Twenty Times Tempted: A Sexy Contemporary Romance Collection

by Petrova, Em

  “Makes sense.” It didn’t surprise her to be on the list. She was the Fire Department’s emergency contact. Rather than look at Kit, she studied the fence. Even shrouded in shadow, she recognized the talent it took to create the graffiti. “What made you decide my fence needed spiffing up?”

  “Don’t know.” He shrugged and turned his head to regard his artwork. “Seemed like a great idea at the time. I kind of figured you might actually enjoy it. I wanted to show someone the difference between art and vandalism. I mean, I did draw a picture, not just spray-paint the N-word and other profanity.”

  Sarah snorted. “I suppose I should thank you for that. But why me? Why not Mrs. Beatrice? She’s your art teacher.” She didn’t bother to add that his original beef was with the other woman.

  “It’s kind of stupid. I couldn’t figure out where she lived.”

  “Ah,” Sarah said. Beatrice guarded her privacy like a hawk. Sarah wasn’t even exactly aware where she lived, just out in the country, near Settlers Lake.

  “I’m sorry,” Kit muttered. He tugged the curls behind his ear. “I made a mistake.”

  Sarah’s response was cut off by Cris’s arrival. He pulled the SUV to the curb and cut the motor. He must have broken speed laws to get there so quickly. After hopping out of the vehicle, he stalked up the drive. He stopped abruptly and stared at the fence, one hand propped on his hip, the other rubbing his bicep. Sarah recognized the motion from a few days ago when he’d invited her out for coffee. It was his version of a nervous tick. Like Kit pulling on the hair on his neck or her own Sharpie crutch.

  With an inscrutable look, Cris turned toward where she and Kit sat on the porch. His square jaw was set tight. A muscle visibly popped under the sexy scruff of his late evening stubble. Green eyes glittered in the reflection from the porch lights. Sarah sucked in her breath as something shifted in her chest. Tightly restrained ire transformed his gorgeous face—there, she’d admitted it—to a work of art in its own right.

  Kit struggled to straighten in his seat, wincing and giving a small gasp as he did. Sarah reached toward him, intending to help, but Kit brushed her hand rudely away.

  Cris’s mouth dropped open when Kit shoved Sarah’s help aside. “Trip!” The reprimand in Cris’s voice broke the still night.

  Chapter Five

  Well, shit! His kid had done it now.

  Cris rubbed the ring of ink circling his bicep. Getting the tribal tattoo had been his rebellious action when he’d been Trip’s age. Cris recalled the angry exchange he’d had with his overly strict father when the old man had spied the marking after barging in on Cris in the tiny bathroom in their military housing.

  He’d worked Trip’s name into the tat after the boy’s birth, an eternal expression of the love he held for his son. Even now when he was angry over what his kid had done, pride and love clawed its way to the surface. But it came tinged with fear of his kid’s artistic side.

  He shrugged away the negative remembrance of his dad’s anger and focused on the here and now. Scrubbing a hand over the top of his head, he studied the messed-up fence. It closely resembled the work he’d watched Trip create in his bedroom right after they’d moved into the house. At home he’d done it with permission. The graffiti decorating Sarah Willis’s fence represented an act of vandalism.

  Sarah moved to the edge of the steps, her stance casual, face half in the shadows. The dark red blanket wrapped around her shoulders highlighted her hair, setting off sparkles in it.

  “Good evening, Mr. Bayfield.”

  Magically, her voice soothed his worries about Trip. Just once, he’d like to hear his name, Cris, on her lush lips. He moved to the bottom of the steps. “I’m so sorry about all this.”

  Sarah chuckled. “It’s not like you did it. And Kit has already apologized.”

  “And he will be punished for this.” Cris’s tennis shoes barely whispered as he climbed toward her. He trained his gaze on the form of his son, huddled under a blanket, leg extended straight out, foot resting on a cushion. “You know how much trouble you’re in, son?”

  “Yes, sir.” The boy pressed his hands to the seat under him and tried to correct his posture. Pain flooded Trip’s eyes as his foot wobbled in front of him from the exertion.

  Cris folded his arms against the sympathy pain wriggling through him. What parent didn’t hate seeing their kid hurt? He shifted his glance to Sarah. “Have you called the police?”

  Sarah reared her head back, her brow pinched together. “No. It didn’t even occur to me.”

  “Really?”

  She gestured to his son. “Kit understands what he did was wrong. He’s apologized. And I’m sure he’ll be willing to either clean the mess up or pay for a professional cleaning crew. Am I right, Kit?”

  The kid just nodded, opting to remain mute.

  “Trip, do you have something to say to Ms. Willis?” he prodded.

  Trip lifted his chin. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll clean it up.”

  Sarah leaned on the porch support beside her and watched the by-play between them. The weight of her stare landed on him, and all he could think was how goddamn good it would feel to be that pillar. Damn, it had been too long. At the moment, his kid had landed in a heap of trouble, and all Cris could think of was how great it would be to fall into bed with the sexy woman next to him.

  Focus, you prat. He dragged his attention from Sarah to Trip. “Scale of one to ten, how badly are you hurt?”

  “Eight, no, nine,” said Trip through trembling lips.

  “His color is better than a few minutes ago. I think the worst is past. The ice is probably numbing the pain.” Sarah went to stand next to the loveseat. She dropped a hand to Trip’s shoulder. “He was cold, so I believe he may be in shock, too.”

  Cris stepped over and squatted next to the table where Trip’s foot rested. He untied the towel wrapped around the injured leg. As gentle as he tried to be, Trip still hissed in a sharp breath when Cris’s fingers grazed the swollen flesh.

  “Sorry. Damn, that looks pretty awful. We’d better get you to the ER and get an x-ray.” He pushed to his feet and faced Sarah. “Can I call you tomorrow to discuss what we’ll do about cleaning the fence?”

  “That’s fine, Cris.” Hallelujah! She’d said his given name. And he was right—it did sound like heaven. Now he wanted to hear her scream it as he drove into her. “I’ll be home all day tomorrow until three. More play practice.” She grimaced.

  He shook his errant thoughts away. “Thanks again for taking care of my hooligan.”

  She waved his thanks away. “No worries.”

  Cris looked at Trip, who’d been watching the exchange between them with avid eyes. “Think you want to try to walk to the car?” Cris asked.

  Trip shook his head. “Ms. Willis had to help me up the steps by holding on to me. Maybe if she took one side and you had the other, I could make it.”

  Cris looked at Sarah. “You game?”

  “Sure.” She dropped the blanket on the chair and then moved around the table to Trip’s right. “You get the weak side, though.”

  Without a word, Cris leaned down and snugged his arm under Trip’s. Sarah slid her hand behind his back and wove it upward until it touched Cris’s arm. He gasped as liquid heat burned through him at the contact. Every muscle in his abdomen clenched as blood pooled in his dick, leaving him semi-aroused. Nerves jerked under his skin like jumping beans. He cleared his throat, wishing it were as easy to erase the desire for this woman. Trip had a stupid grin on his lips as if he knew exactly what was going on with Cris’s body. The little shit!

  “On three?” Sarah asked.

  Cris nodded. “Ready, Trip? One...two...up you go.”

  Sarah grunted with the effort to help Trip rise. Cris bent at his knees and lifted until Trip was upright, his foot raised from the cushion. Bracing the kid’s weight, he nudged the table toward the edge of the porch, clearing a walk-way.

  “One hurdle down.” Sarah adjusted her grip lower on
Trip’s back. “Now, we just have to tackle the stairs.”

  Cris missed the electric contact of her fingers with his arm. “Easy does it,” he cautioned.

  Together, the three of them made it down the steps and along the path to the car. The maneuver was punctuated by grunts and moans from his kid. Each tiny sound Trip made resulted in a mumbled apology from Sarah for causing him discomfort. Trip leaned most of his weight on her while Cris opened the car door. With minimal jostling, they helped guide him into the front passenger side. Sarah held Trip’s calf as he swiveled on the seat. While Cris stood back, Sarah clucked like a mother hen over his kid, pulling the safety belt over his middle and holding the strap while Trip snapped the buckle into place.

  When she’d finished, she stood back, hand curled over the doorframe. Her hand rested adjacent to Cris’s, and he fought the urge to weave his fingers through hers. “I hope nothing’s broken, Kit,” she said. “Be sure to have your dad call me to let me know, okay?”

  “I will. And Ms. Willis? Thanks for not being too mad at me.”

  “Oh, don’t be mistaken. I am mad. But truth is, I think what you painted is beautiful. Unfortunately, my neighbors won’t agree, or I’d leave it.” Although Cris couldn’t see her face, her voice held a smile. She backed away from the car until she stood on the sidewalk. She looked at Cris. “Please let me know how he is.”

  “Will do. And thanks for being so good with him. Most people wouldn’t take such good care of a petty vandal.”

  Sarah lifted one shoulder, but said nothing.

  Cris rounded the car and climbed into the driver’s seat. The engine fired right up, and he eased the vehicle away from the curb. In the rearview mirror, he saw Sarah remain on the walk, staring after them, rubbing her hands together at her waist. She was lost to view when he drove around a bend in the road, but not before he saw her raise her hand to her lips.

  ***

  The harsh sound of a power engine ramping up like a freaking jetliner woke Sarah. She squinted at her alarm clock. “On a Saturday? My one day to sleep in?” She groaned. Rolling to her stomach, she pulled a pillow over her head and squeezed her eyes closed. She immediately zeroed in on the dream image of sexy Cris Bayfield. His stunning eyes and electric touch had haunted her slumber most of the night.

  The sound of water running through pipes seeped beneath the pillow. What the hell? Had her obnoxious neighbor decided to borrow her outdoor faucet? It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened, but by God, it would be the last.

  She shoved the pillow from her head and flopped over to her back. Anger bloomed in her chest, hazing her vision as she pushed the blankets away. She swung her feet to the hardwood floor and winced, drawing them back to the mattress. “Damn, that’s cold.”

  Reaching over the edge of the bed, she located the socks she’d shucked before going to sleep last night...no, this morning. She’d entertained herself with an old-school creature feature marathon while she’d waited for Cris to let her know what they’d learned at the emergency room. The call never came, and she’d finally fallen into bed around two.

  After jerking the heavy wool over her feet, she crawled out of bed. She huffed out an angry breath as she stalked across the room. The noise level that had awoken her rose accordingly when she jerked open the door. She traveled the upstairs landing in seconds and jolted down the stairs. Her feet slipped on the slick floors, and she flailed her arms to maintain her balance.

  She fumbled with the lock on the front door, peering out the window to see if she could locate the source of the engine without having to open it. No such luck.

  Cool air caressed her bare knees when she pulled the heavy portal open. Stepping out to the porch, she discovered Cris on her drive, bending over a large power-washer with a hose snaking back toward her house. His tight butt was outlined nicely in his track pants as he tinkered with a control on the machine. The soft material hugged his powerful thighs like a second skin, leaving little to her imagination. She’d noticed his behind the other day on the stage, but at the time, hadn’t really appreciated how fine it was.

  “What are you doing?” Her words got lost in the whining motor. She raised her voice to a level most people could hear over a crowd at a football game. “Cris!”

  That got his attention. He whipped his head around, his body swiveling.

  Bathed in the early morning sunlight, his skin glowed like creamy hot chocolate. A ray of light caught his eyes, turning them almost gun-metal gray. They traveled down her frame, stopping on her chest. Her nipples puckered under his heated gaze. She folded her arms over the damning evidence.

  Cris continued his perusal, his gaze traveling farther south to her legs, reminding her she was clad in only a T-shirt and little else. Sarah picked up the navy blanket she’d left on the loveseat last night and slung it over her shoulders. Drawing the edges together over her chest like a shield, she snugged her hands in the folds. He turned, bent again, and flicked off a switch, plunging the world back into Saturday morning peace.

  Straightening, Cris gazed at her as he stepped forward and into the shadow of the house. His eyes lost the glitter from the sun, but maintained a heat level she was certain could be seen from space. “Good morning.”

  She cleared her throat and clutched the blanket tighter. “What the heck are you doing? It’s barely sunrise.”

  “I wanted to get an early start cleaning up the evidence of Trip’s stupidity.” He gestured to his kid’s work of art.

  From her position at the top of the steps, the graffiti stood out colorfully on the dingy gray fence. The sun hit it just right to make the yellow glow. She’d been meaning to repaint the structure herself, but the summer, and then fall, had gotten away from her, thanks to her busy schedule at school. She’d resigned herself to living with the eyesore over the winter. Now, she thought it actually looked pretty. “For the record, I think Kit is a gifted artist.”

  Cris shrugged, his hand straying to his bicep. “I wish he’d find a more legal way to express himself.”

  And idea hatched in her brain. The senior class president had approached her recently, looking for guidance on a class gift. It might be bird-brained, but seeing her newly decorated fence reminded her of the stark, white brick wall surrounding the football field. “I might be able to help with that. How’s his ankle?” she asked.

  “Severe sprain. He’s in an air cast for a couple of weeks. And grounded for a couple more.” Cris’s smile was grim. “Thanks for not calling the cops on him. You probably should have, but I appreciate you didn’t.”

  The blanket slipped over her breasts when Sarah lifted her hand. She grasped the edge again. “He made a mistake. I get that. And I doubt he’ll do it again.”

  Cris shifted and tugged the edge of his FDGP sweatshirt lower on his hips. “He likes you, you know? Said so far you’ve been a bright spot in his high school career.”

  “Really? I’ve barely interacted with him except when he’s been sent to the office. And last night.”

  Moving to the bottom of the steps, Cris glanced up at her when he leaned against the railing. “He doesn’t really say much, but he mentioned that he thinks you are fair. Tough, but fair. And funny. Said you meted out punishment the other day like he’d won a prize on a game show. Kind of all Drew Carey.”

  Heat rose in Sarah’s cheeks as she recalled that particular disciplinary session. “It pays to be able to laugh when dealing with these kids.”

  Cris’s gaze swept along her body again, and he laid his arm on the wrought iron rail bordering the steps. “I...uh, I should get busy. I’ll power wash off what I can, then paint over the rest.”

  The way his fingers caressed the metal drew out a longing for them to be on her body. With a tiny gasp, she forced the mental image into a miniscule corner in her mind.

  “You know,” Sarah cocked her head to the side and studied the art. It was too amazing to be removed. “I think I’d like you to leave it for a while. Maybe the neighbors won’t mind.”
Not too much, anyway.

  “You’re sure?” He glanced over his shoulder, then back at her, brows raised.

  Despite the cool early morning temperature, Sarah’s body warmed under his regard, almost to the point of humming. Her brain ran away with the idea of being the object of his intense scrutiny in the bedroom. She gave herself a shake, reining in her roving thoughts. “Yeah. Actually, I might have just the thing for Kit. A project he can get involved with as a creative outlet...and a way to stay out of trouble. We have a wall at school that needs something to perk it up. He could paint it with full administration approval.”

  “More art,” he muttered and looked away. An instant later he returned his gaze to her. “Listen, you have to give me—give us—a chance to make this up to you.”

  Sarah cast a glance around her yard. As with the fence, she’d neglected routine yard maintenance all summer. The bushes surrounding the rear fence were overgrown and rangy. She’d managed to mow weekly, but she’d hated every second it had pulled her away from her responsibilities with school. “How are you at yard work?” she asked.

  Cris followed her gaze. “I love to piddle and tinker outside. You want me to help whip this place into a version of landscape heaven?”

  “Not help...do.” She plopped down on the top step. Tucking the blanket under her thighs, she continued. “Since I’ve taken on the play, I don’t have time for trimming and weeding. It’s all I’ll be able to do to give the inside of my house a lick and a promise. You, and Kit, could trim bushes and clean up the flowerbeds. And plant tulip bulbs here in the front. I’d consider us even if you did that.”

  “You’re on.” Cris slipped around the railing and extended his hand.

  Clutching both sides of the blanket in one hand, she pushed the other from the folds and put it in his to shake on the deal. She didn’t expect the zigzag fizz of heat that traveled up her arm and through her belly. And he didn’t let go for the longest moment, his eyes wide as if he’d felt it, too.