by Faye Avalon
Like hell. She hadn’t seen the last of him.
Chapter Two
Late into the evening, Beth finished adding to her notes on Roscoe. His assessment hadn’t gone so badly, at least until that little episode in the woods. Hell. That idiot man. What was it about him that annoyed her so much? It was more than the paint spraying debacle, it was him. Everything about his vacuous persona. And damn it, even to herself that sounded harsh, cold. At least he’d helped her find Roscoe and taken a fall for his efforts. She hoped his head was okay.
Marco. The name suited him. All that dark hair teasing his shoulders, sexy brown eyes, even the small silver loop that flashed in his left ear. It was probably the flack jacket that made his shoulders seem so big.
Was it the fact that he was so damn sexy that irritated her so much? Or did he remind her in some way of the past? Mostly she’d been able to push the memories back so deep she’d barely thought about them. Work helped of course. The Center didn’t run itself and there were always more animals coming in needing to be cared for and evaluated, not to mention the work involved in the adoptions that thankfully had been going like a train.
And yet at the first remotely sexual encounter she’d had in almost eighteen months, she’d felt all those feelings storm back. One brush of his admittedly impressive erection and a torrent of need had let rip inside her, leaving her edgy and, okay, horny.
Leaning back on the battered sofa, Beth plonked her booted feet on the small coffee table in the staff lounge and forced herself to concentrate as she turned to page two of the assessment for Roscoe.
She was about to fill in the bit about recall, when Carrie, one of the assistants, popped her head in the door. “Beth, someone to see you.”
Beth turned her wrist to glance at her watch. “It’s past nine. Didn’t we put the closed sign up?”
“Sign’s up, but this guy says it’s personal.” She grinned. “He could be personal with me any day.”
As her stomach gave a surprising and treacherous roll, Beth took her feet off the coffee table. “Did he give a name?”
“No. He said if you asked I was to say that you were responsible for his middle names. That you’d understand. Who is he?”
Because Carrie jiggled her eyebrows, Beth put on her professional face as she stood. “He met Roscoe this afternoon. Probably something to do with that.”
“Want me to bring him over?”
“No.” Beth dropped the assessor sheet on the table. “Is he in Reception?”
At Carrie’s nod, Beth started out.
There was still a streak of light across the early spring night sky, but the reception area lights were on and Beth saw Marco through the glass doors as she crossed the yard. Her heart gave a quick jolt and her pulse quickened. What on earth did he want?
When she pushed through the doors, he turned and smiled at her. Oh my, he had a smile that could melt the panties right off a woman. But despite the danger to her own underwear, Beth maintained her professional face as she came up to him. “We usually close at six. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Hello to you, too.” He upped the amps on his smile several kilowatts, and Beth’s stomach fluttered in response. Stupid. He was no doubt a player and used that smile to devastating effect whenever the opportunity arose. “Got something for you.”
As he turned to pick up a bag he’d placed on a chair, Beth took a moment to let her gaze travel over him. She’d been wrong about the flack jacket. His shoulders were wide even beneath the lightweight ivory jacket he wore. Plus, his to-die-for butt, encased in smart black jeans, was honed to perfection.
Damn. And wow.
He turned and held out the bag emblazoned with the name of an upmarket local grocery store.
“What is it?”
“Well, since I knew you would refuse replacement clothes, I figured you wouldn’t refuse this. My way of apologizing for this afternoon.”
She eyed the bag and narrowed her eyes. “I told you to forget it.”
“Couldn’t forget it.” He waited until she looked up at him. “Or you.”
God. Her treacherous stomach would be the death of her. Beneath his steady gaze, her face heated. “Are you coming on to me?”
“Yeah.”
Her face burned some more. “You’re wasting your time.”
He shrugged. “My time to waste. Are you going to take this, or do you want me to stand here all night?”
When he jiggled the bag, she took it from him. It weighed a ton and she put it down before peeking inside. Something lovely fluttered around her heart. “Oh, that’s really kind of you.”
Unable to resist, she dropped to her knees and delved into the bag’s contents. Doggie treats, cat nip, chew toys, squeaky balls, and rawhide bones. “My guys will love these.” When she’d finished rummaging in the bag she stood and looked at Marco. “Thank you.”
“Welcome.”
Since it seemed crass not to ask, Beth took a breath. “Would you like coffee?”
“I’d prefer you come have a drink with me, but coffee works.”
“By the way. How’s your head?”
He raised his eyebrows as if taking a moment to work out what she was talking about, then touched his hand to his crown. “Fine. No problem.”
“Did you get it checked out?”
“No need. All my faculties appear to be in working order.” His gaze travelled slowly down her body, then equally slowly back up again. “I can see what I want to see well enough.”
Beth tried to ignore the predatory way his eyes gleamed and the resulting hitch in her stomach. “Like I said, you’re wasting your time.” To distract herself, she went over to the drinks machine and keyed in her code. “Milk and sugar?”
“Black. Thanks.”
As the machine whirred, Beth kept her eyes on the dark liquid filling the cardboard cup. What would it hurt if she had a drink with him? There weren’t that many men who would think to do something nice like he had for the animals. Most would have bought her flowers, chocolates, lingerie, or something equally obvious. But not him. That had to say something about the man.
She picked up the first coffee and handed it to him. “If I say yes to the drink, are there strings attached?”
“None that you’d notice.”
She picked up her own coffee, and thought how most men would have flat out denied the strings. But not him. “I’m still on shift.”
“Your shift ended at nine, or so your lovely assistant told me.”
God. She was going to wring Carrie’s interfering little neck. Or kiss her to Christmas. “I rarely stick to the clock.” She glanced down at her clothing. “I’m not exactly dressed for drinks either.”
“You look fine to me.” And because he didn’t look as if he was merely throwing her a line, her resistance levels plummeted a few more inches.
“Hmm.”
“Since you’re running out of excuses, wouldn’t it be easier to let me buy you that drink? That way you’d put my mind to rest for ruining your clothes and acting like a jerk this afternoon.”
She let out a breath and with it the last little tug of resistance. “Okay, but I really would like to change. I’m along the lane, so I’ll only be a few minutes. You can wait here.”
“I’ll walk you home. I can hang just as well outside your place as here.”
“Fine.”
Beth slipped her hands in the pockets of her jacket as they walked along the scarcely lit lane that edged the Center’s boundary. Minutes later, when they arrived at the tiny cottage that formed one of three tithed to the land, Beth pulled out her keys and opened the door.
She stepped over the threshold, aware he remained on the step. She glanced back over her shoulder as she wiped her boots. “You can come in. Can I get you something while you wait?”
As she had done, he wiped his boots on the doormat. “I’m okay.” He glanced around the room. “Nice place.”
Beth slipped off her jacket and hung i
t on the hook behind the front door. “It’s small, but it suits me. Sometimes I wish for a hallway, but at least it’s easy to clean.”
Marco nodded as he perused the room.
Beth wished she’d taken time to tidy before leaving for her shift instead of spending the morning in her tiny back yard putting the finishing touches to her patio. She was proud that she’d re-laid the area herself and while she’d recycled the old slabs, the area was now weed free and ready for the small outside table and chairs she’d promised herself.
“This you?”
Marco pointed to the photo of Beth with her left arm slung companionably around her sister’s shoulder. It was one of the last pictures of them together before Beth had told Deena she never wanted to lay eyes on her again.
An emptiness filled her chest, but since Marco was looking at her with a questioning expression, Beth stopped her thoughts from taking their trip down agony lane. “Me and my sister. She’s six years younger than me.”
“Do you see each other often?”
Beth shook her head. “We’re not particularly close anymore.”
“Family stuff?”
“Something like that. Do you have family?”
His eyes warmed as his mouth hitched at the corner. “I’m the youngest of four. Two brothers, one sister. Apart from the odd squabble, I’ve been spared the sibling angst. My mother would crack our heads together if any of us stepped out of line. She’s a scary woman. We don’t mess with her.”
Beth smiled. “You’re close to your parents?”
“Yeah. My mother needs to be constantly reminded I’m no longer fifteen, but the old man is pretty easy going. How about yours?”
“My mother lives in Australia with my stepfather. My own father died when I was ten.”
“Stinks.”
“Yes, it does. Anyway, make yourself at home. I’ll just be a minute.”
Upstairs, Beth went into the bedroom and stripped off her jeans and sweatshirt. She pondered the wisdom of locking the bathroom door. For all she knew he could be some maniac who went around picking up women before murdering them in their own homes. He seemed okay, but she didn’t know him beyond a very instant and powerful attraction. Plus, he’d made it clear that he wouldn’t be averse to getting up close and very personal.
Yet, he’d brought treats and presents for the animals. He wanted to buy her a drink to make up for spraying her with paint. These were hardly the actions of a man with homicidal tendencies.
Nevertheless, Beth turned the lock.
Pulling on navy linen slacks and tucking a white shirt into the waistband, she realized that with all the heavy manual work she’d been doing on the yard and the extra shifts she’d pulled at the Center, she’d lost a few pounds. The effects weren’t displeasing. She turned her back to the mirror, glancing over her shoulder to check out her new, firmer backside. Satisfied, she slipped her hair from her ponytail and brushed out the length so it fell across her shoulders.
She thought of Marco’s hair, several inches shorter than hers. The way it touched his shirt collar, all that thick black silky length of it, made a little shiver run down her spine.
The shiver morphed into an uneasy panic when she came down the stairs to find him sprawled on her sofa, long legs stretched out, one arm along the back of the sofa as he read her morning newspaper. He looked so darned at home, it was both a thrill and a worry. She rarely invited anyone back, if you didn’t count her colleagues from the Center. She wasn’t sure how she felt about seeing a gorgeous specimen of manhood filling the small space like he belonged there.
He looked up, almost doing a double take as Beth came to stand in front of the sofa.
“I’m ready.”
“So I see.” His gaze slipped down her body, lingering at her breasts before returning to capture her eyes. “It’d take most women a few hours to look like that.”
Her face heated a little at the unexpected compliment. “It’s nothing. Shall we go?”
He uncurled his long length from the sofa and caught her arm before she could race for the door. His fingers curled firmly around her wrist. “First I have to drink you in a little. Come here.”
Oh, hell. How come just his fingers around her wrist made her pulse skip, her heart race? “You said no strings that I’d notice. I’m noticing.”
“So am I.” He tugged her until she was up against him. “I’m interested, Beth. Something tells me you are, too. So what are we waiting for?”
She wanted to deny it, but it was hard when her heart was hammering against his chest. “I’m interested, but it doesn’t mean I’m prepared to do anything about it.”
Another little tug on the wrist and she was even closer against him. “Maybe you’d best have a rethink.” He released her wrist, placed his hands on her hips and held her there when she tried to step back.
“I could ask you to leave.”
He grinned, madly sexy. “But you won’t.”
No. she wouldn’t. “This is moving a little fast for me.”
“We can slow it down a pace.” He leaned down until his mouth was a whisper from hers. “Or we can keep it moving right along and hope you catch up. Your choice.”
Because it was her choice, and his body felt hard, masculine, and amazing against hers, Beth tilted her head and brought her mouth to his.
His lips were warm and full, his touch inviting. She’d expected something more demanding, but he let her set the tone. When her head began to swim and her knees trembled, she eased back.
Looking up into his chocolate eyes, she saw a fire which belied his gentle manner. “I’m not entirely sure which choice I just made.” Beth wasn’t in any hurry to move away from him, so she slid her hands up his arms. “But I think it leans more to the move it right along option.”
His arms came around her, pushing her breasts up hard against his chest. She felt the press of his erection against her stomach and felt the dampness between her legs.
“Music to my ears.”
Panic mingled with excitement as he ran his hands down her back and cupped her ass, tilting her hips up to cushion his hard length. “I don’t intend letting this go anywhere tonight.”
He gave her a steady look and she braced herself for the full effect of his no doubt persuasive skills. “I’ve got the taste of you now, which means it’s hard not to push a little.” He touched his lips to hers. “Just a little.”
She sank into his kiss, accepting that any amount of resistance was futile against his sensual expertise. She let him take the kiss deeper and her fingers itched to slide up to his shoulders, to sink into all that black silky hair, but she kept her hands on his arms.
When his tongue touched hers she lost the ability to think, to reason, and simply kissed him back. He kept one hand on her ass and let the other slide up her back, around her ribcage, until he could cup her breast.
As his thumb slid over her taut nipple, she moaned into his mouth, and it was her own reaction that kicked her brain back in gear. Too fast, she thought headily. Too damn fast. “That was more than a little.”
His hooded dark eyes shone with seduction. “Depends on your perspective.”
Beth couldn’t argue with that. One more second and she’d have let him divest her of her underwear. “I’m thirsty.”
He grinned. “I’m hungry.”
She eased right out of his arms and smoothed down her shirt, painfully aware her hardened nipples would betray any smart remark she made right then about how he was forcing the issue. About how she didn’t want to be in his arms, feel his touch, taste his lips. If anything else, she had always been honest with herself and with other people.
Beth had always valued honesty and integrity. Perhaps even more so now, despite what had happened to her. It was a pity her sister hadn’t shared the same values.
Before memories could push for attention, Beth folded her arms across her chest. “While I’m attracted to you,” she stepped back as he stepped forward, reaching for her again, �
�it’s a policy of mine not to have sex with someone I’ve known barely six hours.”
He slipped his hands into his pockets and arched those straight black eyebrows. “It’s more like eight, but let’s not split hairs.”
She thought he was irritated, but then he grinned. He had the sexiest grin. All those lovely white teeth against his olive skin, the heavy slash of brows perfectly framing the twinkle in dangerously dark eyes. She grinned back.
Now he did move in. He took her hands in his, linking their fingers. “Okay. We’ve established that sex is off the table, at least for tonight.” Pointedly, he sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them the twinkle was still there. “Sorry. Needed a minute to let that devastating fact sink in.”
She gave him a wry smile. “Maybe you need to take another minute, just to make certain it has.”
“Nope.” He released her hand momentarily to tap his temple. “It’s there. But just so I’m clear, what’s the magic hour on this policy of yours?”
She screwed up her forehead. “What policy?”
“You said no sex in the first six hours. When does the time restriction end?”
She wanted to scream that it had already ended, damn it. But she’d fallen off the sex-for-pure-pleasure horse so long ago, she wasn’t entirely sure she’d ever get back on. “I find a few months usually works.”
She laughed as his mouth dropped open. There was something about him that coaxed her to cast aside her doubts, her fears, her memories and indulge herself in a one night stand with a man who set her hormones racing. She’d always erred on the side of caution before, and where had it gotten her? But sanity dictated that she would be best to slow this down so she could control what happened between them.
She disentangled his fingers from hers. “Seeing as it’s heading toward ten and the nearest bar will be calling last orders by the time we get there, how about I see what I can rustle up by way of a drink?”
“Works for me.”