Down and Dirty

by Christine Bell

  “I don’t know, I was thinking the ladies would like seeing you do something manly, like chop wood or something.”

  “Well, these aren’t exactly my wood-chopping clothes,” he said drily, glancing down. “Should I change?”

  “Nah, just take the sports jacket off and go with the T-shirt and jeans.”

  They just stepped into the mudroom and he’d reached for his coat but paused. “It’s like thirty degrees out.”

  “You’re only going to be doing it for a few minutes,” she reasoned. “Come on, I promise, I’ll only take a couple shots, and we’ll go right back inside. I won’t put my coat on either.”

  He sighed and stripped off the jacket, slinging it over her shoulders. “No sense in us both freezing. But you’ve got five minutes to get the shot. I’ve been away too long, and my blood needs a little time to get used to this New England weather again.”

  She trailed out the back door behind him, swamped in his scent and oblivious to the cold as she tried to tear her gaze from his thick, broad shoulders. Instead she focused on the center of his back, but even that wasn’t safe. The T-shirt clung tight enough that she could see the straight, deep indent of his spine flanked by the muscles that made a perfect V to his trim waist. She swallowed hard and blew out a steamy sigh.

  Amended note to self: make it two cheesecakes.

  …

  Shane stood before the wide log on the chopping stump and looked up. “I say we’ve got about twenty minutes of daylight left, so let’s get this done. Ready?”

  Cat gave him the thumbs-up from her perch on the brick wall surrounding the patio. “Roger that.”

  She looked so frigging cute, red curls flapping in the icy breeze. He turned away, focusing his attention on the task at hand. He gripped the smooth, wooden handle and was just about to take a swing when he thought about the longing on her face when she’d seen him shirtless. Why the fuck not?

  “Well, shit, if I’m going to do it, I’m going to do it right,” he said, leaning the ax against his shin and yanking the T-shirt over his head. His whole body tightened in protest at the cold, but the look on her face as the camera hung from her limp hand, forgotten, was worth every ounce of pain.

  He pretended not to notice and took the ax in hand again. Lining up, he set his feet, then took a swing. With a crack, the log splintered apart, falling into halves on the frosty grass. “Did you get it?”

  “Um, yeah.” She nodded vigorously. “Yup. I got it.”

  “Are you sure? Because the camera’s aimed at the ground.”

  She startled and peered down. “Well, it is now. It wasn’t before. I just clicked it right before that. But, you know, sure. Let’s do one more because this one’s blurry.”

  Her nervous babble had him struggling not to grin. “Okay, ready?”

  She nodded and pointed the lens in his direction. “Let ’er rip.”

  He lined up another piece of wood, then swung. It split cleanly and fell off the stump. “Can we go in now?”

  She climbed down from the wall and walked over to him. “What do you think?”

  She held the screen to his face and he glanced at the picture. It looked fine to him, but what did he know?

  “Yes?”

  She shook her head and rolled her eyes before starting toward the house. “Yes. You look great, which is so unfair. No tricks, no Photoshop, no makeup, stark natural light.” He grabbed his shirt, catching up to her just in time to hear her grumble, “One shot, no one should look that good.”

  “So what next?”

  “Next we get a couple more indoor stills, and put this and the video up on the site. I already wrote your bio, I’ve just got to cut and paste that into your profile. According to the guidelines, once everything is loaded, we wait for it to get reviewed and then it will go live. I’d say by the time we eat dinner and clean up, you’ll be all set.”

  Forty-five minutes later, their bellies full of beef stew sopped up with thick slabs of buttered sourdough bread, they sat back in front of the computer with their coffee and Cat logged in.

  “Okay, it looks like you’re in.” She clicked on his profile and the desktop dinged. “And you have a message. Probably them welcoming you to the site, maybe some tips about how t—”

  Before she could finish, it dinged again. Then again.

  “Maybe they have a welcoming committee,” Cat said, clicking into the message center. Eleven new messages stared back at them, one of which was indeed a welcome from the president of MeetMyMate.com. The rest had numbers next to the subject lines, along with tiny thumbnail pictures.

  All of them of women, lining up for a piece of him. Nuts.

  Ding.

  “Well,” Cat said brightly, pushing away from the table to let him get in front of the screen. “Seems like there was a hole in the market for someone like you at this place. You’re a hot commodity already.”

  “So what do I do now?”

  “Click on their avatars, read their messages, and see if you like any of them.”

  “How will I know that from one message?”

  Ding.

  “You won’t. But at least we can weed some out. The maybes we can put into a separate folder, and then the yeses you can set up short dates with.”

  Ding.

  “Jesus H., can you turn that thing off?” she snapped. “It’s very distracting.”

  He didn’t care that she sounded like a shrew, because her reaction could only mean one thing. She was jealous. Satisfaction surged through him, and he vowed to redouble his efforts.

  “Sure thing.” He lowered the speakers, then clicked on the first message in the list. “Deedee Coruthers.”

  An image of a waifish blonde filled the screen. Cat looked at it for a long moment, lips pursed. “Hmm…don’t you think her right eye looks lazy? Like it’s not really up on what the left one’s doing, and doesn’t care much to find out?” She made her eyes go slightly crossed. “It’s off-putting in person, I bet, because you don’t know which one to look at.”

  He looked at the photo more closely, and while Deedee wasn’t a stunner, she didn’t look cross-eyed. More like tired. “I guess a little…”

  She didn’t pay him any mind, already moving along to the next one. “Let’s see, what about her? Sara Mitchell. She calls herself an artist. That probably means she doesn’t have a job. She’s also a vegan, which means you’d have to deal with her meat-shaming you.”

  He’d never been meat-shamed before. It sounded bad.

  “And she probably does macramé,” Cat continued. “So that crap will be hanging all over your house before you know it.” She x-ed out Sara and pointed to another photo a few messages down. “She looks nice.”

  “Her?” he asked incredulously, sliding the cursor to blink under a masculine face.

  “Yeppers. She’s got an honest smile. I like that.”

  “Greta Doyle,” he recited, clicking to enlarge her photo, which only succeeded in making her look even more like a man. “She likes sailing, waterskiing, and backpacking. Her favorite show is Nancy Grace, and she works as an occupational therapist.”

  “Sounds perfect for you.”

  “In what way?” he asked, openly frowning at her now.

  “You like water sports.”

  His mind was inexorably drawn back to the time he and Cat had engaged in some water sports together, and for a second, he forgot what they were talking about.

  “Shane?”

  “Right. I do like water sports, but that’s it? That’s what puts her in the keeper folder?”

  “Sure. Common interests are huge in a relationship. Otherwise one person’s always getting dragged around by the other and doing stuff they don’t want to do, you know?”

  He didn’t know, but he nodded anyway. It seemed to him more that if two people liked being together, they made compromises sometimes and the rest of the time tried to find new things both people liked to do, but there was no point in arguing. He had no interest in dating any
of these women, opposite or not, so what did it matter who he corresponded with? As long as he let them know up front he was looking for friendship only, there wouldn’t be a problem. But he had to make sure some of them were attractive enough to make Cat jealous. “Okay. Maybe she’s just not photogenic. Who else you got for me?”

  She sipped her coffee and clicked on to the next one. “Courtney Lockhart DeLollis. Hmm…”

  Courtney was quite the looker. Long, honey-blond hair, wide-set hazel eyes.

  “Nope.” Cat shook her head, and moved to close the photo. He covered her hand with his to stop her.

  “What’s wrong with this one?”

  “Vapid. You can see it in the eyes. Dull. Not quite focused. If I were to guess what she was thinking right now, it would be ‘I like turtles’ or ‘I wonder what Kim Kardashian is doing right now’ or something.”

  She looked dead serious, but that couldn’t be right. “You can tell that from looking at her eyes in one picture? How is that even possible?”

  “It’s just a feeling. She looks like a nitwit. It’s your choice, though. If you want to spend an evening discussing the merits of turtles, go for it.”

  He stared at her hard, but she steadfastly ignored him. “Cat.”

  “What?” She kept her gaze locked on the monitor, but her fingers tapped a nervous beat on the desk.

  “Is this what you do?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t play dumb. Is this what you do to guys you date? Look for flaws?”

  “Oh, honestly, now you sound like Lacey. That’s not what I’m doing. I’m just trying to save you some time.” She looked down at her watch. “Speaking of which, I’ve got to go.”

  Running again. A tense moment passed while he debated whether to let her off so easily, but eventually he stood. They’d kissed last night; she’d gotten jealous today. They were making slow, steady progress. He had all the time in the world. “Okay. I’ll get your coat. You want to help me weed through some of these tomorrow?”

  She stood and stretched, the move baring enough of her sleek tummy to distract him from hearing the front end of her response. “…to go bungee jumping tomorrow, but I think I’m just going to cancel. I have a couple things to do in the morning, but you can come by my place around noon if you want.”

  “Why cancel the jump? You’ve been dying to do it, so do it.”

  “I was supposed to go with a girl from work, but something came up and she can’t make it. The thing is, it’s a two-person rig, so if I went alone I’d be paired with a stranger. Just won’t be as much fun.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  She stared at him dubiously. “It doesn’t really seem like your thing.”

  “I spend a lot of time in risky conditions for work, so it’s not something I’d necessarily go out of my way to do for pleasure, but I’d do it to support a friend if she didn’t want to go alone.” She hadn’t said no yet, but she was about to. “I can tell you’re looking for a reason to say no, but I’m not sure why. Friends help each other. Unless you’re afraid?”

  “Afraid? Not a chance. I’ve gone skydiving, parasailing, hang gliding, swimming with sharks.” She ticked each one off on her fingers. “I’m not scared to bungee-jump.”

  “I didn’t say you were. I was thinking maybe you were afraid of bungee jumping…with me.” He stepped closer. Close enough to see her pupils dilate and the pulse pound in her throat.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” The column of her neck worked as she swallowed, and any thoughts of letting her off easy crashed and burned. He closed the remaining distance between them, pressing forward until her back was against the wall.

  “You tell me.”

  Chapter Seven

  What was the question again?

  Hell if she could remember. His mouth was so close, his big body crowding her, frazzling her already-frayed nerves.

  “I don’t want you to kiss me,” she heard herself murmur, even as she stretched onto her tiptoes to get closer to his lips.

  “That isn’t what I asked you,” he said, tracing the line of her cheekbone with his finger. “I asked why you’re afraid of me.”

  “I’m not afraid of you.”

  “You are. And I want to know why.” His lips followed the path his finger created, brushing along her skin like a whisper.

  “I—I just don’t want to get involved with someone who—” She gasped when his warm breath caressed her earlobe.

  “Someone who?”

  She shouldn’t answer. It would only make things worse if he knew, but the words were out before she could stop them. “Someone who makes me feel like this.”

  The groan seemed torn from his throat, and he bent low, wrapping his strong arms around her. The instant his mouth touched hers, the dam broke. Everything she’d been feeling rushed forward like a tidal wave. She twined her arms around his neck and plastered herself against him, reveling in the feel of his tightly bunched muscles. His tongue stroked hers in a primal rhythm that made her stomach clench with need. His mouth was magic, and the memory of him between her thighs was almost too much to bear.

  She slid a restless hand into his hair and tugged, desperate for more. His palms drifted lower, cupping her ass and lifting her clear off the ground. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his hips, crying out against his mouth when the hard, thick length of him pressed against the spot already so primed for his touch. It was sublime, and she fluttered her hips against his in a wordless plea for more. He sucked gently on her bottom lip, then rolled his pelvis, wringing a moan from her when his erection rocked against her clit harder this time. He drew back and repeated the motion, again and again, fanning the flames higher and hotter, almost out of control.

  He pulled his mouth from hers to press soft kisses along her jaw, down her neck. “God, you are so fucking sexy,” he murmured, gripping her ass tighter, using his hold to grind her against his rock-hard cock in a way that had the blood pounding in her ears. She was one firm touch, one clever finger away from a mind-blowing orgasm.

  “Hold on tight,” he growled.

  She did, gripping his thick shoulders with all her might and locking her legs tighter around his waist.

  “Good girl.” He pulled away from the wall, and she whimpered at the loss of pressure between her legs. She quieted a second later when he sat her on the dining room table, urging her to lean back on her hands. “I just need to see you this time.” His voice was all grit and need, and she quivered, powerless to deny him. He traced the skin on her stomach reverently, then slowly lifted her sweater higher.

  “Beautiful,” he muttered, tracing the scalloped edge of her strapless black bra. With a flick of his fingers he released the closure, and it fell to the side.

  The chilly air hit her, and her nipples tightened even more, but it was the heat in his eyes that had her whole body quivering.

  “Jesus. That’s fucking—” He broke off and dropped to her, his hot mouth closing over one nipple and sucking.

  “Shane!” She moaned, tossing her head back, letting the heat and pressure of his lips and tongue drag her closer to the edge.

  He pulled away and blew on the distended tip. “Peach. I wondered if the memory was skewed or it was a trick of the moonlight. I love peach. And so sensitive.” He nipped her, murmuring his approval when she gasped. “Let your legs down.”

  She obeyed, releasing the death grip she had around him to let her legs dangle over the edge of the table. He stepped back a few inches and cupped her denim-covered pelvis, rubbing her in slow, firm circles. She bit her lip to keep from chanting his name when he lowered his mouth back toward her nipple.

  “Can you come like this?” His warm breath washed over her, and she wanted to drag him closer until his lips were on her again. “I think you can. Come for me, Cat,” he murmured, and closed his mouth over the straining bud, sucking and licking, matching the relentless rhythm of the sensual massage between her thighs.

 
; “Oh my God,” she groaned, every nerve ending at attention, the sensation hurtling her toward release. He pinched her nipples sharply between his teeth, and the pleasure-pain sent her flying. The waves of ecstasy rolled over, and she bit her lip to keep from sobbing. Through the buzzing in her ears, she heard Shane’s hums of encouragement. She also heard the sound of a car door slamming shut.

  She froze but for the fading spasms of her orgasm, and her eyes popped open. Then, a second car door slammed. This one hit her like a slap, clearing away the haze of lust.

  “Your parents,” she whispered furiously, pushing him away and yanking her sweater down.

  He lifted his head, and stared at her blankly, eyes hot with need. “What?”

  “Your parents are home!” She shoved him hard and slid off the table, trying to ignore the little flip her stomach was doing at the sight of his firm lips swollen from the kissing and sucking.

  “Fix…that,” she said, pointing urgently at the massive erection that was attempting to burst through his zipper. She grabbed her bra and stuffed it into her pocket.

  “Okay, let’s just have a seat in the living room and stay calm.” He straightened the centerpiece they’d manage to displace and led her the few feet to the drop-in living room. They’d just sat down in front of the fireplace when the door opened.

  Cat ran a quick hand through her mussed hair and worked up a smile.

  “Hey guys,” Shane called to his parents as they stepped into the hallway. He adjusted his jeans with final tug before they rounded the corner. “Did you win or what?”

  “We split,” Martha Decker said, stepping into the room with a smile. “Hey there, sweetheart,” she said when she caught sight of Cat. She ambled over and pulled her up for a baby-powder-scented hug. “How are your parents doing?”

  “They’re good, thanks for asking.” She resisted the urge to fidget under the older woman’s sharp gaze. Were her lips puffy, too? She quelled the need to touch them, knowing it would only draw attention to them if they were.

  Shane’s dad came into the room carrying an empty Crock-Pot. “Hello, Mary Catherine. Good to see you again.” He set the pot on the dining room table and shifted his gaze between Shane and her. “So what are you kids up to? You find my boy a wife yet?”

  “Oh, Aaron, stop teasing them. He’s not going to find a wife on the computer, are you, Shane? He’s just looking to make some nice new friends.” She slung her purse on the arm of a wing chair and reached down to pat her son’s cheek. “You feel a little warm,” she said with a frown. “Are you getting sick?”

  Cat kept her eyes on Shane, hoping no one was looking at her because her face was on fire.

  Shane shook his head. “No, although I count that as a miracle what with the climate change. Your hands are just cold from being outside.”

  She released him and pulled off her down-filled white coat. “Did you both have stew?” she asked, her eyes flicking to Cat.

  “Yes, thank you. It was delicious.”

  “I made apple pie for dessert, if you’d like some.”

  She wasn’t one to say no to pie, but the need to get out of there trumped her sweet tooth. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m stuffed. Can I take a rain check?”

  “I’ll do you one better,” Martha said. “You can take a slice home. Follow me.” She pulled Cat to her feet and led her by the hand into the newly renovated gourmet kitchen. “Have a seat while I cut you a piece and wrap it.”

  “Thanks, I’m sure I’ll be thrilled to have it around midnight when the fridge starts calling me.” She sat at the table and watched Martha bustle around.

  “So tell me, dear,” she said, opening a drawer and pulling out a pie server. “What’s going on between you and my son?”

  Cat stared at the older woman in shock, hoping she’d misheard.

  “You both looked pretty out of sorts and mussed when we walked in, but then I thought, that can’t be right. You’re trying to fix him up with other women, aren’t you? So what gives?”

  Cat started to answer but stopped when she couldn’t form a coherent response. The ambush had been laid masterfully, and even now, her captor held her in place with nothing more than a cheerful smile.

  She tried again. “I—I’m not sure what to say, Mrs. Decker. I like Shane a lot, but…” She shrugged helplessly, wondering if she looked even half as uncomfortable as she felt. “It’s really complicated.”