Better Deeds Than Words (Words#2) (5 page)

My heart hammered a crazy staccato agreement.

He closed the door without pulling his eyes from mine. “Yep. Completely insane.” His chest rose and fell rapidly. “Don’t leave?”

I shook my head, and he carefully unzipped my coat, slipping it down my arms and tossing it on a bench against the wall. I placed my hands on the nape of his neck, angling my face up to kiss him softly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered.

“Thank God.”

He gathered me close, and I yielded to the heat of his insistent kisses, quivering and desperate for more. He really was the most incredible kisser. I pressed my body against his, and he pulled me closer still. Finally he took a step backward, his eyes heavy with unconcealed longing.

“Holy fuck,” he breathed.

“No kidding.”

“I seriously need to get the hell out of these jeans. I’d like to be able to procreate one day.”

My eyes traveled down to his zipper. “There certainly doesn’t seem to be a lot of room for—
movement
—down there.”

“As I’ve said on a couple of occasions—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m sure John Holmes has
nothing
on you.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Wow, I didn’t know you were a big fan of seventies porn.”

“Are you sure? I thought I mentioned that when I introduced myself at the first tutorial,” I said.

He laughed and mimicked me. “‘
Hi, I’m Aubrey Price, I live in rez at Vic and I’m a huge fan of John Holmes’ giant dong’?
I think I’d remember that.” He gave my ass a pinch.

I swatted at his hand. “I see we have a lot of ground to cover. Clearly you don’t know me at all. I guess it’s a good thing I agreed to come over.”

“Apparently.” He grabbed my coat and hung it in the closet. “How about I show you around?” he said. “Then I
have
to get out of these fucking jeans.”

He retrieved the bag of toiletries and led me into an open-concept living room, dining room, and kitchen area. The stainless steel appliances and marble counter tops in the kitchen, the soft brown leather couch, the cherry wood dining set and the stereo with top of the line speakers—everything said, “I am Daniel Grant. Only the best will do.” What really drew my eye were the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves running the expanse of the far wall. He had quite the library for someone his age.

Daniel waved his free arm around. “Kitchen, obviously. Help yourself to whatever you want. Dining area—”

“Incredibly beautiful bookshelves,” I interjected. “You’ve read all those books, no doubt?”

“Yeah, they do sort of take over the room,” he said with a sheepish smile. “Books are my guilty pleasure.” He took my hand and showed me down a hallway, then knocked on a closed door. “Powder room.” He pushed open the door across from the bathroom and I poked my head inside. “This is my office. It’s more of a den, I suppose.”

He shrugged self-consciously, and I stepped into the room, casting my eyes over the built-in entertainment unit with more bookshelves, a big screen TV in the center, another oversized couch with a coffee table in front of it, and on the far side of the room, a large, uncluttered desk with a laptop and a few books neatly stacked on one side. An acoustic guitar was propped on a stand beside the couch.

“So, this is where the really important stuff happens,” I said, gesturing toward the desk.

“No, that would be in here.” He led me to the next door—his bedroom.

I laughed. “No, this is where the
magic
happens.”

“
Will
happen,” he said. “You’ll be happy to know nothing even remotely magical has happened in this room in the six weeks I’ve lived here.”

“I am happy to hear that.” I surveyed the room. The bed was neatly made and covered in a lovely chocolate brown and white duvet. “King size?”

“Yeah, I guess that seems self-indulgent too,” he said, ducking his head.

“And another TV?”

“Sometimes I fall asleep with it on at night. Makes the place seem less empty.”

My heart ached for him. I’d never lived by myself for any extended period of time. What would it be like, rattling around in a condo this size all alone? It was beautiful, though. I couldn’t help wondering if the interior decorating was Gwen’s handiwork. There was a touch of elegance, a softness to the design that, while not overtly feminine, still betrayed a woman’s involvement.

“Okay, I have to ditch this bag. I can’t wait to see what you’ve got in here. Feels like you bought a bowling ball. Washroom’s in here,” he said, leading me to the ensuite bathroom.

“Wow, this is beautiful.”

The clean lines and dark tiles of the oversized tub and glassed-in shower stall were masculine and tasteful. And everything was so clean. There’s no way Matt could keep a bathroom this spotless.

Daniel started pulling items out of the bag, examining them before lining everything up on the counter. He unscrewed the lid of the shampoo, smiling as he waved the bottle under his nose. “This is what you usually use, right?”

“Yep. Sweet pea and jasmine.”

“God, no wonder you smell so delicious. Do you seriously use all this stuff every day?”

I crossed my arms. “You know, you’re kind of blowing my feminine mystique out of the water by analyzing the shit out of everything.”

He chuckled. “You’re right, I’m sorry. This is a bit of an invasion of your privacy, isn’t it?”

“I’m only kidding,” I assured him. I was actually hoping he’d keep unpacking the bag because there was one particular item I’d bought as a joke. Unfortunately, I’d made him self-conscious and he’d stopped.

He opened a deep drawer under the vanity. “You can put everything in here,” he offered.

“Okay, I’ll hand stuff to you, and you can put it away,” I suggested, starting to hand him things. Then I reached into the bag and gave him the tube of K-Y Jelly.

He pulled his head back sharply, his brows furrowed. “What the fuck is this?”

“What does it look like?” I asked, trying to keep a straight face. He squinted, reading the product description on the back label.

“‘
Apply to areas of body where sensational personal lubrication is needed
.’ Is this for real?”

“Well, I didn’t buy it for tonight, but, you know, one day—”

Daniel backed me up to the counter and lifted me so I was sitting on the vanity. He stood between my legs.

“Excuse me, but what happened to typical English country weather? If you ever need to use this, I’ll eat my fucking hat.”

He tossed the tube on the counter and drew my hips forward, rubbing against me purposefully. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply as Daniel’s tongue parted my lips and darted playfully against mine. His teeth tugged on my lower lip, and then he gently sucked on my earlobe, his warm breath sending a delicious shiver down my spine.

I wrapped my legs around him, and his fingers sank into my hips. A series of images flickered through my mind: Daniel’s tongue running down across my breasts, pausing to flick over my nipples before traveling lower and finally coming to rest between my thighs where he would surely drive me to the brink of ecstasy—

He stepped away from me, resting his hands on my thighs, mighty pleased with himself. He’d made his point. Soundly.

“Well?” he asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

I sighed and regained my composure, then admitted defeat. “Torrential rains. I guess you’re right.” I reached for the tube of K-Y, prepared to drop it in the garbage pail, but then another idea occurred to me. “Maybe you’d like to keep this for your own personal use? A little lube to go with the oil change? Self-employed people are often looking for business write-offs for income tax purposes. I
did
keep the receipt.” I smiled innocently.

“All right, move your cheeky ass, young lady.”

I hopped off the vanity. He opened the mirrored cabinet beside the sink and tossed the lube inside, shaking his head and smiling. Then he held out his hand. “Toothbrush.”

I handed it over, and he stowed it in the cabinet. There was a row of prescription pill bottles on the top shelf—he sure was keeping some pharmaceutical company in business. I considered asking him if he suffered from migraines or something, but he closed the cabinet with such a decisive click that my question evaporated. When the rest of my toiletries were in the drawer, he took my hand, and we went back into the bedroom.

“Before you start your school work, do you want to change into something cooler? You must be boiling.”

I pulled at the neck of my sweater. “It is a little warm in here. And humid.” I winked.

He laughed. “Ah, crazy legs, what am I going to do with you?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“You know me well.”

“Do I?” I put my hands on his chest, thinking about the reason Daniel had wanted me to spend the night with him.

“You feel like you
don’t
know me?”

“I think there’s a lot going on in here that I haven’t even begun to understand,” I said, patting his heart. “Not to mention in here.” I gently circled his temple.

“You may be right. How about this for a plan? You work on your presentation for a bit, and then we’ll make Julie proud. We’ll curl up in bed—”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, we’ll curl up
on
the bed, fully dressed,” he amended. “You can tell me your whole life story.”

He retrieved a pair of striped, cotton men’s pajamas from his dresser drawer.

“Here,” he said. “Give these a try. I’ll go change in the office.” He grabbed a pair of blue jeans from the closet and crossed to the door. “Did you want something to drink? A beer, a glass of wine?”

“If you have some red wine, I’ll have a glass of that.”

“Done. Take your time.” He closed the door.

I undressed and piled my folded clothes neatly on top of the dresser. At home, I would’ve tossed my clothes on a chair, but there wasn’t a single stray item to be seen on the two club chairs beside the bed. Damn, he was neat.

I put the pajamas on over my bra and panties, rolling the waist band over a few times. Imagining Daniel wearing stripy PJs made me smile. Actually, imagining Daniel doing
anything
made me smile.

I sighed and looked at myself in the mirror above the dresser. “How in the hell did you manage this, Aubrey?” I whispered to my reflection. It had no ready answer.

I headed into the hallway, adjusting the cuffs as I walked. A side table lamp cast a dim light in the office. Daniel was leaning against the windows looking out at the view, a glass of beer in his hand. He’d taken off his sweater, revealing the white T-shirt he’d worn underneath. He’d swapped the fertility-threatening black jeans for my favorite holey ones. His feet, like mine, were bare.

“Hey.” He turned as I walked through the door.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to try to seduce me tonight.”

He laughed. “What do you mean?”

“You know what those jeans do to me.”

He snapped his fingers. “That
had
slipped my mind, but now that you mention it…” He smiled. “Comfortable?”

I looked down at myself, shrugging awkwardly. “I guess.”

“You look very cute.”

“What I
feel
is ridiculous,” I admitted with a sheepish grin, looking around the tidy room. “Hey, Daniel, your place is spotless. How do you keep this up?”

He chuckled. “Are you a slob, sweetheart?”

“A slob? Well, that’s a rather strong word. I’m not OCD about tidying, though, that’s for sure.”

“OCD? Now
that’s
a strong word! Are you suggesting I have some sort of neurosis?”

He smiled, still leaning comfortably against the window, but his eyes were narrowed. I sensed an unspoken challenge. I took in the even piles of papers and books, the neatly aligned pens and pencils on his desk, the strategically placed photographs on the bookshelf, the obvious lack of clutter. I couldn’t help thinking of his BMW—always immaculate, inside and out.

I sauntered over to the coffee table to examine the carefully stacked magazines.

Daniel watched as I bent over and pushed one of the magazines off the pile. I raised an eyebrow. He shrugged, but didn’t move. I took two magazines off the pile and threw them on the couch. He sighed deeply, but remained standing where he was. I waited a moment more, biting my lip, and then pushed the whole stack over on the coffee table. Daniel stiffened and dropped his arm from the window sill.

“What are you doing, Aubrey?”

“Making the place look lived in,” I said, jutting out my chin.

“That’s supposed to bother me? Is that it?” he asked, a strange glint in his eye.