Rock Me, Page 3

  “It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed. “Thank you so much.”

  “You’re most welcome.” He lightly smeared it with some kind of ointment, and she bit her lip on a sigh. That touch of his was driving her out of her mind.

  “Did that hurt?” he asked, and she glanced up to see him looking at her with his brow creased.

  “No, it’s fine.” It did hurt, actually, but nowhere near the way he thought.

  He put a bandage over it, then reached in a nearby drawer to pull out a sheet of paper with aftercare instructions. “Quick overview. Wait at least two hours before you take the bandage off, then wash it with antibacterial soap. Generic is fine. No Neosporin, but coat it with Bacitracin. Keep it thin. No baths or swimming or hot tubs for two weeks at least. And, I’m just saying, if the lucky guy happens to come along in that time, be creative. You don’t want any persistent rubbing and you damn sure don’t want anyone else’s sweat on it until it’s healed.”

  She blushed fast and furious, stopping short of blurting out that that definitely wouldn’t be a problem. “Got it.” She took the paper from him and folded it in half, hoping he didn’t notice if her cheeks were as red as they felt. But he had busied himself with cleaning up. She slid off the table and buttoned her jeans as fast as she could while his back was turned. All the while three little words kept playing in her head: I did it! I did it!

  Man, she could see how this could become addictive.

  “So what do you want next?” Brian asked with a grin. He closed the last cabinet and turned to face her, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. At that moment, with his dark eyes twinkling at her, she wanted to maul him. She’d never really noticed before that he had dimples. They took the edge off what ordinarily was a fairly intimidating appearance. How could a guy who smiled like that be in any way bad for you?

  But she bet even a guy with dimples would have no qualms about planting her back hard against the wall and…

  “Are you reading my mind?” she asked. Oh, wow. That had sounded way too flirty for her own ears. “I was just thinking it could be addictive.”

  “No need to read minds, you’ve got the look. And I know how it feels. How do you think I ended up like this?” He tugged up one sleeve, flashing a precious glimpse at his artwork.

  “I love your tattoos,” she said, a moment of boldness sweeping her away. “And your piercings too. It’s a shame you took them out.”

  Was that a darkening in his expression? Suddenly, there seemed to be a shift in the air between them, and chill bumps skittered up her spine. She promptly hugged herself.

  “Oh, they’ll be back ASAFP, I promise you that.” His voice was warm and smooth as a caress, refueling the mini-fantasy she’d indulged as she’d been lying on that table. If her blush had receded at all, it resurged full force. He’d stripped off his black gloves and she couldn’t resist staring at his long, tapered fingers resting on his arm. Now if he touched her, it would be nothing but flesh against flesh…hers soft and yielding, his hard and demanding…

  She had to stop this. Now. Taking a breath, she reached for her purse and withdrew her wallet. “Um, how much do I owe you?”

  He shook his head. “Happy birthday, sunshine.”

  “Brian, no. I came barging in here and dragged you out and probably made you late, so there’s no way I’m not—”

  He held a finger in front of his lips. “Shhh. No arguing. Would you throw a gift back in my face? Nope. So there you go.”

  “But…” She fumbled around with logic and finally gave up. “Oh, all right. I guess if you insist.”

  “I do.”

  She put her wallet back in her purse. They were silent for a moment, awkwardness like a third party in the room. She wanted to hug him, ask him if she could do anything for him. Maybe make him dinner one night or…something. Would that be too much like asking him out? Crap. It would.

  “So, um…thanks again.”

  He pushed himself away from the counter, blinking as if some spell over him had been broken. “Hey, sure thing. Let me walk you out.”

  They emerged to a roomful of laughter, where Brian’s employees and their clients were fully engaged in a very loud, very boisterous conversation about funny names for sexual positions. Incredibly, Macy was laughing along with them from her spot in the waiting area as she fiddled with her iPhone.

  “…then there’s the Dutch Rudder, like the dude was talking about in Zack and Miri Make a Porno.”

  “That movie was friggin’ hilarious.”

  “Haven’t seen it. What’s the Dutch Rudder?”

  “Aw, man, it’s when someone else holds your arm and moves it for you while you’re—”

  “Hey,” Brian interrupted. “Ladies on the floor. Last thing I need is fucking sexual harassment issues.”

  “Nobody’s getting harassed in here, boss.” The bald, goateed guy, who was now in such a jovial mood, looked at Candace. “Are you harassed?”

  She laughed. “Not me.”

  He looked at a cute girl with a blue pixie cut Candace hadn’t seen before. She was perched at the computer behind the counter. “Are you harassed, Janelle?”

  “Disgustedly intrigued, maybe, but not harassed,” she said with a grin, not taking her eyes off the flat screen monitor.

  “Yeah, well, offended is enough to get my ass in hot water, and my brother’s a lawyer, so don’t argue with that. You guys save it for the bedroom.” Brian gave Candace’s shoulder a squeeze as he moved out from behind her, and she swore the warmth of his touch lingered as surely as the burning low down on her abdomen from her new tattoo. She missed his presence immediately.

  “Or not,” Janelle said in horror as he joined her behind the counter. “You should have heard some of the stuff they were saying.”

  “I can imagine.” He glanced at Candace and motioned her over. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Janelle was sizing her up a bit as she approached. Brian plucked a business card from the holder and scribbled something on the back of it before sliding it across the countertop to her. “That’s my cell number. I’m sure you won’t have any problems, but if you do, hit me up if I’m not here.”

  “Oh, thanks.” She’d guard that little rectangle with her life. Giving in to a wild impulse, she picked up the pen he’d just laid down and scribbled her own number on the flap of an open envelope lying between them. Hopefully it wasn’t anything important. “And, um, there’s mine, just…um, just ’cause.”

  Without daring to look at him, she dropped the pen on the table and all but ran over to the waiting area. Crap. What had she done?

  Macy stood, shouldering the strap of her purse. “So? How was it?” she murmured.

  “It was…awesome.”

  A frown marred her friend’s features as she seemed to study Candace from her hairline to her toes. “You did only get a tattoo, right? Nothing else you need to share with me?”

  “Oh, please. Come on.”

  The argument over what constituted “offensive” continued to rage as Candace glanced over at Brian again, finding that his gaze was following her despite whatever he was currently saying. She’d somehow known it was, but the confirmation caused her heart to freefall into the pit of her stomach. It decided to stay there and rattle around weakly at the sight of him holding a white slip of paper in his hand, torn from the envelope she’d scribbled her number on in a fit of insanity. He smiled at her as he pulled out his wallet and stuck it in there.

  No shoving it in his pocket to be lost in the wash, she thought. He’s protecting it.

  Along with a dozen others, probably. Stupid girl.

  Mr. Goatee wouldn’t give it up. “I’m just sayin’, man. ‘Offensive’ is a relative term. For instance, I get more offended watching Skinemax than I do watching a porn star get plowed. That softcore shit is utterly offensive to me.”

  As they were stepping out the door, she heard Brian’s deep, rich voice one last time, speaking to his employee. “Shut up before I make you per
form the Angry Cobra.” The door swung shut on the howls of laughter that followed.

  “Those guys are sick,” Macy observed.

  “I think they’re hilarious.”

  “Then you’re sick too.”

  Chapter Three

  Brian needed a cigarette in the worst way.

  It was habit: he walked out of the parlor after work, he reached in his pocket, he pulled out his smokes, and he lit up on the way to his truck. That’s the way it was supposed to go when all was right with the world. Now all his questing fingers found in his pocket was a flattened pack of Doublemint.

  “Fuck me,” he muttered, confronted with the thought of facing the family unit with no nicotine. He unwrapped a piece and popped it in his mouth, chomping in aggravation. Normally he chewed gum only when he was slinging ink. Mellowed him out, helped him concentrate, because he was usually fiendin’ for his next smoke. But now he needed it all the damn time. He could break down and go for the Nicorette, but if he couldn’t lay down the nicotine by sheer power of will alone, then to hell with it. He would smoke.

  This time, though, he was determined. Thirty would be knocking on his door soon. He didn’t want to meet fifty on a respirator.

  Waving goodnight to another one of his artists who was leaving, he hopped in his truck and plucked his cell phone from the cup holder. It wasn’t much of a surprise to see he had six missed calls, but he grumbled all the same. One number he didn’t recognize, and his heart gave a little kick. Candace? Already? He pushed himself up so he could dig his wallet out of his back pocket and check the number. Nope. Damn. He took a minute to enter her into his contacts.

  Until that moment, he hadn’t fully realized how eager he was to hear from her. It made him feel a bit like a dirty bastard. But it also set his blood racing, especially after having his hands all over her flawless, tan flesh just a half-hour ago…giving her something she would carry with her for the rest of her life.

  Ordinarily, he wasn’t one to get revved up by his clients. He was all business. But his cock apparently wasn’t privy to that fact. He was still sporting a semi, and the tugging weight of his barbell was not helping matters in that area.

  He could still visualize her big blue eyes staring anxiously up at him. Sweet, beautiful Candace, trusting him for her first experience under the needle. Damn, but for a minute there, he could’ve sworn she was turned on, all bright-eyed and flushed cherry red. Some people did find the experience highly sensual. He was used to girls slipping him their numbers after he worked on them, but she was the only one to whom he’d slipped his first.

  Being “all business” hadn’t stopped him from wanting to strip off his gloves to determine whether her skin was as smooth as it looked.

  He sighed when he checked his other missed calls, the fog of euphoria receding as if a gust of wind chased it out. Two were from his brother. Three were from his sister-in-law. Both Evan and Kelsey were no doubt ready to ride his ass because he was late. Jesus, he was only running fifteen or so minutes behind. It was probably a personal record. Since Kelsey was definitely the lesser of two evils, he called her as he cranked up and sped out of the parking lot.

  “Brian, are you coming?” was her greeting. But at least she didn’t sound pissed, only worried.

  “Yeah, I got tied up at work. I’m on my way.”

  “Whew. I tried to call you there, but they said you were busy. You don’t take your phone in?”

  “Nope. Too distracting.”

  She laughed. “I guess so. Okay. Don’t worry, no one else has made it yet, either. You’ll probably be the first one here.”

  “For real? That’s a first. I’m becoming more responsible all the time.”

  “They’re all on their way. Gabby hit traffic and it threw her off about a half-hour. Not sure what’s holding up your mom and dad.”

  “With those two, you probably don’t want to know.”

  “Um, yeah. You’re probably right. Anyway, I’m glad you’re on your way. Evan is grumbling. He’s feeling unappreciated.”

  “Aw, well, tell him welcome to my world.”

  “I appreciate you! I need to come in and have my belly button re-pierced.”

  Kelsey had let the original piercing he’d given her grow up while she was pregnant. “I can’t believe you didn’t use retainers. I gave them to you so I wouldn’t have to torture you again.”

  “Oh, it’s not so bad. I didn’t think I’d care about having it anymore, but I miss it. Now my stomach looks…plain.”

  “You don’t have to tell me.” He felt like a freak without his brow rings. Damn conservative family.

  That was something else about Candace, he thought as he hung up with Kelsey. She’d had her streak of “rebellion” tonight, but at her core? She really would fit right in with his relatives. Regardless, he didn’t feel the need to be all uptight around her, or hide who he was. Michelle had tried to turn him into her fucking pet project, tried to mold him into Mr. Nice Boyfriend. Candace had always looked at him and seen him, not what she wished he would be. He could zero in on that quality in a person within the first five minutes of knowing them.

  Damn. It had been good to see her. He was definitely glad he’d gotten her number. Now, if only he had a legitimate excuse to call her. His fascinated gonads weren’t enough.

  Kelsey cracked open the front door ten minutes later with her index finger pressed to her lips, presumably so he wouldn’t stomp in and start banging on pots to wake the baby. He stepped in past her and spied his brother kicked back in the recliner, sound asleep with three-month-old Alex snoozing in the crook of his arm.

  “Isn’t that sweet?” Kelsey whispered, positively glowing as she eased the door shut behind him.

  “That’s just…precious.”

  She smacked his arm. “Oh, you. I’ve waited a long time to see that sight.”

  Poor girl should’ve seen it long ago. It’d taken them ten years to get their shit together. Which only proved Evan, smart as he was, could be an absolute moron sometimes.

  Brian was happy for them, even if it meant he had to watch them moon all over each other every time he came around. His nephew was a really cute kid, though. He looked forward to imparting all sorts of useless knowledge to him as the years passed.

  “I can’t wait for the right girl to get her hands on you, Bri. It’s going to be so much fun to watch.”

  He scoffed and followed Kelsey into the kitchen, where some heavenly aromas were drifting from the oven and the stove. “If you think you’ll ever see me domesticated, think again. And tell me that’s shrimp manicotti I smell. Holy crap.”

  “It is. Evan’s favorite.”

  “Mine too.”

  “Great!” Kelsey grabbed a Monster out of the fridge and slid it toward him. It was something else he needed to cut back on, but what the hell. He could only deal with exorcising one vice at a time. “I swiped your mom’s recipe, but I bet it won’t be as good as hers. And don’t change the subject. I’ll see you domesticated.” She flashed him a maddening grin. “It’s only a matter of time. I’m totally going to say ‘I told you so’. Get ready.”

  He perched on a barstool and popped the tab, fidgeting because her words were hitting too close to home given the thoughts he’d been entertaining about a certain blonde. Thoughts he had no business allowing to take hold. It actually occurred to him that maybe he should have invited her. The whole evening would’ve been far less excruciating.

  But how weird would that have been?

  Their voices must’ve roused Evan, who ambled into the kitchen with Alex still sleeping in his arms.

  “Look at that old bastard,” Brian exclaimed. “Can’t even stay awake for his own birthday party.”

  As was becoming more commonplace of late, Evan ignored him. “You shouldn’t have let me fall asleep,” he said to his wife, planting a kiss on her forehead as she took the baby from him. Alex’s tuft of black hair was sticking straight up. It was friggin’ adorable. He lifted his head from his
mom’s shoulder and looked around with big, dark eyes, then gave a drowsy yawn.

  “But you two looked so comfortable,” Kelsey said. “And we didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “Spare me, please,” Brian muttered.

  Kelsey rolled her eyes toward him. “Because of the baby.”

  “Whatever. Hey, Ev, you wrecked our plan,” he said, trying again. “We were all going to gather around you and marvel at the rampant cuteness all night.”

  Evan laughed in the middle of a yawn and stretch. “Sorry to spoil the fun. Should’ve taken a picture.”

  Kelsey winked at Brian and grabbed the digital camera off the kitchen island with her free hand, brandishing it at Evan. “Oh, I did. Several in fact.”

  He shook his head at the ceiling. “Of course you did. You’re deadly with that thing.”

  “I can’t help myself.”

  Evan looked at Brian. “I think Alex’s every living moment since birth has been recorded or documented in some capacity. Poor kid, we’ll have plenty to torture him with when he’s sixteen.”

  “As if having you for a dad won’t be torture enough.”

  Evan sent him a withering look as Kelsey gasped and spoke to Alex in mock indignation. “Did you hear Uncle Brian? He’s saying mean things about your daddy.” She smothered the baby’s face with kisses.

  Oh, sweet Jesus. Here comes the baby talk. It was on the tip of Brian’s tongue to say he was going to step out for a smoke. And then he remembered. Fuck.

  You could still use it as an excuse, he thought. He hadn’t told anyone he’d quit so he wouldn’t have anyone except himself to answer to in case he failed.

  “Brian, you look great,” Kelsey said suddenly. That brought his head up. “Really.”

  “Hey,” Evan chimed in. “You could almost pass for normal.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” Brian grumbled, tugging at his long sleeves. Goddamn, but he needed a cigarette. He shouldn’t have let himself think about it a minute ago. He could practically feel the shape of the cylinder on his tongue. He could taste it. Could feel his lungs expanding with sweet, soothing, blissful…