The Wrong/Right Man Read online

  “I don’t know.” I lick my lips. “I’m still trying to figure it out.”

  “Let me know when you do.” He winks and my stomach flutters.

  We drive the rest of the way to the Chinese restaurant in silence, and when we arrive, he double parks and gets out, holding the door open and locking eyes with me. “I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll be here,” I say, and he slams the door. I watch him go into the restaurant and notice there’s a long line. I start to pull my phone out of my bag, but red-and-blue lights flash and I turn to look over my shoulder. “Shit.” I unhook my belt and fall across the middle console. Just as I’m seated behind the wheel, there’s a tap on the window. It takes me a moment to find the button to roll it down, and when I do, the officer standing on the other side of the door shakes his head.

  “Ma’am, you can’t park here.”

  “I’ll just be a minute. My… um… friend went in to pick up our food.” I glance quickly at the restaurant and see Braxton’s head a foot above everyone else’s, still waiting to reach the counter.

  “Sorry, you gotta move.”

  “But—”

  “Move or I’ll give you a ticket.”

  “Okay,” I give in, and he jerks up his chin then heads back to his car.

  My heart starts to pound as I watch him get into his vehicle and know when he doesn’t pull off that he’s waiting for me to leave. With no other choice, I adjust the seat so I can actually touch the pedals then put the engine in Drive. I hold my breath as I flip on the turn signal and wait until it’s clear to pull into traffic. I turn right at the next stop sign then curse when I see that the next road is blocked off, sending me deeper into an area that doesn’t exactly look welcoming.

  When I’m finally able to go right again, I do then drive like an old lady until I reach the road the restaurant is located on and turn once more. When I see the bright yellow awning for Number 1 Chinese, I notice the cop is still in his cruiser but pull in to park when I spot Braxton at the counter. I’m just about to hop back over to the passenger seat but stop when the cop flashes his lights at me, signaling for me to move along.

  Damn.

  With a few unladylike curses, I head down the block once more, knowing Braxton is going to assume I jacked his car and I have no way to let him know I didn’t and am actually just doing him a favor. When I make it back around once more, I see Braxton standing on the edge of the sidewalk with a bag of Chinese food in one hand, looking at his cell in the other.

  I honk and he lifts his head as I roll down the passenger side window. “A cop told me I had to move it or he would give you a ticket.”

  “I thought you stole my car.” He steps off the ledge of the sidewalk into the road and opens the door, getting in and slamming it closed.

  My eyes widen. “Don’t you want to drive?”

  “I’m gonna have to double park again in about two minutes. It’s better if you stay where you are,” he says, buckling up.

  “I don’t think that’s smart. I almost had a heart attack driving around the block two times.”

  “I trust you.”

  “You trust me, but you thought I stole your car.” I shake my head. “That doesn’t really make much sense.”

  “You didn’t steal it. You moved it so I wouldn’t get a ticket.”

  “I’m starting to think you’re a little insane.” I hold up two fingers an inch apart.

  His eyes move to my fingers and he grins. “Maybe. But isn’t everyone a little crazy?”

  “Maybe,” I agree then ask, “Where am I driving us?”

  “The corner store at the end of the next block.”

  Right. I pull back out into traffic and drive us there then watch as he gets out, only to come back a minute later with a brown paper bag. He comes around to the driver’s side and opens the door, reaching across me to unhook my belt.

  “I’ll take it from here.”

  Thank God, I think but don’t say. Still, he must read my expression, because he chuckles as he helps me down only to walk me around to the passenger door and help me in. “Where are we going?” I ask once I’m buckled in and he’s pulling away from the curb.

  “Freeway Park, it’s not far from here.”

  “Well that screams horror movie,” I mutter under my breath then inwardly smile at the sound of his laughter. When we reach the park, he pulls into a spot on the street and gets out, going to the back door to grab the stuff he picked up.

  I meet him on the sidewalk and marvel at the ease I feel as he takes my hand, carrying the bag of our food in the other.

  “Have you been here before?”

  “No, but it’s beautiful.” I know my voice is filled with awe as I look around. With the sun just starting to set and the buildings all lit up, it looks like a postcard.

  “Just wait until I show you the labyrinth.” He leads me down a tree-lined path to a large fountain surrounded by curved benches then motions for me to take a seat.

  I sit and watch him unload our food from the bag then trade out my fork for a set of chopsticks before opening up my paper container. Starving, I dig into my noodles with abandon, not caring how I look shoving them into my mouth.

  “Thank you for this,” I say as he takes a seat next to me and opens his container.

  “For what?” he asks, and I fiddle with my chopsticks.

  “It’s been a long week.” I shake my head. “I needed this, a simple meal in a quiet place.”

  “What happened this week?” he asks before taking a bite of his noodles.

  “I started a new job.” I turn toward him. “I worked at a small news station before I moved here, but I just started working for IMG, and I feel a little out of my league.” I notice his eyes flare slightly but don’t ask what that’s about. “There have just been a lot of changes for me in the last week, and I guess I’m still trying to settle in.”

  “Do you like your new job?”

  “Yeah, it’s a lot more intense than I’m used to, but I like my boss and the team I’m working with. Everyone seems really nice. It’s just different.”

  “Sometimes different is good,” he says softly, and I have to agree with that. “With time, you’ll settle in and find your footing. They wouldn’t have hired you if you didn’t have what they were looking for.”

  “You’re right,” I agree. Kathy, my boss, told me something along the same lines today after my first time on air.

  “I’m always right.” He winks, and I can’t help but laugh. He watches me for a moment then shakes his head and sets his food aside. He picks up the paper bag he came out of the corner store with and pulls out a cardboard container and two red solo cups. “Keeping with the theme.” He hands me a cup. “Wine from a box.”

  Laughing once more, I hold out my cup for him to pour me a drink. “You know the way to my heart.”

  “I’m not upset you’re so easy to please.”

  “I like cheap food and wine, but I’m definitely not easy,” I say in all seriousness.

  “Noted.” He lifts his cup and I do the same. “Here’s to positive changes and settling in.”

  “I’ll toast to that.” I touch my cup to his then take a sip, trying not to show exactly how gross it is.

  “Wow, that tastes like I bought it from the corner store for four dollars,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and I laugh. God, when was the last time I laughed this much with a man who wasn’t Jamie?

  “It’s not so bad.” I attempt to take another sip but end up gagging when the smell hits my nose.

  “It’s worse?” He stands, taking my cup from me. “I’ll get you a glass of real wine when we leave here,” he promises and walks both cups and what’s left of the box to the trash. When he comes back, he nudges his knee against mine. “Eat up so I can show you the labyrinth and get you a drink.”

  “Is there any chance that when you say you’re going to show me the labyrinth, you’re referring to the movie and actually mean you’re takin
g me to meet Jareth and Hoggle?”

  His eyes flash with approval. “I don’t want to crush your dream, but unfortunately, David Bowie and that grumpy puppet won’t be around.”

  “Darn, and here I was starting to think this might be a night to remember.”

  “The night’s still young,” he rumbles, and I press my thighs together when I see a look of promise in his gaze.

  Lord, I’m in so much trouble.

  Chapter 3

  DAKOTA

  AFTER SHOWING ME the labyrinth, a cool area of the park with staircases going in all different directions we got back into his Benz and ended up at a small bar near my building, our table tucked into the window alcove away from everyone else.

  “Favorite food?” he asks, leaning closer to me, my knees trapped between his powerful thighs as his body almost cages me in, making everything around us disappear.

  For the last forty minutes or so, we’ve been playing this game, but even though the questions are completely innocent, they seem to be amplifying the undercurrent of sexual tension building by the minute.

  “Tacos,” I answer before taking a sip of wine.

  “Steak.”

  “Red meat—not surprising.” I smirk as his lips twitch.

  “Favorite song?” he asks.

  “‘Hello’ by Adele. You?”

  “’Runaway Train.’”

  “Really?” I eye him doubtfully and he grins.

  “Really. Now, favorite color.”

  “Purple.”

  “Not pink?”

  “No.” I make a face.

  I listen to him chuckle then watch his lips move as he speaks. “Black for me.”

  “Again, not surprising.”

  “It’s not?” He lifts his glass of amber liquor to his lips.

  “Not at all. Black is a dominant color, and that seems to be your thing.”

  “Dominance is my thing?” He raises one sharp brow.

  “Isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never put a label on myself before or had anyone else attempt to dissect me.” He sits back then eyes my almost empty glass briefly. “Do you want another?”

  “Yes please.” I smile, and he skillfully moves my legs from between his to stand.

  I hold my breath as he bends, skimming his nose along my cheek, and then I close my eyes as he whispers, “Be right back.”

  “I’ll be here,” I say breathlessly, catching the small smirk on his lips as he leans back. I watch him move across the bar, noting I’m not the only woman admiring all that is him. I pick up my glass and turn toward the window that looks out over the street and smile as a couple passes, holding hands with a little boy between them who’s attempting to do a backflip.

  “Is this seat taken?” I look over my shoulder and come face-to-face with a man standing way too close.

  “Umm.” Before I can say more, he pulls out Braxton’s chair and sits, setting his beer down on the table. “Sorry.” I try not to sound annoyed, even though I am. “I’m here with someone.”

  “Really?” He looks around. “Where are they?”

  “At the bar,” I say, and he looks toward the bar, and I follow his gaze but don’t see Braxton anywhere in sight.

  “I’m sure your friend won’t mind if I keep you company.” His arrogance is not as charming as he thinks it is, and I feel tension start to settle in my neck and shoulders. “So what’s a pretty girl like you doing here on a Friday?”

  A pretty girl like you? Really? I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “As I mentioned after you sat down, I’m here with someone. They should be back any minute.”

  “Right.” He smiles like he doesn’t believe me and picks up his beer. “So do you live around here?”

  “Why?” I ask and move away when he tries to cage me in like Braxton had me minutes ago.

  “Just making small talk. I live in the building across the street.” Shit, does that mean we live in the same building? “What about you?”

  “I’m new to the area,” I answer vaguely, and he thumbs the label that’s beginning to peel off his beer.

  “I’d be happy to show you around sometime.”

  Lord help me. “I—”

  “Sorry it took me so long, baby.” Braxton appears out of nowhere, cutting me off, setting a glass of wine next to my now empty one, and cupping the back of my neck with his hand before turning to look at the man in his seat. “Thanks for keeping my girl company.”

  Whatever his name is—his eyes widen like he’s just seen a ghost and he practically falls out of the chair. “Shit, sorry, so sorry,” he rushes out then stumbles away from the table. I watch him rush across the room, wondering why he looks like his life just ended.

  “Are you all right?” Braxton asks, stealing my attention by moving his hand around to cup my cheek, and my eyes lock with his.

  “Yeah.”

  He searches my gaze for a long moment before taking his seat, caging me in once more, and just like that, the buzz that runs across my skin in his presence is amplified. I pick up my new glass of wine and take a gulp then set it down, wondering if I should do what I want to do.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  Asking you back to my place. Before I can make something up, people start shouting, and we both look toward the bar where a fight is breaking out.

  “Fuck, let’s get out of here,” he says when a barstool is thrown across the room. Without giving me much of a choice, he stands and pulls me up with him. Then before I even know it, we’re standing outside. He takes off his suit jacket and swings it around my shoulders, helping me into it before he starts down the sidewalk, holding my hand.

  Then, just like it’s prone to do in Seattle, the skies open up and rain begins to fall. Not a little but a lot.

  Thinking, Screw it, I throw caution to the wind and pull him under an awning by tugging on his hand. “I live just down the street,” I shout over the pounding rain and nod toward my building that can be seen over the others on the street. “We could go there and dry off.”

  I can’t understand the look in his eyes but let out the breath I was holding when he squeezes my fingers. “Lead the way.”

  I don’t lead him. Then again, I doubt anyone has ever led him in his life. He pulls me across the street when the traffic is clear, and by the time we make it to the entrance of my building, we’re both soaking wet. I acknowledge the doorman with a small smile then head for the elevators.

  I laugh when I catch my soaked reflection in a mirror on the wall then look up at him when he joins in. I press the button, and when the doors open, we fall inside still laughing. I hit the number for my floor, and as the elevator rises, I shiver from being wet in the air conditioning.

  “Come here.” He drags me against his chest, and I soak in his warmth and scent until the doors open once more. We step out of the elevator and walk down the hall, and when we reach my door, I pull my phone out of my purse and tap it to my keypad and let us in. I flip on the lights and take off his jacket, hanging it on the handle, and then move to the kitchen.

  “Do you want some tea or something?” I ask, and his eyes pull away from my place and focus on me. “I might have some Jack from when my brother and his bandmates helped me move in.”

  “I’m good with water.” He follows me, and I fill up a teakettle, placing it on the stovetop before grabbing a glass for him and filling it from the tap. I hand it to him then go in search of towels. “Your place is nice.”

  “Thanks.” I look around. I got a few purple pillows to add some color to the black couch and a silver-and-white throw that matches my bedding but haven’t done much else. “It was furnished when I got it, so I can’t take credit for the furniture.”

  “Hmm.” He walks to the wall of windows and looks out over the city as I go to my bathroom. I take off my dress and undergarments and change into a pair of leggings and a tank then grab two towels and walk to where he’s standing, handing him one while using mine to dry my hair. “I don
’t have any clothes that will fit you, but I can toss your shirt in the dryer if you want.”

  “That’d be good.” He unhooks his cufflinks then pulls the bottom of his shirt from his pants before working on the buttons. I try not to stare at him, but it’s impossible not to admire his fingers as they work or his torso as he bares it to me.

  Once his shirt is off, I take it from him with my shaking hands. I don’t look at him as I walk across the room to the dryer to toss it in. As I press start, the teakettle whistles, so I go to the kitchen, grab a peppermint teabag, fill my cup with steaming water, and carry it to the couch. As soon as I’m seated, he joins me, so I hand him the throw.

  “Is this because you think I’m cold or because you’re trying to cover me up?”

  “Both,” I admit, and he places the blanket over his lap, leaving his chest visible, and I shake my head then look over the back of the couch. “It’s still raining.”

  “It’s supposed to rain most of the night.” I feel his fingers skim my cheek then turn to watch him twirl a piece of my hair around his fingers. “It’s one of the things I love about this city.”

  “Most people from here hate the fact that it rains all the time.”

  “Like you’ve pointed out, I’m not like most people.” He trails his finger around the shell of my ear, and then his hand slides into my hair so he can cup the back of my head and pull me closer. His breath whispers into the quiet, and my eyes slide closed as his lips press against mine. His thumb on my chin gives a silent demand to open for him, and I do, moaning when his tongue touches mine. When he pulls away, I start to ask him why he’s stopping, but my breath catches as he flips away the blanket and pulls me over to straddle his lap. “That’s better.”

  He smiles before dragging my mouth back down to his. I have to agree; this position is much better. I move my hands up his chest and wrap them around his shoulders as his hands glide up the tops of my thighs then around my hips, urging me closer.

  I get completely lost in him, his touch, his kiss, his taste, and don’t care if I’m never found as his mouth trails down my neck to the tops of my breasts.

  “Lift your arms.”