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“I didn’t view you as some kind of charity case, if that’s what you mean.”
“I’m not suggesting you weren’t honest in your friendship, just that you can’t help looking out for the underdog. But rescuing people doesn’t give them the right to grab on to you the way I did.” She pursed her lips, remembering. “I can see how it could be overwhelming, but you didn’t complain. You took my affection in stride and did your best to tolerate all the extra attention. So while you seem to believe you failed me, I’m here to tell you that you shouldn’t feel any guilt. No one else even tried to include me.”
“I’ve always hated the way you see yourself,” he said.
“You mean you hate that I can see the truth.” She caught his hand and made him take the pie. “Neither of us has much of an education, Aaron, but we’re not stupid. And I probably know you better than anyone. Who else has been more devoted to you?”
“You don’t seem so devoted anymore.”
If he only knew. She let her gaze linger on his lips. He had the softest lips. “You’ll get over it. By tomorrow.”
When she added that and laughed, his jaw tightened. “There you go again.”
“I’m joking! Take your pie home and enjoy it. And please realize that I’m grateful for the work you did today, even though you didn’t owe it to me to begin with. You’re under no further obligation. You’ve already done everything that could be expected of you.” She stepped away from him. “Go find another bird with a broken wing to patch up.”
“You don’t need me anymore.”
“I don’t need you anymore.” But, God, did she want him.
He didn’t move. “I don’t understand why we can’t be friends.”
“Because, where you’re concerned, there’s no middle ground for me. I can’t be friends with you, not without wanting to rip off your clothes.”
“See? Nothing’s really changed.” His eyes slid over her, making her supremely conscious of her black lace underwear. It wasn’t difficult to figure out why she’d worn them—or why she felt warm when she recognized the heavy-lidded look on his face. She’d seen that look before, knew what it meant.
“Was that so hard to admit?” he asked.
“No, it was entirely too easy. That’s the problem. After spending the night together countless times, we’re so conditioned to being with each other in that way, it’s the first thing we think of when we see each other. But it might be a bit harder to explain to Riley, or anyone else who wants to legitimately date me, why I’m still having sex with you.”
“He’s not your boyfriend.”
“So?”
“So I don’t believe what we do should be anyone’s business but our own.”
Once again Presley could feel the pull of that powerful and tenacious ocean of need. But she couldn’t allow herself to be ripped away from the rock of safety “no” provided. “Just walk away while you can do it with a clear conscience, okay? Now’s your chance,” she said, but she knew he wasn’t going to when he set her pie aside, slipped his arms around her and brought her against him.
She didn’t resist but neither did she respond when he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.
“It’s been a long time,” he whispered.
All the bones in Presley’s body felt as if they’d dissolved on contact. But she refused to lose this battle; she wanted to be tough, defiant, unmoved. “I’m not interested.”
The warmth of his breath fanned her face as his lips moved over hers again. “You’re interested, all right.”
Her body tingled as the memories returned—Aaron naked above her, Aaron suckling her breast, Aaron hooking his arms under her knees as he drove inside her. “How can you tell?” she asked, but she shouldn’t have spoken. The quaver in her voice only confirmed his words.
He buried his nose in her neck and took a deep breath. Then he put his mouth on the tender skin there, but she stopped him before he could leave a mark. “I can taste it on you,” he said. “I can even smell it.”
She swallowed hard. “So? I can tell you want me, too.” The truth was apparent; she could feel his arousal against her abdomen.
“I’m not the one trying to deny it.”
Her mouth watered for a deeper kiss so she could obtain some satisfaction. But he kept his mouth a fraction of an inch away and didn’t move his hands to any of the places that were throbbing in anticipation.
“We had fun,” he said. “There’s no reason it couldn’t be like that again.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “No.”
“Fine.” A second later, he let go of her and recovered his pie.
“You’re just going to walk away?” she asked.
A devilish grin slanted his lips to one side. “You had your chance. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Presley stayed where she was, gripping what had been built of the receptionist’s desk as his steps receded. Not until he was gone did she remember her conversation with Cheyenne. Her sister was going to ask him to donate sperm so she could have a baby. Presley had planned to prepare him, to give him some advance warning so he could think about how he wanted to respond. It wouldn’t be an easy decision. While she wanted her sister to have a baby, she also wanted Aaron to be sure he was willing to play a role.
She’d gotten too distracted to mention it, but she wasn’t about to go after him. Not right now. Although she’d survived their encounter, her confidence was badly shaken. If he hadn’t stopped touching her, if he’d slid his hand up her shirt instead of letting go, would she have been able to deny him?
Chances were, she would’ve dragged him into the back room and showed off her sexy underwear. She knew how much he liked lace panties—and she knew she’d never looked better in them, which certainly wasn’t helping. She felt she finally had the kind of body he could admire, so vanity was working against her, too. That was the downside to the improvements she’d made. While they boosted her self-esteem, they didn’t do a lot for her resistance.
“You have no willpower,” she muttered. “Not when it comes to Aaron.”
She needed to stay away from him in the future—and pray he left for Reno soon.
* * *
Damn it! What the hell was he doing? He’d received Presley’s forgiveness, knew she didn’t hold anything against him. He had her pie in his passenger seat to prove it. So why had he stirred up those dying embers? Why couldn’t he leave well enough alone?
Because he’d missed her. And he still wanted her. Although he’d slept with several women since her, none of them had brought him the same level of fun, comfort or satisfaction.
But why would he do anything to threaten her chance of catching a great guy like Riley—someone who, if he married her, would treat her like a queen?
What she’d said was true. That night when he first approached her at Sexy Sadie’s, he’d simply been trying to include a lonely woman, someone he’d seen around town for several years but who’d never quite fit in. Thanks to her mother, she was so battle-scarred that she made most people uncomfortable. But he could relate to someone who elicited distrust and hesitation. He had his own detractors, and there’d been a time when his circumstances weren’t a whole lot better.
She didn’t need him anymore, though; she’d said as much. He should be glad she was doing so well on her own. Instead, he was screwing with her head because she was screwing with his and she wasn’t even trying. She was giving him what he’d always assumed he wanted—for her to be happy and strong and less needy, less clingy. There’d been times when he’d thought he’d suffocate beneath her adoration. So why did he suddenly feel bereft now that she’d decided she was done with him?
She’d gone too far. Did she have to cut him off completely? He could understand if she had someone else in her life, but she didn’t.
“It’s confusing,” he told himself. Somehow it had been easier to move on when she wasn’t around, easier to make himself believe he wasn’t missing out on anything. Seeing her again, especially seeing her looking so healthy, reminded him of the details that made her unique, all the little things he’d pushed into the back of his mind. Her laugh. Her quirky sense of humor. The way she could roll with the ups and downs of life without growing bitter. Even some of her insecurities were endearing because she was so damn honest about them. He’d spent more time with her than any other woman....
He turned up the radio, hoping the pounding of his subwoofer would soothe his restlessness, or at least distract him. He didn’t like the way he was feeling. He wasn’t accustomed to jealousy, but he was pretty sure that was the emotion picturing her with Riley evoked.
Are you going to date him?
I think so.
Why wouldn’t she? Riley was universally admired. After college, he’d started his own contracting business, which was successful, of course. He’d never been picked up by the police, never gotten into a fight, never been thrown out of a bar. He’d messed up by getting a girl pregnant back in high school—not the best girl to put in such a vulnerable position, as it turned out—but he’d redeemed himself by raising the child and proving to be a devoted father.
“Forget Presley,” Aaron grumbled. “You won’t be living here much longer, anyway.”
But it was impossible to forget her when he could smell the pie she’d baked. So instead of going home, he drove to Jackson and went to a drive-through to get a plastic fork. Then he pulled over and dug into the pie. He was determined to eat as much of it as he wanted before his brothers got hold of it. After all, he was the one who’d spent his entire day painting, and he’d done a damn fine job, too. He deserved some of the most delicious pie he’d ever tasted, since he wasn’t going to get what he really wanted from Presley....
He was jamming another bite into his mouth when his cell phone vibrated against his leg. He thought it might be one of his brothers, or maybe one of his friends wanting to head out for a drink. It was Saturday night, after all. He wasn’t in the mood for the usual weekend revelry, but what good was it going to do him to sit around by himself?
Straightening his leg so he could get his phone out of his pocket, he checked caller ID. The number wasn’t in his contacts.
“’Lo?”
“Aaron?”
Noelle. Recognizing her voice, he turned down the radio. Music blared in the background as it was. Where was she? Sexy Sadie’s? “Yeah?”
“What are you doing?”
He swallowed what he had in his mouth. “Eating.”
“You could do that here with me. I’ve got a plate of wings, and a seat with your name on it.”
He didn’t ask where “here” was. “How’d you get my number?” Sometimes they hooked up if they bumped into each other, but those occasions were few and far between, and he’d been careful not to let the relationship become more than that.
“Your brothers are at the club having a drink.”
Damn it! They knew better than to give out his number. He guessed whichever brother she’d gotten it from was drunk—or wanted her to leave him the hell alone.
“You should come join us,” she said.
He tapped his leg. “I’m not in the mood.”
“You’re not in the mood to see me?”
If only he could go back and talk to Presley, convince her to let him touch her again. That was what had him so worked up—what he really wanted. But he refused to be the kind of jerk who’d push for that if she didn’t want it, too. “I’m busy.”
“Eating?”
He didn’t answer.
“I have some more modeling pics to show you,” Noelle added with a suggestive giggle.
He hadn’t been particularly impressed with the last set. She was getting too carried away with surgeries and Botox and liposuction. Although she put every dime she made into improving her appearance—and charged the rest—in his opinion she’d actually looked prettier before. That was partly what he liked about Presley. She was so natural. She looked as good without makeup as she did with it. “Not tonight. I’m tired.”
“Come on! You can’t be that tired. I’ll make it worth your while....”
She wanted a man in her bed. And because he’d been crazy or drunk or stupid enough to accommodate her a few times, she was coming back for more.
Setting the pie aside, he leaned back. “You said my brothers are there?”
“All of them except you—and the one who doesn’t like me.”
She meant Dylan. But there weren’t many people who did like her, including her own family. Getting pregnant by her sister’s boyfriend, and using that pregnancy to wrangle a wedding proposal, had sealed her fate. Aaron prided himself on being more forgiving than most. He kept telling himself that whatever she’d done in the past was her business. But he had yet to find anything redeeming about her. “Dylan’s taken, anyway. Maybe Grady would like to see your pictures.”
“You don’t care if I show them to him?”
Her affronted tone made him nervous. The first time she asked to come home with him, he’d warned her that he wasn’t interested in a relationship. He’d reminded her since. The fact that he wouldn’t give her his cell phone number should’ve made that abundantly clear. But Noelle couldn’t stop herself from pushing too hard for whatever she wanted. “Noelle, we’ve been over this.”
“Never mind,” she snapped, and ended the call.
With a sigh, Aaron put his phone on the console, closed the plastic container that held Presley’s pie and started his truck. At this point, he knew for sure that he didn’t want to go to Sexy Sadie’s.
When his phone buzzed, indicating an incoming text, he almost ignored it. He suspected it was Noelle sending him the equivalent of a rude hand gesture. But he couldn’t keep himself from glancing at the screen.
Noelle hadn’t texted him; Cheyenne had.
Putting the transmission back in park, he picked up his phone.
Is there any chance you could get away sometime tomorrow to meet me in Sutter Creek? I need to talk to you in private. Please don’t mention this to Dylan or anyone else.
His sister-in-law was probably trying to act as mediator. Even after two years of dealing with him and Dylan, she didn’t realize that their arguments never lasted long. He’d see Dylan at the shop on Monday, and they’d go on as if nothing had happened. But Cheyenne loved her husband so much, she had to try and make them talk it out every time they had a disagreement.
You don’t need to get involved, he wrote back. Dyl and I are fine.
This isn’t about Friday.
Then what’s it about?
I have a favor to ask.
Of me?
What could that be? Dylan provided everything she could possibly want. Dylan would walk through fire for her.
I’d rather not put it in writing.
I won’t apologize to Dylan. I didn’t do anything.
I’m not asking you to apologize.
Then what on earth could it be?
Can you come see me now?
No. Dylan’s home. I can’t get away until tomorrow afternoon. I’ll tell him I have to help Presley and meet you at JB’s Steakhouse in Sutter Creek, if you’re willing.
This was turning into quite a mystery. His sister-in-law had never approached him in such a clandestine manner.
Another thought occurred to him.
Does this have anything to do with Presley?
