Those Baby Blues

by Sheridon Smythe

  "That would give the girls a head start,” Treet pointed out, poker-faced. “You might as well know now that I hate to lose."

  "I had already figured that one out on my own,” Hadleigh muttered dryly.

  His expression pure innocence, Treet held out his hand. “Shall we, partner?"

  Filled with trepidation and a shameful excitement she couldn't deny, Hadleigh placed her hand in his.

  Bizarre as it sounded, she was going on a turtle hunt with Treet Miller.

  * * * *

  The rooms Treet had assigned to the girls were on the opposite side of the house from the area he and Hadleigh were to search.

  He should be ashamed, but he wasn't; he was enjoying himself too much. Just holding hands with Hadleigh was enough stimulation to roust his libido to raging life, and the possibility of luring her into his bedroom made his mouth go dry with anticipation.

  Hm. Getting her into the dark linen closet might prove interesting, too. It would be just like old times.

  Humming lightly, he led Hadleigh to his office. “We'll look in here, first.” Her relieved look made him chuckle.

  Together, they searched the room. Finding it empty, they went from bedroom to bedroom—three guest rooms in all—until they came to his room at the end of the hall. Caroline's room was across the hall from his.

  Hadleigh lingered in the doorway. Pretending not to notice her reluctance, Treet searched the room by himself. He rose from looking under the bed. “Nothing under there but a black sock and an empty shoe box. Caroline's room is next."

  This time Hadleigh came into the room with him, but spent most of her time looking around. Treet swallowed a lump at the soft, dazed look in her eyes.

  "Does she always keep her room this neat?” she asked in a hushed tone, smoothing the Scooby Do comforter on the bed.

  "Heaven's no. Trudy cleaned it yesterday, and I straightened it today. Normally it's a mess."

  "Samantha isn't happy unless every bare inch of floor is covered in toys and clothes."

  Treet looked under Caroline's bed, inadvertently catching an arousing view of Hadleigh's shapely legs as he bent over. She was standing right beside him—if he was so inclined, he could move a little closer in the pretense of searching, and see what color panties she wore.

  If she wore any at all.

  Hm. Maybe he'd better think of something else, or she'd be noticing something else that was making a swift rise in his jeans. Hastily, he came to his feet and ushered her from the room. “We've searched everywhere but the linen closet."

  The linen closet was a short distance down the hall from his room. He turned the light on and began to search the lower shelves stacked with blankets and pillows. He was pleased to note that Hadleigh was doing the same on the opposite side of the closet where Trudy kept the vacuum cleaner and various other cleaning supplies.

  "How big is this turtle?” Hadleigh asked, gingerly moving a broom aside to look in a shadowy corner.

  "He's about the size of a small pizza, with a greenish-gold shell."

  "That's a big turtle."

  "I've had him since I was a teenager."

  "I didn't realize they could live that long."

  Treet pretended to be hurt by her remark, although he was fairly certain she hadn't realized how he could have taken it. “I'm not that old,” he growled, turning around just in time to see the closet door swing shut.

  He heard whispering on the other side, and then something bumped against the door. He and Hadleigh exchanged a puzzled look as he moved to the door and tried to open it.

  It wouldn't budge. “Caroline?"

  There was the muffled sound of girlish giggles, then silence.

  Hadleigh frowned. “Sam? Is that you?"

  "I think they locked us in,” Treet pointed out, more amused than alarmed. “Deja vu, wouldn't you say?"

  But Hadleigh seemed far from amused. She pounded on the door. “Samantha Leigh, open this door right this instant!"

  Seeing that she was genuinely upset, Treet nudged her aside. “Caroline? Open the door, honey. It was a funny joke, but we'd like to come out now."

  "I'm sure Sam's behind this,” Hadleigh muttered, blowing out an exasperated sigh between her teeth. “Sam! Open this door or you will do without TV for a month!"

  "Caroline's perfectly capable of plotting something like this, so don't be so quick to blame Sam."

  "It's all your fault, Treet."

  Surprised by her sudden attack, Treet held up his hands. “My fault? How is this my fault?"

  "You had to go and bribe her with the knife. Sam doesn't like to lose anymore than you do."

  "How was I supposed to know she's knife happy?"

  "She's not knife happy! It's the thought of doing something grown-ups do that got her attention. It was a bribe, pure and simple."

  Growing a little angry himself, Treet said, “And your threat strategy works better, I suppose?"

  For an answer, Hadleigh simply folded her arms and glared at him. Finally, she said, “If I didn't know better, I'd think you put them up to this."

  "For what purpose?” Treet demanded.

  "To get me into the closet, alone."

  "Hadleigh, you're missing the obvious. I already had you in the closet, and the lock is on the inside."

  "So how did they lock us in?"

  "I'm guessing, but I think they propped a chair under the knob."

  "They're four years old, Treet. They wouldn't know to do that."

  "Caroline would. She goes with me on location, remember? I remember one scene where I lock my wife in the closet the exact same way after finding out she's planning to leave me."

  Hadleigh's eyes rounded in shock. “Surely you don't allow her to sit in on—"

  "Brutal takes her out for ice cream if the scenes get too rough,” Treet informed her defensively.

  "I didn't mean to imply—"

  "You could have fooled me."

  Clamping her lips together, Hadleigh pounded on the door again. “Sam, will you please open the door for Mommy? I—I need to go to the bathroom."

  Silence.

  "Sam? Caroline?"

  "I think they left, but I'm sure they'll be back."

  "If they don't forget about us. They're four years old."

  "It's Brutal's night to patrol the grounds. He checks in every two hours. When I don't answer the intercom, he'll come running with guns blazing."

  "Oh, that's comforting."

  Treet sighed. “It was just an expression."

  "So what do we do in the meantime?"

  He started to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, but one glance at her stony face and he thought better of it. “Guess we just make ourselves comfortable until the girls give up the game or Brutal makes an appearance.” Treet began pulling blankets and pillows from the shelves, making a pile on the carpeted floor. When he was finished, he collapsed against the soft bed, patting the space beside him and hoping to put her at ease.

  When she regarded him warily, Treet flashed her an innocent smile. “I'm not going to pounce on you, Hadleigh, so come here and make yourself comfortable."

  "I think I'll stand."

  "Suit yourself."

  She began to pace the small space between the door and Treet's makeshift chair. “What if they catch something on fire?” she asked, nibbling her nail.

  "I have sprinklers in every room of the house."

  "Of course."

  "There you go with the censure again. Fire prevention isn't just for the wealthy and decadent."

  "I'm not being censurious. I was merely agreeing with you, so stop putting words in my mouth."

  "Sassy woman."

  "And stop calling me that. I'm only sassy around you."

  "I'll take that as a compliment."

  "You would. Has anyone ever told you that you're conceited?"

  She paced too close after that remark. Treet snagged her ankle and toppled her onto the pile of pillows and blankets. With a deft twist of his body, h
e thrust her onto her back and placed an arm on either side, trapping her beneath him.

  "How's this for conceit?” he growled softly, his gaze fixed on her parted lips. “I think you're frightened of being in here with me because you're afraid of the way I make you feel."

  "No. I—"

  Treet kissed her until they were both breathless. He pulled away an inch, staring into her alarmed eyes. “Why do you insist on fighting such a good thing?” His voice became a sex-roughened rumble. “If I make you half as crazy as you make me..."

  "I explained it to you before, Treet,” she whispered, moistening her lips. “I don't think it's a good idea for us to complicate an already complicated situation."

  "How about if we just kiss?"

  "I've heard that line before."

  "It's not a line, it's a promise. I'll leave it entirely up to you to go further than kissing."

  "That's not fair."

  Treet lifted a brow. “So you admit it wouldn't be easy?"

  "No, I don't admit anything!” She gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Treet, you're impossible."

  "I'll take that as a yes,” he whispered, lowering his hungry mouth to hers again.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Nine

  Treet Miller's sex appeal was enormous.

  Enormous enough to make Hadleigh panic. The equally enormous bulge pressing into her hip bone didn't help matters, but it did, however, confirm a naughty rumor she'd once read in a magazine about a certain part of Treet's anatomy.

  Lordy, Lordy.

  As his million dollar mouth settled persuasively on hers, Hadleigh's second absurd thought was that she was glad there hadn't been garlic on the French bread. She wondered if omitting the garlic had been an oversight, or a foresight on Treet's part. Silly! Maybe Caroline just doesn't like garlic, she chided silently as her fingers crept up to tangle in his silky-soft hair. Or maybe he was afraid Samantha wouldn't like garlic.

  This was nothing but a kiss. She had prodded Treet's conquering instincts into play, nothing more, nothing less. So maybe, Hadleigh mused while her tongue dodged his persistent one, the smartest thing to do would be to go along as undoubtedly most women did.

  If she didn't run, maybe Treet wouldn't feel compelled to chase. And if she began to chase, perhaps Treet would do the standard thing and run.

  In a bold move that would have astonished her closest friends had they been observing—Heaven forbid—Hadleigh moaned and pressed her body closer, openly acknowledging his rock-hard arousal. She began to kiss him back as if she were loving it.

  Which, in fact, she was.

  Nope, no need to fake a moan or pretend to be aroused. In fact, she began to pray that her plan worked, and worked fast.

  Before she stopped wanting it to work for her heart's sake.

  What had she gotten herself in to? She didn't want this to stop; she wanted it to go on forever.

  Just the kissing part, because she seriously doubted her over-loaded system could handle much more.

  His mouth was custom-made for kissing, she decided, straining closer despite the warning bells clanging loud and clear inside her head. His hair was made for her fingers, the texture stimulating her skin, the masculine scent teasing her nostrils.

  His taste ... he tasted of temptation and devilry, two indulgences she was certain she had sworn to avoid.

  It was some foggy moments later before Hadleigh fully realized that her plan had backfired, and that she was in the process of getting far more than she had bargained for.

  Treet wasn't retreating. He was advancing, and he was advancing very well.

  She should have known there was nothing standard about Treet Miller. He hadn't gotten on the cover of Star magazine by being standard.

  When Treet broke the kiss, Hadleigh saw her chance to get out of a potentially disastrous situation. Disastrous for her, that is.

  Treet had other ideas. Before she could speak, he placed his warm hand on her knee, then slowly trailed it upwards, gathering the silky folds of her dress along the way. His movements were seductive and arousing.

  Hypnotic and anticipatory.

  Hadleigh sucked in a sharp breath, feeling liquid pool in regions that hadn't seen moisture in quite a while as his hand inched closer to her thigh. She kept her eyes closed tightly—knowing beyond doubt that this was her only defense against Treet.

  Looking into his eyes would seal her fate.

  She felt his breath fan her neck just seconds before his lips seared her heated flesh. Treet's mouth moved down, slowly trailing a path of fire to her quickening chest. At the same instant, his hand against her thigh began to tighten.

  In one smooth, startling move, he shifted her bottom, slid his hand along her leg to her inner knee, and brought her leg up.

  Now she cradled his burning erection, felt the heat of it against that very sensitive part of her that tingled and throbbed. Speaking of throbbing ... Hadleigh could feel him throbbing against her.

  "Lordy,” she whispered, her voice catching in another sharp gasp when he began to rock against her in a sweet, mind-blowing rhythm that had her clutching his shoulders.

  His mouth returned to hers, ending her chance to protest—as if—his lips hotter than ever, his tongue demanding a duel. The low, deep moan that emerged from his throat thrilled Hadleigh to the bone. He continued to rock gently against her, creating a glorious friction between them.

  Her explosion came so quickly she was left stunned and gasping, her fingers gripping his shoulders as if she feared she would drown if she let go. She bit her tongue to keep a betraying moan locked in her throat, praying desperately that he wouldn't realize what had happened—what he'd done.

  Oh, God. She couldn't believe she'd—she'd climaxed in a matter of moments, with nothing more than a kiss and the friction of his erection against her! When she was married to Jim, more often than not she'd gone to sleep unsatisfied after a bout of love-making. She'd always blamed herself ... and eventually Jim had blamed her as well.

  But with Treet ... merciful Heavens!

  Heat swept into her face. She was absolutely mortified.

  Suddenly, Treet grew still. In the silence that followed, their harsh breathing seemed magnified in the small space.

  His husky chuckle came as a shock. “We'd better slow down before ... well, before I embarrass myself."

  Hadleigh opened her eyes, reluctantly meeting his rueful, aroused gaze. She still clutched his shoulders. With an effort, she relaxed her grip and forced a smile, relieved to see that he apparently didn't realize that she had already embarrassed herself. “Yeah, I guess we are acting like teenagers.” If only he knew!

  "Yes. It's good between us, isn't it?” He chuckled again before she could respond. “At least, I think it would be if we weren't lying on a linen closet floor."

  "Don't forget the girls.” She stiffened as he ran an inquisitive finger around the elastic of her panties. His lids drooped seductively.

  "Honey, you can be certain I haven't forgotten the girls. Otherwise ... you wouldn't be wearing these."

  His sheer conceit should have angered her, or at the most disgust her. Instead, Hadleigh found herself laughing helplessly. He was just too cheeky to take seriously, she decided.

  "Boss? You in there?"

  Brutal's muffled voice from the other side of the closet door came as a relief to Hadleigh. She quickly squirmed away from Treet and covered her legs. He glanced at her, his brow on the rise.

  "Yeah, I'm here."

  "She with you?” Brutal asked.

  Treet closed his eyes, his jaw hardening for an instant. When he opened them again, Hadleigh saw nothing but amusement and more than a little exasperation.

  "Yes, Miss Charmaine is with me. Did you find the girls?"

  "They're looking for Bo Bo,” Brutal responded.

  Hadleigh heard the sound of a chair scraping, then the rattling of the doorknob. Brutal appeared in the doorway, his gaze landing briefly on her before he focu
sed on his boss. He stared at him hard as if to assure himself that Treet was unharmed.

  "Caroline lock you in here?"

  "She had help,” Hadleigh said quickly. She accepted Treet's hand and got to her feet. Brushing at her crumpled dress, she added with renewed irritation, “In fact, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if this wasn't Sam's idea."

  "Don't be so hard on her."

  Treet's rebuke skittered across her sensitive nerves like nails on a chalkboard. “Don't underestimate Sam, Treet. I wouldn't trade her—” She stopped abruptly, swallowed hard, and started again. “I love her, but I know her faults."

  "Aren't you underestimating Caroline by assuming this wasn't her idea?” Treet challenged, folding his arms across his chest. Brutal remained in the doorway, his interested gaze bouncing from one to the other.

  "I wasn't underestimating Caroline, just stating a fact. Sam is notorious for pulling stunts like this."

  "I don't think they meant any harm."

  "Nevertheless, she needs to be taught that she can't go around locking people in closets. Someone might get hurt."

  Or seduced.

  "Maybe she does it to get attention."

  Hadleigh bristled at Treet's seemingly innocent implication. “Believe you me, she gets plenty of attention."

  "I didn't mean—"

  "Anyone want a drink?” Brutal inserted loudly.

  "No, thank you.” Hadleigh thrust her chin out, ignoring Treet, although she felt him watching her. “I don't drink and drive.” Deliberately, she looked at Treet as she added, “And I don't ignore my child. Since you're so convinced that Caroline played a part in this little game of lock up Mommy and Daddy, maybe you should ask yourself why she did it."

  "I've already explained to you why Caroline did it."

  Lifting a disbelieving brow, Hadleigh said, “Because she watched Behind Closed Doors?"

  "Ah-ha! You do watch my movies."

  She itched to wipe that smug grin from his face. “I never said that I didn't."

  The patter of little feet coming along the hall effectively ended their ridiculous argument. Looking startled, Brutal stepped hastily aside as Caroline barreled past him and into Treet's arms.

  "Daddy!” she wailed, tears streaming down her face. “Tell Sam she doesn't die!"