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“—and I said he had green eyes.” As the words left her mouth, she realized Josh had green eyes. Deep, forest-green with flecks of shimmering gold.
Not that she’d paid much attention.
Hating the sudden warmth in her cheeks, she blurted, “I think green naturally sprang to mind because my own eyes are green.”
“Yours are blue.”
“Blue-green.” She ducked her head. “Close enough.”
Okay, maybe she had subconsciously described a man who bore a slight, vague, infinitesimal resemblance to Josh. Made sense. He was the only guy she spent much time with.
It didn’t mean anything. Yet her pulse refused to resume its normal rate. She almost pressed a hand over her rapidly beating heart, willing it to slow. After two years of observation, Piper knew that any woman foolish enough to let Josh affect her heart ended up with a broken one.
JOSH WALKED ACROSS the nondescript industrial carpet of the main workroom at Callahan, Kagle & Munroe, absently acknowledging greetings from a couple of draftsmen at their respective drawing stations. But his attention this Wednesday morning wasn’t really on any of his co-workers—at least none of the male ones. He hadn’t been able to focus his attention on work, either, which was why he’d decided to get a soda from the vending machine, motivated more by the chance to stretch his legs than by thirst.
As he approached the break room in the back, he glanced out the floor-to-ceiling window that boasted an impressive view of Houston’s skyline. Of course, it would be even more impressive without the ubiquitous road crews and bright yellow machinery below and the gray blanket of smog overhead.
Not smog, just cloud cover. He hoped his cranky mood was due to this being the third consecutive day of autumn drizzle. Because the only other explanation for the irritability that had plagued him since seeing Piper home last night was her dating dilemma.
Her dilemma, he reminded himself. She’d said flat out that she wasn’t asking him to go with her, thank God. After the last twenty years of being on his own, Josh wasn’t sure he could stomach a weekend of parents and cousins, aunts and uncles all wanting to get to know the man in Piper’s life.
Piper would figure out something. She was a determined, resourceful woman. Too bad she was gorgeous, as well. Her intelligence and sense of humor made her entirely too likable, and when combined with the incredible body she tried to hide under severe work attire and baggy weekend clothes—
Incredible body? He was not going there. Not now, not ever.
Except that lately, he had been. A lot. In the beginning of their unexpected friendship, her no-men oath and his own contrastingly busy love life had been a sufficient buffer, guaranteeing that neither of them would get any ideas about messing up their perfectly safe relationship. So what had changed? She still wasn’t interested in romance in any form or fashion, and he still…Come to think of it, he hadn’t been on as many dates lately. When had he slowed down?
He’d never intentionally set out to break Houston dating records, but it had only taken him a couple of breakups to realize he wasn’t cut out for long-term relationships. The emotional distance that had helped protect him while being shuttled from one foster home to another didn’t work well in romances, but the loner attitude that had been years in the making hadn’t magically expired at age eighteen along with the state’s wardship.
Though women might be attracted to him, more than one had decided he wasn’t worth sticking around for; he was too used to keeping his own counsel, too guarded for “real intimacy.” Maybe he’d been hurt once or twice when a woman walked out on him, but he wasn’t complaining about the way his life had turned out. As long as he kept his relationships casual enough that no one heard wedding bells, he could have plenty of fun.
But that “fun” did not and would never include Piper. Their friendship had sort of crept up on him, originally built on a few chance meetings at their apartment complex, some venting about work and a shared affection for baseball and action movies. He wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize their friendship—like hit on her.
Entering the break room, he reached for the spare change in his pants’ pocket, but froze when he realized he wasn’t alone. Clearly, the universe was testing him. Piper stood in the otherwise empty room, bent at the waist and peering into a cabinet below the sink. The short caramel-colored jacket she wore had risen above her hips, and the matching slacks hugged her curves in a taunting way that left him struggling not to look at her caramel-covered backside.
Poor choice of words. The color she was wearing didn’t really resemble a sweet, sticky dessert topping, he told himself. It was more…well, hell. Women always seemed to have twelve words to describe one color, but he couldn’t think of anything but caramel and the thick, sugary taste it left on his tongue.
He wasn’t sure if he made a sound or if she’d just experienced that I’m-not-alone-anymore feeling, but she straightened suddenly, glancing over her shoulder.
“Josh! I didn’t realize anyone was standing there. Hey, you don’t happen to know where the extra coffee filters are, do you? I could have sworn they were in here.”
“Uh…coffee filters? No. No idea.” No alternate locations sprang to his hormone-impaired mind, but he needed something to distract her from resuming her under-the-sink search. Lord help him if she bent over again. “So, any new thoughts on how you’re going to solve your problem?”
She leaned against the counter, her smile rueful. “You mean this weekend? Maybe. I think when I get home tonight, I’ll call a few of the guys I’ve dated here in the city. I might not leave a relationship with your finesse and have them come back begging for more, but I think I’m still on speaking terms with everyone.”
“Oh.” Even though he knew Piper had dated, the thought of her with a guy jolted him. “Well, that’s…great.”
“If one of them actually says yes,” she said. “I just hope it isn’t Chase. I figure I might get desperate enough to ask him, but I won’t be brokenhearted if he says no.”
“Chase?” The only ex Josh remembered was Bobby. Or maybe it had been Rob. Definitely something in the Robert family.
“Yeah, Chase is one of those people with a strangely apt name. He spent the duration of our very brief relationship trying to get in my—” Suddenly, Piper’s expression changed. If he didn’t know her and her forthright nature better, he’d say she looked almost self-conscious. “Well, you know what I mean.”
Josh’s eyes met hers, and he hoped like hell his expression held no sign of the thoughts he’d been having so recently. “Yeah. I know.”
Neither of them seemed to have anything to add then, so they stood without speaking, gazes still locked. Though probably not even a full minute passed, the silence stretched on too long to be entirely comfortable.
Piper looked away, glancing at the empty coffeepot on the counter. “I think I’m just gonna grab a soda and get back to work.”
He pulled the forgotten change out of his pocket. “Me, too.”
They both stepped toward the vending machine, then drew up short. Josh motioned with his hand, indicating that she should go first—mostly because it gave him a chance to regain his composure.
He was glad she was going away for the weekend. Maybe he’d just been spending too much time with her lately. Maybe his dry spell had boggled his thinking and was the logical explanation for the effect Piper was having on him. Sure, that was probably it. And once he found a date for this weekend, and Piper spent some time out of town, Josh would be fine.
He just wished his jaw didn’t clench involuntarily every time he thought about Piper spending those days cuddled up to some faceless guy from her past.
3
PIPER WAS DOOMED.
After several fruitless phone calls and a long shower Wednesday evening, she was ready to concede defeat. As she’d rinsed shampoo from her hair, she’d mentally cast about for a last-minute possibility, but the truth was, she’d exhausted all her options. One ex hadn’t remembered her, which had been a big ouch to the ego. Chase was busy this weekend, but seemed to think they should get together sometime soon and have sex. Robbie, her last hope and most amicable breakup, had happily informed her he was engaged. Apparently his fiancée would frown on the idea of his running away for the weekend with an old flame. Go figure.
I can’t believe he’s getting married next month. Has it really been that long since we split up?
Piper pulled on a pair of sweatpants, assuring herself that she didn’t mind that her last date had been eons ago. She wasn’t one for wasting time, and when you weren’t actually looking for a relationship, dating was pointless. Why should she suffer through those pauses in conversation, those realizations that the person seated across from her was never really going to “get” her, when she’d rather be at home with her laptop and computer-assisted drafting software, getting ahead in her chosen career?
She supposed some people dated for companionship, but she had friends she could call on for company. Others might want dating for sex, but her experiences had left her convinced the whole thing was overrated. Pleasant, sure, but worth neither the awkwardness and risks of a casual affair nor the changes to her life to accommodate a relationship.
Maybe it was the guys she’d been with. Maybe a more experienced guy who knew women better, like, for instance, J—
“I do not need sex,” she informed her empty apartment and dead ficus tree.
And she didn’t need a man, either, she thought grumpily as she towel-dried her hair, then skimmed it back into a ponytail. Maybe she should just stick to her guns this weekend. Tell her family there’d been a misunderstanding—okay, a colossal deception—but that she was single and perfectly happy to stay that way. Of course, they were more likely to believe she was alone because she was pining for Charlie.
She strode across her living room and dug through her rolltop desk for the comfort of a Chocomel candy bar, but came up empty. A knock at her front door ended the sugar search. Given her current luck, it was probably the landlord with eviction papers. She considered her damp ponytail and heather-gray sweatsuit. Wouldn’t win any fashion awards, but it covered all the necessary body parts.
When she opened the door, she found Josh, not the landlord. Josh’s face was so grim that perhaps he’d just been evicted.
“I’ve been thinking, Piper.”
Normally she would have made some joke at his expense, but his scowl discouraged it. “About?”
“You. Your situation, I mean.”
He stepped inside, and she backed away with an alacrity she hoped he didn’t notice. Earlier, when they’d been in the break room at work, she’d experienced a strange hypersensitivity to his nearness. Now, in the privacy of her apartment, it was magnified. Did he have any idea how good he smelled? A dizzying anticipation fluttered inside her, as if every part of her body was just waiting for the moment when his skin might accidentally touch hers. And she couldn’t tell if she was nervous about it or looking forward to it.
Neither. Get a grip on yourself. She gestured toward the living room. It wasn’t big, but the square footage there made it a lot safer than the small foyer. “Why don’t you come in, have a seat?”
“Sure.” He made his way to the plaid sofa. “Did you, uh, did you call any of the guys you used to date?”
Piper perched on the arm of the couch, pleased with the compromise between sitting with him and noticeably avoiding him. “Practically all of them, but then, my list wasn’t that extensive.”
“Any luck?”
“None whatsoever.”
His posture sagged. For a second, his relaxed stance almost suggested relief, but then she realized his slumped shoulders must indicate disappointment for her.
He sucked in a jagged breath. “I’ve come to voluntarily enlist.”
Josh wanted to go with her? She struggled to find her voice. “You’re kidding.”
“I might kid you about a lot of things, darlin’, but this isn’t one of them.”
The familiar endearment stood out today, his warm, husky tone causing her stomach to turn a slow somersault. Her initial surprise and gratitude over his offer gave way to a momentary uncertainty about pretending to be romantically involved with him all weekend. The pretense would involve touching and—and…well, her mind was pretty much stuck on the touching. Her gaze slid involuntarily over his body.
“Unless you’ve come up with another solution?” he asked hopefully.
“Huh?” Piper blinked. “Oh. No. But are you sure? You sound like a man about to be martyred. You don’t have to do this.”
Which is why I offered, Josh thought. If she’d asked, he would have said no reflexively. Having no family of his own was almost tolerable as long as he wasn’t around someone else’s, reminded of everything lacking in his life. But she’d respected his space, reminding him again that she was the best friend he had. The reminder had relentlessly niggled at him, finally goading him into this decision.
His offer had nothing to do with the way he felt whenever he imagined some other man holding her or kissing her, whether the kisses were pretend or not.
“I never had a grandmother to take care of me,” he heard himself say. “But you have one you love very much, and this would make her happy. Besides,” he added with a smile, “I’ve never been one to turn down free food. What’s a road trip between pals? I mean, it’s not like anyone expects us to share a bedroom or anything.”
She jumped up from where she’d been sitting, chuckling nervously. “Perish the thought. If we shared a room, Dad would pull out his Winchester and march you down to the courthouse, where your options would be marriage to me or the hanging tree.”
“Hanging tree?”
“Sure, the big oak in the town square. They haven’t used it in about a hundred years, but they’d happily make an exception for an outsider.”
Josh peered up at her. “Gee, you make it sound like such a fun place, how could I not want to go?”
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. He knew she’d never do that again if she realized it lured a man’s gaze to her mouth, to her full bottom lip and the sweet curve of her upper lip. Piper didn’t seek out men’s attention. She wore her hair back, mostly skipped makeup and probably didn’t even own a skirt, but her red-gold hair and turquoise eyes would attract a man even if she wore sackcloth. She applied the same determination at the gym as she did in all other areas of life, and the resulting figure would make any man’s mouth water.
Any man’s but mine.
With too few people in his life he cared about or trusted, Josh refused to throw away his friendship with Piper on sex. Not even hot and sweaty, mind-blowing, earth-shattering sex with the most delicious woman he’d ever seen. Which would never happen, anyway, because Piper would flatten him with one of her Tae-Bo moves if he ever suggested they hit the sheets.
When he sighed, Piper sat next to him, frowning. “You regret volunteering already.”
“What? Oh, no. I was just…making a mental list of the stuff I should pack.”
“What about work?” she asked doubtfully.
“I’ll call in sick tomorrow and Friday. Don’t feel guilty, I haven’t taken a sick day all year and I’ll lose them if I don’t take them in the next two months.” And it wasn’t as though anyone from the office would guess he was with Piper. Though people knew they were friends, Josh’s active dating life was common knowledge.
“You’ll really do this?”
“You can count on me.” Words that were as ironic as they were true. He’d never encouraged a woman to depend on him because the last thing he wanted was to lead one on. Why pretend he might stick around when goodbye was inevitable?
He’d been left too many times, and it was safer if he did the leaving, early enough that no one truly got hurt.
“I know I can count on you. Thanks, Josh.” The poignant expression in her aquamarine gaze made him look away.
He stood. “If I’m going to pack, I should do laundry.”
“Need any quarters?” She sounded uncharacteristically shy. “I did mine last night and still have some change.”
“Nah, I’m good.”
She rose then, hesitating briefly before throwing her arms around his shoulders. “Thank you.”
Awkwardly, he returned the embrace, immediately recalling the last time she’d been this close to him. A few months ago, at a baseball game. They’d both jumped up, cheering as the Astros battled their way from a tie to a win. At the end of the game, Piper had turned to impulsively hug him.
The clean citrusy fragrance of her shampoo was exactly as he remembered. And the underlying womanly scent of her was the same, too.
He released her abruptly.
Piper shuffled back, her expression apologetic. “I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate this. I owe you.”
“How about a lifetime supply of those chocolate chip pancakes you make?” He shrugged off her gratitude with a smile. “It’s not that big a deal, really. How bad can one family reunion be?”
“You don’t know my family.”
“I’m not worried,” he said. “And now you don’t have to worry about this anymore. This weekend, I’m all yours.”
SINCE ALL THE TREADMILLS were taken Thursday morning, Piper began a brisk lap around the indoor track surrounding the mirrored free-weight area. She supposed it was silly to be here so bright and early—okay, pitch-dark and early—on a vacation day, but she hadn’t been able to sleep much after Josh’s visit last night. Even after hours to get used to the idea, she was still surprised by his generosity.
On the surface, his favor might seem like a fairly simple thing. It was only a few days, after all, and a few harmless white lies to people who would never see him again. But Piper knew Josh better than that, realized what this would cost him. He’d heard her talk about her relatives enough to know what to expect—a convergence of people demanding to know his intentions and dragging out the details of the life story he hated discussing.
Knowing that she’d apparently underestimated him left her feeling both guilty and curious. If he was more capable of opening himself up to others than she’d given him credit for, was it possible that—
You’re getting way ahead of yourself.
This was one weekend, nothing more. And Josh’s relationship potential was none of her business, anyway, especially considering she didn’t want a relationship. What she wanted was to prove to the people of her hometown that there was more than one type of success in life. Not having a ring on your finger or a significant other to fill your Friday nights didn’t mean you were a failure.
As she finished her first quarter-mile, Piper spotted Gina Sanchez off to the side, stretching. A pretty woman with long black hair, a habitually wry smile and a collection of colorful T-shirts—including the one she currently wore that said Lawyers Do It Pro Bono—Gina was Piper’s closest female friend. They frequently worked out together and sometimes caught a movie or dinner, but Piper generally turned down her friend’s clubbing invitations to popular Houston hot spots.
Piper slowed her pace. “Morning.”
“What are you doing here?” Gina stepped onto the track. “I thought you were leaving to go see your folks today.”
“Not for another few hours.”
Her friend shook her head, sending her dark ponytail swinging. “Ever heard of the concept of sleeping in?”
