Kairos Read online

  “Of course, I remember. Her so-called fat friend ended up kicking her ass into next Saturday and rightfully so. She was so mean and vindictive. You know my family loves to eat as much as the next person, and there are some chubbies in the familial tree, but she crossed a line by being so openly cruel. What made you bring her up, anyway?” She waits for traffic to clear so she can pull into our complex.

  “Nothing in particular. I was just thinking that I should have chosen someone uglier for a best friend. It’s hard to shine in your shadow. That’s all.” That comes out sounding more true to my ears than it did in my head. I thought I was joking, but maybe Tonya being perfect in every way has bothered me more than I realized.

  She pulls the car into the complex and parks in her spot in front of our townhouse. Then she looks at me with so much hurt in her eyes I fumble for an apology. But before I can utter a word, she raises her hand for me to stop.

  “You are beautiful, Sully. You always have been. You have this ethereal beauty that can’t be achieved with makeup or cosmetic surgery. You glow from within, and it’s not my shadow you’re standing in. You surround yourself with books, work, school, and seldom take time out to enjoy yourself. You’re determined. I get it. I truly do. But you have to relax and quit judging yourself and others so harshly. In case you failed to realize, you had the second hottest man in the club tonight, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. There were half-naked women all over that club, and he never noticed a single one. That is the ethereal beauty I’m talking about.” She grabs her purse and steps out of the car. I quickly follow her.

  “Second hottest, huh? I suppose you’re claiming the number one spot for tall, dark, and handsome?” I playfully push her shoulder as she pushes the door open, laughing at my comment.

  “But, of course. He was tall, dark, and handsome, wasn’t he? But he was so quiet and reserved it was hard to carry on a conversation with him. I don’t think he spoke more than three sentences the whole time. But you know me, I couldn’t seem to shut up once I got started. I caught him smirking a few times, so I think he found me charming and of course beautiful.” She pushes my shoulder, and I have to laugh at her audacity.

  “Humble, aren’t we?” We both laugh as we climb the stairs and part ways in the hall. We yell out our goodnights, and then I shut the door behind me.

  What a weird day. I didn’t even get his number, but he has mine, so I’m not going to stress about it. He’ll call when he wants, and if he doesn’t, I’ll probably never see him again, so it doesn’t matter. The thought instantly saddens me. When it comes to Logan, my mind is in chaotic disarray. Something about him is so compelling. At this rate I’ll be in love by the end of the week. Ha…I seriously need to get a grip on my schoolgirl crush. He’s a pretty face with a nice body, and that is all. Any woman with a sex drive would be drawn to him. Hell, he’s sexy enough to spark a sex drive in a woman who hasn’t braved those carnal desires in decades. I find myself flinching at the thought of him with another woman, and that is as troubling as the rest of my thoughts when it comes to him.

  Get it together, Macgregor! He’s just a penis attached to a sexy body. Maybe if I say it enough that’s all he’ll be…one big walking penis. But no—those eyes haunt me in a way nothing ever has before.

  After finishing my nightly routine, I strip down and crawl into bed with nothing on my mind but green eyes and long blond hair framing a face worthy of a Ralph Lauren ad.

  The month of April comes and goes, and before I know it, the last week of school has finally passed in a blur of finals and presentations. Finally summer has arrived. I can breathe easier now that my schedule has opened up. I’ve told my boss to keep my hours to a minimum this summer. I don’t plan on spending my every free moment monitoring gas pumps and selling beer. I’m going to live a little and try to discover who it is that I really am. Since Dad passed away I feel like I’ve lost a chunk of my own identity along with him. I need to figure out what it is I want out of life and how I plan to achieve it.

  I have about twelve hundred in my savings, and I’m thinking of taking a little trip to the beach for some sun and relaxation. I’ll have to ask Tonya if she wants to come too. It could be our final college vacation together. The thought of that saddens me a little, but I suppress it and head off to the bank to deposit my check.

  After running a few errands, I head into Old Navy in search of some summer clothes. I deserve a new outfit and maybe even a pair of sandals. Yeah, that sounds good. Shoes always bring a smile to my face. As I’m parking my old Camry in the only spot that isn’t a mile away from the store, my phone rings. I pull it out of my purse and lock my door as I walk to the entrance. I hit the talk button and sputter out a distracted greeting. Then I freeze as the voice on the line momentarily paralyzes me.

  “Hi.” He always says it like it means so much more.

  “Um, hello. How are you doing?” I start walking again so I don’t get plowed over by the chick in a huge Hummer backing out of her spot without looking for pedestrians.

  “I’m good. And you?” His voice is like a rich dark chocolate saturating my senses; I wait with bated breath for each and every syllable. It’s pathetic! Gosh, what has he got over me that I cannot control my raging hormones any better than this. It’s embarrassing.

  “I was going to do a little shopping. I’m thinking of taking a trip, and my summer wardrobe is a little lacking. I might even throw in a pair of cute sandals for good measure,” I tease him. Men cringe at women who love to shop. So maybe I’m baiting him intentionally to judge his reaction. I really despise shopping, but it’s a necessary evil when most of my clothes are suffering from overuse. I very seldom purchase anything for myself. It’s an old habit I inherited from my father, and I can’t seem to shake the guilt I feel when I spend in excess. There always seems to be something better or more useful I could be spending my money on. But not today…nope, today I’m all about indulging and not feeling even a tad guilty.

  “Where are you shopping?” He sounds vaguely curious but not upset or discouraged in the slightest.

  “Old Navy.” I start to make my way through the racks. The summer selection is displayed at its finest. I flip through the dresses, searching for something light and airy for the beach trip I’m debating about taking.

  “Funny thing, then…well, that you’re at Old Navy, that is. Because I find myself staring at a tantalizing chestnut-haired beauty.” I lift my eyes from the rack and take a step back. I feel him long before I see him. His warmth tingles down my spine as I anticipate his touch. He doesn’t disappoint.

  Warm hands grip my shoulders and weave a trail of heat as his long fingers skim down my arms and back up to my shoulders, and then he gently turns me around to face him.

  “You see, I find myself in a bit of a dilemma.” He smiles as he cups my chin in his hand and pulls my mouth to his. His other hand lies possessively on the small of my back, tugging me gently to him. He breaks the kiss and smiles down at me with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

  “And what, pray tell, is your dilemma, Mr. Thatcher?” I smile back up at him as he chuckles at my retort.

  “I’ve had these blue eyes and burnished brown hair running through my mind since that night at the club, and no matter what I do, I can’t seem to shake the need to see you. To touch you.” He caresses my cheek with the backs of his fingers and takes a step back.

  I remember to breathe again. The air rushes into my lungs, and I struggle not to gasp. Shit. Shit. Shit. How does he do this to me?

  I clear my throat and turn back to the racks. Trying for nonchalance, I pretend to be browsing the selection, but in all reality my mind is wholly focused on the meat muffin standing behind me.

  “I think you’ll find that seeing someone is easily accomplished if you pick up the phone and dial the digits. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Thatcher?”

  He chuckles, and then I feel him shift to my right side so he can see my face. He likes that. He is constantly seeking eye
contact with me, and I find myself avoiding it with each pressing minute. He sees too much. I feel as if he can take in my every thought by simply looking into my eyes.

  A warm blush rises up my neck and flushes my cheeks rosy red. I try to look down like something in the floor has just become monumentally interesting, but he cups my chin in his hand again and pulls my eyes to his.

  “Why so shy, Sulwen? You weren’t shy the other night. Don’t tell me you’ve gone and judged what we did as a gross error on your part. I won’t allow that. I’ve thought of nothing else.” He takes the dress I’m holding and places it over his arm. I turn back to the racks and slide hangers over as if I’m actually interested in shopping. “And I didn’t call you because I was out of town all week. I apologize if you had misgivings about my character. Let me reassure you that while I may have been distanced from you physically, you have been on my mind nonstop.” He reaches over and runs the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. My tongue darts out to taste him, and he sucks in a sharp breath at the contact.

  I am nearly undone by my brash behavior. Heat floods my face. I can feel my ears lighting up like the Fourth of July. I turn my head back to the rack, but he again pulls my eyes back to his. He speaks to me with his eyes. It’s a language my body responds to with eager anticipation.

  “Don’t look away from me, Sulwen. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You affect me as much as I affect you.” He leans down and gently kisses my lips. It’s soft and gentle, like a whisper on my flesh. As he pulls back, he’s smiling again, and I can’t help but smile back.

  “Will you have lunch with me?” he asks as he takes a step back and looks at the two dresses I just slung over my arm. He plucks them up and holds them out for inspection. His eyes light up on the purple dress. It’s a little skimpy for my taste, but it’s appropriate for beachwear.

  “Do you like it?” I find myself seeking his approval, and at once I could kick myself in the knee for my stupidity. I have broken the first rule of dating known to women across the world. Never…ever…seek a man’s approval for anything. It just gives him the inane belief he can control you. And I don’t have the patience for a controlling boyfriend right now.

  However, his next statement surprises me when his brows rise in question and he shakes his head and says, “Your expressions are like an open book. You’re so easy to read, and yet I find myself curious as to why you worry if I like it or not. Do you like it?”

  “Yes, I do.” I answer bluntly because his bluntness is catching me off guard, and I find myself wanting to say that yes, I do care what he likes. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. What is wrong with me? If I had a dollar for every time I have asked myself that very question in his presence, my savings account would be sitting pretty right now.

  I proceed to the front of the store and wait my turn in line to pay for my dresses. Logan has followed me and stands patiently behind me as I lay them on the counter for the girl to ring up. When she tells me the total and I reach into my purse to grab my debit card, he swiftly hands her a black Amex card and sends me a sneaky grin.

  “I was going to pay for those,” I huff. I’m trying to be mad at his macho self, but I find the action so sweet I can’t muster up any real anger at all. I’ve never had a man buy me clothes. Tommy was all for women’s liberation, and at times I think he used it as an excuse so he didn’t have to pay for anything.

  I frown and shake off the memory of him and his worthless hide. I’ve got tall, blond, and gorgeous paying for my dresses and fucking me with his eyes every time I turn around. And it’s a heady feeling that I won’t relinquish just yet.

  The clerk looks up and hands him his receipts, and her eyes are bulging from their sockets. She looks like she had an orgasm from the mere contact of his fingers as she placed his card and receipt in his hand. Shit on a stick…I know he’s drop-dead beautiful, but does she really have to ogle him like that?

  Logan looks at me as we exit the store and grins knowingly. How the hell can he tell that girl made me jealous? And why am I jealous of a man who isn’t mine? I’ll bet he has a woman for every week of the month, and I’m just this week’s special. Well, I’ll not come off with it that easy. Besides, I’ve already got my orgasm, and I can hold out for a while if need be. Even though the thought makes me frown and shake my head. I hear his chuckle beside me and look up into his eyes.

  “She was barely eighteen, if that, and you were shooting flames from your eyes. Stand down, tigress. All is well. My eyes are fully fixated on the prize before me.”

  He places my hand in his as we stroll toward a sleek black sports car. It’s the one that picked him up from the store that night. It must belong to his friend, but I can’t imagine a friend loaning out a car this expensive. I look over at him and see him in a whole new light. Maybe if I could quit staring at his perfect face I would have noticed that his outfit probably cost more than my car.

  He’s wearing some very expensive distressed blue jeans that cling to the lower part of his waist but don’t sag on his ass like the ones most guys wear. They fit him like they were designed just for his frame. His white shirt has a deep V with a logo over his heart from some brand I’ve never seen before. Probably upper crust—not Walmart or Target like I’m used to buying. His brown boots peek out from under his pants, and like the rest of him, they’re flashy. He looks very put together but with a hint of dishevelment. It’s almost like he’s saying looking that good isn’t hard at all. Humph, I wish!

  “For your information I was not jealous. It was rude of her to ogle a customer so openly with a woman standing right beside him. And you were purchasing dresses for said woman. It wasn’t jealousy. It was irritation for her blatant disregard of common courtesy.”

  He pushes a button on the key ring, the car beeps once, and then he opens the door for me.

  This car is spectacular, and I get a thrill just looking at it. I can’t wait to hear the engine purr to life and feel it hug the curves of the road like it was meant to. I can’t mask the awe that overcomes me while looking at it. Logan pats me on the ass and chuckles at my expression.

  “Are you going to stare at it or get in? I assure you it’s just a means of transportation and nothing more. It’s my friend Thad’s car, so don’t start thinking I’m trying to compensate for something.” He grins and shuts the door after I’m situated.

  Compensating? Is he serious? I felt that behemoth bulge in his pants the other night. No one could be stupid enough to come to that conclusion after feeling his hard-on stretch his pants so tight I thought the zipper would bust. I had secretly hoped it would. Then I could have fondled him to my heart’s content. Good grief. I’m acting like a walking vagina ready and waiting for penetration. This is so not cool.

  I fasten my seat belt and collect what is left of my dignity as he sits down and starts the car.

  “What kind of car is this?”

  “It’s an Aston Martin Vantage GT3. Not that I expect you to appreciate that, but it’s expensive, fast, and one of the sweetest rides I’ve ever driven. Thad has impeccable taste when it comes to vehicles.” The car purrs like a lazy lion as we pull out onto the road and head toward a line of restaurants.

  “So what are you in the mood for? Italian, Asian, seafood, or something simple? You pick.” He changes the gears with effortless ease. I try to think of what I would like to eat but can’t think of anything in particular. So I rattle off the first thing that comes into view.

  “Olive Garden sounds good. I love their salads,” I say with too much enthusiasm.

  “Italian it is then.” He looks over at me and smiles his charming smile, and I melt into the black leather seat. His hair is tied back today in a loose ponytail, but strands have begun to fall out and frame his chiseled face. He reaches up and absently tucks a stray lock behind his ear, and the sight of those fingers, the thought of where they’ve been, make me blush. I turn my head and gaze at the passing cars.

  “So tell me a little about yourself, Sulwen.” He takes a bit
e of salad and eyes me expectantly. I swallow a bite of bread, take a sip of my berry sangria, and decide I can do this. I can talk about myself without the overpowering urge to blush or run to the restroom.

  “Well, there’s not really a whole lot to say. I’m a full-time student at ETSU. I graduate in the fall with a master’s in English. And my dream job is to be a published author. That about sums it up.” I grin and bat my eyelashes. Holy shit, did I really just bat my eyelashes at him? His broad grin confirms my fears. I’m shamelessly flirting with a man who has had his hand in my panties. And by the way, what did he do with those panties? I’m afraid to ask, so I put that question away for another time.

  “You don’t like talking about yourself, do you?”

  I shake my head and move my fork around my salad bowl.

  “I’m finding you to be quite the conundrum, Miss Sulwen. However, I don’t think four sentences can sum up any person, much less one as intriguing as you.” He nods his head expectantly at me, so I continue.

  I debate on whether or not to bring up the subject of how he knows my name, but decide to couch that right now since he seems completely at ease. Maybe if I just allow the dialogue to flow between us he’ll let it slip. I don’t want to come off as snarky and suspicious…even though I’m highly curious—so I acquiesce…this time, and allow him to set the tone for our conversation.

  “Well…I like photography, music, and being outdoors when I’m not so into a book I can’t pull myself away. But I’m working on that. I’m a tad OCD, and it grieves me to no end to start a book and not finish it in the same day. I know, it’s silly, but I like to finish something I start, and books fall into that category as well. What about you, Logan? What are your hobbies or favorite pastimes?”

  He shrugs his shoulders and seems uninterested in the topic. “Nothing much. I graduated with a degree in history, and now I find myself gainfully employed by museums and historical societies around the globe. I travel quite a bit, but only one place beckons me home, and that’s Scotland. I’m obviously not a native, but I’ve found the country to be the most beautiful I’ve seen throughout my traveling, and it was a rather easy decision to set up camp and buy a house there.” He sips his glass of red wine and pushes his now empty plate to the side.