Summer's Temptation (19 page)

Oh, God. Did I really just say that? That’s what a girl tells a guy who doesn’t have a shot in hell with her. Mr. Westbrook doesn’t fall anywhere near that category, but I can’t think of that now. I need out of here before I change my mind and tell him yes.

Mr. Westbrook steps toward me, holding out his hand as though he wants to grab me and keep me from bolting. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. Just come to my office, and we can talk about this.”

The farther I back away, the more hurt he looks. It’s enough to make me feel like the biggest bitch on the planet, but I can’t stay and explain my screwed-up life. It’s better if I leave quickly. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” I twirl around and dart past Dr. Crane, who watches me curiously.

“Cassie!” Mr. Westbrook calls, but I keep going.

In the hall, a dozen students mill around, waiting to enter the classroom. They watch me hurry past them. My heels click madly against the tile floor, and I don’t stop until I’m out of the building and down the steps.

Pausing to catch my breath, I stare at the columns of the entrance, wondering what I’ve just done to poor Mr. Westbrook’s self-esteem. If there’s a way to let a guy down easy, I’m pretty sure flying away like a bat out of hell isn’t it. He just said some of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me, and I treated him like dirt. What is wrong with me?

I startle when I hear Dan’s voice.

“That’s right, pretty girl. Run away from the one you want. It’s the one you need who’ll heal your heart.”

With a big, fat scowl, I whirl toward him. “What’s
that
supposed to mean?”

He’s leaning against his light post, thumbs hooked into his jeans. His eyes twinkle. “It mean what it mean, pretty girl.”

Out of breath, I slump down on the bottom step and sit, my chest heaving. Between running from Aiden’s classroom and deflecting his advances, I can’t seem to fill my lungs with enough air to dispel the lightheadedness. Dan sits next to me, rubbing his hands as if he’s warming them over a fire. I drop my head between my knees before I hyperventilate.

“What you thankful for, pretty girl?”

“Nothing,” I grumble to the ground.

He nudges my arm. “Ah, come on. You thankful for something.”

I peer up at him through bangs in dire need of a trim.

He’s smiling at me. “Use that sharp mind of yours, and think real hard.”

I purse my lips to let him know how annoying his question is. When he just chuckles, I decide I’d better give him an answer or he’ll never leave me in peace. Besides, I suppose I
am
thankful for one thing right now.

“Tyler,” I answer, even though I’m furious at him too. But if it weren’t for the thought of him bringing me back to earth, I would have said yes to Aiden. I’m absolutely sure of it.

Dan nudges me again. “Tell him you grateful for him.”

“That’s kind of hard to do when we’re avoiding each other.”

“You fightin’?” Dan’s eyes shine brighter, and his mouth turns up at one corner, reminding me of Tyler’s adorable half-grin. “Figured you for a little spitfire. Guess I were right.”

I pop my head up from between my knees and glare at him. “I’m not a spitfire! He’s a controlling jerk.”

Dan shakes his head, smile faltering, and stares at a massive oak across the sidewalk. “Does he tell you what to wear?”

“Of course not.”

“Who to be friends with?”

“No way. I’d kick his ass if he tried.”

His eyes seem to glaze over as though he’s reliving a memory, and based on his scowl, it’s not a good one. “Does he keep you home when you want to go out? Beat you when you ain’t listening or when you don’t make what he like for dinner?”

I’m pretty sure we’re not talking about me anymore. “Uh… no… he’d never do any of those things.” He hasn’t had the chance, but still, Tyler’s not the abusive type.

Dan turns toward me, and his eyes are so cold, I can’t believe they belong to the same man. “My daddy done all those things to my mama. That’s controlling. What your boy done to you that’s so bad?”

How am I supposed to answer after a confession like that? I consider pretending his question’s rhetorical until Dan scoffs at me.

“We ain’t got all day, pretty girl.”

I sigh and mumble, “He doesn’t want me going to the lake at night by myself.”

He pats my knee. “He worried about your safety, pretty girl. That’s all. Ain’t nothing to get upset about. Means he cares.”

That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. “Maybe I don’t want him to care.”

“Maybe you ain’t got no choice.” He squeezes my leg and smiles. If anyone else tried that, I’d shove their hand away, but Dan’s touch is comforting, like a caress from a grandparent. “You need him, pretty girl?”

If there’s one thing I’ve learned today, it’s certainly that. “Yes. I need him.”

“Tell him. You can start by letting him know you grateful for him.” When I frown, he adds, “That ain’t no declaration of love.”

I’m about to ask why would I tell him that when he could misinterpret it in so many ways, but I pause to reflect instead. Maybe Tyler does need to hear that I’m grateful for him. He’s been an indispensable part of my summer, a glow of light in an otherwise bleak world since Wyatt left.

For the first time, I consider that Tyler might have feelings and that I might have stepped all over them when I told him we’re not friends. There’s even a possibility he feels a tiny bit used by me. Maybe that has as much to do with him following me to the lake as curiosity. He might have just wanted to get my attention. Maybe if he knows he’s important to me and not just a throwaway lover with no claim to me at all, he wouldn’t act like a possessive jerk.

“You’re right,” I whisper. Leave it to Philosopher Dan to point out something I hadn’t even contemplated. I straighten, quirking a smile. “I like it when you don’t speak in vague riddles.”

His grin falters, and his expression goes serious. “Keep your mind sharp and your eyes open. Not everything what it seem.”

I throw my hands up and stand. “There you go again!”

He just laughs as I walk away. “See you in a few weeks, pretty girl.”

I salute him and head toward home. On the way, I pull my cell from my bag. I’m about to text Tyler when I notice a message from him. He hasn’t texted all week, and seeing his name light up my phone makes me giddy.

Ever had sex under the stars?
I hear it’s hot as long as it’s with a next door neighbor.

I chuckle and text back,
Can you ask Josh if he’s free for a date this evening?

No problem. Can you see if Liz’s free?

I roll my eyes and dial his number. “Liz’s heading home for a week,” I say when he answers.

“Josh says you aren’t his type.”

“Bullshit. As long as I’m breathing, I’m Josh’s type.”

“Not true. He needs ‘em blind or drunk so they don’t laugh at his tiny dick.”

I snort so loud, a guy walking next to me looks at me. “I’m going to tell him you said that.”

“You do that.”

A moment of awkward silence passes between us. I look around nervously. The guy walking beside me veers down another path, so no one’s in my vicinity. It’s the perfect time to take Dan’s advice.

“Thank you for being my fuck buddy—”

“I have the perfect solution,” Tyler says at the same time.

“Solution to what?” I ask.

“Wait, did you just thank me for having sex with you? Has hell frozen over? What’s going on?”

“What do you mean a solution?” I ask.

“Ladies first.”

“Fine.” I peer around again and notice a group of girls heading toward me. Oddly, I don’t care enough to keep the conversation private anymore. “My teacher asked me out today, and if it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have been able to turn him down.”

After a moment, he says, “Your teacher? Isn’t that against school policy?”

“Yes. But he’s not teaching anymore, so it’s fine.”

He hesitates again. “Who’s your teacher?”

“Doesn’t matter. I just want to say thank you. And I’m sorry for being a bitch at the lake.”

“What was that last part? I couldn’t hear you.”

“I’m sorry for being a bitch at the lake,” I say louder.

“What? You’re breaking up.”

“I’m sorry for being a bitch at the lake!” I practically shout and get odd looks from a dozen students milling around the water fountain in front of the library.

“I forgive you!” he says equally as loud. His voice isn’t only coming from my phone. “By the way, your ass looks good enough to eat in those pants. Can I take them off later?”

I turn to see him smirking at me from in front of the physical science building. “Tyler Mason!”

He jerks the phone away from his ear and winces. Then he holds only the microphone to his mouth. “Yes, dear?”

“You’re ridiculous!”

He smiles. “That’s why you keep me around. At least
you will
when I tell you about my perfect solution to our lake problem.”

I shake my head, but I can’t keep from smiling. “This better be good.”

We walk toward each other, still speaking into our phones, which feels bizarre and makes me giggle.

“It is. We turn Sunday nights into a rendezvous night. You do your telescope thing, and then we have sex under the stars. When we’re done, we go back to your house and have more sex.” His eyes are practically shining. “Isn’t that perfect? I’m so brilliant sometimes, it’s scary.”

“You’re so humble too,” I say as I reach him.

“I know.” He slips his phone into his pocket. “So what do you think?”

I drop my phone into my bag. “I think I want to know why you’re so worried about me. And not some stupid answer like, ‘But you’re my friend, and friends watch out for each other.’”

He takes my elbow and leads me under a tree where there’s more privacy. “We’re not friends, Cassie. We’re fuck buddies. If you’re asking if I want to put a ring on it, the answer’s no. I’m just protecting a nice piece of ass.” He glances behind me, straight at my derriere. “Did I mention your ass looks edible?”

“Yeah. You might have said something about that a time or two.”

He looks at me, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. “So? Stargazing? Hot sex? A few fire ant bites in sensitive places? Sounds fun, right?”

I chuckle. “I’ll consider it.” After today, I’d consider anything that’d keep him in my life.

“Great. Now about getting those pants off…”

“Not tonight. I’m heading home to see my family.”
His gaze skims over me, growing more heated the lower he travels. “Go tomorrow.”

I’ve been without his touch for a week. I did a good job of convincing myself I didn’t need it, but his darkened stare’s proving me a liar because it’s setting my skin afire.

I’m sure my gaze is just as lusty as his when I ask, “Ten o’clock okay?”

His lips tip up at one corner. “Nine. It’s been too long.”

I’m about to say it hasn’t been
that
long, but yeah, he’s right. It’s been
way
too long. “Okay.”

He glances at the library tower clock then back down at me. “I’ve got a test in five. See you tonight.”

As if on autopilot, he leans down and kisses the corner of my mouth, a soft peck that somewhere private, would have barely registered. Out here, where dozens of eyes can see us, it renders me both startled and frozen.

Tyler straightens slowly, eyes probably as wide as mine. “Uh… yeah…” He points over his shoulder. “I’ll just get out of here.”

All I can do is nod and press my fingers to the spot he kissed, hoping it was an accident and not a symptom of a bigger problem. I don’t want Tyler falling for me. That would screw up our arrangement irreparably, and I need him now more than ever.

As I watch him turn to leave, Liz’s saying rings in my ears.
If there are only three truths in life, they are these. Women will always try to change a man. Men will always say anything to get a girl in bed. Tyler Mason will always have a long line of girls trying to domesticate him, and none will succeed. If one of these ceases to be true, the world will cease to exist.

Above me, birds sing in the trees. Students walk to and from class. The sun shines. The world’s intact, and that can only mean one thing. Tyler Mason is not domesticated. I blow out the breath I’ve been holding and head home, praying Liz is right.

Chapter 18

D
ear Aiden,

I’m sorry about today. Really, really sorry. I handled your invitation immaturely. I reacted the way I did because I wanted to say yes. Please forgive my rude behavior.

I groan a zombie-like sound and face-plant on my keyboard. That’s
so
not what I want to say. The right words to express my shame elude me.

All afternoon, I’ve been obsessing over the way I ditched Mr. Westbrook. I should have gone to his office and thanked him for his kind words, then found a way to turn him down nicely. But no, I’m an idiot who ran away. I have to apologize. An email might be impersonal, but no way am I visiting his office. I’d just end up making a bigger bozo of myself. Besides, I doubt he wants to see me after I hightailed away from him as though he was a troll with halitosis.

I sit up straight and try to decide how I can make him understand why I had to say no.
Give him the truth.
That’s the only way, but I hate it just the same.

Dear Aiden,

I’m sorry about today. I acted so rude because I was afraid if I went to your office, I’d say yes to your invitation. You see, I want to go out with you, but I can’t. Four months ago, someone hurt me. He hurt me so badly, I barely went to class for two weeks, and I almost lost my scholarship. I’m not saying you’d hurt me too. We might go on two dates and decide we have nothing in common. Or we might go on two dates and decide we like each other a lot. Two dates could turn into something exclusive, and I’d open myself up to another heartbreak. I’m not in a position to do that right now. No matter how much I want to say yes to you, I can’t. I hope you’ll forgive me for my rude behavior, and now you understand why I had to leave so quickly. It had nothing to do with not wanting to go out with you and everything to do with wanting to go out with you.

Sincerely,

Cassie

My mouse arrow hovers over the
send
button. I think the message reveals why I ran away without giving him hope I might change my mind. After staring at the screen for another few seconds, I fire off the email.

And wait. And wait. And wait. I guess I’m hoping he’ll absolve my guilt quickly.

Fifteen minutes later, I leave my desk and pack for my trip tomorrow. I peer back at the computer every five minutes, hoping for a new email. No such luck. Two hours later, my bags are packed, my room is tidied up, every nook and cranny is dusted, and even my closet is organized. After checking my email for the zillionth time, I give up on hearing from Aiden and head to the kitchen to clean out the refrigerator.

I pine for Liz as I dump leftovers in the trash. She’d take my mind off my guilt, but she’s gone home to Houston until rush starts. By seven in the evening, the house is spotless. My brain keeps replaying the scene with Aiden like it’s on permanent repeat. I blare Katy Perry from my iPod docking station to drown out the sound in my head of Mr. Westbrook calling my name while I ran away. The man has to hate me, and I can’t even blame him.

At eight, I turn off the music and close my computer. I head to the bathroom to take a shower, thankful Tyler will be over soon to cheer me up. My mood shifts dramatically while I’m lathering. Anticipating a night with Tyler will do that to a girl.

After I’m squeaky clean, I put on a sexy lavender bra and panty set, then slip on my blue silk robe. I secure the sash loosely so Tyler doesn’t have to exert effort untying it. I’m going to give him a night he’ll never forget so he knows how grateful I am for his services. I saunter down the hall and slip my damp hair over one shoulder. Tyler loves the way the damp strands cling to my neck and shoulders, so I’ve taken to washing it more often than it needs.

When I walk into my room, he’s reclined on the bed, his hands behind his head and his legs crossed at the ankles. A thrill shoots straight up my spine. There’s no better present to find in my room than a shirtless, shoeless Tyler with only a pair of well-worn jeans covering his sculpted legs.

“I like you best when you’re wet, cupcake.” His heated gaze slides over my body and stops at the juncture between my thighs. “And I mean that in two ways.”

I giggle as I stroll to the bed, swaying my hips with each step in hopes of revving his engine quickly. My knees hit the bottom of the bed, and I crawl onto the mattress. Tyler watches the way my robe gapes at the chest, his eyes darkening. Like a jungle cat, I languidly move up his body, pressing a kiss to the dusting of hair peeking above the button of his jeans.

He sighs contentedly as I trail soft kisses to his belly button, up his hard abs, to his pecs. His hands wrap around my arms, urging me toward his mouth, but I take my time and relish the feel of his smooth skin beneath my lips. I’ve missed touching him, and a shudder of blissful pleasure travels down my spine to my crotch, then makes its way back up. My entire body is alive with lustful energy. I reach a dark nipple and flick the puckered flesh with my tongue, feeling it pebble.

“Christ, cupcake,” Tyler says, gritting his teeth. “You’re not wasting any time.”

I peer down at the growing bulge pressing against his zipper. “Not tonight.”

I slip my hand past his belly button and palm the length of him. He sucks in a hissing breath that satisfies me in primal ways. My thumb and forefinger slide into place, about to release the button of his jeans, but I stop when I remember something I’d found in the back of the refrigerator.

I gaze up at him and smile playfully. “Wait here.” I back away, one foot sliding off the bed toward the floor.

He wraps his hands around my wrists, eyes narrowed. “You’re not going anywhere until you finish what you’ve started.”

I doubt he’s using much strength to pull me toward him—he’s twice my size, after all—but when I fight him, twisting and turning like a feeding alligator, I don’t get any closer to free. Tyler seems to be enjoying the tussle a little too much. His good humor could have something to do with my robe falling off my shoulders and draping down to my waist.

He raises a dark eyebrow, and one side of his mouth lifts up in an amused grin. “Are you done? ‘Cause I’d like to get that bra off, and you’re making it difficult.” As if I weigh no more than one of my stuffed monkeys, he turns me around and nips at the clasp of my bra. “Maybe I can use my teeth.”

“Tyler! Stop it!” I twist around so I can see his face. “I’ll only be gone a second, and you’ll like what I bring back.”

He quirks a curious smile. “Promise?”

I glide the tip of my tongue over my top lip, trying to be as seductive as possible. “Promise.”

After a moment, he releases me, and I jump from the bed before he changes his mind. I dart to the kitchen, barely pausing to fix my robe. I throw open the refrigerator and sort through the top shelf where I know a can of whipped cream—left over from the strawberry shortcakes Liz and I made last week—is hiding behind a carton of orange juice. I push aside the juice and snatch the cold canister. Tyler’s about to get a memory he’ll cherish forever.

After closing the refrigerator door, I saunter into the living room. The house is so quiet I hear the shuffle of my bare feet on the wood floor and the mattress creaking as Tyler shifts in bed. A light rapping comes from the front door, and I nearly jump out of my skin.

“Expecting company, cupcake?” Tyler asks from the bedroom.

“No,” I call back.

“If it’s a hot woman, tell her she can join us.”

I shake my head while strolling for the front door. “You’re a pig.”

“Oink, oink.”

“It’s probably Hannah.” I’d told her I was headed home today, so she probably visited Dylan, saw lights on at my house, and decided to investigate. “Dylan will kick your ass for even thinking about a threesome with his girlfriend.”

I throw open the door, expecting Hannah’s smiling face. Instead, I’m met by beautiful green eyes, a fedora, and a sweater vest. “Mr. Westbrook!”

He slips off his hat and nods. “Call me Aiden.”

“Of course… Aiden.”

His gaze slides over my body, and in the light of the porch lamp, I see him blushing bright red. I look down to see my sash is tied so loose, a sliver of skin shows from my neck to my crotch. My cheeks heat too, and I gather the material and hold it closed with one hand. In the other hand is a tall bottle of whipped cream. I slip the canister behind my back, praying he hasn’t noticed it.

“Is this a bad time?” Aiden asks, turning his hat in a circle between his fingers.

The worst.
I give him the best apologetic look I can muster. “Maybe a little.”

I can tell he’s trying hard not to frown. “I won’t keep you. I just wanted to tell you I got your email, and I was hoping…” He clears his throat, and the hat spins faster. “I was hoping… we could be friends.”

Tyler’s footsteps pound down the hall. This is my worst nightmare come to life. I can’t help but cringe.

Aiden’s smile falters, probably because of my expression. “Um… or not.”

“Who is it, cupcake?” Tyler asks, strolling toward me.

“A friend,” I call, giving Tyler a death glare I hope he interprets as
stay away
.

He smirks and keeps on coming.

Aiden stiffens. “You have company?”

“Um… yeah. My friend Tyler’s over.”

Tyler slips an arm around my waist and smiles wickedly at Aiden. “We’re
good
friends. Very, very close.” He grabs the bottle I’m desperately clutching and wrenches it free. He chortles as he holds up the white canister. “Whipped cream. My favorite.”

He flips the cap off, opens his mouth, and presses the funnel down. I cringe as cream fills his mouth, then I step on his insole hard enough to make him wince but not hard enough to make him shriek like a schoolgirl. He glares at me, smacking his lips.

“What?” he asks with a full mouth. Bits of white escape the seam of his lips, and he sticks his tongue out, licking it away.

It’s like he’s making a declaration of ownership.
The whipped cream and the girl in the robe belong to me, so get lost!
Nothing could be further from the truth. I elbow him aside and step onto the porch. Aiden moves toward the steps, allowing me room, but his gaze stays locked on Tyler. His eyes hold shock and a hint of fear. Whether he’s afraid Tyler’s going to deck him or he’s just trying to figure out my real relationship with the man, I can’t tell.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” I bark at Tyler. I shut the door, leaving Tyler inside and turn to Aiden. “Sorry.”

He bends the poor fedora in half, probably ruining it. “Did I misinterpret your email? I thought you weren’t dating.”

“I’m not. Tyler is just… he’s just…” I groan and bury my face in my hands, having no idea how to label our relationship so it doesn’t sound crass. This is so mortifying. I can’t even make myself look at him.

“Cassie, you can tell me the truth.”

I drop my hands and take a deep breath, steeling my nerves, but I still can’t look up. “He’s the reason I was able to turn you down.”

Aiden doesn’t say anything. A warm breeze floats past, ruffling the hem of my robe and exposing my thigh. I pull the fabric tight around me and gaze up at him, wondering what he’s thinking.

He’s staring at the door as though he’s remembering the details of the big guy looming over me. “Then you are dating?”

“No. Absolutely not.” I lean against the porch wall, unsure how to explain this without sounding like a slut. “He’s a… well, he’s sort of…a…” I can’t do it. I can’t make myself tell him the truth. I’m too afraid he’ll never look at me the same way. That shouldn’t matter to me, but it does, so like a practiced politician, I change the subject. “How do you know where I live?”

“I had access to your files,” he whispers.

“I see.” Not exactly kosher use of school information, but after what I put him through today, I’m not about to point it out.

“If I had known you had company, I never would have come by unannounced. I apologize.”

“It’s okay.” After the email I sent, how was he supposed to know I’d have a boy over? I slump down on the front step and stare across the lawn, wringing my hands. He sits next to me, so close our arms nearly touch. The scent of sandalwood and mint drifts between us, and I hate how much the heady smell affects me even though I have a beautiful man waiting inside.

Aiden’s legs stretch down the steps. They’re not as long as Tyler’s but almost. He clasps the hat with hands that aren’t as big as Tyler’s either, but still beautifully formed. Like the hands of a rancher or farmer, they’re big, capable, strong. He stares across the uncut grass and swallows so hard, I can hear his throat move. “Did you mean anything you said in the email or was that just your way of easing my feelings?”

“I meant all of it,” I whisper. “There was a guy who broke my heart. I’m not dating.” I point toward the house. “Tyler’s a friend… who keeps me happy… so I’m not tempted to date.”

His gaze goes to the door, and he nods slowly as though he understands. I wish he didn’t because I feel like a hussy, and it makes me want to cry. We’re silent while he watches the house and I watch him. I want to reach out and turn up the corners of his lips just so I can see him smile again. A warm breeze kicks up, whispering beneath my thin robe.

A curly lock of his black hair blows onto his forehead. He brushes it away and turns to me. “I followed a girl to the States.” He studies me with eyes that glow green even in the moonlight. “That’s why I came over to talk to you. I mean, yes, I want to be friends, but after I read your email, I had to tell you that I’ve been where you are.”

I nod. So many have, but that’s the strange thing about heartbreak. When you’re in the middle of it, you feel like the only person in the world who could possibly be in so much pain. Hearing someone else has been through the same is both a surprise and a comfort.

“What happened to her?”

“We met when she was in school in London. She’s from Dallas. She came back to the States, and I came with her. After a year, I guess the novelty of having an English boyfriend wore off.” He stares at the ground as though it’s shameful to admit. “Haven’t heard from her since.”

From the first day of class, I’ve thought of Mr. Westbrook as a confident, intelligent teacher with the world at his fingertips. I guess he is, but Aiden, this other man he’s letting me get to know, has the same insecurities I do. I have the overwhelming urge to take his hand and comfort him, but considering what he thinks Tyler and I have been doing, that’d probably seem a little forward.

Instead, I wrap my arms tightly around myself, careful to stay modest in my robe, and ask, “Why’d you stay? If it’d been me, I would have gone home.”

“The people are kind here. I like the sun too.” He chuckles, but there’s a forlorn tone to it. “Bet you can’t tell by my complexion, but I like the way the sun warms my apartment. And I like that the academic culture at Vandeveer isn’t cutthroat.” He shrugs. “It suits me.”