Catch Me Twice Read online

  Catch Me Twice

  Charmaine Pauls

  Published by Charmaine Pauls

  Montpellier, 34090, France

  www.charmainepauls.com

  Published in France

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Copyright © 2019 by Charmaine Pauls

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Simply Defined Art

  (www.simplydefinedart.com)

  ISBN: 978-2956103196 (eBook)

  ISBN: 978-1690927884 (Print)

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Part II

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Afterword

  Also by Charmaine Pauls

  Book Blurbs

  About the Author

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  Kristi

  The one minute, I’m enjoying my first legal drink at Roxy’s Bar, and the next, my stomach drops like the Tower of Terror. Goosebumps contract my skin. My heartbeat and breathing accelerate even as trepidation paralyzes my limbs and brain. It’s a strange thrill, a mixture of anxiety and anticipation.

  I’ve frozen with the bottle tipped to my lips. Shaking off the immobile spell, I take a swallow of the bitter beer and try to blend in with the other grade twelve students. A part of me wants to run. Another, pitiful part hopes the guy who’s just entered the bar will notice me.

  What am I thinking? Jake Basson has never even glanced in my direction. Just because I’m clutching my first beer in my clammy hand in Rensburg’s shadiest bar doesn’t mean the fact will change. It doesn’t make me cool, all of a sudden. I’m still the redhead with the freckles, the kid who lives with her mother in the trailer park. He’s dark and beautiful, and his father owns the brick factory that provides the rest of us with a means of living. Unlike me, Jake doesn’t need a scholarship to further his education or work as a cashier at OK Bazaars to pay for his books. He has enough money and the grades to not worry about his future, but he seems like a fallen angel constantly tormented with unwanted temptation. He’s broody, a genius, a god, and my secret crush since first grade.

  “Kristi!” My best friend, Nancy pouts. “You’re not listening to me.”

  “Sorry.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. When I pull away, a streak of lip-gloss shines on my skin. “I better go fix my face.”

  “Why?” She slurps her vodka and orange juice through her straw. “It’s not as if you want to hook up with anyone.”

  Reflexively, I search Denis out in the crowd. He’s lanky and his movements are awkward, as if his arms and legs are too long for his trunk, but he’s stable and kind. Reliable. Good husband material, as my mom likes to remind me. He’s asked me out every year since high school, and I’ve rejected him every time. Niceties aside, I simply can’t imagine myself tangling tongues with Denis Davies.

  I look back at Jake. It’s wrong to compare, but I can’t help it. When I think about Jake’s tongue in my mouth, all the parts below my bellybutton heat. The forbidden fantasies in which he always plays the leading role pop into my head. The lustful acts are dark. I don’t get turned on by gentle kisses. It’s the rough against a wall, a strong hand around a fragile neck, and bold acts of dominance that work me up. I won’t admit it to Nancy, who’s a hardcore feminist, but I love masculine power. I admire male strength. Maybe it’s because I never had a father and suffer from daddy issues. Whatever the case, sweet, obedient Denis, who’d be shocked by my sexual fantasies, can never do it for me. It’s Jake’s brand of maleness I crave. Britney batting her eyelashes at Jake as he strides inside is a kick back to reality. A girl like me will never have a chance with a guy like Jake. He’s destined for the popular Britneys.

  Witnessing him go straight for the dark-haired girl with the pretty green eyes leaves a yeasty burn in my throat. His dark jeans hugging his ass, he walks toward her with purpose and leans a palm on either side of her on the counter. The stance is a challenge. Britney doesn’t shy away. She leans her elbows back on the bar, opening herself, or rather her breasts, to him. I have a good view of her face in the mirror. She’s offering her own kind of challenge.

  Enthralled by a game I haven’t yet played, I can’t tear my attention away from the scene unfolding a short distance away. Jake’s gaze strays to Britney’s cleavage. My cheeks burn for her sake. My reaction isn’t only from self-consciousness, but also from terrifying arousal. It’s that Tower of Terror reaction. You’re excited to get on but scared of the ride. Jake makes me want him and afraid of wanting him at the same time. How can Britney stand there so casually while he appears to be seconds away from grabbing her?

  His gaze trails up to her lips, which she licks. I’ve seen Jake shirtless in his rugby shorts after a match, the star of the team, and I’ve seen droplets roll down his happy trail at the public pool, but I’ve never seen him kiss a girl. Will he take his time or be rough and demanding? I’ve got my money on the latter, but I have to know for sure. I can add the visual to the stock of fantasies I save for touching myself in bed at night.

  I’m holding my breath, biting my lip, but he doesn’t lean forward and press their mouths together. He lifts his gaze higher, over the top of her head, to collide straight with mine.

  The blood drops from my head to my feet. I can’t read the look in his eyes, because it’s the same as always—scornful—but I can guess what he must be thinking. I’ve been staring like a peeping tom. He must think I’m a creep. Nancy says something, but I can’t hear over the buzz in my ears. I’m aware of nothing but the smirk pulling at the corner of Jake’s mouth.

  Hopping from the barstool, I stammer, “I’ll be right back.”

  Nancy gestures at our drinks. “I’ll guard these so no one spikes them.”

  I grab my bag from the counter and rush down the corridor, escaping to the ladies’ room. I almost make it to the door before a tall figure cuts me off.

  “Going somewhere, Kristi?”

  The rough timbre of Jake’s voice sends ripples of physical awareness through my body. My belly heats at how he says my name, that he actually said it. There’s only one school in Rensburg. We’ve been in the same class for twelve years, but he’s never said my name.

  I try to move around him, but he blocks my path. “You haven’t answered my question.”

  His presence is overwhelming. He’s so much taller than me. He’s also two years older than the rest of us in our class. Well, three years older than me, because my mom sent me to school a year too early. Jake’s parents sent him one year too late. My mom says he was a clever child, but they kept him back because he had difficulty adapting socially. Then h
e flunked grade eight, a stupid grade to fail because the subjects aren’t that complicated, but Jake was at the peak of his rebellion. He disagreed with the educational program, our teachers, and just about everything and everyone else. After he realized he wouldn’t be accepted into any university with bad grades, he pulled up his socks.

  That smirk again. “Kitty caught your tongue?”

  The goddess of composure grants me enough use of my brain cells to give him an answer. “Ladies’ room.”

  He glances over his shoulder at the door, as if he doubts there’s a toilet. When he looks back at me, it’s with too much intensity. He crosses his arms and widens his stance, taking up the entire width of the narrow corridor. It makes me nervous, but something deep inside me responds with a pang of excitement. It’s the part of me that fantasizes about being held down and ravished, for a lack of a better, more modern word. Yep, I just had a mental image of being held down and fucked in a dark corridor with a dirty floor. Only Jake can do that to me.

  He moves his jaw left and right as he studies me, seeming to weigh his words. “Let me buy you a drink.”

  I blink. “What?”

  “Beer, right?”

  “Excuse me?”

  He gives a patient, almost-smile. “That’s what you’re drinking.”

  “Uh, yeah. I mean, no.”

  He seems amused. “No?”

  “I don’t like it very much.”

  “I can fix that.” He takes a step forward, compressing the air between us. “Still want to use the bathroom?”

  My cheeks heat. He knows the answer, that I was only using the excuse to escape. “I’m good.”

  “Let’s go then.”

  His heat folds around me like a blanket of static electricity. Every hair on my body stands erect when he places his hands on my shoulders. His palms are branding irons. They scorch the naked skin under my tank top. I only recover from my stupor as he turns me toward the bar.

  “Wait.” I dig in my heels. Jake wants to buy me a drink? “Why?”

  “We’re all here to celebrate. I assume that includes you.”

  The last day of school, yes, but, “You’re with Britney.”

  He lowers his head, pressing our cheeks together. His stubble pricks my jaw. His voice is low and smooth and deep and dangerous and every other delicious thing I can dream up. “I’m with no one, ginger.”

  “Ginger?”

  “It’s a compliment.”

  He mumbles something about fucking loving ginger as he takes my hand and pulls me back to the main room, but his words are lost in the loud flapping of wings in my chest and the noise from the partygoers.

  Nancy’s eyes bulge when Jake approaches with me in tow. Her gaze drops to our intertwined fingers before settling questioningly on my face. I wish I had an answer.

  Jake clasps his hands around my middle and lifts me onto the bar stool. I utter a shriek when my bum collides with the seat. He grips my knees and turns me toward the counter so he can throw an arm around my back and rest a hand next to my waist on the countertop. Normally, I wouldn’t tolerate being posed like a Barbie doll. It just so happens that his bossiness ignites a warm glow in my chest. He can play doll as much as he likes.

  A queue of people wait to be served, but Jake intercepts Snake, the barman. “Three vodka tonics.”

  Snake gives us a demeaning look. “Why is it always the first thing youngsters do when they turn of legal age?”

  Snake works in a drunk yard, but he acts like the holiest person alive. In his defense, he doesn’t drink a drop of alcohol, and he’s never missed a Sunday church service.

  Jake takes a two hundred rand note from his pocket and pushes it over the counter. “Good question. Let me see. Because we can?”

  “Don’t be a wisecrack, Basson.”

  “Just do your job, Snake.”

  The way the barman looks at me makes me feel dirty.

  “You’re doing nothing wrong,” Jake says in my ear.

  His lips are a hairbreadth from my skin, and the air that escapes them is warm. A shiver runs down my arm. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe Jake is buying me a drink. It helps that I feel pretty tonight in my short denim skirt, Cowboy boots, and pink top. The color goes nicely with my skin, and it softens my freckles. My hair is tied in a high ponytail, and I’m wearing only mascara and lip-gloss for a natural look. Scrap that. I wiped off the gloss. I guess I only have my eyelashes to my aesthetic advantage. Maybe I should try to bat them like Britney.

  Snake places our drinks in front of us, not bothering to hide his condescending expression.

  “Cheers.” Jake clinks his glass against mine and takes a sip.

  I pick up my glass but hesitate. I’ve tried a little wine before, but never strong liquor. I’m not sure the vodka is a good idea. Nancy doesn’t mind. She finishes the drink she’s been nursing and reaches for the cold one.

  “What’s wrong?” Jake asks, brushing the end of my ponytail over my shoulder. “Don’t you like vodka?” The fleeting caress of his fingertips sends a ripple down my spine.

  “I’ve never tried.”

  He leans closer, pressing his leg against my thigh. “Don’t you like to try new things?”

  My heartbeat quickens at the nuance of his seductive tone. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

  Actually, it’s not. I’m ten seconds away from losing my heart, and Jake is going to some fancy financial school in Dubai at the end of the year.

  I slide off my seat. The act pushes our bodies flush together. Oh, my gosh. He’s hard. For a moment, I’m too shocked and stunned to move. I want to both reach out and trace the outline of his erection pressing against my stomach and flee. Fantasizing about something is one thing. Reality is quite different, and in real life my traitorous nerve fails me.

  “I, um, have to go.”

  He wraps an arm around my waist. “Just one drink.”

  Pushing on his shoulders, I try to gain much-needed distance. “It’s late.”

  “I’ll walk you home before midnight.”

  Nancy shoots me a what’s-wrong-with-you look.

  “Nothing is going to happen, Kristi Pretorius.” Only Jake can make my full name sound hot. “I’ll take care of you.” He holds me a little too tightly. “Promise.”

  Maybe it’s those daddy issues or how badly I like the way that sounds, but I suddenly want him to take care of me. The sincere way in which he says it makes me believe him. Just like that, I fall for him. Hard. My stupid crush unfurls in my chest where the seed has been hibernating for too long, blooming into a delicate flower of one-sided love.

  Crap. No, no, no. I’ve been keeping my infatuation under control for twelve long years, and I let it get out of hand for one drink and a sweet promise.

  “Drink up, ginger.”

  The knowledge that nothing can come of this sobers me slightly. I may as well enjoy the moment. Taking a sip, I make a face. I can’t say I’m an instant fan of vodka.

  A soft laugh rumbles in his chest. “You’re cute when you do that nose thing.”

  “What nose thing?”

  His russet-colored eyes, a color Shakespeare poetically used to describe sorrow, haven’t lost their broody edge, but there’s a smile in them. “That thing when you wiggle your nose.”

  “I don’t wiggle my nose.”

  “You do too.”

  “When?”

  “When you can’t figure out a math formula, or when Haley challenges your interpretation of a poem.”

  As if he’s said too much, he clamps his lips together.

  I’m at a loss for words that he noticed something so trivial. About me. Not wanting him to feel uncomfortable about a private disclosure he obviously had no intention of making, I try to lighten the moment. “Well, you have awkward habits too.”

  He lets go of me slightly, giving me breathing space. “Yeah?”

  “You scratch your chest just here,” I tap his breastbone, “when you get angry.”r />
  He lifts a brow. “Is that so?”

  I turn to my friend. “Isn’t it, Nancy?”

  She shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never paid attention that closely.”

  No. She didn’t just insinuate I pay Jake special attention. I make big eyes at her, but she only giggles.

  Jake raises his glass. “To habits.”

  I take another sip of my drink so I can hide my embarrassment behind my glass.

  “Oh, that’s my song.” Nancy hops off her stool and grabs our arms. “Let’s go dance.”

  She pulls us onto the small dance floor and immediately loses herself in the music. Nancy is a great dancer. I suck at it, which is why I’m just standing watching Jake while he’s watching me. We’re caught in a stare-off, only it’s charged with attraction instead of animosity. It’s confusing and unsettling. Why talk to me tonight when he’s always ignored me? Is it because I stared? Was my interest that obvious? He closes the distance until the tips of our shoes touch.

  “Dance with me,” he says, making it sound like an order.

  My hips start to sway of their own accord as he places a hand on my waist.

  His fingers tighten on my skin. “That’s better.”

  I melt at the approval in his tone. Boy, those daddy issues are worse than I thought.

  “Now drink.”

  I take another sip.

  “Better?” he asks almost gently, his eyes glued to my lips.

  “I’m getting used to the taste.”

  “Glad I could initiate you.”

  The song ends, and a slower one comes on. Denis asks Nancy to dance, his puppy eyes resting on Jake and me. Leaning my cheek against Jake’s chest, I escape that sad look. I know what unrequited love feels like. I hate being the reason for Denis’s pain. He’ll outgrow his crush and find a good girl to marry, someone who’ll return his feelings. The reasoning makes me feel better. So does the steady beat of Jake’s heart under my ear. His maleness and smell envelope me. It’s a smell of cheap cologne and fallen angels. His masculinity locks me in a safe bubble where everything else vanishes, even time.