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  You're turning me on, she almost whispered, but didn't—couldn't. "No," she said, her voice sounding strained, almost like a croak, because she felt embarrassed but so aroused it was hard to speak.

  "Yeah, me either," Brian purred into her ear, and lapped his tongue over her lobe, then inside.

  She gasped, startled, but didn't push him away. Embarrassment turned into something much foggier, much more undefined. Much more raw and untamed, and as Brian licked behind her ear and trailed a hot, wet line down the side of her neck, Reese cried softly, "Oh, please..."

  Brian ran his open, scalding mouth on her skin, and Reese's head fell back limply. Shamelessly. She felt weak and sweaty. She ached between her legs. And she was leaning into him as he seduced her with his hungry hands, and his tongue, and then... oh, God.

  Suddenly he was on his knees before her, pushing her legs wide apart and laving his tongue over the most intimate place, turning it into sweltering, throbbing fire.

  Abruptly he tore off his suit jacket, bunched it up, and shoved it under her hips. He went on doing what he was doing before, only even more effectively, and Reese shuddered violently, on the verge of what she knew would be the most amazing orgasm of her life. It was all she could think about; it was all she wanted. Nothing else seemed to exist, and then Brian's mouth was gone. He was no longer on his knees, but lying on top of her, with her legs spread wide around his hips and his fingers sliding into her.

  Reese roughly gripped his hair, moaning and rocking her body, so desperate for those unbelievable, hot tremors to take over. She needed them.

  Brian took one of her hands off his head and brought it down to touch him, rock-hard and straining against his pants. She made guttural, throaty sounds as Brian rubbed her open palm harder and harder against him. She could hear his heavy breathing now. He was really there, he existed, he wanted her, too.

  Yes, yes... She jerked at his zipper and would've torn it apart if she had to.

  "God, Reese..."he groaned, and she felt charged and electrified and alive because his voice was real.

  "Reese," he breathed brokenly.

  "Yes," she said, now no longer whispering. "Yes."

  Reese rolled restlessly onto her side. Her eyes flew open. The clock glared red: 3:20. Mindlessly, she stared at the blocky numbers for several more seconds before she sat up.

  What had she been dreaming about? She couldn't remember, but it was the middle of the night, and she was feeling wide-awake and antsy as hell.

  Bounding out of bed, she went straight to her desk as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She climbed into her chair, positioned herself cross-legged, and waited for her laptop to boot up, feeling a strong, instantaneous compulsion to write. In fact, the push inside her was so hard, it seemed crazy to think it hadn't always been there.

  Chapter 17

  The following week Brian came into Roland & Fisk every day. Reese managed to synchronize her breaks with his lunches. It seemed so strange to think that only a short time ago she had been almost too nervous to talk to him, and now they were becoming friends.

  Okay, yes, she still thought about him naked (a lot). And maybe she still got excited whenever he entered the cafe, and maybe her stomach still dropped, and maybe her heart pulsed frantically beneath her breasts. Fine, fine, so maybe other places pulsed, too. And burned... and throbbed. But so what? Some friendships were just like that... right?

  By Friday afternoon she and Brian had managed to avoid any Darcy Chipkin run-ins, but in the standard fashion of life, all good things had to end.

  But first, Elliot came over to their table. "Hey," Reese said brightly.

  "Hi," Elliot said, smiling shyly and straightening his sweater vest. "How's it going?"

  "Pretty good," Reese said. "Elliot, this is Brian. Brian, Elliot."

  "Hi, how're you doing?" Brian said, reaching his hand out. When Reese asked Elliot to join them, he told her he could only sit for a moment or Darcy would sniff him out and start shrieking.

  "I actually had to ask you a favor," he said.

  "What?"

  "Is there any way you could switch shifts with me tomorrow?"

  "Oh, I'm not working tomorrow," Reese said apologetically.

  "Well, I can switch with you for one of your shifts next week." Sighing, he added, "See, Darcy put me on the schedule for tomorrow night, but I have karate class that night. I told her that already, of course, but she scheduled me anyway."

  "Oh... sure, I'll do it," Reese said, not exactly thrilled about having to drive into the city on a Saturday night.

  Elliot straightened his glasses and perked up. "Really? I mean, I don't mean to put you on the spot, but I can't think of anyone else who might do it." Quite a testimonial to their antisocial crew.

  "No problem," Reese said, smiling.

  "Oh, thanks! By the way, which shift of yours do you want me to take next week? Whichever one you want works for me."

  "Uh, I don't know; we can decide later." Honestly, she didn't know her hours for the following week because she had deliberately avoided checking the schedule. Every time she stepped foot inside the break room, Darcy would burst out of her private office and pounce. It was like she had an animalistic sixth sense, which stood to reason since the girl was a beast.

  "Thanks again," Elliot said, and got up to go.

  As his body cleared, another came into view. Major ick. The creepy customer who traveled everywhere with his embarrassing old mother was sitting only three feet away. He was staring right at her with his characteristic demented smile, while he stirred his coffee round and round. A shiver ran up Reese's spine, and her flesh began to crawl.

  Although she quickly averted her eyes, Brian picked up on her discomfort and asked, "What's wrong? What are you thinking?"

  She shook her head, then whispered, "It's that weird guy again." Brian angled his head back, but Reese said, "No, don't look!"

  "Oh, sorry," he said, now dropping his voice to a whisper, too. "What weird guy?"

  "So you're working tomorrow night, huh?"

  She looked up, and Brian turned around. The creepy customer sat smugly waiting for an answer to his question. Great, he'd heard that she was working Elliot's shift tomorrow night. Maybe she was being paranoid, but she did not want this weirdo knowing her work schedule, especially any hours that were after dark.

  "Uh... I'm not sure... I guess," she said feebly.

  Just then a familiar old lady hobbled over to the man's table, waving a muffin in her hand. "Hey, look at this piece of dog turd!" she shouted.

  "Mother." He banged his fists hard on the table, and some coffee splashed out of the cup. "Let's go!"

  "What?"

  "We're leaving," he snapped petulantly, stalking off and leaving her to trail behind.

  When they were gone, Reese let out a sigh and muttered, "Great, just great."

  "What's that guy's fixation with you?" Brian asked, sounding a little edgy.

  "Hmm... any chance you're coming into the store tomorrow night?" Reese said teasingly. "I think I could use some protection."

  "Oh, really?" he asked, grinning.

  What the hell was she saying? She was coming on way too strong. She had to remember that Brian came into Roland & Fisk because he worked around the corner and liked the soup—not to see her. Sure, they had a great rapport, but it wasn't like he was going to go out of his way to get together.

  "Sure," he said, startling her. "I'll come."

  Her heart kicked up, and her breath stalled in her throat for a second. Finally she said, "Really? I mean, don't feel pressured."

  "I don't."

  Oh, God. I want this man. I really, really want this man.

  And it was at that moment that Darcy flitted over to ruin the moment. Or to try, but there was no way she possibly could. "Brock, isn't your break running a little long today?"

  "Uh..." Reese checked the clock. Damn! She hated when Darcy was actually right (the semiannual occurrence was brutal). She turned to Br
ian and said, "I gotta get back to work."

  "Yeah, that would be nice," Darcy jeered, twirling her hair, as usual. "By the way, I found a snotty tissue in romance. Is it yours? I know you're always trolling that section when you're supposed to be working." Darcy looked at Brian and rolled her eyes.

  Brian kept his expression completely blank, and lowered his gaze to the inside of his espresso cup. Reese could tell that he was containing his annoyance for her benefit.

  She grinned. Hell, it was so stupid it was funny and, at this point, not the least bit embarrassing. "No, sorry, that wasn't me. But thanks for your concern." She saw Brian's mouth twitch up. Reese stood and added, "Any other crucial issues before I get back to work?"

  Darcy looked supremely pissed. "Yes, there is," she said in a huff. "I saw you fooling around with the new hardcover releases before."

  "Wha—oh, I wasn't fooling with them; I was fixing them. Some were out of order."

  "Ooh, how heroic. Medal or monument?" Reese held back a laugh. "Anyway, I hope you liked doing it for free, because you're getting docked for that!" Darcy stamped her foot and turned to exit the cafe in a massive snit. On her way out, she called, "Tina! I want a triple-caramel chocolate latte with extra whipped cream in my office now"

  Tina came front and center behind the counter, and declared, "Right, boss!" before hustling over to the espresso machine to get started.

  "Reese," Brian said in a low, smooth voice, as he rose to gather his coat. "You're way too good for this place." She smiled at the words. A sewer rat was too good for this place, but it warmed her heart just the same.

  The next night, Reese wiped down the tables with palpable disappointment. Brian had never shown. It was now 10:45. Roland & Fisk closed at eleven. That seemed to say it all.

  "Hey, Brock," Tina said, as she ran a wet mop along the strip of tile behind the counter. "Can I get your advice on something?"

  "Sure," Reese replied, as she stacked the chairs. "What about?"

  "Well, it's sort of about guys," Tina said, shrugging as though it weren't important, yet not able to make eye contact. "How can you tell if a dude's into you?"

  Brilliant question. Reese would love the answer to that. "God, Tina, I have no clue," she said. "I sort of have terrible luck with guys."

  "See, there's this guy I know," Tina went on, "but I think he only sees me as a friend. How can I be sure, you know? I mean, without making a big jackass of myself?"

  Reese laughed. Maybe in the past, she would have offered some general advice. In Tina's case, maybe she would have even suggested—extremely tactfully, of course—that Tina "soften the edges" a little bit. As in, drop some of the military intensity, call people by their first names, things like that. Maybe lose the holster...

  But not now. Now Reese had no reason whatsoever to hope her opinion held a shred of validity. She obviously could not read men at all—even the ones who were supposed to be her friends. And softening her own edges with dark chocolate eye pencil and red-raspberry Chap Stick hadn't gotten Reese anywhere.

  Tina wrung out her mop and continued, "It's like when we're together, I'm feeling all romantic, but I don't know if he is."

  "Hmm... well, what do you two like to do together?"

  "You know, the usual, bowling, flag football, lifting, chugging contests."

  "I... see," Reese said neutrally.

  "I don't know," Tina said, and hurled a big ball of spit into the sink behind her. "I wouldn't mind going out for an elegant evening sometime, ya know?"

  "Uh-huh, definitely. So why don't you suggest it?"

  She scoffed as she coasted the mop along the floor. "I wouldn't even know what to suggest."

  "Hmm... well, why don't we look in one of those city guides for something really cool? You could plan the whole thing—he won't even know what hits him," Reese said, smiling and putting up the last chair. She moved to sponge down the counter. "I'll help you if you want."

  "Really, Brock? You'd help me?"

  "Sure, why not?" Actually the prospect sounded fun. Why shouldn't one of them have an exciting, romantic adventure? Reese stopped wiping for a second. "Hey, maybe you guys could do a Broadway play."

  "Yeah, that'd be cool! But not one with lots of singing and dancing. I hate that shit."

  "Hmm, maybe Broadway's not for you. But don't worry; we'll think of something."

  "Aw, Brock, you're the best!"

  Reese took those very words with her several minutes later, as she headed out the back door and onto the street. She was not going to be depressed about Brian. He obviously blew hot and cold. That was his problem, not hers. Who needed the aggravation?

  She folded her arms across her chest to keep some of the chilly night air at bay, and she walked carefully because the street was still slick with sleet.

  She'd left her car at her apartment building so she wouldn't have to deal with parking. Normally it was easier to catch a cab on the back street than in front of the store, but at the moment it appeared deserted. And... creepy. Her imagination must have been in overdrive, because a sudden, sharp uneasiness hit her, and she turned around to go back inside the store.

  She yanked and got nothing but resistance. Damn it all! The door had locked behind her. Her pulse skittered as she forced her feet to scurry down the street as quickly as possible. It was probably silly, but for some reason Reese had the disturbing feeling that the street seemed deserted but wasn't. That something ominous was around her... or behind her.

  She walked faster. She heard the clicking of her shoes become rapid little taps on the cement. Quickly she looked over her shoulder. Her breath caught.

  Nothing.

  Maybe she was losing it. But then she remembered the creepy customer, who had suspiciously never shown tonight. Her heart beat faster. God, he was just weird enough to be a psychotic stalker. For all she knew, he was lurking in the shadows for her to get out of work.

  Now she started to run. She should've felt ridiculous, but her blood was thundering and her heart was pounding too loudly in her ears for her to feel anything but fear. The corner was only a few yards away.

  Come on, come on...

  As she cut right around the corner, she shot a final look over her shoulder and slammed hard into someone. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she said, before she even realized who it was.

  "Reese," he said. She was breathing embarrassingly hard now. Brian cupped her arms gently with his hands and looked into her eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked with concern.

  "Um... yeah," she said almost absently, because her mind was still buzzing. Not to mention, her brain hadn't caught up to the shock of seeing Brian, after she had completely given up on seeing him tonight.

  Glancing down, she spotted the watch on his left wrist. Eleven-fifteen. No, she definitely did not understand men.

  He gave her arms an affectionate squeeze. "You sure?" he asked.

  "Yeah," she said, and smiled. "I'm sorry. I just thought someone was following me. Forget it; it's dumb."

  "Oh, no, that guy from the other day? Where is he?" he asked anxiously, looking over her shoulder, as though ready for a confrontation.

  "No, no," she said, shaking her head and waving off the idea. "There wasn't anyone; I was just imagining it. Really. It was something about the streetlights and the moon, maybe, but the street just looked creepy." She let out a laugh. "And now I look really weird."

  He grinned, and slid his hands off her arms. "I don't mind." Meaning what? she thought. "All right, come on," he said, lightly nudging her back until she fell in step with him.

  "Where are we going?" she asked.

  "I'll walk you to your car."

  "But I thought... I mean, I didn't think you were gonna come tonight." She could smell a hint of aftershave or cologne or something very clean, athletic, and seductive.

  "I'm sorry I was so late," he said. "I had some things to take care of. But I figured the least I could do was get you to your car safely. You know, in case your boyfriend's still lurking."

&n
bsp; For the next few seconds Reese couldn't formulate any words because she was still so struck that Brian had come. And to walk her to her car—who did that? Or more specifically, who looked like Brian, wasn't getting paid for his time, and did that?

  "So where is your car parked?" he asked.

  "Oh, I forgot!" Reese replied. "I left my car at my apartment. I didn't want to drive back to Goldwood tonight. Anyway, I was just gonna take a cab from here."

  "Okay. Then you can take a cab with me in it," he said. He was looking down the street casually, and not explaining further.

  "But... what... why..."

  "Here comes one." After he flagged it, the taxi swerved over and skidded to a stop in front of them. Reese hustled in first, followed by Brian, who said, "Where's your apartment?"

  She had to think before she remembered her address, which probably should have told her that she was in deep.

  "Do you want to go straight home, by the way?" Brian asked. "Have you eaten yet?"

  "Yeah, I had something on my break earlier," she said.

  "We could go for a drink or something," he offered. "But if you're too tired after working, I totally understand."

  "Oh..."

  "Where do you go?" the cabby demanded impatiently.

  "Um..."

  "We could get a drink," Reese said quickly before Brian rescinded the offer.

  "Great," he said, smiling, and told the driver where to go.

  Reese sat back against the cracked, duct-taped upholstery, trying to make sense of the last ten minutes. Just when she'd been dismally disappointed in men, she found herself giddy and excited and lustful all over again. She should really be writing some of this down.

  Chapter 18

  They'd been talking and nursing their drinks for the past forty minutes, and Reese was now in full flirt mode, which she'd never really considered one of her gears. She didn't even mean to do it, but it seemed to be happening under its own power. Right now, her life felt like hers, only better. Brighter. Bigger.

  Brian had just asked her what she was going to do about her nonexistent dissertation, and in response, she felt her chin tilting down, her lashes fluttering up, and her mouth curving into a small smile. "I'd rather not talk about school, if that's okay," she said sweetly.