Stumbling Into Love (Fluke My Life 2)

Wesley’s jaw shifts.

“Ant, this is my . . .”

“Boyfriend.” He sticks out a hand toward Antonio. “Wesley.”

“Oh?” Antonio looks from Wesley to me. “Seems like we both have news.”

“Um . . .” I look up at Wesley, half wanting to kick him and half wanting to tear off his clothes. I don’t know how he is able to make me feel so conflicted.

“Nice to meet you.” Antonio stands and shakes his hand. “Keep an eye on her—she’s a wild card. I think it has something to do with the red hair.” He smirks, and Wesley grunts something I can’t make out before Antonio leans over to kiss my cheek. “I’m happy for you, kid. It’s about damn time.”

“Thanks, I think,” I mumble as he laughs and walks away.

Sensing Wesley slide into the booth, I keep my eyes off him. I’m not sure what to say.

“How many other men are you friends with?”

“Pardon?” I look at him, slightly appalled at his question.

He sits forward. “Edward. Antonio. Who else is there?”

“Is that a question you really want me to answer?” I ask only because he already looks annoyed.

“I’m guessing by that response my answer is going to be no.”

“I’ve always had more male friends than female.” I shrug.

“Why?”

“I find men to be more easygoing. I don’t have to worry about what they are thinking, or that they’ll talk about me behind my back. It’s simple with men. Give them a beer and a game and they’re happy. Women are a whole different world.”

“Have you ever had a relationship with any of your male friends?” he asks, making me squirm in my seat. “Is that a yes?”

“No, I . . . I had a crush on one of them, but nothing ever happened.”

“Who?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Who?” he repeats quietly.

“You’re really annoying,” I huff out.

His eyes narrow. “That’s not an answer.”

“Edward.” I roll my eyes. “Are you happy now? I had a crush on him, but he never even knew about it. He never saw me as anything more than a friend. Really, I don’t know what I saw in him to begin with.”

“The guy from today? Your next appointment?” He sits back in the seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah.”

“Jesus,” he curses.

I look up to find him rubbing his forehead. “What?”

“You touched him,” he growls.

I feel my brows pull together. “What?”

“You touched him. You gave him a massage after me.”

“Yeah, he’s my client,” I agree, wondering where he’s going with this.

He shakes his head and grumbles, “Not anymore.”

“Pardon?”

“He can’t be your client anymore,” he states, sitting forward and getting as close as he can with the table between us.

“Are you insane?” I hiss, pointing at him. “First of all, you do not ever get to tell me what to do. Second, you are a jerk for even thinking that I would be anything less than professional with the men and women I have as clients.”

“I wasn’t saying that.”

“Yeah? Then what were you saying?”

“I don’t like the idea of your hands on him while you’re locked behind a closed door.”

“Too bad,” I mutter as I pick up my scarf and wrap it around my throat with an angry jerk.

“Where are you going?” he asks, looking panicked when he sees me slip on my coat.

“I’m leaving. Enjoy the pizza—it’s the best in New York City.” I stand and start to walk away, but he takes my hand, forcing me to stop and look at him.

“You’re running again.”

“Call it whatever you like.” I tug my hand free and head for the door.

Out on the sidewalk, I rush as quickly as I can toward my block. I feel him hot on my heels as I go. As soon as I make it up to my apartment, I hear him enter the foyer behind me and follow me up the steps.

“Stop!” he pleads as I put my key in the door.

Everything in me fights the urge to listen to him.

“Please!” His body presses into my back, his hand slides around my waist, and his lips touch my neck as he speaks. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you who you could or could not have as clients.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

“Can you please look at me?” he asks.

I shudder as I slowly turn around to face him, wondering vaguely if Miss Ina is downstairs listening to this conversation take place. I have no doubt that, if she is, I’ll get an earful tomorrow.

“This is new to me.” He takes my face between his hands. “I’ve never felt the way you make me feel. You make me crazy. The idea of someone else touching you—or you touching them—makes me see red.”

“Do you know how insane that is?” I ask while asking myself how insane I am for enjoying his reaction.

“I do.” He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair. “Believe me, I know. And I’m sorry.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, Wesley. And you can never tell me how I should do my job, or who I can have as clients or friends. That is a deal breaker for me. I like you, and for some insane reason I like that you feel as jealous as you do about me, but that can never spill over into my work life or erode the friendships I’ve had for years.”

“I know,” he agrees, placing one hand on the door above my head and the other on my hip while dipping his face close to mine.

I swallow, then lower my eyes so I won’t have to look at him when I say what I’m about to. “I think we should just slow this down a little,” I whisper, peeking up at him through my lashes. “This thing between us has been very intense from the beginning. M-maybe we need to take a step back,” I say, hating the very idea of doing that.

“Do you want that?” he asks. I try to force myself to say yes or to nod, but I can’t do it.

Pulling my body deeper into his, he lowers his face until we are eye to eye. “Do you really want us to take a step back?”

No! my mind screams as he trails hot kisses across my cheek and toward my ear.

“Invite me in so I can remind you of why you want this,” he murmurs.

My eyes slide closed.

When he pulls my hips into his and I feel his arousal between us, I whimper, “I can’t. My sister’s home, and I . . . I don’t want her to find out about us.”

“You don’t want her to find out about us?” He steps back suddenly, like I burned him.

I realize what I said and how it sounded. Looking into his eyes and seeing the hurt there, I reach out to touch him. He backs up a step.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t . . .” My apology dies in my throat when he turns and starts down the steps, taking them two at a time. “Please stop!” I shout at his back, but he doesn’t. He

doesn’t even turn around as I try to catch up with him. “Wesley!” I stumble to a stop at the bottom of the steps and watch him disappear out the front door.

“Let him go, child.”

I turn my head to find Miss Ina standing in her open doorway. “He’ll calm down, and then you’ll be able to talk to him,” she says gently as her frail fingers wrap around mine and tears fill my eyes. “Men get like that from time to time. It’s best you let them work through their anger.”

“I messed up,” I whisper.

Her fingers tighten. “It will be okay. Come have a cup of tea.”

Wiping at the tears that are running down my cheeks, I shake my head. “Miss Ina, now’s not a good time.”

“Now is the best time.” She tugs my hand, leaving me no choice but to follow her into her apartment.

Chapter 5

UNDER MY SKIN

WESLEY

I don’t want her to find out about us.

Those fucking words replay in my mind on a loop, tormenting me as I walk from Mackenzie’s house toward mine. She doesn’t want her sisters to know about us. That thought makes me want to break something. It also makes me wonder what’s wrong with me. I know I could walk into any number of bars right now and leave with a woman of my choosing, and I can almost guarantee she would stick around until morning. Hell, she’d probably fucking make me breakfast in bed and ask when we could hang out again.

“This is your fault,” I mutter under my breath as I glare at the vicinity of my dick. Since the moment he met Mackenzie, he’s been fascinated with her. He’s lost interest in everyone else.

Who the hell am I kidding? My mind has become solely focused on her, too. She’s what I think about before I fall asleep at night and the first thing I think about in the morning. Maybe I should turn in my badge and start writing cards for Hallmark.

Tucking my hands into the front pocket of my coat, I duck my head. It’s freezing, but the bite of cold is keeping me focused, keeping me from turning around and heading right back to her place—where I would undoubtedly make an even bigger fool of myself by tossing her over my shoulder, carrying her home with me, cuffing her to my bed, and forcing her to admit her feelings.