Then again, he wondered if she had a little plaid skirt and maybe a tight button-down top—
Her lips curved into that smile again, the one he wanted to feel against his mouth. “Sure, I’d love to have a drink.”
Yes! He restrained himself from pumping his fist and doing a little victory dance. Since he’d been told he danced like a palsied chicken in its death throes, she’d probably bolt to her room. Alone.
Opening the door, she slipped into the front room of the inn, turning her head to send him a quick, sweetly hot glance over her shoulder. That look would’ve had any red-blooded man panting after her.
Now it wasn’t like women didn’t throw themselves at him. They did. Occasionally.
Well, maybe throw was a bad word. Fringe women, at least those who knew him or knew of him…
Some of them actually knew too much about him. They knew he was a nerd who never missed a Comic-Con or an opportunity to dress up as a Klingon. Or Thor.
He even had his own chainmail costume and detailed hammer that been created for him by an Appalachian dwarf long before Marvel had cast an Australian as a Norse god.
Which had actually turned out better than Andy could have hoped. Same with Iron Man, though that last movie…
Well, Stan Lee wasn’t infallible. Damn near but not totally.
Marvel had had more than a few flops on their hands. The unfortunate Incredible Hulk debacle was one. On paper, having Ang Lee direct a superhero movie must’ve seemed inspired.
But some visions just didn’t mix. Some relationships just weren’t meant to be.
Daredevil and Karen Page. Nurse Chappel and Spock.
Fringe dwellers and Normals.
Yeah, but look at Tim and Carrie. They’re making their relationship work.
Not that Andy was thinking relationship. That was a huge leap from having a drink with Jenna.
Just because they shared a love of Star Trek and he wanted to get his hands on the sweet curves covered by those tight jeans and that geeky t-shirt—
Which he loved, by the way.
A woman unafraid to let her geek flag fly. Now that was a woman worth getting to know.
Chapter Three
As she led the way through the charmingly decorated front sitting room to the even more charming den, where the bar was located, Jenna was pretty sure Andy was eyeing her ass.
Which made her self-conscious.
And made her want to let her hips sway just the slightest bit more.
She was a girl, after all, and Andy… Well, Andy made her feel as if she’d swallowed a gallon of Pop Rocks. All tingly and fizzy low in her belly.
He was one big, gorgeous hunk of man flesh. And damn, but he was tall. And perfectly proportioned, not lanky and lean like some guys his height. No, he had broad shoulders and thick biceps and strong thighs. Oh my.
And that hair… A perfectly natural mix of platinum and gold and wheat and honey. She could tell, now that she’d been close to him, that the color didn’t come out of a bottle. No one could get that shading that perfectly abstract so that it blended that well.
Jenna had always had perfectly tame dark-brown hair. She’d never really wanted to be a blonde, except for that unfortunate period in middle school. Teenagers could be so cruel. She’d had to live with the nickname Jenna-Ghoul for a year, even after she’d dyed it black for her morose punk phase.
Not that her friends ever teased her. Sure, it’d been tough being one of the only girls in the school who played Warcraft and The Legend of Zelda. Or even knew that they were computer games.
Most of her friends had been guys with the same love of comic books and role-playing games. Her few girlfriends had explained away her love of Star Trek and her crush on an obscure makeup artist named Tom Savini, who created the makeup for George Romero’s zombie movies, as a fluke.
Of course, they’d loved her for introducing them to Harry Potter nearly six months before anyone in her school had even heard of it. Her mom had bought a book called Harry Potter and Philosopher’s Stone for Jenna as a gift when she’d gone to a conference in England. She’d forced the book on a few friends, who’d declared her brilliant. For a month anyway. Then she went back to being just Jenna.
She wondered what Andy saw when he looked at her.
An average-looking woman of average height wearing a ridiculous shirt that she loved that her brother had bought for her in Japan on a trip to make contact with the ghosts of Hiroshima.
The bar suddenly loomed ahead of her and she stopped short and turned. Right into Andy’s chest. She brought her hands up to brace herself and they landed flat against Andy’s abs.
My god, the man was solid as a rock. Her fingers flexed convulsively but his muscles held steady.
And damn, but he smelled good. Like the forest on a crisp, cool fall day. She wanted to rub her face against his chest like a cat. Preferably without the t-shirt in her way. Only her cheek against his warm flesh—
Oh wow. She needed to stop before she had to change her panties. Which might already be too late.
She told herself to take a step back but her feet refused. Or the message got hijacked somewhere between her brain and her feet.
She thought she might have to fight with herself to get her hands to release his chest.
Of course, he wasn’t moving away. No, he’d gone statue-still before her. Was he waiting for her to do something?
What would he do if she took another step forward until their toes touched? Would he wrap his arms around her and pick her up until their lips were aligned and her feet couldn’t touch the floor?
Her head tilted back and she looked up, and up, into his eyes.
Standing this close, she had a better impression of his size and… Holy Klingon Warrior. Give the man a few ridges on his forehead and a club and he’d win awards at cons across the country.
Then again, give the man a mighty hammer and a cloak and he could pound her—
She blinked and sank her teeth into her bottom lip, hoping to stave off any inadvertent moans she might make, because she now had an image in her head of Andy wearing nothing but a red silk cloak and a grin.
She wasn’t thinking Superman. Not clean-cut, wholesome, corn-fed Clark Kent.
No, Andy was much more exotic. His broad features and darker-toned skin and that blond hair contradicted each other every which way but it all worked to make him freaking gorgeous.
For some reason, the Thundercats popped into her head. Not that Andy had fur or looked like a cat. No, he was all man.
The exoticness of him reminded her of the crush she’d had on Lion-O, the leader of the Thundercats.
Ho! Indeed.
Okay, maybe she and her brother weren’t as opposite as she liked to think.
Then again, Joss actually believed the Thundercats existed, although he called them werecats and said they lived a solitary life somewhere in India.
“Jenna?”
Wow, that voice. It sneaked beneath her skin and stroked between her legs. It held an accent she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She wanted to tell him to just keep saying her name over and over again until she figured it out. Or came just from the sound of it stroking against her skin.
“Yes?”
Andy wished like hell that she was using that word in response to him asking if she wanted to go to his cabin where he would kiss her entire body before settling between her legs and licking her to orgasm.
Right now, he felt every one of her fingers through the thin cotton of his t-shirt, felt those fingers clench into his muscles and watched her gaze drop to stare at her hands.
She blinked then swallowed then bit her bottom lip.
With them standing this close, their size difference hit him. She was at least a foot and a half shorter and the top of her head didn’t reach his chin.
He was used to being taller than everyone else. Even in his family, he had at least an inch on everyone.
When he went out, he’d gotten used to the wide ey
es and the whispers behind his back. To the pointing.
Yeah, he was a freak of nature. He’d accepted it long ago, embraced it even. Had fun with it.
He’d met women over the years who’d looked at him as if he were an all-you-can-eat buffet and they’d been living on lettuce leaves and water for years. Usually they looked like that was all they’d been eating. Tall, skinny. No tits, no ass.
Not a Victoria’s Secret model among them. Usually, they thought he was some basketball player they’d never heard of.
And mostly, he let them think that because otherwise they’d want to know what he did for a living and telling them the truth was out of the question.
Besides, if he told them he was a CPA or some other boring office drone, invariably they’d lose interest. He had a funky sense of humor that not every woman got and the ones who did… Well, those were the smart ones. The ones who wanted to know what exactly he did for a living. What job allowed him to fly around the world seemingly on a whim? Why did he have blond hair when biology would dictate he should have dark?
And why the hell did he have such an obsession for all things odd?
He couldn’t tell them the truth. Those smart women would think he was lying and blow him off and the other ones, the not so smart ones… Well, he didn’t really want anything to do with them anyway.
Jenna…
The way she looked at him right now… He wanted her to continue to look at him like that. For as long as possible. Hopefully at least until he’d gotten her into bed and showed her just how good a freak could be between the sheets.
Eventually, he’d say something idiotic because, yeah, he was mostly a geek. On top of being a seven-foot Yeti.
But for now, he wanted her to continue to look at him just like this.
After a few more seconds, Jenna drew in a deep breath then slowly withdrew her hands. He fought against the urge to grab her and put them back on his body, preferably lower. And under his clothing.
But he figured he should get to know her better first, possibly even before he tried to get into her pants.
“So,” he said, happy his voice hadn’t cracked like a teenager’s, “how about that drink?”
Her hands dropped to her sides and she tilted her head back, as if he’d startled her. She blinked up at him, her head tilting to the side and her eyes staring so deeply into his, he felt his body straining toward her even as he tried to rein himself in.
Don’t do it, you idiot. Don’t lean down and kiss her. Don’t scare her away.
Finally, she nodded. “Oh, yeah. Sure. Just…um, let me…”
She turned and went behind the bar, bending over to open the fridge.
Damn, he really liked her ass in those jeans.
While she couldn’t see him, he reached down to adjust his erection, currently trying to bust through his zipper, before she could come back up and catch him.
“Do you want a beer? Or wine? Or there’s soda.”
“I’ll take a root beer. Matt makes his own. An old Amish recipe he picked up years ago. There should be a few brown, unlabeled bottles in there somewhere.”
A half second later, Jenna said, “Aha,” and straightened with two brown bottles in her hand and a smile on her lips.
This woman definitely needed to end up in his bed.
He followed her to the overstuffed couch on the other side of the room, where there were more shadows than light. He saw her glance at the table lamp then look away without turning it on.
He hoped that meant she wanted to sit in the dark with him. And all that implied.
Not that she didn’t want to be able to see his face.
Damn, man. When did you become such a girl?
Ignoring the inner dialogue that bounced back and forth between, You’re an idiot and, Damn, what if she doesn’t really like me?, he took the bottle she held out to him and popped the top. Then he handed that one back to her and opened the other.
His mother would be proud. He wasn’t a complete beast. At least, not all the time.
“So what are you doing here, Jenna?”
Her gaze dropped for a second before she smiled up at him. “Oh, just a weekend away. My brother thought I could use a vacation, so he booked me the room. I’ve never been to this part of the state and I’ve lived in Pennsylvania my whole life. This area is beautiful.”
Now why did he get the feeling she wasn’t telling him the entire truth? “Yep, the view’s definitely gorgeous.”
She blushed and dropped his gaze at his obvious flirting. Sue him. It was second nature and it was totally true. He could sit here all night and stare at her.
“Where are you from, Andy?”
“The accent gave me away, huh?”
Her gaze had strayed to his lips as he spoke and he had to restrain the urge to bend down and kiss her.
Not yet, idiot. You’ll scare her away.
“It’s really beautiful but I have no idea what it is.” She blinked and her gaze shot to his. As if she hadn’t been staring at all. “Where are you from originally?”
“Nepal. But we only lived there for a few years when I was a child. Then my family moved around Europe for a few more years.” Spreading the legend with them. Good times. “We have relations in the states and I ended up here for high school and college.”
Her gaze flew to his hair but he didn’t see outright skepticism in her eyes. “Do you get home much?”
“Not as much as I’d like.” And he realized that was true. “I miss the mountains. And the snow. But there’s also the forests and the temples. It’s a different way of life. My parents moved back years ago and I visit when I can.”
“Have you climbed Mt. Everest?”
“Yeah, I have.” In a way she could never imagine. “So you grew up in Pennsylvania.”
Her lips twisted in a rueful smile and her gaze dropped to her root beer for a few seconds. “Yep. Never traveled farther than New York and Florida, though I have been to Las Vegas.”
And there was that intriguing blush again.
“Vacation?”
She paused. “Convention.”
His lips curved. He knew the reason for that blush. “The Star Trek convention.”
Her chin kicked up and she looked him straight in the eyes, as if daring him to make fun of her. “Best week of my life. I met William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy.”
He settled back into the couch with a full-blown smile. “I met them and Patrick Stewart and Marina Sirtis. Always had a thing for Deanna Troi. And Nana Visitor. I think it was the ridges.”
Her expression was a revelation. She looked at him as if he’d told her she could wear a red shirt and get a walk-on role in the next film.
God bless J.J. Abrams for ensuring there would be a next film.
Then she started to babble.
About how she’d been a fan since she was eight. How her cousin, a proto-geek who’d been building computers before most people had known they existed outside of top-secret government facilities, had introduced her to the classic series on VHS tapes that he stored in space bags so they weren’t overexposed.
How her parents had spent nearly a thousand dollars to buy her the entire series of classic, Next Gen and DS9 when they first came out on disc because she’d wanted them more than she’d wanted a car.
How she’d chosen her senior prom dress because it’d reminded her of one of the dresses in the Mudd’s Women episode. How she’d loved that they’d finally gotten a female captain in Janeway and how disappointed she’d been when the show had been canceled.
He lost track of the conversation a few times because the sound of her voice mesmerized him.
Good thing he knew his Trek, because he was able to weave in and out of the conversation without losing points for not listening. And he was listening.
Really, he was.
Okay, mainly he was watching her mouth. How she’d pause for a few seconds after every couple of sentences, waiting for him to respond, which he would. And then s
he’d smile when he said the right things, and keep talking.
Which really wasn’t a problem except he really wanted to kiss her.
So he was ready the next time. Watching for the pause, he was moving as soon as she started to draw in that breath.
He bent his head and stole a kiss.
Although, he didn’t think it was stealing if she didn’t seem to mind him taking it.
She didn’t freeze, didn’t pull away. Her lips remained soft and pliant under his but she didn’t return the kiss and he pulled back before he scared her.
As he put more distance between them, he held his breath, watching as her eyes slowly opened and stared up into his.
She looked shocked.
Shit. That wasn’t what he’d—
Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her lips crushed against his.
She kissed him, hard. Her mouth moved against his with an enthusiasm that made him groan and pull her forward.
Her breasts pressed against his chest as he lifted her closer, her legs spreading so her knees settled on either side of his hips. With their height difference, she still had to tilt her head back to keep their lips locked.
His hands molded to her back as her mouth ravaged his. And damn, the woman could kiss. Her lips were warm and mobile and soft against his. He’d never been kissed so well that he was content in the moment to let their lips mingle and mesh.
Usually, he wanted to move on to the getting naked and getting laid portion of the evening’s festivities. Followed by the inevitable sorry, gotta go, call ya later part.
He had the feeling he wasn’t going to want to say sorry, gotta go all that soon to this woman.
Drawing in a breath, he let the sweet scent of vanilla from her hair and the peach from her skin sink into his lungs. He swore he could taste those flavors on her lips and wanted to feast on her as if she were dessert.
Then she opened her mouth and let her tongue stroke across his lips.
And he swore he saw rainbows flash behind his eyelids.
His groan echoed through the room, probably loudly enough to wake the rest of the guests, though he wasn’t sure anyone else had returned from the Mystyk yet.
The Bigger They Are… (Lovers on the Fringe, Book Two) Page 3