My Bachelor (17 page)

Eliot’s thin shoulders lifted and fell with a deep breath. “Sometimes it’s like you can see right through my mind to everything I think and feel.”

I looked over at her. “I feel the same way.” I turned my attention back to the empty, dark road.

“Georgie had earned a full soccer scholarship to a college back east. Like me, she wants to go into medical research. We decided to make a road trip of it, a last week together before we were both too busy with work and studies to see each other. We packed up the car and headed out.” A faint sparkle lit up her eyes as she stared out the window, seemingly thinking about the time they’d had together on the trip. “We stopped at all the corny sites along the way, world’s biggest cow horns, a museum of mummified forest creatures, the world’s hottest chili. By the way, that was not false advertising. It was like eating lava.” I could tell by her expression that she was getting to the hard part of the story. “It was late one night and we were looking for the next motel. It was raining pretty hard. Georgie had unfastened her seat belt to lie down in the back seat and sleep. I was tired but not as tired as the truck driver who veered into us from the opposite lane. I swerved and lost control. We flipped twice and landed upside down.” Eliot scooted down in her seat and crossed her arms as if to shield herself from the pain. “Somehow, I managed to escape with just cuts and bruises, but Georgie couldn’t feel her legs. I still remember her telling me that she couldn’t move her feet. And I thought, well that was just temporary because she was an amazing soccer player. She was born to kick that damn soccer ball down the field. She lost the scholarship, of course. It took her a year of rehabilitation and coming to grips with her life in a wheelchair, but she is doing a lot better now. She is going to a local state college. She gets some financial aid, but I’m paying the rest.”

The car chugged onto the freeway. The early morning truckers were out starting their routes. “So, it wasn’t your mistake at all. It was a sleepy truck driver who caused the injury.”

She looked out the passenger window. “I was driving. I lost control of the car. New topic.” Eliot looked over at me. “Who are the final four, or should I guess?”

“Four what?” It took me a second to figure out what she meant, which said a lot about the way I was feeling about the show. “You know what, not in the mood to even talk about it. There is some viewing party at the main house tomorrow night and then, get this, the women are all being taken out for a day at the spa on Sunday. I’m invited.”

“Oh yes, spa day. It’s actually really nice, and you might get to know some of the women without being in front of the camera. You’re going, aren’t you?”

“Spa day? Do I look like a spa day kind of guy? I’d rather get naked, roll myself in honey and lay across a hill of red ants.”

She laughed. “So that’s a no?”

“That’s a
hell
no. Anyhow, I’ve got plans. Unless you’re working on Sunday afternoon.”

“Me? What do your plans have to do with me?”

The car shuffled along the off-ramp. We were nearing the neighborhood that led up to the hills above the studio. “I was hoping you’d come hang out. I’ll make you deep fried s’mores, a specialty of mine. You just have to bring the ingredients since I’m not allowed to leave the place.”

“Declared the man driving casually along the road several miles from his tower.”

I smiled over at her. “Is that a yes?”

“I do like s’mores. And I do like things that are deep fried, so it does sound like a winning combination either way I look at it.”

“Awesome. Something to look forward to. I’ll put off counting floorboards for another day.” We drove along the winding road that led to the back of the property.

Eliot covered her mouth as she let out a long yawn. “Excuse me.”

“Hey, it’s almost four in the morning. You don’t need an excuse to yawn. I’m going to stop here and hike in the rest of the way. I don’t want the cameras to pick up the sound of the motor.” I parked her car, and we climbed out.

Eliot came around to the driver’s side with blue eyes that were glassy with sleep.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come in? You could sleep on the couch.” Even as I said the words all I could think about was her lying next to me in bed.

She looked slightly shocked by my invitation.

“I guess that’s a no.” It had been a long night, a long week, for that matter, and my head was just clouded enough to push aside that inner voice that was always trying to keep me out of trouble. As Eliot peered up at me with her aqua colored eyes and that tilted smile, my feet moved before any rational thoughts could stop them.

Eliot stood with her back against the side of the car as I stepped toward her. I at least had enough self-control not to touch her. I placed my hands against the car, one on each side, trapping her in my circle of arms.

“Pretty damn funny that I’m here to spend time with and pick the love of my life from that house on the hill, and the only person I’m really interested in spending time with is the girl they put in charge of my groceries and dry cleaning.”

“And ties,” she said with a hitch in her throat. “Don’t forget I make a pretty necktie.”

I smiled down at her. “Eliot.” Before I could stop myself I pressed my hand against the side of her face. Her breasts lifted and fell with a stuttering breath.

I leaned toward her as she lifted her face and lips. My mouth barely grazed hers before she stopped me with her hands against my chest. “I need to go, Rafe.”

I straightened and worked hard to hide my disappointment. “Right.” I lowered my hands and backed up. “You need your sleep. Thanks for getting me back here before sunrise. Are we still on for Sunday?”

I was relieved to see her smile. “Sure.”

Chapter 24

Eliot

I dug in
my purse for my parking pass. The Sunday guard was a new guy, which was perfect. I wasn’t in the mood to explain to anyone why I was driving up to the studio on the weekend. I wasn’t completely sure myself except when Rafe had invited me, all I could think was that I wanted to spend time with him. For the last two years, my life had been nothing but work and school and more work, and the thought of sitting around with an amazing man who was as charming as he was sexy just seemed like a good break from the usual monotony. Only, halfway to the studio, I’d begun asking myself why the hell I thought this was a good idea. Especially after the near kiss, a kiss I’d wanted badly. And I’d almost allowed it. But then it occurred to me that I was only going to end up on the wrong side of a major heartbreak. I couldn’t allow that. I just had way too much on my plate. I didn’t have time to pick up all the shattered pieces that would no doubt be left behind once Rafe rode off into the sunset with his new fiancé.

The new guard, who was probably just happy to have some company, waited patiently until my fingers finally touched the heavy plastic parking pass. I flashed it at him, and he pressed the magic button.

The arms of the gate lifted and I drove through. The buildings and the small roads that made up the studio were nearly deserted. Even the weekend cleaning crews had already finished their chores for the day.

My phone rang. “Hello.”

“Oh my god, did you watch last night?” Jackson was nearly spitting through the phone in excitement. “Tricia said there’s some whole hashtag
my bachelor
thing that’s gone viral. What did you think?”

I could have lied, but Jackson knew me too well. “I know this sounds terrible, but—”

“Shit, you didn’t watch it. How could you not watch it? They did a great job cutting and splicing, leaving in all the good stuff. I could swear that I heard a lot of air conditioners and fans turning on in the apartment building during Marco Polo. Can’t believe you didn’t see any of it.”

“I had studying to do.” And the last thing I wanted to do on a Saturday night was watch sixteen beautiful women talk, play and flirt with Rafe, I added silently in my mind.

“Studying on a Saturday night. Of course. Well, you can at least make Sunday more exciting. Michael and I are going out to dinner at that new place on Wilshire. Come out of your textbook cave—” He stopped. “Wait, your phone is spotty. Are you in the car? Where are you?”

I quickly listed some possible answers in my head.

“Uh, going to my mom’s. She’s making Sunday dinner.”

“Your mom is making Sunday dinner?” he asked with a heavy and well deserved dose of skepticism. When Georgie and I were young and Dad was still alive, my mom would tie on her cute blue apron and cook a pot roast or pork chops every Sunday. But Jackson knew only of my post childhood mother, and he knew she would never be coupled with the words Sunday dinner.

“Yep, Sunday dinner. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.” I was without a doubt the world’s worst liar. And lying to Jackson was especially difficult because he always knew.

“Eliot, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, Jackson. Maybe another time. Right now I just need—”

“Your privacy?”

“Exactly.”

“Fine. I get it. But eventually, you will tell me, right? Otherwise, you know I won’t be able to let it go. In seventy years, I’ll be on my death bed, and I won’t be able to let go of this world because the question of where you were going on that long ago Sunday will still be stuck in my craw.”

I rounded the last building to the back gate. “Yes, eventually, Jackson. I’ve got to go. Give Michael a kiss for me.”

I hopped out of the car and opened the gates. I’d pulled on shorts and a t-shirt but now questioned whether or not I should have put on my studio work shirt. I was thankful for the bag of groceries sitting in the passenger seat. The outside cameras would click on with the sound and motion of my car, but the only thing they’d pick up would be the bachelor’s assistant delivering some much needed supplies to the bachelor house. There was really nothing untoward about it, I assured myself, because I was doing exactly that. The fact that the bag was filled with chocolate, marshmallows and graham crackers was completely beside the point. Rafe had requested some items from the store and I was, after all, his assistant. It was all perfectly legit, I told myself again as I parked in front of the house.

The main house was quiet and deserted. The women were still out for their long day at the spa. I’d gone along for spa day once, and it was lovely . . . for the contestants. Unfortunately, I could only try to imagine what the facials, massages and mud baths felt like because I was there just to make sure the women had everything they needed. Just like today. I was making sure Rafe had everything he needed. And if he needed to show me his mastery of deep fried s’mores, then I was willing to sacrifice my time to accommodate him.

All my confident assurances flew out of my head the second the door opened. Rafe stepped out onto the stoop in faded jeans, a tight black t-shirt and his long hair flowing in the wind. He had the music system cranking. Guns N’ Roses was crackling out the door.

Steady, El, I told myself, and willed my feet forward. My knees took longer to sync up because they had turned to gelatin, which may or may not have been the result of me obsessing about the near kiss.

“Did you get the goods?” Rafe smiled, and it only made my knees less cooperative. I’d been admiring the man from an outsider’s point of view, from the sidelines of the television set, but, suddenly, I felt like an insider, like we were two people who had met and who were not part of an overhyped reality show. I had to shake off the worry that I’d just stepped off a cliff from which there was no climbing back.

I lifted the paper bag. “Yep, I’ve got the contraband right here.” I smiled up at the camera and held up the bag. “Groceries.” I flashed whoever was sitting in the security office an overly sweet smile.

Rafe took the bags from my hand and nodded politely at the camera before motioning me inside. He dug inside the bag as he carried it to the kitchen. “Ah ha, you’re a cinnamon sugar girl.” He pulled out the box of graham crackers. “I figured as much.”

“Yep, you’ve discovered my dirty little secret. Plain graham crackers are just way too
plain
.”

Rafe started unpacking the bag. “Huh, any other dirty little secrets I might want to hear about? Emphasis on
dirty
?”

“Nope, that’s pretty much it. But I do like to put dill pickles on my grilled cheese.”

He pulled two forks out of the kitchen drawer. “I think you might have missed the second half of my request.”

I ripped a hole in the marshmallow bag and plucked one out. “Didn’t miss it. Just chose to ignore the implications.” I shoved the marshmallow in my mouth. Jumbo marshmallows were bigger than I remembered. I turned away and awkwardly chewed my mouthful.

The gas stove clicked on behind me, and a fork with two marshmallows appeared over my shoulder. “You’re in charge of toasting, while I mix up the pancake batter.”

I turned around and took hold of the fork.

“Be careful. These are the longest forks I could find.”

I took my station at the stove. Rafe pulled out a mixing bowl. He looked completely wrong standing in a kitchen with his rock star long hair and plethora of tattoos, and yet, he seemed to know his way around a mixing bowl.

“Do you cook for yourself at home?” I shook my head. “Silly me. You probably have a chef.”

I held the marshmallows a good distance from the flames to keep the fork from getting too hot to hold.

“I don’t have a chef. And I can cook . . . sort of. I left home when I was eighteen. I had no choice except to learn. Macaroni and cheese from a box can get old pretty fast.”

“You think? I’ve gone on some pretty lengthy mac n cheese benders when I’m low on cash and time. Which is always.” Even at a respectable distance, one of the marshmallows caught fire. I blew on it several times to get the flames out. With the last glowing ember extinguished, I looked back at Rafe.

He was grinning at me. “And that is why I put you in charge of marshmallows.”

“Because you’re afraid of fire?”

“No, it had more to do with watching you blow through those pretty pink lips of yours.”

My face warmed, and the flaming stove was only partially to blame. Rafe had started with the suggestive flirting almost the second I walked into the house. I should have been shocked or upset or at least a tiny bit put off. But I wasn’t. Flirting with a hot man had been so far back in my past, I wasn’t completely sure I knew how to keep up or respond. And I’d never been around a man as incredible as Rafe.

“So you taught yourself to cook?” I asked, deciding to steer back to a topic that couldn’t be twisted into something that would make me blush.

“Pretty much. Although my skills are limited as you might have noted with my spaghetti sauce from a jar. I also eat out a lot. I live up north on a couple of acres of land in the midst of wine country. But I don’t grow grapes or drink wine, for that matter. But the foodie culture is big up there, so there are lots of good places to eat.”

“Acreage in northern California sounds dreamy.” Cold War Kids came on the radio, and I couldn’t help but move my hips while I finished toasting the marshmallows to s’more perfection.

“It is awesome up there. Great tune. It seems we’ve got a lot in common, El.” He turned around and batter dripped off the spoon as he pointed it at me. “Favorite Harry Potter book?”

I sighed as if there was only once choice. “Book four, Goblet of Fire.”

“Bingo.”

“My turn.” I pushed the charred marshmallows off onto the plate and then licked my fingertips as I thought about my question. The finger cleaning seemed to have caught his attention more than expected. I made a show of licking off the last one. It seemed I still had the ability to flirt, I’d just kept it dormant these last few years.

I shot back with my question. “Coolest character of the series—not counting the main three.”

Rafe smiled and shook his head. “That’s easy. You tell me yours at the same time. Let’s see what happens.”

“Sirius Black,” we blurted simultaneously.

I laughed. “Wow, it’s like we have the same mind.”

Rafe had eyes that could change color according to the light. At that moment, they were dark and intense as he looked at me. “Sometimes it feels like we’ve known each other forever, El.”

“It does.” I carried the marshmallows over to his side of the counter. “Anything else?”

He stared down at the blackened marshmallows for a second. “Yes,” he said as he lifted his gaze to mine. His mood and tone grew more serious. “This.” He took my face in his hands and his mouth covered mine.

After the initial seconds of surprise and what the hell am I doing wore off, I found myself melting against his hard body as my lips parted farther, inviting him to deepen his kiss.

His arms were as strong and powerful as I’d imagined. Even with the little irritating itch in my mind telling me this would only end in regret, I lost myself in his embrace. It had been so long since I’d felt anything even akin to physical attraction to any man that my head was spinning.

Rafe’s mouth devoured mine as his hands slid down my back and his fingers curled around the hem of my shirt. My head was waging a silent protest, but my body was ignoring it.

I raised up my arms, and he slid my shirt off. Rafe took hold of my waist, and he lifted me up onto the counter. My fingers tangled in his long hair as I curled my hands around his neck and pulled his mouth tighter against mine.

His slightly callused palms smoothed over my back until his fingers reached my bra straps. The kiss had me so lightheaded, I hadn’t felt my bra straps slide from my shoulders until my naked breasts rubbed against his soft cotton shirt.

I continued to lose my hands in his hair as he lowered his face to my breasts. His tongue lathed over my taut nipple, sending a warm rush of moist heat down to my pussy. All I could think was he had it all. There wasn’t one missing piece from the puzzle, and some lucky bachelorette was going to leave Hollywood on his arm.

That bleak reminder made me stiffen. Rafe quickly noticed.

His eyes were glazed with heat as he looked at me. “Too fast?”

My throat twisted around my words. “Too wrong.”

He lowered his arms. The profound disappointment showed in his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. It’s just—” He took a deep breath. “Can’t stop thinking about you, Eliot. I sit here in this stupid house, and the whole time that you’re not here with me, I’m wondering what you’re up to. Then when you are here, like now, sitting in front of me, I’m wondering what does Eliot think of me?”

I looked at him. His face was stunning, like one you’d see in a magazine that had been made perfect with Photoshop. Only this face was real. And it had become so familiar to me that even when he left Hollywood to go back to his dreamy place up north, I’d still have his face etched into my mind.

“Tell me, Eliot. Tell me what you’re thinking about right now.”

“I’m thinking I want this.” I threw my arms around his neck and pressed my mouth against his. He lifted me back off the counter and pulled me closer. I could feel his erection pushing frantically against me.

The kisses became more urgent. Our mouths stayed together as Rafe reached for the button on my shorts. I pushed my hands beneath his shirt. My palms smoothed over the hard muscles of his stomach and chest, and the ache between my legs intensified. I’d passed that moment where self-control or reason could step in and warn me to stop before I lost myself to him completely.

“Eliot.” His warm breath tickled my mouth as he groaned my name. His fingers deftly unbuttoned my shorts. They dropped to my feet.

He stopped the kiss long enough to look at me in just my panties. It had been so long since I’d undressed in front of a man, I felt a warm blush cover my skin as he raised his brows in approval. “See, from day one, I knew this was hiding underneath that oversized work shirt. You are beautiful, Eliot. From head to toe. From inside to out.”