How to Handle a Heartbreaker (4 page)

“And…my work here is done.” Flynn left after nodding at him to look after Abby.

He nodded back before giving her his undivided attention. “You look good enough to eat.”

She frowned. “Haven’t you used that line on me before? Did it work?”

“Dear goddess.” He spread his hand wide, overly dramatic. “I cannot know what is in your mind. I can only offer you my willing sacrifice. Sex to ease the plight of my sick people.” He waved around him for dramatic effect, pleased to see her lips curling into a smile. “You see how they seize and convulse with an unspoken malady. I fear only a sexual sacrifice will cure them. And it must be me, for I am the last virgin in our village of Seattle.”

Abby took a good, hard look at him and burst out laughing.

Maybe she was a little more than buzzy after all.

But before he could ask her if she was okay, she tripped over a heel and fell into him.

He grabbed her without thinking and swore when her rockin’ curves hit him in all the right places. She fit snugly between his legs, his cock rubbing against her belly. Her breasts smashed against his lower chest, while her head rested against his pecs. His nipples had never been so sensitive before, but he swore he could feel her breath against his skin as she blew out a laugh.

“See? Those heels are
cursed
.”

Cursed, blessed. Whatever caused her to rub against him without backing away, he was all for it. Conscious of her bare feet, he knelt to scoop up the shoes, then swept her into his arms.

She let out a small shriek. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you someplace where we can talk. The noise is getting worse. Too much bass.”

“Not enough, I’d say,” she argued, likely just to be contrary. She held onto his neck and didn’t protest his hold. “There’s a table over there.” She nodded to the far corner, a spot partially blocked from view by the large potted ferns providing a bit of atmosphere. The spooky corner seemed too far away to be a part of things, probably why it remained empty.

Perfect for them.

Brody walked with her to the spot, nodding at his friends as he passed. Flynn gave him a thumbs up and swept Maddie around, so the woman didn’t see him carrying the tiny goddess away. Tipsy or not, Abby was going straight to his head. He’d had one beer and one beer only; his every intent was to get drunk on Abby tonight.

Not only did she look good and feel good, but she smelled like heaven. Some sultry perfume he’d never scented on her before. Then he looked down and saw her breasts pressed together, that gorgeous cleavage all but begging him to get closer and nuzzle. She toyed with the hair at his nape, and his arousal skyrocketed.

He set her down at the table quickly before taking the seat next to her.

“Hey, I can’t see the dancing.” She tried to lean around the trees.

“You’re not supposed to.” He scooted closer and turned her chair, forcing her to face him.

“Is this a kidnapping? You going to tie me to train tracks any time soon?” she asked with a grin in her voice. Definitely punchy, but not quite drunk.

“Maybe.” He wouldn’t mind taking her back to his place and tying her up in his bed. But that would have to wait, unfortunately, until she could walk a straight line.

“Yeah, right.” She tapped her fingers on the table and studied him. “You do look good in black.”

“Thank you kindly.” He moved his chair closer, spreading his legs to accommodate hers between his knees. He put his hands on her thighs, which were bared nearly to her crotch. God, talk about heaven and hell in the same instance. Abby had creamy thighs, not as toned or muscular as her roommates’, but with shape. That word
lush
came to mind again. He wanted nothing more than to spread her legs and shove his face into the sweet spot just—

“Yeah, black. All dark and gloomy. Goes well with your hellhound. Where is he, by the way?”

Was she wearing a thong? Maybe nothing at all? It suddenly felt unbearably restrictive in his jeans. Way too tight. Before he gave in to his inner urgings, he shifted his itchy hands away from her dress toward her knees, where he held on for dear life.

“Brody? Or should I call you Black Bart?”

“What?” He pulled himself from his fantasies and concentrated on what she’d said. “Oh, Mutt? He’s back at my place sulking. He really likes you, you know.”

She bit her lower lip, and he wanted to smooth the sting with his mouth. Lick her all better.

“Was I too mean last week, do you think?”

“To him or me?”

She put a hand on his chest and spread her fingers. Her gaze moved from his eyes to his mouth, and to his extreme satisfaction, her breathing increased. Good thing they remained in public. If he’d been at home with her, he might have said screw morality. Hell, it was all he could do to keep his hands frozen on her legs. Her warm, silky legs.

“I, um, to him.” She swallowed loudly and seemed to lean closer. “Oh shoot. Why not?”

He hadn’t been prepared for her to take charge, so he nearly lost his balance when she yanked his mouth to hers. Instinctively, he clutched her thighs to steady himself.

And then her mouth was over his, and he forgot about the party, the costumes, his name. Soft lips tasting faintly of liquor caressed him and turned him into a man with no other purpose than to claim what he needed. And to hell with everything else.

Which he would have done, if the woman in his arms weren’t Abby. He let go of her to grip the bottom of his seat, determined to do the right thing, even if it killed him.

She pulled back, and he saw the heat he knew raged within his own eyes.

In a gruff voice, he said, “You’re drunk. But I’m not sorry about the kiss. I’ve been waiting for that.”

“Not drunk enough, because I felt that to my toes,” she rasped.

He clutched the bottom of the chair so hard his fingers hurt. “You’re killing me, baby. We should probably get back to the others and—” He sucked in a breath. “What
the
fuck
are you doing?”

Her fingers worked at his waistband. The snap of his jeans came undone, and then the slow slide of his zipper followed. Though the table blocked the view of their lower bodies, and the trees kept them nearly shadowed from the others, Brody had no intention of going too far with Abby in public. He wanted to take it slow, so as not to spook her. They had to do this right. No recriminations, no upset when it ended. But she—

“Abby, wait… You…” His eyes rolled back in his head.

He couldn’t think as her hands delved beneath his underwear to stroke him. The tight fit of his clothes, hampered by the jeans, didn’t seem to dissuade her. If anything, she seemed to be having a good time. Her grin wide, her eyes narrowed and concentrated on his face.

“You’re big. I knew it. Big hands, big feet.” She leaned closer and nipped his earlobe. “Big cock,” she whispered.

Shocked, aroused, and unbelievably confused about what to do, Brody couldn’t logically process while his body answered for him. He arched into her hot hands while trying not to look as if he was getting jerked off by his ideal wet dream come to life. Never in a million years would he have expected this scene from quiet, quirky
Abby
.

“I’m in charge tonight. I can do whatever I want. See the dress? I’m the goddess of looovvee.” She giggled.

Abby didn’t giggle.

He exhaled on a moan and cursed his bad luck under his breath. “Abby, honey, please. You need to stop. You’re drunk.”

Her grip tightened, and then she started pumping him.

Groaning, he released the chair with one hand and put it over hers. To stop her, had been his intent. But her rhythm grew faster. He was already hard enough to split wood, and every time she stroked him she jerked so that her breasts rose and fell, promising a peek at her nipples if she’d shift just so. What made it even worse, her perfume made him as lightheaded as her grip around his cock did. She smelled freakin’ amazing.

“Abby, stop. I’m gonna come,” he warned in a gravelly voice.

“Oh, Black Bart is threatening
me
—a goddess.” She leaned even closer, her lips a breath from his, and stared into his eyes. “You’ll come because I want you to. All over my hand. I’m in charge, Bart. My great big Adonis.” She licked her lips and dragged her hand over his tip, sliding through the fluid gathering there.

He blinked, still shocked to find this really happening. A hand job from Abby Dunn at a public party, when he could normally barely get her to look at him without scowling. “Abby, I’m not kidding.” He tightened his hand over hers and urged her to move faster.
No, stop. Get her to stop.
But his body refused to listen to his conscience. “I’m so close.”

“Yeah. I want you to come hard all over my hand. Come now, Brody. Let me see it happen.” The minx continued to watch him, appearing fascinated more with watching his expression than his dick.

He panted, moaned, and squeezed her hand over him. “Oh Abby. God, yeah. I’m coming, baby.
Oh
shit.
” He spilled into her palm and closed his eyes, completely done in.

The pleasure overwhelmed him while she whispered what a good job he’d done, continuing to rub him until he stopped her when the sensitivity became too much to bear.

Abby released him, and his hand over hers fell away, limp, like his now-flagging erection.

She wiped her hand under his shirt, over his belly. Then pretty as you please, she slid her chair back, put her shoes back on, and stood. He just sat there, the head of his dick poking out from his boxer briefs, a mess on the bottom of his shirt and belly, and stared at her.

“That was fun, hmm?” She giggled again and slapped a hand over her mouth. Then she got the oddest look on her face. “My hand was just on your cock.”

“Stop saying cock.” His shaft jumped at the thought of another go-round, though he’d definitely need time to recuperate. He tucked himself back into his pants, grimacing at the stickiness he’d have to live with.

“I say it all the time in my books.”

He stood, the pressure against his fly no longer a concern. Instead, he wanted to find some place to lie down and take a nap with Abby cuddled up next to him. “Books?”

“The books I write.”

He stared at her. “But you told me you only write content for websites. You’re a web designer, right?” Yet another layer of Abby Dunn peeled away to reveal more than a shy yet sexy woman hurting over an ex-boyfriend. He found her absolutely fascinating. She wrote books? What kind of books?

“Ohhhh,” she dragged into four syllables. “Right. I’m a web designer.” Her overdone wink nearly knocked her over, because she stumbled again. “Shoot. These shoes are killing me.” She blinked. “I wonder where Rick went?”

“Don’t worry about him,” he growled. “Worry about me instead.”

She laughed. “You? You’re all bark and no bite. Like your dog.” She waved her hand in the air.

Only Flynn’s timely interruption saved him from tossing her over his shoulder and showing her just how sharp his teeth could really be.

He stayed by her and his friends for the rest of the night, puzzled as to how to handle Abby now. She didn’t flirt with him or act as if anything had happened, and if he hadn’t felt the sticky discomfort against his belly, he’d swear she’d hadn’t jerked him off at all.

But she had. Now what to do about it, and how to make sure that fuckhead Rick kept his distance?

In the end, he hung with Flynn, Maddie, Vanessa, and Abby, watched her dance with Rick, Gary, and a bunch of others, then joined the girls when they left to go back to their house for the night.

He followed them in his truck, all the while trying to figure out how to handle this sexier side of Abby he’d never known existed. And how to bring it out again when she no longer had the taint of alcohol clouding her decisions…

Abby had a throbbing headache when she woke the next morning. Her feet lay on a pillow and her head dangled perilously close to falling off another pillow at the edge of her bed. She cautiously glanced around and saw someone else covered by her grandmother’s handcrafted quilt.

Big bare feet sat next to her head. What the…?

“Finally. She wakes.”

“Brody?” she squeaked, then moaned when tiny men with hammers struck her temples.

“And this is why you should stick to coffee,” he grumbled. He sat partially propped up by her headboard with his feet by her face and stared at her like a science experiment gone horribly wrong.

She pushed his sasquatch feet away and ran a hand through her snarled hair. Her loose bun must have unraveled during sleep. Brody continued to watch her, his expression flat, not telling her a damn thing.

He’d been awake and watching her. Had she drooled? Did she have bedhead? Bad breath? Wait. “Brody?”

“Yeah. Remember last night?”

“I, um. Well, sure.” She cautiously peeked under the blanket and sat up, more than relieved to see her costume still in place. “Why are you in my bedroom?”

“What exactly do you remember from last night?” He crossed his arms over his chest. His
bare
chest. How in blazes had she missed that? A glance at his ankles showed denim, so he wore pants, at least.

Bummer.
She felt her cheeks heat. “I never drink. I mean, like maybe twice a year. I’m a lightweight.”

A slow grin started at the corner of his mouth and took over his entire face. When happy, Brody lit up like the sun, showering all those within view with equal joy. Abby wanted to sigh and stare at him all day. That face, that body…

But she needed to fill in a few gaps in her memory. How embarrassing to be so out of control, and around Brody of all people. And speaking of which, how had her roommates not thrown a hissy with the blond trickster in her room? In
their
house
?

“So you’re a lightweight…?” Brody paused, waiting for her to continue.

“Seriously. I don’t drink. But yesterday I finished my, ah…”

“Your project?”

“Right. My project.” Abby didn’t advertise that she wrote erotic romance. People tended to get the wrong idea—men especially—that she went out and researched everything she wrote. Instead, she directed attention to her other job as a web designer—what her parents still thought she did for a living.

“How much did you have to drink last night?”

She worried her lower lip, unable to stop the bad habit of nibbling when she grew nervous. “Vanessa brought home some champagne. I had a cup or two, which is about all I can handle. But then at the party, I think I had two Long Island Iced Teas.” She frowned, recalling her conversation with Rick. Him buying her another drink, a big one. The cute bartender smiling at her and telling her he’d made it extra strong. A phone number on a napkin? Whose?

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She swallowed. “I remember talking to Rick, then Flynn came over and said some woman was bothering you. Or maybe he wanted me to meet your friend? Either way, we said good-bye to Rick. Then, um. You and I, we…” They what? “We talked and stuff, and here we are. So that’s fuzzy for me, how we got here. How exactly did you get invited into my room?”

He looked as if he was biting back a smile.

“Am I missing something?”

“I guess not.” His shit-eating grin grew, and she had a bad feeling. But for the life of her, she couldn’t remember anything but a few sexy dreams of doing him at the party. In public. Like Abby would ever do something that crazy. Plus, if she had, no way would Brody not have said something already.

“Anyway,” Brody continued, “we had a fun night. Vanessa spent time hanging out with her work friends and asked me to see you got home okay.”

She frowned.

“Maddie and Flynn were wrapped up in each other, and you needed help with those shoes.”

She followed his glance to the corner, where those heels from hell sat smirking at her.

“I was ready to leave when the others were,” Brody said. “So I followed you guys back. By that time, I was beat, so I asked for a place to sleep. I was happy with the couch, but you insisted I stay with you.”

“I did not.” She sat up straight, no longer clutching the quilt to her chest.

Brody’s gaze centered on her breasts before raising slowly to her face again. He tried to look innocent but failed miserably. “Yep, you did.” Then he did something really strange. He looked past her at her bookcases crammed with her favorite books. Namely romances involving kinky couples, with a row dedicated to her own authored novels. She blinked at a space where a book was missing on her lower shelf.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“N-no. Nothing.” She’d wondered before if Brody somehow knew she wrote erotic stories for a living. But he’d never mentioned it. And he was the type that would take full advantage of any situation. He obviously wanted to get in her pants, but Abby didn’t want to take a chance on either disappointing him or freaking him out with her needs. So she continued to keep her distance. Or she had, until last night, apparently.

Brody yawned and stretched, and she stared, caught in helpless fascination with so much sculpted muscle. He had a light dusting of blond chest hair that trailed down his belly. But not enough to impede her view of his corded abs. And he had those killer lines, the ones that narrowed over his hips and showcased a slender body filled with muscle. He had tone that Abby would never, ever have.

No six-pack for her. Just a soft tummy with a rounded bump she’d never been able to flatten, no matter how many sit-ups she did.

“Abby?”

Oh crap. Brody had caught her ogling. His obnoxious grin both made her feel better and worse. They seemed to be on even footing again, except for the feeling that somehow he’d gotten one up on her. She didn’t like it.

“What?” She made a big production of getting out of bed, then realized she should have stayed covered up when his eyes widened. She glanced down to see the edge of her minidress tucked into the tiny side band of her thong. Quickly righting her clothes, she missed him leaving her bed.

Then he stood right in front of her. So close she could feel his heat.

“Wh-where’s your shirt?”

He laughed. “I got something on it. It’s in your washer downstairs.”

“Oh.” That should be funny?

“Yeah. Made a mess of myself,” he added in a husky voice.

An image of her gripping him came to mind. At the party, in public?
No.
No way in hell.

“You should be more careful,” she said tentatively.

That big-ass grin stretched impossibly wide. “Oh, I will be. I figure next time I’m in that situation, I’ll use protection.” He leaned down and stared into her eyes. So much taller, he loomed over her, all muscle and strength.

She worked to suppress a sexual shiver. “Protection from what?”

“I—”

At that moment, a knock sounded on her bedroom door. Vanessa didn’t wait before opening it. “What is with all the testosterone in this place?” She eyeballed Brody, then Abby, and frowned. “Seriously? You two fooled around in costume? Kinky.”

“Vanessa.” Abby knew her cheeks had turned scarlet.

Brody shook his head. “Dirty mind.”

Vanessa snorted. “Me? I’m a peasant. The queen of dirty minds is right in your hot little hands. Or should I say
big
hands?” She chuckled. “So Abby, is it true what they say about a man’s shoe size?”

Abby forced herself to ignore Brody’s and Vanessa’s snickers and tried to look down at him, which wasn’t easy when she had to tilt her chin
up
to see him. “I guess. Brody, you wear what, a size five?”

He snorted. “Yeah, right. Try a twelve.” Then he kissed her on top of the head—the head?—and walked past her and Vanessa out the door.

Abby and Vanessa stared at each other, then hustled out of the room and down the stairs to follow him.

“Tell me what happened,” Vanessa whispered as they rushed into the kitchen to watch Brody take a shirt from the dryer, located in what used to be a butler’s pantry. “I’m dying to know.”

“So am I,” Abby said under her breath. To Brody, she raised her voice. “I thought you said you washed the shirt. You dried it too? Make yourself at home, why don’t you.”

Vanessa stared at Brody as he buttoned up and hid all that golden skin. “Actually, I threw it in the dryer last night. Thought it was Flynn’s. His car is outside.”

Abby would have chastised her for staring, but she had a hard time looking away herself.

Vanessa continued, “I should have known the good cowboy would be too busy handling the pussy upstairs to do laundry.”

Brody stared at her openmouthed, and Abby turned to regard her roommate with shock. Even for Vanessa, that sounded crass.

To her surprise, Vanessa colored. “Stop it. I meant
pussy
—as in pussy
cat
. You remember Maddie’s costume? Geez, guys. Grow up.” She stomped away, but not before Brody exchanged a comical look with Abby.

“I don’t think I can suffer too many more shocks to my system.” Brody finished buttoning his shirt and shut the dryer door. Then, as if he lived there, he walked back into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and pulled out a carton of orange juice. He searched for a glass, found it, and poured himself a tall drink.

He took half and offered the rest to Abby.

Offended at his familiarity, she grabbed it and downed
her
juice while he put the carton away. “Mine.”

“Hey, baby, anything you want is okay with me. You’re in charge.” He winked, and she had a bad feeling she was missing out on the joke.

“Ah, okay.” She finished the juice and felt a bit better, even if she had consumed citric acid on top of the pool of alcohol still in her stomach.

“Well, I’d stay for breakfast—”

“That wasn’t offered.”

“—but Mutt’s probably missing me. Seth feeds him and lets him out if I need him to, but the dog loves me best. And you, of course.”

She frowned. “You rescued him and decided to keep him. Why not give him a real name?”

He shrugged, his shoulders broad and imposing, especially clad in black. “When I hear it, I’ll know. But keep trying. Your suggestions are far better than anyone else’s.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Mike calls him ‘Get Off.’ Colin wants to give him these long, descriptive names. Like ‘Killer of Squirrels’ and ‘Alien Dog from the Deep.’ Not sure where he got that one.”

“Probably from the Godzilla movie on the other night. I heard your brother blasting Flynn for letting Colin watch it when he should have been in bed.”

“Flynn is so weak. He always gets caught.”

She laughed, unable to help it. “You’re bad.”

“But smart. You never see Mike slamming me for anything.”

She nodded and realized she’d called Mike his brother, and Brody hadn’t flinched. She wanted so badly to know how they worked as a unit. Her writer’s mind started a new series of books right then and there, all centered around a golden-haired hottie who had women flocking to him, while he secretly nursed a wounded heart. What wounds and why, though?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He sounded curious.

She blew out a breath. “I need food.”

“So you want to eat me?”

She wanted to answer the smart remark in the tone it had been given, but Flynn and Maddie arrived just in time to misconstrue Brody’s comment.

Flynn glanced from Abby to Brody. “Oh wow. High five, bro.” He held his hand up to Brody, who slapped it back.

“Really, Abby? You went from virginal goddess last night to a rumpled walk-of-shame girl? And propositioning Brody, of all people, in our kitchen?” Maddie sounded pretty damn haughty for a woman who’d tied up and screwed her boyfriend in the room right next door to Abby’s not so long ago.

“I said I need food,” she snapped. “Not him.”

“Oh, my bad.” Brody danced out of the kitchen before she could smack him. “I’ll talk to you later, guys. See you soon, Abby.”

She followed him to the front door. “What does that mean?” And why did she keep feeling the heat of him in her hands? Smell the musky cologne of sex, citrus, and man whenever she thought of him?

“It means you have a website to design. Mine and Flynn’s, remember?”

“Oh, right.” She had forgotten. “But I can work with Flynn on it.”

“Sorry, Abby. You can’t.” Flynn shrugged. “I promised Mike I’d help watch Colin while he and Dad work on some new project they contracted.” Mike worked construction with his father, and he often used his family to help care for his son.

“So we’ll talk next door. I’m flexible.”

Brody nodded and said, “Good to know,” in a suggestive voice that raced over her last nerve.

“Shut up.”

Flynn laughed then quickly covered his mirth when she scowled at him. “Ahem. Right. Well, Colin is playing indoor soccer, so I’m having to run him across the city at odd hours to practice. But Brody’s available, and he knows better what we want anyway.”

“Oh yeah. I know exactly what I want.”

That innuendo again. Brody’s deep voice put her entire body on alert.

Behind her, Maddie said, “I don’t see the problem, Abby. Besides, it’ll really help business.”

“True. Who the heck owns a business and doesn’t have a website in this day and age?” She chewed her lip, then stopped when Brody homed in on the action. “Fine. But no more staring at my breasts while we talk.”

“Brody.” Maddie laughed. “Don’t be such a guy.”

“Yeah,” Flynn agreed.

So nice to have them on her side for a change.

“Stare at her ass instead,” Flynn suggested. “So when she’s turned away, she won’t know.”

“Good advice.” Brody gave him a thumbs-up, then winked at Abby before he left. “I’ll call you,” he said over his shoulder.

She slammed the door and turned to face her friends. “Flynn, if you even think of playing matchmaker, don’t. You and Maddie have a great thing going. Throwing me and Brody together is a mistake.”

“Don’t worry. I have no intention of putting you two together.” Flynn shook his head. “Not a good combination.”