Pass Interference. Desiree Holt
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with her life, anyway?
In a short robe and still barefoot, she carried a fresh mug of coffee out to the deck and dropped down into one of the lounge chairs. Letting the sunlight warm her, she closed her eyes for a moment and there was Rafe’s face again. That thick shock of midnight-black hair set off a dark face with a square jaw and high cheekbones. Eyelashes as black as his hair and as thick as a woman’s curtained eyes of a shocking electric blue. Faint evening scruff shadowing his square jaw made him look devilishly sexy. And his lips. God, those full lips, so soft yet at the same time hard and demanding. Remembering the feel of them, she touched her fingertips to her mouth.
If she’d just pushed it, she was sure she could have had him. The swollen thickness of his cock had been unmistakable when she’d imprinted her body against his. And she hadn’t imagined the heat of the kiss before he’d forced her away. His tongue had been just as much involved in that kiss as hers.
She didn’t think it would have taken much more effort on her part to coax him inside the house, to peel off the soft-collar shirt that matched his eyes so perfectly and the jeans that hugged his muscular legs and very fine ass. Oh, yes, she’d noticed his ass.
Over time her crush had developed and blossomed, despite no interaction between them to help it along. She’d certainly tried to obliterate her feelings with her lifestyle, but there it was. She was plain and simply stuck on the man. And wasn’t that just a bitch, because she had as much chance of making anything happen as she did of her father giving her a hug and telling her he loved her.
Inside, she rinsed her mug and set it beside the sink. Fetching her phone, she scrolled through until she found the number she wanted.
“Hope you’re not all perky today.” Betsy Timmerman punctuated her words with a loud yawn.
“I don’t think perky exactly describes my situation,” she told her friend. “I need to do some stuff, and I want company. Is today a free day for you?”
Betsy was a docent at the San Antonio Museum of Fine Art three days a week, a responsibility she took very seriously.
“Sure is,” Betsy said. “What’s on your plate?”
“I need to buy another phone, for one thing.” Betsy was the only person she’d shared her problem with.”
“Oh, Tyler.” She heard the caring note in Betsy’s voice. “Are you still getting those damn calls? You ought to report it.”
“And say what?” she asked. “They’ll want to know who it could be and they don’t have enough time to hear all the names. I’ll get halfway through the list and they’ll tell me they’re sorry but my lifestyle just leaves me open to stuff like this. It’s my problem.”
“Surely not,” Betsy protested. “They’re the police. They have to help everyone, no matter what they think.”
Tyler gave a bitter laugh. “You keep right on thinking that, Betsy, if you want to. They like to write off people like you and me.”
“But your father has a lot of influence,” her friend said. “Get him on it.”
“Are you kidding? He’s the last person I want to tell. He already thinks I’m a wasted piece of trash.”
Betsy was silent for a long moment. “Maybe it’s time to bury the hatchet with him.”
Tyler snorted. “Oh, right. What kind of pills are you popping?”
“I’m just sayin’, you know? After all, you are his daughter.”
“He hasn’t cared about that all these years. He’s not going to start now.” She sighed. “No, I’ll figure this out myself. So, are you up for some shopping and lunch at Al Dente?”
Betsy laughed. “Two of my favorite activities.”
“Good. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
Before she could climb back up the stairs, her doorbell rang. A deliveryman stood there holding a disgustingly atrocious display of flowers.
“Miss Gillette?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“These are for you. Glad you’re home to receive them.”
Tyler stared at them. “Who are they from?” she demanded.
The driver juggled the flowers and checked his digital tablet. “All it says here is From the man who will always love you. Wow! He must really love you a lot. I know what they cost.”
Tyler stepped back into the hallway. “Please take them away. Right now.”
“But—”
“Away. Now.” She practically slammed the door in the poor man’s face. This had to be Nate. No amount of flowers or candy would gloss over the disaster that was her marriage.
She sat down on the stairs for a few minutes to pull herself together. This just had to stop. And she had to quit letting it bother her. But the phone calls and the flowers and the—
Get it together, girl. If you fall apart, he wins. Whoever he is.
Finally she pulled herself together and stiffened her spine. She’d go to lunch and ignore this. But maybe today she’d go without all the typical Tyler glitz. Maybe it was time for a change. Because she was tired of wasting her life, throwing it away and getting nothing for it. She knew who she really was on the inside. Maybe it was time to show the world on the outside.
Eventually she settled on a pair of unadorned skinny jeans—she hadn’t even known she had any—and a plain, pale green T-shirt with no embroidery or bedazzling on it. She didn’t even remember buying it. She unwound the towel from her head and picked up her blow-dryer to style her hair, then stopped, changed the setting and just dried it enough so she could skin it back into a ponytail.
She opened her makeup drawer, decided on just a brush of mascara and a swipe of lip gloss. She felt almost naked without the heavy mask of makeup she usually wore, but damn if she didn’t look a lot better. Younger, even. Well, well, well. Simple studs in her ears completed her outfit. Then she was ready to go.
When she picked up her cell, she looked at it for a long moment, sure she was about to make a stupid mistake.
Do not call Rafe. Do. Not. Call.
But it’s just to say thank you, she told herself.
Uh-huh.
Her finger hovered over the keypad and before she could change her mind, she punched in the number. By the time she hung up, she was almost sorry she’d called. What had she expected, that he would ask her out?
Oh, right! Dream on.
Time to head out.
When she picked up Betsy, her friend slid into the passenger seat of Tyler’s car and froze in place.
“What’s the matter?” Tyler asked. “Something wrong?”
Betsy just stared at her. “I didn’t recognize you. What’s the deal?”
“With what?” But Tyler was sure she knew what she meant.
“The clean-face look. You lose your makeup box?” Betsy continued to stare at her.
“Maybe I’m incognito. Fasten your seat belt.”
“I need a drink.” Betsy fastened the safety clasp of the belt. “I can’t stand the shock.”
“Okay,” Tyler grinned. “We’ll have iced tea with lunch.”
“Jesus, Tyler. What the hell is this all about?”
“Maybe it’s just about me,” Tyler said. “Maybe I just need a change.”
“Uh-huh. We’ll see.” Betsy chuckled. “We’ll just see.” She paused. “Although I have to say, you look a hell