Beautiful Sinner Read online

  “Isn’t it always?” Jabal released an exaggerated sigh. “Complicated. Except complicated for me involves guys.”

  “Guys are not my problem.” Unless one counted the lack of guys. That had been her problem for some time. Finding a good guy. Getting a good guy to stick around. That was not her strong suit.

  “Girl, you just need to get laid.” The back door banged shut after them as they headed into the employee parking lot. “You even gotten any since you moved back here?”

  Laid? In Sweet Hill. “Who would I sleep with, Jabal?”

  “Ain’t no shortage of men here.”

  God. She sounded like Nana.

  Immediately, Cruz filled her mind. Larger than life. His lips. His taste. His muscled body. His hands so strong and sure everywhere they touched. She gulped down a breath and spit out the lie, “No men I want.”

  Jabal snorted. “I sure don’t have a problem finding men I want here.”

  Gabriella fished her keys out of her bag with a laugh. “Yeah. Aren’t you juggling like . . . four?”

  “Three,” she corrected indignantly as she stopped between their cars.

  “Well, I’ve never been that . . .” She searched for the word. “Magnetic,” she supplied. Understatement.

  “Girl, you got it.” Jabal gestured at her in one sweep of her fingers. “You just gotta own it. Work that shit.” She fluttered her fingers in the general area of Gabriella’s significant chest.

  Shaking her head, Gabriella opened the door to her car. “See you later.”

  She made the short drive to the store and grabbed everything she needed for tacos, making a point not to forget the sour cream. Nana was watching Wheel of Fortune when she came in with the bags. Coco tore into the room, nails scrabbling on the floor as he barked his head off over the din of the show’s applause.

  “That you, Gabriella?”

  “Yes, Nana. I’m starting dinner,” she called as she pulled out a frying pan from the cabinet and got it heating on the stove. She tore into a package of ground beef and plopped it into the pan, breaking it up with a spatula and sprinkling in the taco seasoning.

  While it cooked, she got the rest of dinner going. She slid the taco shells into the oven to brown as the meat sizzled and then busied herself dicing tomatoes and peppers. Nana called out her guesses to the TV as she worked.

  The doorbell chimed.

  “Gabriella!”

  “I’ll get it.” Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she cut across the living room toward the front door, Coco fast on her heels, ready to light into someone besides Gabriella.

  Hoping it wasn’t one of her family members—who would undoubtedly grill her about her disappearance last night—she opened the door, braced for whatever stood on the other side.

  And she still wasn’t prepared.

  Not for the sight of Cruz, limned in the day’s fading light, one big hand propped against the doorframe, his dark eyes fixed on her with a searing intensity that made her chest tighten.

  Not for the way her breath froze within her tightening chest.

  Not for the way her body reacted, coming alive like someone flipped a switch. Her switch. Cruz Walsh could flip her switch simply by entering her sphere.

  His hand on the doorframe put him much too close to her. The position also did delicious things to his T-shirt, pulling it snugly against his chest, shoulders and biceps. She sucked in a breath and that was a mistake. She got a whiff of him. Cruz pheromones assaulted her nose and made her knees go weak.

  Expelling that breath, she stepped outside, pushing him back on the porch even if that meant she had to brush up against him. She shut the door on a growling Coco and then took several steps back from his bigger body. Several safe steps back.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest and sliding a look between the living room blinds into the house. Nana still sat in her chair watching Wheel of Fortune.

  “I wanted to see you. We left things unfinished.”

  Incredible as it seemed, he had one thing on his mind when it came to her. And he didn’t waste any time reminding her what that thing was.

  He came at her like a train, backing her up against the wall. “You thought I was gonna forget? We started something years ago.” His body pushed hers up against the wall, mashing her breasts into his chest. God. Her breasts felt even heavier. Aching. “You think I’m gonna let another twelve years go by?”

  God, I hope not.

  As soon as the rebellious thought entered her mind, she mentally kicked herself. Hard. No, no, no.

  “Gabriella!” Nana bellowed from inside.

  She pushed frantically against him. “Stop. I have to go. You have to go!”

  He eased away, but only slightly. His hand splayed against the wall near her head, blocking her escape. A faint smile played about his lips. “Want me to come back later? It’s been a while since I snuck into a girl’s bedroom, but I’m sure I can—”

  “I don’t live here,” she blurted and pointed over his shoulder to the garage apartment. “That’s my place.” The instant she admitted that, she regretted it. It seemed almost like an invitation. His smile went from faint to definitely there on his face. “But don’t do that. Don’t come over.” She definitely didn’t need to be alone with him in her apartment with a bed in proximity. Heaven help her, she wasn’t strong-willed enough for that.

  “Gabriella!” Nana shouted from inside. “Is something burning?”

  “Shit! Dinner.” She shoved past him.

  He snatched her hand before she could dive inside. “I’ll see you again, Gabriella.” His dark eyes roamed her face as though memorizing every feature. She felt his gaze like a caress. His words sank right into the marrow of her bones. She stared at him helplessly, both delighted by and dreading the prospect.

  “Gabriella! Who are you talking to?” Nana’s walker started thudding for the front door. Gabriella’s head whipped in that direction, panicked that Nana would emerge to see Cruz standing on her doorstep. She choked back her dismay and looked back at Cruz, ready to plead with him to leave, but he was already gone. A retreating figure down the front walk.

  She released a deflated breath.

  “Gabby!” Nana stepped out onto the porch and stared at her crossly. “I’d like dinner.”

  She sent one final lingering look down the front walk. Cruz was gone, but she could still see his dark eyes in her mind. Hear his stark promise to return.

  “I’m coming, Nana.”

  Eleven

  She was most definitely a coward. She lingered at Nana’s, eating dinner . . . and then offered to make brownies. It took a good hour to prep and bake, but Nana loved her sweets and Gabriella was stalling, after all.

  Nana had a serious sweet tooth and since her doctor actually wanted her to gain a little weight, there was no guilt in the indulgence. At least for Nana. Gabriella indulged, very much aware that she shouldn’t. Tess would say something snarky if she were present. Gabriella had long accepted she would never be a size four. She wouldn’t even be a size ten. Those aspirations had long since fled. Right about the time she gave up on the idea of a guy being able to get her off as well as she could get herself off, she gave up on the idea of ever having a bikini body.

  To be honest, Gabriella probably would never eat brownies in front of her sister to simply avoid the snark. The pleasure wasn’t worth it.

  But Tess wasn’t here. And the last twenty-four hours had been a bit much. She deserved brownies. Thinking about Cruz and the way her body burned from lack of fulfillment . . . well, she deserved ALL the brownies for the willpower it took to walk away from him.

  Okay, so she ran away. It was her only choice in that moment. Her libido was running rampant and she did not want to get more entangled with her old life in Sweet Hill than necessary.

  Turning him away from Nana’s house had been her only choice, too. He was only coming around for one thing. Curiosity. Some compulsion to finish what they started
all those years ago. Once—if—she gave in he would disappear. It would be the last she ever saw of him.

  With brownies in hand, she and Nana settled in to watch television together. She got up several times and peeked out the front window, assuring herself there was no sight of Cruz. She didn’t know what vehicle he drove, but there was no car parked along the curb.

  “What’s wrong? You looking for someone? Got a man coming over?” Nana waggled her bushy eyebrows as she shoved another bite of brownie into her mouth. She was on her second brownie now.

  “No, Nana.” Her grandmother really was far too perceptive. Old age may have robbed her of good bones and dexterity, but it had not robbed her of her mind.

  Thirty minutes later, Nana announced she was ready for bed. She pushed up from her recliner, reaching for her nearby walker. “You’re welcome to stay and finish the movie but I’m tuckered out. I have bridge tomorrow and I need my rest to stay sharp.”

  Gabriella glanced rather desperately at the television set. “Don’t you want to see the end?”

  She batted a hand. “I’ve seen Terminator a dozen times. The sexy part is over anyway.” She headed for her bedroom. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Gabriella got up from the couch. Like Nana, she had seen the movie before. She let Coco out back to potty. That took another half hour. The dog had to sniff everything.

  She tidied up inside, took out the trash, and finished the last of the dishes. She checked on Nana one final time. Her grandmother was already fast asleep, tucked in beneath one of her handmade quilts.

  Coco, a plump furball at the foot of the bed, lifted his head and growled at Gabriella as though she posed a threat. As though Gabriella had not fed the little beast tonight and just taken him out to the bathroom.

  She turned and headed back down the hallway, her feet creaking over the wood floor. The routine was much like every night. At least since she returned to Sweet Hill. Taking care of Nana was the reason she came home, after all. Nana was recovering well. Soon she wouldn’t need the walker at all. Soon Gabriella could go back to Austin.

  She walked through the house and shut off all the lights, double-checking that Nana’s walker was close by the bed and Nana’s phone was on her nightstand in case she should need it in the middle of the night to call Gabriella.

  She wasn’t stalling. She released a heavy breath. Not at all. These were things she had to do. It had nothing to do with avoiding her apartment. Definitely not avoiding him because he was gone. Back to wherever he lived. He wouldn’t come back tonight. It was late. Too late for him to come by her place. He had to be exhausted after their uncomfortable night in the closet.

  She worked to convince herself of this as she locked up Nana’s house and crossed the lawn. She placed one foot on the bottom step. The wood groaned beneath her weight as she climbed to the top slowly. Nana really needed to get someone out here to replace a few of the boards. They were beyond weathered. Gabriella feared that one day her foot was going to punch straight through one of them.

  She suddenly felt the effects of little sleep and a long day. Forcing a smile and cheerful conversation took a toll. Especially on a classic introvert like her.

  He’d said he’d see her again. Guess he didn’t mean tonight. She quickly tried to ignore her stab of disappointment. She had no business feeling that way.

  She yawned as she entered her apartment and quickly stripped off her clothes, changing into a well-worn T-shirt and shorts. She had a shift tomorrow afternoon, but she needed to get up early for Nana’s physical therapy appointment. Nana liked her there when the therapist worked on her. Gabriella suspected it was because the therapist was easier on her when Gabriella was present. Rhonda was a chatty sort and she often got caught up talking to Gabriella.

  Finished brushing her hair and teeth, she dropped into her bed and pulled her pillow close to hug. It was a body pillow. Easily five feet in length. She’d always had it. Her college roommate had teased her and accused the pillow of being her boyfriend.

  She’d laughed off the cheerful accusation back then with: “That’s right. Who needs a boyfriend when I have my pillow?”

  Except as she drifted to sleep, she couldn’t help thinking that the pillow was a poor substitute for a firm, male and very alive body. A body like Cruz Walsh’s.

  He went to bed alone. Alone with thoughts of Gabriella. Bri.

  As much as he promised he would be seeing her again, he wasn’t going to hang around late into the night hoping for a glimpse of her like some kind of stalker. He could almost hear Radiohead singing “Creep” in his head. He might have spent years in prison with dangerous men, but he wasn’t a menace and he had no intention of making her feel uncomfortable.

  He tucked his hands behind his head and listened to the faint drone of cicadas outside his window. He’d bought this house to have something of his own. Space. Only in this moment he felt a little too much space. A little too much solitude. He had never brought a woman back to his place. Not in the six months he had been living here. There was something sacred about this house, a place of his own. He wanted to keep it to himself. Safe and untouched. His alone. And yet he didn’t think he would mind having her here.

  His smile slipped. Except she was a fucking reporter. He’d rather she be a lawyer . . . or a guard at the prison. Hell, the fucking warden. All professions for which he held no fondness. The media had hounded him since his release. They even had nerve enough to harass his sisters and Hale. Bloodsucking parasites.

  She hadn’t even hidden the fact that she wanted a story from him. His story. The truth. Damn if he’d ever divulge that to her of all people. That meant he’d have to let her know exactly what kind of person her cousin had been. He’d made a point to not share that with anyone. Shelley Rae’s family had been through enough. She was dead. She had been dealt the worst of all punishments. No reason to make them suffer any more for the deeds that led to her death.

  But Gabriella looked good tonight. Better than memory served. The years had been kind to her. She wasn’t hiding her curves anymore in baggy sweatshirts. The fabric of her blouse draped lovingly over her well-endowed chest.

  Her freckles were still there, even more of them than before, but not a line or wrinkle marred her face.

  He shifted restlessly on the bed. His dick was hard, pulsing with hunger. Before he could consider what he was doing—or why he shouldn’t—he wrapped a hand around himself, stroking the tight, warm skin, building friction.

  He tilted his head back and pumped his dick, working it almost savagely from the base to the head, desperate for release . . . for something to take the edge off so he could stop thinking about the girl he’d craved since his voice first changed its pitch.

  His eyes drifted shut and the image that rose in his mind was of Bri sitting before him in high school, leaning forward and showing off her ass in too-tight jeans—and of Bri draped over him last night, her breasts pressed against his arm as she slept.

  He envisioned stripping her out of her clothes and parting her thighs, wrapping a fist around her hair and gripping the curve of her hip as he sank inside her.

  He saw all of that perfectly, clearly, achingly as he fisted himself hard. His breathing grew ragged and his balls drew up tight.

  Thinking about her wasn’t hurting anything, he rationalized. It was simply an image that got him off. That was all. That was it.

  He closed his eyes, feeling a flash of frustration. He didn’t want the image of her though. He wanted her. The sound of her voice. The solidness of her body under him. The roam of her hands on his skin. His hands on her soft skin. He visualized his fingers digging into tender flesh as he worked himself inside her. In his mind he was spreading her thighs wide and driving the swollen length of him into her.

  He came with a head-tossing groan. His spine arched on the bed as he shot out over himself, rattled in the aftermath of his orgasm.

  That shouldn’t have felt so good. Just the thought of Bri had him jacking off to
the best release he’d had in memory. It shattered him. Masturbating should not be better than the reality of a genuine flesh-and-blood woman, and yet it had been. Maybe he was tired of empty sex . . . maybe he wanted something else. Maybe that’s why nothing and no one seemed to satisfy him lately.

  Dropping back down on the bed, he stared into the dark of his room, his heavy breaths slowing as he wondered what the hell that meant for him. Did it mean he wanted more than sex with Bri?

  Groaning, he quickly rose from the bed and cleaned himself off. That finished, he strolled naked out onto his porch and breathed in the clean air, his bare feet flexing on the wood planks underneath him.

  In the vast distance, a coyote cried out until one of its pack mates answered the call.

  Twelve

  “G’night, Nana!” she called out from where she hovered in the front door, ready to lock up for the night. “See you in the morning.”

  Her parents had taken Nana out to dinner tonight to her favorite Tex-Mex restaurant, and she was already in bed by the time Gabriella got off work and stopped in to check on her.

  Coco growled at her, indifferent to the fact that Gabriella just let the little beast out to potty. She stuck her tongue out at the Chihuahua. The dog went wild, yipping and hopping, his considerable belly bumping the ground.

  Nana shouted from her bed where she watched television, “Coco, come.”

  With a final sniff for Gabriella, the dog trotted off, obeying his master’s bidding.

  Locking the door, she turned down the walk and cut across the grass toward the garage. Nana must have run the sprinkler. The lawn squished under her shoes.

  Cicadas chirped on the night. A slight evening breeze lifted her hair off her shoulders. It was the kind of evening for barbecues and sitting on a porch swing. Sitting on a veranda with someone you love beside you . . . hands locked and fingers laced together as you watched the world float past. She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck, wondering why she was being so maudlin. Aside from high school, when she would daydream—and nightdream—about Cruz Walsh, she wasn’t the kind of person that longed for a relationship. Either she met someone or she didn’t. She didn’t need a man in order to feel complete, but for some reason tonight she felt . . . lonely.