Reckless Longing Read online

  Gina Robinson

  Gina Robinson

  SEATTLE, WASHINGTON

  Copyright © 2013 by Gina Robinson

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Gina Robinson

  http://www.ginarobinson.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Book Layout ©2013 BookDesignTemplates.com

  Cover Design by The Killion Group

  Reckless Longing/Gina Robinson. — 1st ed.

  RECKLESS LONGING

  Ellie Martin hates her beautiful, man-crazy mother. Her mother’s wild and wanton behavior has left Ellie with a deep longing. To escape. To belong. To know who her real dad is. To really be loved. Her mother finally crosses a line that sends Ellie running, escaping to college with one, focused goal–to find and confront her bio dad, who doesn’t even know she exists. Then she meets Logan. Hot, charming, and troubled. He turns her world upside down and puts all her plans in jeopardy.

  Logan Walker is hiding a shameful and painful secret. One that nearly cost him everything. When he meets the beautiful and mysterious Ellie at a Week of Welcome event, something inside him awakens and he finds himself drawn to her.

  But the attraction they both feel for each other is as delicate as the web of secrets they each hide behind. And as the truths are revealed, their reckless longing may not survive the fallout.

  Chapter One

  Twilight was falling along with the outrageous hundred-degree heat of the late August day. The shadows were long and crisp and the summer colors vivid in a way that made life feel exceptionally real and every experience heightened.

  It wasn't supposed to get this hot in Washington State. Just my luck the heat wave hit as I moved in. Maybe it was symbolic. Maybe it was a warning that I was stepping into a situation too hot to handle. I didn't care. I ignored that intuitive feeling that I was in over my head.

  My dorm wasn't air-conditioned. I had put my sparse makeup on in front of a box fan blowing hot air at me. Now, even in the comparative cool outside, my crop top stuck to my body. I felt the neat lines of my eyeliner bleeding together and my meticulously applied concealer melting away from the red scar on my left cheek, leaving me exposed. I fought my habitual urge to touch the fresh scar, reminding myself I was trying to forget everything about it.

  I approached the open mall in front of the student union building and the gyrating throng of people who would be my classmates, my fellow alums, my future network, with my roommate Bre. She was, by default of proximity and length of acquaintance, my new best friend on campus. By length of acquaintance, I meant two days. That tells you something about the newness and state of things. Two days was an eternity when everything, and everyone, was new.

  The mall rocked with music, laughter, pickup lines, the smell of beer, and pulsing bodies. I paused on the outskirts of the crowd at the entrance to the mall, uncertain, for the millionth time, about the sanity of my plan. Yet determined to carry it out. No one had ever accused me of being cautious.

  "Welcome to the Week of Welcome—WoW!" Bre took my arm. "Are you ready to meet a man?"

  Men were the last and first things on my mind, but for Bre they were everything. She was like a wounded bird in her desperation to find a boyfriend. I felt both protective of her and totally annoyed. As emotionally banged and bruised as I was, I wasn't really in any shape to take care of her right now.

  I'd transferred to this particular university precisely seeking a man. I knew he was here. Not because I was psychic, though I sometimes wished I were. Then I'd know where this was all headed and if I was doing more irreparable damage to myself than good. Were the risks calculated enough? Was the potential payoff worth it? Wreaking more havoc on my self-esteem and bruised psyche could very well crush what was left of me.

  I knew he was here because I'd done my research. When I finally met him, and decided to reveal myself, I was going to turn his world upside down. But first, I had to determine if that was what I really wanted. And whether he deserved it, and a relationship with me, or not. I didn't need any more complications in my already complicated life. But I wanted to know. I had to know.

  Bre was scanning the crowd, her eyes narrow and sharp with the look of a huntress. I wanted to tell her the expression on her face was enough to send any straight guy running. And maybe even some of the gay ones. But why ruin our friendship? I had to live with her, and in this early phase of our roommate-ness I didn't know how she'd take it.

  The sense of competition hung heavy in the air. Poor Bre. She must be quaking with it. Everywhere I looked were girls who were skinnier, prettier, more confident than I was. Girls with flowing hair, perfect makeup, bandeaux tops over pert breasts, tight short shorts showing round butt cheeks with no cellulite. Abs firm and on display, sparkling with bellybutton piercings. Girls strutting their stuff. Girls who reminded me of my mother.

  I suppressed a shudder. I was plain. By design. Because my mother was a ruthless competitor who never lost. And who never failed to compete with me, whether I participated or not.

  I wasn't the daughter she wanted. I was the child who'd ruined her life. So I let her win, because it was easier and less painful and eased my guilt for being born. Life shouldn't be a competition. That didn't stop her. Nothing stopped her. Nothing quelled the deep unhappiness inside her. But this last time she'd crossed the line. I didn't think I could ever forgive her. And I wasn't in the mood to try.

  Then there was the breakup with my boyfriend. I was still stinging and running from that. It was too fresh. The hurt colored my world darkly and made me cry at odd, inconvenient times. Like in front of my mother. I hated myself for that weakness.

  I was, for lack of a better word, brokenhearted. And that wasn't likely to change any time soon. They say time heals all wounds. But they never say how much time. Lame, lame, lame. Lame antidote for pain. If you ask me.

  Bre spotted her quarry in the crowd and bounced up on her toes, waving her arms over her head. "Dan! Jake! Over here." She grabbed my arm. "You're going to love Jake."

  Which meant she thought Dan was the hotter guy and was keeping him for herself. Poor Jake was collateral baggage. The guy who came along as part of the package deal. Two friends for the price of one. I was supposed to take this extra piece of luggage off Bre's hands.

  Bre had met Dan and Jake during her orientation week over the summer. She'd been texting Dan ever since, trying to heat something up between them. All the clues said she was failing. But at this stage of the game, a slight acquaintance was better than an abject stranger. Anything for some sense of belonging and community. Maybe Dan and Jake were hoping I'd be hot. Or that we'd introduce them to some of our hotter dorm-mates. Who knows what motivates guys?

  Bre dragged me through the throngs toward two guys who were waving back at her. I sized them up, unenthusiastically. Since breaking up with Austin, no guy measured up. I thought my heart was dead. Part of me was, anyway. I'd lost that magical trill that makes life exciting and worth living. I was only at this Up All Night Week of Welcome event because Bre insisted. And I didn't want to start the year branded a lonely, loser hermit. But my heart wasn't in it. As soon as I'd stayed a respectable
length of time, I was out of here.

  "Dan!" Bre dropped my arm and threw herself into a hug with him. She reluctantly let him go and turned to his friend. "Jake." She air-hugged him.

  I'd been right. Dan was hotter. Taller. Darker. Had a better smile. Jake was shorter. Stockier. Red-haired with freckles.

  "Guys, this is Ellie." She gave me a shoulder-squeeze. "Ellie—Dan and Jake."

  I nodded and forced a smile. Jake sized me up—ditch, friend, or date potential? The choices were written on his face. He was unsure.

  The loud music made it hard to hear what anyone said. Bre was trying to say something to the two of them.

  "Where should we start?" Bre yelled over the music. "Magic show? Dance?"

  "Eat. Before they run out of free food." Dan pointed to a sandwich stand set up in the middle of the mall that ran from the library, past the student union building, SUB, to the street in front of the administration building.

  And it was decided. Because Bre wasn't going to argue, not when she wanted to impress Dan. And the opinions of Jake and me didn't matter. Bre grabbed Dan's arm and let him muscle his way through the crowd. Jake shrugged at me. The two of us followed them, both of us with our hands in our pockets so there was no accidental touching. We joined the line and stared at each other and then looked away, gazing into the crowd, which I found infinitely more interesting.

  The evening was going about as well as I expected. How likely is it in any given mating-game situation that the wingman will fall for the girl's moral support sidekick? In this case, given my mindset, the odds were exactly zero. With the pounding music, even trying to make idle conversation was pointless.

  We got our subs and energy drinks and found an empty patch of lawn to sit on. Bre cooed to Dan. Jake and I were awkward and ate mostly in silence. My gaze landed on an Up All Night sign advertising the events of the evening.

  Precision Piercing. Specials—Tonight only! Half off the usual price. Bellybutton, ears, cartilage, and noses only.

  My heart pounded in my ears. I'd read enough. I knew what I wanted, what I had wanted for a couple of years now but was too rebellious to do—pierce my navel. To understand how not piercing my bellybutton is rebellious, you have to know my mom. It was what she wanted me to do, so it was exactly what I refused to do. But now I didn't care what she thought. I could pierce or not pierce at my pleasure. I was of age and didn't need her permission. She'd never know unless I wanted her to. And even then, she wouldn't be around to gloat and enjoy her triumph.

  Anyway, that wasn't the way I saw it. Doing what I wanted without regard to her was my victory. I looked around at the party atmosphere that I should have been enjoying and found myself almost smiling.

  Dan and Jake wolfed down their sandwiches and were ready to party. Bre wrapped the remains of hers, ready to toss it so she could get on with the evening. I'd barely touched mine, but that wasn't unusual. Since the breakup I'd lost my appetite for just about everything in life and ten pounds along with it. And I hadn't been overweight to begin with.

  Dan offered Bre a hand up. "Dance or take in the magic show?"

  "Dance!" Bre laughed and took his arm, smiling up at him coyly.

  "Body piercing!" I said in unison with Bre as I stood and dusted the grass off my butt.

  Three pairs of eyes turned on me. I kept smiling. "What? It'll be fun. It's not something you do every day. What better way to remember the start of our illustrious college careers here than with a new piercing?"

  I spoke boldly for someone who only had her ears pierced.

  Beside me, Jake shook his head. "Guys don't get pierced. Not at Up All Night." He spoke like an expert.

  I ignored him and appealed to Bre. She shook her head. "The line will be too long by now. We'll miss everything else. You can get pierced any time. I'll go with you whenever you want."

  "But not for half price," I said.

  "Ellie, come on." Bre's eyes begged me to be reasonable.

  I waved her off. "You guys go ahead. I'm off to get my bellybutton pierced. I'll text you when I'm done and catch up with you later. Have fun!"

  Without waiting for an answer, I spun and ran off through the crowd toward the SUB, feeling free and exhilarated for the first time all summer.

  My exhilaration lasted as I wound through the crowded first floor of the SUB, following the signs to Precision Piercing's station. Up the stairs to the second floor toward the ballroom, right until I saw the long line and my courage failed.

  Jake had been an ass about things, but he was right about one thing—there were no guys in line for piercing. Bre was right, too. There was a good chance I was already too late. Any minute they'd be shutting off the line, saying they'd reached their maximum.

  I stood there, not quite in line, staring and debating with myself. I'd just ditched my roommate and she was going to be pissed about it, especially if I came back without another hole in my body. On the other hand, I could claim I'd been turned away because the line was too long and she'd have gloating rights for the rest of the semester. Maybe even the rest of the time we knew each other. At homecoming twenty years from now, I still wouldn't hear the end of it.

  "You'd better get in line before it's too late."

  It took me a second to realize the sexy male voice was speaking to me. Startled, I looked around for the source. What was a guy doing here, anyway?

  When I found it, my heart did an odd little flip. Sitting on a bench with an instant icepack pressed to his right eye was a guy that was too gorgeous to be benched. How could I have missed him? He had a wicked smile calculated to make girls melt, and his left eye danced with amusement as he watched me. He sat with his legs spread wide, just inviting a girl to stand between them and coo condolences on his injury. Touch his cheek. Offer him any comfort he wanted. He looked dangerous with one eye covered and the way a lock of dark hair fell against the icepack. Yet sympathetic at the same time, like you just wanted to take care of him.

  Even though he was sitting, it was obvious he was tall and athletically built beneath the T-shirt and shorts he wore. "Well?"

  I blinked. "I'm thinking."

  "The window of opportunity is closing." He stood and walked over to stand next to me, so close I could smell the delicious scent of his cologne.

  "Yes," I said. "I know."

  He ignored any sarcasm that had slipped into my tone. "What do you want to have pierced?"

  "My bellybutton." I just blurted it out, wondering why this complete stranger inspired my confidence. And why he cared.

  He nodded. "Good choice. Bellybutton rings are hot. Every woman should have one."

  "How do you know I don't have one already?"

  His one-eyed gaze slid down my crop top to my abs in a way that sent tingles through me. He grinned and arched his left brow. "Kind of obvious. Even with only one good eye."

  I looked down at my stomach, which clenched almost automatically, like it needed to be tight and firm for him. I spent half a second wishing I'd gone to the gym. Well, duh. He had me. I should have been embarrassed, but the easy way he said it was teasing and flirtatious. Like he knew the power he had over women, but wasn't flaunting it.

  "Are you here alone? Where's your support person?"

  I stared at him. "What?"

  "Your best friend. The girl who's supposed to hold your hand so you don't chicken out." He pointed to the line.

  I realized for the first time that he was right. All the girls were in pairs. Hope welled up in me. Maybe the line was only half as long as it looked.

  I felt like a loser for being alone. I shrugged. "She ditched me. For a guy." Like that was so much better. None of these girls' best friends had bailed on them. "She promised to go with me another time. She thought we were too late and the line would be too long, anyway."

  "It will be if you don't get in it."

  I nodded again, not moving, mesmerized by him.

  "Okay, you twisted my arm." He took me by the elbow and guided me into line. "I'll be y
our support person."

  I looked down the length of the line, stunned and pleased. "Do you think you can handle estrogen central?"

  He grinned, wincing in the process and pulling the icepack away from his eye. "I can handle anything."

  Around me, girls were noticing him. Had been noticing him all along, probably. I wondered why he'd chosen me. Judging from their evil looks, they were wondering the same thing. Even with one bum, swollen black eye, he was the hottest guy I'd seen all night.

  "I don't know," I said. "Can I trust you? You look dangerous with that black eye."

  "That's part of my appeal."

  "Modesty. I like that in a man."

  He laughed.

  "Seriously—how did you get it? It looks nasty." I paused and tried not to wince. "And painful."

  "Do you think men who fight are sexy?" He switched the icepack to his left hand.

  "No."

  "Then I'll dispense with the lies and the really cool story I concocted to impress you. I had a run-in with a pool ball gone wild. Never play pool with Callahan when he's drunk. He's a wild man. And FYI, when someone yells 'duck!' in a poolroom, listen to them. They aren't kidding.

  "If I hadn't had that third beer, my reflexes would have been quicker. As it is, I'm lucky I don't have a concussion, though the medic at the aid station said the jury's still out on that one. I'll know for sure within twenty-four hours."

  "Why were you sitting up here? The poolroom's in the basement and the first-aid station is on the first floor."

  "And filled to capacity with drunks and all their related accidents. This was the only place I could find to sit."

  "Makes sense. But where are all your friends?"

  "They ditched me for a couple of hot sorority babes who came by." The way he said it made me laugh again.

  "Nice."

  "Yeah. Those chicks weren't into a guy with a black eye."

  Their loss, I thought, half wondering if he was lying. Who could pass him up, black eye or not?

  While we chatted, the line moved surprisingly quickly. We had started in the hall near the stairs. Now we were nearly at the door. Bre had been wrong about a lot of things, including there not being time.