Blindsided Read online

  “You don’t have anyone else to call?” he asked while he stubbed out his cigarette and blew the last of the smoke off to the side.

  There had to be a boyfriend, or a husband, or someone, didn’t there? Women like this were not single. Nor were they for guys like him, he thought with a stab of jealousy and aimless anger. This was getting worse every damn second.

  “No. My brother’s the only person I know around here.”

  He nodded. If he had an ounce of sense left in his head, he would let her walk out his door, into the rain and out of his life. She would get a tow truck or whatever she needed and be out of his sanctuary. But he wasn’t going to do that. Nope, he was going to go and be nice. Why? Because of that damn look of confusion and helplessness on her face and the way she hid it. She would sit in her car all night, and he’d be awake thinking about her. If anything happened to her, he’d would hate himself forever. Or, worse, he’d end up out there at three in the morning, trying to figure out how to help her. Better to just do it now and get it over with.

  So instead of saying, so long, see you later, he said, “Maybe I can take a look at it. I’m pretty good with cars.”

  Her uncertainty showed up again, but then she realized her back was up against a wall as far as her car was concerned. All this passed over her face in an instant. This woman could hide nothing. She really had no idea who he was. That made a difference. A small one, but enough to ease his defenses a bit.

  “Ok, um, if you don’t mind,” she said, “It looks like the rain has let up. Maybe we should go now.”

  Nate looked out the window, surprised to see the rain had stopped. He had been paying so much attention to her ass that he hadn’t noticed the weather change. It wasn’t sunny by any standards, but it was less soggy and the sky looked vaguely blue. Well, a dark gray that suggested blue to the optimistic viewer, but it was as close as they were liable to get.

  He grabbed his shirt from a nearby chair and pulled it on over his head.

  “I don’t mind,” he responded, committing himself before he could think better of it, “Let’s go.”

  ###

  Chelsea’s horny little voice insisted on interjecting as they walked back out to the road. Wanna go in the woods? How about we hit the backseat when we get there? So far, she’d managed to keep these suggestions to herself. He was, as she kept reminding herself, a bad boy, and bad boys no longer held anything for her. Sure the sex made you look ten years younger, but the crying gave you wrinkles, so it was a wash when it came to including them in part of your beauty regimen.

  “What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” she asked, then immediately wished she hadn’t.

  She could have been more cheesy, more nosy if she’d put some effort into it, but it would have been hard. Her cheeks burned up and she was glad that the air was cool and crisp now that the rain had gone. The solid wall of clouds was slowly dissipating, allowing patches of actual sky to show through. In the month she had been staying in Seattle with her brother, Chelsea had almost forgotten that the sky was blue.

  Nate raised his eyebrows. Whether he didn’t quite understand what she was asking, or he couldn’t believe that she had asked something so utterly ridiculous was unclear.

  “What exactly do you mean by that?” he asked.

  He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a battered pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out and had it lit in a series of practiced, fluid movements. Great, he was graceful, too.

  Chelsea grabbed his hand before he could get his hand back in his pocket. A jolt of electricity shot through her when their skin met. His was hot to the touch, the flesh beneath it hard and sinewy.

  “Could I have one,” she asked, “Please?”

  She was suddenly desperate for a smoke, flustered as much by what passed between them as by her stupid question. He glanced back and forth between her hand on his wrist and her face. There was a hint of glare in his blue eyes, but it was covering something much hotter. Was his gruffness hiding lust? That jolt was too strong to have been one sided. He stared at her a few seconds longer, appraising her. She suddenly felt naked and didn’t mind a bit.

  “Sure,” he said finally.

  He retrieved a cigarette, and to Chelsea’s surprise, leaned closer and put it between her lips and lit it with a strange tenderness. The scent of him surrounded her. Struggling not to close her eyes and breathe him in, Chelsea looked at the ground. She tried not to think about lying under him, burying her nose in his neck and smelling the musky, earthy smell emanating from him. It didn’t work. She’d always had a damnably vivid imagination.

  He backed away from her and for a moment she thought she’d embarrass herself completely and follow him, lean her head against his hard chest… Enough, she chastised herself, forcing herself to focus on something besides the heat radiating from him. She tried to focus on the fact that it was very possible he was crazy. What other explanation was there for his insistence that she was there not to use the phone, but to get an autograph?

  “You didn’t answer my question. What do you mean by a guy like me and a place like this?”

  His look was stern, just bordering on angry, but the emotion didn’t mar his features. His words gave Chelsea the jerk back to reality she needed just the same.

  “Well,” Chelsea started, deciding to just go on the offensive, “You can’t tell me you don’t know it’s a little odd to find a large, tattooed man in a little country cottage with beautiful gardens. Walking up the driveway, I swore I was in for tea and cookies with a grandma. Then you appeared.”

  She gestured wildly with her hand, taking in Nate Stone in all his ungranny-ish glory. For a second Chelsea thought she had gone too far and ruined her chances of getting her car fixed, but then the glowering look on Nate’s face morphed into a grin. It was a street sexy, lopsided affair that made him look more mischievous than happy. Chelsea’s heart flopped in her ribcage, the glint of teasing promise stealing her breath. She swallowed hard and tried to ignore the fizzing hot feeling in her veins. A fizzing hot feeling that had a very distinct center between her legs.

  He was attractive enough when he was glowering, but the disarming, boyish grin that flaunted his dangerous charm while suggesting hidden sweetness was brutal. It was the bad boy’s secret weapon and it did her in. She had fallen for it countless times and she had learned her lesson, finally. The grin was an act of war.

  “Yeah,” he said slowly, seduction dripping from the damn grin, “I guess I know that. But not many people know I’m here. In fact, only about 5 people know about this place. If you must know, I like to garden. It relaxes me.”

  He leaned forward again, enveloping her in the sweetness of being let in on a secret. The revelation of a bad boy’s soft side. Oh, he was good.

  “Oh,” Chelsea said, a little dumbstruck. He gardened?

  The fact that his grin had sent most of her blood far from her head did not help her ability to think or create a valid response to his words. After struggling through what felt like a thick haze, Chelsea managed to put her thoughts back together and force some of her blood back to her head. She accomplished this mostly by looking at the gravel, rather than at Nate’s face.

  “Do you have a stressful job?” Chelsea asked finally.

  This was safe ground, something she could relate to that would perhaps take her mind off of Nate’s smile – and the fine ass showcased in his jeans. She had all but written the book on stressful jobs. To hear her mother tell it, her job had nearly killed her. What her mother didn’t know was that Chelsea very nearly died on almost every one of her trips.

  Death was no longer a mysterious, vague shape to Chelsea. He was more of a seat mate and she’d grown used to the idea. Odd food, sketchy airplanes that had seen little in the way of maintenance and the constant threat of warring peoples met Chelsea everywhere she went and fully occupied her mind. God, she missed her job.

  Nate laughed, sputtering smoke out and making a face.

  “
You could say that,” he said, that grin relighting his face as he regained his breath.

  “What do you do?” Chelsea asked.

  “You really don’t know who I am, do you?” Nate asked.

  He looked at Chelsea in disbelief. Either he was crazy, or Nate was famous in enough to expect everyone would recognize him. Politics? If that’s what’s running for office these days, we have been out of the country waaaay too long, the little voice said. She’d already discarded the idea that he was a movie star.

  “I really don’t know,” Chelsea replied after studying him some more and drawing a blank on his face.

  “Have you ever heard of the band Blindside?”

  “Um, not really. I mean, sort of. The name isn’t totally unfamiliar, I guess.”

  “Oh, I’m flattered,” Nate said. He tried to sound hurt, but he was still smiling.

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Chelsea asked.

  “I’m the singer and guitarist,” he said, “We’re pretty popular.”

  Of course, of frigging course, Chelsea thought. He was a fucking rock star. King of all bad boys, outranking the bikers, the fighters, and all the other subgenres. Musicians were doubly dangerous. Besides the alluring danger of the tough guy image, they had the whole tortured artist thing going for them. Their art gave you a glimpse of a sensitive side that never quite materialized in real life. What woman could resist a hurt, broken man who probably just needed a little love? Musicians were like poets with sexy attitudes and colorful pasts, and Nate wasn’t just any musician. He was a famous one, a rock star. Chelsea had enough musicians in her past to know all about Nate and his type.

  No wonder her libido was out of control. She mentally rolled her eyes and slapped her forehead. Why couldn’t her car have broken down in front of an investment banker’s house? Then she could have just called her brother and gone on her merry little way without her body heating up and thinking about doing things she had been abstaining from. The fact that her libido had developed into a little voice in her head made her wonder if the damn Australian Incident had long lasting consequences or if her abstinence had just been too long.

  Chelsea couldn’t think of a thing to say. She was too busy trying desperately to squash both her desire to run and her desire to drag him into the woods and take off his pants and, well, enough said there, really. She started walking again, quickly, to try to get all this over with as soon as possible.

  “I can see how that must be stressful. Touring, and interviews, I guess, and trashing hotel rooms. That’s probably quite, um, taxing,” she said finally.

  She tried to keep her tone light to hide her fear. She was fairly certain that rock stars, like Rottweilers, could smell fear. Then they’d exploit it and seduce you right out of your underwear, your common sense and your heart.

  “I don’t spend a lot of time in the States,” Chelsea said feeling that she had to explain why she didn’t recognize him, “I’m not that current when it comes to bands, or movies or anything else really. My friends say I’m a pop culture vacuum.”

  Great, she was babbling.

  “We’re popular all over Europe,” Nate said helpfully.

  He was still grinning. What was it with this guy and his unstoppable grin? It made his eyes sparkle and her feel like a puddle of heat. It was all she could do not to fan herself.

  “Oh, well, I tend to filter out the stuff that comes from America, you know? So I get an idea of local culture and ideas,” she said vehemently.

  Yes, talk about work. Work will put the sexy man into perspective.

  Nate stared back at her blankly.

  “Any reason you’re so adamant about avoiding American stuff?” Nate asked finally.

  They had almost arrived at the end of the driveway and Chelsea was relieved to be one step closer to getting away from him and his smell, his smile, his eyes... Just everything, really.

  “I’m a travel writer,” Chelsea explained, “I write for a few different magazines and contribute to a lot of travel guides. There’s no point in reporting back about MTV on German television or that you can still be assured of getting McDonald’s in every major city.”

  “I’ve seen MTV in German,” Nate said with a laugh. “It’s kind of disorienting.”

  Chelsea nodded in agreement. She knew firsthand just how disorienting. She wondered if his experience involved large mugs of beer and a man named Bittan.

  “So, why aren’t you off in some exotic locale right now?” Nate asked.

  Chelsea felt her face flush. She hadn’t expected to have to answer such a blunt question. The answer still made her queasy.

  “I’m, um. Uh, I’m taking a little break. For a few weeks.” Eight was a few.

  “Well, I’m a little jealous that you actually see local culture when you travel. The older I get, the more I wish we had time for that. It doesn’t really feel like traveling the world when all you see is concert halls and hotel rooms.”

  “Which you trash,” Chelsea said, smiling to let him know she was kidding. She was worried he was going to think she had no sense of humor.

  “Of course. It’s actually the law in some countries. Though lately I’ve been hiring other people to do it for me. It’s a perk of getting famous,” Nate said with another dangerous grin.

  That grin would be the death of her, she thought. That and his big, toned chest and long legs.

  “What the hell is that thing?” Nate asked with a sudden grimace.

  Chapter 2

  Chelsea jumped, alarmed by the prospect of encountering something that would scare a man like Nate. Following the direction of his finger, all she saw was Bunny. Nate seemed to be trying to decide whether to laugh or scream in horror. That got her hackles up and for a moment she almost didn’t notice the way his eyes glittered with amusement. Almost.

  “What do you mean what the hell is it? It’s a car. A VW Rabbit, to be precise. Her name is Bunny,” she added and then immediately wished she hadn’t. No one really needed to know she had named her car, and uncreatively at that.

  “You drive a primer gray nineteen seventy-five Rabbit named Bunny?”

  The look he gave her was equal parts amusement and incredulity. It filled her with equal parts rage and lust. He pissed her off and turned her on simultaneously. It wasn’t a nice feeling, but it was annoyingly addictive nonetheless.

  “It’s a nineteen eighty,” Chelsea said hotly. “And I have to, um, get it painted.”

  Her anger guttered out. Bunny was old and she hadn’t been good about keeping up on the maintenance. Looking at her through Nate’s eyes, she could see poor Bunny was in sad shape. Just the same, she loved that damn car and she’d take enough crap from Tony about it for the past 12 years. He’d always tried foisting his old cars off on her, but nothing would budge her loyalty to Bunny. If her brother couldn’t do it, then a stranger with way too many tattoos didn’t have a chance in hell. She and Bunny had been through a lot together.

  “It’s a good car. I’ve had it a long time.”

  Nate snorted.

  “Whatever, babe. It’s not in good shape,” he said.

  They had reached Bunny and he surveyed the car with a look of disdain on his face.

  “Well no shit!” Chelsea said more loudly than she had intended, “It’s broken, isn’t it? And don’t call me babe, or sweetheart, or any other little pet name you might come up with. You barely know me.”

  And she needed to remind herself that she wasn’t his babe, his sweetheart. It was all too easy to fall into that trap. If you let them, guys like this would have you doing all sorts of things for them and you’d be thinking they cared about you. Then everything would fall apart and they’d make it clear that their priorities would always be themselves. Chelsea was too old and too experienced to fall for the grin and pet names. She just had to make sure her mind kept her body in check.

  “Sorry, Ms. Spencer,” Nate said with a sneer. His smile fell off his face. “But this car is older than you are
.”

  “No it’s not. I’m two years older.”

  And right about now she sounded like she was about two years old, period. She quickly removed her hands from her hips. The stance smacked of a child about to have a tantrum and she felt unbalanced enough by Nate as it was. Feeling like a child would only make matters worse.

  “Oh, my apologies. The point is, it hasn’t been taken care of. These things can live forever, but this one’s trashed. It needs a lot of work. What have you done to this thing? Babe,” he finished.

  Despite his obvious challenge, he was looking at her differently. His eyes were softer, his guard lowered, if only a little. She felt herself softening in response. Deciding to pick her battles, she let the pet name go. What was the harm in a little friendly conversation? He’d look at her car, eventually Tony would answer his phone and she’d leave. They would never see each other again, so why be so wary? This could be a pleasant afternoon of ogling and conversation, or one of heated arguments and pointless rage. The fact that her libido wanted to have a go at him didn’t give her the right to be rude.

  “Sorry,” she said, with a resigned sigh “I’m a little touchy about it. And I never get around to getting all the maintenance done, since I’m not really around much. It’s in pretty bad shape. But my brother gives me shit about it all the time and I’m sick of hearing it.”

  Nate had popped the hood and was getting ready to lift it when a truck came roaring around the corner, splashing a puddle up and over both Bunny and Nate. For a split second, Chelsea thought the truck was even closer than it had been. She was in the act of leaping forward to warn Nate when she realized the danger was gone, the truck zooming out of sight. Nate looked up at her and raised an eyebrow, water dripping from his hair and eyelashes and running down the planes of his face.