Man Shy

by Catherine Mulvany

  “Maybe.” She grinned. “We haven’t discussed it.”

  Her father patted her shoulder. “It’s good to see you having fun for a change, baby. You’re way too serious most of the time.”

  “Not much to laugh about most of the time.”

  “Oh, Mallory.” He pulled her into a hug. “I know I don’t say it often enough, but I love you, baby. And somehow, I can’t help but feel that this should be your reception that’s sending me to the poorhouse, not your sister’s.”

  Mallory leaned back so she could make eye contact. “Me marry Evan? Never would have happened. Believe me, he and Lindsey are much better suited than he and I ever were.”

  Her father studied her face carefully. “You’re sure?”

  She patted his cheek. “Positive.”

  A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Good. Glad we got that straightened out.” He gave her a quick squeeze, then released her altogether. “Here comes your date with yet another bottle of my overpriced champagne. Apparently the two of you have a lot in common—like a streak of larceny a mile wide. You watch out for that French stuff. It’ll sneak up on you.”

  Laughing, Mallory crossed her heart. “I’ll be careful.” She turned to Brody with a grin, holding her bottle up so he could see it. “Looks like we both had the same idea.”

  Brody raised an eyebrow. “At least one of the same ideas. We’ll have to see how well the others mesh.”

  They walked out of the Elks Lodge arm in arm, she teetering a little in her high heels as they crossed the loose gravel of the parking lot. Mallory couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this carefree. Never? If her present euphoria was merely the product of the champagne, then maybe she’d have to add the bubbly stuff to her list of comfort foods. Somewhere between chocolate-covered macadamia nuts and cherry cheesecake.

  Brody decided he liked Mallory’s playful side. Tugging on the end of his tie, she dragged him into the kitchen. “The glasses are in the cupboard next to the sink. Help yourself. I’m going to go change into something more comfortable, if you don’t mind?”

  “Not a bit.” Smiling to himself in anticipation, he wondered what she planned to surprise him with. He supposed a towel was too much to hope for. But maybe, just maybe, she’d put on something soft and silky. A negligee? A chemise?

  Brody held the opened champagne bottle against his hot forehead for a second or two, then poured the sparkling wine into a couple of stemmed glasses he dug out of the cupboard.

  Back in the living room, he set the bottle and glasses on the trunk. He stripped off his tie and tossed it and his suit jacket over the end of the sofa, then made himself comfortable on one end of the love seat.

  Okay. Champagne and a love seat. Good so far. But not quite right, either. He studied the room, his head tipped to one side. What’s wrong with this picture? he asked himself.

  Too much light, he decided. Way too much light. He flicked off the chandelier and two of the three table lamps, then sat back down. Better, but not perfect.

  “Why don’t you put on a CD, Brody?” Mallory’s muffled voice floated out from the back of the house.

  He was momentarily distracted by the thought of Mallory in her underwear. She must be down to the underwear by now, probably a lacy bra and a pair of bikini panties. Black. No, red. No, white and semitransparent.

  Oh, hell. Concentrate on something else, moron. Like, for example, what she’d just said.

  Eventually the sense of her words penetrated his brain. CDs. Of course. That was it. That’s what was missing. Mood music. “Where do you keep them?” he called.

  “In the TV stand. They’re right next to the videotapes.”

  Brody pulled everything out of the cupboard under the VCR, just in case he’d missed something the first time. He hadn’t, unfortunately. The woman had very strange taste in music. He considered his choices—Queen, The Beach Boys, Bette Midler, or Weird Al Yankovic. Not quite what he had in mind. Finally he resorted to eenie, meenie, minie, moe and ended up with Queen—at least after a wee bit of cheating. He’d actually landed on Weird Al the first time, but there was no way he was going to try to seduce Mallory with some guy playing the accordion in the background.

  “Where’s the CD player?” he called.

  “Don’t have one,” she yelled back.

  “What?” he asked, certain he’d misunderstood her.

  “I don’t have one. Just throw it in the computer.”

  In the computer? What the hell was she talking about in the computer? “What do you mean ’in the computer’?”

  “It’s got a CD-ROM.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Never mind. I’ll do it.” Mallory spoke from behind him.

  He turned. Something comfortable. He should have known better than to pin his hopes on the towel. And Mallory really wasn’t the Frederick’s of Hollywood type. What she was, apparently, was the sweats-and-cow-slippers type.

  Well, duh, pea brain, scoffed the logical portion of his brain, she doesn’t know you’re planning to seduce her. Or maybe she did. Maybe the sweats and cow slippers were supposed to be a turnoff. They weren’t working, though, possibly because of the way the soft cotton outlined her curves.

  Mallory grinned at him, shoving her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose. “Boy, it feels good to ditch the contacts and to get out of those panty hose! Here. Move over.” She maneuvered him out of her way with a bump of her hip, pushed a couple magic buttons, and soon Freddie Mercury’s voice was blasting from the speakers at a decibel level that rivaled the Concorde.

  She played with the mouse a little, adjusting the volume, a wise move in Brody’s opinion, since “Bohemian Rhapsody” was the second track and he valued his hearing.

  “I poured you some champagne.” He indicated the glasses on the trunk.

  “That was sweet. Thanks.” Mallory retrieved one of the glasses and curled up in the big overstuffed armchair.

  Big, but not, he estimated, big enough for two. He settled on the love seat instead.

  She yawned. “Whoa! I am whipped! What a day.” She shook her head. “Lindsey was a beautiful bride, though, wasn’t she?”

  “Beautiful,” he agreed. Though not, in his humble opinion, as beautiful as her older sister. Even in those god-awful sweats, you could tell Mallory had a chest. And hips. Nicely rounded hips. By contrast, her sister was flat as a board. Not to mention that plastic-coated hair.

  Mallory’s hair was soft. Like her eyes. And her skin. Especially her skin.

  Stop doing this to yourself, diphead. The pads of his fingers itched at the thought of touching that soft, soft skin. He drained his glass, then refilled it. “Want some?” He tipped the bottle toward Mallory.

  “Thanks.” She smiled at him, looking so sweet and innocent, he felt like a heel.

  Dammit, what was he doing? She’d already had too much to drink, and he knew it. Under the circumstances, it would hardly be ethical to seduce her. He was going to have to leave, and the sooner the better.

  Ignoring his conscience, Brody sauntered over and perched casually on the arm of her chair. He topped off her glass, then set the bottle on a nearby table.

  “This calls for a toast.” Mallory lifted her glass, “lb Kyle, for finding me a drop-dead-gorgeous hunk.”

  “To Kyle.” Their gazes locked above the clinking champagne glasses. The moment hung suspended in time, an instant of awareness so fragile, Brody was afraid to move, afraid to breathe.

  “Brody?” Mallory’s mouth looked so soft, so kissable, so close.

  What the hell, he thought. One kiss.

  But before he could follow through on his intention, Mallory reached up, pulled his face down to hers, and pressed her mouth to his for a brief moment.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” Brody whispered the words against Mallory’s lips, lips that were every bit as soft as they looked. They tasted of champagne.

  Mallory made a funny little noise in her throat, halfway between a gasp and a sigh. Her
eyes grew large and her glasses slid down her nose in slow motion. “Wow.”

  Brody grinned. “Double wow.” He nudged her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose.

  She frowned at him. “I like you, Brody Hunter.”

  “I like you too.”

  “I’m glad.” She took a deep breath, inadvertently drawing his attention to her chest.

  She wasn’t wearing a bra. He’d bet a hundred bucks on it.

  “I like you,” Mallory repeated. “A lot.”

  “That works out pretty well then, because I like you a lot.”

  She sat up a little straighter.

  Definitely no bra.

  “So. Brody. What do you want to do now?”

  The answer to that one would probably scare the hell out of her. He grinned. “I’m open to suggestions.”

  Another deep breath. “We could always make love.”

  Damn. Brody couldn’t have been any more surprised if she’d pulled out a double-barreled shotgun and let him have it right between the eyes. Of course, he’d had three glasses of champagne himself. Maybe his ears were playing tricks on him. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me.”

  “You’ve had too much to drink, Mallory. The alcohol—”

  “I’m not drunk, if that’s what’s worrying you.” She tugged on her earlobe. “No tingle there, even though the rest of me feels like it’s burning up.”

  Brody couldn’t keep his eyes off her breasts, the nipples clearly outlined against the soft, thin fleece. Damn. It must be the alcohol talking, whether she believed it or not. He had to get out of here before he did something he’d regret.

  ELEVEN

  Brody stood up. “I think I’d better go.”

  “Why?” Mallory pushed herself to her feet, and Brody caught himself staring at her Oregon State sweatshirt. One taut nipple bull’s-eyed the O.

  Tearing his gaze away, he gathered up his tie and suit jacket. “Because.” Because if he stayed, he knew he couldn’t keep his hands off her.

  “That’s no answer.” She grabbed his arm. “Look at me.

  He did. A major mistake. Her glasses were slipping again. He reached out to nudge them back up, but she stopped him.

  “No,” Mallory said. She took her glasses off and set them on the trunk.

  “Why did you do that?”

  She smiled. “You’re a bright boy. Figure it out.” Then she planted a hand in the center of his chest and shoved him backward onto the love seat.

  He gave a grunt of surprise as she landed on top of him. “Mallory, what—”

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

  “I say a lot of things. Refresh my memory.”

  “‘He made you a victim once. Don’t let him make you a victim for the rest of your life.’” Her smile wobbled, then steadied. “I decided not to be a victim anymore. It’s time to get on with my life.”

  His gaze locked on hers for a long, silent moment. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “All I could think about the whole time we were dancing this evening was how much I wanted to jump your bones.”

  “I’m shocked,” he said, though turned on was closer to the truth.

  She smiled, and Brody’s heart thumped a slow, erratic rhythm. They kissed, and waves of heat enveloped him.

  She licked along the seam of his lips with the tip of her tongue, teasing his mouth open. The taste of her, sweet and hot, drove his blood pressure through the roof.

  Ah, depths. Deep, dark, unsuspected depths. This woman was full of surprises.

  Just when Brody was sure his lungs were on the verge of collapse, she broke away. “Hot,” she gasped, and sat up, rocking against his erection.

  Oh, hell Brody groaned, positive he was going to explode. And it didn’t help his condition a bit when Mallory peeled off her sweatshirt.

  He’d been wrong. She was wearing a bra after all, a wisp of black lace that revealed more than it covered. And then it was gone, too, leaving her beautiful breasts free and unfettered.

  Surprise held him captive as her sweatpants and cow slippers went flying, followed by a pair of black lace panties.

  “Aren’t you hot, Brody?” Mallory unbuttoned his shirt and slid her hands inside.

  Burning up, he thought, and reached for her, half-afraid she’d stiffen or pull away. Instead, she relaxed into him with a sigh.

  Her breasts filled his hands with warmth, and when he brushed his thumbs across her swollen nipples, she moaned and sank her nails in his shoulders.

  In a fever of urgency, he sought her mouth again. Her lips seared his, melting the last of his doubts. Mallory wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  No time for gentleness now, just a desperate hunger. Without breaking the kiss, he tugged his shirt off and tossed it over the end of the sofa while Mallory fought his belt and zipper.

  Together they removed the rest of his clothes in a wild melee of groping hands and twisting legs, and somehow in the struggle, they both ended up on the floor.

  Shuddering uncontrollably, Mallory fought her panic. He’s not hurting you, she told herself. And he wasn’t, just nuzzling her neck while supporting most of his weight on his elbows. But she stall felt trapped beneath him, as if she’d be crushed at any moment. He was so big, his bare chest broad and muscular, even broader and more muscular than c

  He raised his head to kiss her again, but she held him off. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to block out the pictures in her mind. “No,” she begged. “Please, no!”

  He froze, and all she could hear was the ragged sound of her own breathing.

  “Mallory?” His voice was a husky whisper.

  She opened her eyes. Brody’s face. Not Cameron’s. Brody’s. His expression made her heart flutter madly. There was tenderness in the curve of his mouth, caring in his clear, silvery eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Still shivering, she wriggled out from under him. “I had a flashback.”

  “But why? What triggered it?”

  She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. All of a sudden I couldn’t breathe.”

  He brushed the hair back off her forehead. “If I do something you don’t like, say so and I’ll stop. I’m not Cameron. I’m not going to force anything on you. That’s a promise.” He kissed the tip of her nose, then both eyelids in turn. “Okay?”

  “Okay,” she whispered unsteadily.

  “You’re beautiful, Mallory.”

  She closed her eyes, mesmerized by the sound of his voice.

  Rolling back on top, he drew his thumb across her cheekbone, then along the line of her jaw.

  “Don’t,” she said, pulling away.

  Brody looked confused for a second. Then his face cleared. “Damn, that’s it.”

  “What?”

  “When I’m on top, it triggers your memories.”

  Was he right? Could it be that simple?

  “Honey.” His voice was so gentle and full of love, she felt the prickle of tears behind her eyes. “You’re supposed to speak up when something bothers you. That was the deal.” He kissed her forehead, then rolled her over on top of him. “Better?”

  “Yes.” She sighed in relief as the claustrophobic feeling ebbed away.

  Brody smiled at her, slowly and deliberately, a smile that sent a slow heat burning through her. She was very aware of him, hard against her, aware, too, of the sharp twinges of her own desire. Anticipation of his touch puckered her nipples. Touch me now, she thought fiercely.

  He cupped her breasts.

  Mallory moaned as Brody brushed his thumbs across her nipples with an erotic friction that set her blood on fire. Then tongue and lips and teeth joined his skillful hands to torture her almost past endurance. She squirmed in sheer ecstasy. Could people die of pleasure?

  Mallory shut her eyes and gave herself up to sensation. Her body tingled from head to toe. Brody seemed to know exactly how to drive her into a mindless frenzy. She couldn’t worry; she could
n’t even think. Her existence narrowed to tingling pleasure and throbbing need. She wanted him. She ached for him. “What are you doing to me, Brody?”

  “Loving you.” He kissed the hollow at the base of her throat, and her heart skipped a beat.

  Breathing in shallow gasps interspersed by whimpers of pleasure, she squirmed against him as the delightful sensations grew sharper, their intensity nearing pain. No doubts remained. No fears. She wanted him. “Now, Brody. Please.”

  “Not yet. Soon.” His voice was a gravelly growl that shivered down her spine.

  He snaked an arm between their bodies, to find her slick and wet, ready for him. She clenched her muscles at his touch, her shudders exciting him. He frowned fiercely in an effort to master his desire. Not yet, dammit. First he had to be sure it was special for her. Mallory deserved special.

  He flicked at her, rubbing, teasing until her breathing became even more labored and he could feel her heart thundering wildly in her chest.

  Suddenly she jerked, screaming his name and clenching herself around his fingers. He felt the pleasure shudder through her in waves as if it were his own. Finally, she slumped across his chest, sobbing for air. “Oh, Brody. Oh, God. Oh, Brody.”

  Gently, he turned her over on her back. She was beautiful, her eyes still glazed and unfocused in the aftermath of her orgasm, her mouth pink and swollen from his kisses. And her body c God, she was gorgeous. He touched one full breast. She felt so soft against his callused palm, so feminine.

  A smile lit her face. “I never dreamed c I mean, I thought all that ecstasy stuff was a gimmick dreamed up by romance writers. Why didn’t someone tell me?”

  “Want to try it again?” Brody trailed a line of kisses down the side of her neck while his hands explored her delectable curves and hollows.

  “They say practice makes perfect,” she whispered.

  Delighted with her response, he moved down her body, drawing the tip of his tongue along the shallow depression in the center of her stomach. He paused to flick her navel, then slid even farther down to the promise of pleasure hidden by tight blonde curls.

  She tasted of passion.

  Mallory moaned at the first flick of his tongue. In seconds she was writhing beneath him, her hands buried in his hair. “I can’t last much longer, Brody.” Her words were breathy. “Do you have any protection? I want to feel you inside me this time.”