MacNamaras Lady

Chapter Six

When Missy woke the next morning she was alone. She ignored the pang of disappointment that sat like a stone in the pit of her stomach. It was for the best that T.S. was gone. They’d finally had sex after months of her speculating what it would be like. It was even better than she’d ever imagined it would be.

He’d been there for her when she’d needed him. That was more than she could have asked of him. But now it was over. Done. Finished.

And she was lying to herself.

A slight banging sound caught her attention and she frowned. Was he still here? Easing out of bed, she found her bathrobe lying neatly on the end of the bed and pulled it on. T.S. must have put it there for her. He was already proving to be a very thoughtful lover. Anticipation heightened her senses as she belted the robe tight and started down the short hallway to the kitchen.

The sight that met her left her slightly horrified, yet bemused and strangely pleased. Her usual pristine countertop was piled with bowls, utensils and food. T.S. was cooking her breakfast.

As if he felt her eyes on him, he turned and met her gaze. “Hey.” He walked over to her, caught her chin in his hand, tilted her head upward and kissed her. It was a brief, good morning kiss that had her bare toes curling into the tile.

She stood there like an idiot, simply staring at him. One corner of his mouth turned up and she shook her head. The man was lethal. He was wearing only a pair of dress pants that were zipped but not buttoned, exposing way too much potent male flesh for her liking. The pristine bandage around his arm was a stark reminder of the more unpleasant aspects of last night.

“How’s your arm?”

He shrugged and went back to the stove where he had eggs cooking. “It’s fine.”

Obviously, he didn’t want to talk about it. Missy made sure the belt to her robe was still snug before heading to the coffee pot. It was full and she needed a hit of caffeine. As she poured herself a mug and added sugar, she watched T.S. work. He cooked with competence, with no wasted movements.

She imagined he was like that when he was swinging a hammer or using a drill. She wasn’t quite sure what his everyday routine was like on the job but she figured since he owned his own company he probably did a lot of jobs, whatever needed to be done.

She admired the fact that he’d been able to keep his company not only going, but successful through the downturn in the economy when so many other businesses had faltered. He was a loyal friend to Lucas and Candy. He was a fabulous lover.

Missy’s hand shook as she lifted her mug to her lips and took a sip of coffee. Damn him, he even made great coffee. This wasn’t good. One night of sex was fine, but no way was she allowing herself to fall head over heels for a guy like T.S. She wasn’t ready to settle down yet and he wasn’t the right guy for her. They didn’t have enough in common to last for the long haul.

“You okay?” T.S. placed his hands on her shoulders. When she peered up at him she could see the concern in his eyes.

“Yes.” No way was she letting him in on her thoughts.

He gave her a little squeeze before turning back to making breakfast. She felt the loss of his touch and sighed. She was obviously losing her mind. “Can I do anything to help?” She needed to keep busy. Doing nothing gave her too much time to think.

“Nope. Got it all under control.”

“I didn’t know you cooked.” Was there anything more lethal to a woman’s senses than a man who cooked?

“I do okay. I serve a mean breakfast and can grill a steak, make some basic stuff.” As she watched, he served up scrambled eggs, hash browns and toast onto two plates and took them to her table. “Sit. Eat.”

He waited until she was seated before he sat. The gesture was totally unconscious, an ingrained part of his personality. The man might be a little rough around the edges but he had great manners.

Missy picked up her fork and stabbed a small bite of the fried potatoes. They were seasoned to perfection. Bemused, she pointed her fork at him as a thought occurred to her. “I didn’t have any frozen hash browns, where did these come from?”

T.S. chewed and swallowed his mouthful of food before speaking. “You had a couple potatoes in your fridge.”

He’d made them from scratch. Now she was seriously impressed. “They’re wonderful.”

He grinned. “Glad you like them. I wasn’t sure you would. A lot of women don’t like to eat real food.”

Missy snorted. “I’m not one of them.” She dug in and ate, not talking until she’d had her fill. There were still some hash browns and eggs left but she simply couldn’t eat everything he’d put on her plate. She sat back and shoved it away.

“You done with that?” T.S. waited until she’d nodded before dragging her plate over by him and finishing up what was there.

While he ate, she studied him. He was a contradiction. He was all male from his sleek, hard muscles to his choice of profession. Yet, he cooked breakfast like it was no big deal. He was rough and crude, yet kind and mannerly. She couldn’t pigeonhole him and that concerned her. He kept her off balance. Uncertain.

“What are your plans for today?”

Plans? She didn’t have any. Hadn’t thought that far ahead. Thankfully, it was Sunday. After last night’s episode she was glad she didn’t have to go to work. She had a lot of muscle aches and light pain from her various bruises. She felt…fragile. And that was a feeling she didn’t like. Reminded her too much of her childhood.

Don’t go there, she told herself. But that was easier said than done. The similarities were too close. Her father had been in construction. An angry man who drank too much and had a quick hand when displeased. He was a bigot too, always pulling the race card when he was turned down for work. Missy could have told him it had nothing to do with the dark color of his skin but his crappy attitude and his explosive temper.

He’d been an uneducated man who didn’t see the value in books and learning, especially not for a woman. Her mother was a weak woman. A frightened one who’d lost herself in a liquor bottle whenever possible. Missy had vowed to be different.

She’d stuck it out at home until she was finished high school and then she’d taken off. She hadn’t been home since. Hadn’t called. She knew her parents were still alive because she spoke to her older sister on occasion. She ignored her two brothers who were carbon copies of their father, or at least they had been when they were growing up.

“Hey.” T.S. touched her face and she jumped. Concern filled his eyes. “Where did you go?”

She shook her head. She wasn’t going there. Not with him. Not with anyone.

“Why don’t you get a hot bath while I clean up in here. You’ve got to be feeling stiff this morning.”

“Are you for real?” As much as she wanted to, Missy couldn’t quite trust him. Not outside the bedroom. Not in everyday life. Her more cynical side said he was showing her his best side so he could get her back into bed again.

“As real as it gets, babe.” He kissed her forehead and then pulled her from her chair. “Go on.” He nibbled at her nape. As if on cue her nipples puckered and her toes curled. Damn the man. She tilted her head slightly to the left to give him better access.

He growled and playfully nipped the side of her neck. His tongue soothed the small sting. Missy closed her eyes and shivered with desire. His breath was warm on her ear. “None of that now. You need to get that bath and relax. Rest.” He traced the whorl of her ear before stepping back.

She pried her eyes open and walked out of the room, not looking back. If she did she’d probably do something stupid like jump his tasty bones and have mindless sex with him on the kitchen floor. It was a very near thing. She almost turned back once. But she stayed strong and made it to the bathroom. She shut the door with a frustrated thump.

Bastard. He got her all wound up and then left her hanging. On the other hand, she’d felt the bulge pushing at her butt when he’d been teasing her. She wasn’t the only one frustrated at the moment. That made her feel slightly better.

She ran hot water into the tub and added some soothing bath salts before removing her robe and climbing in. When the tub was full, she leaned back and tried to relax as water lapped at her skin. She didn’t have any idea what time it was and didn’t care. She felt strangely dislocated from reality, cut off from life.

As the steam and heat began to do their job, her eyes drifted shut. A violent image blindsided her. One of her attackers’ faces popped into her brain. She could see in his eyes the intent to hurt her. Feel his hands gripping her, bruising her as he ripped at her dress.

She gasped and her eyes flew open. Her heart was racing, beating against her chest. “Oh God.” She placed her hand over her heart and took a deep breath. “You’re okay.” She repeated the phrase over and over until her heartbeat slowed and her breathing eased.

That was…unpleasant. She’d never had a panic attack before. She decided she didn’t like them. Not at all.

Control was the key for her. The mantra by which she lived her life. Now she felt as though she was unraveling from the inside out. The doctor had warned her she might react this way. Although she hadn’t been seriously injured she had been through a traumatic situation. One that would take her time to get over.

She’d almost laughed at the doctor. She was tough. This was no big deal. She’d been through plenty of violent episodes growing up. But this one had been different. There was no reason behind this attack. She’d been a random victim.

Maybe it was because she’d believed herself impervious to such things now that she was a grown woman. As a child, she’d been a victim of domestic violence. It had made her a strong and sure woman. But not anymore.

“Bullshit,” she muttered. She was still that woman. She’d get past this like she had every other challenge in her life.

A light knock came on the door. “Missy, can you take a phone call?” Before she could tell him no, he continued. “It’s Candy.”

She had to take that or her friend would be over here in a heartbeat. Plus, what must Candy be thinking with T.S. answering the phone? “Give me a second,” she called.

Missy all but jumped out of the bath, ignoring the various complaints of her body, and pulled the plug for the water to drain. She toweled off quickly and yanked on her robe. Her hair was starting to frizz because of the steam. She grabbed a bottle from the vanity, spritzed some product in her hand and dragged it through her short hair. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do for the moment.

She pulled open the door and T.S. was waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall. She wished he’d put on the scrub top they’d given him at the hospital last night. Seeing all that hard, male flesh was giving her the hot flashes.

No, it was simply the heat from the bath. Nothing more.

Liar, her conscience screamed at her. She sniffed at it, not willing to admit it was right. T.S. was quickly becoming an addiction.

She took the phone and headed toward the living room. “Hey, Candy. What are you doing calling me today? You’re supposed to still be celebrating your wedding.” There, that sounded normal enough.

Her friend laughed. “I more than celebrated last night.” There was a satisfied note in Candy’s voice that made Missy smile. She had no doubt that Lucas had kept his new wife up until past dawn celebrating.

Missy glanced at the clock on the DVR as she sank down onto her sofa and was shocked to see it was already noon. Breakfast had really been brunch. It wasn’t like her to sleep so late. She supposed she could be excused because of everything that had happened last night—the wedding, the attack, the hot sex with T.S.

“How are you? Really?”

Candy’s concern brought tears to Missy’s eyes and she blinked them back. “I’m fine. Really.”

“No you’re not.” That was the thing about your best girlfriend. She could tell when you weren’t telling the truth. “I’m just glad that T.S. stayed over last night. Neither one of you should have been alone last night. How is his arm?”

Missy realized then that Candy had no idea she and T.S. had spent the night together, in bed. She thought he’d stayed on the sofa. “He says he’s okay, but I’m not buying it.”

She shot him a glare. Instead of being put off by it like most men were, he smiled at her, blew her a kiss and headed back to the kitchen. Because of the open concept of the apartment, she could see he was finishing the dishes. The table was bare, the counter was clear and the clean dishes had been put away. The muscles in his back flexed and rippled as he scrubbed the frying pan.

“Missy?”

How long had Candy been trying to get her attention? “Sorry. What did you say?”

“I asked if you wanted me to come over.”

“Absolutely not.” Missy sat forward, twitching the bottom of her robe closed when it splayed open, displaying quite a bit of her legs. She glanced toward the kitchen and found T.S. watching her. No, not her—her legs.

Heat suffused her face. She ignored the increase in her pulse rate, the heaviness in her breasts, the throbbing between her legs. “I mean it, Candy. You stay with your man and celebrate today.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Positively. I’ll call you tomorrow. I know you’re taking some time off work but maybe we can get together for lunch or coffee or something.”

“You’re going to work tomorrow?” Candy sounded appalled.

“Of course I am. I’m fine.” She’d feel more in control of her life if she went back to work. No sense moping around, thinking about things. She and Candy chatted a few more minutes before she hung up.

She hadn’t done much of anything but was already exhausted. Trying to reassure her friend had worn her out. She tossed her phone onto the coffee table and stood. “Thanks for staying last night.” She was hoping he’d get the message and leave.

“My pleasure.” His low voice slipped under her skin and went straight to her erogenous zones.

Missy straightened to her full height, which was considerable. “It’s time for you to leave.”

“Why don’t you get dressed and then we’ll talk.”

She put her hands on her hips and quickly dropped them when the motion pulled the top of her robe apart, displaying far too much bare skin.

T.S. didn’t say a word as she turned on her heel and stomped off to the bedroom. She wanted comfort today above style. She tugged on some underwear but didn’t bother with a bra. Loose-fitting cotton pants and a long-sleeved cotton sweater were just what she wanted. Soft and non-confining. Nothing that would tug on her bruises and scrapes. She pulled on some thick white sweat socks and was done.

She detoured by the bathroom and styled her hair and put on a touch of mascara and lip-gloss. Not that she was primping for T.S., but simply because it made her feel better. If he noticed, well that was an added bonus.

When she returned to the living room he was sprawled out on her sofa with his feet propped on her coffee table. The television was on and it was tuned to a sports channel—pre-game football show. Missy almost sneered. She hadn’t watched football in years. Her father used to watch it every Sunday afternoon. He invariably got angry over some missed call. Something had almost always been broken or smashed on Sunday afternoons in their home.

He turned his head, hitting the mute button when he saw her. “Hey. You look cozy.” He patted the sofa cushion next to him. “Come sit with me.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You really should go.”

“Why?”

“Why?” She couldn’t believe he’d asked such a question.

“Yes, why? I think you’re still shaken over last night. I know I am. We could just hang out and watch some television. If you let me stay I’ll spring for takeout later.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Missy tried not to notice how sexy that made him. She gave silent thanks that he’d pulled on the ugly green scrub top, but it in no way downplayed his masculinity. How could a man look hot in such an ugly piece of clothing was beyond her. But somehow he pulled it off.

He didn’t appear shaken at all. He looked calm and in control of himself. It made her angry.

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

He shrugged. “I do. The bandage on my arm needs to be changed later and I can’t do it on my own.”

Damn, now she felt like a selfish bitch. Of course he couldn’t tend to his arm himself. Just because he downplayed his injury didn’t mean it wasn’t a reality or that it didn’t need attention. “Does it hurt? Did you take the antibiotics the doctor gave you? The painkillers.”

He nodded. “Yes to both. I’ve got enough for today but I’ll have to fill the prescription he gave me on the way home later today.”

Okay, he was leaving later. That gave them a deadline. She could live with that. It would be totally heartless of her to toss him out after all he’d done for her. Heat climbed up her cheeks at the memory of last night and she almost screamed in frustration. She didn’t mean to think about the sex portion of the evening, but earlier when he’d saved her from a vicious assault. She owed him.

“Do you want me to change the bandage on your arm now?”

He patted the seat cushion again and she walked around the sofa and perched on the edge. “Later. How about we just watch some television and relax.”

“Football?” she sneered.

“Hey, what have you got against football?”

“A bunch of grown men chasing a ball and beating up on one another. What’s not to love?”

He grabbed her hand and tugged. She tumbled back into his arms. He kissed her temple. “Exactly. It’s a great game. It’s un-American not to like football.”

She snorted. “That so.”

He solemnly nodded. “I speak the truth.”

“Maybe we can find some fashion program or decorating show to watch.”

T.S. slapped his hand over his chest. “You wound me, woman.”

She couldn’t help herself. She laughed. The mock horror on his face was hilarious. “So we have to watch what you want to watch?”

He grew serious and tucked a strand of hair over her ear. “No. We can watch whatever you want.” He handed her the remote and settled back, settling her in his arms. “Just go easy on the fashion stuff.”

Her chest tightened and her hands shook. Any other man she’d known would have protested. Probably would have gotten up and left. Her father would have thrown a fit. No, that wasn’t true. There would have been no need. His house, his rules.

She didn’t want to be like that. Like him. And she didn’t mind football. In fact, she’d been a cheerleader, going to all her high school and college games. She’d never watched it on television because it reminded her too much of her childhood.

She hit the sound button and the commentator’s voice filled the living room once again. “I don’t mind.”

He tiled her head back until he could see her. “You sure?”

A sense of certainty settled over her. “I’m sure.”

T.S. tightened his arm around her as she settled closer to him and they watched the pre-game show.