And when she did go husband shopping, she wasn’t going to settle for a guy whose entire life revolved around football, steak, beer and women. Or a guy who thought only Bob or Fred could mow lawns. Sean wouldn’t even let her drive her own truck.
Halfway through a scene in which the mom and dad were rappelling out of a helicopter with guns blazing to rescue their kidnapped son, Sean’s hand shifted and his fingertips started tracing circles against her shoulder. His attention was on the screen, as was Gram’s, so Emma wasn’t sure he was even aware he was doing it.
She was aware of it, though, that was for damn sure. Aware of the warmth of his touch through her T-shirt and very, very aware of the way her body reacted as if he were stroking parts of her a lot farther south than her shoulder.
When his fingers worked their way down to the end of her short sleeve and touched bare skin, she totally lost track of the plot unfolding on the television screen. Temporary or not, it sure was nice being touched by a man. It had been…a long time.
“Can you pause it for a minute?” Gram asked. “Intermission.”
When Emma leaned forward for the remote, Sean withdrew his arm and let his feet fall to the floor. “Sounds like a plan.”
Gram left in the direction of the kitchen and Emma stood, intending to get out of Sean’s way but, when he stood, he grabbed her elbow and spun her around.
His mouth met hers, hot and hungry, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as she responded in kind. So what if he was temporary? She’d enjoy it while it lasted. His hands were on her hips and he pulled her closer—close enough so she could feel he wasn’t pretending to want her.
The kiss was incredible and she stood on her tip-toes, reaching for more. Her fingertips found the back of his neck and she stroked him from the knot at the top of his spine and up into his hair and back.
Sean pulled away from her so fast she almost fell over. “Shit.”
“Flattering.” Her senses were still so overwhelmed by him she didn’t trust herself to say more.
He ran his hand over his hair, shaking his head. “That was…”
Wonderful, Emma thought. Amazing. Toe-curling. “That was what?”
“A mistake.” He pushed by her and a few seconds later she heard his footsteps climbing the stairs.
“Jerk,” she muttered, but the word didn’t have a lot of oomph behind it. She was still too breathless from being kissed so thoroughly by a man who knew what kissing was all about.
No doubt about it—she was in trouble.
Sean had to get out of the house or he was totally going to lose it. He wasn’t sure if that meant punching a hole in the wall or tossing Emma over his shoulder and carrying her off to bed caveman-style, but either was a bad idea.
Time to go for a ride and get some space, but first he stuck another sticky note to the mirror and uncapped the Sharpie.
You can hold my hand or pat my head or scratch my belly, but don’t rub the back of my neck again unless you want to get naked.
He went back downstairs and grabbed the keys to his truck off the hook by the door. Cat was back in her chair when he popped his head into the living room.
“I have to bail, ladies. Kevin called while I was upstairs and needs a hand with something.”
“But the movie,” Cat said.
“You’ll have to tell me how it ends.” He forced himself to look at Emma, who was doing a pretty poor job of hiding her annoyance. “I might be late, so don’t wait up.”
“Have fun,” was all she said.
He jumped on the highway and drove a little too fast with the music a little too loud, hoping to leave no room in his thoughts for remembering the taste of Emma’s lips.
Even before he’d spun her around, he’d known kissing her was a big mistake. He hadn’t realized the mistake was actually colossal, though, until she started stroking the back of his neck and his body reacted with an urgency that led nowhere but to bed. Together. Hot and sweaty and breathing hard between the sheets.
He got lucky and found a parking spot near Jasper’s Bar & Grille and breathed a sigh of relief as he walked through the door. Men drinking beer. Pretty waitresses. Sports on the big screens. Sanity.
It was a little slow, which wasn’t surprising for a Wednesday night, so there were plenty of open seats at the bar where Kevin appeared to be holding down the fort.
“Didn’t think I’d see you here tonight,” he said as his cousin set a beer in front of him.
Kevin shrugged. “Terry’s having one of those parties where the women all get together and one of them sells the others a bunch of shit they don’t need so she can earn a free salad bowl or whatever. Paulie wanted to go and I sure as hell didn’t, so here I am. How’s fake almost-married life treating you?”
“I kissed her.” He chugged down a quarter of the mug.
“Yeah, so? Engaged people do that sometimes.”
“I kissed her after Cat left the room. I didn’t kiss her because we were pretending. I kissed her because…hell, I don’t need to draw you a map.”
“When did that happen?”
Sean looked at his watch. “About a half hour ago.”
Kevin gave a low whistle. “She still sleeping on the couch?”
“Yes. And she’s staying there, too, goddammit.”
“Did she punch you in the face? Knee you in the balls?”
“No.”
Kevin grinned. “So what’s the problem? You want her. She can at least tolerate you. Get it out of your system.”
He was afraid sleeping with Emma wouldn’t get her out of his system, but get her a little farther under his skin, instead. “Bad idea.”
“Call it a fringe benefit.”
“She’s already pretending she’s in love with me. Throwing real sex on top of that could get it all mixed up in her head.”
“You worried about her mixing it up…or you?”
That was ridiculous, so he snorted and swallowed some more beer. He had no interest in settling down—signing his life over to somebody else so soon after getting it back from Uncle Sam—and he sure as hell wasn’t planting flowers until retirement age. Assuming he didn’t lose his mind and suffocate himself in a mound of mulch before then.
“You ready for Saturday?” Kevin asked.
“Hell no.” He didn’t even want to think about that.
Kevin had to move on down the bar, so Sean sipped his beer and stared at the television without really seeing what was on.
Emma had felt way too good tucked up against his body on the couch. She was warm and her body fit perfectly against his and the viewing angle had let him appreciate all too much how long and perfectly shaped her legs were. And the heat of her thigh pressed against his…
Sean knocked back the rest of his beer and set the mug out on the far edge, looking for a refill.
Kevin came back and refilled it. “Nurse this one if you’re driving home. If you have another, you’re staying upstairs.”
“I’ll nurse it. Why don’t you throw in an order of chili-cheese fries for me, too.”
He watched the game and ate his fries, making the beer last. Emma would probably be asleep by the time he got back, those amazing legs peeking out from the worn flannel shorts that wouldn’t have been sexy on anybody else.
Hopefully the long, icy-cold shower he was going to need wouldn’t wake her up.
Emma ripped the sticky note off the bathroom mirror and tossed it in the trash.
Sean didn’t have to worry about her rubbing the back of his neck again anytime soon. And he certainly didn’t have to worry about her wanting to get naked. Not with him.
If they were a real couple, she’d throw his pillow onto the couch and let his feet dangle over the edge for a change. It was pathetic how fast he’d come up with a lame excuse to run away just because he’d kissed her.
It was just a kiss. A great kiss, yes, but still just a kiss. She hadn’t asked him to marry her—to really marry her, of course—or told him she wanted to
have his baby. A hot, steamy, toe-curling, bone-melting kiss between two single adults was nothing to run from.
But now he’d made a big deal out of it and everything was going to be even more awkward than it had been for the last few days.
She’d been curled up on the couch, fuming, for almost an hour when she heard Sean’s truck pull into the drive. It was another ten minutes before he crept into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. Since she was facing the back of the couch, she didn’t have to make much of an effort to ignore him.
He was in the shower so long she must have fallen asleep to the drone of running water because the next thing Emma knew, her alarm was going off and it was time to face another day in the hell she’d created.
But first she had to face Sean. As usual, she got first crack at the bathroom and when she came out, he was sitting on the side of the bed, fully clothed. Thank goodness.
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “We should talk about last night.”
“How’s Kevin?”
“He’s good. And I meant before that.”
“You should have stayed for the end of the movie. It was good.”
“Dammit, Emma, you know that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Oh, you mean the practice kiss?” She clipped her cell phone onto her front pocket. “We’re getting better at it. That was almost convincing.”
“Practice kiss?” He stood, probably so he could look down at her, but she was tall enough so it didn’t make much of an impact. “Almost convincing?”
“Yeah,” she said, though she turned her back on him, heading toward the door to avoid eye contact because that was no practice kiss and it could have convinced even the CIA’s finest.
He was muttering when she left the room, but she shut the door on him and went downstairs. She didn’t want to talk about it. And she didn’t want to think about the fact he wasn’t happy she called it a practice kiss.
That meant he considered it a real kiss. And not only a real kiss, but one that had shaken him up. The only reason kissing a woman should bother a man like him was if he was trying to fight being attracted to her.
Hopefully he’d win, she thought as she headed toward the kitchen, because she was waging that battle herself and didn’t appear to be headed for a victory. Maybe he had enough willpower and self-control for both of them.
Other than a little morning chit-chat with Gram, neither of them spoke as they ate breakfast and headed off to work—with him driving her truck again. But after ten minutes on the road with fifteen more to go, she couldn’t take it anymore. “Why are you mad at me?”
He didn’t look at her. “I’m not mad.”
“You’re not happy.”
His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “That was no practice kiss.”
“I know it wasn’t. I was trying to give us a reason not to talk about it.”
“Oh. So you don’t think we should talk about it?”
“I thought guys hated talking things out.”
He drummed his fingers on the wheel. “I just don’t want you getting any ideas, that’s all.”
Getting any ideas? Emma was speechless for a moment, unable to believe he’d actually said that. “Since I was walking away from you when you spun me around and kissed me, I’d say you’re the one getting ideas.”
“Of course I’m getting ideas. You’re hot and I’m not dead. But I know enough not to confuse lust with anything else.”
She snorted and looked out her window. “Oh yes, Sean Kowalski. Your amazing kisses have made all rational thought fly out of my besotted brain. If only you could fill me with your magic penis, I know we’ll fall madly in love and live happily ever after.”
The truck jerked and she glanced over to find him glaring at her. “Don’t ever say that again.”
“What? The madly in love or the happily ever after?”
“My penis isn’t magic.” His tone was grumpy, but then he smiled at the windshield. “It does tricks, though.”
“The only trick your penis needs to know for the next three and a half weeks is down boy.” How the hell had she gotten herself into this conversation? “To get back to the point, if you think I have any interest in a real relationship with a guy who thinks he’s a better driver than me just because I have breasts, you’re insane.”
“It’s not because you have breasts. Women don’t drive as well because they lack a magic penis.”
She turned toward the passenger door, letting him know with her body language she had no interest in talking to him anymore. “Why didn’t I tell Gram I was dating Bob from the post office?”
He laughed at her. “You’ve met the Kowalskis. You were doomed the minute you said the name out loud.”
Doomed, she thought, glaring at the passing scenery. That was a good word for it.
Chapter Nine
“Oh, what a lovely home!”
Sean pulled into his aunt and uncle’s driveway and killed the engine. “Thanks, Cat. My cousin Joe bought it for them after his horror novels started landing on the New York Times’ bestseller list on a regular basis.”
“It’s big, which must come in handy with all those grandchildren.”
All those grandchildren she was about to meet, Sean thought, resisting the urge to beat his head against the steering wheel. He wasn’t too worried about Steph, Joey and Danny, but Brian and Bobby were loose cannons. To say nothing of Aunt Mary.
The introductions didn’t go too badly. His uncle’s gruff humor put Cat at ease and his aunt was warm and welcoming, even though Sean knew she had serious reservations about the whole thing.
“I’m Bobby,” a young voice piped up and it seemed like everybody but Cat sucked in a breath at the same time. “Guess what?”
“What?” Cat said, seemingly oblivious to the frantic hand gestures being waved in Bobby’s direction.
“Sean’s my cousin. He got out of the army a long time ago and he lives with Emma and he’s going to marry her.”
Joey, Mike’s oldest boy, laughed and put his arm around his little brother to not-so-subtly start dragging him away. “They have telephones in Florida, dummy. Mrs. Shaw already knows that.”
Lisa stepped forward before Bobby could argue. “Now that you kids have all said hello to Mrs. Shaw, you can go to the basement and play your game.”
Bobby jumped up and down. “Sean bought us Rock Band for the Wii and all the instruments, so we’re going to have a Rock Band Tournament of Doom.”
Sean hadn’t known he bought the kids a bunch of video game crap, but he couldn’t very well argue the point. No doubt Mike and the rest would just put it on his tab.
Luckily, Cat and Aunt Mary seemed to hit it off pretty easily and—since Cat didn’t seem in imminent danger of asking Mary outright if his and Emma’s engagement was real—Sean started to relax.
They all went out to the backyard, where the women took over the chairs on the deck and the men gathered around the grill. It wasn’t time to start cooking yet, but gathering around the cold grill was better than sitting with the women.
“Mary’s been a wreck about this for days,” Leo said, for once managing to lower his voice so the whole neighborhood wouldn’t hear him.
“I know she didn’t want to do this.” Sean watched the women laugh at something Cat said. Or, more specifically, he watched Emma laugh. “I’ll make it up to her somehow.”
They talked about the usual stuff. The Red Sox. How deep into summer vacation they’d get before Lisa’s grip on her sanity started slipping. Evan’s new truck, which he’d bought in white because Terry said not to buy a white one because they were impossible to keep clean. How Evan and Terry’s marriage counseling was going.
Joe nudged Sean’s arm. “I swear, I could tell time by how often Emma looks at you just by counting off the seconds.”
Sean resisted the urge to turn and look. “She’s nervous, that’s all.”
“That’s not nerves.”
“I think I
know her better than you do.”
Joe laughed. “You’ve known her a week.”
“Ten days.”
“Hate to burst your bubble, but I’ve known her longer than ten days. Not well, but I’ve run into her at Mike and Lisa’s. Not that it matters. That look on a woman’s face is pretty universal.”
“There’s no look.”
“Oh, there’s a look,” Kevin said.
“There might be a look,” Leo added.
“Mike and I can’t see,” Evan added. “We’re facing the wrong way. We could turn around, but she might wonder why we’re all staring at her.”
Even though he figured his cousins were pulling his leg, Sean angled his body a little so he could see her in his peripheral vision.
Okay, so she was looking at him. A lot. But Joe and Kevin were still full of crap because there was no look. The glances were too quick to read anything into, never mind the kind of message they were implying she was sending.
He watched her watching him for a while, and then Aunt Mary told them to get the meat ready so they could fire the grill. Since his cousins made for more than enough chefs stirring the soup and he needed a break from the visual game of tag he and Emma were playing, he grabbed a beer and made his way to the big tool shed. It was the unofficial Kowalski man cave, where females feared to tread. Even Aunt Mary would just stand outside and bellow rather than cross the threshold.
It smelled of the old motor oil dripped onto and soaked into the wooden floor and the stack of wood next to the old woodstove meant to ensure that, even in the cold months, there was a place a man could go for a few minutes of peace and quiet. The walls were lined with shelves of old mason jars containing nuts and bolts and screws and washers and all the other debris a good tool shed collected over time.
Sean cracked open his beer, flipped on the ancient radio and perched on one of the bar stools somebody had probably lifted from Jasper’s. He was too wound up to sit still, though, so he set down his beer and got up to investigate the current project, which appeared to be rebuilding the snowblower’s engine.
Yours To Keep Page 9
