She wanted more wine. He shut out thoughts about the Lowells and emptied the last of the bottle into her glass. As she picked it up, he noticed she was looking at him differently than she had at the beginning of the meal. Her gaze was warm and open. Someone might even describe it as inviting.
He knew exactly what he wanted to do about that, but he wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. In his past experience, the woman in question would be sitting on his lap by now, French kissing him and trying to get his zipper down. He’d never had to make the first move in his life.
Right away he could see that this setup, one he was responsible for creating, didn’t make things easy for them to get together. He was on one side of the wicker hamper and she was on the other side. Somehow they needed to end up on the same side for anything good to happen. And they needed to do it without knocking over the candles and setting the quilt on fire.
How had the women he’d dated accomplished that? He’d never noticed. One minute they’d be talking, like he and Maggie were doing now, and the next minute the woman would be all over him, removing clothes and getting down to it.
He sensed that crawling around the hamper and grabbing Maggie wasn’t going to impress her, plus no doubt he’d knock over the candles in the process. He glanced out through the French doors to see if it was still raining, and it wasn’t. Not much, anyway.
‘‘Come on.’’ He shoved his feet into his work boots. ‘‘Let me show you my Big Knob.’’
Maggie grinned as she reached for her shoes. ‘‘I don’t think I know you well enough for that.’’
‘‘Bad choice of words.’’ He tied the laces on his boots. ‘‘I meant the rock outside.’’
‘‘I know. I couldn’t resist teasing you.’’ The dynamic between them had changed, and she blamed the wine. Correction, she blamed herself for drinking the wine, but it was easily the best she’d ever had, and she couldn’t regret having some. The problem was she’d had more than some. Her skin felt hot and other, more internal parts of her body were warming up rapidly, too.
‘‘I suppose I do feel possessive about that hunk of granite.’’ He stood. ‘‘I was only four when we moved into this house, and my mother let me think it was my own private mountain.’’ He held out his hand to help her up.
She took his hand, which felt way too warm and wonderful, so she released it the minute she was upright. ‘‘Have you ever climbed it?’’ The wine was affecting her eyesight, too, because Sean grew better-looking by the second. His haircut wasn’t nearly as bizarre. Even his shoulders appeared broader.
He opened the balcony door and held it for her. ‘‘I was too young to climb it while I lived here. But once I was old enough, yeah, dozens of times. All one hundred and ninety-two feet of it.’’
Passing by him, Maggie caught a whiff of his cologne mixed with the tang of sweat from the work he’d done today. It had been long months since she’d allowed herself to get sweaty with a man, and she hadn’t thought she’d missed it. Wrong.
She stepped out on the wet balcony with a relieved sigh as the cool air touched her hot skin. A fine mist fell, but she could see that jutting rock perfectly from here. The rain had given it a dull sheen, and from this angle it looked even more like . . . yes, it certainly did. It was even more erotic wet.
Parts of her that had been dormant for a long time woke up and stretched as she gazed at Big Knob. Belatedly she realized her awkward position. She was alone in a deserted location with a man who was becoming increasingly appealing to her wine-soaked libido. And because her judgment and her reflexes were clouded by wine, she couldn’t drive away from here, at least not right now.
Sean came out on the balcony and stood behind her, the warmth of his body inviting her to lean back and let him wrap his arms around her. She had no doubt he’d do that if she made the slightest move in his direction. She grabbed the railing, its peeling paint rough under her hands, and held on for dear life.
‘‘Nice view,’’ she said in a hoarse voice.
‘‘I love this view.’’ He was silent for a moment. ‘‘Did Denise find the owner?’’
‘‘I don’t know.’’ And right this minute I don’t care, whispered a traitorous voice in her head. She cleared her throat. ‘‘Something went weird with the electricity and her computer is on the fritz.’’
‘‘Yeah, the lights were going crazy over at the Hob Knob, too. It happens with old buildings, especially when it rains.’’
‘‘I’m hoping the electric company comes out this afternoon and the computer guy shows up.’’ At least she should be hoping that. Instead she was hoping Sean would touch her.
‘‘That would be Jeremy. He went to Evansville.’’
‘‘That’s right. How did you know?’’ His voice worked on her, making her long to hear him murmuring something sweet in her ear as he held her close.
‘‘Everyone knows everything in this town. But I would know that, anyway, because I’m the pitcher for the Knob Lobbers and he was collecting money from each of us for the . . .’’
‘‘Yes, I know.’’ Protective cups for the valuable equipment she was busy trying not to think about. With Sean right behind her and Big Knob looking wet and very erect in her immediate field of vision, she couldn’t seem to think of anything but firm penises.
She was standing on this romantic balcony with the town’s legendary lover, and yet he hadn’t made a move. Maybe he was more ethical than she was giving him credit for. Or maybe he didn’t really want her and he was forcing himself to follow through.
Now there was a truly depressing thought. Come to think of it, that made more sense than anything else. She’d never been a man magnet—too driven and too intellectual to appeal to the majority of guys.
‘‘Let’s go in.’’ She turned, expecting him to back up in relief and let her pass by.
Instead he blocked her way. Interestingly, he’d taken off his glasses. Apparently he’d left them in the house in preparation for the kiss fest that he hadn’t been able to stomach.
‘‘Hold on a minute,’’ he said.
She couldn’t bear to continue looking into his eyes as he struggled to hide his distaste at the idea of kissingher. So she ducked her head and talked to his third shirt button.
‘‘Sean, it’s obvious you brought me out here to kiss me, but you can’t make yourself do it, not even to try and save your house. Kissing me isn’t going to work, anyway, so let’s go back inside and save both of us some embarrassment, okay?’’
He gripped her shoulders. ‘‘You have no clue how much I want to kiss you, Maggie. I’m scared to death I’ll do it wrong and spoil everything.’’
‘‘What?’’ She glanced up in surprise. ‘‘How could you possibly do it wrong? When it comes to sex, you’re the talk of the town!’’ But sure enough, he looked uncertain as he gazed down at her.
‘‘I never had to do anything to get girls,’’ he said. ‘‘They came to me. They begged me to have sex with them, so I did. They kissed me before I could kiss them. They did everything, and all I had to do was go along with it.’’
‘‘Because you gave them wine?’’
He shook his head. ‘‘No alcohol was involved. They just . . . wanted me. They all wanted me.’’
‘‘Are you saying I’m the first girl who hasn’t thrown herself at you?’’ She was dangerously close to doing that. Without glasses, he’d become a green-eyed love god, and his touch burned through her sweater. She hadn’t quite believed in his powerful mojo before, but she believed in it now.
‘‘That’s what I’m saying.’’
She reached deep and salvaged enough pride to resist the pull of his sexuality. ‘‘Well, that’s not how it will be with this chick. I’ve never thrown myself at any man, and I’m not about to start with you.’’
‘‘So it’s all up to me.’’ He surveyed her, his gaze smoldering.
She began to tremble. ‘‘Of course not. You can let me go and we’ll forget this moment ever happened.
’’
‘‘What if I don’t want to?’’
‘‘It’s for the best, Sean. Once I feel sober enough to drive, I’ll leave.’’
‘‘And what will we do until then?’’ His voice became soft and silky.
She would not kiss him, would not become another in the long line of women who begged him for sex. So what if her panties were damp and her heart thumped like a jungle drum?
She cleared her throat. ‘‘Well, I realize there’s no coffee, but maybe I can run up and down the stairs to work the cobwebs out of my brain. Meanwhile, you can tidy up the—’’ She gasped as he dragged her up against his taut body. He had more muscles than she’d expected, and they were all rigid, especially the one pressing against her belly.
‘‘Like hell,’’ he muttered. Then his lips came down on hers.
Like heaven, she thought dreamily. Then she became one pulsing mass of lust and couldn’t think at all.
Chapter 10
Sean discovered something in the moment that he decided to take action and kiss Maggie. Being in control of the situation got him hot, hotter than he’d ever been in his life. She tasted like the wine he loved so much, and when he’d indulged himself thoroughly there, he moved on, kissing her cheeks, her chin, her throat.
Her glasses got in the way and he took them off with one hand while he continued kissing every inch of freckled skin available to him. There wasn’t nearly enough of that. He dropped her glasses to the floor of the balcony and reached under the hem of her sweater.
His goal was the back clasp of her bra. He’d never had to take one off before—women generally came to him braless—but he thought he could handle it. Her skin was so soft, and the clasp was so . . . so damn hard to unfasten!
He groaned in frustration, and then the clasp seemed to magically come apart. Ah. Returning to kiss her mouth, he cupped one breast with the same pounding excitement he’d felt the first time he’d touched a woman. Brushing her tight nipple with his fingers seemed like a brand-new experience.
She trembled and moaned, the sound muffled against his mouth as their kiss grew wetter and deeper. But she didn’t start ripping at his clothes. She didn’t fondle his crotch or back him up against the balcony railing and give him explicit instructions as to what she wanted him to do to her.
For the first time in his life he could savor the softness of a woman’s breasts without being pressured to get on with it. What a concept. Now the pressure was all on his side. He was the one who wanted more, wanted her sweater and her bra gone so he could map all her freckles with his tongue.
But when he stopped kissing her long enough to pull her sweater over her head, she backed up against the railing. ‘‘Whoa, big boy!’’
Instinctively he moved toward her, and heard the sickening crunch as he stepped on her glasses. He closed his eyes. ‘‘Shit.’’
‘‘Oh.’’
He opened his eyes. Amazingly his eyesight had improved. He could see that she was still quivering and her pupils were dilated with lust. ‘‘Don’t worry. I’ll replace your glasses.’’ Intent on getting her back in his arms, he reached for her.
‘‘Stop.’’ She put a hand on his chest.
‘‘Stop?’’ He frowned. ‘‘What do you mean, stop?’’ He gazed longingly at her tender lips, the ones he’d just been caressing with his mouth and tongue. They were temptingly parted as she struggled for breath. He wanted to thrust his tongue into her mouth again.
And she wanted it, too. He could feel it. He could smell it.
She swallowed. ‘‘I mean halt, quit, cease and desist.’’
‘‘But you liked it.’’ He was thoroughly confused.
She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘‘I admit that kiss and . . . everything . . . felt good, but—’’
‘‘Especially the and everything.’’
She had the decency to blush a little at that. ‘‘Yes, okay, but—’’
‘‘Then why are you telling me to stop?’’
‘‘Because when you progressed to removing clothing, my brain kicked into gear and reminded me that I was here on business, not pleasure.’’
‘‘So I must have tried to remove it wrong.’’ Damn his inexperience at seduction, anyway.
‘‘That’s not it.’’
‘‘Sure it is. Usually when I have sex with a woman, she takes everything off before I have a chance to. I never have to undress her. I never have to undress myself, either. I was clumsy, and that distracted you.’’
She stared at him as if he’d stepped out of a space-ship. ‘‘So when you get involved with a woman, she always takes over?’’
‘‘It probably sounds crazy.’’ It would to her, considering his altered appearance. But he felt stupid trying to explain his involvement with Dorcas and Ambrose. It was such a weird story that she might think he’d made it up.
‘‘I have no reason to doubt you,’’ she said. ‘‘And after listening to the women in the Bob and Weave, it all makes sense. I don’t mean to insult you or anything, but are there . . . other single guys in town?’’
Sean nodded. ‘‘Yeah. There’s Jeremy, who went to get the cups today. Bruce is single, and so is Jeff. Then there’s Hank and Johnny and Bradley, although there’s some question about Bradley. He’s never dated girls, but we don’t want to hang a label on him or anything. I mean, there’s no proof.’’
‘‘Are these guys somewhat attractive?’’
‘‘Hey, I’m a man. I’m not the one to ask.’’ But he knew what she was getting at. ‘‘They date, if that’s what you mean. I’m not the only choice around here, but for some reason, I’m just—’’
‘‘Catnip.’’
‘‘I guess.’’ He paused. ‘‘Except for you.’’
‘‘Oh, I’m not immune, obviously. But I have other priorities.’’
‘‘That’s too bad.’’ He rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. Once aroused, he’d never been denied. Not ever. This was new territory for him, and he didn’t like it.
She took a deep breath. ‘‘I can see you’re not used to having a woman call a halt.’’
‘‘Can’t say I am, not once we get to this point. You were moaning.’’
Her freckled cheeks grew pink. ‘‘I suppose I was.’’
‘‘And kissing me back. Really kissing me back.’’
‘‘I . . . I know.’’
‘‘So I thought you’d want me to take off your sweater.’’ He had another thought. ‘‘Do you . . . is there some problem with your breasts?’’
‘‘No, there’s no problem with my breasts!’’
‘‘Because I like freckles. I like freckles a lot, and I was hoping—’’
‘‘My breasts are fine. I just don’t think going topless on this balcony is a good idea right now.’’ Her voice quivered the tiniest bit, as if she might be losing some of her self-control.
‘‘Then let’s go inside.’’
‘‘Not in there, either. None of this is a good idea.’’
‘‘I think it’s a great idea.’’ He couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do than go inside and get rid of her sweater. Oh, maybe one thing would be more fun than that, but he hadn’t brought condoms, and he was willing to bet she hadn’t, either. Every other woman he’d kissed had come packing, but this one wasn’t anything like the other women.
‘‘Well, I have a reputation to protect, and you don’t. Then again, I suppose getting naked with me would keep your reputation going strong, wouldn’t it?’’
‘‘I don’t care about that. I’ve never cared about that.’’
She gazed at him. ‘‘For whatever reason, I believe you.’’ Kneeling down, she picked up her crumpled glasses. The glass was shattered and the frames hopelessly bent. ‘‘This presents a problem, though.’’
‘‘I said I’d replace them.’’ He was discovering something else. Lack of food made her slightly grumpy. Lack of sexual satisfaction, once he’d felt the urge to merge, made him extremely grumpy.
‘‘No, you won’t.’’
‘‘I dropped them on the deck and then proceeded to step on them, so that makes me responsible. I’ll replace them.’’ He looked at the crushed glasses, which could very well be designer frames for all he knew. ‘‘But it will take some doing. We don’t have any place that sells glasses in Big Knob, except those magnifiers for reading.’’
‘‘I was afraid of that, which brings me to the next problem. I can’t drive without glasses.’’
So she was at his mercy, which did him absolutely no good at all, because she didn’t want to cozy up with him. Well, she did, but she wouldn’t let herself. He still couldn’t get used to the idea of rejection.
‘‘I’ll take you wherever you need to go,’’ he said.
She sighed. ‘‘That’s nice, but it doesn’t solve my other problems, like any reading I have to do to finalize this deal.’’
‘‘I can’t promise to help you with that.’’
‘‘I wouldn’t expect you to.’’ She glanced at her watch and then muttered a swearword. ‘‘I can’t even see what time it is.’’
He looked at his watch. ‘‘Two thirty.’’
‘‘Wait a minute. You’re not wearing your glasses, either. How can you read your watch?’’
‘‘I guess my eyes have improved.’’
‘‘In the past hour?’’ She shook her head. ‘‘Let me see your watch. I’ll bet the numbers are bigger.’’ She grabbed his wrist and peered at the face of his watch. ‘‘Not that much.’’
He couldn’t help himself. He reached up and trailed a finger along the line of her chin. After all, she’d touched him first.
Her breath caught. ‘‘Don’t do that.’’
‘‘How about this?’’ He leaned down and ran his tongue around the edge of her ear. He was acting on pure instinct, because he’d never needed moves before.
‘‘Don’t do that, either.’’ But her voice was soft and yielding, and she hadn’t let go of his wrist even though she’d admitted she couldn’t see the numbers on his watch any better than hers.
‘‘Then maybe this.’’ He drew the neck of her sweater aside and nuzzled the curve of her shoulder.
Over Hexed Page 11