The Love Laws (8 page)

“Charming,”
Jamie muttered, taking another dainty sip of her drink. She knew the polite
thing to do would be to slide over and make room for Duncan’s friend, but the
last thing she wanted was Kevin’s big, warm body, and sinewy thigh pressed
against her for the next hour or so. So she stayed put and stared out the
window past Duncan’s head, pretending to admire the view of the harbour.

She
should have known that Kevin wouldn’t take the hint. Next thing she knew she
was sliding across the seat. Duncan’s Neanderthal friend was pushing gently on
her hip and thigh with his large, firm hands, propelling her effortlessly across
the smooth leather, completely against her will.

“What
are you doing?” She squealed, slapping uselessly at his hands.

“What
does it look like, Angel? I need a seat and the best one in the house is right
here. Next to you. ” He slid in, crowding her between his bulky shoulder and
the corner of the booth. She glared at him but his smile just became wider and
more annoying as he ran his palm down her thigh in a gesture that should have been
soothing, but sent Jamie’s pulse rioting out of control. Could this cave man
actually be turning her on? Apparently so.

She
moved several inches away and was not entirely surprised when he closed the
distance between them again. Despite herself, she felt the beginnings of a
smile tugging at her lips. He was just so arrogant and infuriating. But he was
also incredibly male and so very hot. She couldn’t help being a tad amused at
his overconfidence.

This
kind of behaviour from a lesser guy would have been borderline offensive, but
with Kevin, it was just a game. He knew on some level that she was attracted to
him, and was determined to get her to admit it. But she wasn’t interested in
games right now. She didn’t have the time or the energy. Perhaps when her life
settled down, maybe she would take the time to discover if there was more going
on here than just a guy with a libido in hyper drive and an inflated ego to go
along with the front of his jeans. But now was not the time. So, she eased
another inch away and put her hand out to prevent any further trespass into her
personal space.

He
arched an eyebrow at her but didn`t move any closer. Oddly, she felt bereft of
his body heat and solid presence beside her. But she couldn`t encourage him if
she wanted to remain unscathed. Getting involved with him now would be foolish.

“Down
Boy. Take it easy, Kev.” Duncan muttered from across the table as Kevin slung
an arm over the top of the booth. His large hand dangled precariously over
Jamie`s silk-clad shoulder and he absently traced circles in the worn seat
leather.

 Kevin
blinked innocently at his friend. “What? You wanted me to sit next to you? Not
likely. I can smell Hannibal from here. How that beast found a skunk in
downtown Vancouver is a complete mystery.” He nudged the poodle gently with his
booted foot and was rewarded with a low grunt from under the table.

Leaning
down slightly, Kevin pressed his nose into Jamie`s hair. “Yup. I much prefer
the scent of wildflowers and vanilla to skunk. Thanks anyway.”

While
he sniffed her hair, Jamie realized something: Kevin was drunk. Not just a bit
tipsy, but drunk. The smell of tequila emanated from him and he`d nearly head-butted
her when he`d leaned down. He wasn`t flirting with her in particular - he was
just a lush on the make. He`d be all over anything female at this point. He
probably didn`t even remember their moment on the beach three months ago. She
didn’t know why this made a difference to her but it did, and she suddenly
found him significantly less than charming.

She
raised her arm and jabbed her elbow viciously into Kevin`s hard gut. The surprised
‘oof’ sound he made was loud and comical enough to cause several nearby patrons
to turn and stare, but Jamie just took another sip of her drink and pretended
nothing untoward had occurred.

Across
the table, Duncan chuckled and raised his glass in salute to Jamie. He loved it
when a feisty female tortured his friend. It was such a rare occurrence.
“You`re going to be smelling your own guts if you don`t back off, my friend,” he
said to Kevin, and took a large gulp from his glass.

“Wow.
Warn me in the future if you want to play rough, Angel. I had no idea you were
so violent.” Kevin said to Jamie, rubbing the injured portion of his anatomy.

“I’m
not. But being manhandled by a lush is not on my bucket list. I find a
well-placed elbow usually gets my point across. Now, can I get some breathing
room here?” Jamie asked sweetly.

 Obediently,
Kevin removed his arm from where it had been nearly encircling Jamie’s shoulder
and edged a scant inch away from her. He held his hands up in front of him in a
placating gesture. “I was just being friendly. I haven’t seen you in a while
and I got carried away. Forgive me?” He asked, flashing his biggest, whitest,
most panty-drenching smile.

Jamie
did not return his smile. She just looked coolly down her nose at him and
pointed to his cheek. “You have lipstick on your cheek,” she said evenly. Had
he actually been making out with some poor girl just seconds before laying his
hands on her? His unbelievable nerve made her bristle and she shifted away from
him like he was contaminated.

Kevin
rubbed at his cheek with the side of his hand. Looking down at the bubble-gum pink
smear on his fist, he grinned sheepishly. “Trisha,” he said, pointing at the
bombshell bartender with his chin.

Jamie
couldn’t quite restrain herself from looking. Trisha was young, blonde,
pierced, and built like a centrefold. Somehow this made Jamie even angrier.

“No
one cares, Kevin,” she said in her most dismissive tone. “Molest whoever you
want. Though I would probably get some ID if you don’t want to end up on the
sex offenders list.”

“She’s
23, and we’re friends. She kissed my cheek. What is the big deal exactly?”
Kevin asked, clearly puzzled.

“No
big deal at all. Feel free to defile as many barflies as you want. In fact, why
don’t you start now? And we can get back to our conversation.” She angled away
from him, completely ignoring his stunned look and smiled brightly at her
sister instead. “So, any interesting cravings? Peanut butter and onions? Ice
cream and tacos?”

Kevin
just stared at her perfect profile for a long moment. He was gobsmacked. Women
did not ignore him. Ever. Even on his worst day he could usually tease a smile
out of the most ornery battle-axe or hard-core lesbian. It was his thing. He
flirted with women: amused them and made them feel desirable. It was all he was
good at anymore. Had he lost his thing? No. That couldn`t be happening. He
wouldn`t let it.

Moving
in close to Jamie`s delectably curved side, he was just reaching up to push her
bright hair to the side so he could speak softly into her ear when he felt a
sharp pain ignite in his shin. Someone had kicked him.

Accusingly,
he looked across the table at Duncan. His friend was shaking his head
vigorously and making wild gestures with his hands that looked like he was
trying to warn Kevin away from a poisonous snake, dangerous plant or possibly a
vicious dog.

“What
the fuck?” Kevin mouthed, leaning down to rub his injured leg. Under the table,
Hannibal growled louder. Man, he was unpopular tonight. Even the dog was giving
him shit.

He
grabbed one of the tequila shooters he’d brought over and downed it in one
gulp.

Across
the table, Duncan gave him a look of utter disgust.

So,
Kevin defiantly grabbed another shooter and downed that one too, slamming the
glass back down on the table with ringing force.

Before
he knew what was happening, Duncan was up and dragging him by his collar across
the pub towards the entrance. Not an easy task considering Kevin still
outweighed him by a good thirty pounds and topped him by four inches.

Kevin
shook his friend’s punishing hands off him just as they burst through the door.
He nearly stumbled, righted himself with exaggerated dignity and then threw his
hands up. “What the hell? You insist I come out for a drink and then you throw
my ass out? Just because I came on a little strong with Jessica’s sister? You
can’t stand her anyway.”

Duncan
stuck his finger in his friend’s face. “Doesn’t matter. You were all over her,
Kev. You know where I work. I can’t let this slide. Besides, she’s going
through a rough time right now. She doesn’t need you assaulting her on top of
everything else.”

“Assaulting
her?” Kevin gasped. Was he kidding? He’d never hurt a woman. His friend should
know this. He thought about swatting Duncan’s finger out of his face, but knew
they would quickly be trading blows on the street like thugs if he made that
move. Duncan may be domesticated now, but his temper still made him a force to
be reckoned with when riled up.

Besides,
as much as Kevin wanted to snap his friend`s censorious finger off at the
knuckle, he didn’t want to risk their relationship over something so stupid. So
he backed away a few steps and held his arms up in a placating gesture. “Are
you kidding me? That chick can handle herself. If anyone’s been assaulted in
this scenario it’s me. I’m outta here.” He made a somewhat awkward pivot,
nearly hit the door with his shoulder and started walking away without a glance
backward.

“Kev.”
Duncan called, both affection and frustration evident in his tone. “Wait. You
dickhead. Where the hell are you going?”

“Back
home. To work. I don’t have time for this.” Kevin shouted back over his
shoulder.

“Bullshit!”

Kevin
stopped in his tracks. “What do you mean…Bullshit?” He went cold. Could Duncan
actually know how bad things were going with his latest project?

“I
mean. Bullshit. You don’t have a home. And you haven’t worked, really worked,
in weeks.”

Kevin
groaned and wished he’d brought one of those shooters with him. He could use
another shot of liquid courage just about now. He was going to need it if they
were actually going to have this discussion.

He
stopped and turned back to Duncan, as slow and threatening as a cobra unfurling
from a basket. “Nice. Just because I don’t have your ideal domestic situation
doesn’t mean I’m a hobo. For the last time, I live in a hotel because it’s
convenient and practical. If I get hungry, I call room service. Maids take care
of everything else, leaving me free to write and play. As for work, I have
writer’s block. Big fucking deal. It happens to everyone at one point or other.
But thanks for your support, man. What would I do without you?” He asked
sarcastically.

Duncan
shook his head in disbelief. “You’ve been living in a hotel for the past three
years, you moron. For the same cost you could own the equivalent to The Playboy
Mansion, Bunnies included.” His voice dropped and he spoke in a rough growl. “And
as for your ‘work’ you’re nowhere near done and your deadline is right around
the corner. That’s not writer’s block, that’s complete creative constipation.
You are fucked on so many levels. And instead of doing something about it,
you’re drinking like it’s Mardi Gras every night and throwing yourself at women
who’d rather sew their lady parts closed than have anything to do with you.
What is your damage exactly? I`ve never seen you like this before. Should I be
calling your mom? Staging an intervention? Arranging an exorcism? What? Tell me
what I should do? Cause I’m telling you. You are scaring the crap out of me with
this self-destructive bullshit.”

Kevin
ran his hands through his hair and turned towards the busy street. Duncan had
never talked to him like this before. They were guys. They didn’t discuss the
state of their mental health. They didn’t have to. They’d known each other
forever. Being reproached like this seemed a weird sort of betrayal. Was his
friend really worried or was his wife just rubbing off on him with all that
‘communication’ horse shit? Duncan should trust him enough to know that he
would pull out of this tailspin before things went too far.

Kevin
wasn’t oblivious to what he was doing. He was painfully aware that he was burying
himself in booze and women to avoid thinking or feeling anything. They were his
ticket to sweet oblivion. As long as he had a drink in his hand and a woman to
seduce, dark thoughts were banished. The moment he stopped pursuing one or both
of his primary objectives, he was overwhelmed with horrible images and a sinister
knowledge he fervently wished he’d never uncovered. He had no control over his
thoughts, so instead he took the easy route and avoided thinking entirely.

 
And it was totally working for him. He was drowning in pleasure and goodwill.
Not a bad way to live, really. At least most of the time. He wasn’t an angry or
morose drunk. Duncan knew that. If anything, his friend was probably envious of
all the fun he was having. After all, Duncan was a married man - trapped in
domestic servitude. And now he was going to be a father. His days of chasing
women and drinking an afternoon or a weekend or even a month away were over.
Not that Duncan had ever indulged in anything so irresponsible in his entire
uptight life. He was always the voice of reason. While Kevin had a much more
laid back attitude towards everyone’s expectations. He was the healthy one, for
fuck’s sake. Not Duncan. Where the hell did he get off?