Just His Type (Part One) (15 page)

My big brother fiddled with his mug of coffee, rolling it back and forth between his large hands. I watched him and kept quiet.

"She certainly wasn't expecting me. She thought you were home from your date and she wanted to know how things went with your Adam fellow. Well, I invited her in and we got to talkin'—" Joe looked up at me and actually had the audacity to blush.

"Look Lilly, I'm not going to apologize for what we did. I don't figure either Rhiannon or I should. Maybe the timing wasn't right and for that I guess I am a little sorry, but we haven't done anything wrong by each other or by you. We're grown-ups and we don't need your permission."

Something about the speech seemed a little rehearsed and I wondered how late the two of them had lain awake last night and gone over what they were going to say to me. I guess I should have been thankful that they didn't decide to hide it from me, to protect me from it. I should have been glad for that, but for what seemed like the millionth time in less than a week I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything at all.

"Are you mad?" Joe asked, sounding very much like a little boy who'd been caught sneaking cookies from the jar.

I shook my head. "No," I said when I finally could get my tongue to form words. "I'm not mad. I'm not... anything. I'm just... numb."

Joe laughed. "You and me both, Lilly. I've always dreamt but—" he shrugged his wide shoulders as if trying to dismiss the blush which crept back into his face. For a moment I thought he might say something else, but he just sort of let the silence hang there between us.

At that moment, I wished I was better at snappy comebacks, but I couldn't seem to find one. I reached for my purse and fished out the keys to Joe's truck and passed them to him. He eyed me warily as I stood.

"I'm going to take a shower and go to work," I said, forming each word carefully; my head felt like it was underwater, everything seemed sluggish and slow. "Dad will be expecting you for chores soon."

Joe nodded. "Please tell me you're not mad at us, Lilly. We don't want you to be upset."

We. Joe and Rhiannon. It didn't seem possible. I knew Rhiannon as well as anyone and she was sure to toss him aside when she tired of him, just as she had every other man she'd ever been with. I think her record for consecutive dates with the same man was less than ten.

"I'm not upset, Joe," I promised as I crossed to the bathroom and opened the door. "But I think you need to think about what you're doing and who you're doing it with."

Joe's expression was confused.

"Just go ahead and ask her how many men she's slept with," I suggested. I closed the door and started up the shower and when I was finished, he was gone.

********

For once I was thankful for the hurried, stressful, time-sensitive nature of my job. Articles and deadlines kept me pretty much occupied for the rest of the week, although I let the parolee story lay dormant in the file on my desk. I couldn't even conceive of researching it. In between writing other articles, I spent my time avoiding my boss, Sterling, and Rhiannon, at turns. Both had taken to hounding me at every possible opportunity, Sterling out of hopes that I'd gotten somewhere on the parolee story, and Rhiannon with hopes that I'd come to my senses about her and Joe.

Truth was the passing of time didn't make my feelings about Joe and Rhi any clearer to me. I still couldn't have said whether I was upset, happy for them, or merely resigned to the happenings which were ultimately beyond my control. What I really wanted was someone to talk the whole thing over with; in my mind Adam was the perfect candidate, but we'd promised ourselves a few days apart for some time to think. I couldn't speak with Adele about Rhi and Joe, since she'd inexplicably taken their side. I missed Adam and Friday couldn't come soon enough.

He said he'd call, and I spent the entire day on Friday jumping with a combination of nerves and excitement every time my phone rang. But five o'clock rolled around and still I hadn't heard from him, so I went home a little dejected to an empty answering machine and a silent phone. By eight I was fighting back the tears and had consumed almost an entire pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream. By ten I'd drifted off to a fitful sleep; my mind's eye peppered with frantic images of Adam's eyes, the tempting curve of his lips, and Rhiannon kissing Joe in my kitchen. I tossed and turned. I barely slept.

I thought I dreamt the knock on my door at first, and it took a moment to register that it wasn't in fact a figment of my imagination. I threw my robe on and scrambled for my glasses and when I threw open the door I almost launched myself at Adam, I was so relieved to see him. Pride held me back though. He looked exhausted and when he stepped into the light of my kitchen I could see he was still wearing his work clothes, spattered with cooking messes too numerous to quantify.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, before I could even begin to question him. "It was crazy at the restaurant tonight, and I couldn't get off early, couldn't even get to the phone."

"It's okay," I replied automatically, forgetting in an instant the hours of agonized waiting and the pint of ice cream. I couldn't believe how good it felt just to see him again.

"No, it's not okay," Adam admitted with a sheepish grin. "I hate being late for things, hate not keeping my word. It won't happen again."

I took a step towards him and laid my hand on his arm. "If its work related, trust me, I understand."

His smile was breathtaking. How could I have forgotten how handsome he was since I'd last seen him? It made my chest ache.

When Adam leaned down to kiss me it was if the rest of the world ceased to exist. Nothing else mattered but the increasingly aggressive slide of his lips and tongue against my own, the heat of his body pressed against mine, the possessive clutch of his hands to the back of my head. The kiss made my knees sag and my insides twist.

When we finally broke apart I smiled up at him, content for a while to just to be with him; I could almost forget all the other problems in my life when he touched me. Or at least, I thought I could, until I got a good whiff of him.

I wrinkled my nose as I took a step back, taking in once more the grease-spattered and sauce-stained state of his chef's whites. He smelled of grilled meat, garlic, and sweat

Adam caught the meaning behind my expression and laughed. "I told you, it was busy."

"I guess so," I teased, plucking at the hem of his sleeve which seemed to be the only clean spot on him. "What you do, swim in the stuff?"

He grinned. "What can I say? I'm a messy cook! Can I borrow your shower?"

The thought of Adam, tall, lean, naked, wet, and soapy in my shower made my mouth water. I might even have moaned out loud. "Do you want company?" I offered.

Adam reached forward and pulled playfully at the tie holding my robe closed. "Lilly, normally I'd take you up on that, but right now I'm so damned exhausted I doubt I would be much fun. What I really want is a nice, short, very hot shower and then to crawl into bed with you. I'd rather be horizontal than vertical, if you don't mind."

I laughed. "Not at all, take your time." I led him to the bathroom, showed him how the controls on my shower worked, and dug him up a clean towel before I left him to do his thing. In the meantime, I decided to pour myself a glass of wine and curl up in bed to wait for him.

All I could think about as I waited was Adam in the shower. If I'd known him better I would have snuck in the bathroom to take a peek, but as it was I let him have his privacy. In my mind's eye though, I could imagine the curtain of water sliding over his skin, undulating over him like the dark, curving lines of his tattoos. Eyes closed, head thrown back, every muscle sinking into relaxation as the heat and pressure of the water worked against his tired body.

Adam had promised a short shower, but it seemed like it took forever.

When he finally did appear, he was wearing only a fluffy yellow towel wrapped low around his lean hips. He propped himself against the door frame into my bedroom with his arms crossed over his chest and smiled down at me curled up on the bed. I could feel the flush bloom across my cheeks as I watched him watch me. How could he have any idea how amazingly, breathtakingly handsome he was?

"What are you thinking?" he murmured as he grinned cockily at me.

I tried to shrug off my lusty thoughts but knew my blush betrayed me. More than half-naked and still slightly damp from the shower, just the sight of Adam standing there overloaded my brain. My tongue wouldn't work. Words wouldn't come. My hand trembled and Adam moved swiftly forward to take the glass of red wine from me before I spilled it. He grinned and sniffed inquiringly, before he took a sip.

"Shiraz?" he asked. I nodded.

"Californian?"

I wrinkled my nose and Adam laughed. "Australian," I corrected. I moved over so he could sit down on the bed beside me. He leaned against the pillow and sipped again at the glass of wine. His bright green eyes closed and he sighed happily.

"This is what's missing," he said when I curled up against him and rested my head against his shoulder. "Coming home to a hot shower, a nice glass of wine, and a beautiful woman. This is what's been missing in my life."

There didn't seem to be anything to say to that, so I kept quiet.

Adam passed the almost empty glass of wine back to me and I finished it off with a few long sips. He shucked off the towel and burrowed under the blankets in one swift, graceful movement that afforded me only the slightest peek at him and my pout of disappointment made him laugh.

"Forgive me if I'm tired, Lil? It's been a long week." Adam lay back against the pillow and stretched his arms over his head with another sigh. "I've barely slept all week and it's been insanely busy at the restaurant. I feel run ragged."

I flicked off the light, pulled off my robe, and settled under the sheets beside him, laughing as Adam echoed my earlier noise of frustration when he only saw a brief glimpse of my body.

"Why haven't you been sleeping?" I asked as I snuggled up next to Adam. He wormed his arm beneath my head and I pressed my nose into the warmth of his neck and sighed contentedly, which garnered another deep laugh from him.

"Thinking too hard, I guess."

"About?" I prompted. I was endlessly, almost restlessly, curious to know what went on in his head.

He turned his chin slightly so he could look at me in the light which filtered in my window from the street lamps outside. "You. Me. This," he said huskily.

I waited, hoping more was coming.

"It's funny, Lilly. You and me. It's funny. I don't really remember what I said to you at the bar a week ago, what line I used to make you laugh up at me, to smile at me like you did. I don't even remember how we decided to leave together. All I could think about was how nice you smelled, how soft your hands were, how blue your eyes were up close, how much I wanted to kiss you, to take you to bed and make love to you. I don't have very good luck with women. I still can't believe my luck with you."

He paused. I could feel him playing with a tendril of my hair, winding it around his fingers again and again, worrying at it. It took a great deal for me to lie perfectly still and let Adam continue when he felt he was ready.

"I used to lay awake at night and think about moments like this. I was scared I'd never have one again. That was the thing I feared most about what I'd done; it wasn't being incarcerated that scared me, or even that I was capable of doing something to put me there, it was the fear that once I was out, no woman was ever going to look me in the eye again, trust me, want me, see any sort of future with me. I can't change what I did and it's been a difficult battle fighting the shadow of it, even now. I thought I could escape it by moving here, but it follows me everywhere."

My hand moved up to settle on Adam's chest. I could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat, steady and reassuring.

"The way you looked at me the other night at the restaurant just about killed me Lilly. I knew you knew; how could anything else put that look in your eyes? And I was angry. Not at you for feeling that way, how could you feel anything different? But because it was my fault for making the mistakes that I did and for being the reason you felt that way and looked at me the way you did."

I could feel the tension of Adam's muscles beneath my hand, his whole body wound taut, waiting.

"When you walked out of the restaurant the other night, I didn't think I'd ever see you again," he confessed.

I buried my face deeper into Adam's neck. "Oh, Adam," I said, my sadness muffled against his salty, faintly soap-scented skin.

"I've never been more surprised in my life than when you walked around the corner of my yard. I had to pinch myself to be sure it was you and not just my imagination." His fingers moved down the curl he'd been playing with to brush against my neck. "I didn't know what to say, what I should do. I wanted to kiss you so badly; it was all I could think about, as if that would fix things! As if I could just take you to bed and make you forget you knew anything about me, anything but what we were together, what we could be."

He stalled and still I lay silent, quieter than I'd ever been in my life, although a million questions crowded at my lips.

"What made you come back?" Adam asked finally.