Unrequited Read online

  Kimberly Dean

  Unrequited

  A Novella from the collection,

  If This Bed Could Talk

  Contents

  One

  This was a mistake.

  Two

  “Ty!” Trista gasped.

  Three

  Trista’s heart gave a somersault. He planned to spend the…

  Four

  When he woke up later that night, Ty found himself…

  Five

  Trista woke up to the smell of breakfast drifting in…

  About the Author

  Credits

  Cover

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  One

  This was a mistake.

  Trista gripped her purse more tightly where it sat in her lap. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t relax. The air conditioning in the car was too cold, and the seat belt bit uncomfortably into her shoulder. Inside, she felt nearly nauseous.

  What had she been thinking? A date?

  She wasn’t ready for this.

  She looked over to the driver’s seat and saw Cliff smiling as he drove through the evening traffic. He’d had a grin on his face ever since he’d knocked on her front door. Unfortunately, his happiness made her feel even worse.

  “I’m glad we’re finally getting to spend some time together,” he said, glancing in her direction. “Waving at each other as we come and go from work hasn’t been enough.”

  She smiled weakly. She just couldn’t work up a response to that right now. “Are you doing some remodeling at your pharmacy?” she asked instead. “I’ve noticed you’ve had workmen there this week.”

  He nodded. “We’re replacing some of the older shelving. Got to keep up with the times, you know. How are things with your catering business? Every time I wander out back, you and Kelly seem to be loading that van of yours.”

  Trista shifted in her seat, trying to find some relief from the seat belt. “Summer is our busiest time of the year.”

  “Ah, yes. I suppose that would be the case. Graduations, picnics, family reunions—that type of thing.”

  “Yes, that type of thing.”

  The chitchat wasn’t working. The longer she sat there, the more Trista regretted her decision. She shouldn’t have gotten Cliff ’s hopes up. He was a nice man, but she never should have said yes when he’d asked her to dinner. And she wouldn’t have—if not for all the people poking her in the side and insisting that she needed to “get back out there.” She’d been single for eight months now. It was time, they said. She knew her friends had good intentions, but at the moment, she felt like wringing their well-meaning necks.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” Cliff was saying. “I’ve heard that the Blue Muse’s food is fantastic.”

  Trista gave herself a quick mental shake. “It’s very good,” she agreed.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t think the heavy French food would sit well in her stomach tonight.

  Enough, she told herself sternly. It’s just one date.

  She forced her grip on her purse to ease up. She could do this. Cliff wasn’t asking for anything more than friendly companionship. If she was going to get back into the dating scene, this was the best way to ease into it. The man was perfectly harmless.

  “Their dance floor is supposedly the most romantic in town.”

  Her already uneasy stomach dipped. Dancing? Oh, God. She definitely wasn’t ready for that. “Cliff, I—”

  She broke off suddenly when he veered right and pulled into a gravel parking lot.

  “Here we are,” he said. The car’s tires crunched loudly as he slowly looked for a place to park. He chose a spot next to a huge Ford truck and turned off the engine.

  Trista’s brow pulled together, and she looked around the parking lot in confusion. She’d been so immersed in her own thoughts, she hadn’t paid attention to where they were going. “Cliff, are you sure…”

  Her date never heard her. He was already out of the car and moving around to get the door for her. She fumbled with her seat belt, and the safety harness finally gave up its vicelike grip. She accepted his helpful hand, but shook her head as she stepped out of the car.

  “Cliff,” she said gently. “I think there’s been a mistake. This isn’t the Blue Muse.”

  He blinked at her. “Excuse me?”

  She gestured towards the sign. “It’s the Blue Moon. It’s a bar and grill. The Blue Muse is on the north side of town near the Galleria shopping center.”

  Her date’s head snapped so hard to the side, it was a wonder he didn’t give himself whiplash. He squinted at the sign and when he read it clearly, his face went as white as his starched shirt. “But I have reservations for seven o’clock,” he said dumbly.

  She glanced at her watch. “We’ll never make it across town in time.”

  The picture of discomfort, he ran a finger under his collar. “They’ll give up our table.”

  The poor man. She’d never seen someone look so distressed. Feeling bad for him, she glanced again at the bar. Her teeth worried her lower lip as she considered it. The Blue Moon was rough around the edges, but it was a popular place. She’d been here for lunch specials before. It served the best New York strip in town, and the thought of their grilled shrimp actually made her hungry. “This is fine,” she declared.

  “But the dancing,” he mumbled.

  Yes, the dancing. She looped her arm through his. “Let’s eat here.”

  They approached the bar slowly—Cliff because his carefully laid plans had just fallen apart and Trista because the gravel made walking in high heels difficult. She had to hang onto her date a bit more needily than she would have liked, but she managed somehow not to sprain an ankle. Cliff was still looking uncertain when he opened the heavy wooden door to the bar. The sound of raucous Southern rock poured out into the warm evening air, and his pale coloring took on a distinctly green cast.

  Trista smiled at him reassuringly. She was out of her element, too.

  One date, she reminded herself. She didn’t relish the idea of being at the Blue Moon after the sun went down, but she’d be more comfortable here than in the forced romantic atmosphere of the French restaurant. Besides, the music could fill in the gaps of what would surely be a stilted conversation.

  Already, she could tell that this was going to be a long night.

  “Sounds like someone is having fun,” she said with more enthusiasm than she felt. Before he could change his mind, she turned on her heel and entered.

  It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the lighting, but the moment she stepped inside, Trista could feel that the Moon was thick with Friday night atmosphere. The early crowd was alive and jumping. People were ready to relax after putting in forty hours of hard work, and the weekend was just getting kicked off. Rounds of beer had already been served and more than a few peanut shells had hit the floor. The dartboards and pool tables were all taken but, unlike the Blue Muse, there wasn’t a romantic dance floor. The bar didn’t need one.

  Hormones were flaring from every corner of the room.

  Apparently Friday night was hookup time—and this crowd wasn’t shy about its intentions. The bawdy environment disconcerted Trista. She searched through the smoky room until she spotted an open booth near the back. She pointed towards it, and Cliff nodded anxiously.

  Taking a deep breath, she started towards the table. She hadn’t made it three steps before a waitress with a serving tray full of beer mugs appeared in front of her. “Oh, excuse me,” she called as she stopped short.

  “Sorry, hon.”

  They circled around each other as best they could. Another opening in the crowd appeared, and Trista was about to take it when a wolf whistle cut through the air. The age-old
signal of masculine appreciation was long and piercing, overriding the rest of the background noise. It surprised her so much, she actually stutter-stepped. She came to a complete stop, though, when she realized it was meant for her.

  “Oh!” she gasped on a swift inhale.

  An unexpected, hot shiver had just run through her. Somehow—even with the place as busy as it was—she knew she’d been singled out. Her woman’s intuition told her why.

  She was overdressed—or underdressed.

  It all depended on how one looked at it.

  Her classy little black dress stood out in the casual atmosphere of the bar like a sore thumb. She could feel people staring. Openly. Unabashedly. One gaze, in particular, left a trail of fire as it skimmed down her back.

  “Ooo, baby.”

  Her self-consciousness ratcheted higher as, one by one, heads turned her way. A howl drowned out the whistle, and she felt her cheeks heat. The dress would have been perfectly acceptable at the French restaurant, but here her skirt seemed about two inches too short…the sleeveless style too daring…the scooped neckline too revealing…

  The overt masculine appreciation threw her off balance, but even more surprising was her reaction to it.

  It aroused her.

  Within the space of a breath, she’d become acutely aware of her own body. It was almost as if everything was somehow enhanced. She felt the brush of the short skirt against her thighs. Her breasts were heavier within the confines of her lace bra. And her high heels…They seemed not only to emphasize her legs, but lift her bottom in the most inappropriate way.

  She wasn’t the only one who noticed.

  That one incendiary gaze slid over her curved backside, and she shuddered.

  It had been so long since she’d felt anything close to sexual that the effect was almost overwhelming. Instinctively, she turned back towards Cliff and the door. To her surprise, her date no longer seemed ready to leave. To the contrary, he appeared half-pleased. With a somewhat cocky look on his face, he put his hand on the small of her back and ushered her the rest of the way to their table.

  “You do look beautiful,” he said, trying to temper the crassness of what had just happened.

  He didn’t fool her. His night had been made. People thought his date was hot.

  Trista was too flummoxed to be offended. All she wanted was to get out of the spotlight. Away from that hot stare. With relief, she sat down and scooted away from the outer edge of the booth. Cliff settled down across from her and loosened his tie as he looked around with increasing interest.

  “You certainly give the joint some class.” He grinned across the table at her as his gaze swept down her figure. It was the same once-over he’d given her on her front doorstep when he’d picked her up earlier this evening, but much more bold. He stared openly at her distended nipples, and Trista was affronted.

  Greatly.

  She opened her mouth to tell him to quit, but stopped short.

  She couldn’t be a hypocrite. Her body’s reaction betrayed just how much she’d liked the sexual interest of a roomful of strangers.

  One stranger, in particular. The remnants of that hot gaze lingered.

  Shifting uneasily on the vinyl seat, she crossed her arms over her chest. What was going on? Her date’s interest left her cold. So why—in God’s name—had she felt such a full-blooded jolt out there in the middle of the barroom floor? That male attention couldn’t have been more blatant, more base, yet it had evoked a response within her. She could still feel a fire smoldering deep down in her core, and her nipples were poking through both layers of her bra and dress.

  “I thought it was rude,” she said, unsure whom she was trying to convince.

  “Of course, it was,” Cliff said, his brow lowering with concern. “I’m sorry. Do you want to leave?”

  And walk through the bar again? She didn’t think so!

  “No,” she said quickly. “I’m all right.”

  Unsettled by the whole situation, she pulled the menu out from behind the napkin holder at the end of the table. She held it up in front of her and pretended to give it her attention.

  Only her real attention was still focused somewhere out there in the bar.

  Her admirer was still watching her.

  She could feel it.

  The heat in her belly began to spread. Downward. Nervously, she crossed her legs. Her garter belt gave a tug, and she bit back a gasp.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Cliff asked. He leaned forward on his elbows. “You look a bit flushed.”

  A bit? She felt like she was ready to combust. “Don’t you think it’s warm in here?” she asked as she fanned herself with her menu.

  He wasn’t going to be dissuaded that easily. Reaching out, he took her free hand. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

  With his touch, Trista felt another jolt—only this one had the temperature of pure ice. Needles prickled at the back of her neck. The vibes weren’t coming from Cliff. That someone wasn’t happy.

  Instinctively, she snatched her hand away from her date’s touch. Uneasiness settled over her as she looked away from Cliff and slowly scanned the bar. She wasn’t usually so intuitive, but she could feel a connection with this unseen man.

  The silent seduction was beginning to unnerve her.

  Her gaze flicked over the rowdy crowd. Most of them had gone back to whatever they were doing before she and Cliff had shown up. She didn’t see anyone still staring.

  Except…

  Her heart jumped when a dark brown gaze suddenly captured hers. It caught and held, refusing to let her go. The will behind those deep soulful eyes was hot and possessive. Strong and sexual. Unable to resist, she felt herself begin to melt…

  Right until recognition hit.

  With all the force of a two-ton brick.

  “Oh, my God,” she breathed.

  It was Ty.

  Ty!

  The implications froze her in her seat, but she couldn’t reign in her body as quickly. The ache between her legs intensified, and she squeezed her thighs together hard to try to make it stop. Oh…Oh, God.

  She’d been reacting to him? The idea was so wrong—so inappropriate—she was horrified.

  “What?” Concerned, Cliff turned in his seat. His legs swung out over the end of the booth, and the movement effectively broke their stare.

  Like a rag doll, Trista sagged back in her seat.

  Cliff ’s head swiveled back and forth. “What is it? What did I miss? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “No ghost.”

  Although he was most certainly from her past.

  Her eyelids drifted shut as mortification set in all over again. She couldn’t believe she’d gotten aroused. She couldn’t believe her breasts still ached! Ty wasn’t some secret admirer. He hadn’t been watching her because he was interested. He’d just been plain, flat-out surprised.

  Feeling blindsided, Trista ran a shaky hand through her hair. Oh, this was just perfect. Her first date in eight months and not only had she brought along her baggage, she’d just made it even messier. “My brother-in-law is here.”

  Cliff ’s eyebrows jumped. “You mean former brother-in-law.”

  He let out a nervous laugh and tugged at his collar again. “Or I’m in big trouble.”

  She rubbed her suddenly aching temple. “No, you’re right,” she said quietly. “Former.”

  Although Ty was around so much, she tended to forget that.

  Cliff craned his neck to take another look. “You’re not talking about that muscle-bound behemoth, are you?”

  Trista felt her body begin to melt again, but this time she fought it. She knew all-too-well what Ty looked like.

  “He’s in construction.” She caught her date’s arm and drew him back around to face her. He wasn’t making matters any better by being so obvious.

  “I don’t understand,” Cliff said. “What’s the problem?”

  She bit her lower lip. The night was quickly going from bad t
o worse. “Well, this is somewhat embarrassing, but you’re my first date since the divorce.”

  His jaw dropped. “I am?”

  She shrugged helplessly.

  “But you were married to a professional baseball player.”

  She looked at him blankly. What did that have to do with anything?

  “I’m the first man you’ve agreed to go out with since Denny Christiansen? The All-Star catcher? The man who batted .328 last year until he blew out his knee and had to go to Japan to play?”

  There was so much glee in his tone, it made her grit her teeth. “It’s taken me a while to work through things.”

  Pushing his luck, Cliff ventured another peek. A very quick peek. He was swallowing hard as he turned back around. “I don’t think your ex-brother-in-law has gotten there yet. He looks like he wants to pummel me.”

  Trista couldn’t help it. Something inside her chest softened. She didn’t doubt that. Ty Christiansen was the most loyal person she knew. Throughout the divorce, he’d been as protective of her as he’d been of his own brother. Looking back, though, she might have leaned on him more than she should have.

  Guilt unfurled inside her. Seeing her here must have come as a shock to him. She should have told him her plans for tonight—although, on second thought, that probably wouldn’t have been such a good idea either.

  She glanced at him again. The look on his rugged, handsome face cut her to the quick. Unable to bear it, she let her gaze drop to her lap.

  “He’s just surprised to see me with somebody other than Denny,” she said quietly.

  That had to be it. That had to be why he looked so betrayed.

  It had been a hot, sweaty, bitch of a week. Ty took a long pull on his beer and savored the cool breeze coming from the air conditioning vent overhead. The shower he’d taken to get rid of the dust and the grime hadn’t cooled his internal body temperature. Working outside in this heat wave had been like working in the fires of hell. By the time he and his men had knocked off earlier tonight, they’d all been more than ready for the weekend.