by Jane Graves
“What do you think?”
With one last provocative smile, he walked out of the storeroom, leaving Heather standing there feeling frustrated as hell. She’d spent her entire adult life wishing men would look at her, and now when she had one who couldn’t take his eyes off her, it had to be one she refused to sleep with.
Heather went out to the bar to find Alison with an already half-empty martini glass in front of her.
Heather slid onto the stool next to her and asked the question she already knew the answer to. “So . . . how was your date tonight?”
Alison’s whole body heaved with a sigh, and she turned to look at Heather, only to shrink away with a startled expression.
“Aaack! Your hair! What did you do to it?”
Heather cringed. “Looks like hell, doesn’t it?”
Alison’s shock slowly faded. She tilted her head first one way, then the other. “Actually, no. It just surprised me a little. Is this how it was in high school?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s pretty unforgettable.”
“Why did we think that was a bad thing?”
“Because I looked liked I stuck my finger in an electrical outlet?”
“I don’t know, Heather. These days, people pay good money to get their hair to look like yours.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“I just don’t remember it looking exactly like that. But, then, a lot of the stuff we loved back then looks horrible today. Maybe it works the other way around, too. What made you let it go?”
“I didn’t do it on purpose. Tony hid my flatiron. He says he likes it this way.”
“I think he has a point.”
“Never mind my hair. Tell me about your date.”
Alison let out another big sigh. “What’s wrong with me, Heather? Seriously. What is it about me that’s a magnet for every weird, dysfunctional, or disgusting man in the Dallas metroplex? That isn’t a rhetorical question. I want an answer.”
“Bad karma?”
“Yeah? Well, I must have done something pretty damned wicked in a past life to get stuck with this life.”
“What happened?”
“Well, let’s see. While we were standing in line for the movie, he scratched his balls.”
Heather tried not to make a face. “So he scratched his balls in public. What man hasn’t at one time or another?”
“On a first date?”
“Is that really a deal-breaker?”
“No. I’m getting too old to worry about standard disgusting male behavior.”
“Then what was the deal-breaker?”
“We went to a late dinner after the movie. He blew his nose on a cloth napkin.”
Okay. That was disgusting.
“If he does that kind of stuff right out in public, imagine what he does in private.”
“You’re right. That’s a deal-breaker.” Heather smiled. “But don’t worry. I’m sure the next one will be better.”
“Will you stop? You know how much I hate cheerful optimism when I’m dating-depressed.”
“Sorry.”
“So how are things between you and Tony?”
“Same as always.”
“So why is he staring at you?”
“What?”
“Tony. At the other end of the bar.”
Heather glanced over to see Tony sitting with Andy and Kyle. The moment her attention turned to him, his gaze slithered from her face to her breasts, hovered there for a moment, then continued down to her legs crossed beneath the bar. Then it moved slowly back up again, lingering here and there, practically scorching her right through her clothes. He met her eyes for several seconds, then slowly turned back around, took a lazy sip of his beer, and continued with his conversation.
“My God,” Alison said. “I think I just had an orgasm, and you were the one he was looking at. What’s going on between you two?”
“Nothing. We barely even see each other.”
“Nope. You’re lying. Something’s up. Now spill it.”
Heather poked at her spear of olives, then let out a sigh of frustration. “He came on to me last night.”
Alison jerked to attention. “Came on to you? What exactly do you mean by that?”
“He told me that since we couldn’t sleep with anybody else for the next month, we might as well have a good time together. And then he kissed me. If I hadn’t stopped him—”
“You stopped him?”
“Of course I did.”
Alison thunked her forehead on the bar. “You’re killing me, Heather. Killing me.” She jerked her head up again. “The best I can do is a nose-blowing, ball-scratching loser, and you’re living with a gorgeous guy who wants to ravish you. And you won’t let him?”
“He only wants me because he can’t have anybody else. Do you know how that makes me feel?”
Alison grabbed Heather’s wrist and dragged her closer. “Heather, listen to me. And I mean this from the bottom of my heart. If you don’t go over there right now, drag him into his office, and have your way with him, I’m going to.”
“Do it. Then maybe he’ll leave me alone.”
“You know what your problem is? You’re thinking about this all wrong. You’re thinking if you sleep with him, he’s using you.”
“Exactly.”
“But won’t you be using him, too?”
“What?”
“Tony’s a player. You know that. So stop thinking about him the same way you’d think about a man you really wanted to marry. There are men who commit, and there are men you just have fun with. Stop lumping them together in your mind.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re splitting up in less than a month, right? If it helps, think of Tony as a boy toy you married, and in a few weeks, when you get bored with him, you’re going to toss him away. But in the meantime, you’re going to get all the hot sex you can get your hands on.”
Heather mulled that over. She really hadn’t thought about it from that point of view. And since she knew exactly what kind of man he was, when their time together ended, she certainly wasn’t going to expect anything more from him, so she wouldn’t be falling for him and causing herself that kind of grief. They’d simply part company, and that would be that.
“Come on, Heather. What are you scared of where Tony’s concerned? The worst thing that could happen is that you have wild, hot, cataclysmic sex for the next couple of weeks, then smile, shake hands, and say good-bye.”
Was it possible? Could Alison be right?
There’s a wild woman inside you who’s just dying to come out and play.
She had to admit that there was something going on inside her that had started that night in Vegas, and it was only getting stronger. Spending time with Tony made her feel like somebody else, somebody she used to lie awake at night wishing she could become. She’d never experienced wild, hot, cataclysmic sex before. Wouldn’t it be nice to do it at least once before she died?
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
Alison whipped around. “You will?”
“Yes. You’re right. There’s Mr. Right, and there’s Mr. Right Now. I just have to start thinking of myself as Mrs. Right Now.”
“Exactly! So when are you going to do it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do it tonight. Otherwise you’ll chicken out.”
“But it’ll be really late when we get home.”
“Would you stop being so damned practical? Who cares if you lose a little sleep?”
Heather took a deep, shaky breath. “Okay. Tonight.”
“I can’t believe you actually came to your senses,” Alison said with a smile, only to frown all over again. “God, I envy you.”
“Don’t. It’s not like we’re staying together forever. But for now—”
“It’s the ‘for now’ I’m jealous about. Do you have something hot to wear?”
Heather froze. She hadn’t thought about that. She had ratty T-shirts and white cotton panties. For all Tony’s insistence that they sleep together, he’d probably run screaming from that.
No, wait. He’d tried to seduce her last night, and she’d been wearing those things in addition to her ugly robe and slippers. Clearly he hadn’t been deterred. Still, showing up looking like a bag lady wasn’t going to give her a whole lot of confidence.
“I’ll find something,” Heather said, vaguely remembering one black nightgown that might be in one of the boxes she brought from her parents’ house.
“So . . . are you nervous?” Alison asked.
“Nervous?”
“Well, yeah. The women Tony dates are borderline anorexics who buy all their lingerie at Victoria’s Secret. They probably know every sex trick in the book. I’d feel a little out of my league.”
“Thanks, Alison. I wasn’t feeling inadequate enough, but you solved that problem.”
“I didn’t say you should feel that way. I’m just telling you how I’d feel.”
Which was exactly the way Heather felt now.
“Just be cool,” Alison said. “Act nonchalant, like you sleep with hot guys every day. Tony won’t know the difference.”
Heather thought about her too-thick thighs, her lack of sexual adventure, and her absence of a really nice lingerie wardrobe. Tony was a lot of things, but dumb wasn’t one of them. He’d know the difference, all right. From five miles away, he’d know.
She glanced down the bar. Tony had evidently gone into the kitchen, because he was nowhere to be seen. If she was going to do this, she needed some time to make sure she was in control of things. The crowd had thinned out considerably. If she left now, it wouldn’t be a problem.
She circled the bar to grab her purse.
“Do me a favor,” she said to Alison. “Tell Tony I left.”
“Why? Where are you going?”
“Just tell him, will you?”
“Okay. But call me tomorrow. I want to hear . . .”
But Heather was already halfway to the door, and Alison’s voice was drowned out by the music. It was going to be good. Better than good. She had a feeling it was going to be even hotter and more cataclysmic than she could even imagine.
As long as she didn’t talk herself out of it.
As Tony drove toward his apartment, he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, thinking he should feel tired, but he didn’t. And he knew it was because of all this damned pent-up sexual energy he couldn’t let out.
He’d hoped to keep Heather on perpetual simmer this evening with the goal of sparking a nice, hot blaze with her tonight, only to turn around and find her gone. She hadn’t even told Alison where she was going, or if she had, Alison wasn’t saying. If she’d simply wanted to go home, why hadn’t she just said so?
He could get inside the head of virtually any woman on the planet. It was a skill he’d honed all these years, leaving other misguided men in the dust when it came to success with the opposite sex. But Heather . . . hell, they could stay married for fifty years and he still wouldn’t be able to figure her out.
A few minutes later, he pulled into a parking space in front of his apartment. Heather’s car was there, which meant she was at least home, and he took that as a good sign. But when he came through the front door and she was nowhere to be seen, he took that as a bad one.
He looked in the kitchen. Nothing.
He went to her bedroom door to find it closed. No light shone from beneath it. He put his ear to the door and heard nothing.
Damn. She’d simply come home, closed her door, turned out the light, and gone to bed?
Tony stood there in the hall, frustrated as hell. So much for his new, improved seduction plan. It was just as abysmal a failure as everything else he’d tried. Women lined up around the block to sleep with him, yet he was having to chase after Heather like a horny high school kid. What was wrong with her? Or, more to the point, what was wrong with him that she wasn’t the least bit interested?
Pretty soon, though, his frustration faded, and he reached a conclusion he didn’t want to face.
It was time for him to stop being so selfish.
He was getting way more out of their make-believe marriage than she ever would. What kind of jerk was he to demand more? Instead, he should be counting his lucky stars. He should be grateful Heather was helping him launch his business, because she was damned good at the things he wasn’t. He needed to get over the fact that she had no intention of being his wife in every sense of the word. He was going to accept the fact that she wasn’t going to have sex with him, take the shot to his ego, and get over it.
Deep breath. There. He’d done it.
Feeling rational and reasonable, he flipped off the living room light and strode to his bedroom, telling himself he was dead tired, anyway. It was a good thing they wouldn’t be having sex tonight. He took pride in pleasing women, and he needed to be rested to be at the top of his game. In fact, he felt so tired he wasn’t sure he could even get out of his clothes before he collapsed on the bed.
Then he opened his bedroom door, and his second wind came roaring back.
Heather was in his bed. The sheet was pulled up to her chest, but because her shoulders were bare, he could only conclude . . .
She was stark naked.
Chapter 16
When Tony opened the door, Heather’s heart leaped, then settled into a hard, heavy rhythm. She’d heard him at her bedroom door and knew it was only a matter of time before he found her here. Now that he had, she was officially terrified.
Earlier, when she couldn’t find the black nightgown, she did away with the lingerie problem by wearing nothing at all. Even if she had a nightgown on, he’d eventually take it off her, anyway. She was hoping to mask her oversized thighs by turning out the lamp and lighting the Glade French Vanilla candles she’d picked up at a convenience store on the way home. It was said that every woman looked beautiful by candlelight, and she just prayed that was true. As for her lack of sexual adventure, she hadn’t found a spur-of-the-moment remedy for that.
Just be cool, she reminded herself. Act like you sleep with hot guys all the time.
At first Tony looked stunned, clearly unable to believe she’d done something so completely out of character. But true to his character, it wasn’t long before a lazy smile made its way across his face.
“Hey, there, Goldilocks. Is that bed just right?”
Panic seized her. Oh, Lord. She should have known he was going to talk. Sexy banter. She was lousy at that kind of thing. She scooted the sheet higher on her chest and opened her mouth to speak, but her vocal cords were tied in a knot.
No. You can do this. What would a wild woman say?
“The bed’s nice enough,” she said provocatively, “but it would be better if you were in it, too.”
God, that’s dumb, she thought, but she forced herself to act nonchalant, as if she slept with men every day of her life and twice on Sunday.
“And here I thought you were a good girl,” Tony said.
Another lob she had to return. Think! Think!
“I am a good girl,” she said, dropping her voice suggestively. “Come on over here and I’ll show you just how good I can be.”
Damn. She sounded like somebody doing a bad Lauren Bacall impression.
But just when she was sure he was on the verge of laughing, he started toward her. His footsteps were nearly silent, but every one of them seemed to thunder in her head. He’s coming this way. All six feet of gorgeous, soon-to-be-naked man.
Maybe she sounded sexy after all.
He stopped at the side of the bed, tilting his head questioningly, a smile still playing across his lips. “Who are you, and what have you done with that uptight CPA I married?”
“She took the night off,” Heather purred. “Now it’s just you and me.”
Lauren Bacall, eat your heart out.
“Naked in my bed,” Tony said, his gaze m
oving up and down her body beneath the sheet. “Now, that’s something I never expected.”
She toyed with a strand of her hair, twirling it around her finger. “Well, now. It looks as if I’m more of a mystery than you realized, doesn’t it?”
“Hmm.” He got a thoughtful look on his face. “Speaking of mysteries, I have been wondering something for the past couple of days.”
“What’s that?”
“What you look like naked.”
Naked? Heather nearly choked. In spite of the fact that she was naked under this sheet, she thought they’d be working their way up to the unveiling.
Trying to stay calm, she settled back against the pillow, but her heart was beating wildly. To her horror, Tony reached down and grabbed the sheet that covered her. Slowly he began to pull it toward him.
Oh, God. Did he actually intend to uncover her in one big swoop? Suddenly the candles felt as bright as spotlights in a theater, and she was center stage. Why had she lit three of them?
As the sheet started to slip past her breasts, she grabbed it back and sat up suddenly. “Don’t.”
Tony drew back. “What’s wrong?”
Heather felt more mortified than she ever had in her life. Why couldn’t she do something as simple as have sex without getting all uptight about it?
“I’m . . . uh . . . cold.”
“Yeah? It doesn’t seem all that cold in here to me.”
She forced herself to smile provocatively. “So are you telling me you don’t want to get under these covers with me?”
“Nope. I want you over them.”
Her hands started to tremble, and she tightened them against the sheet. “Now, Tony. Where’s the mystery in that?”
“Mystery doesn’t turn me on. Naked. That turns me on.”
He reached for the sheet again, but she grabbed it away before he could take hold of it.
“Heather? What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly. “I can’t do this.” She scrambled to the edge of the bed, dragging the sheet along with her. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I must have been out of my mind.” She stood up, clumsily wrapping the sheet around herself. “This isn’t me. I’m not a wild woman. I’m not even a little bit disorderly.”
