Make Me (Sterling Shore Series #10)(12)

"It is so."

Silence takes over the car, which is not the reaction I'd hoped for. Dale reaches up and turns on the music, killing some of the quiet.

"So … what about you? What's life been like in Sterling Shore since my absence?" I ask lamely.

He turns down another road, moving us a little faster now that we're out of all the traffic.

"College then business," he says with a shrug, omitting the ex-fiancée.

Right. He probably doesn't want to talk about that on a non-date date.

"You always use a driver?" he muses, still keeping his eyes intently focused on the road.

"Not always. I have a new car my assistant had taken to my home. I just prefer a driver."

"Any particular reason?" he goes on.

I realize that probably sounds pretentious, so I elect to elaborate.

"After learning the business as a low-paid techie, I started designing my own programs. The company that employed me didn't want my ideas or my mock-ups. So I quit," I say on a sigh, shuddering as I think back to how terrifying that entire phase of my life was.

He glances to me, but returns his gaze to the road, as though he's waiting on me to actually answer the question he asked.

"I started my business on a huge leap of faith and very little start-up cash. I could barely afford the necessary equipment, let alone any help. So I was doing it all on my own, including all the emails sent in about glitches on apps and such. I can remember having two phones buzzing at all times, and a Bluetooth attached to my ear at all times. The second I could afford it, I started using a car service instead of driving. It was just too dangerous."

His eyes drop to my purse that is in my lap, and he looks back at the road again.

"You must be taking a break then. For tonight? Are you still that busy?"

I laugh under my breath. "No. Not anymore. I have plenty of people who handle all that now. I just handle all the new launches and run through all the new ideas. I also still design and program. I have many of my own designs out there. Hundreds that I've produced through the company with the help of others. I just got used to having someone drive, and it was one less thing I had to deal with. Call me spoiled."



       
         
       
        

I shrug, and his lips twitch.

"I thought your family came from money. Why was the start-up so hard?" he asks, unaware of the nerve that strikes.

"The money was lost, so to speak," I say mono-toned.

"Oh. Sorry. I never heard about that," he says, grimacing as he turns again.

"It's not like it was publicized. That's another story for another day. Talk more about you instead," I tell him.

He snorts derisively. "Nothing much to tell, Harley. As you're well aware, out of all the Sterlings, I'm the least exciting and the most predictable. I went into business, as expected. I bought a nice home in Sterling Shore, as expected. I serve on all the same charity boards as my father, as expected. Everything you thought I was going to do with my life, I've done it. No surprises."

I'm not sure why he sounds so sad about that. It actually sounds like a good life when spoken in a more upbeat tone.

His hand is so close, and I stare at his fingers as he parks the car. I could hold his hand …

A show of comfort?

I have no idea what to say or do.

Just yesterday I tried to hire my friend to have one of her sexy girls break his heart. Now I want to comfort him.

In case you haven't noticed, I may need a little therapy or something, because clearly I have issues. I blame my father.

"I expected you to leave Sterling Shore," I say quietly, and he cuts his eyes to me as we pull up at a house and he shuts off his car. I look around at the massive home, much too big for one man.

"I expected you to marry a Hughes," I add, wrinkling my nose.

He groans, and I nod as he offers me a side glare.

"Never had a thing for a Hughes in Sterling Shore. Eventually there will be one who doesn't love money more than life, then we'll talk."

I roll my eyes.

"I expected you to be a surgeon like your dad," I go on, and his lips tense as he continues studying me. "Maybe go into the amputation field-if that's a thing."

He cuts his gaze away. Very few people ever talked about his leg. He lost it from just-below-the-knee down when he was a kid. We were almost in fourth grade. It happened over the summer. I don't know what happened, but I know he missed school fourth grade year and came back saying he'd studied abroad with his parents. Only, I saw the prosthetic one day.

"I never had the hands to be a surgeon. That was figured out early on," he says, smirking over at me. "Surprised you didn't know that. I can't hold anything steady if someone expects me to. I can hold it steady just fine if no pressure is on. Pretty sure surgery involves a lot of pressure." 

"Probably," I agree.

He smiles as he gets out of the car, and I push open the door on my side. I'm not really sure what else to say, but he turns to face me just as we reach his front door.

"Why did you expect me to leave Sterling Shore?"

As he pushes open the door to his somewhat oversized home, I answer. "If I go telling you everything I thought as a girl, we'd be moving into fantasy territory," I grumble, feeling the heat in my cheeks as I step into his house.

I look around, curious as to why there's a woman's coat hanging on a hook in the foyer. It's not cold. Maybe Fiona left it behind? It can't be recent, and that coat is way too thick to be wearing in Sterling Shore anyway.

Distracted by the stupid coat, I don't notice as Dale slips around me until he's standing right in front of me.

"Fantasy territory?" he asks, cocking his head as a coy grin tries to form on his lips.

Again, I roll my eyes. "Yes. Leave it at that. If I start telling you why I thought you'd leave Sterling Shore, you might call the police to remove me from your home. I was young. I didn't have friends. And you were nice to me even when you didn't have to be. And you were gorgeous. Fantasies came unwillingly, but I'd rather keep them private."

I step around him, wondering where the alcohol is at this point. I don't know why I keep talking. It's clear my mouth has lost its filter.

"Wait … you mean fantasies about you and me," he says, following behind me. I can practically hear him smiling.

"Don't play dumb, Dale. We both know you're too smart and observant to have missed all the warning signs of a total clinger. You know exactly how crazy about you I was. You're the only name doodled in my thousands of notebooks from fifth grade until senior year."

I don't even bother turning around. Instead, I head straight for the vodka I find at a mini bar in his den. Just as I grab a glass, I'm suddenly turned around, and surprise slams into me as heat flashes all through my body.

The glass tumbles from my hand, possibly shattering on the ground. I don't know, because the only thing I can hear is my heart thundering in my ears as Dale's lips come down on mine.

And my arms fly around his neck as he practically devours me, his tongue swiping at the seam of my lips to gain admittance that I eagerly give.

Holy shit! I'm kissing Dale Sterling.

My body arches against him as I kiss him harder, tasting every bit of his mouth that I can, committing each detail to memory just in case this is all a really fucked up dream.

One of his hands slides into my hair, angling my head back to give him better access, while his other hand stays on my back, pulling me to him. And we kiss like two teenagers in the dark.

I'm so fucking stupid.

Dale Sterling is one obsession I can't get sucked into, yet he's sucking my tongue, and I'm helpless to stop it. Hell, why do I want to stop it? This is like a fantasy or whatever.

Then one sobering thought occurs to me … I haven't had a waxing appointment for my favorite body part in too long! No way can things escalate, because Gnarly Harley is not taking on a new meaning.

Damn it!





Chapter 14



DALE



I shouldn't be kissing her. That wasn't the plan at all.

But that doesn't stop me from lifting her, sliding her onto the bar so I can step between her legs and kiss her even harder. I'd fuck her on this bar, but I do have some of my damn mind left.

How did this happen?

It's hard to think when she's running her hands up and down the front of my body and moaning into my mouth.



       
         
       
        

She tastes just as good as I knew she would. All night long I've struggled to keep my head on right. Struggled to remember she hates me, when she doesn't act the least bit hateful.

Harley Hayden is just too damn nice to be a bitch, and too transparent to be conniving.

Now I can't believe what Raya's cousin said was true.

And it's clearly fucking with my head.

Hence the fact my tongue is tangling with hers while she shoves my blazer off. It hits hardwood floor with a clap, and my arms go back around her immediately.

"We should slow down," she says, breathy and panting as our lips break apart.

My forehead touches hers as she clutches the front of my shirt, holding me to her. I can't seem to make myself move, so I don't even attempt to ask her to let go. Besides, I like her hands on me.