Mad About You (9 page)

He leaned into her, his hardness prominent against her belly.

She reached between them and ran her hand over him. “No groping either,” she said, her voice breathy.

If the look in his eyes was any indication, he wanted to eat her up. “What else can’t we do in public?”

“No overt affection.” She undid his pants and slipped her hand inside his briefs.

He groaned, his head falling back. “Only until the competition is over?”

“Yes.” She ran her fingers over him, loving the way he grew harder in her hand.

“And then I can be as affectionate as I want?” he asked in desire-laden voice. He cupped her between her legs, pressed his fingers into her center. “Whenever and wherever I want?”

Julie moaned. “Hell yes.”

“Fine, but for the record, I’m not happy about this.”

“Parts of you are happy.” She squeezed those parts, just to prove it.

“That part’s going to be
very
happy in a moment.” In record speed, he unzipped her pants, pushed them off, and turned her around. He nuzzled the nape of her neck and whispered in her ear. “I mean it, Julie. After this is over, I’m shouting it to the world. I won’t be a guilty secret.”

“Understood.” If he still wanted her then. She braced her hands on the shelf in front of her. “What are the chances someone will come find us in here?”

“I locked the door.”

“Have I told you how smart you are?”

“Forget telling me. Show me instead. Better yet, promise you’ll see me tonight.”

She bit her lip, thinking about it. She should tell him no. She heard him unwrap a condom and looked over her shoulder to see him cover himself.

He stepped up behind her, guiding himself between her legs. “Promise me or I’m holding out.”

“You’re a bad man.” She moaned as he rubbed over a really nice spot.

His other hand held her in front, slipping between, his finger grazing her so she saw bright lights behind her closed eyelids. “I’ll come to your apartment around nine tonight, with food,” he said as his finger toyed with her.

She gripped the shelf. “Scott—”

“I’ll come dressed in all black, wearing a mask, if that’s what you want.” He pushed in more from behind—slow and torturous—and they both groaned.

“Okay, fine,” she said, breaking down.

He thrust into her to the hilt.

She gave in, unable to fight it, telling herself it’d all work out. She’d win the competition, and everything would be fine.

But then he thrust into her again and again—his fingers working her simultaneously—and soon she couldn’t think of anything but the feel of him in and around her. She arched back into him, her hips rotating against him, feverishly seeking.

Needing.

Her climax came over her like a tidal wave—shift, strong, and without mercy. She cried out, her head falling forward onto the shelf, not wanting him to stop.

Dimly, she heard him cry out. His teeth bit her shoulder, and with his fingers still gliding over her, the wave crashed over her again, less intense but still potent.

Scott kissed her neck, holding her close and tight. “I’m coming tonight, and so are you, again, over and over. That’s a promise, Julie.”

She wanted to make some sort of clever quip, but all she could do was nod and hope tonight arrived really quickly.

Chapter Thirteen

Bull listened halfheartedly to the woman talking to him, even though it was the chairwoman of Kids in Safety, the main charity he donated most of his time to. He sipped his whiskey, trying to relax. He felt on edge. Normally, a good workout, beating on his workout buddy, a steam, and a smoothie and he was good to go. Lately that didn’t work. Lately
nothing
worked.

His life was chaos.

Business negotiations had gone sour. The company who wanted to nationally distribute his smoothie line wanted too much control and too large a cut. He wasn’t anyone’s bitch—in the octagon or in the boardroom. So after months of going back and forth with them, he finally told them to take a hike.

His dad had commiserated with him, telling him it was just a setback, but Bull wasn’t used to not beating his way to a triumphant outcome.

And then there was Josephine Belle. Or, rather, there wasn’t, because she wasn’t where she should have been—standing there next to him, dolled up and feisty. He’d tried calling at her office to ask her out, but she never took his calls.

Normally, he liked these charity functions. He got to schmooze and be charming and flirt with women in glittery gowns, all while he was doing good. As a famous fighter, he had a duty to use his name and reputation to make a difference. His fans gave him so much—he wanted to give back.

This event was his favorite—not because of the fancy clothes, the gourmet food, or the good booze, but because it was for children. Unlike a lot of charity organizations, Kids in Safety actually put its money where its mouth was. They did a lot of good, hands on, in all sorts of communities, insuring that children grew up with the resources they needed, happy and safe. More than donating his name to the cause, he often worked hands-on with them, going into lower income areas and teaching self-defense techniques, physical and mental, to help the kids stay safe.

Bull listened to the chairwoman of the organization, who was a nice, if chatty woman, as he casually checked out the crowd.

Then he saw her.

Her back was turned, but he’d recognize those sinful curves anywhere. Josephine wore a black, form-fitting dress that ended mid-calf but plunged halfway down her back, revealing her creamy skin. Her hair was piled on her head in some sort of demure twist that contradicted the expanse of skin revealed.

He straightened, suddenly feeling alive. It took all of his willpower not to stride across the floor and slip his hand into that opening.

Then he noticed the tall man she was speaking to. The dude was leaning toward her.

Bull scowled.

The chairwoman put a hand on his arm. “Is something wrong, Mr. Torres?”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna fix it.” He patted her shoulder. “Doing good, Mary. Keep it up.”

He turned from her and zeroed in on his woman and the misguided guy who didn’t know he was treading dangerous waters.

Bull knew he was also entering dangerous waters, but he couldn’t help himself. He walked over to Josephine and put his hand square in the middle of her bared back.

She startled when she felt him, turning wide eyes on him. Her back stiffened under his palm, but at least she didn’t hit him or move away.

Hot damn she felt fine against his hand. He hummed in appreciation. Then he turned to the man and stuck his right hand out. “Hello, I’m Bull.”

The man brightened in recognition. “Bull Torres, the fighter. I’m a fan.”

He felt Josephine glaring at him. He ran his finger up her spine, satisfied when he felt her shiver.

“You’re one of the spokespeople for Kids in Safety, right?” the man said.

Josephine turned to him, stepping away from his touch. “You work with K.I.S.?”

“They do good.” Bull shrugged. Normally, he’d be all about talking up the charity, but right now the only thing he wanted was Josephine in his arms. “I promised Josephine I’d take her for a spin on the dance floor.”

Josephine glared at him. “No, you—”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her with him. “Don’t pout, sweetheart. I know I’ve been neglecting you, but you know I had a duty to the kids. I’ll make up for it.”

Josephine let him drag her to the dance floor. He knew she’d be conscious of making a scene and he was using that against her, but nothing stopped her from mentally throwing daggers at his head, and he felt each one.

He pulled her into his arms. “Have I told you I love the way you glare at me?”

“You’re insane,” she hissed, smoothly following his lead. “What are you doing here really?”

“I told you, I’m working.” He pulled her closer. She fit perfectly in his arms. “What are
you
doing here, besides looking gorgeous and distracting me from the spiel I’m supposed to give donors?”

“I donate, too.”

He looked at her. “Do you want my spiel?”

“No.”

“Can I give you something else?”

“No.”

“Maybe later.” He dared to touch her back again with the tips of his fingers.

“You do know they’re playing a fast song, right?” she asked, trying to wiggle away.

He held her firmly where she was. “I like Timberlake. He’s a good guy.”

She looked at him dubiously. “You know him?”

“Who do you think gave him the idea to bring sexy back?” Bull smiled down at her, resisting the temptation to kiss her. “You haven’t complimented me on my tux.”

Her narrowed gaze flickered over his clothing. “It’s a change.”

“You like it,” he said confidently. “You can’t compare me to the douches you dated in the past, not while I’m in this tux.”

“The douches—I mean, the men I dated before were well dressed,” she protested. At his quirked brow, she pouted. “Mostly.”

“And you haven’t thanked me for saving you from boring conversation with that man.” Bull nodded thoughtfully. “Although he did have sense enough to be a fan, so he wasn’t all that bad.”

She sputtered, finally exclaiming, “You’re impossible.”

He moved her in a slow, sexy spin and dipped her backwards, the lovely column of her neck on display. One day, he’d have the honor of kissing her there whenever he wanted. “You have to admit that you find me mildly intriguing.”

“Not even,” she said, but her voice was huskier.

“You find me more than mildly intriguing.” He righted her, tugging her body flush against his. “You have a hard time keeping from throwing yourself in my arms.”

“You are so seriously deluded that you’re validating my reasons for not going out with you.”

“You push me away only because you like me coming after you.” He moved his leg between hers. “You’re in luck, sweetheart. I know a good thing when I see it. I’m not giving up on you.”

“This is ridiculous.” She stopped suddenly but didn’t step out of his arms. “You need to leave me alone.”

“You need to kiss me.”

“What will it take for you to go away?”

She didn’t say no, and that was enough for him. He lowered his head until the only thing between them was the promise of a kiss. “Go out with me.”

She glared at him. “Fine.”

He straightened, frowning. “Wait. I thought I just heard you say you’ll go out with me.”

“Because it’s the only way you’ll go away.”

He wasn’t going away, but that wasn’t the point here. He held on to her hips so she couldn’t escape before they settled this. “You’ll go on a date. To dinner or any other activity I choose. With me.”

She narrowed her beautiful eyes. “No sexual hijinks.”

“Not on our first date.” He reared back, like he was affronted. “What sort of man do you think I am?”

She put a hand to her forehead. “You’re determined to drive me crazy, aren’t you?”

In bed, yes. But he wasn’t going to push his luck by saying that. Instead he took her hand from her head and placed the barest of kisses on her knuckles. “Thursday night? I’ll pick you up from work.”

“I’ll meet you there.” She looked at him balefully. “What time?”

“Seven, at Gary Danko.” He smiled. “Wear something pretty.”

She rolled her eyes and pulled away. “Goodbye.”

“For now.” He watched her walk for a few steps, admiring the sway of her delicious backside. Be still, his heart—and other eager parts of him. “Josephine Belle.”

She stopped at the edge of the dance floor and glanced over her shoulder at him. “Yes?”

“If you’d like to wear the underwear I bought you, let me know. I’ll courier it to you.”

Her gaze narrowed again.

Those sexy cat eyes were going to be the death of him. He wanted to stride up to her and kiss her, but he just smiled and sauntered past her. Women liked butts, and his was particularly excellent, if he said so himself. He sashayed out, letting her get her fill, counting the minutes until he saw her again.

Chapter Fourteen

The door to her shop opened. Julie sighed, relieved Sophie had finally arrived. She needed a friend to talk to. Without looking up from the wire she was twisting, she said, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“That’s so sweet,” said a chirpy, sweet voice.

Sophie was many things, but she wasn’t chirpy
or
sweet. That voice belonged to Dr. Hyacinth Gardner.

Sure enough, Julie looked up to find her nemesis standing in the flower shop, picture perfect in her dress and coat. She scowled. “Did you get lost on the way to your coven meeting?”

“I came to see how you were doing, of course.” Hyacinth headed straight for the worktable, her gaze laser-focused on the frame Julie was building. “Is this for the competition?”

She had the urge to throw herself in front of the green foam blocks she was carving, to protect them from the prying eyes. If only she had a big sheet to cover them.

Hyacinth leaned closer, her nose practically pressed against the wire frame. “Is this Sutro Tower?”

“Seriously?” Julie said. Then she realized what she’d done and wanted to smack herself upside her head. Why didn’t she just let Hyacinth think that?

“Is it a hill? Twin Peaks?” The woman picked up one of the sketches on the table. “Or maybe it’s the start of the seven hills?”

“Give that back.” Julie grabbed the paper and gathered up all the other pages. She shoved them inside a basket behind her, well out of Hyacinth’s nosy vision. “What are you doing here?”

The woman smiled with all the innocence of the Big Bad Wolf. “I was in the neighborhood and I thought I’d stop by to see how you were doing with your design. Really, Julie, it’s time for you to win this year.”

Julie’s gaze narrowed. “Is that what you think?”

“Well, of course.” Hyacinth batted her eyes. “Why bother trying if you aren’t going to be serious about it?”

“You’re right. I wonder why I didn’t realize that,” she replied with dripping sarcasm. She kept her fists ruthlessly at her sides even though she wanted to sock Hyacinth.

“The seven hills isn’t a bad idea,” the woman continued blithely. “However, I wonder if it’s ‘San Francisco Spirit’ enough. Maybe you should do a replica of the Transamerica pyramid in a rainbow profusion of flowers. Or you can build City Hall out of poppies.”