Breaking The Rules

Everyone—her family, friends, and the majority of the population of Homer, Illinois—had expected her to marry Dean Langley, the only guy she’d ever dated. They started going out in high school, so of course everyone just assumed they’d marry when they continued their courtship through her years at college. She’d even agreed, as expected, she thought with a hefty dose of cynicism, but as the wedding drew closer, she knew she couldn’t go through with it for one very simple reason—they weren’t in love.

The day before the wedding, she’d asked Dean if he was in love with her. His response hadn’t broken her heart, but had merely made her face the truth they’d both managed to avoid for months. Too many people had worked hard to make the wedding happen. Did she really want to disappoint them?

That was no reason to get married, as far as she was concerned, but Dean had countered her arguments with a diagnosis of prenuptial anxiety.

Anxiety about spending the rest of her life with a man she loved, rather than one she was in love with, she couldn’t argue.

Yesterday she’d taken the first step. A faulty one, considering she’d given in to her case of cold feet, ended up in a bar, passed out and woke up in the apartment of a strange but very sexy man with warm brown eyes and a body she couldn’t ignore without being a discredit to her gender.

She couldn’t go back. If she did, she’d no doubt end up married to a man she didn’t love, working in a job she didn’t want and living the rest of her life wondering what if.

She shifted her gaze back to Cooper. “There’s no one.”

He leaned forward and braced his tanned forearms on the table. “I probably shouldn’t bother, but considering you passed out in my bar and slept in my bed, I think that gives me some small right to ask…. Where are you from, Princess?”

Carly considered lying, but even if she was tired of following everyone else’s rules, she couldn’t forget twenty-four years of training and teaching by her minister father. Lying was one of the Top Ten, after all. “A small town about a hundred or so miles from here.”

“Family?”

She smiled. “Do six older sisters, five brothers-in-law, both parents, three grandparents and a great-grandmother count? Oh, and a couple of aunts, uncles and innumerable cousins, too.”

He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Go home, Princess,” he said gently. “You’ve got a lot of people who’re probably worried about you.”

She didn’t doubt that for a minute, considering how she’d left without anything more than a note that said she was fine but couldn’t go through with the wedding.

But how could she go home? She couldn’t. Not with the rest of her life at stake.

She looked across the table at her reluctant host. “I can’t.”

A deep frown pinched his eyebrows together. “Can’t? Or won’t?”

She sighed, wondering how she could make him understand. Someone like him no doubt lived exactly as he wanted, answering to no one and living by his own rules. How could he possibly understand what her life had been like up to this point?

“A little of both, I think,” she said, looking over at him. “If I go back now, I’ll slip right back into the pattern of doing exactly what everyone always expects of me. For once in my life, even if it’s only for a short while, I’d like to do things my way.”

“And you expect to accomplish this how?”

“By getting a job, finding a place to live.” She shrugged, wondering why she was even telling a total stranger her plans. It wasn’t as if she was seeking his approval, for goodness’ sake. Her days of seeking approval were over. “I haven’t quite worked out the details.”

He leaned forward and gave her a level stare. “You want some unsolicited advice?”

“Not really, but I expect you’ll give it to me anyway,” she muttered, reaching for the other slice of dry toast.

“Go home. As of right now, you have no car, no money, and—” his gaze slid over her, making her skin tingle as if he’d physically touched her “—no clothes.”

“I realize it isn’t exactly a stellar beginning,” she said, rubbing her hands over her arms to ward off the unexpected chill chasing over her skin. “But I have to start somewhere. And if I could impose upon you for just a while longer, would you mind terribly—”

“You can’t stay here,” he said abruptly, and stood.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t…” She’d planned on asking him if he’d mind finding a discount store open and picking up a few things for her so she’d at least have something besides his T-shirt to wear until she could get her bag. Until she had something decent to wear, she couldn’t very well leave his apartment.

She frowned as an idea took root.

A very dangerous idea, but one she couldn’t completely discard as inconceivable.

Why not? she wondered. If she was going to take control of her own life, why couldn’t she ask him if she could bunk in his spare room for an extra night? Because the rules said she shouldn’t? Because the rules said she couldn’t possibly do something so rude as to impose on him?

Carly’s Law: Don’t be afraid to ask for what you need or want.

“I won’t be any trouble,” she blurted, before she lost her nerve. “I’ll even share expenses until I can find my own place.”

Cooper stared down at her, having serious doubts about her statement of being no trouble. Little Miss Cute and Curvy had been trouble with an underscored and capital “T” since she’d walked into his life. No. Not his life, his uncle’s bar. The same bar he was close to losing if he didn’t find a way to turn it around.

“It’ll probably only be for a day. Two at the most,” she said, sincerity banked in her innocent gaze.

The night she’d already spent under his roof was one night too many. He’d tossed and turned until dawn. Every time he closed his eyes, she drifted across his mind, an unwanted visitor in his home and his thoughts. The feel of her smooth as satin skin, the light floral scent of her hair, the way her long sooty lashes fanned against her cheeks while she slept had haunted his dreams. His very racy dreams.

“I like living alone,” he lied, then walked back into the kitchen for more coffee. Truth be told, while he did enjoy his privacy, he’d never lived completely alone until recently, and reluctantly realized he missed having someone to talk to. Until he’d practically been forced by Hayden to join the service, he’d lived his life in this very apartment. After enlisting in the navy, he’d bunked with a bunch of other guys either in barracks, aboard a ship or in other places he’d rather not remember. There was Hercules, the cat his uncle had claimed kept a nonexistent rodent population under control, but Herc was a cat and didn’t exactly qualify as a roommate, or a conversationalist.

“I promise not to get in your way.”

He turned at the pleading note in Carly’s voice. She stood next to the counter with her arms crossed, which caused the hem of his T-shirt to lift and reveal more of her smooth, lightly tanned legs.

He let out a rough breath. “I’m too busy. I have a bar to run.” I can’t afford your kind of distraction.

He felt himself wavering under the force of her full and wide grin that had her eyes sparkling and the tempo of his heartbeat increasing.

“I won’t be any trouble,” she said. “Honest.”

He didn’t believe that for a minute. She was trouble of the worst kind, the kind that could easily drive him crazy…with need, if his physical reaction to her last night was any indication of his testosterone levels.

“I’ll even help you with the bar.”

He frowned. “I already have a waitress.”

“I didn’t see her last night.”

“Karen’s daughter is sick.” The little girl suffered with asthma, and considering Karen had taken the child to the emergency room the previous night, the chances of her making her shift tonight were slim. Still, Sunday wasn’t usually all that busy, except the Cubs were playing out of town and a few of his regulars would be in to watch the game on TV.

“What do you know about tending bar, anyway?” he asked, then quickly shook his head before he completely lost his sense, common or otherwise. “No. Forget it, Carly. Go home.”

He walked out of the kitchen and headed into the living room to the entertainment center. He had two hours until he opened the bar, and he had things to do. Things that didn’t include lusting after a tempting little distraction with a lethal body and a dangerous and determined glint in her ocean-blue gaze.

“I can’t go home,” she said from behind him. “At least not yet.”

His hand stilled above the power button to the small stereo system. “You ever been a waitress?” he asked, looking over his shoulder for his common sense and finding only Carly and those soft-as-silk legs tempting him beyond reason.

“No.” She crossed her arms again, drawing his attention to her breasts. “How hard can it be?”