Just Like That (6 page)
“Exactly.” He lifted the cover on the keypad next to the door. He punched in six numbers and the wide door slowly rumbled up. He took her hand and pulled her into the interior then to the door leading into the house.
“Should I have brought my black ski mask?” she whispered.
“You don’t just carry that with you?” He opened the door that led from the garage into the kitchen.
“And you don’t have to whisper. She isn’t here.”
“Sam, what’s going on? You do know this woman, right?”
“I know her very well. I’m here to check her light bulbs.” He flipped on the kitchen light. “This one works.” He grinned at her and crossed the room to the switches next to the sink. He flipped one up, starting the garbage disposal. “Sounds good to me.” Then he turned on the faucet. “No trouble there.” He shut the water off and faced Danika.
“What are you doing?” She couldn’t help smiling at him.
“You want to help?”
“Do what?”
“I’m checking the place over. Making sure everything works, nothing needs repaired or replaced.”
“Why?”
“To help Natalia out. She lives alone. She’s eighty-three and can’t take care of a lot of this herself.”
“Why are you breaking into her house when she’s not here?” 32
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“I’m not breaking in. I have the code. And because it’s easier when she’s not here. If she’s home she’d insist on cooking for me and hearing about my job.”
“Poor baby,” Danika said dryly. “How dare she be interested in having a friendship with you?” He just chuckled. “You want to help or not?”
“What do I do?”
“Go around and turn on anything that’s supposed to turn on, open anything that should open, close anything that should close… Look for anything that’s not working the way it should.”
“Got it.” It was a strange routine, but it was kind of sweet.
“I’ll meet you back here. Let me know anything that needs attention.”
“Sam, seriously why don’t you do this when she’s home?”
“Because she would never let me do it. She’d insist on hiring someone else or paying me.”
“So instead she just thinks that her light bulbs never burn out?” He shrugged. “I guess.”
Danika headed for another room and spent the next twenty minutes checking light switches, running water, opening and closing windows and drawers and checking the vents.
“Find anything?”
She looked over her shoulder to find Sam leaning against the door jamb. She was standing on the kitchen countertop, scrubbing the high window over the sink. She gave it a final swipe, then climbed down.
“I fit all of her jewelry in my pockets, but I’m going to need some help carrying out the silver.” He chuckled. “I’ll get the burlap bag.” He pushed away from the door and came into the room, not stopping until he nearly stood on top of her. “It was sweet of you to help me.”
“This is the most interesting evening I’ve spent in a long time,” she said, smiling up at him. “Did I hear a vacuum running?”
“Yeah.”
“You clean to?”
“I only did the steps. If I did the whole house it would be too obvious.” She shook her head. “And why the steps?”
“We do the stuff she can’t, or shouldn’t, do. Like hauling the vacuum up and down the steps.”
“What about the second floor?”
“She has another vacuum up there. It’s the stairs that are tricky.”
“So she also believes that her stairs never get dirty?” He just shrugged again. “I guess.” He glanced up at the window she’d just scrubbed. He took the dirty paper towel from her hand and tossed it onto the counter. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. But it saved you some time doing it.”
He glanced up at the window again. “I’ve never scrubbed those windows.”
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“Why not?”
“Never thought of it.” He looked back at her.
“Hmm.” She tipped her head. “Glad I could contribute.” His eyes dropped to her lips and he lifted his index finger and traced it down the length of her throat.
“Anything else I’ve missed?”
The heat of his finger against her neck distracted her to the point of having to swallow twice before saying, “There are high windows above the front door too.” His finger traced along her collar bone. “Uh-huh. What else?” She searched her mind for something that an older woman couldn’t do by herself to keep her home going. But her mind was much more interested in Sam’s finger. “I’m guessing that she can’t…turn her mattresses.”
“Now I have thought about mattresses since you’ve been around.” He bent and placed his lips at the base of her throat.
She half chuckled and half groaned as she tipped her head back. “Then there’s the fireplace,” she breathed.
“We cleaned her fireplace last fall.”
“Great.” She let her eyes drift closed. “How about the drains? They should be cleaned out. All kinds of grime—dirt, hair—get in there.”
Sam lifted his head and her eyes struggled to open. “You’re thinking about clogged drains while I’m kissing you? I’m definitely doing something wrong here.”
“No, you’re… Oh!” Her protest ended as he cupped her butt in both hands and lifted her up against him, pressing his very evident erection against the soft spot between her legs and capturing her lips with his.
He kissed her hot and hard for several long moments, angling his head so he could stroke his tongue even deeper. When he lifted his head, it was difficult to make her eyes focus.
“What were we talking about?” he asked.
“Mattresses,” she replied automatically.
He grinned a cocky, I’ve-got-you-where-I-want-you grin and set her back on her own two feet.
“That’s better.”
Danika struggled to bring air into her lungs. Sam invaded every molecule of the space around her. She could smell him, feel his heat. And she wanted more. Of all of it.
She needed a distraction. Now. “By the way, the ceiling fan in the dining room doesn’t work.” He thought about that for a few seconds. “I guess I’ll check the wiring.” He didn’t sound all that certain about the statement.
“Do you know about electrical wiring?” she asked.
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“I’m better with light bulbs and loose screws, but if I can’t figure it out, Mac can.”
“Mac?”
“One of my buddies. He helps with the houses. He’ll come over and check it out.”
“Houses? Plural?” she asked.
“There are four ladies we check on.” Sam ran his palms up and down her upper arms.
Danika loved the feel of his hands on her. The firm heat gliding over her shoulders made her want his hands everywhere else she had skin.
“The gals play cards every Thursday. They rotate whose house they play at. We check the other three houses while they play. I usually take care of Natalia but Ben wanted to have a drink tonight.” He grinned at her and she realized that his friend, Ben, had been in on them both being at the bar tonight.
“Kevin agreed but then got called into work, so asked if I could come over after all. And we don’t have much time before Natalia gets home.”
“That’s…nice.” Dammit. Sam was a nice guy. Who made her tingle just walking into the room with her. She had to stay away from him. “Do you have a screwdriver?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll check the wiring.”
“You’re going to check the wiring?” he asked with a smile.
She raised an eyebrow. “Not if you’re going to act like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you can’t believe that a woman would know how to check the wiring in a ceiling fan.”
“I guess while you’re up on the table I can check out your butt.”
“Good. Be chauvinistic. That will help.”
He chuckled. “I was just kidding. What will it help?”
“Me not like you so much.”
“You can’t help liking me, Dani,” he said, huskily, pulling her closer.
He was right. Unfortunately. “Get me a screwdriver already,” she said, pushing him back before she got too comfortable up against him. “And don’t call me Dani.” He let go of her, turning to rummage in the toolbox on the counter next to the microwave. “No one calls you Dani?”
“Men don’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t let them.” It was too familiar and she didn’t like getting to the point of nicknames and endearments with the men she dated.
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Sam said nothing to that and he did, indeed, stand behind her as she crawled up on the dining room table to check the ceiling fan. He shut off the electrical switch on the wall and then held the flashlight for her. Along with the light coming from the kitchen it was plenty to see what she was doing. But she felt his gaze on her backside, and her body heated and she had to force herself to focus on the job at hand.
“How do you know how to do that?” he finally asked.
“I make it a point to know how to do things for myself.” There was a long silence as she removed the cover from the center of the ceiling fan, then stripped the plastic coating back from the end of one wire where it had frayed and come unconnected, then reattached it to the one next to it. She lifted the cover back over the inner workings of the fan and inserted the tiny screw into the hole to hold the cover on.
“You already have a vibrator at home, don’t you?”
She wobbled and dropped the screw. “
What
?”
What a way to break the silence.
“You didn’t need that blue dildo, did you?”
Unable to come up with anything other than, “Um,” Danika looked down at Sam. To find him looking at her butt, which was just about eye level for him.
He handed her the screw from where it had bounced across the table. “You said you haven’t had an orgasm.” He wrapped a big, warm hand around her calf to steady her and looked up. “But you just said that you make a point of knowing how to do things for yourself.” She quickly turned her attention back to the ceiling fan, which made a lot more sense than the riot of sensations that this virtual stranger was stirring up. “I said that I haven’t been with a man who gave me an orgasm.” She tried to turn the screw but it wouldn’t go in straight, just as she couldn’t ignore the way his touch seemed to tingle up her bare leg and a very specific spot higher.
“Have you had an orgasm with a woman?”
She wobbled, the screw hit the table again, and his grip tightened on her leg. “Excuse me?” Sam stroked his hand up and down her calf. Slowly. Completely ignoring the screw this time. “If you haven’t had an orgasm with a man, it was an obvious question to ask if you have with a woman.” She took a deep breath, trying to focus on what he’d said versus the feel of his hand on her. They were talking about orgasms. Right. And women. Wrong.
She frowned. “No, I haven’t had an orgasm with a woman.”
“Too bad.” He gave her a bone-melting grin. “I had some pretty good images going.”
“I’ll bet.” She shook off his hand and bent to pick up the screw where it had bounced.
“But you’ve had one by yourself, right?”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder. What the heck? He knew plenty about her already. Which ensured that she was going to make a point of never seeing him again. “Yes. Several in fact.” 36
Just Like That
“Good.” He nodded, apparently pleased with her answer.
“Good?”
“No woman should go without orgasms completely.”
She couldn’t say why exactly, but that struck her as funny. She grinned. “If only everyone was so certain about their beliefs.”
He winked at her and it hit her that he was good-looking. And she needed to never see him again.
She straightened and fit the screw back into the tiny hole. Just then she felt the heat of Sam’s hand on her calf again. She braced herself for the stroking that commenced. What she wasn’t prepared for was the fact that his hand kept traveling up. And up.
She narrowed her eyes, concentrating on fitting the tip of the screwdriver into the star-shaped notches on the screw. But when her eyes drifted shut as Sam’s hand passed her knee and continued up, taking the hem of her skirt up with it, it was very difficult to see anything at all.
Move forward. Move out of reach
.
Her legs had no idea what her brain was talking about. Why would she move away from such exquisite feelings?
You cannot do this on the dining room table—that’s probably been in the family for generations—of a
sweet little old woman who you don’t even know.
Still, her legs pretended not to hear.
When Sam’s lips met the skin in the middle of the back of her thigh, she felt the heat shoot straight up between her thighs and her knees wobbled.
Then his tongue touched the crease at the back of her knee and she melted.
Literally.
She vaguely heard Sam gasp, “Danika!” but the next true sensation she was aware of was the sharp pain from where her knees hit the table, stealing her breath, and the hot knife that was seemingly dug into her right wrist.
She thought about gasping, or screaming, or swearing loudly, but her chest wouldn’t expand.
Holy crap. That hurt.
Holy crap. She was hurt.
“Danika!”
Shit, damn, fuck.
“Danika,” he said earnestly. “Are you okay?”
Somehow, without even thinking, he’d gotten her up sitting on the edge of the table instead of on her hands and knees, not breathing and looking white as a sheet.
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Now, a few minutes later, she was still not breathing deeply and was white as a sheet. But she was upright.
Her pulse was strong, she wasn’t bleeding, she hadn’t hit her head. She was technically okay.
“Hmm?”
“Danika? Honey, are you hurt?”
Of course she was hurt. She’d hit the table hard. She’d gone forward, but her legs hadn’t moved with her—since he’d had a hold of them—and she’d gone down onto all fours, her hands hitting just milliseconds before her knees.
It was all his fault.
