Gambling on a Secret (15 page)

Oh, yeah, his working shirtless would make her squirm. When she’d first met him two months ago, his dark brown hair had been short, but now it fell over his forehead and curled around the tops of his ears. A small scar ran along the sharp angle of his right cheek under the dark shadow of beard he hadn’t shaved that morning.

She let her gaze slip down over his work-toned body. His shoulders were broad, biceps muscular. The scars and tattoos gave him a dangerous edge she should run from, not eat up like eye candy.

As he pulled the shirt over his head, she reached out and skimmed her fingertips over the largest of the scars on his abdomen. Dylan shivered, yanked the shirt off before putting it completely on, and dropped it on the floor. He grabbed her wrist to pull her against him, and held her.

Her head spun, and her heart sputtered as his mouth lowered hard on hers. He licked at her upper lip, and she opened for him to plunge his tongue into the depths of her mouth.

Worlds collided, stars collapsed into black holes and whole oceans turned to deserts in their kiss.

His hands moved to her hips. Without breaking the kiss, he lifted her unto the edge of the sink. She wrapped her legs around him and crossed her ankles over his behind. When she pulled him as close as he could get with their clothing in the way, he groaned. She couldn’t get enough of him and pressed her center into his impressive erection. He held her there, and somewhere in the cosmic haze, she realized they were dangerously close to giving in to the raw desire sizzling between them.

Her hands moved between their bodies through the soft curls up his chest. His hands molded over her breasts under her tank top. A moan escaped her when he flicked his thumbs over her aroused, satin-covered nipples. She wanted to touch him everywhere and wanted to be touched everywhere by him.

With a growl deep in his chest, he broke the kiss and pulled back. She opened her eyes to meet his. Why was he pushing her away?

The scowl twisting Dylan’s flushed face wasn’t that of a man who wanted to have hot, sweaty sex on the bathroom sink. He looked like he regretted every kiss, every touch, every utterance.

He untangled her legs from around his hips with hot hands. Once he was free, he lifted her off the edge of the sink to stand before the cabinet. Weak-kneed, she grabbed hold of the old ceramic top and leaned against it.

Stabbing both hands through his hair, he turned away with ragged breaths. “We can’t. It’s not right. You’re my boss.”

“Dylan, it was just a kiss, which we both wanted.”

He bent to pick his shirt off the tile floor. “That wasn’t just a kiss. And we both know it.” With his back to her, he quickly pulled the t-shirt over his head. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

The growing dread of rejection and humiliation settled over her like cold, wet blanket. She stared at him for a moment, not believing he meant the passion in his kiss and touch. A muscle twitched in his clenched jaw and pain glowed in his eyes. Dylan desired her, but he wished he didn’t.

“I’m not ready for this, Charli.”

“Because of...your ex?”

He sucked in a breath, averted his eyes and nodded.

* * * *

“Aw, shit.” Dylan ran his hands through his hair again and grumbled, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Quinn?”

Like a monk, he’d fought the lust burning him alive since the first day she answered her door wearing nothing but a robe. As he worked, he hadn’t missed the desire smoldering in her tilted turquoise eyes. Could even a monk continue to resist temptation with the knowledge an angel wanted him as much he wanted her?

When she’d touched him, a match ignited a fuse. Somewhere buried deep in the years of discipline he’d lived and breathed as a commander, he had found the strength to step away. But letting her go was as torturous as willingly walking a minefield. If he hadn’t, he’d have stripped her right there on the bathroom sink and had sex with her.

The unbridled, raunchy kind they’d both regret.

Damn, what he wouldn’t do for a drink.

In the kitchen, he caught up with her. Charli stood at the sink, staring out the window and hugging herself.

He couldn’t hide in a drunken stupor concerning this mess.

She spun on him, but she didn’t speak or accuse him of anything. As his boss, she didn’t fire his ass for inappropriate behavior. Instead of staring up at him with her green-eyed glare as he’d come to expect, she hugged herself and sucked in her lip in the insecure gesture of a girl who didn’t know how to face the world.

“Charli?”

She shook her head and sniffed. “Don’t. I get it. You’re not over your ex. Besides, I’m your boss and it was wrong.” Her breasts rose and fell as she sucked in a deep breath, then she dropped her arms to her sides. He had seen the transformation before. “Forget it happened and chalk it up to the heat and humidity. Let’s get back to work. I want the bathroom done by Wednesday.”

Chapter 7

Charli had never been so glad to see Friday come. Besides being tired from the physical labor she’d done over the past several weeks, the tension between her and Dylan was as thick as the muggy Texas days since the kiss on Monday.

She set the last paintbrush on a paper towel beside the sink in the manager’s apartment and looked around the room making up most of the living space. The kitchenette, a bathroom and a laundry-utility closet lined one wall. The manager’s office adjoined the studio.

She hadn’t held much hope for the bunkhouse apartment when she’d first seen it. Until Dylan had asked to move into the small, semi-detached manager’s apartment, she’d considered having the bunkhouse demolished.

Instead, they had managed to transform the rat-infested mess into living quarters.

She went about cleaning the sink and wiping down the small counter space. When Dylan entered from the office, she asked, “Do you want to go to the mall over in Waco tomorrow?”

He dumped a ball of painter’s tape into the trashcan. “For what?”

She finished drying her hands and shrugged. “I need living room furniture and this place needs furnished.” She hung the towel over the oven door handle.

He puckered his brow. “I’ll take care of the furniture for this place.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the oven door. “I can understand why you’d want to, but I’m willing to buy whatever you’ll need.”

His expression turned dark. “Stop.”

She pushed away from the counter to face him and dropped her arms to her sides. “What?”

“Constantly psychoanalyzing me.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Yes, you do. You do it all the time.” He turned away and ran his hand through his hair, an agitated habit she’d noted when he was as upset with himself as with her. “I’ve ignored it until now, but dammit, I’m tired of feeling like a bug under a microscope.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Dylan stepped closer and peered down at her. “You feel pity for me, so you think you understand me. You don’t know jack-shit about me.”

She threw up her arms and spun away. “Fine. Forget I suggested it. I was only trying to help. After all, this is still my property and I was going by the example my grandfather set. He always furnished the bunkhouse on the Long Arrow.” She faced him. “But now I don’t care if you sleep on the damned floor.”

“Does that mean I can drink here?”

She wished he wouldn’t drink alone, but she couldn’t stop him. Drinking alone had almost killed her when she tried to drown her guilt over the murder she’d helped Ricardo to commit. “I don’t care what you do here. But my rule still holds, if you show up drunk or drink on the clock. I’ll find someone else.”

He turned away and headed across the empty room. “Just wanted to make sure I have some freedom.” His hands clenched into fists and unclenched at his sides. The muscles in his jaw ticked as he clamped down on his teeth. “I know what you’re up to, Charli. I know you think you can save me from myself. Hell, that’s probably the only reason you’re so hot and bothered when it comes to me. You know, like when the doctor falls for the patient.”

Not wanting to hear more, or say something she’d regret, she walked passed him. She was halfway to the office door when he said, “If I wanted a shrink, I’d still be going to the one Uncle Sam provided.”

She forced the pain in her heart into anger and whirled around to face him. “You know what the hell your problem is?”

“No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.” He went to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water.

“Yes, I will tell you, you pigheaded jerk. I don’t feel sorry for you. You do plenty of that yourself. Yes, I wanted to help you. I want you to be happy. Because I respect you.”

He shut the door and stared over his shoulder at her. The portion of the eagle and flag tattoo showing under the sleeve of his t-shirt quivered as he flexed the muscle underneath.

“That’s right, I respect you. I think you have an amazing talent for this kind of thing.” She waved her hand, taking in the room. “I see how good you are with my animals and the men we’ve hired. Even with Kyle, though you can’t stand him. You don’t push, and you don’t tell them to do anything you wouldn’t do yourself. You’re here every day before the crack of dawn to ride fences and often take care of things before the other guys show up. You’ve never taken a day off. Even on Easter, you were here, working on the apartment.”

She paused and swallowed hard. Despite her vow never to do it again, she was falling in love with Dylan Quinn. “I’m sorry I crossed some invisible line the other day and ruined our friendship. I shouldn’t have touched you, and I shouldn’t have wanted you to kiss me. But dammit, I won’t be sorry for the kiss.”

Before she said anything else she’d never be able to take back, she turned and rushed through the office and into the early May evening.

* * * *

What the hell just happened? Dylan crossed the room to the office. Why did he get so upset when she suggested buying furniture for the apartment? The only excuse he could figure was letting her furnish his apartment further illustrated his financial status as compared to hers.

“Damn it all to hell.” He looked out the window into the darkness and shoved his hands into his pockets.

She drove him crazy. He’d started drinking again at night. This time wasn’t to forget the war or Brenda, but to forget how much he lusted after his twenty-four-year-old boss. A woman who he knew had the potential to break his heart if he let her.

He should talk to Julie Larson again. They’d planned to meet the night Brenda remarried, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to go through with it, and this was no different. He’d never slept around. While he’d been with Brenda, he’d been faithful. During the few times they’d separated between dating, he’d had other girlfriends and sowed his share of wild oats, but hollowness had followed those encounters. Making love to Brenda had made him feel alive.

He turned to face the screen door Charli had exited. The realization hit him square in the chest, making it hard to breathe.

Charli made him feel alive by just smiling at him.

* * * *

The house was a sanctuary from the tension she’d escaped, but Charli couldn’t leave behind her realization.

Or the fact Dylan didn’t feel the same about her.

After brewing a cup of herbal tea, she pushed thoughts of her moody manager from her mind. Somehow, she’d managed to help him with plumbing and painting the bathroom, redecorating the living room, and with his apartment, and still aced her finals this past week. She only had a paper due on Monday and the semester was over. At the table, she booted up her laptop to the research paper. She forced Dylan’s rejection from her mind and focused on her work.

Lost in the effects of child molesters and sex offenders on society, she almost didn’t hear the doorbell. After hitting the
save
icon, she went to the front door and looked out the window. Leon stood on the porch with a bouquet of red roses.

Oh, Leon, not another gift. But she couldn’t deny she enjoyed her friendship with her neighbor. Every time he’d seen her, he’d given her a gift. Flowers, gourmet coffees, expensive teas–she would send him a small note of thanks and tried to discourage further gifts. Either she wasn’t good at polite discouragement, or he was ignoring her.

She opened the door with a smile. “Leon, hi.”

“Good evening. I thought I’d stop over to see how things are going.”

Dressed in black jeans, a white shirt open at the collar, and ostrich skin boots, Leon Ferguson struck a handsome pose holding the roses toward her. But it was the megawatt smile that caused her to giggle. Could he be any more obvious with his intentions?

“You know you shouldn’t keep doing this. Thank you. Come in.” Taking the roses, she allowed him entry. As he removed his white Stetson, Leon looked through the doorway into the living room, which she and Dylan had painted earlier that day.

“You’ve been busy.”

“We tackled the living room yesterday and today.”

Leon followed her down the entrance hall to the kitchen. “I was riding this morning and thought we should go together sometime. I could either meet you here or you could come over to Oak Springs.”