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She cheered herself up with a mental pep talk. She’d meet him at Lake Pontchartrain—she had no intention of ever getting on his motorcycle again—take the pictures, then turn around and walk away. This time, it was Blake who was going to see taillights. The whole thing shouldn’t take more than three or four hours. Surely she could survive that much more time in his presence.
“That’s a deep thought.”
She was startled by his voice, jumping slightly when she realized Blake was standing right next to her.
She put her hand on the doorknob, ready to get him the hell out of her mother’s house, but paused. “Should I pat you down to make sure you aren’t sneaking off with something?”
She felt horrible the moment the words crossed her lips, but there was something about seeing Blake again that was bringing out the worst in her. She didn’t consider herself a bitter person by nature, but for days, all she’d been able to summon was cold, hard anger. Well, that…and lust.
Blake took her comment in stride, lifting his arms. “You won’t hear any complaints from me. Take your time on that area below the waist. Lots of pockets down there.”
She blew out an exasperated breath, though she was able to admit she’d walked right into that one. “Don’t be such a pig.”
“Hey, you’re the one who offered. I’ve never looked a gift horse in the mouth. Should I turn around?” He spun, lifting his hands to the wall. The position sent her eyes straight to his ass, which he wiggled for her amusement.
One brief burst of laughter escaped before she could shut it down. Damn him. “Turn around and get out, you idiot.”
“I love your laughter.”
Chloe tried to ignore the tug his soft comment evoked. It had always been there between them—this electrical current that flowed hot and powerful, tying them together in ways Chloe could never understand…or fight. It was always sparks, heat, energy and painful need.
“Walk outside with me.”
Blake had her hand in his before she could refuse. It appeared his take-no-prisoners attitude was still there as well. She’d followed his lead when she was nineteen because she was young and inexperienced. If he still thought she was that same silly girl who would come merely because he beckoned, he was destined for disappointment. She tried to pull her hand away, but his grip tightened.
They participated in a mini tug-of-war all the way to his motorcycle. Once they were there, he reached for a helmet. “Hop on.”
She laughed at his audacity. “No.”
“Get on the bike, Chloe. You need to get away for a little while. I can see it in your face. When is the last time you escaped, letting wind and the road take over until you forgot everything and everyone?”
Ten years ago.
She didn’t say it aloud, but something in Blake’s expression told him he knew the answer. “I’m not getting on the motorcycle with you. Not now. Not ever again.”
“Yes, you will.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Blake—”
“Our photo shoot, remember? We’re taking the Harley to the lake.”
“I have too much equipment. I’ll follow you there in my car.” She was pleased to see she’d stumped him with that. Clearly he hadn’t taken that into account.
Blake leaned against his motorcycle casually. “So what are your plans for the week?”
She shook her head at his audacity. “None of your business.”
He lifted one shoulder at her dismissal. “Maybe. Maybe not. You taking pictures of the manhandler?”
Chloe felt an uneasy flutter in her stomach. Blake Mills on a mission was never a good thing. He had the tenacity of a pit bull when he wanted something. She’d always blamed that on the fact he’d basically had to raise himself, given his father’s disinterest in his son and his lack of mother.
“Again, none of your business.”
“Give me your phone.”
“Why?”
Before she could stop him, Blake had one arm wrapped around her waist, the other diving into her back pocket. She placed her hands on his chest, intent on pushing him away, but the man was solid muscle, his chest rock hard. Once her phone was in his hand, he released her and took a step back. It bugged her that she hadn’t been able to break free on her own.
He clicked the cell on, taking her to task for her lack of a passcode. He went to the contacts page and, as she watched, added his name and phone number.
“I’m deleting that.”
“No. You’re not. At least not until all of the calendar pictures have been taken. You’re going to be alone with these guys and, while your mom and the committee might trust their characters, I’d feel better if you had my number handy. You feel threatened, even just a little, you call me. Okay?”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Oh yeah?” Blake turned her phone off, grasping her once more. “Prove it.”
“What?”
He slid her phone into her back pocket, taking advantage of the opportunity to run his fingers over her ass. She tried to shove him away, but she’d have had more luck moving a mountain.
“Break free from my hold and I’ll delete the number myself.” His arms tightened around her.
Chloe’s mind whirled over all the self-defense moves her brothers had taught her when she became a teenager and got boobs. The more her body developed, the more intensive their training. “I don’t want to hurt you.” She put as much bravado into her tone as possible.
Blake laughed. “Of course you do.”
She noticed he’d positioned himself so that his balls were protected and her bent arms were trapped against his chest. She marveled at how familiar, yet different Blake’s body was. He’d always been tough as a young man, his body lean and fit, but now…
Chloe couldn’t help but wonder what drove Blake to work out so much. Why did he need to be so damn strong? Blake had only shared skeletal notes of his childhood with her, never giving details. All she’d had to go on was his scant information, usually shared by accident, and her gut feelings. Yet, she’d always viewed him as a wounded beast, striking out at the world as a means of defense. Chloe had also thought she was safe from his swing, assumed she was different.
She’d learned the hard way how wrong she was.
“Don’t, Blake.”
His arms loosened slightly. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t set your sights on this. On us. It’s not gonna happen.”
He didn’t move, continuing to hold her close. All of his attention, all of his focus homed in on her. She’d been the center of his universe for three glorious months. She remembered how special and wonderful that had been. Even so, it wasn’t worth the inevitable pain that followed. She wouldn’t play the fool for him again.
“I get it, Chloe. I’m sure you think I don’t, but I do. If I were a better man, I’d accept that I hurt you, that you have every right in the world not to trust me and I’d keep my distance. You didn’t deserve what I did to you and I’m not real sure how to make up for that. Maybe I can’t. But the thing is, I’m going to try because I’m not a good man. I’m a selfish bastard. And I want you. I never stopped wanting you.”
Chloe’s lungs seized as she struggled for air. There was determination written on every line of his face, but more frightening than that was the hunger in his eyes. She’d seen it before—in the faces of the foster kids her mother had taken in over the years. The kids had always looked like they were starving to death, like they would do whatever it took to get a bite of bread. Chloe knew that hunger wasn’t literal. What those kids—like Blake—wanted more than anything was love. Unconditional love.
“I can’t give you what you want. Not the forgiveness. Not the understanding. And not the…” She couldn’t say the word love to him. Couldn’t let that single syllable out in his presence. “I’m not the girl I used to be.” She wasn’t sweet, trusting, or gullible anymore. He’d squashed those characteristics out of her, stomped on them until they simply vanished.
Blake released her waist. She had only a split second of freedom before he took her face in his hands. She wanted to shove him away, but she was rooted to the spot. “Yes. You are. You’re still that girl and a hell of a lot more. But I’m more too. And I want a chance to prove that to you.”
She started to shake her head, but Blake’s grip tightened. “Blake—”
Her denial was cut off with a kiss. The second his lips touched hers, she was transported back in time. Their first kiss had been right here, in almost this exact same spot. They’d spent weeks circling around each other at the sub shop, her flirting while he made completely inappropriate but entirely hot sexual innuendoes. Then one afternoon, he’d offered her a ride on his motorcycle and she’d accepted. They had ridden around the city for nearly an hour as Chloe clung to his leather jacket and breathed in the humid Louisiana air. They’d stopped at the French Quarter, walking along the crowded streets until dusk, talking about everything and nothing. When he’d pulled up in front of her house that night, Blake had gotten off the Harley, taken her face in his hands and kissed her.
