Lexie (14 page)

Sucking in a breath, she climbed the steps to the door. Cam turned, and she accidentally brushed against him as she walked past. She nearly dropped her key, but he reached out to steady her.

“I’m not drunk again,” she said defensively.

“It’s dark out here.”

Dark. Close. Secluded.

His heat slid around her, and her key clanked against the metal lock. Finally, it slid into the keyhole. Pushing open the door, Lexie reached inside for the light switch. Relief spread through her when the entryway brightened. She stepped inside away from him, but just like that, her discomfiture returned.

The two-bedroom bungalow was her home, her space, her private hideaway. If she’d been uneasy having him in her office the other night, this was a thousand times worse. Her grip on her purse tightened.

She’d been in a rush to get to the office last time she’d been home. A pillow sat on the floor in the living room, where she’d sat cross-legged as she’d practiced going through her pitch. The light from the entryway stretched into her bedroom, gently illuminating her unmade bed and a pink babydoll nightgown. And her proposal! The original draft version and her notes were spread out on her dining room table right in front of them. Moving quickly, she gathered up the papers and set her purse on top of them.

The click of the door had her spinning around. The tiny house seemed even smaller with him inside it, and she shied away. There was nothing here to be ashamed of, nothing to surprise or shock, but it was her life set out on display. She hadn’t decided whether or not to let this man into her world, but he’d barged in with all the delicacy of a battering ram.

Although she may have left the drawbridge down over the moat last night.

She rubbed her bare arms and felt her right foot instinctively cocking back onto its heel.

Cam looked around the place with interest. “Your mother didn’t decorate this.”

The statement unarmed her. Why would he say something like that?

“Except for that,” he said, pointing at a brass urn on the entryway table.

Lexie found herself at a loss for words. She hated that particular piece, but Anne Marie had insisted that a vase with flowers was too pedestrian.

“Or that.” He was nodding across the dimly lit living room to the picture of still fruit over the fireplace.

His eye was just a bit too good. Lexie’s foot came down, and she walked to the kitchen. Privacy was swiftly turning to intimacy. She filled herself a glass of water at the sink and looked over her shoulder. “Do you want anything?”

His eyebrow lifted. “I’m good.”

She drank thirstily. The glass let out a soft ring when she set it on the counter, and she wiped her hands over Roxie’s dress.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come home tonight at all,” he said, “but I took a chance you didn’t want to sleep on that foldout again.”

Lexie’s nerve endings were tingling. They’d shared that uncomfortable bed, and he knew it. He was watching her, waiting for a reaction. He got one. Her entire body flared, but she tried her best not to let it show.

She cleared her throat. “Roxie wanted to spend the night here.”

“So you two worked things out after I left?”

“I tried to explain Julian to her.”

“And how he’d think that having the Underhills should be enough for you?”

Lexie licked her lips. If anything, this man saw her too clearly. “She’s coming over tomorrow morning instead.” She smoothed the soft dress over her stomach. “We’re going to tell the family.”

“Are you ready for that?”

She hesitated. Honestly, she wasn’t sure. Half of her wanted to get it over with. The other half wanted to learn more, to figure out the best steps to take and the right questions to ask. “We both want some answers. I’m just afraid…”

“Of what?”

“That somebody’s going to be hurt.” She rubbed her temple. It wasn’t going to be as easy as the reunion stories in the newspaper or on TV. Feelings were going to be raw. Roxie was already upset that they’d been split up. They both were.

With a sigh, Cam walked over and held out his hand. “Let’s sit down.”

Lexie stared at that hand. Last time he’d touched her, it had been on her breast. Strong, hot and sexy. She inhaled shakily, but he caught her hand before she had time to protest or pull away—or reach out first.

She followed along as he led the way to the living room. She wished she’d turned on more lights, but he walked right by the switches into the living area. He guided her towards the sofa and she sat, feeling the weight of everything pushing down on her. Instead of sitting in the overstuffed chair to her left, though, he sat down in front of her on the coffee table. His nearness made her muscles catch.

“What time is she coming by?” he asked.

They were sitting so closely, their knees nearly brushed. He was wearing a black T-shirt that showed the hardness of his chest and stretched around the curved muscles of his arms. In khakis, it was the most casual she’d ever seen him, yet the inner wolf was even more visible. Outside she’d only been able to feel him. Here in the dim light, she could see him, feel his heat and watch his dark eyes as they watched her.

“It’s a family matter,” she hedged.

He sat forward to brace his elbows against his knees, and every rough, chiseled inch of him was firmly in her space.

“And I’ve somehow become the family troubleshooter.”

Her stomach dipped. “This has nothing to do with Underhill Associates.”

“But everything to do with you.” His hands cupped her knees. “What time?”

Her mouth went dry all over again. It was such a simple touch, yet from him, utterly intimate. His fingers caressed the delicate skin at the back of her knee, and his thumbs rested against her kneecaps. She suddenly found it hard to think, much less talk. “Nine,” she managed to get out.

“I’ll be there.”

Well, that shouldn’t complicate things at all
, she thought. Yet in the back of her mind, she remembered how he’d stood at her side when the billboard had been discovered. And how surprised, but glad, she’d been to have him there.

She laced her fingers as she settled them in her lap. “What did Julian want this morning?”

“There were problems with some deals.”

“Because of the billboard?”

“It’s a minor hiccup.”

With the state the company was in, no problem with a deal was minor. “You didn’t tell them about Roxie, did you?”

Impatience flashed in those dark eyes, and his thumbs slid to the sensitive spots on her inner knees. “I promised you I wouldn’t. It’s your story to tell.”

Lexie cleared her throat again, only this time it was to cover a moan. What was supposed to be a comforting touch was anything but. Heat was creeping up her thighs and nestling deep in her belly. Her muscles clenched as if to cross her legs, but there just wasn’t room.

“Is he still upset?” she asked, trying to concentrate. “Did he ask about me?”

A muscle in Cam’s jaw tightened. “He noticed that you didn’t come home last night, but you were right. He forgot what an ass he was pretty damn quickly.”

She didn’t believe her father forgot anything, but embarrassment wasn’t something he admitted to freely. He certainly never forgot what an argument had been about. “I don’t know if introducing Roxie will make things better or worse.”

“If it helps at all, she’s telling the truth about growing up in foster care.”

Lexie looked at him. Those words sounded heavy to her ears. “What did you do?”

He didn’t even blink. “I poked around a little.”

“Into what?”

“Her story.”

She didn’t like where this was going. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

That muscle in his jaw pulsed again, but his gaze was steady. So was his touch. His hands stayed on her knees, and he watched her so closely, she wondered if he knew…if he could feel…

“Lexie, I’m not going to let her work you.”

“She’s not
working
me.”

“I hate to tell you this, sweetheart, but your twin has a record.”

“
I know
.” The fierce protective instinct that ran through Lexie was as foreign as it was powerful. “She was arrested for shoplifting when she was eighteen and disorderly conduct for an incident outside The Ruckus. She told me.”

“That’s just for starters.”

She clutched at the armrest. “They were minor infractions and, frankly, I don’t care. She grew up in the system, Cam. She didn’t have people watching out for her or teaching her right from wrong. It was about survival.”

“Don’t let her use that as an excuse. She did all right for herself.”

“Yes, she did. I don’t know that I would have done as well if it had been me.”

The air snapped between them, and it was a wonder there weren’t sparks. It could easily have been her, and they both knew it. Cam’s touch shifted, and heat cascaded up Lexie’s thighs.

“Well, you do have someone watching out for you,” he said, his voice like gravel. “Me. If that makes you uncomfortable, you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

Uncomfortable
. The word hung in the air like a flashing neon sign. Lexie might not remember much about her time at the bar, but she remembered that word. She remembered the way it had slipped out. She remembered the way it had made him press her back against the jukebox. She remembered the way his hand had slid up the back of her thigh under her skirt.

In a flash, she was on her feet.

He came to his feet too. With as closely as they’d been sitting, they stood even closer. His feet tangled with hers, and their thighs bumped intimately. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and he caught her hips as if they had the right.

“I’m not trying to upset you,” he said. “I do what I have to do, regardless of whether people like it. You know that about me.”

But he was upsetting her—in more ways than he realized.

She was
naked
underneath her borrowed dress.

Lexie’s thoughts scrambled. All she could really assimilate was his touch low on her hips where her panties should be—and the growing heat and tension between her legs where they weren’t. Her belly squeezed. Why hadn’t she just borrowed a pair of Roxie’s? The full slip she was wearing had a built-in bra. Were panties really that much more intimate?

Yes. Yes, they were—
and this was why
.

“Don’t ask me to apologize,” he continued in that low voice. “I know how you feel, but I can’t stay out of it. I’m not going to.”

“You have no idea how I feel.” If he did, his hands wouldn’t be on top of her dress.

“Yes, I do.”

“How could you?”

“Because I’ve been in your shoes.”

Her gaze snapped to his face, her scattered thoughts coalescing. “You have?”

He’d gone so quiet and still, she could almost hear the tension humming inside him. He hadn’t meant to let that slip.

They weren’t talking about their attraction to each other anymore. They weren’t even talking about Roxie or the Underhills. Lexie watched him, barely breathing. They were talking about him.

“My old man popped up when I was fifteen,” he said after a long, painful moment. “I hadn’t seen him since I was four. It wasn’t a good scene.”

Her chest squeezed. In that instant, they were both stripped bare. It was the first personal thing she’d heard him reveal, the only insight she’d ever gotten into a man with a reputation as hard as steel.

“Where was he all that time?” she asked, unable to hide her curiosity.

“He never was exactly clear on that. He just bugged out for a decade.”

Leaving behind a young son who had needed him. “What happened when he came back?”

Cam’s dark gaze drilled past her. “He stayed true to form and was gone again before my next birthday. He took my mother’s car while he was at it.”

His grip tightened against her hips but, this time, Lexie didn’t try to fight her response. She gentled and laid her hands on his chest. For as stoic as his expression was, his heart was pounding. “Do you know where he is now?”

“Don’t know and don’t care.” His gaze swiveled from that point on the kitchen wall to her face. “But I can see that you do.”

Something inside her gave a pang. “It’s different for me. I never knew I had a sister. I have no preconceived notions about her.”

“You’ll have to understand why I’m a bit more skeptical.”

“I’m sorry he hurt you, Cam.” She understood what it felt like to be left behind. It explained a lot—his hard-driving ambition, his seemingly coldhearted actions and his behavior last night.

They stood uncomfortably, locked in an embrace that neither wanted to end, yet both uneasy with how deeply they’d let each other see.

His hands flexed against her hips. The caress pulled at the material of her dress, lifting the hem another inch. “You’re excited, happy and full of questions. I don’t want to take that away from you,” he said, “but you’ve got to let me worry.”

Lexie knew she was playing with fire. Her body was one big throbbing mess, but could she really trust him? Roxie had warned her he’d turn on her, and he’d already gone behind her back with this background check.