Double the Heat (2 page)

Read Double the Heat Online

Authors: Lori Foster,Deirdre Martin,Elizabeth Bevarly,Christie Ridgway

Tags: #Erotic Stories; American, #Man-Woman Relationships, #Mate Selection, #Contemporary, #Fiction, #Romance, #General, #Short Stories

BOOK: Double the Heat
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“I have nothing whatsoever to say to you.”
Baloney.
He added some pressure against the door to relieve his poor foot. “Then why the hell did you track me down?” His voice rose in annoyance. “You called my brother several times. You called my cousin—”
“Brother? I didn’t even know you had a brother. Now get lost.”
Hart drew a breath and tried to sort his way through her odd behavior. She was usually so proper; she wouldn’t have told an intruder to get lost. And he was not an intruder. “Come on, Lisa, listen to me. I’m sorry it took me so long to get back to you—”
“No big deal. It doesn’t matter, not anymore. Leave with a clear conscience.”
Hart’s blood ran cold. What had she done? Had he taken so long to contact her that she’d given up on him? Damn. “What does that mean, Lisa?”
She stopped pressing on the door, but still didn’t show herself. More composed and with less anger, she said, “It means just what I said: it doesn’t matter. I was going to tell you something, but . . . I’ve changed my mind. So just . . . go away. Forget I ever called.”
His stomach knotted. “Sorry, but I can’t do that.”
“Try.”
So she thought to cut him out? Hart sought his own measure of control. “I was out of town. I can explain where and why if you let me in. But the point is that I couldn’t get in touch. The messages you left for me went to my twin, Dexter. He was sort of filling in for me so that no one would know where I was, and—”
Her face appeared between the door frame and the door. “You seriously have a twin?”
Hart stared. “What the hell happened to you?” He studied her, but even beyond the massive curlers in her brown hair, and the fact that she had her glasses off, she looked . . . funny. Sort of unbalanced, somehow.
“Since when do you have a twin?”
“Since . . . birth?” He frowned. “What did you do to yourself? Is something wrong?”
Her brown eyes rolled. “Move your foot and I’ll let you in, but only for five minutes.”
“You promise?” If he pulled his foot out and she locked the door, he’d lean on the bell until she caved.
Lisa narrowed her eyes, which only made her look funnier. “Move. Your. Foot.”
Hart moved it. The door clicked shut, he heard the rattle of the chain, and she opened the door again.
“Come in before my neighbors start to complain.” She stood to the side, holding the door for him.
She wore a long robe, and under it Hart saw a peek of pink lace on her bra.
Lisa wore pink lace?
She noticed the direction of his attention and clutched the lapels of the robe together. “Now,” she said. “I
had
wanted to talk to you, but you were such an ass, and so much time has passed, that I’ve changed my mind.”
Hart gestured at her face. “Something’s not right.”
She rolled her eyes again. “I have makeup on one eye, so I’m lopsided.” Her frown pinched with accusation. “You interrupted me.”
Yeah, that was it. On her right eye she had shadow and liner and mascara. The other eye looked small and mean in comparison. His brain scrambled from that to the idea of her wearing makeup.
From what he recalled, Lisa went without cosmetics, and it suited her. With her dark eyes and lashes, her glossy light brown hair, she didn’t really need much makeup.
So why had he considered her so average? Shaking that off, Hart went over to the couch and dropped down to sit. “Interrupted you from what?”
Both eyes widened. “Don’t you dare get comfortable, Hart Winston. This conversation is over, and you have to go.” She fluttered over him. “Get up.”
She forgot to hold those lapels together. Her generous breasts overflowed the sexy lace cups of her bra. Hart sprawled back, his arms spread out, his jeans-covered legs relaxed. “That’s some sexy-looking underwear for you, isn’t it?”
She didn’t blush. But she did look ready to flay him alive. She tightened the sash on her robe, inadvertently emphasizing the narrowness of her waist and the lushness of those full breasts. “Get out, Hart.”
“Not yet. You have something to tell me.”
“Wrong. I
had
something to tell you—but not anymore.”
“I want you to tell me, anyway.”
“Tough. You should have shown up when I first called.”
Unable to keep his brain on task, Hart found himself studying her body. He needed to know what she had to tell him, even if he had to insist, but he just couldn’t stay focused. “I never figured you for sexy lingerie.”
Well, hell. Hart watched her face and grinned to himself. Not exactly to the point, but all the same, he waited for her reply.
Her back went straight and her mouth pinched. “I have always worn feminine underwear.”
Cocking a brow, Hart said, “Really? Because I don’t remember yo u—”
“You turned out the lights, goofus. How could you have seen anything?”
Goofus? Well, that was rude. He sat forward with a frown. “I turned out the lights for
you
.” She was shy, right? Timid and modest. He’d been trying for consideration, hoping to put her at ease.
“For
me
?” Lisa laughed—a sound devoid of real humor—and crossed her arms under her breasts in a belligerent stance. “I wanted the lights on, bud. I wanted to see you. I wanted to see
everything
.”
Hart felt his dick twitch at that telling admission.
Lisa shrugged. “But hey, when you turned them out, I didn’t say anything because I figured you had insecurity issues about your body or something. I didn’t want to embarrass you.”
He was off the couch before he realized his own intent. “You’re kidding, right? I do
not
suffer from insecurity of any kind.”
She looked at a fingernail. “Can’t prove it by me.”
Losing all semblance of civility, Hart pointed at her and said, “You came twice, lady.”
She shrugged.
Shrugged
. Hart couldn’t believe her insouciance.
“Yeah, so? What’s your point?”
Seeing red, he moved closer to loom over her. At five-nine, she was tall, but he stood a good five inches over her. “You screamed, Lisa. Hell, you damn near deafened me.
And
you bit my shoulder.”
“It was dark,” she said. “How could I know what I was biting?”
His eyes rounded. “You enjoyed yourself.”
Another shrug. “I plan to enjoy myself tonight too.” Those lopsided eyes glared at him. “If you’ll just go away, so I can finish getting ready . . .”
Oh, hell. He felt flattened. Laid low. Taken off guard.
She had a
date
? And she planned to get laid?
At his expression of utter chagrin, she shook her head. “Come on, Skippy. Pack it up and get on out of here, will you? I have things to do.”
Skippy? Hart held his ground. “What the hell has gotten into you?”
That must’ve been the proverbial last straw, because she exploded. “Well, excuse me if I figured sex entitled me to the courtesy of a return phone call when I let you know—repeatedly—that it was important. But oh, no, not the lady-killer Hart Winston. He can’t be bothered with something as mundane as a phone call from a one-night stand he hoped to never set eyes on again!”
Ah. He’d hurt her feelings, and because of that, he felt like a cad. He reached for her, saying gently, “I’m here now.”
With a loud “Ha!” she shoved him away. “You insufferable ass, is that supposed to matter to me? I want nothing more to do with you.”
Well, that didn’t sound promising. Solemn now, Hart sighed. “That might be tough, don’t you think?”
“What?”
“Having nothing to do with me.” If his suspicions were correct, they were tied together for life.
She shook her head, rattling those big rollers loose. “It will be incredibly easy if you’ll just
go away
.”
Not likely.
“Tell me why you called me.” Once she did, they could sort through things. After an abject apology, she’d forgive him. He hoped.
“Fine.” Lisa drew a shuddering breath, let it out slowly. “Misplaced concern. Nothing more. That’s why I called.” Her smile pinched. “Now leave.”
Instead, Hart went back to the couch and sat down again. He could wait her out. If she wanted to be rid of him, she’d have to ’fess up first. This was too important for him to let either of them avoid it.
“Hart,” she warned.
“So you have a date?”
She stared at him, all but vibrating with irritation, before she turned on her heel and stomped away. Hart waited, but she didn’t return, so he went looking for her.
As he went from the living room through the kitchen and dining room to the hallway, he took inventory. Her pristine apartment looked the same: warm, welcoming, very organized, like the lady herself. It was cozy, with little touches like knickknacks, matching curtains and pillows, potpourri, and healthy plants.
He liked it. It wasn’t at all like his chrome, glass, and leather furnishings, and it felt more comfortable.
Peering into her bedroom, he saw the made bed, the uncluttered dresser and chest, the closed curtains.
He remembered that bed only too well. She’d been something else, something unfamiliar. Special. Unsettling.
He also remembered slipping out of the room early the next morning.
Yeah, he was an ass. But he was a determined ass who needed answers to questions. He found Lisa in the bathroom, the door ajar as she finished her makeup, using a magnifying mirror in place of her glasses.
Leaning on the door frame, Hart watched her slick lip gloss on her soft mouth, then smooth it with her baby finger. With that done, she started removing the curlers.
It was uniquely intimate, watching Lisa’s feminine routine. Course, he hadn’t known Lisa had a feminine routine. He’d seen her only in professional clothes or a white lab coat, her hair twisted up, her face clean of makeup.
On Lisa, the austere look had been sexy enough. But this was pure seduction.
Interesting.
The more Hart watched her, the more he thought about the future, maybe with Lisa, and how it wouldn’t really be bad at all. In fact . . .
He cleared his throat. “I’m not going anywhere until we talk.”
“Suit yourself. I trust you not to steal anything after I leave.” Then her eyes—now matching—narrowed in his direction. “At least, you better not.”
Would she keep stabbing him with insults the entire night? Probably. And why not? He had it coming.
Hart’s curiosity gnawed on him. “So who’s the lucky guy tonight?”
“You wouldn’t know him.” She dabbed on perfume, touching it to her throat, her wrists, and her cleavage.
Hart tried to picture it: Lisa with another man; her burning up the sheets . . . with the damn lights on; her biting someone else.
He didn’t like it.
Annoyed as much at himself as at her, Hart crossed his arms. “You’re saying he doesn’t run in my circle, huh?”
“Hardly.” Her expression turned smug. “He’s an oral surgeon.”
Lifting a brow, Hart said, “Sounds . . . romantic.”
Not.
Why the hell did she want to get sweaty with some stuffed-shirt medical type? Lisa was prim, no two ways about that. But she was also open and caring. “You two have a thing?”
“This is our first date.”
Both brows lifted. “And you plan to jump his bones? Lisa, Lisa. I thought you were more discreet than that.”
“You also thought I wanted the lights off.”
Hart winced. She was in rare form tonight, sharper tongued than he recalled.
Maybe if he explained things, she’d soften a little toward him instead of beating him down with her mockery. “I’m sorry, Lisa. I really am. I couldn’t get in touch sooner because I was fighting.”
She paused in the middle of brushing out her hair. Her big brown eyes met his in the mirror. “Fighting? With whom? What did you do now, Hart Winston?”
“No, it’s a sport. The SBC. Supreme Battle Challenge. Have you heard of it?”
She continued to frown at him for a few seconds, and then seemed to accept his explanation. “Ah, I guess that makes sense.” She went back to her hair. “It’s like that fake wrestling stuff the youths enjoy?”
Annoyance crept up his neck. “No, not like that at all.” Her brown, usually straight hair now fluffed out in sexy waves. His fingers twitched with the urge to touch it, to stroke it.
He remembered tangling his fingers in her hair while he drove into her, and then, later, feeling it drifting over his shoulders, his chest.
He cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his pockets. “There’s nothing fake about it, believe me. It’s a serious sport, and it’s growing fast in popularity.”

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