Some Girls Do (16 page)

Shrugging, he pulled in. When the clerk's voice came over the speaker at the drive-thru, he turned to her.

“A large cup of ice please,’’ she said, digging in her purse for change. “They charge for cups.”

“You don't have to pay for—”

“Just drive through and give him the money,” she said, pressing the coins into his palm.

Michael collected the ice and handed Katie the cup. She pulled off the plastic lid, then positioned the cup on the center console between the seats. “Here, put your fingers in the ice.”

He stared at the cup, then looked at her in surprise. The gesture had been…nice. He'd seen glimmers of compassion, but she'd never extended herself to him. He felt an odd sensation in his gut, not unlike indigestion.

“Hello? Didn't you hear me?” Glowering at him, she tugged at his hand and plunged his fingers into the ice. “It'll keep the swelling down.”

“Thanks,” he said.

She nodded and finally looked at him. “Thank you.”

Her clear, honest gratitude kicked through him like adrenaline. He suspected she didn't give it easily. She wouldn't put herself in a position to need anything. Damn odd combination in a woman. Mouth like a siren, eyes like a child.

A car horn beeped behind them, signaling him to move forward. Damn odd combination in a woman, he thought again as he drove out of the fast-food parking lot.

Wilhemina
Smith
was one weird lady, Douglas thought as he returned to the house from the barn. He was still shaking his head over her.
I refuse to pay you for sex.
No one had ever said anything more insane to him in his life. And he couldn't imagine why Wilhemina would say such a thing. Sure, she wasn't the prettiest woman he'd seen, but she had nice-eyes and a shy but ready smile. Doug had never gone for bony women. Wilhemina would probably slap him into next week, but he wouldn't be a man if he hadn't noticed she had a helluva rack.

He opened the front door and she peeked around the corner from the kitchen. “I-uh-fixed a sandwich for you for lunch,” she said. “I don't know much about cooking, but I can put together a sandwich.”

“You didn't have to do that.”

“I know, but you've been very kind to me,” she said, sliding the diamond pendant on her necklace from side to side in a nervous motion that unknowingly drew his attention to her ample cleavage.

Her little display of nerves was both sexy and sweet to Doug. He suspected she had more money than she could spend, but she didn't put on airs.

“What'd you fix?” he asked.

Her lips twitched. “I noticed you didn't have ham, so I fixed deli turkey. What do you want to drink?”

“A beer sounds good,” he said and watched her slight limp as she headed for the refrigerator. “I can get that.” He easily caught up with her and grabbed the door. “Looks like your foot's still bothering you. I should probably take you to a doctor.”

She shook her head forcefully. “Oh, no. I'll be better in no time. It's just a little sore.”

“If you're sure.” Doug grabbed two beers from the fridge. “You fixed yourself a sandwich too, didn't you?”

She nodded. “I was hungry,” she confessed.

“No need to apologize. I don't want you to starve while you're here.”

“I don't think there's any danger of that,” she muttered more to herself than to him.

He sat down at the table and motioned her to sit across from him. “What do you mean by that?”

Her cheeks turned pink. I'm not exactly tiny.”

“From where I sit, you've got a damn good body.”

She gaped at him in surprise. “Excuse me. A damn good body?”

“Yeah. No disrespect intended,” he quickly said, remembering her odd comment about paying him for sex.

She shook her head, still wearing a surprised expression. “None taken,” she said. “Did you really mean that?”

“Yeah. Why?”

She bit her lip, clearly self-conscious. “Well, I'm just not tiny.”

“Not all men like their women tiny.”

Her gaze locked with his for a long moment, and he felt a sizzle that reminded him of a branding iron. Her eyes darkened with a hint of sensual mystery, and her gaze wandered over his shoulders. “That's good to know.”

He watched her take a sip of beer and make a slight grimace. “You don't like beer much, do you? You look like you might be more the champagne type.”

“Or tea,” she said. “But it's too hot for hot tea. I'll tell you what I really like,” she said, leaning toward him with a confiding tone.

His gaze dipped to her breasts. Hell, he was a man and it had been a while. He forced his gaze back to her eyes.

“I really like margaritas.”

There was something primed and ready to go about Wilhemina
Smith.
He got a niggling feeling that she could be trouble, but Doug hadn't dabbled with that kind of trouble in a long time. He wouldn't take advantage of her, but there was nothing wrong with having a little fun. She was clearly of age. “'You're not married, are you?”

Her eyes rounded. “Oh, no.”

“Me neither. I got some tequila.”

Her eyes lit up. “You do?”

“Yeah. It's a little early for margaritas, though. Maybe tonight?”

“That would be nice,” she said with a shy smile. “How long do you think it will take the mechanic to fix my car?”

“Probably at least another day or two, but your foot can heal in the meantime.” He lifted his beer to take a long swallow while he studied Wilhemina. There was something innocent and vulnerable about her that tugged at his conscience. He'd been taught to protect innocence. He shouldn't take advantage of her, he thought and decided that he wouldn't.

Unless she convinced him she wasn't so innocent after all.

Katie wouldn't approve.

Neither would her father.

Wilhemina ducked her head and wallowed in guilt for a moment. Her chest felt tight and heavy, her stomach twisted. She could hear her father rail against her, accusing her of a lack of gratitude. Was she insane to do such a thing? Wilhemina felt like a wicked, terrible, undeserving person. For two moments.

Snapping her head up, she stared into the mirror in Douglas's bathroom and sprayed her neck with perfume that she hoped would act like a sex potion.

No one would accuse Douglas of being smooth or sophisticated. She suspected he hadn't gone to” college, and hog farming wasn't a prestigious career. But he was kind and he had a body that made every feminine hormone inside her want to stand up and scream. Plus he didn't know who her father was. All of this added up to the chance of a lifetime.

Katie might not approve, and her father would be appalled at the notion of her losing her virginity to a hog farmer, but with the way things were going, Wilhemina was starting to fear that she might keep her virginity for the rest of her life. Douglas was the best candidate to move her into the realm of being an experienced woman.

Whatever that was.

She'd known he was different from Chad when he'd looked at her as if she'd grown an extra head when she'd told him she wouldn't pay him for sex. She believed him when he said he thought her body was damn good because he'd appeared to have difficulty keeping his gaze away from her breasts. For some reason, his awareness of her as a woman didn't feel lewd. It just felt honest.

When he looked at her, she didn't feel slimy. She felt hot. Hearing the screen door slam, she felt her heart kick into overdrive. She pressed her hand against her chest, feeling a ripple of panic. Could she do this? Could she be wicked and seductive? Or would she wimp out?

Wilhemina glared into the mirror. “You will not wimp out.” She enhanced her lips with red lipstick, stiffened her spine, and marched out of the bathroom to the kitchen.

Douglas was mixing something in a blender. Taking in the sight of his broad back and shoulders, she felt a sudden attack of shyness.

“Hi,” she said, but he couldn't hear her over the blender. She stepped forward and repeated herself. When he still didn't hear her, she gingerly tapped his shoulder.

He whipped around so fast she stumbled backward. Wilhemina felt her feet fly out from under her. She was going to fall. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. She was going to—

She felt herself jerked upright against the front of Douglas's long, hard frame.

“Oof.” The air went out of her lungs while her heart raced like a car in the Indy 500. Her breasts were smashed against his chest and her thighs cradled his. His arms wrapped around her like steel.

When the I'm-gonna-fall feeling of panic melted away, Wilhemina decided her current position had plenty to recommend it.

Douglas cleared his throat. “Sorry. You took me by surprise. I was making margaritas.” He slowly eased his arms away from her. “I thought you might like to drink one while I get my shower.”

“That would be nice,” she said. “I wish I knew more about cooking, but—”

Douglas shook his head. “No problem. I've got a couple of steaks. I thought I would grill.”

She smiled. “I'd like that.”

His gaze brushed her breasts, then he deliberately lifted his eyes to meet hers. “You smell really good. A lot better than I'm sure I do,” he said, stepping to the side.

“I hadn't noticed. But you've been working and I've just been taking it easy trying to keep Chantal from getting too curious.”

“She's probably seen one of my bam cats, Flash, roaming outside and she wants to see what he's doing. You better keep a close eye on her. You don't want Flash to get ahold of her.”

“Do you think he would hurt her?”

He paused for a moment. “No. But there are two things Flash likes to do besides sleep. Catch mice and uh…” He frowned as if he were searching for the right word. “Propagate.”

“Oh,” she said because she couldn't think of anything else to say.

“Chantal might be ugly as hell, but she's still female.”

Wilhemina's stomach tightened. “Is that all it takes? She can be ugly as long as she's female and he'll still want to—”

“Flash isn't choosy.”

Her stomach twisted into another knot and she nodded. She felt a little queasy and wanted to ask if Doug shared Flash's philosophy, but she couldn't fathom a way.

“But that's one of the differences between humans and animals. For animals, it's all about primitive drives,” he said, pouring some of the liquid from the blender pitcher into a glass. “Take a sip and tell me how I did.”

Wilhemina accepted the glass and tasted it. Cool and cold with a kick. She took another drink. “Very good.”

His mouth tilted in a crooked grin. “Good enough. You can nurse that while I'm in the shower. I'll put this in the fridge. If you want any more, help yourself. Okay?”

She nodded. “Thank you, but I'm sure this will be enough to start.”

As she watched him climb the stairs, however, Wilhemina couldn't help imagining what Douglas looked like in his shower, the water rippling down his long, strong naked body. She remembered what he'd said about primitive drives and felt a surge of heat run through her veins. She finished the first margarita while the shower was still running and decided one more wouldn't hurt.

By the time Douglas had grilled steaks and they'd eaten dinner, Wilhemina had drunk two more margaritas in search of her liquid courage and her nose was numb. Douglas offered to teach her poker and she agreed, although the numbers were blurry.

Joining her at the kitchen table, he dealt five cards to each of them. She frowned at the cards. “Blurry,” she muttered to herself.

“What'd you say?” Douglas asked.

“Nothing. Would you mind repeating the basics again?”

“Sure. Royal flush beats straight flush beats four of a kind beats full house beats straight beats flush beats straight beats three of a kind beats two pair. Got it?”

She nodded, although she was still computing what he'd said. She was supposed to be seducing this man, but she felt as if she were stuck in a stomach-jerking amusement park ride. Taking a deep breath, she blinked to clear her vision. “I'll take three cards.” Looking at her new cards, she was pleased to see that she now had two of a kind. Her head swooned and her stomach rolled. She took another deep breath, hoping it would pass.

“Did you know that the odds of drawing a royal flush are one in six hundred fifty thousand?”

Wilhemina shook her head.
Big mistake.

“Yep. The odds of drawing a straight flush are one in seventy-two thousand two hundred. Four of a kind, it's one in four thousand two hundred. You got a one in seven hundred chance of drawing a full house…”

Wilhemina's stomach rolled violently and her head felt as if the Liberty Bell were clanging inside it. She feared the statistical odds that she would be sick within two minutes or less were one in one. Embarrassed, but fearing she might embarrass herself further, Wilhemina stood in the middle of his discourse. “Excuse me, Doug. I'm sorry, but I have to leave. I'm going to be sick.”

Fleeing from the room, she made it to the bathroom just in time to lose her dinner. Hearing Doug's heavy approaching footsteps, she closed the door and locked it. She didn't want him to see her this way, at this most unseductive moment in her life.

Disgusted with herself, she cradled her head in her arms and sat on the floor.

Wilhemina,” Doug said, tapping on the door.

She wished he would go away. “I'm fine,” she said, even though her stomach continued to roll.

“You had too many margaritas, didn't you?” he asked.

Due to both her and him. “Probably.”

“I should have stopped you after two. You must not be used to drinking much liquor.”

She wasn't used to ingesting much of anything except too much pie and too many cookies. The thought of pie and cookies made her stomach turn. She moaned.

“'Wilhemina, are you okay?”

“I will be,” she said, voicing more optimism than she felt. At the moment, she felt as if death were imminent. “Don't drunk people usually pass out?”

She heard his husky chuckle. “Only when you're lucky. Wait there a minute. I'll be right back.”

“No chance of me going anywhere,” she muttered. She gave in to another wave of nausea and rinsed her mouth and face.

“I have something for you,” Doug said through the door.