Crossing Lines (27 page)

O
h man, not the strawberry… not the strawberry… Aw, shit.

Erik Monteague clenched his jaw and steeled his defenses against the impending carnal assault. The laughing guests, jazz band, overflowing food tables—everything at the Sinclair Marketing Group open house faded into the woodwork as his field of vision narrowed down to ruby lips and the damn lucky strawberry about to be sucked into them.

Her pink tongue flicked across full, luscious lips, then scooped a bead of chocolate from the bottom of the large, ripe fruit. She opened her mouth, slid the berry inside, and wrapped her lips around it.

Good God Almighty.
Erik shifted his stance and stifled a moan. “I can’t believe I’m jealous of a piece of fruit.”

A familiar chuckle pierced his lust-filled haze, causing his pinpoint vision to snap back to wide-angle view. From the corner of his eye, he spotted his best friend, Steve Vex, making like a bartender, serving up a beer.

“What’s up?” Steve asked, laughing.

The smirk on Steve’s face proved the question was rhetorical, so rather than answering the jackass, Erik swiped one of the beers. “Perfect timing.”

“Yeah, you looked like you might be overheating.” Steve tipped his bottle in
her
direction and hitched his chin. “I’ve never seen her before. Who is she?”

Who is she?

Erik stared at Steve for a moment, perplexed by the simple question. It shouldn’t have required much thought, but Erik, always a straight-shooting, tell-it-like-it-is kind of guy, found himself hedging.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ward off the explosive memories of her and their night together.

Her mouth—warm and slick—wrapped tightly around him…

Her beneath him, bottom lip caught between her teeth in an effort to hold back her screams… Her mouth dropping open to gasp for air as she cried out her release…

Him waking and reaching for her, only to find himself alone…

He swallowed hard and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t know who she is,” he said, somewhat truthfully. After all, just because you knew someone intimately didn’t mean you
knew
them.

Steve quirked a pierced eyebrow. “Yeah, I think I’m going to have to call bullshit on that.”

At times, having a friend who was closer than a brother was a true blessing. This wasn’t one of those times. “Sometimes you’re a real pain in the ass.”

Steve’s lopsided grin grew to obnoxious proportions. “Yep,” he said, “it’s something I live for, especially where you’re concerned.” He took a sip of beer and waited. And waited. And when Erik didn’t elaborate, he pressed the issue further. “Seriously. What’s the deal?”

Erik took a long drink of beer, then studied the floor and fought the urge to shuffle his feet like a teenager being grilled by a suspicious parent. He and Steve had been friends since the first day of kindergarten, when they’d both gotten into trouble for standing underneath the monkey bars, sneaking peeks up the girls’ dresses. In their twenty-seven-year friendship Erik had never kept anything from Steve.

Until now.

Unwilling to analyze why he wanted to keep her identity, or the scope of their relationship, private, when he’d never worried about that kind of thing before, he grinned slyly and said, “My friend, we have shared many things. But whatever I might know about her, I’m keeping to myself.”

“Damn.” All traces of amusement dropped from Steve’s face, and he whistled low. “That sounds serious.”

Erik bristled at what he suspected could maybe, possibly be a spec of truth, if he allowed it to go that far. But he recovered quickly and turned it into a joke. Nailing on a smile, he said, “It is.” He took a moment to enjoy surfing the shock waves rolling off his friend before adding, “Serious lust. You know, the kind that results in sex that’s mind-altering, not life-altering.”

Shit. The instant the words left his mouth, he knew he’d taken the sarcasm too far. He’d left an opening big enough to drive a truck through, and, as expected, Steve barreled in. “Dammit, Erik, it’s been ten years. When are you gonna let it go and move on?”

Erik rolled his head in a circle, attempting to loosen the muscles in his neck and shoulders that’d suddenly snapped into tight bands. They’d had this conversation too many times to count, and he didn’t want to have it again.

Not tonight.

Not ever.

Rather than delve into the past—a past he couldn’t change or forget—he directed his attention across the room to something much more pleasant.

Kat.

He chuckled as he considered for the first time the possibility she might have given him a false name. That would certainly explain why, on all of his subsequent trips to Charlotte and multiple attempts to find her, he’d come up empty.

The name fit her so well, he found himself hoping she hadn’t lied. Tall and lithe, her movements were fluid and graceful, like those of a cat. And when stroked just right, she damn near purred. He scowled. She’d also crawled under his skin and become a constant source of irritation—like cat scratch fever.

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall, studying her. She looked different than she had the night they’d met, and at first glance, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him. But the more he watched her move through the crowd, mixing and mingling and interacting, the more obvious it became. Her conservative business suit couldn’t hide her tempting curves or disguise the way her body moved with a natural sensuality.

She still screamed “sex,” and he still wanted her to the point of aching.

His stomach—and khakis—tightened as more unwelcome memories of her unbridled passion assaulted him. Her green eyes, locked within his gaze; her black hair falling across his chest while she rode him to oblivion. He’d almost forgotten all the reasons he avoided relationships and nearly professed true love that night.

It was probably for the best that she’d snuck out on him while he slept. It had prevented him from doing something foolish. Like falling for her.

“Hey, Romeo.”

Startled from his thoughts, Erik jumped. The wicked gleam in Steve’s eyes set Erik’s nerves on edge, and his irritation flared. “What?”

“I hate to wake you from your wet dream, but Elise has been watching you watch… whoever she is. And now Elise is headed this way.” He laughed and slapped Erik on the back. “You’re on your own with this one, brother, I’m out.”

Shit.

Erik closed his eyes and gulped his beer, wishing he had a keg tapped straight into his veins. There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to make Elise Winstead tolerable, and the only reason he tried to be civil was out of respect for their mothers’ friendship.

Elise stopped in front of him, crossed her arms under her large, surgically enhanced breasts, and pierced him with an icy look recognized by males from every corner of the globe.

Rather than play games or dally around, he decided to get straight to the point and be done with her. “What do you want, Elise?”

“Nothing, really.” She pecked a talon against her cheek. “It’s just that… Well, I couldn’t help but notice your interest in my competition.”

Despite his desire to stay aloof, Erik felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. How could Elise and Kat be in competition for anything? One was like a Rolls Royce: compact with overdone curves, high maintenance, and pretentious as hell. The other—he flicked a glance to Kat—was like his Harley: sleek, commanded attention, represented wild abandon, and provided the ride of a life.

“Competition?” he asked, hesitant to encourage further conversation, but curious enough about Kat’s presence at SMG to risk it.

“The new account executive Rusty hired.” She looked at Kat with a truckload of disgust. “She’s from a big agency in Charlotte, and she’s got ninety days to prove she’s better than me.” She snorted. “As if.” Mumbling more to herself than speaking directly to him, she said, “I just don’t understand why she’d leave a large agency to come here. Something’s fishy.”

Erik suspected he knew why Kat left her old job, probably for the same reason she’d been in that bar drinking the night they’d met. But no way in hell would he arm Elise with that kind of ammunition against Kat, or anyone else for that matter. If she was going to be a seething boil on someone’s ass, she’d have to do it without his help.

“What’s her name?” he asked, pleased to hear he’d managed to sound casual and only moderately interested.

“Kat Owens.” Elise shuddered. “Appropriate really—I hate cats. They’re sneaky and nasty.”

As if sensing she were the topic of conversation, Kat began scanning the crowd while continuing to pick at the food on her plate. Her gaze skimmed past Elise and settled on Erik as she took a bite from another strawberry.

Her eyes widened and she froze in place, strawberry stem caught between her finger and thumb, half of a berry sticking out of her mouth. It would have been humorous if his nerves hadn’t been skittering along a razor’s edge of irritation.

And if she hadn’t started choking.

He’d already taken three steps in her direction when she grabbed her water goblet and managed a few sips. The coughing subsided and she appeared okay, so he forced the tension from his body and resumed his relaxed stance against the wall.

When she glanced at him again, probably hoping he’d been an apparition or a figment of her imagination, he tried to smile. But the question that had plagued him for so long—
Why’d you run out on me like that?
—turned his smile feral.

Her shoulders sagged as she dropped her gaze to the floor, then slipped her feet into her previously discarded shoes.

Elise tilted her head to the side and stared at Kat as she hustled to a small group standing nearby.
Shit.
He could see the wheels in Elise’s conniving mind turning and smell the rubber burning.

“Well, that was… interesting.” She turned back and studied him, steady and unblinking. “Do you know her?”

With Steve, he’d felt guilty for fudging the truth and had needed to justify his evasion. With Elise, he had no problem flat-out lying. “Nope. Should I?”

Elise narrowed her eyes and studied him. “I don’t know.”

He knew she wanted to say more. To ask more. But she wasn’t known as Queen of Scheme for nothing, and after years of practice, she knew how to hold her cards close to her disproportionately large chest.

Her nose practically twitched as she sniffed the air for clues, knowing there had to be more to this story than she’d been told. She didn’t even try to be nonchalant about her devious intentions as she said, “Well, it’s been fun… and intriguing, but I’ve got to go. Things to do and all.” She gave a little finger wave and said, “Ta-ta,” then headed off in search of a pot to stir.

Erik rubbed a hand over his eyes and drew in a deep, erratic breath. Part of him, the part that had spent the past thirteen months looking for Kat, wanted to yell
Hell yeah!
at his good fortune of finding her again. Looking just as beautiful and sexy as she’d been the night they met, no less.

But dammit, he’d wanted to find her in Charlotte. With him living at the coast, that put the entire state of North Carolina and a five-hour drive between them, thereby limiting the feasibility of establishing what could be misconstrued a real relationship.

Especially since he didn’t do relationships—at least not any that lasted for more than twelve hours. And while he enjoyed more than his fair share of female companions, he always made sure there were no misunderstandings about what to expect after those twelve hours ended. That wasn’t to say he wouldn’t sleep with a woman more than once. But he always put enough time between encounters to make sure everyone knew where things stood.

And he never spent time thinking about them between visits.

Until Kat.

He hadn’t been able to forget her or let go of hoping to see her again. Now, here she was in his hometown. Looking very much like she belonged and very much like she intended to stay. And that presented a problem. The fire between them burned too hot, and he doubted he’d be able to ignore it any more now than he’d been able to ignore it thirteen months ago.

So where did that leave him?

Avoid her and hope the simmering embers eventually cooled and she became a distant memory? Or work her out of his system by picking up where they’d left off?

Naked.

For all that he didn’t know, one thing he knew for sure. Before he made any decisions about the future, he needed an answer to the question that had driven him nearly insane for the past thirteen months. Why had she walked out on him without so much as a good-bye kiss or a
kiss my ass?

Alannah believes there’s nothing more magical than finding the other half of your soul, experiencing fiery passion, and knowing you’ve found happily-ever-after.

She loves going to work each day (in sweats and a T-shirt) and writing about hot heroes and feisty heroines who torment each other in the most delicious ways before finding their happy ending.

She lives in the coastal region of North Carolina with her husband, who also happens to be her best friend and biggest fan. They have two sons, a dog, two cats, and an outrageous number of ducks and geese that inhabit the pond on their farm. She loves chatting and making new friends, so visit her on the web at
www.alannahlynne.com/
or on Facebook at
www.facebook.com/authoralannahlynne

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Crossing Lines