Flirting With Disaster Read online

  The moment felt so domestic and right, when he put down the ice pack and let her go, he pulled her to him in a kiss. She melted into him. Brooke didn't have to say what they were becoming made her just as dreamy. That give said it all. They'd have to talk about what they were becoming to each other, but that could wait.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The moment her brother left for lunch, Brooke hopped out of her office and checked over the work he'd done that morning. She made an appreciative grunt, because even as a hobbyist, he was as good as her. She picked up where he had left off, because the cracked pulley needed to be removed.

  Ten minutes in, she had to drag a stool over to rest her foot. She grumbled the whole time. Her brother had sent her to the office to do paperwork. She figured he was looking out for his little sister, who’d probably seemed injured and clumsy. Not like she could tell him she hurt herself during sex with Dane. Then again, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. Pierce might have stopped coddling her.

  Dane had done the same kind of pampering the day before, but it hadn't bothered her, then. Her heart and stomach had fluttered at the concern etched on his face. After they had finished eating, he’d hunted down the first aid kit and wrapped her ankle with an expertise that surprised her.

  For a good part of the night, they’d lounged in her bed, reading. Dane should have looked ridiculous and out of place surrounded by all that purple. Nope. He looked haughty, but rumpled, and nothing could make her forget how his features sharpened when he found a good, deep rhythm inside her. So it was natural to see him there, comfortable in her bed and in room, with her.

  He'd placed pillows over his lap, propped her foot up and had only moved his hand from her ankle to turn the pages of his book. Those hours with him felt like a preview of what they could be. She should have been completely content, but she had to fight the urge to draw boundaries. Don't expect me to cook for you all the time. If I say I'm fine, respect my wishes and don't act like you know better than me or better for me. It needed to be said for him and for herself. Goodness, she'd sighed and drew in the scent of his cologne before folding his fucking clothes.

  Saying she was troubled would have been an understatement. She'd felt like a lovesick sap, a part of her so pleased at just lying in her bed with his hand on her ankle. If he hadn’t been waiting for his clothes to come out of the wash, she would have kicked him out. But he had showered, laid in her bed smelling of her soap. His touch had been a gentle, sweet reminder of the heat between them.

  Before the knot of worry and doubt in her stomach could turn into something she couldn't ignore, his hand had started to roam. Then his mouth.

  There in the garage, heat flushed her face, because even during the sex, he still managed to keep her foot elevated.

  She sighed, pushing the worries aside, and released the screw holding the pulley in place. Dane wouldn't shove her into the role of trophy girlfriend, much less wife. He liked her hands that were a bit rough and nicked. She wasn't turning herself into a perfect little woman for him, and she would still rip off his balls if he asked her to be one.

  Her palms were sweaty, and the pulley slipped from her fingers and dropped on her foot. If she hadn't squeezed into the steel-toed boots, she'd have curled into the fetal position and cried. She did curse, letting loose a nice blue streak.

  Naomi appeared from around the car and Brooke yelped.

  Her friend's brows were high, her steps cautious. “Am I interrupting?”

  “Make some noise when you creep up on people.”

  “Has dealing with Dane put you in a mood?”

  Brooke glared because her friend had a mile-wide grin. Couldn't keep anything secret in Tanner Creek. “Stop acting like you don't know.”

  “Know what? We aren't friends anymore. So, of course it wouldn't cross your mind to call me and tell me you hit that.”

  Her face felt on fire. “Hit that?”

  Naomi bit her lip, waggled her brows and clapped her hands. “Bow-chica-wow-wow. Hit that.”

  “I'm going to hit you with a wrench.”

  Naomi made a face at the extra stool, shrugged out of her suit jacket, placed it over the seat and sat down. “That good? You're blushing, disproving the myth black women can't.”

  Brooke’s foot started to throb. “We had sex. There. Now you know.”

  “I knew that. Gertrude couldn't wait to tell me you guys came out of his bookshop looking ravished. She actually used that word. Dane's shirt was buttoned incorrectly, and it wasn't the same one he'd worn that morning. Your dress looked wrinkled. And your hair…”

  She glared. “Shut up.”

  Her friend laughed. “So, on a scale of one to ten…”

  Brooke couldn't help but play along. “Depends on which time.”

  Naomi gasped. “I hate you.”

  “No one told you to try to be Virgin Mary.” She ignored Naomi's pinched mouth and added, “Take a gander at the bachelor list. Really look at it. Then put together a flirting plan when it's that man's day for the photo shoot.”

  “Speaking of that,” Naomi rolled with the change of subject with ease, “I have a date set with the photographer. The bachelor calendar is going to be simpler to put together and likely faster. Dane had the good idea to have something from every man's profession.”

  Brooke now knew what Dane looked like shirtless with a book in his hand. Yeah. She was going to lose the bet, because a calendar with half-naked men would sell like hotcakes. “What did Peyton say when you told her Tate would be shirtless wearing a tool belt?”

  “Nothing, but she swooned a little. How are the cars coming? I know your brother is here.”

  Brooke frowned. “You haven't seen him? I'm surprised.”

  “You like to keep your family and friends separate.”

  “For good reason, but my mother would love you.” Her mouth suddenly filled with bitterness. Naomi was strong, smart, and despite a crappy divorce, would probably fall in love and get married again. Brooke practically broke out in hives thinking of marriage. Naomi was the dream daughter her mother would never have.

  “Don't start,” Naomi said. “You were looking happy there for a moment.”

  Brooke’s stomach tightened. “Happy?”

  “A little...in love.” Naomi's expression grew expectant.

  Brooke snorted. “Just because Peyton is floating on cloud nine doesn't mean anything. Dane and I had sex. That’s all.” Except when their gazes met and she couldn't breathe anymore. That reaction had nothing to do with sex.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “That's it.”

  “Hmm.”

  Brooke’s heartbeat skittered. “Okay. He stayed the night.”

  “Who cooked breakfast?”

  “Me. It was my house. If I had stayed at his, I wouldn’t have lifted a finger. It's what you do for guests. And depending on how my mood is turning, I just might make it a sandwich, free-for-all kind of evening.”

  The words drew her up short, and she sat up straighter. The meaning in them so subtle. Dammit. They weren't a couple. They hadn't talked about what happened next, but already, in her head, him coming over would be a routine. They'd be domestic again, entwining their lives.

  “Don't overthink it.” Naomi must have sensed a change. Her tone had softened.

  Brooke had to get some perspective on what was likely happening. Not blow it up to something more.

  “We need to find the right location to shoot the cars. Between my brother and I, we can whip these cars into shape pretty fast, but getting the calendars out at the same time will be optimal. I'm thinking we can work on the cosmetics and take our time with the insides.”

  “Brooke,” her friend's voice was soft. “I was teasing.”

  “I know. I just...it's nothing.” But the muscles in her shoulders bunched.

  “Brooke, enjoy the happy.”

  She wanted to, but how long would it take for her to happily fall right back into the same role she'd fought to escape? Being that mindl
ess woman was easy. It was ingrained. She'd be too happy to even notice all the little pieces of herself she gave up to Dane.

  She rolled her shoulders. “So, my plan? Hunting down some of the interior and exterior parts will take time, but not that long. Not with my brother around. That man has contacts that make me drool.”

  “My ears are burning,” Pierce said before coming into view.

  She rolled her eyes. “I was saying you have a pig nose and crossed eyes, but you think you're fine as hell.”

  Naomi stiffened, but she pulled out her signature smile, reserved for busybodies and other politicians.

  Pierce's steps slowed and he grinned, the grin he used when flirting shamelessly.

  “Pierce, this is one of my best friends, Naomi.”

  He tossed a bag of food toward Brooke, and she caught it, but he didn't miss a step. He offered his hand.

  Naomi's brow rose, but she took his hand. Her breath hitched. Brooke shook her head.

  Her friend said, “I'm heading out,” in a breathless jumble. “I think whatever works best for you is fine.” Her gaze slid to Pierce who hadn't dropped her hand yet.

  Brooke said, “Pierce, let go of my friend.”

  Her brother sighed and did. He turned a glare her way. “Thought I told you to work in the office.”

  “My foot is jacked up. Not my hands.”

  Naomi seemed to get herself together because she smiled like normal. “How did you mess it up, anyway?”

  “Me hitting you with a wrench is all I'm saying. See you later.”

  Her friend laughed on her way out. Brooke tried not to read too much into the way Pierce watched Naomi. Evidently, the coupling thing was contagious and if she weren’t careful, she'd end up a losing herself in a man again. Whenever she saw Dane, they'd talk about their situation, rationally. They needed boundaries and fast before things between them became any more complicated.

  *****

  Dane looked up from his paperwork when the bookstore door opened. A smile spread when he saw Brooke. She wore her uniform and had the sleeves tied around her waist. Her mouth was a flat-line and worries wrinkled her forehead.

  “Brooke,” he said and then tried again since a low burn of heat had sluiced into his stomach. “Just got off work?”

  “We need to talk,” she said in a flat tone.

  The muscles in his back coiled. “Lock the door.”

  She hesitated. “It shouldn't take that long.”

  He rounded the counter to lock the door himself. She didn't move from in front of it as though she needed an escape route. He reached behind her, and when the lock clicked, he stayed right there in her space. “What do you need to say?”

  “We didn't get the chance to talk yesterday.”

  So easily he could see the walls she'd put back up since he'd seen her that morning. He'd kissed her hard and long on her doorstep, and she'd held onto his shirt as though she didn't want to let him go. Dane had to get that woman back. Not this one who held a hint of mistrust in her eyes.

  “Sex got in the way yesterday,” he joked. “How's your foot?”

  “Sore and I need to ice it when I get home. But the point of me being here...” She placed her hands on his chest. Maybe she had intended to push him back. Instead Brooke spread her hands over his pecs.

  “Yes?” His breathing grew heavy.

  She snatched her hands away. “What are we doing here?”

  “Prelude to sex,” he answered though he knew what she really meant.

  She glared at him. “So this is just sex?”

  Brooke had started to frown again so he brushed his thumb over her lips. She moaned and then backed up. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, because he had to be drastic to get that soft, kind woman back. “What's your favorite color?”

  “Green,” she said slowly.

  “Mine's black. I don't often wear it. That's probably something leftover from my design days. My favorite book is Grave Peril by Jim Butcher. Surprising, right? You'd think a classic, but I've yet to read a classic that hasn't put me to sleep within the first chapter.” He stopped long enough to ask, “What's your favorite book?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Answer the question.”

  She sighed. “Fallen Angel by Francis Ray. I would have run the hero over with my car in real life but he's my fiction boyfriend.”

  He nodded and smiled. “That's one of Naomi's favorites, too.”

  “Naomi?”

  “She came in the other day to get some books. I asked her what authors she liked.”

  Brooke shook her head. “But why are you asking me this?”

  “We skipped right to being a bickering old couple then we progressed to no-holds-bar sex. I figured since we're doing this whole relationship thing backwards we should get to really know one another.”

  Her breath caught and her eyes widened. “Relationship?”

  He tried to see how her disbelief settled on him and he didn't like it at all. It pinched. “Yeah.”

  “Maybe we should date first before we skip to relationship.”

  “Maybe.” He smiled because he could see he'd flustered her. Her cheeks looked red and she...just looked shell-shocked. “So, what's your favorite meal so I can make it for you tonight?”

  She made a noise of disgust. “You're so slick.”

  “I am.”

  It took a moment but Brooke laughed. He grabbed at the sleeves wrapped around her waist and pulled her to him. When she met his gaze her laugh sobered. Fear flashed in her eyes and he almost could taste it.

  “Dane.”

  “Brooke,” he murmured.

  She put her head to his chest and softly rapped it on his sternum. He embraced her knowing the fear that had her trembling against him. “Tell me what you need,” he said.

  She shrugged not moving her head. “I just don't want to...I don't want to be...” She groaned. “I need you to let me be who I am.” She looked up at him. “I want us to date, but you have to take me like this or not at all.”

  Date. He tilted his head and frowned. How could she not see they were already in a relationship? She'd fight him on principle if he pointed it out. He pressed his lips to her forehead and she melted into him. “I like you prickly. That probably means I need therapy.”

  She snorted. “And what do you need, Dane? I need to know your boundaries. Otherwise, it's not fair to you. I can't make all the rules and you follow them. I'd be no better than my ex. Hell, yours.”

  He hadn't realized how tight the muscles in his shoulders had been until they relaxed at her words. She was being vulnerable with him and he would not take that lightly. “If you're ever mad at me just say it. Don't play games with me. If we're trying not to be the other person's ex, don't do that. That's all I ask.”

  She smiled, closing her hands in his shirt. “I always let you know when you piss me off. That’s going to be easy.”

  He pressed another kiss to her forehead. “Then we should be fine.”

  But when she met his gaze again, he could still see the fear.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Brooke had Dane's shirt halfway off when someone pounded on her door. She sat astride his lap, on the couch. They had dinner, and had barely made it midway through the movie before they couldn't keep their hands to themselves.

  Even with someone at the door, Dane's lids were low as he slipped his hands beneath the band of the short-shorts. She'd done them both a favor and gone commando.

  He cupped her ass. “Don't answer it,” he murmured against her mouth.

  She wiggled and laughed when he groaned. “Sorry. Was trying to get up.”

  “I'm up all right.” He took his hands out of her shorts.

  The knocking turned urgent. She jumped off Dane with a touch of regret and answered the door.

  Her gaze went right to the three-year old. His big brown eyes were red-rimmed like he'd been crying. His hair was cropped short into a shadow fade. A picture of a teddy be
ar decorated his small T-shirt and matched his dark blue boots. He pouted as he clutched his mother's hand. Brooke met Naomi's gaze and sighed, knowing what was about to come next.

  Her friend took in the tank top and short-shorts and cringed. “I'm so sorry. Am I interrupting?”

  “You're fine.” She glanced over her shoulder. Dane had his shirt back in place. “Come in.”

  Naomi's blue ball gown moved in one fluid motion. The baby bag wouldn't be the norm for formal wear, but Brooke could guess that wasn't part of the ensemble.

  “Something for the mayor?” she asked.

  “I feel like s— ” Naomi glanced down at Jonathan. “Sugar cookies for dropping by like this.”

  Brooke frowned at her friend's hurried and guilt-filled words. “It's not a problem,” she tried to reassure her. “I'm guessing his father couldn't watch him.”

  Naomi's gaze flashed with anger. “And the babysitter is sick. And the backup one just headed to The Grog.”

  Brooke had watched Jonathan enough times to know the routine. She held out her hand for the baby bag and knelt in front of him. The boy was cute as a button, but his eyes were wide with trepidation. “Hey, Jon. Looks like you're stuck with me. Want to make cookies?”

  Naomi sighed and then chuckled. “Sugar cookies?”

  “Nope,” Brooke said. “Big chocolate chunks that will have you”—she poked him in his stomach and he giggled—“bouncing off the walls. Uh...” She glanced in the living room again. Dane had risen from the couch. “I do have company. Just FYI.”

  Interest filled her friend's gaze and she rubbernecked. “Hey, Dane. Good to see you.”

  “You are stunning tonight.” Dane looked at Jon and smiled. “Hey, buddy.”

  Jon looked at Dane warily but waved. This was going to be interesting. Naomi shifted restlessly, likely anxious to leave. Brooke opened her arms and the boy ran into the embrace. She picked him up, threw him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes and gave a little twirl. His little feet kicked and he giggled.

  Naomi met her gaze again, mouthed “thank you” already stepping out the door. Brooke waved her off. “Say 'bye mama. See you when I'm full of sugar.'”