Someone Like You Page 13

  Except…she didn’t have anything better to do, and the realization was horrifying.

  Daisy had never been quite so aware of how bored she’d become with her life as when she’d find Lincoln absorbed in his writing, or talking on the phone, or even throwing a ball for Kiwi, who chased it about 2 percent of the time.

  Daisy didn’t have a dog. Didn’t have kids. Didn’t have a job. Didn’t even have anyone she could call, really, outside of Emma and Whitney.

  In the year since her divorce became final, she’d spent so much energy relishing being alone, being sans Gary, that she hadn’t seen the lonely boredom lurking just around the corner. Hadn’t realized that when she finally started to feel safe again, aimlessness would be lurking.

  The day Daisy realized she’d married a monster had been the low point of her life.

  But this—the realization that she had no purpose—was a close second.

  Which is why she was dressed up in a red cocktail dress, sitting at the swanky bar of a Charlotte steakhouse beside one Lincoln Mathis.

  He was wearing a suit today, and though she thought her libido had recovered from the whole T-shirt/jeans thing from Walmart, she had to admit that this was a setback in her lust-for-Lincoln illness.

  It was time to acknowledge that the man could wear a clown suit and still look delicious. There was no tie tonight, just a dark charcoal suit over a lighter gray shirt, open at the throat to show a rather perfect Adam’s apple.

  Oh dear.

  You knew it was bad when you started lusting after a guy’s Adam’s apple.

  Still, she was glad she’d let him talk her into this. He’d gone out every night by himself the past week, and though they hadn’t talked details, he’d obviously had plenty of material to work with, seeing as he spent all day writing.

  She couldn’t help but wonder if any of his “research” had involved the naked variety. Technically he was available now. And though she was fairly certain his heart hadn’t healed, he wouldn’t be the first guy to seek out no-strings-attached sex.

  Tonight, though, he’d asked her to dinner. Said he wanted to thank her for all the meals of the past week, that he wanted a break from work.

  Daisy had meant to say no.

  And yet here she was.

  “You’re sure you want to sit at the bar?” Lincoln asked. “Looks like they have a few tables available.”

  “No, this is perfect,” she said, picking up her glass of sparkling wine.

  Sitting across the table from him would feel too much like a date. This way she could remind herself what they really were: friends out grabbing fancy drinks.

  “No Jack Daniel’s,” he said, nodding at her fancy flute. “Does this mean no striptease later?”

  “The night is young, Mathis. The night is young. Also, you have an enthusiastic admirer at your ten o’clock.”

  He didn’t even glance over as he lifted his Manhattan and took a sip. “I know.”

  Daisy laughed at the casual confidence.

  To her surprise, he didn’t laugh in return.

  She sobered slightly as she thought it over. “I guess it must have been weird for you, back in New York. Being engaged, but without the happy promise of the big day. Did you ever think of just telling people that you were unavailable?”

  “Sure, all the time. But it would have brought questions forward that I wasn’t prepared to answer. Guess I was a coward like that.”

  She put her hand on his arm. “You were protecting her.”

  He shook his head and glanced down at his drink. “I don’t think so. I was protecting myself. Shielding myself from the pity I knew would come from even the most well-meaning of friends. But looking back I think it was more that I didn’t want to think about it. That’s terrible, isn’t it? I actively tried not to think about the woman I loved.”

  “Because it was painful.”

  Lincoln dragged his hands over his face. “Sorry. Guess I’m shitty company tonight.”

  “Please don’t apologize.” Her fingers squeezed his arm, and he surprised her by dropping one hand on top of hers and squeezing her hand in return, much as he had in the car that day after he’d taken her to see Katie.

  “Today’s the anniversary of the day I proposed.”

  Her chest tightened. “Oh Lincoln.”

  His smile was grim. “Guess I was hoping that coming out, getting a strong cocktail and a medium-rare ribeye would be a distraction, but my head’s just…I’m sorry.”

  “Maybe…” She bit her lip and broke off, not wanting to overstep.

  He turned his head and looked at her. “I’m open for advice here.”

  “Maybe it’s time you let yourself think about her,” she said in a rush. “Maybe you’ve been pushing all the bad stuff aside for too long and it needs to come out.”

  He took a sip of his drink before shifting and staring straight ahead, lost in thought. “Like what, a shrink?”

  “Life handed you a whopper of a blow to deal with, Lincoln. Maybe start with talking to a friend.”

  His broad shoulders rolled restlessly beneath the suit jacket. “You mean like you.”

  “I think of myself as your friend, yes,” she said with a little smile, pulling her hand away from his arm to take a sip of her champagne. “But regardless, the whole bottled-up thing is going to explode someday.”

  “It doesn’t feel right,” he muttered. “Talking about one woman while out to dinner with another.”

  “If this were a date, I might agree, but that’s not what this is.”

  “Hard to remember when you look like that,” he grumbled.

  Daisy’s hand faltered as she put her drink back on the bar, wondering if she’d heard him correctly. “Was that a compliment?”

  The corner of his mouth tilted up. “Don’t fish. You know you look hotter than hell in that dress. Platonically speaking. Of course.”

  Of course.

  “It is a good dress, huh?” She decided to play it coy and flirty and harmless. “I bought this on a whim a few months ago after a wine-fueled lunch with Whitney. I like the way it’s all business in front, high neck, long flowy sleeves, but then the back…”

  “What back?”

  Daisy laughed. “Exactly.”

  “Pity to let it go to waste,” he said. “Guy on far side of the bar’s giving you the eye.”

  Daisy started to look, but Lincoln made a warning sound under his breath. “Damn, woman. Not like that. Where’s your game?”

  “My ex-husband killed it.”

  His head whipped around, but she didn’t look at him, her cheeks flaming with color. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…you said you needed to talk about you, and here I am babbling about me, and—”

  It was his turn to reach for her hand, squeezing gently. “How about we do this together, be here for each other. I’ll start. My name is Lincoln Mathis, and today is the anniversary of the day I proposed to my girlfriend Katie while at a B&B on Cape Cod. I miss the girl she was, and more than that, I regret how distant those memories are. Your turn.”

  Daisy took a deep breath. What was the harm? “My name is Daisy Sinclair, and I’m deathly afraid that my jerk of an ex-husband ruined everything good about me.”

  “Not possible,” he said, squeezing her hand once more before sliding his away, as though instinctively knowing that she only liked to be touched on her terms. “You’re the best person I know.”

  She rolled her eyes at his hyperbole.

  “I mean it,” he said quietly. “Sometimes I think…I don’t know. I think you’re the reason I’m still standing.”

  “We barely know each other.”

  “Liar,” he said softly.

  “Do you ever wonder how you’re supposed to know when it’s time to get back on the horse?” she asked, fiddling with the cocktail napkin. “Like how do you know when you’re living in the past, versus giving yourself time to heal?”

  “Damn big question, and I don’t know. I’m not the person to ask.
A gut thing, I guess?”

  She looked over. “What’s your gut telling you?”

  He met her eyes steadily. “That I haven’t dealt with losing Katie the first time, after the accident, much less when she left me the second time. I’m not even close to being ready. I don’t know that I ever will be.”

  Daisy felt a pang, sharp and melancholy in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to tell him that he was too good a man to be alone, but a part of her understood. To love like that, and then lose it…

  “What about you?” he asked. “What’s your gut saying?”

  Daisy slowly shifted until she could see the blond man on the other side of the bar, who did indeed seem to be checking her out between glances at Lincoln, as though trying to ascertain what they were to each other.

  Just friends, she wanted to say. Definitely just friends.

  But she wanted more, and that was starting to freak her out.

  The blond guy was good-looking. A black dress shirt, rolled up at the elbows, just the slightest amount of dark gold scruff along the strong jaw, maybe a touch of red, although that could have been the moody lighting in the bar.

  The thought of dating again was scary as hell, but Daisy was realizing she and Lincoln weren’t quite as alike as she’d let herself believe. He was cautious because of love. His love for Katie still had a hold on him.

  She was holding back out of resentment and fear. Out of anger at a marriage gone horribly wrong. Katie was worthy of Lincoln’s sacrifice.

  Gary was in no way worthy of hers.

  “All right,” she said, lifting her glass and tilting the rest back in a swallow for courage. “Let’s do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Tell me how to get that guy’s number.”

  —

  Lincoln watched across the bar as Daisy’s head tipped back, smooth throat exposed as she laughed at something the other man said.

  The little minx.

  No way had she needed his advice on how to get a guy’s phone number. Daisy had held the other man in the palm of her hand from the second she’d walked toward him, the guy’s gaze all but eating her up.

  Even as Lincoln had hated the other man, he couldn’t blame him. Daisy in that dress was like pure sin. How had he missed that her legs were so long? Her skin so tan? Her arms so toned?

  Lincoln had known the second he’d seen her that Daisy was pretty. Beautiful, even. He’d known because Emma was beautiful.

  Tonight, Daisy was hot.

  Hot in a way that Emma never had been, not to him. He’d always seen Daisy’s twin in a strictly platonic light, but he wasn’t feeling platonic thoughts about Daisy right now.

  Surely he wasn’t jealous. Lincoln didn’t do jealous.

  But the hot, sour feeling in his stomach was unfamiliar.

  So was the need to punch something. Specifically, the smarmy face of the guy smiling down at Daisy right now.

  Lincoln took another sip of his drink, watching with narrowed eyes as the man reached for Daisy’s cell phone, no doubt to put his phone number into it.

  His eyes narrowed further as he saw that despite Daisy’s easy smile, she moved her fingers before the other man could make even the most casual of hand-to-hand contact.

  Interesting.

  Alarming.

  A woman as well versed in flirting as Daisy apparently was would have known the power of letting her fingers brush against a man, seeing if there was a spark there.

  Minutes later, Lincoln’s suspicion went up a notch as the other man moved to drape a hand around the back of Daisy’s chair, and she scooted forward on the padded stool.

  It was subtle. She reached for her drink at the same time, making the adjustment look accidental, but Lincoln was damn sure it was on purpose.

  Daisy didn’t like to be touched.

  How had he not noticed it before? He’d known there was something there, something dark lurking in her past, but this…

  Lincoln’s mind reeled with speculation and anger, but perhaps the most alarming reaction of all?

  Need.

  The need to fix her, help her, care for her, make her see that she didn’t have to be afraid of anything, not ever again.

  He tossed back the rest of his drink, trying to wash away the thought.

  Daisy Sinclair wasn’t his to fix.

  Chapter 19

  She tasted like honey and spice, and he couldn’t get enough.

  Her nails dug into his shoulders as his mouth skimmed over her chest, licking at the outer curve of her breast before sucking a sweet pink nipple into his mouth.

  Daisy cried out, arching into him, and he slid his hands beneath her back to hold her close, her skin hot and damp with need.

  She was moaning his name in soft, needy pants, and he was convinced he’d never heard anything as sweet as Lincoln murmured in her smoky drawl.

  Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him away from her delicious breasts, only to pull him down once more to her mouth.

  Lincoln sank into the kiss like he wanted to sink into her, his tongue claiming every corner of her mouth. Daisy pulled his bottom lip between her teeth, nipping just hard enough to elicit a growl, before soothing teasingly with her tongue.

  He’d had enough. It’d been so long, too damn long—

  Lincoln’s hand skimmed down her stomach, relishing the feel of soft skin and even softer curves until he could nudge her bare thighs apart. They both groaned as he found her warm and wet. His fingers stroked over her soft folds before he captured her mouth and slid his middle finger into her, groaning louder as she clenched around him.

  Daisy squirmed beneath him as he brought her close time and time again with circling thumb and thrusting fingers, only to stop before she found her release.

  She bit his shoulder in frustration. “Now.”

  His eyes closed. Now. Now.

  It was right. It had always been right. Always been her.

  He rolled over her as she spread her legs, their warm, sweat-slicked bodies aligning perfectly.

  Lincoln framed her face with his hands, his gaze locking on her need-filled eyes, seeing the same confused want there that was rocketing through him.

  Neither looked away as he moved his hips, nudging her opening.

  He thrust forward, planting himself firmly inside her with one smooth stroke, the perfect rightness of her making him gasp. Daisy’s arms came around him, her lips claiming his.

  He was home. Damn it, he was finally home.

  —

  Lincoln’s eyes flew open, his breath coming in shallow pants, skin damp with sweat. Cock. Hard.

  He slept naked most nights, but even the thin layer of sheets was still too hot, and he kicked them off.

  Lincoln’s eyes closed again as he tried to catch his breath and tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened.

  A dream.

  Just a dream.

  A sex dream. Not the first he’d had, certainly, but easily the most detailed. And the hottest.

  Damn it.

  About Daisy.

  Even as Lincoln’s brain tried to rationalize that it didn’t mean anything, his hand moved down his body, palming his still-hard cock.

  He resisted for only a split second before he stroked himself, letting his imagination pick up where the dream had left off.

  Because there was no longer any denying it.

  He wanted Daisy Sinclair.

  And if this was the only way he could have her, here, late at night, with only his dreams and his need…

  So be it.

  Chapter 20

  “Lincoln, you’re very good-looking and everything, even in that ugly T-shirt, but can you please put my godbaby on the screen?” Penelope Pope said, her face filling Lincoln’s entire iPad screen as she leaned forward as though looking through the lens for Kiwi.

  Lincoln gave the quick two-tone whistle that Kiwi had long associated as her summons, and she came out of the bathroom, where she’d decided to convert Dais
y’s plush bathmat into her new bed.

  The second she got in reach, Lincoln scooped her up. “Ki loves to Skype, don’t you, baby?”

  “Cole!” Penelope shouted. “Come look at our godbaby!”

  “That’s not a baby,” Cole said, coming into view and nudging Penelope out of the way, taking a huge bite of folded pizza. “It’s a rat with a bow. Lincoln, why is that rat wearing a bow?”

  “She’s taken to joining Daisy in the mornings. When they come out of Daisy’s room, Daisy’s in makeup, Kiwi’s in her bow.”

  “Ah. Girl time,” Penelope said, sounding pleased.

  Cole was still chewing his pizza and staring at the dog. “Tell me again how a six-foot-two guy ended up with a five-pound dog?”

  Lincoln hesitated. Cole said tell him again, but actually Lincoln had never told anyone the first time. They’d put the pieces together it was some woman, but they didn’t know it was the woman.

  Maybe it was time. Maybe healing started with little decisions, in small ways, in tiny moments like this one.

  “Kiwi was Katie’s dog,” he said, keeping his voice casual. “I’m just a legal guardian.”

  “Bullshit,” Cole said, taking another bite of pizza. “You, my friend, are that dog’s beloved daddy.”

  “And I’m godmother, aren’t I? Hi baby,” Penelope said in a cooing voice.

  Lincoln rolled his eyes even as his shoulders relaxed. There. That hadn’t been so hard.

  Maybe every mention of Katie didn’t have to be a thing.

  “How’s the story coming along?” Penelope asked.

  Lincoln gave them both a knowing look. “Is checking up on the story the reason you insisted on doing this little party over Skype instead of email like normal colleagues?”

  “We’re not colleagues, we’re friends,” Penelope said.

  “And for the record, I voted for text,” Cole said, polishing off the last bite of pizza and wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Penelope here insisted on Skype so we could make sure you weren’t haggard and disheveled.”

  “I don’t even think that’s possible,” Penelope said, patting Cole’s hand. “And yes, we’re checking up on you, but I really do want to know about the story.”