Too Hot to Handle: A Loveswept Classic Romance

by Chastain, Sandra

  He rose to his feet, completely unaware of the picture he presented, with his skimpy shorts plastered to his lower body. Callie was mesmerized by the sight of him, and she turned away, trying to regain her composure. She squinted up at the sun as if she might find answers to troubling questions there. She listened to the pulley creak as he brought up another bucket.

  “Hurry up,” she ordered. “I want to wash my hands and legs.”

  “I’ll help,” he said abruptly.

  “Matt, nooo!” Too late, she realized that he’d tricked her. The splashing sound of the water hid her more explicit words as the icy liquid hit her head and rolled down her body. She whirled around and hopped in place, shivering. Dripping wet, she looked up at him.

  He nodded happily. “Callie, this is much better than my pool.” Matt felt his smile fading as he noticed that her cotton bodice was now clinging to her chest, outlining her nipples perfectly.

  Callie read the intensity in his eyes. Her hands dropped to her sides, and she stood still.

  “Matt, no,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” he answered in a voice so soft and low that she wasn’t sure he’d spoken aloud.

  They stood there, not touching, breathing softly, and she was aware only that they couldn’t stop what was going to happen. She knew his thoughts as if he’d spoken them.

  Matt hadn’t intended to touch her. He hadn’t known his hand was moving until he felt the contraction of her nipple beneath his fingertips.

  “You’re so very beautiful, Callie,” he murmured, capturing her chin with his other hand. He held it as he bent down to kiss her. “And I want to kiss you. I have to kiss you,” he begged, stopping her words of protest before they could be aired.

  But she made no protest. Her arms snaked around his neck and held him tightly. She pressed her mouth and body against him in a wanton display of passion. She felt as if she were being torn apart, tortured by Matt’s lips and hands until waves of feeling broke across her body as though she were a reef in a storm. He felt so good, so male, so much a part of her that it took a moment to realize that he soon would be, if she didn’t pull herself away.

  “No, Matt,” she managed to say thickly. “I don’t want to be one of the lady friends by your pool.”

  He drew back, his chest heaving. “Then let me be your gentleman friend by the well,” he joked softly.

  “No, Matt, no,” she said flatly, pushing against his chest until he let her go. She looked away from him, then busied herself by picking up the bucket and replacing the well lid. “I don’t want to get tangled up in the world you come from.” She started toward the back door.

  He walked beside her silently, then caught her wrist as she reached to grasp the door handle.

  “Wait a minute, dammit,” he said hoarsely, and pulled her against him. “I don’t know what in hell made you hate men who have money, but I resent being unfairly judged by you or anyone.”

  “I’m not judging you, Matt. I’m judging me, and what I need from a relationship. You and I don’t match.”

  “Callie,” he said with a controlled fury that tinged every word, “why are you so afraid of me?”

  “I’m not!”

  “I can feel your heart beating in your fingertips. You’re like some wild bird I’ve caught. Terrified.”

  “Go away, Matt Holland. Please,” she whispered, “go away. I don’t want you in my life.”

  “Too late. I’m already here.” He didn’t know who made the first move to close the distance between them, but suddenly the warmth of her breath feathered his lips. She kissed him tentatively, as if she hated herself for doing it. He groaned.

  “I don’t understand what’s made you feel the way you do, Callie, but can’t you just think of me simply as a man who needs you, who wants you? A man who thinks you’re the most fascinating woman he’s ever met?”

  A moan of anguish slipped past Callie’s lips. The last thing she wanted to happen was happening again. He was kissing her, and her traitorous body was responding as she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into the hardness he pressed against her.

  “Mmmm.” He felt so good. The strong arms around her, the hands massaging the small of her back, the lips searching her face and mouth, the tongue invading her without resistance. Her pulse set a crazy singing rhythm that seemed to merge into the corresponding heartbeat in his broad chest. Suddenly she felt his fingers on the bare skin of her bottom, fingers moving around the crease of her leg, allowing a flicker of cool air to touch the moist heat between her thighs.

  “I’m going to carry you into your bedroom,” Matt whispered against her ear. “I’m going to undress you. Then I’m—”

  “Hello? Hellooo,” a throaty male voice bellowed from the cabin’s front yard. “Callie, are you heeeere?”

  Callie jerked herself away from Matt and groaned. She began trying to pull her wet clothing away from her body.

  “Damn!” Matt stared at her in misery. She looked up, and appeared to be on the verge of tears. Matt smiled at her and stroked her cheek, ignoring his own torment. “First William, now John Henry,” he muttered. “I’m going to have to steal both you and Ruby away from this place if I’m to have you to myself.”

  “That’s not John Henry,” Callie corrected, nodding toward the front yard. “It’s Tyler.”

  “Tyler?” His voice showed his disbelief. “Your ex-husband Tyler? What is he doing here?”

  “I told you he was a wonderful man,” she managed to say, equally distressed. “He stops by occasionally just to visit. You stay here, and I’ll try to …”

  Callie’s voice died away as Tyler rounded the corner of the cabin and stopped abruptly.

  “Callie, what the heck’s going on up here?” he demanded. “John Henry’s spouting something about your being better off than you ever have been before because you moved some ‘silk-suited city man’ into your smokehouse.”

  “Nice to see you, too, Tyler.”

  Callie watched Tyler’s gaze move to Matt, and she saw Tyler’s face darken as if a mountain thundercloud had crossed it. “And who are you?” Tyler asked.

  “I’m the silk-suited city man,” Matt answered dryly.

  “Tyler Winter, meet Matt Holland. Matt Holland, my former husband, Tyler Winter.”

  There was a moment of silence when Matt could almost hear the cries of invisible Romans, yelling down at two modern-day gladiators ready to fight to the death.

  Callie sighed. This would be interesting. In his younger days, Tyler had been very mellow and very secure, not the jealous type. In his new incarnation as a materialistic man, he had apparently developed a possessive attitude about her.

  She moved toward him and smiled as she gestured back at Matt. “Mr. Holland is a friend of mine. We’ve been working in the garden.” Callie decided to ignore the fact that the culottes clung to every crease of her body.

  “Oh.” Callie could tell from the strangled expression on Tyler’s lean face that he was reminding himself that she and he had divorced by mutual agreement. They had a mature, nonjudgmental relationship.

  Tyler was tall and lanky, with chocolate-brown hair. Callie noticed for the first time that his shoulders slumped under his pinstripe suit and that he had wisps of gray hair at his temples.

  “Caroline,” he said quietly. “I was up this way to close a deal today. I stopped to visit with John Henry, and he mentioned that you might sell Ruby. I came by to see why you need money so desperately.”

  She patted his arm. “Ty, I’m not going to sell her.”

  Matt stepped forward then. “I came here to buy the car,” he told Tyler. “That’s how Callie and I met. I’m a collector.”

  Tyler looked over Matt’s faded shorts, his soggy T-shirt stained with dirt, and his grubby bare feet. Callie inhaled sharply as she saw the disapproval blaze up behind Tyler’s calm exterior. Tyler hadn’t always been so quick to catalog people, she remembered sadly.

  “You look like you might do better to collect ba
rs of soap,” Tyler said, and smiled without warmth.

  Matt turned to Callie, effectively snubbing Tyler, and asked, “What did you say he did for a living, dear?”

  She stared up at Matt in amazement at the “dear,” and suddenly she realized that Matt was the perfect match for Tyler. They were warring on polite, businesslike terms both of them understood exquisitely well, and they were both using her as ammunition. It was the kind of tactic her father had always used on people. She hated it.

  “He’s vice president of a real estate firm,” Tyler interjected tartly. “And he can answer for himself, Mr. Holland.”

  Matt nodded to him. “Well, I’m president and principal stockholder of a paint company, Mr. Winter. Holland Paint. One of the biggest paint companies in the Southeast. So do me the favor of keeping your petty little comments about soap to yourself.”

  Callie felt like a pot of water about to boil. She looked from one man to the other.

  “Who cares about your companies?” she asked in a low, fierce voice. “Who cares about your titles and your stupid, superficial pride? Neither of you owns me, and I won’t be quarreled over. It’s beneath my dignity.”

  “I apologize, Callie,” Tyler said gruffly. “I’ll be leaving. But before I go, I want to tell you that LeaAnn and I are engaged.”

  “I know about your engagement, Tyler. Several matrons from father’s social circle wrote to me to make sure I knew. I think it’s great. I’m happy for you.”

  Tyler gestured toward Matt. “You never had one of these before. A boyfriend.” He appeared nearly to strangle on the next words. “How nice.”

  “Thank you,” Matt said sweetly.

  Callie gave Matt an incredulous look. He had the good grace to wince a little as her sharp gaze bored into him, silently warning him that he’d gone too far.

  “I have an errand to run,” she said abruptly, and stalked toward the barn.

  “I’ll go with you,” Matt called. He started after her, but she whirled around and held out a hand to stop him.

  “Don’t you dare.”

  “Caroline,” Tyler began. “Do you need money? Really, if—”

  “No!” she yelled. “I don’t need money! I need a mature man! If either of you sees one, send him by!”

  She pushed the barn doors wide open, climbed into the Fiesta, and started the engine. As she roared out of the barn, her last sight of Matt shocked her. She’d have thought his worried eyes would be on the Fiesta. Instead, they were on her.

  Five

  “The injunction has been granted! We’ve won! The city has agreed to halt demolition until a committee can study the building!”

  Callie cheered along with a hundred other members of the historical society. The warm June air filled her with a sense of hope and happiness. She grinned at the man who’d just gotten out of a fat yellow taxi to make the victory announcement, and shook his hand. Lunchtime Atlanta traffic was so loud, it made discussing the victory a difficult task, so everyone simply applauded and waved picket signs at one another.

  Callie set down her sign, which read, “Manuel Hall is a Hunk of History, Not a Hunk of Junk!” and wiped perspiration from her forehead as she studied the Gothic-style building on the narrow city lot. She squinted. Unfortunately, Manuel Hall was the ugliest old building she’d ever seen. It had a face only a mother historian could love.

  Callie hoisted her sign to her shoulder and turned around. She felt the sign smack someone soundly.

  “Oh, excuse me,” she yelled amidst the din of Peachtree Street. Callie turned hurriedly to see who she’d clobbered and found Matt rubbing his arm and grinning.

  “Even without William you’re a menace,” he said loudly.

  Callie simply gaped up at him for a moment. It’d been two weeks since she’d left him and Tyler growling at each other. She’d gone to stay with neighbors and had instructed John Henry to fix Matt’s car immediately. When she came back, Matt and the Corvette were gone.

  Now she frowned. “If I’d known it was you, I’d have swung harder!”

  He forced his handsome face into an expression of pained innocence. “It’s nice to see you again too!” He took the sign in one hand and her elbow in the other. “Let’s go have lunch!” he shouted.

  “No!”

  “I’ll buy you some alfalfa sprouts, Callie!”

  She was mesmerized by his warm brown eyes and the breathtaking way he had of being funny and sexy at the same time. She couldn’t resist. A simple lunch couldn’t be dangerous, could it?

  “All right!” she yelled back. “But only one plateful!”

  They walked out of the crowd of picketers to the edge of the sidewalk, and she almost giggled as she watched Matt start to wave for a taxi, then realize that he was waggling her “Hunk of Junk” sign at everyone driving south on Peachtree. Several motorists honked and grinned. Blushing, he handed the sign to her and stared fixedly out at traffic, his jaw set.

  Today he wore a black suit with pinstripes. The suit had an elegant European cut, which emphasized the width of his shoulders and the tuck of his lean waist. A gold tie bar gleamed between the immaculate points of his white collar, and his silk tie was fixed in a precise, tight knot. No sloppy attitudes for this man, Callie thought sardonically. She glanced down at her faded jeans and “USA for Africa” T-shirt. She liked sloppy.

  She liked Matt’s touch on her elbow, too. Her heart was pounding in her eardrums, and her skin felt one size too small. The feeling of immense attraction hadn’t been a fluke. She felt it more than ever. Sighing, Callie admitted that she’d missed Matt terribly.

  They settled in a taxi and rested her picket sign on the floor by their feet.

  “How about Brother Juniper’s for lunch?” Matt asked. The way he never took his gaze from her face made her wonder if he meant for her to be dessert.

  She tilted her head to one side. “You do know that Brother Juniper’s is a funky, health food restaurant?”

  He nodded, and sighed dramatically. “I’ll just have to suffer.”

  He told the cab driver to take them to Brother’s. Then he settled back on the seat and smiled at her. Callie returned his steady, affectionate gaze with difficulty. Doubtlessly, the man intended to seduce her at the first opportunity. Her insides quivered.

  “How did you know I’d be at Manuel Hall today?” she wanted to know.

  “I heard about the protest on the radio. I said to myself, ‘Where there’s a protest, there’s Callie Carmichael.’ An educated guess.”

  “Hmmm.” She studied him from under her eyelashes. “A man delivered a brand-new deluxe tractor to Tom Hicks’s place last week. He said Tom had won first prize in the Tiny Toasties breakfast-cereal giveaway. Tom said he’d never heard of Tiny Toasties, but he’d keep the tractor anyway.”

  “Smart man,” Matt noted, and nodded solemnly.

  “You sent the tractor. Admit it!”

  “Tractor?” He looked around the cab, as if searching for clues to what she meant. “Why, I don’t know nothing ’bout tractors, Miss Caroline,” he drawled.

  “First John Henry, now my neighbor. You’re trying to build alliances,” she said accusingly. She didn’t tell him that his kindness toward Tom had impressed her. Callie pointed to herself. “But I’m the only one who can sign a bill of sale for Ruby.”

  Matt smiled languidly, and stroked her bare arm with his fingertips. “Are you saying you want me to turn my efforts to you alone? I could enjoy giving you presents, charming you …”

  Callie drew her arm away from his disturbing touch, and chuckled. “You hopeless, materialistic, manipulative …”

  “Sexy, fun-loving …” he supplied.

  “Stubborn …”

  “Determined …” he corrected, leaning forward.

  “Outrageous …” she said huffily. Callie fought for breath.

  “Undoubtedly. Watch this.” He leaned over further and pressed a firm kiss on her mouth.

  Callie groaned against the hot, damp texture of
his lips. The pressure of his mouth increased as he nudged her to kiss him back, and suddenly she did, tasting him, twisting her mouth gently against his.

  “Jeez,” the burly cab driver interjected. “Jeez.”

  They both ignored him. Matt pulled her into his arms, and she slid her fingertips into his golden hair. The kiss became a series of kisses. When it ended they looked at each other through half-closed eyes.

  “You’re glad to see me, I can tell,” Matt whispered.

  “It’s pure animal attraction,” she whispered back.

  “Baaaa.”

  She laughed softly, and looked away. He released her, his hands trailing over her face and down her arms as he did.

  “We’re at Brother Juniper’s, my little lovebirds,” the driver grunted in a prim voice.

  Callie straightened her clothes, deliberately looking downward in the process. She felt Matt studying her, his gaze as effective a caress as his touch had been.

  “I’m glad you’re not still angry with me,” he told her. “I overreacted to Tyler, and I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head. “It’s typical conservative male possessiveness. You and Tyler think of women in terms of ownership. I won’t have it. That’s the way my mother was treated.”

  “Your mother—” he began.

  “Three fifty,” the driver interrupted, looking back at them as he stamped the brake in front of an old building festooned with graffiti and colorful murals. “And please, a big tip.”

  Matt studied the look of relief that crept over Callie’s face as paying the cab driver took his attention away from a discussion of her mysterious mother.

  “This subject isn’t closed,” he told her firmly.

  “Yes, it is,” she answered in a polite tone. They got out of the cab and started toward Brother’s.

  No, it’s not, Matt told her silently. Before I’m through with you, Ms. Carmichael. I’ll have you, your car, and all your secrets too.

  “You like him, don’t you Callie, girl?”

  Seated on the soft-drink case at John Henry’s filling station, Callie took a sip of root beer, swung her legs a little, and watched John Henry fiddle under the hood of a tourist’s car.