Merry and Bright (8 page)

He wasn’t a snorer. Good to know. God, she really wished she’d asked for a
two
-time thing instead of a one-time thing. If he opened his eyes right now, she’d just tell him so.

But he didn’t.

She shuffled her feet. Cleared her throat.

He still didn’t budge.

Dammit. Stepping closer, she touched his blanket. Faked a sneeze.
Nothing.
Feeling like an idiot, she went to the kitchen. There were no clean glasses in the cupboard, but her dishwasher was clean so she grabbed one from there. Then she opened the refrigerator door for something to drink, and in the harsh glare of the refrigerator light, caught a glimpse of movement on her right.

Her intruder. Without thinking, she shoved the refrigerator door into him, hearing the “oomph” of air leaving a set of lungs.

Irrational fear took over, and she backed up, tripping over the open dishwasher, which she fell into, hitting her butt on the still open bottom tray,
hard.
The whole thing gave, falling out of its hinges, hitting the floor, taking her down with it.

“Maggie!” At the crashing sound, Jacob slapped his hands along the wall, looking for the light.

“Don’t turn on the light!” she cried.

Okay, she was alive, but he could hear the pain in her voice. Although
he
was the one who’d been hit in the belly with a refrigerator . . .

He’d been asleep for maybe an hour before the sheer discomfort of the short sofa had gotten to him. That and the soft padded footsteps of Maggie leaving her bedroom. When she’d stood over him, he’d held his breath rather than say anything, because what would have come out of his mouth would have been “I like your pj’s, now take them off.” Then she’d gone into the kitchen, and he had no idea why, but he’d followed without saying a word, which turned out to be a mistake because she’d slammed the refrigerator door into his gut.

Finally, he found a light switch and hit it, and then went still as he took in the sight.

“I told you not to,” Maggie said on a sigh.

She was sitting in the opened dishwater tray in a camisole and panty set, bare legs dangling over the sides, her arms bracing her up as she attempted to lever herself off the broken plates beneath her. “Jesus, Maggie.” She had to be cut all to hell, and he rushed forward to lift her out.

But she held him off. “Don’t touch me.” She tried to lift herself out and failed. “Okay, touch me.”

Yeah. He just wished she meant it.

8

“I
’m fine!” Maggie shouted this for the third time in as many minutes through her bedroom door to a worried sounding Jacob.

How she’d managed to lift herself off of the broken plates and glasses—and let’s not forget the utensils—she hardly knew. She’d managed only with Jacob’s help, as if the whole situation hadn’t been embarrassing enough, and then she’d escaped down the hall and into her bedroom.

The mirror over her dresser wasn’t telling her much so she moved into her bathroom, stood on the toilet to get onto the counter, pulled down her panties, and twisted around to look into the vanity mirror.

Not good. She had a few cuts oozing a little blood, and already bruises were blooming. Nothing appearing too serious, but they weren’t pretty. At the knock on her bedroom door, she nearly fell off the counter. “Don’t come in!”

“Maggie, let me see.”

“No!”

“You’ve got to be cut up. There’s blood in the dishwasher.”

Ew.

“You might have glass splinters.”

Oh, no, she did not. She poked at one of the cuts, sucked in a harsh breath of pain, and admitted he might be right. But if she did have glass in there, it was staying in there.

Forever.

Jacob knocked one more time, didn’t get an answer, and thought
fuck it.
He opened her bedroom door.

He had a quick view of the four-poster iron-rod bed piled high with pillows and thick bedding before he turned to the open bathroom door.

She was standing on the counter yanking up her panties, where she’d clearly been trying to get an up close and personal view of her injuries.

“Hey! The bedroom door was shut!”

“And I opened it.” He strode over to her, scooped her up off the counter and put her down, accidentally knocking her toothbrush to the floor. “How bad is it?”

She slid her hands to her ass. “Not bad at all.”

“Liar.” He picked up her toothbrush and put it back on the counter, but she shook her head. “Wrong side.”

“Huh?”

“That’s the toilet side of the counter. Dentists recommend that a toothbrush be kept at least six feet away from the toilet to avoid airborne particles resulting from the flush. You just put it within four feet. I’ll have to throw it away.”

“I’ll buy you a new one. Enough stalling. Let me see.”

Resignation flashed across her face, as well as discomfort at the realization he saw right through her. “No,” she said.

“This isn’t the time for modesty, Maggie.”

“I’m fine.”

Uh-huh. And he was the damn tooth fairy. He peeked around her to catch sight of her in the mirror. The back of her camisole dipped low, revealing her shoulders and spine, lovely and smooth. And as he already knew, the panties were small, boy cut, and revealed more lovely, smooth skin. They rode low on her hips, yet slid up high enough to reveal the bottom curve of her sweet ass. She was holding said sweet ass but he could still see that one cheek was bleeding. “You’re not fine.”

She sagged, letting her shoulders fall as she dropped her gaze from his and pulled out a box of Band-Aids. “Okay, dammit, I’m not.”

All irritation vanished. “Come on,” he said gently, and grabbing the box of Band-Aids, pulled her into her bedroom. “You should really buy stock in these.” He sat on the bed and patted the mattress next to him.

Miserably, she shook her head. “I can’t sit.”

“Lie down.”

“Oh, God,” she moaned, still holding her butt. “I should have just stayed sleeping. Did you know that we burn more calories sleeping than we do watching TV?”

“Fascinating. Come on, it won’t be that bad.”

“That’s because it’s not you baring
your
ass.”

“True.” He patted the mattress again. “How about I close one eye, will that help?”

She let out a low, glum laugh, and crawled up on the bed. “Did you know that elephants are the only animals with four knees?”

“I did not know that.” He was trying not to know other things. Like she possibly had the sweetest ass he’d ever seen.

Slowly, carefully, she sprawled out on her tummy. “Did you know that every human spent about a half hour as a single cell?”

“Maggie, don’t be nervous.”

“Or that every year about ninety-eight percent of the atoms in your body are replaced?”

“Fascinating. Listen, it’s going to be okay, I promise.” One spaghetti strap of her cami had slid down over her arm. The hem had risen to mid back, revealing a strip of skin that he wanted to nibble. Her legs and feet were bare. He wanted to start at her toes and lick his way up to the world-class wedgie she had going on.

“Jacob?”

He cleared his throat. The last time a woman had lain on her belly for him, he’d been naked and about to have a very different experience. “Yeah?”

“Just look already!”

“Okay.” He very gently slid the material of her panties over one cheek, so that it further bunched in the middle. Her entire body was clenched so tight, she quivered. “Relax,” he said, stroking his finger over the already blooming bruise.

She let out a sound that might have been a laugh. “You pull down your pants and we’ll see if you can relax. What do you see?”

He saw two creamy cheeks that were so perfect he wanted to lean down and kiss them, divided by the bunched up silk that much to his regret managed to hide all the feminine secrets between her thighs.

“Jacob!”

Right. What did he see? Since she didn’t want to hear that he saw things that made him weak in the knees, he cleared his throat. “You’re already bruising and need ice.”

She wriggled around. “Any glass?”

“Hold still.” She had two long cuts from the broken plate. He probed them both while she hissed out a breath. “No glass,” he finally said, reaching for the Band-Aids. “All you need is a little TLC. . . .” He covered the wounds and then, because he couldn’t seem to help himself, he bent over her and did as he’d been dying to, and kissed the spot.

She gasped and rolled painfully to her side, her hair in her face, her eyes wide. “What was that?”

“I was kissing it all better. Did it work?”

“I . . .” She blinked and slid her hands beneath her to cup her bottom. “Yeah.”

Both cami straps had slipped down now. Her breasts were full, pressing against the thin material, her nipples two hard, mouthwatering points. Her gently curved belly was rising and falling with each breath, of which she took many. Her panties were snug, the effect being that the satin did little more than outline her every dip and nuance, and if he thought he’d wanted to nibble her ass, it was nothing compared with this particular area.

“Jacob?”

With difficulty, he lifted his gaze to her face.

“You really are different,” she whispered.

“From . . . ?”

“Me.”

That tugged a laugh out of him. “Yeah, and trust me, I’m very grateful for those differences.”

“No, it’s just that you were right before. The guys I usually fall for are the male version of me.”

He paused as that sank in. “Are you falling for me, Maggie?”

Now it was her turn to pause. “I didn’t think it would be possible.”

“Because we’re so different.”

“That’s right.”

He felt himself go very still. Shit, he’d really been an idiot. Standing, he walked out of the bedroom, away from the gorgeous creature in silk, so he could think a moment. And what he thought made him very unhappy. All the alluding to Mr. Right and Mr. Wrong, the times she’d mentioned their differences . . . While he’d been enjoying those differences,
she’d
been thinking he was a step down for her. A big step. How it’d never occurred to him, he had no idea, but—

“Jacob.”

She’d followed him into the living room. He let out a breath and stared out her window into the dark night. “I realize I don’t have the fancy degrees or the high-paying job, but I don’t like the idea that you’re just slumming with me.”

“No. No, you misunderstood. We’re different, yes. As in I’m anal, single-minded to the point of obsession, and frankly, socially handicapped.”

He turned to face her but she held up a hand before he could speak. “You, however . . .” she continued softly, “you’re tough and confident and funny and effortlessly sexy. I’ve never been with a guy like you, Jacob, and now I know I shortchanged myself. That’s what I meant before. Yes, I’ve been interested in you since I first saw you again on your ladder in a pair of worn Levi’s, looking in charge of your world, and yeah, that’s extremely shallow of me, but it’s so much more than that. I love the way you think, how you always say what you mean, no guesswork. What you see is what you get with you, and that’s . . .” She searched for the words. “Incredibly appealing.”

“I’ve been interested in you since I first saw you again,” he said. “Before I even knew it was
again.
”

She looked surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. You were wearing a black skirt and a white blouse, with a peekaboo hint of lace beneath. And fuck-me heels.”

She choked out a laugh. “I was not. They were higher than my usual, but I had a meeting that day and was looking for power.”

“You got lust.”

“My hair was out of control.”

“It was up in some complicated twist and you had a few strands of hair falling out the back, dangling against your sweet neck. You were late, you were rushing, and you looked like a hot mess. Emphasis on the hot. But even then it was your brain that attracted me most. I love watching you think, Maggie.”

“Do you know what I’m thinking now?” She stepped closer and slid her hands up his chest. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed all that hotness up against him.

“I could guess,” he murmured.

She smiled, and it staggered him. “My life has always been MapQuested out,” she whispered. “The route carefully highlighted. But with you, I don’t know what to expect, I don’t know what you’re thinking or what you’re going to do. Nothing is planned out, nothing is guaranteed, and it’s . . . exciting, Jacob.”

His hand swept down her body and up again. “So I turn your body on.”

“You turn my head on.” She caught his face in her hands and went up on tiptoe. He could feel her breasts, nipples hard, pressing into his chest. “Do you understand?” she murmured against his mouth. “This isn’t a fifth date, where I’ve carefully reflected and decided it’s time to put ‘have sex’ on the calendar. I haven’t lit a candle or turned on the music like I usually do because that’s what sets the mood and helps me relax. I haven’t slathered myself in some pretty-scented lotion to make sure I’m turning you on. Hell, I didn’t shave my legs—” She went still and closed her eyes, relaxing back down on the balls of her feet. “Dammit, I didn’t shave my legs.”