Try Me (3 page)

He stumbled and grabbed for a towel, but not before she glimpsed the firm, tight muscles of his ass.

“Oh God.” She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to chase the image away. Instead it leaped into hyper-focused clarity, along with the taut flow of his back and the broad flex of his shoulders. Damn it.

She heard the shower curtain pull closed in a rustle of plastic and a scrape of rings against the rod. “Erica?” he called. “Were you just staring at my ass?”

“I wasn’t staring!”

“But you just saw me naked.”

“No. I mean yes. I mean—” She sighed. Running away would be good right now. “Um. A little. Maybe.”

A muffled groan was his only answer. Her cheeks were on fire.

“Sorry,” she tried. “If it makes you feel better, you looked great? Wait! No. Um. No, you didn’t.”
Shit, damn, crap, son of a—
“I don’t—look, I didn’t really see anything, okay?”

His laughter echoed against the shower tile. She peeked one eye open and peered through the crack in the door. He leaned over to watch her past the shower curtain, his eyebrow raised and his eyes crinkling with laughter in just that way she remembered. Her throat constricted.

“Which is it?” he asked. “I look good, bad, or invisible?”

She couldn’t answer. She could only see his shoulders beyond the curtain, but that was enough. Water tracked in slick trails over tanned sinew, each twist and pull of muscle gleaming. Her mouth tingled. She wanted to lick, to taste, to chase the cool taste of fresh water over the heat of his skin. Her fingers twitched, and she squeezed her eyes shut again.

“I’m gonna go now.” God, she sounded like a teenager. Not someone who regularly presented summations before skeptical juries. She wedged an arm into the bathroom, dropped the clothing on the counter, and backed away. “Enjoy your—I mean—oh, fuck. I’m gone before I make even more of an idiot of myself. How about I’m the one who turns invisible?”

“Why?” he teased. His husky voice did terrible things to her. “So you can stay and watch?”

“Funny. Really.”

Erica opened her eyes, shot him a dirty look, and fled. His laughter chased after her, thrilling through her body in deeply delicious waves.

She didn’t stop until she was downstairs and curled up in a corner of the couch, hugging a throw pillow to her chest. She groaned and buried her face into the cool watered silk. Dumbass. She should have run before she’d started babbling. He probably thought she’d been peeping at him. She wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t been. God, that body. No man who looked like that should cover it up.

It was official. She was pathetic.

Salivating over a guy she’d grown up with? Please. So he’d told her he loved her. That was a long time ago, in a land far far away where stupid teenage girls believed anything said by handsome boys with dangerous smiles. Why had she held on to that for all these years? Especially when he so clearly resented her for how she’d handled it?

Granted, he’d dropped that bombshell on her right after Tommy had beaten Jeremy to a pulp for sleeping with his wife. He’d shown up on her doorstep bleeding and bruised, just like tonight. Tommy had been an idiot. He’d been an idiot for marrying Nicole right out of high school, he’d been an idiot for believing her lies, and he’d been an idiot for turning on Jeremy.

And Erica was no better.

She hadn’t wanted to believe him, in that moment. Not when her loyalty to her brother was so strong, and not when Jeremy had been drunk. Tommy had made him swear off alcohol for life, after the drunken monster his father had turned into. If he’d break a promise like that, how could he mean it when he told Erica he loved her?

She hadn’t understood, then. She hadn’t understood how deeply hurt he was, and how much he needed her. Hadn’t understood that he was reaching out to her. Begging her not to turn on him, too. Begging her not to judge him like the thug so many people saw him as.

But she had anyway, and by the time she’d grown up enough to realize her mistake, they’d both moved on with their lives.

She’d always wondered if he really meant it. Always kicked herself for ruining that chance, and for hurting him that way when even at eighteen, she’d loved him so much. No one had ever smiled at her the way Jeremy had. Not even her fiancé. Nathan had fit her perfect life in corporate law…

…but he wasn’t Jeremy.

Why did it matter? Seven years had passed. Any puppy love he’d felt was gone now. And if it wasn’t, it would be. She wasn’t the kind of woman a man could love. Nathan had proved that. So would Jeremy, if he knew her. Really
knew
her, as she was now. Of that, she was certain.

She heard the bathroom door open upstairs. She looked up as he came down the steps. Dampness left his hair spiked, the glossy black darkened to pitch. Tommy’s shirt was far too small for Jeremy’s muscular frame, clinging to his chest and abdomen in a slicked-on layer and leaving every touchable ridge and chisel of muscle excruciatingly clear.

She forced a smile and jerked her eyes from his chest to his face. “You look better.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. His lips tilted at the corners. Every movement teased her. He carried himself with casual ease and a certain restrained strength. Feral. That was how she’d always thought of him, even when he was younger. Feral, underneath his careful control. Waiting to break free.

He looked at her past the fringe of long lashes that had always made her jealous. “Uh, thanks. I really appreciate the save.”

“No problem.”

She bit her lip and made herself look away, before she couldn’t. She couldn’t have him. Some things were better off in the past. He remembered her as young, naïve, and beautiful.

Better that he held on to the memory, rather than knowing the reality.

She cleared her throat. “Do you need any more water? Calamine lotion?”

“Water would be great. Don’t think I need the lotion. I’m a little tender, but not as burned as I thought.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “If this is April in Vegas…fuck July. I’m asking to be transferred to Antarctica.”

She laughed and led him into the kitchen to retrieve another Aquafina bottle from the fridge. When she closed the refrigerator door and turned, he was there, so close—close enough that she stumbled and tripped over her own feet. He steadied her, gripping her bare shoulders with a sure, firm grasp, his hands work-roughened and large. Her skin burned where he touched. Her stomach twisted.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Again.”

Her ears felt like little torches burning to either side of her face. He said nothing. Nor did he let her go. With a rough sound she twisted away and smoothed her shirt, pulling it up a bit over her chest. He hadn’t seen. He couldn’t have seen. Her tank-top wasn’t that low cut.

“Erica.”

She shook her head and shoved the bottle into his hands.

“Erica, really, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I trip all the time. I’m the squad klutz.”

She took a deep breath. She was making something out of nothing. She always had with him, took everything he said to heart. Right now she wasn’t Erica Jones, Attorney at Law. She was Tommy’s clumsy little sister, trying not to make an ass out of herself in front of her crush.

Pull it together.
She straightened her spine and pressed her lips together. “You? A klutz? Hard to believe.”

He pointed at his face. “This?” he deadpanned. “I did this to myself. Tripped over a shoe. True story.”

She burst into laughter and relaxed. He’d always been able to do that—defuse tense situations with humor. Any time Tommy would upset her, she’d escape to her favorite spot by the pool. Jeremy would always find her, make her laugh…and help her plot revenge against her brother. He’d been more than her crush. He’d been her best friend.

And that was all they could be, she reminded herself. “So a shoe blacked your eye?”

“Most of that is shoe polish.” He grinned, then grimaced and touched his lip. “Ow. No more making me smile.”

“I’ll do my best to be dull and boring.” She scrunched up her nose. “Shouldn’t be too hard. I
am
a lawyer. It’s my job to bore everyone to death. They plead guilty just to shut me up.”

His lips twitched and his eyes narrowed. “Not helping.”

She smiled and busied herself unloading the dishwasher. Anything to keep her hands occupied, and not aching to touch him. He leaned his hip against the counter, sipped his water, and watched her, his eyes dark with curiosity.

“So what have you been up to, besides work?”

She hesitated. “Honestly? Not much.” She chose her words carefully. “Got engaged. Broke up. Finished school. Got a job. Bought this house, and that’s pretty much it. I work seventy hours a week on a good week. Doesn’t leave much time for anything else.”

He studied her face, his eyes far too intense. She squirmed, ducked her head, and yanked a cup out of the dishwasher so hard she almost dropped it.

“Nothing else?” he asked. “Like…relationships? A life?”

“No. Not really.” She closed the dishwasher and banged it just a little too hard. Damn it. “What about you? Got a girlfriend in every town, pining for your return?”

He snorted. “Yeah, right. I can’t even take care of one, let alone a dozen.”

So he was probably single. She swore mentally, in every language she could remember and a few she made up just for the occasion. She didn’t need to know that. Didn’t want the hope that twisted in her gut, or the nervous, fluttering daydreams she’d buried years ago.

She wiped her hands on her skirt. “So…no girlfriend, then?”

“No, I’m single.” His eyes drifted over her, lingering. “Are you hitting on me?”

“No!”

He burst into laughter, then hissed and clapped a hand over his lip. Good. Served him right for teasing her like that. She planted her hands on her hips.

“You jerk. I should’ve known you were giving me a hard time. Some things never change, do they?”

He stilled. The laughter vanished from his eyes, leaving them dark. “No. I guess not. Maybe some things can’t change.” He set his empty bottle on the counter and smoothed a hand over his damp hair. “I should go. Don’t want to intrude. Thanks again for the rescue.”

Erica swallowed heavily and glanced out the window. Almost sunset. She fidgeted with the hem of her skirt and cleared her throat. “Um. You can stay, if you want. It’s getting late anyway. It might be nice to catch up. You can stay in the guest room. Unless you have plans, I mean.”

Say yes,
she thought. If he left now, she’d probably never see him again. The last time had been seven years ago. That had been her fault. She wouldn’t let it be her fault if he left too soon, now. Even if she could only have his company, she’d take that much. Seven years was too long without his smile, his laughter.

Seven years was too long not to clear up everything that had gone wrong.

He rubbed his jaw and studied her, his brows knitting. “Are you sure you want me hanging around? It’s been years. For all you know, I’m an escaped convict playing Marine.”

“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “We grew up together. I just saw you naked. I think we’re past the ‘stranger danger’ conversation.”

He spluttered, then trailed into choking laughter. She grinned. It wasn’t often that she’d gotten to make him laugh in return.

“Well, when you put it that way…” he murmured. His eyes met hers. Something indefinable flickered through them, leaving them hot enough to send a bolt of longing straight through her, kick-starting her heart and singing through her blood. “How can I refuse?”

She took a calming breath and forced a smile. She felt lightheaded. “Good,” she said, and hoped Erica Jones, Attorney at Law, could keep up the act tonight. Because girl-next-door Erica, right now, wanted Jeremy so much she could taste him, and she could never let him know.

“Good?” he said, brows lifting.

“What more do you want, a party? Come on. Let’s order pizza. I’ll even get you one with those disgusting mushrooms.”

He chuckled. “You know me too well.”

Not nearly as well as I’d like
, she thought, and escaped into the living room before he could see her blush.

***

Jeremy lounged against the couch cushions and fidgeted. Erica was in the kitchen; she’d run away after mumbling something about drinks, after he’d made another ridiculously stupid, flirty joke. He’d been tripping over himself all night, walking on eggshells. Eggshells strewn across an ice-covered lake in the middle of a warm snap.

One would think, after seven years apart, he’d have learned to keep his cool in front of her.
One
would be entirely wrong, and might just deserve a fist to the jaw. Jeremy couldn’t even manage one conversation without wanting to pull her into his arms. He couldn’t watch her chase strings of cheese from her slice to her plate, her lips glistening from the dart of her tongue, without wanting to do far more than that. When he’d caught her in his grip in the kitchen, it had taken all his willpower to just…let go.