Borrowing Alex Read online

  She bit a thumbnail. “I don’t think so.”

  “Then they’re coming off.” He fished a hand toward the waistband.

  Nikki squeaked. “But you can’t!”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “But you won’t.”

  “Yeah, I will.” He popped the button.

  “Alex!” She clapped her hands to cherry-stained cheeks. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  He unzipped. “Try me.”

  Chapter 5

  Now or Never

  “WE’RE BOUND TO find something in here that will fit you... sort of,” Nikki assured Alex as she dug through the cardboard box marked “Clothes” among the storage items flanking the back door. He’d crouched beside her in the tattered khakis, invading her space and her peace of mind. Her pulse raced from the aftershocks of his near-striptease and her lips hadn’t stopped sizzling since he’d kissed her.

  Thank Cupid he’d zipped his pants again when she’d shrieked and squeezed shut her eyes. Aside from a fumbling college experience that hadn’t resulted in full penetration, Royce was the only man she’d ever seen nude—and that was how it should be. Alex wearing traditional boxers she could maybe handle, but Alex strutting around as naked as Adam pushed the illusion that they were lovers too far.

  “Gramps was only five-eight and... rotund, if you know what I mean,” she said as Rusty meowed and rubbed his whiskered face against the cardboard box. A few feet away, Bernie gnawed one of Alex’s socks while Santos sniffed the storage items. “If you wear his clothes, you’ll feel plenty warm yet still look ridiculous. Then we’ll both be happy.” She handed over two mothball-scented garments. “Try these.”

  Grumbling, Alex eyed the orange plaid work shirt and scruffy brown polyester pants.

  Nikki raised her chin. “Beggars can’t be picky, Alex. Those were Gramps’s favorite fishing clothes. If they were good enough for him, they’re good enough for you.” Besides, the ill-fitting outfit would lend the handsome professor a disreputable look certain to put off any driver considering picking up a hitchhiker. Too bad she hadn’t thought of searching the storage boxes before she’d altered Alex’s wardrobe.

  “Choosers,” he stated grimly. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

  “And they can’t afford to be picky, either. Honestly, Alex, I never pegged you for such a grump.”

  His eyebrows webbed. “A grump?”

  “You heard me.” Lifting Rusty into her arms, she stood. “So I kidnapped you—it’s not for long. So I tied you up—you survived. I feel guilty enough about putting you through this whole ordeal without you pouring salt in my wounds.” She petted the squirming cat until his ears flattened.

  Clutching the garments, Alex rose. “If you feel guilty, why not let me leave?”

  “You know why. I need you here. I thought you understood that. I need you to help me show Royce how serious I am about making a commitment. A wedding date, not just a ring. That he’ll risk losing me if he doesn’t.” She tightened her grip on Rusty, and the glitzy engagement ring twisted on her finger. The extravagant setting bit into her pinky. “Any fool can give a woman a ring. It takes a man of honor to honor his commitments.”

  Her stomach clenched. Was Royce a man of honor? Or was he a fool? If this weekend pointed to the latter, then didn’t that make her double the dunderhead for believing in him all this time?

  “A fool and his fiancée are soon parted, Alex. If Royce doesn’t come after me—if he doesn’t fight to keep me—then I’ll know we aren’t meant to stay together.” Her eyes stung. Closing them against sudden tears, she swallowed. “Now I’m sorry about the sad state of my grandfather’s clothes. I’m sorry about everything. But I’m doing the best I can, Alex. If you can’t bring yourself to help me, please tell me now.” She opened her eyes. Rusty hung over her arm, mewling like a terrified kitten. Bernie abandoned the sock and trotted over to join her. Santos bordered her on the right, his hefty bulk comforting as he panted.

  And Alex... the poor guy just stood there, holding the fishing clothes, an advertisement for flabbergasted.

  Her cheeks heated. “Oh Alex, I’m sorry for dumping all over you. That was uncalled for. That was—”

  “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’ll wear the clothes, Nikki.”

  “You will?”

  He nodded. “Royce obviously means more to you than I realized, or...” his jaw worked “... perhaps more than I wanted to believe. I don’t want to see you hurt, Nik. And I hope to hell that Royce doesn’t, either.”

  “Of course he doesn’t want to see me hurt. He loves me.” Her voice squeaked.

  Great. Where was her confidence?

  Sucking in a breath, she avoided Alex’s gaze. She didn’t want to see the doubt in his eyes, didn’t want to read the questions now plaguing her. If Royce loves me, why isn’t he here yet? Why didn’t he drive up last night to get me?

  Considering the roundabout route she’d chosen to travel to the cabin, Alex might assume the trip from Seattle always took four hours. However, anyone half-capable of operating a GPS could reach Lake Eden in two.

  And Royce was much more than capable.

  Pain stabbed her heart—and then her arm. Wincing, she freed the cat claw hooking her skin.

  Rusty jumped onto the floor. Tail flaring, he dashed beneath the nearest bed. Bernie, eyes bulging at Alex, left the cat alone for once. Santos continued panting.

  “Royce will get here,” she said. “Maybe he got a flat tire or had to stay overnight at a motel.” Maybe a problem had occurred with the ferries, and he’d needed to catch a later sailing. However, she couldn’t voice that possibility without dropping Alex a clue about their location.

  The professor shrugged. “It’s possible.”

  “The point is, Royce will come. And soon. He will come soon.” Listen to her, repeating herself. Who needed convincing, Alex or her? That she possessed any qualms about the man she planned to marry—

  She slammed the breaks on her traitorous thoughts. She had to believe in Royce’s love for her, in their love for each other. She wanted a marriage built on faith and trust. If she couldn’t trust that Royce would come for her after reading the anxious undertones of her note, her entire plan was doomed.

  Another idea occurred, and she blinked. Two ideas occurred, and they kept getting worse!

  What if her plan backfired and Royce didn’t come, not because he didn’t love her, but because he’d missed the note somehow, or... or the thought of her hooking up with Alex hurt him so much that he left her?

  Yikes. Had she made a colossal mistake?

  Cold marbles scrambled around in her chest. She firmed her mouth. No, she couldn’t have botched this weekend so thoroughly. Royce would arrive to stop her from having a fictional fling with Alex. To believe anything else placed her faith in her fiancé—and their entire future—at risk.

  Her worry must have shown on her face, because Alex stepped closer, concern all over his. Bernie stiffened to full alert, his soprano growl reverberating in the quiet morning. Alex ignored the dog’s posturing. His gaze, his attention, remained focused on her.

  “Hey,” he said softly, shifting the musty clothes from one arm to the other. “Whatever you believe about Royce is fine by me.”

  The acidic scent of mothballs lingered between them, but didn’t have a hope of distracting her from his nearness, his solid, dependable presence.

  He stood... so close. So big and masculine and half-dressed.

  Her heart thumped. “You’re not sure Royce is even coming, are you?”

  “Who am I to say? Just a stressed out kidnapping victim. You can’t blame me for being a little on edge, Nikki.” A wry smile touched his mouth. “You love Royce. You want to marry him. That’s enough for me.” He paused. “Royce wants to marry you, too, Nik. I know he does. He’s told me.”

  The invisible fist gripping her heart loosened. “He has?”

  Alex nodded. “I’m his best man. It’s my job to know these things. If you want to m
arry Royce, it will happen.” His gaze drifted over her. “When the day comes, I’ll do my part as best man. I’ll get him to the church on time, Nik. For you.”

  His husky voice burrowed through her. Gold flecks radiated from his dark pupils and burnished the hazel irises to bronze. Something oddly akin to desire fluttered inside her as his gaze lowered to her mouth, then slowly back up.

  Would he kiss her again?

  For a positively pre-adulterous moment—Cupid help her—she wanted him to.

  He reached out a hand... and brushed her cheek, his thumb pad rough and the trailing palm warm. His hand curved her face in a too-brief caress. His touch gentle but urgent. Barely there, yet branding. Yearning.

  A whispery murmur escaped her. Heat flooded her, beckoning, churning.

  Why this intense response to Alex? Why Alex, yet not with Royce—her only real lover?

  Royce had never touched her with such compelling restraint. Could that be why? He’d always taken great care to be gentle, but a different sort of gentleness than she experienced with Alex.

  Royce’s touch carried a certain detachment that presumably signified his respect for her as his fiancée and future wife. He’d explained his reasoning in tender tones the few times she’d brought up their infrequent lovemaking.

  Eventually, not wanting to come across like some sex fiend, she’d stopped asking.

  Sometimes she wished her fiancé didn’t respect her so damn much.

  “G-Gramps’s clothes.” She touched the folded garments Alex held. “I’ll air them out while you’re in the shower. You’d like a shower before breakfast, right?”

  “Yeah,” he replied in a gravelly tone. “Preferably freezing.”

  Her pulse jumped. “Perfect, because the water tank isn’t very big, and I think I used all the hot while you were asleep. Sorry.” She took the clothes. “Maybe you’ll get lucky—um, maybe the water’s warm again.”

  His gaze smoldered. “I’m sure it’s the temperature I need.” He disappeared into the bathroom.

  The door closed, and she released a breath.

  Phew! Talk about tension. Thick and rich and warm—like gooey butterscotch. And every bit as tempting.

  No. Even more so.

  Her heart raced. Be still, darn you. She knew precisely what was going on here. She’d watched enough reality TV dating shows and had read enough relationship e-zines to understand the phenomenon arising between her and Alex. Place a man and woman alone in close quarters and proximity played clever tricks on the libido. It didn’t mean anything. It could happen to anyone. That it had never before happened to her was a detail she shouldn’t worry about. An oddity she should ignore.

  Good plan.

  She strode to the back door with the musty clothes, the dogs accompanying her. As she passed the bathroom, the tinkling of water from the ancient showerhead echoed off the metal stall walls.

  By now, Alex would have stripped nude to stand beneath the water’s spray, his muscular chest boasting a sheen of frothy soap bubbles, his strong thighs planted apart and dripping water, his—

  Oh my. How yummy.

  Her tummy knotted. Stop that!

  If any fantasizing occurred this morning, her hot daydreams would feature Royce. Royce, who was traveling this very minute to come claim her.

  Royce, the man who loved her and would soon prove it. Her one and only. Her future hubby.

  No more thoughts of Alex, only Royce.

  The shower water thrumming in her ears, she dashed outside.

  RoyceRoyceRoyceRoyceRoyce.

  What the hell was wrong with him?

  Lukewarm water spurted from the tiny showerhead and over Alex’s scalp. He pressed his palms against the metal shower wall. His shoulders and thigh muscles bunched as a certain other aggravating body part hardened—again! He wasn’t fifteen years old. Control yourself.

  He had Nikki to thank for the odd cocktail of lust and remorse. Between her imaginative antics and her angelic blue eyes, she’d turned his body, mind, and his damn structured world inside out.

  In less than twenty-four hours, too—a personal record.

  He’d never met a woman who affected him the way Nikki did. Who frustrated and irritated him even while he wanted her all to himself.

  And wasn’t that the joke of it?

  He’d never burned for another guy’s woman—not like this. Hadn’t considered himself capable of any form of cheating. However, when he’d touched Nikki’s face minutes ago, the urge to pull her into his arms had swelled in his chest like a nuclear mushroom cloud. Instant and dangerous. Overwhelming. Spurred not solely from the desire to kiss her again—although, oh yeah, he’d wanted to do that—but also from a crazy need to protect her.

  From her naïveté.

  From potential heartache.

  But, most of all, from Royce.

  He sluiced cooling water through his hair. What a drip. After the countless times he’d unintentionally mucked up his sisters’ love lives with his over-protective big-brother routine, he should have learned to cultivate some finesse. But no. Example: moments ago with Nikki, he’d had no right to insinuate that Royce was quite willing to hurt her. That the schlep might not play into her romantic fantasy and race to the cabin to “rescue” her like the man of honor she desperately wanted to see him as.

  At least he’d had the decency to back off when he’d caught the flash of pain in her eyes. But the damage was done. He’d placed doubt in her mind when he had no idea what Royce would do. All he had were his suspicions to the contrary, based on his undergrad years of witnessing Royce “The Hound” Carmichael in chick-manipulating action. The guy’s bragging about Nikki’s acceptance of his sexual needs also pointed to a no-show.

  In all probability, Royce had seen through Nikki’s scheme from the start and hadn’t bought the threat of a hookup at all. Sure, the jerk might do right by his fiancée and arrive at the cabin eventually, like in a couple of days. Probably after taking advantage of Nikki’s absence to fool around. To Royce’s way of thinking, a late appearance would allow him to have his fun while stringing her along until he won the true love of his life—the partnership in her father’s dermatology practice.

  Major points scored for The Hound in that scenario, but what about Nikki?

  The shower water chilled, and Alex gritted his teeth. If he left before his old college roommate arrived, Nikki’s world would shatter. And, while he’d been careful not to agree to help her, her ploy would crumble without him.

  To top it off, she wouldn’t have a soul to turn to if Alex vamoosed and then Royce didn’t appear. No one but her dogs to lean on—and Bernie was a mite too short for that.

  She’d be alone. Upset. Heartbroken. Needy.

  She would need someone.

  He needed to decide if that someone would be him.

  Is It Lust Or Love?

  Nikki allowed her pen to hover over the multiple-choice quiz in the women’s magazine open on the kitchen counter. Her gaze skipped to question three—that most perplexing of issues:

  When he kisses you, do you...?

  (A) Shoot off like Fourth of July fireworks?

  (B) Sizzle like a Halloween sparkler?

  (C) Fizzle like a dud?

  In Alex’s case, definitely A.

  Squirming, she circled the letter and scribbled Alex’s initial beside it. As for Royce... she sighed... her fiancé’s kisses had always registered between C and B. And lately C had reigned supreme—mucho aggravating.

  Nibbling the pen cap, she looked over her shoulder. Alex sat at the table with Santos at his feet, while Bernie yapped at Murray and Rusty chased an invisible mouse. Whistling, Alex arranged the battered Monopoly game in preparation for the tournament Nikki had suggested. Her grandfather’s clothes hung absurdly loose on him, but he hadn’t complained about the fit since her little fit by the storage boxes. However, whenever she cast a surreptitious glance his way, she’d glimpse tension in the narrowing of his eyes or the stiffness of his tors
o. Then he’d notice her watching him, and his demeanor would change, soften and relax. Like this weird addition of the cheerful whistling. Except it sounded oddly off. As if he were faking it.

  But who faked whistling?

  She gnawed the pen. Was Alex obsessing about their kiss like she was? Did he feel the same disloyalty toward Royce that balled like tiny fists in her chest and whipped confusion through her veins?

  Her gnawing progressed to chomping, and the pen cap cracked.

  Grow up, Nikki.

  She returned her attention to the lust quiz. Moments later, she groaned. There was no way around it—her “Alex” answers simply must equal lust! She’d awarded the man far too many A’s than was reasonable. Therefore, her physical response to him wasn’t reasonable. Certainly nothing as romantic and enduring as love.

  Inhaling, she flipped the pages to the quiz key.

  “How’s that lemonade coming?” Alex’s voice boomed behind her.

  She slapped shut the magazine and shoved it behind a canister. “Ready.” She grabbed the glasses. Right.

  She’d never felt less prepared for anything in her life.

  Several hours and three Monopoly games later, Alex remained tangled in the throes of indecision.

  On one hand, logic argued that any woman capable of continually buying the game’s most profitable color groups and then building hotels on those properties faster than a business mogul on a construction spree possessed the fortitude to survive a fiancé no-show. On the other hand, Nikki’s undying devotion to Royce reinforced his first impression of her as a girl who thought primarily with her heart and not her mind.

  Could he abandon her to suffer a cruel life lesson alone?

  “Want to play best out of five?” she asked from across the small table. She bit into an apple she’d fetched from the kitchen moments ago, following the ending of their third game. Her lips pressed against the bright red fruit as her perfect white teeth sunk home.

  He shook his head. “No, thanks.” Averting his gaze from her sexy mouth, he pushed back his chair. “Losing three for three is enough battering for my ego.”