She’d always tolerated Candace’s parents pretty well. After witnessing that devastation today, she’d decided they needed to be slapped. And so did Jameson—but thankfully Brian had taken care of that, and now that he had Macy’s information, he was about to hit him and the Andrews family where it really hurt. Their money, their pride, their status in the community.
Macy kind of wished he could do it without dropping her name, but oh, well. She would expect the incredulous phone call from her mother any day now, since Sylvia Andrews was Jennifer Rodgers’s good friend. Though how her mother tolerated that woman, she had no idea.
I wasn’t sure about Brian at first, she admitted to Ghost, but I’m starting to change my mind.
He’s a good one. Don’t worry.
After a moment of intense debate with herself, she tapped back, What about you? Are you a good one?
He was a long time replying, and she wondered if she’d said something wrong...or if maybe he was just trying to formulate his reply. She was beginning to enjoy the idea that she’d flustered him when his message popped up.
I can be good. Or I can be as bad as you want me to be.
God, she bet he could. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly through her nostrils, realizing she’d been rubbing her thighs together to assuage the building ache between them.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d wanted to f**k a guy this bad without going ahead and doing it.
So do it, she told herself. Just freaking do it, and get it over with. Where was the harm? Candace herself had been pressuring her to find someone. Where are you? she texted.
About to leave work.
I can be there in twenty minutes.
Then I’ll wait.
Twenty minutes. She threw her covers off and her feet hit the floor. She needed this. She’d been thrust into the middle of a scandal, she’d been a terrible friend, and while she was glad she’d fessed up, the guilt still weighed on her. A wild romp with Ghost wouldn’t take that burden from her, but it would damn sure help her blow off steam. It was only sex, and she couldn’t have picked a better no-strings kinda guy. That was for sure.
There was no need to fuss over how she dressed. It was a warm night, so she went for accessible. A mini-skirt, wedge sandals, a loose top. Maybe it all seemed presumptuous on her part, but she didn’t think she’d read his signals wrong. She left her hair straight and unstyled, anticipating whatever style she put in it would undoubtedly be demolished if the night went how she hoped.
Every time she thought about the night going like she hoped, though, every time she imagined being so close to him, invaded by him, her heart would lurch. She would have to pause to catch her breath, and the thought would cross her mind to dive back under the covers. Text him that she’d changed her mind, just so she could go on living in her safe little world.
Because she had no doubt her safe little world was about to be well and thoroughly rocked, and who knew if it would even be recognizable after he was done with her.
When Macy’s SUV pulled into the parking lot fifteen minutes after her text had arrived, Ghost glanced up at the ice-bright stars and thanked whoever in the hell was up there pulling for him. He’d fully expected her to change her mind.
When she slid out of her car and he caught a glimpse of those flawless thighs under the hem of her skirt, he thought maybe whoever was up there was intent upon killing him.
But what a way to go.
He stood gaping beside his car as she shut her door and strode toward him, her smile as bright as the moon. As she reached him, her faint vanilla scent drifted forward and teased his senses, so sweet he wanted to close his eyes and inhale. He managed to restrain himself. Just barely.
“Hey,” she said, when he obviously couldn’t divert his blood supply from his dick to his brain to form a coherent greeting.
“Damn,” he managed to choke out. “You look...” Fucking hot. Seemed too juvenile. This woman was...divine, and she deserved more than some compliment a horny ninth grader might toss at her. Keep it simple, right? “You’re beautiful, Macy.”
“Thank you,” she said, seeming genuinely flattered.
He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, feeling like said horny ninth grader in the presence of the prom queen. Remembering the ultimate outcome the last time he’d felt this way.
It hadn’t been pretty.
“I’m surprised you came,” he said.
“Really? Why?”
Why? Why? Did she really expect him to answer that? Look at her. Any guy with a brain ought to be shaking in his boots over the prospect of being shot down by her. “You weren’t too receptive the last time I asked,” he said in place of that idiotic thought.
“Oh. I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t making an excuse though, I really...I was going through some stuff. And then there was Candace...you know.”
“Yeah.”
“But I’m here.” She smiled, though it was fleeting. “Even if I probably shouldn’t be.”
“Why shouldn’t you?”
“I haven’t been very honest with you.”
Of all the things that could’ve come out of her mouth right then, that was the last thing he’d expected to hear. Hell, neither of them had been all that up-front, had they? He damn sure hadn’t, and it didn’t take a genius to see she was hiding some pain herself.
Both of them guarding their hearts so closely. It was that mystery behind Macy’s hazel eyes—right now glinting at him in the shadows—that had him so intrigued.
And he had to be on guard right now, too. He shrugged off her statement. “For that matter, neither have I. Maybe that’s best, right?”
Her perfectly arched brows drew together. “You’re not even curious?”
“Do you have a husband at home?”
“What? No way.”
“Boyfriend?”
“No.”
He ticked off on his fingers. “Have four kids? Some deadly communicable disease? Really a man?”
“Oh my God! No.” She propped her hands on her hips. “Would it matter if I had kids?”
“Well, it would if you had four. Three’s my limit.”
“You are terrible.”
“I don’t try to hide it. Macy, look. Feel free not to share any deep, dark secrets with me if you don’t want to.” Then again, if she remained a mystery, he’d end up falling all over himself trying to solve it. Shit.
“Maybe I do want to share.”
“Then you would’ve told me before.”
She shook her head. “Not necessarily. Hey, will you just listen? You said you wanted to continue our earlier conversation, and this is the continuation. This is ‘later’.”
Sighing, he crossed his arms and leaned against his car, steeling himself for the worst. She looked at him uncertainly until he gave a circular gesture with his hand. Macy drew a breath, and managed to surprise him yet again.
“I saw Jameson Andrews drive by here that night you and I were here. I guess he waited until we left and trashed the shop. I didn’t point it out to you and I didn’t tell anyone, at least partly because the Andrews family and mine go way back. But also because I’ve been upsetting Candace a lot lately, and I thought she would never speak to me again. It was selfish and it was wrong, and if you never want to speak to me again, I’ll understand.” He just stared at her. “I’ll be sad,” she added, “but I’ll understand.”
Wow. No wonder she hadn’t been able to tell him this in front of everyone. Ghost scrubbed a hand over his head, wanting to be at least a little upset that she’d actually considered sitting on this information. But she looked so glum. It was plainly obvious she was a good enough person that this had eaten at her until she cracked. Besides that, he hadn’t asked her if she’d seen anything. He hadn’t told the cops she was with him. Either one of those things might have made her decide to come forward sooner. “Is that why you and Candace stopped by today?” he asked. “You did tell Brian, right?”
“Yes. I did.”
“So really, in the end there’s no harm done. The bastard’s been busted.”
“He could’ve been busted sooner. I know you guys have been miserable all this time. And you’ve worked so hard and—”
“Well, yeah. But we would’ve worked hard whether we had the proof or not.” What he couldn’t believe was that Brian hadn’t breathed a word of this. In fact, he hadn’t heard from Brian since he lit out of the parlor soon after Candace and Macy left.
Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit.
“Fuck,” he spat, digging in his jeans pocket for his cell phone.
“What is it?” Macy went from zero to panicked, and once realization dawned across her face, she raised a hand to her forehead. “Do you think he’s gone after James? Oh, God. That was something I didn’t really consider. He’ll kill him.”
“Get in. We’ll see if we can find him.”
He fired off a text to Brian as soon as they’d jumped into his car. Dude where u at? Macy buckled in and stared worriedly ahead, chewing her thumbnail.
Fortunately, the answer came just as he pulled into the street, and he almost laughed at how both of them practically dove for his phone. He let her get it since he was driving. “He says he’s at his brother’s and asks why you want to know,” she said.
Ghost blew out the breath he’d been holding. “Crisis averted, then. Just tell him I’ll call him later.”
She relaxed into the seat, typing the message. “Okay.” Then she laughed as she handed his phone back. “What were we going to do, anyway?”
“Hell if I know. If he didn’t answer, I was ready to go try to bail him out of jail or something.”
“You don’t think he’ll do anything?”
“If he were at home in a drunken stupor, I might consider going to babysit him. But if he’s at Evan’s, then that guy will talk some sense into him. It’ll be okay.”
“I don’t know Evan, but if what I’ve heard about him is true, I’m sure you’re right.”
“Brian probably went there just for that reason too. He damn sure didn’t want my influence.”
“Great. You aren’t going to do anything to James, are you?”
He chewed over that one for a minute, long enough to make her sit up straight and open her mouth. Grinning, he cut her off. “No. Though it probably wouldn’t be too good for his health to cross my path in the very near future. That’s all I’m sayin’.”
“Fair enough.” She watched the darkened buildings slip by them outside. “So where are we going now that our mission has been aborted?”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Hmm. I can’t think of anywhere in particular.” She shifted her legs.
He shouldn’t do it, his brain kept telling him not to do it, but that was like telling his lungs not to need oxygen. He glanced down at those smooth-skinned thighs, swallowing hard as he saw exactly how much skin was showing, how it positively gleamed in the passing streetlamps.