At Any Price Read online

He extended his arm and with the feeling of utter bewilderment, I took it.

  From the moment I got pregnant with Malcolm, I swore off dating entirely. Not that I really had to make a concerted effort not to. A single mother? That's dating kryptonite. Men fled from me like I had the plague, which, with Malcolm's often snotty nose, I very well could have. That first year after he was born he was sick more often than he was well, and consequently I was too. Sleep deprived with red-rimmed eyes and a runny nose is not a good look to take to the bars.

  So I sort of had gotten used to the idea of being undatable. It was almost a comfort. Schlepping around in my sweats with my nursing bra and unshaven legs, I didn't have to worry about looking cute, and honestly that was the last thing on my mind. I'd much rather be comfortable.

  But it had gone on so long, that now the idea of having to look cute was almost a foreign concept. Did I even have something to wear tonight? Did anything that I used to wear out those nights that I was free even fit me anymore?

  I pulled into my driveway and ran into the house before Jameson could even open his door.

  "Hey Mom," I whispered, standing on the other side of her closed door. "Did you eat today?"

  I heard the sound of her shifting on her mattress. "I had toast," came her weak voice.

  "That's really great," I said encouragingly.

  "I need to be alone," she called, a little more loudly.

  "I know, Mom. I'm just stopping in real quick." I waited. If she were feeling good, this would be when she demanded to know what I was up to.

  I said a selfish prayer of thanks to her bad spell and stepped back from the door when she didn't question me.

  Quickly, I went to my room, the same one I'd had since I was a kid. Malcolm's bassinet sat in one corner under the slope of the steeply pitched roofline. He normally slept in his crib in the tiny room at the top of the stairs, but sometimes I still put him in the bassinet on nights when he needed to be close to me...or I needed to be close to him.

  Seeing it empty sent a strange pang through me and I hurried over to my closet. I rummaged through like some kind of slideshow of my life in reverse. Here in the front were my black work shirts bought specially for my position at Indigo. Here were my stained t shirts and the hoodies that were my wardrobe staples these days. But behind those were the remnants of my old life. I took a deep breath as I went flipping past the plunging necklines and the high-slitted skirts. That wasn't me anymore, but who was I?

  Whoever I was, for some reason, Jameson was interested in me, and the thought of his blue eyes crinkling at the corners made me flush hot. I flipped to the very back, and zeroed in on a simple red shift dress. I remembered I had picked it up at the thrift store one summer after all the tourists had left. The question now was, would it fit?

  I dashed to the window, and looked out. Jameson was still standing out there, leaning comfortably against the hood of his rental car looking for all the world like there was nowhere that he'd rather be than on my shitty block, in the shitty section of town.

  I wondered how long it was going to take for him to realize that this was a waste of his time. He was from out of town. I was a mom. There was no way this could be a regular thing at all.

  Was I okay with this being a one night thing?

  I glanced out the window again. His sleeves were rolled up around his forearms, and the golden hairs glinted in the streetlight.

  Yes, I was okay with that.

  Parts of me had been dead for far too long. Parts of me didn't even feel like they belonged to me anymore.

  Those parts stirred a little, like they were waking from a long sleep. I hurried back to my closet, and yanked the dress over my head. Mercifully, it fit.

  He was waiting, so there was no time to do it up do it up like I used to. I only had time to dab gloss on my lips, and re-coil my unruly mop back up on top of my head. But this time, I let a few pieces fall in ringlets down to my shoulders, a look I knew worked for me. I smiled at myself in the mirror. I looked tired, but then again, I was always tired, and this wasn't going to be anything more than a quick wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am.

  Exactly what I needed.

  I was ready to come out and play.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jameson

  The door slammed and she came rushing back out of the house barefoot with her shoes dangling from her fingertips. Her eyes were so wide and shining that it took me a few moments to even register the rest of her.

  And when I did, I stopped short.

  Her hair was still caught up in that swaying topknot, but she'd allowed a few tendrils to escape. They tumbled down to her shoulders in a waterfall of crazy ringlets, setting off her face like a portrait edged in gold that even the low light of the streetlamp couldn't dim. Her dress showed off strong arms and shoulders and the fabric just skimmed her curves, barely hinting at what lay underneath. I caught a glimpse of her carefully painted toes hidden in the grass and suddenly my mind was filled with the image of them curling in ecstasy as I made her come on my tongue.

  I cleared my throat. "You look amazing," I told her.

  She stopped and ran her hand down her simple red dress. "I look frumpy," she corrected.

  I shook my head. "You're beautiful," I said. Because it was true. She was.

  Her eyes flashed, but she didn't duck away when I bent to kiss her cheek. I let my lips linger there for as long as I could, and took a deep breath, smelling the last bits of sun on her shoulders.

  She took deep breath of her own and let it out in a slow hiss. "Oh my God," she sighed. "I haven't gone out since I had Malcolm."

  "How old is the little guy?" I asked. Then I held up my hand. "No, wait, I bet I can figure it out. How much do you bet me?”

  She looked at me warily. "I don't really have much money," she said.

  I shrugged. "Then we can wager something else."

  "Like what?"

  I grinned. "I'll think of something I'm sure." I lifted my finger. "But I bet I can guess his birthday."

  She looked amused. "You really think you can, huh?"

  I nodded. I really did. I didn't even have to touch my lucky coin.

  Not with her here.

  "Absolutely," I proclaimed.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. "Okay, I'll take that bet," she laughed. "You're a strange one, you know that?"

  "I think you'll see there's a method to my madness," I said, lightly running my fingers along her arm. Her skin was amazingly soft. "If I get it right, you have to kiss me."

  Her eyes flashed again, and her face hardened a little. I held up my hands. "Just a kiss," I promised. "Nothing more."

  She turned her head to the side, closed her eyes, and then opened them with a mischievous smile. "Fine," she said archly, tossing her head. "There's no way in hell you could guess his birthday anyway, that's like terrible odds..."

  "One in three hundred and sixty-five," I agreed.

  "I know. I was a server forever, I'm pretty great at math," she said testily. "Odds are in my favor."

  I grinned. "And if I get it wrong, what happens?"

  "If you get it wrong," she said, running her tongue over her teeth. She glanced over to the driveway. "You have to let me drive your fancy car over there."

  I threw up my hands and backed away, feigning horror. "But, you'll just go plowing into things!"

  She smacked me in the arm, and I laughed, because that meant she was starting to have fun, she was starting to feel comfortable, and for some reason that was really fucking important to me.

  I tapped my finger on my chin for a moment and watched her watch me. Her son looked to be around two years old, but he was still in a rear-facing car seat so he was obviously younger. That meant spring... "April thirtieth," I blurted out.

  Her eyes went wide. "What the fuck?" she breathed.

  "I'm right?" I grinned triumphantly. I was as surprised as she was but there was no way I was going to let that on.

  She smacked me again, harder this time.
"How the fuck did you know that?" she demanded.

  I rubbed my arm. "Wow, calm down there, Mike Tyson." I complained. "Damn sweet thing, you can throw a hell of a punch."

  "Yes, I can," she declared without a trace of apology. "So don't mess with me. How did you know?"

  "I swear. It was just a lucky guess." I started to grin. "So you sort of owe me a kiss now, don't you?"

  She screwed up her mouth into this adorable little pout, with wrinkled nose and all. "You promise you're leaving tomorrow?"

  I laughed out loud. "You really know how to make a guy feel special, don't you?" I teased, echoing the line she'd used on me earlier. When I'd insisted she was special.

  But she didn't rise to the bait. Damn this girl and her caution, she was driving me fucking nuts. "Yes, I am leaving," I relented. "So all the more reason to have no regrets."

  Something in her face shifted and she gave the very slightest of nods. I wasn't even sure if I was supposed to see it, but I was watching her so closely there was no way I could miss it. Like she'd had an argument with herself and somebody had just won.

  Maybe it was me.

  "So kiss me," she said with a defiant tilt to her head. "I owe you and I hate being in debt."

  I pressed my lips together. Excitement made my hand tremble ever so slightly as I brought it up to catch the tumbling ringlet that bobbed near her mouth and tuck it behind her ear. She inhaled sharply as my hand moved behind her neck, and she lowered her eyelids, shadowing her cheekbones with her lashes.

  I've always been one to go with my gut, but in this moment, my instinct was one of pure animal desire. My hands wanted to sink themselves into her hair, yanking down that topknot and wrapping those curls around my fists. Just the thought of kissing her had my cock at attention and my body ached to press against hers, trapping her against the car so that she couldn't move as I set about on a long, slow exploration of her smart little mouth. Every instinct I'd ever trusted was now trying to lead me astray, pushing me to go faster and further than I knew she was ready for.

  So even though it went against every instinct I had, I held back. I bent slowly, letting her get used to my nearness before I brushed my lips against hers. It was tentative, almost chaste. I hadn't kissed a woman this shyly since grade school and yet?

  It was fucking electric.

  The second her lips met mine it was like a spark fucking ignited. My belly dropped, splashing down like I was on a rollercoaster, heat spreading out to my limbs. She made a small noise, barely audible, but that was better than any of the porn-star shrieks I'd heard in the bedroom before. She was so unsure, so untrusting, so that slight yielding pressure of her body against mine, the barest little hint of surrender when her skin brushed up against me was more erotic than anything I'd felt before. It didn't make any fucking sense. I was only kissing her, but somehow it was more intense than any other three-hour fuck-marathon I'd been part of in the past. And somehow, I knew — just by this one, chaste, hesitant kiss — that no matter how much I lost at the betting tables tonight, Charlie was going to be worth it.

  I could barely wait to get started.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Charlie

  With the way my body turned to jelly when he just said the words "you owe me a kiss," I guessed I should have been grateful that he ended up kissing me so carefully. So gently.

  But holy hell, it was not what I wanted.

  It was all I could do not to throw my arms around his neck and slam my tongue against his. Yes, it had been years. Yes, my dry spell was older than my baby, but it was more than just pent up hormones that had me trembling when he pulled back and grinned. It was way more than that.

  Head spinning, I tried to pull myself together and walk with a measure of dignity over to his passenger side door. There was no way that he could tell how hard my pulse was throbbing between my legs right? Oh god, was there a damp spot on my skirt?

  That terrifying thought sent me scurrying to open my door, but he was already there, blocking my path like an infuriatingly hot wall. "What do you think you're doing?" he drawled.

  "Um?" I squeaked, my voice several octaves higher than it should be. "Aren't we going?"

  "I open doors for you," he commanded in a voice that made that pulse between my legs throb all the harder. I swear if you hooked my pussy up to a sound system right now the bass would deafen you.

  But there was also the small matter of my dignity. "I'm perfectly capable of opening my own door," I protested, reaching to yank the handle.

  His hand shot out, closing around my wrist and for a second I stood there, completely boggled by how big he was. At five eight I was not used to feeling tiny, but it was pretty obvious that Jameson could throw me over his shoulder with no difficulty whatsoever.

  And I had only met him this morning. He was a complete stranger and I was getting into his car.

  This should have scared me but instead I lifted my chin and glared at him. "We got a problem here?"

  "What did I say about the door?" he growled.

  I licked my lips. "I must not have heard you."

  "Should I talk louder?"

  I nodded, loving the way he was still holding my wrist, as if he'd forgotten it was there. I sure as hell hadn't. "Yes please," I purred. Wait, I was purring? I never purred. There was not a single instance in my life where purring would be called for. "Talk right into my ear when you do so too, please."

  Just as I'd hoped, he bent closer to my ear. When his breath brushed past it, goosebumps marched up my spine and I had to resist the urge to shiver. "I said," he rumbled, his lips brushing my ear lobe. "That I open doors for you. You got that, Charlie?"

  This time I did shiver to hear my name on his lips so close to my body. I swallowed and looked up at him sidelong. "I got that," I said, and my voice sounded much more put together than I was feeling.

  He nodded and opened the door, stepping aside to let me in, and then shutting it carefully behind me.

  For a moment, I was alone in his car. I knew it was a rental. It didn't have had any of those personal touches, yet I still ran my hand over the dashboard as if there was some hidden panel somewhere that would spring open and somehow reveal all of his secrets. I inhaled sharply and my nose was filled with the warm scent of him, something heavy and woodsy, like the forest on a hot summer's day. I closed my eyes and for a second his scent transported me somewhere familiar, but unknown and I wondered where I had caught whiff of it before.

  I snapped back to the present when he opened his door. "You're not falling asleep on me, are you?" he chuckled as he slid into the driver's seat and caught me blinking.

  I shook my head. "Sleep is for the weak," I declared. And bit back a yawn.

  He grinned a little, but was kind enough not to call me out. Instead, he pulled out of my gravel drive and back onto the narrow street. As we left my house behind, I felt a pang that I was leaving my mother alone. One night, I reminded myself. It's only this one night and then everything goes back to the way it was.

  Jameson drove like he knew these roads already. I expected to have to direct him, but he floored it up into the hills like he'd been navigating these twisting turns forever. For a second I caught my breath, worried he'd send us careening down into the valley, leaving Malcolm an orphan.

  You're having fun, I reminded myself again. Carefree. Just for tonight. And on the next turn I whooped. He glanced at me with a smug grin, and shifted gears before flooring it even harder.

  We shot through the dark, so high above the lights in the valley below that I could have been flying above it all in a jet plane. I knew there was a casino up here in the hills. But I knew it the way that I knew that there was a paddle boat tour that took people out onto the lake, that there were jet ski rental companies along the waterfront, and backpacking tours offered along Main Street. They were all things that belonged to the tourists, not the townies. Not the people who actually lived and worked here year-round.

  I knew there was a casino up here an
d I guess I was expecting some kind of glittering Vegas palace. So when we pulled into the parking lot, I almost opened my mouth to ask Jameson if he was lost.

  It was a long, timbered building that clung to the side of the hill. Outsized beams gave it the appearance of Adirondack Lodge, done on an oversized scale.

  Jameson came over to my side and helped me get out of the car. And even though I definitely didn't need help, I took his arm anyway. And when he closed the door behind me, I didn't let go of it. One night, I reminded myself one last time. Did he notice that I was sliding my hand higher, cupping an appreciative grip on his bicep? Did he like it as much as I did?

  As we walked, I craned my head around to see the whole huge stretch of the place. "I've seen pictures of casinos in like Vegas and stuff," I said. "I was expecting water fountains and flashing lights I guess."

  He shrugged. "Maybe they were trying to make it fit in with the scenery around here?" he asked.

  "This isn't the Adirondacks," I pointed out with a grin. "This is the Finger Lakes."

  "Architect probably didn't know that. You know how it is with these city guys." He waved his hand in vague swooping motions. "Upstate New York is all the same place to them."

  I laughed. "Aren't you a city guy?"

  He chuckled. "Sort of. But I'm one of the smart ones."

  "I'll be the judge of that," I said cheekily, and let him lead me into the front door.

  Once inside, we stood in the entryway and I stared at the miles and miles of jangling slot machines with my mouth open. As Jameson said something to the front desk people, I watched as people just poured money into the machines. Dollar bill after dollar bill after twenty-dollar bill. I could pay my bills five times over with the amount of money that the people were pissing away.

  It made my fists clench.

  I turned, ready to tell Jameson that I didn't want to do this after all, but when I looked at him I saw that his eyes were gleaming. "Wanna play?" he asked, taking my arm.

  I swallowed. "I didn't, I didn't bring much cash," I lied. I didn't actually bring any at all. Didn't have any at all.