Chapter Four
After paying the bill, despite Felicia’s attempt to get him to halve it, Hudson held open the door for her, and they stepped outside into the cool fall night. The streetlights had blinked on while they’d eaten, and the streets had cleared—well, as much as they ever did in Harbor City—but there wasn’t a cab in sight. A crisp breeze brushed past them, and she shivered and huddled deeper into her thin coat.
“How far up are you?” he asked after he scanned the area for a cab and came up with nothing.
“About fifteen blocks.” She jerked her chin eastward.
Okay, that was doable. Harbor City was a pedestrian city; everyone hoofed it—even the mayor. “Let’s walk.”
She crossed her arms and rubbed her palms up and down her arms. “It’s kinda cold.”
“It’s in the high fifties. Come on.” He shrugged out of his thicker coat and draped it over her shoulders. “Try something new.”
She narrowed her eyes in a glare, the rush of color in her cheeks a telltale sign that she was gearing up to give him a what for. “I’ve walked home before.”
“Yeah, but never with me, Matches.”
Not giving her time to formulate any objections, he started off in the direction she’d pointed. He made it three steps before she caught up. For once in his life, he kept his mouth shut about winning that little argument and just enjoyed one of life’s small victories.
The walk back to Felicia’s house took less time than Hudson had expected for fifteen long city blocks. Maybe it was because when Felicia wasn’t telling him—verbally or with a look—to go fuck straight off, she was actually kind of fun, pointing out her neighborhood’s little oddities. Maybe it was because he couldn’t stop noticing the way the streetlights brought out the dark auburn highlights in her hair, or the way she couldn’t seem to talk without using her hands. Maybe it was because even though she was a solid foot shorter than him, she actually walked faster than he did—definitely a woman on a mission.
“What’s the rush?” he asked ten blocks in.
“My cat is going to be nuts by the time I get home.” Her pace increased as they hustled across the street to beat the light. “Honeypot is kind of an asshole.”
“First, aren’t all cats assholes? And second, you named your cat Honeypot? Obsess much?”
Her chin went up, and she hooked a right on Elmhurst. “Cats are regal creatures. Well, most of them are.”
“Not Honeypot?”
“No.” Caught by the no-crossing light at the corner, she nudged him with her elbow then pointed at the building they were next to. A plaque set in the concrete declared that David Carlyle had laid the cornerstone in 1970. “One of yours?”
His gut tightened as he stared at the reminder of his family legacy. “My grandfather.”
The light changed, and they strode across the street.
“What’s that like, knowing your family built Harbor City?”
Part of him wished it was an exaggeration, but it wasn’t. Carlyle buildings dotted the skyline of this city and dozens of others across the globe. Hotels, office buildings, skyscrapers, and more all bearing the Carlyle name. Carlyle Enterprises had been one of the most prominent international building companies for decades, and he had an office in the company’s Harbor City headquarters that he visited once a quarter whether he wanted to or not.
Hudson reached for the breezy charm he usually employed as cover, but couldn’t do it. Something about the honest and curious look Felicia had on her face made it impossible. “It’s amazing and awful all at the same time.”
“How so?” she asked.
“There are unending bottles of champagne, pretty girls everywhere I turn, more money than I could spend in five lifetimes, and certain…expectations.” Yeah, that was one way to put being assigned a job as suit-wearing, spreadsheet-loving businessman from birth when all he’d ever wanted to do was paint—not that what he wanted actually mattered.
“Like what?” She stopped in front of the black iron railing for a short flight of stairs that led down to a basement apartment, her piercing gaze trained on him like she was determined to classify and catalog him.
“Oh no, don’t look at me like that. I’m not one of your ants to study.”
She opened her mouth—no doubt to argue—but a horrible, blaring yowl burst from the window of the basement apartment at the bottom of the steps. It was the kind of ear-splitting screech that bored straight into a person’s eardrum before stopping as suddenly as it started.
Felicia sighed. “And this is me.”
He took in the eight steps leading down, past the window with decorative bars over it, to a red door, but movement in the window dragged his attention back. Sitting on the other side of the glass was a one-eyed orange tabby cat with a good chunk missing from one ear. It looked like one of the animals they showed in the animal rescue commercials to get people to donate—but more feral.
“That’s Honeypot?”
“Yeah, and he’s an escape artist, so I’d better say good-bye now.” She took off his coat and held it out to him. “Thanks for the burger and shake.”
Ignoring the coat, he pulled his phone from his front pocket. “Let me have your phone real quick.”
“Why?” She eyeballed him suspiciously.
“So I can call myself from it, and then we’ll have each other’s numbers.”
As Honeypot wailed in the background, Felicia handed him his coat and her phone. One quick text later, and her digits showed up on his screen.
“All set for tomorrow.” He handed her back her phone.
“What’s tomorrow?”
“We begin Operation: My Fair Lady.” With any luck, Tyler would be on the ropes within a few weeks. He ignored the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that his plan could backfire because she was actually in love with Tyler, not just holding on to a childhood infatuation.
Shaking her head as if she still wasn’t sure this was a good idea, Felicia headed down her stairs and unlocked the two deadbolts on her front door while he watched from the top of the stairwell, still holding his coat. Her neighborhood wasn’t a bad one, but the fact that she didn’t have a doorman as an extra layer of security had him glaring at the other people walking by, even if they didn’t give her apartment a second glance.
“Oh shit! Honeypot!”
Hudson spun around in time to see a flash of orange heading straight up the steps toward him. Acting on instinct, he reached out and grabbed the fur ball as Felicia rushed up the steps, arms stretched out for the mangy cat. Just as he brought the cat up to his chest, Felicia’s footing slipped, and she tumbled forward. Shifting the cat into one arm, he grabbed Felicia with the other so she fell into him instead of onto the unforgiving cement steps. She landed against him with a whomp that had both of them grasping for their balance. By the time he’d regained his footing, she was pressed up against him like a starving man against a bakery window, and he finally got an inkling of what she was hiding under all those ill-fitting clothes. Small, perky tits. Narrow waist. High, round ass. As if that wasn’t bad enough for his sanity, he made the mistake of looking down at her. Her lips parted as her breath came out in a soft little sigh, and she had a hazy, slightly unfocused look in her eyes that had him wondering if that’s what she looked like when she slid her body down onto a hard cock. It had to be. If it wasn’t, then she’d shortchanged her lovers, because he wasn’t sure if he just wanted to stare, kiss, or paint her more at that moment.
“Hudson,” she said, her voice husky. “You saved my cat.”
The mostly evil animal picked that moment to show its gratitude by digging its claws into his arm and letting out a hiss that would have sent the nastiest guard dog scrambling for cover.
Felicia blinked and stepped back, her face still soft but now with a wary tightness around what had been her pliant mouth. “We better get her inside before she shreds you.”
She grabbed his coat and headed down the stairs. Keeping ahold of the squirming cat, he followed her inside and shut the door behind himself before releasing Satan’s best friend. The cat took off before its paws even hit the cream carpet, tearing through the tiny, dimly lit living room and through one of the two doors on the other side of the room. Felicia hustled after the cat, shutting it in what must be her bedroom.
“Sorry about that,” she said, crossing over to him. “She’s a little skittish—oh my God she got you.”
He glanced down at the skinny streaks of red on his forearm, below where he’d pushed up the sleeves of his sweater. “It’s just a couple of scratches.”
“Still, you don’t want to ruin that sweater.” She laid his coat across the back of her couch and hustled into the galley kitchen off the living room and tore off a paper towel. “Here let me.”
She brushed aside his outstretched hand and pressed the towel to his arm. The move brought her in close, making it impossible to miss the flowery scent of her shampoo or the way the dim light from the single lamp in the living room highlighted her cheekbones and the fullness of her bottom lip. His arm wasn’t bleeding anymore, but she kept patting it, her fingers glancing over his skin—not teasing but making him all too aware of her softness in contrast to his hardness. His heart rate ticked up, and the rest of the world started to dim. God, if she looked up, he’d—
She looked up. The pink tip of her tongue wet that bottom lip he wanted to suck into his mouth. Even with her glasses on, there was no missing how her pupils had dilated, highlighting the flecks of gray in her blue eyes. The air grew thick around them. Blood rushed south, making his jeans tight and his thoughts dirty.
She must have sensed it, too, because she shivered against him. “All better?” she asked in a whisper.
“Not yet,” he managed to get out before crashing his mouth down onto hers.
Her lips, so soft, parted as she moaned—a sound that went straight to his cock. Never a man to leave a woman wanting, he slid his tongue inside. God, she was responsive to every thrust, every parry, meeting him halfway and putting her own twist on the kiss. Matches. Never had a nickname been so well-picked because he was a twelve-alarm fire now. Too bad the only thing that was going to put it out was his own hand. Hating it, but making himself do it anyway, he broke the kiss and stepped back from her.
It took a few seconds, but he could tell the exact moment when reality knocked lust down for the count in that quick mind of hers. The blush was back. This time it skipped the varying stages of pinks and went straight to scarlet.
“What was that?” she asked in a hushed tone.
Her breath was coming in fast, lifting her chest and making him all too aware of the delicious curves he now knew without a doubt she was hiding. He needed go slow or he’d spook her. But at least one suspicion had been confirmed: she wanted him as much as he wanted her. If only that brain of hers could let go of the ridiculous notion she was meant for her childhood crush. He’d have to tear that idea down one brick at a time, for both their sakes.
“That,” he said, picking up his coat, “was lesson number one in seduction. Believe me, there will be more.”
She straightened her cockeyed glasses and strode to her door, her head high even as she fanned her cheeks with the air of a woman who made the movement so often she didn’t even realize she was doing it. “I know how to kiss already, thank you very much.”
He wasn’t going to argue that, but he wasn’t going to fuck up his opportunity for another kiss—and more—either.
“Don’t hate, Matches.” Walking toward her, he slid his arms into his coat—not that he needed anything to keep him warm because that kiss had taken care of that. “Everyone has room for improvement, even little secret spitfires like you who moan so pretty when someone else’s tongue is in their mouth.”
She gasped and yanked open the door. “Good-bye, Hudson.”
“Did you already forget what I said before?” He paused just inside the opening, so close to her that all he had to do to touch her again was move the slightest bit to the right. There was no missing the electricity zinging between them, or the way her breath caught. A slight shift, a small pivot, and he’d have her up against the door, her legs wrapped around his hips as he rocked his iron-hard cock against her sweetest spot. The temptation almost won out, but he managed to resist. “When it comes to us, it’s always until next time.”
Walking out that door was almost as hard as he was, but he did it anyway. Felicia thought she was in love with Tyler, he reminded himself as he walked down the block to hail a cab. He refused to acknowledge the twisting of his stomach at the thought of Tyler kissing her the way he just had. Not that he was in love—Good God no not even close—he was just feeling oddly…territorial when it came to Matches. Ideas were already forming just what “lessons” tomorrow had in store.