Just About Sex (14 page)

Finally the tension left her face. Smiling, she tossed and caught the keys and then strode to the driver’s side of his car.

Dizzying relief surged through him, so powerful he laughed with it. Somehow he made it to the car, but whether he walked or floated, he couldn’t say.

“You
can
drive a five-speed?” he asked as they climbed in.

Simone started the car and the engine purred to life. She laughed as she adjusted the seat and mirrors. “It’s a little late for you to worry about that now, isn’t it?”

As it turned out, she could. Pulling out into traffic, she gripped the stick shift with delicate, expert fingers, and Alex felt a ridiculous stab of envy for his car. When she shifted gears, the filmy skirt slid away from her sweet plump thighs. Fascinated by the flex and play of her muscles under her smooth bare skin, he watched her, his skin doing a slow burn.

“What does a patent lawyer do?” she asked, absently tugging her skirt down and snapping him out of his X-rated thoughts.

“I’d tell you but I don’t want you to fall asleep while driving.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Well, if you really want to know, there’s lots of technical stuff. A client comes in with a new invention, I help evaluate it, and we decide whether to file a patent application for it.” He glanced at her and she nodded, almost as if she’d actually listened to what he’d said. “And…there’s also lots of paperwork, lots of drafting and reviewing agreements…”

Juan Romero’s swaggering image filled his head, making him cringe. As if Alex and his forms, memos and other assorted paperwork could compete with someone who’d earned a World Series ring.

“Your eyelids feeling droopy yet?” he asked.

Downshifting, she ignored him. “So do you have a chemistry degree, or…”

“Uh…electrical engineering and computer science, actually.”

“Hence your skill with the computer, I suppose,” she said, one side of her mouth twisting down. “Had to go over to the Dark Side, did you?”

“Alas,” he said, laughing.

“So you like math and science, but you’re creative, too, huh? I mean, you drew my caricature.”

“Well…yeah.”

Suddenly he felt awkward, and he knew why. They were about to get to the part of the conversation where she realized what a stuttering egghead he was and decided she didn’t want anything else to do with him.

How many promising friendships and relationships had ended this way over the years? Too many to count. Being an outsider—a misfit—had gotten old years ago.

He turned his head and stared blindly out the window. “And you might as well know right now,” he said, feeling surly. “I do thousand-piece, three-dimensional puzzles and play Sudoku to relax. I can speak French, Spanish, German and a little Russian. If your TV breaks, I can probably fix it for you. If you want someone to program your laptop to wash dishes, I’m your m-man. Okay?”

Impervious to his nasty tone and defiant glare, she pulled into a space and turned off the engine. Thoroughly irritated, he jerked off his seat belt.

“Alex,” she said, putting a hand on his arm.

Astonished, he twisted around to face her.

“Don’t you think what they say about the brain is true?” Simone asked.

His pulse went berserk, thrown completely off kilter by her touch, her use of his name for the first time in their strained relationship, and the unmistakable admiration in her eyes.

Several beats passed before he could get his mouth to form the words his head told him to speak. “What do they say about the brain?”

“That it’s the sexiest organ in the body.”

Alex couldn’t move, much less answer. Stunned, he searched her flushed face for signs of sarcasm or pity and found none. After a minute, her words sank in. She meant it. She knew how smart he was and, miraculously, didn’t think he was a freak.

And he was the luckiest man who’d ever lived.

Lust for this woman roared to life deep in his belly and clawed its way to the surface, unlike anything he’d ever felt before. He’d give everything he owned for the chance to stroke that skin, slip his hands up under that filmy skirt, bury himself deep between those tender thighs, and become an inseparable part of her.

Much as he wanted her, he
needed
her more. Needed to give as much pleasure as he took. Needed to make her understand how special she was. But he needed something else, too, something more troublesome. Something…
more.
He couldn’t understand what it was, but he was beginning to wonder if he could live without it.

Simone didn’t seem to notice his turmoil. “I think maybe I’ll call you MacGyver. Or maybe DaVinci, since you’re such a Renaissance man. How about that?”

As if he cared. She could call him anything she darn well pleased, and he’d answer. “I just want to warn you,” he said in a low, husky voice he barely recognized as his own. “I’m going to need to kiss you before the afternoon is over.”

His foolish words broke the spell between them, and she jerked her hand off his arm. Blinking, she looked around with wide, disoriented eyes. He had the feeling he’d startled a sleepwalker awake.

“Simone—” he began.

“We’ll be late.” Simone lunged out of the car as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough, slamming the door behind her.

Chapter 12

T
he catering manager, a pleasant, round-faced brunette named Lily, met them in the lobby and ushered them into a corner of the massive, though deserted, ballroom. Agitated, Simone didn’t quite know what to do with herself. The beauty of the room, with its highly polished hardwood floors, arched thirty-foot windows on three sides, and thrilling views of the extensive gardens and green hills out back, barely registered with her flustered brain.

All she could think about was the man next to her.

“We’ll just sit right here,” Lily said, steering them to a round table covered with a starched white cloth in the corner. They all sat and Simone tried to pretend she had some interest in whatever it was Lily kept yammering about.

Lily smiled and arranged the menus. “For today, you’ll each have samples of the beef tenderloin, lamb chops and—”

Greene shifted in his chair, his face tight with what looked like impatience. Warning bells went off in Simone’s head.

“—tuna,” Lily continued, “and then you can try the salads, but I really recommend—”

“Lily,” Greene said sharply.

Simone braced for the worst.

Lily glanced up, looking puzzled. “Is something wrong?”

After a brief hesitation, Greene smiled reassuringly and glanced at his watch. “Not at all. I just need to get back to the office fairly soon, so maybe you could just serve the food, and then we can decide.”

“Oh, of course!” Lily leapt to her feet and hurried to the kitchen doors. “I’ll be right back.”

“Thank goodness,” Greene muttered. “I thought she’d never shut up.”

“So did I,” Simone said, laughing.

“Did you see how diplomatic I was? Not gruff or blunt at all.”

“I did. I guess this is the kinder, gentler Greene, huh?”

“Well, let’s not get carried away—”

Simone’s phone, muffled in the depths of her black clutch on the table, rang.

Greene scowled at it.

“Oh.” She snatched up her purse, fished the phone out, flipped it open and shot him an apologetic glance. “Sorry. It could be the office, so I—”

“Go ahead.”

“Hello?”

“Simone? It’s Amber Reynolds,” said Simone’s real estate agent in her excruciatingly chipper voice. “I’ve found the perfect house for you on Hidden Vista! Number two-three-two. It’s going on the market next month!”

“Really?” Simone squealed, too excited to bother with decorum. “Will it be in my price range?” She looked at Greene, who watched her, bemused.

“More or less,” Amber said. “Drive by it right away and let me know if I should make an appointment to show it to you. We need to move ASAP on this. I told the other agent I’d call her back in an hour.”

Simone’s heart fell. “An hour?” She checked her watch. “Oh, I can’t. Is there some other time?”

“Simone, there’s two other interested parties here, so if you want to look at it—”

“I do want to see it! But I’m at a lunch meeting right now, and I don’t have my car—”

“Simone,” Greene said quietly. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

Startled, Simone stared at him and tuned Amber out.

This was not good. Not good at all. How on earth was she supposed to get out from under whatever weird spell Greene had cast on her when he kept doing and saying nice things? When she kept discovering interesting things about him? When she kept spending time with him?

Covering the bottom of the phone with her hand, she shook her head. “Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that—”

“I’m volunteering.”

“—I know you need to get back to the office, and I’m not sure how long this’ll take—”

“I just said that to get rid of Lily,” Greene told her. “I don’t have anything this afternoon that can’t wait.”

“Simone?” Amber said in her ear. “Hello?
Hello?
”

Staring into Greene’s dark eyes, so warm and hopeful, Simone knew she’d already lost the battle to keep him at arm’s length. And, really, would it be so bad to spend a little more time with him? He’d drive her to the house, they’d see it, they’d leave. What could happen? It wasn’t like he’d seduce her in the car.

She uncovered the phone. “An hour is fine,” she told Amber.

Greene grinned as if she’d told him a liver had come available for that transplant he needed, and Simone’s stomach cartwheeled in response.

“Where am I taking you?” he asked as she hung up.

“To see a house I’m interested in. It’s about ten minutes from here. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” he said quickly, and she had the feeling he wouldn’t mind if she asked for the last dime in his bank account. “Are you moving?”

“I hope so. But a lot of things would have to fall in place with the money. Amber has the tendency to show me houses that’re out of my price range.”

“Oh,” he said, a touch of concern in his voice. “I thought with your book coming out—”

“Yeah, well, everyone always thinks writers make tons of money, but that’s not really true. The advance wasn’t huge and I used a lot of it to pay off the last of my student loans. And even if the book’s a huge hit, it’ll be a year before I get any royalties. So that money won’t help with a house right now.”

It occurred to her she’d been monopolizing the conversation, but he didn’t seem to mind. He nodded encouragingly and she decided to tell him everything.

“My column is being considered for syndication. With that extra income, I could afford the kind of house I’d like to get.”

“Oh,” he said, staring at her.

Her face heated up, as if someone had grabbed her by the hair and dipped her head in a whirlpool. Maybe he was wondering when
she’d
shut up. “I didn’t mean to keep going on and on.”

He smiled, bewitching her with his dimples and enthusiasm. “I was just thinking that was the most you’ve ever voluntarily told me about yourself. I wish you’d do it more often.”

“Careful what you wish for,” she told him, trying to ignore her foolish heart’s fluttering. Surely he couldn’t be smiling that beautiful, delighted smile-like a kid turned loose in Toys R Us—just because she’d told him about her plans. “Well—”

“So where do you live now?”

“I have a loft downtown, but I don’t like it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not permanent. I’m tired of apartments and dorm rooms and hotels and more apartments. I’m thirty-four years old. It’s time for me to belong somewhere. To put down roots. I’ve promised myself I’m spending Christmas in a
house
this year. My house.”

He tilted his head, watching her, and she felt awkward suddenly. Despite what he’d said, if she kept chattering like this, he’d no doubt make up some excuse to escape to the quiet of his office, and she’d have to catch the bus.

“Sorry.” She ran a hand through her hair and laughed nervously. “I don’t mean to—”

“So you traveled a lot growing up? With your mother?”

“Well…yes.”

“Where did you spend the most time?”

“Wherever the parties were hot and the champagne was flowing,” she said without thinking. Embarrassed—where had
that
come from?—she clapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I don’t know why I said—”

“Simone,” he murmured, frowning, “do you think we can get through the rest of this conversation without you apologizing for anything else? I know you’re used to listening to people, but it’s okay for you to talk, too, sometimes. I promise not to tell anyone.”

Disconcerted, Simone clamped her jaws shut and tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t begin with an apology. Nothing came to mind.

After a minute, she shook her head to clear it. “It’s really very unsettling, talking to you, Greene.”

“In what way?”

“In every way.”

Their gazes locked and held with a jolt of electricity that should have singed her brows off her face.

Drumming heels interrupted the moment, and Simone quickly looked away, grateful for the distraction.

“Here we are!” Lily sang, marching to the table with two servers in tow. Simone forced a smile for the woman, but remained acutely aware of Greene, still staring at her, a slight frown creasing his forehead. Every inch of her skin burned, and she had the irrational thought that she could cool down if only Greene would take off her clothes.

Lily and the servers placed overflowing dinner plates on the table, clucking and fussing. “We can make the beef rarer, if you like, but this is a nice medium. The string beans aren’t exotic, but people always like them and they—”

“Thank you, Lily.” Greene shook out his napkin and kept his voice pleasant and firm. “We’ll give everything a try, and then call you when we’ve made our choices.”

Silenced and dismissed, Lily managed a stiff smile, nodded, and headed back off to the kitchen, trailed by her underlings.

Greene’s gaze flicked right back to Simone. He picked up his fork and stabbed a green bean. “You were telling me about growing up with your mother.”