A Good Time Page 6

  “That was a sudden, but I’m guessing well-timed, escape.”

  Indy bit her lower lip on a smile. “Quinn hasn’t told my dad yet about the wedding ceremony. She has to tell him they’re doing it in a Catholic church.”

  “That’s fightworthy?”

  “We were raised Baptist. Neither of us is a churchgoer or even religious. The Catholic thing is important to Ryan.”

  “Important to Eileen,” Griffin corrected. “He’s keeping his mom happy.”

  “How sweet,” Kate said. “Who’s going to get the rest of the dishes?”

  Griffin pointed to the counter. “Got ’em. Give me a towel. I’ll dry.”

  They joked and chatted over the dirty dishes. The conversation in the living room was strained but quiet.

  Indy handed him the last dish. “You know, you didn’t have to stay for this. You did your duty as best man. No one would blame you for leaving.”

  “I don’t have any place to be.”

  Kate pulled the plug in the drain. “Well, I do. I’d like to see my kids before bed, so I’m heading out.”

  Indy kissed her cheek. “Lunch tomorrow to finalize the shower stuff?”

  “Sure. Call me.” Kate looked at Indy and then at Griffin, suspicion clouding her eyes.

  He bent and kissed her cheek. “It was good to see you again, as always.”

  “Mmm-mmm. You two be good.”

  “You didn’t tell me what the two of you were huddled over the sink whispering about,” Griffin said after Kate left.

  “Kate accused me of having something going on with you and not telling her. I told her we’d become friends.”

  “Did she roll her eyes at you too?”

  “Kate likes to think she’s too mature for that, but I got the equivalent. Her response was, ‘Quinn and Ryan were friends too.’ ”

  Griffin thought of the months Quinn and Ryan danced around each other, claiming friendship when they were both in love.

  “Do you know any reputable movers?”

  Her question caught him off-guard. “Huh?”

  “Movers—do you know any?”

  “Offhand, no. Why?”

  “Quinn and Ryan are closing on their house days before the wedding. I’m thinking about getting movers to do everything while they’re on their honeymoon.”

  He reached in the fridge for a beer. He held a bottle out to Indy, but she shook her head.

  “Let me ask around.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  Quinn came into the kitchen and eyed them suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

  “Dishes.” Griffin pointed to the towel on his shoulder.

  “Did Ryan survive?” Indy asked.

  “Yes, no thanks to the two of you. They’re out there now talking about fishing.”

  “Ryan doesn’t fish,” Griffin told them. He gulped his beer and planned his exit.

  “He told Dad he was thinking of taking it up as a hobby.”

  “You’re marrying a smart man, sis. We should all get so lucky.” Indy stretched and arched her back. “I’m beat. I’m going home.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” he offered. He finished his beer while Indy went to get her bag.

  Quinn wrapped up sliced cake. “Here. Take some home.”

  “No, thanks. It was definitely the best cake I’ve ever had, but I don’t eat dessert.”

  Indy returned. “I’ll take his, since he ate half of mine. Besides, you can never have too much cake.”

  Quinn handed Indy a plate loaded with two chunks of cake. Griffin had the urge to sit and watch her eat it.

  Indy held the plate in his direction. “Will you please carry this for a minute while I say good-bye?”

  Cake in hand, Griffin followed. He said a polite good-bye to Lydia, who then embraced Indy in a hard hug and whispered in her ear. He waited patiently for her to go to Walt.

  “Good night, Dad. Have a safe trip home.” Again she kissed his cheek.

  “It’s about time you were with a man who has a head on his shoulders. This one doesn’t seem like a waste of time and life.” He hitched his chin in Griffin’s direction.

  “Dad, Griffin’s—”

  Griffin reached around her to shake Walt’s hand. “Good to meet you, Walt. We’ll see you at the wedding.”

  In the elevator, Indy took the cake back. “You didn’t have to do that. I never intended for my father to think we were a couple.”

  “No problem. It seemed to make him happy.”

  “Yeah, that’ll last. He’ll suddenly remember which daughter he was talking to.” The corners of her mouth pulled down, and they got off the elevator.

  He didn’t know what to say. No words of comfort would erase the pain. “Why is he so hard on you?”

  The low, humorless chuckle didn’t fit her. “So many reasons. I was a wild teenager. Big surprise, right? Then I went to the city for college to get away from him. I’m not married with a pack of kids.” She sighed. “But he’ll never forgive me for taking Quinn away from him.”

  They walked out to the street. “She doesn’t look like a hostage to me.”

  “She would’ve been. She was seventeen when our mom died. She spent the next year doing everything for Dad while he poured himself into a bottle. She’d already applied to college here and had scholarship money waiting. Quinn is scary smart, but she was going to walk away from that to take care of Dad. One day, I drove home, packed her stuff into my car, and brought her to Chicago.”

  “It’s been what, twelve years?” He stepped closer to her.

  “Dad’s good at grudges.”

  “She could’ve gone back at any time.”

  “But it’s my fault. If I had never shown her the world outside Hooperville, she would’ve been happy there forever.”

  “You think so?”

  “No, but it’s what he thinks. She would’ve grown old and bitter. Luckily we have Lydia to keep an eye on him, or he probably would’ve moved in with Quinn.”

  He looked up and down the street. “Where’s your car?”

  She sighed again. “In the shop. Something’s wrong with the transmission.”

  “How are you getting home?”

  “Same way I got here—public transportation.”

  “You’re taking the bus?” Somehow, he couldn’t picture her standing at a bus stop and clambering up the steps, pushing into the crowd.

  “Yes, I’m taking the bus. What’s so funny?”

  “How many times on your trip did a guy try to pick you up?” That he could imagine, especially with her bar uniform on.

  She shrugged. “No more than when I’m at work. The unwashed masses are not as bad as you picture them.”

  “Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

  “Not necessary. I don’t mind taking the bus, and my apartment is out of your way.”

  “Come on. By the time the bus shows, I’ll have you halfway home.”

  They walked to his car in silence.

  “What, no Jag tonight?” she asked, approaching the SUV.

  “Sorry, I came from the office.”

  Indy opened the rear passenger door and carefully placed the cake on the floor. She closed the door and leaned against it. “Thank you for tonight. You were an excellent distraction.”

  She smiled up at him, golden eyes reflecting the streetlights. On impulse, he lowered his lips to hers. Her heady scent grabbed him, and he pressed her against the car.

  She tasted even better than he imagined. He expected light and breezy but found her spicy and secretive. He braced his hands on the car behind her, trapping her with his body and preventing himself from grabbing her. His fingers wanted to tangle in her long hair.

  He pulled back before he could want more.

  “Wow. What was that for?” she asked with a smile.

  “It’ll keep your dad happy.”

  “It’d make sense if he were watching, but we’re down the block and around the corner, and they’re on the fifth floor. He c
an’t possibly see us.”

  He gave a careless glance over his shoulder. “Huh, I guess you’re right.”

  She laughed lightly. “Thanks. It’s been much too long since I’ve been kissed like that.”

  He raised his eyebrows. Her comment said a lot about her previous lover. His eyes went back to her mouth. How could a man look at those lips and not want to taste? He opened the passenger door for her to get in before he forgot himself.

  He drove to the expressway before speaking again. “Where to?”

  “Get off at Division.”

  He bit back a comment about her living in a crappy neighborhood. According to the mayor, much of the area was being re-gentrified.

  As he drove down the off-ramp, he checked out the area. It was crappy. They traveled south to Division, and then headed east. The neighborhood didn’t look any better. Abandoned buildings tagged with graffiti, panhandlers on the corner. Her neighborhood could compete with the ones his students came from.

  “Turn right at the light. Left at the first street.”

  The turn down the side street made a difference. The neighborhood consisted of mostly two- or three-flats, the buildings varying only in the color of brick. Each had a postage stamp–sized front lawn, neatly trimmed. Some went the extra step and planted flowers around trees and in decorative pots on porches.

  “Not as bad as you thought, huh?” she asked as if she’d read his mind.

  “No,” he admitted. “But it’s still surrounded by shit. You’re not on an island. Gang tags are on buildings all over.”

  She ignored his comment as if he hadn’t spoken. “That’s me up on the right.”

  He parked in one of the few spots remaining on the narrow street. He’d never have guessed she’d live in a loud, cramped area in the city.

  “Thanks for the ride. I appreciate it.” She got out and took the cake from the back.

  He cut the ignition. “I’ll walk you in.”

  She laughed. “Believe it or not, I don’t need an escort, and regardless of what my dad thought, this wasn’t a date.”

  He got out of the car anyway and followed her up a narrow gangway between two red brick three-flats. Window air conditioners stuck out, whirring and dripping over their heads. Some windows were propped open with box fans circulating air.

  Smells of food cooking on grills and sounds of people partying in backyards echoed between the buildings.

  Indy opened the old chain link gate and pushed through to the backyard. No one was grilling there, but the yards to the left and to the right were filled with people enjoying what might be the last warm weekend before fall took over.

  “Hey, Gringa. You want a beer?” a voice called over the fence before Griffin could see who spoke.

  “No, thanks, Eddie. It’s been a long day,” Indy answered.

  Griffin stepped around the corner. A tall, tanned Hispanic man stood over the grill next door. He tipped his beer toward Griffin and smiled.

  “Are you coming?” she called.

  He followed into the first-floor apartment. The back door entered into the kitchen. The room was outdated, with cracked Formica counters and a rickety dinette. On the counter sat a collection of cows, the kind found in a country kitchen. Cows in clothes, cows stretched into funny poses. They seemed completely out of character for Indy Adams, businesswoman, but fit Indy the bar waitress.

  A long hall ran the length of the apartment, connecting the kitchen to the living room. Two doors opened on the left, one on the right.

  Indy went into the first door on the left, so he followed. She’d turned a bedroom into a home office. A high-end computer sat on a cheap desk.

  “As long as you’re here, I have information on a couple of houses, but they don’t look too promising.” She looked up at him and held out a few sheets of paper. “Did you want a tour?”

  If he had a tour, it would lead to her bedroom. He took the pages from her. “No, thanks. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

  He walked back to the kitchen and she took the lead to the door. Before she could open it, he turned her around and kissed her again. Slow and hot, his tongue tangled with hers. When he pulled away, the papers in his hand were crumpled and his dick was rock hard.

  “Good night.” She sounded as breathless as he felt.

  He leaned in again. “Find me a house soon so we can continue this.”

  She smiled against his lips. “I’m trying.”

  “How about we worry about the house later? I want to get you out of these clothes.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “No.”

  He stepped back again, opening the door as he did, and raked his eyes over her. “Those are really ugly clothes.”

  Her laughter echoed across the yards.

  “See you later, Indy.”

  “Bye.”

  Walking back to his car, he thought of the fun he could have with chocolate cake and Indy’s naked body.

  Chapter 4

  Another restless night was going to do her in. She didn’t know which was worse, being emotionally drained or being so turned on that sleep escaped. After Griffin’s steamy kisses last night, she had a hard time turning her brain and her hormones off. He moved way beyond flirting and she didn’t know how to react. She needed to sell him a house.

  She checked the clock on her dashboard as she parked beside the house. She was on time, even with getting her car from the shop, but Griffin was early. Again. Every time she tried to be extraprofessional, he ruined it.

  He climbed from his car after she parked.

  “Hi,” she said, trying not to sound breathless. One look at him and her mind strayed back to his lips on hers. “Thanks for coming here. I know you said you wanted a remodel, but this house might work.”

  She hoped it would. Finding the perfect house for him was difficult enough. Finding one to renovate was near impossible. She strode up the front steps and opened the door.

  “As you can see, the front door opens to a beautiful staircase leading to the second floor. To the right you have the den, to the left the formal dining room, and behind that the kitchen. Would you like to start up or down?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “I’ll wander around on my own.”

  “Fine.” She leaned against the cherry banister and waited for him to walk toward the kitchen. She actually wanted to see this house. Since he started downstairs, she went up to investigate.

  She’d always dreamed of living in a house like this when she was growing up. One of the bedrooms had a huge bay window with a built-in seat, begging for a teenage girl to curl up and write in her diary. The soft, cushiony carpet squished under her feet. She kicked off her heels and dug her toes into the shag.

  Completely unprofessional, but it felt good.

  The master bedroom had double doors and two closets—his and hers. The bathroom had two sinks made of flawless black marble. The tub looked big enough to swim in. She sighed, knowing she’d never be able to afford the luxuries this house offered.

  Indy headed back toward the stairs, assuming Griffin would be on his way up. She paused at the top and peered over the rail. He leaned against the newel post, typing again. Her heart sank.

  She liked this house. She’d hoped it’d be the one. Beyond the money it would bring in for her, she’d thought, far back in her mind, that if Griffin owned it, she’d be able to visit it on occasion.

  She started down. “Not for you, huh?”

  He looked up and over his shoulder with a sexy smile. “I don’t think so.”

  Trying not to show her disappointment, she headed down the stairs.

  “Why do you look sad?”

  She shrugged. “I like this one. I know it’s not exactly what you wanted, but part of me hoped . . .”

  “Hoped what?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head. “You sure you don’t want to check out the bedrooms?”

  He raised his eyebrows, and she realized it sounded like an invitation. She’d never had to
worry about screening her words as much as she did with him. Maybe it was her subconscious telling her something.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Do I?” he asked, taking a step up and closer to her.

  Her heart ticked up a notch. He smelled of soap and man. Her hormones responded like they had last night, which was supposed to be unacceptable. “Yes. We’ve been over this. I don’t sleep with clients.”

  Not that she’d ever had a client who could turn her on like Griffin did.

  “I know what your voice said, but the rest of your body told me a different story.” He leaned in, and she stepped back.

  The wood rail bit into her spine. She couldn’t lie. Her body reacted to him at every glance. She’d been fighting to keep it in check, but he kept pushing.

  Griffin ran a finger down the pearl buttons of her blouse. “Not as bad as the clothes you wore yesterday during dinner, but not nearly as sexy as the barmaid outfit.”

  Her breath caught, and she halfway wanted him to flick the buttons open. She couldn’t tell him to stop. Her voice wouldn’t work. Because I want this.

  “I seem to remember your promising to wear it next time you showed me a house.”

  “I . . . I forgot.” She glanced to the side at the expanse of stairs. She could easily turn around. An image of gripping the rail while he lifted her skirt to have his way with her flashed in her head. Her blood raced hot.

  He pressed his body to hers. His hard-on deliciously poked her, and she ground into him. He covered her mouth with his. He sucked on her lower lip, and she trembled. God, she wanted this so bad.

  He kissed her neck and bit at her throbbing pulse. She threw her head back to give him better access and opened her eyes. She stared at the chandelier above her.

  What the hell was she thinking? She was in someone else’s house. Thinking about fucking on their staircase. This was beyond unprofessional. If anyone found out, not only would she not get bigger clients, she’d be fired.

  With a burst of resolve, she pushed Griffin away from her. He looked bewildered. Breath puffed heavily from his chest.

  “We cannot do this.” She scooted around him on the stairs and headed for the door. She held it open, waiting for him to leave.

  As he walked by, she tried not to laugh at his discomfort. Serves him right. Now they were both hot and bothered.