Seven-Year Seduction

by Heidi Betts

“You don’t think Nick and Karen will be upset that we’re choosing the theme of the nursery for them?” she asked, voicing a concern she’d had since the beginning.

  “Nah. They’ll love it. And if there’s anything they don’t like, we just have to make it clear that we won’t be hurt or offended if they change it. After all, it is their house and their baby.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed, fighting not to let the moment turn bittersweet. “We should probably keep that in mind.”

  “We will. Now grab up a bunch of those so we can get moving.”

  She did as he requested, filling her arms with the number of wallpaper rolls they’d agreed earlier should do the trick and dumping them in the shopping cart.

  “Only one thing left on the list.” He stood with legs splayed, hands on hips, studying her from head to toe.

  “What?” She looked down at herself. Had she spilled orange juice on her sweater earlier?

  “Are those the best work clothes you have, or were you going to change when we get back home?”

  Biting her bottom lip, she linked her arms self-consciously across her waist. “I’m afraid this is it. I didn’t exactly pack for my brother’s wedding with the intention of getting sweaty and dirty.” And she didn’t exactly spend a lot of time getting sweaty and dirty back in L.A., unless it was at her personal trainer’s command.

  Connor’s nostrils flared at that, his eyes wandering back to the area of her breasts. She bit her lip to keep from fidgeting under his concentrated scrutiny.

  “Well, that won’t do. Sorry. We’re going to have to buy you some jeans and T-shirts.”

  “Are you sure?” She cast another glance at her dark slacks with their nearly razor-sharp creases down the front from where they’d been pressed and folded with almost military precision, and the expensive sweater she really wasn’t looking forward to ruining.

  “Yep. It’s gotta be done.” Pressing his palm to the mesh end of the cart, he gave it a little shove, nudging her in the side. “Come on…to women’s clothing we go.”

  She turned obediently and started walking in the direction he pointed.

  “Do you really want to take the time for me to try on work clothes?” she asked, half hoping he’d change his mind.

  Instead, he speared her with a cocky grin, keeping the cart on course. “Oh, yeah. I’m looking forward to it. If I’m lucky, I figure you might even let me in the dressing room with you to see how everything fits.”

  She shot him a quelling glare. “Keep dreaming, bub.”

  But as she slipped between the racks of blue jeans to hunt for a pair in her size, she thought she heard him murmur, “Oh, I will, believe me.”

  Eight

  The sounds of sawing and hammering echoed through the house, along with music from a radio they’d set up in the hall. They’d been working for three days straight, and Beth had to admit the room was looking good.

  Connor was in charge, no doubt about it. But he was a good boss, explaining what needed to be done and showing her how to handle certain things without growing short on patience or making her feel stupid.

  So far, they’d taken down the plain, dusty white curtains from the windows, pulled up the old, worn carpet from the floor and repolished the golden wood beneath. Now the floor was covered with plastic and drop cloths, and Connor had set up sawhorses and a wide array of tools to use while he worked.

  At the moment, he was standing on a ladder on the far side of the room, looking sexier than any man had a right to. His gray cotton shirt molded to his back and biceps like a second skin, and his jeans rode low on his narrow hips, showcasing his truly spectacular rear. And if that wasn’t enough to drive every sensible thought from her mind, the tool belt strapped around his waist actually turned her on. She could watch him remove and replace tools from the worn leather all day.

  There was just something about a man who was good with his hands…

  Shaking her head, she turned back to what she was supposed to be doing. Connor was tacking up beautiful crown molding and she was putting the first coat of seafoam paint on the walls. The artfully carved strips of wood he was handling were bare now, but later they would paint them white to create a bright, clean border along the ceiling.

  She dipped her roller in the pan of paint on the floor and took up where she’d left off before Connor’s fluid, masculine movements had distracted her.

  He’d been right about her needing a set of work clothes, too. As careful as she tried to be, after three days of manual labor, she was covered with specks of paint, streaks of dirt and a layer of sawdust. She’d even managed to snag her bright red Hot Stuff ballerina tee in two different places.

  As she transformed the walls from boring eggshell to a green-blue sea fit for the marine life they would eventually add, she hummed along and danced a little to the B-52’s song playing in the background.

  “You having fun over here?”

  Connor’s voice, coming from just over her left shoulder, caused her to jump and splash more paint on herself.

  “Geez,” she yelped, pressing her free hand to her heart. “You scared the life out of me.”

  “Sorry,” he said with a sneaky grin that told her he wasn’t sorry at all. His gaze moved back to the wall she’d been working on. “Looks good. You should come to work for Nick and me.”

  “Thanks.”

  She grinned with obvious pleasure, the light in her eyes slipping under his skin and twisting his guts.

  God, she was beautiful. Over the last seven years, he thought he’d made more of her appearance than there was. Imagined the glossy russet of her hair, the periwinkle blue of her eyes, the sparkle in her smile.

  But if anything, she looked better than he remembered. Confident, alluring…she’d really grown into herself.

  When he’d finished with the last piece of molding and turned to see how she was doing with the walls, he’d just about fallen off the ladder. She was stroking the paint roller up and down, and doing some kind of little jiggle in time with the music from the radio that had her hips swaying and her bottom rocking, the hem of her top riding up to show an inch of creamy torso.

  It was enough to send him into cardiac arrest, which was why he’d slipped his hammer into his tool belt and very carefully climbed down off the ladder before he tripped over his wagging tongue and broke his neck.

  He cleared his throat, dragging his attention back to the present. “If you’re about finished, I say we wrap things up for today and start getting ready to head over to the Longneck. You’re still meeting your friends there, right?”

  She looked startled for the space of a heartbeat before lowering the paint roller and sticking her hands in the back pockets of those low-riding jeans.

  “Oh, yeah. I didn’t realize it was so late already. What time is it?”

  With a quick glance at his watch, he said, “Almost six. We probably have time to grab a quick bite after we get cleaned up and dressed, unless you plan to order dinner at the bar.”

  “We probably will get something to eat there. You’re welcome to join us,” she added in a low voice.

  At first he thought she was only being polite, but he could tell by the look in her eyes that the offer was sincere. And for a minute, he seriously considered taking her up on it, if only as an excuse to stay close to her.

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass,” he finally forced himself to respond. “You and your friends probably want a little time alone to bash men and discuss panty lines.”

  She laughed, wiping the back of her wrist across her nose. The gesture left a small streak of seafoam paint behind.

  “Is that what you really think women talk about when they get together?”

  He shrugged. “I’m close, aren’t I?” he murmured, distracted by that tiny smudge and the energy it took to keep from reaching out and wiping it away.

  “Only if one of us has recently been dumped. Then, I admit, we’re none too charitable about the opposite sex. But other than that, we don’
t usually spend much time disparaging the male race.”

  “So what do you talk about?”

  “Our jobs, our families. Once in a while we do discuss the latest fashions, but that’s usually after we’ve had a couple of drinks or run out of other topics of conversation.”

  “Good to know,” he said, and then gave in to temptation by lifting a hand and brushing the paint from the tip of her nose. When she gave him an odd look, he held up his fingers to show the blue-green tint.

  “Thanks.” She rubbed absently at the spot herself. “Guess we both need a shower.”

  Connor’s blood thickened and pooled low in his belly at her words. Being this close to her, watching her breasts rise and fall as she breathed, smelling her spicy floral perfume was sheer torture.

  He wanted to do more than reach out and swipe paint from her nose. He wanted to grab her up and kiss her senseless. Run his fingers through that long, silky mass of chestnut hair. Suggest they conserve water and shower together…or skip bathing altogether and head straight for the bedroom.

  Swallowing hard, he made himself stop that train of thought before it got out of hand. Or worse, he acted on it.

  That night on the couch had been a fluke. They’d had wine on empty stomachs and gotten a little carried away.

  For God’s sake, Beth had barely spoken to him during the last seven years, and he was living with another woman. At least, he had been until very recently.

  This…whatever it was…must be residual attraction from their teenage and young-adult years. Unresolved issues from their one night together.

  As soon as she flew back to California—which would probably be sooner rather than later—whatever was between them would pass. The electricity, the longing, the teeth-rattling, knee-buckling lust.

  They would both get over it and go on with their respective lives, so it was better not to start anything now, no matter how much he might wish it could be otherwise. Especially something that would cause them to avoid each other for another seven to ten years.

  The same as in high school, he never wanted to do anything to hurt her or her family. Nothing to cause tension or pain between them…between any of them. Beth and him, Nick and him, Beth and her parents, or her parents and him.

  It was a tangled, convoluted mess, and he felt like a fly struggling uselessly to free itself from the sticky web of a hungry spider. Except that he was as responsible for spinning this particular web as anyone else.

  Unfastening his tool belt, he lowered it carefully to the newly polished hardwood floor. “We should probably start getting ready,” he told her, though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

  He would much prefer to spend the evening just like this. With Beth, standing close, looking into her eyes, maybe curling up on the couch to watch another movie. Even if nothing happened between them—which it wouldn’t, couldn’t—being alone with Beth still beat hanging out at the Longneck any day of the week.

  “Right.”

  She glanced away guiltily and turned to clean up her work area, but not before he saw the tip of her tongue dart out to wet her lips.

  Damn. He had to get out of here before he did something stupid, like pulling her up from where she now crouched on the floor, pressing her back against the wall, and taking her the way he’d imagined for over a decade.

  Man, he was warped. He’d just finished convincing himself he needed to walk away, keep his distance, yet here he was picturing her with her top yanked up and her legs wrapped around his waist.

  Struggling for breath, he asked, “Do you need any help?”

  She cocked her head, fixing him with those soft blue eyes. “No, that’s all right. Thanks, though. I just want to get the lid on this paint, then I’ll stick the roller and brushes in the sink to soak while I get cleaned up. How about you?”

  “I’m good.” Or doomed. He hitched a thumb over his right shoulder. “I’ll start getting ready. It shouldn’t take me more than a few minutes, then I can be out of your way.”

  Beth nodded. “Take your time. Gail and Jackie won’t care if I’m a little late.”

  Inclining his head, he turned and started through the doorway to the hall.

  “Oh, and Connor?” she called after him.

  He turned back, giving her his undivided attention. “Yeah?”

  “Women don’t usually talk about panty lines when they get together because we already know how to avoid them.”

  “How’s that?” he asked, his voice thick with restrained arousal.

  “Simple. Don’t wear panties.”

  She shot him a quick, wicked smile, then turned back to what she was doing while he stood there like a deer caught in headlights.

  Damn.

  The Longneck was already jumping when they walked in a few minutes after eight. Music blared from the jukebox along the far wall, couples two-stepped across the dance floor, and just about every table and seat at the bar was occupied.

  “Wow, it’s really busy for a Wednesday night.” She leaned close to Connor, raising her voice to be heard over the din of the music and crowd. His arm was at her waist, but she let it go, telling herself it was a protective gesture only, to keep her from getting jostled around by the bar’s exuberant patrons.

  “You should see it on Friday and Saturday nights. This is tame in comparison.”

  She returned his grin with one of her own. She’d forgotten what it meant to go out and have fun in Crystal Springs. No stiletto heels, skintight sheaths or sparkling diamonds necessary. No fancy mixed drinks in even fancier glasses. In central Ohio, jeans were dressy enough for both men and women, and beer was the beverage of choice, whether it came in a bottle or a frosted glass.

  This type of thing hadn’t been her scene for a very long time, so she was surprised by how comfortable she felt the minute she walked through the door. Even the loud country music, which normally would have set her on the fast track to a migraine, seemed to seep into her bones instead. She found herself tapping her toe already.

  “Are your friends here yet?” he wanted to know.

  “One of them is.” She pointed across the room at the booth her friend had staked out for them. From the looks of it, Jackie had gotten the ball rolling on their girls’ night out with a bottle of light beer and a tray of nachos.

  With a slight pressure at the small of her back, Connor accompanied her through the crowd.

  “Beth!” As soon as Jackie spotted her, she jumped up and threw her arms around her friend. “It’s so good to see you again. I missed you so much!”

  Beth laughed with genuine happiness. “I missed you, too. You look great.”

  “Me?” Jackie glanced down at herself, brushing her hands over the hem of her sweater where it hugged her well-rounded hips. “Honey, I’ve had four kids…I haven’t looked great since high school.”

  It was obvious her friend was joking and was actually quite comfortable with her robust figure, so Beth felt safe chuckling in response. But she couldn’t resist adding a gentle chastisement. “Don’t say that. You’re still beautiful, your children are adorable, and your husband is hopelessly devoted. You’re one of the luckiest women in this town, and you darn well know it.”

  Jackie’s cheeks turned crimson and the corners of her mouth lifted in a goofy grin. “Yeah, I know it. But you…” She stood back, eyeing Beth from head to toe. “L.A. agrees with you. You look like one of those gorgeous runway models, putting everyone here to shame.”

  Since the only pair of jeans she currently owned was spattered with paint, Beth had opted for a tailored gray pantsuit with a pale blue blouse to add a touch of color, and her black, all-purpose sling-backs. She felt slightly out of place among the sweatshirts and western wear, but not nearly as much as she’d expected. Here, she was simply one of the girls, a Crystal Springs native, no matter how she was dressed.

  “Thanks. Jackie, you know Connor Riordan, don’t you?” she asked, pulling Connor forward a few steps in hopes of diverting her friend’s attention.r />
  “Of course.” She reached out to take the hand he offered. “How are you, Connor?”

  “Just fine, thanks. And you?”

  They chatted for a few brief minutes before Beth spotted Gail at the entrance of the restaurant. She lifted an arm and waved until her friend saw them and started in their direction.

  Again, Beth made the introductions, and then Gail and Jackie slipped into the booth and waved for a waitress to bring them more drinks.

  “I’ll call you when I need a ride home,” Beth told Connor. “Or get one of the girls to drop me off.”

  “No, that’s all right,” he said. “I think I’ll stick around a while. Have a drink, catch up with old friends. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to leave, and you can either come with me or make other arrangements.”

  She nodded, watching him cross the room toward the bar and feeling oddly bereft at the loss of his hand at her waist. Shaking off the bizarre emotion, she pasted a smile on her face and slipped onto the padded bench seat next to her friend.

  She’d been looking forward to this evening all week, and would be darned if she’d let her mixed-up, indecisive feelings about Connor ruin it for her.

  After laughing and joking and catching up on any number of things that had happened since the last time they saw each other, Jackie and Gail both said they had to get home.

  Beth was immediately disappointed. She didn’t want to leave; she was having too good a time. Even given the nachos and beer instead of the cosmopolitans and finger sandwiches she was used to, hanging out at the Longneck was just plain fun.

  She hugged her friends and walked them to the door to say goodbye. It was raining out, she noticed as Jackie and Gail darted across the parking lot, holding their jackets over their heads to keep from getting drenched. Then she turned back around and scanned the still-crowded room for Connor.

  He said he’d let her know before he took off, and since she hadn’t seen him since then, she assumed he was still here. Maybe at the bar, or on the dance floor, or in one of the back rooms playing pool.