by Ava May
"I'm early. And I guess he's late."
"I just got a text. He got held up in San Diego but he's on the plane now. He'll be here in a couple of hours. Oh, sorry again. I don't mean to be so rude. You're sopping wet, aren't you?" She shown the light up and down him.
"Electric out or are you just creating an atmosphere?"
Sara grinned. Funny guy, even as miserable as he must be, standing there wet as a fish.
"I think you're bigger than my dad but I can probably find you some sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt."
"That would be great. Any chance I could take a hot shower? And if there's any dry wood, we should get a fire going in that cave Doug calls a fireplace."
"Yeah, it's kind of a huge cavern, isn't it? There's wood stacked over there. Probably some kindling and I hope matches. Let me go find you clothes. I guess you can use the guest bathroom in the Blue Room. That's…"
"I know where all the bedrooms are. Take my briefcase and my overnight bag, please. I think I managed to not get the contents too wet. How about we light some candles?"
"I don't know where he keeps them." Sara set the case down on the floor. It might leave marks on the wood tables.
"I see a few right here." Mathew waved his arm.
Sara scanned the room. "These are decorations."
"I'll buy him new ones." Mathew shrugged out of his jacket and before she knew what happened, unfastened his pants and stepped out of them.
"Uh…"
"I don't want to drip all over his oriental rugs. Grab those matches and hand me a candle."
She hurried to the fireplace, still using her phone and flashlight, and retrieved the wooden matches, then picked up a heavy candleholder from a shelf. "Here." She handed it to him.
He scraped the match on an end table and laughed when she moved to stop him. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt Doug's precious antiques. If I do, I'll replace them. I've got plenty of money."
He spoke the last words casually, not like he was bragging, but stating a fact.
"There. Better." He touched the flame to the wick, illuminating his face fully.
Oh dear.
Mathew was hot. Sculpted cheekbones highlighted a rugged face, the kind that had seen plenty of sun, ocean, and joy. Laugh lines framed his eyes and mouth. A mouth that now turned up into a knowing grin and eyes that watched her watching him. He put the candleholder on the table.
"Step close, into the light. Let me look at you."
She did, glad for the shadows that hid a blush she felt creeping up her face.
"Pretty Sara, all grown up. You look a lot different from your pictures."
She shuffled her feet. "I quit sending him pictures after high school. And he never asked for any."
"He should have."
Enough of this scrutiny. "I'll find you some clothes and bring them to the Blue Room. There are towels in the bathroom."
She turned and headed to the staircase, his gaze like a warm ray of sun on her back.
Chapter 2
Mathew Stephens. Sara racked her brain as she headed to the master bedroom. Had she ever heard Doug mention this guy before? Probably not, since they rarely discussed anything personal. A real estate investment project? Her father hadn't mentioned that either. She stuck the flashlight in her mouth and dug through his chest of drawers, where she thought he might keep his workout clothes. There. A loose pair of sweat pants and a workout shirt. Hopefully they would fit her visitor.
A shiver crept along her spine as she thought of the view she'd already had of Mathew's body. Nice. Even in the dim light she'd seen he was well built. Long, muscular legs, a solid torso. He looked younger than her dad. For just a moment, she allowed the vision of his smiling face and the sound of his husky voice to bring warmth to her heart. This guy seemed like fun. He called her pretty.
But so had Kyle, once upon a time.
Shaking her head to keep the memories away, she went down the hall to the Blue Room, named for the hideous turquoise paint on the walls. This house was so big, they had to have some way to keep track of all the rooms. Opening the door to the bedroom, the scent of pine and something citrusy, orange maybe, came wafting her way. Must be Mathew's soap, or shampoo. The door to the bathroom was cracked slightly and a mist of steam rolled out. She walked in quietly and set the clothes on the bed. Was that singing she heard?
This guy was a little too cheerful. She'd be crabby as all hell if her car got a flat, she had to walk a quarter of a mile, and then got interrogated on a porch. While wet and cold. Descending the stairs, she allowed a small smile. This evening might be more interesting than she'd planned.
At the fireplace, she wadded up newspapers and gathered sticks of kindling. It had been a long while since she'd built a fire, but she recalled the basics. A few small logs on top of the tinder, then larger ones once it caught.
"You must have been a Girl Scout."
Sara whirled around to see Mathew leaning on the wall, watching her. Orange, definitely. He smelled like orange. And looked like a Greek god. His legs seemed even longer in the tight pants, and the shirt clung to his torso, showing muscles that took a bit of work to achieve. So he was a vain, rich guy. Even worse than just plain rich. His mouth curved into a slow smile, like he knew the effect he had on her racing heart. Thankful again for the low light to hide her pink cheeks, she turned back to her task.
"No, not a Girl Scout. But I know how to build a fire."
"I'd be happy to take over there, if you'll hunt up some food. I'm starving."
As if on cue, her own stomach rumbled. "Me too. I think there's a few slices of pizza left. If you don't mind it cold."
"That sounds delicious. I lived on cold pizza in college. Any chance there'd be a beer to go with that?"
Happy to escape to the kitchen, she grabbed the box of pizza and a bottle of beer from the refrigerator. She hoped pale ale worked for him. Mathew didn't seem like the picky type. Sara preferred wine, so she perused the rack in the kitchen. Probably not the really good stuff. That would be in the cellar and no way would she dive into that dark pit. She should call Lucy and ask her which brand from the kitchen selection would be decent.
Oh shit! She forgot to call Lucy and let her know she was safe from the mysterious doorbell ringer. Right on cue, her phone vibrated with a text.
What's going on? U ok?
Fine. Guy at door is Dads friend. Nice guy.
Sara pondered a minute, then couldn't resist.
Cute 2.
What? Tell more.
Gotta go. Pizza party.
More!
Sara smiled, turned the volume all the way down and stuck the phone in her pocket. Deciding to make the meal a little classy, she slid the pizza slices out of the box and onto a plate, and put the beer and wine on a tray. There. Not too bad, considering she did this all by the beam of a flashlight. Picking up the tray she headed back to the living room.
Warmth and light hit her as soon as she turned the corner. Much better. Mathew had lit more candles and the place looked extremely inviting. She made a mental note, burn candles more often.
Of course, having this incredibly appealing guy in the room helped. He had his long legs propped on a coffee table, head reclined on the back of the couch, and his eyes closed. He looked exhausted. Still cute, but exhausted. She set the tray down quietly and studied him again. Younger than her dad, by a few years. Those laugh lines added to his good looks, making him appear mature, but not old. Brown hair, with some blond highlights shone in the firelight.
"You don't get many men to look at where you come from?" He didn't open his eyes, didn't move while asking the question. "You're staring at me again."
Damn it, was he magic, he could see through his eyelids? "I'm just trying to see if I can place you, in any pictures my dad has shown me."
Good save.
"You'll see one on the shelf, next to the big window. When your dad and I were in Africa."
She set the tray down and he popped open t
he beer, then dug into the pizza. Sara wandered over to the window to find it. Africa. Hunting some poor animal for a trophy, no doubt. Rich guy games.
"I was just heading off for a stint for Doctors Without Borders. Doug was there at the same time, doing some pro bono work for the group. We managed to meet up, got someone to take a picture. It turned out pretty good, so we kept it.
There. Her dad and Mathew, posed in front of a gorgeous sunset in an exotic background. Mathew had a slight beard and longish hair and her dad, he looked happy. Really happy. She didn't know he'd done volunteer work as a lawyer.
"You're a doctor?"
"Was. Couldn't deal with the insurance companies and the political bullshit."
"What do you do now?"
"Whatever I want. I made a few good investments. Really good. I don't have to work anymore. At least not at something I don't enjoy."
What do you enjoy, she almost asked, but bit her tongue. This guy radiated a powerful sensual energy, and no doubt his list of enjoyable activities would make her pulse race. Faster than it did now.
"Tell me about this investment project you're working on with my dad."
Something safe and boring.
"It's not terribly exciting. How about we talk about you. Your father mentions you all the time, but doesn't go into much detail."
What? A guy who didn't want to talk about himself? Odd. Sara continued to peruse the pictures on the shelf. Doug had kept one of their family, him, her and her mom, tucked away in the back. She wiped off the light coat of dust and studied it. How happy they all looked.
"I'm not terribly exciting either. I live in Maplewood, I'm an admin assistant, and I hang out with my friends."
"I'm sure there's more to you than that. Come on over and eat. I opened your wine for you."
Yes, wine. Maybe that would settle her nerves. Something about Mathew did funny things to her lady parts. His voice, lord, like liquid heat, sliding along her nerve endings. Moisture formed between her thighs just listening to him talk.
She chose a chair opposite the couch and grabbed a piece of pizza and a glass of wine.
"Sorry, I ate mine already. My table manners are non-existent tonight. I'm starving."
Yet he still left her two pieces. How thoughtful was that?
"You can have another piece, if you want. I'm not that hungry. Really, I'd like to know about the project. Unless it's top secret."
"Nothing like that." Mathew grabbed the last slice. "There are a few vacant houses in a low-rent district in Clayton. Your dad and I are thinking of buying them, fixing them up, and turning them over to a veteran's group to rent to homeless vets."
Holy crap! Who was this guy? Jesus?
"Mathew, why do you do all this charity work? And why is my dad involved?"
He licked sauce off his fingers, a move that produced more heat in the room than the blazing fire.
"Call me Matt. I've been fortunate in life. I've managed to amass a great deal of money, but I remember what it's like to be down. People helped me then, and I want to help others now. Your dad, I've always been after him to be more of a philanthropist. I think that stint in Africa pushed him in the right direction. Slowly."
Matt tapped his briefcase with a toe. Damn, even his feet were sexy.
"This deal will benefit a lot of people. And you know who really ends up feeling good?" He pointed to his chest. "Me, that's who. Doug is figuring that out too. When you give to others, you get ten times back. Why don't you come over here? Better view of the fire. I'll put another log on."
He stood and went to the fireplace. The guy moved like a person who knew exactly what he was doing at all times. Sure, and in control. What an odd combination of power and kindness. He picked up her empty glass, along with the bottle, and moved them to the coffee table. Had she already drunk a whole glass of wine? It rarely took more than one to make her tipsy.
"Come on, sit next to me. I won't bite." He refilled her glass.
Yeah, sure he wouldn't. Pushing away the image of his teeth on her dark skin, she rose and sat on the couch. Not terribly close.
"Tell me what you do for fun. I'll bet you don't spend all your free time hanging out with your friends. Doug says you're on your computer a lot. You don't strike me as a Facebook fiend, are you?"
"No, not that much."
"So, what do you do on your computer?"
Sara shifted on the couch. Those deep blue eyes of his seemed to burrow into her soul. That, along with the glass and a half of merlot, must be what made her blurt out a secret she told no one.
"I write romance books."
Instead of laughing, like Kyle had when she'd first told him, Matt merely nodded.
"I can imagine you doing that. I don't know you well, but from what I've heard from Doug, you're creative, smart, and look at the world from a different perspective than other people."
"My dad said that?"
"Not exactly, but I've picked up those images over the years. He talks about you a lot, doesn't even know he's doing it. He misses you."
Weird. This whole night had turned weird. Her father was a man she didn't even know, a half-way interesting guy who actually cared about her, and a super-hot friend of his was…touching her hand?
Yep. Matt ran a fingertip along the back of her hand that she'd rested on the edge of the couch. Little sparks of electricity leaped from his skin to hers. Part of her wanted to snatch her hand away, the other part longed to stroke the stubble on his face. It would feel rough, like sandpaper.
"So soft," he murmured.
"Uh." Common sense finally prevailed and she pulled her hand to her lap. "Tell me more about you. Some of your other projects."
He scooted closer to her. "You don't want to enjoy some special time together?"
Oh boy did she. Her body did anyway. Her nipples tightened and her pulse had sped up like a race car. "Look, you seem like a nice guy," she began.
He sighed, leaned back and crossed his arms. "Right. That's me. Nice guy. A good friend. The one women want to talk to, not get naked with."
She opened her eyes wide. "No, that's not true. I'd love to get naked with you."
Holy hell. She did not just say that.
Matt's eyes lit up. "Then what are we waiting for?" He grabbed the bottom of his shirt.
She put her hands on his. "No, that's not what I meant. I mean, you're very attractive and fun and nice, but I can't do anything with you."
"Why not? We're both adults. I want you, you seem to want me. Don't you?"
His eyes dropped to her breasts, where she knew her nipples stood straight up, broadcasting her desire.
He caressed her face. "I believe in living life to the fullest. Right now, what I want to do more than anything in the world, is make love to you."
"Why?"
"Why? Because we're alone, in the dark, with a fire. You're sexy as all hell, and I've been picturing your sweet, naked ass on that fur rug ever since I met you."
Sara squirmed, the heat between her legs turning to wet fire. She slapped down her building lust. Something was totally wrong with this situation. Any minute now, Matt would burst out laughing.
"Please. Stop. I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I know I'm not the type of woman guys like you go for."
"And what type is that?"
"Tall, skinny, gorgeous."
He took her hand and put it on his lap. Oh heavens! His erection throbbed through the thin material of his sweatpants. He was big and lord almighty, hard. She couldn't resist squeezing lightly, making him hiss in response.
He smiled at her, a smoldering flame in his eyes. "Still think I'm not interested in you? Let me tell you something. I've been all over this world, and there is no "type" of woman I prefer. All women are beautiful, in their own way. You have a sweet, simple, yet complex way about you that I find immensely appealing."
"You just described a bottle of wine, I do believe."
He threw back his head and laughed. "Yes, women are
like wine. Each a little different, each one mysterious, every one delicious. You," he ran his palm down her neck, then cupped her breast. "I think I could explore you for a long time."
His thumb stroked her nipple through her shirt and she couldn't hold back a moan. Nor could she think of a reason to say no. It had been far too long since a man looked at her with such desire. Mathew seemed nice. Maybe he really was a good guy, and would treat her well. She deserved this little bit of pleasure.
Still, the voice of reason persisted. "Condoms."
"Got one in my bag. Don't move. Wait, move just a little."
He pulled her to him and kissed her. Not a tender or tentative kiss, either. His mouth captured hers hungrily, drawing her in, coaxing a response she eagerly gave. Their tongues entwined and she met his urgency, surprised at how natural it felt. Like they'd done this a hundred times before.
He cupped one breast, stroking her nipple again. She arched her back, leaning into him, wanting more. As though he read her mind, he complied, taking the other one in his hand, then rolling her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. An ache filled her and she longed for him to take them in her mouth, to suck on them.
Once again, he seemed to pick up exactly what she wanted. He pushed her shirt up and lifted her sport bra, freeing both breasts. Exposed to the somewhat-chill air, her nipples hardened further. He bent and flicked his tongue over one peak, while continuing to tease the other with his fingers.
Sara could barely hold still. Waves of such pleasure ran through her. She wrapped one leg over his thigh, needing contact with his body.
He stopped, pulled away, and she saw the wonder in his eyes too. Did he feel that spark, that connection when they touched?
He cleared his throat, ran his hand along her face again. "Don't move." His voice shook slightly.
Sara leaned back. No way could she move if she wanted to. Her whole body shook, with nervousness and desire. She was about to make love with a guy she'd just met, a wildly hot guy who wanted her bad. Could this night get any crazier?
Yes.
The slamming of a door made her jump. Not an upstairs door, one in the back of the house.