by Leanne Banks
He lifted his fingers to her mouth. “Then take it.”
“I should get a knife,” she said, frowning at him.
“I don’t think I trust you with a knife,” he said, wary of the gleam in her gaze.
Senada rolled her eyes. “Okay, I’m not wasting that truffle.” She pulled his hand closer and looked at him again. “I hope you’re enjoying this.” Then she took her first lick.
Troy felt the sensation of her kitten-soft tongue in every erogenous zone of his body. It was a bizarre form of torture, watching Senada Calhoun lick chocolate from his fingers.
He never would have suspected his fingers were sensitive. He never would have suspected he could become completely and totally aroused by such a simple action of a woman’s mouth on his finger. Especially when that woman didn’t even like him. But her spicy scent combined with the bittersweet smell of chocolate and liquor made him take short, shallow breaths because he feared intoxication.
Her single-minded attention and overtly expressed pleasure made him sweat. Her exotic eyes were hooded as if she were overcome with desire. Her full lips pouted as if she’d been kissed and wanted more. When her tongue skimmed the inside of his middle finger, it was all he could do not to groan.
Still holding his hand, she gave him a considering glance. “You know, if I bit, it would really hurt.”
He met her gaze and tried to hide his arousal. “Maybe,” he conceded, not bothering to keep the dare from his voice.
She gave a double take and looked at him again. This time, Troy knew she was considering him sexually. Her dark eyelashes swept down, shielding her eyes the same way a filmy nightgown shielded a woman’s body. A gentle tease. He wondered if she knew how that affected a man. How it affected him.
She gently put his hand away from her. “That was a delicious truffle, even though you smashed it. Maybe even better than the cupcake,” she said with a slight, smoky smile. “And it was certainly memorable. Thank you for the chocolates.”
Standing, she gave a little shrug. “Guess you’d better head back to your hotel. You’ll want an early check-out so you can get back to Tennessee.”
Troy shook his head. He was going to kill his brothers for this detail. K-i-l-l them. He willed his body to forget what it was hoping for, then he stood. “As a matter of fact, I’ve already checked out of the hotel.”
Senada’s face lit up with delight. “Well, be sure to tell Lisa I said hello. I’ll give her a call sometime. I promise. I just have to settle some things here first and—”
“What kind of things?” he interjected, allowing her to lead him to the door.
She gave a vague gesture with her hand. “Oh, things.” She opened the door.
Troy slipped his arm around her waist and pointed to his new domicile. “You see that house down there.”
She glanced at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Yes.”
“You see the garage apartment?”
Her eyes glinted with suspicion. “Yes.”
“If you need anything, day or night,” he told her, “I’ll be there.” He thought about kissing her, but based on her hostile expression, he thought she really might bite him this time. “Anytime, Sin. Night or day.”
Chapter Three
Senada’s dietician got a kick out of the chocolate cupcake story. In retrospect, Senada even found it amusing.
“This is the first time I’ve seen you laugh since you’ve been here,” Helen Waverly said.
“Maybe Troy Pendleton isn’t all bad.”
“Maybe not,” she murmured. “But he’s bad enough.” Her feelings about Troy were constantly changing. When he informed her that he lived two doors down from her, she could have cheerfully dumped another pitcher of beer on him. When he helped her with her neighbor, she’d almost liked him. And when he fed her the chocolate truffle, she’d felt a surprising shot of sexual attraction. Very surprising. Since her diagnosis she’d felt frozen, at least as far as her femininity was concerned.
Now she didn’t. Senada wasn’t sure she liked the source of the change.
“Have you called your father yet?” Helen asked.
“Not yet. I’m still trying to decide how to do it.”
Helen arched her eyebrow at the excuse but let it pass. “And have you thought about attending a meeting of the local support group?”
Senada shifted. “I’m thinking about that too.”
“You can’t stay in a holding pattern forever,” she said gently.
Senada nodded. “I know.” She deliberately changed the subject. “But about those chocolates?”
Helen rolled her eyes. “Put them in the freezer. They’ll last longer that way. One a day,” she said, lifting her index finger for emphasis, “with a meal.”
Senada smiled. “You don’t know how happy you’ve made me.”
They had a full house on Friday evening, and Senada was busier than ever. Several customers casually asked her about Troy. She acted as if she didn’t know what they were talking about, but the back of her neck prickled with irritation. In the short time that he’d been there, he’d made a place for himself. The men greeted him; the waitresses flirted with him. At this very moment, he was in the back because the cook had asked him to take a look at the ice maker.
“Here you go,” she said, placing two pitchers of beer and four frosty mugs on a table. She shot a quick glance at the men dressed in denims and sporting cowboy hats. “Welcome to Padre’s. Are you new to town? I haven’t seen you before.”
One man gave her a long considering look. “We’re from the Circle K. I’m Chris Grant, the foreman.”
Circle K. Her father’s ranch. The room began to swim. Senada blinked, then took a careful breath and smiled. “Bet that job keeps you busy. I hear it’s a pretty big operation.”
He shrugged. “Busy enough, but Calhoun lets me off to come into town every now and then. Maybe I could show you the spread sometime. What’s your name?”
Senada paused. She considered conjuring up an alias and immediately felt impatient with her cowardice. So what if her father learned she was there. Maybe it was time. “Senada,” she said, and gave the group of men a half grin as she left. “If you need anything, yell.”
Her mind spinning, she slapped the door to the back room so hard, it hit the wall as she rushed through it.
Straight into Troy.
“Whoa!” He grabbed her shoulders.
“Sorry,” she muttered, still shaken.
He frowned, studying her. “What’s wrong? You look like somebody hit you.”
“Nobody hit me,” she told him. “Not really.”
He cocked his head to one side. “Hit on you?”
The tray she held separated her chest from his, but his hands felt warm and reassuring. His gaze was strong but gentle, and the combination sent a tumbling sensation in her stomach. For a moment, she considered dropping the tray and putting her arms around him.
She shook her head and immediately backed away. Where did that thought come from? She rolled her eyes. “They all order beer, and they all hit on me. It’s part of the program.” She looked past him. “What have you done to my ice maker?”
“Fixed it.” He pushed her hair behind one shoulder. “How are you gonna compensate me?”
He touched her as if it were no big deal, and it shouldn’t have been, but Senada felt her heart race. She swallowed an oath. Maybe she needed to check her blood sugar. “Your beer’s on the house. I’ll even throw in a burger if you want.”
“You’re all heart,” he said wryly.
“That’s me, sweet as—”
“—Tabasco sauce.”
She flicked her gaze back up to him. “Go home.”
He gave a slow, terrible, wicked grin and leaned close to her. “Not until I get what I came for.”
“Troy,” she said, throwing his innuendo right back, “you wouldn’t know what to do with it once you got it.”
Troy’s eyes lit with challenge, and he leaned dangerously close.
“Y
ou little thief!” The cook’s voice rang out. “What are you doing with those hamburgers? Six of them. I oughta—”
Senada broke away and rounded the corner to find a little boy, terrified and defiant, holding burgers in his hands. “It was only five! Pig!” he yelled back at the cook. “You’re a stupid pig!”
Pete’s face turned purple. “Why, you little—”
Senada’s heart twisted. “Hold on, Pete,” she said to the cook, then quickly assessed the boy. His clothes were worn, his cheek was smeared with dirt and he wasn’t wearing any shoes. “Are you hungry?”
The boy jutted out his chin. “So what if I am?”
She walked closer. “For starters, you could ask before taking the burgers. How old are you, anyway?”
“Twelve.”
“More like nine,” Troy muttered from behind her. “You gonna eat all those yourself?”
The kid looked at Troy warily, clearly intimidated by his size. “Maybe. What’s it to you?”
Troy shrugged and leaned against the counter. “Nothing. Go ahead. I’d just hate to see you get sick.”
“Sick?”
“Five burgers is a lot to eat.”
“It was six,” Pete insisted. “Six of my burgers.”
“I’ll cover it,” Senada said, finding the situation disturbing. “You can cook some more.” Pete grumbled as he made his way to the refrigerator.
“I wasn’t gonna eat them all,” the boy said.
Troy nodded. “You got a name?”
“Rocky.”
“You got a family?”
Rocky’s brown eyes glittered with defiance again. “Yeah. So what?”
“Where do you live?”
The boy made a quick dash for the door, but Troy was quicker. He caught the boy by the arm.
“Lemme go!”
“Where do you live?”
Rocky glared at Troy. “We ain’t got no house. It’s my mom, my sister and me. My dad’s in jail. My mom cleans rooms at the hotel, and we ain’t got no house.”
It hit Senada hard. She couldn’t exactly say why. Maybe she was still reeling from meeting someone from her father’s ranch. Maybe Helen’s words about how she should get involved with other people had finally taken hold. Either way, Senada felt as if someone had hit her in the stomach. Wake up. Things could be worse. There are other people in this world in far worse circumstances than yours.
Her eyes met Troy’s, and the steadiness of his gaze calmed her. She cleared her throat. “You didn’t say where you live,” she finally said very quietly.
Rocky lifted his thin shoulders. “For the last two weeks we’ve slept in a warehouse.”
Troy took a deep breath. He knew what he was going to have to do. “How would you like a real roof over your head for a change?”
“I don’t want social services.”
Troy gave a wry laugh. “Do I look like social services? I have access to a two-bedroom garage apartment. You think your mom would like that?”
“Maybe.”
“Yeah, well, how about I walk with you to your mom’s, and we can ask her.”
“Can I keep the burgers?”
Senada blinked, spurred into action. “Yes. Just a minute, and I’ll give you some soda.” She filled some cups, gave them to Troy. “And here are some nachos. If you want more,” she told Rocky, “let me know, and I’ll get them for you. Okay?”
“Okay,” the boy said in a surprised voice. “Thanks.”
Senada looked at Troy curiously. “This sounds like your apartment. You’re ready to go back to Tennessee?”
Troy wasn’t certain he heard hope or disappointment in her voice. “No chance, Sin. I’m headed back to that crappy hotel.” No AC. No fan. Stifling a groan, he paused. “Unless you’d like to show a little compassion and hospitality and let me stay with—”
“Sorry, no,” she managed quicker than lightning, but Troy would have sworn she found it tough to refuse him.
He chuckled. The woman was begging him to leave at every turn. Her eyes, however, seemed to be begging for something else. He was obviously suffering from delusions. “Had to try. I’ll see ya later, Sin. Lisa sent some baby pictures and told me to show them to you.”
All wide eyes and tousled hair, she clasped her hands tightly together. “Okay.”
Troy narrowed his eyes. She’d looked upset earlier, and she didn’t look any happier now.
Knowing she couldn’t care less about his sleeping arrangements, he deliberately misunderstood her concern. “Hey,” he said, chucking her gently under the chin, “don’t worry about me. It’s a terrible motel and there’s no air conditioner and I’m lonely, but I’ll be okay.”
She rolled her eyes and swatted at his hand. “You know, it’s almost what you deserve. Are you sure you don’t have a split personality? It amazes me how a complete jerk could do something so, so—” she glanced at Rocky, then back at Troy “—nice.”
Troy grinned. “Just a backwater country boy keeping you on your toes.”
After Troy got the Horge family settled in to his apartment and tossed most of his belongings in the backseat of his car, he noticed Senada’s light was still on. Reluctant to face the hot little motel room that was waiting for him, he rang her doorbell.
He heard footsteps, followed by a long pause. She was probably trying to decide whether to open the door or not. He mugged for the peephole.
The door whisked open, and Senada stood there in a long silky-looking white robe holding a bowl of cereal. At that moment, he coveted both the body beneath the robe…and the cereal. His stomach growled.
“Hello to you too,” she said.
“Noticed your light was still on,” he said, edging forward.
She looked at him and sighed. “Rocky’s family all moved in to your apartment?”
“Yeah, and I didn’t ever get those burgers you promised. It’s hell being a hero.”
Senada sighed again and held the door open with her shoulder. “Okay, come on in. Rice cereal or frosted corn flakes?”
“Both,” he said, walking through the doorway toward the dining room. “Just give me the box. I’ll eat the cardboard.”
She chuckled and poured a big bowl combining both cereals, then added milk. “Here. What’s Rocky’s mother’s name? I thought I’d take a bag of groceries over tomorrow.”
“Maria, and she’d really appreciate it. They’ve got a few things to tide them over. Stuff I bought a few days ago.” Glancing at Senada, he recalled his conversation earlier that day with Lisa and fished the photos out of his shirt pocket. “Take a look at the triplets. I swear, those babies change every day.”
Senada reached for the pictures and smiled. “They’re adorable. Oh, and Lisa cut her hair.” She squinted her eyes. “Is Brick losing his?”
Troy laughed. “No, that’s just a shadow, but I’ll pass on your observation to him. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”
She met his gaze and arched her eyebrow. “He never liked me.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
She shot him a look of disbelief.
“More terror that you were going to find someone for Lisa before he could get his stuff together.”
“He almost lost her.”
“Yeah, but look at ’em now.”
Senada sat in the chair next to him and shook her head. “It’s hard for me to imagine having a family like yours. I don’t think I could handle it. Do you ever feel stifled?”
Troy thought about that as he crunched his cereal. “Every once in a while, but we’ve had to hang together during some tough times.” He glanced at her and wondered about the pensive expression on her face. “What about your family?”
“We’re a lot more independent. My mother died when I was pretty young, and my father and I aren’t close.”
“So what do you do at Christmas?”
She tossed him a chiding look. “I’m not alone unless I want to be.”
He’d bet she wasn’t. Troy allowed his gaze to fa
ll over her again. Her breasts made his hands itch to touch them, her waist was small, her hips slim but well curved. And her legs, well, he thought, looking at the bare tanned limbs, her legs were designed to shred a man’s restraint. But it wasn’t so much the physical package that set Sin apart from other women. It was her attitude. She was the most natural, unselfconsciously sexy woman he’d ever met.
Taking another bite, he shook off his useless thoughts. “I can’t even begin to comprehend a holiday without too much food, too many kids and an argument over who gets the last piece of pie.”
She grinned at him. “And since you were the youngest brother, I bet you didn’t get that last piece of pie very often.”
“Until lately,” he conceded, then switched the subject back to a troubling thought. “I know you’re as independent as they come, but don’t you ever wish you had someone to unload on?”
A lost expression flickered across her face, quickly replaced by a trace of irritation. She stood and took both their bowls to the sink. “It’s all about what you learn. You learned to depend. I learned not to.”
He followed her to the kitchen. “Sounds like a complete lack of supervision. I can just imagine what kind of trouble you got into when you were a teenager. Now, if you’d been a Pendleton, we would have locked you in your—”
She turned around and tilted her head, her brown eyes meeting his. “But I’m not a Pendleton. What are you after, Troy?”
“Answers.” Damp from her shower, her hair left a dark spot on the shoulder of her robe. He’d waited just about as long as he’d wanted to to touch her, so he lifted a strand of her hair. Slippery as satin, like her robe.
Her gaze assessed him. “And that’s all, right?”
He didn’t let go of her hair, and he didn’t back off from her gaze. “I’ve been told I have the sensitivity of a block of wood.”
Senada bit her lip to stifle a chuckle. “I can see that.”
“I’ve been told that I don’t know when to stop.” He slipped his broad fingers through her hair to the back of her head.
Senada let him. Later, she would have to figure out why. “I can agree with that,” she murmured. She still thought he was going overboard, but he really had the most incredible violet eyes.