This time, his laugh wasn’t angry…it was soft and genuine.
Candace sat there and let the masculine sound wash over her. She’d seen him angry and tense, seen him sexy and aroused, seen him concerned. This was the first moment, though, that she truly believed she was seeing the real man, with his guard completely down. Seeing the Oliver he had been before his world had fallen apart last fall. She liked this man. Liked him a lot.
And oh, God, did she ever wish she had met him before she’d agreed to marry her best friend.
OLIVER WASN’T CERTAIN what had caused that warm, tender look to appear in Candace’s lovely eyes, but he figured it was bad news. He liked it better—felt safer—when she was snapping at him, taunting him, even flirting with him. This softness, this sweetness, this emotion he saw in her now, was way outside of his comfort zone.
He should have kept his fat trap shut. He should never have told her anything about himself—his past, his regrets, his shame. Because now, he greatly feared, he’d opened up a window through which she could climb, going around his instinctive defenses.
So let her.
Huh. Maybe he should. He still wasn’t ready for a relationship, still hated the idea of messing around with Buddy’s granddaughter while the old man was laid up. But he had to admit, he found Candace incredibly easy to talk to. She had heart and brains to go with that boatload of sex appeal, which made her a triple threat. He couldn’t deny he was tempted to take what she’d offered yesterday morning and last night. Maybe hooking up with someone who would be leaving in a week or so was exactly the right way to get back in the game of life.
Unfortunately, now that he’d realized he liked her as much as he wanted her, hooking up seemed less appetizing than it had before. He sensed it would satisfy him physically, but would just make the emotional strings that much harder to untangle. And emotions were still not his strong point.
“Will you excuse me a minute? I need to run to the ladies’ room,” she said.
He pushed his plate to the edge of the table so the overly flirtatious waitress, who’d come on to him every single time he walked into this joint, could pick it up. “Sure. I’ll ask for the check.”
She reached into her purse.
He waved a hand. “Forget it. It’s on me.”
“No way. You don’t bring down the big bucks anymore.”
He lifted a brow in challenge, remembering she’d said she was between jobs right now. “At least I’m employed.”
“Good point. But I think I can spring for one hamburger.”
Frankly, it was worth every penny to pay for her meal, if only for the pleasure of watching her eat that cursed ice cream.
He watched her walk away, again noting the changes in her wardrobe since she’d stopped wearing her sister’s more loose, casual ensembles in favor of stylish, extremely colorful and bright stuff. Her jeans were fire-engine red. She wore them with spike-heeled black ankle boots, and a silky blouse that fell off one shoulder. Every guy in the place watched her go, Oliver included.
He would bet every other guy in the place would give his left nut to have kissed her, and touched her the way he’d touched her twenty-four hours ago.
You’re a brainless bastard to have walked out on her like that.
If he had the day to do over again, he sensed yesterday would have ended up very differently. He only wondered if it was too late to change things.
After she’d left, Oliver signaled for the waitress, cutting her off when she tried to engage in small talk. It had been fine that she’d flirted when Candace was around to see and get a little tight-lipped, but now that she was gone, he couldn’t be bothered to play along. He hadn’t been interested in this woman, or any of the others he’d met since coming here four months ago. Only one interested him.
So what are you going to do about it?
He honestly didn’t know. But the more he got to know Candace, the more he wanted to do something.
“Hey, dude, you better watch it. She’s toxic.”
Startled, he looked up to see one of the jocks from the next table leaning over the back of his booth. He gave Oliver a look of manly commiseration that looked a little fake, as if he enjoyed spreading tales. “She’s messing around on you.”
“What?”
“Your girl. I heard her on the phone before you got here. She was all into whoever she was talking to. Just sayin’, you should watch your back, man.”
His muscles contracting, he realized he should tell the guy to go screw himself, that he and Candace weren’t a couple and if she had been on the phone with anyone else, that was her business. Not his.
Instead, he simply ignored the jock, tossed some bills on the table and got up. No, he had no business questioning who Candace talked to. But she’d sure made it sound like she was single, and she’d certainly acted that way yesterday during their erotic encounters.
Could she really have a lover somewhere? Was she the type who got bored easily and was simply killing time with Oliver while she was stuck up here in Sonoma?
The thought bothered him more than he cared to admit. So much so that he couldn’t even force a tight smile when she got back and walked over to him.
She spied the bills on the table. “I told you I’d pay for mine.”
“Forget it,” he insisted, his tone brusque to match his attitude. “Are you ready to go? Because I’m leaving.”
He didn’t plan to walk out and leave her here, not now that he knew just how closely the table full of men had been watching her. But he didn’t need her to know that.
“Sure,” she said, blinking in surprise at his here’s-your-hat-what’s-your-hurry attitude.
He didn’t enlighten her. Telling her what the nosy softball player at the next table had said would only open up a conversation he really didn’t want to have. The only reason he’d need to know if she was available was if he intended to sleep with her.
He didn’t.
Right?
They walked outside to the parking lot. While they’d been inside, the early signs of a storm had blown in. This area didn’t get a whole lot of rain, and what it got usually came in the winter. But sometimes the spring brought wicked storms and it looked like they would have one tonight. The air was wildly alive, with gusts that had the trees bouncing and a whistling sound coming from under the eaves of the building.
Instead of tightening her jacket, ducking against the weather and racing to her car, Candace tilted her head back, smiled and closed her eyes. She apparently liked the feel of the wind battering her body. Liking it, too, he understood. There was something freeing about being in a climate so variable and elemental. L.A. and San Diego were pretty standard all year round—sunny, warm, beautiful. In the winter and spring months he’d been up here, he’d realized you couldn’t really count on anything. You never knew when the winds would change and the air would crackle with electric excitement.
“I love this,” she said, raising her voice to be heard.
“I can tell.”
The gusts kept catching wispy strands of her honeybrown hair, blowing them across her face. She didn’t even try tucking them behind her ears or restraining the long curls. The longer they stood outside, the more primal and tangled it became. She was beautiful, sultry, exotic…he had a sudden image of being back at the estate with her, outside,