Try Me (Take a Chance) Page 4

He met her eyes. His own were so warm, that little crease at the corners making her sigh. “I thought I was out of the active combat zone,” he said.

  “I don’t think so, Addison. This is war.”

  “What did I do to deserve that? Is it because of my studly charm?”

  “Oh, God.” She dropped her face into her palm. “What studly charm?”

  “You know you want me, baby.”

  “…you pick that line up in Vegas?”

  “No, I just thought I’d call you ‘baby’ one more time to see if you’d actually try to kick my ass.” He pointed his fork at her. “Eat. I didn’t get up at the asscrack of dawn to cook for you so you could ignore it.”

  She laughed, but dutifully picked up her fork. “You make yourself sound like my wife or something.”

  He choked on a mouthful of eggs, swallowed, and reached for his dog tags. “Uh. Yeah. I guess. So, uh…did you sleep well?”

  “Honestly? Not really.” She scrunched her nose and picked up a piece of bacon to nibble at it. “Rough night.”

  Yeah. Rough. If you could call tossing and turning rough, while she wondered if he was awake, too, and wishing things could be different between them. Wishing things could be like they were seven years ago, before everything changed.

  He sighed. “Me too. I couldn’t sleep at all. I can’t stop thinking about that kiss.”

  She stiffened. So much for the casual act. “You might as well stop. It was a mistake to kiss each other.”

  “Why?”

  “We’re…friends. We should stay that way.” She tugged at her shirt and looked away. “Trust me, it’s better that way.”

  “Let me guess. It’s because of who I am and where I come from. Right?” He set his fork down, stood, and braced his hands against the table, his eyes blazing. “You’re ashamed you let someone like me kiss you. Admit it.”

  She rose, circled the table, and thwacked his arm as hard as she could. Which wasn’t very hard. Ow. She might have bruised her knuckles on his bicep. “Someone like you? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Don’t act coy. You’re embarrassed because I don’t have a career, or a master’s degree. I came from the streets, I’ll die in the streets, and I’ll never be good enough for you.”

  Her vision flashed red. She balled up her fists until her fingers hurt. He thought he wasn’t good enough for her? That he didn’t deserve her? What an idiot. She punched his shoulder. Still not so much as a flinch. That was even more infuriating, and she shook her aching hand, scowling.

  “How dare you say that about yourself? You’re a better man than anyone I’ve ever known, and don’t you even think about saying otherwise. You’re a fucking Marine, you dumbass. A big damned hero.”

  His nostrils flared. He gripped her arms and dragged her closer. “If it’s not that, then what is it? I know you want me as much as I want you. I’m not blind.”

  “It’s…I’m…it just wouldn’t work!” Why wouldn’t he just drop it? “A relationship between us is out of the question.”

  “I didn’t realize you’d turned into Miss Cleo overnight.” He looked deep into her eyes. Comprehension spread slowly across his face. He took a slow breath. “You won’t even give us a shot. Why? What are you hiding from? What are you scared of?”

  She glared at him. “How long are you in Vegas? A day? A week?”

  He flinched. “A few more days.”

  “It’s not enough to start anything, and you know it.”

  “It’s not much,” he admitted. His brow wrinkled. “But I’m not going to deploy again for a few months.” He let go of her arms, and reached up to finger a lock of her hair. His knuckles grazed her neck, igniting hot tremors. His eyes gentled. “Erica…”

  “No.” She steeled herself. “Where are you stationed?”

  “Camp Pendleton. In California.”

  “So…five hours away? Give or take.”

  “About.” He let go of her hair and brushed a finger across her cheek. “Some might call that driving distance.”

  “Not people who work a seventy-hour week.”

  “Then we could fly. Meet up halfway.”

  “That might work,” she managed. “But most people can’t make a long-distance relationship like that work. What makes you think we could?”

  He dropped his hand. “What makes you think we couldn’t?”

  She tensed. This was the part where she was supposed to open up to him. Trust him with her secrets, and believe he wouldn’t run away from her in disgust. She opened her mouth, but the only thing that came out was a despairing sound.

  She couldn’t. Wouldn’t. She shook her head. “Maybe I should take you back to the hotel. We can say goodbye as friends. It’s better that way.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Is that what you really want?”

  What did she want? Not this. Not this struggle to keep him at arm’s length. But taking a chance on him, allowing him into her life, had seemed foolish last night—and downright moronic by the light of day. She needed to stick with the original plan. Move on and forget him. She didn’t need a man in her life to be happy. Didn’t need anyone. Didn’t need him.

  She was fine on her own.

  She shrugged. “Yeah. I guess. We’d never work. You’re my brother’s friend. I mean, look at us. It would be…weird.”

  He drew back as if she’d slapped him, and swallowed heavily. “Okay. Let me grab my clothes, and I’ll call a cab.”

  Let him go, she told herself, but her self wasn’t listening very well. The way his shoulders deflated, the way he refused to look at her…it broke her heart in two. He still thought he wasn’t good enough for her. It was in every line of his body, his face, his eyes. How could she explain? How could she make him understand that it wasn’t because she didn’t want him, but because he wouldn’t want her? He wouldn’t want what she’d become.

  And he wouldn’t want the hell that came with pretending to still love her.

  He tried to twist past her. She grabbed his arm. His gaze dropped to her hand, then jerked to her face. His eyes were blazing, smoky and hot.

  “Jeremy. It’s not you. It’s—”

  He tugged free of her grip. “Spare me the most famous break-up line in history. We were never together. I don’t need it.”

  Damn it, she wasn’t ready for this. Not now. Not any more than she had been seven years ago, when her only reasons had been her own naïveté and stupidity. “No! It’s true. I’m…I’m not the relationship type. I can’t commit to this. To you.”

  “Operative words being ‘to you.’” He gripped her shoulders and shook her gently. “To me. Say what you really mean, Erica. You can’t commit to a guy who grew up on the streets. A guy whose father is a murderer. A tattooed loser with no future outside the military. Your parents never liked me. They’d never let you get away with dating someone like me. I get it. I do. So you don’t have to fucking lie.”

  “I’m not lying!” Her eyes stung. “I just don’t want a boyfriend. Is that so wrong?”

  “No. It’s not. What is wrong is denying yourself just because you’re scared.”

  “I’m not scared.” Her cheeks heated. Not scared? She was terrified. Everyone had their insecurities, and he was treading far too close to hers. “It’s none of your business, but no, I don’t say no because of who you are. It never bothered me before. Why should it now?”

  “Then help me understand. You wanted me to kiss you last night, Erica.”

  She swallowed. “I did. But it’s not that simple.”

  His eyes darkened. “How is it not that simple?”

  “Can’t you just accept that when a woman says no, she means no?” She pressed her lips together. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

  He looked stricken, but he nodded. “You’re right. You don’t.” He dropped his hands away and retreated a step. “So you really want me to leave. You don’t even want to try to make something between us work out.”

 
Damn it. That look on his face was the same as that look all those years ago, when she’d stared at him and hadn’t been able to say anything. Like she’d ripped his heart out and crushed it in her fist. It was that look that had made her run away before. She hadn’t been able to stand that she’d hurt the boy she loved so much with her clumsy confusion.

  And she couldn’t stand that she’d hurt the man she ached for with her careful, defensive half-truths and lies.

  He turned away.

  “Jeremy,” she said, and laid her hand on his arm. When he turned back, she reached up, captured his face in her palms, drew him down, and kissed him.

  She caught a glimpse of his fierce, stormy look before his mouth seized hers and he kissed her with a hunger and heat that made her dizzy. Last night had been all about taking it slow and easy. Today, he teased her with his tongue until her legs refused to support her and her fingers dug into his shoulders.

  He backed her up until her shoulders hit the stucco wall. His hands were everywhere; her hips, her hair, her waist, caressing her feverishly. Every light stroke, every brush of his body, made her burn hotter. Desperately so. Desperate for him. His breaths came in harsh pants as he buried his face in the curve of her neck.

  She hadn’t known this feeling in years. This bliss, this completion, this near-painful knowledge that she couldn’t go on without the man at her side. Seven years. Seven years since she’d felt so right, with Jeremy in her life. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it until now. She was ready to give him everything, right then and there…until he grasped her shirt and dragged it up.

  Icy fear doused her ardor. She shoved out of his arms, turned away, and yanked her shirt back down. Her vision blurred. She covered her face. She couldn’t be this weak in front of him. He’d only pity her later. She didn’t need his pity.

  She didn’t need anything from him at all.

  “You should go,” she whispered, her throat tight.

  He clasped her shoulders and spun her to face him so quickly she stumbled. His jaw was hard, his eyes even harder. “You’re only pushing me away again because you’re scared. What if I refuse to go? What if I refuse to let you win this time?”

  “Then I’ll get a damned restraining order!” She swallowed hard and forced her lips to speak words her heart didn’t want to say. “I don’t want this. I don’t need this in my life. You need to leave. Now.”

  For a few moments, he stared at her in silence. Then he turned and walked out of the room, into the foyer, and out the front door, without ever looking back. The door slammed shut, echoing through the empty house. She flinched.

  Tears ran down her face. She scrunched her eyes tightly shut. He might be angry now, but he’d thank her if he knew the truth. She’d saved them both from that awkward moment when he realized what she was, and backpedaled so fast he might as well be on fire. No one would stay once they saw her. Her stupid fiancé had run, too. Stupid perfect Nathan with his stupid perfect life, and his not-so-perfect now-ex future wife.

  She couldn’t let her guard down again, though she’d been tempted. Been tempted, and resisted. She’d been strong. As strong as she had to be.

  It hurt more than she cared to admit.

  Chapter Four

  Jeremy stalked into the Bellagio and wondered if he had the fortitude left to handle another fight. He might welcome it right now. A few more bruises. Some dickhead squid getting his ass handed to him. Jeremy was too keyed up to lose right now, even if he knew damned well he’d be an idiot to get into a fight again. Then again, he’d been an idiot pretty much since he set foot in Vegas. What else was new?

  Why did he keep making a fool of himself with that woman? Was he acting out some repressed, self-destructive need to prove to himself—and her—what a hopeless mess he’d always been and always would be? Of course she wouldn’t want him. She was kind, successful, and beautiful. He was a screw-up. The very idea was laughable.

  But he damn well didn’t feel like laughing.

  The constant clack of coins and chime of the slot machines pounded through his throbbing skull, amplifying his headache tenfold. Son of a bitch. He needed to get the hell out of this joint and back to base. So much for the dream Vegas vacation. After the last few days, he’d gladly trade the wild sex and cheap liquor for a quiet room and a cup of tea.

  Maybe he’d knit a few tea cozies, too, or a few little booties. He could stuff his balls in them, since he clearly didn’t need them anymore.

  He shoved through the crowd and toward the bar. He needed to get over this. He’d been through this once before, and there was no need to go through the whole damned downward spiral again. He’d known Erica didn’t and never would love him. There were plenty of women in Vegas to fill the gap. A stranger might be faceless, loveless…but she’d let him forget for a few hours, until he could start to forget for the rest of his life.

  He slid onto a barstool. When the pretty bartender approached and gave him a sly once-over, he grinned. Her short blond hair couldn’t be any further from the luxurious brown hair that, even now, he ached to bury his fingers in. Perfect.

  “Ma’am. Think I could get a scotch?”

  She studied him for long moments, lingering on his dog tags, before her polite smile softened, warmed, turned inviting. “Sure thing, soldier.” She sauntered away with an enticing little sway of her hips and glanced back at him. Probably to see if he was watching. Minx.

  Just a few days ago he’d have found it attractively amusing. He’d have teased her about it, and if she laughed, he’d know he’d found his company for the weekend. But right now, he couldn’t even work up more than a spark of wry amusement. Not even a hint of interest. Damn it. She wouldn’t get out of his head, even if he couldn’t even stand to think her damned name.

  The bartender returned with his medication in a cup. She smiled. “Listen, I’m Erica. If you want to meet up for a drink later—”

  As soon as she said her name, he tossed his money on the bar and stalked away. Her confused voice followed, but he ignored it. Unbelievable. This vacation couldn’t possibly get any worse.

  “Jeremy? Is that you?”

  Oh, shit. Yes, it could.

  And it just did.

  Jeremy froze and closed his eyes. Why him? What had he done to deserve this? Was it the time he threw spitballs at the back of Jenny Parkinson’s head in the third grade? Or maybe how, when he was fourteen, he’d told Erica’s crush she hated him and thought he smelled bad? Alex Nelson had smelled bad, but Erica still hadn’t spoken to Jeremy for a week.

  And Tommy hadn’t spoken to him for years, but here he was.

  Damn it.

  Jeremy made himself turn, schooling his face to what he hoped was indifference and not a freakish clown mask of panic.

  “Tommy?” Like he hadn’t known that voice immediately. His former best friend, and the man who’d broken his trust and destroyed the last of his faith in humanity. “Is that you?”

  Tommy looked the same. A little older, a little wiser, but he still had the same spiked hair and deep brown eyes—eyes that always reminded him of Erica.

  “Jesus, Jeremy. How are you?”

  Tommy looked Jeremy over with narrowed eyes. Jeremy winced every time his gaze stopped on one of his bruises, and the split in his lip. Tommy’s mouth creased tighter and tighter, just like Erica’s did right when she was about to rip him a new one. Some things never changed. Tommy was always the smooth, calm, collected one, well-dressed and suave. Jeremy was casual. Messy.

  A mess.

  “What the hell happened to you?”

  Jeremy shrugged. How was he supposed to act around Tommy? Last time they’d seen each other, Tommy had used his fists to plow Jeremy’s face into mulch, then tossed him out on the lawn and told him never to show his sorry hide again. The bruises had healed. Jeremy hadn’t.

  He opted for a cocky grin. “I pissed someone off. I’m good at that. You know me. Or I thought you did.”

  Tommy flinched, but it wa
s gone as quickly as it came. “Yeah. I know you. Or I did. What happened?”

  So Tommy wanted to play it cool? God, he and Erica really were just alike. Must run in the family. Sweep everything under the rug. Nothing happened, let’s be friends. Fine. Jeremy could play that game.

  “Nothing, really. Latest girl got a little rough. She took ‘playing hard to get’ a little too literally, if you know what I mean.”

  “Your latest girl?” Tommy’s face reddened, and he clenched his fists. “The girl you were with last night did that to you? A one-night stand?”

  “Yep.” Jeremy rocked back on his heels. How the hell was he supposed to end this conversation? He’d had enough awkward reminders of his past in the last twenty-four hours to last him a lifetime. And Tommy wasn’t on his to-do list today. Neither was forgiving him. “Look, I’m gonna head to my room now. I didn’t get much sleep.”

  Jeremy made it two steps before Tommy asked, “That girl last night wouldn’t happen to be my sister, would she?”

  He tensed. Had Erica called Tommy? Told him Jeremy was in town? Why would she have done that? What had broken between them couldn’t be fixed.

  Jeremy swallowed and turned back. “Why would you think that?”

  Tommy crossed his arms over his chest. “Because you’re wearing my clothes, idiot.”

  Son of a whore.

  He’d forgotten he’d borrowed Tommy’s clothing. Even worse, he’d need to return it to Erica. Would need to see her one more time. Maybe he’d package everything up nice and neat and ship it through the mail. No human contact required. No reminders of not one, but two rejections he’d been stupid enough to set himself up for.

  He’d rather charge unarmed into enemy territory than see her again. He wasn’t right for her. Either she was telling the truth and, no matter what she might want physically, she wasn’t looking for a boyfriend and preferred to focus on her career.

  Or she’d lied to him, and didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Didn’t want him, period.

  Either way, he wasn’t going back for a third helping of humiliation.

  Tommy cleared his throat and stepped closer. Right in Jeremy’s space, and suddenly Jeremy didn’t feel like a war vet who’d kicked more than a little insurgent ass. He outweighed Tommy in muscle mass, but the way the man was eyeing him right now, that might not make a difference.