Читать книгу Real Men Will - Victoria Dahl - Страница 8

BETH CANTRELL HADN’T thought about him in almost six months.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true.

Beth cleared her throat and shifted, glancing around as if everyone in the brewery could feel the lie she was telling herself.

The truth was that she’d thought about Jamie Donovan plenty of times. She’d remembered the hour or two they’d shared, she’d fantasized about what might’ve happened if she’d stayed the whole night in that hotel room.

But in the past six months, she’d never once let herself think about seeing him again. She hadn’t considered calling him or making contact in any way. That had been their agreement, after all. One night. One time. No strings attached and no expectations. She’d had to abide by that, because she would never have let herself meet him in that hotel room otherwise.

He wasn’t her type. He wasn’t part of her social circle. And she definitely wasn’t part of his. Beth Cantrell managed the White Orchid, the premiere erotic boutique in Boulder. Her friends were her employees: women she loved like sisters. They were bold and powerful and sexually progressive. And they dated people like themselves: tattooed, pierced, educated and cool. Absolutely cool, even when they’d only reached the pinnacle of cool by being so incredibly nerdy that they actually circled around to cool again.

Beth, on the other hand, wasn’t cool. She was just… Beth. But that was okay, because she was their manager and they loved her, and they did their best to pull her into their sphere. They fixed her up with guys. Friends of theirs. Men they knew and liked. Men who were cool and hip and progressive. And not one of those guys had ever pushed her buttons the way Jamie had.

She still flushed when she thought about him in his tidy polo shirt and khaki pants. His wide white smile and broad shoulders. He’d looked even better in a business suit. The perfect vision of middle-class preppy beauty. And Beth had wanted him so much it hurt.

They’d been strangers, despite this small town. But in that hotel room, with the promise that it would happen only once…the isolation of the act had made it safe. Yet she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

And right in the middle of the first good date she’d had in years.

“Hey,” her date said as he waved a hand in front of her face. “You okay?” He smiled, taking any sting from the words.

“Sorry.” Before she’d started thinking about Jamie, her date had been talking about…something. She racked her brain. Something artsy and important about Robert Mapplethorpe’s early career.

“I’m really sorry,” she finally said. “I didn’t realize how tired I was until the glass of beer hit me. I’m not usually so rude.”

He smiled in a way that told her he hadn’t taken offense. “I’m glad you didn’t mind coming to the party with me. Faron and I have been friends for years. I didn’t want to miss it. And I figured you knew her, too.”

“Yes, we have mutual friends.” The party wasn’t the problem. Or the guest of honor. The problem was that Beth had had no idea the party would be at Donovan Brothers Brewery. Not until her date had pulled into the parking lot, and Beth’s heart had sunk to her toes.

It wasn’t his fault that the party he’d decided to take her to just happened to be at Donovan Brothers.

She’d spent the forty-five minutes since scanning the line of customers and servers at the bar, but Jamie wasn’t there. It was pure luck on her part. Jamie Donovan was an owner of the brewery, but he was also a notoriously friendly bartender. Or so she’d heard. When she’d spent time with him, he’d struck her as serious and intense.

She didn’t want to see him again like this. Didn’t want him to think she’d bring another man to his brewery. She kept expecting Jamie to walk by at any moment, and she couldn’t think past the torture of that.

“I’m going to run to the restroom,” she blurted out. She watched as her date took a beer from the waitress, giving her a warm, open smile as he said thank-you.

“Do you want me to order you another beer while you’re gone?” he asked Beth.

“No, thank you….” Her mouth hung open for a moment. Oh, God, she’d forgotten his name. Yes, it was their first date, but he’d been so nice. “No, thank you,” she repeated, grabbing her clutch purse and sliding out of her chair so quickly that she nearly stumbled. “I’ll be right back.”

Unfortunately, she had to walk past the bar to get to the restroom, and her knees felt as if they wanted to buckle under her weight. She scanned the bar, noting that the guy behind the tap was the same slender young man she’d spotted before. Then her eyes raced over the whole room again, her heart drumming a terrified beat.

He wasn’t here, thank God. When she reached the short hallway that led to the bathrooms, she nearly broke into a run. She pushed open the door, said a quick prayer of thanks that the bathroom was empty and pressed her hand over her eyes.

“He’s not even here,” she told herself.

Once her heart had stopped its mad gallop, she set her purse on the counter and washed her hands in cold water. The icy shock made her feel better. “It’s going to be fine,” she whispered, trying to convince herself that she was ready to go back out. But when Beth met her own wide eyes in the mirror and saw just how pale her face was, she knew she’d need a few more minutes.

She put her hands on the sink and leaned closer. “It’s going to be fine,” she repeated.

Two minutes, and then she’d walk out with her head high and her heart back in the right place. And she wouldn’t think about Jamie Donovan again tonight.

GOD SAVE HIM FROM THE sexually liberated.

Eric Donovan crossed his arms and frowned at his shoes, trying to process what he’d just heard from his brewmaster. “Wallace, I don’t understand. Faron is here with her husband. Her husband. How can you be upset about that? She’s married to the man.”

“He’s a philandering scoundrel!” Wallace yelled, shaking his fist toward the front room of the brewery as his face flooded red with rage.

A scoundrel? Eric ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. They have an open marriage. As a matter of fact, you’re dating Faron, so how can her husband be cheating on her?”

Wallace Hood, a bearded giant of a man who looked like he went home to a log cabin every night, gave Eric a look of prim horror. “I’m not dating her, man. I’m in love with her. And of course her husband can cheat on her. Don’t be an idiot.”

Eric probably should’ve felt irritated at being called an idiot, but he was too confused by the conversation. He glanced around the tank room of the brewery as if someone else could help. But they were alone amongst the brewing tanks and mash tuns. Eric shrugged and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t get it.”

The brewmaster sighed and ran an impatient hand over his thick beard. “There are ground rules in open marriages, and her bastard of a husband has stopped even pretending to follow them. He cheats on her. He lies about it. And then he vetoes all the men she wants to see, claiming that he doesn’t like them. That’s what he did to me, despite that I’ve known them both for years. And then tonight he brought her here on purpose.”

“Why?” Eric asked carefully.

“He’s taunting me, because he knows I see him for what he is. I tried to tell her a few months ago. Faron is a queen, and he’s not worthy to even kiss her feet. But she’s loyal and sees the best in people. She wants to give him a chance.”

“She seems really sweet.” And she had, the one time that Eric had met her. In fact, he’d been startled by her quiet voice and shy smile. The tiny girl with gentle brown eyes hadn’t fit Eric’s assumptions about that lifestyle at all.

“She is sweet.” Wallace sighed. “And she was falling for me. And now that bastard is taking her away to California, and he purposefully arranged this farewell party for her friends at my brewery.”

Technically, it was Eric’s brewery, but Wallace was as possessive and passionate as any owner, so Eric just rolled his eyes. “You can’t leave right now, Wallace. I need—”

“Well, I can’t stay here, can I?”

What was Eric supposed to say to that? He gazed into the kitchen through the glass wall of the tank room. Despite the late hour, there were still workmen out there, laboring overtime to cut a ventilation hole in his wall. Eric grimaced.

“She’s right there, man,” Wallace grumbled. “I know it’s a bad time, but…she’s right there.”

It was a bad time. The bottling line was acting up for the third time this month, they were behind on branding for the winter brews, and the kitchen had been invaded by outsiders. Granted, the outsiders had been brought in by Eric’s brother and sister, but still… These changes to the brewery weren’t Eric’s idea, even if he’d approved them, and he wanted nothing to do with them. “I really need you here tonight. You promised to stay late and transfer that small batch of amber to the new oak barrels.”

Wallace looked so heartbroken at Eric’s words that he wished he could take them back. “But…” Eric finally conceded. “I guess it’s just a few hours.”

“I’ll be in early tomorrow. I swear.”

Eric sighed. “Maybe it’s a good thing she’s moving to California.”

“She’s a good woman,” Wallace said, his voice suspiciously raspy. “She wants to trust the man, and she won’t walk away until she feels it’s really over. But he’s going to break her heart.”

Eric still couldn’t understand what marriage meant to someone who dated at the same time, but he’d never really understood Wallace’s lifestyle. Despite the man’s intimidating mountain-man looks, Wallace dated men, women and some people who seemed to skate between genders. But this was the first time Eric had seen Wallace in anything other than complete control. Love had hit him hard, it seemed.

Eric stole another look around the tank room, trying not to feel a sense of greedy anticipation. “All right. I’ll take care of the barrels. You—”

“Oh, I don’t know if I want you to—”

“Wallace,” Eric snapped. “We’re already off schedule.”

Wallace narrowed his eyes. The man was protective of his beer. Almost obsessively so. But it was Eric’s beer, too, and he’d lost enough control over his life this year. He wasn’t going to let Wallace think he could snatch a little more.

“Fine,” the brewmaster finally said. “Just don’t screw it up.” Wallace tossed his work gloves on the table and stalked out, slamming the door behind him. He paused for a moment, his eyes locked like lasers on the double doors that led to the front room and Faron, but then he shook his head and stalked out the back door.

“Jesus,” Eric muttered. Everyone around him seemed to be controlled by love and sex these days. His brother and sister were both in serious relationships, and now Wallace, a man who treated dating like a professional sport, was miserably in love with a married woman. Eric felt like the only person untouched by the craziness.

Not that he didn’t have any experience with it. He’d had his brush with it a few months ago, and even that brief encounter had left him shaken. He couldn’t imagine being faced with that kind of emotional intensity every day. Maybe he could forgive the fact that his siblings seemed to have lost their minds.

Eric rolled his shoulders, trying to dislodge the weariness that had settled in. He was always tense at work. But the stress usually didn’t bother him, if only because he couldn’t imagine life without it. He ran a business; of course he was stressed. What he didn’t like was the gnawing uncertainty that had taken him over in the last couple of months.

It had been one nightmare situation after another. Lost deals, theft and fraud, and now this mess in the kitchen. His brother, Jamie, was turning the family brewery into a pizza-serving brewpub, and Eric felt as though he’d lost complete control.

Grimacing, he watched masonry dust puff from the kitchen wall like a tiny cloud. Eric would much rather stay hidden in the peace of the tank room, but unfortunately, the casks would have to wait a couple of hours.

When Eric stepped into the kitchen his scowl faded away despite the roar of the masonry saw. The place might be chaotic and dusty, but Jamie stood watching it all with a grin on his face. This wasn’t Eric’s dream, but it was Jamie’s, and Eric would do everything he could to make sure it happened.

Jamie glanced over with a quick smile. Things had been easier between them for the past few months. Thank God. It still felt tenuous, but Eric was relieved as all hell that their years of fighting seemed to be behind them.

He walked over and slapped Jamie on the shoulder. “How’s it going?”

“Great!” Jamie shouted.

Eric turned to watch the progress with his brother for a few seconds, but he knew nothing about ovens or restaurant equipment, so he eventually slapped Jamie’s back again. “I’ll go check on the front, make sure everything is running smoothly.”

Laughter roared from the front room as he drew close. Eric glanced toward the crowd as he pushed through the doors, keeping a close eye out for Faron and her scoundrel of a husband. Before the doors had swung closed behind him, someone crashed into Eric’s shoulder. He grabbed for the woman, trying to steady her before she stumbled. She reached out, too, and her hand slid along his side just as she looked up.

Her face was so close to his that, for a moment, Eric thought he was imagining things. He smiled even as the nerves of his fingertips seemed to activate one by one. The wash of stark feeling progressed slowly up his fingers, his hands, his arms. By the time she pushed away with a gasp, his whole body felt as if an electrical shock was running through it.

Beth. His hands were on Beth Cantrell. His brain flickered through panicked thoughts.

Holy shit. His hands were on Beth Cantrell in his brewery.

He felt her trying to step away, but somehow his hands tightened on her shoulders as he glanced at the doors behind him. Jamie was still in the kitchen. As long as he didn’t head out to the front room, everything would be fine. No harm, no foul. No reason to panic.

Except, what the hell was she doing at the brewery? Had she come to see him?

“Beth,” he started, just as she slipped away from his hold. The tingling in his fingertips faded slowly, but now it had progressed to his brain.

If Jamie walked into the front room, Beth would be awfully surprised to meet him. Emphasis on awful.

When she backed a few feet away, Eric followed, hoping they’d be unnoticeable in the hallway.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Absolutely.” She was just as stunning as she had been six months before. Just as gorgeous and sophisticated. Her dark hair wasn’t pinned up tonight, and it fell over her shoulders in soft waves. Her body, all long legs and generous hips, had mesmerized him the first time he’d laid eyes on her, and it was no different now. He drank in the sight of her curves until her dark gaze slipped past him.

He looked behind himself again, but no one was there. If Jamie walked in, if someone said his name…

God, maybe he should just tell her. Maybe it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Funny thing, when you called me Jamie at the business expo…I should’ve corrected you. My name’s actually Eric. Crazy, huh? And then she’d laugh and shake her head and tell him it didn’t really matter because it had just been a one-night stand.

Yeah. Sure. He’d be lucky if she didn’t murder him right there with one of her stiletto heels.

Beyond the adrenaline pushing through his veins, Eric’s skin still prickled at the idea of being close to her again. Because he could still picture that night perfectly. Her body naked. Her lips parted on a moan. Her ass plump and firm, the muscles flexing as he fucked her from behind. Heat washed over him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Heat seemed to wash over her, too. Her cheeks turned pink. Had she come to see him? As anxious as he was, Eric felt a sudden, ferocious hope. He wanted to touch her again. Wanted to feel those sparks. The lust. The need.

He shifted closer, close enough to touch. When Beth closed her eyes, he clenched his hands to fists and stopped himself while he still could.

BETH ALMOST CONVINCED herself she was just imagining him. He smelled the same. And he looked exactly the same: dark-haired and tall, his brow furrowed in worry, as if he never set his thoughts aside, no matter what month or week or time it was.

“Beth?” he said again, and she suddenly felt as if she’d swallowed a heart that was way too big for her chest. She wanted him to touch her so she could turn to him. At the same time she wanted to edge around him and run away.

She shook her head and opened her eyes.

He stole another quick glance over his shoulder before turning back to her. “How are you?”

“Good,” she managed to say. “Great. I’m actually here with a party.”

“Oh.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You know Faron?”

“Yes! I…” She shifted her purse to the other hand, then back again. “Exactly. I know Faron.” It wasn’t quite a lie. They had friends in common. They’d been introduced a couple of times over the years.

The hallway was too small, despite being five feet across. His shoulders were so wide, and her memories too big, and the space just kept getting tighter and tighter. He cleared his throat, and she saw that he was just as uncomfortable as she was.

“I’m sorry,” Beth said. “I didn’t realize the party was here when I agreed to come. I honestly didn’t mean to…”

“Of course not,” he said quickly. “Come by anytime.” But his gray-blue eyes darted nervously down the hall again. Maybe he had a girlfriend now. Maybe she was one of the servers.

Beth wished the floor would open up and swallow her and her sickly thumping heart.

“I was just leaving,” she finally said.

Jamie stepped back. “Great. I mean, sure. Of course. That’s good. Have a nice night.”

Mortified, she edged past him and hurried back to the party. “Welcome back!” her date said when she found him and hovered a foot away.

“Thanks.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” She smiled and he handed her the beer she’d left behind. When she saw the way her hand was shaking, Beth took a seat at the nearest table and carefully set the beer down.

When he joined her, she hid a cringe. Was Jamie watching? She took a sip of beer to try to wet her parched mouth.

Beth glanced toward the bar, but didn’t spy Jamie anywhere. “I’m sorry,” she managed to say, then hesitated over his name again. “I…”

Davis! That was his name. Not David, but Davis, after Miles Davis, because this man had been cool since the day his parents had named him.

Beth felt guilty for her snarky thought, but her guilt vanished in an instant when she heard a girl cry out, “Hi, Jamie!”

Beth’s head snapped up so quickly that Davis’s voice cut off as if she’d sliced his words with a knife.

“Beth? Are you sure everything is okay?”

Definitely not. She scanned the crowded area near the bar, but she didn’t see him. While she watched, a cute blond guy in a brewery T-shirt waved toward someone. A girl broke free of the group and gave him a big hug.

“Listen, maybe a going-away party packed with people you don’t know isn’t an ideal first date.”

“No, it’s not that.” She tried to think of something witty to say. Tried to concentrate on this man. Yes, he was hip and overeducated, but he was also a nice guy. And his smile could melt butter on a cold day. In fact, the moment she’d met him, she’d thought she might actually enjoy herself on this date. That she might actually look forward to touching this man, to kissing him.

For the first time in six months, Beth had thought maybe she’d finally found another man who could turn her on. And like an evil genie summoned by the thought, Jamie Donovan had popped back into her life, reminding her what it had been like with him.

Yeah, she hadn’t had to wonder about whether sex with Jamie would be good. He’d turned her on just by feeding her dessert. The way he’d watched her, his gaze glued to her mouth as her lips parted. She’d wished—

Davis put his hand over hers for a brief moment. “I’ll say goodbye to Faron, and then we’ll go.”

“No. I’m sorry! I don’t want to cut the party short for you.”

“No big deal. Come on. Let’s find Faron.”

Davis took her hand again and led her through the packed room to the tiny woman standing at the edge of a large group of people. Beth wondered how tall she was without the perfectly round Afro, because even with it, she wasn’t bigger than five foot two. A skinny guy with long hair had his arm draped over her shoulder, a proprietary smile on his face. Faron wasn’t smiling when they walked up, but her sweet face broke into a grin when she saw Davis.

She hugged Davis and then Beth before they said their goodbyes. Faron’s husband had taken a job in Santa Barbara, but no one wanted to see her go. Nobody seemed that broken up about her husband, though.

“Ready?” Davis asked.

“Yes,” Beth answered, realizing it was the most honest thing she’d said all night. As she walked through the door, she dared one look back, but Jamie was nowhere to be seen.

The sharp cold of raindrops on her face startled her from her thoughts.

“Run!” Davis said, tugging her along. Beth ran, and by the time they reached his car, she was laughing so hard with relief that she couldn’t draw a breath. Davis reached to open the door, then shut it behind her before dashing around to the other side.

“My feet are soaked!” she gasped, stomping her heels against the carpet. “I think one of those puddles was more like a pond.”

“Your everything is soaked,” he corrected. He touched her cheek, sliding a wet strand of hair toward her temple. A drop of icy water trickled down to her jaw, and then he leaned close and kissed her.

Beth inhaled sharply and felt him smile against her mouth. When his lips brushed hers again, Beth told herself to relax, to enjoy it.

And there was no reason she shouldn’t. He smelled good. His lips parted just enough to encourage hers to part, as well. And his hand was a sweet touch on her jaw. Beth sighed and refused to think about Jamie Donovan. He hadn’t wanted to see her any more than she had him.

But then Davis pulled back and the kiss was over before she’d had a chance to make herself enjoy it.

“I’m really glad Cairo introduced us,” he said softly.

“Me, too.” And she was. When she wasn’t thinking about Jamie, she could imagine this man being her lover. She knew from experience that a first kiss said a lot about how a man would perform in bed. For example, that guy two years ago who’d immediately thrust his tongue down her throat…that had been his level of restraint and subtlety during sex, as well. Foreplay had been something along the lines of “Brace yourself, I’m coming in!”

But Davis…he might be quite lovely.

“I admit, though…” He started the car and glanced at her. “You weren’t quite what I was expecting.”

Her warm thoughts froze. “What do you mean?”

“Well, with the store and the advice column, and…you know. Cairo and the rest of her friends are…”

Beth knew exactly where this was going. She smoothed a hand down her skirt and hid a resigned smile.

“I just haven’t dated a woman with no tattoos in quite a while. You’re kind of a rarity here in Boulder.”

She managed a genuine laugh at that. He was straightforward, at least. She turned her gaze on him and let it slide over his body. He was older than most of Cairo’s friends, and a little alternative without being sloppy. Dark jeans and an expensive-looking T-shirt under a tailored leather jacket. And though she could see the edges of a few tattoos peaking past his clothing, not even his ears were pierced. Though there were always hidden spots.

“I get that a lot,” she finally said, offering him the same honesty he’d given her. “I’m not what anyone expects, I guess.” Even though she said it with a flirtatious smile, the words still squeezed her heart with a painful grip.

“I don’t mind being surprised,” Davis answered.

It was the right answer, and she liked him, but as he pulled away from the parking lot of the bar and turned toward Beth’s part of town, her heart sank. She wasn’t what he’d expected. She never was. And she could already see how this would end. He liked her well enough. He was intrigued by her. After all, she was the manager of the White Orchid, a high-end erotic boutique. She might look like any other professional businesswoman, but she spent her days selling sex toys and expensive lingerie. And she spent her evenings giving sex education classes and writing a new advice column as a sex expert.

On the surface, she was fascinating. But underneath it all…

Beth wrapped her hands tight around her purse and tried not to think. She always thought too much. The only time she’d ever been able to turn her brain off had been with…him.

It had been easy to dismiss her thoughts of him on previous dates. She hadn’t been attracted to any of those men, so naturally, she’d thought of Jamie. But now he was haunting her good dates, too, and she was beginning to feel a little hopeless.

“I’m glad I didn’t pick you up on the bike tonight,” Davis said. “Running through the rain is one thing, but it can be brutal on a bike.”

She pictured Davis in his leather coat, leaning close against a motorcycle, her arms wrapped around his waist. The picture should leave her shivery. It would any other red-blooded woman.

Davis pulled into her driveway and shut off the car to come around and open her door. He might have been raised by hipster Boulderites, but he had been taught the niceties of dating. There was nothing wrong with this man. And there was definitely nothing wrong with the way he kissed her once they were safe beneath the shelter of her patio. “You’re all wet again,” he murmured, his mouth sliding against the rain on her lips. Maybe she could be, if she let herself give in. So when his mouth urged hers to open, Beth touched her tongue to his. And what a nice tongue it was. Warm and slow against hers.

Beth kissed him and thought of inviting him in. He tasted so good. He was tall and cute and, as far as she could tell, he’d look great naked. His hand touched her hip, his fingers spreading along her curves as he deepened the kiss.

Yes, she could let him touch her. She’d enjoy it. And probably he’d enjoy it, too. But she wasn’t a girl with tattoos. And she had no hidden piercings. And despite what she wrote in her columns, the things she liked to do in bed were just as vanilla as everything else about her.

So he’d enjoy it, but he’d also be secretly puzzled. They all were. Wasn’t the manager of an erotic boutique supposed to be…erotic? Wasn’t she supposed to be a little freaky in bed? Or even better…a lot freaky? Shouldn’t she be better than other women?

Beth clenched her eyes shut and tried to turn off her brain, but it didn’t work. It never did. She was too aware. Aware of the way his fingers tightened a bit on her hip. He was getting into this. Getting aroused. And she was just…thinking. Again.

She broke the kiss and drew in a deep breath. “Thank you, Davis. I really had a nice time.”

His hand stayed on her hip. “Me, too.” He waited one heartbeat, then two, giving her a chance to invite him in.

She couldn’t do it. Not tonight, with the thought of Jamie so close at hand. There was no doubt how it would turn out. She’d be thinking the whole time, comparing him to Jamie, comparing herself to who she’d been that night six months ago.

She had to find that again, but it wasn’t going to happen tonight. Not with Davis. “Thanks,” she said again.

His hand finally slid away and Davis stepped back, looking only slightly disappointed. “I’ll call you. Maybe we’ll dare more next time. Dinner?”

“Maybe,” she said coyly, offering a quick kiss on his cheek before she escaped into her apartment.

Beth set her purse on the table, then hung up her coat in the hall closet. Her apartment was so quiet and so palpably solitary, that she was already regretting sending Davis away as she walked to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine. She’d lied to him about that. One glass of beer hadn’t been enough. She should have had three, and then maybe she would have been brave enough to let him in. She could’ve tried to lose herself. It wasn’t impossible.

It was in her somewhere, and it couldn’t just be about one man. Beth wouldn’t let it be.