No Turning Back (Man-Maid) (9 page)

A sideways grin appeared at the corner of Jensen’s mouth. “Were you just talking to yourself, sweetheart?”

“Er, of course not,” she lied. Oh wow, Jensen sure was six feet plus of solid, gorgeous maleness. His jeans fly strained over a mouthwatering bulge, and he wore a pair of black biker boots. His chest was bare. Marquetta had a very hard time not staring at the eagle tattoo directly over his right pec. The razor stubble covering his chin tempted her to reach out and stroke it.

Instead, she resisted the urge and stood in silence, allowing Jensen to look at her. He was his usual bold self, she thought, hiding her smile. His gaze moved over her body like a lover’s touch as it drifted slowly downward, then back up again. The way he stared at her filled her with liquid heat, making her uncharacteristically shy and unsure.

Marquetta had hoped to please Jensen. She knew he liked what he saw, but somewhere along the line she had started wanting something more than just physical pleasure with him. The sarcastic comments she’d gotten so good at using in moments like these vanished on her tongue.

“Damn, you look good enough to eat, girl.”

His voice was low and filled with aching desire. Marquetta could see as well as hear the intensity. Everything in her screamed to beg him to take her. Instead, she only stood frozen to the spot and said, “Uh, thanks.”

“Come in,” he urged as he took her hand and tugged her inside. He indicated his naked chest and said, “I spilled sauce on my shirt and was about to get a different one when you knocked.”

“No need, really,” she said, unable to drag her gaze away from the lovely display of tanned muscle.

As he shut the door behind him, Jensen looped an arm around her back and nudged her toward him. He dipped his head and kissed her. Marquetta surrendered, wrapped her arms around his neck and sank into it for all she was worth. There’d been no one since Sheldon. It’d been too long since she’d felt a man’s warm touch. Too long since she’d tasted heaven in a man’s strong arms.

He lifted his head an inch and whispered, “You came for me the other night.”

His smile was predatory. The man was lethal, that was all there was to it. Her gaze quickly darted away. “Don’t remind me,” she muttered.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said. “It was beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

She had no words, and, thankfully, Jensen didn’t seem to require any. His lips brushed hers once more, careful and restrained, as if he was afraid she would bolt if he let his passion have free rein. But she wasn’t going anywhere. She wanted him. Every powerful, male inch of him. She wanted it all, both this man and the wild, untamed one she sensed lurking beneath the surface.

Without giving her brain a chance to talk her out of it, Marquetta took control of the kiss, sliding her tongue into his mouth. He groaned and slipped his own tongue between her lips. He sucked on hers, and her pussy throbbed at the erotic sensation. Marquetta’s willpower evaporated.

Jensen pulled away and stared down at her, dark desire etched into his rugged face. His dangerous appearance thoroughly captivated her. A shiver ran the length of her spine.

“You’re playing with fire, little girl.”

She loved the gravelly tone of his voice. It gave her a hint of how turned on he was. She had done that to him. “I’m sorry,” she replied and let a naughty smile curve her lips.

“Don’t tease me now,” he warned. “I have a delicious meal planned, and if there’re any more kisses like that one, it’ll end up going to waste.”

She reached out and flattened her palm against the solid wall of his chest, directly over his heart. Feeling the fast and frantic rhythm made her own heart speed up, matching his beat for beat. “I wouldn’t want that,” she replied as she took a moment to collect herself. “So, um, I know you said you had everything covered, but I brought a bottle of wine anyway.” Marquetta held up the brown tote that contained the bottle she’d picked up at the wine store she’d stopped off at on her way over. “Is Chianti okay?”

Jensen took the bag from her outstretched hand and peered inside. He quirked a brow at her. “Perfect, thanks.” He winked and asked, “Want the fifty-cent tour?”

“Sure.” Marquetta’s heart sped up as Jensen grinned down at her. It seemed her insides turned to pudding every time the man looked at her.

He moved to the side to allow her to precede him. “In case you couldn’t tell, this is the living room.”

The floors were a gorgeous dark wood. A palm-leaf-style ceiling fan hung from the ceiling. Marquetta stepped into the spacious area, immediately impressed with the large and comfortable-looking brown-leather sofa and love seat. A pair of large bookshelves stood on either side of a big fireplace. She imagined how cozy the room would be in the winter, with a warm fire burning and her cuddled up close to Jensen. The furnishings weren’t anything extravagant, but they suited him. She strode over to the books and picked one up. “You like Stephen King?”

He shrugged. “On occasion. Although he does have a pretty twisted imagination.”

She stared at all the books with nothing short of envy. “I’ve always loved to read. Romance novels mostly. King’s books tend to keep me up at night.” She put the book back and said, “Your home is surprisingly homey.”

He laughed. “What were you expecting?”

Her cheeks filled with heat as she walked toward him. “I guess something more…bacheloresque.”

Jensen tsked. “Just goes to show that you shouldn’t assume things, especially when it comes to me.”

“You’re a constant surprise, that’s for sure,” she admitted.

He held up the tote. “How about I show you the kitchen next? You can pour the wine while I finish up dinner.”

Marquetta’s gaze went straight to Jensen’s butt as he turned and headed toward the arched entryway leading to the other room. His low-slung jeans were mouthwateringly snug and sexy. Of course, it wouldn’t matter whether the man wore dress slacks, workout shorts or jeans, Jensen Kershaw simply had the finest ass she’d ever laid eyes on. “Um, sounds good,” she answered.

He glanced over his shoulder, and she held her breath, afraid she’d been caught staring. When he shook his head and mumbled something incoherent, she sighed.
Seriously, woman, have some self-control.

Jensen had insisted on cooking for her. Like any normal woman spending time with a good-looking man, Marquetta saw it as the perfect opportunity to find out more about him. “So, you and your brother are pretty close?”

He dipped his finger in a pan of red sauce on the stove and tasted it. “We have our fair share of fights, but we get along okay.”

“And is it just the two of you?”

“Yep. Mom and Dad moved to Arizona about five years ago. Mom’s arthritis kept getting worse, and the lack of humidity out West makes it more bearable.”

“Do you visit them often?”

“We visit on holidays and all that, but I suppose it’s not quite the same as having them here.”

Marquetta started to ask about his new business venture, but before she could get the words out of her mouth a big furry wolf dog entered the kitchen. She froze at the ferocious sight of him padding toward her. “Uh, is he friendly?” The animal sniffed the air, then peered over at her and tilted his head as if trying to figure out if she was friend or foe.

“Aw, he’s a big ol’ teddy bear, aren’t you, Dozer?” The dog meandered over to where Jensen stood filling tube-shaped pasta with a cheese mixture. When he stared up at his master and wagged his tail, Jensen said, “I’d pet you, buddy, but my hands are full, and I don’t think our pretty guest would appreciate dog hair in her food.”

“Dozer?”

“He’s a German shepherd/husky mix. And my brother came up with the goofy name.” He looked over at her. “From the time Dozer was a little pup, he slept practically all the time. It didn’t take me long to figure out he was going to be useless as a guard dog.”

She laughed when the big bear of an animal rubbed up against her thigh, begging to have his ears rubbed. Unable to resist, Marquetta reached down and scratched. “Considering he didn’t greet me with a bark and a snarl, I see your point.”

Jensen placed the manicotti into a deep-dish pan, then slid it into the oven. “That needs to bake for a few minutes or so.” He looked at the clock on the wall. “We have a little time. I hope you don’t mind.” He washed his hands before joining her at the table.

Dozer immediately left her side and plopped his front half onto Jensen’s lap. Jensen gave him a loving rub and Marquetta was slightly jealous of the mutt. “You shouldn’t be up at the table, but you’re aware of that, aren’t you?”

She laughed when Dozer got down and came back over to her, tongue lolling out of his mouth. “He’s got you wrapped around his paw, huh?”

Jensen glanced at her with the same indulgent smile he’d bestowed on Dozer. “Yep. I fully admit it. I think he’s found a new friend.” Jensen’s blue-eyed gaze heated as he murmured, “Smart dog.”

“I’m a sucker for animals.”

Jensen refilled her nearly empty glass of wine and asked, “So, why is it a pretty lady like yourself hasn’t been snatched up by now?”

Marquetta stiffened, unwilling to get into the uncomfortable territory of her dating life—or lack thereof. “I’ve just been busy with work, I suppose,” she said evasively. “I don’t have a lot of time for a personal life.”

He squinted. “Now, why do I get the feeling you aren’t telling me the whole truth?”

Jensen stood and began getting out two black plates and silverware. He placed them on the table, then leaned against the counter. “I get the feeling you’ve been in a rough relationship. Am I right?”

Had she given off some sort of sad, victim-like vibe? “What makes you say that?”

“Well, there’s the fact that your brother showed up at Champagne’s and threatened me if I even thought about hurting you. Then when I was at your shop, both of them stared daggers at me. That’s not typical brotherly protectiveness, in my opinion.”

He turned and opened the oven door, then began covering the manicotti with the red sauce before he tucked the pan back in and closed the door. And he did it all bare-chested. Marquetta wasn’t sure which she was hungrier for, the sexy man or the tasty manicotti.

As he turned toward her, he said, “So, were you?”

“What?” She’d already lost the trail of their conversation. Having a gorgeous, half-naked man who could cook did that to a woman.

“Have you been in a bad relationship?”

She took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes. When I was in college, I dated a man named Sheldon. I was naïve and thought he was my one true love. Unfortunately he disagreed, and it ended badly.”

“I see,” he replied. “Seems we all have at least one horror story, huh?”

“When was yours?”

“Mine was in high school with a girl named Crissy.”

She glommed on to the opportunity to learn more about him. “It ended badly?”

A muscle in his jaw jumped as he stared at her. “She tried to commit suicide.”

Her gaze shot wide. “Oh no, I’m so sorry.”

Jensen rubbed his chin and said, “It was right after I tried to break up with her. She’d started talking about marriage and white picket fences. Kids, the whole lot. Hell, we were only seventeen, and I wasn’t ready to think about all that. When I told her I wanted to take a break, she went home and swallowed a bottle of pills. If her mom hadn’t come home and found her, she would’ve died.”

“She must have been very troubled, Jensen. It wasn’t your fault.”

“No, but I still carry the weight of it, even though it was years ago and she’s happily married and living in Florida now.”

Marquetta thought about Sheldon, about the loss of the baby. She still blamed herself for the miscarriage. As unfair as that was, she knew that was a big part of the reason she had trouble moving past it. “Guilt is a heavy thing, and it rarely goes away without a lot of hard work.”

“True.” The oven dinged, and he put on the oven mitts. “Now, let’s eat.”

“Good idea,” she said, hoping to get them past the weighty conversation. “I’m starving.”

He took up the steaming-hot pan from the oven, tenderly scooped out their manicotti and set them onto the plates. Marquetta’s nostrils flared and her stomach rumbled.

He smiled indulgently at her. “Ah, the growling of a gorgeous woman’s empty stomach is what every cook longs to hear.”

His eyes grew serious as he handed her the plate filled with aromatic cheese-filled shells. “Although I wouldn’t mind satisfying more than just your appetite.”

His words had her heart flip-flopping, but she so wasn’t going to respond to the flirtatious comment. Instead, they ate their meal and drank their wine in relative silence.

Having such a decadent feast was quite a unique experience for Marquetta. She rarely indulged in wine unless it was a special occasion. “This is delicious. Wow, I’m learning all sorts of things today.”

“What else have you learned, sweetheart?”

Oh, yummy. She already recognized that coarseness in his deep baritone. “Hmm, let’s see. I’ve learned that I rather enjoy seeing you in the kitchen, shirtless and cooking up a storm.”

“I’ll keep that information for future reference, then,” Jensen whispered as he pushed their plates aside and leaned in to kiss her. She knew what she would find when his lips touched hers—the zesty flavor of the manicotti and the richness of the red wine. But there was the delicious flavor of Jensen. And she was certain that last part was what kept her glued to her chair, savoring the moment.