Lightning Strikes Once – by Claire Marti #2
The lanky mustached bartender appeared. “So sorry guys. Don’t worry about the tab and please take the towel. I’m John and if you need anything dry cleaned, just bring me the bill.”
“Thanks, man.” Although the accident had probably ruined not just Mallory’s clothes but our evening.
Mallory grabbed her bag and we picked our way across the sticky floor and broken glass, and escaped into the evening.
Was my chance to convince the most intriguing woman fate had placed in my path to go out with me over before it began?
MALLORY
I fought the desire to scream up at the stars dotting the hazy L.A. skyline. Between the heartbreaking news from Arush, my career dilemma, and now looking like I was next in line for a wet t-shirt contest, I was close to snapping.
Meeting André had been a pleasant distraction from my problems. Hello Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. But no way could I go to Blue Bottle now.
“Any chance you’ve got a change of clothes in that bag of yours?” André arched one thick dark brow.
“I wish.” His attempts to cheer me up were appreciated. Not only gorgeous and a bookworm, but kind, too. And the chemistry simmering between us was undeniable. My skin still tingled where he’d caught my shoulders.
He inclined his head. “I really want to hang out and talk but I get it if you’re done. Maybe we can get together another time?”
I didn’t want the evening to end yet, either. He was the most interesting man I’d met in forever. The hints of his soap and cedar scent, his sheer size, and his warmth were beyond tempting. And I loved the intensity in his dark gaze when he looked at me.
I needed to get out of my drenched clothes, pronto.
I lived about four blocks away and tonight at least, I would trust my gut.
Yeah, I really was inviting a stranger over to my apartment.
Maybe I’d lived in a small village in Tanzania too long and wasn’t accustomed to being back in the big bad city.
Although I didn’t know André’s last name or anything about him except he hung at the library reading biographies on Friday nights, I sensed he wouldn’t harm me.
My words tumbled out in a rush. “I can’t go out anywhere like this. I live close and we can go to my place. I have a giant protective neighbor named Bruno. I’ll text him. Just in case you’re a serial killer or something.”
He studied me for a moment. “I couldn’t even watch Silence of the Lambs all the way through. And happy to meet Bruno.”
My lips twitched. “It’s a great movie. Okay, let’s go.”
I texted Bruno, alerting him I had company. Just in case.
I led the way to my charming, old-school apartment building, and tapped on Bruno’s door, which was next to mine. The retired rugby player/part-time actor whipped open the door, crossed arms the size of tree trunks across his massive chest, and scowled.
“Bruno, this is my new friend, André. André, this is Bruno.” I bit the inside of my cheek because Bruno was playing the bodyguard role perfectly.
“I’ll be right here all night.” He stared at André and jerked his thumb back at his door.
“Thanks, Bruno.” I smiled sweetly.
André and I continued to my scarlet front door. Once we were inside, I tossed my satchel onto the foyer table and kicked off my shoes.
“So that’s my guardian a.k.a next-door neighbor. Thanks for meeting him. Anyway, do you mind leaving your shoes at the door?”
He crouched down to untie his gigantic black Adidas and gazed up at me through a thick fringe of lashes. “I like that you’ve got someone looking out for you.”
“I’m a grown woman but I do, too. Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.” I waved an arm toward my mid-century modern khaki green couch and high-tailed across the open-concept space to my bedroom.
I pressed my hands to my belly, willing the jumpiness to settle.
After I changed into clean, dry clothes, I tugged off my scrunchie, dragged my fingers through my hair, and allowed the messy waves to settle around my shoulders.
I splashed cool water on my face, brushed my teeth, and slicked on a little lip gloss.
Tonight I wanted to forget. Yeah, I’d invited over some sexy stranger but right now I didn’t care. A drink and maybe more with a hot as hell guy who had my blood simmering in my veins seemed like a good idea. Was I about to make a reckless decision?
I squared my shoulders and marched back to my living room. “So, another glass of whiskey or do you want wine? I’ve got a beautiful Bordeaux blend.”
André lounged back on the couch, one powerful leg crossed over his knee. “Love them both. Whatever you’re having works for me.”
The overhead track-lights illuminated six foot something of pure masculine beauty. His melted chocolate eyes held a hint of sweetness, in contrast to his huge, hard body. Irresistible .
The air thickened and I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “Let’s have a glass of wine. And please excuse the mess. My renter moved out and I haven’t finished unpacking.”
He flashed a grin and held up two square-palmed hands. “No judgment here. How long have you been back?”
“Five days.” I stepped around the gray quartz island into the kitchen and pulled out the 2019 Chateau Corbin Grand Cru Classe. I filled two stemless glasses.
“Seriously? The time difference is like thirteen hours, right? Have you been able to sleep?”
“Not so much. It’s eleven hours and jetlag’s kicking my butt.” I joined him on the couch. When I handed him the wineglass, our fingers brushed, and my breath lodged in my throat.
I scooted to the opposite end of the couch, folding my legs beneath me.
“So.” He sipped his wine.
I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “So.”
He tilted his head. “So, do you want to share what’s going on?”
“You’re sure? It’s a lot.”
He nodded. “I grew up with a single mom and three younger sisters. I’ve won trophies for listening. Do your worst.”
What did I have to lose? “Okay, one of the Tanzanian families I grew close to while I was there just lost their home in a fire and their youngest daughter suffered severe burns. They don’t have much money and may be forced to leave the village if they can’t get some outside help.
If I was there, I could advocate for them.
” I inhaled a fortifying breath and admitted, “I feel helpless.”
His strong brow furrowed. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry. Is there anything you can do from here?”
I nibbled on my lower lip. “I can make some calls tomorrow, but it’s hard being so far away. Anyway, that’s the email I received at the library and then…”
“And then?”
“Well, I’m under pressure from the University to accept or decline tenure. But I want to quit and focus on writing a book. I’m over the politics of academia but losing the security is scary.”
He nodded. “That’s a big decision. What’s your book about?”
“It’s a biography of Ruth Benedict. She was one of the first famous female anthropologists of the twentieth century. She’s one of my inspirations.”
“I love biographies. Well, except the one I was reading tonight. Do you want my opinion?” His voice was rich, smoky.
“I do.” How refreshing that he’d asked.
His gaze lowered and he swirled the ruby red liquid. “I can’t tell you what to do but life is short. Sometimes you simply have to take a leap of faith and risk stability to pursue your dreams.
“I mean, you need to be able to keep a roof over your head but like Eminem said, “You’ve only got one shot”.”
Hope fluttered inside me. “I love the song and the sentiment.”
“Is there some middle ground? Like, could you be an Associate Professor while writing your book? And when you publish, transition out?”
I considered for a moment. “Yeah, that’s actually a brilliant idea. I’m just not sure if the Dean will go for it. It’s a big honor to be offered tenure because nobody ever leaves my department. The opportunity might not arise again.”
He shrugged a broad shoulder. “Sure, but does that matter if it’s not what you really want? What does your gut tell you?”
“Right in this moment?” I want you to kiss me. “To stop talking about my problems. Maybe to forget for a little while.”
He carefully set down his glass and tossed his baseball cap onto the teak coffee table, revealing thick mahogany hair. “I’m a big proponent of forgetting about problems.”
“You are?” Anticipation danced up my spine.
“Can I kiss you?” His molten chocolate eyes hooded.
Longing whispered through me. I nodded and placed my wineglass on the table.
He moved closer, threaded one hand into my hair, and captured my mouth. His tongue caressed mine and I opened for him. He tasted delicious, hints of rich wine, spice, and temptation.
Something unfurled in my belly and my heart beat a staccato rhythm against my ribcage. I wound my arms around his strong, tanned neck. Our chemistry ignited, a potent mixture of passion and hunger.
I moaned. I’d already crossed the path of no return. Here was a true escape.
He growled low in his throat and in a quick move, scooped me up to straddle him, his hands gripping my hips. He gazed into my eyes, his pupils blown to pure black. I melted against his solid chest and lowered my mouth to his again.
I rocked my hips against his rigid length, and heat blossomed low in my belly. I stroked my fingernails across the heated skin on the back of his neck and pressed closer.
He slid his hands up my spine, cradling the back of my head, and deepened the kiss with an intense urgency. My mind shut down and fire flowed through my veins.
Suddenly, I was reclining back on the cushions, and he dropped to his knees between my legs.
He skimmed his hands up my thighs, leaving me a quivering mess.
His hands caught the hem of my t-shirt and lifted it upward.
I helped him yank off the silky cotton and tossed it across the room.
His molten gaze traced along my torso and my nipples pebbled, my breathing accelerating.
“You’re so beautiful, Mallory.” His eyes hooded before he leaned in and brushed his full lips against my throat.