Dane - A MacKenzie Novel Read online

  “Good, why don’t you take that blue silk gown with you? Your new neighbor seemed partial to it.”

  “You’re not helping, Tara.” Bayleigh grabbed her purse and the light sweater she’d worn that morning, trying to remember where she’d put her car keys. Tara reached into the drawer under the counter and handed them to her.

  “What were they doing in there?” Bayleigh asked.

  “You tossed them in there when you were looking for an envelope,” she answered. “You know he’s not going to leave you alone until he has what he wants. That man has Alpha written all over him. I don’t suppose he has a brother, does he?”

  “Three, I think. I’m sure the Neanderthal runs in the family.”

  “As long as he’s good in bed, then I can do without the stimulating conversation for a while.”

  Bayleigh hmmmed noncommittally, wondering if her need for stimulating conversation and friendship was because she’d never had the satisfaction in the bedroom. Maybe she was looking at this all wrong. Or maybe she was looking for any excuse at all to give herself permission to give into Cade’s demands.

  ***

  She spent her afternoon off watching old movies and working on some of the exclusive pieces Becca Whitson had ordered, thinking of the day she’d be able to design her own pieces. She decided being alone with her thoughts for the afternoon had left her nothing but confused and wanting. Her body was primed and damned if her vibrator was taking the edge off like she needed it to.

  She’d finally thrown on a pair of old pajama pants and an old Texas Rangers jersey and decided to call it a night when the doorbell rang. It was well after nine o’clock at night, and she rarely got visitors this late unless one of her neighbors had an emergency and needed help. She grabbed her robe and was just tying it when she answered the door.

  “Nice robe,” Cade said, eyeing her from head to toe before stepping inside as if he owned the place. “I’ve never seen flannel in a patter quite like that before.”

  “Umm, you can’t just come in without an invitation.”

  “You invited me earlier today,” he said, tossing a DVD in her direction as he roamed around the house, looking things over, and mentally dissecting her decorating choices. “You asked if I wanted to watch a movie. Here I am.”

  “Porn doesn’t count,” Bayleigh said, rolling her eyes as he went to all of her windows and began lowering the blinds.

  “I wouldn’t bring porn. At least not on the first date.”

  “So this is your idea of a date?”

  She followed him into the living room and watched as he dropped down on the couch and picked up the remote. He should have looked ridiculous against the delicate floral pattern of her too small couch, but instead it just showcased his maleness—the power and energy that seemed to come off of him in waves.

  “Nah, this is just two neighbors getting to know each other. Do you have popcorn? Also, haven’t your brothers told you that it’s not safe to let people see in your windows? You have blinds, woman, use them.”

  “How do you know I have brothers?”

  “It’s a trade secret, sweetheart. If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

  “Oh, please,” she said, wondering how she’d lost the upper hand.

  And where the hell was she supposed to sit? He practically took up all the space on the couch.

  “And yes, my brothers tell me to use my blinds every time they come to visit, but I ignore them just like I’m going to ignore you. I moved here because of how beautiful the street is, not to hole up in my house like a paranoid ex-DEA agent who expects the whole world to be out for him.”

  “How do you know I’m an ex-agent?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

  “Trade secret, sweetheart,” she said, smiling serenely. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

  He threw his head back and laughed and the sound caressed her already sensitive nerve endings. She should throw him out and bolt the door behind him. She’d never be able to resist him if he created something more than just physical between them.

  “So are you going to join me over here or stand there all night with your mouth hanging open? Though I have to say, the bathrobe is a pretty great deterrent for what I originally had in mind. I thought you’d be more inclined to wear the things I saw in your shop.”

  “Only in your dreams, MacKenzie.”

  Bayleigh put in the DVD and went to join him on the couch, trying not to dwell on the fact that she fit perfectly in his arms.

  “Don’t think you’re going to break me down by being nice all of a sudden,” she said. “I’m on to you, mister.” She propped her bare feet on the coffee table and ignored the heat that seemed to leap between them every time they touched. “And next time I get to pick the movie.”

  Chapter Six

  “I’m going to kill him,” Bayleigh said as she rolled out of bed a week later, the morning light of dawn barely peeking through her windows.

  Cade had generally made himself a pest for the past week. He’d shown up at her house late every night, looking ragged and tired, and she could see a glimpse of something dark and sad in his eyes—something that seemed to be growing in intensity—but he never brought it up, and she wasn’t going to ask. He worked erratic hours and something was eating at him.

  Their “friendship” was tenuous at best. They’d watched a couple of movies, but they’d spent most of the time debating and arguing anything and everything they could think of. And boy did they argue. It was the best damned foreplay she’d ever had, and she’d shoved him out the door angry more nights than she’d let him stay just to preserve her sanity.

  As much as she hated to admit it, she was surprised to find he stimulated her mind almost as much as he stimulated her body. And he’d taken plenty of opportunities to remind her that the chemistry between them was still there and going strong.

  Her brother’s words had haunted her for the past two weeks. She wanted to know about the lover Cade had lost. What he was really doing in Texas. And she wanted to know why he wasn’t pushing the physical aspect of their relationship anymore. He still kissed her every chance he got, but he’d stopped filling her head with the descriptions of what he wanted to do to her. Of how it would be between them.

  Doubts that she’d done something wrong had begun to creep in on her the last couple of days, and as much as she tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter, she found that it did matter. She wanted that connection between them. To know that she was special and could incite that kind of reaction in a man. And she wanted a non-self-induced orgasm, dammit. She had a feeling that if any man could give her one, it would be Cade MacKenzie.

  She’d found out over the last several days that all the neighbors had begun to pay visits to Cade. Mrs. Spillers from across the street had taken him a casserole, and Bayleigh had been fascinated to know that he’d invited her in and they’d talked over coffee for a few minutes.

  She’d gone across the street the next evening while Cade was out on a call to fish for the details, since she couldn’t imagine Cade having the manners to entertain an eighty-two year old woman for more than five minutes. But Mrs. Spillers had been sighing like a teenager the whole time she talked about him.

  “Have you ever seen a man with eyes that dark?” she said, cutting a slice of the coffee cake Bayleigh had brought over and setting it on the kitchen table where she was sitting. “It was like he could see right into my soul. If I was fifty years younger, I’d take him for a wild ride.”

  Bayleigh choked on her coffee cake and took a long drink of tea to clear her throat. The thought of Mrs. Spillers—her hair curled in steel grey sausage rolls and her skin slack over her bones—taking anyone for a wild ride was just a little disturbing.

  “He can probably see to your soul because he doesn’t have one himself. He’s probably looking for a good one to steal.”

  “Bayleigh Scott, that’s a terrible thing to say about such a nice young man. You could do a lot worse than someone like
Cade MacKenzie. He even offered to patch the spot on the roof by the chimney so the rain doesn’t keep leaking in. I hope he takes his shirt off when he fixes it,” she said, fanning her face with her hand. “It’s been a long time since Mr. Spillers looked like that.”

  Bayleigh was willing to bet Mr. Spillers had never looked like that. Mr. Spillers was barely five foot eight in his dress shoes and he couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. Though she couldn’t blame Mrs. Spillers for wanting to see Cade’s muscles. Bayleigh wouldn’t mind seeing them again either.

  She listened to Mrs. Spillers wax poetic about Cade’s good manners and the muscles in his arms for another forty minutes before she excused herself and went back home, hornier than hell and jealous that Cade had managed to have a long conversation with another woman without insulting her. Apparently, it was only Bayleigh that brought out the worst in him.

  There had been plenty of opportunities to admire his physique over the two weeks since he’d moved in. Sometimes at night, after he’d left her house, he stood out on his back deck, a beer in hand and his gaze lost in the trees behind their houses, his shirt off and his jeans unbuttoned just enough to drive her crazy. She always made sure her light was out, and she knew he couldn’t see her watching him, but she couldn’t help but skim her fingers across her nipples, tweaking them to hard points and wishing it was his hand, his mouth. He was a fever that wasn’t going away, and his nightly visits were just making it worse.

  Shame washed over her as he became the object of her fantasies. While he was lost in thought next door, minding his own business, her body was heating and her pussy flooding with a need she’d never experienced before. Her vibrator had gotten more use in the past two weeks than it had in the last six months.

  She tried to resist the temptation, but she’d ultimately end up spreading her thighs, moaning as the thick vibrator filled her—wishing for Cade. But even after orgasms strong enough to make her scream, satisfaction still didn’t find her. Not completely. She’d never been able to come with a man inside her, and she longed for Cade to be the one who finally proved to her that she wasn’t frigid after all. She needed him to show her that it wasn’t she who was deficient. That it wasn’t she who was lacking.

  Bayleigh shook off the memories as an unholy sound assaulted her ears.

  “Damn,” she swore as the cold wood floors bit into her feet.

  No matter how attracted she was to the man, there was no way she was going to let him interrupt the one day she had off. Waking up at dawn hadn’t been on the agenda for her Sunday. A late breakfast, a little shopping, a chat with her parents on the phone. Those had been her plans for the day. Not being shaken out of bed by Led Zeppelin blaring into her room and rattling her windows.

  She didn’t bother to put on a robe or comb her hair as she marched across her front yard to the house next door. Her pajama pants were wrinkled and her t-shirt was threadbare. Her mother would be mortified if she could see her daughter now. A southern woman didn’t leave her house without the proper clothes and her face made up. It was one of those rules that ranked right up with never leave the house without clean underwear on just in case you’re in a wreck.

  Cade’s Harley was parked in the driveway and his garage door was open. He stood with his back to her—God, why couldn’t the man ever wear a shirt? And he was bent over the hood of his truck, using some kind of tool as if he actually knew what he was doing. She had a grade-A view of his terrific ass, and the sight threw her off her stride for just a minute. But a guitar riff that caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up let loose and she remembered her purpose.

  He didn’t notice her standing behind him with her hands over her ears, so she went to the stereo in the corner and turned the volume all the way down. Her ears rang in the immediate silence and she found satisfaction as his head came up and bumped the open hood of the truck. Served him right.

  By the narrowing of his eyes, he must have read her mind. Or maybe she’d actually said that out loud.

  “You know, I’m getting damned tired of you turning my shit off. You’re the nosiest neighbor I’ve ever had.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. I’m as deaf as Mr. Lowenstein on the other side of you.”

  He straightened and wiped his hands on the rag he had tucked in his back pocket, shooting her a black look she would have paid more attention to if she hadn’t been so angry.

  “And do you know what I’m getting damned tired of?” she asked, her heart thumping wildly in her chest as he tossed the rag to the ground and came toward her. She couldn’t decide if the look in his eyes meant he wanted to kiss her or strangle her. “I’m getting tired of being woken up at the crack of dawn just because you have a wild hair up your ass to do whatever the hell it is you do at that ungodly hour. I’ve put up with you mowing your lawn, using a nail gun, and revving your motorcycle all before the sun is barely in the sky. Some of us work for a living, buddy.”

  “Would it kill you to use my name once in a while? I thought we were past this. I bet I know how you could get rid of some of that tension you’re carrying around,” he said with a smirk.

  “Are you planning on moving?”

  He shook his head in pity. “You’d miss me if I left. Admit it. You’ve gotten used to having me around. Who else would you get to watch all those terrible girly movies with you?”

  “Can we get back to the subject please? I’m trying to sleep. Not all of us work the insane hours you do. I like routine.”

  “Bullshit. You like to think you like routine, but you thrive in chaos, sweetheart. Besides, Tara works for you on Sundays, though she didn’t last week because she was sick.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I’ve heard it from every damned person on the block whenever they’ve dropped off brownies, sponge cake and casseroles. The consensus is that you work too much and don’t have near enough fun. Your sex life is non-existent, your brothers are overprotective, and Mrs. Greene thinks you need glasses because you’ve been squinting a lot lately. They also think I need to corrupt you. To show you how to have a little fun. They like watching me walk across to your house every night, but they’re always disappointed you make me leave so early.”

  Bayleigh scowled and put her hands on her hips, irritated that the entire neighborhood had been talking about her to Cade. She knew how to have fun. And she had to work a lot if she wanted her store to be a success. There was nothing wrong with that. Unless, of course, you were every person over the age of sixty-five who lived on her street. Apparently they had lots of problems with the way she lived.

  “I’m not going to sleep with you just to satisfy all of my geriatric neighbors. That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “So what’s going on here between us, Bayleigh? We’ve had fun the last week. We’ve enjoyed each other’s company. And I still want to fuck you so bad I ache with it every second of the day. Are you saying you’re not interested?” The half smile on his face was knowing, confident. “Your nipples are hard enough to cut glass.”

  Bayleigh gasped, offended and turned on at the same time. “Maybe your seduction technique needs a little work. Haven’t you ever heard of romance? You think you can just tell me you want to fuck and that’ll do it for me? Give me a break.”

  “Yeah, I think it does do it for you. I bet you’re so wet I could slide right into that tight pussy without any foreplay. Some women need romance. You’re not one of them, so don’t pretend you do. You know your mind and what you like, and you’re the least simpering woman I’ve ever met. When we finally get horizontal we’ll meet each other as equals.”

  “And my seduction technique doesn’t need work,” he said, stalking her until her back hit the garage wall. “I got you over here, didn’t I? Just where I wanted you. And you’re not wearing underwear.”

  “You—you—son of a—”

  His fingers covered her lips and his eyes sparkled with laughter. “Don’t say anything you�
��ll regret.” He braced his hands by both sides of her head, trapping her in his embrace. “Tell me the truth, Bayleigh. Do you want me? I’m too old to play games. We’re both adults. There’s no reason we can’t both get satisfaction and take advantage of where fate has put us. I’m attracted to you, and I want nothing more than to slide between those silky thighs and fuck you until you can’t see straight.”

  “And that’s it?” she asked. “A few quick fucks and then we both move on with our lives? Wave friendly hello’s as we go into our separate houses and fondly remember a few sweaty nights?”

  “More than a few,” he said, nuzzling against the sensitive skin on her neck, nipping his way up to her ear where his tongue lightly traced the shell. “My dick’s been hard since I laid eyes on you, and I’m tired of jerking off when you’re just a few steps away.”

  Bayleigh gasped as his erotic words slid across her skin like silk. Her nipples brushed against his chest, sending sensations straight to her pussy, and she wanted nothing more than to press into him—to feel the evidence of his arousal.

  His lips sipped and teased and he moved his hands from the wall so they skimmed down her body until his fingers bit into the flesh at her hips. He slid them around until they cupped her ass and he pulled her toward him slowly, torturously, until she was begging for contact.

  “Please, Cade.”

  She felt as if all her bones had dissolved into a puddle at his feet. This man had control of her body like no one else ever had. No wonder Paul had called her frigid. She’d been a block of ice compared to what Cade was making her feel now.

  “I like hearing my name on your lips.” Desire burned in his black eyes, his lids lowered with promise and his nostrils flared at the scent of her arousal. “I know you want me, and I know you think of me. Don’t you, Bayleigh?”

  His hips anchored hers to the wall and she wrapped her legs around his waist, the hard length of his erection pressing against her. It was too late to hide her arousal from him. She’d never been so wet in her life—her pajama pants soaked through with her need.