Tangling Hearts (Hearts Series Book 3) Read online

  I stiffen. “Tommy…”

  His hand goes up to stop me, but he’s still looking outside, his face away from me. “Don’t.” He waits a second to turn around and when he does, the spark is gone from his eyes. It’s a dramatic difference from how he normally looks, like all the light has vanished and made him normal, almost sad. “I know how you feel about Brendan. I know I’m here because he isn’t.”

  The look in his eyes is crushing. Never did it occur to me that by using Tommy, I might hurt him. Unsure of what to say under this new revelation, I run my tongue along the inside of my front teeth, staring at him. Does he really care about me? Has he all along, and I didn’t know?

  He glances to the floor, touches his wrist, inspects his hand, then nods. “Thank you for not denying it. But guess what? I don’t care. You know why I don’t care?”

  Slowly I shake my head, my breasts rising with shortened, nervous breaths. I’d give anything to walk over to my wine glass so I could coat my dry throat with liquid courage. I try to speak, but I can’t. I have no idea what to say, being confronted like this and thrown by such a shocking turn. I’m looking at Tommy with new eyes, the possibility of him being more than a way to get back at Brendan occurring to me for the first time. So what if he’s only thirty, if that? I wouldn’t be lonely anymore. If I could care about him the way I care about his friend, then all my problems would be solved. Now if I could just get my heart to agree.

  Tommy walks a couple steps toward me. “I don’t care, because the first time I saw you with Brendan, I knew you were better than him.” He holds his palms up in front of him like a scale. “It didn’t balance up. He’s here. You’re here. See?” One slow measured step at a time, he comes closer, my heart weightless as I watch. “You may not see it, because you don’t know me, yet. But I’m up here with you. Water rises to its own level. That’s why we’re here together now. This…” He motions back and forth between us. “This is even.”

  “I’m a lot older than you,” I whisper.

  “You think I give a fuck about that? You’re a finer woman than any I’ve met, Rebecca, at any age. Look at you!” He swiftly turns me around to face the mirror above the fireplace. Embarrassed, I look at the floor, but he kisses my shoulder and whispers, “Look at us.”

  “Tommy, this is silly.”

  “You’re beautiful. Look!”

  I raise my eyes and catch sight of our reflection. The way he’s looking at me gives me the gift of seeing myself differently. I see beauty glowing from his eyes into mine, peeling away the downward spiral of being a childless, single woman in her early forties. Through his gaze, I see vibrancy, sexuality… worth.

  “Breathe, Bec.” He kisses my shoulder again, sending a sensual shiver drifting into my skin. His hands hypnotically massage my hips. “Come over here.” He leads me to the window and pushes open the white gauze curtains with one hand, slipping his other hand under my dress and into the back of my panties to slide them off, down my legs. I put my hands on the window frame, holding steady, my body aching to be touched by talented hands like his, excited by the exhibitionism he’s proposing, and nervous as hell about it at the same time. His fingers slip into me and he moans at how wet I am. “Well, look who’s ready,” he whispers into my ear, the heat of his breath making me gush. I move against his hand. He unzips his jeans, letting gravity take them down before he kicks them off. With me watching the night out the window, I hear him sliding a condom on and tossing the wrapper aside.

  A couple approaches on the sidewalk outside the window, down below about twenty feet. I notice they’re not holding hands or even talking. Both of them have their phones in their hands. They look disconnected. Unhappy. They remind me of Jack, my ex-husband, and me. But I’m not where they are anymore. And my body opens more at this knowledge, feathery sensations billowing out, because I’m no longer in a sexless marriage. I’m free. The man walking below looks away from his phone and my breath catches as I think he just might see me.

  “Tommy…I don’t know about this.”

  “Let them look up.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I think you do,” he says on a chuckle, his right arm reaching around and fingering me, his left hand gripped onto my hip. My body is betraying me, my hips moving of their own accord. He groans as he slowly pushes into my aching pussy. He’s throbbing. It’s wrenching any inhibitions I have away. Growing excited by being on display, I watch the street below, wondering if they’ll look up. This building is so beautiful; surely they’ll admire it and catch us in the window.

  My legs bend with his, our bodies pounding together faster as I lose myself. I clutch the window frame as I moan, the sounds of us fucking, mingling together and turning me on even more. He’s grunting, and his fingers move faster in circles as I cry out. He slides in and out, astonishing me with the pleasure his rock-hard cock is giving my body, filling me up and making me beg him to keep going. I begin to laugh, deep and wicked. I know he’s smiling, too, from the groan he just gave. My eyes lock with the man’s on the street as he looks up at just the right moment, the woman he’s with, not noticing. He says nothing to her, and looks away, but his eyes sneak back to peek from the corners. I smile, arch my ass up and Tommy thrusts into me harder, knowing we’re being watched and loving it. I slam my hand flat against the frame and scream out, an orgasm ripping me in half. The stranger stares at me and just as his woman turns her head, I close the curtains and Tommy laughs and shoots into me with jerking, hammering, convulsions that make me want to go all over again. I love the sounds men make when they cum. He pushes up and strokes me one last slow time before he pulls out and kisses my neck.

  “You just made his whole year,” Tommy chuckles as he heads for the bathroom.

  My hands are still up on the window, and I’m looking over my shoulder at him with my dress askew, my eyes on his retreating bare ass.

  You just made mine. “Let’s shower together,” I call over, dropping my hands to adjust the dress.

  He glances to the side, not enough to really look at me. “Another time.”

  I walk over to my wine glass and take a sip as I hear the shower turn on. The tannins in this Zin are a bit too dry to swig and I’m longing for some water, but fuck it. Who cares? I have a whole lifetime to drink water. A man more than a decade younger than me and hotter than the Arizona sun just fucked me in a window. I walk to the mirror to get a gander at what satisfaction looks like. The omnipotence I felt in my early twenties stares back at me, and I give myself a playful wink, whispering, “Welcome back. Where the hell have you been?”

  But when Tommy comes back, he’s naked only from the waist down. He’s still got his shirt on, even though he just showered. That’s more than a little odd. The perpetual refusal to go all the way nude is beginning to nag at me.

  “Something wrong?”

  “What? Oh… no. Nothing is wrong. I’m just tired, I think. It’s been a long few days.”

  A knock at the door pulls both our attention and instantly a muffled voice calls, “Firewood!”

  Tommy’s deep voice rises to say, loud enough to be heard. “Leave it outside.”

  We hear a thud, then, muffled through the thick door, “Okay. It’s here. Need matches?”

  Tommy looks at me. I shake my head. “Nope. We’ve got it!” he bellows back.

  “Kindling?”

  Tommy rolls his eyes. “We’re fine!”

  He stares at the door until footsteps fade away on the other side, and then he turns to me with an amused face. “Maybe that guy on the sidewalk told him there was a show in Room 10.”

  “Mmmhmm. You’re staying over, right?”

  Tommy’s eyes dance again, and he strolls over to me, cock swinging. “Is that what you want?”

  “I do.”

  “Then hell yes.” He searches my eyes, leans in and gives me a deep kiss, reaching up to stroke my breast. “Do you have any Advil in your suitcase?”

  “I don’t. Sorry.”

&nbs
p; “That’s okay. I’ll man up.” He smiles and goes to the door, peeking out first to see if the hallway is empty before bringing the firewood in, bare-assed. I laugh, watching him tiptoe like a goofball, acting silly and wiggling his butt in the air, before he closes the door with his foot. “I haven’t made a fire in years. I love this!”

  “Oh good, because there’s something very sexy about a man building a fire.” I slip out of my dress and crawl into bed to watch him stoke the fire, but I can’t stop staring at his shirt. With him bent over throwing in the two logs, I note every time he winces and adjusts his body, squatting down on one knee. He’s definitely favoring his left shoulder, so why did he lie and say it’s both?

  “What about you staying another night in town?” He stands up, the flames rising behind him in growing red and orange flicks of heat. “Do you have to be back?”

  I smile, pulling my hair to the side and out of my way. “I have a lot of people waiting on me, for my charity work. But I could stay another day. Why not?” My smile spreads into a grin as he climbs in bed. “Don’t you want to take that off?”

  “I get cold at night,” he says, pulling the blankets up.

  “I’ll keep you warm, you sexy beast.”

  He grins at me, and wraps his legs around mine. “It’s a thing I have. I like to sleep with my shirt on. Just forget about it, okay?”

  “Okay. That’s fine.” His eyes are weighted down and I glance quickly to the wine to see the bottle still a quarter full. There’s no way he’s drunk. “You look really tired.”

  “I’ve been sick, remember? I’m still getting better, so maybe we should just sleep a little. I’ll ravage your body in the morning, if that’s okay. Don’t worry, it’s not contagious.” He leans over and kisses me, sensually licking my tongue with his before collapsing back on the pillow, a frown piercing his forehead as he lands.

  “Of course. Rest up.” As I watch him close his eyes, I add, “Maybe we could go to Golden Gate Park tomorrow. You don’t have to go back to work yet, right?”

  He smiles, but his eyes stay shut and he turns his head away. “That’s true. I’ll probably go back to work in a couple days. The park sounds great. We’ll do a picnic.”

  I smile and close my eyes, letting the weight of the past days fall off me as exhaustion takes me into a wonderful, dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  Brendan

  4:00 A.M. Lying on my back. Blanket: halfway up my waist. Tent: popped.

  I’m looking at the woman lying beside me, sleeping on her stomach, her arm a little twisted because her fingers are laced through mine. I woke up like this, but I don’t know if I held her hand in the night, or she, mine. What I do know is not once have I looked forward to when she’ll leave, which is what I always think about when someone spends the night. I’m normally itching to have my space back and start my day in my own way without having to look out for someone else. Rebecca was the one exception. I’d gotten used to spending entire weekends with her only because she was coming in from out of town and it was just four to five times a year, so it made sense. But I had to get used to it.

  This… with Freckles… feels easy. Really easy. Sometime last night I decided to stop fighting it. To be here with whatever this is, and stop trying to figure it out, like she said to. When we guys make a decision to be in, we’re in. I guess that’s where I’m at right now, which is crazy, and very, very… cool. You don’t realize you were missing something until it shows up.

  She looks very peaceful, her expression dream-laced. I’ve visually traced every eyelash, every freckle, every angle of her, and what’s wild is there’s nothing I’d rather be doing. I want to take her again. I’m hard right now. And she’s got those lips I have to kiss. But watching her sleep, I make myself leave her alone. About ten minutes ago, she frowned, and it took me squeezing her hand to make it go away. She’s been through a lot. She got hospitalized from exhaustion, after all. I assumed it was from the shock of everything that happened to us, but when she made that comment about the size of my bathroom, I realized I don’t know her financial situation, haven’t seen her apartment. I thought because she owned the bar that she was flush, but that comment made me second-guess the assumption. When money-stress comes into play, it can rip you to shreds. Having involuntary reconstruction and subsequent closing of her only source of income has to be insanely stressful. So, I won’t wake her.

  There hasn’t been a single time in all the years since college that I’ve thought about giving monogamy a shot. I was on a roll – for years – and panties were flying. Some tried to have more, some tried to capture me, and some knew instinctively there wasn’t a chance in hell so they just calmly went on to the next guy – the one who could give them what they wanted. That wasn’t me, unless what they wanted was a really good time for a really short period of time, months at the most. There’s something valuable in that, so a lot were game.

  But me? I was happy with it. Didn’t need anything else. Name one guy on the planet who wouldn’t have loved to have had what I had, and I was top on that list.

  Rising to Creative Director was connected to that. Having a revolving door of the hottest ass in town was a rush that kept me at the top of my game. After a night of fucking someone who could have easily posed for Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition, and sometimes had, I’d walk in feeling like there was no way I could lose. My mojo was amped, high on pheromones and acquisition. Applying that same strategy – make them feel like it’s their idea, and they’ll open their legs or their advertising accounts – I found that all the goals I set out for myself were not only achievable but achieved. I got what I wanted. They gave me what I wanted. They all did. And the main ingredient to success was that I never really cared.

  When you can walk away, then you have all the power. I knew if Location Times Three didn’t promote me, there’d be another agency waving me in with a smile. I’ve studied the changing marketplace. I know how to help my clients reach new people, even if that means rebranding. I know what to do and when to strike. So I had all the answers, and all I had to do was let them know I was willing to walk.

  People will do a lot when they don’t want to lose someone.

  Losing someone…

  Looking at this beauty beside me, there’s a feeling deep in me that I can’t believe is here; I don’t want to lose this one. Which means she holds the cards. She’s got the knife and I’m left hoping she won’t use it. That should scare me. But I trust her. She’s the first woman I’ve trusted since my first love. And there’s a huge difference between my trust then and now; then it was born of innocence, now it’s the opposite, so it’s stronger. Coming from where I’ve come, trusting her means a lot more.

  Staring at her sleeping face, I’m wondering why I trust Annie, and the only answer that comes back to me is it’s in her eyes, in the way she looks at me. Besides that, it’s just a feeling I have in my gut, like she’s safe for me to care about. Like she won’t do anything disrespectful to me.

  Plus, she’s given me room to be a man in so many of the things she’s done. And never once have I caught her looking at me like she was planning something. She just seems happy to be around me, grateful for our time together. Not in an insecure way, but in a way that says she gets her own worth, gets my worth, and is happy when the two come together. Or maybe she knows that life is short so why not just let things be as they are and enjoy them. I’m sure the shooting helped solidify that. It sure did for me.

  Rebecca... dammit, I can’t believe what’s happened with her.

  I turn my head and look at the ceiling, thinking of that stupid hair-tie stunt, feel the impatience pull at my belly. Plus, I’ve got to pee. Carefully getting up to answer nature’s call, I let go of Annie’s hand and walk away from the bed, thinking of Rebecca and how she handled everything.

  Calling Tommy I could understand more than that rubber band bullshit. Tommy was a bomb waiting to detonate that she was powerless against. He’d been scheming and I
know his game just as well as I know Mark’s. Which means I know how good he is at it. The second she found out there was a weakness in our relationship was the second she’d fall into his trap. Looking at myself in the bathroom mirror, I say with disgust, “You have only yourself to blame for how this went down. You should have set her free years ago.”

  But I’d negotiated with myself. Gave myself ‘The Maybes.’ Maybe I’ll grow to love her. Maybe we can keep things casual without problems. Maybe she won’t get hurt. At least Tommy called off seeing her when I asked him to. At least I’ve got that. At least she told me what she was planning, so I could cut it off before it happened.

  He’s not a good guy, and she deserves better.

  “Go find someone who will make you happy, Rebecca,” I say out loud, flushing the toilet.

  Pity, too. I’m not one for burning bridges so I was planning on continuing a friendship with her – until I saw the nightstand and lost all respect. And I know she left the calls on my phone for me to find, to make me crazy. The list goes on and on, nailing the coffin and setting it to sea.

  I walk back into the bedroom, see Freckles sleeping with San Francisco as her backdrop, and it occurs to me like a punch to the head that maybe the robbery was what Oscar called a ‘God-Shot.’ If I hadn’t been shoved down into a hospital bed with nowhere to run, would I have kept my wall up and not let Annie in? Would I be looking at Rebecca in my bed now, feeling dissatisfied and ignoring it? Would I be still thinking Mark was an idiot for falling in love and changing everything?