BRITTANY
A familiar voice fills my ears as I sign the inside cover of the book I made an award-winning cover for. The man’s voice does something to my body not many can do.
Heat rushes through me and my insides vibrate as a dampness invades my nether regions. I slowly raise my head to look at the man who’s called out my name.
“Jason Brennan.”
His entire face goes into a giant smile. “Brittany, it is you!”
I try to mask any enthusiasm I have, as this man is the first man I ever let in my pants. And boy did he do a number on my heart. “Yep.”
I go back to signing the book in front of me and find myself trying to come up with any reason in the world to leave the table right this minute.
I close the book and look up at the young woman who bought it. “Thank you. I hope you have a nice evening.” I look at the lady next to me, who’s selling the books. “I’m about to puke. I have to go.”
Standing up very quickly, I walk away from the little table and find the sound of footsteps coming up behind me quickly. “Britt.” His hand touches my elbow.
Fuck!
One touch from the jerk and my panties go wet. I hate how he can do this to me!
“What, Jason?” I turn around and look right into those damn enticing, dark blue eyes. As dark as the Atlantic Ocean, they are, and just as hard to stop looking into.
“What?” he asks, and a sadness creeps into those gorgeous eyes. The heavy, long lashes touch his high cheekbones as he looks down. “You’re still mad at me? After all this time?”
A deep, cleansing breath helps me to pull in my prickles. “Jason, I know it’s been a long time. I know I shouldn’t hate your ass anymore. I know these things. We were kids. You didn’t know any better. I’m sorry.”
He raises his head and says the words I’ve wanted to hear since the night I left our tiny hometown to go off to college, after finding him making out with a girl who lived three houses down from me. “I’m sorry, Britt.”
My head feels heavy and numb with his apology. I was nineteen when I caught him cheating on me for the umpteenth time in our stormy, three-year, on-again-off-again relationship. That was six years ago and you’d think the sting would’ve dissipated.
It hasn’t, though.
“While it’s nice to finally hear you say that, it’s not enough.” I turn and walk away from him.
I’m thankful he doesn’t follow me, and I disappear into the bathroom. My heart is thumping hard, my head is spinning, and I want to leave.
But I can’t. At least, I don’t think I can. I’m supposed to sign the damn books. But I so don’t want to go back out there.
A waitress comes into the bathroom and looks around like she’s looking for someone, then she comes up to me. “Are you Brittany Caldwell?”
I nod and put on some lipstick I pulled out of my little clutch purse.
She gives me a nervous smile. “A very handsome man asked me to see if you’re okay in here. He says he’s worried about you.”
“Let me guess. He’s a tall man with meticulously styled, short, dark hair. His muscles have muscles and he’s dressed to the nines. That man, right?” I look at her through the mirror.
“Yes, that’s him. He’s waiting for you just outside the door.”
“Fantastic! And we happen to be so high up that there’s no escape through a bathroom window. Just my luck!” I put my lipstick back into my clutch, walk passed the waitress, then spin around and ask, “He didn’t hit on you, did he?”
She shakes her head. “No, of course not!”
With a smirk, I say, “You’re the first woman he hasn’t hit on. But the night’s young. I’m sure you’ll get to experience a dose of his unending charm and charisma.”
I push the door open and walk out as if I have something very important to get to. I see Jason in my peripheral vision and hurry. He catches my upper arm and I’m dragged to a corner.
“This isn’t how you were brought up to act, young lady. When you see someone from your hometown, you’re supposed to be cordial!” His hands move over my shoulders and down my arms.
“Stop,” I whisper. “Please.”
“No,” he says with his deep, sexy, Southern drawl. “Baby, you and I should be catching up. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. Since I’ve touched you. Since I’ve held you.”
I glare at him. “Bet it hasn’t been a while since you’ve done that to somebody, though. What makes me so special?”
His lips quirk up into a crooked smile. “Everything makes you special, Britt.” The way his hand moves through my hair makes me stop breathing. “Your dark waves. Your deep green eyes. Your ruby red lips. Your big, juicy breasts.”
“Don’t,” I warn him. “I happen to know you like tits in all sizes and shapes. Mine aren’t so special. Not to you, anyway.”
“You must’ve really cared about me to still be angry after all these years. How many has it been? Three? Four?”
“Six,” I say with a growl. “Six damn years and still you can make an anger rise up in me like no other man can, Jason Brennan.”
“Maybe because you still love me.” He bats those long, lush lashes as he licks his lips. “I still love you, pumpkin-doodle. I always have.”
“Stop that!” I try to push him back so I can get away from his way too-good-smelling body.
He always did smell great. Clean, with only a hint of a musky cologne. Instead of getting away from me, he moves in even closer, pinning me between him and the wall. “Baby, you and I both know you’re going to give into me. You always have and you always will. So why not stop the antics so we can get the hell out of here, out of these clothes, and on to better things?”
“You are delusional.” I rest my hand on his broad chest and try hard not to love the way it feels underneath my palm.
I think he’s gotten even more muscular since the last time I saw him.
His hand covers mine and he moves my hand over his chest. “I work out now. You should see my pecs. They’re monstrous. My abs are like six hills that lead to the promised land, pumpkin. And your tits are bigger than they were when you were nineteen. Your ass is rounder and my mouth is watering to take every bit of you into it.”
My legs are shaking and I hate myself right now. “Why?”
That’s all I can say. I have boat-loads I’d like to ask. Things I’ve always wanted to know. But all I can say is that one stupid word.
“Because you were my only virgin, Britt. In my mind, you are mine and only mine. You know, Biblically, you belong to me.” His lips brush my cheek. “So come on, baby. Let your man have a taste of what you’ve become.”
“My man?” I laugh. “You belong to no one, Jason.”
My heart stops as he leans in even closer. His mouth moves over my neck. “There is a large piece of me that belongs only to you.” He takes my hand and pulls it to move over his erection.
His actions piss me off. “That is the one thing you will share with any who wants it. Now, if you’d have run my hand over your heart …wait, you’d have to have one of those to do that.”
His laugh is low. His lips barely touch me as he grazes them over my neck. “Always loved your sense of humor. Come on, Britt. I’m dying here. Don’t make me beg.”
I have to bite my lip to try to stay focused. His damn body all up on mine is so distracting. I have to remember this guy cheated on me for three fucking years.
Every time he got caught, he begged and pleaded, and I took him back. Then he’d do it again, and I’d take him back when he cried and promised he only loved me and that he’d never do it again. Then he’d do it again.
I push him back hard and he takes a couple of steps back. “Good! I hope you do die!” I storm away from him, go back to the table, and take my seat again.
“Well, hello there,” a very nice and deep voice says.
I look up and find a nice-looking man holding his book out to me. I turn on the charm and make up my mind in an instant to give Jason a dose of his own medicine. “Hi, how are you doing this evening?”
“Better now. Please tell me you’ll give me a little more than just your autograph. I’m a real fan of your work, Brittany. I’ve followed your career and have bought books just to have your covers gracing my library.” He smiles, and I think he’ll do just fine to show Jason how I roll now.
That little girl he knew from our tiny Texas town has grown up. I’m the heartbreaker now. No one has come close to getting into my heart like he did all those years ago.
“I’d love to talk to you. What’s your name?” I poise my pen to write him a special little something inside the front cover.
“Brent. Make it to your good friend, Brent. Would you?”
I write out a racy little something that really doesn’t belong in a book about rescued animals, but what the hell. My fires have been ignited, and this man is going to be the one to put out the fire Jason started.
“How about you and I talk more right now?” he asks me as he holds out his hand.
I take it and go with my new conquest to the bar. He hands me a drink. Its pink and fruity and I kind of hate the taste, as it’s really sweet, but I sip it and follow the man to sit at a table.
I act like I find humor in his every word, though I’m not really listening. I’m watching Jason watching me out of the corner of my eye.
He’s not even trying to act like he’s not looking at me. Jason is staring a hole in me as I flirt it up with this other guy. I completely turn my head so I can’t see him and pay full attention to the man I’m going to be taking to my bed in a little while.
“I read about you a couple of years ago in an article about up-and-coming women who are making tons of money. Who knew making book covers could be so rewarding, huh?” he asks me.
I run my fingertips over his shoulder. “Yeah, who knew. I liked graphic design and made a couple of book covers. The next thing I knew, I was winning awards and in demand. My little hobby turned into a very profitable business.”
The guy leans in very close and asks, “In all confidentiality, is it true you’ve broken the billion-dollar mark?”
I smile. “More than a few times, Brent. You know, I have a penthouse overlooking the East River. I have paintings of every one of my award-winning covers, which I had done by a local artist. Would you like to see them?”
“I would. So, is it safe to assume you aren’t attached?” he asks as he runs his hand over my thigh.
For reasons I can’t figure out, I turn my head, and my eyes connect with the still-staring Jason. I turn back to the man who I’m about to take home and fuck nine ways to Sunday and say, “I’m not attached to anyone, Brent.”
He makes a little moaning noise. “Good. Because I’d like the chance to show you what I can do for you. Maybe you’ll find me attachable.”
I laugh as he takes my hand, pulls me up, then wraps his arm around my waist. “Maybe.”
There’s no way I’ll find him to be any more than a one-time thing. He’s not making any sparks light up in me. He’s useful only to make Jason jealous, and then I’ll need nothing else from the man.
We walk right past Jason as he leans up against a wall, sipping on a tall, dark bottle of beer. The brand we used to drink when we were young.
Brent gives me a squeeze and says, “Tomorrow, I’ll take you to my place so you can meet my dog, Rascal. He’s going to love you. Then we can get some dinner, and on Sundays, I always visit my grandmother in the nursing home, and I know she’s going to love you.”
He sounds like a really nice guy. Too bad I’m going to use him and then boot his ass out of my home.