An oversized, cover-everything-up University of Texas T-shirt. The sleeves hung all the way to her elbows. The hem dropped several inches below her knees.
His gaze roamed from her head to her toes and back up again. So much for his dress for sexcess theory. She looked more comfortable than sexy. At the same time, there was just something about the sparkle in her eyes and the way her hair looked mussed, as if she'd just rolled out of bed, that made him think about tumbling her right back in.
He shook away the thought and lifted the can of varnish. “I'm ready to finish up.”
“Great.” She stepped back and let him step inside. The door creaked shut and his footsteps echoed as he walked into the den and over to the unfinished bookshelf.
“It's looking really good.”
“Give me another hour, and it'll be finished.”
“An hour? That's all you have left?”
“Maybe two. It depends on how well the wood soaks up the stain.” He popped the lid on the stain and grabbed a paint stick to stir the rich mahogany color. Silence settled around him and he realized that she wasn't going to say anything.
Or do anything.
A wave of disappointment rolled through him, followed by a short rush of relief.
“The varnish goes on quick,” he told her, eager to fill the silence and keep his mind fixed on the bookshelf in front of him rather than the woman standing somewhere behind. “But it needs to sit awhile. Make sure you give it plenty of time to dry before you touch it.”
“No touching.” Her voice sounded like it was coming from near the doorway that separated the den from the foyer. There was an unsteadiness to her tone. As if she couldn't quite make up her mind whether to follow him inside.
He was reading too much into everything. She'd given up. Plain and simple.
“Even when it's dry, you want to give it a wide berth for at least thirty-six to forty-eight hours,” he went on, eager to keep his mind from wondering about why she'd finally called it quits. That would open a whole new can of worms, particularly since the obvious—she just wasn't interested anymore—bothered him a lot more than he wanted to admit. “Just to make sure the varnish is completely set.”
“Completely.” She was just to his left now, a few steps away from the doorway, as if she'd come to some important decision and it was just a matter of following it through. The hardwood floor squeaked as she stepped forward.
Give it a rest, man, a voice whispered. You're imagination's definitely working overtime.
His fingers tightened on the stir stick as he set it aside and reached for the varnish rag.
“And don't go putting anything heavy on the shelves,” he went on, “because that will scratch the wood or worse, dent it.”
“Forget the heavy objects.” She was even closer now. Maybe an arm's length away, should he turn and reach for her.
Which he wasn't even close to doing. He was all business, his guard firmly in place, his mind made up.
“And don't use any water-based polishes. Use a natural oil that's good for wood.”
“Natural's better.” She was behind him now.
“And make sure you use it on a regular basis,” he said as he got to his feet. Okay, so he was going to turn. But not because he'd changed his mind and had decided to reach for her. He just didn't like talking over his shoulder. “Otherwise your wood will dull.”
She was directly behind him, all right, he realized as he turned to face her.
And she was naked.
Chapter Twenty-One
I’m naked,” Xandra pointed out when Beau simply stood there.
Looking.
His gaze roved over her once, twice. The third time was a leisurely trek that made her heart pound even faster and her nipples stand up and beg for more.
While looking was definitely good, especially judging by the frantic tic of his jaw and the heat that blazed in his eyes, she'd expected a little more action.
“Naked,” she went on. “Standing here totally au naturel. Not a stitch on.”
“I know.”
I know? She shook her head and ignored the urge to scream her frustration. “So what are you going to do about it?”
He looked at her for another few frantic heartbeats. Indecision glittered in his violet eyes before his mouth drew into a thin line. He peeled his T-shirt over his head and handed it to her.
“Thanks, but that's not what I had in mind.” She clutched the soft cotton and the warm musky scent of him filled her nostrils. “Though it is a very nice gesture if I happened to be naked by accident. But I'm not.” When he didn't look any more ready to jump her bones, she added, “I'm naked on purpose. For you. I thought you might like it.”
“I…” He swallowed and she could see him grappling for control. His fingers balled and he frowned. “I do,” he told her, but he didn't look all that pleased about the admission. “But I don't think—”
Her fingertips went to his lips, silencing the rest of his words. “Don't think. Not tonight.” And then she did what she'd been waiting for him to do—she kissed him.
Despite the fact that he'd been this close to turning her down, his lips were warm and welcoming.
He quickly took the lead, plunging his tongue into her mouth, stroking and caressing in a thorough kiss that had her breathless and shaking in a matter of seconds.
You're naked, a voice whispered. Of course you're shaking. The air conditioner is blasting full force.
The funny thing was, she felt hot at the same time. Hot and cold. Her skin itchy and tight. Goosebumps chased up and down her arms but they had nothing to do with the cool air rushing from the overhead vent and everything to do with the hand that slid around her waist to the small of her back to pull her closer.
The worn denim of his jeans rubbed against her tender flesh as he wrapped his arms around her. His hands stroked up and down her back, his fingers playing the grooves of her spine.
His hands slid down to cup her buttocks and rock her against the erection pressing tight beneath his jeans. Electricity sizzled along her nerve endings, making her head buzz and her heart race.
She slid her arms down his shoulders, feeling his skin against her own. His chest was hard and solid. The crisp swirls of hair created a delicious friction against her ripe nipples as she inched closer to feel more of him.
His arms tightened. He kneaded her buttocks and wetness flooded between her legs.
“I need to touch you,” he murmured as his hand came around and slid between them. His fingers slid over the now bare V area between her legs and down. The rough pad of his finger moved over the soft swollen tissue and she gasped.
He caught the sound with his lips, claiming her in another kiss that took her breath away while his finger slid lower. He pushed into her just a fraction. Sensation rushed through her and her fingers curled into the dark hair at the nape of his neck. She whimpered, wanting more, needing it more than her next breath.
He gave it to her, pushing all the way inside in a swift motion that made her cry out.
He kissed her again, but his lips couldn't drown out the steady whine that filled her ears. Whine? It was more like a beep. A persistent beep, beep, beep that sent a rush of disappointment through her. He went stock still and the spell that had surrounded them suddenly vanished.
“Ignore it,” she begged as she pressed her lips to his again, determined to recapture the moment.
But it was too late. His hands came up and he pushed her away from him. He reached for his beeper and killed the noise as he glanced at the number on the display.
“Is it an emergency?” she asked.
“It's Annabelle calling from the office.” He ran a hand through his hair. Muscles rippled and need tightened inside her. “I've got to go.”
“Can't you just call her and tell her you're busy?”
“I'll call her once I'm on the road.”
“Call her now and deal with it from here. Stay. Please.”
He shook his h
ead. “I can't.”
“You mean you won't, even though I'm naked.”
“I can't because you're naked.” He shook his head. “Shit, I can't believe this.”
She had the fleeting thought that he was more upset about being interrupted than about the fact that she'd tempted him beyond reason.
Crazy. He obviously didn't want her. She was naked, for heaven's sake, yet here he was pulling away and heading for the door, minus his shirt. As if he couldn't wait to get away from her.
It wasn't going to happen. Not tonight. Not ever.
The realization hit her as she watched him reach for the doorknob. Good riddance, she told herself. She didn't need the aggravation. She had fairly decent data from Kimmy. Enough to know that Wild Woman was on the right track with Mabel. She didn't need to waste her time with an infuriating, irritating, frustrating man like Beau Hollister.
And she certainly didn't need to cry over him.
Crying? Get real. She wasn't crying. She never cried. Crying made her face puffy, and that was the last thing she needed. But tears burned the back of her eyes and she blinked, which only made the blasted things run over. She wiped frantically as her vision blurred and she grappled for his discarded shirt.
“Shit,” came the deep voice, and she knew he'd seen her. “Just my friggin'luck.”
“You said it.” She held the shirt up and tucked the edges around her. She'd left her own oversized T-shirt in a puddle in the far corner.
“You're crying.”
“I think I've got something in my eye.”
He sighed, the sound a deep rush of surrender as he shut the door and turned toward her. “You're crying.”
“Okay, so I'm crying. Big deal.”
“Why?”
“Because I feel like it.”
“Why?”
“Because…Because I'm frustrated and crying helps me release that frustration.” She shook her head. “I've tried everything on you and nothing worked. I tried to wow your taste buds with chocolate, then I made all that food, complete with steak, which most men like, but you still managed to walk away.” She sniffled. “Because I'm not the hottest, bustiest, best-looking babe in the jungle.” Her vision blurred and she blinked frantically. “It's me, isn't it?”
“Damn straight, it's you,” came the deep voice.
Her chest tightened and the tears spilled over. “Thanks a lot.” She wiped frantically at her face before giving him the evil eye.
“You asked.” Beau shrugged before his gaze met hers. “It is you.”
“You're just not turned on, even though I've changed.” she sniffled. “I mean, I'm far from skinny, but I'm certainly not as big as I was. But I might as well be because you can't get past that one night. You still see me as the awkward fat chick who put the moves on you because you weren't turned on enough to put the moves on her.”
“I was scared.”
“You're making me feel so much better. Why don't you just come out and say it? You don't like fat women.”
“I don't.”
“I knew it.”
“But you're not fat. You're curvy and voluptuous and sexy. Damned sexy.”
“The whole Sadie Hawkins thing was just a mercy date—What did you say?”
“I said that you're sexy.” He shook his head. “Sexy as hell, which is just my rotten luck.”
She eyed him. “If that's true, then why are we talking right now instead of having sex?”
He shook his head and ran a hand over his face. “You're distracting, Xandra.”
“I won't be a distraction. You and me. Tonight. That's it.”
“I should be so lucky.” He shook his head. “I really need to go, but it's not because you don't do it for me. You're a beautiful woman and I do want you.”
“Prove it.”
He grabbed her hand and touched it to his crotch. “I'm about to explode right now and it's all because of you. You're hot and sexy and you look better naked than any woman I've ever seen in my life.”
“Really?” She sniffled and tucked the edges of the shirt up under her arms.
He stared at her long and hard before reaching out and wiping a tear that slid from the corner of her eye. “Really,” he growled before touching his lips to hers.
The kiss was hot and wet and probing, and it ended all too quickly.
“I need to leave. If I stay any longer I'm liable to take you right here, right now, and I have a feeling that would be an even bigger mistake than the first time.” And then he turned and walked out so fast that he forgot his shirt, which she clutched tightly to her chest.
Xandra leaned back against the wall and tried to calm her pounding heart. Pounding because he was telling the truth.
He was attracted to her.
She'd felt it in his kiss, in the fierce way he'd held her close and devoured her for those few delicious moments.
But even more, she'd seen the desire gleaming in his eyes. And the sincerity.
He wanted her.
But he didn't want to want her, and it wasn't because he didn't believe a woman couldn't sleep with a man without getting ideas about the morning after. He hadn't sworn off women in general. He'd sworn off her.
Because she'd been such a dud the first time herself?
Before she could worry over the question, a knock sounded at the door. Her gaze went to the shirt she clutched in front of her.
Her heart started to race and her mind started working. She pushed to her feet and started for the door. Her lips tingled and her body ached and her mind reeled with the knowledge that he'd barely managed to stop.
If he saw her naked again, maybe he wouldn't be able to stop. And maybe there wouldn't be a beeper to save him this time.
Xandra held tight to the hope and tossed the T-shirt aside. Wearing nothing but a smile, she hauled open the door.
Jacqueline Farrel had seen her youngest daughter naked more times than she could count. Of course, all those times had occurred when Xandra was under the age of ten. Most had involved bath time. Or getting dressed for school in the morning. And there'd been that one time her older sisters had dared her to run naked through the sprinklers, claiming that was the only way six-year-olds could gain entrance into their sacred tree house club.
And the only man who'd ever been in the vicinity during Xandra's naked past had been Donovan. He'd given his fair share of baths and helped with the school rush every morning. He'd even been the one to toss a towel over her that time in the yard, snatch her up, and deposit her in the house before giving the other two girls a talking to about coercion.
The thought of Donovan sent a bolt of panic through her and reminded her why she'd given the slowpoke cab driver an extra fifty to get her to Xandra's as quickly as possible.
“I need to use your phone, dear. My cell isn't working.” Jacqueline had been right in the middle of a conversation with Alexis when the blasted thing had conked out. Actually, it had been more of a message relay than an actual conversation. Alexis had called to tell her that Donovan had called—he couldn't reach Jacqueline's cell because of the service disruption—and said he needed to talk with her ASAP over an urgent matter.
“Urgent” as in emergency. As in one of the girls—with the exception of Xandra who stood healthy as ever right in front of her—could be injured. Or her mother could be sick. Or Donovan himself could be stretched out in a ditch somewhere, hurt and bleeding and desperate for her help.
“I have to call your father.” She pushed inside the house, deposited her suitcases on the floor in the foyer, and rushed into the den.
“It's in the kitchen,” Xandra said as she grabbed the T-shirt off the floor.
“I have his number on speed dial.” Xandra struggled into the T-shirt as she followed.
“Do you have my L.A. number programmed in?”
“Dad's at your apartment?”
“For the past few weeks,” Jacqueline replied as she retrieved the phone from the wall hook. She punched the three that Xandr
a indicated and held the receiver. The first ring echoed in her ear. “He thinks we need to spend more time together.” Rrring. “Of all the crazy, absurd notions.” Rrring. “We already see each other on a regular basis as it is and—” Her words stumbled to a halt as a click sounded on the other end and her answering machine picked up.
At least she thought it was her answering machine, but instead of her own voice, she heard a man's deep, familiar voice drift over the line.
“Greetings. You've reached Donovan and Jacqueline. We're not home right now, but if you leave your name and number, we'll be sure to get back with you. And if this is Jacqueline, the emergency is that I miss you, darling, and I'm counting the minutes until you get home. Give Xandra my love and hurry back. You know what to do at the beep…” Beep.
Shock gripped Jacqueline as she tried to digest what she'd just heard. A message, but not her message. This had been a new message. A we message.
She shook her head. She had to be hearing things. She punched the button. Just to be sure that Xandra had the right number programmed, she dialed it again. The message played back and her shock faded into a wave of anger.
“This is Jacqueline Farrel,” she ground out after the beep. “And I do not appreciate—”
“Hi, darling.” Donovan's voice floated over the line as he picked up the other end.
“Don't darling me, you lying, manipulating, son-of-a-male-slave-driver—”
“I miss you, too, darling, and my father isn't a slave driver. My mother's the slave driver. My dad simply obeys.”
“Obviously you didn't take after him.” Accusation filled her voice. “You changed my message.”
“No, I didn't.”
“Yes, you did. I just heard it with my own ears.”
“That wasn't your message, love. See, since I live here and you live here, it makes it our message. Therefore, I thought it should reflect us.”
Sometimes Naughty, Sometimes Nice Page 21
