Hit & Miss Groom Page 5

  At sixteen, his younger sister had been involved in a car accident. Jen had just left her afterschool job when two street racers came around the corner. One nicked her with his back tire, throwing her a dozen feet. Her injuries had been extensive. A concussion, a ruptured liver, and nerve damage on her left side. She’d needed a transplant and had spent nearly a year in a wheelchair.

  The driver who’d hit her had walked away with a couple of cuts and a bruised rib cage.

  Time and therapy helped Jenna walk again, but the nerve damage was permanent. Her left hand couldn’t grip well and her left foot tended to drag slightly when she was tired.

  Six months after the accident, John and Martha McIntyre had established the 3 Wishes Foundation for kids like Jen. Kids who’d been in accidents and were permanently stuck in wheelchairs or enduring endless rounds of therapy to try to heal.

  The foundation granted qualifying families three requests. Most ranged from vacations suitable for handicapped kids to therapy dogs, musical instruments and lessons, and often the chance for the child to meet their favorite actor or sports star.

  Jen’s accident had been the end of Alex’s karting days. It had also eventually caused their parents to divorce. The only thing that kept John and Martha in contact anymore was their joint love for their kids and the foundation.

  As soon as Alex graduated Berkeley, his mom and dad had brought him into the business. He was good with everyone from the volunteers to the patients and staff. He’d designed the 3 Wishes Genie In A Bottle program to encourage more donations from corporate sponsors and the program was growing.

  In six short years, he’d gone from being the advocacy director to the developmental director. The next step—the one his parents were pushing toward—was foundation president.

  Alex looked at the blue organic shirt his mother had given him. She and his father had always supported everything he wanted to do—with the understanding that what he wanted to do needed to be part of the family business. They’d forbidden him to race after Jen’s accident, but eventually, he couldn’t deny the need he had for the adrenaline rush. At times, racing had been the only way for him to blow off stress and feel in control of something.

  If they found out he was racing again, they’d kill him. It wasn’t street racing, but in their minds, racing in all its forms was the same. Dangerous.

  He did his racing on the weekends and that was fine. It satisfied his need. For his sister, and for his parents, he would keep his hobby a secret.

  As if he’d conjured her, his phone rang. Jen the Great flashed on the screen.

  “Hey, sis,” he answered, pulling the blue shirt from the hanger. “What’s up?”

  “I got the guacamole dip and the Firestarter chips from Bone and Brew, and I made your favorite taco salad and three dozen cookie and ice cream sliders. Anything else?”

  “My mouth is watering. How soon will you be here?”

  “Twenty minutes.” A crunching noise came through the line. “Do you have enough adult beverages?”

  “I have beer, wine, and nonalcoholic, all-organic punch for the ʼrents.”

  “Oh, they’re not coming,” she said. More crunching. “Didn’t I tell you?”

  There was mischief in her voice. “Are you eating my Firestarter chips?”

  “I’m only eating Dad’s portion since he and…is it Debbie? I can’t remember. Anyway, Dad and the step-parent of the month won’t be there. Neither will Mom.”

  “What did you do?”

  “You’re twenty-six years old. You don’t need your parents crashing your first party at the new place.”

  “Jen…?”

  She huffed. “I might have inadvertently mentioned to Mom that Dad and his other two ex-wives were all coming. She can’t stand Melanie, and Mel always loved you, so I knew Mom would find an excuse not to come. Then I told Dad that Greg was crashing the party. Out of all of Mom’s exes, Greg is the one Dad can’t stand. It all works out.”

  He chuckled. “I owe you.”

  “No, you don’t. In fact, the opposite is true. I owe you, big brother.”

  “For what?”

  “For always being there for me. For never being embarrassed by your handicapped little sister, or at least never showing it. Oh! And before I forget, I called Allie Hannigan’s mom. The therapy dog you brought down from L.A. last weekend is working out great for her. She’s really coming out of her shell. She even went to school today. Her mom said to thank you.”

  “That’s great, but Allie’s social worker and the therapy dog group prequalified Allie and did the home visit and everything. I had little to do with it.”

  “Why aren’t you married, Alex?”

  “Where did that come from?”

  “You’re such a nice guy. Do you turn into a werewolf once a month or something? Is that why you won’t let a woman get close to you?”

  “Have you been watching Buffy reruns again?”

  “Nope.” He heard the creak of her car door. “It’s just, you take care of everyone else. I want you to find someone to take care of you.”

  “I’ve got you.” And far too many stepparents. “I don’t need anyone else.”

  “Don’t let Mom and Dad and their wacky commitment issues screw you up.”

  Alex walked to the wall between his and Van’s bedrooms and laid his forehead against it. He softly tapped his knuckles against it and listened. No response.

  His mom and sister were always worried about him, but he wasn’t sure he had enough emotional energy to invest in a long term relationship. He was too drained from giving to everyone else. “Don’t worry about me, sis. My life is perfect.”

  “Liar.” Her car engine sounded in the background. “I’ll be there in fifteen, and just so you know, I’m playing matchmaker tonight. I hope you’ve invited plenty of single guys for me and at least one single female for you.”

  He’d invited an SF all right. The only one he’d been interested in since New Jersey and one who wanted nothing to do with him. “Drive safe.”

  “I hate it when you say that. You sound just like them.”

  Them meaning their parents. “See you in fifteen.”

  They disconnected and Alex checked the time. Half an hour until party time. Would Van come?

  Laughing at himself and his pathetic puppy-dog like fixation with her, he tossed the blue shirt aside. He had a red Affliction shirt buried in a drawer somewhere.

  Going through his dresser, he tossed out an assortment of underwear and socks until he found the shirt nestled on the bottom.

  After pulling it on, he grabbed a pair of Diesel jeans Jen had given him at Christmas. He didn’t have a full-length mirror, but he didn’t care. It was his party, as the saying went, and he’d wear what he wanted.

  If Van didn’t come over, he’d walk over to her place later and bring her one of his sister’s famous cookie and ice cream sliders. He’d offer to help her with her project. Van might be immune to his charms, but he hadn’t met a woman yet who could resist one of those chocolaty concoctions.

  Van…chocolate…ice cream…

  Alex took a deep breath and adjusted the crotch of his jeans. He would never look at his sister’s ice cream treats in the same way again.

  * * *

  She was not going to that damn party. The problem with that was she was already dressed. She had been for an hour. All day she’d heard Alex getting ready, and his ridiculous knocking on her bedroom wall as if teasing her. The walls weren’t too thin, but she could hear music and his voice as he talked on the phone. Distracting as hell. The sound was muffled just enough to remind her of how he talked to her during sex. Hushed tones. Low murmurs as he made her come again and again and again.

  Stop it. She had to quit. It got her nowhere except climbing the walls and desperate enough to consider going over for him to scratch her particular itch.

  God, she needed to get a grip. The sheer number of women he had coming in and out of his place over the last couple of we
eks told her he was a player. No wonder Becca had often called him the Sex Machine.

  Hell, he was good looking enough. A guy with that many women was trouble and would never be able to settle for just one. Not that she was campaigning to be that one. She didn’t even like him.

  Oh yeah, then why are you wearing the come fuck me leather pants?

  She studied her reflection in the floor-length mirror in the guest bedroom again.

  This was the absolute last time she trusted Becca for fashion advice on what to wear to something like this. Unfortunately she wouldn’t be able to berate her best friend tonight. Liam would be solo for the shindig as Becca had been called to Seattle for work at the last minute. After she’d told Van to wear the red leather pants.

  I’ll go, make him weep in his beer when he sees this outfit, and then I’ll escape.

  If she hurried, she could go before there were any other people and then make a quick getaway.

  Becca had already warned her that Liam was under strict instructions to make sure she had fun. While Van liked Liam a lot, she didn’t want to subject him to babysitting duty.

  No. It was better if she went now, then she’d bounce. And no one would see her ass on display in these leather pants except Alex.

  Getting out of leather would be almost as difficult as getting into it and she did look hot. Let Alex look and weep. She’d go on ignoring him as much as possible.

  Living next door to him made her privy to little details that were usually saved for intimate couples. Things like what time he woke up in the morning. She knew that he snoozed three times before actually getting up at six. She knew that he preferred to head east toward Hillcrest on his morning runs. She’d taken to using her treadmill for her workouts now, just to avoid running into him.

  She’d learned that he liked his showers long…and it was really better to not imagine what he was doing in there for so damn long. Or to imagine what he might need help washing. A couple of times she’d considered mentioning the drought they were in. But then he would know that she listened.

  She knew that he preferred a smoothie to coffee because of the blender going in the kitchen. She knew that he listened to One Republic and Sam Smith and if he had a woman over, he almost always put on Percy Sledge. She hated knowing that detail. How many women had been over since he’d moved in? At least a dozen.

  And it’s none of your business.

  At least they’d kept their love-making quiet. She would have lost it if she’d heard Alex getting it on with another woman.

  Screw this, if she was going, she’d better go. Get this shit over with.

  She’d paired the leather pants with a bright white crop-top sweater that showed just a hint of belly button. If he was going to torture her with his long showers, she could torture him.

  In the kitchen, she grabbed a bottle of wine, then let herself out of her apartment. As she traversed the stairs between her place and his, she realized she’d made a crucial mistake. These stupid Jimmy Choos. Another damn Becca pick. She was going to kill herself.

  Before she could even knock, Alex swung the door open. “Van, you came!”

  His excitement was so palpable, it was hard not to smile back. He enveloped her in a quick hug and she froze, her heart thundering. She was sure he’d be able to hear it. He pulled back slowly and his gaze dipped to her lips.

  She was so totally screwed. She wanted him. Still. Forget that bullshit about getting him to scratch that itch. More like she wanted a full body rub down.

  This was a mistake. If she didn’t get some distance between them, she’d do something stupid.

  As if just realizing he had her wrapped in his arms, he released her and stepped back. “I’m happy you came.”

  She opened her mouth, but apparently her libido had hogtied her brain and was holding it ransom, because she couldn’t make any of her brain cells rub together to form coherent words. “Uh, hey.”

  “Come on in. You’re the first one here.”

  He wanted her to go inside. With him. Alone. With no one to act as chaperone? He apparently had little concern for his virtue.

  Finally her brain wrestled a couple of cells free. “Uh, I’m not staying. I just wanted to bring you this wine. And you promised to stop hounding me if I came, so…stop hounding me, okay?”

  Alex laughed and tugged her inside by the hand. “Oh, come on, one glass and then you can run back and hide. Besides, I know you didn’t wear that outfit if you didn’t want to be admired.”

  She flushed, thanking God for her dark skin. “For all you know, I have a hot date.”

  Once in the kitchen, he faced her and grinned. “I already know you think I’m hot, but for you to say it, it just makes my whole night.”

  She wasn’t sure if she wanted to roll her eyes or smack him. What resulted was a snort. “You’re full of yourself, aren’t you?”

  He shrugged, then scooted around her to pull a wine opener from the drawer. “Not usually, but it helps that I already know you think I’m sexy.”

  Van shook her head. “I don’t recall ever saying that.”

  Alex turned his bright blue eyes on her. “I work really well with nonverbal communication.”

  “You’re impossible.”

  “Go on, admit that you like me.”

  “I don’t.” Despite herself she laughed. She attempted to dissipate the tension by glancing around his kitchen. “I see the setup’s the same as mine. Darker colors though.”

  He poured her a glass and handed it to her. “You really do look fantastic. I’m probably not going to get a wink of sleep tonight. Have I mentioned red is my favorite color?”

  “You can lay off the charm. I’m not one of the fan club.”

  “Well, it’s the truth.”

  She took a sip of wine. “So where is everyone? I figured I’d have to wait in line for your attention.”

  He flashed a grin at her. “Bull. You came early so you could make a quick escape. Now that you’re here, I’m not letting you go so easily.”

  “You won’t even notice it when I leave.”

  “Yes, I will. I want you to stay, meet everyone. Have fun. Weren’t you the one who was going to show me the meaning of fun?”

  There was no way she was staying through the whole party. Her worst nightmare, a room full of strangers making small talk. “This is your party. I’d show you my kind of fun, but I don’t think you’re ready for all that yet.”

  “If you say so.” He licked his bottom lip and Van gritted her teeth to keep from moaning. “I have one question for you, though. Why’d you come?”

  Van squared her shoulders. “Because, you were right. Our best friends are married and there will be no escaping you. We may as well be civil acquaintances.”

  His brows rose. “Acquaintances? I’ve had my tongue in your mouth, on your breasts. Teasing your clit. And let’s face it, there are a lot more places I’d like to have it. I’d say we’re more than acquaintances.”

  She might have flushed hot, but she wasn’t going to let him back her down. “Why are you so desperate for me to like you?”

  “Because you’re the only one who doesn’t.”

  “Seriously? I can make you a whole book of people who don’t like me. I’m not bothered.”

  “You’ll learn to like me. I’m pretty likeable.”

  “Don’t you ever give up?”

  A slow smile tugged at his lips and her stomach flipped. God, this man was dangerous. “Nope.”

  They had that in common. He raised his glass. “To new friendships.”

  The problem was when he said friendships, it sounded dirty. There was something in his gaze that said he didn’t mean it. “Friendship. Right.”

  She was saved by the bell. For the next thirty minutes people streamed in helping themselves to alcohol and food. Handful, my ass. She was introduced to a slew of people. Some she recognized from Becca and Liam’s wedding. Every time she tried to slip away, Alex was there, chatting with her for a few min
utes, then steering her toward someone else who occupied her time.

  Before she knew it, she’d been there an hour. His sister Jen was just as stealthy and gregarious as he was. Whenever Van thought she’d be able to make an escape, Jen was right there asking her about her job or her life or asking if she was seeing anyone. Between the two of them and Liam, she was effectively a prisoner of fun.

  Finally, she begged for a bathroom break. The downstairs one was occupied, so she dared the stairs in her towering stilettos. The only problem was she had to go through the master bedroom to get to it.

  As she saw the clothes and underwear tossed helter-skelter across Alex’s mattresses and floor, she wondered if she should wait for the downstairs bathroom to become available. But honestly, she needed a nice, long break from the noise too. She tiptoed around the clothes and beelined for the bathroom.

  It wasn’t until she came out that she noticed the racing suit hanging on the closet door. What in the world?

  It looked authentic. Alex raced? She fingered the cuff where there was a motor oil stain. It was certainly used. Her gaze roamed the open closet and she saw a matching red helmet sitting on a shelf.

  Well, I’ll be damned.

  Seeing the suit forced a mental shift in her brain. Alex in the cockpit of a race car? What kind did he drive?

  This was not something she could ever picture him doing. Safe, Boy Scout Alex racing cars?

  No wonder he was in such good shape, but when did he squeeze racing into his schedule? It certainly wasn’t part of his job at 3 Wishes.

  Just thinking about him in the suit sent a spear of need through her body. She wasn’t dumb enough to have a bad-boy thing, but she did like a little edge. It was bad enough she knew just how talented he was in bed. Now apparently, the Boy Scout had some swagger. She was doomed.

  She let herself out of his bedroom and was trying to covertly close the door when her butt backed into something solid. She whirled around. “Shit, Alex, you scared me.”

  “Sorry. I was worried you’d left and hadn’t said goodbye.”

  She raised her brows. “You mean that was an option?” Inclining her head toward his bedroom, she added, “I hope you don’t mind, the bathroom downstairs was occupied.”