Marty tilted her head at Wanda. “How many things to do did ya have on the list?”
Ten . . . and? “I don’t know. Why does it matter?”
Marty snorted. “I was just wondering what number he was on the list.”
Wanda let her chin drop to her chest, her eyes scouring the bottom step.
“Shit. He was number one, wasn’t he?” Nina guessed, punctuating it with with an amused laugh.
Wanda rolled her eyes at Nina. “What-ever, vampire.”
Marty grabbed Wanda’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “So he knows now, and it didn’t look like he was running away in terror. It really is okay if you take your womanly needs into your own hands, Wanda.You’re allowed to be the aggressor.”
Wanda’s response was dry. “Thanks, Dr. Ruth. I’ll keep that in mind, and I can’t take my womanly needs into my own hands. I’m his regional supervisor.” For now, an unbidden voice reminded her . . . “It’s unethical.” Problem solved.
Marty shook her head, the soft blonde curls of her hair ruffling down over her shoulders. “First of all, there is no rule about something like this for regional color reps, because Heath’s the first ever male color rep. They’re just a bunch of chicks who have to treat each other equally.The color reps mostly don’t deal with anyone in corporate except via a liaison, and she’s a woman.The rules in place do, however, apply to upper management. Harassment of any kind, be it verbal or physical, is strictly forbidden. Second, I own a portion of Bobbie-Sue, and I say it’s fine. There. Permission granted. Go get yon man and do him till your eyeballs wobble.”
“No.”
Nina looked confused. “Why the hell not? I mean, I’d understand if you’re hesitant. He does live in a homeless shelter, so it’s not like he’ll be buying you expensive meals and taking you sailing on his yacht, but he seems like a decent enough guy, and you don’t care about material shit anyway.You don’t have to have a lifelong relationship with the dude. Bag him and tag him. Be fuck buddies or something.”
Lifelong . . . Wanda swatted Nina on the shoulder with the glove she’d dug out of her jacket pocket. “I don’t want to get involved.” And just the phrase fuck buddies made her cringe.
Nina nodded her understanding. “Right. No involvement. I get that.That’s why you’re called fuck buddies.You just fuck—then he goes away to his cot at the homeless shelter, and you flip on the WE channel then sleep like a baby.”
This was so frustrating. How did you tell your friends you weren’t a candidate for a fuck buddy of any kind because you had more important things to take care of? Like the kind of wood your casket would be made of. “That’s not what I mean, Nina. I just mean, I can’t get involved right now.”
Marty made a face at Nina. “Nina, stop making it sound so tawdry. Wanda’s not that kind of girl.”
“And I am?” Nina’s question was haughty.
“You were,” Marty reminded her.
“Shut the fuck up, Marty. You make it sound like I was some cheap ho. I just wasn’t afraid to get my freak on.”
Marty nodded her head in the affirmative, clucking her tongue. “Or get a freak—”
Wanda whipped a hand up. “Both of you shut up. I don’t want a—a fuck friend or buddy, or . . . I don’t want anything. I want to go have that dinner we talked about. End of discussion.” Wanda stomped down the steps and along the sidewalk, heading for Nina’s car.
Nina caught up with her in the time it took to blink her eye. “Maybe it’s better that way. He smells funny, Wanda.”
“I dunno, Nina. I think he smells pretty damned good, especially considering his, uh, his circumstances.” Marty thumbed a finger over her shoulder at the shelter, sandwiching herself between the two women.
“No, Marty, that’s not what I mean. Look, when you’re a vampire, you can smell humans versus paranormals. I told you that. For instance, I can smell the dog in you.” She pointed at Marty.
Marty reached across Wanda and popped Nina on the arm with her palm. “Nina, I swear on all things fucking olfactory, I’m going to offer you up a good right hook if you call me a dog again. I’m not a dog, nor am I a canine, nor am I having puppies. I’m a shape-shifter, all right? Now knock off the insults and explain the smell thing.”
Nina flipped Marty the bird before shrugging her slender shoulders encased in a black trench coat. “I can’t. I just know he’s got a distinctive scent. It’s not his cologne. It’s not his natural scent, but whatever it is, it’s very vague. Like every time I get a whiff of it, it slips away.”
Wanda stopped walking toward the car and grabbed at the side of the building so she wouldn’t lose her footing, her hand going instinctively to her belly. Marty was right behind her, placing a protective hand on her shoulder. “Honey? What’s wrong?”
Sometimes the sharp zing of pain took her breath away. She held up a finger, silently asking for a moment.
Nina brushed Wanda’s hair out of her face. “I’ll go get the car, Wanda. You stay with her, Marty.” Nina took off in a blur of silent motion while Marty held her hand until Wanda could stand upright.
“Sweetie—you’re pale. Maybe you’re coming down with something. The flu’s been going around. This is when I’m glad I’m a werewolf—I’m flu-free forever.” Marty put the back of her hand to Wanda’s forehead. “No fever.”
Wanda shrugged her off, averting her eyes to the hard pavement beneath her red heels. “I think you’re right. I might be coming down with something. I think I might have to beg off dinner tonight.”
Nina pulled up to the sidewalk, rolling down the passenger side window. “C’mon, Wanda. Get in, and we’ll take you home.”
Wanda slipped into the backseat, grateful for the cover of darkness.
Soon she’d have a secret to share just like Marty.
Soon sucked.
CHAPTER 10
“About that Fuck It list.”
Flames fought to lick at her cheeks, but Wanda refused to allow it. Marty and Nina had dropped her off, tucked her in after giving her some aspirin and tea, then left to get Marty something to eat. By the time they’d gotten her home, the cramping had passed and she’d felt much better. After throwing on her fuzzy bunny nightgown, she’d promptly plopped down on her couch, and it was where she’d been ever since—humiliated and mortified—until her doorbell rang. She’d found Heath, his rugged features sharply defined by the weak light of her front porch.The chilling wind whipped his jacket around his waist, and a vein in his temple throbbed.
The list, the list, the list.
Whatever had she been thinking when she’d left the goddamned thing on the counter? Whatever had she been thinking when she’d simply written it? Of all the lists she’d ever written—this was the humdinger of them all.
Her fingers went to the bridge of her nose, massaging it. “Can’t we just forget that list? Because we’re so good at forgetting things and all. Hell, most of our relationship I’ve already forgotten. In fact, do I know you?” She let her eyes scan his face as if he looked only vaguely familiar.
Heath shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “No, we can’t forget, Wanda. Haven’t been able to think of anything else since I saw that list.”
“Well, try.”
“Don’t want to.”
“You have to.”
“I was number one on the list, Wanda.”
She fought to maintain a cool, disinterested facade. “Yeah, well number two on my list was doing John Cusack at a Tom Jones concert while he sings ‘She’s a Lady.’ I think it’s obvious, that probably won’t happen.”
“You like Tom Jones?”
“Who doesn’t?”
“He’s the guy chicks throw panties at, right?”
“That’s him. So you can see how far out my dumb list was.”
“And this John Cusack?”
“Longtime crush—he’s a movie star. Since I was a kid. Again, something else that won’t happen.”
His face went dark. “How
about that tattoo, you know, on your—?”
Wanda’s face went red. “Another thing that probably won’t happen. It’s just a stupid list. It’s what I do. I make them all the time. You’ve seen them—they’re everywhere. On my refrigerator—on the counter. Just because I made a list doesn’t mean I’m going to do everything on it . . .” Some of the list would take a travel agent and a bit of time she might not have to plan.
“Was it like a life list or something?”
Her eyes went to his shoulder. “Or something,” she mumbled.
“Well, big dreams of Tom Jones and John Cusack aside, number one on your list can happen.”
“No. It can’t. I can’t get involved right now.”
Heath lifted his sharp jaw. “I shouldn’t get involved right now. Not with my life in such a friggin’ mess. But here I am.”
The question was, why was it in such a friggin’ mess? But she didn’t ask. She wasn’t sure what had been worse, exposing Heath’s living arrangements or the fact that he’d seen her Fuck It list. “Then go home and you won’t be here anymore.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, I don’t have a home.”
“Then go shelter.”
His laughter was gruff, yet melted-chocolate smooth. “I’d much rather be here. Helping with that list.”
She ran a hand over her face, resting it on her cheek to thwart the flush that would inevitably happen. As long as she maintained her cool, everything would be okay. “Look, that was just—just me, sounding off. I won’t lie and tell you you’re not attractive.You seem to know that already all on your own, and if you didn’t, half of Bobbie-Sue can confirm it. But that list meant little to nothing in the way of serious. So go back to Archibald and your shelter before you lose your cot.”
“Arch is fine. I put him at the Motel 6 for the night. So no go, Wanda. That list meant more than what you’re admitting.”
Her bottom lip trembled, followed by her knees. “Really? Wow—conceited much?”
Heath jammed his hands into his pockets while shaking his head. His confidence bled through in his words. “It isn’t conceit, Wanda, and you know it. We have chemistry, you and I. You can deny it, you can try and hide it—but it’s there.”
“Nothing exists but your imagination.”
He moved closer, standing to loom above her, his cologne heady and intoxicating, his chest wide and inviting. “That’s not true.”
“Is.”
“Not.”
“Look, even if it were true. Even if I were attracted to you, it makes no difference. I can’t get involved right now.”
“And the reason for that is?”
“I don’t have to tell you why. I just can’t.” She clamped her jaw tight to keep her expression hard and unyielding. She’d practiced it in the mirror earlier tonight before going to the shelter, in case Heath balked at being given back to Linda tomorrow. Apparently, she needed more practice, ’cause he wasn’t going away.
“Boyfriend?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so. No one ever calls but your friends Nina and Marty.”
She bristled. So she wasn’t going to be Miss Match.com 2009. Yet it was the perfect opener to find out why he skipped off every night like he was going to be grounded if he missed the dinner bell. “Girlfriend?”
“Nope.”
“Then why can’t you do house calls after five?”
“I told you, I have to be back to the shelter by five to get in line or risk losing my cot. Archibald gets nervous when he has to hold one for me. He’s pushing seventy, and some of the shelter residents take advantage of that. I won’t let that happen.”
That’s right. He had told her. She’d just been so busy stewing in her own guilt juice, she’d forgotten. Okay, so he had to be at the shelter by five to get a place to sleep for the night. That soooo sucked. Christ. He was such a decent guy, looking out for Archibald. Egomaniacal, but decent. Which brought her to her next question. “Care to tell me about Archibald? He calls himself a manservant. Does anyone use that term when referring to their hired help anymore? I don’t think so. And who lives in a homeless shelter and has hired help?”
His face went unreadable again, the shift of his hard jaw made it crack. “It’s a long story. Suffice it to say, Archibald comes from a family of British descent, most of whom served royalty in one way or another.”
Well, that explained absolutely nothing. How come he could ask her questions, and she couldn’t ask him any? “And you ended up with him in a homeless shelter, how?”
“Another long story,” he replied, clamping his lips shut.
“What about your clothes and your car and that Rolex? Thoughts?”
His eyes never left her face. “The Rolex is really old and not very valuable, but it has sentimental value. It was from a close friend who was like family.”
Avoid, avoid, avoid. “Speaking of family—got one?”
“No—”
Wanda ran a hand over her forehead wearily. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t care. It’s your business. And now, you have to go.” She shoved at the door, but he planted a broad hand on it. Menusha heard the activity and came running, skidding to a halt at Heath’s feet and winding her tail around his ankles.
“But you don’t really want me to.”
Her insides churned. Hell no she didn’t want him to go, but if he stayed, it couldn’t be anything more than physical, and she just didn’t know if she had that kind of relationship in her. “This is me shutting the door on your big ego. Be careful not to let it get caught—we might pop a hole in it.”
Heath braced his hand on the door frame, spreading his fingers wide to keep it open, using little leverage to keep it in place. His gaze was direct, intense, and serious as a heart attack. “I’m going to say this once more, and if you send me packing, it’ll be the last time I say it. You want me, Wanda. I definitely want you. I’ve had some serious uncertainty in my life lately, but I know when I want something—and I want you. Are you ready to admit you want me, too?”
What if she did admit she wanted him? Would it be such a bad thing? Who would it hurt? “And if I do?”
“We’ll just have to see what happens after that.”
Her heart crashed a tidal wave of sound in her ears. If she said no, he’d go away and never come back. She knew he meant it. Arrogant jokes and lighthearted banter aside, Wanda knew Heath took everything he did and said very seriously. It was just implied. Which made this choice she was about to make do or die. Speaking of, Wanda ... you are going to die. I call fuck like bunnies while you can. It’ll be one less thing you’ll go to your grave wishing you hadn’t missed. You’re on the short bus of life, toots. Do this man. Do him now! Her conscience shouted—loud and without compunction.
Even if it were just this once, she knew without a shadow of a doubt, she wanted Heath. To hear he wanted her, too, even if it was just purely on a physical level, made every nerve ending in her body come alive, scream with lust. But she wasn’t the kind of woman who could have a purely physical relationship.
Have you ever tried? her conscience poked at her.
No, she’d never even wanted to try. No one had interested her enough since her divorce to make her want to try.
But Heath does ...
He did.
The silence between them probably only lasted seconds as her mind raced—and then her brain shut off. A black void of nothing occurred with the exception of one very clear desire. To have Heath. Wanda didn’t trust herself to speak. Her lips probably wouldn’t have formed cohesive sentences, anyway.
Blue eyes met hazel.
One pair riddled with hesitance—the other dark with anticipation.
The cold air blew in swishes of icy gusts.
The hush between them became palpable.
Wanda knew she should say something, but she opted to do something totally non-Wanda.
Instead, she breached the distance between them by winding her arms around his neck, letting
her lips whisper against his before she melted into his hard, sculpted frame.
Heath’s arms were around her in an instant, dragging her inside, and he slammed the door with his foot. He walked her backward to the couch, setting her on the arm of it, spreading her thighs wide to stand between them.
When his lips touched hers—full-on for the first time—she grew dizzy. Heath didn’t just kiss her, he devoured her mouth, making love to it with hot strokes of his tongue, sipping at her lower lip. Their tongues touched, and she heard him hiss his satisfaction, his groan becoming hers as their mouths entwined. Heath’s hands, forceful and sure, roamed over her spine, pulling her flush to his groin. Her belly rubbed against the rigid outline of his cock, encased in his blue trousers.
Need pulsed in her, throbbing an endless ache of hot lust. His fingers skimmed her jaw, his knuckle ran along the side of her neck down to her collarbone. When he dipped two fingers into the top of her V-neck nightgown, she had to clench her eyes shut to keep from whimpering. Her heart hammered out an uncontrollable rhythm, hot lava flowed through her veins, her gasp when he grazed her nipple was sharp.
Wanda found her thighs had a mind of their own, wrapping themselves around Heath’s waist, until she’d hooked her ankles together around his lower back. His hips thrust against hers, the thin wisp of material that was her panties twisted when he ground against her. He yanked upward on the hem of her nightgown, tearing it over her head, leaving her in nothing but the small triangle of her underwear.
His hands caressed her hot skin, roaming over her shoulders, kneading her back, trailing along her abdomen, skimming the top of her panties.Wanda’s hips jutted upward, silently begging him to touch her, but he didn’t comply.
He taunted. He teased. He let his fingers explore every inch of her flesh but the most intimate parts of her, circling them, coming so close to touching her, then pulling away. Her nipples were hard, taut, needy, scraping against the crisp white shirt he’d worn every day since she’d met him, and then she decided to take matters into her own hands.
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