Thursday Nights (The Charistown Series) (5 page)

Lyla’s thoughts quickly shifted back to her best friend. It was always better to think about Janie than it was to give any headspace to her own life.

“She is such a good person. God, I hope I did the right thing.”

“Who are you talking about?” Danny asked. “You mean, Janie?”

“Shit, was I thinking out loud again? I really need to stop doing that,” she sputtered, her blue eyes bright.

“Listen, Lyla,” Danny said with what the group referred to as his ‘serious face.’ “Max has been thinking, and talking, about Janie for what feels like forever. He is a good guy no matter what he—”

Lyla interrupted. “Danny, I’m sure he’s a great guy, but what Janie
needs
is a good fu—”

Danny placed his hand over Lyla’s mouth. “Max is a good guy. Listen to what I am not saying. I see him as a son, so please don’t make me say it more clearly than this.” A bashful blush crept up Danny’s neck. “He will give her whatever she needs tonight. Understand?”

She looked into Danny’s pleading eyes, and with a smile as huge as the relief she was feeling, she stood up, hugged him, and said good night to the rest of the staff. They firmed up Sunday dinner plans, and she walked out to her car, parked in her special spot right by the front door.

Lyla slid into her BMW, buckled up, and pressed the windows down to let the late-summer night breeze blow through her car. September nights in Pennsylvania were her favorite because one never knew if the weather would be hot and sticky or crisp and chilly. Like life, it was unpredictable, and she knew how to handle unpredictable.

She was selecting the playlist on her iPod when she heard the growling sound of what could only be a Harley roll up to the side of her car.
Hmm
, she thought with a smirk,
the things I’ve done on a motorcycle
… Just the sound alone made her internal engine purr. She continued to scroll to her favorite playlist, when the back of her neck began to tingle.

She could feel
him
—her body was actually reacting to a perfect stranger—and there was a slight tap on the roof of her car. Lyla looked up from her iPod and saw what may have been the most startling pair of blue eyes that had ever been created. Here she thought her own were pretty fabulous, but nope, not even close in comparison. She wanted to drown in the pools that stared back at her. She had never seen him up-close before—he was breathtaking. Lyla felt her chest burn from her shallow breaths as she took in the curve of his jaw and sculpted chin.

“See something you like?” he asked with a dimpled grin.

“Before you opened your mouth I did,” Lyla answered in kind.

The next thing she knew the passenger door opened.
Oh shit! I forgot to lock the doors
. “I’m such an idiot!”

“I wouldn’t say you’re an idiot, but you really should lock your doors. Any crazy man could just open them up and sit down next to you,” he said with a wink.

“I really need to get this problem of thinking out loud under control,” Lyla stated. Purposely out loud that time.

“Or maybe you just need a man that wants to listen to your all thoughts.” There was that killer smile again.
Dangerous.

His baby blues watched her with what appeared to be interest. Lyla snickered and then laughed to the point of tears.

He looked at her with lust and confusion. “What?” he asked in that voice that would forever haunt her dreams.

“Does that line actually work for you?” Lyla said, wiping her eyes with the palm of her hand, trying in vain to pull herself back together.

“Actually, I haven’t had to
use
that line before,” he said smoothly. “Because I don’t run into many beautiful, sexy, desirable women who spend the better part of their evening talking to themselves.” He chuckled a throaty laugh, and once again Lyla felt goose bumps rise on her skin
. Oh Lord, the dimples, the smile, the laugh––what the hell is wrong with me?

Trying to hide her reaction to him, and of course, her latest quirky bullshit, Lyla squared off her shoulders, lifted her head, and looked straight at the sensuous man sitting, uninvited, in her car.
How the hell did that happen again?

“So…” Lyla waited for him to offer his name, but he didn’t. He just looked back at her with a piercing stare, his soulful eyes framed with black lashes so intense she swore he could see right through her.

“So,” he repeated. “I know that you come here on Thursday nights—”

“Stalker much?”

“Lyla.” Her name was honey dripping from his lips. “Knowing your name and that fact that you come to Danny’s on Thursdays doesn’t make me a stalker.”

Lyla’s insides melted, and her panties actually dampened, just from hearing her name slide out of his mouth.
I’m so screwed.
“Oh my God…”

“What’s wrong?” He smiled.

“Shit!” Realizing she again spoke her thoughts out loud, she moved to slam her fist into her thigh. Just as her expletive filled the tight space of the car, his left hand sliced out and grabbed her fist, holding it in his big palm. Their skin connected, and just like in the bar, electricity surged through her body. But here, now, they were sitting face-to-face, his eyes to hers.

She felt her skin bloom, every hair rising from her flesh, as he reached out and placed his right hand on the side of her face. Before Lyla knew it, he pulled her to him. She tried to resist, but his lips were soft and warm as they caressed hers. The kiss that started out slowly, maybe even a little chaste, turned inferno as soon as his cedar smell hit Lyla’s senses. Her throaty moan was all the acceptance he needed.

“Nice,” he muttered as he pulled her tighter. He tried to consume her with his kiss, and she went willingly. Her hands started to travel down his hard, muscled chest, over his pecs, and spread across his abdomen. He breathed in deep and slowly pulled away, keeping his hand wrapped around her fist. Lyla opened her eyes, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened, when she heard the click of the door being opened. The overhead light in the car came on.

He was getting out of her car…he was leaving?

“What are you doing?” Lyla practically shrieked as she leaned over to look at him through the passenger window.

“Not you. Not tonight,” he answered, a strength in his voice that Lyla couldn’t imagine any man able to possess after
that
kiss.

She was embarrassed, angry, and aroused beyond belief. “You know what, I didn’t even invite you into my car. I don’t even know you! Why did you even bother, asshole? Next time you see me, just…just...walk the other way,” she dismissed him. “Jesus Christ.”

Trying to gather her determination, she straightened herself behind the steering wheel and inhaled. Scrubbing her hands over her forehead, she closed her eyes for a quick second, forcing herself to keep it together.

“What the hell is wrong with me? I didn’t even know his fucking name, and here I am with my tongue down his throat? He could have fucking killed me, and I would have deserved it…shit!” She slammed her palms into the steering wheel again.

The tears started to well up as the fragrance of cedar and leather tickled her nose again. She opened her eyes and was startled to find him leaning in through the open driver’s side window.

“Now what do you fucking want?” she spat. “Go the hell away!”

“Lyla…”

“No, I’ve had enough for the night…just go,” she said, trying to rein in her emotions. She had about sixty seconds before her wall would crumble, and she knew she had to get out of there. She did not cry—ever—and definitely not in front of a gorgeous man with dimples and a sexy smile, whose kiss could make her forget things she wished she had never learned.

“Lyla.” His was voice firm, demanding her attention. She reluctantly raised her eyes and looked at him. His electric gaze sparked as blunt words left his full lips. “My name is Gage. I see you come here each Thursday with your friend, and to be honest, I’ve wanted you for weeks. I’ve seen the way you laugh, the way you smile. I’ve seen the way you throw sass when someone gives you a hard time.” She watched as the muscles in his jaw clenched and released. She could feel his gaze penetrating her body. “If you think…Christ…if you think I’m gonna kiss you”— his eyes raked over her—“and then fuck you in a parking lot after the fantasies that have been living in my mind, then yes, sweetheart, you have lost your fucking mind.”

Lyla looked away, her cheeks warm, her panties damp.

“Lyla, look at me, sweetheart. I’ve seen the men you take home,” he went on. “You have the F-and-R pattern down to a science.”

Lyla jerked her eyes back to stare him down. “F and R?”

Ignoring her question, Gage continued his monologue. “I practically invented that routine, and I refuse to go there with you. You deserve everything good and sensual. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that no matter how much ‘fun’ you’re having, the sparkle never quite hits your eyes. You deserve a man who is going to worship you—body and soul. And I am going to be that man.” He paused a beat. “But it is
not
going to be tonight. It can’t be.”

Her eyes didn’t leave his. “So, until we are both ready, that kiss is as far as we can go,” he explained. “Please drive, safely . . . and I will see you when I see you.” He leaned into the car, gave her a slow kiss on the lips, slipping his tongue into her mouth and gently caressing her tongue with his. And then he was gone.

When she opened her eyes he—Gage—was nowhere.
Was he ever here?
Lyla’s lips tingled, and she could still smell a trace of his cologne, feel his hands on her cheek. She could taste man and…salt? She looked into her rearview mirror, and she saw what she feared: a stream of tears had trailed down her cheeks and onto her lips.

Exhaling, she wiped away the tears. “Worship my soul?” she spoke aloud. “Bullshit. My body on the other hand…that I can handle.” She wiped her face again and headed for home.

Alone.

A Details Kind of Girl

“Obviously, you know where everything—” Janie couldn’t finish her sentence before being pulled into the hard wall that was Max’s body. He slanted his head and pressed his lips to hers while he ran his hands through her hair.
Soft, like silk
, he thought to himself. The kiss started off soft, but quickly gained speed and intensity. There was no room, no house, no world—just Max and Janie needing each other like oxygen.

His hands cupped her face, and he breathed in deeply. She smelled of mint gum, Cosmos, and just…Janie. It was a scent he could never quite figure out, but whenever she was around so was that scent, and he loved it. Max bit her bottom lip, and just as quickly, sucked it lightly to remove any sting he may have caused. She didn’t seem to mind, moaning with appreciation. His cock was getting harder by the second.

For the first time in her life, Janie knew what it meant to have her knees go weak. If not for the tall, strong, and clearly capable man standing in front of her, she would be a melted puddle on her living room floor. She heard a moan and immediately broke the kiss, turning away from Max when she realized that the sound had come from her. Her heart was pounding, and all she could hear was the blood flowing through her ears. If she could disappear, or maybe melt into that puddle now, she would be forever grateful. Never had she moaned like that…not for real! Of course, she had faked it—many, many times before—but isn’t that what a woman is supposed to do to make a guy feel better about his performance? She shivered as two thick, warm arms fold around her torso.

Max didn’t try to turn her around. He knew she needed a second to pull herself together, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why. All they did was kiss.

“Babe, what’s going on in that sexy little head of yours?”

Janie lifted her shoulder, silent for a second. In a husky breath she said, “I have never done that before.” As she slowly turned to face him, it wasn’t embarrassment he saw glowing in her eyes.

Confused, Max said, “Kissed a man?”

Janie threw her head back, a throaty laugh escaping the sexy mouth that had been making Max’s dick hard for months.