“Yeah, you know, the stuff you keep getting into?”
A quick mental review of recent events took the steam out of any argument she might have made. Ice storms, floods, concussions, men who put peanut butter on their dicks… “For someone who’s supposed to be keeping me out of trouble, you seem to be doing your best to corrupt me. No one who would bring cookie dough and peanut butter into my house could ever be classified as safe.”
A lazy smile curled his lips. “Depends on what you do with it.”
“You’re a dangerous man, Travis York.” With a wag of her head, she gave him a wry grin. “Go get your dirty clothes, and I’ll wash them.”
He departed with a wink, returning a few minutes later with an armful of clothing. Aside from Levi’s laundry, Miranda hadn’t washed a man’s clothes in a very long time. Still, it seemed only natural to toss his underwear in with hers. After adding detergent, she closed the lid. So much for that. Now what do I do?
Almost as if he read her thoughts, Travis leaned over and whispered, “If you’re looking for something else to do, I believe I could make a suggestion.”
His tone was certainly suggestive. “Does it involve food or sex?”
“Food,” he replied. “It’s time for lunch.”
“Aw, darn.” She smacked her fist into her palm. “And I was so sure it would be sex.”
“I’m always up for that, but I am kinda hungry.”
She scowled at him. “You’re always hungry and you always want sex. I believe I’m seeing a pattern here.”
“No pattern, just normal male appetites,” he said. “To tell you the truth, it’s been a while since I felt like satisfying either of them.”
She snorted a laugh. “What, you mean you don’t eat?”
“Not like I have since I’ve been here with you. You make me hungry for everything. You’re a pretty good cook too.”
She eyed him askance. “Thank you—I think.”
“I’m easy. Just feed me and fuck me and I’ll be happy.”
He might have been laughing, but at least he was honest. Miranda wasn’t sure any man needed much else from a woman. The rest he could take care of on his own. “No beer, no TV, no football?”
“Don’t need ’em as long as I’ve got you.”
“If I’d known you were easy enough to want me, I’d have said something a long time ago,” she said ruefully. “I could have saved myself the trouble of trying to fix you up with my friends.”
He glared at her. “What do you mean, easy enough to want you?”
“I’m not your usual type, am I?”
He seemed surprised. “I didn’t think I had a type. What type are you?”
“Oh, I don’t know...older, sort of battle-scarred and cynical, but under it all, a hopeless romantic.”
“Sounds like my type exactly.”
“Oh, hush.” She didn’t believe a word of it—was afraid to believe it. “What do you want for lunch?”
“Hmm…” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Decisions, decisions...do I want sex or food?”
“We’re back to that, are we?”
“I guess so. Actually, I’d like both, but I’ll settle for food—for now.”
“Good, because you’re wearing me out.”
Which brought to mind another line in Rebecca—the one where Jack Favell makes the comment that “a lovely woman isn’t like an automobile or a motor tire, she doesn’t wear out. The more you use her, the better she goes.” Miranda hadn’t had much opportunity to test that theory—until recently. Somehow she didn’t think it applied when the woman in question had fractured ribs.
Travis was still snickering when she opened the refrigerator and nearly choked on her own spit. He had been shopping again. In addition to the two packages of chocolate chip cookie dough he’d admitted to buying the day before, there was now a package of peanut butter cookie dough and a huge can of whipped cream. What would they taste like together?
She had to close her eyes whenever she passed those sections in the grocery. Otherwise, her inner demons would take over, forcing her to throw package after package into her cart. And now, all of this was in her own home, in her own refrigerator. Her knees almost gave way beneath her when she spotted the bottle of chocolate syrup.
“What’s wrong?”
Clearing her throat, she averted her eyes from the tempting syrup to the hot dogs sitting on the shelf below. “Nothing, Travis. Nothing at all, just give me a moment to recover.”
“You’ve really got it bad, haven’t you?”
“You have no idea.” She took a deep breath and picked up the hot dogs. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I can’t help it. It’s like putting a huge jar of cocaine in a junkie’s medicine cabinet.”
“Sorry,” he said, looking a bit chagrined. “I’ll get rid of it.”
Jade stalked into the kitchen, gazing up at her with reproach.
Miranda hesitated as if the cat had actually issued a warning. Still, whether Jade had said anything or not, she was absolutely right. He’s a keeper. Don’t run him off. “No, maybe it’s time I worked through this. Let’s see how long I can leave it there without eating it.”
“I might end up eating it first,” Travis admitted. “I shouldn’t, of course, but I felt like celebrating. Guess I should have gotten champagne, instead.”
“Now, that I could leave alone. Too sour.”
He smiled. “I’m not crazy about it myself. We should make out a list.” He took the hot dogs from her. “You can close the door, now, Miranda.”
“What? Oh…yeah. Close the door,” she muttered. “Right. Shut the door. Just like that. Sounds easy, doesn’t it? But it’s not.”
Travis gently removed her fingers from the door handle and pushed the door closed. “There now,” he whispered in her ear. “Out of sight, out of mind.”
His nearness sent goose bumps racing over her skin and a new flush of heat diving to her core. “I hope so. But I doubt it.” She paused as a new thought occurred to her. “Is there anything you crave and can’t live without?”
“I’d have to be pretty stupid to tell you that, now, wouldn’t I?” He pulled a knife out of the drawer.
“And I don’t suppose you’re what anyone would call stupid, are you?”
“My momma didn’t raise no fool.” He sliced open the wrapper on the hot dogs. “At least I learn from my mistakes. After that first marriage fiasco, I had sense enough not to marry anyone I didn’t fall head over heels for and felt I could trust, so, no, I’m not that dumb. And I’m not about to screw this up over cookie dough.”
“Screw what up?”
“This,” he replied, gesturing between the two of them. “You and me...together.”
Miranda figured it would take more than cookie dough to screw it up, at least, from her standpoint, because the best she could tell, Travis was freakin’ perfect. She barked out a scornful laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll be the one to do that. I’ll wolf down everything you bring home, gain fifty pounds, and you’ll get over me in a heartbeat. Probably won’t take long since I’m not exactly what you’d call thin to begin with.”
“If your goal is to be rail thin, don’t bother on my account. The anorexic look has never appealed to me.”
“Funny how no one ever believes they’re thin enough—especially actresses. Gorgeous women like Jane Russell and Marilyn Monroe are fat by today’s standards.” She shook her head, grumbling. “Women’s magazines are horrible. They’ve always got Miracle Weight Loss Diet in bold letters superimposed over a close-up of the biggest, gooiest chocolate cake you’ve ever laid eyes on. Shit like that really pisses me off.” Snarling, she glanced up to find Travis smiling at her in the most peculiar manner. “Sorry. Just having one of my soapbox moments. Feel free to ignore my rant.”
“Not likely,” he said, chuckling. “Besides, I kinda like hearing you rant.” With a wink, he flashed that pearly grin at her—again—and her heart did a pirouette right there in the middle of her chest
. Can’t be good for it… “I’ll let you know if I ever get tired of listening to you.”
“You do that,” she said, nodding. But would a perfect man ever tell you he was sick and tired of hearing you bitch and moan? Maybe. Sighing, she realized she had yet to find a single thing about Travis she didn’t like. He was cute, fun, and helpful—hell, he was even willing to give up cookies for her.
Maybe that was it. He was too perfect. Perfect teeth, perfect body, perfect smile, perfect everything. Miranda was sure she could never measure up to him. For starters, she was too old. That crap about the difference in their ages not mattering was just that. Crap.
Most people were their own worst critic, and she was no exception. Still, in at least one respect, she knew she was right. She was too bossy. She was doing her damndest to let him do things without telling him the right way—her way, of course—and he was still hanging around. But it had only been two days. How much longer could she keep her mouth shut?
She told herself to give the guy a chance, to give herself a chance. With the exception of what must have been a very brief marriage, he’d been single all his life. But had he ever lived with another woman after that? His brother had only moved in with him a few months ago—she remembered him telling her about the divorce. Could he adapt to her ways? Miranda was used to making her own decisions—Kris hadn’t meddled even when he was home. Would Travis be willing to compromise or would he try to rule the roost?
Telling her brain to shut the fuck up, she sat down at the table while he fixed the lunch she’d intended to fix herself. She had to bite her tongue when he grilled the franks in a skillet instead of using the microwave, which is what she would have done. She was dying to fuss at him for dirtying up a skillet unnecessarily, but for once in her life she managed to keep quiet. Jade gazed up at her, her slow blink expressing her silent approval.
“What do you want on your hot dog?” he asked.
“Barbecue sauce,” she replied recklessly. She’d never eaten one that way, but it seemed like a good time to try it.
“Sounds great.”
Oh, yeah, he was perfect. She caught herself wishing she’d said chocolate syrup. Surely that would’ve grossed him out. Or she could’ve said she wanted the bun soaked in margarita mix. Nah, too soggy.
Plopping her hot dog on a plate, he reached up on top of the refrigerator for yet another of her weaknesses. Potato chips. She hadn’t noticed them before, but there they were, an enormous, tempting blue bag full of them. He pulled a bottle of barbecue sauce out of the fridge and squirted it on her hot dog.
“You want this on your chips, too?”
Oh, hell, why not? “Sure.” As she watched him prepare his own lunch the same way, she decided it was no wonder he hadn’t liked the obstetrician and her gourmet tastes. He was as down-home, all-American boy as they came—he even liked apple pie. The only things missing were pickles and beer. “We can have pie for dessert. At least, I guess there’s some of it left.” She scratched her head, frowning. “I don’t remember having eaten all of it.”
He grinned devilishly. “You can have all you want as long as I get to serve it.”
“And just how were you planning to do that?” She took a bite of her hot dog, which was quite delicious. I’ll have to remember that. “Á lá Travis?”
“Maybe. But I draw the line at topping it with ice cream.”
“Too cold on your dick?”
He nodded. “Might make it shrivel up and hide—and we can’t have that, can we?” Picking up another chip, he studied it as though he’d only just noticed it was splattered with barbecue sauce. “These taste great—makes me wonder why I never tried it before.”
“Glad you like them, but you’re right; shriveling would be bad.” Aside from the fact that she could feel her waistline expanding at the mere thought of Travis covered with pie and ice cream. “Perhaps I should have you plain. You’re less fattening that way.”
He munched on the chip, his head tilted to one side. “Do you think we can ever get through a meal without having sex?”
Aha! That sounds like a complaint.
“Doesn’t seem like it.” Letting out a long breath, she shook her head with mock resignation. “You might as well take those jeans off right now.” As she recalled, cock-sucking usually came sometime during the main course...although her memory was rather patchy.
“Maybe I need to ration that, too—along with all the other stuff you find so irresistible.”
Nope, not perfect if he was going to make suggestions like that. Sex with Travis was fabulous, and the best she could tell, it was in no way detrimental to her health. She arched a skeptical brow. “Oh, really?”
He appeared to consider this idea for a moment, then shook his head. “No, that would be too much of a hardship on me. I can live without cookies, but now that I know what it’s like, I don’t have any intention of rationing when it comes to you.” He swallowed the last bite of his hot dog and winked. “Hurry up and finish your lunch. We’ve got better things to do.”
She cocked her head, frowning. “I thought you wanted to watch a movie.”
His lips curled into a seductive grin that sent a flood of heat sluicing down to her pussy, setting her aflame with need. What this man could do to her with one smile was freakin’ scary. “We can do that later. Right now, I want you to sit in my lap.”
“No apple pie?”
He shook his head slowly. “Later.”
Chapter 22
A loud purr from somewhere near his feet drew Travis’s gaze downward to Jade’s iridescent eyes. Her slow blink seemed to indicate approval, which was ridiculous. Yeah, right, like the cat really cares what we do. Still, he couldn’t shake the notion that approval was exactly what she was attempting to convey. With a quick shake of his head, he glanced at Miranda. “You aren’t hearing that cat talk, are you?”
“Not me.” She crossed her heart. Twice. “I’m not crazy. Not so sure about you.”
“I could have sworn…”
She laughed lightly. “Had any recent bumps on the head?”
Frowning, he peered at the cat again. Jade ignored him and began licking her paw. “Not that I recall.”
“That’s how it is with head injuries,” Miranda said with a sage nod. “I could have conked you on the head with a skillet and since my brains are already scrambled, it’s possible that neither of us would remember it.”
“Spooky.”
“No shit.”
The ensuing silence made him wonder if he’d killed the mood. His dick was as stiff as ever, but that was only his perspective. Miranda was much too hard to read—which was one of the things he liked best about her. She kept him guessing.
Picking up a napkin, she wiped her mouth before taking one last sip of her tea. “So where is it I’m supposed to sit?”
Her reply seemed innocent enough, but something in her eyes and the way she licked her lips made his cock twitch and his balls ache.
I am so fucking easy.
“Hmm…” He tapped his chin, trying to tamp down the urge to yank her into his arms and kiss her senseless. He’d certainly be glad when she was a little less…fragile. “We’ve already done the bedroom and the kitchen. The living room is next.”
“Every room, huh? Then what? The deck?”
“Oh, yeah. The deck.” The notion of leaning her over the railing and nailing her from behind like he’d done that morning turned his mouth to dust. Maybe when her ribs are stronger…
She shivered. “Too cold. We’ll have to wait until spring.”
“Not even in a sleeping bag?”
“Maybe. Levi was a Boy Scout, so there might be one around here somewhere, but I have no idea where to look for it. He could probably tell you exactly where it is. His ability to remember where things are is uncanny.”
“I can’t wait to meet him. I mean, aside from the fact that he’s your son, he sounds…interesting.”
“He is that.” She smiled fondly. “I don’t know
anyone who doesn’t like him. He’s such a hoot—his psychiatrist used to ask him when he was going into show biz. Just wish school hadn’t been so hard for him. He can’t read worth a darn, but he can recite dialogue from a favorite movie almost word for word—not a thing wrong with his memory when it’s something he wants to remember.”
“He’s not alone there. My memory can be a bit selective at times too.”
“Like most men,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Levi can tell you the names of the planets backward and forward, but ask him to read a simple sentence and he’ll get so mad the veins pop out in his neck. On the other hand, repetitive tasks don’t bore him the way they do other people. Once he gets in the habit of doing something, you don’t ever have to tell him to do it again. I think that’s one reason why they like him so much at the store.”
“Does he visit you very often?”
“He used to come home every weekend, but lately he’s been staying in town. He said something about a girl named Tabitha needing his help. I’m guessing she’s someone he works with. I’m hoping to see him next weekend, but who knows?”
“Sounds like he might have found himself a girlfriend.”
“If so, it’s a first. He’s cute, and he’s had a few crushes, but so far none of them have returned his affections.”
Travis knew exactly how that felt. Obviously he should’ve been more forthcoming about his own feelings—at least, with respect to Miranda. After mooning over her for so long, he still had a hard time believing he’d actually slept with her. Thank God for flooded barns and freezing rain. “And he’s how old?”
“Almost twenty-three.”
Which meant that, at thirty-six, Travis was only thirteen years older than her son. That fact didn’t deter him in the slightest, but he suspected it might bother Miranda. He caught her watching him, a pensive expression in her eyes and her lower lip caught between her teeth.
“I can almost see the calculations going on in your head.” Her gaze swept over his hair. “Levi is blond too. You could probably pass for brothers.” She paused, running a hand through her own glossy locks. “At least my hair is different enough people won’t automatically assume you’re my son or my younger brother when they see us together.”
Unbridled (Unlikely Lovers) Page 18
