Free Perfect Timing by Laura Spinella Page A

disgusting, let go of me.”
    He did the opposite, inching closer. “You’re nothing but a curiosity for Roycroft. Trust me. In the end he’ll want the same thing as his daddy—the kind willin’ to kiss his ass or anything else.”
    Isabel was about to say:
Just like you
. But she could see what an insult it was to her mother. “Aidan and I are none of your business!” She tried twisting away, but his hand was a sailor’s knot. A body-skimming gaze moved decidedly south, his upturned mouth conveying every smarmy thought.
    “You know, you’re right. Forget him. Hell, by now Roycroft’s busy dippin’ his wick into something that’s not quite so much work, like Ms. O’Rourke.” Struggling was a moot point, Isabel recalling how much bigger and wider Rick seemed when confronting Aidan. “That’s gotta sting, after the hours you put in. But I have an idea how to get back at him. I was entertaining a pretty good fantasy when you came in.” His other arm wrapped around her waist, jerking Isabel into an iron-clad embrace. “And here you are . . . the star. I promise you, Bella, I’m at least one up on Roycroft when it comes to women.”
    They shuffled together, like some diabolical waltz, running out of room as the wood-tone paneling met with her back. He was drunk. It didn’t register, not until Rick’s mouth made razor-burn contact with her cheek. For once, he didn’t smell like cologne; it was more of an 80-proof aroma. There was a furious pounding in her chest. Outwardly, Isabel forced herself to stay calm. “Get away from me!” she said, shoving her palms against his chest. It was like smacking cement. Rick grabbed her wrists and pinned them against the wall, the implication terrifying and real. His mouth moved hard over hers. It was raw and scratchy and beyond repulsive. Worse than that, it took the place of Aidan’s kiss. Grinding himself against her, Isabel couldn’t believe what she was feeling. There weren’t enough layers of silky fabric on the planet. Calm was history as her body struggled against every part of his.
This is not happening.
It can’t be happening!
A bearlike hand pawed at the dress and the tear of fabric at the bodice informed her that, indeed, it was.
    “Look, Bella,” he said, his tone conversational, like he was trying to sell her a car. “I made an investment here, and I want the payoff—with interest. I watch you strut around this place in your short-shorts and tight T-shirts, like some kinda brainy trailer-trash tease.”
    “It’s my home!” she shouted. “And what do you mean in-vestment?”
    He laughed but never lost an ounce of the power that was riding against her. “Your dress, your day of beauty. You don’t really think your mama shelled out for all that?”
    “You? You paid for the dress, all of this?”
    He shrugged. “All women come with a price tag. Hell, I don’t mind. It made her happy. Besides, I admit it. I wanted to see spitfire polished up.” He narrowed his eyes, his tongue sliding over his lips. “It’s way better than I figured. ’Bout killed me to watch you waltz out of here with him.” He pressed closer, whispering hotly in her ear. “But see how things work out? Roycroft’s lived up to my expectations and here we are.” He inched back. “So how’s about we settle your tab? I’m a fair guy, Bella. We can have a good time if you give it a chance.” Holding her wrists with one hand, with the other Rick wrestled for the zipper of her dress, which was on the side and he couldn’t find it. His expression grew comical, as if a hide-and-seek zipper were part of Isabel’s tease.
    At a momentary standoff, Isabel hoped he’d back up an inch. That’s all it would take for her to deliver a swift knee to his groin, which offered an ample target. Instead, Rick’s mouth moved over hers again, Isabel clinging to a semblance of calm. It began to fade, Isabel struggling and gagging, wondering what, exactly, she’d done to deserve this.