Keep reading for a special preview of
NOT UNTIL YOU
a serial eBookfrom Roni Loren, available Spring 2013
“Andre, this isn’t a good time. Can I call you back?”
Marcela did her best not to let her cell phone slip from between her ear and shoulder. Just don’t drop the tequila. She adjusted the enormous bottle her fellow classmate had given her as a graduation present from her right hand to beneath her left arm and tried to dig her keys out of her purse so she could open the main door to her apartment building.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to make it,” her older brother said, his guilt obviously trumping her request to call him later. “I got caught at an investigation site. I thought I’d be able to get there in time, but we had a witness wanting to talk and…”
She cursed silently as her keys hit the pavement. She crouched down, doing her best not to flash her underwear to anyone who may be passing by. “Really, it’s fine. They called my name. I walked across the stage and got a piece of paper and a sash for being summa cum laude. Dad yelled my name like he was at a baseball game instead of a ceremony. Not that interesting.”
Her brother’s heavy sigh said everything. She almost felt guilty that he felt so guilty. “Before you move back home next month, we’re getting together to celebrate. My baby sister, the doctor. I’m so proud I could burst.”
Cela smiled. She did like the sound of that. Dr. Marcela Medina, Doctor of Veterinary Medicine. Seven years of exams and studying and clinics, but it was finally done. Now it was time to leave Dallas and head back home to Verde Pass and take up the slack in her dad’s practice.
That last part had her smile faltering a bit. She hooked her key ring with her finger and wobbled back to a stand. “That sounds great. But I really have to get going. I have my hands full and need to get through the door.”
“Cela, you know better than to carry too much. Parking lots at night are one of the most dangerous places for women. Are you holding your mace?” he asked, his voice going into that bossy cop tone she was all too familiar with.
“It’s in my hand,” she lied, trying to remember where she’d stowed the last little canister he’d given her—probably in her junk drawer. “But I don’t have a free hand to pull the door open.”
“All right,” he said, placated. “Congratulations again. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
The phone call ended but she didn’t have a way to take the phone off her ear, so she just shuffled forward in a sideways hunch, trying to juggle everything she was holding to get her key into the door. After two attempts, she got the lock turned and pressed her back against the glass door to push her way into the lobby.
As soon as she’d cleared the entrance and turned toward the stairs, male voices sounded behind her. Of course someone would show up right after she didn’t need help anymore. She peeked back to see who it was, Andre’s danger warnings still echoing in her head, but found something more distracting than criminals—her neighbors, Ian and Pike.
Ian stepped through the main door first and glanced her way. As usual, everything went melty inside her, his smile like a zap of heat to her system. “Need some help, neighbor?”
She straightened, but forgot about her phone in the process. Her brand-new iPhone went sliding off her shoulder.
“Crap!” She lurched forward, trying to save it from its imminent demise, dropping her plastic bag of Chinese takeout on the way.
“Whoa, there.” Pike, Ian’s roommate, was at her side in a second. His hand caught her elbow, saving her from losing the ginormous bottle of liquor along with her balance. But her phone clattered to the ground, the harsh sound mixing with the splat of her noodles hitting tile.
She winced, anticipating a broken screen. “Dammit.”
Ian bent down, his tie brushing the ground as he swept her phone off the floor. He peered at the screen, dark brows lowering over pale eyes, then he turned the phone toward her—the happy puppy screen saver staring back at her intact. “All is well. Luckily these things are built to take a licking.”
Her brain got snagged on the work lick, and the back of her neck went hot. Her lips parted, but words failed her.
Pike cleared his throat, easing the tequila from her arms, and then crouched down near the open bag at her feet. He grabbed a noodle from the spilled box of Chinese food, tipped his head back and dropped it into his mouth, his eyes watching hers. “The lo mein’s a loss, though.”
She swallowed hard, his gaze even more bad boy than the tattoos peeking out from his open collar. Look away. She forced her face upward, but then ended up focusing on Ian again. Say something. God, she was standing there like an idiot. This was why she always avoided these two like they were contagious. They made her go stupid.
Ian held out her phone, and she managed to take it, the slight brush of his fingers against her hitting the reset button on her brain. She managed a feeble, “Thank you.”
Ian glanced at the mess on the floor. “I’m really sorry I said anything. I didn’t mean to distract you from your intricate juggling act.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been trying to carry everything at once. It’s been a long day, and I was hoping to save myself a second trip up the stairs.”
“The joys of a walk-up.” Pike grabbed a few napkins and started cleaning up the noodles at her feet like it was his mess to worry about.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” She lowered herself to her knees. “I’ll take care of it.”
He grinned over at her, the mirror opposite of his roommate. Ian was all suits and dark looks, whereas Pike was a drummer in some local band—jeans, a sex-on-the-rocks smile, and spiked, bleached hair his usual uniform. Not that Cela had studied either of them. Or listened to their escapades through the wall she shared with them. Not at all.
Keep telling yourself that, Cela.
Despite her protest, Pike helped her finish picking up the mess. “So what’s the big-ass bottle of tequila for, doll? No one could’ve had that bad of a day.”
She glanced over at the bottle he’d set on the floor, debated whether she could be trusted to have a normal conversation with these two without sounding like she had a speech impediment. “I, uh, graduated today. It was a gift.”
“Oh, right on.”
“Congratulations, Cela,” Ian said, dragging her attention upward. Just the sound of him saying her name in that smooth Texas drawl had her stomach clenching.
Ay dios mio. Her body clamored to attention like an eager labrador ready to be petted. Down, girl. These guys were way above her pay grade. She’d seen the women who’d passed through their apartment door—women who looked like they’d earned their doctorates in the art of seduction.
Cela hadn’t even reached the kindergarten level in that particular department.
“Thank you.”
“You were going to vet school at Dallas U., right?” Ian had tucked his hands in the pockets of his slacks, and though the question was casual, she had the distinct impression he was tense beneath that suit jacket.
Pike handed her a napkin for her hands and stood to toss the food into a nearby trash can.
She wiped off her hands and pushed herself to her feet, trying to do it as gracefully as possible in her restrictive skirt. “Yes, how’d you know that?”
“The scrubs you wear have the school insignia on them,” Ian said, as if it was totally normal that he’d looked at her that closely.
“Observant.” Especially considering she usually only managed a head-down, mumbled hey-how-are-ya exchange when they passed each other in the hallway. Secretly listening to one of your hot neighbors having sex had a way of making eye contact a bit uncomfortable the next day—particularly if said eavesdropper had used the sound track to fuel her own interlude with her battery-operated boyfriend.
Pike sidled up next to Ian—a motley pair if there ever was one. “So, Doc, now that you’ve got no dinner and clearly too much liquor on your hands, why don’t you join us? We already have pizza on the way and we can play a drinking game with the tequila. Do college kids still play Never Have I Ever? I was always good at that one.”
Kid? Is that what they saw her as? She knew neither of them could be that much older than she was. Though in terms of life experience, she had no doubt they trumped her a few times over.
“Oh, no, that’s okay.” The refusal was automatic, long practiced. How many times had she turned down such offers—from guys, from friends? Her parents had been so strict regarding her whereabouts when she was younger that she almost didn’t know how to say yes even after living on her own the last four years. Studies first, fun later. Yet there never seemed to be any time for fun after the first one was finished.
“You sure? I don’t want you going to bed with no dinner because of us,” Ian said, frown lines marring that perfect mouth of his.
Going to bed and us was about all she heard. Her father’s stern voice whispered in her ears. You don’t know these men. You’ll be all alone in their apartment. Medina women have more respect for themselves than that.
“Really, I’m fine,” she said, her smile brief, plastic. “But thanks.”
“Oh, come on,” Pike said, his tone cajoling. “We’ve been neighbors for what, two years? We should at least get to know a little about each other.”
Get to know each other? She knew that Ian was loud when he came—even if he was alone. Knew that Pike liked to laugh during sex. Knew the two men shared women. And the other sounds she’d heard over the last two years…the smacks, the orders, the erotic screams. Her face went as hot as if she’d stuck her head in an oven.
“Y’all just want me for my tequila,” she said, attempting to deflect her derailing thoughts.
The corner of Pike’s mouth lifted. “Of course that’s not all we want you for.”
Oh, hell. Pictures flashed across her brain. Dirty, delicious pictures. She almost dropped her phone again. She had no idea what to do with her hands, her expression.
Ian put a hand on Pike’s shoulder. “The lady said no. I think we should let her go celebrate her graduation however she wants.”
“All right.” Pike’s face turned hangdog, but he handed the tequila bottle to her. “If you change your mind, we’ve got big plans. Supreme pizza and a Star Wars–themed porn marathon. The Empire Sucks C—”
Ian smacked the back of Pike’s head, and Pike ducked and laughed.
“Kidding. I mean a Jane Austen marathon,” Pike corrected, his green-gold eyes solemn. “Pride and Pu—”
Ian was behind Pike, his hand clamping over his friend’s mouth in a flash. “I seriously can’t take him out. He’s like an untrained puppy. Maybe you can lend me a shock collar or something.”
Pike waggled his eyebrows, all playful wickedness.
She laughed, putting her hand to her too-hot forehead, and turning toward the stairs. “Yeah, so, I’m going to go now.”
“Cela,” Ian said as she put her foot onto the first step.
She glanced back. “Yeah?”
His ice-melt eyes flicked downward, his gaze alighting along the length of her before tracing their way upward again. “Promise you won’t go to bed hungry.”
She wet her lips, her skin suddenly feeling too tight to accommodate the blood pumping beneath it, and nodded.
But it was a lie.
She always went to bed hungry.
And it had nothing to do with a spilled dinner.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Roni Loren wrote her first romance novel at age fifteen when she discovered writing about boys was way easier than actually talking to them. Since then, her flirting skills haven’t improved, but she likes to think her storytelling ability has. Though she’ll forever be a New Orleans girl at heart, she now lives in Dallas with her husband and son. If she’s not working on her latest sexy story, you can find her reading, watching reality television, or indulging in her unhealthy addiction to rock stars, er, rock concerts. Yeah, that’s it. Visit her website: www.roniloren.com.
Titles by Roni Loren
CRASH INTO YOU
MELT INTO YOU
FALL INTO YOU
Specials
STILL INTO YOU