Skintight (6 page)

But it didn't reap him the reward he'd hoped to harvest, and by the time he walked her back to her car, frustration was eating him alive. He could tell she liked him. They'd talked and laughed for two and a half solid hours. In fact, he'd had to remind himself several times that he wasn't there to have a good time. He'd redoubled his efforts after each reminder, but no matter how slickly he'd maneuvered the conversation, she hadn't extended an invitation to her place.

He had to work to keep his voice light when they arrived at her car. “This is for the birds,” he said, when she'd opened the driver's door and turned to look up at him. “I don't like dropping you off in a big, empty parking garage. The next time we go out, I'm picking you up and delivering you back to your door.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Assuming there is a next time, of course.”

“Oh, there will be.” He shot her a cocky smile. “You dig me. Admit it. You really dig me.”

She gave him a cool-eyed up-and-down. Then she caved and flashed him a wide white smile. “I might dig you a little.”

“No, you dig me a lot.” He took a step forward, crowding her. “The way I dig you.” The latter was a little too close to the truth for comfort, and he lowered his head purposefully. This seduction would come off the way it was intended, dammit—with one-sided precision, uncluttered by messy emotions.

He congratulated himself for kissing her exactly that way, with cool, calculated expertise. Plunging his fingers through her soft hair, he held her in place and treated her to a sample of his best work.

The only problem was, she treated him right back to some damn fine work of her own. Her lips were soft and supple and they clung to his. Then they parted beneath the press of his kiss, and when he took her up on her invitation and slid his tongue across her teeth and into her mouth, he discovered flavors that were dark and addictive. When she moaned, the sound seemed to have a direct line to his cock, and he pressed closer. Her legs parted as much as her snug little dress would allow, and
he pressed his pelvis forward to fit his erection against the warm, sweet notch between her thighs. But it simply wasn't possible to get close enough.

Her hands slid up his chest, her arms wrapped around his neck, and those enticing breasts that had been provoking him all night long flattened against his chest. He groaned, finding himself suddenly unable to breathe.

He ripped his mouth free.
“God,”
he said, his chest heaving. He pulled her away from the open car door, slammed it shut and, wrapping his hands around her hips, hoisted her up onto the hood. Bunching the material of her skirt between his fingers, he eased it up around her waist, glancing in admiration at the skimpy scrap of lace he exposed for the second it took to knee her legs apart. “You. Are. So.
Hot,
” he growled. Then he stepped into the space he'd made for himself, plunged his fingers back into her curls and slammed his mouth over hers once again.

He couldn't get enough. Not of her taste, nor the elusive scent that wafted off her skin, nor the firm, warm feel of her in his arms. Holding her in place and oscillating his hips, he just about came unglued when the sweet mound he rocked against became damper and damper against his fly. He raised his head, his breath sawing in and out of his lungs, and stared down at her.

Her eyes were slumberous, the sexily shadowed lids heavy as she stared back at him, the clear honey color of her irises nearly swallowed up by her dilated pupils. Her lips were red and swollen from the pressure of his kisses, and as he watched she smiled lazily and slicked her tongue over the full bottom curve. He lowered his head to bite at the damp, plump lip.

“Ooh.” Treena's head dropped back.

He sucked her lip, then let it go and kissed the corner of her mouth, the angle of her jaw, and then just beneath it. Kissing his way down her long, smooth throat, he smoothed his hand along her neck as he moved to her creamy chest and pressed his parted lips into her shallow cleavage. Then he cupped her breast in his hand, reveling in its warm weight as he kissed his way down to her nipple.

Reaching it, he pressed a gentle smooch on its rigid tip, then opened his mouth to suck the tiny morsel inside.

She inhaled sharply and thrust her breasts up for closer attention. Almost immediately, however, she slid her hands down to his chest and thrust him away. “Too much,” she panted. “Oh, God, Jax, too much, too soon.” She slid off the hood.

He begged to differ. He thought the time was absolutely right to lay her back and rip those little panties aside.

“Forgive me,” she panted. “I've never—” A wild laugh escaped her and she shook her head, sending her soft curls floating in a wild nimbus around her head. “Oh, man, I can't believe what I was about to do in the middle of a parking garage.” She sidled skittishly toward the car door.

An image of the two of them humping on the hood of her car flashed through his head. She had a point. This was hardly the place for his big seduction. He was stunned at how quickly he'd lost control of the situation.

Remember the plan.
He sucked in and blew out a quiet breath. Staring at her, he licked his bottom lip, tasting a weak reminder of her flavor. “Take me home with you.”

She was tempted; he could tell she was. But she shook her head. “I can't,” she said, edging closer to the driver-side door. “I'm sorry—you must think I'm such a tease, but I just…can't. I've only known you a day.” She pulled the door open and climbed inside.

He resisted swearing a blue streak and said mildly instead, “I'll call you,” as she pulled the door closed.

She nodded, but started the engine without further comment. And the next thing he knew, he was standing in an echoing, concrete cavern, sporting a raging hard-on and the beginnings of an equally raging headache as he watched her taillights blink red before disappearing up the ramp.

“Shit,” he said, thrusting his hands through his hair.
“SHIT!”

God, he was a chump. Such a big agenda, and all he had to show for it was the need for a cold shower and the sound of his own voice as it bounced back at him off the walls.

His mouth tightened as it dawned on him that he'd just been played. “You must think I'm such a tease,” he said in a vicious falsetto. His voice dropped back down into its normal register. “No shit, baby.”

She'd sucked him in, turned him inside out, then left him twisting in the wind. Shoving his hands deep in his pockets, he stalked toward the elevator.

It damn well wouldn't happen again.

T
REENA POUNDED ON
Carly's door. Excited barking immediately commenced within the condo and she winced, giving her wristwatch a guilty glance when her friend's voice called out with patent irritation, “Knock it off, already—I'm coming! Rufus, Buster, be quiet!” When the dogs continued barking she heard Carly's frustrated snarl and an exasperated, “Oh, for God's sake!”

The door whipped open.

Her friend's blond hair looked spikier than usual, and her face was scrubbed clean of all makeup. With her big blue eyes flashing fire, she opened her mouth to say something that Treena didn't doubt for an instant would be rude and to the point. But after a quick look at her, she merely said, “Whoa. Come on in.” She pushed the two mutts dancing around her feet aside to make room.

“I'm sorry,” Treena said, following them into the short entryway. “I know it's late.”

“Forget it.” Carly led the way into her colorful living room. “Have a seat. You want a cup of tea? Or a shot of tequila, maybe? Here, let me get Rags out of your way.” She studied Treena as she swept a long-haired black cat off an overstuffed chintz-covered chair and
dumped the feline on the floor. “I gotta say you look like you had a much more interesting night than I did.”

“Oh, God.” Treena laughed wildly and collapsed onto the chair. “I came
this close
to having sex with Jax Gallagher on the hood of my car!”

Her friend blinked. The corners of her mouth twitched. Then her incipient smile blossomed into a full-fledged grin. “Way to go, Treena!”

A three-legged cat leapt up into her lap, and she buried her hand in its soft gray-and-white fur. “This is not a good thing, Tripod,” she bent her head to tell it sternly. “Tell your person that. I've known the man, oh, gee, what's it been now?
Twenty-four freaking hours!
”

Apparently Tripod didn't care. He circled twice, then settled down on her thighs. A second later, he butted his head against her hand to get her petting again and purred when she complied.

“Yeah, well, you're a guy. No one expects better from you,” she muttered, then looked at Carly, who had flopped down on the couch across from her and was watching her with interest. “You, on the other hand, are another story. This
isn't
a good thing.”

“Sez you. Sex alfresco strikes me as a very good thing.”

“Alfresco my butt. This wasn't on a soft blanket beneath the desert moon, Carly. It was in the middle of a concrete parking garage!”

“Okay, not real romantic. Still, you get points for spontaneity.”

“It was spontaneous all right. God, it was just totally out of control.” And if there was one thing that fired Treena's determination, it was the need to stay in con
trol. She still didn't understand what had come over her, but she felt like an idiot, not just for the way she'd gone crazy on top of that car, but for her inane chatter once she'd finally come to her senses. She cringed at the remembrance of sounding more like a junior high school airhead than a grown woman.

“Ooh.” Carly executed a little wriggle of delight. “I love out of control.” Then she sobered, shooting Treena an apologetic grimace. “But I'm sorry, Treen, I can see you're upset. It's just that it's been awhile since I've had sex of any sort, so it all sounds pretty exciting to me.”

“Believe me, I understand,” Treena agreed. “It's been a while for me, too.”

Carly laughed. “Yeah, right. At least you were getting it on a regular basis before Big Jim got sick. I can't even remember the last time—” she broke off to stare at Treena. “What?”

Oh, shit.
She blinked innocently. “What, what?”

“You had a look on your face. Now, I know Big Jim was too ill to do the hootchie-kootch for most of your marriage, but…” She hesitated, studied Treena's expression closely, then, eyes narrowing, asked, “Is there something you'd like to tell me?”

No. But this was her best friend, and outright lying didn't set well on her conscience, either. “We, um, never did the hootchie-kootch. At least not properly.”

“What?”
Carly laughed. “Of course you did. Big Jim was a sex machine before he got—” She broke off, looked at Treena. “He wasn't?”

“No. Look, it's kind of complicated. One of the first things that attracted me to him was the fact that he wasn't looking for a quick roll in the hay with a showgirl.”

Carly nodded. “Sure, I get that. Lord knows we get enough of those kinda guys hitting on us.”

“Precisely.”

“Jim was different?”

“Very. Of course I didn't know at the time that he was in remission from his prostate cancer. He thought he'd beat it for good, but the downside was that the meds he was taking messed with his ability to have sex. I can't exactly claim love, or even lust, at first sight on either side. I liked that he wasn't all over me like so many of the hot-handed Harrys I'd met, and he probably liked the fact that his pals thought I was Grade A arm candy that he was screwing up, down and sideways. I mean, you bought it, and you're not that easily fooled.”

“And that didn't bother you?”

“No. He cared a
lot
what his friends thought, and I think the mere idea of them knowing he couldn't get it up—or sustain an erection when he did manage to get one—was about the worst-case scenario he could imagine.”

“But what about you? Didn't you wonder when he didn't make a move?”

She shrugged. “I thought he was just being a gentleman.” And that was the truth, as far as it went. The deeper truth, however, was that she'd been relieved.

She wasn't about to admit that to Carly, however.

It seemed as if every woman she'd ever known—with the possible exception of her mother—adored sex. So perhaps the reason she'd understood Big Jim's reluctance to have his friends learn of his dysfunction was because she had a serious disinclination of her own to share just how lousy
she
was in the hootchie-kootch department.

She didn't understand it. She certainly loved the kissing and the foreplay. But when it came to the main event, she just didn't get the attraction, even though she liked an orgasm as much as the next woman. She'd even been known to help herself to one on occasion. She and the handheld shower massage were on very close terms.

But with men—well, she had a small…issue…with losing control, and apparently that was a prerequisite to attaining a guy-sponsored climax. So, as much as she hated to admit it even to herself, she was a bust in bed. One guy she'd slept with had gone so far as to tell her she was about as much fun in the sack as a cadaver.

“I can't believe you married the guy without sampling the merchandise. What was the attraction for you if it wasn't the sex?”

“He seduced me with his attentiveness.” She laughed at the expression on her friend's face. “I know, I know, it doesn't sound like much. But believe me, given the way I was raised it was actually quite a lot. There was just something so great about being more to him than tits and ass. He actually listened when I talked. He noticed the things I liked. Paid attention to details. You've met my mom and pop. They're good people who love me without question. But they've had a rough life and were always too beaten down just trying to survive to fuss over things like birthdays or holidays.”

“Oh, man, not Big Jim.” Carly laughed out loud. “Your thirty-fourth birthday party will probably go down in infamy.”

“Yeah, he made it one of the most special nights of my life—and he'd already found out by then that his cancer
was back and had begun feeling pretty lousy. He did a
lot
of stuff like that for me. My favorite thing, though, has to be the way he made me laugh. I never knew how much fun everyday life could be until I met him.”

“He was a sweetheart.”

“Yeah. I know a lot of people think I married him for his money—and I can't deny it was fun not having to worry about finances for a while. But the real reason I married him was because he kept telling me how much he wanted to take care of me.”

“That had to be a first for you.”

Stretching out her leg, Treena nudged her friend with her toe. “I love that I never have to explain things to you. But, yeah, it was. I've taken care of myself for as long as I can remember, and Jim's wanting to give me a break was more seductive than all the money in the world.”

“So how unfair is it, then, that instead you ended up taking care of him?”

She hated to admit it, but she'd thought the same thing herself, and more than once. They hadn't been married long before illness had begun ravaging Big Jim from the inside out. She was soon consumed with responsibilities once again. Whenever she'd had a moment away from his sickbed, she'd tackled a mountain of bills and watched as expenses mounted to the point where they'd finally sucked not only Jim's fortune dry, but her own savings, as well. The only thing she'd managed to hang onto was her condo.

But she merely shrugged, for when it came right down to it, no one had promised her life would be fair. “Yeah, well, shit happens.”

“More often to you than others, for some damn reason. I'm confused, though, Treen. By the sounds of things you've been sex deprived for a long time now. So why didn't you take advantage of that sexy man wanting to jump your bones tonight?”

“I just—I don't know.” A flash of the way she'd felt in that garage made her clamp her thighs together, and she rapidly pushed the resulting panic aside. Her chin inched up. “I've never been a one-night-stand sort of woman, I guess. Plus, I can't seem to get past the fact that I've known Jax for all of about ten minutes. I'm not ready for something that intense.”

And perhaps she never would be. She thought about that all night long, as she tossed and turned and tried to reconcile the greedy sexuality she'd experienced those few brief moments on her car hood with the in-command-of-herself woman she'd always been. Unfortunately, she came to no conclusions. All that her restless self-questioning gained her was a sleepless night, and the vehement desire for a respite from having to think about Jax Gallagher at all.

Easier said than done, as it turned out.

He'd left a message on her machine while she was at Carly's and he called again the following morning. Uneasy over the possibility that the ringing phone might be him calling, she allowed the machine to answer for her.

“Treena, are you there?” There was a moment of silence, then his voice, deep and a little desperate, said, “Please, if you're there, talk to me. Don't leave me hanging like this. I've got a poker game scheduled in L.A. this morning, and I really don't want to get
drummed out of it like some rank amateur. But I'm probably going to be because I scared you off or something last night, and now I can't concentrate for shit on the game.”

She snatched up the receiver. “You didn't scare me. I don't scare.” It was important he understood that.

“Glad to hear it. Then you'll go out with me tonight.”

The way her heart jumped at the idea made her literally take a large step backward. She shook her head, then felt like an idiot, because of course he couldn't see. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

“It's a great idea. I know I moved too fast for you last night, but I won't push you again, I promise. Just…don't shut me down. We could have a quiet evening or something. I'll come to your place.”

“No.” She didn't want to be all alone with him where her big comfy bed was just a short walk down the hallway if things got out of hand again. But neither could she bear the idea of not seeing him at all. “I suppose we could go to a late movie. Or, I know, we could go dancing.” That suggestion ought to discourage him. Men never wanted to risk dancing with a professional. And if he reined in whatever this thing was going on between them, it would let her off the hook.

He surprised her. “Yeah, sure, we could do that,” he said easily. “But you gotta do me one favor, all right? Ride to work with your friend this evening. At least let me see you home myself.”

Since visions of being alone with him again in the parking garage had her heart thundering like crazy, she agreed, then qualified it by adding cautiously, “But only if I can catch Carly before she leaves to run her dogs.
She's often in and out and hard to get a hold of. Either way, I'll see you tonight. Same place by the elevators in the main salon.” She hung up before she could change her mind, then wondered if she was making a huge mistake.

If so, it was too late to do anything about it, so she put it out of her mind, and she was finally starting to settle down again when her doorbell rang. She went to answer it, smiling to see her petite next-door neighbor Ellen Chandler on the other side.

“Hello, darling,” the older woman said. “I'm sorry to show up unannounced like this. Have I come at a bad time?”

“Not at all.” Charmed as always with the retired librarian's manners, she stood back to let her enter, happy for the distraction. “Please, come in.” She found Ellen's company soothing, and she loved the way the fifty-nine-year-old often spoiled her with some of the best home-baked goodies she'd ever tasted. She gave the foil-covered plate in Ellen's hands a covetous glance.

Ellen caught her at it and extended the plate. “For you.”

“Thank goodness! For a second there I feared I was just a pit stop on your way to deliver it to someone else.” Grinning, she took the plate and headed for the kitchen. “I'll put the coffee on. What did you make me this time?”

“Nothing special.” Ellen followed her around the breakfast bar that divided the small, cheerful room from the main living area. “Just a few snickerdoodles and chocolate drops.”

Treena guffawed. “Nothing special, she says.” Pulling off the foil, she breathed in the rich, home-baked aroma. “Ohmigawd, Ellen. I think I love you.”