Free Bidding War by Cher Carson Page A

sense. How the hell was he supposed to live with that?
    “You made me believe that I could count on you. I thought last night was the start of something…”
    “It was… it is.” He threw in hands up in the air, drowning in frustration. He wanted to convey to her how much she meant to him, but he knew he was coming up short. “It still can be.”

    Shaking her head, she reached for the doorknob. “No, it can’t. In my experience, you have to learn to take care of yourself. I let myself forget that last night, but never again.” She looked over her shoulder at him as she stepped over the threshold. “Please don’t call me anymore. I’m not interested in working with you or your brother ever again.”

 
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
    Shane tried to contact Lacy so many times in the following weeks he was surprised she didn’t take a restraining order out against him. She ignored his messages, but he couldn’t give up on her, not when that night continued to play over and over again in his mind, robbing him of sleep.
    He stared up at the rundown duplex where she rented a studio apartment. It was barely inhabitable. In fact, he had no doubt the city would condemn it if they were called to the scene, but he knew she couldn’t afford better. Gripping the steering wheel of his X5, he cursed the injustice of having more than enough money while someone as kind and generous as Lacy had to choose between gas and food. He would do anything to make her life better, but he knew she would never accept help from him, not after what he’d done.
    After taking a deep breath, he reached for the twenty-four organza wrapped roses on the passenger’s seat, hoping they would buy him a few minutes of her time. Grabbing the hand-railing as he walked up the aging concrete steps, it nearly gave way. Cursing, he fisted his hand at his side and tried to rein in his temper. She was living this way not because she wanted to, but because she had to. She wasn’t purposely putting her safety in jeopardy just to stick it to him, though it felt that way.
    He raised his hand to knock on the door. The rickety screen flew open and she almost barreled into him. He looked down at the waitress uniform hugging her curves. Damn it. She took a second job to compensate for the loss of their contracts.
    A blush crept up her neck, staining her cheeks. “What are you doing here?”
    He handed her the roses. “Have you got a few minutes?”
    She reached around to lock the door. “No, I have to get to work.”
    Before she could secure the door, he turned the knob, pressing his other hand into the small of her back. “This won’t take long.” He looked at the rusted out pick-up truck in the driveway. “Where’s your car?”
    She cleared her throat. “I decided I didn’t need it after all.”
    Gripping the doorknob tighter, he asked, “Please tell me you’re not driving that piece of shit now?”
    She raised her chin. “No, that belongs to my neighbor. I’m taking the bus.”
    He forced her inside, slamming the door with enough force to rattle the frame. “What the hell is going on with you?”
    She took a step back, appearing shocked by his outburst. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    He gestured to the uniform that seemed a size too small. He had no doubt some lecherous boss had ordered it that way, judging by the way her tits were spilling out of the scoop neck. “Why the hell are you waiting tables at…” He looked at the name tag. “Emilio’s…when you should be working for me?”
    Crossing her arms, she tapped a ballerina flat against the worn linoleum. “You know why I can’t work for you.”
    “You’re standing on your feet all day for minimum wage when you could be making a decent living doing something you love. Come on, Lace, that’s just stupid.”
    Glaring at him, she said, “No, stupid was sleeping with you. What I’m doing now makes perfect sense.”
    He closed his eyes and tipped his head back. “Okay,