Don't Give Me Butterflies

by Tara Sheets

  Kat had the sudden urge to reach out and touch him. Jordan Prescott was truly a gorgeous specimen of a man. Broad, muscular shoulders and back. Dark, tanned skin. Narrow waist, lean hips, and a backside that . . . Kat wanted to move closer. For precisely this reason, she took a giant step back. She really needed to get it together. It’s not like she’d never seen a half-naked hot guy before. A twig snapped under the heel of her left boot.

  He turned toward her. His gaze swept slowly down her body, sending all kinds of delicious shivers over her skin. Jeez, the man didn’t even have to touch her, and she reacted. She was definitely going to have to be on guard with him around. Kissing him in that stupid broom closet had been a bad move. And then again in her apartment yesterday? Even worse. Because now it was all she could think about. Sure, she’d kissed other men before, but none of them had ever wound her up so hard and so fast. Jordan didn’t just kiss with his body, it was like he wrapped his mind around hers, and he knew exactly what she wanted even before she did. Exactly what she needed. It was deeply erotic and more than a little unsettling. She suddenly wondered if he was thinking about kissing her, too.

  “Special occasion today?” he drawled, gesturing to her dress.

  She folded her arms over the bodice of her sundress, trying to channel a calm she didn’t feel. It was hard to act iceberg cool when he was standing there like some half-dressed god of washboard abs. “I told you I don’t always wear black.” Quick! Set the tone. Say something normal. “Did you let Waffles out of his pen? I saw him over in the large paddock.”

  “He’s an escape artist,” Jordan said. “I found him wandering around the yard so I put him in there.”

  Kat wrinkled her brow. “How did he get out? I know I closed the gate.”

  “The latch was rusted, and it broke.”

  Kat turned to go and inspect the gate.

  “Don’t bother,” he said. “I fixed it this afternoon. I just left him in the larger pen because I thought he might like it better.”

  “You did?” Kat asked, pretending not to feel the jolt of pleasure. He thought of Waffles! That meant he cared. At least a little bit.

  Jordan ran the back of his hand across his face. “Seemed like he wanted to run around, so . . .” he trailed off with a shrug.

  “That’s nice.” Kat tried very hard not to check out his naked torso for the twelfth time. Would he notice if she just took one more peek? Probably not. There. Last one. She was done now. No big.

  Jordan’s lips curved up at the corners.

  She tossed her hair and stared straight into his eyes. See? She wasn’t fazed. She could just look at his face and not the six-pack abs and sinewy muscles that ran along his torso to that intriguing V that dipped below his hip bones. Easy peasy. She forced herself to focus on the hollow beneath his throat and the dark stubble on his unshaved jaw. The corner of his perfect mouth twitched.

  She licked her lips and glanced away. Even she had her limits. Staring at him was too dangerous. The kiss they’d shared the day before hung in the air between them. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet. Maybe she should just mention it, so they could get it out in the open and not make it a big deal. She opened her mouth to say just that, but instead said, “I’d like to go check on Clementine, if you don’t mind. And the kittens?”

  He propped the shovel against the barn wall and grabbed another shirt hanging on a nail. “They’re fine, last I saw. Opal put the cat food and water dish in my room, too. She said you requested it.”

  “I did. Clementine isn’t going to want to go far from her kittens. It only made sense to move everything up to your room.”

  “I need my room back, Kat.” Jordan’s voice brooked no argument. “I’ve had a very demanding day, and I have work to do.” He walked toward her, pulling the shirt over his head. She took one last peek at his rippling abs while his face was obscured. “You said to give your cat two days, and this is day two.” He was standing right in front of her now, towering over her in a way that should’ve been intimidating, but instead it made her stomach swoop and her knees feel like melted marshmallows.

  “Fine,” she said as calmly as she could. “I’ll move them downstairs so you can have your precious room back.”

  Jordan held his hand out in an “after you” gesture that was so gallant, he’d never looked more like the disheveled, enchanted prince she’d imagined when they’d first met. Except he wasn’t being gallant at all, the beast. He was being annoying.

  She strode toward the house. How was it possible to be lusting after him one minute, and irritated with him the next? Would it kill him to be displaced from his room for a few more days? It’s not like he didn’t have a couch to sleep on. She only had a stupid recliner chair, and she was surviving just fine. And there were even other rooms upstairs for him. They probably had desks and beds. He could just take his business calls in another bedroom for a day or two. What was the big deal?

  Kat stomped up the porch steps, completely aware that Jordan was following behind her, glowering and sweaty and covered in dust. He’d probably need to take a shower soon just to wash all that dust off his body. With soap and shampoo . . . Her mind began to expand on the glorious image of him in the shower. No. She shut it down fast. He wasn’t allowed to be hot right now because she was annoyed at him.

  Once inside the house, she ran up the staircase and veered down the hall to his bedroom. This time, when she entered, she took more time to look around.

  It was a spacious corner room, with dark wood floors and an exposed wooden beam across the vaulted ceiling. A large picture window overlooked the front yard. There was a desk with a laptop, a computer monitor, and a sweatshirt thrown casually over the desk chair. Aside from that one article of clothing, the room was spotless. Apparently, Jordan was a neat freak. Figured. Controlling types usually were. He’d probably lose it if he saw the places she’d lived. Not that he ever would. Those places were tucked firmly away in the past, where they belonged.

  She took in the gleaming chest of drawers and the pair of dress shoes lined neatly against the wall. A place for everything, and everything in its place. Except for Clementine.

  Kat approached the mama cat and her kittens. She couldn’t help grinning when she saw the sweet tiny bodies nestled close to their mother. Two of the kittens were gray, two were orange and white, and one was a calico.

  “How’s everyone doing today?” Kat asked.

  Clementine began to purr.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” She stroked the cat between the ears. The kittens were so new, she didn’t want to handle them too much yet. In another week or so, their eyes would open and they’d begin to see things around them. For now, Kat wanted to be sure to disturb them as little as possible. It was probably better to get them out of his room, anyway. Up here, they were so far away from the kitchen and downstairs bathroom. At least down there, she’d be able to check on them frequently without having to go up to Jordan’s bedroom.

  When he came into the room, she wouldn’t look at him. “Please bring that box from the closet downstairs.” You know, the closet where we made out like it was the Kissing Olympics and we were going for the gold? She didn’t say it out loud, but she didn’t have to.

  He paused as if he wanted to say something, then just grabbed the sweatshirt from the chair and left.

  Kat continued to pet Clementine, sending her reassuring vibes. “He’s making me move you and your babies downstairs,” she whispered.

  Clementine’s ear twitched. “I know, but he’s a guy. I guess he wants his man cave back.”

  Clementine stopped purring for a second.

  “My feelings exactly,” Kat said. “But you’re probably better off down near Opal, where I can check on you more often. Jordan would end up driving you crazy. He’d probably make you listen to bad rock music and watch MMA fights on TV and only feed you beer and potato chips.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Jordan said from the doorway. “I’d offer her pizza, too. I’m not
a complete monster.”

  Kat pretended not to hear him and continued talking to Clementine. “Besides, do you really want to share a room with someone like him? I bet if we checked his Internet search history right now, you’d change your mind.” She looked at Jordan from beneath her lashes. “You just never know what guys like him are up to behind closed doors.”

  “You’re welcome to come join me tonight to find out,” he said, his voice lowering to send a jolt of physical awareness rippling over Kat’s skin. “I’d be happy to pick up where we left off.”

  She tried not to look at him but failed. What was he thinking, saying things like that? Was he being serious?

  Jordan was smiling just a little.

  “If you’re referring to that thank-you kiss in my apartment yesterday, don’t bother,” she said casually. Or at least, she tried for casual. Her heart began thumping madly in her chest because they were talking about it, and just talking about it brought the whole incident back into her mind, front and center. “I have no intention of repeating it,” she said as firmly as she could.

  He set a large, shallow box on the bed. Kat was surprised to see he’d already lined it with his faded sweatshirt. All things considered, it did look rather cozy.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to repeat anything?” he asked softly.

  “One hundred thousand percent,” she lied.

  He looked amused, as if he knew all her secrets. She didn’t like it.

  “Okay,” he said simply. Too simply. Kat had the distinct feeling he had other plans, but she didn’t want to ask.

  She bent to murmur to Clementine, then slowly lifted each kitten, placing them in the box. Clementine immediately stood and gave a mrreow! of protest.

  “I know,” Kat said. “But this grumbly beast is forcing you to leave, and I think he’s right. You’ll be much better off downstairs.” Clementine climbed into the box after her kittens.

  “I’ve got it,” Jordan said, reaching for the box.

  “What about your cat allergies?”

  “Gone,” he said. “I still can’t believe it. One drop of that allergy remedy, and I haven’t had a problem. Did she say how long it will last?”

  “I’m not sure,” Kat said.

  “No matter. It works now, and that’s all I care about.” Before Kat could protest, he lifted the box and walked out of the room.

  She followed him down the stairs to the small guest bathroom, watching as he carefully placed the box in the corner, out of the draft. Clementine was disgruntled. She hopped out of the box and began to nose around the bathroom.

  Kat sat on the floor, gently encouraging Clementine, until eventually the cat rejoined her kittens in the box. “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Kat whispered. After a while, Clementine started to purr again, nudging Kat’s hand with her head.

  When Jordan left the room, Kat took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Being near him was a lot harder than she’d thought it would be. He didn’t even have to do anything. All he had to do was stand next to her, and she felt like every part of her body was tuned to his. Why did she have to go and kiss him again? At least before, he was just a guy she’d kissed once. Now that they’d done it twice, it was like a floodgate had cracked open between them and all sorts of things could come spilling out.

  A few moments later, Jordan returned with the water and food dishes. She watched as he laid out a folded towel and arranged the dishes.

  “You seem pretty fond of Clementine,” Kat said.

  Jordan looked bored. “No, I’m not.”

  “Says the guy who tucked his sweatshirt into the cardboard box for her.”

  “To make it more comfortable for the kittens. I’m not heartless. But it doesn’t mean I have feelings for your cat.”

  Says the guy who was now taking a seat beside the box to check on the purring Clementine. Kat smiled.

  “What?” Jordan asked.

  She shook her head, her smile widening. “Nothing.”

  “Don’t read into something that’s not there,” he warned. “I was going to throw the sweatshirt out, anyway.”

  “Okay,” Kat agreed, not believing him for one second. She could tell he liked the kittens, and she could tell Clementine liked him. “Did you know that your sweatshirt was the best thing you could’ve given them?”

  “Why?”

  “Because it smells familiar to them. Clementine’s kittens were in your bed, so lining the box with something that smells like you makes them feel safe.”

  Jordan didn’t say anything. He just stroked the cat between the ears.

  Clementine’s loud purr seemed to echo off the bathroom walls.

  “Uh-huh,” Kat said. “I thought so. She’s your cat.”

  Jordan drew his hand away. “No. She’s your cat. And in case you’re forgetting, I’m allergic. You’re the one who foisted her on my grandmother.”

  “First of all,” Kat said, “I never foisted her on your grandmother. Opal officially volunteered. And second of all, you’re not allergic anymore. Juliette’s potion fixed that. And third of all, Clementine is not my cat. She’s clearly chosen you. Ask her.”

  Jordan threw her a look. “No thanks.”

  “I’m telling you,” Kat insisted. “Felines are funny like that. People don’t really get a choice in the matter. If a cat chooses you, that’s it. You’re theirs forever.”

  He cocked his head, studying her. “And you know this for a fact.”

  “Look, there are a lot of things in this world I don’t know, but I know about animals. And this cat,” she said, pointing at Clementine, “wants you.”

  His expression grew darkly sensual, and Kat was suddenly aware of how close they were sitting, with just the box between them. He slowly reached out and lifted a lock of hair from her cheek, sliding it between his thumb and forefinger, watching the silky strands fall from his fingertips. “What about this Kat? What does she want?”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. He was giving her that sinful look that said he knew what she wanted, and he could give it to her. For a few crazy seconds, she almost lost her resolve to keep him at arm’s length. Would it be so bad? Maybe just one more kiss, and then she’d be finished with him for good. Sort of like a good-bye kiss. Third time’s a charm, and all that. The Queen of Impulsive Decisions thought it was a great idea.

  Jordan was still giving her that intense hungry-wolf look, waiting for her answer.

  The front door opened, and Kat heard Opal bustling through the door.

  Kat stood quickly. “I have to go.” She walked through the kitchen and out the back door so she wouldn’t have to make small talk with Opal. It would’ve been impossible to focus on a conversation when her mind was in turmoil.

  Striding across the yard to the garage, she scolded herself the entire way. For a person who swore they were going to do things right this time, she was really making a mess of it. She had a good job, good friends, and the island felt like the kind of place she could really be happy. So why was she letting herself get all fluttery over Jordan, who clearly didn’t belong in her world? Here she was, fighting an attraction that seemed to grow stronger every time they crossed paths.

  She marched up the stairs to her apartment, vowing to put him out of her mind. He wasn’t even that big of a deal, she told herself. Yesterday had just been another stupid slip-up. He’d fixed her bathroom and she’d kissed him again, but could she really blame herself? He’d had a toolbox. And he was soaking wet. Soaking wet, tool-wielding hot guys who fixed stuff were irresistible. Everyone knew that. And sure, he was nice to Clementine today, but so what? That didn’t mean anything. Lots of guys were nice to animals.

  Kat pulled her keys from her pocket, unlocking her door. Let’s face it, Jordan Prescott was just a passing fancy. He did nothing for her. He did not enhance her life in any way.

  She pushed the door open and stopped, staring in shock.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Her apartment had been vandalized.<
br />
  Hank trotted up the steps with a happy bark.

  She gripped her keys in one hand, heart thumping in her chest. No. Her apartment had been . . . reverse-vandalized.

  She stepped inside and slowly took in the new room. What the hell was going on?

  In the corner of the far wall was a twin bed with a patchwork quilt. Two fluffy pillows were propped against the wooden headboard, and an old nightstand sat beside the bed.

  Frowning, Kat shut the door behind her and leaned against it for support. There was a small love seat in the center of the room with a coffee table, and a narrow chest of drawers pushed against the other wall.

  She slowly walked into the room, almost afraid to touch anything. Everything looked so homey and inviting. And none of it belonged to her. Kat frantically searched the room for her suitcase, spotting it under the table near the window. Relief washed over her. Good. At least she still had her own things. The vandal hadn’t taken her stuff. He’d just left his own. And she knew exactly who the vandal was. Jordan. Of that, she was certain. He’d seen her apartment the day before and took it upon himself to come in, uninvited, and change things.

  Kat clenched and unclenched her hands, emotions warring inside her. A spark of anger at having her private environment changed without her consent. The flush of shame at being pitied by him, of all people. The soothing balm of gratitude. Annoyance for appearing needy—for being needy. Relief at having some actual furniture, even if it wasn’t permanent. Confusion. Why would he go to all this trouble? A part of her wanted to be happy, but none of it was actually hers. It was borrowed, or rather, a gift that came with some kind of strings attached, surely. Kat knew from experience there was no such thing as a free handout. People always wanted something, and their motives usually weren’t to be trusted.

  She walked to the bed. The patchwork quilt was faded from years of use. Lifting a pillow, she brought it to her face and breathed in the scent of cedarwood and lavender. Very carefully, she lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling until the tiles blurred. Why did he have to go and do something like this? How could she keep her dignity if she owed him? It would take her weeks to furnish her apartment with her own things, but that’s what she planned to do. They wouldn’t be as good as these, but at least they’d be hers.