Infatuation

He was taller than Derek by a couple of inches, his shoulders broader, the look in his eyes older than any of the guys she hung out with. She knew he’d just had a birthday and turned twenty. Derek had thrown him a kegger last weekend, but she’d been too sick with cramps to go.

Now she wished she’d made it so this wouldn’t be their first meeting, here in this very small room while she was sitting alone on a bed. Still, she met Rennie’s surprised gaze head-on, trying to smile—and to find something intelligent to say.

“Hi.” She gave a weak wave with one hand. “I’m Milla.”

Rennie nodded, glanced around the room. “Where’s Derek?”

His voice was gruff and she felt her face flush as his gaze came swiftly back to hers. She gestured again just as uselessly as before. “He went to the store. He should be back any minute.”

Rennie didn’t acknowledge her answer, but flung his duffel bag onto his bed where it bounced. He then crossed to the minifridge that sat between his and Derek’s desks, his strides long, the muscles beneath the fabric of his jeans and T-shirt impossible to ignore. He was built way better than Derek…everywhere.

It was after he’d pulled open the fridge, and had been staring silently into the empty interior for what seemed like forever that Milla found her full voice. “Derek went to get beer. For you. To replace what we drank.”

He closed the fridge door softly. Milla had expected to hear it slam. She watched as he straightened and turned toward her again. The deeply slashed V of his brows and the way his throat was working didn’t exactly frighten her, but did set her even further on edge.

And a big part of that, she feared, was a restlessness caused by the way he looked.

And the way he was looking at her.

His eyes were brown, dark and smoky. Like coffee with rising steam. He had a faint shadow along his chin and jaw, as if he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. She wanted to touch it. It intrigued her. Derek hardly had to shave at all.

Rennie’s lips were full, both brackets on either side of his mouth deep. He looked like he worried too much, or didn’t smile often enough. He looked like the grooves had set in to stay. And that intrigued her even more.

She didn’t think any guy had ever made her tingle the way she was by doing nothing more than staring into her eyes. It was the way she’d felt when Dennis Quaid kissed Ellen Barkin in The Big Easy. The way she’d felt watching them in bed, aching to feel that same breathless sort of desire.

Sure, she got excited when making out with Derek, and the sex was okay. But she’d never wanted to take off her clothes because of the look in his eyes. Rennie Bergen made her want to get naked.

She groaned beneath her breath. She was in so much trouble here.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice as coarse as the rest of him.

Was that what it was? He wasn’t a gorgeous jock like Derek was? He was rough, and maybe a little bit dangerous because so much about him was unknown? Plus he was older. She shrugged. “Just wondering what’s taking Derek so long.”

He moved toward her, stopping to lean against the end of Derek’s desk, facing the bed where she sat. His hands were so big where they curled over the edge on either side of his hips. “There’s a wreck blocking the entrance gate to the dorm complex.”

Her heart fluttered. “Derek?”

Rennie shook his head. “Two compact imports. And both the wrong color.”

Derek’s classic Corvette was candy-apple red. She breathed easier, then she frowned. “How did you get in? If the entrance is blocked?”

Rennie canted his head toward the door. “A buddy dropped me off about a mile back. I hoofed it.”

That’s right. He’d totaled his car a month ago and was on foot until he got another. And then she remembered more. The Bergen’s family-owned a car lot. “You can’t get a loaner from your dad? Until you find something you want?”

“I have found something I want,” he told her, crossing one ankle over the other and drawing her attention again to the fit of his jeans, to his legs that were muscled and long, to his hips that were narrow and lean.

God, where was Derek? “But no loaner in the meantime?”

He shook his head, his gaze sharp and piercing as he stared down to where she was sitting not three feet away. On the bed. Just like in The Big Easy. “I’d rather work for what I want. Make it mean something.”

Were they still talking about cars? Or was he slamming Derek for having so many things handed to him?

And why was she suddenly so aware of his size? Or hers that was half of his?

“Well, sure,” she said, twisting the silver pinky ring she wore. A gift from Derek. One the allowance his parents gave him had paid for. “But why not take the help in the meantime? Wouldn’t it make your life easier? Give you more time to study and all?”

His expression hardened. “I don’t mind walking.”

Now he was just making her mad. “I don’t mind walking, either. But I don’t turn down help just to make a point.”

He uncrossed his ankles, slowly pushed off the edge of the desk to stand straight. “You think I’m on foot because I’m making a point?”

Right now, she didn’t know what to think. But she did know that she’d hit a nerve, so all she did was shrug. “Honestly, I have no idea.”

“Then I’ll tell you,” he said harshly. “My insurance doesn’t cover a loaner. I couldn’t afford the policy if it did.”

Oh. Now she felt bad. “So, get a loaner from your dad.”

“My dad is the one who taught me to work for what I want,” he said, shoving his hands deep in his pockets.

Meaning, his dad wouldn’t give him a thing. God, she was so thick sometimes. “Well, then I guess working’s what you’ve gotta do, huh?”

It took a few seconds, but he seemed to relax, blowing out a slow breath. He pulled his hands free from his pockets and shoved them back over his hair, which looked wet, as if he’d just washed it.

Even the grooves on either side of his mouth softened, though they didn’t disappear. “Yeah. For now.”

She thought for a minute; since they were all business majors here…

“If you need tutoring…or help…” She paused, not certain what he might need, what she could offer, if anything useful at all. “Or if you need a car, you can borrow mine. I use it, but sometimes it sits for days.”

His frown returned. “You got a good battery?”

She barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “I wouldn’t offer the car if I didn’t.”

“No, I mean…” He gestured with one hand. “If you let it sit too long, a couple of months or so, your battery can go bad.”

“Oh.” She’d thought he was being critical when what he was was actually concerned. Didn’t say much for her perceptiveness that she couldn’t tell the difference. “Thanks. But I do use it at least once a week.”

He nodded. “You’ll be fine then. But Derek’s probably told you that.”

Actually, Derek hadn’t told her a thing. “The only car Derek cares about is his own.”

Rennie studied her face for a moment, his expression not quite a frown, but one of confusion. As if what she’d said didn’t make sense. “Thanks. For the offer. If I do use it, I’ll run it by the shop and make sure it’s in good shape.”

Wow. That wasn’t what she’d expected at all. “Why would you do that?”

“Because that’s another thing my dad taught me to do.”

“Take care of cars?”

“Well, yeah. But I was talking about taking care of people.”

“You’re lucky then,” she said, looking down at her hands and wishing Derek would hurry up and get back. Her pulse was racing too hard, her heart softening. “A lot of parents teach their kids that everything is easily solved with money.”

He snorted. “You mean it’s not?”

She smiled, tugged on her pinky ring. “It could be, I suppose, but it means more if you have to work for it, right?”

This time he laughed, chuckled really, the sound deep and full and honest. “I’m a prick. I admit it.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” she said, a strange thrill spinning in the pit of her stomach, her voice dropping as she added, “I wouldn’t say that at all.”

The seconds that followed ticked by in silence, and Milla wished she could take back her careless words. She was playing with a fire that she sensed could get her burned—and burned badly. Yet she didn’t understand why.

She was happy enough with Derek. She didn’t need the sort of complications a guy like Rennie Bergen would bring to her life. But she couldn’t stop herself from playing with the fire that had started the minute they’d found themselves alone.

She wanted to know if it was her, or if it was Rennie making her feel this way. She wanted to know if this antsy restlessness, this itchy anticipation, was what she should be feeling for Derek.

Finally, Rennie moved, clearing his throat as he walked toward the bed. “If not a prick, then what?”

Misunderstood, she wanted to say. Hard to read. Impossible to figure out. Instead she got up and headed for the door. “I need to go. Tell Derek I waited as long as I could. I’ve got a psych paper coming due, and I need to get back to it.”

“Wait,” he called just as her hand found the doorknob. “Milla, wait.”

Hearing him say her name…She bowed her head, dropped her chin to her chest, her forehead against the door. She didn’t say a word. Just closed her eyes, held her breath and waited for what she’d been wanting so terribly since he’d walked into the room.

She felt him when he drew close. Felt his shadow. Felt his heat. She also felt so small, so fragile…and so in the wrong.

She and Derek were exclusive. That meant being faithful. Not cheating. Resisting the temptation of lust. But, oh, it was so hard to do when her heart was beating as if it had finally found a reason to do so, as if it never wanted to stop.

“Turn around,” Rennie said softly, and without a second thought she did, her hands coming up between them to push him away, to keep their bodies apart. He took hold of her wrists and pinned them to the door on either side of her head.

“We can’t do this,” she argued, looking no higher than the dip in his throat where his pulse hammered and his veins popped. “It’s not fair to Derek.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with Derek,” Rennie said, his voice a deep, throaty growl. “This is about you and me.”

“There is no you and me.” She swallowed hard, hating herself for not pulling away, for being too weak to walk out like she should.

Her chest heaved as she waited, her hardened nipples drawing Rennie’s gaze to her bright-red T-shirt. “We’re the only ones here.”

“Rennie, please,” she found herself saying, found herself whimpering, not knowing if she was begging him to stop or to go on.

Her eyes were closed so she didn’t see him lower his head. She didn’t see the way he parted his lips, or the way his nostrils flared. She didn’t see the downward sweep of his lashes that hid the glimmer of emotion in his eyes.

But she imagined it all. And then his mouth was on hers, his body dipping to align with hers, his tongue pushing forward to find hers and play.

She opened her mouth because she had to. And she didn’t even pretend to struggle against his hold.

It was a beautiful kiss, and she wanted to cry. He was tender, the press of his lips firm, yet yielding, the stroke of his tongue like being licked by a flame.

She shuddered and kissed him, giving up the parts of herself she was used to holding back, understanding nothing of the reason for what or why she did.

All she knew was that Rennie Bergen filled the very need he’d brought into existence. A need from which she would never be able to kiss herself free.

It was too much, more than she knew what to do with, more than she was ready for. And it was a very big more she was afraid she couldn’t live without.

Finally she pulled her mouth from his, tugged loose her hands and ducked out from under his body. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got to go.”

He let her. He stepped out of the way, allowed her to open the door, didn’t stop her from scurrying down the hall. But he did laugh.

She heard it echo behind her. The sound was dry and bitter, as if she’d proved him right. She didn’t have it in her to stay and work for what she wanted.

Like her kind did, she was taking the easy way out.

WHAT IN THE HELL was a girl like Milla Page doing with a guy like Derek Randall? Rennie liked Derek well enough, but the other guy had made it clear that he was in school to party, and Milla was not a party girl. Until tonight, Rennie hadn’t known that. He hadn’t known it at all.

If he were judging her by her looks alone and the fact that she came from money…yeah, he could see her squeaking by in school and having a hell of a good time in the process. She had the face, the body, the perfect tits and ass. But that was such a small part of who she was.

And he wished he hadn’t discovered the truth. That she was nice, thoughtful, funny and smart. Because while Rennie didn’t have a problem with partying, he was here for the degree. And now he was going to have a hard time thinking of Milla as Derek’s—and keeping his mind on school.

He’d seen her with Derek but always at a distance, and hadn’t talked to her until tonight. She wasn’t anything like what he’d expected. A girl dating Derek Randall, the All-American party-boy jock, had to be as shallow and self-absorbed as he was. Milla was anything but. Meaning the best thing Rennie could’ve done was stay out of her way.

Instead he’d done the worst.

He shook his head, whipped off his T-shirt and headed for the shower. He’d cleaned up at work, but didn’t want to be here when his roommate got back. He didn’t want to have to explain where Milla had gone, why she had left.

But he didn’t have anywhere to go, or the money to get him there if he did. Hiding out in the shower made him a prick, but it was better than going off on Derek for no reason but envy.

And it was a hell of a lot better than betraying Milla by throwing what they’d done into her boyfriend’s face.

Besides, the steam and the hot water and the being alone would give him time to think. He needed a workable plan.

One that would guarantee he won Milla Page for himself.

RENNIE SHOOK OFF the past, returned to the present and reached for his cell, wondering what had possessed him to recall the first time he’d talked to Milla. The first time he’d kissed her. The first time he’d realized how perfectly they fit.

Oh, the places they’d gone from there…

And why was he wasting time with a trip down memory lane when he had the whole night ahead to figure out what Milla really wanted? Not to mention get a handle on why he seemed to be so accommodating considering their past.

He’d programmed her numbers yesterday and now hit speed dial while he drove toward the city, figuring no matter where she was, her cell would be the quickest way to reach her.

“Milla,” she said after two rings.

“Rennie,” he replied just as succinctly, realizing for the first time how little they’d ever needed to say to one another, how busy they’d been touching and feeling and teasing, all of it without words.

“Hey. Oh, it’s six. God, this day has been crazy.”

The first jolts of unease rippled through him. “That sounds like you’re thinking of canceling on me.”

“Oh, no, no.” She laughed, a nervous, breathy sound. “Going out is part of the job. I can’t cancel.”

Right. He’d managed to forget that for her this was about work. It wasn’t about him. So, why in the hell was he nearly tripping over himself to help her? “Where are you?”

“I’m still at the office, but I was just getting ready to head home.” He heard the clatter of her keyboard. “I’ve got to shower and change, but it shouldn’t take too long. If you don’t mind waiting, you could meet me there? Or if you’ve got anything you need to do, you could swing by around seven-thirty?”

He found himself smiling and stopped. “I don’t have anything to do, so I’ll see you in twenty.”

“Great,” she said, and reminded him of her address before she disconnected the phone.

Not too shabby, he mused as he headed that way. Who knew dating for a living paid so well…unless she was living above her means or spending her inheritance, still of the mind-set that those who had were somehow more well thought of than those who had not.

Then again, he wasn’t sure she’d ever embraced that ideal as fully as the rest of the moneyed crowd she’d run with. He’d been the lone exception. What had drawn them together came from a visceral, baser place inside both of them and had nothing to do with material things. Their infatuation had been…unexplainable.

All these years later—and for no reason he could fathom—he was hoping to finally solve the puzzle. This time with her might have fallen into his lap, but it still presented the perfect occasion to work Milla Page from his system for good.

4

“MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME,” Milla said, tossing her purse and key ring on top of a wooden secretary in the entryway and setting her cell in a charger there.

“There’s a bar in the kitchen and a freezer full of ice. There’s also coffee in the basket next to the coffeemaker. The living room’s off the kitchen, and I figure you can find the TV. Give me thirty minutes, okay?”

“No rush,” Rennie replied, as she did just that—rushed down the center hallway of her third floor flat in the Inner Richmond Victorian and out of his sight.

Yeah. So far, so bad, he mused with no small amount of self-directed sarcasm. It was always a good sign when a date ran away.

He’d arrived only moments behind her, following her from where they’d parked in the street up the three flights of stairs to her door.

She’d smiled at seeing him, but then avoided his gaze, tossing talk of the weather over her shoulder while they’d climbed.

For all the attention she paid him, he might as well have been a stranger—one with whom she had no history, one to whom she had nothing to say. One who had never meant anything to her, who had never been a part of her life.

It was when she’d dropped her keys while unlocking the door that he’d admitted he wasn’t being fair. In fact, he was being the same prick he’d been too much of the time while in school.

He was older. He should be wiser. And he was—at least wise enough to realize she was nervous.

First it had been the fumbling with the keys, then the mile-a-minute speech, then the flight to her bedroom. Nerves weren’t exactly what he associated with the Milla Page he’d spent four years getting to know, and he couldn’t help but be curious at the change.

He was also surprised that she’d left him alone. Doing so hinted at a level of trust he wasn’t sure he deserved. Taking advantage never crossed his mind, but she had given him free run of the place.

And accepting her unspoken offer might give him an insight, a hint of why she’d come to see him…something he could latch on to that made sense.

Because finding himself in the entryway to her house all these years later didn’t make any sense at all.

He headed for the back of the flat and the kitchen. Nursing one drink now couldn’t help but ease some of the tension he was feeling. Coffee on the other hand might possibly send his blood pressure rocketing before the night even got off the ground.

He found a glass on the bar set up at the end of the kitchen counter, found ice in the freezer, went back for a splash of Scotch and wondered why everything about Milla’s place was so colorless and cold.

Her kitchen was as white as everything else he’d seen so far, the only color break, the stainless steel appliances. The countertops were a white marble with a thin gray vein. The floor was similarly tiled.

Even the items she had sitting out—the coffeemaker, the canister set, the mugs hanging on a rack—lacked any hint of color. Rennie frowned, sipped his drink, moved into the living room toward the TV.

There wasn’t anything he wanted to watch, but at least the noise would give life to the room that made him think of bones bleached to death silently by the sun. This absence of color, of energy, of…soul wasn’t right. It wasn’t Milla.

Remote in one hand, drink in the other, he stood in front of the television and flipped through the channels without taking in any of the flickering scenes.

Milla had been vibrant, passionate. She’d dressed in bright colors. Reds, purples, hot orange. He’d never seen her wearing anything like the black skirt and pale yellow blouse she’d worn yesterday, or the similarly dull combination of pink and navy today.

Then he’d chalked it up to being the middle of a workday and her obvious business attire. Now that he’d seen what he had of her home, he wondered if it was something deeper, something more and telling.

He stopped flipping when he realized the station he’d stumbled on was showing a rerun of “Hell on Wheels.” It was the episode where his team had cut down an ambulance and turned it into a nitro-powered dragster.

And here he was sweating out the submersible idea. Then again, he pretty much sweated everything during the weeks it took to put together each one of the shows.

He didn’t have to do it; even the conversions that bombed were a big hit with the viewers. The show’s audience loved seeing the modification process and watching the crew put the tricked-out vehicles through their paces.

And Rennie, well, he loved getting his hands dirty taking care of his own, doing something that gave so much to so many people including fans, employees, family and friends.

In college, that had been Milla’s role, the nurturer, the caretaker, the one who kept friendships from falling apart, who everyone looked to for answers.

He’d been the one living a dull and colorless workaholic existence. And look at them now, he thought as he sipped at his drink. It was role reversal in action.

When Milla had shown up so unexpectedly and propositioned him yesterday, he’d grabbed at the chance to finally work their past out of his system. Not that it was holding him back, or that he’d let those years eat at him all this time. Not that he hadn’t moved on with his life.

The past was just there, and it didn’t need to be. But now…now he wasn’t so sure he was going to be able to walk away with a clear conscience without knowing more.

Because if there was anything he’d learned in the past twenty-four hours, it was that somewhere, somehow, Milla Page had been broken. And that was the most unexpected discovery he’d made since seeing her again.

“Sorry to take so long,” she said, walking into the living room from the hall.

Nearly choking on his drink, Rennie clicked off the television, hoping he’d been fast enough to keep her from seeing his face or anything of the garage on the screen. He glanced at his watch—he’d been lost in thought for forty minutes—before he drained his glass and turned.

He found her struggling to tug the strap of her shoe up over her heel, found her wearing bright cherry-red. The color had always been one of his favorites. He wondered if she remembered, if she’d dressed with him in mind, if he was going to manage to get through the night without touching her.

When she straightened, her hair fell to frame her face, the shorter strands brushing her chin, the longer sweeping against her neck. In college, her hair had been soft and feathery. Now it was smooth, the ends stylishly flipping this way and that.

She looked great. She looked better than great. The light of which he’d only seen glimpses was back in her eyes. It set his blood to stirring, his fingers to itching, and his body began to warm.

He left the remote on top of the television and crossed the hardwood floor, returning his glass to the kitchen, turning to find she’d joined him. She’d grabbed her purse from the secretary and was now transferring the contents to a smaller bag.

He sat beside her at the table. The piece of furniture, not surprisingly, was painted white, the top inlaid with tiles the color of Ivory Snow. He watched as she sorted through her things. “Don’t you get cold in here?”