Alpha Me Not (7 page)

“Give me a moment.” Her voice wavered on the last word.

Seconds elapsed. She held the door about three inches ajar, and he noticed she’d donned one of the extra-large T-shirts they’d purchased from Walmart. Her rosy cheeks and tousled, inky hair had his dick jerk-begging.

Folding her arms, she lifted her chin and said, one word hurrying over the other, “I acted like an idiot just now. For heaven’s sake, it was me who came to you last night. It’s not as if I didn’t know what was going to happen. And for the record, I don’t regret a minute of it.” She stabbed her toe at a knot in the wooden flooring. “I don’t know why I ran like that.”

She had a thing about apologizing. Joe suppressed a wide grin. Though he admitted a mistake the second he realized the error of his ways, those two words,
I’m sorry
, always garroted his vocal cords. He focused on the other phrase. “I’m glad you don’t regret our lovemaking. I certainly don’t.”

She snuck him one of those adorable beneath-the-lashes peeks. “I don’t suppose there’s any way you’d agree to pretend last night never happened?”

Damn it. He bit back the angry words fueling hot sparks on his tongue and opted for banality. “It’s just past seven thirty. Don’t you have to be at the college by nine?”

She stared at him, jaw sagging, sable brows pinched. “Seven thirty? Oh gosh. I’ll never make the bus.”

“I told you yesterday. I’ll drive you in. If we leave in the next twenty minutes, you’ll make it with five to spare. Get a move on.”

He did an about-face and stalked back to his bedroom. Hands balled into fists, erection bobbing like a lone Halloween apple, he slammed the door and leveled a furious glare at the innocent wood.

For the second day in a row, he turned the hot water to the max and stood under a jetting spray, hoping the pulsing stream would relax his taut neck and shoulders. For the second day in a row, the strategy failed.

Dressing with his usual Spartan efficiency, Joe donned khakis, a white shirt, navy boat shoes, and marched out of the room.

The kitchen stood empty.

He pulled a canister of chocolate fudge whey protein from his semblance of a pantry, added milk, and whizzed together two to-go shakes in his blender.

The door down the hallway creaked open. He traced her footsteps while scenting the flowery perfume they’d purchased last night. The normal cadence of her breathing hitched as she neared the kitchen. He couldn’t gauge her mood. The man-made fragrance smothered her natural aromas.

Joe spun around, braced his hip on the counter, and sighed in pure carnal pleasure.

How in heck could she make the cheap superstore suit seem like haute couture? She wore a short jacket and a slim skirt that did wonders for her long, muscled legs. The fabric was a startling shade of bright but dark blue, and the color brought out the porcelain quality of her olive skin. Joe grinned when his gaze dropped to the three-inch stilettos on her feet. The shoes had seemed ugly and clunky last night, but the sharp angle of the heel thrust her slim hips forward and gave a jaunty sway to her gait.

Talk about CFM shoes.

“Does this shout Walmart cheap?” She brushed the polyester-blend skirt.

“On anyone else it would. But on you it screams designer.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that?” She frowned.

“Really. You look fantastic. Don’t worry. You’ll get an extension for the test. The story of the fire is bound to have been on the morning news.”

“I’m not worried so much about the extension as I am how it’ll impact my timeline. I have everything planned to the minute for the next couple of years. I’m on an accelerated program for my master’s. Did course work online and so, I only have thirteen credits left to complete.”

“Why are you on an accelerated program?”

“I have a plan with a definite time goal, and I’m behind.” She checked the watch on her wrist and winced. “Hen’s feathers, it’s almost eight thirty.”

“Got everything?” Joe filed her answer for later exploration.

She carried both the denim purse and a folder they’d purchased the night before. “Yes.”

He snatched the truck’s keys from a fish-shaped hook, held out a tumbler to her, and, when she grasped the covered mug, picked up the other.

“What’s this?” She set down the folder to adjust the shoulder strap of her purse, and he realized how awkward it would be for her to manage the tumbler.

“Here, let me carry them both. Protein shakes. Chocolate. Breakfast to go.” Adjusting so he carried both the covered, sealed mugs and the keys in one hand, he set his palm against the small of her back.

The knots at his nape eased at the contact.

Damn.

He needed to touch her, better yet to carry her in his arms. The craving magnified the ache in his gut. He worked his jaw and reined in the caveman hankering.

The window in the laundry room showcased an overcast sky and the burned-out shell of Terri’s bungalow. The seven-foot fence that had once hidden the property had been totally destroyed.

She halted. “It all really happened, didn’t it?”

The sadness in her voice scoured a hole in his chest. He squeezed her shoulder. “Remember what I told you last night. Lean on me. No questions. No obligations.”

“Joe.” She half turned to him.

“Not now, Susie. Let’s get you to the university. Tonight we’ll talk. Deal?” He lifted her chin, and their gazes met.

Her nostrils quivered, but she nodded. “Deal. It’s kind of irritating—you being so darned logical all the time.”

“I know.” He nudged her forward.

A cool front must have swept in overnight. The temperature had to be below sixty. Susie shivered, and he draped an arm over her shoulder.

He eyed the truck, the high reach to the cab, and flattened the wide smile before it captured his mouth. He hit the remote button and swung open the passenger door.

After jamming the mugs into the drink alcoves between the driver and passenger seats, he swept Susie off her feet and settled her into the leather. He cradled her face, slanted his lips over hers, and kissed her until she purred like a docile tabby.

“To answer your earlier question. No. There is no way I can or will ever forget last night. And we haven’t even begun to discuss why you didn’t let me know it was your first time. Did I hurt you?”

Susie White did everything at full blast, even blushing. Color suffused her face. She worried her lower lip and ducked her head. “Small pinch. I don’t want to talk about it, Joe.”

Deciding to let the topic go for now, he said, “Now’s not the right time, I agree. But we
will
discuss this, Susie.”

Her eyes widened, then narrowed, and her eyebrows slashed together.

“Don’t.” He set two fingers to her mouth. “Whatever you were going to say, hold it for later.”

“I was going to say—we’re running late now. You better set the pedal to the metal.”

She didn’t utter a word until they hit I-10. By then the clouds had opened and rain streamed down in a loose weave.

“Thanks for the ride. I really appreciate it.”

“I was going into town anyway. Don’t forget the shake.” He had already downed his.

She eyed the tumbler. “You did mention it’s chocolate flavored?”

“Double fudge. Go ahead. Indulge.”

She sucked on the straw and her throat worked and that had all sorts of sucking scenarios playing in his head. “That was delish. Thank you.”

“Like I said last night. Not much of a cook. The shake does the trick, and it’ll keep you full for a couple of hours.”

She set the tumbler back in the holder and cleared her throat. “I’m going to see if I can get back the room in the dorm I stayed in before Terri and the lease happened. Hopefully I won’t have to take advantage of your hospitality for more than a couple of days.”

Joe ground his teeth. If he weren’t driving, she’d be on his lap melting under a firestorm of kisses.

She fiddled with the seat belt and kept her eyes downcast. “If that doesn’t work out, I met a woman last week who’s searching for a roommate. I can easily move in with Charlene.”

Joe concentrated on the road. Visibility had dimmed to three hundred yards, but his wolf vision kicked in, and he could see for miles. What he needed right then, though, was a focal point, and slamming on the brakes, turning to her, and ordering her not to even consider stepping out of his orbit was definitely
not
the thing to do. Nor was he about to mention not using a condom.

Why hadn’t she brought it up?

She seemed more worried about not being indebted to him than a possible pregnancy. He crossed his toes in his boots; hopefully she was on the pill.

He had two days. ’Nuff time to develop and execute a plan of attack.

“Is Charlene in one of your classes?” He geared down and started the radio scan option.

“Yes. She’s getting a master’s in nutrition too. She happened to be in the admissions office during mature student registration, and as it turned out, we’re cotutoring some sessions together.” Susie tugged at the hemline of her skirt.

Joe admired her supple knees, cut calves, and trim ankles. Heck, he could and would spend a long, leisurely afternoon on those shapely ankles. “Does she live on campus?”

“No. She’s married, and she and her husband live off campus. They own a three-bedroom house near the downtown area. They have a spare bedroom in the basement going begging.”

No fricking way would she share a living space with any other male. “You find it hard being older than most of the other students?”

“I’m not really older than the other grad students, but it’s different as most of them have actually done the four-year college thing. I would’ve liked to have had the real college experience, you know? The whole sorority rush thing, the parent weekends, the homecoming games. I’ll still experience some of it, of course, but not the usual way.” She twisted the clasp of her purse. “Did you go to college?”

“I did. Graduated from Hallie University with a degree in business. Did a finance MBA right after that.” He shifted into second for the downhill run coming up.

Her mouth formed a perfect O. “No kidding? How’d you get from an MBA to being a mercenary?”

“Not too many jobs available to you when you have a criminal record.” He didn’t bother to dress up the bald facts, just put the shit out there for her to wallow in.

“Criminal record?” She had drawn back into the bowels of the supple leather seat.

“I was arrested, tried, and convicted for the kidnapping and murder of a minor. I spent sixteen months in jail before DNA evidence cleared me of all charges.” He concentrated on the road, on the zippered white dividing line, and refused to surrender to the temptation to gauge her response to his statement.

“Sixteen months.” She touched his forearm, and the brief connection ignited his desire in a heartbeat. “That’s awful, Joe. You must have been so angry.”

“At first. But I’d learned to channel my rage at an early age.” He shook the cobweb memories from his head. “It’s all in the past, and it worked out for the best.”

“And the minor?”

“Turned out he had staged his own kidnapping for the ransom. His father was wealthy.”

Her brows did an indignant uphill run, and she balled her hands. “Who the hell was this sick kid?”

“Henderson, Ritchie Henderson.”

“I remember that case. It was on the national news. The ransom was paid, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. Paid and never recovered.” He waited for her to recollect the rest of the details.

“They accused you of…of raping him. They found his body in a cabin in the woods. A cabin you owned.”

“That’s all it took, plus the fact that I’d just paid cash for a new car. Circumstantial evidence, but the jury bought it.” Joe eased the gear into second for the steep hill up ahead. “It took sixteen months and damned hard work on the part of a couple of buddies and myself, but we got the conviction reversed.”

“Did they ever find out where the money went?”

“Nope.”

He was probably the sole American citizen who reported every cent earned and refused all the tax loopholes available to him. Bob Weber, the district attorney who’d prosecuted his case, had declared war on Joe after the verdict was reversed. Every year since his conviction was overturned, the IRS had audited Joe on the basis of anonymous tips.

They traveled in silence for the next seven miles. “Where do you want to be dropped off?”

“Anywhere’s fine.”

“Susie, give me a drop-off point or we’ll be circling the campus for hours.” Joe tried to keep the testiness out of his voice.

“Registrar’s office, please.”

He pulled into the porte cochere entrance, reached over, and opened the door.

“Um…” She twiddled with the tassel on her purse. “I, um. There’s no subtle way of saying this. Do I ask for a key for the next couple of days? I want to pay for my share of groceries and some form of rent. I don’t want to be underfoot. Maybe it would be best if I moved into one of those extended-stay hotels until I find a place I can—”

“Here.” He pulled a key from his pocket. “Let’s not make this more complicated than it has to be. Stay at my place as long as you need to. We’ll put last night into an abyss if you want. I’ll keep my hands off you, but if you make another move, all bets are off. No rent, no groceries, not for a lousy two days.”

She licked her lips and met his stare. “I wouldn’t be averse to a friends-with-benefits arrangement. You did tell me exactly how you operate yesterday, and that works for me. But I’d prefer if we waited until I had my own space before we, um, incorporate the benefits side of the arrangement. I don’t like feeling beholden.”

He didn’t like the way she viewed their relationship, but had no intention of refusing a gift horse or, in this case, annoyingly independent warrior woman. “I can accommodate those terms. Friends with benefits—
after
you move out. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” A wash of color cascaded across her face. “You’ve been so great to me, Joe. Thanks…thanks for everything.”

He filled in all the crap she didn’t voice.
Thanks for being my fuck buddy, my cock-in-the-hole, my dumb-prick stud
. “Glad to be of service.”