding a nice young girl who happens to be deaf."

We continued giggling and talking as I checked charts and entered a few things into the computer. When Susan asked if she could set me up with her hot brother, I leaped at the chance. My love life had taken a serious nose dive lately, and I was sick of sitting on the couch being utterly boring. I had no one to blame but myself. Well, that wasn't true. There was one other person I could blame for my complete lack of interest in the male species —Declan James.

Declan was childhood pals with my best friend's husband, Logan Matthews. Declan and I had met one night at a bar when Clare and Logan were dating. Declan had been an up-and-coming star in Hollywood, and well...he was gorgeous —like, sizzling hot, forgot-every-other-man-in-the-world-but-him-hot. Tall and rugged, with dark chocolate brown hair, he had hazel eyes that seemed to take on a life of their own, depending on his mood. Despite his obvious attempts to hide his appearance, I’d known who he was the minute he'd walked into that bar. Even with his dark sunglasses and baseball cap pulled tight against his head, I'd known.

I would recognize that weathered jawline and chiseled body anywhere. I'd spent enough hours looking at him on the internet, and even more time lying in bed, thinking of all the naughty things I could do to him if given the chance.

And suddenly there he had been, staring at me from across the bar. My wet dream had come to life. His eyes had locked with mine, making me feel hot and flustered. I didn't do flustered. Up until that point, I hadn't even been sure I'd understood the complete definition of the word.

I'd always been confident around men. They were fun and nice to be around, but some time ago, I'd come to the realization that they just weren't worth the trouble. I spent many good years of my adult life with one man who I thought was the man. When things got rough, he bailed. I was sick of investing my emotions and feelings into the part of our species who seemed unable to reciprocate. Men never followed through with their promise and they never loved me enough to stay. So, I'd sworn them off —until my eyes found Declan James, standing in a crowded bar, and I suddenly found myself unable to breathe.

By the time Logan and Declan had made it to our table that night, I had been nearly panting. My nether regions were on high alert, and wanted to play. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from whimpering. By the time the two of us had been left alone, I had barely said two words to him. It hadn't been because I was star struck. The problem was I was so goddamn horny that my brain wouldn't function.

I kept telling myself, He's just another man...a really hot, yummy, lickable man. Stop drooling and say something.

But nothing had come out.

Eventually he'd spoken, and I had managed to get a few things out. What had I said? I had no f**king clue. I could have told him about puppies or the weather for all I knew. It was a wonder the man had wanted anything to do with me at all after that. But he had. We'd left together, and stopped at a local cemetery I'd apparently mentioned during our chat. He'd wanted to check it out before leaving town as a possible location for his upcoming film. It was a Civil War movie and Richmond, our home town, had been picked as one of the filming locations.

I'd watched him walk through the cemetery, looking at old graves and bending down to get different angles and views. His body had moved and flexed as he'd shifted positions, and I had to bite my lip to keep from groaning. I'd known him for all of two seconds, but I knew he was in his element in that cemetery.

After about fifteen minutes, I'd took him all in as he'd made his way back to where I had been standing, towards the entrance. His jeans had sat low on his hips and his black T-shirt accentuated the ridges of his abs. His eyes, no longer focused on the cemetery, had been dead set on me. He was male perfection.

"Looks good," he had announced, taking one final glance around. "I'll have the crew come out tomorrow during the day to take some photos that we can take back with us. But I think it's definitely a place we could use."

"This is your passion," I'd said softly.

He'd seemed a little taken aback by my sudden ability to form a coherent sentence, but he'd nodded, smiling.

"Yes. Acting is fun, but this is what I really want to do. Being behind the camera and creating something from start to finish is an amazing feeling."

It had been the first honest moment we had shared that evening. I finally hadn't felt flustered and it was the first time I noticed he wasn't paranoid about being recognized. He'd looked younger and more at ease. I'd smiled and relaxed a bit. I was still horny as hell, but calmer.

We'd eventually made it back to my townhouse where he'd showed me that all the ways he'd earned that bad-boy, lady-killer reputation he was known for. He'd ruined me for all other men that night.

For six months, I'd moped around, thinking about that night, unable to move on. I hadn't slept with another man, and every time I had gone to open my drawer full of stand-ins, the thought of using a vibrator had seemed less than thrilling when I knew what I was missing. The only times I'd managed to release some of the built-up steam had been when I thought of him. When I would touch myself, while remembering his hands touching me, and his lips tasting me, I could find bliss again. It was never as sweet, but it was as close as I'd ever get to him again. He was a player and I wasn't about to be his side dish. We had been doomed from the start.