Body Heat

by Susan Fox

  He stared at that mouth. Peachy-pink lips, a glimpse of white teeth. Last night, when she’d almost bumped into him in the hallway as he was leaving, he’d stared at that mouth, thought about kissing her. Had known it was a bad idea. Same thing earlier, when she’d been all flushed and laughing.

  It was still a bad idea. Very bad.

  His body had other ideas. He leaned forward so that his lips brushed hers. God, she was soft.

  He hardened instantaneously, but forced himself to go light on the kiss, to test and see how she responded. Not much pressure. Lips, just lips, nothing more.

  Her eyes had slammed shut and she was so still he wasn’t sure she was even breathing. She didn’t respond, but she didn’t draw away.

  Then, a little sound seeped out. Part moan, part whimper, part sigh. Her lips softened, then she was kissing him back, but not totally into it yet.

  He caressed the crease between her lips with an experienced tongue, back and forth, trying to persuade her.

  Her lips quivered, then opened for him.

  Before she changed her mind, he dipped his tongue into wet, honeyed heat. Jesus, she was sweet. Her mouth tasted as lush as it looked.

  She made that sound again, reached up to thread her fingers through his hair, and finally she was with him, totally with him. Lips, tongue, all raw and hungry like she was as hot for him as he was for her.

  His dick pulsed with need. Either it had been way too long since he’d had sex, or there was something special about this woman. Oh, hell, of course Maura was special. He’d known it when he first laid eyes on her.

  He deepened the kiss, wishing she’d open her eyes so he could see their amazing color. He slid his hand down her shoulder and across to the soft curve of her breast. Cupping it, he felt the hardness of her budded nipple through thin layers of fabric.

  And now her eyes did open—to widen in what looked like horror. She jerked backward.

  Chapter 8

  Maura gaped at the man beside her. Was this another of her crazy fantasies? “Jesse! Oh, my God, tell me that didn’t really happen.”

  “What’re you talking about?” He stared at her like she’d gone crazy. Which maybe she had. “I kissed you. You kissed me.”

  Her hard nipples and the ache of need between her legs could have come from a dream, but her lips felt swollen and tender. From his kiss. “You did,” she murmured, still finding it hard to believe. “You really did.”

  He shouldn’t have. She shouldn’t have responded. It was all wrong. But . . . did he really want her? Find her attractive? That was so hard to believe. “Why did you do it?”

  He made an untranslatable masculine sound. “You’re hot.”

  Hot? Hot? No, she definitely wasn’t. That must be the standard line he fed every gullible woman, every woman who made the mistake of thinking she was special to him. What he really meant was, she had lips and breasts—albeit small ones—and they were there, available—or so he thought—so he just took them. Kissed her, invaded her mouth, then groped her. And then he had the audacity to say she was hot? “Don’t insult me,” she snapped.

  He heaved himself back in the passenger seat, arms crossed over his chest, and she could feel the tension radiating off him. “It’s a fucking insult to kiss you?”

  “What? You think every woman should be flattered if you kiss her? And don’t swear. Macho crudeness doesn’t impress me.”

  “Nothing impresses you, lady,” he growled. “You’re so damned high and mighty.”

  “I am not!”

  “And you know what?” He slanted a glittery-eyed gaze in her direction. “You kissed back.”

  She closed her eyes briefly, remembering those minutes of bliss. Then she shoved the memory away, shaking her head. “I did, but it was wrong. All wrong. You shouldn’t have, and I shouldn’t have.”

  “Yeah, I’m getting that message.”

  “You didn’t even really mean it.” Or at least, it hadn’t mattered that it had been her. Any female would have done.

  “Mean it? Jesus, were you there for that kiss? I sure as hell meant it.”

  He wasn’t getting her point, and she didn’t feel like elaborating on her own undesirability. “Yes, fine, I’m female and you’re a red-blooded male with instincts. Physical ones. But we’re completely different. We’re from different worlds.”

  His jaw looked so tight that she was surprised he could actually speak. “Sure as hell are.”

  “We’re opposites.”

  “I get it,” he ground out.

  And that wasn’t even the worst thing. “I supervise you. That kiss was completely unprofessional. It was stupid.” It could cost her her job, much less the promotion.

  “Stupid. Yeah. That’s for sure. It won’t happen again.”

  Of course it wouldn’t. It had been some silly, mood-of-the-moment instinct on his part. She’d only responded because, inexperienced as she was, for a moment she’d confused fantasy and reality. Now, though, she was firmly grounded.

  They sat in silence for a few minutes, him still with his arms crossed over his chest, her upright in the driver’s seat wishing she could take back the past ten minutes of her life. Although . . . would she really give up that kiss? It had only lasted a minute or two, but it had been the hottest, sweetest one of her life.

  Jesse cleared his throat. “Look, about my community service . . .” The gravel in his voice was more pronounced than usual.

  “Yes?” She glanced over.

  Challenge in his hazel eyes, he asked, “You going to kick me out?”

  She pressed her lips together, considering. “You want to stay?”

  His jaw worked. “Need to.”

  He didn’t want to work with her, but he needed to complete the community service assignment or he’d go to jail. Well, she didn’t want to work with him, either, and maybe she had the perfect excuse to throw him out. She sighed. “It wouldn’t be fair to kick you out. We both did something we shouldn’t have, and we both regret it. Right?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  Of course, for him that kiss had been completely unmemorable. “Then perhaps we can try to forget it.” No, she could never do that. “I mean, pretend it never happened.”

  His gaze fixed on her mouth for a long moment, then he turned his head to stare out the windshield. “Forget it. Sure.”

  “And we’ll continue with the community service just as before.”

  The muscles in his throat rippled as he swallowed. “Thanks.”

  She sensed how hard it was for him to speak that single word. “You’re welcome. And, uh, Jesse, neither of us will say anything about this, right? It wouldn’t look good for either of us.”

  He didn’t turn to look at her. “It didn’t happen.”

  “Right.” Of course it did! “Thank you.”

  She started up the van and drove toward Cherry Lane, even more cautious than usual because she was upset. Neither of them said a word until she pulled up in the front loading zone and they climbed out.

  He swung open the sliding side door and reached inside. Pulling out two hanging baskets, he said, “I’ll put these up, then get going with the fertilizer before the bedding plants come.” He paused, holding the heavy planters as if they weighed nothing, then added, “If that’s okay with you, Ms. Mahoney?”

  Ignoring the edge in his voice, she nodded and focused on being a supervisor. “That’s fine. And be sure to take a proper lunch break, too.”

  She turned to head inside and heard “Gee, thanks” in that same sarcastic tone.

  Oh, great, now he was going to give her even more attitude. Maybe he realized that the kiss gave him a certain power over her. If he let something slip to Gracie or one of the residents, Maura could be in serious trouble.

  Why on earth had she kissed him, rather than slapping his face and ordering him to back off?

  Once in her office, she glanced out the window and saw Jesse bend to set down two heavy bags of fertilizer, then straighten again and stretc
h his back in one of those natural, catlike movements. He sauntered in his easy, long-limbed gait back across the garden to the door.

  The man radiated sex appeal. That was why she’d kissed him. She was weak. Ruled by hormones. She’d been off balance, off guard; too many disconcerting things had happened.

  She’d even been silly enough to agree to go to that stupid reunion, and now she had to find a date. Perhaps she could invite Edward. He was male, intelligent, and more than passable in the looks department. Her parents would be thrilled. And, even if he wasn’t exactly dazzling, at least she’d prove to the Cindys in her class that she could get a date.

  Maura pressed her fingers to her forehead, feeling guilty for thinking this way about Edward, when he’d only been nice to her. He was perfect in so many ways. She should see him again, be more open-minded. Stop comparing him to a player like Jesse Blue.

  Now, if she went to the reunion with Jesse . . .

  He’d actually wondered if she wanted him to take her. Of course she didn’t. It would be all wrong, just as that kiss had been all wrong.

  Except, the kiss had been so wonderful. Leaning back in her chair, Maura closed her eyes for just a moment and let herself remember it . . .

  So sexy, sweet at first, then rapidly becoming raw and passionate . . .

  Raw . . . Jesse was raw, edgy . . .

  What a tantalizing, wicked thought, that she might go to the reunion with him. She could just imagine . . .

  The doors to the high school gym flew open and they rode in on Jesse’s shiny black bike. Heads turned, people gaped, all conversation ceased.

  Everyone was in evening dress, but none came close to touching Jesse when he slid off the bike in his tux. He looked as dashing and sexy as Sean Connery’s Bond. He bowed slightly in her direction and held out his arm so she could slip her hand through it.

  She inclined her head and accepted the invitation, and they swept forward. She wore a red off-the-shoulder ball gown that swished with each step she took, and killer heels. As tall as she was, Jesse was even taller.

  “Is that Maura Mahoney?” she heard Cindy say. “I can’t believe it!”

  “Who’s that man she’s with?” someone asked.

  “He’s a movie star, isn’t he?” another answered. “He’s the most handsome thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “He’s pure sex, walking,” an awed voice whispered . . .

  “Maura? Maura? Ms. Mahoney?”

  Maura started, and opened her eyes to see Ming-mei standing in her office doorway. She bit her lip. Pure sex, walking. Had she really dreamed up those words? Such perfect words. An erotic tingle rippled through her aroused body. Somehow, she managed to say, “Sorry, I was deep in thought. Yes, Ming-mei?”

  “There’s a truck outside and a man asking for Jesse Blue.”

  “That must be the delivery from the garden center. Tell them to bring the plants into the courtyard and to try not to make a mess.”

  Ming-mei was shaking her head. “It’s not the garden center and there aren’t any plants. It’s a . . .” She shrugged helplessly. “Maybe it’s a friend of his?”

  Why hadn’t Ming-mei asked? The young woman could definitely show more initiative. “I’ll come and talk to him.”

  At the entrance, Maura stared out past the frame of two new hanging baskets toward a battered blue truck parked in the loading zone. Then her gaze shifted to a questionable-looking character who squatted under a cherry tree, smoking. Greasy hair pulled back in a ponytail, T-shirt full of holes, weight-lifter muscles. And that was just his back.

  She was beginning to sympathize with Ming-mei. “Hello?” she called.

  He rose to his feet and tossed the cigarette onto the boulevard, making her grimace. He was short and stocky, a bit bow-legged as he ambled toward her. His face was pocked with old acne scars and his arms were adorned with tattoos. She saw a skull before she dragged her glance back to his face.

  “Yo,” he said. “Lookin’ for Jesse Blue?”

  “So I heard. Why?” If her community service project thought he could invite his deadbeat friends to Cherry Lane, he had another very big “think” coming.

  “Got somethin’ for him.” He gestured toward the truck, where she saw a huge cardboard box in the back, secured haphazardly with some kind of ropes or cords.

  “What is it?”

  “Swing set.”

  “Swing set?” The words didn’t match up with this man in the least. “You mean, children’s playground equipment?”

  “Nah. Like . . .” He gestured aimlessly, and his face bore a tortured expression as he searched for a description. He glanced at the old wooden benches that sat on the porch and his face brightened. “Kinda like that, but it swings, you know?”

  She had no idea what he was talking about. “What’s your name?”

  “Beater.”

  As in an old car, or a man who beat others up? Or maybe it was his real surname.

  “Please wait here for a minute, uh, Mr. Beater.”

  Although it was a sunny day and normally they left the front door open, now she closed it firmly, shutting him out on the porch. She stalked toward the courtyard.

  Jesse was in a shady corner spraying one of the shrubs, which he’d trimmed back considerably. “Jesse?” she called.

  “Yeah,” he said over his shoulder, not bothering to look up much less stop work.

  Wait a minute, what was he doing? “I thought you were spreading fertilizer.”

  Holding the spray bottle, he turned around. “Decided the sun’s too hot. I’ll do it later.”

  “Oh. All right.” As she walked toward him, her nose twitched. “What’s that smell?”

  “Soap.”

  “Soap?”

  “Natural insecticide.” His voice and expression were flat. Civil, but no more.

  “Oh.” Remembering why she’d come, she said, “There’s a man outside named Beater. He’s brought something for you.”

  Jesse’s expressionless face split in a sudden grin. “Awesome!”

  “Would you mind telling me what this is all about?”

  “It’s one of those old-fashioned swing things. Wooden frame, bench-type seat.”

  “And so . . .”

  “I’ll put it near one of the cherries. The old gals’ll like it.”

  Her mouth opened in a silent “oh.” Yes, they would. She imagined a swinging seat under a cherry tree. With a view of Jesse Blue gardening. Oh, yes, the “old gals” would be in seventh heaven. On the other hand . . . “You can’t just go and order things. Didn’t I tell you we’re on a very tight budget?”

  “You don’t have to pay.”

  What? He couldn’t mean . . . Was she receiving stolen property? “What do you mean?” she demanded.

  He was shifting from one foot to the other, obviously eager to go. “Gave Beater a call last night. He said he thought he could rustle one up. No charge. Be nice if you offered him a cold drink, though.”

  She was supposed to offer a cold drink to a thug named Beater to thank him for bringing stolen property to Cherry Lane.

  And then she thought of Virginia Canfield and Hilda Jenssen, swinging under the cherry tree. Jesse was walking past her. Without thinking, she reached out and touched his arm. “Wait.”

  His skin was hot and damp, his arm firm and vital. Ripples of shock and pleasure surged through her. She snatched her hand back. “I need to know where it came from.”

  He scowled. “We didn’t steal it.”

  “I . . .”

  His eyes met hers, challenging her to trust him.

  “All right,” she muttered. “Go ahead and bring it in.” She wasn’t happy about the way Jesse had arranged this, but he must realize his every move was under scrutiny. He wouldn’t be so foolish as to do something illegal right under her nose. As for Beater, she wasn’t so sure.

  She followed Jesse back out, determined to keep a close watch, and was in time to see a navy-blue BMW pull up.

  Her mother got
out and Maura walked toward her. “Agnes? What are you doing here?” She could count on one hand the number of times either of her parents had come to Cherry Lane, and have fingers left over.

  Her mother opened the passenger door, took out a capacious canvas tote-bag, and pulled Maura’s black pashmina shawl from it. “You left this at the restaurant last night.”

  “Oh, thanks.” She’d taken it in case there was chilly air-conditioning, then forgotten it in her haste to get home and watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s. “You didn’t have to come by to drop it off.”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “I was driving in this direction for a meeting. It was no trouble.” Then she frowned at the blue truck. “What on earth is going on?”

  Jesse and Beater had wrestled the huge box so that it stuck three-quarters of the way out of the open truck bed.

  “Need a fucking dolly,” Beater said.

  “Don’t have one,” Jesse said.

  “Fuck, man, this thing’s heavy.”

  “Should’ve brought a fucking dolly then,” Jesse returned.

  Despite the proliferation of F-bombs, the two men sounded relaxed and easy together.

  Jesse studied the giant box. “Could unpack it, take it in pieces.”

  “Shit, it’s not that heavy.”

  And they proceeded to strong-arm it off the truck and onto their shoulders. With Jesse in the lead, they lurched toward the front steps.

  “Maura? What’s that all about? Who are those men?”

  Not about to tell Agnes that one was some kind of petty criminal doing community service, and she didn’t have a clue who the other was, she said, “They’re delivering a hanging swing set, which we’ll put up in the courtyard for the seniors.”

  Agnes frowned. “I don’t think much of the company you bought from, if they use delivery men like that.”

  And she wouldn’t think much of her adoptive daughter if she knew that, only an hour ago, Maura had been kissing one of those men. “I should go in and supervise.”

  “You certainly should. You don’t want men like that roaming around this place.”