Sunset Flare Page 19

  He sat down on the edge of the bed, the features on his face struggling. He didn’t believe her. She couldn’t blame him. Had she even sounded an ounce convincing? For crying out loud, it was too early to talk files and parting.

  Izzy’s fingers touched his chin, forcing him to look at her. “I’m not that girl, Gunner. I don’t do relationships, dating, the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing. I never have and I likely never will.”

  He kissed her palm. “I’m not the guy who’s going to tell you to go find your happily ever after, because I’ve been burned by the woman I fell in love with...”

  Izzy didn’t like the wave of jealousy that washed over her at the mention of another woman. Not just any woman, the woman he had fallen in love with. Who was she? And what happened between them? Or to her? Was she alive or dead? More importantly, why on earth did Izzy care?

  If her fingers weren’t laced in his she’d be on the move, needing to walk or shake off the weird feelings developing inside her.

  “And I don’t believe two people are destined for each other. I guess you’d say I don’t believe in love anymore.”

  But he once had? That sounded sad, but Izzy related. She’d never had a man break her heart...except the two men she’d known as fathers.

  She forced a smile. “I promise you, Gunner, I’m good with what we’re doing. You know, the stripping, pole dancing and sex.” She purred at him and he laughed.

  “Good.” The lines of his face grew serious. “Please come down today.”

  “I’ll think about it, if you come out with me tonight.”

  “It depends how long we work or what time you’re thinking.”

  “Pick me up here at nine.”

  “I doubt that will happen, especially after Marc’s engagement last night cutting our time short.”

  She ran her hands down his chest and slipped under his shirt, running her fingers along the lines of his tight abs. “But, if you are off, you’ll pick me up at nine?”

  He moaned. “Yes.”

  “Then I will seriously consider meeting you in the basement. But if I don’t show, you can’t get all huffy and mad.”

  He frowned at her, or tried to, while her touch moved further down his abs. “You’re not going to show, are you?”

  “I feel like I need to absorb all that you told me last night before I can face more. But you can’t miss our date.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up.”

  She kicked the sheet down her body, pulling him further onto the bed and covering her naked body with his clothed one. She pulled his shirt up to his throat, their torsos touching, flesh on flesh.

  His groan of defeat lit her insides. His mouth trailed down her neck leaving sparks of fire. Izzy moaned, anticipating a morning of lovemaking like the night before. Passionate lovemaking that she would never tire of.

  “Maybe I can be a little late this morning.”

  “If you start this, it won’t be a little,” she threatened.

  “Just shut up and kiss me.”

  GUNNER SHOWERED AND dressed quickly. He couldn’t believe Izzy had pulled it off, and damn, he couldn’t think of a better way to spend his evening.

  Anton hadn’t moved from the sofa where he’d brought some files to read for the evening, defeating the entire purpose of having Marc supervise them. “Where are you off to?” he asked.

  “Supper.”

  “We can order in.”

  Gunner shrugged his coat over his shoulders, leaving the buttons undone. “Thanks, but I’m grabbing a bite to eat with Izzy.”

  Anton shook his head. “This is a dangerous game you’re playing, boy.”

  “Anton...”

  “I’ve told you before and I will tell you again, this isn’t only about you. And you’re being one selfish prick. What about the girl? You plan on taking her out in public? What if your location is compromised?”

  Gunner stilled, chills of fear cooling his body. “Did you hear something?”

  “I don’t know their every move. I’m old, and out of the loop. If you’re depending on me, you’re in for a big surprise and you know all about this girl’s type. She is the spitting image of—”

  Gunner held up his hand. “Don’t cross that line.”

  “I’m not giving you freedom to screw it all up again. If you keep down this path, it’s inevitable.”

  “I got this.”

  “Bullshit,” Anton muttered, dropping his gaze back to his book. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you and how you look at her. Makes me wonder if you disclosed your retired position in the firm she might look at you differently.” He looked up through thick-rimmed glasses. “Like the way she sees Robert. Because we all know you weren’t always considerate, kind or gentlemanly.”

  “Don’t wait up,” Gunner said.

  “Don’t be a foolish ass.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  GUNNER POUNDED HIS fist on Izzy’s door and she opened it wearing a wide I-told-you-so smile.

  “What did you do?”

  Her smile widened. “Nothing.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  She grabbed a thick black sweater and he noticed her usual bright, chic outfit missing, replaced with darkness. Black skinnies, black tank top, black heels and now a black sweater.

  “I thought we were going to a concert on the beach? We’re not breaking and entering again are we?”

  She laughed. “The beach, I promise. This is my camouflage outfit.” She tossed him a pair of keys. “Here, you can drive.” Like a morning breeze, she buzzed past him, heading to her car.

  As he started the vehicle, he said to her, “It’s probably better this way, recalling the last time you were in the driver’s seat.” She gasped and slugged his shoulder. “Getting better, Popsicle. We might have to go over some weight training to build some arm muscle.”

  She slugged him again. “You’re a jerk.” She laughed.

  In less than ten-minutes they were passing the Willow Valley town sign. It was a cute town, as much as he could tell at night. The old fashioned street lights, flowers spilling from hanging baskets and perfectly maintained streets showed the people had pride in their tourist town. Driving down the main street he noted the businesses painted coordinating warm teal, pink and yellow colors. They parked a few blocks from the main street and walked, hand-in-hand. Silly. Foolish. Gunner didn’t give it much thought but simply enjoyed lacing his fingers with her soft small hands.

  “We’re early,” she said as they rounded the block onto the main street. “Don’t be turned off by all the lame games and rides set up. This isn’t what you would call a ‘large’ commercial event.” She used her fingers for quotations that irritated him simply because the motion broke their connection.

  She spun in front of him, walking backwards and talking a mile a minute like she had ants in her pants. She was the antsiest person he’d ever encountered and he found himself thinking how adorable it was.

  “The town is all about being local and supporting local, blah, blah, blah, so the town committee has this whole lame carnival thing they set up to raise money during a multitude of events during the summer. You know, fish bowl ping pong and the balloon dart game, that sort of thing. They actually sit there and blow up the balloons after each pop.” She grinned at him. “Did I say they were lame?”

  “A couple times.”

  “Well, I sort of like them.” She laughed and he swooped in quieting her with his mouth. She moaned against him, opening her mouth and sweeping her curious tongue with his. He didn’t kiss her long, being aware of the jam-packed pedestrians passing, shouting and laughing all around them.

  When he pulled away he grinned at her. “I sort of like you.”

  She sent him a goofy smile. “Really?”

  “Yes, in that want-to-kiss-you-and-spank-you-at-the-same-time kind of way...Popsicle.”

  Her smile didn’t even falter. “I hate that nickname.”

  “I love it.”

  “You’re
weird. And for that, we’re playing every single small-town game they have to offer.” She slapped his chest. “And that’s not code for sex.” She laughed, turning her perfect little ass around and walking toward the ticket booth.

  He couldn’t help but chuckle.

  A shit load of used tickets later, Gunner decided he sort of liked these small-town carnival games, too. Simple and basic, but yet entertaining and competitive. Who would have thought Popsicle was competitive?

  With arms full of stuffed animals, they walked around the games, and through the crowds, finally stopping at a picnic table offering one empty side.

  Izzy piled her stuffed animals on the table, knocking a couple off in the process and telling the kids on the other side to keep them.

  “That was fun.” The happy smile on her face seemed to be a permanent fixture. It adjusted from the content smile while they’d walked the beach, to an ecstatic smile at the sign of excitement and a fortunate smile when she hit the jackpot of all prizes...which usually accompanied a conceited know-it-all sort of smile. Any which way she lifted her lips, they were absolutely gorgeous.

  Her confidence radiated and lit the spirits of those around her. Her laugh brought about others laughter. Her jokes, big or small, appropriate and not so appropriate, collected more positive attention than the most popular game on the beach.

  He shrugged. “Meh.”

  She elbowed his side. “Bull. You had fun. Admit it.”

  “I had fun watching you make an ass of yourself.”

  Her eyes lit up. “You were practically stealing the tickets out of my hands.”

  He laughed. “Yeah. It was okay. That looks like fun.” He nodded at a mirror house.

  Izzy shook her head. “No. One of the farmers made that and they bring it in every event. It’s dark and those mirrors are brutal inside.”

  “You’ve been in?”

  “When I was like ten and the ordeal traumatized me enough to never try it again.”

  He grabbed her hand. “Let’s try it.”

  “No. What are you, deaf? I said I’ve already tried it and—”

  A surprised sound escaped her mouth when he yanked her to her feet and started toward the mirror house.

  “You’re going to regret this.” Her fingers tried to pry his hands off, to no avail.

  “Sorry, we’re closed for the night. Empty and clear,” the lady in charge said.

  He liked the sound of that. Alone in a mirror house with Izzy.

  “They’re closed. See, we’re too late.”

  Gunner pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. “Give us twenty minutes.”

  He felt Izzy’s fingers grip his arm.

  The woman gingerly took the bill, trading him for two pairs of plastic gloves that were required to wear to keep hand prints off the glass.

  “This is the worst idea of the night,” Izzy muttered, dramatically yanking her gloves on with a huff.

  “Stay behind me and you’ll be fine.”

  “You stay behind me,” she shot back, but she made no attempt to move in front of him, lacing her fingers in his and leaning against his side instead as they made their way through the entrance.

  “Put your hands out,” she ordered before even stepping one foot inside the dimly lit house. “It’s dark in here.” Lights were sporadically placed to illuminate only a small area.

  He chuckled but his hands stayed wrapped around hers.

  “You are going to run us into something.”

  He laughed, letting her go and sticking his hands out in front of him, feeling foolish, surely looking foolish. “Better?”

  “Much.”

  The mirror house turned out to be trickier than he’d anticipated. The plus side was as each mirror blocked them, Izzy forgot a piece of her reluctance. Laughing at the warped mirrors stretching their bodies, or squishing their faces, stole a portion of her unwillingness to partake. Eventually, they both moved through the mirror house, hands extended with their laughter bouncing off their reflections as much as they did.

  When he felt the end coming near, he took Izzy in his arms and devoured her mouth with his. She reacted like she always did to his touch, withering and giving him her full attention. Her arms snaked around his neck, and a moan crawled up her chest. His hands couldn’t get enough of her. First roughly pulling their bodies together, and then taking the time to roam down her back and over her tight, round buttocks.

  Moaning in his mouth, her frisky fingers slid under his shirt, and grazed his skin before lifting the material up and giving her mouth access to his abs. She was a vixen. Somehow his back ended up against a wall her hands and mouth completely in control over his body. She could have the reins any day.

  Stepping away from him, her lips swollen from their kiss, she seductively unbuttoned her jeans and kicked off her shoes. He’d only considered a quick make-out session. But presenting her clear intent, she pushed the material down her soft, long legs, reminding him of the one time he’d wanted her to cover them up.

  Too soft. Too tempting. All his.

  He moved like a wild animal as he advanced on her, lifting her rear, and capturing her mouth as he pushed her back against the wall. She whimpered, wrapping her legs around his middle and pressing her warmth against him. Their tongues were a sea of swirling waves, their hands as untamed as a rainstorm. Wanting to strip her naked, he thought better of it considering their whereabouts, surprised he could even remember their surroundings.

  Izzy surprised him around every corner and gloom wretched inside of him knowing their time together was swiftly coming to an end.

  An abrupt end. There could never be a “them.” Luckily, for both of them, Izzy held no expectations in their time together, aware of his messy, dangerous background. He hadn’t shared details, but he wanted to. For the first time in his life, he wanted to tell her more than just things about his childhood. He wanted to discuss the wrong paths he’d chosen, the price he’d paid for them and the man he’d become—the one she knew now—because of his past. More than that, he wanted to tell her how important she’d become to him. How she’d grown on him when he’d been forced to leave everyone he’d thought had been important. He longed to tell her he couldn’t imagine a day without her laughter, smile, sarcasm and wit.

  But in the end, his life was complicated and she was a Caliendo, so he held his silence, deciding to make this mirror house a good memory. Next time she looked at it she’d smile, recalling this one moment stuck in time.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “I THINK YOU need ice.”

  “I don’t need ice—” She sucked in a breath at his touch. “Ouch, Gunner!”

  He grinned at her. “Are you sure you don’t need ice?”

  “Is it huge?”

  His eyebrows furrowed together, cringing as he examined the lump on her forehead. He traced his finger along her reddening skin where she’d flown straight into a mirror wall, splattering her body against it with such force it had sent her flying backwards. At least they’d made it a memory she wouldn’t forget. The outcome: a goose-egg on her forehead.

  “Is it really that bad?” Her hands flailed around the area, her small fingers rubbing the bump.

  Gunner shrugged. “We could go back to the mirror house so you could look at your reflection.”

  “Stop!” A partial laugh and horror sound escaped her as she leveled a look at him. “Are you having fun? Playing me like a fool?”

  “It’s red and there’s a lump.”

  She fluffed her hair so it fell over the swollen area and pulled her hat further down on her head. “That’s the last time I’m ever going in a mirror house.”

  He didn’t agree. “I think you’re forgetting the best part.”

  The wistful look she gave him told him she agreed even when her next words objected. “I can’t think past my pounding headache.” She shook her head. “That show should be starting in a bit. Do you want to head near the stage? We could find some seats on the sand and wait by the beach
until it begins.”

  “Sure.”

  Izzy staggered slightly when she stood.

  He gripped her shoulders. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Maybe she’d hit herself worse than he’d thought.

  She nodded, but winced. “Comes with bashing your head in. And once the concert begins you’ll be slamming your head around so much, you’ll get a headache.”

  He doubted it. “Maybe we should get some ice or head home.”

  “No,” she pouted.

  “Okay, how about placing a cold bottle of water on your head for fifteen minutes and I’ll agree to stay.”

  “Make it a beer at the beer tent and you have yourself a deal.” She held her hand out but pulled away as he reached for it. A torturous high-pitch scream followed her gasp and Gunner couldn’t figure out whether the sound was good or bad.

  She flew past him, forgetting her supposed throbbing head to throw her arms around a blonde-haired woman. Before she even screeched the other woman’s name, Gunner had guessed it was Abby.

  They jumped and bounced in what appeared to be a dance hug for what seemed like a lifetime. Gunner made his way over, nodding at, who he assumed was Abby’s boyfriend, Riley.

  “Oh my gosh, what are you doing here?” Izzy had obviously fully recovered from her bumped head.

  Abby pulled away, laughing. The two women looked like they could be sisters, especially today with Izzy dressed in dark tones, matching Abby’s skinny jeans and bulky black sweater.

  “Seriously? You have to ask? It’s my brother’s band playing in my hometown. I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “You didn’t call.”

  “Element of surprise, Izzy. Surprise!” She waved her hands in the air and then finally saw Gunner. “But it seems like I’m the one surprised.” She reached her hand across in a firm handshake. “I’m Abby McAdams and you are...”

  He almost laughed at the abrupt similarities of these two women.