Roped Into Romance (2 page)

"Definitely not gay," Anton said, looking at the plain black face of the watch on his wrist.

Doug hung his head. "Does she have a friend?"

"Yeah." Anton stuffed his Day-Timer into his satchel, dug in his pocket for the keys to his Jag. "But she's not coming."

"Oh, and I suppose you will be."

Anton grinned. "You know me all too well, my man."

"I really hated calling so late, but I am
so
glad you were available." Tape measure and notebook tucked into her backpack, Lauren stepped from the elevator into the loft. The room was dark, darker than she'd expected, the only light thrown by the moon through the balcony's glass doors.

Leaving the grate open, Anton flipped a switch next to the elevator's call button. A row of track lighting above the door threw six spotlights along the hardwood floor.

Nice atmosphere, Lauren thought. Not quite as seductive as the moon but, hey.

She'd take what she could get. The fact that she'd managed to get
him
here was a miracle in itself.

"Like I told you earlier. It's not a problem."

He sounded sincere enough. But Lauren wanted to be sure about that. And about…other things. "I didn't ruin your plans for the evening, did I?"

"Nope." He shook his head, the illumination catching the highlights in his hair. "No plans to ruin."

Lauren so wanted to run her fingers through those curls. She didn't think she'd ever known a guy with hair so tempting to the touch. Smiling, she reached into her backpack for her pencil and spiral pad. "I didn't want your girlfriend coming after me for making a mess of her night."

Anton walked toward her then, his eyes glittering, his mouth drawn into a seductive smile. He stopped when he'd drawn within a scant foot. Close enough that her every breath caught his subtle scent. Her heart hammered like a piston in her chest.

He took hold of the strap of her overalls, rubbed his thumb in a circle over the copper catch. "No, Lauren. I don't have a girlfriend. Is that what you were wanting to know?"

He didn't have a girlfriend!
Lauren Hollister thought she might actually jump for joy.

"Yes. That's exactly what I wanted to know."

She backed a short step away and tried to pretend her skin wasn't tingling where his fingers had grazed her shoulder. "It's a girl thing. We look out for one another. Make sure not to step on toes. Or on boyfriend toes. That sort of thing."

One of Anton's blond eyebrows arched. His mouth fought back a grin. "I see."

If he did, he would be the first. Men never did get the girlfriend thing. All the rules, and such. Still, she had to be careful. He could be one of those guys who knew a woman was lying simply by taking her pulse. Which he'd no doubt done with his hand so close to her heart. She never had been very good at deception. She was, instead, very good at the truth.

And that meant she might run into trouble convincing him she wasn't here to take his measure along with the kitchen's, or to see if her instincts were right. That, yes, her attraction to him was as much about what she saw when she looked into his eyes as when she looked at his body.

Call her foolish, but she swore she'd caught a glimpse of awareness that reached deeper than a sexual level. And that possibility, that complex attraction to both mind and matter was what she wanted to explore.

She flipped open her notebook and made her way to the space perfectly suited for the bubble sculptures on which she and Macy had their hearts set. "I knew I wasn't going to be able to sleep tonight until I found out if the sculptures are going to fit beneath the ductwork. We went by the store earlier today so I know exactly how tall they are."

While Lauren continued her decorative chatter, Anton had followed her across the main room. She'd counted each of his footsteps — she took one and a half to each of his — and now she felt his body heat behind her.

She had to talk herself out of stepping back into his solid male warmth when she so wanted to know what he felt like. Oh, but her imagination was running wild, wanting to experience more of him than she would have time to experience tonight.

"Let's see." She dug the measuring tape from her backpack, extended the strip of stiff metal far enough to reach the shiny ventilation system directly overhead. Then she let go of the casing. Gravity slowly pulled it to the floor where it landed with a light
thunk.
She looked back at Anton and smiled. "And voilà! Exactly…this tall."

Anton reached over her shoulder, his large hand taking hold of the metal strip. He nodded toward the floor. "I'll do this part. You get down there and do yours."

Lauren released the measuring tape and turned beneath his outstretched arm. She had a devil of a time keeping a straight face. Anton wasn't having much better luck ignoring his own timely double entendre. "Just…go. Do. Before I get my other foot stuck in my mouth."

With a wink, she dropped to her knees at his feet. Once she noted the distance between floor and ceiling, she sat back on her heels and jotted dimensions into her notebook. "A perfect fit. You can let go now."

She made to stand. He made to reach for the tape casing. It was o ne of those badly timed movie moments where their faces ended up inches apart. She could so easily have kissed him. His lips were so beautifully full and she just knew that the stubble beneath his lower lip would tickle.

Imagining the feel of his mouth had kept her tossing and turning a good part of last night. But, as tempting as she found his mouth — and his everything else, she knew what anticipation added to the sensual equation.

She also was quite sure he would be worth the wait.

And so she gave him nothing more than a smile before she got back to her feet. He handed her the tape, closing his fingers around her smaller hand. "Did you get what you needed?"

"Well, that is certainly a leading question. But, to answer you honestly? No. I didn't.

Do you mind?" Pulling out the tape while pulling her hand from his hold, she moved away, motioning for him to step back. "Right there. Stop. How far apart are we?"

Looking at her like she was crazy before looking down at the tape in his hand, he answered, "Fifteen feet."

"Hmm." Lauren walked toward him, feeding the tape back into the case. "The base of each sculpture is three feet, so that's perfect. Now all we have to figure out is if we can afford to buy five."

"You've made up your mind then? About the loft?"

"We're getting there. Arguing over a few details still."

"And taking measurements just in case?"

"Yes. And no." Lauren took a deep breath. Here came the honesty part. "I was also hoping you'd let me buy you dinner."

She didn't know why she was nervous. Other tha n the obvious reason that she rarely invited a virtual stranger to eat. A stranger to whom she found herself so viscerally attracted at that. And so she held her breath.

Finally, after what seemed like eternal minutes spent staring into her eyes, his glittering even in the room's dim light, Anton answered. "I don't think I can do that.

But I would love to buy dinner for you."

Exhaling at last, Lauren grinned. She knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or to trample a male ego. "Great. I'd say I'd get my things —" she shrugged and held up her backpack "— but this is it."

"Vietnamese okay?"

"Perfect. I'm famished."

They headed for the elevator. Lauren stepped inside. Anton cut off the loft's lighting, pulled the grate closed and locked it up tight, then yanked down the overhead door, leaving them with only a single bare bulb by which to see.

The freight car was a box of moving shadows. Lauren watched every one play with Anton's face until nerves launched from her belly on butterfly wings. She wondered what he'd do if she took that one long step toward him and —

The elevator jolted, jerked. A bloodcurdling screech of metal on metal. The bare bulb swung from its wire mooring. Lauren grabbed onto the side railing to keep herself from tumbling to the floor. The car shuddered, groaned, stopped. She held her breath for a few more interminable seconds before giving a little laugh. "This is a joke, right?"

"If it is, it's on both of us." Anton spent several minutes messing with the elevator's control panel. Then he pulled out his cell phone and swore up and down at the weak signal. Lauren swore harder when she realized she'd left her phone in the car after calling Macy on the way to the loft.

He did manage to get through to his office, where he left his partner a voicemail.

"Doug's a fanatic about checking messages. Unless you want me to try 911?"

She did. She didn't. "What do you think?"

Anton glanced at his watch. "Give him an hour first?"

"Okay." It made sense. This wasn't a life-threatening situation. Though her heartbeat seemed to know it could be a life -changing one. "Then, I guess, we wait?"

"We wait."

Anton Neville watched Lauren Hollister slide down the elevator wa ll until her butt hit the floor. She was wearing a pair of overalls. Micro-mini overalls, if there were such a thing. Which there had to be because he was looking at the evidence.

Damn but her legs were long.

"You know, you'll never sell this place if you don't get this thing fixed," she said.

He moved his gaze to her face. Her eyes were resigned to the wait. Resigned, but definitely not defeated. He liked seeing that spunk. "Does that mean you're backing out of the deal?"

Lauren scrunched up her nose, stuck out her tongue, and sighed. Then she sighed again and settled in for the duration, tucking her backpack up under the bend of her knees.

Damn
but her legs were long.

With nowhere to pace, Anton figured he might as well take a load off, as well. He sank to the floor, stretched out his legs, and leaned back on the wall opposite the one against which Lauren had collapsed. Their feet met in the middle and she tapped his sole.

"You're going to ruin your pants."

He kept his foot pressed to the bottom of hers. "I know a good dry cleaner."

"You'd do better knowing a good tailor."

"I know one of those, too."

"At least you don't know a good girlfriend. I would be in so much trouble if you did."

"Why? This wasn't exactly a calculated move to get us alone." He knew it wasn't. She knew it wasn't. But she sure had a guilty look on her face.

"This is breaking every rule ever written. A girl does not strand herself with another girl's man." She punctuated that last statement by banging her head on the wall at her back.

And then Anton realized he didn't know for sure whether or not he was getting close to trespassing himself. "What about you? Am I going to need to be watching my back when we get out of here?"

She shook her head. "Macy's aim's not that good."

"Macy?" Uh-uh. No way he had called that one wrong!

"Never mind. No. I'm not seeing anyone right now." She dropped her head back in one last thump.

Then she smiled to herself, a private inside joke that had her shaking her head and tilting it to the side as she gave him a considering look. "And I've learned my lesson.

Next time I
want
to see someone, I'll call. I'll be direct. I'll do my interior decorating on my own time."

Anton wasn't sure, but he thought she'd just said she wanted to see him. His pulse began to do its own thumping. His temperature started to rise. He pointed in the general direction of the loft. "So, all that business about measuring for sculptures..."

She nodded. "I really was measuring for sculptures. But I also meant it when I said I was hoping you'd let me buy you dinner."

Anton had a sudden wish to smash Doug's voice mailbox. "No can do. My rule. No matter who does the asking, I always buy on the first date."

Lauren's pursed lips slowly parted as, in a tone both low and lightly suggestive, she asked, "Is this a date?"

"It could be." He nodded toward her backpack. "If you have anything to eat in that bag of yours that I can pay you for."

Her eyes grew both wide and bright and Anton felt a strange stirring in his gut. An unease that told him he was asking for the sort of trouble that had a good chance of turning his well-ordered life upside down.

"Hey, we're in luck. One for each of us. And my treat. None of that macho sexist crap," she added when he reached for his wallet. "We'll call this a first date warm-up if it'll make you happier."

From the front compartment, she produced two high-carb energy bars and tossed him one. Then she unzipped the main part of the pack and pulled out a bottle of water. "But the water we'll have to share."

The thought of sharing her things, of how many of his things he wouldn't mind if she shared, finally sent him across the elevator car to her side. He sat next to her, his hip at her hip.

She offered him the bottle. He pulled up on the sports cap and drank, keeping his gaze locked on hers as he handed it back, as she brought the same spout to her mouth, as she grinned before drinking, giving him a glimpse of the tip of her tongue.

He forced himself not to groan when his entire body wanted to scream.

"What was it you said yesterday? A little wine? A little candlelight?" he asked.

He cast a glance up toward the bare bulb, looked back in time to see her running the drinking spout back and forth over her lower lip. He couldn't stop the sound that seemed to roll straight out of his groin. He reached for the bottle, pulled it from her hand and set it on the floor.

She looked from the water bottle back to his face. And then she gave him a soft smile.

"That, a lotta lovin', and trying not to get caught."

His mouth descended to hers. And she was waiting. She didn't feign surprise or pretend he'd caught her off guard. She was waiting, and she responded with more than her lips and her tongue, threading her fingers into his hair and holding him close. He swore she smiled. Her lips slanted over his, even while lifting upward.

Nothing had ever aroused him so quickly. Like the head of a match, he burst into flame.