Down to You Read online

  What is painful, however, is remembering the humiliation of the night before. It comes back to me in a rush, as does the image of the gorgeous club owner, Cash. I roll over and bury my face in the pillow as the details drift through my mind—tall, strong body and perfect, handsome face. A smile to die for.

  Ohmigod, he was so effin’ hot!

  Even now, I wish he’d kissed me. It’s ridiculous, but it might’ve made the whole debacle a little less…wasteful.

  Chastising myself, I roll onto my back again and stare at the ceiling. I’m smart enough to recognize when I’m falling prone to my one true weakness. It’s for that reason alone—because of the way my pulse speeds up when I think about his dark eyes daring me to undress him; because of the way I feel all warm when I think about his lips on mine—I have to be glad I’ll never see him again. He’s the embodiment of the one thing in life I need like a hole in the head—another bad-boy love interest.

  As always when I think of disastrous relationships, I think of Gabe. Cash reminds me a lot of him. Cocky, sexy, charming. Untamed. Rebellious.

  Heartbreaker.

  Gritting my teeth, I drag myself from between the sheets and make my way to the bathroom. I push Gabe out of my head. refuse to give that asshole one more second of my life.

  After I’ve splashed enough cold water on my face to feel partially human, I stumble my way toward the kitchen. I pay little attention to the posh designer furnishings and perfectly-placed pieces of art as I pass through the living room. It’s been almost two weeks since my roommate bailed and I had to move in with my rich cousin, Marissa. I’ve finally gotten used to seeing how the other half lives.

  Well, sort of, I think as I stop to look at the two thousand-dollar clock on the wall.

  It’s nearly eleven. I’m a little irritated with myself for sleeping away a large portion of my day off, so I’m prickly and grumbly when I enter the kitchen. Seeing Marissa sitting on the island with her long, bare legs crossed toward a guy perched on a stool does nothing to help my disposition.

  I stare at the back of wide, linen-clad shoulders and a dark blond head. For half a second, I consider what I’m wearing—boy shorts and a tank top—and what I look like—tousled black hair, sleepy green eyes, and smeared mascara. I debate heading straight back to my room, but that option is taken off the table when Marissa speaks to me.

  “There you are, Sleeping Beauty!” She smiles warmly in my direction.

  I’m immediately wary.

  For starters, Marissa is never nice to me. Ever. She is the triple-S trifecta—spoiled, snobby and snide. If there had been any other option for obtaining a roof over my head, I would’ve chosen it. Not that I’m not grateful. Because I am. And I show that gratitude by paying my share of a rent that Marissa doesn’t even pay (her father does) and by not strangling her in her sleep. I figure that’s pretty generous of me.

  “Good morning?” I say uncertainly, my voice hoarse.

  The broad shoulders in front of Marissa shift and the dark blond head turns toward me. Sinfully dark brown eyes stop me in my tracks. And steal my breath.

  It’s Cash. The club owner from last night.

  I feel my mouth drop open as my stomach falls through the floor. I’m surprised and embarrassed, but more than anything, I’m overcome by how much more appealing he is in the daylight. In a way, I guess I’d secretly thought my reaction to him last night was a product of alcohol coupled with the fact that I was stripping his clothes off him.

  Obviously, neither had anything to do with it.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask in confusion.

  I see his brow wrinkle. “Pardon me?”

  He glances at Marissa then back to me.

  “Wait a minute. Nash, do you know her?” Marissa asks, her warmth now curiously absent.

  Nash? Nash, as in Marissa’s boyfriend?

  I have no idea what to say. My fuzzy mind is having trouble putting puzzle pieces into place.

  “Not that I know of,” Cash/Nash says, his expression blank.

  Once I realize what’s going on, my confusion and embarrassment give way to anger and indignation. If there’s one thing I hate more than a cheater, it’s a liar. Liars disgust and infuriate me.

  Reflexively, I rein in my temper. It takes little effort to remain calm now, the result of a lifetime of swallowing my emotions. “Oh, is that right? Do you always so conveniently forget the women who partially undress you?”

  Something flashes in his eyes. Is it…humor?

  “Trust me, I think I’d remember something like that.”

  Marissa hops off the island and assumes a belligerent stance, her hands fisted on her hips. “What the hell is going on?”

  I’ve never been one to stir up trouble between couples. What they do and don’t tell each other is their business. But this time it’s different. I don’t know why, but it is.

  Maybe it’s because she’s my cousin.

  I tell myself that, but I know there’s no love lost between Marissa and me. Another thought flies through my head—one that says I’m upset about being so casually forgotten by the guy I woke up thinking about—but I completely disregard it, labeling it “ridiculous” and moving on.

  First, I address Marissa. “Well Nash here showed up at Shawna’s bachelorette party last night trying to pass himself off as a club owner named Cash.” Next, I turn to the imposter in question. Try as I might, I can’t keep the derision from my tone. “And you. Really? Cash and Nash? Don’t you think you could’ve been a little more original? What are you, four?”

  I fully expect Marissa to throw a holy fit and Cash/Nash to be immediately contrite. Or even to try and lie his way out of what he’s done. But what I get is what I least expect.

  They both start laughing.

  As I look on, confused, it seems only to intensify their amusement. My anger rises accordingly.

  It’s Cash/Nash who speaks first.

  “I guess Marissa didn’t happen to mention I have a twin brother, did she?”

  CHAPTER FOUR- Nash

  I watch the full gamut of emotions play across this girl’s beautiful face. Confusion, anger, indignation, pleasure, then confusion again. In the end, her features settle into disbelief.

  “You’re joking.”

  “Not hardly. Who would bother to make up a story like that?”

  She’s still watching me with a dumbfounded look. “So you’re Nash.”

  I nod. “Correct.”

  “And you have a twin brother named Cash.”

  “Correct.”

  “Cash and Nash.”

  I shrug. “My mother had a thing for country music.”

  “And Cash owns that club, Dual.”

  “Correct.”

  “So, that makes you the lawyer.”

  “Well, not technically. Not yet anyway. But, yeah.”

  “And I’m not being punked.”

  I laugh. “No, you’re not being punked.”

  She chews the inside of her lip as she digests it all. I don’t think she has a clue how sexy and adorable she is.

  When it all settles in, she takes a deep breath and asks, “Can I have a do-over?”

  I grin. “Sure.”

  A brilliant smile comes instantly to her lips and she sticks out her hand. “You must be Nash, the boyfriend. I’m Olivia, Marissa’s slightly dull cousin.”

  I grin. “It’s nice to meet you, Olivia, Marissa’s slightly dull cousin.”

  I doubt there’s one single dull thing about you.

  She nods her head in satisfaction and turns to walk to the coffee pot. It’s all I can do not to watch her. I have to make myself focus on the beautiful blond in front of me. I’ve only ever looked at Marissa and seen an elegant, statuesque, gorgeous woman. But this morning, I find myself wishing she was a cute, rumpled, fiery brunette instead.

  Shit! That’s not good!

  CHAPTER FIVE- Olivia

  “Ohmigod! You can’t be serious!” Shawna mumbles around a mouthful o
f wedding cake.

  I want to laugh at the crumbs flying from between her lips. Coming with her to a cake tasting has been the most fun, second only to heading up the bachelorette party.

  “I wish I was joking, but I’m not. It was horrible!” I feel my face flush in remembered embarrassment just from retelling what had happened with Nash.

  “Well, at least it was the brother and not the one you practically molested.”

  I slap Shawna’s arm. “I did not practically molest him!”

  “No, but you wanted to.”

  “I most certainly—”

  “Don’t even lie to me, you wench! I know you too well. He had that whole bad boy thing going on. I’m surprised you didn’t wrap your legs and your lips and everything else around him right then and there.”

  “God, Shawna, you make me sound like some sort of floozy.”

  “Floozy? Really?” She eyes me skeptically.

  We both giggle. Mine turns into full blown laughter when I see the red icing stuck to Shawna’s teeth.

  “Shut up. It’s a Tracey word,” I explain, referring to my mother. She was Miss Prim and Proper. Words like “whore” and “slut” were not even in her vocabulary. Apparently “divorce” and “abandonment” were, though.

  “Don’t even get me started on her. I will cut a bitch!”

  “You know, that’s actually kinda scary when you say it now. Your teeth look like you just ate someone’s liver.” The red food coloring looks like blood in her mouth.

  “I did. And it was delicious with a nice Chianti and some fava beans,” she says in her best Hannibal voice, making a strange sucking noise afterward.

  We both start laughing, drawing the disapproving eye of the swanky shop’s attendant.

  “You better shut up. I’m pretty sure it’s bad luck to get kicked out of a wedding cake shop a month before your wedding.”

  Shawna smiles demurely at the attendant, her lips barely moving as she speaks to me. “If you had a piece of coal, we could hold her down, shove it up her ass and come collect a big fat diamond in a few days.”

  “I’m pretty sure it takes longer than a few days for coal to turn into a diamond, Shawna.”

  “Not in that tight ass, it wouldn’t.”

  Casting the stern-faced lady a sidelong glance, I change my mind. “You could be right.”

  “So, while we’ve got all this sugary brain food circulating through our blood, let’s formulate a plan for you to steal Nash from Marissa. I’m pretty sure it would be the best wedding present ever to see the look on that self-righteous whore’s face.”

  “What? Are you crazy? I’m not stealing anyone from anybody!”

  “And why not? This guy sounds like everything you’ve ever wanted.”

  I sigh. “I know.” And Nash does. He’s incredibly handsome, charming, obviously intelligent, successful, grounded, responsible—everything my mother has drummed into me from childhood. Everything she thought my father wasn’t. And he’s not a bad boy, which is the best thing about him. I might not agree with my mother about much, but I know she’s right about what kind of guy to set my sights on. I’ve proven her right time after time after time. Maybe someone like Nash could help the facts get through to my wayward heart. So far, it seems like I’m destined to fall for the wrong guy.

  “So then, what’s the problem? Go get him.”

  “It’s not that simple. For one thing, I’m not that kind of person.”

  Shawna drops her fork and looks angrily at me. “And what kind is that, exactly? The kind that goes after what she wants? The kind that makes life happen for her? The kind that does everything she can to find happiness? Oh, no. You’re not that kind at all. You’re the martyr. You’re the one who’s gonna let life pass her by because she won’t take risks anymore.”

  “Wanting to get a degree that I can use to help my father does not make me a martyr.”

  “No, but giving up on every other area of your life so you can move back to Podunk does.”

  “He’s already had one woman in his life abandon him. I refuse to be the second.” I can’t keep the sharp edge from my voice. She’s stirring up my temper.

  “Living your life is not abandonment, Liv.”

  “That’s exactly what she said.”

  To this, Shawna says nothing.

  ********

  Taking all my core accounting classes up front in my first two years of college was a stroke of genius as far as I’m concerned. But even with a light schedule of easy classes, I’m still tired today for some reason. It’s Friday evening and the weekend is just beginning.

  And it sucks already.

  I’d like to think it’s just dread of going home to work all weekend, but I know it’s a little more than that. It’s that stupid conversation I had with Shawna at the cake tasting.

  This guy sounds like everything you’ve ever wanted.

  I sigh. That’s becoming clearer with each passing day.

  Nash has visited Marissa every single night this week. The more I hear him talk and see him laugh and observe how he acts, the more I wish I was the kind of person that ruthlessly went after what I wanted.

  But I’m not. Marissa has the monopoly on that. Well, Marissa and my mother.

  If I ever become a thief, Nash will be the first thing I steal.

  I can hear his deep voice as he talks to Marissa. No doubt they have exciting plans for the night. Their jet-set lives are the stuff fairy tales are made of. Unfortunately, my life has been anything but a fairy tale.

  With a resolute jerk that makes my eyes water, I tighten my pony tail. I eye myself in the mirror. Marissa’s work uniform is a thousand dollar suit and Jimmy Choo shoes. Mine is black shorts and a black tee that says Get a little at Tad’s. A girl like me will never have a life like that.

  I’m glad when I hear the front door shut. At least now I don’t have to pass the dynamic duo on my way out. It’s already a shitty weekend and it’s only just begun. Seeing them drool all over each other is the last thing I need.

  I give them a couple minute lead before I grab my purse and keys, sling my overnight bag onto my shoulder and head for the door. I’m thinking to myself that I should’ve used the bathroom before I left when I look up and see Nash sitting in his sleek black car, talking on the phone. Not watching where I’m going, I forget to step off the curb and end up falling off it instead.

  I probably would’ve been able to keep my balance had I not been loaded down with my stuffed overnight bag. Once it got going in the wrong direction, there was no stopping either of us.

  I fall ass over teacup into the parking lot. In my head, I envision myself as a comical cartwheel of flailing arms and legs.

  Yep, I’m making a fool of myself. Again. Right in front of Nash.

  Is there no end to my embarrassment with this guy?

  I’m thinking that as I try and right myself as quickly as possible. Before I can get untangled from my purse and duffel straps, however, strong hands are gripping my arms and hauling me to my feet.

  I’m face to face with Nash. His dark-chocolate eyes are full of concern and he smells lightly of expensive cologne, something musky. Dark. Sexy.

  “Are you all right?”

  I’m discombobulated. “I’m just glad I didn’t pee all over myself,” I blurt. I see his mouth drop open a tiny bit and I feel my cheeks go up in flames.

  Oh sweet Lord, what did I just say?

  And then he laughs. His perfect mouth spreads into a wide smile, revealing equally perfect teeth. His face is transformed from gorgeous into just plain breathtaking. And the sound—it’s rich and rumbly and slides over my skin like satin.

  I know I’m staring, but I can’t seem to keep my eyes off the lips that are so close. They look so much like his brother’s. So delicious. So forbidden. And, despite all the reasons I shouldn’t, I want him to kiss me just as badly.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  “I am, too.”

  My brain is utterly scrambl
ed.

  “What?” I ask, dazed and confused.

  “I am, too,” he repeats.

  “You are too what?”

  “I’m glad you didn’t pee all over yourself, too.”

  Oh yeah. That.

  Apparently, it’s the rule of the universe that I make an ass of myself at every possible opportunity with this guy. And his brother, too!

  Stepping away from him so I can think, I smile sheepishly and shake my head. “Oh, God! Sorry about that. I, uh, I was just thinking that I should’ve used the bathroom before I left. I had lots of water today.”

  I laugh uneasily. He continues to watch me in amusement. It’s horrifying.

  “Where are you headed?”

  “To work.”

  “Ah. And where’s that?” he asks, pushing his hands into his pockets like he’s settling in for a long conversation.

  “Um, Tad’s Bar and Grill in Salt Springs.”

  “Salt Springs?” He frowns. “That’s, what, just over an hour from here?”

  “Yep, which is why I need to get going.”

  I have to get away from him before something more embarrassing happens. Like I reach out and touch the rounded pecs that I can just make out beneath his expensive dress shirt.

  “Right. Well, drive carefully.”

  With a nod and a polite smile, he turns and walks back to the car that’s purring quietly a few feet away.

  I all but run to my beat up Honda Civic. It has never looked more welcoming. Or more like an escape pod. I hop in and slam the door, exhaling in relief.

  But then, much to my chagrin, I turn the key and hear only a sluggish whine. The engine won’t start.

  I look at the gas gauge. Half full. It’s not an empty tank. I look at the dashboard lights. They’re nice and bright. It’s not a dead battery. Beyond that, I have no idea what to check.

  I’m sitting helplessly behind the wheel, wondering what the hell I’m going to do, when I see Nash cross in front of my car and approach my window. I roll it down.