The Wrong Man (Alpha Men 3)

Sam was ready for bed. He had made one last check of the perimeter—uh, cabin, old habits—and was ready to head upstairs when a soft knock sounded on the front door. For an instant he froze, not sure if it was an actual knock—the wind was picking up and it could be something loose on the porch—then it sounded again. Three uncertain little raps on the wood. He knew who it was. Of course he knew who it was, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that he’d actually convinced her to come. She hadn’t looked at all into his suggestion that morning.

Sam stared at the door for a moment longer, feeling oddly uncertain. He mentally cataloged his toiletry bag, trying to remember if he’d packed condoms. Why would he pack condoms? He’d come here to recuperate, not to find a fuck buddy. But he never went anywhere without condoms, so . . .

The knock sounded again. Even fainter than before, and he swore. What the hell was he doing? She was probably talking herself out of this with every passing second. He surged to the door and yanked it open. The suddenness of the gesture shocked her, and she blinked at him apprehensively. He could tell from her stance that she had been in the process of leaving and heaved a sigh of relief that he’d come to his senses before she could do that.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a little overeager, and he toned it down. “Uh, Lia. You’re here.”

“Yes.”

Jesus, woman. Give me something to work with, he lamented silently.

“Great, I’m glad. Come in.” He stepped aside and she slowly stepped over the threshold, looking very much like someone heading for the guillotine. Yeah, well, that wasn’t sexy at all. He needed to get her a bit more relaxed. “Would you like a drink?”

“I need to know,” she said, her shaky voice filled with resolve. “Laura Prentiss.”

Sam sighed. For fuck’s sake, not this again!

“I told you before, the relationship we had is over.” It was the most honest way he could think of to phrase it.

“You were my rebound guy, Brand. And I suspect . . . I feel you need a rebound girl. And I want . . . I’m happy to . . . I think I can be that for you.”

So many stops and starts as she tried to find the perfect way to phrase that, but Sam didn’t like the way her statement sat with him. It felt completely wrong.

“Are you sacrificing yourself or something? Returning a favor?”

“No,” she hastened to assure him, her eyes wide and earnest. “Of course not. I mean, maybe that’s part of it, but I want to do this for me, too.”

“Why?” Damn it, why had he asked? What did it matter what her reasons were as long as he got her into bed? He didn’t understand his weird reaction to this. He should have her in his arms already; his mouth should be on hers, his hands on her naked skin. Why was she even still dressed?

“I’m not going to find him,” she said on a whisper, looking miserable, and his brows lowered in confusion.

“Find who?”

“The guy. My guy. I won’t find a Mason or a Spencer. I was happy to settle for a Gregory—”

“Over my dead body,” he interrupted furiously, and she smiled absently.

“Before I saw how very similar to my ex-fiancé he is,” she added. “I was okay with a man I didn’t really love or feel attracted to. I thought that those feelings would grow eventually, but I don’t think I’m even going to find Mr. Okay, much less Mr. Right. Not anytime soon, at least. Maybe not ever. I’m just tired of all the bad dates and the dashed hopes. After Gregory . . .” She paused before shaking her head. “I just need a break.”

“So you’re giving up?” he asked disbelievingly, and she shrugged.

“For now. For this, with you.”

“I’m not the guy you’re looking for, Lia,” he stressed urgently. “I’m not even a great Mr. All Right for Now. If we’re going to do this, you can’t get attached. If you do, you’ll get hurt, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

She smiled warmly, the expression dispelling some of her previous misery. He didn’t like seeing her miserable. It was disturbing and should never happen again.

“I know that, Brand,” she said, the gentle reassurance in her voice matching the tranquil smile. “But I was thinking about what you said, about you being the last wild thing I do before I settle down . . . and I decided that I want that. I want to be your rebound girl and you’ll be my wild thing. Consider my caution thrown to the wind. I figure it would be nice to have something like this to look back on when I’m old. To know I was willing to do something uncharacteristic and fun, just because why the heck not?”