by Nicola Marsh
“Enough already.” Sierra groaned and avoided looking at Olivia as Belle laid down her brush long enough to applaud, laughing at Flo’s antics.
“It’s true.” Flo pointed at Belle’s beauty case. “Maybe you should get one of these makeover thingies too. Distract the man from business long enough to get him into the bedroom.”
Flo paused, picked up an eyelash curler, turning it over and grimacing as if it were an instrument of torture. “Or in your case, the kitchen.”
Sierra bit back a smile and shook her head. “Wish I hadn’t mentioned anything.”
Olivia touched her arm. “Flo has a point, dear.”
Great, now she was taking relationship advice from the mom of the guy-whose-pants-she-wanted-to-get-into. Could this get any weirder?
Flo pushed away Belle’s hand before nodding. “See? Even Liv agrees. Subtle isn’t working. You spend a lot of time together, why don’t you notch up the heat a little?”
Sierra gave up sorting clothes and sank onto the bed, resting her chin in her hands. “Seduce him?”
“Why not?” Flo grinned. “It’s not like he’s a virgin or anything.”
Olivia stifled a laugh behind her hand while Flo cackled along with Belle, their laughter petering out courtesy of Sierra’s scathing glare.
“Have you told him how you feel?” Belle tossed the sponge into the trash, took a step back and cast a critical eye over her handiwork. Personally, Sierra thought she’d worked a minor miracle on Flo’s skin, masking the majority of her wrinkles but maintaining a natural look at the same time.
“No.”
That wouldn’t solve anything. In fact, he’d probably jump in his Jag and speed all the way to LA if she did.
Satisfied with the foundation job, Belle picked up an eyeliner and started in on Flo again. “Maybe he has issues.” Grimacing, Belle added, “Sorry Liv. No disrespect intended.”
A flash of pain contorted Olivia’s features before she nodded. “You’re right. Marc has major issues regarding love. Look at his role models, a father who’s a jerk and a mother who put up and shut up for almost forty years. Little wonder he doesn’t have a clue.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Liv.” Flo leapt to her friend’s defense quickly, a fact not lost on Olivia as she teared up again.
Desperate to take the focus off Olivia and her past before the shower deteriorated into a waterworks session, Sierra said, “Who said anything about love?”
This wasn’t love it was…like? Lust? Lunacy?
Belle and Flo exchanged knowing looks. “Okay, ostrich-girl.” Flo jabbed a gnarled finger in her direction. “Stick your head in the sand but don’t come crying to us when he heads back to LA and you’re left behind looking for worms.”
Sierra chuckled. “I think you’ve mixed up your bird analogies.”
“And I think you’re plain mixed up,” Flo piped up, closing her eyes to allow Belle access to her eyelids. “You want the guy, have an action plan. It’s working for me.”
Olivia applauded. “I heard you quit smoking. Well done.”
“And I’m going through all this.” Flo eyed the incoming mascara wand with maniacal fear.
Funnily enough, Marc had said his butler had been extra chirpy yesterday and though William knew Marc was staying in the apartment over the garage, had still knocked on Flo’s door. More intriguing, he’d actually shared a cup of tea with her when Marc said William rarely did the same with him.
If by some miracle the unlikely couple did get together Sierra would know the town held the mystical, romantic power she often joked about with her clients. Pity it didn’t work for her. Maybe it would help if she stopped crossing her fingers behind her back and wearing those garlic garlands when anyone mentioned love in relation to her?
To her surprise, Olivia slid an arm around her waist and squeezed gently. “I know this seems odd, me giving relationship advice to you about my son, but trust me, I only want what’s best for both of you.”
Olivia paused, worrying her bottom lip as if she’d said too much.
Sierra semi-leaned into her. “It’s okay. I appreciate your input.”
Amazingly, Flo remained silent as Olivia continued. “Marc may be headstrong and stubborn and opinionated but he’s also warm and loyal and protective of those he loves. Give him a chance. I think you’re perfect for each other.”
Flo and Belle made smooching noises while Sierra knew it would take more than a minor miracle to get her and City Boy together, despite his mom’s glowing endorsement.
“Hey, Sierra, you out here—”
Marc stumbled over the garden hose as he rounded the house and caught sight of his luscious neighbor, her cute ass protruding from Ripley’s kennel.
A muffled “Be right there,” drifted out from inside the kennel and he bit back his first response, “take your time.”
It wasn’t polite to stare. But he did, propped against a garden chair, grinning when she wriggled backwards and he watched that mighty fine piece of anatomy temptingly swaying side to side.
“If you’re looking at my butt, you’ll be alongside Ripley in here tonight,” she said, backing out far enough to plop onto the lawn, ruining his view completely.
Unable to stop grinning, he dropped down beside her. “I don’t mind being in the doghouse if I wake up to that view in the morning.”
“Pervert.”
He held up his hands, pretended to back away. “Hey, I was just making a friendly neighborhood call. Wasn’t my fault you had that gorgeous booty on show.”
Her mouth twitched. “You think it’s gorgeous, huh?”
He leaned across an inch and whispered in her ear. “Hell yeah.”
To his delight, she blushed. The sassy redhead, who never backed down, rarely blushed and the sight of that faint pink staining her cheeks hit him hard: right in his rib cage, in the vicinity of that organ he determinedly ignored when it came to women.
Surreptitiously rubbing his heart, he gave her a playful bump. “What’s with the tool belt?”
She pointed to the kennel and frowned. “Some fool on eBay assured me this would last a decade and it’s falling apart after a year.”
“Guarantee?”
He smothered a laugh at her withering stare as she jerked a thumb towards the hammer, screwdriver and nails strewn across the lawn nearby.
“Does it look like I bought it with a guarantee?”
“I’ll take that as a no. Want a hand?”
“You know how to hold a hammer?” Her eyebrows shot up and he laughed, picked up the hammer and flipped it in the air before catching it.
“’Course. Who do you think hammered the nails in my bedroom wall to hold up my framed Madonna posters?”
Her teasing smile hit him front and centre again and he knew, in that instant, he was in way over his head with this one.
“You had a thing for Madonna?”
“Yeah, so?”
“That’s kind of cute. Eighties, but cute.”
“Hey, she’s around these days.”
Stretching out her arms, she leaned back and this time he didn’t stare despite his greedy gaze drawn to her breasts straining against her ribbed singlet.
“Do you still think she’s hot?”
His gaze dipped for a second, concentrating on her mouth and how much he wanted to kiss her. “I’ve moved on.”
The answering spark in her eyes had him dropping to his knees and scooping up a handful of nails. “Where do you want me to start?”
“The roof. I’ll tackle the side wall.”
“Okay.”
He’d barely driven home the first nail when he sensed her gaze on him and he glanced down to find her staring at him with a wide grin.
“What?”
Her grin widened. “Nothing sexier than a guy who knows how to use tools.”
Leaning against the kennel, he flipped and caught the hammer again. “Is that right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You want to get thi
s finished before that storm hits?” He jerked his head towards the gathering clouds, dark and ominous, promising a downpour.
A tiny frown worried her forehead as Ripley howled from next door. “Yeah.”
“Then quit looking at me like that.”
The frown vanished, replaced by a wicked smile. “Fine. You don’t want to see me watching you?” She pointed at the opening. “Then why don’t you tackle that roof from the inside?”
“But then you get to stare at my—”
“Fair turnaround, Slick. In you go.”
Wearing a grin to match hers, he dropped onto all fours and stuck his head in the kennel. “You know you’re going to pay for this, right?”
He only just caught her “promises, promises.”
There is a god, Sierra thought as she faced Marc in her bathroom, struggling not to drool as water sluiced down his body after they’d been caught in that impromptu storm.
She’d wished for a minor miracle and looked like she’d got it. What started out a boring job ended up having side benefits as she’d watched his muscles flex and shift and bunch deliciously as he lifted wood, hammered nails and sealed cracks in Ripley’s kennel.
While the perv fest had been amazing, the miracle occurred when he lost his keys. They’d spent several minutes on hands and knees in the pouring rain looking for them and by the time they gave up and made a mad dash for her place they were soaked to the skin.
Yep, a definite miracle, as she struggled not to stare in frank admiration at his pecs delineated by the sodden cotton clinging to his chest. He looked good enough to eat and if she stayed in the bathroom one second longer she’d gobble him up.
“Do you have something I can change into while my clothes dry?”
He peeled off his T-shirt in one fluid movement and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. If his upper body looked good clad in cotton, the sight of tanned, taut flesh covered in a smattering of dark hair was breathtaking.
“Sierra?”
“Uh, yeah, sure,” she mumbled, finally tearing her gaze away from his half naked body and heading for the door. “You can wear one of my robes. I’ll leave it outside the door. Help yourself to towels and soap. Everything you need is in there.”
She pointed to a cupboard beneath the vanity, wishing she’d stop babbling.
“Thanks, I won’t be long.”
By his wry grin he knew exactly what she was thinking before he turned away and bent down to the cupboard.
Oh boy…She turned and fled before she grabbed his butt, peeled off the wet denim and begged him to take her.
Oblivious to the trail of water on the floorboards she raced into her bedroom, grabbed her old cotton dressing gown that was about three sizes too big and dumped it outside the bathroom door. There, now she wouldn’t need to see all that yummy skin exposed again. Worse luck.
In her smaller bathroom she showered in record time, wanting to be dressed and downstairs before he finished. Having him down the hallway, naked, was way too tempting. She’d already made a fool of herself by ogling him and if he’d shown any interest in return she might’ve made some light, flirty comment and seen where it led.
Instead, he’d stared at her with those all-seeing, all-knowing chocolate eyes, desire simmering in their obsidian depths before turning away on the pretext of getting a towel.
Realistically, they needed to shower and dry off before they caught pneumonia but who could think realism when faced with that glorious chest?
Shaking her head to erase the image of his naked torso from her mind, she donned jeans and a T-shirt, ran a comb through her tangled hair and twisted it into a messy topknot secured with a butterfly clip.
Glancing at her reflection, she stuck out her tongue. Without makeup she looked about fifteen years old, her freckles standing out like sprinkles on a cupcake, and her hand strayed to a foundation compact before she snatched it away.
If Marc didn’t like her the way she was, tough. Besides, he’d seen her dolled up and despite a few kisses and loads of flirting they hadn’t ended up where she wanted them. Indulging in wild, climb-the-walls sex.
With him heading back to LA soon, she’d all but given up. If he wanted anything to happen between them now he could damn well whistle for it.
She headed down the hall, had almost made it to the stairs when the bathroom door opened.
“Finished…”
The rest of her sentence died on her lips as Marc exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam, ludicrous yet gorgeous in her fluffy white robe.
“Nice robe,” he said, grinning as he thrust his hands into the pockets.
The action caused the material to gape in front and she quickly averted her gaze before she had a total meltdown and tumbled down the stairs.
“Suits you.” She kept her gaze trained on his face, silently reciting ‘don’t look down, don’t look down’. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
Was that a glimmer in his eyes, a hint he wasn’t talking about food? In the darkness of the landing she couldn’t tell and cursed her overactive imagination.
“I’ll rustle up some grilled cheese sandwiches and coffee.”
“Perfect. Can I use your dryer downstairs?”
“Go ahead.”
Rather than moving they stood there like statues, stares locked before he finally turned away.
“See you downstairs.”
She nodded, concentrating on the suddenly onerous task of putting one foot in front of the other as she descended. Her mind was a jumble of mixed messages and loaded quips. Should she tease him a little and see what happened? Use this miracle of having him butt naked beneath that robe, in her house, to full advantage?
It was an opportunity too good to pass up. She’d been whining about his backing off and it was way past time to put him to the test.
She straightened her shoulders and marched into the kitchen, opened a bottle of merlot rather than switching on the percolator, and laid out cheese and fruit on a platter rather than firing up the grill. Setting the lot on a tray, along with wine glasses, she headed for the living room.
The storm raged outside, complete with deafening cracks of thunder and flashes of lightning, and as she dimmed the lights in the living room, fate lent another helping hand by cutting power, plunging the house into darkness.
“Perfect,” she murmured, lighting the candles scattered around the room and standing back to admire the ambiance.
If City Boy didn’t get the message now, she’d give up.
The last few steps on the staircase creaked and she turned to find him standing in the doorway, his arms laden with wet clothes.
“Through there.” She pointed to the laundry, “Though I doubt your clothes will be dry in a hurry. We just lost power.”
“Yeah, I can see that. Lucky you collect candles as well as—” he paused, and she fervently wished they’d use her other collection tonight, “—everything else.”
His gaze flicked to the coffee table where she’d laid out the wine and platter, a smile playing around his lips.
“If that’s merlot, I’m yours.”
Alleluia, he’d switched to flirt mode without her having to instigate anything. So far so good. Now, if he’d dump those clothes and jump her…
“I’ll pop these in the dryer for later and be back in a minute.”
Make it a second, she silently pleaded, staring at his butt as he exited the room, heat surging to her cheeks and scorching a few places along the way.
She needed a distraction before she padded pathetically after him and settled for pouring the wine, taking hers across the room to look out the window. Jagged lightning streaked across the sky, lighting the backyard for an instant. Ripley lay huddled in his newly repaired kennel, a giant paw over his ears as if to block out the thunder and she suffered a moment’s remorse.
Sorry, darling. Three’s a crowd in here tonight.
She had many similar evenings like this to share with her beloved poo
ch whereas Marc would be gone all too soon.
“A girl after my own heart.”
She turned as he picked up his wine glass, took a sip and joined her at the window. “Perfect. Maybe I should lose my keys all the time.”
“I don’t think they’re outside,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady as her pulse tripped at his nearness.
He smelled as good as he looked, the vanilla guest soap he’d used tempting her to taste him. And come back for seconds.
“Could’ve sworn I had them when I locked up the apartment, then I popped into Flo’s. Maybe I left them there?”
That devious matchmaker. At the end of the bridal shower Flo had said if Sierra didn’t do something about the standoff with Marc she’d do it for her.
Could the wily woman have snaffled Marc’s keys and hidden them? If Flo had heard her repairing the kennel and known he was visiting, it was a no-brainer. Flo knew what summer storms were like in these parts and if Marc got caught in one and couldn’t get into his apartment…
Oh yeah, the more she thought about it the more convinced she was Flo had a hand in this.
With Marc leaning against her sideboard looking totally at ease in her robe, Sierra could kiss her.
He sipped his wine and closed his eyes, pleasure softening his mouth. If only he wore that expression when looking at her.
“Fine drop.” His eyes snapped open to pin her with a loaded stare she had no hope of deciphering. “So you’re a wine connoisseur among your many talents?”
She laid her glass down and planted her hands on her hips in a provocative pose.
“You think I’m talented, huh?”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
He placed his glass on the sideboard and slid his arms around her, pulling her close. Her heart hammered in her chest as she stared into his eyes, trying to assess how far he was willing to take this.
“You hungry?”
Lame, real lame, considering she’d already asked him upstairs, but it was the best her oxygen-starved brain could come up with while reeling from having his arms around her.
“Ravenous.”
By the gleam in his eyes, ebony in the candlelight, she knew it wasn’t for food.