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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  512 Forest Lake Drive

  Warner Robins, Georgia 31093

  The Boy Next Door

  Copyright © 2007 by Jessica Jarman

  Cover by Vanessa Hawthorne

  ISBN: 1-59998-319-2

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: January 2007

  The Boy Next Door

  Jessica Jarman

  Dedication

  To Brian—you deserve an award for putting up with your crazy wife. I love you!

  To the “smart chicky”—Angie, I’ve learned so much from you, and really, you rock…you rock out loud.

  Chapter One

  Darcy Phillips stared at the canvas before her, gnawing on her bottom lip. Finished. Finally finished. She dropped the brush in the jar of cleaning solution with a sigh. The painting had consumed her for days, and nights.

  Fatigue swept over her as she studied the image again. Her lips curved. It had been worth the sleepless nights, as always. It was the best she’d ever done, and turned out just as she had imagined.

  The sexiness of it rocked her. A woman lay on a tousled bed. Alone. But that didn’t take away the sensuality of the piece. Long brown hair spilled over the pillow and curled around her arms stretched above her head. Her chin was lifted, her eyes closed and a small smile curved her lips. A slight arch of her back raised her bare breasts in a provocative offering, their pert tips illuminated by the slash of sunlight slipping though the large window beyond the bed. The sheet pooled low around her waist, draping seductively across her flat belly. A pale leg, bent and uncovered, offered a brief, tantalizing glimpse of the gentle curve of her ass. Darcy imagined the woman just had one helluva rip-roaring orgasm. It was perfect.

  Tilting her head side to side to work the kinks out of her stiff neck, she went into the small kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. She grimaced as the lukewarm, bitter liquid filled her mouth. With a shrug, she gulped the rest down. Caffeine was caffeine.

  She walked into the bathroom, turned on the shower and stripped off her clothes. Once under the spray, she braced her arms on the wet tiles and closed her eyes. Her body, though tired, hummed. Painting, especially sensual works, gave her such a charge.

  Thoughts raced through her head. She had to go see Richard. Sadly, a nice bout of sex was the last thing on her mind at the thought of her fiancé. They had to talk. Seriously. The atmosphere within their relationship was so icy she feared frostbite when in the same room as him. She sighed. Maybe he was working too hard. Maybe she was. Who knew? Yep, a talk was in order here. She wasn’t beginning the rest of her life like this. No way. Darcy turned off the spray and went about getting ready to see the man she was supposed to marry.

  Twenty minutes later, she strode the last block to the art gallery Richard Norton owned. He’d been pressuring her to give up her tiny loft, but Darcy hung on to it, saying it was the perfect studio and within walking distance of his gallery and apartment. It also allowed her to have her own space.

  With a deep breath, she entered the gallery and stopped cold. Damn. She never got used to seeing her works displayed. It always floored her. Her work on display. Her work selling. Holy shit, who would have thought? Growing up, everyone had looked at her art as a cute hobby, never a career avenue. Her bank account proved them wrong, she thought with a smile.

  “Hey there, beautiful.”

  Her smile widened into a grin as Justin Tarnell, the gallery’s manager, strode toward her.

  “Hi, how’re you?” She turned her face up for his quick buss on the cheek.

  “Good, good. And you?” He frowned down at her. “You looked wiped. Been partying?”

  “Working. Worth the sleepless nights.”

  “Can’t wait to see it. I assume it’s as incredible as the rest of your work.”

  Darcy felt her face flush from the compliment. It meant a lot coming from Justin. He knew his stuff and if he thought her work was good…wow.

  “Is Richard in?”

  “No, he’s still upstairs.” He referred to the apartment Richard kept above the gallery. “He had a late night apparently too. Not working.”

  Darcy inwardly cringed. Richard and Justin barely tolerated each other. Richard kept the other man around because he was the best at what he did. Justin stayed around because he loved his work. Darcy knew if he could afford it, he would open his own gallery and get the hell out of this one.

  “Well, I’ll head up. I need to talk to him.”

  “Uh oh, sounds ominous.” He took her arm and walked her to the private elevator in the rear of the gallery. “Let me know if you need anything. You know, some muscle to beat some sense into the idiot or something.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” She laughed as the doors slid shut between them.

  On the ride up, she closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. She was not looking forward to this. Whenever the subject of their relationship had come up, he’d always brushed it off and tried to assure her everything was fine. He said she was too paranoid, took things too seriously. Well, not this time. They were going to talk this out.

  She opened her eyes as the doors opened to reveal the large, stark white living room of his apartment. Squaring her shoulders she stepped inside and, after a quick look around the apartment, headed for the bedroom. He was probably still in bed. If he’d been out partying, as Justin seemed to think, it wasn’t surprising.

  The low murmur of Richard’s voice greeted her as she stopped outside the room. He was probably on the phone. Ignoring the cold knot in her stomach, she quietly opened the door, not wanting to disturb him.

  She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight that greeted her. Disturbing him shouldn’t have been a concern. He was much too busy to notice her entrance. Her purse slid from numb fingers and landed with a dull thud on the soft carpet. Richard was in bed all right, but sleep was not on his mind.

  Darcy stared with morbid fascination at the blonde straddling his head. Oh, but it didn’t end there. Another blonde head bobbed up and down over his groin. Yes, her fiancé was a busy, busy man.

  The coldness in her middle suddenly dissipated and hot, rolling fury swept through her, roared in her head. The son of a bitch! All of the stupid reassurances he’d fed her over the months flooded her mind as she watched his hand run up the naked back of the woman riding his face and the other tangle in the curls of the one giving him head. Sure, she was paranoid and silly. Yep, their relationship was peachy.

  She grabbed the vase sitting on the small dresser next to the door and let it fly. It hit the wall to the left of trio. Exploding, shards rained onto the pillows and sheets. The screams and shouts sent a dark thrill through her. She pulled the large diamond ring off her left hand and threw it at them. The women scrabbled off Richard to stand next to the bed, trying desperately to cover up.

  “Darcy!” Richard sat up, his gaze darting between her and the shattered vase.

  “Are you nuts?” one of the women cried.

  “Nuts? No, if I was nuts, I would have gone with my first instinct to strangle the lot o
f you.” Darcy managed to force the words through her clenched teeth.

  “Darcy, honey.” Richard stood and wrapped the sheet around his waist. “Calm down. This isn’t what it seems.”

  “Oh really?” She cringed at the high pitch of her voice and the lump of tears forming in her throat. “So you weren’t fucking two women?”

  “Darcy…”

  “Don’t use that damned patronizing tone with me, you asshole!” She picked her purse up and looked into his wide eyes. “Don’t let me keep you. I’m out of here.”

  She ran from the room to the elevator and stabbed the down button, struggling to hold it together. No, no, no! This was not happening. A sob welled up in her throat. Dammit all, she’d known something was off. Why hadn’t she listened to her gut?

  “Come on, come on,” she whispered, desperate for the door to open.

  “Darcy, wait.” Richard came up behind her and grabbed her arm. “Please, sweetheart, let me explain.”

  She yanked her arm away and turned to face him. “Explain? How can you explain this away? God, I’m such an idiot! I trusted you. Even when I felt something was off, I trusted you. I didn’t listen to my gut. Well, I won’t be making that mistake again.”

  “It was just sex, nothing more. Just sex. It didn’t mean anything.”

  A roar filled her head, and unable to hold back, she slammed into his chest with her fists. Over and over again until her hands hurt. Richard grabbed her wrists and held them against him. “Please, sweetheart, don’t do this.”

  “God, can’t you come up with anything better than that? It meant nothing? It means everything! I don’t want to be with a man who thinks sex is nothing. We were supposed to be married in a few months and you’re screwing other women.” A ragged cry of relief spilled from her as the elevator opened.

  “I have needs, Darcy. You can’t blame me for that. If you had been more…”

  “More what? You’re saying I’m to blame? You bastard.”

  He grabbed her arm again to prevent her from leaving. “If you had tried a little harder in bed, I wouldn’t have had to go elsewhere. I love you, Darcy, I really do, but I need more physically than you’re willing to give.”

  She shoved him away and mortification swamped as tears burned down her cheeks. “Fuck you. Stay away from me.”

  She got into the elevator and hit the lower floor button.

  “Damn it, Darcy. You freaking cold bitch. If you weren’t such a frigid ice queen, this wouldn’t—”

  Sobs racked her body as the closed doors cut off his slapping insults. Had she really been so blind? Why hadn’t she listened to that little voice in her head telling her things weren’t right?

  She bolted into the gallery and sped for the door.

  “Hey, Darcy, is he coming down?” Justin approached her and came to a screeching halt. “What the hell did he do? Did the bastard hurt you?”

  She shook her head as he wrapped his arms around her. “Did you know?” she whispered against his shoulder.

  “Know what?” He rubbed her back in long strokes.

  “That he’s a cheat? I walked in and saw…”

  Justin pulled away and looked down at her. Darcy’s heart stopped. Betrayal burned in her.

  “You knew? And you didn’t tell me?”

  “I didn’t know, Darcy, I swear I didn’t.”

  “But it doesn’t surprise you.” A bitter laugh burst through her lips. “You knew what kind of man he was and I was too stupid to see it.”

  “Let me take you somewhere. We’ll talk.”

  “No.” She pulled away and summoned up a small smile through the tears. “I need to be alone. I just need to go home.”

  “Okay, but you call me later. If you need anything, anything at all, you call me.” He stared at her until she nodded.

  “I’ll call. Take care, Justin.”

  She ran for the exit. She needed to go home.

  Chapter Two

  Home. Darcy rolled the word around her mind as she sprawled across the sofa. Home was where you came when things went wrong. And boy, were things going wrong.

  After the scene with Richard and the two bimbos, Darcy had run to her loft, angry and hurt. But, it wasn’t home. After a day of sitting staring at the walls, she had packed and run home to Minnesota. She surprised herself by making arrangements to stay there permanently again. The more distance between her and Chicago, the better.

  Coward.

  Embarrassment stained her cheeks as memories flooded her mind. Throwing the vase. Her ring. Man, she hated to think where it landed. The names, the insults he’d thrown at her echoed in her head.

  Bitch. Frigid. Ice Queen.

  Darcy just couldn’t go back there, couldn’t face seeing him day in and day out. Thank goodness she hadn’t signed anything that gave him rights to any of her future pieces. Something had stopped her.

  She’d loved him, or at least convinced herself she had. If she was honest, it’d been obvious something was off with the relationship. Unable to put her finger on exactly what, she’d tossed thoughts and doubts aside. Maybe it was because he’d been so instrumental in her success. Her work had been on display at his gallery when she made it big. Damned poor reason to stay with a man.

  In any case, she was home. A bit unexpectedly, true, but easily explained away with the excuse of her parents’ big fortieth anniversary party. They were just thrilled she was here. Their only child, their baby, was home and that was all that mattered.

  Although back in town, Darcy hadn’t told them this was a permanent move. How would they react to her news? Ecstatically, Darcy was sure. But they’d bombard her with questions, and she couldn’t very well tell them she could hardly stand the sight of her cheating slimeball of an ex-fiancé.

  That would warrant a full explanation, and that was a conversation requiring more energy and patience than she possessed at the moment.

  Her parents certainly didn’t need to know the entire truth. She was coming home and that was that. Already she’d contacted the local community college and found they were hiring art instructors.

  With her background, it wouldn’t be too difficult to find a position. The art department’s chair had been quite excited to speak with her and they’d arranged an interview. Darcy certainly didn’t need the money, but she had loved teaching when she’d been a graduate student. It seemed like the perfect choice now she was looking for a fresh start.

  A movement outside the sliding glass doors caught her attention. Someone was in her parents’ backyard. Sitting up, she angled herself to get a better view. Her parents probably hadn’t even noticed the man. They were upstairs in the kitchen while she was in the family room situated in the walkout basement.

  Her gaze followed the man as he crossed the yard to the shed and opened the door. He reached in and pulled out…the hose? What on earth did he want with a hose? She continued to watch his back as he attached the hose to the faucet on the outer wall of the small building. She wasn’t sure what to do. Calling nine-one-one was out of the question. What the heck would she say? Yes, officer, there’s a strange man outside watering my mother’s roses, could you come pick him up?

  Her mother hadn’t said anything about hiring someone to take care of the yard. Curiosity caused her to hold her breath for a moment until he turned toward her. It escaped in a whoosh when she saw his face. For crying out loud, it was Mac! Thomas MacAllister, the boy next door. With a shake of her head, Darcy leaned back against the sofa.

  They were only a year apart in age and their parents were best friends. Every trip, every summer vacation for years had included the two families. In fact, Mac’s parents were planning most of the shindig for her parents’ anniversary. She’d had tea with his mother just an hour earlier to go over flower arrangements.

  A small chuckle slipped between her lips. Both mothers had not so secretly hoped Darcy and Mac would get together. A notion both kids had strived to relieve them of. They were friends, best friends in fact, though they�
��d lost touch in recent years. They knew they could turn to each other for anything, anything but romance. It was like an unspoken rule. And Darcy hadn’t wanted to ruin their friendship by trying to make it more. Their mothers, and fathers for that matter, had ignored their protests and persisted in setting the two up time and time again. Most of Mac and Darcy’s teen years had been spent parading boyfriends and girlfriends under parents’ noses, in hopes the hints and suggestions would stop. They hadn’t.

  At least since her engagement to Richard, it had slacked off for a while. Unfortunately, they’d probably pick up where they left off when news of the break up surfaced. She was thirty years old, for crying out loud. She didn’t need her mother and surrogate aunt matchmaking for her.

  Not that Mac wasn’t attractive. He was a hunk in high school. And still is, she thought as she gave him the once over. His dark hair was long enough to curl along the collar of his black T-shirt.

  Broad shoulders stretched the cotton deliciously as he untangled the hose. Her gaze slid down past his narrow waist and hips to his tight bum encased in faded blue jeans. Yes, siree, he was a hottie.

  He turned on the water and began dousing her mother’s roses and other assorted blooms. Darcy licked her lips and shifted in an effort to alleviate the tension building between her legs. Her nipples pebbled under her T-shirt and hot wetness pooled in her pussy as she pressed her legs together, gaze fixed on Mac’s hard body working out in the yard.

  God, it’d been a long time since she’d had sex. Life was busy, she’d told herself, and it was normal to lose interest when you got older. Of course, her so-called lover had been getting it elsewhere. Yet she felt anything but uninterested as her longtime friend finished his task and returned to the shed to pull out the lawn mower.

  She mentally shook herself. Mac was a friend, pure and simple, even if her thoughts about him weren’t always platonic. Getting involved with him in any other way was a surefire way to mess up the one real, consistent friendship she’d had. Mac had a way of getting her to step back and experience something else besides her obsession, her art.