Collide & Burn (5 page)

As I passed Wade’s house, humming with construction workers in and out, I noted Mr. Hottie was nowhere in sight.
But Blondie was
. She pulled into his circular driveway, which had its own entrance from Mutton Road.

I slowed and noted that she was dressed to kill in a clingy red suit, high Jimmy Choo heels, and a smile that said she owned the world.
I supposed she did,
because if she was there, he must have invited her—right?

~ Three ~

I STIRRED MY COFFEE and sipped as Dee wagged her finger and said, “You won’t make it through this, Charlie. You aren’t the type that can jump in and out of bed with a guy and just forget him.”

“So what are you saying?” I knew what she was saying. I don’t know why I asked the question. Maybe because what she was saying didn’t suit me. Maybe it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Maybe, though, it was the truth.

“You know exactly what I’m saying. This guy must really be something special—I’ve never seen you like this. So, fine, if you think you can have some fun—which, by the way, I think you are
way
overdue for—then go for it. But, Charlie, I’m not sure your
psyche
can handle a one-night stand sort of fling.”

“Right you are right, but, Dee, there’s something about him … more than just his looks … something that sets me dreaming.”

“
Yeah, his money
.
” She held up her hand to stop me from shouting at her. “I know, I know, you don’t give a rat’s ass about that, but still, baby, that kind of money is serious.”

I sighed and looked at the clock. “Well, time’s up. You have to get back to work.”

“So we on for Friday night? You’ll meet me and Sally at nine at the club? That local band you like—can’t think of their name—will be there. It’ll be fun.”

“Yup, meet you at nine at the club—Friday. It’s a date.” I got up with her, we gave each other a hug and a kiss, and she waved herself off.

Dee is a stingy tipper, so I added to her tip and combined it with mine before heading out. I had my portfolio in the car, and after my talk with Dee I felt sure and steady once again, so off I went to hit a few galleries to see what I could do to wangle a place for my art.

Two hours later, heading back and damn pleased with myself, I was smiling again.

The day had turned out better than it started.

I managed to find both proprietors of the art galleries I visited ready to have a look at my collection, and both decided to give me a showing. I was very excited. I left a selection with each and promised I’d be there for the showings dressed to kill and ready to mingle.

I’d been afraid to believe what my art professor had tried to tell me last year. He believed I was extraordinarily talented. Well, so far three out of the five galleries I had visited in the last two weeks had been enthusiastic about my work.

I parked my car, got out, laughed, and did a little dance before I headed to my apartment door.

A chuckle at my back made me turn, and the happy smile froze on my face.

He had that effect on me
. He froze me in place whenever he turned up unexpectedly.

Wade stood there, looking more desirable than any man I’d ever seen, dressed like a biker in a black leather jacket fitted over a white silky T-shirt and black jeans. He took off his sunglasses and grinned at me before he said, “Hi, Charlie.”

I stared and tried to think of something to say other than
hi
.

He filled the empty airspace and said, “I love your laugh, Charlie. It’s like music, and I gotta say, you have the moves. Cute little dance you did there.”

Why, just why, he always turned my thoughts into mush was beyond my immediate understanding. I had never met anyone like Wade Devon before. Everything about him exuded sex and power. He didn’t have to try to seduce—he was seduction, living breathing seduction.

I finally opted for simplicity and said, “Hi.”

He grinned. “Looks like you had a good day?” he said, coming towards me.

“Yes.” I held up my leather portfolio. “
Empty
 … both galleries agreed to give me a showing. Of course, I will be sharing the spotlight, but, hey … I’m happy to share anything just to get my paintings up.”

He was towering over me, and his blue eyes were warm, so warm as he looked into mine. “I’m glad.” He seemed to go thoughtful and then said, “You know, I’m friendly with the proprietor of Sother’s Gallery in Greenwich—”

“Sothers? Oh. My. Gosh,” I exclaimed like a kid who had just walked into a candy shop. “I have been trying to get an appointment with them for months.”

“Have you? Well, maybe I can arrange that.”

“Oh, that would be fantastic …” I stopped myself and considered him. “But that is all I want. Just an appointment. No nudging them to—”

“Just an appointment. No nudging them—I wouldn’t do that. In fact, why don’t you show me some of your paintings before I agree to call them? How’s that?”

“Okay,” I said and then started chewing my bottom lip. “Why are you doing this?” I still remembered the furious look on his face after the Stella and James incident.

He shrugged. “Because it is the least I can do after I was so rude to you this morning. But I was serious about what I told you then. You see two boarders, whoever they are, in an argument that’s escalating,
you don’t get in between
. My place,
my rules
.”

“Yeah, got it,” I said. “Maybe it is your place, your rules,
but I belong to me
, and if I think I can diffuse a situation, well then, I will.” I wasn’t backing down on this.

He frowned and made a face. “Look, for now, why don’t you show me your paintings?”

“But everything is upstairs,” I said, feeling as though butterflies were building a nest in my tummy.

“Then lead me upstairs and show me,” he answered, and his voice, which held a note of something low-down and dirty, went through me in fiery waves that left burning embers in my blood. I bit my bottom lip to keep myself from gasping out loud.
Hurt so good
came to mind.

“I … I …” Apparently I had something to say.

He laughed. “I know, you’re still angry with me for my highhandedness. Again, I do apologize, Charlie. Please believe me, when I saw you near that woman while she brandished her gun around … my concern for you got the better of me and …” He paused. “Do forgive me.
”

I understood. He couldn’t have a shooting at his new project. It wouldn’t be good for business. “Sure. Okay, I’ll let you come upstairs if you promise to be good.”

“I am always good … at whatever I decide to do,” he whispered.

“Cocky, much?” I chuckled, trying to make light of something that wasn’t light at all.

“Very much,” he answered and took the keys dangling from my hand.

My insides were doing flip-flops.

It dawned on me that he must have been in the barn and seen me drive up. He must have watched me park my car. Had he been waiting on my return?
No.
That was ludicrous. It wouldn’t be closing time for another hour. No doubt he had been talking with Scott, one of our—
now his
—long-time employees. Scott was a war vet who had come out of the war slightly brain damaged. He was, however, very good with the horses, and he needed the quiet of working alone. My dad had hired him years ago, and he was the most reliable and hardworking of anyone we had ever had. Besides that, Scott and I had become friends.

“Have you had a chance to chat with Scott yet?” I asked, curious. I am always curious, and besides that I wanted to be sure he understood Scott was someone he had to keep on and allow to work on his own.

“I have, and I am happy to report that he appears comfortable with me.”

“Oh.” It was such a relief. “I am so happy. I was worried Scott might not … well, he doesn’t like change.”

“I told him not to worry about anything. He can just continue doing exactly what he has been doing.”

I looked up at Wade and studied his eyes. He was sincere. His personality was certainly multi-faceted. I wouldn’t have thought his ‘big plans’ would include kindness to someone like Scott.

We had just reached my door when a male voice rang out. “
Charlie!
”

I knew that voice and turned happily. “Jeff.” I called out a welcome.

Jeff Smothe lived down the road, and we had been riding friends for a very long time. I hadn’t seen him in months and months because he had moved to the city.

I went towards him, and he rushed me, got his arms around me, and spun me “Charlie!” he repeated. “How you been? Wow … I couldn’t believe it when Dee told me your folks sold the place. You should have called.”

Dee must have seen him when he arrived in town. I laughed.
“
I should
have called? Like … you have a finger,
and I am
on your speed dial …
right
?”

He laughed and then looked at Wade.

I introduced them. “Wade Devon and new proprietor of Norcross, this is my very good friend, Jeff Smothe.”

Jeff nodded, said the necessary, and turned back to me. “Look, what are you doing now? Come to dinner with me … and we’ll catch up.”

“How long will you be in town?”

“Three or four days. A cousin of mine died and left his estate to us. Hanging out at my mom’s while we get everything settled. Then it’ll be back to the city and the old grind.” Jeff was an attorney, and I thought he’d liked the local firm where he’d worked, but about six months ago he suddenly said the firm was too small for him and moved to the city. “Look, if not tonight, then tomorrow,” he added.

“Call me, and we’ll figure it out,” I told him.

“Okay … I’ll call you, and we’ll set something up,” he said, easygoing as ever, though he shot another look at Wade.

“Great,” I answered and watched him walk the distance to his mom’s Buick.

I waved him off and turned, a smile still on my face.

Wade looked thoughtful as he asked, “Old boyfriend?”

I laughed. “
Never
. Just friends.”

“He’d like to be more than friends—you know that, right?”

“That’s silly. We’re friends, and without reducing the importance of that, it is all we are, not lovers.”

“So, no boyfriend in your life?” He had gone ahead of me to my door and slipped in the key.

“Nope. I did have a boyfriend during a good part of my university life, but we decided we were better at being friends.”

His eyebrow went up. “How does someone
like you
—the way you look, smile—not have men lined up the drive?”

I laughed. “Flattery will get you nowhere … and maybe that’s why I don’t have ’em lined up. I’m picky—the word musta got out.”

Now, he laughed—heartily; it was such a carefree sound. His blue eyes were bright with some emotion I couldn’t name. He opened the door wide and motioned for me to enter. He was always the gentleman, not a common thing in this age.

I put down my portfolio and turned to find him already thumbing through the paintings I had stacked against one wall. He chose one and held it up to study it. I was nervous. Biting my nails nervous, because from our conversation the other night I knew his ‘love of art and sculpture’ and his knowledge about the same were extensive.

“This is good.” He said the words softly and then added with emphasis, “Really good.”

Pleasure swept through me when I heard the sincerity in his voice. “Thanks. That one you’re looking at now is my Spikey-boy. He was my first pony—a Shetland and smart as a whip. Followed me all over the farm. Ran loose and was the stable mascot until last year. He was twenty when he got a colic that took him. We kept him alive for a week, and I thought he was getting better …” I felt the tears well up in my throat. “But he went down that final time and let me hold his head in my lap. I saw that he was tired of fighting, and he just let go.” I turned away and walked towards my tiny kitchen because when I remember that last moment with him, it always chokes me up. “Would you like wine … or a beer? I only have Coors Light though, but I do have a good Chianti.”

“Coors Light would be great,” he said and followed me into the kitchen.

I opened the bottle and started to reach for a beer mug. He stopped me, made me put down the bottle and, just like that, took me into his arms.

His kiss told me a story as it swept me away
.

His kiss screamed that he wanted me and that
he meant
to have me. His kiss whispered that he was going to fuck me—not make love to me—and that it would be something that would blow my mind.