Lips Close to Mine (Wherever You Go) Read online

  “I’m finding that hard to do,” I admit.

  She leans against the wall, not in defeat, but in concession, maybe. She starts to say something, when her stomach growls. Looks like I’m not the only one who missed dinner. Thank you, lucky shirt.

  I put my hand on her waist. “Let me make the spill up to you. Let’s get out of here and find some food.”

  Her head drops, her eyes, I’m guessing, on where I’m touching her. I’d like to touch her a whole lot more. On repeat.

  “Drive-thru tacos and then you can drop me off at home,” she says, meeting my gaze before she pushes off the wall, the spill on her dress forgotten. “I Ubered here.”

  I do a mental fist pump and follow the sway of her ass.

  Elliot’s jaw drops when I ask him if he’s cool catching a ride home later, and after Harper says good-bye to her friends, we take off. I open the passenger door of my jeep and check out her tanned legs as she sits. If there were a dark-haired poster girl for California, it would be Harper. I hurry to my side and climb in.

  We haven’t been alone since the night we slept together, so I turn to confirm she’s cool with this. I’ve no doubt she doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to, but I need to be sure.

  She’s slipping off her heels.

  Okay, then.

  I notice a T-shirt on my backseat and reach for it. “It’s not much, but if you want to put this on, here you go.”

  “Thanks.”

  Rather than put the shirt on over her dress like I assumed she would, given the chill in the air and the wet fabric, she grabs the hem and pulls the dress up and over her head. I am so fucking glad Elliot threw out that bet. Her tits are on full display, perfectly round with rose-colored nipples, the skin paler than the rest of her sun-tanned body. The tiny scrap of material between her legs is red and lacy. My pants are immediately too tight.

  “Uh…”

  She tosses the dress over her shoulder and pulls on my tee. “What? You’ve already seen me naked.”

  I watch as she tugs the material down until it reaches the middle of her thighs. The awesome visual is gone way too fast for my liking. However, she looks gorgeous in my shirt, too. She reaches for her seat belt, snaps it into place, and turns her head.

  “Are you going to keep staring at me or drive?”

  That’s my cue to start the car. I readjust my jeans before getting us on our way.

  The car ride is silent after that, but the saying cut the tension with a knife is definitely applicable. This girl confuses the hell out of me. “Can I ask you something?”

  “No.”

  “Seriously? What’s your problem?”

  She twists to face me. “My problem?”

  I didn’t mean to sound accusatory, and that isn’t exactly the question I wanted to ask, but I feel like I’m on the defensive here.

  “Sorry. I meant what’s your problem with me? I can’t figure out what I did to deserve your hostility all the time.”

  Her eyes briefly close. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

  I burst out laughing. She did not just feed me that clichéd line of bullshit. Like that would get her out of talking. I know she can talk. When we were together, she talked about her swim students, how much she loved college in Oregon, and her favorite way to eat In-N-Out.

  She pushes me in the biceps, and that only makes me laugh harder. “You’re such an ass.”

  “I’m an ass?” I ask incredulously. “What did I do?”

  “You’re laughing at me.”

  “No, I’m laughing at what you said.”

  “It’s the truth,” she says quietly.

  “Harper, look—”

  “Could we please just stop talking? I don’t want to explain myself, and I don’t want you trying to figure me out. Okay?” She turns so she’s back to facing forward, her gaze out the windshield.

  “Okay.” But there’s no way I’m letting her go hungry. I hit the drive-thru and order us tacos. Three for me and two for her, placed in separate bags. She whispers her thanks.

  A few minutes of silence later I whisper, “Harper?”

  “What?” she mutters back.

  “This isn’t over.”

  Chapter Three

  Harper

  The last time I was in a conference room, I was eight years old and dressed in a matching outfit with my Malibu Beach Barbie. Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve got a bikini on underneath my slim black skirt and tailored aqua poplin shirt this time, too. I had a Supergirl moment this morning, my imagination running wild with me quickly taking off my clothes and jumping into a pool because I was needed.

  I’m not totally ridiculous. There is a pool downstairs.

  And I don’t know. It just felt right.

  This conference room, however, is smaller than the one when I was eight, and I’m not sitting in my father’s lap. I’m sitting at the table, and all eyes are on me. We’re on the second floor of the recently renovated two-story building that serves as headquarters for MASF. So far, I’m kicking ass, if I do say so myself.

  “All great ideas for the campaign,” Brad says to me. Then he asks his two PR people to run with them and write the copy for several thirty- and sixty-second PSAs. “I’d like to shoot on the next three Saturdays,” he tells his production manager. He hands out more direction to the others around the table, then dismisses everyone with a thank-you.

  “Harper, if you don’t mind waiting a few minutes, there’s one more team member I need you to meet.”

  “Sure.” I gave notice at the coffee shop last week and trained a new person yesterday, so my boss said no worries on returning, which means I’ve got the whole morning free. Mornings I’ll now need to use for the next month of Saturday swim lessons. It pains me to have to move my students for more than just my cousin’s wedding, but hopefully it’s understandable. I’ll toss in some extra lessons free of charge to make it up to them, and maybe plan an end-of-the-summer pool party.

  Which reminds me, I need to find a fake wedding date.

  “Hey, sorry I’m late,” a deep, familiar voice says from across the room.

  No way. No way. No way.

  I look up, and all the air in the conference room is squeezed out while the door slowly swings shut behind the one guy in the entire universe I least want to see.

  Yes way.

  “No problem,” Brad says. “Thanks for coming on board last minute. I really appreciate it. Harper, this is Levi Pierce, your cameraman. Levi, meet Harper McKinney. She’ll be featured in our PSAs. You two will be working together a lot.”

  The smile Levi gives me is a direct hit to my heart, and it stupidly flutters. “We’ve met,” he says. “Hi, Harper.”

  “Hi.” I do not smile back. But when Brad gives me a funny look I read as, Is this going to be a problem? I add, “It’s good to see you again.”

  Levi raises his eyebrows.

  Those are the nicest words I’ve said to him since we spent the night together.

  “How do you two know each other?” Brad asks.

  “Mutual friends,” Levi answers quickly and easily. I’m grateful he leaves it at that. He takes the seat next to me, and I’m immediately drawn to his masculine, just-showered scent. It takes effort not to lean into him. Fuck.

  “Brad? Sorry to interrupt. Can I see you a minute?” a man asks, poking his head into the room.

  Brad nods to the guy and gives him a “sure” before turning back to me. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be in touch later today, Harper. Thanks for coming in.”

  “Thank you,” I say, thinking I should follow him out the door, but I don’t. If Levi and I are going to be working together, we need to get on the same page.

  “This is a nice coincidence,” Levi says as soon as Brad is gone.

  “Nice” is not the word I was thinking. Here’s my problem: I like Levi. He’s the first guy since my high school boyfriend, Joe, I’ve spent time thinking about. And a guy is not where I want my thoughts to stray. Liking someone eng
ages more than brain cells. It changes your beats per minute and leaves you vulnerable, and I never want to feel that open to heartache again. I remind myself, however, that this is an important job opportunity, so if I have to play nice, I’ll play nice.

  “I didn’t know shooting PSAs was your thing.” Music videos, television shows, and YouTube stuff is what he does. I may keep our exchanges to a minimum, but I do listen to what the people around me say.

  “It’s not. Brad is my brother-in-law, so I’m doing this as a favor to him. The cameraman he had lined up canceled this morning.”

  Shit. Make that super nice.

  And this bit of information also adds to my heart condition because… “You’re Axl’s uncle?”

  “I am. You’ve met him?”

  “Yeah.” Axl is four, and all he talks about is his Uncle Vee and how Uncle Vee takes him to see the doggies at the “shetter” and when he’s five, Uncle Vee is going to give him one.

  “Cool kid, right?”

  “The coolest.”

  Levi turns his chair, crosses his arms, and catches me with those golden-brown eyes of his. He is insanely good-looking. His dirty blond hair is longer on top and stands straight up in a tousled but perfect way. Sexy stubble lines his square jaw. His plain white tee stretches across a broad chest and strong shoulders.

  “Careful, Ham. This civil conversation might give me the impression you like me or something.”

  Ham.

  Harper Annabelle McKinney.

  My older brothers called me Ham when I was little and still do on occasion. Levi heard it and decided he’d do the same. We were three years old at the time. From age three to seven, we were inseparable. Our moms met at a Mommy and Me swim class. That’s right. I learned to swim with Levi. There are pictures of us naked together in the pool, at the beach, and in the bathtub.

  The night we hooked up was the first time I’d seen him since we started second grade at different schools. When we realized who we were to each other, we’d fallen into effortless banter, the sexual attraction intensified, and the ease with which we fell into bed was more fun than I’d ever had.

  “Why is it important that I like you? Because we had sex? News flash. You don’t have to like someone to fuck them.” I know I sound crass, but the way Levi is openly staring at me as if I mean something more than I should is making me edgy.

  He continues to study me, and the more he looks, the faster my pulse races.

  “Would you quit looking at me like that?”

  “How am I looking at you?”

  “Like you want to bend me over this table and fuck me again.” Even if I wanted a repeat performance—which I don’t, not really, okay maybe—there’s no way it can happen now that we’re working together. This job means everything to me, and I can’t be distracted. If this opportunity falls through, I’ll have no choice but to accept my dad’s offer. Levi might have his professional life sorted, but I can’t say the same for mine.

  “Actually, I was picturing you sitting on this table while I buried my face between your legs.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I remember how much you liked my tongue there.”

  I push my chair back to put some distance between us. His words make me want his face there again, and I hate him for it. “I’m easy to please,” I lie.

  “I doubt that.”

  “Trust me.”

  He laughs, the jerk. I’m not sure if his reaction is because he finds me amusing or he doesn’t trust me. Thinking he might doubt my integrity really bothers me, but it’s my own fault. I’ve led him down this path because I don’t want him knowing me. He’s already scaled the wall around my heart farther than any guy since I was sixteen, and I need to knock him down. Just because we had the best sex of my life and he’s taking up space in my head doesn’t mean he’s the one to break me of my single-girl mentality.

  “Well, sex is off the table,” I say, mentally high-fiving myself for the pun. “Now that we’re working together, we should keep everything professional.”

  “On Saturdays, yes. The rest of the week, no. Let me take you out to a movie.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “And you obviously haven’t heard me. I don’t date.”

  “But now you’ve got this”—he gestures down his body, lingering at his crotch—“to consider, which is arguably unlike any other.”

  “Because you have a recurring rash?”

  His lips twitch, one side slightly higher than the other. “Because I’ve got muscle in all the right places.”

  I roll my eyes. “Cocky much?” The truth is he does have a mouth-wateringly great body. Biceps that bulge, a chest and abs with ridges I traced my fingernail along, a round, tight ass.

  “You loved my cock—”

  “I did not.”

  “No? You don’t remember saying, ‘Oh my God, Levi, I love your cock’ while I—”

  “Shut up. Do not say another word about that night.” I stand up. Why is perspiration trickling down my sides? Because having a conversation with him is impossible. Not because he flusters me. “That night was a mistake, and I would appreciate it if you never brought it up again. I have to go.”

  I don’t believe that love happens instantly, but all those other words that have to do with love? I felt every one of them the night we spent together. Which was why I pushed him away the next morning. I could fall for this boy, and it’s the very last thing I want.

  If I’d thought we could just be friends, I would have given him my phone number like he’d asked.

  He puts a hand on my arm. “It wasn’t a mistake.”

  I look at his grip, gentle but firm. My body heats further at the memory of him touching me all over, the pads of his fingers tracing his own unique path over my skin.

  “Let’s talk tonight. I’ll pick you up at seven,” he adds.

  I scowl at him. Is he serious right now?

  “To talk about the shoots,” he clarifies. “Since I missed the meeting, I thought you could fill me in. Get us on the same page. From what Brad mentioned to me, we’ll be grabbing some B roll together, too.”

  That he assumes I’m available tonight grates on my nerves, but we do need to figure this thing out. No matter how much I wish he wasn’t a part of this, he is, and everything has to go smoothly.

  “You could talk to Brad.”

  “I will. But it’s a good idea for us to kick around our thoughts, too.” He lifts his hand like he’s about to cross his heart, but drops his arm instead. “No ulterior motives.”

  I’m not sure I believe him. “Fine.”

  “Great.” He gets to his feet and opens the conference room door for me. “See you later.”

  I nod before I casually walk off. I will not let him see how much he rattles me.

  For the rest of the day, my nerves are all over the place, and I can’t stop thinking about life and where I’m supposed to fit in the universe. More than anything, it’s important to me that I make a difference. After Joe, I was numb for a long time. I didn’t show it. Not even to the therapist my mom made me see for two years because she didn’t have the words to help me. Mom wasn’t entirely to blame. I let my family and friends see only what I wanted them to see: I was fine. Sad, but fine. It’s weird how combining those two feelings can trick people. I still live with fear and remorse, though. So much so, that I own those feelings now. They’re a part of who I am deep down.

  Tragedy stole my love of the water and love for myself. I credit Teague with helping me get back in a pool. I couldn’t fool her. She saw right through my fine.

  Which is why when she texts me later that day that this Friday is Elliot’s birthday and we’re all going out to celebrate, I only contemplate telling her I feel the flu coming on.

  Sounds good, I message back, then toss my phone into my small shoulder bag. It’s a few minutes before seven, and I want to meet Levi at the curb in front of my aunt and uncle’s house. My decision has nothing to do with keeping
him out of proximity to a bed. Or couch. Or table.

  With a shake of my head, I clear my thoughts and walk around the pool then the side of the house. The sky is a soft blue. Palm tree fronds look down on me and sway with the warm summer breeze. I don’t think anything of the voices I hear in the distance until I turn the corner and see my mom and Levi standing on the driveway, talking beside her car.

  I jump back, out of sight, debating whether to join them. I hadn’t realized my mom was here. She was most likely doing wedding stuff with my aunt, which means she’s feeling nostalgic, and whatever she’s saying to the six-foot-two hottie, I probably won’t like. I peek around the house.

  He’s opening the driver’s side door for her. She smiles up at him as she sits and says something that makes the corners of his annoyingly sexy mouth lift in a grin that reaches his eyes. This isn’t good. I should have barged into their little reunion before they exchanged too many words.

  Mom backs her Jaguar out of the driveway then waves out the window. Levi waves back. It’s a wave of conspiracy.

  “Whatever my mom said to you, you need to disregard it.”

  Levi turns at my approach. “Hi, Harper.”

  I wait for him to comment on my order, but he doesn’t flinch or say anything further. This only ratchets up the tension in my shoulders. I’m the one in charge here. Not him. “Hi, Levi,” I finally say.

  “Greetings really shouldn’t be that hard.”

  “They aren’t, usually.”

  “It’s the face, right?” He makes a circular motion with his finger in front of his nose like I don’t know which face he’s referring to. It’s kind of cute, dammit. “I’ve been told it renders women speechless.”

  No doubt, but it has zero effect on me. Zee-row. “Whatever. Did you hear what I said?”

  “You want me to ignore your mom.”

  “Yes.” I wander over to the iron bench on the grass. I cut the bottom of my foot on a piece of plastic from a broken pool toy earlier today, and it hurts, even in my comfiest pair of flip-flops.

  Levi sits next to me, close enough that our thighs touch. He’s in well-worn jeans. I’m in shorts. The denim does nothing to curb the warm sensation his touch spreads up my leg. “Wouldn’t you like to know what she said before you issue a command?”