Curve Patrol (BBW Erotic Romance) (3 page)

Wrapping my robe around me, I went into the living room to find him quietly slipping into his clothes.

"You're leaving?"

Noah released a harsh sigh, concentrating on tying his shoes before he said anything. "Couple things I have to take care of today."

He was halfway to the front door before he bothered to look in my direction, averting his eyes the instant they met mine.

"What time..." I stopped before I could ask when he planned on returning -- or if he planned on returning. I'd fielded too many calls from too many women asking where Noah was, their needy whines like razors down my back. I wasn't going to be one of them. I'd crumble quietly, in private, and then get back to building my life with him none the wiser.

"Phil's coming by later, you'll be home, right?" His hand was poised on the door knob, his gaze focused somewhere around my bare feet.

I was always home on Sundays. He knew that. Certainly I wasn't out on dates. Not that there weren't offers -- but the guys all had the same basic fault.

They weren't Noah.

I glared at him, promising myself next Sunday would be different. "Yeah, but who's Phil?"

"Owns a security company." He was jiggling his car keys in irritation, chomping so hard at the bit to leave it seemed pathological. "Window locks...alarm system."

He lifted his head, locking gazes with me long enough I could see regret sparkling like tears in his eyes. "Patricia...I..."

Whatever he was going to say, he swallowed it down. I shook my head, refusing to be the "thing" he was sorry for. When it was clear he wasn't going to say anything more, I spun on my heels and left the room.

I stalked into my studio and threw the curtains open to let in the morning light. Listening to Noah's car start in the drive, I looked at the illustration I had been working on. It was the cover for a children's picture book -- my twentieth and the third with this particular author. Contrary to my plans, I hadn't finished it last night.

I had five more days before I needed to ship it or face the infamous wrath of my publisher's art director -- a woman who could not be placated with chocolate or flowers or even lolcats. My gaze tracing the last strokes I had put down, I knew I wasn't going to finish it today. It was a happy book with happy pictures.

I was too damn miserable.

Grabbing my sketchbook and a pencil case, I returned to my bedroom and propped the pillows against the headboard. I sat down, surrounded by the faint scent of Noah's cologne and last night's sex, and started to draw.

Zombies.

Zombies are good. Not in some wholesome sense, obviously. They are decayed potential -- the destructive symbol of human will -- and they suited my mood perfectly. My pencils moved along the paper without my thinking. Zombie people, zombie dogs, zombie caterpillars. I drew until I filled the sketchbook and then I took a nap.

I woke up on and off. Each time, my gaze landed and then immediately glanced off the cell phone. I was looking for the flashing little green light that meant I had a new text or voicemail. Part of me knew Noah wasn't going to call. Not today -- not for several days. He had to work on his excuse for fucking me one night and dumping me the next morning.

At eleven, I went into the bathroom and washed the last of Noah Lodge from my body. Half an hour of hot water later, I was dried and rummaging around my kitchen. Casually inventorying what was available for dinner, I thought about making a southwestern pie -- Noah's favorite. I wasn't stupid enough to think he'd show up for dinner, but that was fine by me. I'd make it for myself and freeze the leftovers.

Except I was out of black beans.

I looked at the wall clock before I realized I had no idea what time the security guy was coming over. I didn't even know what company Noah had called.

Swiping at my phone, I sent him a text.

Need to pick up beans for pie -- what time is security guy coming by?

I no sooner hit
send
than I started cussing at my stupidity.

Desperate stupidity -- I'd just told him I was making his favorite dish. If that didn't count as a feminine attempt at luring him over, nothing did.

Fifteen minutes later a woman from Darling Security called to make sure I'd be at the house at two. I told her I would and hung up, wondering if her timing was coincidence or if Noah was avoiding me.

**********

A white van pulled into my drive around 2 pm. The man that got out was about thirty, with most of his features obscured by oversized sunglasses and a tousle of dark blond hair. He went around to the van's back door and re-emerged a minute later with a huge black duffel slung across his shoulder and a clip board in his hand.

As he got closer to my front door, he lifted the ID badge clipped to his belt. "Phil Darling, Miss Harper. Noah said you'd be expecting me."

Opening the screen door, I nodded. "Only I haven't discussed pricing with anyone."

He offered me a broad grin and a wave of his hand. "All taken care of."

The hell it was! A string of swear words lined up along my tongue. I would be damned if I was going to owe Noah a single penny or let him buy his way out of fucking and then dumping me.

No matter how many times he'd made me come.

I tried to explain the problem as politely as I could -- minus the bit about the one night stand and multiple orgasms. "It isn't taken care of, Mr. Darling, because I haven't discussed it."

I felt the brief caress of his shielded gaze directed at my breasts and then he smiled again. Reaching along his belt, he unclipped his phone, slid it open and started thumbing at the keypad. "Please, call me Phil."

His head was tilted down as he stared at the keyboard. He looked up at me over the black frames of his sunglasses, his speckled blue irises haloed by a ring of dark gray. "Noah said you'd argue with me, said to tell you this is Mike's rate and--"

"You know my brother?"

"You don't remember?" Smiling wider, he pushed his sunglasses up to rest on the top of his head. "Used to live on Madison, went by my stepdad's last name -- Wilkins."

I shook my head. Even as a teenager, Noah had been the only one of Mike's friends I'd ever paid attention to.

"Well, I sure remember you, Miss Patty Harper." I felt another sweep of casual interest emanating from his blue gaze and then he looked back down as a new message popped onto his screen. Reading it, he gave a little chuckle. "I'm also supposed to make you feel guilty about my coming out here on my day off to get this installed."

Great, Noah could answer Darling's text immediately but I was still waiting on a reply to mine two hours later.

"Fine." I surrendered with a soft growl. Noah knew exactly how to push my buttons -- in bed and out. That didn't mean I couldn't argue money with him later. "I still need an invoice."

He shook his head. "I'm not authorized to give you one."

Oh, the hell he wasn't! "It's my house--"

Darling shrugged like he wanted to help me out but couldn't. Glaring at him, I stepped forward, holding the screen door open so he could enter.

Instead of walking past me, he reached one thick arm up and grabbed the top of the door. Looking down at me, he smiled. "Ladies first."

I went inside, forcing myself not to stomp around like a two year old having her third temper tantrum of the day. "Do you need any assistance?"

When he didn't answer immediately, I turned to look at him. I had on a short sun dress, black with white polka dots, and he was staring at my legs. I didn't blame him, they're shapely but somewhat out of place on a body with broad hips, a full bottom and rounded arms. Still, it wasn't very professional of him and I cleared my throat, drawing his gaze up to mine at last.

"I asked if you need any assistance." My voice didn't sound the least bit annoyed and I allowed myself a small smile. Playing nice with Phil Darling would be good practice for ignoring Noah the next time he lowered himself to coming by.

Darling's head moved in something that started as a negative shake but slid into a nod. When he spoke, his gaze sparkled and I felt my smile widen.

"Yeah, I could use a little help."

Really, he didn't, but I followed him around for twenty minutes pretending like it was a two-person job. I badly needed the experience of smiling at another man, pretending to flirt, acting like I'd never even heard of Noah Lodge let alone felt his lips on mine or surrendered to the hard, penetrating thrusts of his cock as he drove me on to my fifth orgasm.

If I could smile and convince Darling that I hadn't had my heart broken that very morning, I could convince another man and the one after that. Eventually, I'd convince myself.

I was still smiling later when Darling rested one big hand against the wall, his palm pressed flat about a foot above my shoulder. Leaning in close to me, he confessed he'd wanted to ask me out a time or two growing up.

I arched a brow, my lips curling up in surprise. "Why didn't you?"

"I always figured if Mike was going to let any of his friends date his baby sister, it would be Noah." He laughed just as the unlocked front screen swung open.

I looked to my right to find Noah standing in the doorway, his body framed by sunlight, his face in shadows.

"I don't think Mike would mind." I pushed off from the wall, offering Darling one last smile before I pointedly ignored Noah and headed into the kitchen.

The next few minutes were filled with the low rumble of male voices as Darling explained to Noah the work he'd done and answered questions on how the security system functioned. The whole scene was ridiculous -- Noah wouldn't be turning the alarm on or off. Hell, after Darling left and I reset the pass code, Noah wouldn't even know what it was. But he sure sounded like he would -- he sounded exactly as if it was his security system, his house, his family.

Mine.

The word rose unbidden in my mind, quickly followed by the memory of his voice last night as he had said it.

Mine. Mine to protect. Mine to...

I gave an angry shake of my head, forcing myself not to listen or care what Noah was saying in the next room. He hadn't finished his sentence last night but it was all too clear this morning what he'd left unsaid.

Fuck and dump.

That's what he'd done. Fucked me. Thoroughly. Even now, angry as I was, the memory made me wet and aching for him. I swiped a sponge along the kitchen counter, scrubbing at a dot that was nothing more than a fleck of metal in the polished granite top.

"Dude, you look like you're going to clock me--" Darling's statement broke my concentration.

Both men were almost down to a whisper, their voices strained.

"You were flirting with her."

"Noah, I didn't realize--"

"Realize what?"

Darling's voice dropped even lower, the words almost indistinguishable. "I mean, I thought you were just taking care of Mike's little sister."

Noah cleared his throat, his tone sounding almost normal to someone who didn't know him like I did. "I am."

"I meant...you know -- is that all you're doing?"

Noah answered too low for me to hear it. Three seconds later the front screen banged shut and he was gone.

**********

I ate my southwestern bean pie alone -- not even the prospect of a future date with Phil Darling on the horizon.

I was okay with that. I wasn't attracted to him, hadn't been remotely attracted to any man other than Noah for a good three years. I'd felt like a liar on every one of my dates over that time period and I didn't want to lie to Phil.

Or lie with him.

I knew, however, I was going to have to find some guy to fuck Noah out of my system -- some guy other than my brother's old high school buddy. It was going to take a lot of fucking to erase last night. More than one man. Maybe more than one at a time. I had it that bad -- for so very long -- and last night had made it a hundred times worse.

Sighing, I cleared the table, made the cup of hot chocolate I'd missed out on the evening before and crawled back into bed with a fresh sketchbook.

No zombies this time. Instead, I drew my body from memory. My thighs, my calves, the full hips, the almost narrow waist and pert C cups, my pale auburn hair flowing down to cover my nipples in a faint nod to modesty.

It was a beautiful body -- at least it was on paper. I didn't know how it appeared to Noah. Judging by his dates, he seemed to prefer smaller women. Scowling, I started to draw a line through the picture but stopped before the pencil reached the first curve of flesh.

I pulled an eraser from my case, obliterating the harsh line. Noah might or might not have a problem with how I looked -- but I didn't. I wouldn't. I'd grown up with a big, beautiful mother my father had worshipped with his dying breath -- I wasn't going to tarnish that memory by hating what I saw in the mirror.

Too bad my parents belonged to another generation, one raised before sub-zero sizing had become standard in the department stores.

"Fuck." I tossed the eraser and pencil into the case, then dropped it and sketchbook on the floor. I turned off the light and rolled onto my side, trying to remind myself that I didn't give a damn if Noah Lodge thought I was beautiful, or smart or talented or anything other than his best friend's sister or the plump chick three doors down.

I was done with him -- as done with him as he obviously was done with me.

Reminding myself a hundred times over, I finally fell asleep.

**********

Shouting woke me around midnight. Shouting and screams.

Horrible, horrible screams -- the kind they had tortured us with in those driver's ed movies in high school, pictures of teenagers in mangled cars flashing on the overhead screen, their arms bent at odd angles, mouths open in pain, the volume turned all the way up.

I bolted upright, my gaze jerking to the left and the bedroom window. The Donovans had their flood lights on and the screaming came from that direction. I tossed my robe around me and scooped up my cell phone as I moved to the window. Drawing back the curtain, I saw a man I assumed was Mr. Donovan. He held a shotgun, the tip of its long barrel pointed at something on the ground.