Hot Seduction (12 page)

16

C
ODY
COULD
FEEL
Serena's slender body bristling with anger. She was beyond pissed, and he didn't blame her.

But he was pissed, too.

“So that was good old Gordon,” he murmured. His stomach knotted—like it had when he'd glanced over and seen her all dressed up sitting with another man.

“Who was
your
date?” she asked as she shoved him up against the side of her car. She pulled open the passenger's door and pushed him into the seat a little roughly.

“You didn't recognize her?”

She stared down at him. “Do I know her?”

“She used to live in Northern Lakes,” he said.

Serena must not have cared that much because she didn't ask him any more questions. She just slammed the passenger's door and headed around the front of the car to the driver's side. When she moved to jam the keys in the ignition, he caught her hand.

“She wasn't my date,” he qualified.

“Looked like a date.”

“It definitely was
not
,” he said. And there were several reasons that it hadn't been, Serena being the biggest one. But he was too proud to admit that. “I don't go out with anyone during wildfire season.”

“Then what are
we
doing?” she asked.

He wondered that, too. “We're just distracting each other, remember?”

She uttered a ragged sigh.

“You're certainly distracting me.” He needed to be focused on finding the arsonist; instead he was trying to help her. That hadn't turned out all that well, though. Instead he'd embarrassed her.

Not that he was actually drunk. He'd only acted that way to get her to drive him home. While he hadn't had any alcohol, he smelled like it thanks to his collision with the waiter. When he'd seen Serena with another man, he'd been so furious that he'd wanted to tear the guy apart. So he'd jumped up without realizing how horrible his timing had been.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I shouldn't have interrupted your dinner.” He was always telling Serena that he was leaving soon; he shouldn't have been surprised that she would move on with someone more suitable.

He let go of her hand and sat back in his seat. He didn't think she would be able to keep her house, though. He'd tried, but he hadn't been any more successful at helping her than he'd been at catching the arsonist.

She turned the key and started the car. But she turned toward him before backing out and said, “I wasn't on a date either.”

Feeling a little lighter, his heart lifted. “That's not what Gordon thinks.”

“I should have made myself clearer with him,” she said. “I only asked to meet with him to discuss how I might get a loan with his bank.”

“Gordon's the loan officer?” The one who'd already turned her down. Now he wished he'd hit him. Not that he would have. He only stepped in to stop bar brawls; he never started them, although he'd been tempted to tonight.

“Yes...” She sighed again. “It was a waste of time. His only suggestion was to talk to my sister.” She drove for a few miles in silence before adding, “You're not going to say ‘I told you so'?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you suggested the same thing.”

But now he knew that talking to her sister wouldn't help; it wouldn't change Courtney's mind. And it would probably only cause Serena more frustration and pain.

“I was wrong,” he said. “So's Gordon.”

She peered across the console at him. “That wasn't...” She shook her head. “Of course it wasn't. Courtney would never come back to Northern Lakes.”

Despite being her twin, Serena really didn't know her sister well. But Cody couldn't correct her—not without inciting her anger. She would be furious if she knew what he'd done—that he'd probably just made everything worse.

He couldn't help her, but maybe he could distract her from her worries. He reached across the console and closed his hand over her bare knee.

“I can understand why Gordon would be confused,” he said. “You're dressed like you were on a date.”

She wore some kind of gauzy sundress that tied over her bare shoulders. It was the color of sunshine and made her tanned skin look even more golden. His fingers itched to untie those little straps and lower her top so he could feast on her breasts.

The skirt was short, leaving her long legs tantalizingly bare. It rode up when she sat down. So his hand rode up, too, skimming up the inside of her smooth thigh.

She squirmed in the seat. “Unless you want me to hit a tree, you better stop that,” she warned him.

Her skin was so silky and warm. And the farther up his hand traveled, the softer and warmer she was.

“It might be worth it,” he murmured, as he touched the lacy edge of her panties. He could slide his fingers under, could stroke the very core of her...

“I'm not sure you could handle another knock on the head.”

He wasn't sure he could either. But he hadn't been thinking clearly even before he'd gotten the concussion. He asked, “Do you mean from hitting the tree or from you hitting me?”

In the glow of the dash lights, her lips curved into a slight smile. “I
should
hit you in the head.”

“You should,” he agreed. Maybe she could knock some sense into him.

“I almost did,” she said. “I almost hit you...”

“I wouldn't have blamed you,” he said. “I embarrassed you.” He moved his fingertip along the lacy edge of her panties. “You should really let me make that up to you...”

She jerked the wheel, and one of the car's tires dropped into the gravel on the soft shoulder.

Cody pulled his hand out from beneath her skirt and grabbed the dash.

But she laughed and easily steered back onto the road. “Don't worry. I have control of my car.”

* * *

S
ERENA
GOT
THEM
safely home, but she never regained control of Cody. Despite her threats, he hadn't stopped touching her. Heat and moisture pooled between her legs, where her body throbbed with desire for him.

As she stepped out of the car, her legs wobbled. He had literally made her weak in the knees. And in willpower. She should have been furious with him. He had embarrassed her. And he didn't even have the excuse of being drunk. She wondered if he'd had anything to drink at all.

Maybe the woman he'd been with had been the person interviewing him for the smoke jumper position. Serena shouldn't have just assumed the boss would be a man. Women were Hotshots, too. There were two on his team.

But the woman hadn't looked happy when she'd left. She hadn't shaken his hand or patted his arm or done anything encouraging. Maybe he hadn't gotten the job. But that didn't mean he still wouldn't leave.

Serena had no doubt that he would. He wasn't staying in Northern Lakes. So, when he met her at the front of the car and tried to wrap his arms around her, she dodged him and headed for the stairs.

But he caught up with her on the porch. Looping an arm around her waist, he drew her back against his chest. His lips slid along her neck, and he whispered in her ear, “Let's go to bed...”

“You're drunk,” she said, although she knew he'd only been faking. She pulled away from him and stepped inside the house. Lights glowed within; the house was always so warm—so welcoming. Sadness tugged at her as she wondered if the house would feel the same for another owner. But she couldn't think about that now—not without tears threatening.

She focused on Cody instead. He was so good at taking her mind off her worries. He reached for her again, dragging her body up against the long, hard length of his.

“That's why you have to put me to bed,” he told her, his mouth nibbling at the corners of hers. “I can't take care of myself right now.”

She laughed at his outrageousness. She'd never known anyone more self-reliant. But she pretended to help him up the first flight of stairs. He wasn't leaning on her, though. When he moved to ascend the next flight—to her quarters—she pulled him to a stop.

“You must be in bad shape,” she said, clicking her tongue against her teeth in mock-pity. “You've forgotten that your room is on this floor.”

“That's probably because I don't spend much time there,” he said, and his green eyes glittered with desire. “I sleep better with you.”

Or they didn't sleep at all. She shook her head. “I can't take advantage of you.”

He chuckled. “Are you too much of a gentlewoman?”

“Yes,” she said.

He swung her up in his arms and carried her that last flight of stairs. As he pushed open the door, he told her, “I'm not drunk.”

She sighed regretfully. “I know,” she said. “But I wish you were.”

“Why?”

“So you would make a fool of yourself like I did that night,” she said. Or at least she thought she had. She didn't remember everything she'd done.

“You just talked a lot,” he said.

That had been the next morning, though, after making love with him. That was when she'd told him about the lawsuit.

He grinned. “I've been told I already talk too much.”

She'd heard Wyatt and Dawson say so. But that had been because he'd been needling them about Fiona and Avery.

“You don't talk about yourself, though,” she said.

His grin slipped away, leaving his handsome face looking more serious than she'd ever seen it—except for that day he'd crashed into the tree. “I've told you more about myself than I've ever told anyone else.”

She believed him. “I know.”

“You know me better than anyone else.”

Unfortunately she did.

She sighed and nodded.

“So you know it wouldn't matter how drunk I was,” he warned her. “I'm never going to be able to say what you want to hear.”

That he would never leave...

That he loved her.

All she really wanted—even more than her house—was him. And just like the house, she had no way of hanging on to him.

He would never truly be hers.

17

C
ODY
HATED
HIMSELF
for putting that look on her face—the one of disappointment and sadness. If only he could have given her good news about her house tonight...

But he'd messed up that, too.

Although he couldn't make her happy—in the happily-ever-after way—he could give her pleasure for a little while. He closed his arms around her and pulled her close. Burying his face in her silky hair, he sighed and murmured, “You smell like booze.”

She giggled. “That's from you leaning all over me. You reek.”

He swung her up in his arms and headed toward the bathroom. “Then we better shower.”

“I'm not sure it's safe to shower with you,” she mused as he set her on her feet in the bathroom. It had been built into a dormer, so the ceiling was high enough that he could stand up straight. The room was all octagonal marble tiles—the floor and the walls. He turned on the shower and, fully clothed, stepped under the spray.

“You're crazy!” Serena told him.

So he pulled her under the water with him. She squealed in protest as the water saturated her dress and hair. But she was laughing, too.

He loved seeing her happy. It wouldn't last, but he refused to think about that at the moment. He reached for one of those ties on her shoulders. It was straining as the fabric grew heavy, the already loose knot stretching. The material dipped, revealing the cups of her strapless bra.

He tugged on the tie until it unknotted. Then he undid the other knot as well. The wet, sunny-yellow material dropped to the floor. The water was warm but goose bumps lifted on her tanned skin. He wanted her hot—not cold. So he removed her bra and lowered his mouth to her breast. Her nipple had already tightened into a bud. He plucked at it with his lips, then swept the tip of his tongue across it.

She moaned and tangled her fingers in his wet hair. “Cody...”

He pushed her wet panties down her legs until they dropped onto the dress and bra. Then he moved his fingers between her thighs. She shifted her legs and leaned against him. She needed him like he needed her; she needed the release—the pleasure.

His body ached and throbbed with tension. Then her hands were there, freeing him from his pants. Her wet fingers stroked him to madness. But he fought for control. He couldn't take pleasure until he'd given it—until he'd made her as crazy as she made him.

He dropped to his knees, the water swirling over his head and shoulders. And he lifted her, so that her legs straddled his shoulders. He buried his face between her legs. His hands kneaded her sweet ass as he clutched her closer. She arched against him—needing more.

He closed his lips over her clit and gently sucked on it. Then he teased it with the tip of his tongue as he moved his fingers inside her, stroking. After a few minutes she clenched tight around his fingers.

“Cody!” His name was a cry of shock and pleasure.

She drove him crazy with her sweetness. He needed her—needed to bury himself deeply in her wetness, her heat. He slid her legs down his shoulders as he stood up. Her legs locked around his waist, and he eased his cock into her.

Home. This was home. Not a house that was over a century old. Her body—that felt like where he belonged for the first time. Overwhelmed with sensations, he came quickly.

What had she done to him? How had Serena Beaumont made him feel things he had never felt before?

It wasn't fair—not when he'd already failed her.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured.

She deserved to realize all the dreams she'd dreamed. But just as he hadn't been able to think of a way to stop the arsonist, he hadn't been able to think of a way to save her house for her.

* * *

S
ERENA
BIT
HER
LIP
to hold back the declaration. She wanted to tell Cody she loved him. But that wouldn't be fair. He had already apologized because he knew he couldn't give her what she wanted.

He needed to move on. It was the pattern of his life—one so ingrained she doubted he could change even if he wanted to. And he clearly didn't. He wanted the job in Washington, which offered more adventure. More danger...

She couldn't stop him from chasing his dream. He would only come to resent her for it—like her sister resented Serena. Courtney could have been the woman he'd met with in the restaurant. It had been years since Serena had seen her. But why would he have bothered to contact Courtney when he didn't understand her dreams any more than she understood his?

They made love again that night—but it was bittersweet. When she awoke a few hours later, she was alone. The bed was still warm; Cody hadn't been gone long.

Would he be back?

Or had last night been his way of saying goodbye?

Tears stung her eyes and her nose. When she sniffled, she smelled it: the smoke. There was a fire. Her heart pounding furiously with fear, she jumped out of bed and pulled open drawers, grabbing clothes. She dressed so quickly she managed to button her jean shorts before the smoke alarms blared.

The fire must have just started. Hopefully there would be time to get everyone out of the house.

“Fire!” she yelled as she passed the second floor. Stanley and Mr. Tremont were young enough to get themselves out of the house. She was more worried about Mrs. Gulliver and Mr. Stehouwer. They slept without their hearing aids, so they probably wouldn't even notice the alarms were blaring.

What about Cody? Where was he?

He caught her at the bottom of the stairs, his arms sliding around her. “It's okay,” he said. “The fire's out.”

Of course he would have smelled the smoke first. He was probably conditioned to.

Trembling, she clutched at him. “Is everyone all right?”

“Yes,” he assured her. “It was nothing. Just a little smoke really.” But a muscle twitched in his cheek, and he had that look on his face again—the one that had chilled her when he'd crashed his truck into the tree.

“Someone set it,” she surmised. And she shivered as she realized the arsonist had been in her home again.

His broad shoulders—bare like his chest—lifted in a slight shrug. “I don't know for certain. Could have just been a cigarette dropped outside.”

“It wasn't in the house?” she asked hopefully.

He shook his head.

“But the fire alarms went off.”

“All the windows were open, and the smoke blew inside, setting off the detectors.”

She expelled a shaky breath. “So it was probably nothing.”

But he didn't look like he thought it was nothing. He looked mad. And when the door creaked open in the foyer, he let her go and ran toward the noise.

Serena ran after him; she didn't care if it was dangerous. She wanted to make sure Cody was safe—even more than she wanted to protect her other boarders.

An oath rang out. And a fist flew. Something fell over. She could see only shadows grappling in the darkness—pounding on each other. She flipped on the lights and yelled, “Stop!”

Cody paused midswing and stared down at the person lying under him on the foyer floor. “What the hell are you doing creeping around in the middle of the night?”

Mr. Tremont stared up at him through an eye already beginning to swell. Then the other man turned toward her. “I didn't realize there was a curfew and consequences for breaking it.”

She might get sued yet. “Cody, let him up!”

Why had he fought with another boarder? She would have understood if Mr. Tremont had been an intruder. But he had every reason for being in the house, too. He paid to live there.

Cody shook his head. “I want to know what the hell he's doing sneaking around like he always does.”

“I was out,” Tremont replied.

And something about his tone—an evasiveness to it—chilled Serena. Why did he never say where he was going or what he was doing or when he'd be back?

Stanley always told her, and he was a teenager. He was the one who was supposed to be slinking secretively around—not a grown man.

Serena, who had made a point of always honoring her boarders' privacy, asked him, “Where were you?”

The gray-haired man turned to her in surprise—probably at her suspiciousness.

“Were you setting a fire in the backyard?” Cody asked him.

“That's ridiculous,” Tremont replied. “Just like having to check in with my landlady. But if you must know, I just got back from having dinner and drinks in town.” He shoved at Cody. “Now let me up so I can go to bed.”

A gnarled hand wrapped around Serena's arm. “Must be nice, dear, having two young men fight over you.” Mrs. Gulliver gazed wistfully at them—especially at the shirtless Cody. “I can still remember what that was like...”

Serena could imagine that she had had plenty of suitors brawling over her. Even at eighty-six, with her pink-and-purple hair, the woman was a stunner.

“They're not fighting over me, Mrs. Gulliver,” she said loudly, since there were no aides in the elderly woman's ears. She wasn't certain why they'd been fighting once they'd identified each other, though. But Cody was still edgy.

Because of the arsonist...

With a polite nod at Serena and Mrs. Gulliver and no glance for Cody at all, Mr. Tremont got to his feet and headed up the front stairwell. She would need to talk to him in the morning—apologize and explain.

But if she told him about the mishaps that had happened around the house, he might move. Would it matter, though, when she was probably going to lose the house anyway?

“There was a fire in the backyard, Mrs. G,” Cody said. “I was trying to find out who started it.”

The old woman snorted. “That stupid Mr. Stehouwer must have been sneaking smokes again. I've told him that he needs to make certain they're out or he's going to burn the whole house down.” She patted Serena's arm. “Of course we would never let that happen, though.”

“No,” Cody said. “We certainly wouldn't.”

We?

The word echoed mockingly inside Serena's mind.

How could he say that when he had no intention of sticking around? He shouldn't be making the older woman or Serena any promises that he wouldn't be around to keep. He had warned her that he would break her heart. He might have been joking at the time, but that was one promise he could have made.

Serena was certain that one would come true.