Summer Heat

by Carly Phillips

  Just this once.

  He turned and draped his arm on the seat cushion beside her, grinning outright when the accidental brush of his fingers against her calf had her eyes dilating sharply. “It’s my most important one this year—a corporate acquisition tied to a multi-layered merger that I’ve spent months trying to close.”

  She frowned and sat up. “Why didn’t you say something? You didn’t have to waste the last hour eating here with me. And why the heck have you been ignoring all your calls?”

  “I’d hardly call the last hour a waste of time. In fact, it’s the most fun I’ve had in a while.”

  Clearly, she was unconvinced.

  “As for my phone,” he hesitated, and then went with the truth. “My work phone isn’t on vibrate. The phone calls that I’ve been ignoring are from my, uh, personal cell.”

  “But what if it’s Brian calling or… Ohhh.” She looked away. “That kind of personal cell.”

  He felt like the world’s biggest creep.

  But he didn’t want Abby to have any illusions about him. “The last woman I dated isn’t taking the end of our one month well. But it is completely over, I assure you. I’m not dating her or anyone else right now, in case you were wondering.”

  “I wasn’t. Wondering, that is. I know you wouldn’t be asking me for a month if you were.”

  He was utterly curious as to why, how she was so sure of such a thing.

  At his questioning look, she shrugged. “You strike me as a monogamish kind of guy. Plus, I don’t believe you’d go through the hassle of enforcing a rule if you weren’t going to be man enough to honor it yourself.”

  There was a good chance he was going to start needing this woman as a valium for his soul.

  She saw a glimmer of good in even his worst qualities, and didn’t hesitate to call him on the rest. But in a matter-of-fact way, free of judgment.

  If it was possible, she seemed to just like him for being him.

  “Hey,” she said, concern latent in her voice. “You okay? You looked a little worried there for a second. Is it your case? Did you want to talk about it?”

  She had to stop.

  He couldn’t take much more of her innate niceness; he didn’t deserve it, didn’t have the first clue what to do with it. “Oddly enough, I do want to talk about my case with you. Hell, I want to share my whole day with you. Which is why I need to do this.”

  So quickly it surprised even him, he swooped onto the couch and lowered his mouth down to hers.

  Just one taste.

  He just wanted one little taste before his hunger got out of control. Before he started craving things he couldn’t truly have.

  Like a nice girl he had no business wanting.

  He stopped himself mere seconds before his lips made contact though...shut his eyes and took a steadying breath. Then another. And then finally backed away.

  Christ, that was close.

  But just when he’d gotten a handle on his roiling emotions, just when he thought he could be the good guy for a change, he felt two gentle hands smooth over the sides of his face.

  And he was lost.

  Because that was when she kissed him. Just once. Softly. Not at all like how he’d intended to kiss her, not at all like he normally kissed, period.

  Yet it was the most memorable kiss he’d ever experienced.

  “Just because we can’t have sex doesn’t mean you can’t keep trying to convince me otherwise,” she murmured against his lips.

  Hot damn.

  Everything male in him lit up to all systems go. He blinked down at her smiling face, not sure whether to be amused or turned on. Past experience dictated the two were mutually exclusive emotions for him.

  Not so with Abby. “You’re that confident in your ability to resist me?”

  “Of course not. But resisting you and sticking to what I say I’m going to do are two completely different things.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “I could, and very likely may fail at the first, but there isn’t anything you could possibly do to make me fail at the second.”

  Brushing his lips gently against hers in a barely-there tease for them both, he whispered back in a thick voice he hardly recognized, “Challenge accepted.”

  He’d never been good with folks telling him there was something he couldn’t do.

  She smiled. “I was simply stating a fact. But if you want to take it as a challenge, feel free. Just so you know, if you do, it becomes a two-way street.” So saying, she slid open those long curvy legs of hers and pulled him flush against her body. “Still up for the challenge?”

  Now, he wasn’t so sure.

  A second later, she was kissing him again and he definitely wasn’t sure.

  The way she kissed…hell. It wasn’t that she did some fancy new tongue trick or anything like that. It was just…nice.

  And outrageously arousing.

  “I better go pack,” she said abruptly, pulling away well before he was ready for the kiss to end. “I’ll see you in the morning, Connor. Thanks for being my dinner company tonight. It was fun for me, too.”

  With that, she gave him a final kiss goodbye and stood up, by all accounts in total control of her senses.

  Unlike him.

  Well, shoot.

  There was a chance this was going to be harder than he thought.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “SO TELL ME, this bad boy reputation of yours—did it start in your personal life and bleed over into the courtroom or vice versa?”

  Connor frowned as he helped Abby carry the last of her luggage up to his biggest guestroom, the only one that could accommodate the huge desk he’d relocated from his study.

  At first, when she’d arrived at his house with three gigantic suitcases, he’d been shocked and a bit disillusioned. She hadn’t seemed the type.

  But now that he saw them each flipped open and filled to the brim with books and folders, and stacks of Xeroxed sheets and scribbled notes, he realized the small duffle bag on her shoulder was the only thing not carrying her research.

  Now that seemed much more Abby.

  He belatedly considered the question she’d asked. “That depends on who’s doing the commenting about my reputation, I guess. Why?”

  “I just wanted to see how accurate I was. Seems you have an unofficial coalition who thinks your licentious ways are going to be your downfall at the firm. I argued it couldn’t possibly be, not with those very qualities being the ones that turned you into the kickass lawyer that’s probably bringing in more money than over half the other lawyers there.” She smirked at the memory. “I don’t think those women like me very much now.”

  He leaned against the dresser and scowled, upset not on his behalf but hers. “Who were they? Was this on the night of the cocktail party?”

  “Yup. A small group of corporate wives, one of whom I think might be an actual vampire, all rushed over to warn me away from you almost immediately after they saw you talking to me.”

  He discharged an irritated breath.

  Cassandra and her minions. She was more a shewolf than a vampire but it was still an apt description.

  She certainly had a reputation for sucking men dry.

  Why his colleague Edward had thought it prudent to become husband number three for her was a complete mystery. “I don’t get why those women gossip about me. I’m not really all that interesting.”

  “They seem to disagree. They went on and on about pool hall brawls and sex clubs.”

  He rolled his eyes. “The first is only partly true and the second not at all.”

  “Aw. Brian will be so disappointed,” she teased. “He’s been making cracks about all your sexual conquests for at least the last decade or so.”

  Oh, he has, has he?

  He made a mental note to kick Brian’s ass later. “Yeah, well my brother tends to have a flair for the dramatic.”

  “Really?” Another impish grin. “So no plundering or pillaging to speak
of?”

  Trust a future English professor to get him all hot and horny with choice vocabulary words. “Nope, sorry,” he downplayed.

  “I don’t think I believe you,” she sang out, hopping onto the bed and propping herself up on a pillow, heels kicking in the air as if they were about to exchange sleepover stories. “In fact, I think you’re going to have to let me be the judge of that. Tell me the most supremely wicked thing you’ve ever done.”

  “I am not having this discussion with you.”

  “Why not?” She lowered her gaze down to his zipper, which seemed to be moving telekinetically. “Uncomfortable?”

  He crouched over a bit more.

  “C’mon. I’m curious about your hedonistic ways,” she kept on, clearly amused by his discomfort. “Are we talking secret society orgies with whips and chains?”

  “What?! God, no.”

  “Backdoor action? Threesomes?”

  He averted his gaze to study a missed stitching in the rug he never noticed before.

  “Seriously?” That quieted her, and boggled her eyes quite a bit. “Were they with two women or are you a ‘Devil’s Three Way’ kind of guy?”

  Where the hell did she learn that term? Attempting to clear his throat was suddenly very difficult. “Uh…both.”

  She let out a faint whistle. “Wow.” Okay, she looked far too curious now for her own good.

  “But I haven’t done either in a while. It was all pretty much consolidated to one year of my life a long time ago.”

  “You didn’t enjoy it?”

  “I didn’t say that.” He shrugged. “Honestly, it was fun and exciting at the time but it got old fast. It’s a ton more work than pornos make it out to be.”

  “Well, what if it were me and another girl satisfying your every carnal desire? Would you still feel like it was work?”

  He nodded. And meant it. “Another woman would just end up getting in the way. Plus, she’d get all pissy that I’d be focusing solely on you and that’s never fun.”

  She bit her lip, a reluctant smile peeking through regardless. “What a sweet, utterly disturbing compliment.” Her expression turned contemplative then. “Well what about you, me, and another guy?”

  “Oh, hell no.” He scowled. No way was he inviting some other man to see her, let alone touch her. A low growl rumbled in his chest.

  No, just no.

  The thought of it made him...jealous. An altogether unfamiliar and extremely unpleasant feeling.

  “Oookay. Then how about the other thing? The…you know?” She turned a sweet shade of pink and shook her heinie in the air.

  Holy hell, but the woman was trying to kill him. “Abby, you don’t have to do any of that for me. Honest. Contrary to what the rumor mill spews out, I’m not some kinky sex fanatic. When you and I eventually get together, it’s going to be plenty hot, believe me. We won’t need any of those bells and whistles.”

  As he said it, he realized how true a statement that was. Just kissing Abby last night had been ten times more intoxicating than some of the more down and dirty romps he’d had with other women in his past.

  “Hmm.” She rolled over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, silently thoughtful, a small smile playing on her lips.

  Good god, what was she thinking now?

  Already, this kinky interview from hell had him ten degrees past aroused. His own fault for coming in here, really. It was way past time for him to leave.

  But just as he stood to go grab what was unequivocally going to be a very cold shower, Abby sat back up and called out casually, “Hey, could you toss me my lotion?” She pointed at the dresser behind him. “My legs get so dry here in the summers without it.”

  Such an innocent request.

  That he didn’t trust for one second.

  He was sure this was going to be a look but don’t touch deal with her lathering up those gorgeous legs of hers while he sat there like a schmuck.

  Staring, no doubt.

  He narrowed his eyes and began silently listing all the ways he was going to pay her back for this when her two-week stay here was up.

  Slapping an unaffected look on his face, he passed her the lotion, forcibly blocking all the erotic lotion-inspired images that were attempting to take over his brain.

  Evil woman.

  Only a day into their no-sex agreement and already he was closer to begging than he cared to admit.

  While avoiding direct eye contact with the skin smoothing extravaganza, his gaze strayed to the partially open plastic bag sitting atop her dresser. It was over at the other end but he recognized the hot purple logo on the bag immediately.

  Just like that, every muscle in his body stopped working.

  Well, save one, that is.

  The bag was from an adult novelty shop his friend Kim owned just a little north of here. He could only make out two of the items in the bag but they were enough to send his blood pressure skyrocketing—the first was what looked to be the tiniest pair of sheer white panties that would effectively cover nothing and, Lord help him, a silver bullet vibrator.

  He was going to have a stroke.

  Stifling a groan over how the word ‘stroke’ instantly made him think about rubbing one off, he gripped the edge of the dresser like a man possessed.

  The door was just a few feet away.

  He could make it.

  But first he needed to get some much needed air into his lungs.

  Breathe, you moron!

  He dragged in a breath.

  And that’s when he heard it.

  The tiniest whisper of a giggle.

  “Why you little—” Connor lunged at Abby as she shrieked out in laughter and tried ducking around him to make for the door. Snatching her around the waist, he hoisted her cackling body up over his shoulder and tossed her back onto the bed. “You set me up.”

  Her giggles effervesced, the unliddable glee in her eyes giving zero credence to all her perfectly scandalized denials.

  He trapped her under him, burying his grin against the curve of her neck, reveling in the unfamiliar experience of having fun with a woman in bed without sex being a factor. As he skimmed a smile over her collarbone, he felt the gasp she couldn’t contain like a shot of spiked adrenaline racing through his veins.

  Heading straight for his heart.

  It took more effort than usual to block its path.

  The surprising discovery simply gave his lips even more purpose when they sought out her soft skin once again. Nothing could distract his brain from overthinking things more effectively than that; she was better than scotch in her brain-muddling effects. “You planted that wicked little bag-o-fun there for me to find. Admit it.”

  The woman could’ve won an Oscar for the gasp she flung back his way. “What? Now why would I go and do something like that?”

  Connor tamped down his urge to laugh and nipped at her earlobe instead. “To drive me up the wall? Send me bursting through my zipper?” A satisfied grin broke through on its own accord. “Though I guess I should be flattered to be the reason you bought all that stuff.”

  The cutest derisive snort he’d ever heard shot out of her then—like an impeccably aimed torpedo. “Late breaking news, Connor: scientists have in fact discovered that the earth doesn’t revolve around you; women buy toys for themselves all the time.”

  He grit his teeth and did everything short of reciting tort law to avoid even thinking about Abby having any sort of toy-based fun.

  Sitting up, he declared sternly, “Foul.”

  “What? On what grounds?” Her obvious war between indignation and amusement wasn’t lost on him. Damn, he was having fun.

  “When I agreed to your little who-can-resist-who stint, you didn’t say anything about weaponizing our attacks.”

  She blinked innocently. “Weapons? You make them sound so sinister. I’d say they’re more like…private tools. Survival tools, if you will. For my time here. Naturally, you were never meant to see them.”

&nbs
p; “Bull. Next, you’ll tell me the snowflake masquerading as underwear in that bag is worn strictly for comfort. Hell, I’ve seen more fabric on the teeny doilies in Skylar’s toy tea sets—”

  “Ohhh,” she cut in softly with a smile. “I remember those. Whenever I’d babysit, she always used to go on and on about how her ‘bestest Uncle Connor’ hosted the fanciest dress-up tea parties.”

  “I wore suits,” he clarified gruffly, “and don’t change the subject. Why buy sexy lingerie if not to have them be seen?”

  By me.

  He didn’t have to say it out loud, they were both thinking it.

  And his ego was celebrating it.

  Abby’s chin lifted stubbornly. “What do you mean, why? Easy access, of course,” she answered, straight-faced. “You know what they say…better felt than seen.”

  His imagination went nuts.

  Picturing Abby wearing the microscopic scrap of lace he saw earlier for easy access in private unhinged him, propelled him to shackle her wrists above her head with one hand and begin tickling her ribs with the other. “Another foul.”

  “Stop!” she screeched, dissolving into a breathless puddle of mirth. “Okay, I admit it! These were all dirty, dirty fouls on my part; you should definitely take a free throw shot.”

  He paused, wondering where she was going with this.

  She pointed to the trashcan. “There’s the basket. My new panties can be the ball…since yours are clearly in a twist.”

  Incredulous, he dialed up the tickle torture to merciless.

  Her squealing ‘I-take-it-backs’ hit an ultrasonic range as she wriggled and squirmed and bucked until soon, he was fairly certain he was suffering more than she was.

  Breathing hard, he released her wrists and rolled onto his back beside her. “You’re planning to drive me completely crazy these next few weeks, aren’t you?”

  Dangling half off the bed, limbs all akimbo, she heaved between breaths, “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

  With a groaning chuckle, he dragged her up to steal a long, hard kiss while she was too tickle-drunk to object. And the smile he couldn’t seem to contain around her snuck up on him once again.

  Mostly because she’d sobered up enough to proclaim weakly, “Foul…and a really mean one at that.”