HOT AND BOTHERED

by Jo Leigh

  "I was going to say something," he said, "but you'd just broken up with Frank Baskin, and you were so vulnerable."

  "Frank Baskin. I haven't even thought about him in years."

  "He's come to my mind several times. If I recall, he was the prototype."

  "Excuse me?"

  "He was wealthy, handsome, bright and so selfish he wouldn't spit on you if you were on fire."

  "Oh, yeah. That Frank Baskin."

  "You blamed yourself. For everything. Remember that?"

  She did. Her self-esteem had been so low in college, at least in the beginning. But after she'd moved into her dorm room with Katy and Susan, and met Peter, Ben and Trevor, that had changed. Especially after she'd met Trevor.

  She'd started listening to him, and after a while, she'd started believing him. He'd told her that she didn't have to take any crap from anyone. That she deserved to be loved for who she was. And that she was in charge of her own fate. Some of it had stuck. She'd become a stockbroker even though her father had wanted her to be an English teacher. She'd never compromised ethically in a business situation, even when all around her were temptations that would try a saint.

  The only part that she'd never bought was the part about being loved. The idea that there was nothing wrong with her when it came to men. Trevor had given it his best, but finally he'd given up in the face of far too much evidence to the contrary. She'd still managed to hook up with Josh, and get her heart broken. "I'm still confused. I was vulnerable. Clingy. You could have had me in a hot second."

  "Gee, thanks for sharing that," Trevor said.

  "Tell me why you didn't tell me."

  "I didn't tell you because I didn't want to take advantage of you. I didn't want to do what every guy would have done. It was more important for me to be your friend."

  "Oh."

  "And yet," he said, "that lesson seems to have been lost somewhere, eh?"

  "No, I don't think so. I think you're the best thing that ever happened to me."

  "Ditto, kid. Even without Strawberry Ripple, you still make me crazy. I still want you enough to lift a deep-dish pizza box. And I still value your friendship more than anything else in the world."

  Lee had to swallow several times before she could speak. "So you're saying you don't want to…"

  "No. I'm saying it's okay if you don't."

  "Even after you've seen my Wonder breasts?"

  He smiled. "Well, I don't know. They are pretty outstanding."

  "And that's not all. There're panties to match."

  "You're making this harder than it needs to be. No pun intended."

  "Ha."

  "Ha."

  "Trevor?"

  "Yep?"

  "It's not a thong."

  "Pardon?"

  "The underwear. They're not thongs. I'm sorry."

  He laughed, then touched her knee. "It's okay. I forgive you."

  "If I'd known you were going to be this sweet, I would have gotten the thongs."

  He sniffed loudly, only slightly mocking her. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

  She smiled, reached for his hand and brought it up to her lips. She kissed his palm, savoring the Trevor smell, then put his hand right back where it had been on her leg.

  Maybe she didn't have to turn out the lights, after all. Maybe Trevor had always known exactly what she looked like.

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  « ^ »

  They reached Mystic at a quarter to ten. Trevor hadn't been to the Carlisle Inn for years, and the place was even more beautiful than he remembered. Once a tavern built in 1740, the owner had meticulously restored the building itself, and decorated the guest rooms with period furnishings.

  "This is gorgeous," Lee said.

  "Have you ever been to Mystic?"

  She shook her head. "The only thing I know about Mystic is that it's supposed to have good pizza."

  Trevor laughed as he parked the car in a small parking lot adjacent to the main building. "Come on. Let's get inside. I don't know about you, but I'm tired." He stepped out into the cool night air. He'd been right to bring his jacket. And to book the room with the fireplace.

  "Do you smell that?" Lee asked.

  He looked across the top of the car to see her take in a great breath of air. "What?"

  "The ocean. I can actually smell the seaweed. This was a wonderful idea."

  "Was it?" He regretted the words the second they were out of his mouth. Lee seemed surprised, as if she didn't expect him to still have doubts.

  "If nothing else, we're away from the city," she said, but too brightly. "No phones, no cabs, no jack-hammers."

  He walked to the trunk, popping it open with the remote on his key chain. "Absolutely right. And I think you're going to like it here."

  Lee took one of her suitcases while Trevor carried in the other, along with his overnight bag. He'd called ahead and warned the proprietor that they would be arriving late, and from the porch light, it looked like they weren't going to have any problems. He really wanted things to go smoothly. The whole weekend seemed as fragile as thin ice. Lee was nervous. She tried to hide it, but he could tell. The way she nibbled on her lower lip. The humming. He wished he could ease her fears, but the truth was, he was just as nervous.

  As they walked up the gravel path, the crunch of their shoes loud in the still night, Trevor thought again about his confession to Lee. He'd made it sound light, sexual, as if that night in the dorm wasn't a particularly big deal. Which wasn't the truth.

  First, it had been more adoration than love. He'd had a crush, that's all. In time, it had eased, turning into the warmest friendship of his life, so why bring it up? The whole purpose of this plan of hers was to free themselves of the baggage that always accompanied love. The neediness, the games, the jealousy. The last thing he wanted to do was veer the conversation in that direction.

  Lee held the door open for him, and he led her into the front room of the great old building. It was like stepping back in time.

  Wooden walls with eighteenth-century paintings graced the entryway, and just beyond that was the living room. The smell of freshly baked bread mingled with the scent of spice, filling him immediately with a sense of calm. The huge hearth that dominated the living room housed a well-tended fire. A young couple sat on an overstuffed couch, so close together he could hardly tell where the boy left off and the girl began.

  "Good evening."

  Trevor turned from the fire and the lovers to greet the hostess. She looked as cozy as the accommodations, plump, gray-haired, smiling warmly. "I'm Hester," she said, "and you must be Mr. Templeton."

  "Yes," he said, putting down the suitcases to shake her hand. "And this is Ms. Phillips."

  Hester welcomed Lee, then handed Trevor a registration card. "Don't bother about this now. It's late, and I'm sure you two want to get settled in. Just fill this out and bring it down with you tomorrow morning. Come, let me show you to your room."

  Lee grinned at Trevor, and he couldn't help but smile back. They had truly crossed the threshold into an otherworldly place. The smells, the warm air, the antiques, were all as far away from midtown Manhattan as they could be.

  They walked down a portrait-lined hallway, until Hester stopped at the last door. She opened it with a key, not an electronic card, thank goodness, and stood aside to let them pass.

  Lee's sharp intake of breath told him the room was perfect even before he stepped inside. Once he joined her, he nodded. Everything was perfect. A fire crackled, the love seat in front of it had a brightly colored afghan tossed over the arm, making it seem as welcoming as an old friend. The bottle of champagne he'd ordered sat nestled in a tall ice bucket.

  He looked at Lee, then back at the love seat, and her image came to him as clearly as a photograph. Lee, languid on the couch, naked and beautiful. Her skin aglow with the reflections of the fire, her smile as inviting as her posture.

  Trevor jerked his gaze away, only to find
himself staring at the bed. It was a huge four-poster, with a white canopy, big fluffy pillows and a goose-down comforter. Now his mind's eye pictured Lee there, propped against the pillows, her auburn hair framing her face. Her body stretched out in all its glory, naked and—

  "It's gorgeous," Lee said.

  "Oh, yes," he whispered, the image still shimmering before him.

  "It's also quiet." Hester's voice shattered the illusion but it still took a moment to get his equilibrium back. He'd had no idea his imagination could be so vivid, or that it could cause such an immediate physical impact. His jeans felt tighter than was comfortable. He needed a pizza box.

  "There's no one in the room next door," Hester continued as she walked past the big bed. "Here's the bathroom." She waited for Lee to take a look. "It's one of my favorite places in the house."

  Trevor realized he was still holding the suitcases. He put down the bags and followed Lee into the incredible room. Large, with an oversize claw-foot tub against one wall, a pedestal sink against the other, and a commode gently hidden behind a lace curtain, it was a room built with comfort in mind. Candles lined two shelves, all lit, creating intricate shadows on the walls.

  He saw Lee in the tub, one leg hooked over the edge, beads of moisture glistening on her chest. Tendrils of hair teasing her neck. Oh, damn.

  "Now I'll leave you two to get unpacked. Breakfast is served from nine to ten-thirty. I'm afraid there's no room service tonight, but if you find you're missing something, let me know in the morning, and I'll do what I can."

  "Thank you, Hester," Lee said, taking the woman's hand as they headed for the door. "It's perfect."

  "I like to think so," the older woman said. "Have a lovely evening."

  Trevor slowly turned away from the tub, and mumbled a goodbye. Lee had moved to the fireplace, and now stood staring at the flames. Was she thinking about what came next? About turning all the images into real flesh and heat?

  She turned to him, a mysterious smile on her moistened lips. "You know what it feels like?"

  "What?" he said, walking toward her, amazed at the connection between them, certain she felt the anticipation just as strongly as he did.

  "It's like we're in the holodeck on the Enterprise."

  Trevor stopped. He laughed out loud, not just at her incredibly weird logic, but at his own romanticism. Connection. Right. Two peas in a pod. He laughed again. "It's supposed to make you feel like you're in the past, not the future."

  "I know. But it feels surreal. This place. Us."

  He nodded, then headed for the champagne. He didn't know about Lee, but he certainly could use a drink.

  "I can't help picturing…"

  He stopped again. "Worf?"

  She grinned. "Nope. I'll take a glass of that, please. I can't help picturing all the couples who've been here before us. It's not like a hotel room. It's so much more personal here."

  "I know," he said, putting the towel that had circled the bottle over the cork. "That's why I thought you'd like it." He pulled until he felt the cork pop, then poured the bubbly into the two crystal flutes Hester had put on the occasional table.

  "Thanks."

  Lee had come up right beside him, and when he handed her the glass, their fingers brushed. At once, as if the touch had been a checkered flag, the images raced back into his head, one on top of the other, but all of them with her in the center.

  "To friendship," she said, raising the glass.

  "To friendship," he echoed, making sure the rim of his glass touched its mate gently. He drank, watching her bring the crystal to her lips, mesmerized by the movement in her throat. His gaze went lower, to the lush mounds of her breasts, made so prominent by her new lingerie. The urge to touch her grew until it hurt so much he had to walk away. He occupied his hands by getting out his shaving kit, and occupied his mind by reciting Babe Ruth's batting stats. The painful condition of his groin eased with the activity and he let out a calming breath as he headed for the bathroom.

  "So, you want to go to bed?" she asked softly, just as he reached the door.

  All his hard work went to hell in a handbasket. He was instantly aroused, painfully aware of her proximity, and his desire. "Sure," he said, his voice as casual as a stroll in the park. "I'll just be a minute."

  He shut the door, went to the sink, and turned on the water. But he didn't wash. He stared at himself in the mirror. His image wasn't clear with the room being so dark, but still he was able to see his eyes. Yep, he looked as desperate as he felt. It wasn't like any other time, with any other woman. Even his first time hadn't been this full of anxiety. Half of him wanted to call the whole thing off and drive back to New York, but the other half, the lower half, wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms. To learn all her secrets. To fulfill a wish made eight long years ago.

  He leaned down, bringing a handful of warm water to his face. The trick of tonight was going to be listening. Paying careful attention, and letting Lee set the pace. It would require superhuman effort, but it had to be played that way. If she changed her mind at any stage of the game, he'd smile and tell her it was fine. The important thing was their overall relationship. No way he was going to leave this inn with any awkwardness between them. He'd fight for this friendship, and he'd win. Whether they were lovers or not.

  * * *

  Lee lifted her negligee out of the suitcase. Black, floor length, with lace around the bodice, it was the prettiest nightgown she'd ever owned. It made her look exotic and sensual, and she knew Trevor would like it a lot. The thing was, she wasn't ready for him to see it at all.

  Despite the wonderful talk on the way here, the perfectly gorgeous room, the fire and the champagne, she was still stuck in doubt. She'd convinced herself that once she got here, once she'd crossed the point of no return, that all her uncertainties and fears were going to vanish.

  They hadn't.

  Oh, boy, they hadn't. If she thought that all they were going to do was talk and cuddle, she'd be the most relaxed woman in New England. But that's not what they were here to do. This was about sex. She'd wanted it to be about sex. Sex was good. Sex between friends should be even better. Sex with Trevor would be the best of the best. So, what was her problem?

  She folded the negligee over her arm, then got out her wakeup kit and put it on the bed. She wouldn't be needing anything else, so she zipped up her suitcase and stashed it in the closet.

  As the door to the bathroom opened, she answered her own question. Her problem wasn't about her having sex with Trevor, it was about Trevor having sex with her.

  She'd been nervous about making love before, but never like this. Always before, there hadn't been much to lose if things didn't work out. But with Trevor? What if he didn't get turned on once they were in bed? What if he hated the way she kissed? What if she was too loud, and it turned him off?

  What if she made a run for it, and called him from New York?

  Too late. Trevor smiled at her, and nodded toward the bathroom. "It's all yours."

  How could he be so calm? He looked as if this were just another night, with nothing at all at stake. Didn't he care that this might change everything?

  He headed toward the bed, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. She hurried into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

  He was taking off his clothes. Right now. Right out there. She was going to take her clothes off. Right now. Right in here. The bathroom was large, and the tub looked roomy. Maybe she'd just stay here for the night.

  No. No, no, no. She was the one who'd asked him. She'd practically had to twist his arm to do this. She couldn't back out now.

  Before she could change her mind, she got undressed and tossed her T-shirt and jeans onto the edge of the tub. Next, the Wonder bra came off, and she immediately wanted to put it on again. God, she felt so droopy without the material thrusting her up and out. But she couldn't exactly wear the bra with the nightgown. He'd notice.

  She slipped the gown over her head, and then she took
off her panties. Slowly, she turned to the mirror, squinting at her reflection. It wasn't so bad. She opened her eyes all the way. She looked okay. She'd never make the cover of Vogue, but she didn't need to put a paper bag over her head, either.

  The black satin made her skin look delicate and smooth. The lace around the bodice accentuated her breasts. She smoothed her hands down her hips. It was going to be fine.

  She got her toothbrush out, and her mouthwash. Then she saw his toothbrush, still wet, neatly atop his black shaving kit. She'd seen his toothbrush a hundred times before in his bathroom at home. She'd never given it a second thought. Now, it seemed the height of intimacy. It had just been in his mouth, and he'd used it so he'd have minty fresh breath when he kissed her. She needed to talk to Katy. Susan would know what to do. Where was her phone, and who the hell thought that banning phone calls for the weekend was a good idea?

  She was officially on her own, and she hated it. With a shaking hand, she put the toothpaste on her brush, and then it hit her. She wasn't alone. Her best friend in the whole world was right outside. She could tell him she was nervous, and he'd understand. The fact was, she could go outside right this second and tell him she wanted to call the whole thing off. It was Trevor, after all. Trevor, who knew her insecurities, her faults, her insanity, and loved her anyway.

  The anxiety that had plagued her for hours slipped away in a wave of relief. She'd been making herself crazy for nothing. It was Trevor. Just Trevor. No matter what, it would be okay.

  She brushed her teeth, used her mouthwash, took off her makeup, brushed her hair. All the while remembering that nothing could possibly go wrong. Not with Trevor at her side.

  After one last look in the mirror, she gathered her clothes, took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door.

  The fire was the only light in the room. Trevor was already in bed, sitting, his back propped up by the big pillows. He was in pajamas, and she felt grateful for that. If he'd been naked, it might have been scary, but pajamas were practically clothes.

  She went to the closet, threw her things inside, and turned back to face the bed. She wondered how much he could see in this light. And if he liked what he saw.