Driving to You (H1.5)
Driving To You
Copyright © 2013 by Marquita Valentine
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Cover Image under license from iStockphoto.com
www.marquitavalentine.com
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Chapter One
April Billingsworth blinked up at the ceiling, deliberating the best way to slip out of bed. And his embrace. She tried sliding out from under his arm, but he tightened his grip, mumbling something in his sleep as he threw a heavy thigh over her legs.
She sighed. So much for that idea.
Rubbing her feet together, she glanced down and edged a foot out from under the covers. One hot pink high heel shone in the morning sun.
“Leave on the shoes, babe,” he had ordered.
Her dress slipped to the floor, but the shoes stayed on. “Don’t call me ‘babe’,” she snapped, then went willingly into his arms.
“It’s a glorious morning,” Finn said, his hand coasting down her side to cup one of her butt cheeks. “Damn fine morning.” He gave a little squeeze. “Of course you’re frowning.”
Turning her attention to the sexy Irishman who’d slept fully nude beside her, she allowed a smile to curve the corners of her mouth. She was really happy, ecstatic even, because he was in such a good mood. Although, it seemed Finn was always in a good mood.
In any case she had really big, scary news and wasn’t sure how to tell him, but starting the day with him smiling was a good thing.
“Now that’s something you don’t see every day,” he said, kissing her nose. “I’ll have to spring for a hotel room more often.”
“I’ll take you as my date to one of my sorority sister’s wedding in June. It’s going to be on Jekyll Island, down in Georgia, so overnight accommodations are a must,” she said and his smile disappeared. Oh, crap. She wanted to die for being so careless with her words. Still she maintained her smile. No matter what, her flipping smile would stay. It always had. One didn’t have a father in politics and not learn something.
He rose above her, all lickable broad shoulders and tight abs while his sexy blue eyes studied her face. “That’s sounds quite serious, Miss Billingsworth. You sure about that?”
A couple of minutes ago, heck even a day ago, she would have said yes, she was totally serious about him. But now, with his serious expression and lack of smile, she had to say, “What’s there to be sure about? I thought that since I’d most likely be bored, you could ride along and keep me…amused.”
Brows rising, he tilted his head to one side. “Did you now?” Before she could answer, his phone rang and he groaned. “Mind if I take this, babe?”
A sarcastic reply almost broke free of her lips, but she tampered it down. Don’t screw this up, she reminded herself. “Go ahead, but stop with the ‘babe’, I hate it.” Actually she loved it, but most of her girlfriends would think it was demeaning and sexist.
She didn’t give a damn, but Finn didn’t need to know that.
“You’re a corker, April. A real corker,” he said, kissing her softly on the lips. Grabbing the phone and sliding out of bed, he walked away, speaking softly, and her stomach did a little flip at the sight of his fine butt and hard thighs.
“I’ll be waiting,” she called out in a sing-songy voice. Something the old April would have never done, but she was tired of being her.
Finn paused and turned, his eyes widening a little. That sexy mouth of his kicked up at the corners and he winked. Then he slipped inside the bathroom and shut the door behind him.
She sat up in bed, pulling the covers up and over her breasts, then tucked the sheets under her arms. Sunlight poured into their room now and she grinned like a Cheshire cat. After years of falling for the wrong guy, then falling for what on paper should have been the right one, she was in love with the “one”. Totally, completely in love.
Finn had been the rebound guy, but not anymore. He had become more than one night stand turned twice a week date and had morphed into serious boyfriend. Unlike the relationship with her ex-fiancé, she and Finn weren’t toxic for each other. She didn’t feel a need to make Finn jealous or lie to him just so she’d know that she was number one.
With Finn, she was number one and he didn’t keep things from her. He was a good guy, a cop or bounty hunter or something like that. She never could keep it straight, because he didn’t like to talk about work. He wanted to know about her: What she liked and what she didn’t.
Not that her ex hadn’t been a good guy, he had been and still was one. When she’d broken up with him, it had truly been an ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ moment. She had been scared to death of getting married, of settling down and becoming another family pimped out to voters for her daddy’s campaigns.
Worse, she had been scared to death of turning out like her mother. Oh who was she kidding—she still was terrified.
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and began to rehearse what she’d say in her head. Finn, I know we’ve only been together for four months, but—
The door to the bathroom banged open. “Get dressed.” He picked up her clothes and threw them at her, then began to tug on his own. His movements were angry and hurried while she sat there frozen. “Dammit, woman. Get. Up.”
April blinked at him. She’d never seen Finn like this. “But…I—”
“Look, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, babe—”
“You’re married,” she shrieked, her heart plummeting to her toes.
“God, no.” He made a face. “I’m completely single.”
Okay, so not married, but did he have to sound so opposed to it? “You’re not really twenty-nine?”
“Have you been drinking this morning?”
“No.” Then it hit her and she wanted to cry at the injustice. “You’re gay, but you’ve been told it’s wrong and that if you just sleep with a woman like a “real” man then you’d be cured. Don’t listen to those people. Be yourself!”
“Seriously?”
“There wouldn’t be any shame in it if you were.” But she would be heartbroken. Oh, good grief, gay men didn’t sleep with women.
He rolled his eyes. “My brother’s gay.”
“You never told me that.” She narrowed her eyes. “Is it because you’re ashamed of him?”
His head fell back and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was his best man, at his wedding. And I’m a godparent to his daughter. He adopted her, with his partner, who’s a man, in case you’re still assuming things about me.”
She winced. “Sorry.”
“You’re a strange woman sometimes, with strange ideas, but you’re forgiven. Now back to the subject at hand.” He placed a knee on the bed, looking around the room before fixing his blue eyes on her. “I should have told you sooner. And I want you to know that what we have means something to me. It’s real. Me and you are real. Together. We’re good together and—”
She felt herself go all soft at his nonsensical speech. This was too perfect. He could admit his feelings and then she could tell him. “Are you trying to say that you’re in love with me?”
She jerked back as if he’d slapped her. “Oh.”
He held up his hand. “What I mean is that I’m not sure. I could be. Maybe? I know I like you and the sex…” He let out a whistle and gave her a wicked grin.
“I’m exceptional at sex,” she said with a confident smile. “And flexible. Oh, and willing to try things.”
His mouth flattened. “I would agree, only I feel so bloody jealous that—”
Someone pounded on the door to their hotel room.
“Who in the world would be—”
“Open up,” a man called out, sounding vaguely familiar to April.
Finn muttered a curse, then raised his voice and said, “You remember what I told you, yeah?” Without waiting for an answer, he strode to the door and yanked it open.
The governor’s security team walked in, followed by their boss, her father, the current governor of North Carolina. She stifled a scream and schooled her face. “Can I help you?” This was more than a little humiliating.
“Sweetheart,” Chad Billingsworth began, his blue eyes, so like hers, sad. “I’m afraid you’ve been misled into believing—”
“That I’m an adult, and don’t need my daddy and his men to check up on me?” she asked sweetly and flicked her eyes to Finn. She wanted to mouth an ‘I’m sorry’, but that would show weakness to her father, and a Billingsworth never showed any weakness.
Finn stood to the side, pants on and shirt off. “Sir, I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”
Her father’s gaze snapped to Finn. “I’ll deal with you later.
“You two know each other?”
Chad didn’t take his eyes off of Finn. “He works for me. Or rather he did work for me.”
“It’s not what you think, sir,” Finn said, pulling on his shirt and strapping on his gun holster. Something that had never failed to give her a little thrill. “Your daughter and I—”
“That’s right. My daughter. Someone you were paid to protect and keep tabs on, not screw in some seedy motel,” her dad snapped.
“The Rise is three hundred a night,” Finn shot back, but she noticed he didn’t deny or correct anything else Chad had said.
Her vision suddenly got fuzzy, black spots and white lights dancing in front of her eyes. “You work for him?” Her voice sounded strange, whispery light. Nausea rose, the first of its kind since she’d discovered her little predicament.
“You look a little pale.” Finn crossed the room, sitting beside her on the bed, where she was nude and still only had on one shoe. A less confident woman would have collapsed in tears.
She would not cry. She never cried. “Get. Away. From. Me.”
Blowing out a breath, Finn stood and took a step back. “Don’t do this, April.”
She stared straight ahead, her shoulder rigid and a little haughty look on her face. How she could manage to look so in control while wearing nothing but the bed sheets was one of the things he admired about her. Mostly because when she allowed him to take control, she surrendered so completely that it humbled him.
“Don’t do what, Mr. Burke?” she asked, in her drop-dead-asshole voice.
Dammit. He wanted to slam his head against the nearest wall. Repeatedly. He’d screwed up, plain and simple. He should have told April before they’d fallen into bed together. Although, he conceded, she had had her way with him on the rug in front of her fireplace, not a bed.
Still… “Remember what we talked about earlier?” he asked, clenching his jaw. He did not need an audience for this. “That what we have is real and…” Raking a hand through his hair, he let his words trail away and adjusted his stance. If only he could have had five more minutes alone with her. Sure, she would have been mad as hell, but at least he would have been the one doing the telling. “April, please.”
Finally, finally she looked at him. He would have preferred she hadn’t. Her eyes were beautifully blue and blank. Completely and utterly blank. Emotionless. “Your services are no longer needed, Mr. Burke.”
Chad raised his brows. “I’ll be sending your employer a detailed report of this incident today.”
Finn shook his head. The son of bitch still didn’t know. “I’m sure you will.”
“Time to go, buddy.” One of the men on the governor’s security team grabbed his arm.
With a simple sidestep and twist, he freed himself. “Not your buddy.” He gave April one last, lingering look, but she’d turned her attention to the window. He’d been dismissed. His gut clenched. “I know the way out.”
The governor and his security team watched as he gathered his things and pulled on his boots. A bright pink shoe lay haphazardly in the floor near the dresser. The urge to take that shoe, just so she had to come to him and get it, rode him hard. But the problem with dating a woman like April, rich and independent, was that she wouldn’t bother. She’d just buy another pair. Or three hundred.
Finn sliced his gaze to April, wishing like hell he could take her in his arms. Instead he walked out the door.
Chapter Two
Finn sat in his favorite pub, in his favorite spot, drinking his favorite pint, but it tasted like shite to him.
A month had passed, with it Christmas and New Year’s, since he’d last seen April. He’d gone to her house on Kingston, but no one answered. He’d gone to her usual hangouts: clubs where the trendy and wealthy merged together into one writhing mass of hot bodies. He’d gone to her not-so-well-known hangouts, like the assisted-living community center on Oak and the food pantry at Grace Church on Aspen.
Maybe he’d gone on the wrong days, or maybe she’d changed her schedule so that he was running around in circles. He toasted his reflection. “Deserve every bit.”
“Jesus H., dude, are those tears?” Hunter asked as he sat down on the barstool beside Finn. He motioned for the bartender to bring him his usual.
Finn took a deep drink of his ale and slammed it down on the bar. “Shove off, mate.”
“Nah, think I’ll stay right here,” Hunter said with a smirk. “Some perps gave me shit today, so you’re the winner of who’s-gonna-listen-to-me-bitch.”
“Lucky me,” Finn mumbled, then grabbed a handful of peanuts. “Why don’t you come work for Kennedy Investigations?”
Hunter shook his head. “Hell, no. Word on the street is that the owner is a real pu—”
Finn made a face at his friend. “Shut it.”
“This girl’s got you all tied up, and not in a Fifty Shades kinda way either.” Hunter popped a handful of peanuts in his mouth. “I say it’s time to move on.”
“While I say it’s time for you to read How to Hold On to Your Mancards.”
“Please, Tiffany is all about some romance and I’m the beneficiary of it.” Hunter grinned, his white teeth flashing against his dark skin. “In fact, I bought her an e-reader for Christmas so she didn’t have to wait—”
“Oh, Jesus.” Finn scrubbed his face with his hand. “You don’t actually read those with her, do you?”
“Real men read romance, Finn.”
Finn chuckled. “You’re whipped.”
“Better than being alone.” Hunter pulled out his phone. “Text from my woman. Gotta go. She’s cooking chicken and dumplings tonight, with some sweet potato casserole on the side.”
Finn ticked up his chin. “See you online later?” He was in the mood to virtually blow up everything and then some.
“W.oW or Call of Duty?” Hunter asked as he paid his tab.
“Call of Duty.”
Hunter punched him on the shoulder as he strode away. “Get your shit worked out with her.”
“If only it were so easy,” Finn muttered at his empty glass.
He could use Kennedy Investigations’’ contacts to find her. Although, that would be rather underhanded. Then again, he didn’t give a shit. He wasn’t stalking the woman, just making sure she was okay. And if making sure she was okay led to him “accidentally” running into her, well, that wasn’t h
is fault.
Besides, was he supposed to just give up four months of amazing sex, because she said so? Jesus, he sounded like an asshole. It wasn’t the amazing sex, okay so the amazing sex was just that, but he was in love with April. He was completely in love with a bossy, pain in the ass woman who never missed an opportunity to tell him what she thought.
God, he missed her.
His vision blurred suddenly. Perhaps he shouldn’t have drunk that last pint. It was number eight or nine. He paid the tab and staggered to his feet. The walk home should be interesting. He stumbled across the bar and out the door. Cold January air hit him and he stood straighter.
Another blast of arctic wind hit him. “Holy shit.” That was it. He was texting his driver. Pulling out his phone, he made the arrangement. Ten minutes until arrival. He could wait out here that long. Real men didn’t read romance, but they sure as hell waited out in the freeze-your-nuts-off cold.
He could only imagine what April would be saying right now. “Go back inside, you idiot, before you freeze to death.” Such a considerate woman. His mouth kicked up at the corners.
Are you home? Shit, he just drunk-texted April.
Error Message: STOP TEXTING ME.
Whi&ch actu$#ally means text me kjpd. Dammit. Stupid drunk thumbs. More
By the time his driver arrived, there was still no response from April. He nearly fell into the backseat, the driver shutting the door behind him. He blinked at his phone, then closed one eye in order to get the screen to come into focus. One last text and if she didn’t respond, then he was done.
Then he read what he’d sent to her. “Damn you, autocorrect!”
Now she’d never text him back. Hell, she might file a restraining order against him. He shoved his phone into his coat pocket, leaned against the leather seat and closed his eyes. Tomorrow, he’d try again, tomorrow.
***
April made a face at the screen on her cell. Finn missed her hot tits? He had to be drunk.
“Put down the damn phone,” Chad said, pounding a fist on his desk. A desk that was rumored to have been owned by General Robert E. Lee. “I’ve given you long enough to get over whatever snit you’re in. I have a major fundraising dinner in February that you’ll need to attend with me, and…”