by Tess Summers
“I’m such an idiot.” She groaned and slumped her shoulder into the door leading back into the house. Just then, someone on the other side opened the door and she clumsily fell through, right into Mr. Gorgeous Grouchy’s chest.
Chapter 2
THE gorgeous uncle had changed his clothes into grey sweat shorts and an old Stanford University T-shirt that clung nicely to his body and he smelled really good, not like cologne, just very clean, like soap mixed with maybe a little bit of aftershave and deodorant. She couldn’t help but notice, as her fingers spread flat across his chest to catch herself, he was very toned underneath his faded crimson T-shirt. His arms came instinctively around her in an attempt to catch her from falling. She leaned against him a little longer than she should have before beginning her recovery; she didn’t know why. She didn’t particularly care for his arrogance or attitude but did like the feeling of him holding her and realized how much she missed being held by a man. Her reaction to him surprised her. Grabbing his bicep with one hand to steady herself, she stood up straight. To her chagrin, he got even better looking when he smiled. He hadn’t actually smiled, it was more like a smirk, but it still showed the dimple on the right side of his cheek, and the crinkle lines in the corners of his blue eyes.
“Well, hello there,” he said, amused at her unceremonious entry back into the house. Brad had said those same words to her earlier that evening.
She took a step to the side and smoothed her hair. “I-I couldn’t find a plunger.”
He raised one eyebrow. “I can see that.” Ava looked down to see towels laying on the floor, soaking up the overflowed toilet water. “Fortunately for you, I brought one with me.”
“You did?” she asked with wide eyes. “But why?”
He shrugged. “You looked like you could use a little help.”
She wanted to hug him. Okay, maybe kiss him too. At the very least smell him again. Although smelling him probably wouldn’t be very sophisticated—she might be hopeless in that department. In an attempt to maintain some semblance of dignity and self-respect, she added to her thought process that she still believed he was an ass and smelling nice didn’t change that.
“Can I use it?”
“Use what? The plunger? Already took care of it.”
“Wait. You mean to tell me, you went home, changed your clothes, came back, plunged the toilet, and put towels on the floor, all while I was looking for the plunger?”
“Yeah. You were in the garage a long time. What exactly were you doing in there?” He teasingly looked over her shoulder as if to search for evidence of some wrongdoing she had been committing.
Reminiscing. She couldn’t tell him that, instead she giggled at his attempt to tease her and acted mockingly indignant at his accusation. “I really was looking for a plunger!”
“Uh-huh.” He grinned and winked at her.
Her stomach did a little flip. Was he bipolar? Was she? What happened to the attitude? She was starting to like Mr. Gorgeous and No Longer Grouchy and she was not happy about it. Awkwardly, she thrust out her hand. “I’m Ava.”
He looked at her outstretched hand, amused. “Travis. Just Travis. That’s my first name.” She blushed at the memory of calling him Mr. Travis earlier. He must think she was such a moron. He wiped his hands on his shorts. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t shake your hand. I haven’t had time to wash up.”
She felt foolish for trying to be so formal, given the circumstances. Yes, I am definitely unsophisticated. “Come on, let me help you get cleaned up.” She led him back through the trashed kitchen and out to the pool area. Three more teenagers approached for keys and she ran them through the field sobriety tests she’d seen on cop shows. Satisfied, she found their keys and handed them over.
Travis was grinning at her. “Are you qualified to do that?”
She shrugged. “No, but it eases my conscience, so…”
He looked at the patio furniture sitting at the bottom of the pool, the cups strewn about, her sister and friends snoring on the loungers, and motioned to the bar on the other side of the pool. “Thirsty?” The sides of his mouth were turned up, but she couldn’t tell if he was teasing again or if he was serious. She crinkled her nose. “I just had half a beer. It was gross.”
He started walking toward the bar. “Do you think there’s anything else left?” She followed him, and as he rounded the bar, he said loudly, “What have we got here?” Ava hoped he was talking about alcohol and not another mess. She was surprised to find a sleeping young man in swim trunks lying between the cases of soda and water, and using a towel for a pillow.
“Good grief. Where did he come from? I thought I had accounted for everyone.” She had gone around and matched the number of remaining keys in the bag to the number of kids that were still there. She instinctively felt for an extra key in her pocket, but only found hers. “He must have been a passenger.”
Travis nodded as though in agreement, and she guessed that he knew all too well about passengers, as one was probably passed out in his guest room.
“Oh snap! Jill!” She had left the poor girl sleeping in the chair. “I’ll be right back!” Ava ran into the house.
She found Gracie’s best friend right where she had left her and nudged the sleeping teen, rousing her just enough to get her up out of the chair. Ava put her arm around Jill’s waist and cautiously walked the girl over the soaked towels, into the living room, and onto the couch. Ava took Jill’s shoes off, helped her lie down, and put the throw blanket that had been hanging over the back of the couch around her.
“Sleep tight, kid. You’re going to have a helluva headache tomorrow.”
Back to the other sleeping beauty behind the bar. And the beauty who was still awake.
She walked out the French doors to find Travis helping the young man in almost the same exact manner she had helped Jill. Smiling at him, she exclaimed, “I just did the same thing in there,” and jerked her head toward the house. Ava retrieved the towel the boy had been using as a pillow from behind the bar and covered him with it. The teen stirred a little and woke up, looking confused. Ava recognized him as someone she used to babysit and patted him on the chest. “Go back to sleep, Dillon.”
Dillon rolled to his side and with his eyes closed, mumbled, “Ava, I’m sorry about the furniture in the pool.”
Leaning down, she whispered, “It’s okay. You can take care of it tomorrow.”
She looked up to find Travis observing her exchange with Dillon with an almost tender look on his face.
Who is this guy? More importantly, was he interested in her? Is that why he’s decided to be helpful now? He had certainly changed his tune from when he first arrived. As quickly as the thought entered her mind, she pushed it out. No, he wasn’t interested in her; he was far too distinguished for that. He looked like he had been on a date and was probably surly in the beginning because he was going to score and had been interrupted. But then why was he being nice to her now? Maybe he was trying to salvage his night by getting lucky with her? The thought made her almost laugh out loud, but then she acknowledged it was also quite appealing. Maybe he could be her first step in Operation Sex Kitten. The idea was fine in theory, but in reality, so out of her character.
She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the French doors. Yeah, no. That definitely wasn’t why he was being nice. She had no makeup on and her pony tail, shorts, and tank top made her look like she was sixteen, not twenty-nine. She guessed he was at least thirty-eight, and he had an air about him that said he was used to worldly, experienced women. She was neither. Unsophisticated.
He was looking at her while pouring a tall shot of whiskey from a bottle that had miraculously been untouched by the partygoers. When he caught her eye, he gestured if she wanted one. She was about to shake her head, then thought, why not? Ava shrugged her shoulders and nodded her head yes.
He grinned at her. “Atta girl.”
When he brought it to her, sh
e took one sip and then started coughing. “Smooth,” she said between hacks. “I think I’m going to need to mix this.” She turned to head to the pool house. He followed her as though he was intrigued. She giggled at the idea he was probably more used to the one being followed, not the other way around.
Ava walked in and switched on the light. It seemed very bright, having come in from the muted outdoor lighting by the pool, and she immediately dimmed the switch. Much better.
His six-two presence made the room feel ten times smaller than normal. He had a commanding persona. Not to mention his broad chest and shoulders. His legs in those shorts weren’t bad either.
As she went around the counter to the other side of the kitchenette, she patted a bar stool, gesturing for him to sit at the tall counter facing the tiny U-shaped kitchen. Instead, Travis went over to look at the frames on the wall. He swirled his drink as he perused her diplomas hanging on display. She kept meaning to take those to her office.
When he got to her framed and matted doctorate degree, he turned to her with raised eyebrows and asked with an incredulous tone, “You’re Doctor Ava Ericson?”
“In the flesh.” She tried to sound cheerful and not the least bit insulted as she put ice and Diet Coke in her bar glass.
He was watching her every move, as if to size her up to see if she was lying about her credentials. A smile came to his beautiful face. “I had no idea Frannie and Robert had such an educated daughter.”
Only people who were friends with her mother would ever call her Frannie. She was either Mrs. Ericson, Francine or Fran to strangers and acquaintances, but once you became Francine Ericson’s friend, she insisted you call her Frannie.
“It’s probably because they only brag about their son, who is a real doctor. He has his MD.” She was teasing. She knew her parents were as proud of her accomplishments as her brother’s. “How do you know my parents?” Ava gulped her new concoction. It still tasted terrible but at least she didn’t choke this time.
He continued staring at her, as though trying to put pieces together in his head. “Oh, just charity events and the like. I’ve done business with your father.”
That meant one of three things. One, he was a criminal who’d been in her dad’s court. Not likely. At least she hoped not, since they were now alone behind closed doors, not to mention he was so freaking handsome. That’d be such a shame. The shallowness of the thought made her embarrassed. Two, he was a fellow judge. Again, not likely. He wasn’t quite old enough to have earned the credentials. Three, he was an attorney. Bingo.
“What kind of law do you practice?” Ava inquired.
“Who said I practiced law?” Travis teasingly raised his eyebrows and gave her a smirk. She was starting to like it when he teased her. It made her feel more comfortable for some reason. That is, until she started imagining him teasing her in other ways.
Good God, girl, get it together!
Operation Sex Kitten might have its first mission. He definitely could teach her a thing or two, at least enough to win Brad back.
“Your demeanor said it for you.”
“Is that so?” He took a seat on the sectional that had been custom-made to fit the space. As if he were emphasizing his charming demeanor, he threw his right arm casually over the back cushion, while his left hand continued swirling his drink. He was watching her every move, his eyes intently following her as she walked toward him on the couch. His smile was…almost flirtatious?
You wish. This guy only dated sexy, sophisticated women, she was certain of that. Still, she couldn’t deny the idea made her toes tingle a bit.
As she sat down on the other end of the couch, Ava suddenly became self-conscious. She remembered her appearance, not to mention her total lack of experience in the s-e-x department. She wasn’t a virgin, but Brad had been her only partner, and she knew their lovemaking was pretty vanilla. Still, Travis might be just the guy to practice her moves on for getting Brad back. Then the self-doubt started to creep in. Maybe hot sex like was just made up—something that only occurred in works of fiction or when the participants were being paid. Then, she eyed the delicious man sitting next to her and didn’t have a hard time imagining it would be anything but vanilla with him.
She looked at his chiseled features, not to mention that chest, that hair, those muscles, his eyes…Which were still watching her, no longer intently but now with amusement, and she felt her face go red when she realized he witnessed her totally checking him out. She gulped down the rest of her drink and sprang up from the couch.
“Ready for another?” Her voice sounded way too high pitched and phony.
He shot back the remaining whiskey in his glass. “Sit down, I’ll get it.” As he rose from the couch, he smiled, winked again, and took her glass. Her knees got weak, and she sat back down. He was on his way back from the pool bar before she was able to regain her composure.
Instead of coming back to the couch, he went to the mini fridge, then stopped and furrowed his brow, as if remembering something, and went to the sink to wash his hands before returning to the fridge for an ice tray and soda. Oh yeah, cleaning up. That was the whole premise for bringing him out here. Ava giggled. Whoops!
He looked over at her with an inquisitive look. “What’s so funny?”
She went over and hopped on the barstool on the other side of the counter from where he was standing. Watching him finish making her drink, she felt the liquid courage starting to affect her. It didn’t take much. She was five feet four, a hundred and ten pounds and hadn’t eaten since her early dinner. Plus, she rarely drank. “I was thinking I didn’t like you very much when you first showed up.”
“Oh yeah?” He came around the counter and got in her personal space as he handed her the drink. “And now?”
Even though she was sitting on the barstool, she still had to look up at him. When she did, she found him smirking at her. She was rattled, but determined to appear sexy, so she pulled the hair tie out of her hair and shook her blonde hair out.
“Well now,” she took a big drink and swallowed hard, “now, I find you sexy.” Still holding her glass, she ran her index finger along his arm, trying to be seductive, and trying not to spill all over him.
Oh. My. God. Did I really just say that?!
Yeah, she did. Strangely, she wasn’t embarrassed. She knew she should be, but she was tired of being cautious, reserved, the girl who didn’t throw things in the kitchen when she’d been dumped. The girl who wasn’t sexy. She wanted to be the girl who threw caution to the wind. She wanted to be a sex kitten.
Looking for his reaction through lowered eyelids, she was hoping to find his face full of desire, ready to put his mouth on hers and whisk her off to bed. Instead, she found the corners of his mouth turned up, his eyes twinkling. He must really find her entertaining. And not in a sexy, I-want-to-take-you-to-bed way, more like a court-jester kind of way.
Chapter 3
TRAVIS Sterling didn’t know what to do with this enchanting creature in front of him. When he first arrived at the Ericson estate tonight, he was surprised to find an adult at the Teenager-Gone-Wild party. He knew the woman had to be related to Francine; she was her spitting image. At first, he was pissed, thinking Judge Ericson’s beautiful daughter had supplied underage kids with alcohol. It didn’t take any time for him to realize that wasn’t the case, but he was still annoyed he had been forced to end his evening in a way that wasn’t on his terms. Although, he wasn’t particularly upset at having to end his date early—the company wasn’t that great to begin with—he liked being the one who called the shots. Once he’d calmed down, he understood her rationale for keeping his nephew and then felt like an ass for being such a jerk to her. He needed to help her; it was obvious she was in over her head. Plus, he greatly admired her father and adored her mother. Not to mention she was hot as hell. Not glamorous hot, naturally hot. She didn’t have a stitch of makeup on, her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, and still sh
e was stunning. And her body. Those perky tits and tight ass at the end of those tiny but muscular legs gave him a little rise. When she fell into him as he opened the garage door, then introduced herself as Ava, he could have taken her right back into the garage and done her on the hood of her father’s Mercedes. He was actually plotting how to make that happen when it became all too apparent she was about the cutest thing ever. Damn it. Why did she have to be so fucking sweet too? He liked it better when she was feisty and his fantasy woman.
About a year ago, at the request of her mother, he had fired off a letter on Ava’s behalf to the apartment complex that wouldn’t let her break her lease when her schmuck of a boyfriend dumped her right before they moved in together. He had also helped her mother when Ava bought her condominium. Discreetly, of course. Mrs. Ericson couldn’t stress enough her daughter was not to know he was looking over the paperwork. He had to say, he had been fascinated. She had managed some pretty incredible terms in the contract, ones he wasn’t sure even he’d be able to negotiate. He wanted to meet this woman. He just couldn’t figure out how to arrange that with her mother without sounding like a lech. He had to be a good ten years older than she was. Plus, her mother would make sure his intentions were pure before ever agreeing to introduce him, and that wasn’t going to happen. So he let his imagination run a little wild instead. If she looked like her mother and had her father’s brains, he might have met his match. Meeting her in person tonight, he realized he might have been closer to the truth than he cared to admit.
It quickly became obvious she wasn’t the temptress he had first thought/hoped she might be. When she single-handedly dealt with his idiot nephew and his friend with ease, he was impressed, and that attitude of hers had intrigued him, enough to come back and plunge a damn toilet. But then she started accounting for drunk kids, and tucking in passed-out teenagers, even after all the shit they’d put her through tonight. And Frannie never mentioned her daughter was Doctor Ericson. When she started to clumsily flirt with him it was too much. She was such an innocent nerd.
