by Lori Foster
Handing the cat another scrap of meat, Gavin considered his next step. Sara hadn’t as yet asked how his moving in had gone. She’d been much too busy settling Satan and enjoying being a pet owner to concern herself with anything as mundane as the new man in her life.
Pushing back from the table, Gavin left his seat and walked to where Sara stood rinsing dishes in the sink. “Are you sure you don’t want any help?”
“We had a deal, Gavin. You cooked, so I’ll clean.”
“I wouldn’t mind helping…”
“You’ve done enough today.” She turned, giving him a fat smile. “The meal was fabulous.”
Without giving himself a chance to think about it, he leaned down and skimmed her cheek with his mouth. She smelled so damn good, even after working in an animal shelter all day. He nuzzled her hair, her ear. The catch in her breath was audible, and he leaned closer, caging her between his body and the counter.
Water dripped down his neck when her wet hands settled in his hair, holding him still so she could kiss him. But he darted away. Seeing the disappointment in her eyes, he hid his smile, and his own frustration. But he’d just decided what to do next. “I think I’ll go take a shower, then, if you’re sure you don’t need any help.”
“Fine. Go.” She returned her hands to the sudsy water, her stiff back showing her disgruntlement.
With a hidden grin, Gavin turned, and nearly tripped over the cat. Satan seemed to want to stay right on his heels, no matter where he went or what he did. He said to the cat, “Sorry, no shower for you. Stay here and visit with your new master.”
The cat answered with a grouchy, rusty roar, but he did stay.
Whistling, Gavin went into the bathroom and stripped down. Even with the door closed, he could hear Sara banging the pots and pans around, venting her own frustration no doubt. But that was fine with him. He wanted her so frustrated she wouldn’t be able to resist him when he suggested making their relationship more permanent. He wanted her on the edge, willing to overlook her reservations on marriage in order to get her sexual needs fulfilled.
And to that end, he’d do what he had to do.
After quickly showering, he reached for a towel. Leaving the water running, he pulled the door open and yelled, “Hey, Sara?”
There was a moment of silence, then she stuck her head around the hall. She stared at him, her gaze dropping quickly from his face to his wet chest and then down his belly. She stared at the loosely draped towel wrapped low around his hips and mumbled a crackly, “Hmm?”
“I left my shampoo in a box by the front door.” His smile was innocence personified. “Would you bring it to me, please?”
He watched her swallow, then drag her eyes back to his face. “Shampoo?” she asked, as if in a fog.
“Yeah. I’ve got a preference for my own, if you don’t mind.”
“No. No, I don’t mind.”
As he watched her hurry away, the cat slipped through the door and wove itself around and between his ankles, leaving his damp legs with clinging yellow fur. Gavin pushed the door wider and tried to nudge the cat out. Satan refused to budge.
“Go on, scat.”
The cat hunched back, preparing to leap into Gavin’s arms again.
“No!” Gavin backed away, holding the towel with one hand and shooing the cat with the other. He took three steps into the hall, hoping Satan would follow.
“Here you go.”
The sound of Sara’s breathless voice brought him back around. She held out the bottle of shampoo while staring at his legs. Gavin deliberately widened his stance, letting the towel part just a bit, then saw her eyes flare.
He saluted her with the bottle. “I appreciate it, honey. Thanks.”
“Uh…you’re welcome.”
It was dirty pool to use her attraction for his body against her, but he would do it all the same. He started to stretch, raising one arm over his head and feeling much like a determined exhibitionist. He was just getting into the game, appreciating Sara’s attentiveness, when he felt Satan’s front paws land solidly against his backside, throwing him off balance. Gavin jerked forward, almost stumbling into Sara, then turned with a yelp when Satan began contracting his claws in his butt.
The problem, the way Gavin figured it, wasn’t that the cat had inadvertently scratched him. It was that as he’d turned, Satan hadn’t released his hold and as a result the cat’s claws were now snagged in the towel, leaving Gavin bare-assed, with only the top corner of the towel preserving his frontal modesty. What was that about best laid plans?
Sara was no help at all; she was too busy ogling.
Gavin thought about abandoning the towel in favor of maintaining his consequence. Being hunched over with your backside exposed while you fought with an alley cat over possession of a towel wasn’t a very dignified position, certainly not one to impress the woman of his choice.
A quick peek at Sara showed she wasn’t impressed so much as stunned. “Dammit, Sara, get the cat.”
She seemed to shake out of her speechless stupor, and then leaned against the wall, folding her arms over her breasts. “Why?”
“So I can get the towel.”
She waved a negligent hand, her gaze glued to his backside. “Just let him have it. That would be easier than untangling you both.”
Her words were careless, but when she glanced up, the look in her eyes was pure dare. Now that his options had been severely limited and his plans had gone awry, Gavin knew he had little to lose. Unfortunately he felt embarrassed, which was stupid considering he’d been blatantly flaunting himself anyway. Not that he’d planned to flaunt to the degree of total nudity, but it was too late now.
He couldn’t let her have the upper hand, not tonight. He needed to get things moving; the sooner the better. So he stiffened his resolve, gave her a narrow look to warn her of his intentions and released the towel.
To his relief, Sara gave up the game and fled. He’d barely straightened before she rounded the corner of the hall, her wild hair flying out behind her, her startled gasp still filling the air. He frowned down at the cat, who only blinked back. “Any more stunts like that and I’ll put the damn bow back on you myself.”
The cat quickly followed in Sara’s footsteps. Gavin shook his head. “Onward to Plan B. And let’s hope it’s just a little more successful.”
SARA MANAGED TO AVOID any prolonged time with Gavin for the rest of the evening. She took an extended walk with Satan, leading the cat off a thick leash. Then she took her own leisurely bath, soaking for a long time in the Jacuzzi tub until her toes were wrinkled and her muscles finally relaxed.
Still, her mind churned in chaos, playing the same scene over and over again. The picture of Gavin totally nude wasn’t something she would ever willingly erase from her mind. The memory of it was enough to send a warmth of anticipation swelling through her body. So it was her own reaction that had her taking long walks and hiding in her tub.
She had literally run! It wasn’t to be borne. What had overcome her, she didn’t know, but part of it had been self-preservation, she was certain. If she’d stayed, she wouldn’t have only looked. Oh, no. Even now, her fingers tingled with the need to touch. The man was too fine for words, too much temptation to resist. She probably would have attacked him. He’d been naked, so therefore unable to offer much defense.
She had no idea what he had hoped to accomplish with his striptease act, but she had no doubt it had been deliberate, though maybe not the part where he actually lost the towel. After all, there was no way he could have prompted Satan to interfere. But the man was up to something. The question was: What?
After she’d finished drying and brushing out her impossible hair, she put on the gown she’d bought herself last Christmas. It was pretty, definitely the prettiest gown she owned, but it wasn’t very comfortable. Not that comfort mattered right now. Pretty mattered; comfort ran an insignificant second.
She needed the fortitude of knowing she looked her best before she
faced Gavin again. They needed to talk, to clear the air, and she had no wish to wait until morning, giving herself the long night to fret over her cowardly race down the hall. And besides, he might want to kiss her again…or more. She voted for more, not that he’d asked her opinion.
She tried to gather her thoughts and organize them into some semblance of sanity, but they jumped here and there, filled with anticipation and hope and frustration. And as she entered her bedroom from the master bath, her hands busy smoothing the starched fabric of her gown, she stopped in midstride. The sight of Gavin’s large, masculine body sprawled across her bed in nothing more than leisure shorts with a magazine in his work-worn hands, swept her mind clean of even her insane notions.
He planned to sleep with her again?
She was at first shocked, then immeasurably optimistic. All day, even while picking out her pet, she had nurtured a small hope that Gavin would forget his reticence and let his basic instincts take over. She didn’t understand why he kept hesitating. They knew each other well enough, better than many married couples, she thought, considering how much they’d always talked, and six weeks had already passed since her breakup with Ted, assuring she wouldn’t react on the rebound, as he’d claimed.
Determined, she sidled toward the bed, waiting for him to acknowledge her presence. The epitome of nonchalance, he held one finger in the air to indicate he needed a moment more to finish the article he was reading.
Irritation was a nasty element to add to an already confused female brain.
“Excuse me.” When he looked up, one brow raised at her waspish tone, she added, “What are you doing?”
“Reading.”
He plainly thought she should have figured that one out on her own. Irritation turned to a tinge of anger. “Okay. Why are you reading in my bed?”
“Oh.” He set the magazine down and scooted higher against the headboard. “I wasn’t able to move my bed on my own—it’s a king-size, you know. All I got transferred today were my clothes and personal items. By the way, I took the closet in the guest room. And since your stuff is in this bathroom, I thought I’d use the one in the hall.”
“So…you’re sleeping here tonight?”
“Where else?” He crossed his arms and tilted his head, his dark eyes sincere. “Your sofa is much too small. And I’ll tell you, the thought of the floor isn’t the least bit appealing.”
“So why not just sleep in your own house tonight?”
“Because all my clothes and personal items are here. Remember?”
He sounded so reasonable. She wasn’t buying it for a minute. He was up to something. Only she didn’t know what it was he wanted to achieve, and this time she knew better than to try to outmaneuver him.
Then it hit her. The man was in her bed—exactly where she wanted him to be. She didn’t want to outmaneuver him.
Trying not to look as anxious as she felt, Sara pulled back the covers and slid into bed. She felt as stiff as the lace collar on her nightgown, and just as ridiculous. The touch of Gavin’s gaze was a tangible thing, and very unsettling.
Without looking, she knew he would be smiling. He would be amused by her nervousness, maybe even a little smug at the effect he had on her. She didn’t want to add to his confidence, but she didn’t know what to do or how to act. Having anyone close, especially a man, wasn’t a feeling she’d experienced much in her lifetime. And this man seemed to genuinely care for her to some degree. The feelings he evoked, those of lust and a craving for tenderness, would be visible in her eyes. She kept her gaze on the sheets, not wanting him to see just how confused she really felt. Then she couldn’t help herself and looked at him anyway.
He wasn’t smiling; there was nothing of a humorous nature in the way he watched her. Sara started to turn away again, but he captured her chin on the edge of his hand. “You’re beautiful.”
Staring, her chest tight with emotion, Sara bit her bottom lip. His eyes flickered, then narrowed on her mouth. With a harsh groan he turned away. “Lord, Sara, you make it so damn hard.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth opened.
“Not…” He shook his head, laughing a little, groaning again. His eyes met hers, chagrined and filled with the tenderness she craved. “This is damn difficult. You’re making me crazy.”
“Gavin…”
“No. Don’t you dare say it.”
“Say what?”
“I don’t know. But it’s for certain whatever it is will push me right over the edge. Now give me a kiss good-night and let’s get some sleep.”
Only her eyes moved, searching his expression, hoping to see some sign that he was jesting. “Just like that? Go to sleep?”
Gavin reached past her to turn off the bedside lamp, then settled his upper body over her, his large hands holding her face. “No,” he whispered, his mouth feathering her lips, his breath warm and soft. “The kiss first, then we sleep.”
And what a kiss it was. Sara clung to him, feeling the wet touch of his tongue, the rough caress of his fingertips as he tunneled his hands into her hair. It was a kiss meant to prepare her, but not for sleep.
When it ended, she wanted to wail in frustration. But then Gavin pulled her against his side, settling her close and covering them both. His hand smoothed over her arm, and her cheek rested on his chest, the uneven tempo of his heart sounding in her ear.
She hadn’t gotten the lust she wanted, but the tenderness was there, enough to wallow in, and for the time being, she decided it was more than enough.
6
WAKING WITH A WARM, SOFT body curled close had its advantages. And its disadvantages.
Gavin peered down at Sara’s face and felt every masculine instinct he possessed surge to the surface. He wanted her, and his body reacted, painfully so. It was a wonder the sexual pulsing in his lower body didn’t rock the entire damn bed. If Sara awoke, there would be no way for him to hide his desire.
But it also felt remarkably right to have her here with him, to breathe her unique scent first thing in the morning, to feel the comfort of her nearness. She slept like the dead. He had hardly slept at all.
The radio alarm buzzed, then loud music kicked on. Turning his head to see the clock, Gavin realized it was almost ten. He needed to rise, to begin a new day of plans. This morning, he intended to overwhelm Sara with his culinary expertise.
A wise person somewhere once claimed the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. Couldn’t the same apply to a woman? He would prove to Sara how indispensable he could be, and when she softened toward him, and the attitude of marriage, he’d be ready.
The music hadn’t disturbed Sara’s sleep. Gavin turned to look at her again, feeling overwhelmed with compassion at her obvious exhaustion. Her cheeks were flushed with the warmth of sleep and there was a darkness around her eyes that showed the level of her fatigue.
She’d been trying so hard to keep it all together, the house, the job, the humiliation from the incident. He wished now he hadn’t waited so long to approach her. All he’d done was give her time to chastise herself and build up her defenses. When he thought of her past, he knew she would have a difficult time taking another chance on love.
His thoughts were interrupted by a loud, rasping roar. Gavin looked down at the floor and saw Satan. The cat gave him a blank-eyed stare, then prepared to heave his heavily muscled body into the bed. Since Gavin didn’t want Sara awakened yet, he forestalled the cat with a hand and carefully slipped his arm from under her head. She made a slight sound of protest and curled into his pillow.
It was a sunny day and Gavin felt enthusiastic about his chances of making headway. Satan followed him as he pulled on jeans and walked through the door, closing it quietly behind him.
The cat also followed him into the bathroom and wound around his feet, making his morning ablutions more difficult than usual. Satan had the uncanny ability of being right where Gavin wanted to step, each time he wanted to step. Walking had never seemed so difficult before.
There was so much cat fur floating around, the damn cat should have been bald. Gavin looked down, but no, Satan was as shaggy as ever. “Did you have to rub against everything?”
Satan showed his sharp, pointed teeth in what Gavin chose to believe was a feline grin, not a threat. “Okay, so you’re telling me you need to be brushed? I’ll have to brush the damn house first.”
He let Satan out the back door, then checked to see if he had the ingredients for omelets. He’d been known to make a really mean omelet. One bite, and Sara would have to accept her good fortune in having him as a roommate.
Unfortunately, thirty minutes later when he had everything set on the table, the rich aroma of coffee in the air, steam rising from the egg dish, Sara refused to get up.
Gavin shook her shoulder again. “Come on, sleepyhead. I’ve got breakfast ready for you.”
She snared a pillow and pulled it over her head. “Go away.”
“Babe, I know you’re tired.” Gavin did his best not to sound impatient. She’d been in bed for over nine hours, and he knew for a fact she’d slept soundly because he’d laid awake, torturing himself all night by listening to her soft breathing. “I’ve cooked you breakfast. You don’t want it to get cold.”
She started to snore.
Gavin lifted the pillow in disbelief. Her eyes were closed, her features relaxed, and her lips slightly parted. A soft, very feminine snore escaped those lips.
Then Gavin saw that her nightgown had slipped down one shoulder and the slope of her breast was exposed. He swallowed hard. Last night, he’d felt that plump breast pressed against his side once Sara had decided to relax. In fact, it hadn’t taken her long at all to decide she liked being held close to him, even lying half on top of him.
She’d stayed that way throughout the night, tormenting him, and reveling in the comfort of it. It had been so apparent that she’d never had such comfort before, Gavin hadn’t minded staying awake. He’d do it again if she wanted him to. He had intentions of holding her every night from now on.