Bridging the Gap Page 2

  “I knew that.”

  “Uh-huh.” Her disbelieving tone said it all. “Just when would I have had time to find another lover in the last two weeks? Between your job and mine we’ve spent every free night together. And I haven’t stayed the night yet so what makes this night any different?”

  Carter wrapped his arms around her waist, despising the clothes she’d donned, and nuzzled the skin below her left ear. “Because I want you to.”

  She leaned back so she could look him in the eye. “Aw. I want to too.” She shoved him away. “Just not tonight. New job, need sleep, not gonna get it here.”

  “What is this new job?”

  Ryan bent to slip her tennis shoes on. “I’m just helping my dad out for a while. Filling in ’til he gets someone else.”

  “How ’bout Friday night?” More begging, Malone?

  Shoes tied, she came over to him and patted his chest. “Friday sounds good. Here or my place?”

  “Here,” he growled, yanking her closer and kissing her deep. “That way I can keep you locked up and not let you out of my bed ’til I’m good and ready.”

  “I can’t wait.” The way her pupils dilated proved she couldn’t.

  Good. He wouldn’t be the only one miserable all week. She kissed him this time, slipping her tongue into his mouth and feasting on him like she couldn’t get enough.

  “Seriously,” he said, panting hard. “If you want to leave, you need to stop. Otherwise those clothes are coming off and I’ll have you flat on your back.”

  She sighed. “I’m going, I’m going.”

  He followed her, naked, to the front door, uncaring about the state of his undress. His home was isolated enough, set back off the road and surrounded on two sides by woods and the third by a lake, that he wasn’t worried about being seen even if he paraded around outside in the buff.

  With one last peck on his lips, Ryan jogged down the three steps of his porch and headed for her car.

  “Be careful driving home, babe.”

  “I will.” She waved to him and got into her sensible little Toyota Corolla.

  The car was newer but still, he wished she drove something a tad more safe. Like an Expedition, or a Land Cruiser. A tank would be nice. Maybe he could get her one…

  “Jesus, Malone. Two weeks. You’ve been seeing the woman two weeks,” he muttered, slamming the door shut when her taillights disappeared over the rise. “A bit early to be thinking about buying her a car, or marriage, or getting her pregnant, don’t you think?”

  Carter walked over and gripped the back of the leather sofa gracing his open living room, then dropped his head forward.

  He was in so much trouble.

  Chapter Two

  Carter stepped into his office Monday morning after having slept a total of two hours. Half his brain kept trying to determine why Ryan had practically run out on him, job or no job, while the other half had wondered why he should care. No amount of coffee had perked him up this morning, but the sight of his partner Ridge Casey’s wife, Morgan, pregnant and glowing with it, sure the hell did.

  He needed a psychiatrist if he was jealous of what his partner had that he didn’t.

  The closer he got, Carter realized Morgan’s cheeks were puffed and rosy, her hair mussed and her clothes in disarray. If it weren’t for the prominent bulge of her belly signifying late pregnancy, Carter would say she’d just been thoroughly fucked by her husband in Ridge’s office.

  “Morg, if you don’t go into labor soon, I’m afraid you might pop.” He spoke the same words he used every morning upon seeing her.

  This particular morning, to his utter dismay, her eyes welled with tears instead of her normal grin and, “Shut the hell up.”

  Horse’s ass. “Shit. I’m sorry, Morg.” He strode closer and attempted to give her a gentle hug.

  “Don’t touch me,” she snapped, anger replacing the tears.

  Carter reared back. Had he entered an alternate universe? What in the shit had happened to the normally quiet, sweet woman who graced their front office? Maybe he was still asleep. Dreaming? Nightmare, more like it.

  “Oh good, you’re here.” Ridge rushed from his office, papers a jumbled mess in his hands, some of them falling to the floor behind him.

  Definitely not awake. His partner never acted this way unless there was an emer…gency— He swung back to Morgan. “Are you in labor?”

  “Yes.” Ridge barked his answer at the same time Morgan gave a terrified nod, one hand going to her belly.

  “What the hell are you doing here then?” Carter snatched the pile of papers from Ridge’s hands and slapped them down on Morgan’s desk.

  “We’re leaving. Her water broke about ten minutes ago, and I’m running around here trying to get this shit in order for you.”

  “For God’s sake, Ridge, they invented cell phones a few years back. Use it and get the hell out of here.”

  “I am, I, we—”

  “What he means,” Morgan said, calmly reaching for her purse and the carryall they’d packed and brought to the office just in case something happened at work, “is that we were just getting ready to head out the door.” Her sedate attitude had both men looking at her.

  Tears, pissed off, serene in the space of two minutes. Were all women in labor like this? Would Ryan be?

  Shit! Stop thinking about her.

  He blinked as Morgan took a deep breath, closed her eyes and smiled at some inner secret apparently only she was privy to. The strangeness had him thinking of the music from the X-Files—doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo…

  “Right. What she said.” Ridge patted every pocket on his body, twice. Morgan cleared her throat and held out the keys between her forefinger and thumb. Ridge grabbed them. “I knew you had them.”

  Morgan hummed in response. Carter had never seen his best friend so flustered. He kind of enjoyed it. He’d enjoy razzing him later even more.

  Settling himself against Morgan’s desk, he crossed his arms over his chest and sat back to watch the man disintegrate.

  Ridge ushered his lovely wife across the room, mumbling something that sounded like, “Do we have everything?” He stopped and snapped his fingers as Morgan pushed on the door.

  “Damn. I almost forgot. You need to go over to the Wellingby site and meet with the new foreman.”

  Carter nodded. “Can do.”

  “I’m supposed to go, but…Ryan Dixon is his name, I think. He’s Mr. Dixon’s son.”

  Carter’s heart rate shot through the roof at the name Ryan. Ryan Dixon, not Ryan Cooper. Man, not woman. Still, the name made him imagine her creamy skin beneath his fingertips, the way her nipples peaked under his tongue, the way her pussy hugged his cock so tight it made his eyes cross.

  “Carter.”

  “What?” He shook the vision of Ryan’s body undulating with his from his mind and forced himself not to adjust his cock beneath the zipper of his khakis.

  “Jesus, man, you’re more lost than I am.”

  “Yeah. I don’t think that’s possible.”

  Morgan waved. “Hello? Pregnant woman nearly about to birth your child in the office waiting here.”

  “Shit.” Ridge turned again to his wife then once more back to Carter. “Ryan. Foreman. Go. Meet.”

  “Yes, yes. I will. I’ll go now in fact.” He pulled his keys from his pocket and followed them out. “Call me the second you know anything. And good luck, Morg. Don’t let Ridge flip out on you.”

  “Too late,” she announced over the doorframe before it shut.

  Carter laughed and hopped in his SUV, ready to fulfill Ridge’s wishes lest he cause the man a coronary on the day of his first child’s birth. He tried to remember what he knew about the Wellingby site. The project was one of Ridge’s babies, his conception, and while Carter had collaborated on it, he had his own projects going at the same time. He knew the former foreman had broken his leg in an on-site accident, and Ridge had said the owner of the construction company had someone to repl
ace him temporarily until the man was able to come back. And from what Carter could recall, it would be awhile until the other man was able to return to work since his injuries were pretty extensive.

  A measure of adrenaline raced through his system. Carter loved going to the job sites, loved seeing their projects come to fruition from the ground up. The Wellingby site would be gorgeous. State-of-the-art facility for patrons of the arts from toddlers to the elderly. It was going to be a welcome addition to the community, graciously donated by the Wellingby family.

  Twenty minutes later, Carter pulled onto the gravel entrance. The site was in full swing even this early in the morning, like a beehive of activity with yellow hard-hat-wearing workers crawling all over the infrastructure of steel beams. He turned into a section reserved for the workers’ vehicles and sat, watching, window down, still unable to believe what he did for a living had a part in creating the vast building being constructed right before his eyes.

  The hum and whir of machinery combined with the near-constant knocking of hammers, and the buzz of saws almost overrode the shouts and calls of the workers. He missed it. Architecture was his passion but construction was how he’d made his way through college. His father had been a laborer. Carter had practically cut his teeth chewing on his daddy’s tools. He loved sitting four stories up and feeling the steel between his legs, no pun intended, as he attached two beams together.

  He sighed. Wouldn’t happen today. Two trailers were parked to the right of his position. Inside he’d likely find the new foreman, but his fingers itched to get more hands on and join in the fun of building instead of overseeing and planning.

  “Hell.” He jerked the keys from the ignition and got out. All this wishing. He was beginning to feel like a girl.

  As he walked to the back of the SUV to retrieve his hard hat, gravel crunched beneath the steel-toed Redwing boots he always wore in case he was needed at a site. At least he’d get to look a little bit the part with his boots and hat. The khakis, dress shirt and tie threw the rest out of whack. Anyone with half a brain would know he hadn’t come there to pound nails.

  The door to the trailer opened just as he reached for it and a man stepped out, nodding to him in acknowledgement. Carter stepped back to let him pass and his knees nearly buckled when a sweet, familiar voice rang out.

  “And don’t forget the dimension change on the south face of—”

  “I gotcha, boss,” the man said, adjusting his hat on his head.

  Carter’s cock twitched. He could not have heard her voice. She was at work. A new job. Working for her father. He closed his eyes and swallowed back the rush of unease before stepping up into the brightly lit space to be greeted by the rounded backside of the woman he’d made love to not even twelve hours ago. She spoke on the phone tucked between her shoulder and ear, oblivious to his presence, a white hard hat on her head. A secretary perhaps? He ground his teeth in frustration.

  Ryan Dixon, his ass. She’d told him her name was Ryan Cooper. Had Ridge fucked up or had she, for whatever reason, led him astray? Had she known who he was and somehow thought sleeping with him would help her get ahead? And if she’d lied about her name, how many times had she lied to him about other things?

  Jesus. Nothing made sense. Sleeping with him wouldn’t get her a job. He wasn’t even her boss. If anything, she’d answer to the construction owner—apparently her father—and beyond that she’d have to deal with Ridge.

  She shifted, wagging that perfect ass in front of him, enticing him to bend her over the OCD clean desk that had a place for everything and everything in its place, and pump his cock in and out of what he knew would be a slick, tight sheath. The other temptation was to throw her facedown over his knee and paddle said perfect ass with his bare hand.

  “Yes, Tom.” She paused and stuffed a slender hand in her back pocket. “No, I haven’t seen him yet. I’ll be sure and tell him when I do.”

  Carter waited not quite so patiently for her to finish her conversation with whoever she spoke to and stayed well on the other side of the trailer from her. If he got too close, no telling what might happen.

  “See you then. Bye.”

  See you then? Like hell she’d see him then. The only man she’d be seeing was Carter. The tips of his ears grew hot as jealousy swam through him. Great. First the car and marriage, and now the great green-eyed monster had taken hold of his body.

  He wasn’t through with her yet. Deceit or not. He cleared his throat.

  “Are you back already, Jason?” She turned, then shrieked, throwing a coffee mug she’d been holding in the air. It dropped to the ground with a thunk, the liquid sloshing out to drown everything in sight, including her shirt. “Carter?” The name gurgled from her mouth as the hot coffee soaked through the cotton fabric of two shirts to singe her abdomen.

  “Shit.” He crossed the space in about four steps to reach for her.

  Ryan plucked at the button-down shirt and T-shirt underneath. “What are you doing here?” And why was she squeaking?

  “I think the more important question is what are you doing here?” The accusation in his voice threw her.

  “Working for my father, remember? It’s why I couldn’t stay the night, you ass. Don’t go all caveman on me.”

  “What?” He stepped closer and the warm, male scent of his skin overrode the mocha-sweet smell of the brew she couldn’t function without. She didn’t give a rat’s ass about those who wanted to poison themselves with the caffeinated crap, but the decaf…that was all hers.

  Jesus, she was standing here thinking about coffee while a none-too-happy Carter growled down at her.

  And oh goodness did he look hot in a hard hat and tie.

  “Carter,” she said again, trying to come up with some plausible explanation as to why the man she’d been making love to had known where to find her.

  “That’s my name, Ryan.”

  Eyes wide, she stared at him. He was pissed. At her. “Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed or something, or was it just that I didn’t stay the night?”

  “It has nothing to do with you not staying the night. It’s more about you lying to me for the last two weeks.”

  She gasped. “Lying? What lie? What are you talking about?”

  “What about your name? Ryan Cooper?”

  “Uh, yeah, that’s my name. Don’t wear it out.” He had to be stoned. There was no other explanation for the sudden turn in his attitude.

  “Then why the fuck did my partner send me here to meet a Ryan Dixon?”

  “Dix—oh.” Her eyes crinkled in confusion. “Partner?”

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  Had she? She was tempted to put a hand on his forehead to see if he had a fever, but touching him would no doubt lead to doing bad things on her desk. So she did the next best thing.

  “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Answer the question.” His nose almost bumped hers as he leaned in menacingly. The only thing preventing it was their hard hats. He couldn’t get that close to her. The plastic rim of his hat clipped hers. Bastard didn’t even say sorry, but at least he backed off half an inch, leaving her wondering if her eyes were still crossed from having to look at his face while he was practically inside her.

  She could hardly breathe from wanting his lips on hers. All this accusing and not even a, “Hi, honey, I’m home.”

  “What were we talking about?” Ryan swallowed and stared at his mouth, unashamed at how husky her voice sounded.

  “Dixon.”

  “Oh, right. Tom Dixon is my father.”

  “You told me your name was Cooper.”

  She nodded. “It is. Tom is my stepfather. I’m not sure why your…partner said my name was Dixon. Who is he by the way? Partner in what, and why, exactly, are you here again?”

  A light seemed to go off in his head and a muscle ticked on the side of his face. Made that square jaw so cute. She wanted to nibble on it.

  The band in her hard hat must be
way too tight.

  “Damn it.”

  She hid her smile at his favorite curse. “What?”

  Carter sucked in a breath and rubbed at the back of his neck, a gesture she’d seen him do often. “My partner is Ridge Casey. His wife went into labor this morning so perhaps, in his flustered state of mind, he got the name wrong.”

  “Wait a minute.” Ridge Casey. Carter Malone. Malone and…

  She frowned at him. “No. No, no and no. Please don’t tell me you’re that Carter Malone? From Malone and Casey? The firm that designed this building?” Please don’t tell me I’m that unlucky.

  “Got it in one.” He sounded a tad disgusted which only served to confuse her more. Somebody had to have spit in his eggs this morning. Although if she’d been a waitress and he’d come into her restaurant all pissy like he was right now, she’d have done the same.

  In hindsight, sleeping with one of the architects did look really bad. “Ah hell.” Why in the fig hadn’t she connected his name? There couldn’t possibly be that many Carter Malones in the area. Stupid didn’t even begin to encompass the depth of her dumbness.

  To keep busy, and hopefully to look less flustered than she felt, Ryan went about setting her hat on the desk and unbuttoning her shirt.

  “What are you doing?” He yanked her hands off the buttons.

  She pursed her lips. “Changing my shirt. In case you hadn’t noticed, you made me ruin this one. I can’t very well run around outside soaked in coffee, now can I?” Although she wouldn’t mind taking it off and doing other things inside. But since Carter looked like he’d rather do anything than be cooped up with her in the trailer, she went for simply changing.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, thumbing the pulse at her wrist for a moment before letting her go.

  “It’s fine. I’ve got extras here. Lots to get into out there, ya know?” She stripped off the button-down and blew out a breath at the long-sleeve shirt underneath. It would have to go too. There were extras in the bottom drawer of the desk, ones she’d only placed there this morning. She was suddenly glad she’d come prepared.

  After taking the clothing from her stash, she stood to remove the T-shirt. Carter was on her again. This time he grabbed her wrist and held it up for inspection. Ryan licked her lips and prayed he wouldn’t ask her about the bracelet.