That probably explained why he’d looked at B.J. with the banana this morning and had such X-rated thoughts. As if B.J. would ever in her life go down on a guy. When she’d acted like she didn’t know what he was talking about, he’d believed her.
He knew she wasn’t a virgin, though. At least he assumed that when she’d been attending all those concerts in Phoenix with Jeff Cheney, something had been going on postconcert in the hotel.
But with B.J. it was probably missionary position all the way.
Funny that in all these years he’d never noticed what a cute butt she had, though. As she’d walked away from him, he hadn’t been able to take his attention off of her behind. Those faded back pockets shifted in a real sweet rhythm when she walked, and the back seam of her jeans was pretty damn snug against her crotch. She had a nice package there.
She probably didn’t realize how sexy her butt was in those tight jeans. B.J. didn’t think in those terms. For the first time he wondered how a nice girl like B.J. would react to someone who had the skill to break through that reserve of hers and tap into her more primitive instincts. Jeff Cheney wouldn’t have had the combination. Jonas would bet his last dollar on that.
Then he felt guilty for even having such thoughts about a girl who was like a sister to him. All this business with Sarah had him going crazy. Next he’d imagine himself lusting after their middle-aged housekeeper, Lupita. He was a sorry case, all right. B.J. would laugh her head off if she knew what he’d been thinking. She’d call him a sex maniac. Today he probably was.
At any rate, he’d run Imelda around enough, considering how the day was heating up. He gave her the carrots in his pocket, stroked her all over so she’d get used to the feel of his hands, then scratched behind her ears as he took off her bridle and turned her loose in the corral.
When he carried the tack into the barn, he was met with the sight of B.J. folded over the fender of the tractor, her butt pointed in his direction. Damn, but her fanny was inviting today. His hands tingled with the urge to cup those round cheeks and give them a friendly squeeze. She would have a heart attack if he did, though.
As he approached, he could hear her swearing. She was also breathing hard while she wrestled with whatever was wrong with the tractor’s innards. Once again, his preoccupation with sex got the best of him and he imagined B.J. breathing like that in the midst of a wild bout of lovemaking. She sounded a lot like Sarah, come to think of it. That wasn’t surprising. Heavy breathing was heavy breathing, after all.
But this was a woman fixing a tractor, not one approaching orgasm. He needed to get his mind back on track. “Need some help?” he asked.
She lifted her head quickly and cracked it on the tractor’s raised hood. “Damn it!”
“I’m sorry.” He looped the long-lines and bridle over a nearby hook and started toward her. He knew what a bump on the back of the head felt like. His head was still sore from whacking it on the roof of the cave yesterday. “Here, let me rub it to keep it from swelling.”
“That’s okay. I’ve got it.” She scrambled off the milking stool she’d been standing on and lifted a hand to the back of her head.
“Wait, you’ll get grease in your hair.”
She lowered her hand. “It doesn’t really hurt, anyway.”
“Still, let me rub it.” He cupped the back of her head and stroked gently with his fingers. “There?”
“Yeah.”
Her hair was silky against his massaging fingers. Sarah’s hair felt like this, but it was chocolate-brown, she’d said. B.J.’s hair reminded him of sunshine. This morning it was curling in little wisps around her face and even her braid didn’t look very solid, as if she’d fixed it in a hurry. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her hair down. Ten years, at least.
She had a smudge of grease on her cheek and he had to stop himself from rubbing it off with his thumb. Or maybe he liked her better with the grease. Typical B.J.—freckles sprinkled over the bridge of her nose, her eyes fringed with pale, thick lashes, her mouth naturally pink, and engine grease on her cheek.
She looked up at him warily. “I thought you were outside.”
“I finished. But I’m sorry I didn’t sing out when I came in the barn.” He’d been too preoccupied by her backside to remember to do that.
“I’ll live.”
He grinned at her as he continued to massage her head. “I sure hope so. Otherwise I’ll have to fix that tractor.” Something seemed different about B.J. today, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He’d looked into those blue eyes at least a million times over the years, but he didn’t remember ever truly looking into them. This morning he was surprised to be doing that. And enjoying it.
At the very moment he admitted to himself there was something going on between them that never had before, she broke the connection and stepped away. “I’m fine. Thanks.” She climbed back on her stool. “Guess I’d better finish up. The day’s not getting any younger.”
What was that he’d seen in her eyes? It was almost as if she…no, that was ridiculous. B.J. wouldn’t think such thoughts about him, any more than he should be thinking that way about her. They’d grown up together, for crying out loud.
He ought to leave her alone and start fixing the fence. “What’s wrong with the tractor?”
“Busted thermostat.” She leaned over the fender again and reached down into the guts of the tractor.
Jonas had never been big on engine repair. He could do it if necessary, but he’d rather fiddle with things that had a pulse. Still, watching B.J. positioned like that was very intriguing. He’d never leaned a woman facedown over the fender of a car, but B.J. was giving him ideas. She’d probably never done it doggy style, either. She had the perfect buns for it, not too skinny and not too plump.
“If you’re gonna stand there, you can hand me the wrench.”
He picked up the wrench from where she’d laid it on the far end of the fender, took hold of her outstretched hand and put the wrench into it. The minute he touched her hand he felt a jolt of recognition. God, he was losing it if the warmth and texture of B.J.’s skin reminded him of Sarah. The two women couldn’t be any more different.
“Thanks,” B.J. muttered. “Listen, you don’t have to baby-sit me. I can do this.”
Well, maybe they were alike in one way, he thought with a wry smile. They both liked to be in charge. With B.J., though, he felt irritated that she stubbornly wouldn’t accept his help repairing the tractor. He could be of some use. Leaning over this fender with her and wrestling with the greasy engine had a certain amount of appeal this morning, strange as it might seem. But she wasn’t having any of that.
On the other hand, he would be more than happy to let Sarah take charge of their lovemaking tonight. That promised to be one of the most thrilling experiences of his life. Only eleven and a half hours to go.
CHAPTER FOUR
BY THE TIME B.J. OPENED the door of Sarah’s rented cottage at seven that night, she felt like a secret agent. If she could really pull off this caper, she might want to consider a career in undercover work. She hadn’t had this much fun in years, although keeping Jonas literally in the dark was turning out to be quite a challenge.
Secrecy was especially difficult in her case, because until now, her life had been an open book. In a way, though, that played to her advantage. She’d be the last person in the world anyone would expect to set up a mysterious sexual rendezvous under an assumed name. That was more like Keely’s style.
Although, if Keely were here, she might not be so surprised at her little sister’s antics. The two of them had relished hiding in that cave to plot and scheme when they were kids. Then again, Keely might have been impressed with B.J.’s inventiveness. As the big sister, Keely has been so quick to come up with ideas that B.J. had always let her lead.
She’d always let everybody lead, she thought, closing the door and setting down her bag full of props. But not tonight. Tonight she was running the show, and
what a show it would be.
Her pickup truck was hidden behind the renovated garage that Sarah used for a studio. Sarah liked having a separate building to work in, which was why this place had appealed to her. That and the relative isolation. The house sat on twenty acres of unimproved, cactus and sagebrush-studded land that might become a housing development someday, but served as a perfect artist’s retreat until then. One side of the property bordered Twin Boulders land, which made Sarah and B.J. neighbors.
They’d met in the hardware store at the beginning of the summer when they’d both gone shopping for welding equipment. B.J. had been fascinated to discover that Sarah used a welder for creating sculptures instead of mending broken machinery, and she’d asked to see Sarah’s work. After her first visit, she’d dropped by for coffee a few times, but they’d both been too busy to spend much time with each other.
B.J. had never mentioned Sarah to Jonas, which was turning out to be a good thing. This charade could be her one and only chance to make love to Jonas without risking her heart or her pride. She intended to make the most of it.
Thunder rolled overhead as she turned on the air conditioning. Luckily the house was small and would cool off quickly. It hadn’t rained all day, although dark clouds had threatened a storm most of the afternoon. She’d hoped it would hold off until after Jonas arrived. The little house had a tin roof. Rain on that roof would add to the sensual atmosphere she was going for.
Sarah had rented the cottage completely furnished, which made B.J. feel a little more comfortable about this escapade. At least she wasn’t making free with Sarah’s stuff. Besides, the only thing she intended to use was the sturdy four-poster in the bedroom, and she’d brought all her own linens.
A quick glance at her watch told her that she had less than an hour before dark, and she had no doubt Jonas would be right on time. Reaching into her bag she pulled out a silk scarf, opened the front door and tied the scarf loosely around the brass knob. A rush of adrenaline left her shaky. This would be so scary. And so incredibly cool.
IT HAD BEEN THE LONGEST DAY of Jonas’s life. Several times he could have sworn that the sun had stopped moving entirely. Other times he shook his watch, certain that the battery had died. By six he’d showered and shaved and changed clothes three times. Then he discovered he couldn’t eat the perfectly good meal Lupita put in front of him and Noah.
“This must be a helluva date,” Noah commented as he forked up another mouthful of enchiladas. “I’ve never seen you go off your feed on account of a woman before.”
Jonas was so distracted, he hadn’t realized his lack of appetite might alert his brother. “Oh, we’ll probably grab a bite to eat, so I didn’t want to stuff myself before seeing her.”
“Gonna tell me who she is?”
“I don’t think she wants me to.”
Noah leveled a stern look at him. “You know I try not to butt in—”
“Oh, yeah, right.” Jonas grinned.
“I said I try. I don’t always succeed. And in this instance, I have one thing to say. If this woman is married—”
“Not married.” Jonas was hurt that Noah would even bring that into the conversation. “You ought to know me better than that.”
“You’re right.” Noah looked apologetic. “Sorry, bro. It’s just that you don’t usually keep me in the dark, especially when the lady in question is important enough to change clothes five times.”
“Three. And it was only on account of the weather. I couldn’t decide if it would rain or not.”
Noah eyed his brother over the rim of his coffee mug. “Can’t wear a blue shirt in the rain, that’s for sure.”
“Do you think the blue shirt looks better?” Jason glanced down at the black one he’d finally settled on. “I still have time to change back to the blue.”
Noah stared at him. “You’re kidding, right?”
Jonas met his brother’s gaze and warmth crept up from beneath his collar. He was behaving like an idiot. Tonight wasn’t such a big deal, especially for a guy as experienced as he was. “Of course I’m kidding.” He flashed Noah a confident smile. “Doesn’t matter what color it is. What matters is how easy the snaps work. Can’t have her ripping one of my best shirts.”
Noah chuckled and shook his head. “Well, I’m glad one of us is getting some action.”
“If you’d stop working so hard and take an evening or two off, I could fix you up with one of several very nice women.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” Noah sipped his coffee, his gaze amused. “I doubt I could live up to your reputation.”
“I’m serious, man. It’s not healthy for a guy to go without sex as long as you have.” Jonas pushed back his chair.
“How do you know how long it’s been? Are you keeping track?”
Jonas stood and picked up his plate to carry it to the kitchen. “Don’t have to, in a town this size. If you took up with somebody, it would get out sooner or later.”
“You might want to keep that in mind with your mystery lady. People will find out eventually. So why not tell me now?”
“Nobody will find out if tonight is all there is to it.” Jonas didn’t like to think about that, but he had to admit the possibility that he was about to become a one-night stand.
“Oh, sure. You can’t tell me that you fussed with your wardrobe for an hour for a woman you’re gonna see once. You want this one bad, bro. You’re not gonna be satisfied with one night of fun and games, and you know it.”
Jonas did know it. He thought about that steamy episode in the cave and the blindfolded experience ahead of him. He would want a rematch, all right, but would she? For the first time in his life, he felt out of his depth with a woman.
“Then again, maybe you won’t want to see her again,” Noah said quietly. “I need to mind my own business.”
Jonas blinked. He couldn’t remember the last time Noah had eased up on him like that. His eager nervousness must be written all over his face. Damn. Any more of this and his rep as a cool guy would be shot.
He shrugged. “Easy come, easy go.”
Noah rose and clapped him on the shoulder. “Right. But good luck tonight, anyway. I have a feeling this one’s special.”
Jonas started to argue and knew it was hopeless. After all, Sarah was special. He couldn’t remember when a woman had excited him so much.
Once he left the dinner table, he had nothing more to occupy his time so he decided to drive around until it was dark enough to use his headlights. Usually driving his truck with the radio tuned to a country station calmed him down, but not this evening. He hadn’t felt this vulnerable since his first junior high dance. No, check that. The junior high dance had been a cakewalk compared to what he was feeling now.
At last he switched on his headlights and started toward the Hawthorne place. In order to get there, he had to drive down a dirt road. Luckily the road had good drainage and had dried completely from yesterday’s rain. He drove it slowly, partly because he wasn’t sure it was dark enough yet, and partly because he’d washed his truck today and didn’t want to get dust on it. Maybe he wouldn’t be allowed to see Sarah, but he figured she’d be watching for him.
Even if his heart was beating as fast as a rabbit’s, he didn’t want her to see him sweat. He wanted to make an entrance, his black truck gleaming, the engine purring the way only a V-8 could, and his sound system delivering the sweet vocalizations of Faith Hill. He wanted Sarah to know she was dealing with a class act.
A powdery film of dust settled over the truck, because it was impossible to drive on a dry dirt road and not have that happen. Oh well. His custom paint job would show through a light layer of dust so long as nobody wrote their name in it. He’d still drive up lookin’ good. Not much farther now.
He spied the house up ahead. A porch lamp cast a circle of light, but otherwise the house seemed completely dark. His stomach pitched as he realized she might have changed her mind. Instead of standing by a window waiting for his truck t
o appear, she might not even be home.
Then a few drops of rain fell. Only a few, but enough to create a polka-dotted, blotchy effect in the layer of dust. As he parked in front of the little cottage, the porch light reflected off the grimy-looking surface of his truck’s hood.
At least his excellent sound system held up, the rich tones floating out the truck’s open windows. But before he could shut off the engine, the Faith Hill song gave way to a loud commercial concerning jock itch.
So much for his entrance. But his entrance wouldn’t matter if she wasn’t even home. Then the breeze picked up and something fluttered at the doorknob. He looked closer. A red scarf was tied loosely around it.
His blindfold.
He grew light-headed and dry-mouthed with excitement. Oh God. This was really going to happen. His movements were jerky as he shut off the truck’s engine and rolled up the windows. It was a wonder he even remembered to do that.
He started to get out when a gust of wind lifted the brim of his hat. Taking it off, he laid it on the seat before climbing out of the truck. If there was one thing he wouldn’t need tonight, it was a hat. This was the wildest thing he’d ever done, and maybe he was crazy for agreeing to it, but he had to find out what awaited him on the other side of the door.
Mounting the steps to the small front porch, he glanced at the two cane-bottomed rockers and the mat in front of the door. It had Welcome carved into the short pile of the rug, and he’d seen several like it at the hardware store. Everything looked so ordinary, so like the front porches of other women he’d called on—everything except that red scarf tied around the doorknob.
Now he could see why no light showed from the house. The curtains in the living room were closed, and he’d guess all the other windows were covered, too. She’d turned the house into a cave.
With trembling hands, he untied the scarf from the doorknob and discovered his blindfold was made of silk. As he put it over his eyes, he imagined he could already feel her soft hands on him, her full lips, her tongue…By the time the blindfold was secure, he had a raging erection.
Midnight Fantasies Page 4