Still Into You, Page 2

  Leila asked questions, taking notes and additional photos. She did everything she was supposed to be doing. But her mind was decidedly somewhere else. Mostly on Kade and how he kept easing in and out of her personal space, bringing with him the smell of expensive aftershave and man. He had touched her shoulder to punctuate sentences, pressed his fingertips to the small of her back to lead her in a different direction. Each time he got near her, Leila found herself heating in a way she hadn’t in a very long time.

  And she felt like absolute shit about it.

  This was not who she was. She’d only slept with and loved one man her entire life. Seth. The gorgeous man who had married her at nineteen despite the fact that it would’ve been easier for him to walk away or ask her to have an abortion. He’d been the boy who all the other pretty co-eds had drooled over, but he’d chosen her—the nerdy art student who didn’t know a mascara wand from a toilet brush. He’d been willing to give up on his dreams and youthful freedom to marry her. They’d been a team, raising the baby they hadn’t planned for, dealing with whatever life threw at them. He’d been her hero.

  Had been. Until he’d started spending more and more time at work. As his stress level and workload had gone up, the bond between them had dwindled down to a lackluster friendship. The passion had drained out of their relationship like a receding ocean tide.

  Even so, the fact that she could look at another man with lust in her heart felt like a betrayal. But she didn’t know how to stop the stirring of desire. The restlessness. Her body had been on autopilot for years, but lately it seemed like some dormant area had been prodded. Suddenly she wanted more than what she had at home. Wanted to have a man look at her like he had to have her. Wanted to feel the same urgency when she looked at him. Needed that zing that only came from true sexual energy.

  Something she, once upon a time, had with the man she loved.

  Kade touched her shoulder again, and Leila nearly jumped out of her skin. “You’ve gotten quiet. Are those design gears working?”

  A nervous laugh escaped her. “Oh, sorry. I’m picturing what color schemes would work best with the stone of the fireplace. The hearth will make a really beautiful focal point.”

  “Agreed. So beautiful.”

  She glanced up and caught him looking at her instead of the fireplace. She swallowed hard. “Uh, are you ready to show me the upstairs rooms? I mean, if you want to talk about the downstairs plans first, that’s fine. It’s just, it’s usually easier for me to give you the overall scheme at once and—”

  He touched her arm and used a tone usually reserved for skittish horses. “Leila, take a breath. There’s no need to be nervous. What happened to that confident woman who’s been selling me on her ideas over the phone these last few weeks?”

  She put her hand to her too warm forehead, wishing there was a trapdoor in the floor to suck her under. “I’m sorry, Kade. I’m not sure what’s with me tonight.”

  “If you’re worried about getting selected for the job, I can put your mind at ease. You have my business. I had already decided to hire you before tonight.”

  She lowered her hand, looking at him in surprise. “But I’ve only talked to you about a few of my ideas.”

  “And those ideas were heads and shoulders above anything anyone else sent me.” He shrugged. “You have a great eye.”

  “But then why did you call me out here tonight?”

  He ran a hand over the back of his hair, looking a little unsure of himself for the first time. “The real answer or the appropriate one?”

  Her lips went as dry as parchment. “Real.”

  “Because I wanted to see if you were going to be as beautiful and enticing in person as you sounded on the phone.” His smile was part apology, part wolfish. “Half of me was hoping you wouldn’t be because I’m having a helluva time concentrating on talking renovations right now when all I want to do is ask you out.”

  A little gasp passed her lips. She stared at him, the flowered wallpaper of the sitting room seeming to swirl and morph in the background as she attempted to make sense of what he was saying. He wanted to ask her out? She barely resisted the urge to look over her shoulder to see if he was talking to someone else. Maybe he’d been drinking.

  He gave a short laugh, his own nervousness evident. “Uh, maybe I should’ve stuck with the appropriate answer instead.”

  She closed her eyes for a second, gathering herself. “Kade, I’m . . . flattered.” And seduced and totally tempted. And a horrible, vile person. “But, I can’t. I’m married.”

  His eyes widened. “Oh, wow, I’m sorry. I got the vibe we were flirting on the phone and when I saw you weren’t wearing a ring I assumed . . .”

  Her brows knitted. “What?”

  Both she and Kade looked down to her left hand and, to her horror, she saw she hadn’t put her wedding ring back on after her shower. She never forgot her ring.

  And what had he said? She’d been flirty on the phone?

  She thought back to their many calls back and forth over the last few weeks. They’d developed a good rapport and had shared a few laughs. He’d made a few comments about how she was becoming a habit. And . . . shit, she had been flirty.

  Her blood began to pound in her ears. Had she left her ring on the edge of the sink subconsciously hoping for exactly what had happened?

  She shoved her notes in her bag, her hands going clammy. “Kade, I’m sorry. But I have to go.”

  “Oh, no,” he said, genuine remorse on his face. “This is my fault. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I really do want you for this job. I wasn’t lying about how much I love your design ideas.”

  “Maybe it would be best if—”

  “Please, Leila. Can we just start over and I’ll not be a jackass this time?” He gave her a disarming grin and lifted his palms. “I would’ve never said anything if I had known you were married.”

  She knew she was overreacting. It’s not like he’d come on to her knowing she was attached. But her own reaction had her too freaked out to continue the meeting. She wanted this job so bad she could taste it, but she needed some space to get her head back on straight and her defenses back in place. “Can we just plan to meet at my office sometime next week? We can go over my plans there.”

  In a totally businesslike environment.

  He frowned and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you’d like.”

  “And bring photos of the game room if you can,” she said, already heading back toward the front door.

  His heavier footsteps followed hers. “That’s okay. I think I’ll handle that room on my own.”

  She had no idea why he was being so weird about the game room, but she wasn’t going to hang out and question him about it. She needed out. Now. Before she totally lost her shit in front of him.

  He walked her to her car and apologized at least three more times, but she barely heard any of it. She wasn’t even sure she took a breath until she turned the corner out of his swanky neighborhood. The radio, which was still on the talk station, chattered in the background as she tried to organize the tangle of emotions rioting through her.

  How could she have let this happen?

  Her hands were slick with sweat against the wheel, and she wondered if this was what a panic attack felt like. Breathe.

  “Tonight we’re talking about the seven-year itch. Is it a myth? An excuse used to justify cheating? We’d love to hear from our listeners out there. 1-888-Doc-Love.” The voice of Dr. Dan Witter, relationship coach and popular radio personality, filtered through her panicked brain like weird background music, poking the ugly things inside her.

  She gripped the steering wheel harder and turned onto a side street, her heart still pounding. Cheating.

  The word sent her stomach into a tumble.

  She hadn’t done anything tonight. She hadn’t cheated.

  But . . . she’d wanted to.

  Tears filled her eyes and the street blurred. She pulled ove
r to the side of the road and let that realization overtake her. When had she become this person?

  Her marriage was dying a quiet death, and she had no idea how to resuscitate it. She and Seth had kids and a life together. How was she supposed to tell the man she’d fallen in love with and the father of her children that she’d gotten to this point?

  She leaned back against the headrest, letting the tears fall, and without allowing herself to think about it too much, she picked up her cell phone and dialed.

  Chapter Three

  Past midnight. Seth should’ve been tired after the balls-to-the-wall shift he’d managed at the restaurant tonight, but the fuel of going into mission mode had his body humming like he’d downed a double shot of espresso. This had to work.

  Seth slowed down and parked his car in front of the only store on the street open at this time of night. He’d been here many times for social visits, but never as a customer. The kind of stuff Leila’s younger brother, Jace, stocked at Wicked had always been a bit more advanced than Seth had ever found need for. Plus, buying sex toys and gear from your little brother was way too high on Leila’s eww scale.

  But Seth was past awkwardness right now. He needed help. Jace had never made any apologies for his choice of business and didn’t hide his proclivities for the wilder side, so he didn’t imagine Jace would get weird about Seth coming to him. The guy was about as comfortable in his own skin as anyone could be. Well, except when Jace was around his father. That was a whole other story.

  Leila had always said that if it weren’t for Jace taking up the mantle of the family fuckup, she would’ve been the one disowned when she’d gotten pregnant at nineteen by the boy with no stitch of pedigree to his name. But apparently Jace had done enough scandalous things to keep Leila off the radar—though no one had ever told Seth what the big thing was that got Jace kicked out of the house for good.

  Not that Leila had gone unscathed with her family when she’d gotten together with Seth. When Seth had asked Leila’s father permission to marry his daughter, Bill Austin had called Seth a money-hungry scrub and had accused him of getting Leila pregnant just to get access to her trust fund. The accusation had hit deep.

  Seth had already been feeling the pressure of an impending marriage and a baby on the way, knowing the cash from his part-time waiter job and the few gigs his band did would never be enough to support a family. And God knows his own family wouldn’t be able to help. His dad did well enough with his plumbing job, but he knew his parents were only a paycheck or two ahead of being broke. The only reason Seth had even been able to go to the fancy art college and rub shoulders with the likes of rich girls like Leila was because his mom was the dean’s secretary.

  So Seth had done the only thing he could think of to politely give her father a big “fuck you.” He’d dropped out of his music program and his band, switched to a business major, and had gotten a better-paying job cooking full time at the restaurant. He’d also told Bill Austin to sign the entirety of Leila’s trust fund over to their unborn child for when he or she turned twenty-one. Seth would support Leila and his child on his own.

  The move had earned a bit of her father’s respect, and her family had even let them live rent-free for five years in one of the houses they owned. But Seth hadn’t missed the raised eyebrow Bill had given him when it’d come time for the family to sell that house. Seth had had to move Leila and the kids to a much smaller place now that he was responsible for the mortgage. Leila had put on a happy face, but he knew it had been hard on her to give up what she was used to simply because he hadn’t hit the big time in his career yet.

  She’d told him on the day she married him that she didn’t need that silver spoon, that all she needed was him. That she trusted they would make a happy life together. And he’d spent the last eight years busting his ass trying to prove to her that she hadn’t made the wrong choice.

  And though he’d not yet been able to provide her with the kind of life she’d grown up with, they’d eked out a pretty decent living. He brought in enough money to allow Leila to pursue her fledgling design business. He’d even been secretly putting away cash to accumulate a down payment on the kind of house Leila really wanted. If he could just secure a promotion, the house of her dreams would be theirs.

  But now Seth wondered if what he’d done had been enough. His wife wasn’t happy. He was miserable. Maybe Leila had finally realized that she’d gotten a bum deal when she’d walked away from her lavish lifestyle just for the chance to be with him.

  No. He wouldn’t go down that path yet. That line of thought led nowhere good.

  He cut off the engine and climbed out of the car, determined to execute his plan. When faced with a problem, usually the simplest solution was the right one. His father, Mr. Pragmatic, had hammered that into him as a kid. There was no reason Seth needed to start imagining the lack of sexual heat in his marriage was anything more than the fact that he and Leila had both gotten complacent and routine.

  If anyone knew how to fix that kind of situation, it would be Jace Austin. So Seth walked into Wicked, not even pausing to admire all the beautiful erotic photography gracing the walls of the bottom level, and headed straight up the stairs where he knew he’d find his brother-in-law.

  The second floor of the building was where the actual store was located. Rows and rows of carefully chosen items to cater to almost any sexual taste. High-end lingerie, vibrators, plugs, jewelry, and a BDSM section that was so extensive Seth would need a manual to identify half the items. Looking at the inventory, it was no secret where Jace’s kink preferences fell.

  Seth looked to the far corner of the store where Jace’s office was located and headed that way. He knocked on the closed door, suddenly wondering if he should’ve called first.

  “Door’s unlocked,” Jace called.

  Seth pushed open the door to find his brother-in-law with his feet propped up on the desk and a notepad and pen in hand. The radio was squawking out of the computer speakers as Jace wrote something down. When he was done with his note, he glanced up, registering surprise at first then breaking into a smile. “Well, hey there, bro-in-law. Not who I expected to be darkening my doorway.”

  “I’m sorry, if you’re expecting someone . . .”

  Jace rocked forward, bringing his feet from the top of the desk back to the floor. “Oh, no. Not at all. I figured it was Andre coming downstairs to shoot the shit before his shift.”

  Jace lived in a renovated loft on the third floor of the building with his roommate, Andre. The ultimate bachelor pad if Seth had ever seen one. And though Leila would never confirm or deny, Seth suspected Jace and Andre weren’t just sharing rent but were sharing women. He couldn’t even imagine what that kind of freewheeling lifestyle must be like. Seth had done his fair share of wild things by the time he met Leila, but getting married at twenty-one had basically ended his bachelorhood right as it had begun. He didn’t regret his decision, but looking at guys like Jace and Andre was like observing an entirely different species.

  Jace stepped around the desk to give Seth a friendly handshake and a slap on the back. “It’s good to see you, man. Just getting off work?”

  “Yeah. Sorry to drop in so late.” Seth sank into one of the chairs opposite the desk, a bone-deep weariness settling over him as he absorbed the surroundings. Jace’s office was posh, beautifully appointed with warm woods and deep maroon accents. Jace had let Leila use it as practice when she was still getting her design business off the ground. Just seeing how well she’d done even before she really had any experience under her belt was a testament to her level of natural talent.

  “No worries. I don’t close up here for a little while still. You want a beer or something? Looks like you had a rough night.” Jace leaned over and turned the volume on his speakers down a bit.

  Seth rubbed the back of his neck, the tension coiling there like a ready-to-strike snake. “Beer would be great.”

  Jace headed to the mini-fridge in the far corn
er of the office, grabbed two bottles, and brought one back to Seth. Instead of returning to his desk chair, Jace sat on the couch he had for guests and twisted open his beer. He took a long pull, keeping his eyes on Seth, obviously waiting for him to reveal why he was here.

  “What are you listening to?” Seth asked, not quite ready to jump into the I-need-sex-advice-about-your-sister conversation.

  Jace glanced at his desk when Seth cocked his head in that direction. “Oh, that Dr. Dan radio show everyone seems to be buzzing about. His manager contacted me a few days ago to see if I’d be interested in doing a talk on spicing things up at one of the couples’ workshops he’s giving around the state. With this economy, I could use any promotion I can get for Wicked, so I’m doing my homework to see what he’s about.”

  “Mmm,” Seth said noncommittally, picking at the label on his beer. “Interesting.”

  Jace laughed. “Yeah, and you totally didn’t hear anything I said.”

  Seth winced. “I’m sorry, man.”

  “No worries. Obviously you’ve got something on your mind.” He set his beer down on the side table. “So, go ahead. Lay it on me.”

  “Right.” Seth gulped down a good portion of his beer. Might as well put it out there. “This is awkward. But I need you to forget for a few minutes that I’m married to your sister and help me out with something.”

  Jace’s brows disappeared beneath his shaggy blond hairline. “Okay . . .”

  Seth sighed as he rubbed a hand over his face. “My sex life is in the shitter. I’m only thirty-one and already feel like I’ve gone into old married couple mode. I’m not happy. Leila isn’t happy. I love her more than anything, but I think we’re growing apart because of it. And I want to figure out a way to change it.”

  The words flooded out of Seth in a rush, the relief of saying it aloud almost as potent as the shame of admitting it to someone else.