Not That Kind of Girl

  “I didn’t forget him.” He leveled his gaze at her. “But you need to.”

  “No problem,” she said sarcastically.

  “All right. If you can’t forget, then forgive.” Eli slowly reached up to remove the knit hat from her head, then smoothed her hair. He stored the hat in his jacket pocket. “Try looking back at the relationship with compassion—for him and yourself—and let it go.”

  She leaned back so quickly that his arm fell from her shoulder. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nope.”

  “I’m not freakin’ Mother Teresa, you know.”

  Eli laughed. “No, you’re Roxie Bloom—brilliant, funny, loving, and sexy Roxie Bloom, and the second you forgive this guy, he loses all power over you. Poof! It’s gone.”

  Roxie blinked at him in surprise.

  “Once you do that, he can’t make you angry. He can’t make you miserable. He can’t make you see each and every man who comes your way as a potential enemy.” Eli’s grin expanded. “And suddenly, your life is your own again.”

  Roxie looked away from Eli’s face and stared out at the vast display of beauty. None of this was exactly news to her, but she’d never heard it put in such a doable way. “They say forgiveness is for the forgiver,” she said.

  “Every single time.”

  After a quiet moment, she suddenly turned to Eli. “So do you practice what you preach?”

  Eli blinked. He opened his mouth to answer her when the sound of barking echoed up from the canyon below, and a bolt of worry shot through Roxie. She stood. “Where are they?”

  “Not far,” Eli said, standing without a hint of concern. “Are you hungry? Do you think you’ll be ready to eat by the time we get back?”

  Roxie’s eyes scanned below for Lilith or any of the dogs. “I don’t see her. What if something’s happened to her?”

  Eli put his fingers to his lips and let loose with a short, shrill whistle. Instantly, she heard the sound of dogs scampering up the ridge. The moment Roxie saw Lilith’s little brown and white face and dark, sparkly eyes, she was filled with love and relief.

  She looked up at Eli. “Thank you,” she said. “For everything. I …” Roxie burst out laughing. She’d almost blurted out that she loved him. Loved him.

  “You what?” he asked, cocking his head at an angle.

  “I think you’re very good at what you do. You’re also a pretty incredible man.”

  He gave her a gentle kiss on the lips, then motioned for her to go ahead of him down the ridge. “And just think—you haven’t even tasted my cornbread yet.”

  * * *

  Raymond turned away from the rebuilt door at the little house on Sanchez Street, enraged. He’d peeked into the garage windows and seen her car, so he knew she was home. But she was refusing to come to the door. All the blinds were down. And the bitch hadn’t answered her phone or returned any of his e-mails. Her Web site claimed she was on vacation, which was a lie, clearly.

  As Raymond returned to where his car was parked on the street, he heard a strange swsshing sound to his left. He turned to see a dowdy-looking middle-aged woman with a broom, her eyes on him even while she mechanically moved the broom back and forth along the sidewalk in a zombielike fashion. He remembered her.

  Raymond nodded his greeting. But he’d forgotten about the damn neck brace, so a shot of pain sliced down his left arm again. His fingers went numb. He hated this fucking brace. But the doctor said if the ruptured cervical disc didn’t heal on its own, he’d have to have surgery, and keeping immobile would accelerate the healing.

  Unfortunately, Raymond didn’t want to be immobile. He didn’t want to look like a gimp. Raymond Sandberg wasn’t either of those things—he was smooth, sexy, and in complete command. Unfortunately, he’d quickly discovered that the world didn’t see him as such with a brace on his neck. Women who bothered to glance his way did so with a twinge of disgust or pity. It just wasn’t right.

  “You the victim?” the woman asked.

  He walked up the sidewalk in her direction, casually scanning the path for a sign of the dirt or grass she was so diligently chasing away with her broom. He didn’t see a speck of anything. Raymond smiled at the loony old hag. “As a matter of fact, I am the victim.”

  She kept sweeping but rolled her eyes to Roxie’s house. “She’s not here.”

  “All right. Well, thank you.”

  “She and the attack dog went somewhere with a man in a truck.”

  Raymond felt his eye twitch. “Interesting,” he said.

  “She left with a suitcase.”

  “Ah.” Raymond felt awkward obtaining such useful information from someone he’d never officially met. “I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Raymond Sandberg, and you?”

  “I know who you are—you used to come over here for a little nookie. You’d leave early in the morning, around five. You’re pretty old for her. You’ve got to be close to my age, and I’m fifty-six.”

  Raymond choked. He was only a year younger than this batty old street-sweeper? It wasn’t possible …

  “That pit bull tried to rip your throat out. I know. I saw you flat on your back. I watched the ambulance come and take you away. That dog’s not right in the head.”

  Raymond attempted to smile politely, thinking that madness must be contagious in this particular neighborhood.

  “Is that why you’re wearing a brace?” she asked.

  Raymond had already grown tired of the rather one-sided exchange. He was a busy man. “Yes. I was severely injured, I’m afraid. Well, it was nice to meet you.” He headed back to his car.

  “The truck had Utah plates.”

  Raymond spun around, a little too quickly, apparently, because the shooting pain and numbness were back. “I see. Yes, well, since I’m here—may I ask if you’ve ever seen a young blond woman visiting Roxie? About twenty-two? Extremely attractive? A college student named Ricky?”

  The crazy lady glared at him. “You mean the pregnant redhead with the little white fluffy doggie?”

  “No.”

  “The pregnant freckle-faced brunette with the hairy brown—”

  “No.”

  “The big, tall lesbian with a—”

  “No!” Raymond snapped. He took a moment to collect himself. “I am talking about a very pretty, very unpregnant, very heterosexual college student. She’s probably here quite often.”

  “Never seen her.”

  As Raymond drove away, anger built in his chest. These stupid conniving girls wouldn’t get away with their plan. Who did they think they were? He might be temporarily off his mark, but he was still Raymond-Fucking-Sandberg.

  Chapter 14

  Roxie woke up disoriented, the pitched pine ceiling above her head not what she expected to see upon opening her eyes. The savory scent of slow-cooked meat shocked her senses. She patted the strange bed, relieved to encounter Lilith’s snout. She was glad her girl was at her side.

  She flipped on the bedside light and searched the guest room for a clock. After finding none, she supposed no one bothered with clocks up here. Why would they? If the sun was up, it was day. If not, it was night. It wasn’t like they’d miss the seven P.M. screening at the Cineplex if they didn’t get a move on.

  Roxie jumped from the bed and threw open the heavy drapes, encountering fiery streaks of sunset. She paused a moment to stare in awe. It was breathtakingly beautiful here. But how long had she been napping? The last thing she remembered was deciding to lie down for a few minutes after breakfast. She must have slept the day away.

  She walked right past the jeans she’d tossed over the back of a chair and wandered toward the big mirror above the dresser, laughing in surprise at what she saw. There she was, all bare legs and bed hair and nearly drowning inside a man’s sweater, the crotch of her white lace underwear peeking beneath the shrunken knit hem. Roxie watched the smile as it spread, taking over her entire face. She was smiling because it was Eli’s sweater. She was s
miling because of the things he’d said to her that morning on their hike—things that soothed her and challenged her and made her feel she still had a chance at love. Roxanne crooked her arm so she could bury her nose in the wool, and inhaled. It smelled like him, like the cedar forest and the clean wind of his home.

  Damn. She lowered the sweater from her nose. Eli had gotten to her. He’d gotten inside her heart and under her skin and there was no point pretending otherwise.

  What had Bea once told her? That if she admitted she liked Eli Gallagher she’d have to change the name of her Web site to i-vomit-on-almost-all-men.com? Roxie laughed out loud.

  She peered closer at her reflection, suddenly intrigued by what she saw. Despite the dishevelment, she had to admit that she hadn’t looked this good in years. Her eyes were bright, her skin radiant, and her face relaxed. She looked … well, she looked pretty. She looked happy, of all things!

  The mirror showed Lilith hopping down from the bed and sniffing at the guest room door, her tail wagging.

  There was a soft knock. “Are you alive in there?”

  “Sort of,” Roxie said, still giggling as she turned and went to the door. The instant she pulled it open, Lilith ran through her legs to greet her new friends. “I must have passed out. Sorry if I put you off schedule.”

  Eli produced a crooked smile and let his eyes scan her from socks to bed hair, spending an inordinate amount of time on her bare upper thighs, which made Roxie remember how she was dressed. Or not dressed. She tugged on the bottom of his sweater, hoping to cover her panties if nothing else.

  “That means you’re winding down,” Eli said, swallowing hard, trying to keep his eyes on her face. “You’ll probably end up spending most of the week in my bed.”

  His eyes popped wide when he realized what he’d said. “I meant my guest room bed,” he added, laughing uncomfortably.

  Roxie laughed, too, thinking that there were about a dozen smart-ass comebacks sitting right on the edge of her tongue, but she wasn’t interested in any of them. She was only interested in Eli Gallagher’s handsome, golden-skinned face, those outrageously sexy eyes, and that lightning-bright smile. She was only interested in finding out what this unusually kind and sweet man would be like in bed—his bed, just like he’d said—that big four-poster, red-flanneled bed in front of the big stone fireplace.

  Was Eli a serene lover? she wondered. Was he as calm and composed between the sheets as he was hiking his beloved ranch? Was Eli capable of kicking the serene shit to the curb and going for it?

  Roxie watched him lick his lips. The sight made her belly burn with hot lust. “Uh, let me grab my jeans and—”

  He cut her off. “That’s okay. I didn’t even notice you weren’t wearing any pants. I won’t ever again notice anything about what you’re wearing because you’ll just bite my head off if I do.”

  She laughed, surprised by his reaction. The master of mellow suddenly seemed downright rattled.

  “You know I wasn’t coming on to you this morning, right?” he asked her, falling against the doorjamb as if he could no longer support himself. “You know I wasn’t dragging you to my bedroom to have my way with you, correct?”

  Roxie felt her face flush. “I apologized for—”

  “Then why, Roxie?” His eyes looked tortured. “Why did you lash out at me like that? I’ve been completely up-front with you. I’m crazy about you and I want to find out if we could have something special—hell, we already do! Don’t you feel it?”

  She nodded again, embarrassed that seeing a peek of her underwear had derailed the poor guy like this. What would he do when she was naked in front of him? It occurred to her that she might not have to worry about him being sedate in the sack.

  “Look, Roxie.” Eli rubbed a hand all over his face, then shook his head as if he were trying to reclaim his composure. It didn’t seem to work. “I want you so fuckin’ bad I can’t see straight.”

  “Okay—”

  “I’m trying to give you your space. I know you’re still trying to figure out if you’re ready, but, unfortunately, I’m ready now! Shit! I’ve been ready since the moment I saw you at Josie and Rick’s wedding!”

  She couldn’t help it. Roxie let her eyes wander down the front of his body to the bulging front of his Wranglers and the zipper that was strained to its limit. And to think, just days ago she’d disapproved of his choice of denim. How silly of her.

  “Do you remember that first time we saw each other?” Eli asked, straightening up from the doorjamb.

  Roxie trailed her eyes back up his torso, over the flat stomach, to the open neck of the smoky blue Henley shirt he wore. She could see light curly hairs in the hollow of his throat. She could see his pulse banging against his skin. The guy was on fire.

  “Yeah, I remember,” she croaked out. Her mouth had suddenly gone dry. “You were leaning against the stone wall in your suit and cowboy hat. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.”

  “And you were in that fucking green dress with your hair up and you had this perfect face and the cutest chin and Jesus, Roxie. You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life.”

  She sucked in air, now left speechless by his confession.

  “I’m goin’ down, Roxie.” Eli raked his fingers through his dark blond curls, desperation in his voice. It suddenly occurred to her that he wasn’t wearing his hat. He didn’t wear it indoors, apparently. She actually missed it. She loved his head of silky, tousled, touchable curls, but she liked the way he looked in his hat, too. The black Stetson suited him. He looked like himself in it. Hadn’t she ridiculed his hat at first, as well? She must have been blind.

  Eli reached out and ran a fingertip down her disheveled hair. “I’m just afraid that if we fall into bed too fast you’ll bolt. You’ll put my face on your Most Wanted poster and I’ll never see you again.”

  She felt her eyes go wide. Surely, there were better places to put his face.

  “I’d do anything to avoid that. Even if it means walking around the ranch with a piñon branch in my pants!” When he said that he waved his hands around, and Roxie noticed he had papers rolled up in his fist.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “What?” Eli seemed surprised to see something in his own hand. “Oh. That’s my questionnaire. I’ve filled everything out for you.”

  “Really?” Roxie’s mouth gaped open. She let go of the hem of Eli’s sweater, feeling it rise on her thighs.

  “Of course,” he said, unable to keep his eyes from the vee of her legs. “I keep my promises, Roxie. All of them.” He stopped himself. “Except maybe promising not to notice when you’re not wearing pants.”

  She went perfectly still. She stared at him, thinking this through one last time. She wanted him. He obviously wanted her. And the guy had been nothing but truthful, respectful, and patient. He’d filled out a questionnaire, as promised.

  Plus, he was wise, but not egotistical. He was in command but not bossy. And those first two kisses they’d shared—the one at the paddock and then on the bench at Dolores Park? They were so hot she still felt them. Maybe she always would.

  Roxie took a step toward Eli and looked up into his eyes. As usual, she suspected her timing was off. She didn’t want to make a mess of this, but she had to have him. Now.

  Besides, the whole reason they were here was to rehabilitate Lilith, right? And hadn’t Eli himself said that would happen only after Roxie found a way to relax? Her eyes strayed once more to the big lump in the front of Eli’s jeans.

  Well, she’d found it.

  Roxanne reached out for the papers in Eli’s hand, his fingers relaxing as she tugged. Without a word, she turned toward the bed, climbed up, and stretched out. She patted the still-warm sheets next to her and smiled at him teasingly. “Why don’t you hop on up here and we’ll go over your questionnaire?”

  In an instant, everything changed. Roxanne felt it, like an electric charge sizzling in the air. Suddenly, Eli looked different. His
eyes had darkened. Every trace of awkwardness was gone, replaced by calmness. She saw the knowing gaze, the small tug at the corner of his mouth, the confident way he held his body.

  Roxanne blinked in surprise, recalling the last time she saw him like this. Eli had strolled through her front door, dealt with the blood and the chaos, and proceeded to strut through her kitchen, living room, bathroom, bedroom—as if he owned everything in sight! She struggled to remember how he’d described his method … “I’m taking over, babe. And I need to mark my territory.”

  She gulped. Eli was walking toward the bed. She dropped the questionnaire. She pushed herself up on the pillows. She felt her eyes go huge.

  In a flash, he hovered over her, big and blond and smiling. He planted his palms on either side of her bare legs, the inside of his wrists pressed against her outer thighs. Then he moved in even closer.

  Roxanne felt herself start to pant. In seconds she was shaking.

  “Settle down, sweet thing.” The deep velvet baritone was back with a vengeance. “Ssshhh, now,” he said. “You’re safe with me.”

  Then he put his mouth on her.

  Roxie stiffened at his kiss, and stiffened again when she felt his big, hard cock press against her shin. She leaned back into the headboard, suddenly unsure.

  Eli ended the kiss. He studied her, nothing but absolute certainty in his expression. “When we met at the Starbucks to talk about Lilith, do you remember what I told you had to happen before we went any further?”

  She nodded, her eyes going wider. “You told me I had to trust you.”

  Eli brought his mouth so close to hers that when she breathed it was his air she brought into her body. She felt heat transfer from his skin to hers. His erection poked even harder into her leg. “Do you want this, Roxie Bloom? Be honest with yourself and with me.”

  She tried to steady her heart. She felt her hands tremble at her sides.

  “I will be here and I will feel the same, no matter what you decide.”

  Oh, God, that did it—even at the peak of arousal this guy put her welfare first. It was the biggest turn-on she could imagine. Roxie’s entire body began humming with need and she felt the wetness between her legs.