Tempting the One (Meadowview Heat 4; The Meadowview 4)

by Rochelle French

  With a chuckle, Theo turned around and bent over the raised bowl that served as a sink. It took her two passes with the shampoo, but finally his hair squeaked clean through her fingers. She motioned for him to stand up and handed him a comb.

  “Not sure I can do this,” he muttered.

  “Comb your hair? Why not? The tips of your fingers work. You can brush your teeth.”

  But after a couple of inefficient and awkward attempts, she had to admit he couldn’t even comb his own hair. Taking the comb in her hand, she stroked it through his hair, then noticed he wouldn’t meet her gaze. His jaw was clenched, and a muscle flickered down his neck.

  “Are you in pain?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Pain pills are working fine.”

  But his expression said otherwise.

  Huh. She set the comb down on the counter. That wasn’t pain on his face—that was frustration. Theo had probably never been so reliant on anyone before. He’d been spoiled by his family, sure, but had always stood on his own two feet. This dependency on her couldn’t be easy on him.

  Had to suck to be Theo Courant right about now.

  “About ready to have me draw you a bath? I think you can plop your hiney down in the bubbles and let your feet and arms hang over the sides.” Once she got him cleaned up and no longer smelling quite so ripe, she needed to get back to work. No more interruptions.

  “Um, Chessie?” Theo’s wide grin seemed false and misleading. His dimples stretched their length, and she swore he looked a bit like a wolf, baring all those teeth like that. She wasn’t sure she was going to like what she was about to hear.

  “Uh, Theo?” She mimicked him.

  “Could you shave me?” he asked.

  She pulled her eyebrows together in what she hoped was a fierce expression. “Shave yourself.”

  “I can’t. I don’t have a sturdy enough grip to handle the razor. I’m barely able to brush my teeth. You saw me with the comb. Please shave me.”

  “Seriously?” she asked. “Why can’t you just grow a beard?”

  Theo slid his hips a few inches toward her, bringing his face inches from hers. “I’m a hell of a lot more sexy clean-shaven.”

  “You are a totally self-absorbed, demanding pill, you know. I have hours upon hours of work to do today, and you want me to be your barber.”

  Theo grinned at her. “Pretty please?” Oddly, though, there was a sign of strain in the smile he gave her. A few extra lines around his eyes, which didn’t have the same spark and snap they usually did.

  “Not having control over your life getting to you?” she asked, softening.

  The strain faded away, and he nodded. “I guess so. I hate asking for anything, but…” He raised both casted wrists upward.

  She caved. “Fine. I’ll do it. I think I have an extra razor and a pot of shaving cream around here somewhere.” She dropped down to rummage in the cabinet underneath the sink. Still bent at the knees, she pivoted to raise herself upward, only to come face-to-face with Theo’s crotch.

  His growing crotch.

  Saliva formed in her mouth and she swallowed hard. “Um, are you sure you don’t want breakfast first?” she asked, wondering if being that close to Theo’s face would be the best idea right now.

  “Not hungry.”

  She tipped her face up to stare at his, only to see his eyes boring holes into hers. Such blue eyes, she thought. Blue, with a hint of green. Like the Aegean Sea. And just as beautiful, just as compelling. She wanted to dive straight into those eyes and swim naked—

  She caught herself before she began drooling, and stood, then hopped up onto the countertop. Theo immediately wedged his way between her thighs, the heat of his hips against her, igniting a flame.

  In hindsight, perhaps she’d been a little hasty in agreeing to Sadie’s request. She’d agreed to spending six weeks with Theo, knowing she didn’t much like him.

  What she hadn’t figured was that she’d be spending six weeks with a man her body seemed to like very much. And whose body seemed to like hers.

  Damn the irony.

  Theo couldn’t believe it, but Chessie’s outfit was a total turn-on. With her hair pulled back into a ponytail, she looked like a character straight out of a 1950s musical.

  And man, did Chessie smell good, he realized as she came closer to him, a frothy brush of shaving cream in one hand and the tip of her tongue bit between her teeth. Maybe she smelled a bit too good, he figured, as his Johnson started to rise to the occasion. But neither of them needed a protrusion getting in the way as she shaved him. Time to piss her off a little to cause some distance between them, Theo figured.

  “God, baby, that feels so gooooood…” he deliberately teased.

  Chessie pulled her torso back from him, banging the back of her head against the mirror behind her. “Stop that. I don’t want to cut you.”

  True, the woman did have a razor in her hand. Better to cut out the jokes than get accidentally cut. And his nether region seemed to be settling down. “Fine, I’ll behave.” When she rasped the blade down his jaw, a strange chill shot through him. “But it does feel good, oddly enough.”

  “Oddly enough?” she retorted, her hand frozen in mid-stroke. “You find my touch odd?”

  Dang, that wasn’t the way he wanted her to take his comment. “No, not weird odd. Just odd odd. I’ve never had anyone shave me before.”

  “Really? Thought rich guys like you get professional shaves all time.”

  “And manicures and massages and chest waxing?”

  She shrugged.

  “Not all rich people live that way, Chessie. Stop making assumptions. And I don’t wax my chest, I kinda don’t have a whole hell of a lot of chest hair.” He briefly considered sharing that he shaved his balls, but thought better of the idea and wisely kept his mouth shut.

  Instead of replying, she ran the blade down the other side of his jaw, her tongue lightly held between her white teeth. She brought her face in close to his, a study in concentration. Her breath held a mixture of coffee and mint. In the mirror behind her, the soft sway of her ponytail captured his gaze. Almost mesmerized, he leaned in to her as she repeatedly stroked the razor against his several-day stubble.

  Entranced with her movements and the way she kept biting the tip of her tongue, he watched as she concentrated on each and every stroke. Nice. Very nice.

  “I’m close to done,” she finally said. Her voice, soft, pulled him back.

  He didn’t want her to be done. He wanted her face next to his, the warmth of her breath wafting across his skin. He wanted her natural, earthy scent, like a spring rain in a meadow of wildflowers, penetrating his nostrils. He wanted to lick her neck to see if her skin tasted as sweet as her scent hinted.

  Ah, hell, might as well face the truth.

  He wanted Chessie Gibson.

  * * *

  Eight hours later, Theo groaned from his plank position on Chessie’s leather couch. He’d been stuck there ever since the morning. After Chessie had helped him shampoo his hair, she’d drawn him a bath and awkwardly helped him into a tub she’d filled with bubbles. He’d hung his legs and arms over the sides as she’d suggested, letting the bubbles do their work, and she’d returned to help him out and towel him off. He’d wisely kept any sexual innuendoes to himself, noting the grim line of her mouth and the little frowny way her brow was wrinkled.

  Best not to joke around with the woman toweling off his ’nads, he figured. Lucky for both of them, Mr. Frisky had remained in a dormant state.

  She’d then fed him breakfast, all before disappearing into her kitchen to work. She’d offered to set him up with his laptop and even had already keyed in the wireless access, but seemed to have forgotten he couldn’t type well at all. Could barely text. And his cell phone’ voice activation software made so many mistakes it wasn’t clear he was speaking English.

  He’d called his headquarters in San Francisco and had his assistant arrange to overnight him a new cell phone and v
oice activation software for his computer. Told her to swing by his place and grab a few shorts and shirts to throw in the package. For now, he was wearing Jack’s clothes, thanks to Chessie, although because of the major cast on his leg, he wore board shorts along with the green and blue plaid flannel shirt. He’d have to talk to Jack about his wardrobe. The man could use a silk smoking jacket, or at the very least, Egyptian cotton button-downs. And shorts with a hint of style. Not this shit they’d worn skateboarding as teenagers.

  At least there had been nothing pressing for him to do at work today. He’d managed to return a few outstanding phone calls, but now the few work-related tasks he could do were over and boredom had set in.

  Major boredom.

  “Chessie!”

  From the kitchen came the sound of crashing and banging and then a low, “Damn!”

  Uh oh. Maybe he should have relieved his own boredom. “Never mind,” he called out. Silence followed. He could imagine Chessie scowling as she picked up whatever it was she’d dropped when he called her name. A heady scent escaped the kitchen, tickling his nose and almost making him sneeze. She’d obviously been working on some scented bath product. Bubble bath, maybe?

  An image of a very naked Chessie submerged under bubbles in the huge bathtub in the master suite filled his mind. He shook his head to clear the thoughts away, but no use. His body responded in a way appropriate for a male human. No… Not another boner, please. That was the last thing he needed.

  But the damned thing stayed. And stayed. He practiced the Pythagorean Theorem in his mind, recited the capitals of all states—and Puerto Rico—and named all the conifers in the California foothills, yet it wouldn’t go away.

  And ten minutes later, when Chessie stormed into the living room, it still hadn’t gone down.

  “What the hell?” Chessie stopped dead in her tracks and stared at Theo’s crotch.

  “It’s an erection. I know you’ve seen one before.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Were you watching porn on the internet? Not judging, just don’t want you to use my bandwidth in order to stare at women’s breasts.”

  “That’s not it.” The imagined image of Chessie in a bubble bath had been all it took to get him in this state. And with her puttering about in her kitchen, the sounds were a constant reminder.

  She turned her back on him. “Look. I’m almost done with work. I’ll give you some time alone so you can make it go away.”

  He groaned. “Don’t you think I’ve tried?”

  “Obviously not hard enough.” She paused, then looked over her shoulder and gave him a rueful grin. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make a sexual innuendo.”

  Oh, for chrissake.

  “Stop thinking about sex,” Chessie said helpfully.

  “Right. Like that’s even possible.”

  “Can’t you…you know…” She shrugged.

  He held up both hands, each fully ensconced in plaster.

  “Oh…wow. And you have to wear the casts for six weeks?”

  “So not helping, Chessie,” he said, then groaned again. “You know, a hard-on is a great thing when you can do something about it, but it’s torture when all you can do is stare at it and wish it would go away.”

  “Don’t think I’d wish that on my worst enemy.”

  Wait. He shot her a glance. She’d shifted and now was standing fully facing him, nibbling on her lip as she looked at his gigantic problem. He and Chessie had never been best friends. At best, they were—as she put it—frenemies. She’d put up with him over the years because he was her brother’s best friend. Because she was herself best friends with his little sister, she’d been at his house often during their childhood, and during her teen years. And Chessie and his sister had visited him a few times in college. One time in particular stood out. And memories of that visit were what had him thinking.

  He knew Chessie’s secret. And he knew how to solve his ever-growing problem.

  “I have a suggestion,” he said.

  When she ignored him, he spoke again. “Look at me, Chessie.”

  “Huh?”

  “Look me in the eyes—not at my crotch.”

  Red flushed over her cheeks, but she drew her eyes to connect with his. The rich and multi-hued green of her eyes reminded him of a forest, or a meadow at dusk. Gorgeous. She stared at him, unmoving.

  He motioned her closer, and when she came to the edge of the sofa, placed his cast-encased wrists on either side of her hips and pulled her forward—so close he could almost touch her lips with his. Her eyebrows shot up and her mouth opened. He could hear the pace of her breath increase.

  He’d caught her attention, all right. Now, if she’d only agree to his suggestion.

  “Sex,” he said baldly.

  “Sex?”

  “Yep, sex. You and me.”

  When Chessie gaped at him, he continued on in a rush. “I’m not asking for a relationship. What I’m suggesting is we have a six-week Friends With Benefits situation. We get it on, satisfy each other’s cravings, and when I get my casts off and head back to San Francisco, we consider it over and done. No one needs to know. Unless you want to tell everyone how amazing I am in bed.”

  When Chessie sputtered, he added, “Or not. It can be our secret, if you’d rather. But think about it, Chessie, six straight weeks of sex, no complications, no strings. How could you say no?”

  * * *

  Chessie’s breathing went a little shallow. A six-week Friends With Benefits situation? With Theo Courant? Did the man not fully comprehend what he’d just proposed?

  “You want us to have sex,” she stated baldly, pulling out of Theo’s grip. “Together. For the next six weeks.”

  Theo grinned. “Cool idea, right?”

  Lame idea. Bad idea. Terrible, no good, ridiculous and asinine idea.

  “Why me? There’s no way I’m your type.” She knew his type: rich bimbos with toothpick appendages and fake boobs and trust funds up the ying-yang. The kind of woman her former boyfriend, Arthur, had ended up marrying. The kind of woman her great-grandmother Louisa’s husband had left her for. The kind of woman she’d never be. Louisa had warned her from getting too close to men like Theo. Like Arthur. And had she listened? Nooooo. She’d thought she knew love when she saw it and had walked straight into Hell when she’d fallen in love with Arthur.

  “You have all the right equipment,” he said, then added, “and you’re sexy as hell, and you’re here. What else would I need?”

  How odd. Theo thought she was sexy. Didn’t matter, though, he was still a pill.

  But oh, god, she sure as heck missed sex. She swallowed hard, and tried to remember the last time she’d slept with a guy. It couldn’t have been when she and that guitarist from a touring band hooked up a year ago, could it? That long ago?

  She searched her memory and came up with nothing since then. Yep, that had been the last time, after that concert.

  No wonder she’d been so edgy lately. Living in a small town offered few opportunities for sex, and for someone with a more than healthy sexual appetite like herself, that could be a pain. Occasionally, one of the substitute firemen her brother Jack worked with would help her scratch the itch, but lately there’d been a dearth of single firemen.

  For a short while she’d thought perhaps the new guy in town, Peter Leary, might ease her need, but he’d been into Lia for a while until Lia ended up with Jack. Like her, Peter hadn’t seemed to be the relationship type. And she’d once asked out the local sheriff, Remy Toussaint, but he’d very nicely turned her down, which had been fine with her, because god—Remy was as straight and narrow as they came and would probably want to get married and have babies and more babies and a pony. And that wouldn’t work for her. Not the pony part, but the marriage and babies part. Because in truth, she didn’t need a relationship: she needed a man. And what she needed the most was to never fall in love.

  Been there, done that, bought the headstone.

  For weeks after Arthur had dumped h
er, her heart ached. She’d spent hours face down on her bed, covering her pillow in tears, and an equal number of hours on the phone with Sadie and Lia as they ripped Arthur to shreds. Then one day, sick and tired of weeping, she got angry. Out of that anger came a firm resolve: avoid love.

  Avoid love, but not sex. No way, no how. Not with her sexual appetite. But sex with Theo? Really?

  “What makes you think I’d even want to have sex with you?” she asked, prevaricating. “Besides the fact that you think all women view you as a sex god, which I don’t.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Believe it or not, I’m actually not so shallow to think I’m god’s gift to women. But you’re attracted to me—at least, to my body. I saw you checking me out in the mirror.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him.

  Before she could tell him off, he spoke again. “Besides, I know your secret.”

  “What secret?” she challenged.

  Theo grinned at her, the dimples on each of his cheeks widening. “The fact that you love sex.”

  Her breath escaped. Oh yeah, that secret.

  The dirty little secret she’d shared one crazy night when she was in college. The secret she’d drunkenly spilled out in front of Theo and all his rich friends. The secret she’d gone on and on and on about, not bothering to hold back even the most minor of details.

  The secret that she was just as much a sex hound as Theo.

  She rolled her eyes. “I never should have played that game of Truth or Dare.”

  “It was so kind of you to join my sister when she came to visit me your…was that your senior year in college?”

  “You got us drunk. I never would have played the game had you not plied us with alcohol.”

  He shrugged. “You two were the ones who brought the tequila, salt, and lime. I just followed your lead. Shot for shot.”

  “I can’t believe I spilled so much information. How did that happen, anyway?”

  “You’d picked Dare earlier, and I made you give me your bra.” Theo smiled wolfishly at her. “Anyway, the next time you were up, you picked Truth. I simply asked you if you liked sex.”

  She dropped her chin to her chest. If she hadn’t been blushing before, she certainly was now. Because she hadn’t simply answered yes: she had described in great detail how much she loved sex, her favorite positions, and some of her fantasies.