PosterBoyForAverage (6 page)

The thought dissolved when he sucked her in, flicked her
clit with his tongue and then drew a long, sweet rush of orgasm from her as if
by magic.

Apparently it had been longer than she’d thought. Or he was
just better than she’d anticipated.

“Fuck,” she said, more to herself than to him.

“Actually, I’d like that again before we go any further.”

This time he covered her completely with his mouth. His
tongue dove between her wet folds, found the hard knot of her clit, nibbled,
licked, flicked and then went back to drawing on her again with his whole
mouth.

“I’m…” Aubrey gripped his shoulders in her hands, leaned
forward a little. His tongue—wet, rigid and strong—slipped along her wet slit
and entered her. “I’m coming,” she said. It was an unnecessary statement, she
realized, seeing as she was shivering in his arms as she came. Something buzzed
and she jumped.

“God damn it,” he hissed, putting his head against her as
she caught her breath.

Aubrey slipped her fingers through his thick hair, stroking
him even as the buzzing happened again.

Mike fumbled his phone from his pocket, read the text,
stood. “I have to go,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ears and kissing
her.

“But I—what—”

That was as far as she got. She grabbed for her jeans and
wrestled them up, suddenly feeling very much more naked than naked. He kissed
her again, growling low in his throat. But there was a sound of pain in there too.
A sound of distress.

She grabbed his face and continued the kiss where he’d left
off. “What is it?”

He shook the phone at her, trying to smile, but failing
miserably. “This is why I said we were a bad idea. So don’t let those feelings
of yours get hurt. Okay? It’s not you, Aubrey. Never you.” He brushed his lips
over hers once more and she smelled her own scent on his mouth. She opened for
his tongue and kissed him back.

“Jesus,” Mike said, pulling back. “Never you.”

Then he hurried off and left her standing there in her dusty
basement, feeling very confused and more than a little turned-on.

“Well, damn,” Aubrey whispered to no one. “That was
interesting.”

She’d managed to take a shower, finish a book cover, send it
off to the editor of said book and then make a few phone calls. Her mind kept
returning to Mike and what he’d said without really saying anything at all.

“This is why I said we were a bad idea,” he’d said. But he’d
never said what this was. She tried to not speculate but it was impossible.

“Maybe it was a roofing emergency,” she said, trying to
joke. She didn’t even laugh at her own joke.

Bruce sat up straight, ears perked, tongue out, body on
alert. It always freaked her out when he did that. “What?” she hissed.

His tail thumped once, twice, three times and then he was
off like a shot. She was close on his tail. Before she even called out to him,
the doorbell rang.

He only did that—the non-barking thing—when the person at
the door was someone he knew. Aubrey’s heart sped up and she had a fleeting
moment of hope where she let herself wish upon a distant unseen star that the
person at the door was Mike. That he’d come in to finish what they’d started.
She’d allowed herself to daydream him there in her basement, lifting her leg,
fingering her wetness, slipping inside her. Fucking her there against the wall
in the chaos that was currently her basement.

But it would not seem like chaos with him there. With him
inside her. Amazing, she realized, how quickly he’d come to take up space
inside her head. How fast he’d become part of her normal backdrop of life.

She didn’t even look, just flung the door open. So there was
no schooling her face when the person who waited for her was Bradlee. Waving a
DVD case at her.

“I’m bored as shit. Wanna watch a movie?” Her sister brushed
past her. “I know. I know that it’s supposed to be work time for you. And
you’re your own boss. And that we all need to realize that you actually do work
for yourself. Trust me. We all have gotten that lecture.”

“Bradlee—”

“But just this once? Just once. Watch…” She turned the DVD
case to face her. “Watch
The Lost Woman
with me!”

She looked desperate.

“What the hell is going on?” Aubrey asked and let her in.
“Why are you so needy?”

“I did not realize with my husband away and my daughter on a
playdate that I would be so bloody fucking bored. She’s not getting dropped off
until nine.”

“I think bloody and fucking are basically the same thing,”
Aubrey said.

Bradlee waved the case at her. “Whatever. Hurry. Is there
wine?”

“There can be.”

Bradlee followed her into the kitchen and Aubrey wondered if
her sister would notice.

“You took a shower,” her sister said.

Aubrey stayed with her back to her sister, pouring wine. If
Bradlee could see her face, all bets would be off. “I do it damn near every
day.”

“I thought you took a shower earlier.”

“I did. That was the shower you’re talking about.”
Lies.
Damn it, damn it, damn it.

Bradlee lifted a hunk of Aubrey’s hair. Her wet, wet hair. “Um…no.
Your hair should be at least half-dry. So why—” Then she gasped and yanked on
Aubrey’s hair hard enough for her head to snap back.

“Ow! Jesus Christ, Brad!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Bradlee said, smoothing Aubrey’s hair and
trying not to laugh. “You little hussy! What have you been doing that you’d
need another shower?”

“Nothing,” Aubrey put the wine cork back in the bottle. “I
just got dirty.”

“I bet you did!” Now Bradlee was snorting. That was never
good.

“In the garden,” Aubrey snapped.

Her sister moved fast, put herself in front of Aubrey. “Ah-ha!”
she said, pointing maniacally.

“Ah-ha what?” Aubrey asked, biting the inside of her lip.
Trying very hard to keep her face neutral. She reached past Bradlee and put the
wine in the door of the fridge.

“You had monkey sex!”

“I did not.” Okay, so that was the truth.

Bradlee stepped back, tapped her lip. “Okay, maybe not. Not
sex. Um…you did something though. You have roses in your cheeks, as Nana used
to say. And you look like you have a big fat secret that pleases you. You
definitely messed around.”

Aubrey chewed the inside of her cheek.

“With Mike Sykes the super-duper roofer.” Bradlee punched
her in the shoulder.

“Jesus Christ, Brad! I’m going to sock you one,” Aubrey
growled. But then she found herself laughing. “It was not sex.” She handed her
sister a glass. “Come on. Let’s sit on the porch. I’ll ’fess up. Plus anything
will beat watching that god-awful movie you brought.”

She confessed it all. How her feelings had really been hurt.
How she’d tried to hide it. Rubbing his chest and smelling him and being close
and that other kiss. And then, fuck it all to hell, when he got on his knees
and went down on her.

A rush of heat spread through her from her breasts to the
crown of her head. She wouldn’t be surprised if she burst into flames any
second now.

“Goooood Lord,” Bradlee sang, fanning herself even though
the October wind was blowing. “That is a mighty fine story. Could I just admit
I cannot wait for Timothy to get home?”

“Speaking of home,” Bradlee went on, “I’ll have to get going
soon. Laura will be dropped off in about a half-hour. And you would not believe
how friggin’ punctual the Sandfords are. I imagine them all synching their
digital watches before leaving the house. They’re like a crack burglary team or
something.” She snorted and set her glass on the small wooden table. She
stretched her long legs and settled her ankles on the front porch railing. “I
imagine the dad’s pep talks—‘right team! Let’s get in and get out! No muss! No
fuss!’”

“You sound like a drill sergeant,” Aubrey laughed.

“Not quite that bad. He’s very organized, but not strict.
Like I said, they are super-nice and Laura has a ball with them. But I feel
very, um…”

“Like a hot mess?”

Bradlee leveled a finger at her. “Watch it, sister,” she
said, but she was grinning. “I feel very disorganized when they’re around. And
now…” She stood and smoothed her long corduroy skirt down. “I will arrive at my
home to take possession of my daughter smelling like wine.”

“A single glass,” Aubrey laughed. She looked at her watch.
“Over a two-hour span.”

“Are you going to watch that movie?” Bradlee said. She was
biting the inside of her cheek and trying to look sincere. Aubrey could tell.

“Good God no.”

“I’ll come get it then before I hit the road.”

Inside, she hugged Aubrey. “Give him a chance. He’s a dad of
two kids, one with lots of needs, he’s a roofer, he’s recently divorced and
he’s your next-door neighbor.”

“So—”

“So all signs point to ‘run!’” Bradlee piped in. “But
there’s something about him. And you. When you’re near each other. It might as
well have been spray-painted across your foreheads the other night. You seem to
drift toward each other like magnets.”

“Some magnets repel one another,” Aubrey said.

Bradlee smacked her lightly on the forehead.

“Ow!” Aubrey cried.

“Not those magnets, Aub. The ones that draw each other
close. Stop being such a pain in the ass.”

With that, she took her horrible movie and left. Aubrey
considered working some, then decided not to. She ended up curled in her overstuffed
chair with a good murder mystery and a cooking show on TV. The life of a single
woman. All she needed was a cat. Then Bruce found her and made himself at home
in the crook of her legs.

“Right. Scratch the cat.”

* * * * *

She didn’t see Mike for two days. She spent the second
driving to the offices of one of the publishers she dealt with. She’d pitch
some new cover ideas to them for a few of the books they were planning to
release. If they didn’t take any of her ideas, they’d move on to the next indie
or go in-house. Publishing was a changing business. Some days the tide was in,
some days the tide was out. Which was one of the reasons Aubrey worked with a
lot of smaller indie publishers. Indies were more open to other indies.

It was a three-and-a-half-hour drive to the city and she had
a lot of time to relive their time in the basement. She also had a lot of time
to wonder where he’d been.

A text came through from Bradlee just as she reached the
offices of Checkered Horse Books. It only said CALL ME, so she switched off the
phone and figured she’d call her later.

She gave the receptionist her name but she’d no sooner sat
with her portfolio—she still liked to bring full-sized shots with her, not just
digital examples—then Gail Franken was waving her in.

“I’ve been waiting to see you. How was your terribly hard
summer? Living with the ordeal of shooting pictures of gorgeous men?” She waved
a coffee cup at Aubrey and Aubrey nodded.

“Yes, please. Two sugars, no cream. And to answer your
question it was terribly hard.” Then she laughed. “Living by the lake, soaking
in the sun and photographing buff men is a hard way to make a living, but I
soldier on.”

Gail handed her the mug and sat. “But you went because of a
breakup, right? Did the men of the lake help you get over it?”

“Yes and yes.” Aubrey took a tentative sip of coffee. Too
hot just yet. She set it down. “But not the way you mean. It was a nice getaway
and I got to shoot a lot more than just men. But I didn’t…dally with any of
them.” She snorted.

“Ah, dally. Such a refined word.” Gail sat back, putting her
feet on her overcrowded desk. “Were you disappointed?”

“No.” It was the truth.

“Seeing anyone now?” Gail waved a wedding set at Aubrey.
“Forgive me my nosiness. We old married types often live vicariously through
you fascinating singles.”

Aubrey laughed. “I’m hardly fascinating. And no. I’m not.
Not really.” She unzipped her portfolio, trying to shut off this line of
questioning.

“Right. I’m sorry to pry.” Gail sat up straight and tapped
her desk. “What yummy goodies have you brought to show me this time?”

Aubrey took a deep breath, relieved to be past the girly
gossip. It was true that she and Gail usually shared some fun and pleasantries
at first. But it was also true that she was so baffled—and yes, somewhat
hurt—by what was going on, or actually wasn’t going on, with her and Mike that
she just wanted to skip it.

“I have some photos to show you. This is Brad. This is Dale.
This is—”

Gail snagged a picture from the fanned out prints and said,
“But who is this?”

Damn it and double damn it
. As soon as she saw the
ragged cuff of one jean leg and the work boot she didn’t need to see any more
to know that the woman had plucked Mike out of the pile. “That is Mike,” Aubrey
said, keeping her voice nice and even. “He actually lives next door to me.”

Gail gaped at her. “Next door?”

“Yes.”

“As in neighbor?”

Aubrey tried to laugh. “I do believe that’s what it means.”

“Holy moley! Did you win the Lotto in Heaven or something?”

“He’s nice-looking, right?”

“He’s perfect,” Gail said, dragging her gaze back down to
the shot. “He’s manly without being beefcakey. Buff without being overgrown.
Hot without being too pretty. And he’s not fourteen years old! He’s a man!”

Aubrey couldn’t help but laugh. “I take it that means you
wouldn’t mind seeing him on a Checkered Horse cover?”

“One or…seven. You know, I’m easy.” She winked at Aubrey.
“And you, lucky thing, living next door to him. How do you keep your hands off?
A single, pretty woman like you.”

I don’t…

“Not easy, but you know, we’re neighbors. Things could get
sticky. The next book I think you were interested in was—”

“
City Lights, Broken Hearts
. I think he’d be perfect
for it. Maybe black and white. But you know,“ Gail waved her hand dismissively,
“you don’t need me weighing in. You know what you’re doing and you always do
great for us. It’s why we’re always so happy to work with you. Can I get you
lunch? We were just about to order. I can tell you all the office gossip and
you can tell me some more about your amazingly buff, extremely hot neighbor.”

Aubrey opened her mouth to decline and realized, sadly, that
she had no real reason to. Nothing to rush back home for. Nothing that was so
pressing she couldn’t spend an hour or two shooting the shit, gossiping and
eating a decadent sub from the local sub joint.

“Sure,” she said. “Why not?”

* * * * *

“Hey there, stranger.”

Aubrey jumped and nearly dropped her paper in the grass
along with the coffee cup she was clutching. She hadn’t heard him sneak up.
Weren’t roofers gone by this hour of the morning?

When she glanced up at Mike, he looked tired. Not just
tired. He made tired look good. What he looked was damn fucking drained. His
tan seemed to have faded a bit and dark circles had taken up residence beneath
his bright eyes. Which weren’t looking so bright, now that she thought about
it.

Concern overshadowed any other feeling she might have for
him at the moment. “Are you okay?” She stood, closing her robe where it had
fallen open. His eyes had danced briefly over her cleavage. She had a mole just
above her right breast and she felt his gaze as strongly as if he’d run his
tongue over it. The phantom sensation forced a shiver to skip up her spine.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” she said, smiling. “Can I buy you
a coffee?”

“I can’t—” But then he shook his head, looked at his watch
and said, “I mean, sure. Why not? I’m a cheap date.” He grinned and it was so
much less than his normal smile that her concern dropped to a cold, low-level
fear.

“Come on in,” Aubrey said, leading the way. “You look like a
man who could use a double shot of java in his java.” She was supremely aware
of him being right behind her as she walked. She wondered if he was watching
her ass. And found that she hoped he was.