Under Her Skin

by Adriana Anders

  Uma stiffened.

  “No. Why?”

  “Oh man, he looks goood,” she said, looking as lascivious as a five-foot-tall blond pixie could. “I might not fight back tonight. Might just let him jump me.” She pushed Anne’s hand away and twisted into the follow-through.

  “Hey, Binx, that’s my brother you’re talkin’ about,” Jessie called from the center of the room where she was walking one of the women through a leg sweep. “Keep it clean.”

  “I know it, girl, but great day, that man is lookin’ G-U-D good.” Binx’s eyes landed, for one long beat, on Uma. Was that a challenge?

  “He is?” said Uma’s partner, Monica, a cozy-looking woman with cats printed in pink across her sweatshirt.

  “Mon, honey, you have no idea. Saw him at Southern States today. Thought I might faint right there next to the fertilizer.”

  “You sure it wasn’t the fumes?”

  “Shush, Anne,” Monica broke in. “So, what happened? Why’s he so hot all of a sudden?”

  “Y’all are gonna have to see for yourselves. But he’s mine, ladies. I got dibs.”

  Uma tamped down another wave of hostility toward the woman, this time not for the ad, but for talking about Ivan like that. Like a piece of meat. She didn’t like that one bit, because he was hers, damn it.

  Which was one hell of a thing, wasn’t it? Wanting someone but knowing you had to stay away.

  * * *

  When he saw Uma’s car in the lot, all the air whooshed out of Ive’s lungs. He pulled up beside it and sat for a few seconds, watching the women through the front window. There she was, looking so much taller than the first time he’d seen her. She smiled at something one of the women said, and he realized that was the first time he’d seen that expression on her face—relaxed, easy, happy. Man, she was pretty.

  He moved to get out, then froze when she bent forward to grab her “attacker” around the waist, tackling the other woman to the ground. Oh, fuck. He couldn’t wait to get under her.

  She made to get up but hesitated on all fours in a perfect reenactment of the fantasy he’d gotten off on the night before. That thought stopped him cold, and he sat back, giving himself a moment to tamp down his eagerness.

  Uma was avoiding him. He was almost positive she’d been hiding in the kitchen when he’d gone by to see her. He just couldn’t figure out why. The night they’d spent together hadn’t been awkward. It had been perfect. The only issue he’d had was with her taking off like that without waking him up. He planned to confront her about that, but…was that it? Did she think he’d be mad about that? Was that why she’d avoided him for two days? No way. He’d been nothing but gentle with her. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

  Or did she?

  It took more than one night of intimacy to gain the trust of someone who’d suffered at the hands of others. He knew that. Knew it well. He’d seen it with his dog, and he’d seen it in people.

  She stood again and moved off to the side of the room, away from where the other women stood, deep in conversation. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t a hundred percent confident yet. But she looked like she was getting there.

  And Ive intended to do whatever it took to help her.

  17

  Mid-mental argument, the door jangled, and ten pairs of eyes locked on to the man entering. He came inside and stopped, self-consciously brushing his chin. Uma could see him get pink from fifteen feet away.

  His “What, I got somethin’ on my face?” was met with laughter by everyone but her, and looking around, she could tell the other ladies were as floored at his loveliness as she’d been.

  They swarmed around the man, the older ones flapping excitedly, while Binx and one of the Annes sidled up to him with flirty eyes.

  “What made you decide to shave it off?” Monica asked.

  He shrugged, and his eyes met Uma’s before he got even redder and looked away. “Needed a change, I guess.”

  “Come on, let’s get back to work, ladies.” Jessie clapped and pulled everyone back to the mat. “Look at Uma. She’s the only serious one here tonight. You ladies are pathetic.”

  Ivan caught her gaze briefly before she turned to concentrate on Jessie.

  The practical part of the class was a nightmare, of course. When Steve arrived and the women all lined up against the men, Uma’s skin immediately went up in such a fierce, prickly blush, her discomfort must have been obvious. With half the class’s eyes on her, she faced off against Ivan and was satisfied to see that he looked as awkward as she did.

  Head bent in preparation for the breakaway, he whispered, “You okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Just took off,” he said through a shy, little smile.

  It was adorable. How the hell was she supposed to resist this man? “Had to get to work,” she whispered.

  He touched her, and rather than shove her attacker away, Uma spent an inappropriate moment leaning into him. Finally, he nudged her shoulder, and she went through the motions, pushing, twisting, and following through. But, oh, she didn’t want to. Despite her decision to avoid him—for his own good, she reminded herself—she wanted nothing more than to let him wrap her in his arms again, to sink into his strength and heat.

  It was the curiosity shining in Binx’s eyes that finally woke Uma up to how she must look: like one of his damn cats trying to get a good rub in.

  After a couple of times through, Ivan moved on to his next victim. He got back around to her right after, cutting in before she could be paired up with Steve. This time, he lingered inappropriately, and it was all she could do to push out of his stranglehold.

  For the rest of class, she ignored him, looking everywhere but at that beautiful face.

  “I think Ive’s face needs celebratin’,” Binx called after Jessie had wrapped up.

  Uma hung back while the women crowded excitedly around Ivan yet again. “Anyone wanna head over to the Nookie?”

  “You don’t seem impressed,” Jessie said, indicating the rabid swarm around her brother.

  “It was just a beard,” Uma said with as little inflection as possible. Unfortunately, Ivan chose that moment to look up at her over the women’s heads. Their eyes met, and she shivered.

  A glance at Jessie showed her eyes flicking curiously between them.

  “Hmm” was all the woman said before pulling on her coat and heading to the desk to grab something. Uma made a run for the door.

  “You goin’, Uma?” Ivan’s voice stopped her.

  “Where?”

  “Over to the Nook for a cold one before headin’ home.”

  “Oh, no, I don’t—”

  Jessie came up beside her. “Come on. I’ll buy you a drink.” She put an arm around Uma’s shoulders and steered her out the door. “Get a move on, ladies. You can molest my brother outside or at the Nook, but you can’t do it here. Out!”

  The women spilled out onto the sidewalk and meandered down the block to the Nook. Once inside, Jessie leaned close and asked, “What’s your poison?”

  “Whatever you’re having’s fine.”

  The other woman swaggered confidently to the bar, drawing the eyes of nearly every guy there. Jessie was tall, loose-limbed…confident. Her perfection highlighted Uma’s deficiencies.

  And the woman could defend herself. That was maybe the most attractive thing about her. She had an “I’m gonna kick your ass, and you’re gonna love it” kind of thing going—a Quentin Tarantino heroine, ready to fend off hordes of attackers beautifully. She’d even look good in a yellow jumpsuit.

  The bartender, Rory, said something to Jessie, and her back stiffened. What’s going on there?

  Rory smiled, despite Jessie’s obvious hostility. He glanced Uma’s way, caught her looking, and gave a friendly wave. She waved back.

  She was acutely aware of Ivan as he gathered chai
rs for the group. When had she grown this extra set of antennae developed for the sole purpose of detecting his whereabouts?

  She knew he was there, of course, before he squatted beside her.

  “Tried to visit you yesterday,” he whispered.

  “Yeah. I was out.” Uma ignored the question in his eyes.

  He touched her, just on the shoulder, but she had to pull away. If she didn’t, she’d end up in his lap, and that wasn’t allowed to happen.

  “You need a drink?”

  “Jessie’s got it. Thanks.”

  With a nod, he stood and walked to the bar, his back tall and a little stiff.

  “So, you live next to the big guy, right?” Binx moved down into the next chair, and Uma stiffened. Not only had she placed that stupid ad, but she was also Uma’s personal nightmare: petite, blond, pert, pretty, clearly into Ivan, and her eyes were bright and inquisitive on Uma’s.

  “Ivan?”

  “Uh, Ive. Yeah,” she said in a duh tone of voice. “Looks like you guys know each other.”

  “Sure. He’s a nice guy.”

  “Really? Hmm. Never thought of him that way before.” Her eyes slid from Ivan’s ass to Uma, a feline grin on her face. “You know he’s a beast in bed.” She made a half-moan, half-roar, sex-kitten sound, and Uma couldn’t help but hate her, just a little bit.

  Did she know that firsthand? Uma had a sharp pang of jealousy.

  Binx seemed to expect a response. The best Uma could come up with was “Have you known him long?”

  “Since elementary school. We graduated high school together.”

  Oh? “What was he like?”

  She looked at him, considering. “Different. Not quite as big. Angry streak a mile wide. Always gettin’ into fights. Kickin’ ass and takin’ names. Fuckin’ and fightin’. Pissed off at the world.” She leaned in, warming to her subject. “You hear about Gabe’s dad? You know, Jessie’s boy?”

  Uma shook her head as casually as she could.

  Binx leaned in farther, obviously enjoying the honor of divulging the gruesome details. “Ive bit the guy’s ear off.”

  “What?” Uma was horrified and…something else. Scared? Titillated? Maybe somewhere in between. It was disgusting, but she could see it in her mind’s eye, in perfect, lurid detail.

  Savage.

  “Huge fight. Few years after high school. I was in college, so I only heard about it through my sister, but…” The woman lowered her voice and continued. “He went to prison for it. Almost killed the guy.” She whispered the last bit, full of drama, clearly enjoying herself. Uma was slightly queasy.

  “Why?”

  “They say Frank was beatin’ Jessie, and— How long you plannin’ on stayin’ with us, Uma?”

  “Oh, um. I’m just here to… I mean, not long.” Uma looked up to see Jessie lower herself into the chair beside her.

  “This is for you, from Rory.” Jessie set a ridiculously froufrou pink cocktail on the table, so crowded with umbrellas and fruit that it took Uma a minute to find the straw.

  “What is it?”

  “Singapore Sling. He says you’ll like it, even though it’s not strictly British.”

  “Well, thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. It’s on the house. So’s mine.” She lifted a tall drink. A clean orange column, devoid of decoration. It seemed oddly significant.

  “What’s yours?”

  Through tight lips, Jessie said, “It’s a Slow, Comfortable Screw Against the Wall.”

  Binx hooted with laughter and slapped her thigh. “The dawg! What is up with you two?”

  “The guy is a complete asshole. I ordered a beer, and he handed me this instead. Then he wouldn’t let me pay for it ’cause it would make him feel dirty to take money from me.”

  Binx laughed harder before saying, “You mean in exchange for sex? Too bad it ain’t the real thing. When was the last time you got laid?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Oh, please, sugar. Everything’s my business.”

  “If you haven’t heard anything, it’s ’cause there’s nothing to tell. So cool it, Binx.”

  “I believe I’ve hit a sore spot.” Binx looked at the bar, caught Rory’s eye, and gave him a girly, four-fingered wave. “Never did get why you hate him so much. The man is scrumptious.”

  “He’s a man whore. It’s disgusting.”

  “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a horndog, sugar. ’Specially if you’re in a period of extreme drought. Tall drink of water like that… Wonder why I never did him.” Binx’s eyes narrowed on Jessie, moved to Uma, and then swung to Ivan, who sat at the other end of the table, looking ill at ease surrounded by the other women.

  “Ive, on the other hand.” She cleared her throat. “If you’ll excuse me, girls, my arid regions need a little waterin’.”

  “Jesus, Binx,” Jessie groaned. “That’s my brother you’re talking about.”

  “Well, you know how it is. Me and Ive. When I’m dry, I wet my whistle at the f—”

  “Shut up!” Jessie screeched.

  The little blond waltzed over to Ivan, who looked, if anything, more pained than ever when she plopped onto his lap.

  Uma turned away.

  “Don’t worry about Binx.”

  “What do you mean?”

  When Uma looked at her, Jessie indicated Binx and Ivan. “I take it you know my brother.”

  “We’ve hung out,” Uma said carefully.

  Jessie had that curious look on her face again. “This is the very first time he’s agreed to come out with us after class. Ive doesn’t go out. Ever. And he made sure you were coming before committing.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yep. You like him.”

  “I don’t—”

  “He and Binx have been doing their thing off and on for years. It’s not serious, though. It’s okay. I can tell he likes you too.”

  Uma swallowed and raised her eyebrows.

  “Never seen him like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Can’t keep his eyes off you.”

  “Oh.”

  “He’s a good guy, you know. Despite how he comes off.”

  “I know that.”

  “You do?” she said skeptically.

  “I owe him a lot.”

  “How so?”

  “He’s been…generous, that’s all.”

  “That’s exactly it. Ivey’s the most generous person I know. To a fault. He’d do anything for the people he loves. Me and Gabe…well, we’d never have made it without him.” She paused, then turned her full attention on Uma. “What’s your plan here, Uma?”

  “My plan?”

  “I don’t want to say ‘What are your intentions toward my brother?’ but, you know… Are you plannin’ on stickin’ around, or is this a pit stop for you?”

  Uma could hear the regret in her own voice when she responded. “I’m not staying. After I finish what I came here to do…I’m gone.”

  “You need to disappear.” It was a statement, not a question. “You’re runnin’ from someone.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You considered stickin’ around?”

  “It’s too close. To my ex. He’s a prosecutor in Northern Virginia.” Oh crap. Why had she said that? What was it about Jessie that made her want to spill everything?

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Please don’t tell anyone.”

  Jessie nodded. After a moment’s thought, she leaned in. “Don’t get Ive involved in your problems. Please. He can’t afford to get embroiled. He’ll just get into trouble. Again. He can’t help himself.”

  Oh, this wasn’t good. The conversation was putting Uma on the defensive. The thing was, she’d have liked to tell Jessie to mind her own business, but the woman w
as right to be careful. You couldn’t fault her for meddling. She admired how brother and sister seemed to take care of each other.

  “There’s nothing for him to get involved in. I’m here to get something done, and then I’m gone. That’s it.”

  Jessie looked at Uma hard, searching, before nodding and finally letting her expression soften slightly. “Look, I don’t want you to th—”

  “Oy, ladies. How are the two loveliest birds in Blackwood doing tonight? Enjoying your drinks?” Rory knelt between their chairs, charm flowing off him in waves.

  “This is delicious,” Uma replied, glad for the interruption.

  “Singapore, 1897, a colony of the Crown, which made it British enough, I suppose. The Raffles Hotel, where this fine concoction was invented, was where most of the Yanks holed up. This delightful mixture of gin, cherry brandy, and juices was referred to as the ‘pink sling for pale people.’” He leaned back with his lazy, wicked grin and looked Uma up and down. “And you, dahling, are beyond the pale. Quite literally.” He winked.

  “What does that even mean, Rory?” Jessie said, mouth tight and eyes squinty.

  Rory turned his blue eyes to Jessie. “It’s too subtle for you, love. I’m afraid you wouldn’t understand it.” He was cold, all trace of smooth-talking flirt gone.

  “Oh, please. Subtle? You’re the one who gave me a Slow, Comfortable Screw Aga—”

  “Fuck,” he interrupted. “It’s a Slow, Comfortable Fuck Against the Wall. Thought you could use one, love.”

  Jessie turned red and sputtered.

  Uma’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Where was the suave tale spinner? This guy was kind of an asshole. She looked from one to the other, wondering what kind of sordid history led two friendly people to be so rude to each other.

  “Uma, love, I brought something for you.” Rory held out a hand. From it hung…a camera.

  It was like gold. No, better than that—a security blanket, or a long-lost love. She almost moaned at the weight of it.

  “What’s this for?”

  “It’s for you.”

  “Oh, but I can’t.”

  “You’ll be doing me a favor, trust me.”

  “How so?”

  “After you left the other night, I dug it out from the storeroom, charged it up for you. Somebody left it here perhaps three years ago—charger, case, and all. I reckon they’re not coming back for it. Sounded as though you could use one. I’m not certain of the quality, but it should tide you over for a time, right?”