Chapter Twelve
Regan
I turn over in bed, stretching. Joey complains when I almost squish him. I laugh. “You’ve got to be quicker than that.”
He trots off to use his litter box, but I stay put, lazily staring at the indentation on the empty pillow next to me. What was I thinking telling him the things I did? What if he blabs all over town and I become the laughingstock woman who can’t come? The middle-aged masturbating cat lady.
Oh my god, what have I done?
Can’t blame it on the alcohol—I only had one glass.
I wish I could take it all back. I should have lied through my teeth and convinced him of what I’m so good at—making them think they’re all good lovers.
This is something I can’t undo. There’s no way to take it back or talk my way out of it.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I chide myself loudly.
“What’s stupid?”
My heart pounds and I dart up in bed when I hear the deep male voice. I’m reaching for the baseball bat under my bed when Lucas comes around the corner.
The bat thumps to the carpet as I exhale my relief.
He stares at the bat. “You keep a bat under your bed?” His head cocks. “Weren’t you the one just telling me this town is so safe, you didn’t need to lock your door?” He laughs. “In this case, it worked in my favor.” He raises his arms. In one hand is a beverage carrier with two tall coffee cups from The Criss Coffee Corner.
The other hand holds a bag emblazoned with the name of the pastry shop down the street. Ava carries a small selection of breakfast items and snacks, but this place… my mouth waters despite the presence of my uninvited guest.
Joey hisses, skitters around Lucas, and jumps to my side.
“What’s with him, anyway,” Lucas asks. “Why does he hate me?”
I pet Joey. “He’s a very good judge of character. He’s warning me away.”
“He’s protecting you?” he muses. “Maybe you should tell him we’re just friends and he has nothing to worry about. That I can’t break your heart because no woman in her right mind would let herself fall for a guy like me.”
I chuckle at how right he is, even though he has yet to tell me why he’s here. I cross my arms. “Friends don’t break into each other’s apartments.”
“If you never lock up, that’s what happens.”
I think of his words. “ Are we friends, Lucas?”
“Yeah, of course we are. And sometimes friends bring each other breakfast. So get up before the coffee turns cold.” He spins and leaves the doorway.
Joey stares at me as if he understood the conversation, wondering what I’m going to do next. I shrug. “He brought pastries.”
I get out of bed, pull on a robe, hit the bathroom, and join Lucas in the kitchen.
When I get there, he’s arranged a dozen pastries on my Scooby Doo mystery machine platter. I’m busy deciding if I’m upset that he was rummaging through my cabinets when he sees me. “Pick your poison.”
I peruse the donuts, bear claws, gooey cinnamon rolls, and chocolate-drizzled croissants. Settling on a croissant, I pull it apart and take a bite of the heavenly confection, moaning when it explodes across my taste buds.
“That right there”—Lucas points at me—“that’s the sound you make when you fake it.”
Still mortified over the embarrassingly private details I divulged, I take a seat and beg, “About that. Can we never speak of it again? And please, please don’t tell anyone. I never should have said anything.”
“Sorry. No can do.”
I drop the croissant in anger. “No can do what? Speak of it, or tell anyone?” My heart sinks. “You already did, didn’t you? Who did you tell?”
“Calm down and eat your breakfast,” he says, pushing my small paper plate toward me. “I meant the speaking of it part. I was up half the night thinking what a shame it is that you can’t enjoy fucking enough to get there.”
I almost choke at his bluntness. “I enjoy sex, Lucas. For the most part.”
“Tell me what that means exactly.”
“I enjoyed it with you. With the last few guys I’ve been with. Just not with—”
“That asshole, David.”
I nod.
“So you enjoy it. Good. We can work with that.”
I cock my head, unsure of where this is going and why he’s here. “We can work with that?”
He shoves an entire cinnamon donut into his mouth, chews, swallows, then takes a drink of his coffee. He leans forward, elbows on the table, fingers steepled underneath his chin. He looks all businesslike. In fact, it’s now that I realize it’s Sunday morning, yet he’s dressed in gray linen pants. At least he’s traded his usual button-down dress shirt for a short-sleeved Polo. “I have a proposition for you.”
My appetite now lost—something most unusual for me—I stand and pull my robe tightly around my body. “A proposition?”
“One that will benefit us both.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why don’t I believe that?”
Joey darts across the kitchen floor, eyeing Lucas carefully as he sniffs his empty food bowl.
I walk over, open a cabinet, and peel back the film of his favorite salmon cat food. As I spoon it onto a dish, Joey glares at Lucas as if he might steal it from him, then turns and digs in.
“I’m gonna get that cat to like me if it’s the last thing I do,” Lucas says.
Hands on my hips, I stare at Lucas, wondering exactly what kind of proposition he has that would be mutually beneficial. His words echo in my head. So you enjoy it. We can work with that. My jaw hits the floor.
“You have some gall,” I snap.
He holds up his hands and looks from wall to wall. “What? I haven’t even said anything yet.”
I stride over and tower over him where he sits at my table. “You want to fix me, don’t you? Make me your pet project. And all the while you’ll be getting your rocks off instead of spilling into your hand considering nobody in this town is crazy enough to sleep with you.”
The surprise on his face tells me I’m spot on. A hand rakes through his perfect hair, rendering it not so perfect. His mouth opens, closes, then opens again. “Um… how in the hell did you know?” He stands, getting leverage over me. “Regan, you don’t need fixing, and you wouldn’t be my pet project. It would be a journey into exploring your sexuality.”
“Ha!” I bend over and snort laughter. “Are you serious? Do you think I was born yesterday?”
“You’re not wrong in that I’d be getting something out of it too. Before you, I had a long dry spell. Lissa was the last woman I was with. And with her engagement and all the reporters spreading my business on the news, I’ll be hard pressed to find any woman in the tri-state area to take a chance on me. So I like sex. I’m a red-blooded guy, of course I do. We can make this work, Regan. I’m nobody to you. Who cares what happens in the bedroom? Lots of fucking, no strings. No complications. But maybe, just maybe, we can get you to the point of letting go. Think of how that could help you in the future. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life sticking pieces of plastic in your pussy?”
His proposition is so outrageously idiotic, I contemplate slapping him across the face. If not for myself, for all womankind. But then why, in the back of my head, is there something telling me to consider it?
“Listen,” he says, taking a seat again and sifting through the pastries for his next selection. “I’m going to be out of town for two weeks. I’m headed to Napa for a wine convention and then I’ll be touring and meeting with some CMOs at wineries along the west coast. Think about it. That’s all I’m asking.”
I’m honestly stunned into silence as I watch him nonchalantly eat a bear claw after everything he just said. Does he have no shame?
Joey, now finished with his own meal, watches Lucas from around the corner, only his head sticking out as he appraises our uninvited guest. I should take my cues from him. Animals are smart. They sense things. Things humans can’t.
Lucas wipes his mouth with a napkin, throws his trash away, and approaches me. He leans close, his hot breath flowing over my neck causing goosebumps to erupt over my entire body, and whispers into my ear, “I’m not him. And I swear, I’m going to make you come. I’m going to make you come with my fingers. My tongue. My cock. I’m going to make you come so hard and in so many different ways, you’ll forget all about that motherfucker. I’m going to make you come so spectacularly, your toys will be jealous. I’m going to make you come so often, you won’t be able to think about anything else. Work. Food. Friends. They’ll all be secondary. Your every thought will be of what’s going to happen next. You’ll be an addict to orgasms, Ray. And your life will change forever.”
He picks up his coffee, walks to the front door, and leaves.
Wetness pools between my legs. Ho-lee shit.
I race off to my bedroom and consider his proposition.
I consider it three times.