Liz swallowed, unable to raise her gaze higher than his pecs. If she saw his expression, she’d crack. If it were pity, she’d be pissed. If it were lust, she’d probably jump him. If nothing at all registered, she’d probably cry at this point.
“Can I wash your hair for you?”
“Really?” Was he serious? Would she be able to stand having his touch on her scalp, massaging her skin? Probably not.
He didn’t wait for a reply, but moved to angle the stool behind her head and reached for the shampoo.
Mustering up some level of compliance, Liz quickly dunked her head and came back up with water dripping down her face.
“That’s one way.” He leaned over her and wiped the excess moisture away from her eyes. “I was going to pour a few cups over, but this works too.” Would she forever melt inside when he smiled like that?
Liz closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. Lord, have mercy. Strong firm fingers performed magic on her scalp and shoulders, massaging through her hair far more than expressly necessary to get the job done.
When she thought she could speak without her voice squeaking, she asked, “Were you a beautician or a massager in a past life?”
“Nope.”
She didn’t even open her eyes to see his expression. When would she be able to face him? Probably whenever she was ready to face her own emotions where they concerned him.
“Did you want to do that dunking act again or shall I rinse these long locks with a cup?”
Liz sucked in a deep breath and yanked herself under again. She floated for a few seconds suspended under the water, the only noise the sound of the jets, she could almost pretend she led a different life. One where Alan was the man she’d married, laughter and romance filled her days.
One can only hold their breath for so long before they have to come up for air, literally and figuratively. The bashful moments of hiding behind her eyelids were about over. She knew deep down that she wanted this, wanted to make love to this man.
“Wasn’t sure you were going to resurface.” Alan pushed her hair from her face and rubbed his thumb across her brow. “It’s nice outside. How about you get dressed and we’ll sit on the patio. You could use a little vitamin D, some color.”
Was she flushed beet red from arousal and hot water?
“I left you a clean T-shirt on the sink. Sorry I don’t have a lot of clothes around that will fit you, but I did wash what you were wearing the other day, so at least you’ll have clean…stuff.” Had he been about to say panties?
She bit the inside of her lip at his flustered expression as he walked out of the room.
The oversized towel he’d left her was so luxurious she didn’t want to unwrap herself to put any clothes on at all. After combing out her hair, she sat in front of the vanity and stared at her pallid reflection in the mirror for a few minutes.
Her cheeks were flushed right at the highest point below her eyes, in sharp contrast to her wan skin. She hadn’t really stopped much to just look at herself lately, for a long time really. Would she be considered pretty to most people, as Alan seemed to think? Hadn’t Matthew commented on her smooth skin and silky hair when she’d first met him?
Before she’d met him, she’d thought of herself as attractive. Her friends had always envied her looks, especially her shapely legs in a pair of heels. But her husband had managed to convince her that the only reason a man would be interested in her was for sex.
She could hardly remember those days, clouded as they were by the turn of events after their wedding. A few years of daily reminders of her faults, real or imaginary, would erase any compliments previously bestowed. She knew better now, and the years of torment were fading fast under Alan’s admiring gaze, but would the remnants forever hang in the shadows, taunting her?
With some reluctance, she stood from her musings, hung the fluffy white towel on a hook. She hurried to shrug into the soft cotton T before Alan came back to check on her and caught her naked.
When Liz emerged from the bathroom, she wandered through the house on bare feet, the T-shirt and her panties the only things she had on. Where did he even come up with a shirt that at least covered her to mid-thigh? He never seemed to wear anything that large himself.
She found him through the sliding glass door of the kitchen, sitting on a lounge chair on the patio, newspaper in one hand, steaming cup in the other. When she leaned against the thick glass, she took a moment just to stare at him. He reminded her of a bronze statue in the park—one of those life-sized figures forever frozen in the middle of an activity. “Lazy morning on the patio” it would be called.
Without noticing her, Alan leaned forward, straddled the long slats and lay the paper down in front of him. He held just one corner up, intently interested in some particular article, his mug resting on a knee. The curve of his back accentuated the ripple of muscles and lines along his spine. The locks of his hair blew in the slight breeze and Liz ached to run her fingers through it. What she wouldn’t give just to freeze time for everything but herself so she could leisurely explore his body with her fingers, learn his contours without his knowledge, without her feeling self-conscious about the activity.
As if sensing her presence, Alan suddenly turned to see her just inside the house. He raised his hand against the glare of the morning sun and motioned her outside.
The door slid open soundlessly, and Liz eased it closed behind her without turning around. A slight draft brought goose bumps to her arms and legs, but more importantly caused her nipples to jut out in their nakedness under her borrowed shirt. She crossed her arms over her chest and gingerly stepped toward the vacant chair he indicated next to him. Did he realize how her body responded? Whether to him or the air current it didn’t really matter.
Her chest was tight and no matter how she situated herself with her legs crossed, shirt tucked in around her, she couldn’t seem to talk her nipples out of pocking forward.
“Are you cold? I’ll get you a blanket.” Alan graciously rose and just as swiftly reemerged moments later with a throw, which he whipped through the air with both hands so that it fluttered slowly over her body, perfectly covering her exposed skin.
She sighed in relief and leaned back to close her eyes and soak in the sun’s rays across her face. She could get used to this.
“Aren’t I keeping you from something?” she muttered without moving.
“Not at all. I haven’t really made the entire transition to my home office yet. And besides, I’ve had lots of time in the last few days to work while you slept like the dead.”
“Why am I still so tired?” she mused.
“Your body needs to heal. You’ll feel better soon. A little lunch, a long nap, and presto.” He raised his arms and the sun coming from behind him turned him into a bronzed god.
A shiver coursed through her body from head to toe. “I should go back to my place, get out of your way. You’ve been doting on me forever.”
“Tomorrow. Think about it tomorrow.”
“Okay, but I’m getting spoiled and people are must wonder where I am.”
“You called your neighbor, right?”
“Yeah, but…”
“Just take a few more days to rest. Let the antibiotic do its job. Next week you’ll feel much better.” His voice sounded troubled. Was he worried about her health or that she’d leave? In either case, it was sweet, and if she wasn’t so darn exhausted from the bath and the simple walk outside, she’d want to crawl into his lap and make out like a teenager.
After a hazy lunch that filled Liz’s stomach, but left her drained, she managed to drag herself back to the guest room and the warmth of the smooth sheets calling her name. The drugs would wear off soon and she’d regain the ability to remain upright for more than five minutes.
* * * *
What a fortunate turn of events that Alan McCarthy’s house backed up to a wooded area. Matthew stood behind the cedar fence along the backyard, pressing his eye against a knotted hole in th
e wood so hard it was a wonder he didn’t have splinters on his face by now.
He’d been here more than twenty-four hours, waiting, watching. Eventually he’d get a lucky break.
Yesterday, in the wee hours of the morning, he’d driven by the address he’d found in Beth’s appointment book, left his car on a nearby street, and then silently poked around the house until finding just what he suspected.
In the light of the moon, peering through the window was the definitive silhouette of Beth Martin, conniving bitch extraordinaire. He’d stared at her sleeping form for an hour. Next to her, clothed and on top of the covers was the man he presumed to be Alan McCarthy. What a strange scenario. Why was Beth sleeping fitfully beneath the covers in this man’s house while he lay next to her?
At some point, he heard her moan, even from his position outside. She began to thrash about and the man next to her leapt up. His muscular build cast a huge shadow across the room. It was difficult to tell what happened in the next few minutes, but Rambo had left the room only to return moments later with what appeared to be pills and a glass of water. He held Beth’s head to help her swallow as though handling a child. Matthew bit his cheek to keep from crashing through the windowpane and killing them both. His grip on the brick edge of the house cut into his palms, forcing him to release his hold on the sill before he’d need a box of Band-Aids.
Was she sick or something?
After a few minutes, she’d relaxed back into sleep, and Mr. Hotshot resumed his position beside her.
Matthew had finally backed away from the window, and the house. He was patient. He would simply wait until her protector left the house and then swoop in for the kill. Literally.
He wasn’t stupid. He knew he could get away with killing Beth. But involving anyone else would be extremely tricky.
This morning he’d gotten his first full view of Beth. In nothing other than a T-shirt that barely covered her private parts, she’d cautiously inched her way outside and took the seat next to the one Alan McCarthy sat in. The man jumped to help her get settled and even placed a blanket over her. She was definitely shuffling about with the hesitant slow-motion speed of a person in poor health.
What the hell was wrong with her?
Matthew smiled as he watched her, thinking about how easy it was going to be to kidnap her when he had his chance. In her condition, she’d hardly be able to put up a fight. Eventually her guardian angel was going to have to leave the house for something.
* * * *
In the wan light of the evening sun, Alan eased into the room and glanced down at Liz’s beautiful still form. He’d ached to hold her all day, ever since he’d had the pleasure of running his hands through her hair so sensuously this morning. Her long brown locks fanned out around her head, so smooth and silky he wondered how it could appear so tidy after sleeping all afternoon. It seemed to have been recently brushed and arranged purposefully around the pillow as though for a photo shoot. If she opened those bedroom eyes of hers, he could start snapping award-winning pictures.
As if he’d conjured up the scene by magic, her lids fluttered against her cheeks and then opened to reveal exactly what he’d pictured.
Did she know how sensual she was? The lust that lurked behind her gaze made him hard as a rock every time she glanced his way.
Now, she stared right at him, which didn’t happen very often. Usually she seemed too shy to hold his gaze. But in the last rays of the afternoon sun, caught in that short stage between sleep and wakefulness, she forgot herself and graced him with a smile so pure it took his breath away.
He wanted her. And if she didn’t tell him no, he intended to have her as soon as humanly possible.
It killed him to walk around his own home on eggshells for the last forty-eight hours with her delicate beauty snoozing in the other room. A pain had lodged itself in his chest with needing her. Well, if he were completely honest, it probably had something to do with his fear of rejection too.
What if she denied him? Were those sexy eyes that gazed up at him now like he hung the moon only for him or did she normally have that expression on her face for any and all to see?
She was so skittish, he worried she’d bolt at the first opportunity.
“What time is it?” She broke the silence with a barely audible voice through lips that received a long swipe of her delicate tongue as soon as she finished.
Alan reached for a glass of water and held the straw out for her. “It’s about seven. How do you feel?”
“I’m not sure. Fine I think.” When she moved to raise herself, he reached a hand behind her and lifted her head and shoulders to a sitting position. “Hmm, much better. I think I’ll use the restroom and splash some water on my face. See how I fair.”
Alan watched her from behind as she walked carefully toward the adjoining bath. His rumpled T-shirt swallowed her small frame. He suddenly wished he’d chosen something not quite so…large. He let his gaze roam the length of her down to her shins and dainty feet. Any revealed skin was fair game to his eager gaze. What he would give to run his hands under that shirt, push it over her breasts, and tug it over her head.
His forehead beaded with sweat even though it wasn’t warm in the room, and he rubbed his palms on his jeans.
Lost in thought, his gaze focused on a spot on the carpet, he jumped when her voice broke in to interrupt his thoughts of mauling her. “I think I’m practically human again.”
“Good, that’s good. Do you want something to eat? I could heat up some soup or something.” And feed it to you, your tongue reaching out toward the spoon waiting for each morsel at my mercy.
“No, I guess after not eating for two days, the huge breakfast and lunch you stuffed down me was more than satisfying.” She came to sit next to him, tucked her feet up under her on the bed so that the only exposed skin was now her forearms sticking out from the huge arm holes of the T-shirt.
Moments passed in silence. Alan felt like a sixteen-year-old, awkward boy hoping to score, or at least make it to third base this time. He twisted his torso to face her head on just as she tentatively reached to run her fingers down his arm.
“Kiss me again? Like you did before?” Her eyes pleaded with him not to let her down and she held her breath, as if he could possibly refuse her.
“Thought you’d never ask.” Alan pushed her over a few inches as though she weighed nothing, pressed her down so she lay on the rumpled bed sheets and stretched out his long body next to hers.
He leaned across her on his side, brought their lips together and was almost sure he felt a brief spark at the first contact. He gazed deep into her eyes while he nibbled around her mouth and licked a line across her lips before deepening the kiss into something that erased the world as he’d once known it.
In a painstakingly slow movement, Alan allowed his leg to drag over the top of Liz’s lower body. He needed to be closer to her. He cursed the thin layers of clothing and sheets between them that prevented him from feeling her warmth and exploring her soft curves. There was no way he was willing to break the magic between them and risk it though.
Let her set the pace.
Alan’s cock felt distinctly crowded in his jeans. He ached to let it out, if only to grasp it himself.
Time slowed down. The marathon kiss finally started wrapping up. Wet lips barely touched as though neither of them really wanted it to end, but realized they couldn’t go on like that forever.
Gasping for breath, Alan leaned his forehead against Liz’s and stared into her emerald eyes.
“That was…”
“I hope you’re going for amazing?” He chuckled softly.
“Earth shattering. Who knew?” Liz whispered and continued raining little kisses around his lips while her sweet breath mingled with his. “Is it always like that? Can we do it again?”
She was so innocent. So endearing.
Alan cleared his throat gently. This woman who had obviously been kissed many times in her life, at the very least b
y her ex-husband, seemed to think Alan hung the stars. “Well, let’s see. If you’re asking if all kisses are like that, then no. Just the ones between us. At least none that I’ve ever experienced. And yes, we can do it again any time you want.” He smiled and drew his fingers through her long hair before setting his palm against her cheek. His other arm was falling asleep from maintaining this position for so long. “I’m hoping we’ll make a habit out of it.”
“That would be wonderful, if…” She paused.
“What?”
“I can’t, Alan. I just…”
“Can’t what? Can’t kiss me? Because I beg to differ. You just did a splendid job of it.”
“Alan, I’ve never once been in a normal relationship in my whole life.”
“So, it doesn’t mean you can’t start now.” He hoped.
“It means I have baggage beyond what you could ever imagine. And as much as I want…this, it isn’t fair to you.”
Did she just say she wanted me?
Alan gulped air into his lungs that heaved between them. “I don’t care about your baggage. We’ll work through it together. Just don’t shut me out. Talk to me.” He wasn’t beyond pleading with her. He wanted to pick up where they’d left off two days ago before she’d succumbed to the fever that left a gap in their conversation.
She thought about that for a moment, her gaze moving to a spot on the ceiling beyond his shoulder. “My mother was not a nice woman. She slept with too many men and didn’t seem to notice my presence. It disgusted me. I vowed never to be like that.”
Alan didn’t interrupt. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from telling her what kind of mother he thought she’d had.
“When I met Matthew, he was all roses and chocolates. I was ecstatic. He was my first.” She looked down at Alan’s chest. “My first real boyfriend. My first love. I thought the sun rose and set on him. I was in my last semester of college and my mother had just died. I was hard up for money. Matthew made my last tuition payments. My mother had nothing, so I had no place to go.” She took a deep breath.
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