Jill Shalvis - Then Came You

“Sure,” he said. “If you call moving twenty something times between the ages of five and seventeen interesting.”

“So I guess you’re good on a plane,” she said.

“Planes. Trains. Mules . . .” He smiled at her laugh. “Ah. You’ve never been to Morocco.”

“No. I’m a shaky traveler,” she said. “I can’t even sleep through a flight, I have to be awake for the crash.”

Now it was his turn to laugh.

He had a great laugh. And did he know that when he laughed, his eyes laughed, too? Or that his hair curled over his ears in a really sexy way? She forced herself to stop noticing and blamed beer number two. She pushed it away from her.

“Travel enough and it gets easier,” he said.

“We used to vote on our family vacations. Land or sea.” She smiled at the memory. “Land meant driving to the desert and camping out. Sea meant driving twenty minutes to the Los Angeles reservoir. We’d sit on the concrete shore in our drug store beach chairs and pretend we were on a deserted South Pacific island.”

“Hey, at least you got a vote,” he said.

“You didn’t, I take it.”

He shook his head. “I’d come home from school and say, ‘Hey, Mom, just joined the Bolivia soccer team,’ and she’d say, ‘Sorry, Son, we’re going to be in Greenland by this time next week.’”

She couldn’t even imagine. “Did it screw you up?” she asked.

“Nah.” He let out a low rueful laugh and scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Well, maybe a little.”

“Don’t worry, you hide it well,” she teased, trying very hard not to notice that the sound of his hand on his stubbled jaw made her nipples hard.

This wasn’t good. This was the opposite of good. He was open and fun and charming, but he was also being very professional—as she’d requested—and she needed to be, too. Which meant absolutely no more noticing that he smelled good. Or that she wanted to hug him again . . . and climb into his lap. Dammit. “We’re all screwed up by our parents. What are your sisters like? Are they like you?”

“Like me how?”

She bit her lower lip, and he gave her that sexy laugh again. “Oh, don’t hold back now,” he said. “Here’s your chance to tell me what you think of me.”

She thought he was sexy as hell, but she wasn’t about to share that. The truth was, he was wonderful. He came off as laid-back, deceptively carefree, even playful.

But he was much more. At work, he was intuitive, sharp, and also incredibly demanding, expecting the best for his patients, expecting the best out of the staff.

He’d been all those things in bed, too, and at the memory, her body quivered. If she closed her eyes, she could still remember what his hands had felt like on her, guiding her where he wanted, his mouth at her ear, his words turning her on every bit as much as the rest of him.

“No words?” he asked. “Nothing?”

“Maybe a little annoying,” she said primly, and he flashed that knowing smile again.

He knew her way better than was comfortable.

“Your sisters,” she said. “You were going to tell me about your sisters.”

“They’re crazy,” he said. But his tone was affectionate, and there was laughter in his voice. “Zoe’s only eleven months older than me, but she’s been playing mom since she could walk. Darcy’s the baby, and managed to party her way across the planet. They’re both colossal pains in my ass, but for the most part we make it work.”

“You live with them.”

“For now. They needed me.” He shrugged. “Family.”

At the simple statement, and the deep loyalty in it, she nodded. She got that. Learning about his family, how he’d grown up, how he took care of his sisters, it was yet another layer to him that she hadn’t expected.

As for their little experiment of getting to know each other in order to derail their attraction . . . if the low-level hum of arousal buzzing through her system accounted for anything, they hadn’t derailed a single thing. And now, instead of liking him less, she liked him more.

Epic fail.

“I really wanted you to be a jerk,” she admitted softly.

“You wanted to work with a jerk?”

“No, I wanted to not be attracted to you anymore.” She reached for her beer, needing the liquid courage. “Is it just me?” she asked softly into his silence, knowing she shouldn’t. “I’m the only one struggling here?”

He looked at her for a long moment, but didn’t respond to that, either. Instead, he dropped some cash on the table, stood up, and pulled her with him.

Mr. Professional.

She should appreciate the effort. She should replicate his effort. “Where are we going now?”

“Home,” he said, taking her back to his truck, opening the passenger’s door for her. “To bed.”

She went still and assessed her feelings. Her girlie parts were on board. Standing so close to him between the truck and his big, warm, strong body, she gave in. “Okay, good. Maybe just one more time—”

“In our own beds,” he said.

“Oh.” She blew out a breath. Nodded. “I knew that.”

They didn’t speak much on the drive back to Belle Haven. The lot was dark and empty when they pulled in. Emily grabbed her purse and slid from the truck almost before Wyatt even stopped, needing to get out of his sexy air space ASAP.

But as chill as he was, the guy could move like lightning when he wanted. And apparently he wanted, because he caught up with her in the blink of an eye.

“You don’t have to—”

“Yes,” he said firmly, setting a big hand on the small of her back, vigilantly taking in their surroundings as they moved. “I do. There’s been some break-ins this year. Not here, but at other animal centers, addicts looking for drugs. I’m not taking chances with you.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.” At her car door, she hesitated. If this had been a real date, she’d be wondering if there was going to be a good-night kiss. But this wasn’t a real date. “And thanks for dinner,” she said.

He dipped down a little to see into her eyes. “We good?”

Oh, great, and now he felt sorry for her. “Yep.” She added a super enthusiastic nod. “We’re good. We’re great. We’re super-duper.” She bit her tongue to shut herself up, but he was already frowning.

“You’re toasted,” he said.

“What? No, of course not. I only had two beers.” Or was it three? “Okay, maybe I’m half toasted. I’ll call my sister for a ride.”

He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and turned back to his truck.

“Hey. Hey,” she said, tapping him on the shoulder to slow him down. “What are you doing?”

“I’m driving you home.” He hustled her back up into the truck’s passenger’s seat.

“I can’t ask you to—”

“You didn’t ask.” He shut the door on her next protest and walked around the hood to the driver’s side. He slid behind the wheel and turned to her, an arm up along the back of their seats. His other hand came up and he stroked the worry lines between her brows. “Don’t worry about the car, Emily. I’ll get it to you.”

She nodded. She didn’t trust her voice. He was sitting there, still wearing his puppy and kitty tie. And those glasses that made her want to steam them up. The combination should’ve made him look utterly ridiculous, but it didn’t. Instead, it gave the big, leanly muscled, sexy-as-hell guy an unexpected softness, and she wanted to kiss him. The kind of kiss where you tasted each other for a good long time, where you tried not to bite but maybe you bit a little anyway.

“You’re staring at me,” he said.

“Am not.”

She could practically hear him smile. Good Lord, she was out of control. He was over there being all Captain Platonic, and she wanted to rip that tie off and use it to bind him to her bed.

It was the beer, she decided. It had awoken her inner slut. He had one hand up on the headrest behind her, the other on the steering wheel, his thumb idly strumming back and forth.

She could remember that thumb doing the same over her nipple. “This is never going to work.”

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Get a grip. The night was dark around them, pitch-black in a way that she never really got to see in Los Angeles with all its city lights.

Here, there were no lights at all, nothing but stars littered like diamonds across a blanket of black velvet. It took her breath away. “It’s really beautiful here.”

“You sound surprised.”

She turned to him and felt herself brush up against the inside of his forearm where it rested behind her. It was shockingly like being in his arms. She felt his fingers brush her bare arm and she shivered. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Waiting for you to tell me where you live.”

Oh. Right. “I live off Highway 29, between Rancher’s Way and Fisher Creek Road.”

“I own some land out that way,” he said, turning the truck’s engine over and pulling out of the lot. “Ten acres.”

“You live there?” she asked, wondering if they were neighbors. “With your sisters?”

“No, the land is just mine. I’m going to build a place on it eventually.” He glanced at her. “Just out of morbid curiosity, what did you think I was doing back there?”

“Trying to turn me on.”

He smiled. “I don’t have to try.”

Damn, he was right about that. In fact, he was doing it right now. She squirmed a little, and his smile turned to a grin, which made it easier to ignore him for the rest of the drive home.

The house she and Sara rented was on the end of a short cul-de-sac that backed up to at least thirty acres of wilderness. There were a few other properties scattered throughout the area, but not many. The closest house was fifty yards in one direction, and twice that in the other. She’d not met a single neighbor.

Her house was dark. It was karaoke night at the local bar, and Sara loved karaoke. She wouldn’t be home for hours. “You do realize that I totally blame you,” she said, breaking the silence.

“For?”

“Sitting there wearing a goofy-ass tie, driving like you do everything else, which is so stupid sexy I can’t think.”

He swiveled his amused gaze her way. “Anything else?”

She blew out a breath. “Fine. Mock me. Just . . . keep your hands to yourself.”

He lifted them in surrender.

“And your mouth.”

Said mouth quirked, and he mimed zipping it closed.

God, she was out. Of. Control. She covered her face with her hands and took a deep breath. “I’m going in now.”

She didn’t go in.

“This is so ridiculous,” she finally whispered.

She felt his fingers grip hers. He lowered her hands from her face. “It’s fine,” he said. “You don’t want anything to happen, nothing’s going to happen.”

She stared at him. “It’s not?”

“Well, not unless you want it to, and then instigate things in a big way.”

She stared at him, and then dropped her head back to stare at the roof of the truck instead of into his mesmerizing eyes. “Well that’s just great.”

“You changed your mind. You want something to happen,” he said, sounding like maybe he was smiling again. “You’re the one who made the rules, sweetness.”

“I know, but . . .” She sank in her seat a little bit and sighed. “It’s just that I’ve never really mastered being the instigator in the man department when I don’t know how that instigation will be received.”

There was a horrifyingly long beat of silence, and she sunk in her seat a little lower, wishing she could poof, vanish.

“The problem isn’t whether I’m attracted to you,” he finally said. “But this isn’t about attraction.”

Her head came up, both startled and relieved to hear him admit the attraction was mutual. “It’s not?”

“No,” he said. “You have a grand plan. I’m not on it.”

“And I’m not on yours,” she said, grasping at straws. “Right?”

“Right.”

She ignored the little stab of disappointment. “Right.” Nodding, she stared at him in the ambient light. So strong, inside and out. He was so much more than she’d known on that long ago night.

“Emily,” he said, his tone low. A soft warning.

“I know.” She looked at his mouth again. And his Adam’s apple. And his throat. And his shoulders, covered by his shirt. Which didn’t matter because she knew what he looked like without that shirt. “It’s just that I hadn’t had an orgasm in forever,” she blurted out.

“What?”

“That night. I hadn’t had an orgasm in six months.” She hesitated. “Or since,” she whispered, and then clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. Shut me up. I’m begging you.”