Rogue Devil Read online

  I flop down on the sofa, lying across the entire thing, and cross my ankles. Maybe I’ll just lie here and tell her to come in, so she’ll see how chill I am. Of course, I need to unlock the door for that to work.

  I roll off the sofa and stride to the door, turning the lock. I’m halfway back to the sofa when there’s a soft knock at the door. My heart actually pounds. What is wrong with me? It’s just Chloe. Most likely wearing a plain tank top and jeans. Every weekend it’s the same outfit, different color, outlining her petite curves. No, her regular curves just like every other woman on the planet.

  I amble to the door, taking a slow deep breath, ordering my heart to resume normal beating. There is nothing exciting about tonight. No high stakes. I can always go with the girl my mother picked out for me. Kill me now.

  I open the door and rest both hands casually against the doorframe overhead. “Hey.”

  Her blond hair is down, resting on her bare shoulders. A white ribbed tank top clings to her perky breasts, the outline of her bra barely visible, faded jeans with frayed edges, white Keds. Exactly as expected. I ignore the tightening in my gut, the lust coursing through my veins. I’m Mr. Casual.

  She looks up at me, her brows knitting together over green eyes. “Hi. Uh, are you gonna let me in?”

  I draw back, realizing I was blocking the entire space. “What kind of pizza do you like?”

  “The only good kind.”

  “Pepperoni?”

  She smiles. “Yup.”

  How did I know that? It’s my favorite. “I’ll order it now.” I pull my phone from my pocket and tap over to a local place that delivers.

  Chloe wanders over to the hideous painting on the living room wall that I can’t seem to get rid of. My brother Connor left it behind when he moved out. It’s just scribbles in purple and red with a garish yellow dot in the middle. Supposedly it’s from a famous artist. I wanted to get rid of it but, even though Connor agreed it was hideous, he said it was a birthday present from our brother Jack, so he had to keep it. I tried to unload it on Connor as a housewarming gift when he moved in with his fiancée, but she says it clashes with her decor. No kidding. It clashes with everything.

  “What is this supposed to be?” She tilts her head this way and that. “Close up of a molecule?”

  I look at it with new eyes. Problem is, I don’t know what a molecule looks like up close. Then I get a great idea. “You like it? It’s yours.”

  She crinkles her nose. “No, thanks.”

  I go back to ordering pizza. “I’m never getting rid of that thing. Jack gave it to Con as a gift. Con left it behind when he moved out.”

  “I don’t get modern art,” she says, taking a seat on the sofa.

  “Me either.” I place the order. “You want a drink while we wait?”

  She shakes her head. “I’m good.”

  I tuck my phone back in my pocket and consider my next move. She’s sitting there, completely oblivious that I’m about to take things to a public level. She’s going to hang with my family at Jack’s wedding. She knows them a little from Villroy, but this is different. My mom will definitely follow up about her. I think Mom will like Chloe. She’s smart, kind, and hardworking. Beautiful. I swallow hard. If Chloe says no to the wedding, I’ll have to explain why I’m solo. I refuse to date a nice Catholic girl chosen by my mother. A guy has to draw the line somewhere.

  Chloe tucks her hair behind her ears. “Everything okay? You seem tense.”

  I stride over to the sofa and flop down in a casual gesture. “Perfectly relaxed.”

  “I was glad to hear your brothers were on board for Finerman’s. I always liked that store, even if I couldn’t afford anything in it.”

  We’ve kept in touch by text. No big. It’s what friends do.

  “Yeah, we put a bid in, and we’re waiting to hear if the owner counters. Fingers crossed.” I can’t seem to get comfortable. I punch the pillow behind me and push back into it. She’s at the opposite end of the sofa with a cushion between us. Just the way me and Beast would sit on this sofa. The center cushion is no-man’s land.

  She glances over at me and then turns away, twirling a lock of hair. It’s awkward, and it shouldn’t be. Things were great last weekend when we hung out. There’s a comfort level between us that’s missing now. It’s because of this damn question I have to ask her. Just spit it out!

  “So, Chloe, I was wondering…” Too wimpy. Act like you don’t care. Like you’re asking a guy to the game.

  “Yeah?”

  “Ever see Monty Python?” Dammit.

  “No.”

  “It’s my favorite movie.”

  She nods. “Cool. I’ll pretend I like it, then.”

  I bark out a laugh. She has a dry deadpan sense of humor that keeps surprising me. “How’s work? Are you getting beyond setting up test tubes?”

  “Don’t forget washing equipment,” she says. “I’m the newbie, the youngest in the lab, and I got a nice little lecture from my boss about how everyone has to pull their weight no matter how smart they think they are.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah. I swear I wasn’t bragging about myself. I just stated plainly what I’ve accomplished and what I hope to accomplish.” She sighs and leans back in the sofa, looking at the ceiling. “I guess I shouldn’t have brought my résumé and published papers as a reminder. That seemed to annoy her.” She turns her head to look at me. “She said she’d already reviewed them with my application and didn’t need to see them again.”

  “It’s tough with bosses. Gotta walk a fine line, respecting authority while standing up for yourself.” I lift a palm. “Look at the bright side. One day you’ll be in charge of a lab and you can make some other newbie do crap work.”

  A reluctant smile tugs at her lips. “I guess someone has to do it.”

  “My brother Jack’s getting married in two weeks,” I blurt. “In New Jersey, where his fiancée is from. The reception is at a country club. Real fancy setup.”

  She nods and kicks off her shoes.

  “So what’re you doing the Saturday after next?”

  She turns to me. “I don’t know, Bren. What’re we doing?”

  My lips curve up. She gave it to me. “We’re going to Jack’s wedding. As friends.”

  “Do I have to dance?”

  “No.”

  She inclines her head. “Do you have any popcorn for the movie?”

  I’m so relieved I want to hug her. But I can’t cross the no-man’s land. I know that. She’s too tempting, too sexy, too much everything. And she’s on a determined path that doesn’t include me. I’ll never do anything close to as great as being a cancer researcher. Fact is, she’s out of my league.

  I get off the sofa. “I might have some microwave popcorn somewhere.”

  “Add extra butter to it. I love too much butter.”

  I head for the kitchen. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Guess who called me earlier.”

  I open a cabinet, searching for popcorn. “No idea.”

  “Michael.”

  I freeze. The guy who proposed to her back in Villroy. “Yeah?” I manage, rummaging around in the cabinet.

  “Yeah. He says he’s ready to be friends again. He wants to see me when I go back to Villroy in August to visit Sara.” She’ll be there for a month. My gut does a slow roll.

  Friends with benefits? Like before? I don’t like that I care so much.

  I slam the cabinet closed. “No popcorn.”

  “Bummer.”

  I stare at her. “So, are you gonna see him?”

  “Yeah. I’m glad he’s moved past my rejection. We were good friends before.”

  I blow out a breath. He wants her back. I know it in my gut.

  I walk over to stand in front of her, leaving the coffee table between us. “Do you really think Michael wants to be just friends after everything that went down between you two?”

  She blinks in surprise. “That’s what he said.�
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  “And you believe him?” I bark.

  “Why’re you getting so mad?”

  I spear a hand through my hair. It’s not my business. I know that. I just don’t like it. “I’m not mad,” I mutter, shifting around to my spot in the furthest corner of the sofa from her.

  “You think he’s lying?” she asks.

  “Yes, Chloe, I think he’s lying. No guy wants to go back to being friends after you’ve had sex with him. And especially after a proposal! It doesn’t work that way.”

  “But…” She trails off at my glare and faces front. “Okay. Thanks for the guy perspective.”

  “Sure,” I grumble.

  She grabs the remote control. “Mind if we watch TV while we wait for the pizza?”

  “Are you still going to see him in August?”

  “He works at the palace. I’m sure we’ll run into each other.”

  Are you going to hook up with him again? I can’t ask. I prop my feet on the wooden coffee table and cross my arms, feigning nonchalance as jealousy eats a hole in my stomach.

  She flips the channel to a documentary on the wilds of Alaska. I hate documentaries. Look at that dopey brown bear wandering around the stream. Oh, he caught it. Huge fish in his mouth.

  We exchange a glance of shared enthusiasm and turn back to the TV. So what if she shows me new things that I actually like? I showed her we could cook. What did Michael ever show her, huh? How to guard something? Useless.

  I stew in silence, watching the wildlife, which is more fascinating than I realized. My phone chimes with a text. The pizza will be here in five minutes.

  I stand. “Pizza’s almost here. I’m gonna grab a few plates, napkins, and drinks for us, and then I’ll head down to meet the pizza guy in the lobby.”

  “Okay.” She digs some money out of her pocket and offers it to me.

  “I got it.”

  “Sure?”

  “Put it away. I invited you over, so I can get it.”

  “Bren, you seem mad again. What’s got you so agitated tonight?”

  “Look, we’re friends, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So I’m saying this as a friend. If you see Michael again, he’s gonna take that as encouragement. If you don’t want to start something again, then you have to keep your distance.”

  She studies me for a long moment, her eyes searching my face.

  I work on looking like a concerned friend. “I’m just giving you the guy perspective.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  She doesn’t elaborate. Damn her noncommittal answers. That’s my thing.

  I lift my palms. “Now you know.”

  “Do you want me to help set the table or anything?”

  “No.”

  “Okay.” She sounds cheerful.

  I clench my jaw and stride toward the kitchen. I need to calm the fuck down. I don’t have any say in what she does in Villroy. Or here. Or anywhere. She’s a free woman. She doesn’t even want to dance with me at the wedding. I mean, what if there’s a slow dance? She doesn’t want to be close to me? She’s moved on. So will I. Already did.

  I snag plates, napkins, and a glass of water for her. I’ll get a beer for myself when I get back with the pizza.

  “Are you in the wedding party?” she calls from the sofa.

  “No, Jack had too many guys and they had to match up with the bride’s side. My brothers and I drew straws for who’d be a groomsman.” I go back to the living room, hand her the water, and set the coffee table for dinner.

  “Oh, good.”

  I lift my gaze to hers. “Why is that good?”

  “Because then you’d have a bridesmaid partner you’d have to sit with, and I’d just be sitting by myself. I was maid-of-honor at Sara’s wedding and I had to stick with Oscar for a lot of it.” That’s my cousin, a prince. Most women would’ve loved to be with Oscar. He was such a player before he met his wife. As bad as I was. Am. I should pick up a woman soon.

  “I’m gonna get the pizza.” I’m about to head out when she stops me with another question.

  “Will we be spending the night in New Jersey after the wedding?”

  I halt. It’s about a two-hour drive. Does she want to spend the night with me? There is a breakfast the next morning at my new sister-in-law’s parents’ house. It’s optional, though. I rented a car so I could come and go as I please, depending how I felt after the wedding.

  I slowly turn back, my pulse thrumming in anticipation. “We could go either way, spend the night or come back. Which do you prefer?”

  She bites her lip and looks away. “Whatever works for your family. I was just wondering.”

  Which is the most confusing answer I’ve ever heard.

  “They’d probably like to see me at the breakfast the next day, so we’ll spend the night.” I wait, gauging her reaction.

  “Great,” she says tightly.

  Guess I know where I stand. She looks uncomfortable with the idea. Whatever. I really don’t care. She can go back to her long-distance arrangement with Michael, and I’ll just…I’ll just deal.

  I yank open the front door and stalk out. Pizza and a movie. That’s it.

  I get the pizza, tip the guy, and head back upstairs, determined to get back on solid ground. Enough of this stupid hoping for something more. There’s plenty of women out there who’d love to be with a guy like me.

  I burst through the door, startling her. “We’re not spending the night.”

  “Okay,” she says, her voice going up at the end like a question. Her brows draw down as she studies me. “What is with you tonight?”

  “Nothing. I just think it’s better if we don’t drag out the weekend any more than we absolutely have to. Weddings are exhausting.” I stalk to the coffee table and deposit the pizza box.

  “Bren, do you not want me to go to Jack’s wedding? Would you rather go alone? I totally get that.”

  “I asked you; you said yes.” I lift the lid of the box. “Eat up.”

  She salutes me. “Yes, sir!”

  A laugh escapes and I join her, taking a slice for myself. “Smart-ass.”

  She smiles. “Can’t help it.”

  “Yeah, me neither.”

  “Does watching your brothers get married make you want that too?” she asks before taking a big bite of pizza.

  I open my mouth to say no, but what comes out is, “Someday.” Huh. Maybe I am evolving. My older brothers are happier than I’ve ever seen them before. It could be rubbing off on me.

  She nods and takes a swig of water. “Yeah, when I see Sara with baby Henry, I think someday I’d like to be a mom.”

  “Not a wife?”

  She lifts a shoulder. “Guess the guy goes with the territory.” She pulls a funny face, twisting her lips. “Such a hassle with all their testosterone and demands.”

  “Ha! What about all the hormones women are riding? Up and down with the moods. God help ya if you catch them at the wrong time of the month.”

  “Sexist.”

  “So are you.”

  She sighs. “Sometimes I wish I were a lesbian. So much simpler.”

  “Even better would be if you met a lesbian fellow doctor.”

  She takes a bite of pizza, speaking around it. “Too bad I like dick so much.”

  “Yeah,” I croak. Thank God I didn’t get my beer yet, or I’d be spewing it now. As it is, my cock twitched to life at her crude language. She might look angelic, but she’s not shy. She once told me she had no inhibitions in bed. That is the stuff of my lusty dreams.

  I close my eyes for a second, telling my cock to stand down. Icy wind, moldy onions, dates set up by my mother. There. Better.

  “I’m gonna get a beer,” I say.

  I keep my head in the refrigerator extra long just for the cold air.

  11

  Chloe

  It’s strange how quickly I’ve gotten close to Brendan. We’re driving to a church in northern New Jersey on a beautiful sunny day, the las
t weekend in June, rock music blasting. Usually my relationships with guys tend to be off and on to satisfy mutual physical needs mostly. It’s been a month since I moved in next door to him, and I have to admit he’s awesome. I look forward to hanging with him every weekend, even if we’re just taking a walk or grabbing a pizza. He’s the first person I want to share about my day and the last person I want to talk to at night. We have an open-door policy, popping into each other’s apartments any time and texting frequently. And to think it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t moved here for my internship.

  I glance over at him in profile as he drives, his features dear to me now, the faint scar by his eyebrow, his sharp cheekbones, and short beard. He looks so handsome in his gray suit. Every time I’m tempted to cross the line, which is often, I remind myself he’s got another woman. It could be multiple women for all I know. I swallow hard, my gut churning, and look away. I have no right to be hurt, but I can’t help it. We’re close in so many ways. It’s hard knowing he stays out all night every Friday night. Stop it. He invited you to this wedding, not any other woman, because he likes to spend time with you most of all. There’s definitely an advantage to being a close friend instead of one of many casual—nope, not going there.

  He turns into the church lot and parks. “This is it. Ready?”

  “Ready.” I grab my small purse and open the door, careful to get out of the car without flashing anyone. I’m wearing a teal spaghetti-strap cocktail dress with a V-neck, the material gathered in diagonal pleats in the bodice that makes it look like I have more curves up top than I do. My sister made sure I had dresses for a variety of occasions once she became co-owner of the casino in Villroy. We went shopping at some of the best boutiques in Paris. The clothes seem made for a petite size like mine.

  Brendan appears at my side, shutting the car door behind me. “I should’ve opened that for you.”

  I cock my head. “I’m perfectly capable of opening a door.”

  He leans close. “Yeah, but you’re my date. Just friends, but still. My dad is a stickler for manners, and he’ll notice if I’m not pouring on all the gentlemanly etiquette or whatever.”

  Weird but okay.

  He offers me his arm, and I stare at it. He takes my hand and rests it on his forearm; then he starts walking toward the church. I’m suddenly intensely aware of him, the heat of his arm through his gray blazer, the hard muscle, his woodsy sexy scent. I swallow hard and stare straight ahead.