Break On Through Read online

  And some time after that, she’d fallen asleep.

  Unbelievable, with the gorgeous, wicked Reed Hopkins only a few feet away. Probably a case of self-preservation, she decided. A way to buy time.

  He’d been gone when she’d awakened in the morning.

  For a moment she’d wondered if she’d dreamed the whole thing, but there were the mugs that had held his “magic potion” in the kitchen sink. She’d also considered that his leaving without a goodbye indicated he hadn’t been serious about the kissing and the “sexual congress”—funny man!—but she was afraid believing that would leave her unprepared for the next time she saw him.

  She’d practically agreed to go to bed with him, and now she had to think her way into how exactly that would happen. There were steps, right? A sequence of moves that must be made.

  Turning another corner, she found herself at a selection of cookbooks and pulled a couple out randomly. Once the boys had left for school, she’d tidied the house and started a load of wash, and then felt as if the walls of the cottage were closing in on her. Every place she looked she seemed to see Reed, his tall, male body, his watchful eyes, the rare flash of his smile.

  Needing fresh air, she’d decided on a walk, and that walk had taken her to the library. Cleo glanced down at the books. The first in the stack focused on French cooking, and the cover was comprised of several photos taken, obviously, in France: the Eiffel Tower, an outdoor market, grapes growing on vines, a couple in a passionate embrace.

  She stared at the image, struck by the pair’s intimate connection. One of the woman’s hands was pressed to the back of his head. His was on her hip, just above the curve of her butt. His partner had to be aquiver with anticipation, waiting for that palm to slide down and—

  Flushing, Cleo shook her head then quickly re-shelved the book. The one left in her hand was a thick tome on Italian cuisine. Perhaps it was from the same publisher as the French cookbook, because the cover featured another montage of photographs. More grapes, a beautiful image of a layered pasta dish, and then…of course, another happy pair, wrapped in each other’s arms. Their kiss appeared even more ardent than the French couple’s. The dark-haired man had his tongue in the blonde woman’s mouth. She was crowded so close to him there wasn’t even a sliver of daylight between their bodies. His erect shaft would be pressed against the pad of her sex and her lower belly, and the hot, wet kiss was making her desperate to grind against the hardness.

  The muffled clatter of footsteps on the library carpet gave her a guilty start and yanked her out of her European fantasy.

  What was with this crazy turn of her mind anyway? She couldn’t know such details about that couple, their kiss. The photo was a long-distance shot and the pair was standing on a bridge. The only certain thing was they were hugging, their faces close. For all she knew the two were whispering to each other. “That Cleo Anderson, what a freak.”

  Except in Italian, of course. “Ciao,” she whispered to them, and returned the book to its regular slot.

  Unfortunately it seemed the library wasn’t the place to figure out what to do next about Reed. On a sigh, she left the stacks, keeping her gaze forward so she wouldn’t be tempted to ogle the kissers she’d glimpsed earlier. Five feet from the exit doors, a hand closed around her elbow.

  “Hey,” a familiar voice said in her ear, causing goose bumps to tumble down her neck. “My morning just got better.”

  Her head whipped around, and just looking at Reed, her morning got better too. His hair had that sexy, rumpled look. He wore expensively cut khakis that were worn to a luxurious softness and his white T-shirt was emblazoned with a black line portrait of Edgar Allen Poe. His blue eyes held heat as he stared down at Cleo, his mouth curved in a faint smile.

  “Did the boys wake up well-rested?” he asked, his thumb stroking the tender skin at the bend of her elbow.

  Her nipples reacted to the subtle touch, pushing into the cups of her bra. She fought the shiver attempting to snake down her spine. “I…fine. All set.”

  His lips twitched then turned up in a full-fledged smile. “Cleo?”

  She put her hand to her head, trying to get it screwed on straight. When he was touching her like this, she couldn’t seem to make sense. “I… Can we talk?”

  “Sure.” He took her hand and tugged her in the opposite direction of the door. “There’s a courtyard this way, perfect for quiet conversation.”

  As they passed the aisles of books, she caught a glimpse of that canoodling couple again. The girl’s hands were fisted in the boy’s shirt at the small of his back. His palms cupped her face. Their mouths were fused together. Still.

  Cleo’s feet slowed—of their own accord!—and Reed slanted her a glance. “Problem?” he whispered.

  Yes. The whole world seems to be on the verge of making fiery love right in front of me.

  Cleo swallowed. “No problem,” she said, lengthening her steps. If she told him that, he’d think she was nuts. “No problem at all.”

  In the secluded courtyard, he led her to a small bistro set beneath the shade of a lush Queen palm. They both took seats and Cleo folded her hands on the table, staring at them as she wondered how to begin the conversation.

  “I was thinking, um, we should get to know each other better.”

  “Okay.”

  When he didn’t add any more she cleared her throat. “Is there some, I don’t know, hobby you’d like to share with me?”

  “A hobby?”

  “Or maybe there’s an activity we could do together.” She watched an ant wander across the glass tabletop, its aimless trail making it seem confused and out of its element, just like she was. “You could bring your car over, maybe, and we could wash both of ours together.”

  “You want us to wash our cars?”

  She shrugged. “Something.” Glancing at him, she couldn’t begin to read the expression on his face. “Don’t you think?”

  “Cleo, are you trying to schedule a playdate?”

  Oh, God. Heat crawled up her neck. That’s exactly what it sounded like she’d been doing. Hobbies. Activities. Next she’d be suggesting he come over one afternoon for a frolic in her Legos bucket. “Forget it,” she muttered. “Forget this whole stupid thing.”

  She rose, but he caught her arm and pushed her back into her chair. “Don’t run away.”

  Glaring at him, she yanked out of his hold. “I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how to do this at all.” Her hand gestured wildly between them.

  “Cleo—”

  “I like you,” she admitted. “And—” Her attention snagged on another couple passing through the library doors and into the courtyard. Carrying books and coffees, the gray-haired pair took seats at another table behind Reed’s back.

  He glanced over his shoulder at them, then focused on her again. “I like you too, Cleo. So what’s the problem?”

  Instead of answering him, she found she couldn’t look away from the new arrivals as the older gentleman reached for his female companion’s hand. He brought it to his lips, and kissed her knuckles.

  At the fond gesture, a ribbon of sensation surged up Cleo’s arm. Then the man’s hand disappeared under the table and a moment later the lady jumped. She sent the gentleman a mischievous grin.

  Closing her eyes, Cleo pressed her thighs together, trying to ignore the little throb pulsing between them.

  “Are you okay?” Reed asked, studying her with those incredible eyes.

  “No.” There was something distinctly not okay about her at all. She was seeing kisses and caresses and…and foreplay everywhere! That couldn’t be normal. How much longer could she manage to be around Reed without making a fool of herself? In another minute she’d be begging for what everyone else in her universe seemed to be enjoying.

  “What can I do?” Reed asked.

  She swallowed her groan. “Maybe we should just be friends,” she muttered. It was an option, right?

  “Does that mean you’ll invite m
e over for another dinner? I know I’d be in for a treat.”

  Disappointment surged through Cleo. After all this, he wanted their relationship to be platonic now? Talk about getting her all hot and bothered and then pouring a bucket of ice over her head.

  But she sure as heck wasn’t going to let him know he’d pulled out the rug from beneath her. “Sure, I’ll make you dinner,” she said, in an offhand tone. “As thanks for your help last night.”

  Then, with the scales balanced, she could wipe the maddening man from her mind. Forever.

  When he didn’t answer right away, she pasted on a smile and met his gaze, pretending she didn’t have a care in the world. “So…you want that then? To be friends?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Reed reached over and cupped her nape with his hand, that gesture he’d used before. Her bare skin prickled beneath his warm, rough palm. The throbbing between her thighs restarted.

  Using that hold, he pulled her nearer. He closed the remainder of the distance himself, until they were nearly lip-to-lip. His blue eyes quirked at the corners and she suspected he was suppressing a smile. “Friends, Cleo,” he whispered. “Friends…with benefits.”

  The moon hung low in the sky, like a ripe fruit ready to be plucked. A good omen, Reed thought, as he walked the short distance from his place to Cleo’s small house. She’d come through with that dinner invitation she’d promised and he was looking forward to the evening for the food, for the company, for what might happen between the two of them.

  He cautioned himself about that. Not only was the woman skittish, she had two boys at home. Reed had no intention of embarrassing her in front of them. Once they were asleep…well, she might not be comfortable going beyond kisses while they were in the house. If so, he’d practice patience.

  Once she pulled the door open for him, he knew immediately that was a good policy. Her eyes darted from his face to over his shoulder to her shoes, and he knew her nerves were jumping just like her gaze.

  Soothe her, he told himself. Convince her you’re not dangerous.

  “For you,” he said. Smiling, he stepped forward and pushed the door closed. Then he presented the little gift he’d brought for her. Not candy, not flowers, but a small, stuffed animal. “A unicorn.”

  “Unicorn,” she said, clearly pleased as she set the creature on the flat of her palm. “But your eggcorn is perfect.” On tiptoes, she kissed his cheek.

  Reed slipped his hand to the small of her back and turned his head so that lips caught lips. Beneath his palm, her body tensed, but he allowed himself another moment to appreciate her clean, flowery scent and the tender softness of her mouth.

  When he let her go, she stared up at him as if she’d been dazzled.

  He grinned, and slipped out the small package from the back pocket of his jeans. “Where are your boys? I brought them a special deck of cards…for magic tricks.”

  Her head tilted. “Unicorns. Magic cards. Magic potions. You’re kind of charming, do you know that?”

  Antisocial was more like it, but who was he to argue with a beautiful woman? She wore a full, red skirt that skimmed her knees and was scattered with yellow and blue flowers. A simple blue T-shirt clung to her torso. Tonight, she’d done something different to her hair. The longest of her blonde locks had been twisted into tousled curls.

  “I love these earrings,” he said, setting one swinging with the touch of his forefinger. It was her macaroni pair.

  “I…I wear them for good luck,” she admitted.

  “Then you’re covered, honey, and there’s no reason for your pulse to be pounding so hard,” Reed said, circling her throat with his hand. He stroked the pad of his thumb over the thrumming beat in her neck. “Unless I make you anxious.”

  “Of course not,” she said, clearly lying.

  Once more, he stroked his thumb over her soft flesh. Instead of calming her like he’d intended, he couldn’t miss the way her nipples peaked beneath her shirt in reaction. Shit. His cock, half-hard after that nearly chaste kiss, came to instant, full attention.

  This was dangerous. Dropping his arm, he stepped away. “Obie and Eli?”

  She’d turned to head toward the kitchen. Now she threw him a quick glance over her shoulder. “Um…they have an overnight.”

  It took him a minute to process that. They have an overnight. “They’re not here?”

  Shaking her head, she put the unicorn on a shelf over the kitchen sink. “I hope that’s okay.”

  “Sure.” Then he had to make sure his hearing was working properly. “They have an overnight you said?”

  She smiled at him, then crossed to the small TV sitting in an open cabinet on the other side of the room. Local news played on the screen and she muted the volume. “Alexa’s cousin, Jeanette? She invited them to have dinner and stay the night with her boys.”

  Reed forced himself to keep a distance away from her. Hell. Without the chaperonage of her kids, this could go wrong. With his dick already up and ready to ride, he might scare the hell out of Cleo if he didn’t find a way to keep his cool.

  “Would you like a beer? Wine?”

  “Beer would be great,” he said, hoping a frosty bottle in his hand would act as a reminder.

  She brought it to him, setting it on the small island where he’d taken one of the two stools. As she moved back toward the refrigerator, her hand trailed casually, lightly over his shoulders.

  His muscles tightened. Then he deliberately forced himself to relax. Think of something to talk about, he ordered himself. Something innocuous and safe.

  “So…the boys are going to be gone all evening.” Instantly, he wanted to kick himself. Way to find an innocent topic. Way to show her you’re not a maniac obsessing about getting her into bed.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “If Obie can make it through the night. This will be his very first sleep-away.” Then her gaze shifted from his face to somewhere over his shoulder. Pink color infused her cheeks and her mouth fell open.

  Reed turned his head to see what had caught her attention. A commercial was playing on her TV, a man and woman floating in the ocean, holding each other close. It could be advertising an online dating service, a tourist destination, or even toothpaste. Now the camera panned close for their kiss and Cleo continued to appear riveted.

  “What’s caught your interest?” he asked.

  She started, blinking, then hurried to the refrigerator. “Online courses,” she said, reaching in to bring out a salad. “I’m thinking about going back to school.”

  Huh. He glanced again at the TV, then returned his attention to her. “To study what?”

  “I’m not sure. I didn’t go to college.”

  “Me neither.”

  Her surprise was evident in her wide eyes that she turned his way. “Really?”

  “I was never much of a student.”

  “Ironic, that your stories take place at a school, then.”

  “Mmm.” Now wasn’t the time to discuss his literary influences. He sucked down some beer so that memories of Oceanview Army-Navy wouldn’t intrude on their evening. “You said you worked at a construction company?”

  “I did, and enjoyed it.” She set a platter in front of him.

  Stuffed mushrooms, celery ribs filled with some cheesy goodness, crackers topped with what appeared to be minced olives. He popped one in his mouth. Oh, yeah, minced olives and another ingredient—artichoke hearts?—both delicious and savory. “Good,” he said. “You’re very accomplished, you know. Great cook and baker. Not to mention wrangler of young males.”

  She slipped something in the oven. Chicken breasts, he guessed. “I learned everything I know about that from the guys in hard hats.”

  This sounded interesting. “Do tell.”

  “There are three rules to remember when it comes to managing men. “ Coming closer, she ticked them off with her fingers. “Have plenty of food on hand. Insist they never skip soap and water. Go deaf when the conversation turns to dirty talk.”

 
He frowned. “What kind of things did the hard hats say to you?”

  “Not to me.” She waved a hand. “In front of me, sometimes. They’d forget I was there, you know? They didn’t see me as a woman.”

  “Cleo—”

  “Because I’m a mom.” She had poured herself a glass of wine and she sipped from it now. “You know.”

  “I certainly don’t.” Was this why she was so nervous when he got close? She’d been fooling herself for so long that men overlooked her that she went jumpy when he made it more than clear he saw her very well indeed. “Cleo…”

  Six strides and he took her wine glass from her hand to set it aside and then towed her toward the antique armoire sitting in the alcove between the kitchen and the short hall leading to the bedrooms. Stopping in front of the oval mirror, he pulled her back to his chest. “What do you see?” he asked.

  She met his gaze in the mirror and shrugged. “Uh…me?”

  A mom, he thought, shaking his head. He slid one arm around her waist and lifted his other hand to her face, where he could trace the arch of her golden, downy brows, then follow the straight line of her nose with a fingertip. “You’ve forgotten how beautiful you are,” he murmured.

  Her arm closed over the one of his that circled her waist. Not in protest, he decided, but for support.

  Watching in the mirror, he followed the line of her lips. “How desirable,” he added, his voice low.

  Her nipples poked at the fabric of her T-shirt again. With the back of his knuckles, Reed followed the side of one swelling breast. She jerked, her ass pushing into his groin. That made her still, because his cock was straining behind his jeans. He ducked his head so his cheek was against hers.

  “You can tell I’m speaking the truth, right, darlin’?” He pressed his lips to her hot flesh. “Definitely desirable.”

  Her eyes closed and he trailed his mouth the short distance to the shell of her ear. He grasped the small hanging earring between his teeth and tugged, causing her to squirm in his hold. His dick loved the contact.