Forbidden Fruit (2 page)

“You know what, Jen? You’re right. Let’s get this over with so I can give Luke a taste of what he’s been missing all these damn years.”

“Now that’s the spirit!” Jen shouted, getting all giddy and excited, as only a former cheerleader could.

And so the day went. First the clothes. Then the hair. Last came the tickling pedi and mani. Ava had been surprised to find out that she’d actually enjoyed herself. At the hair salon, the stylist had sug-gested they put in a few subtle highlights and trim the split-ends.

Ava’s hair was healthy and full, but it needed a bit of this and that, Rhonda had explained. By the time, the bouncy woman was done Ava was beyond nervous. But when she saw the finished product, she’d been shocked. Mostly because she wasn’t much different.

Just… better somehow. Rhonda had uncovered something that Ava had never known was even there. Her hair fairly shone. The cut was perfect with long layers all around her face. No curling needed, Rhonda had instructed. Just a hair dryer and a round brush, which Ava had purchased at the salon. Jen had been thrilled with the look. A good sign, since Jen was a pro when it came to fashion.

Next came the nails. Jen had politely explained that Ava had never colored her nails and to do so now, might be too much.

Instead, the nail tech had gone for a French manicure. It seemed to make her hands look softer, more fragile. Ava had never in her life felt soft or fragile. It was a new, and somewhat uncomfortable, feeling. Still, she liked that her nails weren’t shouting, “Hey, look at me!” Instead they seemed to quietly whisper, “don’t I look pretty?”

Now, Ava was home and resting her feet. She hadn’t known beauty could be so damned exhausting. She took a sip from her white wine and stared at all her new clothes. “I cannot believe I actually did it.” What was she supposed to do with it all? She’d spent more money than she’d ever spent on any single car part or workout gear. And for what? For Luke McGiffin. If the man didn’t sit up and take notice now, he never would.

“He damn well better be worth the trouble,” she muttered.

Tomorrow was Friday. Her big début, as it were. She took another sip of her wine and looked again at the white skirt and pink top. She let out a sigh, laid her head back against the soft brown leather of the chair and let her mind drift. She imagined Luke strid-ing up to her on the dance floor. Grabbing her by the shoulders and kissing her. Rough and demanding. Kissing the way a man kissed a woman that he ached for. That he wanted to claim and conquer.

And wasn’t that a hoot! Ava Sweet, track star, basketball MVP of Green Valley High, wanting to be conquered.

The phone rang, startling her out of her wild and impossible dreams.

She reached over and picked up her black cordless. “Hello?”

“Hey.”

Ava nearly choked on her wine. “Luke?”

Silence and then, “Yeah, it’s me.”

His deep, husky drawl nearly did her in. She could always feel that dark timbre clear to her toes, as well as all the places in between. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi, Ava.”

Ava? What was that about? “What, no Dr. Doolittle this time, Luke?”

“Tomorrow’s your night with Pete.”

Her heart did a little flip at the way he said Pete’s name—as if it left a funny taste in his mouth. Jealousy?

“Yea, tomorrow’s our date. Jen took me shopping today for it.”

She thought she heard him emit a low growl, just before saying,

“Yeah, she told me all about your fun day together.” He paused and added, “She mentioned that you bought a few new things.”

How much did Jen say? She wasn’t supposed to tell him anything, darn it! She should have known. After all, they were brother and sister. And they were as close as twins.

“Actually, yeah, I did buy a few new things,” she confirmed, then she teased a little more by adding, “I think Pete is going to really enjoy my outfit tomorrow night.”

“Pete seems to like you no matter what you’re wearing,” Luke grumbled. “So, what did you buy for good ol’ Pete?”

Darn, if he didn’t sound jealous! Could it be possible? It’d mean she meant something to him. Something more than Dr. Doolittle anyway. “I bought a mini skirt.” She wouldn’t tell him about the hair and the shoes. Or what she bought to wear under the skirt.

She heard him cough. Hard. As if having a spasm. “Luke? Are you okay?”

A couple more very tense seconds of coughs, and then, “Did you say a skirt?”

She wanted to smack him. “Yes, Luke. It’s this tiny, stretchy thing with a zipper on the side that women wear when they want to look sexy. You may have seen one or two.”

“I know what a skirt is. Quit being so damned sarcastic, damn it. What I’m trying to figure out is why the hell you have one?”

Now that rankled. “You know, it occurs to me that just because you see me as this ugly, sexless, animal-lover type doesn’t mean that every man sees me in the same light. Some men find me attrac-tive. Go figure!”

She wanted to slam the phone down, but then she heard him say,

“I never said you were ugly and sexless, Ava.”

“No, you just said that I’m all bulky cotton and have an ugly-ass ponytail.”

Silence.

“Luke?”

“I’m sorry,” Luke muttered. “I shouldn’t have said that, but it took me by surprise to have Pete seeing you that way.”

“What way?”

“He noticed you. Your body, your softness. I thought I’d been the only guy to see that. To see past the clothes and to the woman beneath.”

Oh God, she’d never survive if he kept saying such things.

She’d waited years to hear sweet words like that from Luke. “To be honest, it felt good to have Pete see me as soft and sweet and sexy.

Not like an oddity.”

“You were always so standoffish, Ava.” Luke explained, once again in defensive mode. “You acted like you hated being around me. I thought…”

His words trailed off and suddenly Ava was riveted. She wanted to hear the rest of this Thursday night confession. “You thought what? That I wasn’t a woman with a woman’s needs?”

“No. I thought you saw me as some macho badass rebel and I didn’t want you to see me that way. I wanted you to see me. The
real
me.”

She sighed, wondering if they would ever get past the miscon-ceptions they had of each other. “That makes two of us, Luke.”

“There are two things I want you to know before you go out on your date with Pete tomorrow night.”

“And what might they be?”

“I never meant the Dr. Doolittle comment to be insulting. I love that you care for animals, Ava. It screams sensitivity. You’re a nurturer and that’s something I’ve always admired in you. I don’t think you’re odd either. I think you’re lovable as hell. And I’m damned glad no one else calls you Dr. Doolittle. That’s for me and me alone.” Luke paused and in a much colder tone he added, “If Pete touches you, kisses you, dances too fucking close to you, I’ll beat the shit out of him, Ava. I swear it. He’s my best friend in the world, but I will not be happy if he touches you. Think about that when you’re out on your date with him, baby. Think long and hard.

You know me. I don’t issue silly threats. Only promises that I mean to keep.”

Then the line went dead and Ava was left holding a cold piece of plastic, her mouth gaping wide. Had he really just threatened bodily harm to his best friend? And all because of her? What on earth did that mean?

Ava trembled.

She took a long gulp of her wine, draining the glass. She wasn’t cut out for a man like Luke. What had she done?

Oh God, what on earth had she done?

Forbidden Fruit: Chapter 2

Luke hung up the phone and ran a hand through his hair. He was on the very edge of going to Ava’s house and fucking her brains out.

“Shit!”

He shot out of his chair and paced the room. He’d always had a hard time keeping his relationship with Ava platonic. He’d taken one look at her back in high school and knew she was too wild to ever be tamed. Too independent and headstrong. So, he’d done the right thing. He’d backed off and let her have free rein.

Now, ten years later, at twenty-seven years old, she was spitting mad and ready to prove her womanhood—or whatever the hell it was women did when they felt their femininity threatened. There was no telling what she’d end up doing with Pete. Something she’d regret later, no doubt. If she touched him, took him home and stripped out of those damned awful clothes she insisted on wearing, Luke would make Pete regret ever having been born.

She’d been a fascination to him for far too long. He’d tried to see her as just a friend of his sister. An odd little creature who loved animals. Giving her the Dr. Doolittle title had been a way for him to create distance between them. But nothing had worked.

She’d still managed to slip inside his dreams. Inside his fantasies.

He’d had his fair share of hot and sweaty nights. More than once he’d taken his cock in his hand and pumped himself to completion as he thought of what he wanted to do to her. In the dark privacy, where no one could see or know what he was thinking, it’d been Ava’s face he’d imagined kissing. Her mouth he pictured sucking him.

What would her body look like? How perky and fresh would her tits be? The color of her nipples. The taste and feel of her pussy against his hungry mouth. How sweet she’d be when he swallowed her honey. He knew it in his bones. She’d be a tight fist around his dick when he entered her the first time. Her body would accept his cock, because she was made for him and no other man. Certainly not Pete.

As he went to the refrigerator and grabbed a cold bottle of beer, Luke smiled. Little Ava was wrong on all counts. She’d never had the slightest inkling that he’d ejaculated into the shower drain a hundred times, as he thought of fucking her in every position imaginable. Wishing it were her tight cunt instead of his hand.

Luke placed his beer on the kitchen table, then picked up the phone and dialed another number. When he heard the deep voice of his best friend, Luke said the first thing that came to mind.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Pete?”

Pete was silent, probably wondering if he’d gone nuts. Hell, maybe he had. “Huh?”

“She’s not some little twit you can manipulate and toy with.

She’s a nice girl. You never go out with nice girls. So, I’ll ask again. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Maybe I’ve changed my mind,” Pete taunted. “I told you I always suspected that Ava would be a sweet piece of ass underneath it all.”

Luke had heard enough of what Pete thought of Ava’s body.

So there was no misunderstandings, Luke explained in very clear terms what he
wouldn’t
be doing come Friday night.

“You touch her and our friendship is over. Ava is off limits.”

Pete laughed, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “What’s it to you? She’s only your sister’s friend. Right?”

And there it was. Pete had him by the short hairs and they both knew it. Luke shook off the unsettling notion that Ava was becom-ing way more than just a fascination to him.

“Just know that I’m not screwing around here. Keep your hands to yourself.” With that threat hanging between them, Luke hung up the phone and began mentally rearranging his Friday night sched-ule. No matter where Pete took Ava, Luke was going to be there, watching every move they made. Ava had run wild long enough. It was time to tug on the reins.

***

Once more, tomboy Ava was standing in front of a mirror in-specting herself. Or
dissecting
herself. Yeah, that was closer to the truth. Even though she was going out with Pete, a friend she had no romantic feelings for whatsoever, it still felt real. He was a dear man. Hard working. Gorgeous. And he’d be seeing her for the first time in the soft, feminine clothes. Legs, heels, minuscule skirt and all. He’d be the very first man to ever see Ava Sweet as a woman.

A curvy and hopefully sensual woman. Somehow, it made her sad.

She wanted Luke to be the one at her door. She wanted Luke to see her wearing her very first skirt ever.

But, it wasn’t to be that way. And Ava didn’t spend time on what should be. She made her own way and dealt with what she had at her disposal. And tonight, she’d be greeting Pete Redding.

He’d take her arm and gentlemanly escort her to the, Shake A Leg, Luke’s favorite hangout. Jen swore he’d be there with his bud-dies, drinking and laughing. Hopefully Ava would be able to walk straight and tall and not trip and fall like some ninny. Ava looked down at her shoes and wondered if she should change them. They were white strappy sandals. The straps laced up her ankle and Jen had sworn to her that it was a very sensual style. That it made her look alluring.

Ava hoped to God she didn’t fall flat on her ass.

“That would certainly ruin the whole alluring part.” Then she heard her doorbell chime.

“Crap!” this was really happening. Her date was here and she was going to see Luke. In a skirt! “Ohgodohgodohgod!” She smacked her cheeks once, twice, and then stated, “This is no different than the State Finals in track. I won that and I’ll damn well win this too.”

The doorbell chimed again and she left the bathroom behind and opened her front door. “Hi!” she said a bit too cheerfully. Pete, on the other hand, didn’t say a darn thing. He just stood there. Staring. He had that same shell-shocked look that Jen had gotten at the boutique. It made her grit her teeth.

“I swear, if one more person gives me that, ‘oh wow, you really are a chick!’ look I’ll punch them square in the eye.”

“Uh, right. I, well, that is… fuck,” Pete muttered, as he scrubbed a hand over his face.

Oh, well, that was a bit different from what Jen had said. She struck what she thought looked like a provocative pose and teased,

“You think I look okay?”

Pete snorted. “I think you look hot. Really hot.”

She didn’t want Pete having any illusions about tonight. Time to explain the real reason behind the date. “Pete, I sort of… know how you feel about Jen.”

Pete turned red. “I’m that obvious?”

Ava shook her head. “Not at all. In fact, Jen has no clue.”

“Good, let’s keep it that way.”

“The thing is, she’s going to be at the Shake A Leg tonight. I thought maybe…”