by Kira Hillins
For a moment, he massaged her lower back. Slow, heavy strokes of his thumbs sent another jolt of lightning through her.
He turned her around to face him. “Better?”
“Much better. You’re quite the masseur.”
“Nah.” He shrugged. “Dated a woman for about a week a few years back.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Don’t remember much except she taught me pressure points on the upper body.”
Zoe stuck her hands in her front pockets. “Well, it worked great.”
The corners of his lips curved upward. “Doesn’t that bother you?”
“What’s that?” She squinted in the sunlight.
“Most women get jealous when their guy talks about another gal.”
“My guy?” She loved the sound of that. “Well, I’m not like most women.”
He chuckled. “I see that.”
She tugged the hem of her shirt. “You’ve had a lot of girlfriends.”
“Never got serious with anyone.”
“At least you learned useful techniques with your hands.” Her face warmed. If he could massage a kink from her shoulder in minutes, imagine what other interesting things he could do with those beautiful hands.
He took hold of her elbow and pulled her close. “You’re nervous.”
She swallowed hard. “Why would you say that?”
“You’re fidgeting.” He scanned her body, stopping to look at her shirt before returning his gaze to hers. “Pink is definitely your color.”
He leaned down. This was the moment she’d waited for. To feel his lips against hers, the warmth of his tongue on her tongue. She anticipated their first passionate kiss with held breath.
Just shy of her mouth, he cocked his head to the side. “Do you hear that?” he whispered. He brushed his lips against hers, teasing, driving her mad. It would be so easy to get that intense kiss, but she tried to hear whatever it was he listened for.
At first all she heard was the sound of the plains winds kicking up dust around her feet. Birds chirped. The distant sound of a rumbling jet played with the faint chime coming from the Jeep.
“My cell phone,” he said.
He jogged around to the driver’s side. He searched between the seats. Under them. When he found the ringing nuisance crammed down in the crevice between the backseat and luggage, he grinned. “There you are.”
Disappointed she didn’t get that kiss, Zoe hopped up into the passenger seat. She listened to him speak on the phone, agreeing, arguing a little. By the time he ended the call, the calm, sweet man she’d ridden with all morning breathed a disgruntled sigh.
“DAMN IT!” BEN shouted. He placed his cell in the holster attached to the dashboard vent.
This weekend was supposed to be free and clear to spend with Zoe. Doogen knew this, and he still made last-second plans for them to play tonight.
With Doogen’s arm sprained and in a sling, he couldn’t play guitar. Now Ben had to drag Zoe through the cesspool of drunkards at the bar. Sheron would need to keep the dogs off. That wouldn’t be an easy task.
“What’s wrong?”
“Doogen scheduled a last-minute gig in Aurora tonight.”
“Oh, don’t be mad.” Zoe bounced in the seat. “This is so exciting! I get to hear your band play.”
He watched her tie her hair up. Her smile beamed, blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight. The woman sent him to his knees. He stepped on the accelerator. The tires peeled out onto the road, leaving a huge dust cloud behind them. For a few minutes he drove in silence. He was ready to call Doogen back and refuse the gig. He didn’t want to go. More importantly, he didn’t want to take Zoe there.
Zoe scooted toward him. When she placed her hand on his leg, he let off the accelerator. He’d pushed the Jeep to ninety-five without noticing. Zoe’s hair had partly come out of the tie and lashed at her soft, supple cheeks. She massaged above his knee as he slowed to a calmer 60 mph.
“Should I put the top on?”
When she nodded, he pulled to the side of the road. He lifted the top over the Jeep and then worked his way around, snapping it into place. As he zipped up the back window on the passenger side, he caught her gaze.
She blushed as she pulled the tie from her hair. Blonde strands enveloped her shoulders and fell down her arms. He jumped back in the Jeep and shut the door. Instead of placing his hands on the steering wheel, he cupped her face.
“This might be a corny thing to say, but…I’m going to kiss you now.”
Her hands slid over his. “It’s about time.”
He quickly pressed his lips against hers, slowly working his tongue into her mouth. When they parted, her body shuddered. “You taste like spearmint.”
He didn’t have the heart to tell her she tasted like a cinnamon roll, though that wasn’t a bad thing at all.
Chapter Ten
Denver offered plenty of traffic, which was overwhelming for Zoe. Though she felt safe with Ben driving, she thanked God they were almost there. According to the sign, there were only seven more miles to the city center.
He ventured off the next exit and turned left at the light. After about three miles down a two-lane highway, he turned right on a short side street lined with tall, leafless trees and big fancy houses. When he pulled into the driveway in front of a long, single-story home in a cul-de-sac, he sighed.
“Home, sweet home,” he said, turning off the engine. Hearing his voice for the first time in hours sent a chill up her spine. “I hope you brought warm clothes. Weather’s unpredictable here. Might even snow.” He got out and grabbed the luggage from the back. She met him in front of the Jeep and walked with him to the front door.
“Nice house,” she said, noting the brick exterior.
“It’s home,” he said, opening the door. She followed him inside the warm house. It only took one look around to feel ashamed of her tiny, poorly decorated apartment. This place was elegant, modern, and much different from how she imagined his house would look.
Houseplants potted in fat, dark brown vases sat in each corner of the room. A large flat-screen TV hung on the far wall near the open-bar kitchen. A leather sectional couch stretched around from the living room window to the entrance where she stood.
“Come on,” he said, glancing back at her.
She followed him to the kitchen and then down the short hall on the right toward double doors. He opened one of the doors and flipped on the light.
“After you,” he said, arching his right brow as he stepped aside.
Aha! This was more like it. A king-size bed with a headboard bookcase was pushed against the far wall. Two guitars and an amplifier sat in the corner of the room beside another flat-screen TV hanging on the wall. Game consoles were in each slot of a six-tiered shelf, along with hundreds of video games.
“Sorry about the mess,” he said when he set the luggage down near the bed. “I normally keep my equipment in the art room, but my roommate needs it for her supplies.”
“Her?” A pang of jealousy worked through her gut. He’d mentioned a roommate before but never said his roommate was a girl. “All this time talking, and you didn’t think it was important to tell me you lived with a woman?”
“I didn’t think so at first.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “By the time I felt it did matter, I was afraid you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”
“So you kept it from me.”
“I’m really sorry, Zoe. I should’ve told you.” He lowered his hands to his sides. “Are you mad at me?”
“A little.” Zoe shrugged. “But I guess I understand. Not many women would want to date a guy with a female roommate.”
“I swear. Sheron and I are like brother and sister.”
She watched him unpack his duffel bag and sling his clothes into the hamper beside the door. He took off his shirt, showing his tall, striking physique, and then tossed the garment in the pile of dirty clothes.
“I’m going to take a quick shower in the hall bathroom.�
� He led her through double doors into the biggest bathroom she’d ever seen. “Use my bathroom while you’re here. There’s a garden tub, if you like. Might be good for your sore shoulder.”
He lifted his dog-tag chain over his head, then leaned forward. He kissed her on the cheek and then left her alone in the room.
Clear glass surrounded the open shower, which was big enough to fit six people. When she stepped in, she felt more naked than usual, if that were possible. Her bathroom consisted of a normal, everyday fiberglass tub-and-shower combo enclosed by a non-see-through blue shower curtain.
This was lovely. Luxurious. Out of her league.
Once dressed in her jeans and T-shirt, she blow-dried her hair. As she applied her makeup in the long mirror above the dual sinks, his soft tenor voice came from his bedroom. A deep, raspy tone followed—his female roommate.
Zoe pressed her ear against the door, eager to hear what they talked about. The woman scolded him for bringing his new girlfriend home. She said something about the dog following him here, or the girl would follow him around like a dog.
Zoe opened the door wide. Ben lay back on his bed in a pair of dark blue jeans, holes in the knees. His T-shirt sported an alien spaceship on the front with an overstuffed blob inside.
“Nice shirt.” Zoe ignored the glare she received from the stunningly attractive woman standing in the bedroom doorway.
“My design,” he said proudly.
“Is she going to the bar?” the woman said.
Dark complexion, long, sleek hair, and perfect body in a sleeveless curve-hugging dress—breathtaking was an understatement. Metal spikes stuck out around her belt, giving her a heavy-metal look—a taste of what this bar they were going to would be like.
“Of course she’s coming,” he said. “Zoe, meet Sheron. Sheron—Zoe.”
“Hi,” Zoe said with a wave of her hand.
“Hello.” The woman’s nose wrinkled as she ran her gaze up and down Zoe’s body. “Come with me.” She took two steps down the hall, then stopped. “Don’t make me wait, doughnut girl. We’ve got to get you dressed for the ball.”
Zoe followed the dark princess through the living room, down the next hallway to a bedroom much darker than Ben’s. What had she gotten herself into? Ben lived with a woman who put beauty-pageant contestants to shame. No way could he resist this temptation.
“My name’s Sheron. Long o. People often mistake the pronunciation and call me Sharon. I hope you won’t.”
Sher-ohn opened the door to her walk-in closet and went in. She pulled the dangling chain, and the ceiling lightbulb flickered on.
“I have plenty of clothes. Pick out whatever you like. This is a heavy-metal bar. You’ll get laughed at if you show up in your current wear. I’ll be damned if you embarrass Ben. Oh,” she said on her way out. “If you do anything to rip out his heart, I will kill you.”
Overprotective? Understatement of the year. The woman was direct. Hopefully she didn’t mean kill in a literal sense. Zoe didn’t plan on hurting Ben anyway.
So many choices of clothes hung in this closet, if the person was into the dominatrix thing. She could see Sheron, oddity as she was, with whips and chains and handcuffs. Black skirts, shirts, tank tops, dresses, shoes—they were all gloom and doom, except for the wedding gown hanging in a plastic bag at the end of the closet.
Continuing up the wardrobe, Zoe found a nice spaghetti-strap dress. A really short dress. She pulled it from the hanger, draped it over her arm, then made her way back out into the bedroom.
“Nice choice,” Sheron said. She sat on the edge of her bed with a pair of long stockings and knee-high boots.
“You don’t own anything with color?” Zoe asked.
“I’m not Perky Pam. I don’t wear bright colors or dye my hair blonde like some women.”
Zoe glanced down at her yellow shirt. “My hair is naturally blonde.”
Sheron snorted through her nose. “Did you think I was talking about you?”
Zoe opened her mouth but had no comeback.
“Listen, girl. You’ve got serious looks. Filled out in all the right places. You’ll get hit on tonight, so you better stick close to me. I don’t want Ben getting in a bar fight.”
“I don’t either.” Zoe squeezed in her words before Sheron continued.
“He likes you, and he’ll fight for your honor if he has to.” Sheron handed Zoe the stockings and boots. “You are on the pill, right?”
Zoe’s jaw dropped. Her mind went to the now opened pills in her bathroom cabinet.
“You’re a grown woman. I’m sure you know not to play without condoms and shit.” Sheron shrugged. “Get dressed, then come out to get some food. Ben says you guys haven’t eaten all day.”
Sheron left and closed the door behind her. Zoe stood for a moment, wondering what she should do. Though comfortable in her jeans and T, she needed to fit in for Ben, at least for tonight.
The minidress dipped a little lower in front than she liked. It fit snug around her hips. At least the hem covered her rear end. Barely. Once she put on the thigh-high stockings and boots, she looked in the mirror.
Never, ever would she dare wear something like this! Anywhere but a metal bar and she’d get propositioned as a hooker. She did look pretty good for spending a wild night with her lover, but not for going out on the town.
She stood, hand on the bedroom doorknob. Why did she want to dress like this when all she was going to do was sit at a table to listen and watch? She didn’t want to be propositioned or hit on.
“Suck it up,” she muttered. Letting a deep breath pass her lips, she opened the door and went out.
Ben and Sheron sat at the kitchen table, getting ready to eat what looked to be shrimp linguine. A third plate sat in the empty space beside Ben. When his gaze caught hers, his eyes widened.
“Smells good,” Zoe said.
“Oh damn, girl! You’re scorching hot!” Sheron nodded. “Now you’re ready for the bar.”
Ben dropped his fork. It clanged loudly on the edge of the plate, then fell against the glass-top table. When he stood, mouth agape, the chair tipped over onto the floor behind him.
“What the hell, Sheron?” he choked, scanning Zoe head to toe. “I didn’t bring her here for you to play…dress up with.”
“You don’t like it?” Zoe folded her arms over her chest.
Ben picked his chair upright. He grabbed his leather jacket from the floor and hung it around her shoulders, covering her up.
“My God, Zoe,” he whispered as he pulled out her chair. “You’re the hottest thing in Denver.”
The spark ignited. When the corner of Sheron’s lips rose, Zoe understood why Sheron had made her dress this way. Perky Pam no more. Bright was not her color tonight.
“There’ll be a lot of heads turning,” Sheron said, directing her comment to Ben, though she left her startling catlike eyes on Zoe. The wink she gave was in secret. “Don’t worry. I’ll watch out for your sweet little baker.”
Zoe knew then that this was the beginning of a beautiful, albeit odd, friendship.
Chapter Eleven
Ben didn’t want to let Zoe out of the MINI Cooper looking the way she did. He breathed hard every time he caught sight of her beautiful pale thighs. When she moved, the jacket parted, exposing the soft, supple skin of her neckline and the inner curves of her breasts.
He struggled, wrenching his hands around the steering wheel. This was a bad idea. The men were going to have a field day, eyes feasting on her. Mouths salivating.
“Can we go in now?” Zoe asked quietly. He was sure she enjoyed his misery. “Your jacket covers most of the outfit.”
“Most,” he replied. “Doogen should go on without me so I can take you back to the house.”
“He has a sprained arm. Plus, I want to hear you play.”
“This is a rough place full of meatheads who’d love to get their hooks in you.” He groaned. “If I see one guy bothering you, I’ll—”
�
��You’ll do nothing. Sheron and I don’t want you fighting. Trust me. I can take care of myself.”
“Come here.” He took her face between his palms. “Can I kiss you?”
“Ben.” She smiled. “You never have to ask permission for a kiss.”
He pressed his lips against hers. One kiss caused a big stir inside him. If he wanted to play the gig, he’d need to concentrate on something besides her.
“Let me take you home,” he whispered into her mouth. “You can wear the outfit for me.”
When she leaned away, he caught movement in the corner of his eye. He glanced at the back entrance, where Dom, the bar’s bouncer, stood waving his arms. Ben ignored him to hopefully get the answer he wanted from Zoe.
She shoved on his chest. “We need to go in, or you’ll be late.”
“Then promise me,” he said. He kissed her lips once more. “Don’t accept any drinks unless they’re from Sheron or the bartender. And keep your hand over the mouth of the glass.”
“Why?”
“Don’t want your drink to get roofied.”
She laughed a little. “What’s roofied?”
“Really?”
Zoe shrugged and then shook her head. “I don’t know what that means.”
“Just don’t accept drinks from anyone.” He got out of the car. Dom shouted for him to hurry as Ben grabbed his guitar from the backseat. He took Zoe’s hand and held tight as he led her toward the rear entrance of the bar.
Dom stared at Zoe as she passed, flashing his golden-toothed smirk while massaging his fat, gray-bearded chin.
“Hello…sweetheart.”
Ben kept Zoe moving through the kitchen and down the short, chair-cluttered hall until they reached the door to the main room.
He retrieved his guitar from its soft case. He slipped the dark blue strap over his head and positioned it on his shoulder. One more quick kiss on Zoe’s lips, then he looked her square in the eyes.
“I know,” she said when he opened his mouth to speak. She clasped her hands behind his neck. When she pulled him down to meet her face-to-face, she smiled. “I’ll stay with Sheron. I won’t accept drinks from anyone but her and the bartender. I promise.” She nuzzled her lips against his ear, sending sparks through his body. “I’ll sit in the seat next to her all night and won’t move until you come get me.”