Anthology: Bad Boys Of Summer Part 24

The minute she clicked the last photo-Bree throwing her bouquet of overblown white roses-Leo had practically kidnapped her, helping to stuff her cameras and equipment into their appropriate bags, gathering up her purse and the special favor Bree had made her, a painted picture frame.

"I have to say good-bye, Leo," she'd protested. He'd only scowled, and gone to wait in the truck for her.

So much for her good-time wedding plan. He'd looked like a torture victim through most of it, even if he hadn't behaved that way, but at the end? What was that? What was wrong with him?

The obvious solution was to ask him, of course.

But in this case, the obvious solution seemed like the perfect way to get her heart broken. Whatever he was hiding, he could hold onto it for a little while longer.

Even if that made her a coward.

She opened the door when Leo pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. "So much for my hair," she said lightly, reaching up to touch the elaborate knot she'd made that afternoon. During weddings especially, she didn't need her hair swinging into her eyes or the lens, but the wind had effectively made hay of it. Loose strands blew around her face in the evening breeze.

"It looks pretty," Leo answered, gathering up her equipment and following her inside. "s.e.xy, in fact."

"Thank you," she said, flipping on a light and setting down her purse. "I think."

If she had any sense at all, she would send him home. Give herself some time to think about what they were doing, and what they were going to do when he finished the studio. To wonder why he'd never invited her to his house, why he preferred staying in to going out. To contemplate the way a song had spooked him, the fact that he'd once had a drinking problem.

But when she looked up at him after kicking her shoes off, she knew the truth. When it came to Leo Dawson, she apparently didn't have any sense at all. Because all she wanted to do was hold him.

Well, okay, not "all," but close.

Turning, she walked past him down the hall to her bedroom, switching on the little lamp on her dresser. It cast a soft glow in the darkness, throwing shadows over the unmade bed and the comfortable, rose-patterned easy chair she'd found at a flea market.

She knew Leo was behind her, even though he hadn't said a word. Without turning, she reached for the zipper of her dress and slid it down, letting the garment drop to the carpet. Next came her bra, and then her panties, both items tossed recklessly toward the open door of the closet, and the hamper inside it.

A rustle of movement, a muted groan from the floorboards beneath the carpet, and then Leo's hands were on her, framing her waist as his mouth traveled the back of her neck and across her shoulder. Her body responded with an electric thrill of antic.i.p.ation, her skin waking to his touch, tingling with pleasure already.

He snapped the clasp of her barrette, and her hair tumbled over her shoulders. She shook it out as he turned her around and set her away from him, his eyes hungry.

"So beautiful. You don't even know," he murmured, and she felt a hot flush of arousal on her skin, from her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to her belly.

"You're pretty beautiful yourself," she whispered, stepping backward until her thighs. .h.i.t the mattress. She sat down, then slid onto the bed, lying back against the mound of pillows at the headboard.

Her nipples were already erect, rigid with excitement. He was swallowing her up with his eyes, which were nothing more than vague shadows beneath his brow in the gloom. She was dying for him to touch her, to get undressed and climb onto the bed with her, but there was something wildly exciting about being on display this way, just for him.

He shrugged off his jacket, but he didn't throw it on the chair. He reached into the inside pocket first, withdrawing his camera and setting it on the dresser.

A hot flame of arousal licked at her belly. He wasn't going to...? Oh, but he was. Loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves, he picked up the camera again. And aimed it right at her.

"Leo..." she began, but her voice was strangely breathless, hardly audible.

"I've never been much of a photographer," he murmured, "but I think now might be a perfect time to try again." He crouched at the foot of the bed, aiming the camera up at her. "You're so beautiful, just like this. I want to remember you this way." He pressed the b.u.t.ton and the flash went off, a shocking flare in the dim room.

Oh G.o.d. He'd really done it. He'd taken a picture of her, naked.

And it was...exciting. Slightly naughty, in a completely innocent way. It was Leo, after all. She trusted him. And she had a feeling that she wasn't the only one turned on.

She took a deep breath and wriggled up on her elbows, thrusting her b.r.e.a.s.t.s farther forward. "What about this?"

Had she really said that? Was she really doing this?

"That's...very good," Leo said, his voice catching in his throat as he snapped another picture. He sat at the foot of the bed, his face only partially visible behind the slim silver camera, waiting. "Show me how s.e.xy you know you are, babe."

She twisted, tilting her head and parting her thighs just a little bit, teasing him with the glimpse of curls.Click. Then she sat up, eyes wide, her heart hammering in her chest, and let her legs fall open completely, one hand on her thigh.Click.

Oh G.o.d. She couldn't take much more of this. She was wet already, and so hot inside she was restless. She wasn't even thinking of the few nude centerfolds she'd seen-she was just doing what came naturally, opening herself to him, to the camera, reveling in how lovely her naked body felt against the rumpled sheets, fluid and soft, deliciously curvy.

Suddenly her hands were on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, cupping them, holding them up to him, and the camera hit the floor with a thud.

"Photo shoot is over," Leo growled, crawling over her and pus.h.i.+ng her back on the bed. Before she knew it, his mouth had fastened on one ripe nipple, suckling hard, and she groaned in relief.

He was still dressed, though, and that had to change.Now. She reached for his tie, but his head was in the way, and when his teeth closed on her flesh, she gave up, the sharp, thrilling surprise of the bite echoing through her.

He moved down her body, his mouth hot and wet on her skin, biting, kissing, sucking, tasting. She s.h.i.+vered with the pleasure, the racing sensations skittering over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her belly.

He left one sucking kiss just above her curls as he nudged her thighs apart, wide and then wider, sliding his arms under them and gently spreading her folds. He murmured something she couldn't hear, and then his mouth was on her, his tongue licking through the creamy, wet flesh.

Oh G.o.d. Oh G.o.d oh G.o.d oh G.o.d, it was good. So hot, so very hot, and so wet, his tongue, her folds, a burning point, a dangerous blaze...

She came without warning, gasping out loud, her thighs tightening, but he didn't stop. He slowed down, licking her softly, but he kept at it until she was sure one o.r.g.a.s.m was rus.h.i.+ng into the other, waves of incredible pleasure rippling through her over and over.

When he finally lifted his head away from her, she was weak, panting, and his mouth glistened in the soft lamplight. Then he was getting up, stripping off his tie and his s.h.i.+rt, unbuckling his pants and letting them drop before sliding his briefs off. He was already hard, gloriously so, but she didn't have time to admire it-he was climbing on top of her and sliding inside.

He grunted, and she wound her arms around him, holding him tight, hanging on as he thrust in and out, harder and faster than he ever had before. His urgency was exciting-her fingers dug into the muscles of his shoulders, and she tilted her pelvis up, seating him even deeper.

"So good," he murmured. "You're so good, so beautiful..."

She answered him with her body, straining as his c.o.c.k thrust home, tightening around him, those fierce interior muscles milking him. He raised above her on locked arms, his eyes dark with abandon as he stared down at her.

She met him thrust for thrust, that sweet spot far inside throbbing with the delicious sensation. He filled her so completely, she whimpered when he pulled out, and sighed when he slid inside again, slowly, the gorgeous friction igniting her arousal all over again.

And then he sped up again, plunging, and she hung on, eyes fixed on his face. He was still watching her, and she knew he saw it when she broke, her mouth opening in a startledO of pleasure. He followed, spilling inside her with a hoa.r.s.e cry, sliding a hand under her a.s.s to keep him as deep inside her as he could go.

A moment later he collapsed, falling to one side and rolling her with him. She curled into his damp chest, still panting.

In the comfortable silence that followed, his gruff voice was a surprise. "It's good between us, isn't it?" he murmured. "Perfect?"

She never could have imagined anything as good as what they shared. Perfect? h.e.l.l, yes. At least in bed.

"Of course it is," she whispered, angling her head up to look at him. His face was shadowed, his eyes dark in the dim light. "It's wonderful."

He hugged her tight, dropping a light kiss on the top of her head. "Good."

There wasn't anything more to say. But as she dropped off to sleep in his arms, she remembered what he'd said when he'd taken the camera out.I want to remember you this way.

She was right here. Why would he need to remember her?

Nine.

Four days later, Mackenzie was seated at an outdoor cafe she and Susannah liked, the sun on her face and the air sweet with the scent of roses, waiting for her friend to arrive.

If only the rest of her life was as picturesque, she thought with a moody swat at a fly determined to share her iced tea. Ever since Sat.u.r.day night after the wedding, she'd seen less and less of Leo. He was...well, fading out. Taking himself away from her in bits and pieces, little by little, especially as the studio neared completion.

Sunday he'd claimed laundry and ch.o.r.es at his house, leaving her place by noon and not returning until the next morning. Monday and Tuesday he'd been busy with the subcontractors who were installing the plumbing and electricity, and she'd had appointments with clients, anyway. This morning he'd called to say he had a few appointments with prospective clients and not to expect him until tomorrow, and when she'd wandered into the studio before leaving the house, she knew it was only a very brief matter of time before he would be finished with the shed completely.

The basic sh.e.l.l had been refurbished and sh.o.r.ed up, with a new roof and a new door, and the larger window she'd wanted. The Pergo floor was down, the cabinets installed, the darkroom sink was working, and her countertop desk was waiting to be a.s.sembled and installed. Once that was done and the sheetrock was painted, including the trim, the studio would be finished.

A dream come true, actually. Gorgeous, functional, and all hers.

Except for the fact that she didn't give a d.a.m.n about the studio anymore, not if it meant that Leo would be gone.

"I'm here," Susannah said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "Sorry I'm late. Traffic was a b.i.t.c.h."

Mackenzie made a vague noise of understanding and handed her friend a menu. "No problem," she said.

"What's wrong? You look like you lost your best friend, and that's not possible because I'm right here." Susannah waved the laminated menu at her, her bracelets rattling as she did. "Spill. What's up?"

"Nothing," Mackenzie said, bending her head toward her own menu and trying to focus on the selection. "I'm thinking about chicken salad. What are you going to get?"

"I'm going to get annoyed if you don't tell me why you look like you're about to burst into tears." She reached across the table and laid a gentle hand on Mackenzie's arm. "Is it your hunky carpenter?"

Of course it was. Although part of the problem was whether or not he was really hers.

She started with the wedding and went on from there, explaining everything-without mentioning the naked pictures, of course. "It's just that I don't know where this is going," she said as Susannah waved the waiter away, hissing at him to come back later. "We weren't supposed to get involved in the first place! I didn't think it was a good idea to sleep with someone who was working for me, and he apparently doesn't usually sleep with clients, and, well, he's not even my type! I thought, hey, loads of s.e.xual attraction, this could be a fling, but it's so much more than that now, and I don't want to lose him, but I don't know what he wants, or what he's hiding, and-"

"Whoa! Slow down, babe," Susannah said, biting back a grin. "Take a breath. I'll wait."

"I know," Mackenzie said miserably, sighing. "I'm a mess. I'm panicking. And I'm not supposed to do that. Idon't usually do that! But this thing with Leo is sodifferent ."

And why was it different, she asked herself as Susannah gave in to the impatient waiter and ordered their lunch. Because Leo had shown her that maybe the life she'd always envisioned for herself was a little bit lacking. All these years she'd been picturing a nice guy, but he was, she saw now, boring. Faceless, in fact. A piece of the puzzle, and not necessarily the most important one.

How awful. It was like the Christmas sweaters her grandmother gave her every year. She didn't want another red-or blue or pink-cashmere cardigan, but she knew she'd get one. And she'd actually begun to plan her wardrobe around them. She might have secretly wanted a black leather miniskirt or a vintage denim jacket, but cashmere wasn't bad. It didn't suck.

Every year, she'd settled. And somewhere along the line she'd settled for a life that was likely. A life that was normal, if not spectacular or unique or what she truly wanted. And she didn't even have it yet. She'd settled in her imagination for a guy who was nice enough, unthreatening, a bit bland. How pathetic was that?

What was worse was the fact that she didn't have any idea how Leo felt. Did he want them to be together? Did he want children? Did he want children withher ?

And how ridiculous was it to worry about any of that when he seemed to be easing his way out of her life, step by step? When she'd never even been to his house, or knew anything about his family, and certainly not the secrets he seemed so determined to keep?

"You're going to have to fight for him, if you want him," Susannah said, squeezing lemon into her diet soda. "Maybe he's just scared. Maybe it's that whole commitment thing."

"I know," Mackenzie said, smiling at the waiter when he set down her plate of walnut chicken salad. "And I intend to."

She pulled into the driveway at home a little after three, determined to rope Leo into a conversation if necessary. Except he wasn't there.

The weight of disappointment was palpable, but it didn't matter. He'd be back at some point. If she had to, she'd track him down. She could show up at his house, even.

Or she would if she knew where he lived.

Inside, she kicked off her shoes and decided to catch up on everything she'd let fall by the wayside over the last two weeks. She'd never missed an appointment, but she hadn't been scrupulous about keeping up with e-mail, or with the mail. She had bills to pay and bills to collect from clients, she was sure, not to mention a mountain of developing to do in the makes.h.i.+ft darkroom she'd set up in the spare bedroom.

She opened her laptop and booted up, horrified to see nearly twenty e-mails waiting to be read, not counting spam. Those she axed immediately, and then scanned through the others trying to decide which was the most important. A message from Bree's husband caught her eye-wasn't he on his honeymoon?

She clicked it open, her heart sinking as she read the message. "Check out this link," it read. "There's some interesting stuff about your new boyfriend here." The URL was www.joesgaragefans.com.

Joe's Garage? They'd been a band a few years back, she thought, although she'd never kept up with new music. Her heart was with U2 and Dave Matthews, and she could never keep track of every must-hear song on the radio. What did Leo have to do with the band?

She clicked it anyway, and her mouth dropped open when the home page revealed photos of the band. There was Leo, front and center, a guitar strapped across his chest, his hair a bit longer, his earring a bit more prominent, in a scruffy gray T-s.h.i.+rt and black jeans, a s.e.xy scowl on his face.

The s.e.xy scowl she knew and, she had to admit, loved.

Leo had been a member of Joe's Garage?

She clicked through the site, her heart pounding like a drumbeat in her chest. She remembered this now-even someone as uninterested in the music scene as she was knew what had happened to the band in its final days, a year after the release of their second CD. They'd been the big new thing, and the press had followed their tour because the stories of their outrageous partying had been legendary. And then the lead singer, someone named Mike Ruggierio, had OD'd, and the band had fallen apart.

It was all on the Web site, in black and white, with pictures and anecdotes and links to news stories. This was what Leo had been hiding. This was why he didn't want her taking his picture and publis.h.i.+ng it anywhere. The Web site even spelled it out: "Leo Dawson, former guitarist for the band, has disappeared from public life. Attempts to track him down have been met with hostility. Please leave the guy alone-he deserves his privacy and the peace and quiet of his new life."

She stared at the screen, aware that she'd slumped back in her desk chair, her mouth literally hanging open.

He hadn't told her. Not once in all the intimate moments they'd shared. Hadn't trusted her enough to keep his ident.i.ty, and his privacy, to herself.

And no matter how much she cared about him, she couldn't love someone who didn't trust her. Not when she'd given him every reason to believe in her. She hadn't pushed, hadn't pressed, hadn't asked for an explanation when he admitted that he was an alcoholic.

She pushed away from the desk, pacing the living room, trying to ignore the tears sliding down her cheeks. Everywhere she looked, Leo was there. Here in the living room, where he'd helped her move boxes. In the kitchen, where he painted her cabinets and flirted with her. In the bedroom-G.o.d, the bedroom, where he'd almost kissed her that first day, and where he'd made love to her as if his life depended on it just the other night. She could picture him in the shower, wet and soapy and flas.h.i.+ng that come-here-baby smile, and frying bacon at the stove, explaining patiently that her arteries, and her waistline, could take it. The house alone would always carry memories of him.

She'd opened herself up to him, body and soul. And right now, imagining losing him, imagining the things she'd want to say when she saw him again, it seemed like the biggest mistake she'd ever made.

Pulling out of the Home Depot parking lot at seven that evening, the bed stacked with lumber, Leo turned off the radio in the truck. Joe's Garage, again. What was it about that f.u.c.king song this week?

He didn't want to hear it. h.e.l.l, he barely listened to any post-1985 music anymore. Too many memories. Of the band he and Mike had wanted to form, all those years ago in that Philadelphia suburb, of their rock idols, of the people he'd met when Joe's Garage started to play seriously. He remembered when the music was all that mattered, writing it, playing it, letting it weave its spell over him and the others, and their audience. And he'd shot that all to h.e.l.l.

Some days it seemed like he was going to have to find a dark cave somewhere if he wanted to avoid the fallout from that time in his life forever.

Maybe that would prevent him from creating new fallout, too. Like the fallout he knew was coming with Mackenzie. It was like smelling a coming storm in the air, the faint scent of electricity and the gathering damp. It was coming, all right, and he was pretty sure it was going to be a category five.

He was also pretty sure Mackenzie wouldn't want to live in a cave with him. It would make him, and possibly stalact.i.tes, her only photography subjects, for one.

He braked at the stoplight, staring out toward the ocean. Dusk was falling, and the sun was a pink-gold smear on the horizon. It was a perfect day. Except for the fact that he hadn't seen Mackenzie at all. He was going to have to get used to that, and soon.