“Such as?” she managed to say, her lips trembling around the words.
“Sit-ups on a bar.”
“And this helps how?”
“Hanging upside down sends a rush of blood to the brain. Blood stimulates growth.” He swept her hair off her shoulders and every nerve in her body went on instant alert. “Eucalyptus leaves and mint oil work, too. Mix it. Warm it. Rub it on your scalp and wait fifteen minutes.” He scooped some of the paste into his hand.
At the first touch of his fingertips on her scalp, goose bumps chased up and down her arms. He smoothed the mixture onto her hair and worked the stuff into her strands with a steady, kneading massage.
Her nipples tingled and her mouth went dry. It was all she could do not to melt right there at his fingertips.
“Not only does the protein recharge each strand,” he murmured after several minutes, “but the massage relaxes you at the same time.”
Yeah, right. Her skin tingled. Her nipples quivered. Her clitoris throbbed.
“Your hair’s really soft.” His deep voice rumbled in her ear. His fingers brushed her neck and shivers chased up and down her spine.
“Thanks.” She wasn’t sure how she managed the one word, except that she wanted—no, needed—to say something. Anything to break the seductive spell gripping her senses.
“There,” he finally announced after a few more strokes. “Let me get a warm towel out of the dryer and we’ll wrap it up.” He disappeared and Shay did her best not to follow him.
She wanted so much to hop up on the dryer and toss her legs around his waist. Instead, she hopped up from the chair and busied herself taking the bacon from the frying pan and setting it on a nearby plate lined with a paper towel. “What do we do with this? Crush it into another paste?”
“This,” he said, coming up next to her and snagging a piece. “We eat.” He popped the bacon into his mouth and started to chew.
“Oh.” Her cheeks fired, more from his nearness than embarrassment. “I thought it was part of the hair growth regime.”
“Actually, it is. Diet plays a huge role in hair growth. Bacon contains iron and protein, both of which make for healthy hair. I eat a lot of the stuff, so I’m sure it has something to do with what happened.”
“I don’t do bacon.” A wave of self-consciousness rolled through her. “Actually, I do do bacon. That’s the problem. It goes straight to my hips.”
“Your hips look just fine to me,” he said. Then he frowned as if none too pleased with the fact that he’d just made the statement.
Because the initial infatuation was now over. Where he couldn’t think beyond the sex, now he was noticing the details. The imperfections.
“How long does this stay on for?” she blurted, eager to distract herself from a sudden rush of disappointment.
“Thirty minutes,” he told her as she rummaged in her purse for a pad and pen.
“Got it.” She scribbled the information along with a step-by-step recipe for the egg paste.
She wasn’t disappointed. She was relieved. She wasn’t any more interested in him than he was in her. She didn’t want him to rip her clothes off and make love to her again any more than she wanted to rip her clothes off and make love to him.
Really.
“Eucalyptus and what?” she asked as he dropped into a chair opposite her.
“Mint oil. You can get it at any health food store.”
“Not in Skull Creek. The closest we get to health food is a jar of Flintstones Chewables over at the Piggly Wiggly. The drawback of living in a small town.”
“Skull Creek is nothing compared to Jamison.”
She wasn’t going to ask. The less she knew about him, the better. “Is that where you’re from?” she heard herself say anyway.
“I was born and raised in Seattle, but I’ve spent the past ten years in Jamison. It’s a small town in upstate Washington.”
“Do they have a McDonalds?”
“If you’re talking old man McDonald who owned the local pharmacy, then yes, we had one. If you’re talking fries and Big Macs, I’m afraid not.”
Shay let loose a whistle. “Even Skull Creek has a McDonalds. I mean, it’s not actually in town. It’s fifteen miles out on the interstate, but still. So what did you do in the desperately small town of Jamison?” Not that she was interested. But the more he talked, the less she thought about him doing other, sexier things with his sensuous mouth.
“I was a private detective at first. Most of my cases came from Seattle, but I lived in Jamison because that’s where I grew up. I eventually ran for sheriff after I inherited my folks’ place. They passed away three years ago.”
She barely resisted the urge to rest her hand over his and chase the suddenly bleak look from his eyes. She balled her fingers and settled for “What happened?”
He shrugged. “They were flying a small Cessna, on their way back from Niagara Falls when their plane hit a tree. They crashed and burned in a matter of minutes.”
“I lost my dad in a trucking accident,” she heard herself say. “I was only two, so I don’t really remember him.”
“What about your mom?”
“Alive and well and happily married to an accountant named Fred. Finally.” When he arched an eyebrow, she added, “Fred’s a good guy, but she hasn’t always been so lucky. She has a bad habit of falling for the wrong men.”
“How many men?”
“Fred is number five. But that’s not the Briggs record. My grandma was married six times. She’s widowed now and lives in a retirement home in Austin. The last time I talked to her, she was working on wrong man number seven. A retired air force pilot who’s been married almost as many times as she has.”
“What about you? Are you carrying on the family tradition?”
“I’ve never been married, if that’s what you’re asking. But I’ve gone cold turkey as far as the wrong men are concerned. I want more than a little bump and grind. I want bacon and eggs.” When he grinned, she added, “Eggs that you can actually eat. Not that there’s anything wrong with bumping and grinding. I’m sure you live your life looking for the next B & G, but I want more. I’m through with players. I want a nice guy. The right guy, you know?”
Boy, did he ever. Matt had spent the past three years searching for the right woman. For his woman. His mate.
Someone he could have hot, wild sex with and talk to.
The way he was talking with Shay Briggs right now.
He nixed the last thought. He wasn’t talking to Shay. It wasn’t real talk, the deep, meaningful kind shared between two people who were friends, as well as lovers. He and Shay were nowhere near that close. He hardly knew her and she hardly knew him. Even more, she never would.
“That probably sounds lame to a guy like you.”
“A guy like me?”
“A bad boy. A player. You know, the kind of man who is only interested sex.”
“What makes you think I’m only interested in sex?”
“Well, aren’t you?”
“Actually, I’ve been thinking about settling down myself.” He wasn’t sure why, but her perception of him bothered him and he had the sudden urge to prove her wrong.
She gave him a skeptical glance. “Is that so?”
“What? A bad boy can’t settle down?”
“Bad boys never settle down.”
“How do you know?”
“Eye-witness account. My mother was married four times before Fred and they were all bad boys.”
“Maybe it wasn’t the men. Maybe it was your mom.”
“And maybe you should mind your own business.”
Because he was right. Matt read that truth in her eyes. Shay had wondered the very same thing more than once, but then she’d quickly dismissed the notion. She was the spitting image of her mother. To consider that her mom might have commitment issues meant that she might have her own, as well.
She didn’t. She believed in love. He didn’t just see that truth, he felt i
t. In the hope bubbling inside her. The determination to steer clear of him. Because she didn’t want another night of sex.
She wanted the perfect man.
Just as much as he wanted the perfect woman.
A woman who smelled like peach pie.
“How long am I supposed to wear this?” her voice slid into his ears and distracted him from the dangerous thought.
He glanced at his watch. “Time’s just about up anyway. Let’s get you rinsed off. Then I’ll show you how to do a hanging sit-up.”
She grinned. “Or maybe I’ll show you.” When he looked surprised, she added, “You’re talking to a woman who owns an ab buster, a thigh master, a glute toner and a biceps builder. There isn’t a work-out device I haven’t tried.”
“That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“Why you have such a great body.” He didn’t mean to say it, but he couldn’t help himself.
“You obviously didn’t see a thing last night.”
“Says you.”
She gave him a sharp look and he grinned.
“You’re beautiful, Shay.”
The words whispered through Shay’s head, feeding her fragile ego, making her think that peeling away her clothes right here, right now, in the bright light of day, wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
But she was through clinging to the here and now. She wanted a future. A nice guy.
Matt Keller with his wicked green eyes and his sinful smile looked anything but nice. Fierce? Yes. Dangerous? Amen. Sexy-as-hell? Straight up.
She stiffened and did her best to avoid contact as she scooted past him and pulled the towel off her head. She concentrated on adjusting the warm water and then leaned over the kitchen sink.
“I’ll do it,” she blurted the minute his hand touched the back of her neck. She shoved her head deeper beneath the spray and washed out the gunky egg.
Last night was over and done with. Ancient history.
Her head knew that, even if her body didn’t seem to be getting the message. Her skin tingled to feel the rasp of his fingertips. Her nipples ached for his mouth. The slick folds between her legs throbbed to feel his body pushing harder and deeper and—
Water sloshed onto the cabinet and the floor, and she forced a deep breath.
Distance. That was the key. To keep her distance and learn as much as possible from him. Then she would say goodbye, do a thorough and knowledgeable write-up in the newspaper and add the specialty services to her menu back at the shop. She would stick to her vow—nice guys only—and he could go back to playing the field like every other bad boy she’d ever met.
In the meantime, all she had to do was steer clear of any physical contact. As long as he didn’t touch her again, she would be fine.
“What’s next?” she asked, grabbing the fresh towel from the counter and blotting at her drenched hair.
His grin was slow and tantalizing. “Full body massage.”
Uh, oh.
7
“ARE YOU SURE YOU DON’T need a demonstration?” Matt followed Shay out onto his front porch and watched her haul ass down the steps toward her car.
“What’s to demonstrate? Full body. Massage. Pretty self explanatory.”
“But I’ve still got a few more tried and true tricks after that.”
“I’ve already got plenty to keep me busy. Thanks for everything. I’ll call you if I need you.”
She wouldn’t call. He knew it just as surely as he knew his hard-on had returned full-force.
Forty-eight hours, he reminded himself. Until then, he was satisfied. Hunger completely and totally sated.
So why did he have the crazy urge to run down the steps, hoist her over his shoulder, tote her back into the cabin and plunge hard and deep into her voluptuous body?
Because Garret had been wrong. Dead wrong. Matt had barely lasted forty-eight minutes, let alone forty-eight hours.
He needed to feed again. No way was he this hard up because of Shay. Because he wanted her.
She could have been any woman and he would have reacted the same way. Any woman. Every woman.
He watched her pull out of the driveway, swing the car around and head back down the road. Once she disappeared, he walked back into the cabin and headed straight for the kitchen. He pulled out the bag of blood Viviana had given him.
And then he started to drink.
SHE WASN’T GOING TO CALL.
That’s what Shay told herself for the rest of the week as she tried to forget Matt Keller and their one night of hot, wild sex. She did her damndest not to think about the desperate way he’d kissed her. Or the reverent way he’d stroked her body. Or the hunger in his gaze when she’d walked away from him.
As if their one night together hadn’t been nearly enough for him.
Right.
They’d spent a full hour together going over the different hair-growth techniques. Ample time for him to make another move if he’d still felt something for her. Something that went beyond lust.
She shook the notion away and finished spreading one of the oil mixtures Matt had told her about onto her long hair. It was late Friday afternoon. Usually one of her busiest at the salon. But other than a brief visit by Sue Ann who’d stopped by to pick up some of Shay’s homemade cucumber cleanser, she’d had not one customer.
“Give it time,” Sue Ann had told her. “You’re just in a funk. Believe me, I know the feeling. I tried to interview the Whites yesterday—they’ve been married fifty-five years. Five minutes into the interview, they started arguing about denture cream. The next thing I know, they’re spraying each other with Fixodent and I’m caught in the middle. Needless to say, they’re now at the bottom of my happily-ever-after list and I’m back to searching for a front page feature for the Valentine’s issue. I think I’ll try the Humphreys next.”
“Didn’t they separate last year because she wanted to spend their retirement funds on Botox and he wanted a new tractor?”
“Christ, I think you’re right. Still,” she told Shay, “there has to be at least one successful love story in this town.”
But the fact that she couldn’t seem to find one was fast confirming Shay’s worst fear—that true love didn’t really exist. That the reason Shay herself hadn’t found it wasn’t because she constantly hooked up with non-committal, sex-only, bad boy types, but because there was no such emotion in the first place.
Love was a pipe dream. A fairy tale.
Which was why Matt Keller had made zero effort to stop her when she’d high-tailed it to her car. No running after her, hauling her into his arms, kissing her passionately and begging her to stay.
He’d wanted sex, he’d gotten sex, and now it was over as far as he was concerned.
As far as she was concerned, too, she reminded herself. She had no designs on him. No expectations. It was all about business.
Speaking of which…She finished smoothing on the oil mixture, wrapped her hair in a warm towel and walked back to the reception area. Pulling up her daily schedule on the computer screen, she stared at the empty spreadsheet. Nothing for today, or tomorrow. Her Saturday was empty. Void of even a footbath for old man Wexxler’s cracked heels.
Despair rushed through her and she spent the next fifteen minutes nursing a pint of Chunky Monkey. But the sweet cream did little to ease the anxiety knotting her insides. It was a feeling that grew as she unwrapped her hair, combed and dried the long strands and measured her progress.
Not even a measly quarter inch.
Which meant the eucalyptus and lavender hadn’t worked any better than the protein wrap. Or the upside down sit-ups. Or the pound of bacon she’d been scarfing every morning to feed the hair follicles. While she hadn’t tried the full body massage recently, she’d had a few over the years and none had resulted in any notable hair growth.
Which meant that after four days and as many ideas, she was SOL. Unless…
Drawing a deep, steadying breath, she picked up the phone.
<
br /> “It’s Shay,” she murmured when Matt’s deep voice rumbled over the line. “I need you. Meet me at my place in two hours.”
Plenty of time for her to close up shop and give herself a great big mental pep talk about priorities.
Her biggest? Hair growth techniques to boost her business.
That’s the only reason she’d called him for help. Not because she wanted to see him again. Or talk to him.
No sirree. The last thing, the very last thing she wanted was to talk to Matt Keller again. Talking would lead to liking and liking would lead to a big, fat waste of time because he didn’t like her back.
Even if he did show up at her place an hour early.
Faded Wranglers clung to his muscular thighs and a soft white cotton T-shirt hugged his broad shoulders. He smelled of fresh air and leather and a rugged sensuality that filled her nostrils and did dangerous things to her common sense. A straw Resistol sat tipped back on his head. Concern glittered in the green depths of his eyes. “You sounded desperate,” he said by way of explanation.
“I was. I mean, I am.” He stood there staring at her for a long moment and she shrugged. “Well, don’t just stand there.”
A strange expression lit his gaze. “Are you inviting me in?”
She had the sudden thought that she should shut the door and get as far as possible while she had the chance.
Before she gave in to the sudden urge to lean forward and press her lips to the pulse beat at the base of his throat. To feel the steady thump against her lips. To taste the salty sweetness of his skin.
“Are you?” His deep voice shattered the spell and the alarm clanging in her head faded as she stared deep into his eyes. “Inviting me in?”
“Of course,” she murmured. “Come in.”
Relief gleamed in his eyes as he followed her inside the living room.
“I didn’t expect you so soon.” She started snatching up the spa magazines littering her coffee table, suddenly desperate to ignore his presence and pretend that her heart wasn’t pounding ninety miles an hour. “Or I would have cleaned up.”
He watched her for a few seconds before turning his attention to the fireplace mantel and the assortment of trophies and pictures.
Love at First Bite Bundle Page 59