She’d felt every slide, every caress of the cotton against her skin as if it had been his touch rather than that of his clothes. She’d been devastatingly tuned in to the guarded watchfulness of his tawny eyes, the strong line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth, the nuances of his voice.
“It’s this way.” He brushed past her, his hip grazing her, sending a jolt through her entire body.
She followed him out of the kitchen. He opened a door to the right. “It’s an odd shape.”
The laundry room, a long, narrow rectangle, ran the length of the kitchen on the other side of the wall. There wasn’t much room at all between the wall and the appliances. “Shared plumbing?” she guessed.
“Yeah. You got it from here?”
“Sure.”
She scooted past him and raised the lid of the washing machine. She opened the dryer door. It was full of towels.
“Cade?” He turned at the door. “What do you want me to do with the towels in the dryer?”
“Damn. I forgot about those.” He walked back toward her. “Here, let me get them.”
She started to step out from between the appliances and the wall, he stepped in and suddenly they were wedged between the wall and the dryer, against one another. She was in full-body contact. His belt buckle pressed into her belly, one of her legs wedged between his, and her breasts pressed against his chest.
Time seemed to stop, everything distilled to the moment. His scent, the rasp of his breathing, the thud of his heart, the faint quiver that rippled through him.
“Sunny—”
“Cade—”
They went up in flames, a match thrown into tinder. He swooped his head down and took her mouth in a hard kiss, unleashing a wild, sweet abandon in her. She ground against him, her tongue mating with his. He reached beneath the edge of the T-shirt and cupped her bare bottom in his big hands. Yes! Yes! He pulled her hips against his and the hard ridge of his erection nudged against her lower belly. She moaned into his mouth and strained closer.
Cade kneaded and squeezed and massaged her buttocks and the frantic pace of their initial kiss gave way to a deep, drugging exchange. He skimmed his hands up over her hips and along her back to her waist. Without breaking their kiss, he lifted her, taking her on a slow, erotic ride up the hard masculine contours of his body, and depositing her atop the dryer. The metal was cool against the backs of her thighs and her bare bottom.
Sunny felt as if she were melting from the inside out. This was what she’d wanted, needed, craved—his touch, his scent, his taste—from the moment he’d called to her from that billboard.
He brushed his thumbs against the underside of her breasts and she gasped against his mouth, hypersensitive to even his slightest touch. Spreading her legs, she held on to his shoulders, exhilarating in the play of sleek muscle beneath her fingertips, and pulled him closer.
She dropped her head back and sighed as he wrapped his hands around her breasts and palmed the sensitive, needy tips through the thin cotton of the T-shirt. Her breasts seemed to grow and swell to a heavy ripeness under his knowing caress.
It was as if Cade was tuned exactly for her body, as if he knew just the way to stroke her.
Tension mounted inside her, slicking her thighs. He weighed the fullness of her breasts in his palms and rolled and lightly plucked her taut tips between his fingers, sending pleasure spiraling through her.
She released his shoulders and braced her hands behind her, arching back, offering herself to him. With an impatient growl he swept up the T-shirt. Cool air kissed her thighs, belly and breasts. With an approving murmur, he bent over her. The stubble on his jaw rasped deliciously against her as he laved first one breast then the other with his tongue.
Her breath came in short, hard pants. His lips and tongue felt wonderful on her, but it would feel even better if he would just, please, mercy…He tugged her nipple into his wet, warm mouth and suckled. Finally. Sweet piercing heat arrowed through her as if there was a direct connect between her breasts and her womb. Her cries bounced off the walls in the small space as she writhed beneath the magic of his lips and tongue.
She didn’t care if they didn’t make it upstairs or to the sofa. She didn’t care if it was here, on a dryer in a laundry room. She. Wanted. Cade. Stone.
Wrapping her legs around his waist, she rocked against his erection. “I want you,” she gasped.
He stopped and threw back his head abruptly as if she’d doused him with ice water. She’d snatch the words back in a heartbeat if she could. But the damage was done. He’d been enthralled by the same passion she had but now his eyes regained their guarded wariness. He tugged her shirt down and lifted her from the dryer. For a second she wasn’t sure if her rubbery legs would hold her upright.
“Go,” he uttered in a harsh, low tone.
She put a hand on his arm. “Cade—”
He brushed her hand away. “Go. Now.”
She didn’t see any option other than retreat.
She went.
Chapter 9
The next morning Cade crossed the frost-brittle grass to the garage, the predawn cold bracing. Last night had been the most miserable night he could remember in a long time.
He let himself in the side door, bypassing the car area to the gym he’d set up in the back corner. Sleep had eluded him, which was something that seldom happened. He turned on the CD player and cranked the volume. Just what he needed, some good, retro, loud-ass rock and roll. The opening lines of Bon Jovi’s “You Give Love a Bad Name” blasted through the garage. Good deal.
Cade snagged the jump rope off a peg. Rope work first, then the bag. He needed a hard, intense workout.
He never had trouble sleeping. He damn sure never had trouble sleeping because of a woman. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. He’d lost a fair amount of sleep but that was because he was busy in bed with a woman, not because he was wallowing around totally skewed because he wanted one woman in particular. That did not happen in his world.
It had to be because she was right down the hall. Hell, he’d even decided around 3:00 a.m. that it was totally stupid to toss and turn when she was readily available. He’d climbed out of bed and made it halfway down the hall. That kiss, the look in her eyes…Seducing her wouldn’t be hard or a hardship.
And then he’d heard it. It had been faint at first but grown louder as he drew closer. Sunny was snoring. It wasn’t Martin’s log-sawing, reverberate-through-the-house variety. This was more like a soft gentle sigh on each exhaling breath. That should’ve been more than enough to give him a case of limp-dick-itis.
Hell, no. He’d stood there with a hard-on feeling guilty. How could he wake her up when she was obviously sleeping so soundly? And there was a quirky vulnerability to that sound that also kept him from knocking at her door. Plus the same factor that had him sending her to her room alone in the first place. He’d brought her home with him because she’d been on the verge of making a bad decision at the end of a bad day. And then what had he done? Nearly taken her on top of the damned dryer, not exactly honorable on his part. And then lurking down the hall because he couldn’t forget her honey-sweet taste against his tongue, the satin softness of her skin in his arms and beneath his lips, the intoxicating scent of her arousal, the passion glittering in her heavy-lidded eyes or the hot, sweet sounds she’d made and the near-drunk need to satisfy her flowing through his veins. He’d returned to his bed—alone—and tossed and turned the rest of the night away.
He hung up the jump rope and strapped on his gloves. “Have a Nice Day,” his personal anthem, began to play. Jab right, left. Again and again he punched the bag. Last night was exactly why he avoided intense women like Sunny Templeton. She was a total pain in his ass. It should’ve been a simple thing. Bring her home, give her a hot shower, a square meal and a clean bed. But no, just as he’d suspected, nothing with her was simple. Everything was complicated, arousing, annoying. Maybe she’d liked his house, maybe she’d been a good listener but big damn
deal. He didn’t need anyone to like his house and he damn sure didn’t need to talk to anyone. At least one of them wound up with a good night’s sleep.
He segued into a right hook, left jab, roundhouse kick. Repeat. Hopefully Sunny was a late sleeper. He’d finish his workout, grab some breakfast and head out. With any luck she’d still be tucked safe and sound in bed and he wouldn’t have to deal with her before he left.
Left hook, right jab, left roundhouse. Sweat beaded his lip. This morning he’d go after Lewis Clancy, a mean son of a bitch who wouldn’t be happy to face a bond-enforcement officer bright and early after a night of hard partying.
Good.
Cade was spoiling for a fight.
* * *
Sunny leaned against the kitchen counter and cupped her hands around a mug of hot, fragrant coffee. Outside the window a pair of cardinals perched on a tree limb. Last night she hadn’t been able to see much in the dark, but this morning, with dawn creeping over the tree line, the view was spectacular. There were no mountains or waterfalls or anything grandiose but the backyard gave way to an open meadow with a copse of trees standing beyond it.
She’d expected to sleep lousy—if at all—last night. Instead she’d settled between the crisp, cool sheets, snuggled beneath the down comforter and drifted to sleep with Cade’s scent clinging to her skin and her body still humming from his touch. It had been her best night’s sleep in a long time.
At the meadow’s edge a rabbit delicately sniffed the morning air while a group of deer gathered at a salt block near the woods. The setting exuded tranquility, harmony, a sense of being at one with nature.
Cade emerged from the barn. Worn gray sweatpants rode low on his hips, a gray T-shirt, a good bit of it darkened with sweat, clung to his shoulders and arms. His biceps bunched like corded steel. He’d obviously been working out…hard. Sweat dripped down his neck and face in the morning sun. Mmm, mmm, mmm. So much for tranquility. So much for peace of mind. Her heart raced as if she’d just finished a marathon.
She knew the instant he saw her. His eyes locked with hers and a shiver ran through her. He came in the back door to the right of the kitchen and greenhouse, smelling like man and sweat. It was…tantalizing. Her breath hitched in her throat. Last night shimmered between them, the knowledge of what had been, the temptation of what could’ve been.
“You’re up,” he said.
She couldn’t tell if he thought that was a good thing or a bad thing. In the spirit of eternal optimism, she went with the good thing. “I’m up. I’m a morning person. Thanks for finishing my laundry.” She’d found her clothes neatly folded and stacked outside her door this morning. She raised the cup in his direction. “I hope you don’t mind that I helped myself to a cup of coffee.”
“No. I made enough for you, too,” he said, blatantly ignoring her reference to the laundry. He crossed the room and poured himself a mug.
“Good coffee,” she said.
He offered something between a grunt and a mutter that loosely translated to thanks. He was definitely in caveman mode this morning. Apparently exercise hadn’t released all those feel-good endorphins for him. Or maybe it had. If that was true, he must’ve been scary before his workout.
What was truly scary was how bone-meltingly sexy he was first thing in the morning. The loose workout clothes coupled with his unshaven jaw and those piercing tawny eyes—it was a good look on him. Actually, she was waiting to discover a bad look.
He took a swallow of coffee. “You sleep okay?”
Not exactly gracious but that was better. “Like a log. You?”
He offered a curt nod. “Okay.”
She took that for a no. Certainly no one could accuse him of being overly charming in the morning. She took a sip from her mug. He might be a grump but he made good coffee. Maybe he just needed an infusion of caffeine.
“I thought if I wouldn’t be in the way I could make some phone calls from here this morning,” Sunny said. “I need to have my cell number changed, obviously. I kept getting harassing phone calls so I finally just disconnected my home phone.” Might as well make good use of his “protective custody” while she was here.
He shrugged those impossibly broad shoulders. “Suit yourself. I’ll be at work.”
She settled on a bar stool and watched as he opened the refrigerator and pulled out eggs, grapefruit and bread. He grabbed a skillet from a lower cabinet.
For such a large man, Cade moved around the kitchen with economy and a surprising grace. Sad but true, she could easily just sit and watch him. It was an especially nice view from behind in those sweatpants. He had some nice, tight buns going there. Which in turn cut up to a trim waist and broad, heavily-muscled shoulders. But it was the buns o’ steel that truly looked fine from behind…. He turned and caught her ogling his tush. Oh well.
“Enjoying yourself?” No glimmer of humor lightened his acerbic tone.
As a matter of fact…“Immensely.” She was sure she wasn’t the first to admire his derriere. Disconcertingly enough, she was equally sure she wouldn’t be the last.
“Eggs, toast and grapefruit work for you? That’s what I’m having. It’s as easy to cook for two as it is for one.”
Not a very gracious offer, but hey, someone else was making the food. Woohoo. “Sounds good. Can I do anything to help? Get plates and silverware? Cut the grapefruit?”
“No. It’ll be easier if I do it. I know where everything is.” He pulled a spatula out of the drawer.
“What service. I could go back upstairs if you wanted to serve me breakfast in bed.” She was playing with fire. He was obviously in a pissy mood. Too bad. She was in a smart-ass flirty mood. She’d woken up that way. Amazing what a good night’s sleep could do for a gal.
Cade looked at her, a dangerous glint in his eye. “If I was serving you breakfast in bed, it wouldn’t be eggs and toast.” The low growl in his voice stirred a primal heat deep within her.
Oh. My. Well, that proved it. She could be utterly, absolutely turned on with just a look and a tone.
He cracked an egg into a bowl and she swallowed hard. Guess he was still serving eggs and she could forget about the other. For now.
“You snore,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.
“What?” Here she was all hot and bothered and he had to go say that.
“You snore.” He beat the eggs into a froth.
“I do not. Anyway, how would you know? I was all the way down the hall.”
He raised a dark eyebrow. “Exactly. I could hear you all the way down the hall.”
“No one’s ever mentioned it before.”
“Because you date pansy-asses and they’re too much of a wuss to mention it.” He dropped the bread into the toaster and stirred the eggs into the skillet.
“I do not date pansy-asses,” she shot back. Well, maybe compared to him. Everything was relative. “And how would you know, anyway?”
“I can tell.”
“You’re confusing wuss with gentleman.” She smiled sweetly over the rim of her coffee cup. “Of course, I can see how you’d have trouble making the distinction, since you’re not intimately acquainted with gentlemanly behavior. A gentleman doesn’t threaten to throw a woman over his shoulder and tote her out of a public domain.” Her pulse fluttered at the thought. “And if I snored, a gentleman wouldn’t be so rude as to point it out.”
He neatly sliced the grapefruit in half. “You should come with a pair of earplugs.”
He spooned up the eggs and put half a grapefruit and a piece of toast on each plate. He plunked a plate down in front of her.
“Thank you,” she said automatically.
“You’re welcome.” He sat on his stool, picked up his fork and began to eat.
Sunny broke off a piece of toast and scooped a forkful of egg onto it. Seeing as how he was already surly, she might as well dive right in.
“So, is some irate girlfriend going to show up today, demanding to know why I’m here?” She did need to k
now and she was damn curious as to the state of his love life. Sure he’d kissed her last night but girlfriends—heck, wives—wouldn’t stop a lot of guys from making that move or more. She popped the morsel into her mouth. Yum. Sourdough toast and good eggs.
He forked the last spoonful of his eggs into his mouth, his grapefruit and toast still untouched. Oh, boy. One of those one-food-at-a-time people. He finished chewing and swallowed.
“You’re safe. I don’t date during the holidays. It avoids any awkwardness over presents.”
After a stunned moment, Sunny said, “You cheap bastard.” This guy was incredible.
It was his turn to look stunned. “Did you just call me a cheap bastard?”
“I did.”
He laughed. She didn’t see what was so funny. “It’s not the money,” he said, spooning out a section of grapefruit. “It’s the whole gift thing. If you give a present, the woman thinks you’re serious. If you don’t give a present then she feels slighted. Either way, you’re screwed.” He worked through the grapefruit methodically as if it were a mission to be accomplished.
“Now there’s a dose of the holiday spirit. And I can tell you’re a true romantic.” She’d already picked up on his attitude last night when he’d commented on his brother’s engagement.
“Here’s the bottom line. I’ve dated some women I’ve never slept with—” that was hard to believe “—and I’ve slept with women I’ve never dated—” uh-huh, sounded closer to the truth “—and then there’s the crossover—” probably precious little “—but I’m particular in all departments.” Big tits. Little brains. No backbone. “I don’t have trouble lining up either one—” arrogant “—but I’m not the Memphis gigolo, either.” Right. “And for what it’s worth I don’t date or sleep with more than one woman at a time and they know exactly what to expect going in.” Give him a gold star.
He’d finished eating. He turned around on the stool and leaned back, bracing his elbows on the counter. It threw his broad chest and drum-tight abs into distracting relief beneath his shirt and seemed to suck all the air out of her lungs. She drew a deep breath. That was better.
The Big Heat Page 8