by Lori Foster
But he was so damn big, so imposing, that he might as well have been lying atop her, because she felt him that much.
Her lungs constricted, but she sounded reasonable enough when she said, “For your information, going fast was working for me.”
Bending his knees a little, Gregor lowered himself enough to look her in the eyes. “Yeah?”
“It was working too well.” She touched his chest; she couldn’t help herself. “That’s what got to me.”
He put his hand over hers and started breathing heavier again. “Could you maybe explain that?”
Jacki took a turn at groaning. “Tell you what. Why don’t we swim a little, maybe give you a chance to cool off. You can clear your head and then we’ll talk.”
She felt his skepticism before he said, “Dream on, darlin’. Alaska couldn’t cool me off right now.”
“Let’s try it anyway.” And with that, Jacki turned and made a sleek dive into the darkness of the pool. The tepid water closed over her, caressing places already sensitized by Gregor’s attention. When she broke the surface, he was there, grinning at her.
“Hi.” He chuckled at her surprise. “You swim like a snail.”
Such a big loveable lug…Loveable? Jackie slicked back her wet hair. “Better?”
“Not a smidge.” He tread water easily. “C’mere.”
Dangerous. “Why?”
“I wanna touch you.”
She shouldn’t…“Okay.”
The second she reached him, he closed his mouth over hers. This kiss proved softer, less invasive—but just as pleasurable. It lulled her. And it didn’t take Jacki but a minute to realize he supported her weight in the water.
Lifting heavy eyelids, Jacki saw that he’d eased them to the shallower end of the pool without her noticing. With his legs so much longer than hers, he stood on the bottom when she couldn’t.
“I didn’t mean to rush you before.”
He said that so sweetly, Jacki forgave his cracks about women in general. “It’s okay.”
“And if I compared you to other women, then that was just stupid.”
“I agree.”
“You’re sure as hell different enough.”
“Uh…thank you. I think.”
“Different is good.” His hands settled on her waist. “I took one look at you and felt like I do when gettin’ choked out. All blurry and weak in the knees—but determined, too.”
That made her smile. “Have you been choked out very often?”
“Nah. I’m pretty good. Not on Havoc’s scale, yet. But I’m gettin’ there.”
Jacki pushed back from him. Her brother again? If this was another ploy to get a match with Dean, she’d drown Gregor. “I do not—”
“Yeah.” He snuggled her right back up close to his body. “I don’t want to talk about him, either.”
She would have protested that, but Gregor kissed her again, more with need than finesse, and damn, she loved it.
Everything about him excited her unbearably.
When she wrapped her arms around his neck, he grew bolder, gliding his fingers over her hip.
Mouth still lingering on hers, he whispered, “This tattoo makes me hot.”
“Really?”
“Thinkin’ of you gettin’ it, how you probably squirmed, and how you’ll squirm some more when I’m kissin’ you right there….”
Oh God. “It’s…it’s a pretty tattoo. Not a sexy one.”
“You’re pretty.” He drugged her with kisses, all the while trailing his fingers gently over her skin. “And sexy.”
“Gregor…”
His fingertips teased over the crotch of her bikini bottoms, shocking her, thrilling her.
He groaned for her. “Damn, sugar. Tell me you’re ready, please. Before I explode.”
Jacki wanted to retreat before she embarrassed herself. And she wanted to wrap her legs around him and beg him not to stop.
All she could do was shake her head.
“No?” His mouth left a damp trail along her jaw to her throat to her ear. In a disappointed whisper, he asked, “Not yet, huh?”
She felt like a fool. “I want you, Gregor. I really do.”
“But?”
Jacki licked her lips and prayed he wouldn’t laugh at her. “I’m a virgin.”
He didn’t laugh.
He scoffed.
Smiling at her, one hand tangling in her hair, he teased her, saying, “Okay, then. Whatever you say, baby. I’m game.”
Her blood went cold. “Game?”
“Whatever turns you on.” He kissed her—and didn’t notice that she remained frozen and stiff. “Should I coax these skimpy bottoms off you then?”
She felt like screaming. Her voice, however, was calm to the point of being frigid. “You can get your hands off me, that’s what you can do.”
Out of sheer confusion, Gregor released her.
Angry, hurt, and mortified, Jacki paddled fast and hard to the edge of the pool and climbed out.
“Jacki?” She heard him thrashing through the water, belatedly coming after her.
She whirled back toward him, thankful for the darkness so he couldn’t see her tears, and she couldn’t see his surprise, maybe even his hilarity. “Do you really think I’d lie about it, you big jerk?”
He stunned her by flattening his hands on the edge of the pool and vaulting straight out.
Jacki backed up, but in two long strides Gregor stood in front of her. “It doesn’t matter to me.”
“What doesn’t?”
“If you are or aren’t a…you know. A virgin.”
Jacki laughed with scorn. “You can’t even say it.”
His unease was palpable. “I said it, damn it.”
“But you don’t believe it,” she sneered right back, “even though I told you I am.”
“Okay, fine. You are.”
“I wasn’t asking your permission.”
“Jesus, woman.” He towered over her, heaving, furious, frustrated. And desperate. “What the hell do ya want, anyway?”
Jacki didn’t have an immediate answer to that. But she knew what she didn’t want—and that’s exactly what Gregor gave her. She turned her head away.
“Look at you,” he snapped. “You reek sex, and you know it.”
“Reek?”
“And I’ll be damned if I’ve ever seen a virgin with hair or makeup like yours.”
Her teeth snapped together. She moved closer to him. “Are you saying I dress like a slut?”
“No! God, no.” His hand gripped her waist. “I’m sayin’ you look like a woman who knows what she wants, and that’s what I figured you to be. If you say you aren’t, fine. No problem. Doesn’t matter.”
Jacki snickered. “Right. It doesn’t matter now because you see your chance to get laid slipping away.”
He threw up his hands. “Hell, yeah, that’s part of it.”
“The biggest part.”
He jutted his jaw toward her. “The biggest part is tentin’ my damn soppin’ boxers right now, thanks to you.” He crowded in until she felt his hot breath when he said, “Care to take a look?”
She did and then wished she hadn’t. “Go home, Gregor.”
“Home is Nevada.”
Jacki’s heart clenched so hard, she gasped with the discomfort of it.
“But I told your brother I’d help with the roof, and that’s what I plan to do.” Gregor snatched up a towel and wrapped it around himself. “I’m a man of my word.”
He said that with accusation, as if she weren’t. “I’m not a man!”
“Can’t prove it by me.” And with that parting shot, he left.
Jacki stood there, rooted to the spot until Gregor disappeared into the dark of the night. She still stood there when she heard his car roar to life, then pull away. He didn’t burn out. He didn’t squeal the tires.
He was a jerk, but not that kind of jerk.
And he was gone.
With nothing left to do, she
picked up her own towel and went inside. Her only comfort was that he said he’d be back to finish the roof.
But as she went up the stairs in the silent, empty house, she wondered how long would that take? Another day, two at the most.
Jacki had always known that she’d be lousy dealing with a sexual relationship. When she acted like herself, men expected things of her. And she couldn’t act any other way. It just didn’t sit right with her.
So for that reason more than any other, she’d remained a virgin. It wasn’t morals or fear or a religious conviction.
No guy had seemed worth the hassle of explaining.
Except that with Gregor, it had felt different.
Apparently she’d been wrong. Nothing new in that. Over the last year she’d been wrong about a lot of things.
Within minutes, Jacki had changed and gotten into bed. But she didn’t sleep. She couldn’t.
She already missed Gregor, damn it, and he hadn’t even left yet.
DEAN had several considerations on his mind as he went up Eve’s walkway and knocked on her door. If he knew Simon, and he did, he’d show up sooner rather than later. Only two years older than Dean, Simon had it together in a way Dean couldn’t even imagine. He had a steady woman in his life, a place he called home, and family galore.
For Simon, things were black and white the way they used to be for Dean—before Cam had thrown herself against him and acted thrilled to “meet” him.
Now he stayed more muddled than otherwise. He changed his mind faster than a politician, let emotion rule his decisions, and deliberately enmeshed himself with a woman who had nothing in common with his life.
While Dean waited for Eve to answer the door, he suffered a smidge of guilt. He didn’t like it. Guilt didn’t set right with him. He always tried to do what he considered right, and then he let it go.
But this time, how could he?
As if Cam didn’t have enough on her plate, he’d contributed to her uncertainty, allowing her to think he’d leave as suddenly as he’d arrived. Hell, he kept thinking of reasons not to go at all…. But he would.
Eventually.
Cam also had additional worry for Jacki because her job—a job she’d taken thanks to him—wasn’t the best. And Gregor, a man Dean liked but also knew to be a first-class womanizer, had set his sights on Jacki.
Great job, brother. So far he was batting a big fat zero. The wonder of it was that Cam hadn’t told him to get lost.
Again.
Thinking that added to the sting of anger he felt toward Lorna. She’d kept many things from his sisters, important things that they had a right to know. But telling them wouldn’t be easy, on him or them.
Not that it was his duty to set things straight.
But it was his right to do so, to explain everything to the fullest. When he’d first decided to return to Harmony, he’d planned to explain that and more.
Then he’d met his sisters. His plans no longer felt right. He didn’t feel right.
With everything else came an instinctive dislike of Roger that constantly churned Dean’s thoughts. He didn’t like Roger. He didn’t trust him. The man was up to something; Dean didn’t know what, but he rarely ever ignored his gut reactions.
Somehow he had to figure out how Roger fit into the scheme of things and what he could get out of making Cam dependent on him. Because that’s what he’d done. He’d helped her, not enough to get her entirely out of debt but just enough to make her need him. Maybe trust him.
Impatient, Dean again rapped his fist on Eve’s door and finally it opened. Half asleep, Eve eyed him, halfheartedly beckoned him in, and then turned away. Her hair hung in a high, loose ponytail. She wore a football jersey two sizes too large—and apparently nothing else.
Well, maybe panties. He couldn’t be sure. But definitely not shorts. And definitely not a bra.
Spellbound, Dean stood in the doorway and watched as Eve dragged back to the couch to more or less collapse on it. As she stretched out, he saw a flash of panties sexy enough to tempt a saint.
Nice. Very, very nice.
A noise on the television drew him out of his fascinated study of her soft, sleepy body. He knew those familiar sounds of grunts and blows, the excited voice of the commentator, the cheers of the crowd.
Holding a paper sack in one hand, Dean stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind him. He clicked the lock into place. “You got some SBC tapes?”
“Mark brought them over. He stayed to watch two of them with me, to make sure I understood, then he left.” She kept her eyes on the television screen. “You just missed him.”
Thank God for small favors. “How many tapes did he bring?”
“A lot.” She waved a hand toward a stack of ten or twelve DVDs sitting on the shelf beside the television. “On the other tapes, I skipped all the fights except yours. For this one I started at the beginning so I’ve been through the weight classes. Your fight’s only been going a few minutes.” With one arm folded beneath her cheek, Eve curled onto her side and drew her knees up. “This has been a great distraction. Your muscles look even bigger when you’re fighting. Not that there’s much fight. You either knock people out or take them to the ground and twist their limbs until they tap out. Neither of your other fights lasted past the first round. It’s all rather…riveting.”
“More blood flow.” Dean strolled in and glanced at the TV. “Muscles always pump up during a fight.”
She winced. “Good God. What is that man trying to do to your arm?”
“It’s called a Kimura.” Blindly, his attention on the fight, Dean seated himself near her feet. Without speaking, Eve drew her legs up more to make room for him. “Basically it’s a bent arm lock that goes against the shoulder.”
“Why don’t you tap?”
“He doesn’t have good leverage for it. If he was a little more practiced, he’d know it and change his position.”
She covered her eyes. “I can’t watch.”
Dean just smiled. A second later, when the crowd roared, Eve uncovered her eyes and then slowly straightened in her seat.
“What happened? How’d you get on top of him?”
“I told you, I’m good.” Dean sat back, and instead of watching the screen, he watched Eve. “Now I’m in what’s called the mounted position—which is a good place to be. I can hit him, and all he can do is try to avoid the blows. He can’t really hit me back, or at least, not with much force.”
When blood sprayed from the other man’s nose, Eve gasped. “Your other fights weren’t this brutal.”
“It’s called ground and pound. A good way to take all the steam out of an opponent.” The color left her face, so he soothed her, saying, “Don’t worry. The ref is about to stop it.” He patted her leg, liked the feel of her warm silky skin, and ran his palm up to her thigh.
Though she seemed to pay him no attention, her toes curled.
Enough of that, Dean decided, or he’d forget that this night didn’t include sexual satisfaction. “I’ll be right back.”
Eve didn’t answer. The wrap-up to the fight held all her attention.
Pleased with her, Dean carried his paper sack into the kitchen. In the cabinets above the sink, he found a bowl. Hoping that she liked his surprise, he opened the carton of ice cream and dished out two big scoops.
As he walked back into the family room, the DVD ended and Eve turned off the set. “There are always so many famous people there.”
“In the audience, you mean?”
“Yeah.” She looked stunned. “TV and movie stars, models, athletes.”
“It’s a popular sport.” Dean sat beside her again and, with a flourish, held out the bowl. “Here you go.”
Pulling back, Eve stared at the treat. For the longest time she said nothing. Then she whispered, “Amaretto Cheesecake?”
“Yep. There’s a whole carton in the freezer if you want more.”
Still she didn’t take the bowl. “How did you know?”
Her gaze lifted to his. “You talked to her about us?”
“I told her you were having your period so my night was ruined, but I didn’t want yours ruined, too. I asked her if she knew of anything special I could get you.”
Her eyes flared. “Oh, that’s just freakin’ great.” She snatched the bowl out of his hand and scooped up a heaping spoonful. “So now your sister knows we’re fooling around. When I barely know you. I can’t imagine what she thinks.”
Dean laughed. “I was just teasing you.”
Mouth full, Eve mumbled, “Oh.”
“I told her I wanted to bring you dinner, and she said you’d probably rather have the ice cream.”
“Cam knows me so well.” As she spoke, she spooned up another heaping bite. “Odds are that she knows we’ve slept together. I never could keep anything from her.” She shoveled in the bite, and her eyes closed in bliss. “Mmmmm. Thank you.”
The look on her face as she savored the flavor filled Dean with satisfaction. Voice softened by pleasure, he said, “I’m glad you like it.”
She offered the next bite to him, but Dean shook his head. “I’m good.”
“You have no idea what you’re missing.”
Yeah, he did. But for Eve, he’d miss it in silence. He lifted her feet into his lap and examined her toes. She had narrow feet, finely arched, soft and smooth. To keep her toenails painted such a perfect pink, she had to get regular pedicures.
Eve Lavon would be very high maintenance.
Dean had already noticed her love of high-quality clothes, and not once had he seen her in the same pair of shoes. Whether she dressed up or went casual, everything on her coordinated. From her earrings to her lip gloss, her hairstyle to her perfume, she planned every detail. Even now, in a football jersey, she looked pulled together and sexy. The red lace on her panties matched the red on her jersey.
In no time, the ice cream bowl was almost empty. Dean watched her lick the spoon, and asked, “More?”
“Not just yet. Maybe later.”
“All right.” He could feel her tension, so he rubbed the arches of her feet, stretched out the tendons, worked her ankles.
On a heartfelt groan, Eve tipped back her head and closed her eyes. “You’re turning me into a hedonist.” One eye opened. “Is there anything you’re not good at?”
