Behind the Red Doors

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Stephanie Bond

  “Is it a bad question?” Uncertainty flashed in her eyes. “Maybe I don’t have the right historical figures. Let’s try Lady Godiva and Amelia Earhart.”

  He forced himself to concentrate on something besides her breasts. “Let’s try Jennifer Lopez and Jodi Foster,” he said gently. “Guys don’t fantasize about famous dead women.”

  “Faith said that question might not fly, but I liked it. I was hoping—”

  “Then maybe you should leave it in.” He wasn’t quite sure when, but somewhere along the line he’d become protective of her feelings. She was proud of her question and he’d shot it down. Now he wished he hadn’t. “I’m not very intellectual, so I’m not a good person to judge.”

  She turned back to stare at the screen. “Faith says you’re smarter than you let on. She said if you didn’t think that question would work, I should probably take it out. So I’m taking it out.”

  “Wait a minute. I—”

  “Too late. It’s gone. Okay, next question. Which part of a woman’s anatomy do you notice first?”

  He gasped, then covered his reaction with a coughing fit.

  “Are you okay?”

  He nodded and cleared his throat. She was so damned clinical that none of this must bother her, which meant she had zero interest in him as a man. He was only a specimen under a microscope. “Coffee went down wrong,” he said in a thick voice.

  “Would you like some water?”

  “I’d like a different question.”

  She sat, her fingers poised over the computer keys, her gaze on the screen. “But this is important for a woman to know about her guy, don’t you think? Just tell me. It’s breasts, isn’t it?”

  “I am so not answering that.”

  “Come on, Dev.” She scrolled up and down the document. “We’re going to poll a bunch of guys and see if any of them choose something besides breasts. I’m doubting it, personally. I think a woman should always buy things to emphasize her breasts if she wants a guy to get turned on.”

  If that was true, he wondered why he was sitting there in a state of arousal while Jamie wore a baggy sweatshirt that disguised her breasts. Still, he had been fixating on them. Maybe disguised breasts were underrated as a sexual turn-on.

  But he was here to give her false info. “All right,” he said. “Then put that down for me, too.”

  She nodded and began typing. “Breast man. And thank you for being honest.”

  He winced. Honesty would have meant saying that the first thing he’d noticed about Jamie were her incredible green eyes, which were so expressive. Next he’d noticed her sweet little mouth, especially when she gave that saucy little smile of hers. He’d never really taken note of her breasts until she’d worn that slinky knit dress to the Pump Room. Now, of course, he was intensely interested in them.

  “Would you find it sexy if a woman wore a necklace to bed and nothing else?”

  He wasn’t a fan of jewelry during sex. As far as he was concerned, the only hard object in the bed should be his penis. But here was a perfect opportunity to discover if his answers would find their way to the Sherman family matchmakers. If he said he loved seeing a naked woman wearing a necklace, and a naked woman in a necklace appeared, he’d have his proof.

  “I think that’s very sexy,” he said.

  “A choker style, or something long that dangled between her breasts?”

  Well, he hadn’t thought he liked jewelry in bed, but now he was imagining Jamie with emeralds that matched her eyes…. A choker would have kinky overtones, which would be sort of exciting, but a long necklace, with a teardrop emerald nestled right between her freckled breasts… He didn’t know for sure they were freckled, but he could guess they might be.

  “Dev? Which necklace?”

  He jerked out of his daydream so quickly that he almost spilled his coffee. “Long and dangling.” He still sounded hoarse, so he cleared his throat and said it again. “Dangling.”

  “Got it. Long and dangling between her breasts,” she murmured, typing in the answer.

  He was losing focus. He was supposed to be feeding her wrong answers, but when it came to thinking of having sex with Jamie, there were no wrong answers. “Rubies,” he said, just to throw in something different from his emerald fantasy. “Rubies are sexy. The color of passion and all that.”

  Jamie typed some more. “Rubies it is. Next question. In women’s negligees, do you prefer silk, lace, or a combination of the two?”

  Apparently he’d groaned without knowing it, because she turned to him, alarm in her expression. “You aren’t getting sick, are you?”

  He sat up straighter. “Nope. No.” He thought frantically of a way to cover his goof. “I, um, remembered I forgot to record the Bulls game.” Another lie. His VCR was humming away at this very moment.

  “Is it over?”

  “No, just starting.”

  “Then it’s not a problem.” She jumped up. “What channel?”

  “WGN. But that’s okay.” He glanced around for a TV and didn’t see one. “You don’t have to—”

  “I’ll record it for you.”

  “How? I don’t see a set, let alone a VCR.”

  “I keep them in the bedroom.”

  He really didn’t need to know that. Now he was picturing the two of them cuddled naked in bed watching an erotic flick.

  “While I’m gone, be thinking about the silk versus lace question, okay? And the one after that has to do with your favorite color of negligee, so you can think of that, too. We’ll be done before you know it.” She took off down the hall.

  Oh, sure, he was going to spend the time she was gone thinking about silk and lace, and she’d be the one wearing it in his sexually charged imagination. He’d bet a chunk of his portfolio that she wore cotton sleep shirts to bed, and even that image got his juices flowing. A cotton sleep shirt was uncomplicated. No elastic, no ties, no panties. Just up and over the head, and you were in business.

  He had to set his coffee on the low table in front of him because his hands were shaking. All of him was shaking. He’d had no idea how erotic these questions would be. Many more of them and he’d have to do something drastic, such as kiss her. Kiss her or leave. Those seemed to be his only viable options.

  JAMIE KNEW she was boring Dev to tears while she was getting all hot and bothered. She didn’t know what to do about either problem. Her questions had sounded okay this afternoon in the office, fun and suggestive, the perfect icebreaker. But while she was squirming in her chair at the discussion they were having, he wasn’t paying any attention at all.

  She’d had to remind him to answer the necklace one, and he’d been thinking of a basketball game while she’d been trying to find out about lingerie. Maybe if he sat at the computer and worked through the questionnaire on his own, he’d find it a little more interesting.

  Jamie grabbed her remote from the bedside table and popped a tape into the VCR. Then she started the recording process for the Bulls game. She didn’t follow basketball, but her brothers did, and she knew how important it could be to a guy. At least she could make sure Dev didn’t miss his game because of a questionnaire he had no interest in.

  As she’d feared from the beginning, his answers weren’t matching up with her reality at all. He’d admitted to being a breast man and she’d never been a real contender in that department. Hers were on the small side, nothing to make guys stare and drool.

  And the thought of wearing cold metal jewelry to bed was ridiculous, especially the dangling kind. Supposing the woman got on top and leaned over? She could bloody his nose or knock out a tooth with a swinging ruby pendant. Oh, well, no surprise. She and Dev weren’t meant for each other, no matter what Faith seemed to think about it.

  Once she had the Bulls game under control, she hurried back to the living room, only to find Dev on his feet. Maybe he’d had enough boredom for one evening. “Did you decide to go home and watch the game, after all?” she asked.

  “No, of course
not. I just thought I’d get more coffee,” he said. “If that’s okay.”

  “I’ll be glad to get you some.” As she walked over to take his cup, she wondered if she wanted him to stay or not. Apparently he had to pump himself full of more caffeine so he wouldn’t fall asleep out of sheer boredom.

  “I can get the coffee, Jamie.”

  She thought he looked stressed. “You know, I probably have enough answers for now, if you’d like to get home. That way you’d only miss a part of the game, and I could give you the tape in the morning.” She took hold of the cup, expecting him to let go, grab his jacket and take off.

  Instead he held on to the cup. “We’ve made it this far. Might as well do the job right. And I really will get my own coffee. You can type in the answer to the silk or lace question. It’s lace. I like lace the best because…” His voice trailed off and he stood there looking at her.

  “Because?” She shouldn’t stand this close to him, especially not when they were talking about negligees. It might not bother him, but she kept thinking of sex. Specifically, sex with Dev.

  “Because it’s not, um, solid…so you can see…” His blue eyes darkened, becoming almost black.

  “Uh, yeah.” Her heart thundered. If she hadn’t known better, she’d swear he was getting turned on. Was it possible? Maybe he wasn’t as bored as she’d thought. “I—I know what you mean.”

  “Do you…wear lace?” His question had a funny squeak at the end, as if his vocal cords had refused to cooperate.

  “No.” She couldn’t seem to break eye contact. Shivers started coursing through her.

  “Why not?”

  “Too, um, scratchy.”

  He cleared his throat. “Silk, then?”

  “Too…slippery.” She couldn’t believe the reaction she was seeing in his eyes. Maybe, instead of disinterested, he’d been so interested that he hadn’t been able to concentrate on the questions.

  “Then…what do you like?” Unbelievably, his head began to lower. He was going to kiss her.

  And she was going to let him. “C-cotton. Or…nothing.” She closed her eyes, her whole body straining upward.

  “Nothing?” His voice had become husky.

  She sighed. “Nothing.”

  He groaned as his mouth came down on hers.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  JAMIE HAD FANTASIZED about Dev’s kiss for twelve years, and it was every bit as wonderful as she’d imagined. Wonderful squared, in fact. His lips were soft, but the pressure was firm. She and Dev might have stumbled into this moment, but he was kissing her as though he meant business.

  Probably he was imagining she was somebody else. Because they were pressed as tightly together as books on her shelf, he’d have trouble pretending she was Jennifer Lopez, but Jodi Foster was a possibility. If so, Jodi must really work for him, because he was packing iron under those cords.

  She didn’t care what was going through his head, though. She’d just reached one of her life goals and that was worth celebrating. Snuggling closer in what she hoped was a Jodi Foster-type move, she invited him to expand on what he was offering. At the moment when his tongue slipped inside her eager mouth, the cup landed on her wooden floor with a loud crack.

  They both jumped back and stared at the blue cup, which had broken neatly in two, except for the handle, which lay a few inches away.

  “Damn, I’m sorry,” Dev muttered. “I thought you had it.”

  She’d been oblivious to everything but their full body contact. “It’s only a cup.” Heart racing, she crouched to pick it up at the same moment he did, and they knocked heads. She saw stars and lost her balance, sitting hard on the floor.

  “Oh, God!” Kneeling, he reached for her, holding her by the shoulders. “Talk about clumsy—now I’ve hurt you!”

  “It’s okay.” She rubbed her forehead and glanced up at him. “What about you?”

  “I have a really hard head.”

  “So I just found out.”

  He winced. “Jamie, I feel terrible about this. Do you think I should take you to the E.R.?”

  Although she felt wobbly and disoriented, she managed a smile. “It’s only a little bump on the head, Dev. Even a head as hard as yours wouldn’t give me a concussion.” But the moment was gone, and she had sense enough to know it. “Maybe something’s telling us we aren’t supposed to be doing this.”

  He cradled her face in both hands and looked into her eyes. “Do you think?”

  She gazed into those laser-blue eyes. His mouth was still moist from their enthusiastic exchange. She could reach up, cup his head and bring his lips back down to hers for more of the same. But she might find out that the first time had been an impulse created by the questionnaire and thoughts of women who ranked way higher on the sex-o-meter than she did. Now that the mood had shifted, he might not be into it.

  He cleared his throat. “The questions were… I guess I got a little carried away.”

  Well, there it was, just as she’d feared. Luckily she hadn’t tried to kiss him again. “Me, too.”

  “Yeah.” His thumbs brushed her jawline and his gaze was tender. “I’m sure I’m not your type.”

  She had to admit that was gallant of him, when she was the one who wasn’t his type. Dev was every woman’s type. But if he wanted to back away from their encounter, she’d help him. “I suppose we can call this the Questionnaire Effect.”

  “Yeah.” He looked into her eyes for a moment longer. “You’re sure your head’s okay?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Well, I owe you a new cup.”

  “You most certainly do not.”

  “I most certainly do.” He got to his feet and held out his hand to help her up.

  She decided to avoid his gaze as she put her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She was still feeling the Questionnaire Effect, and now that she’d blown her chance to continue what they’d started, she was already having regrets. She didn’t want him to look into her eyes and figure that out.

  Instead, she had to find a graceful way out of this situation. “Tell you what.” Releasing his hand, she walked over to the computer. “Why don’t I e-mail you the rest of the questions, and you can fill them out and e-mail them back to me?”

  “If that’s what you want.” He crouched and picked up the broken cup.

  No, what I want is to kiss you again…and again, and see if we can segue right into the bedroom. But that train has left the station. “It makes sense to do that. In fact, if you’d be willing to e-mail the questions to your friends, that’s the most efficient way to gather the information.”

  He stood, the broken pieces of the cup in one hand. “Their answers will be anonymous, right? They might not care one way or the other, but—”

  “Oh, definitely anonymous. But I’d like a general profile of each guy, so I can create some composites for the program. I’ll send you the form for the profile so they can fill that out, too.” She sat at the computer.

  “Wait a minute. You didn’t ask for profile information from me.”

  “No, because Faith gave me that.” Taking a steadying breath, she hit the enter key and the questionnaire popped back onto the screen.

  His eyebrows lifted. “Oh, she did, did she? I want to see what she said.”

  “Now?”

  “Absolutely.” He crossed to the computer, set down the broken cup pieces and braced his arm on her desk, leaning over her shoulder to look at the screen. “Go ahead and bring it up.”

  He was within kissing range once again, and the scent of his aftershave made her giddy enough to consider risking it. The urge to ease back into the curve of his arm was almost irresistible. Almost. But she needed him to move away, because the name she’d given his file was…personal. “Let me look it up and print it out for you.”

  “No problem. You have the same operating system I have.” He reached around her and manipulated the mouse until he had her directory on the screen.

  Caught in the c
ircle of his arm, she longed to stay right there. He radiated such heat, and she wanted that heat. What she didn’t want was that incriminating directory on the screen where he could see it.

  “Which one is it?”

  “I’ll find it.” She pulled the mouse out of his hand and double clicked on the file as fast as she could, hoping he hadn’t seen the designation.

  He had. “‘Hot Commodity’?”

  “Just a little inside joke.” Her face burned. “Protecting your anonymity.”

  “Yeah, right. I can just imagine you and Faith cracking up over it, too. Lord save me.”

  So he had taken it as a joke, she thought with relief. He’d never have to know she considered it a perfect description of him.

  He cleared his throat and peered at the screen. “Okay, let’s see what we have here. ‘Astrology sign—Sagittarius.’ That’s right, for whatever difference it makes.”

  His cheek was inches from hers. His presence had a mesmerizing effect, even though she didn’t want him to read what was coming up on the screen. She ought to do something, create a diversion, pull the plug. But instead she stayed very still, held in the tractor beam of his forceful sexuality.

  “‘Athletic, sports-minded.”’ He nodded. “I’ll go along with that. ‘Good physique, highly…sexual.”’

  Galvanized at last, she bolted from the chair just as he recoiled from the keyboard as if he’d had an electric shock.

  He spun to face her. “Faith told you I was highly sexual? My baby sister told you that?”

  Dammit, she should have taken that file off her C-drive and stored it on a disk, but she’d never envisioned this happening, and she’d been so rushed, getting everything ready….

  “Did she?” he demanded again.

  “In…in a way. She said you started dating early and girls seemed to flock to you from the beginning, like you gave off some sort of sexual energy…or something.” She could certainly testify to that. The closer he came, the more she melted into a puddle, like the tea lights under her pottery diffusers.

  “Sheesh.” He rubbed the back of his neck and stared at her. “Honest to God, if the two of you are cooking up some matchmaking scheme for me…”