A Little Less Talk and a Lot More Action

by LuAnn McLane

  “Sure,” Cody promises with wide innocent eyes. “And the potato incident too.”

  “Yeah and you’re gonna sell me some oceanfront property in Arizona while you’re at it.”

  “Yeah and I’ll throw the Golden Gate in free,” Cody laughs tossing the line from the George Straight song right back at me. After recapping the recipes and signing off the show Cody turns to me. “Okay, we’re outta here, Macy-girl. The rest is up to you.”

  “Thanks for everything,” I tell him with a big hug, and then turn to salute the crew. “One word: Edit.” I shake my head. “No, make that two words: Please edit.”

  Jennifer heads my way and even though it invades her personal space, I don’t give a fig and hug her too. “Go for it, girlfriend,” I whisper in her ear. “We can compare notes.”

  Jennifer’s eyes widen and she nods her head as if in agreement but I get the impression that she’s not ready to take the leap. I understand. It’s hard. Scary. I glance down at my watch and suck in a long, shaky breath. In about an hour Luke will be arriving on my doorstep.

  It’s time to put my money where my mouth is . . .

  20

  A Leap of Faith

  Once again I’m standing in my underwear in my bedroom staring . . . no, make that glaring at the heap of making-me-look-fat clothes. I wonder how many women in America are doing the same thing right this very minute. Of course their clothes might not be in a pile on their bed but they are certainly muttering the very same thing: All of my clothes are stupid! Then I make the mistake of glancing over at myself in the dresser mirror. “Ohmigod, I cant wear this Hanes Her Way underwear! They’re, like, granny pants!”

  With a little squeal of frustration I leave the pile on my bed and go over to my underwear drawer and begin searching for something with silk and lace. Soon my granny-pants underwear joins the rest of the heap on the bed.

  “Aha!” Finally, I find silky black panties edged with lace and a matching bra that I bought at a Victoria’s Secret sale. The price tag is still on the bra. Perfect! I shimmy out of my Hanes Her Way but then hesitate. “Wait a minute.” If I’m wearing really sexy panties does it look like I am expecting to have sex? Not that I’m assuming that we will have sex . . . but I am open to the idea. You know, planning ahead.

  “I need help.” I decide to call Lilly and ask her opinion but my cell phone is missing in action. Great. “Holy cow, it must be beneath the pile of clothing.” While totally naked since even my underwear sucks, I start tossing my clothes from the bed to the floor hoping to spot my silver cell. Thankfully, in the midst of my frantic search my phone rings. “Oh, where are you?” I know, I’m talking to inanimate objects once again. “Ah, there!” I locate it beneath my denim skirt that I decide I’m going to wear.

  Oh good, it’s Lilly! “Hello, thank God you called. I need your advice.”

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “What kind of underwear should I wear?”

  “Duh, something sexy, Macy,” she answers without missing a beat as if this is a perfectly normal question to ask a person.

  “How about black silk and lace?” I hold up the panties and wrinkle my nose.

  “Sounds like an excellent choice to me, Macy.”

  “But let me ask you. Wouldn’t that be a bit too . . . obvious ?”

  “Guys don’t understand subtle, girlfriend. Besides, you shouldn’t have anything other than sexy underwear. Throw all that other stuff away. Sexy undies give a girl attitude, ya know what I’m sayin’?”

  “Oh . . . I don’t knoooo-wa. Oh . . . okay.” I toss the phone on top of the soon-to-be Goodwill clothing and slip into the silky undies before picking the phone back up. “They’re on.”

  “Now, look in the mirror.”

  I look up at the ceiling instead. “Do I have to?”

  “Yes! Now check out your boobs . . . now your butt.”

  “Big and bigger . . . ,” I whine with a long sigh, but I have to admit that the black silk and lace are danged sexy.

  “Get yourself under control, Macy. Luke’s gonna be there soon.”

  “Don’t remind me! Ohmigod, was that my doorbell?” I glance at the digital alarm clock. “He’s early! Why isn’t anybody ever late anymore? Lilly! Help! I don’t know what to wear.”

  “Girl, just tug somethin’ over your head. He won’t care . . . oh, but keep the sexy undies on and call back with a full report.”

  “Oh . . .” Bing-bing-bing . . . ! “There goes the doorbell!”

  “Well then, hurry your tushie up! Good luck and save me some food.”

  “Yeah right, there won’t be any leftovers.” Oh no, wait a minute . . .

  The food!

  “Yikes, it’s not the doorbell after all but the kitchen timer telling me that the wings are done and the potatoes need to go in. “Mercy, cookin’ is hard. No wonder people eat out all the time!” I shout into the tiny phone, probably breaking Lilly’s eardrum. For some reason I always talk too loud into cell phones. I guess it’s because they’re so small. “Catch ya later.”

  “Why did I invite him to dinner? I can’t even cook when someone else basically did it for me!” I’m muttering under my breath while tugging on my jeans. I hurry toward the kitchen . . . and quickly learn that hurrying and tugging at the same time is not a good idea. “Whoa!” While hopping on one leg I suddenly lose my balance, stagger sideways, and bump against the counter as though I’m a pinball before I fall down with a thump, followed closely by an unladylike curse. “Well, hell’s bells, that’s gonna leave a mark,” I grumble darkly while rubbing my tush.

  “You okay in there?” Luke’s voice is a bit muffled from behind the door but I can hear the concern.

  “Fine!” I yell back while continuing to rub my tender butt that’s already bruised from the potato incident.

  Wait a minute . . . Luke is at the door?

  It must have been the doorbell that I first heard after all. My heart starts pounding like a jackhammer. “I’ll be right there!” I attempt to scramble to my feet but there’s a leftover slick spot from the oil and heaven help me, I go down again, landing on my poor battered butt before whacking my head against the cabinet.

  “Macy?”

  “I’m okay!” I try to shout but it comes out a painful wheeze. Now I know where the term seeing stars comes from because I’m seeing them.

  “You don’t sound okay. Macy, did you fall?”

  “Um . . . yeah, but just a tiny spill,” I say in a small voice. I decide not to tell him that I almost split my head open like a doggone melon. With a nervous swallow I reach up to the tender spot, thinking I’ll encounter blood. No blood, thank goodness, but a cartoon character-sized lump is rising from my skull. A pathetic moan escapes my lips.

  “That’s it. I’m coming in.”

  “No . . .” I want to shout but moan instead. “Don’t.” Unfortunately, the front door is unlocked. A moment later Luke is hovering over me. Looking up I see two of him and think, wow, that would be cool, and then giggle.

  Knowing that I laugh at weird moments such as this one, Luke ignores my mirth and frowns at me. “Are you hurt? Anything broken?”

  “I think I put another crack in my butt,” I tell him, and then wince. “Pretend I didn’t say that.”

  Luke gives me a tender smile that helps take away the throbbing pain in my head. “Since when do you have to watch what you say around me?” After squatting down he offers his hand and assists me to a sitting position. “Okay now, where does it hurt?” he asks with quiet concern in his blue eyes.

  “Ummm,” I stutter, but hey it’s difficult to think with him so close and smelling more delicious than the food, which is pretty darned difficult to do.

  “Besides your butt,” he says with a crooked grin.

  “I might have bumped my head,” I admit, and thinking about it makes it hurt worse.

  “Where?” he asks, and then gently runs his fingers through my hair.

  “Ouch!”

  “Sorry, sweet
ie. Yep, you’ve got quite a bump there.” Easing up to a standing position, he walks over to the fridge and pulls out a tray of ice. “Do you have any plastic bags?”

  I’m trying to think but between my pain, the fact that he called me sweetie again, and that he smells so good, my brain is starting to short-circuit. “Ummm . . .” Think, ouch, but thinking hurts.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll find something.” When I’m no help, he starts looking around, opening cabinets and pulling out drawers until he locates a plastic grocery bag beneath the sink. “This will do the trick.” He dumps some ice cubes into the bag and then knots it shut. “Here you go.” Kneeling back down he gently eases my head to the side and places the coldness against my bump. “Hold still. This will keep the swelling down.”

  “Ouch!” I complain like a wimp and try to suck it up. After a minute the ice dulls the pain. “I guess you know what you’re doin’, coach,” I try to joke, but it really does hurt like the dickens.

  “Yeah, I’ve dealt with many an injury both personally and with my players. I just hope you don’t have a concussion. Do you have any pain medication, like Advil, maybe?”

  I nod . . . oh mistake. “Yeah, down the hallway in the bathroom next to the bedroom.

  “Good. Stay put and I’ll get you a couple.”

  “Thanks,” I say in a pathetic full-of-pain voice, and lean back against the cabinet with the bag of ice plopped against my head. The smooth wood feels nice and cool against my bare shoulders . . .

  “Ohmigod.” While squeezing my eyes shut, I swallow. Don’t tell me . . . I had forgotten that my jeans aren’t zipped all the way up and I’m in my bra, the black silk one that cups my girls and has cleavage spilling out over the lacy edge.

  This cannot be happening!

  Okay, think, but it hurts my head to do so. Then I get the brilliant idea to cover myself with a dish towel before Luke gets back. Silly, I know, but I’m not exactly thinking clearly. As luck would have it I must stand up in order to snag the towel hanging next to the sink. Of course I decide to do this quickly before he returns, not taking into account that standing up fast would make me light-headed. The ice pack slips to the floor and I wobble like a toy Weeble, except that I think I just might fall down . . .

  “Macy!” Luke shouts, and before I bite the dust again, he scoops me up into his arms so easily you’d think I was a skinny stick person. Cool. He didn’t even grunt or stagger or anything. “What in the world do you think you’re doin’?”

  “Gettin’ a dish towel.” I put my arms around his neck, thinking that maybe the bump on the head was worth it.

  “So you were plannin’ on dryin’ some dishes?”

  “No . . . I was gonna cover my, um, state of undress.”

  “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Oh . . .” Color me embarrassed.

  “But thanks for bringing it to my attention,” he comments as he carries me, effortlessly, thank goodness, toward the sofa.

  “I wasn’t trying to—,” I start to protest, but his grin makes me stop and I say, “Wait a minute, you’re messin’ with me, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah,” he admits as he gently eases me down to the sofa. “I am. I’d have to be dead not to have noticed, and the last time I checked I was alive and kickin’.”

  I chuckle but then wince. “Oh, that hurt.”

  “Hey,” he says gently, “take two of these.” He hands me two tablets and goes to get a bottle of water. After I down those, I notice that he has a shirt draped over his shoulder. “Okay, now let me help you get this on without hurting your bump.” He puts both arms though the shirt to stretch it over my head. “Easy . . . ,” he warns as he guides my head through the hole and then tugs the shirt down.

  My heart starts to beat faster from the close proximity and when his fingers brush against the sides of my breasts I about jump off the sofa.

  “Sorry, did I hurt you?” His voice is husky, making me wonder if this is affecting him as much as it is me.

  “No, you’re fine.” Are you ever.

  “Good.” Luke looks at me for a moment and heaven help me, I think he’s going to lean over and kiss me, but just when my eyes flutter shut, he clears his throat and rocks back on his heels. “Those pills should kick in shortly.”

  “I’m feeling better already,” I assure him. But I’d feel a heck of a lot better if you’d kiss me.

  “Is there anything else you need?”

  Yeah, a kiss. “No, I’m good,” I tell him, but then change my mind. “Actually a glass of the white wine chillin’ in the fridge would be nice.”

  “Coming right up,” Luke says, and I’m disappointed when he rushes from the room as if he wants to put some distance between us. Maybe my he-was-going-to-kiss-me radar was just wishful thinking on my part. Yep, I’m still the reigning queen of wishful thinking!

  Or then again maybe I should quit wishing and take some action. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. Take some action . . . I’ll just drink that glass of wine first. Then I’m all action.

  Oh who am I kidding?

  Will I ever be more than just talk?

  I inhale and then blow it out while I watch Luke deftly uncork the bottle. I’m not sure why I requested the wine that Cody provided instead of a cold beer. Well okay, yes I do. Sipping a glass of wine is sexier than drinking a bottle of beer. Yes, I’m stooping to the use of props. I just hope I don’t hate the wine and have to choke it down as if I’m enjoying it.

  I watch Luke reach up for a long-stemmed glass and decide that perhaps I should strike a pose on the sofa, like maybe have my arm up over the back. I do this while his back is turned and decide I look goofy, so I snatch it back down. Crossing my legs might be sexy or perhaps I should lean back against the cushions as though I need to be fed grapes. I snicker at that thought and try to come up with a provocative position and then something sexy to say when I glance down at my shirt. “Ohmigod,” I whisper. I’m wearing an old Hootertown Hornets T-shirt that is just a little too snug. I inhale a deep breath, making my breasts rise and fall . . . okay, make that way too snug. Holy cow.

  “Why the frown?” Luke asks as he hands me the wine glass. “Head still throbbin’?” He sits down beside me and pats my leg. “You okay, Macy? Maybe we should take you to the emergency room.”

  “My head is already feeling better,” I assure him, and truthfully, it is. “I was just wondering where you dug up this shirt?” Of course this stupid question has him looking at my shirt that’s stretched like a second skin across my chest.

  “From a big heap on your bed.”

  “Oh . . .” Could this get any more embarrassing? I feel heat creep up my neck and take too quick a sip of wine and start coughing.

  “Go down the wrong pipe?” he asks. After taking my glass from me he places it on the coffee table and then gently pats me on the back as though I’m a little kid. I know he’s trying to make me stop coughing but this is all going so terribly wrong that I’m just about ready to burst into tears. “Better now?”

  I nod and try to smile but it wobbles around the edges.

  “You sure?” He tucks a finger beneath my chin. “You know you can tell me anything. I’ll listen.”

  I blink at him for a second while searching for something flirty or funny to say but here I am sitting here in a stupid, too-small high school T-shirt, no shoes, and a big bump on the side of my head. My hair is damp and matted from the ice pack and I never got the chance to redo my makeup from early this morning. Moisture wells up in my throat but I swallow hard, not wanting to humiliate myself further but bursting into noisy tears. God, I am such a train wreck!

  “Macy,” Luke persists, “if there’s something wrong you can tell me. Is it your job? Do you miss your daddy? Jamie Lee? Come on, talk to me.”

  A little less talk, pops into my head like a banner trailing from an airplane and I think, To hell with it all. Taking a leap of faith I place my hands on either side of his face and bring his mouth down to mine for a long, hot kiss. Luke
seems surprised at first but quickly warms up to the idea. Carefully avoiding the bump he cradles my head and deepens the kiss. Our tongues tangle, slide, lick . . . lightly and then deeper as we kiss again and again. With a moan Luke scoots back against the cushions and pulls me on top of him, and then we’re kissing again as if there’s no tomorrow.

  21

  Get Your Sexy On

  The man knows how to drive me wild. First he kisses me with deep, hot strokes that make my head spin and my heart pound, but then he changes the pace with a lick and then a nibble before gliding the very tip of his tongue across my bottom lip. When I moan he continues to tease with butterfly kisses that come closer and closer but never quite reach my mouth. “Luke . . .”

  “Mmmm, your skin is so soft.” After threading his fingers with mine he concentrates on my chin, my nose, and my eyelids . . . everywhere except for where I want him the most.

  “I need . . .”

  “Another kiss?” But just when I think he’s going to capture my mouth once again, he pauses a fraction away and simply breathes.

  “Yes,” I whisper. “Another kiss.” With closed eyes our warm breath blends, becomes one. Luke’s fingers straighten, flex, and then tighten around mine in a simple yet tender gesture that sinks straight to my heart. With a sigh I brush my lips lightly over his and then graze back and forth, teasing and then tasting with the very tip of my tongue until Luke moans and pulls my head down for another deep, delicious kiss.

  “Mmmm,” I sigh against his mouth when a hot shiver of pure need slides down my spine like a snowflake on a warm windowpane. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more than this, and without even realizing it I find myself moving my body against his, slow and easy . . .

  “Macy . . . God,” he says, and then eases my head to the side so that he can nuzzle the tender skin beneath my ear. “I’ve tried to stay away and not interfere with this amazing career you’re beginning . . . ah, but sweetie, I just can’t.” When he pauses to suck my earlobe into his mouth I arch my back, pressing my body as close to his as I possibly can. “I miss you. Think about you. Worry about you. Want to be with you. But for the life of me I don’t know what to do about it. Just when I think I have all of the answers, too many questions pop into my head.”