by Lori Wilde
“You’re starting to get a little pink.” He waved at her shoulder. “Just above your collarbone.”
“Oh.” She touched her shoulder. It did feel a bit hot and achy. “I must have missed a spot with the sunblock.”
The bottle of sunscreen lay on the chaise with her cover-up. He went for it. “Float on over here and I’ll rub you down.”
Suggestive words if she’d ever heard them, but he delivered them with such a straight face she couldn’t decide if he was playing coy or not.
Did she dare?
Before she could make up her mind, he snagged one end of her float with the toe of his sneaker and trolled her toward him.
His eyes met her. They were an amazing shade of earthy-brown—the color of autumn, a season that didn’t exist in South Padre. It made her think of warm wooly sweaters and football games and fall festivals and bonfires all hot and crackly.
Her stomach fluttered.
Stop it.
“Here we are.” His low, deep tone feathered over her ears, raising the hairs on the nape of her neck. He was so close.
Too close.
Intimate.
She breathed faster, anticipating his touch. The bottle of sunscreen made a soft whooshing noise as he squeezed out a ribbon of milky white lotion and the aroma of fresh coconut scented the air.
“Lean forward,” he instructed.
Compelled, she leaned toward him, positioning her shoulder closer to him and pulling her hair back off her neck. Why was she obeying him? She was annoyed with herself, but she just kept sitting there with her torso cocked, giving him access to her back.
His hand slipped over her shoulder, the cool balm soothing her heated skin. His breath caressed the top of her ear. Her muscles tensed at his touch.
“How’s that?” he murmured, massaging in the cream.
“Mmm.” She meant to say, “Mmm, that’s enough.” But after the mmm, the rest of the words stuck in her throat and the mmm just hung there sounding all sexy and encouraging when she hadn’t meant it that way at all.
His broad fingers spread out over her shoulder. He smelled crisp and clean, like fresh cucumbers and spray starch. Her float bobbled on the water.
The whole thing felt like some weird, languid dream. Had she fallen asleep on the float and conjured him up in her slumbering mind? Why else was she allowing a stranger to stroke sunscreen across her shoulders? Annoyed with herself, she put a hand on the cement lip of the pool and pushed away from the edge.
“Thanks,” she said, feeling breathless and out of sorts. “You saved me from a sunburn.”
“Happy to help.” He straightened and wiped his palms together, massaging the remaining lotion into his hands.
She chanced a glance at him. He looked as rattled as she felt, and she had a sneaking suspicion he wasn’t the kind of guy who normally went around offering to lather up strange women. So why her? Why now?
“Well...” he said.
“Well,” she echoed.
He leaned down amd picked up the trash bag. “See you around.”
“Yeah, see ya.”
He walked away and Poppy let out the breath she hadn’t even been aware she’d been holding. Abel. Hmm. Abel and Poppy.
Pair up? Are you nuts? Here you go again, closing your eyes and jumping into quicksand with both feet. Snap out of it.
Snap. She was snapping out of it. No more fantasies about...
Abel walked past her again on his way back from the dumpster. Her thoughts trailed off and she cocked her head to get a better look at his backside. Hard, defined, the perfect size. Yum!
He strode with military bearing, straight-backed, stiff-legged, and confident. His stride proclaimed that he was accustomed to being in charge. She sensed something more. He was alert, intelligent, the kind of reserved yet responsible man that a woman could trust. A shiver passed through her. Was he in law enforcement or maybe the military? She had a few authoritarian-type guys take her yoga classes. They usually showed up because someone had told them they had trouble relaxing and had suggested yoga.
“Hey,” she called out.
He stopped, then turned in her direction. “Yes?”
“If you ever want to loosen up, I teach yoga at a studio just down the street. First class is free.”
“Loosen up?”
Why had she said that? Why was she inviting him to her yoga class? What in the hell was she thinking? Abel and Poppy.
Oh, God, stop it.
He stalked back toward her, his brown eyes murky and unreadable and at the same time incredibly magnetic. “Do I look like I need to loosen up?”
“Um... no, no,” she lied as goose bumps spread over her body. Goose bumps. The guy was giving her goose bumps.
Remember Keith? He was good-looking and made you go all goose-bumpy the first time you saw him. That didn’t last long.
“I’m just trying to drum up business,” she said.
A spark of amusement flared in his eyes as he gazed down at her. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll just take you up on your offer and come learn Downward-Facing Dog.”
Then he walked off leaving her with the delightful image of Abel Black with his scrumptious butt in the air.
Poppy lowered her lashes. Hmm. With him moving in next door and her determination to lay off casual affairs, it was shaping up to be one very long, hot summer.
#
Abel took the steps up to his apartment two at a time, his thoughts centered squarely on the woman in the pool.
An intriguing woman who—from the minute he’d seen her doing naked yoga—had intrigued him in a way no woman ever had. But it wasn’t just her kick-butt body that aroused him.
It was something about the combination of her easy-breezy attitude and her sharp intelligent blue eyes that turned him inside out. Poppy St. John was a woman of substance and that unexpected realization made him want to know more. How had such a smart woman gotten mixed up with Barksdale?
He shouldn’t have engaged her in conversation, and he knew Rogers was going to bust his chops about it. He’d used taking out the trash as a ruse to get a closer look. He hadn’t meant to say anything to her, much less rub her shoulders.
And dammit, he’d stared straight at her tits like a caveman. They’d perched ripe as summer peaches in the sling of her bikini top and her smooth, flat stomach... well, hell!
Her long legs had been bent at the knees, drawn up slightly on the float. He’d been trained to observe everything, so he didn’t miss the pearly-pink nail polish on her toes or the gold ankle bracelet or the double diamond studs gracing her earlobes. Her golden-blond hair floating around pink shoulders in need of sunscreen...
Ah, those shoulders. His palms still tingled from touching her and he could smell her coconut-scented sunscreen on his skin.
Face it. She’d entranced him. Eyes the color of the Texas Gulf Coast. Lush, feminine thighs built for loving.
Tanned skin and full, glossy lips that he somehow knew would taste like plump fresh strawberries.
He shouldn’t have been lusting after her. It was wrong. It put his job in jeopardy. It worried Abel that he hadn’t been able to stop himself. He’d flirted with her, taken advantage of the situation, used potential sunburn as an excuse to touch her.
“What the hell was that all about?” Rogers launched in the minute the door closed behind Abel. “We’re not supposed to engage the target. Merely observe and report.”
“We’ve been doing that for four days and we’ve gotten nothing,” Abel hedged, scrambling to think of a good reason why he’d stopped to talk to Poppy.
Rogers stared at him as if he’d sprouted a third eye in the middle of his forehead. “Since when have you not followed the rules to the letter?”
Abel frowned. “I want Barksdale caught, and sitting here on our hands doesn’t seem to be doing the trick. If I get to know her, maybe I can get her to talk about Barksdale and I can find out something the others didn’t when they interrogated her.”
; “Hey, I agree with you. I’ve just never known you to take matters into your own hands. Why do you think they call you Kiss-Ass Black?”
“Who calls me that?” Abel asked sharply.
“Everyone.” Rogers wrinkled his nose. “You didn’t know?”
Irritation had him shoving his palm over his head. “Just because I believe in obeying orders doesn’t mean I’m a kiss-ass.”
“You’re a workaholic.”
“Yeah? What’s wrong with that?”
“You never let your guard down with the guys. Even the few times you have gone out for drinks with us, you barely drink, and you leave as soon as you can.”
“I am a Texas Ranger. We’re held to a higher code. I don’t intend to give my enemies anything they can use against me.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t relax once in a while, chief. Act like one of the guys.”
That had been Kirsten’s complaint, as well. That he was too compulsive about work and didn’t know how to enjoy himself. Were Kirsten and Rogers right? Honestly, having free time on his hands made him anxious. The truth was, he feared that if he ever dropped his vigilance that the floodgates would open, and he’d lose all control.
“That’s why I think it’s kinda cool that you’re ready to bend a few rules in order to nail Barksdale.”
Abel hadn’t said that. In fact, he hadn’t meant to bend rules. It had happened because he’d simply been unable to help himself and that scared the shit out of him. Poppy St. John scared the shit out of him. He wanted to have sex with her, and the promise of that pleasure lured him and that lure made him feel unbalanced. He’d given in to temptation.
“You know,” Rogers said, “if you wanted to hang out at her yoga studio in the evenings, I could keep watch on her apartment while you’re gone. You could cozy up to her. See if you could get her to talk about Barksdale.”
Abel shook his head. “The brass wouldn’t approve.”
Rogers sank his hands on his hips. “How would they know?”
“They’ve got Kilgore taking yoga with Barksdale’s suspected contact.”
“That’s a morning class. You can take an evening class.”
It was tempting. Not just the part about catching Barksdale himself, but about spending time with Poppy.
Watch it, you’re on shaky ground.
Temptation could ruin a man. He trusted Rogers as much as he trusted anyone, but Abel had a hard time putting his fate in someone else’s hands.
“Nah,” he said. “Let’s play this by the book.”
Rogers shrugged. “Your call.”
Abel glanced out the window and saw Poppy climbing from the pool, her body glistening in the sunlight. His own body reacted. He hardened and his heart rate quickened. He was in trouble and he knew it. He’d never felt this out of control. One thing was for certain; he was not going to her yoga studio.
No matter how much he might want to.
Chapter Four
At five thirty a.m. the following morning, Abel’s late-night shift was almost over.
He yawned, stretched, dreamed of hitting the shower, and then getting some sleep as soon as Rogers woke up to relieve him. He wasn’t really paying much attention to what was going on across the courtyard. Poppy had been quiet. No midnight yoga. No striptease in front of the window. All in all, a pretty boring night.
He yawned again. Blinked.
The door to Poppy’s apartment opened and she stepped out onto the landing, wearing a thin terry cloth bathrobe that hit her midthigh. The pockets of the robe bulged out.
Hmm, where was she going in her bathrobe at five thirty in the morning and what did she have in her pockets? Immediately, he perked up and his mind went to the darkest possibility. Was she packing a gun?
Come on, how likely was that?
Still, he was on red alert, adrenaline humming through his bloodstream.
It wasn’t just her looks or her smoking-hot body that stirred him. The attraction he felt for her—and this was worrisome—extended beyond the physical. She was funny and witty and easygoing. All the things he was not, and he admired her for it.
She started down the stairs.
Abel tracked her with the telescope, watching her cross the courtyard and head toward the walkway leading to his side of the complex. She disappeared from his view. What was she up to? He tensed and got up from the stool.
Footsteps sounded on his staircase. She was coming to his apartment!
Panic seized him and he wondered why in the hell he was panicking.
Because she was coming to see him!
He couldn’t let her get a peek inside. Not with all the surveillance equipment aimed at her apartment. He pulled a hand down his face. What was he going to do? He could pretend he wasn’t here, but it was five thirty in the morning and the pickup truck that Higgins had given him to use while he was on assignment was in his parking space and—
Her knock sounded at his door.
Maybe he ought to answer it. What if she was in trouble? What if Barksdale had threatened her?
She knocked again.
Abel rushed to the door, but only opened it a crack. He peered out at her with one eye. “Hey.”
“I’m sorry to wake you up—”
“I wasn’t asleep.” He opened the door just wide enough to slip out onto the landing with her.
Dew dampened the air. The sun nudged at the horizon. The complex lay quiet. Normally, he got up at five a.m. to go for his daily three-mile jog, but ever since he’d been spying on Poppy, everything in his world had turned topsy-turvy.
She stared at his rumpled clothes, his beard stubble, and then glanced at the door. “Oh, my gosh, you’ve got an overnight visitor. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you. Go back to your guest.”
Poppy turned to scurry away, but Abel reached out to snag her arm. The minute he touched her, he regretted it. Hot desire instantly flooded his system.
“Hang on,” he croaked. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing, really,” she said. “I don’t want to take you away from your company.”
“Who says I have company?”
“You didn’t invite me in for one thing.” She cast a roving glance over him. “And you look like you’ve been up all night.”
“I don’t have an overnight guest in my apartment.”
“Oh, okay, if that’s the way you want to play it.”
“Why? Are you jealous?”
Her cheeks pinkened, telling him that yeah, she was, and she wished she wasn’t. He felt flattered.
“No, of course not. I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous? I don’t even know you.”
“And yet here you are on my landing at five thirty in the morning in your bathrobe.”
Okay, he was officially acting like an arrogant jerk, but it was only because she smelled so good and she was wearing a bathrobe and his surveillance equipment was only a door away and she was jealous, and well, hell, she just made him nervous, and he really didn’t know what to say to her, so he’d said something utterly stupid.
“Forget it.” She held up both palms and backed off.
“Wait, please. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m not usually such a jackass.”
One eyebrow went up on her forehead. “I’ll reserve judgment until I know you better.”
“Does that mean you’ll give me a second chance?”
“Only because you’re so cute when you grovel. Apology accepted.”
He wouldn’t call it groveling, but he did need to find out why she’d come over. “What can I do for you?”
Her gaze flicked downward, just for a microsecond, but she checked out his zipper. Had she seen that he was halfway hard already? He did his best to get himself under control, but it was a losing battle with her standing there smelling of fabric softener and peppermint toothpaste, the encroaching dawn casting orange fingers of light over her golden hair.
She cocked her head and touched her bottom lip with the tip of her index
finger. “The hot water heater went out in my apartment and I was wondering if I might borrow your shower.”
“You want to borrow my shower?”
“That’s what I said, but if you have an overnight guest in your apartment—”
“There’s no guest in my apartment,” he reiterated, even though the smart thing to do, from the point of view of his assignment, was to let her think there was a woman in his apartment so she’d go away.
Except, he didn’t want her to go away. He wanted to throw the door wide-open and invite her inside. Of course, he couldn’t do that, wouldn’t do that, but he wanted to. Rogers was asleep in the second bedroom.
“How about if I come over and take a look at your hot water heater?” he offered.
“I called the super. He’ll be over later today to check it out. I just need a quick shower to start the morning. I brought my own supplies.” She reached into the pockets of her robe, pulled shampoo from one pocket, conditioner from the other, and looked pointedly over his shoulder at his door.
Abel’s hands were behind him, holding the knob, blocking her way. “Here’s the truth. I’m a pig. The place is a mess.”
“How bad can it be? You just moved in.”
“I’ve still got boxes stacked everywhere.” He couldn’t get the image of her standing naked in his shower out of his head.
“Look, if you don’t want me using your shower, just say so.”
“It’s not that,” he said, grasping at straws. “You’re right. I have company, but it’s not a woman. I have a friend staying with me. We partied. He’s passed out drunk.”
“So, I’ll tiptoe. I really need a shower, Abel.”
“I don’t...” He fisted his hands. He’d run out of excuses. Short of being rude and telling her to buzz off, he had nothing.
“Oh, I get it.” Her eyes widened and a sly grin curled her lips.
“Get what?”
“You don’t want your friend seeing me in my bathrobe.”
The minute she said it, he knew it was true. He didn’t want to risk Rogers waking up and seeing Poppy in her bathrobe, dripping wet from her shower. “You got me.”
