Show & Tell

by Rhonda Nelson

  While she’d been critiquing his kiss.

  Knox had never anticipated being attracted to her and had known that she wasn’t attracted to him, had chosen her for that particular reason. But having the knowledge confirmed in such a humiliating fashion wasn’t an easy pill to swallow. Particularly since he’d all but devoured her and had made such a horny ass out of himself. Jesus. After that lusty display, there couldn’t be one shred of doubt in her mind about how he’d reacted to her. How hot he’d been for her.

  All due to a simple kiss she hadn’t even enjoyed.

  Simmering with indignation once more, Knox cast a sidelong glance at the object of his present irritation. Savannah’s cheeks were a little pink—obviously embarrassed by his zealous response to their “test”—but aside from that, she appeared completely composed. She absently nibbled a cracker, her perceptive gaze roaming around the room people-watching, presumably looking for fodder for their story.

  Which was exactly what he should be doing, Knox realized with an angry start. He mentally snorted. Undoubtedly she was already forming an angle, had already thought of an intro to their piece. Well, he’d have the most input, thank you very much. This story had been his brainchild, and if there had been any way he could have done it without her, he would have. And he wished he could have. They’d scarcely begun this damned workshop and already he’d become too distracted by the supposedly undistracting female he’d brought with him.

  How screwed up was that?

  “I hope you don’t plan to pout the entire afternoon,” Savannah said with a sardonic smile. “Honestly, Knox, it was only a small criticism. Surely that enormous ego of yours can take one minor unflattering assessment.”

  Ignoring a surge of irritation, Knox mentally counted to three, then arranged his face into its typically amiable expression. “Pout?”

  Her eyes narrowed, clearly seeing through his innocent look. “Yes, pout. You’ve been glowering at the room at large for the past five minutes. Jeez, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” She neatly bit the end off a stalk of celery. Her lips twitched. “Frankly, I wasn’t aware that you had any.”

  Ah…back to familiar ground. Knox forced a smile, affected a negligent shrug, though he longed to wrap his hands around her throat and throttle her. He’d learned to appreciate her acidic sarcasm, but right now he wasn’t in the proper humor to applaud her clever witticisms. He ignored her last comment and decided a change of subject was in order.

  “So, what’s your initial impression of the Sheas?” Knox asked.

  Savannah winced, wiped a bit of salad dressing from the corner of her luscious lips. “They’re what I expected…but then again they’re not.” She paused consideringly. “I don’t know. It’ll take more than a welcome speech for me to make an accurate assessment.”

  “I didn’t ask for an accurate assessment. I asked for an initial impression.”

  “There’s a difference?”

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  “What is it?”

  She had to be the most infuriating female he’d ever met. “Stop being difficult and answer the question.”

  Seemingly resigned, Savannah blew out a breath. “They were impressive, Knox,” she admitted reluctantly. “If I was like these people, desperately looking for a way to better my relationship with a significant other, my husband, or simply needing a little show-and-tell to jump-start my sex life, I’d like them. They seemed genuine.”

  Secretly he agreed. Hokey togas aside, the Sheas seemed to share some secret something. Something the rest of the room lacked, or wasn’t privy to. Still…“‘Seemed’ is the key word.”

  “I know.” Savannah discarded her empty plate and dusted her hands. “So what’s next on the agenda?”

  Knox stacked his empty plate on top of hers. “We pick up our registration packets.”

  She nodded. “Then let’s do it. I want a chance to go over everything before our first class starts.”

  Still feeling a little put out, Knox followed Savannah from the large common room and into the hall where the registration table had been set up. Several couples had been equally eager to start and Knox recognized the one in front of them with a little wince of dread—the masturbator and his wife.

  Savannah’s steps slowed. “Is that who I think—”

  “Yes, it is,” Knox hissed through a false smile as the couple in question turned with bright grins to greet them.

  “Hi,” the wife enthused. “Knox and Barbie, right? We’re the Cummings. I’m Marge and this is my husband, Chuck.” With a roll of her eyes, she jabbed her husband in the side. “Jeez, Chuck, where are your manners? Shake Knox’s hand.”

  Knox felt his frozen smile falter and his gaze dropped to Chuck’s outstretched hand with a paralyzing dread.

  Beside him, Savannah covered her mouth with her hand and quickly morphed a chuckle into a convincing cough. He’d kill her when this was over with, Knox decided. He’d simply wring her neck.

  The silence lengthened past the comfortable and Knox was resignedly readying his hand for the shake when Marge chirped “Gotcha!” amid a stream of high-pitched staccato laughter. The laugh went on and on and had the effect of fingernails on a chalk-board.

  Chuck, too, was caught up in a fit of hilarity. His beefy face turned beet-red and, wheezing laughter, he pointed at Knox. “Man, if you could have seen your face! Oh, Marge, that was priceless. Utterly priceless. The best one yet.”

  Marge’s laughter tittered out and she wiped her streaming eyes. “It’s a little joke we like to pull,” she confided, as though this whole scene was perfectly normal. “Everyone knows Chuck’s a chronic masturbator—hell, I had to pry his hand away from his groin during your kiss a little while ago—so no one ever wants to shake his hand. Ever,” she added meaningfully. “I mean, who would, knowing where it’s been, right?” She and Chuck shared a secret smile. “So we like to pull a little prank with it. We’ve gotten a variety of reactions, but yours was by far the best we’ve seen in a long time. You looked like he’d whipped out his poor overworked penis and asked you to shake it.”

  Marge and Chuck dissolved into fits of whooping laughter once more.

  Savannah, of course, was observing the whole scenario as he would expect—tickled to death at his expense. Her pale blue eyes glittered with barely restrained laughter. Knox could tell she was on the verge of pulling a Marge and he cast her one long, pointed look to dissuade her. Hadn’t she ever heard of loyalty? She was supposed to be his wife, dammit, and should be outraged on his behalf. Not quivering with amusement over his immense discomfort.

  Knox decided this was the point where he was supposed to laugh and managed to push a weak little ha-ha from his throat. It was exceedingly difficult, considering he longed to plant his fist through a wall. Or possibly Chuck’s face.

  “FYI, he’s left-handed,” Marge shared with another maddening little smile. “You could have shaken it without a thing to worry about.”

  Knox forced his lips into a smile. Thankfully, Marge and Chuck’s turn at the registration table came, sparing him a reply.

  “Well,” Savannah whispered through her curling lips, “that was certainly interesting.”

  Knox felt a muscle jump in his jaw. “You think?”

  “Funny, too.”

  “I’m glad you were amused,” Knox ground out.

  “Marge was right,” she went on to his supreme annoyance. She rocked back on her heels. “The look on your face was priceless. I wish I’d had a camera.”

  Knox smirked. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you, Savannah?”

  She aimed a smugly beautiful smile in his direction, clasped her hands behind her back and batted her lashes shamelessly. “Yes. Yes, I am.” She sighed. “After what you pulled with Chapman, can you really blame me?”

  Knox exhaled wearily. He supposed not, and reluctantly admitted as much. “Still,” he told her. “Gloating does not become you. Enough already, Savannah. We’ve got a job to do,” he
reminded her pointedly, as much for his own benefit as hers. Focus, Knox told himself. The big picture. He needed to push the kiss and the masturbator encounter out of his mind and keep the ultimate goal in sight—the story.

  “I know that,” she snapped, clearly perturbed at the reminder. “Believe me, that’s the only reason I’m here—for the story. Let’s just register and go back to our room. I want to prepare for this class.” She chuckled darkly. “And let’s pray there aren’t any more surprise tests.”

  Damn right, Knox thought. At the moment, he wasn’t up for another failing grade from “Barbie.”

  AS SOON AS THEY RETURNED to their room, Savannah made a beeline for the bathroom. She needed a few moments alone—just a few precious seconds away from Knox’s distracting company to regroup and pull herself together. Once behind the closed door, she blew out a pent-up breath, then ran the tap and splashed cold water on her face. It felt cool and refreshing and helped alleviate some of the tension tightening her neck and shoulders.

  Her muscles had atrophied with stress after The Kiss.

  Sure, she’d managed to put on a good enough show, had forced herself to appear cool and unaffected when the truth of the matter had been that Knox’s kiss had all but melted her bones. When his talented mouth had touched hers…

  Mercy.

  Remembered heat sent a coil of longing swirling through the pit of her belly. Her nipples tightened and a familiar but woefully missed warmth weighted her core.

  She’d known—hadn’t she?—that he would be utterly amazing. Her every instinct had told her so, just as every instinct had warned her against him. She’d managed to undermine his self-confidence this time, managed to miraculously pull off a grand performance, but he’d undoubtedly see through her if anything like that happened between them again.

  Though she hadn’t yet had a chance to go through the curriculum, Savannah nonetheless knew that the kiss was just the beginning of what the workshop would entail. She and Knox would be called upon to do much more than kiss. The success of the Sheas’ workshop depended upon it.

  She wished that she and Knox could keep up the ruse without having to participate physically in class, and the wishing, she knew, was an act of futility. They would have to participate to some extent in class, otherwise they’d call attention to themselves, or, worse still, would lead the Sheas to believe they needed more intensive therapy.

  Savannah shuddered. Neither scenario inspired confidence.

  Irritation rose. Savannah ground her teeth and resisted the urge to beat her head against the door. This was precisely why she didn’t want to be here, she inwardly fumed. Savannah knew her limits, knew her shortcomings and knew what sort of effect Knox Webber had on her libido. Attending a sex workshop with him was like waving a joint in front of a pot-head.

  Knox would be addictive to her and the addiction could only lead to heartache—hers.

  She simply wouldn’t allow it.

  Chapman had forced her hand by making her attend. Despite her misgivings, Savannah would do her job and write a great story—and she’d do all that the task entailed, including being an objective participant in this godforsaken workshop—she was a professional, after all. But she would not let it become personal.

  She wouldn’t.

  Seeing as sex was about as personal as it got, Savannah wasn’t exactly sure what her heartfelt affirmation meant, but it made her feel better and she’d use any means available to shore up her waning confidence.

  A tentative knock sounded at the door, startling her.

  “Savannah…you all right in there?”

  “Y-yes, of course.” Savannah flushed the commode for appearance’s sake, drew in a deep bolstering breath and smoothed her hair behind her ears.

  “I, uh, wouldn’t bother you, but I need to change and, frankly, I’ve gotta go.”

  Frowning, Savannah opened the door. “Change?” she asked. “Change for what?”

  Knox had tossed a long white garment over his shoulder. It looked suspiciously like the same sort of costume the Sheas wore.

  “For class,” he told her. “We have to wear a kurta. I’m going to feel like a complete moron,” he confided with an endearing, self-conscious smile, “but they’re mandatory. I laid yours on the bed.”

  Good grief, Savannah thought, wondering what other little surprises would be in store for this weekend. She sighed heavily and massaged the bridge of her nose. “A what?”

  “A kurta. It’s an Indian gown.”

  Savannah eyed the getup warily. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Nope…and it gets worse.”

  The hesitation in Knox’s voice alerted her more than the actual words he’d said. “Worse?”

  He winced regretfully. “Yeah—no undergarments. And no shoes.”

  Savannah blinked, flabbergasted. She was supposed to walk around naked under a toga? “No undergarments?” she repeated blankly, certain that she’d misunderstood him.

  He tunneled his fingers through his hair, mussing up the wavy brown locks. “Yeah, I’m afraid so. It’s to promote chakra healing, and, of course, the symbolic message of no boundaries.”

  And easy access, Savannah thought, for those graphic hands-on demonstrations. Her mouth parched and dread ballooned in her chest.

  “Uh, if you’re finished in there…” Knox reminded her.

  Belatedly Savannah realized she still stood in the threshold of the bathroom. “Oh, sure. Sorry,” she mumbled, hastily moving out of his way.

  “I’ve had a quick look through the itinerary for the weekend,” Knox called through the door. “After you get dressed, you might want to flip through it.”

  “I plan to,” Savannah murmured absently as she picked up the long, white gown. The cool, soft cotton material smelled of fresh air. It had probably been line-dried, Savannah decided, not tossed into an industrial-sized appliance. Still, knowing that she’d be walking around buck naked underneath the almost see-through fabric quickly dispelled any pleasant musings.

  Oh, hell. Knox would be out of the bathroom soon, so unless she wanted to do a little striptease for him, she’d best change before he came out. Savannah hurriedly removed her shoes, pantsuit, bra and undies, then picked up the gown and pulled it over her head. The fabric settled on her shoulders lightly, whispered over her body and came to rest just above her ankles. It felt surprisingly…good. Wicked even, if she were honest. Something about the way the garment caressed her body made her feel beautiful, free and sexy. She particularly liked the way the material felt against her bare breasts and rump.

  “Are you dressed yet?” Knox called.

  Savannah scrambled up onto the bed, put her back against the headboard and settled a pillow over her lap. She grabbed the handbook and made herself look studious and calm. It took a tremendous amount of effort.

  “Uh…yeah,” she finally managed.

  Knox exited the bathroom. He’d obviously brushed his hair, as the brown waves were once more smoothed back into place. His lips were curled into an almost bashful, self-deprecating grin and those incredibly lean cheeks were washed in an uncharacteristic pink. He’d folded his clothes and had tucked them up under his arm. A curious emotion swelled in Savannah’s chest.

  Knox gestured to the kurta. “I don’t think that I’ve ever felt more emasculated in my life. If I’d known that wearing a damned dress with no drawers on underneath would be a mandatory part of this workshop, I simply would have said to hell with the story and found something else to write about.”

  Well, Savannah thought, as every drop of moisture evaporated from her mouth, he might feel emasculated, but he definitely didn’t look emasculated.

  In fact, if he looked any less emasculated, he’d be X-rated. She could clearly see through the fabric, and the impressive bulge beneath indicated that Knox Webber was, without question, the most unemasculated man she’d ever seen—and he wasn’t even hard. Fascinated, she swallowed. That was just…him. Just�
�there. All him.

  Sweet heaven.

  Every cell in her body was hammeringly aware that less than five feet from where she sat stood the most incredibly sexy, most generously endowed man she’d ever seen in her life. She instantly imagined him out of the kurta and sprawled on the bed next to her. Her blood thickened and desire sparked other fantasies, so she took her wicked illusion to the next level and imagined herself sinking slowly onto the hot, hard length of him. Sweet mother of heaven…

  Savannah bit her lip, fully engrossed in the picture her wayward imagination had conjured. Up until now she’d always been preoccupied with his ass—he had an amazing ass, after all—but Savannah grimly suspected that fixation had just been replaced with another. Honestly, how did he make all of that fit in—

  “What about you? Do you feel ridiculous?” Knox asked.

  Savannah blinked drunkenly and then, feeling stupid and ashamed, recovered the next instant. “Er, yes. Yes, I do.”

  Knox paused to look at her. A line emerged between his brows. “You’re acting weird. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” She manufactured a smile and thumped the booklet that lay in her lap. “Just thinking about some of the names for these classes.”

  Seemingly satisfied, Knox smiled knowingly. “You mean like Love His Lingam, Rejuvenate His Root?”

  Savannah laughed. “Yeah. And Sacred Goddess Stimulation.”

  Thank God those classes would come later, Savannah thought. They got to learn all about their chakras first with Beginning Tantra, Energetic Healing.

  “So, what do you say?” Knox asked. “Ready to go get your chakras aligned?”

  Savannah heaved a put-upon sigh. “Honestly, Knox. This isn’t like the front end of your car. You’re not getting anything aligned. Haven’t you done your homework? You’re getting unblocked.” Savannah slid from the bed and gathered her things.

  “Getting what unblocked?”

  A sly smile curled her lips. “Well, for starters, your ass.”