Indecent Read online

  Amanda had been horrified and suggested that maybe they shouldn’t marry at all.

  He’d agreed and the next day life had gone on as if she’d never been a part of it.

  After seven years of higher education and another seven of work experience, Colin still mentally debated what had happened between him and Amanda. He’d thought he’d loved her. To this day he still cared about what happened to her, and he’d even attended her wedding five years ago to an old classmate of his from way back. They have two children now. Surely if he had loved her he would feel something other than happiness for her? Wouldn’t jealousy be mixed in there somewhere? Pain? Or had his love for her been the same kind one sibling would have for another?

  Was romantic love really love without strong sexual chemistry between the two participants?

  And was great sex without love enough to see a couple through the years ahead?

  He supposed his experience with Amanda was one reason he was attracted to more sexually available women. Not to say that every woman who wore her blouse buttoned to the neck was asexual. But in his experience over the past few years, most women who wore clingy miniskirts and tight shirts that sexily displayed their physical assets were strongly sexual. And it seemed he still craved that accessibility.

  If he needed any more proof of that, he need note that he was sitting in the rutted gravel driveway of Lucky’s residence.

  The first thing that registered was how beaten down the structure looked. Not just the house itself but everything around it. A free-standing garage was off to the right at the end of the gravel driveway, the windows in the doors broken and cracked and grimy, half the shingles missing, and the roof itself leaning in a way that indicated it wasn’t going to be standing much longer.

  The same description could fit the one-story house. Putrid green, the peeling paint barely covered the warped wood exterior and he could make out where an addition had been poorly built on, the newer half covered in oxidized white aluminum siding. The small front porch was filled with stuffed black garbage bags, while a simple, faded American flag sticker was attached to the inside of one of the windows. Abandoned tires and car parts littered the overgrown grass of the lawn, the wildflowers sprinkled throughout doing precious little to improve the appearance.

  Colin slowly climbed from his SUV, squinting against the evening sun. Not even the golden rays associated with this magic hour could soften the harshness of the living quarters.

  He cautiously navigated the three broken cement steps and the creaking wood slats of the porch and then rang the doorbell. He didn’t hear anything, so he pushed it again then followed up with a rap on the old screen door that held no screen.

  Inside he heard what sounded like either three dogs bark, or one really big one.

  He stepped back from the door and waited.

  A tattered curtain moved in the window to his left. He was debating whether or not to wave when the door opened up and he was staring at an older woman wearing a flowered housecoat and a black hairnet, a cigarette dangling from the side of her mouth with an ash on it an inch long. “Whatever you’re selling, we ain’t buying.”

  Colin tried to make a physical connection between the woman in front of him and Lucky, but fell way short of the mark. “Apologies, ma’am, but I’m not a salesman,” he said when she moved to close the door in his face. “I’m looking for Miss Clayborn?”

  Dark eyes squinted out at him as she removed the cigarette from her lips, mindless of the ash that fell to the floor next to the three dogs yapping at her feet and pawing at the screen door. “What do you want with Lucky?”

  Colin didn’t realize he was hoping that he’d gotten the address wrong until that moment. “I’m a…friend.”

  The woman gave him a long once-over then gave a doubtful grunt. “She lives in the apartment in the back.”

  The door slammed in his face, leaving Colin standing staring dumbly at the chipped wood.

  He made his way back down the stairs and around the side of the house. He could just make out the grille of Lucky’s old Chevy parked in the back. His throat grew tight at the knowledge that she was home and he would soon be face-to-face with her. Suddenly it didn’t matter that he had to watch where he stepped. Or that this house should have been on somebody’s demolition list years ago. All that mattered was that he was going to see Lucky for the first time in a week.

  He had to round the house entirely before he finally saw the door to what had to be the back apartment. At one time it had probably been the back door leading to the house’s kitchen. The window next to the door was cracked open and he made out the sounds of the same oldies station he listened to and the scent of strawberries. He heard a clang then a soft, “damn.”

  Colin swallowed hard then lifted his hand to knock.

  More sounds from inside, then the door opened, “I told you I’d have the rent…”

  Her words stopped as she stared into Colin’s face. A kitchen towel was wrapped around her left hand and she wore a black cotton sundress that seemed to emphasis the deep red of her hair and the paleness of her skin.

  “Colin,” she breathed more than said.

  Realizing he should probably say something, he stuffed his hands inside his pockets to keep from reaching out for her and said, “You didn’t make your appointment today.”

  She blinked at him. “Oh, God. Is it Monday already?”

  He looked both ways, feeling awkward standing outside. “May I come in?”

  She squinted at him, pulling the towel tighter around her hand. “No.”

  Colin looked over her shoulder, wondering if someone else was with her. But unless the person had gone to the bathroom, he couldn’t see anyone else inside her apartment, a room no larger than his living room. A single mattress was on the floor in one corner, the faded flowery sheets rumpled as if she’d just crawled from it. A small battered table with two mismatched chairs sat beside that, and then there was a sink, a microwave and a two-burner hotplate on the opposite side of the room. In the sink he made out a stainless-steel colander filled with fresh strawberries. Behind the sink sat five or six bottles of alcohol in various states of emptiness.

  Lucky caught the direction of his gaze then stepped out next to him and closed the door.

  “Look, tell Dr. Szymanski I’m sorry I missed my appointment. I worked closing last night at my new job after working the morning shift at my other job and I…” She stared at the blood staining the towel. “And I guess I slept late this morning.”

  Colin held his hands out. “Let me have a look.”

  “I didn’t think you were that kind of doctor.”

  His gaze flicked to her smiling face. His relief to see her looking more like herself was complete and startling. “Shut up and give me your hand.”

  She raised a brow. “Ah, the prominent doctor goes native.”

  Instead of waiting for her to offer, Colin took her hand gently in his and began unwrapping the towel. He marveled at how small and delicate her fingers were in contrast to his larger ones as he ferreted out the source of the blood. There was a small cut on the outer edge of her index finger, likely made by a knife.

  “I was cutting strawberries.”

  He nodded, thinking about how cool her skin felt against his warmer fingers.

  “We should rinse this out with water and bandage it properly.”

  He didn’t miss her shifting her weight back and forth on her bare feet. Feet that were as small and delicate as her hands. And that were attached to the sexiest legs he’d seen in a good long while.

  He caught her tugging on the hem of her sundress. A dress that was easily six inches longer than some of the miniskirts he’d seen her in. Why would she be self-conscious about the way she looked now?

  She was nervous, he realized. But why? She glanced over her shoulder at the closed door.

  “Look, is that all you wanted?” she asked, running her free hand through her tousled red hair.

  “No,” he said, re
alizing he’d meant it. “I thought you and I might have a talk.”

  She narrowed her green eyes at him. Eyes devoid of makeup and doubly intoxicating. “Talk?”

  He grinned. “Yes. You know that thing that two people do when they have something to say to each other.”

  She glanced over her shoulder again.

  “Lucky?”

  “Hmm? Oh. Okay. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to talk. There’s a restaurant down the street there. Meet me there in, say, fifteen?”

  She wanted him to meet her somewhere else.

  It didn’t make sense to Colin. But he wasn’t about to argue the point. She’d agreed to talk to him. That should be enough.

  Strangely, though, it wasn’t.

  “Okay. I’ll see you in fifteen.”

  6

  LUCKY CLOSED the door then leaned against it for support, her heart beating a million miles a minute. An upbeat oldies tune filled the small, shabby apartment. She reached for the radio and switched it off then absently wrapped the towel back around her finger.

  Colin had come to her apartment.

  Colin had seen where she lived.

  She rushed to her bed and began straightening the sheets, then she reached for the clothes left on the floor when she’d taken them off early that morning. She started to shove them into the full laundry basket in the corner, then stopped and fished out the white blouse she needed to wear for work again that night.

  Next she returned to the fresh strawberries she’d been cleaning in the sink, her movements manic, her mind racing with what he’d seen…and more importantly, what he must have thought of it.

  She realized she hadn’t cleaned her cut so she unwound the towel then thrust her hand under running water and closed her eyes.

  The only person other than herself who had seen where she lived was her landlady, and that was only because she owned the joint. There was something…intimate about being inside someone’s place. It left you vulnerable in ways that were hard to explain. And she was very guarded about letting anyone inside her apartment. She’d learned that lesson the hard way when she was seventeen and had rented a room in a downtown flophouse. She’d brought her boyfriend home only to wake up to find everything but the bed-sheets she lay on gone. He’d even taken her clothes, which she’d later found out he’d given to his other girlfriend, who had thought he’d bought them.

  She’d immediately moved out of the room and into another and had never made the mistake of inviting anyone to where she lived again.

  She opened her eyes and her gaze settled on the bottles of liquor sitting on the back of the sink. Had he seen them? She swallowed hard then grabbed the two with only an ounce or two left in them and threw them away. But she hesitated when she reached for the others. The bottles and their contents were sometimes all that stood between her and insanity.

  She switched the water off, realizing she should be getting ready to meet Colin. She had little doubt that he’d come back here if she didn’t show. He’d come this far already, it likely wouldn’t take much to make him return.

  The thought motivated her into action.

  COLIN GLANCED DOWN at his watch. Twenty-five minutes since he’d agreed to meet Lucky at the restaurant in fifteen. He nudged his watched around his wrist then straightened it. Was she standing him up? Had her agreeing to meet him only been a ruse to get him to leave her place so she could disappear?

  He accepted a refill on his coffee and thanked the waitress then sat back in his chair. Tonight he’d seen a different Lucky. She hadn’t been the seductress who had thrown herself at him twice at his office. Nor had she been the sassy waitress who had gotten fired from her last job. No, this Lucky…this Lucky had been somehow more exposed. As if he’d caught her off guard and she hadn’t been able to recover from the surprise of finding him outside her door.

  He sipped at his black coffee without really tasting it. And she’d been so damn sexy it had taken everything that he had not to sweep her up in his arms and carry her to that mattress on the floor.

  Sure, he’d seen places similar to hers. But usually they belonged to college kids who were just scraping by until they graduated. And Lucky was no college kid. She was a full-grown woman who obviously was having a hard time making the rent.

  That, he wasn’t used to.

  “That coffee strong?”

  Colin blinked up to find Lucky taking the seat across from him.

  At the sight of her, his every muscle relaxed at the same time a simmering heat worked its way under his skin.

  She’d put on a pair of snug jeans and a clingy black T-shirt, strappy leather sandals rounding out her casual appearance. She’d applied makeup, but not much. And her hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, making him want to pull off the rubber band and let the sensual waves fall over her shoulders.

  “It’s good,” he said in response to her question, motioning for the waitress to bring her a cup.

  There was a simple black leather tie around her left wrist. For some reason he couldn’t quite explain, Colin was fascinated with the piece of jewelry. Perhaps because it seemed to mirror the qualities of its owner. Or perhaps because it brought to mind leather bonds and soft moans.

  “You said you wanted to talk?” she asked, adding cream and sugar to her coffee, then using both hands to lift it and take a sip.

  He narrowed his gaze. “Morgan nearly reported your absence to the court.”

  “Nearly. That means she didn’t.”

  He nodded. “I talked her out of it. Promised I’d look into it.”

  Lucky’s shoulders seem to loosen. “Thanks.” She smoothed back her already smooth hair. “I really don’t need that hassle on top of everything else.”

  “You’re late on your rent?”

  She refused to meet his gaze. While she might have forgotten about what she’d said when she’d opened the door and thought he was someone else, he hadn’t.

  But her stance told him that didn’t mean she had any intention of answering his question.

  Anyway, what did it matter to him whether or not she could make her rent? Was he prepared to pull his money out and loan her the amount to tide her over until her next paycheck? Was she even working a steady job, or did she move from place to place without ever managing to save a dime?

  These were all questions he wanted answers to, but questions he didn’t dare ask.

  Instead he said, “I guess you don’t get very many visitors.”

  She finally lifted her eyes to him, the expression on her face downright sexy. “You guess correctly.”

  “Why?”

  “Playing therapist again, Dr. McKenna?”

  “No. I’m trying to be your friend.”

  He watched as she shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t need any friends.”

  About to sip his coffee, Colin froze. “Everyone needs friends, Lucky.”

  “What I meant is that I don’t need any more friends.”

  Why did he get the impression that’s not what she meant at all and that her first comment was the more honest one?

  Was it possible that the woman across from him didn’t have a single friend? Not even one person, forget a whole network of people, she could count on when the clouds obscured the sun and when she needed help in making the rent every now and again?

  “Then accept me as your big brother,” he said, closely watching her pretty face. “Or don’t you need any more family, either?”

  Her smile was decidedly provocative. “Why brother? Why not Sugar Daddy?”

  “Is that what you want me to be?”

  “I don’t want you to be anything. You came to see me, remember?”

  Oh, yes, he remembered.

  He felt something touch his ankle under the table and realized it was her toes. He glanced to find she’d slipped out of her sandal and was working his sock down until her skin touched his. Heat sure and swift swept through his groin.

  He cleared his throat.

  He got the distinct fee
ling that she was trying to distract him with sex. And he’d be damned if he was willing to allow her to do it. The truth was he’d been wanting her for so long now that his desire was taking on a life of its own.

  “I take it going back to your place is not an option,” he said quietly.

  She shook her head, keeping her gaze even with his.

  He peeled off money to cover the coffee and a generous tip. “Well, then, my place it is.”

  IF IT WAS TRUE that a place said a lot about the person, then what did Colin’s apartment say about him?

  Lucky stood just inside the door of the penthouse apartment, taking in the rich leather furniture, the paintings, the brass lamps, and thought that it said that he was wealthy.

  “Having second thoughts?” he asked, shrugging out of his suit jacket then loosening his tie as he headed toward what she guessed was his bedroom.

  She watched his backside, the tension she’d felt as she followed him to the downtown building reaching a pressure point. She thought about following him but found it impossible to move from the spot where she stood.

  “There’s some wine in the fridge if you want some.”

  “How about a beer?”

  A pause then, “There may be one or two in there. Why don’t you check?”

  Lucky craned her neck to look down the hallway where he’d disappeared, then the other way, which she guessed led to the kitchen. She switched on the light inside a cavernous room with terra cotta floor tiles and a woodblock island, thinking it looked better than some of the nicer restaurants she’d worked in.

  And it revealed absolutely zero about the man who owned it.

  She moved toward the industrial-sized refrigerator. She spotted four or five bottles of imported beer immediately, but as she pulled out two she paused to examine the remainder of the fridge’s contents. She smiled at the box of pizza and the half-empty container of chip dip, then opened the freezer to find it well stocked with gourmet-style frozen dinners, vegetables and chocolate-almond ice-cream bars.