AWAKENING BEAUTY Read online

She stared at him for a heartbeat, then said, "I read a book."

  Behind them, at the back of the stage, people began cleaning up the mess, capping paint cans and collecting wood.

  Yet Tyler kept his gaze on Lane, fascinated by the gold starburst in her deep-brown eyes. He wanted to see her without glasses, but it was like a prize he'd gain after a long journey. He could wait.

  When she popped the last bite of her sub into her mouth, he reached out, a napkin curled in his fingers. She lurched back a little bit, but he kept coming, wiping the mustard off her jaw.

  When his thumb rubbed across her lip, she gripped his wrist. "Tyler."

  He twisted his hand around and caught hers. Heat pooled between them, sliding from her body in a pulse that rippled into him, then back again. His blood thickened, moving slower and hotter through his veins. For a heart-stopping moment, Tyler felt himself sinking. Her mouth was wide and plump, so damn kissable he wished they were alone. And that hungry thought surprised the hell out of him. He barely knew her. In fact, all he knew for sure was that she'd grabbed his curiosity and wouldn't let go.

  A sharp bark of laughter from somewhere behind them dissolved the moment, and Tyler eased back, collecting their trash and standing on the stage.

  He looked down at her, and then, as if even he needed a break from whatever was burning between them, he shrugged and headed to the trash cans.

  Lane looked down at the napkin in her hand, crushing it and battling with the schoolgirl-giddy feeling she always had when she was near Tyler. Okay, honest moment, she told herself. If you weren't hiding, if you hadn't had your heart smashed by Dan Jacobs and forced to keep secrets, would you want Tyler?

  She looked slowly back over her shoulder. She'd be on him like a cat on a bowl of cream, she admitted silently. Her gaze traveled up his long, jean-clad legs to his wide shoulders. He might stay in an office all day and wear suits, but he sure as heck didn't look like it. He looked delicious.

  He aimed a paper cup at the trash can and missed. Lane grinned as he bent to scoop the cup off the floor.

  Behind him a girl was gathering wood planks and just as Tyler bent, the girl swung around to answer someone and smacked Tyler on the back of the head. He staggered.

  "Tyler." Lane scrambled to her feet and shot across the stage as he folded to the ground.

  The girl dropped the wood and apologized repeatedly as Lane slid to her knees beside Tyler.

  He grabbed the back of his head, groaning. "Oh, man."

  Lane probed the already swelling lump on the back of his head. No blood. "Just as I thought," she teased. "Your head's too hard to crack open."

  "I'm wounded," he complained, turning his gaze on her. "Comfort me."

  "Poor baby." She examined his eyes. She'd lost count of the number of times there were accidents at couture shows, and she was left to revive a starving model who'd fainted. His eyes were fine. Blue as the sky.

  "Look at me, Tyler. What do you see?" She held up two fingers.

  He grabbed them. "I see a sleeping beauty."

  She rolled her eyes. "Stop flirting and answer me."

  "I'm fine. Mmm … you smell good."

  She looked up at the people gathered near. "Can you get me some ice? He's okay," she said to the girl who was in tears and clinging to her boyfriend.

  Lane looked back at Tyler and felt a relief so profound it stunned her.

  "I like you worrying over me," he said.

  "I'd worry about anyone hit on the head," she said, though she admitted only to herself that her heart had skipped a few beats when she'd seen him slump over. "You're a danger to yourself. First my car, then this?"

  Someone handed her ice wrapped in a rag and she put it to the back of his head. The rest of the crew went back to cleaning up.

  A man asked if Tyler needed a lift home.

  "I can drive," Tyler said, sitting up. "I've taken harder hits playing football."

  "You're also not eighteen and full of invincibility," she said. "Besides, you've already proved you're not the best driver."

  He shot her a look. "You're harping on that."

  "Of course," she said smugly. "I'll drive you home."

  He grinned.

  "Oh, for heaven's sake." She stood and went for her purse, checked to see that her work area was cleaned up, then returned to him.

  Tyler made a show of staggering and leaned on Lane.

  "Oh, get off, you actor," she said, pushing him, but he clung to her, his arm heavy across her shoulder. Lane absorbed him, the warmth of his body, the scent of him. He toyed with a loose strand of hair and when she glanced his way, his lazy smile said his mind was leading elsewhere. She shook her head as if to shake him out of her system and pulled away when they reached her car.

  Once inside, she started the engine, then pulled onto the street. It was deserted, a light evening rain coating the road with a glow that reflected the street lamps.

  "Where do you live?"

  He gave her directions and in minutes Lane pulled into the drive of the sprawling house. It was near the beach on the point, and she could hear the crash of waves. The wind was stronger and the scent of the sea surrounded her as she got out of the car.

  Tyler moved up beside her and shook out the rag of ice chips on the lawn, where they sparkled like diamonds in the moonlight.

  "Your home is beautiful," she said. "You live here alone?" The house had three floors – four if you counted the stilts that put the house twelve feet off the ground. That area was covered with ornate latticework to hide the garage beneath.

  He smiled. "Glad you like it." They strolled up the walk.

  "You built it, didn't you. All of it yourself."

  "Yeah. I started almost five years ago," Tyler said.

  Without invitation, Lane moved up the Federal steps to the wide, wraparound porch. Although big enough to have tables and chairs, maybe a couple of swings, it was bare of furniture. The only decor was a forgotten fern drooping in the corner.

  "It's gorgeous." The walkway and shrubbery was lit with tiny coach lanterns blending to a stone path leading off to the right and she assumed to the back of the house. What appeared to be a replica of an old carriage house was separated from the main house by a breezeway.

  "That's your workshop, isn't it?" She pointed to the carriage house.

  "Yes, it is."

  "What to do make there?"

  "I'm still doing some finishing work – mostly moldings. Want to see inside?"

  Alarms went off. Inside in that big house alone with him? Her body was screaming, Oh yes! But her brain, thank heaven, was still in charge. "Another time, maybe."

  "Come on in, Lane. Let me make some coffee."

  She sighed, eyeing him. "Tyler, we both know what you want."

  "I thought I was being subtle."

  She laughed, short and sharp. "You? I'm not stupid. You just want to take me to bed."

  He stepped closer, gazing down into her eyes. "I want to do more than take you to my bed, Lane."

  Her insides clamped, blood rushing in her veins, making her skin tingle with heat. It had been a long time, too long since a man had looked at her with such open desire. The heat of it filled her, swamping her with needs she thought she'd managed to block out. "We've only just met. Don't be foolish."

  Tyler didn't understand it, either. His body wanted this woman. His surge of testosterone was demanding he show her the fun they could have under the covers in long, slow kisses and hot sex. Desire was building to a height he'd never experienced before. He told himself it was the challenge she presented, that the harder she pushed, the harder he tried to get closer. He couldn't accept more than that and wouldn't. He was letting his body do some talking right now, but not his heart. That was staying out of the picture.

  "I can't seem to help myself around you."

  "At your age, you're blaming me for your raging hormones?" Lane said.

  His brow furrowed and he saw something in her eyes he hadn't noticed before – shadows
.

  "Take some aspirin and go to bed," she said abruptly, needing to get as far away from Tyler as possible. "I'm not getting into a relationship with you or anyone. I know I'm just a challenge to you, so please back off."

  The bite in her tone caught him off guard. "Lane, wait. That's not true."

  She moved to the steps. "Good night, Tyler."

  Before she could take the first one, he was there, grasping her upper arms and drawing her back. Her hand clutched his waist for balance, and for a moment, they just stared at each other.

  "Don't."

  "Maybe you started out as a challenge," he admitted. "But that's changed." His mouth was close, the warmth inviting her. "Come play with me."

  She made a little sound, weak and almost panicked.

  For a second she imagined herself going with him into his house, into his bed. Lying with him naked on cool sheets. Being desired and sharing more than words and a dinner out. The rush of need charging through her and clawing for that sweet moment of explosion. But it would be playing to him, nothing more. A game. Lane had been the tool of someone's game before.

  The reality of her life hung over her like a looming dragon. Dan Jacobs, the tabloids, the suspicion of Mafia ties that cloaked her family. Because the news had hit the papers a week before her spring fashion show, it had bled over to her career and ruined her. In a few days she'd gone from being the hottest designer in Europe and New York to being the joke of the trade.

  All of it kept her from having more than a casual friendship with Tyler, and even that was dangerous. She could lose too much and she liked her safe little world, wanted to keep it. That Tyler might learn the truth and bring attention to her was bad enough, but being with him longer than necessary, opening her heart to someone again, was just too big a risk.

  "I can't."

  "You can." He laid his mouth over hers.

  Lane felt the floor vanish beneath her feet, the world of sound and sight folding up around her and sweeping her into a cocoon. With his strength, Tyler kept her prisoner, his mouth moving in slow lush waves over her. Patient. Trapping her soul. His tongue skimmed her lips, then pushed between them. Her fingers dug into his waist as the world tilted.

  Mama mia, she'd forgotten that men could kiss like this.

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  «^»

  She was energy, pure kinetic energy, and with a kiss, she cooked him from the inside out. Slow and wet, the kiss turned rapidly stronger, pulling him into dark heat and evoking slick dreams of more. His imagination went crazy, thoughts of dragging her into his house, of stripping her down to her skin and making love to her in the foyer pelted him like hard rain. He wanted her right this second, and need rippled up his body in a hot charge. But he wasn't so caught up that he didn't realize one thing.

  She didn't deny herself, but she didn't surrender completely, either.

  He felt it; that she wouldn't sink into him, that she wouldn't touch him more than her mouth on his and her hand at his waist. She held herself back, and the thought of what it would be like if she didn't made him groan. He started to close his arms around her, push his hand into her hair. But she stepped back abruptly. Tyler felt as if his limbs went with her and experienced overwhelming disappointment.

  She blinked and stared. Heat poured off her in waves with her labored breath, and by the look on her face, she was just as stunned as he was.

  "No, Tyler."

  "That felt like a yes to me, darlin'." He reached for her. "Come back here."

  Her gaze searched his, quickly, briefly. "I can't do this, not with you," she said in a strained voice, then turned and hurried down the steps, then damn near ran. He'd never had a woman head for the hills like that, and he frowned at her back. Her hair had come undone, tumbling over her shoulders as she climbed into her car. Seconds later she was pulling out of the driveway. She never looked up, never looked back. He knew because he watched her.

  Tyler sagged against the porch post, raking his hand through his hair. He winced at the sore spot on the back of his skull. The pain was running a close second to the ache in the rest of him.

  The rain started up again, and Tyler fished in his pocket for his house keys and went inside. He stood in the foyer, the house echoing with emptiness. And he felt as if he'd just let something wonderful slip away.

  * * *

  Lane braked at the stoplight and dropped her head onto the cool steering wheel. Get a grip. She swallowed once, twice, but it wasn't much help. Her insides were stinging with sensations, and her heart was pounding like a jackhammer, making her body hotter than it already was. And it was boiling. Leaning back, she blew out a breath and pulled at her scarf, then opened her jacket, fanning the lapels. Then she opened the car window to let in the cool night air. To no avail.

  Her mouth was tender and swollen from his kiss. And from that one kiss, she knew she was in trouble. Tyler was imprinted on her.

  It had been the look in his eyes that really struck home. He wanted her, and he didn't seem to care that she'd intentionally made herself look unattractive. That she hid behind a bun and big glasses and wore no makeup and mud-colored oversize clothes.

  Yup, she was in real trouble. The disguise wasn't working on him. She wondered when he'd see through it completely and understand that she'd lied about everything.

  That couldn't happen. She couldn't let that happen.

  She didn't want Tyler to hate her and she had a sneaking suspicion that hiding her identity and her appearance wasn't going to go over very well with him. But there were other things to consider.

  Like Dan Jacobs. At any moment he could come rushing back into her life and open up the chest of secrets and humiliation she'd left behind when she'd changed her name and walked away from her career and family. Dan Jacobs had been paid for a story, for the exposé on her family's supposed Mafia connections. She'd intercepted a phone call at her own apartment that revealed exactly who and what he was. And why he'd seduced her. It wouldn't matter to anyone that the account books of Giovanni Wineries hadn't even hinted at money laundering. Her father had given the winery books to the FBI, she had given the agency hers, too. It had been hearsay, rumor, and it had ruined her. There was nothing to connect her family to the Mafia except a few paparazzi photos of her brother with questionable businessmen. Why her brother Angel was with those men was still a mystery to her, but regardless, Dan Jacobs would plaster lies across the papers and bring it all up again. He was that much of a snake. She'd lose her privacy. She wanted to yell at Angel for getting involved, however slightly, with the mob and not caring what it did to the rest of the family.

  In her heart she believed Angel was innocent, but she couldn't let that mess touch Tyler, either. He was a nice guy. Stubborn, hardheaded, but oh man, he oozed sex appeal. And she was falling for him.

  Damn him for kissing her, she thought, stepping on the gas and heading toward home. It made her feel more alone than ever. Because if she wanted a real life, a private life without news crews, Dan Jacobs and his exposé, she couldn't have anything more to do with a man who was newsworthy enough to bring attention right to her door.

  As much as Tyler McKay was a danger to her privacy, all she wanted was to open the door and let him in. And that scared her the most.

  * * *

  Tyler threw down his pen and, bracing his elbows on his desk, gripped his head. After two days, the lump on the back of his skull was gone, but the soreness reminded him of Lane – and kissing her. Heck, he didn't need a crack on the head to remember what her mouth felt like on his. Lush, full … earthy. Just thinking about it made his muscles tighten and his blood simmer. He groaned and leaned back in the leather chair, swinging it toward the window. Beyond the glass, he had the most spectacular view of the low country, but it didn't keep his thoughts off Lane.

  He wanted to see her.

  And he didn't want to see her.

  She was more than a puzzle, and that made her dangerous to the freedom he coveted. His
interest alone was gaining speed. He knew that under all those ugly clothes and even uglier shoes was a tigress locked in a cage. The single kiss had told him that. And the temptation to see if he had the key was killing him.

  But she wouldn't let him near again. She'd kept him at arm's length since their first meeting, made it clear that she'd wanted to be left alone. It was why she wanted to be left alone that intrigued him. He'd never met a woman who tried so hard not to be noticed.

  Unlike his ex-fiancée, Clarice, who had wanted the world to see her and made a show of her entrance into a room just to get attention. Over the past two years, Tyler had asked himself what had made him propose marriage to Clarice. She'd had beauty and grace and had come from a good background, and he'd thought he truly loved her. But she'd lied about her love for him, and that was the deepest cut of all. After her betrayal, it hadn't taken long for the love to die, but the pain lingered. The humiliation of canceling the society wedding of the decade, stuck with him. All their plans had been part of her web of lies. A disguise to get what she wanted – his family name, family money. The one thing he couldn't tolerate was lying.

  He shook off the memories, and then thoughts of Lane instantly popped into his mind. She didn't care about his name or his money. She didn't even want him around long enough to get her car repaired.

  That was Lane's allure. When a woman played hard to get, a man played harder to get her. He grinned at the thought. And if you get her, then what? he asked himself. Love her and leave her gracefully? What did that say about him? That he only wanted surface feelings from a woman? A little sex and cocktails?

  He stared at his reflection in the window glass, disgusted with himself. Lane had more beneath the surface than he expected, and he'd sat at work for two days fighting the urge to go see her. Lane had a lock on him that Clarice had never had. Instinct told him to leave her alone. Hell, instinct told him to run like mad in the other direction. To let her go and keep that kiss as nothing more than a memory.

  It would be wiser if he wanted to keep his heart out of play. He could do it. He could see her and date her. Wherever this was going, he wasn't looking for Mrs. Tyler McKay.