LITMIR.BIZ

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that fire and ice. It gave him a buzz that beer never could.

      “If you don’t want the state of Texas breathing down your neck, then I suggest you try abiding by the law,” she said drily. It made him wonder if she’d rehearsed those words in front of a mirror. “Also, I’d appreciate it if you’d stop staring down my dress.”

      Busted.

      Well, this was new. Most women actually wanted him to look.

      “Tell me about yourself, April,” he said, changing tactics. “You banging the mall cop?”

      Her mouth fell open. He could tell she was itching to get up and storm off, but couldn’t. Not with him standing right in front of her, blocking the way.

      She looked as though she’d been rudely awakened from a nap, but her blue eyes had shades of steel in them. “You’re a pig.”

      Brandon tilted his beer at her in agreement.

      He was kind of loving this. He wanted to get under her skin. Hell, he wanted to get under her everything. “Most women would say that’s true,” he confessed. “I am a pig. But some women need one. They need someone who will drag them down in the mud and show them how good life can be when it’s got some dirt on it. In the end, we’re all animals, just feeding and breeding.” He took a long draw off his bottle before asking, “Which makes me wonder. What kind of animal are you, April?”

      The blood flamed in her cheeks. He’d never seen anyone more laughably transparent. When she started stammering out reasons that wasn’t true and what an awful, awful person he was, he detected something else about her that stirred the hair on his arms. Maybe her defensiveness gave it away.

      April wasn’t just uncomfortable around men. She had no experience with them at all.

      Then he knew. And the discovery sledge-hammered him in the stomach.

      “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. “You’re a virgin.”

      If he had told April she had three minutes to live, she couldn’t have looked more shocked and mortified than she did right now, ramrod straight on the bench, hands practically strangling themselves on her lap. She would deny it, of course, but he knew.

      “It’s none of your business what I am,” she snapped, making a valiant effort to reclaim her dignity. It occurred to Brandon that women like April would be a whole lot happier if they just admitted they either liked to fuck or were afraid of it. “The only thing we should be talking about is your brother’s truancy. If I have to take this to court, I will.”

      A virgin. He couldn’t believe it. Who was a virgin these days? Not the chicks he hooked up with. The sluttier, the better.

      “That’s too bad,” he said, “about the virgin thing. We might’ve had some fun. But to be honest, virgins bore me.”

      “How dare you!”

      He locked eyes with her, just to see what she would do. Pissed-off women didn’t scare him. If anything, they turned him on.

      But something else stirred deep inside, almost like recognition. When his gaze dropped to her pink lips, his fingers twitched and his heart picked up its pace. She looked so young, so clueless. What was there to recognize?

      He was a product of the streets and she was a product of a textbook.

      “Since we’re sharing things,” he said softly, “I find myself wondering what it would take to make you scream.”

      April leaped to her feet. Brandon, who knew his weakness for pushing buttons and boundaries, sensed that he’d pushed all of hers. But he refused to move out of the way.

      He smelled the heat of her skin, her shampoo, the fabric softener from her dress. The air between them had a kind of violence to it. Her eyes were huge and she was breathing hard and he could see all the feathers he’d ruffled.

      So many shiny feathers.

      “I’m filing a report in the morning,” she said furiously. “You are unbelievable. I may not know a lot of things, but I know one thing. You hate women. And you wouldn’t hate them if you weren’t afraid.”

      “File your report,” he said. “File a bunch of reports. I don’t live by your rules.”

      “Oh, so you’re not afraid of going back to jail for harassing an officer of the court? For refusing to make your brother go to school? You’re ruining his life. I’m going to do whatever it takes to save it.”

      Since he towered over her, April tilted her head back to see him. He didn’t hate women. But in just this one moment, he might’ve hated her.

      Hated her and wanted her.

      Brandon gave her what he knew to be the devil’s own smile. “Guess I’ll see you back on my doorstep with a court order,” he said as she wrenched herself away from him and huffed off toward the patio. “Next time, ditch the cop. If he can’t save you from yourself, April, he sure can’t save you from me.”

      * * * *

      “Beer,” April told the bartender. “No, make that two beers. Don’t bother with a glass.”

      She perched on a stool and tried to take a nice recovery breath, but her lungs wouldn’t do it. This was exactly why she never went to places like the Double Aces. There were men in them.

      In the mirror behind the bar shelves where all the good liquor was kept, April spotted Jacey making her way over. For the first time ever, April didn’t want to talk to her. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. All she wanted was to get quietly drunk, wish she were someone else, someone normal, and then go home and pass out.

      “Hey, where were you?” Jacey stared at her with a mixture of hurt and concern. “Tessa opened your gifts and you weren’t even there.”

      “I ran into a client.” April nodded to the bartender when he brought her beers. She pushed a ten-dollar bill toward him, started on the first bottle and almost gagged. Why did anybody like beer? It still tasted just as bad as it had in college—like something out of a litter box.

      Now Jacey looked really concerned. “April, what are you doing? You don’t drink.”

      “Don’t you think it’s time I started? I’m the most boring person I know. I bore myself even.”

      “Yes, but beer isn’t the answer to your problems. You just need a boyfriend.”

      April barked out a laugh. A boyfriend. What would that fix? “Don’t worry about me, Jacey. I’ll be fine. Go back to the party.”

      Jacey grabbed her by the upper arm and dragged her to the table where everyone was laughing loudly and smelled like too much perfume. April sat down and took another gag-worthy swallow of cat urine. When did beer start working?

      Brandon knew her secret. Shame squirmed inside her stomach. Even her own sisters didn’t know she was a virgin or how afraid she was of sex.

      To the world, April had always been careful to present that part of her personality she found acceptable: the honest concern, the talent for listening, the heartfelt desire to help others. But inside, she just wanted to be like everyone else, like Jacey even—fun loving and uncomplicated. Instead of worrying about starving children, she wanted to worry about boys, shoes and vacations.

      April took another determined gulp and set her bottle on the table.

      Okay, warmer.

      Seated across from her, Roxanne raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow. “What happened to the root beer?”

      “I drank it,” April said. “Now I’m drinking this.”

      “Aren’t you supposed to be the designated driver? Aren’t you always the designated driver?”

      “I un-designated myself.” April liked the sound of that. It was a declaration of sorts.

      April

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