“Thanks?” She stepped out of the man’s way, who seemed more irritated than anything else as he walked past her.
“Have a nice day!” he called out, shocking her.
Good. Maybe the video noise was already dying down. People would forget. They would move on. Diana tried walking back out again, and this time both Scott, the pretty woman, and his truck were gone.
Team Diana.
She could almost hear an announcer’s booming voice: ‘Diana, this is your mission should you choose to accept it. Do you want the guy or don’t you? If so, lie down now and give me fifty push-ups! C’mon, girl! Don’t you know the meaning of competition?’
No. She didn’t. In fact, she sucked at competition. The only person she’d ever been in competition with was herself. That’s why it had been so easy for Tiffany to swoop in and show Bradley that she was better for him than Diana. Tiffany was also a software engineer and had a lot in common with Bradley. Not to mention she was thinner. Prettier. Successful.
If Diana wanted real change to come she’d have to step out of her comfort zone. She didn’t know why breaking out of her comfort zone brought about a vivid image of Scott—eyes smiling, every inch of his hard and able body screaming headboard banging sex. It would seem that he’d overcome the prior bad boy image of his youth. He’d gone from boy to man and become the kind of person anyone could rely on. The question of the hour was whether or not she should rely on him. She already had, in many ways. He’d saved her life. But for someone who had literally saved her, he had a way of frightening her too. Maybe because he was too good at making her feel out of control, and control over her feelings was the last real thing she had left.
He’d made it clear he was interested in her. For now. Not like she hadn’t been in this place before, with a guy who wanted what he couldn’t have. It would hurt too much to be cast aside again, forgotten. Dad. Bradley.
And Scott had already managed to forget all about her once before.
The odds seemed stacked in favor of it happening all over again.
11
Diana couldn’t get a simple one thousand word article written. How was she supposed to help Mrs. St. Michaels throw together a book about tenants from hell? Not going to happen. But she still had an article to write and a looming deadline, so while Gran was at bingo with Pop the following Saturday, Diana set her Alphasmart on the kitchen table.
Again, she seemed stuck in a staring contest with file number two. She tried several times, but no words would come. Stuck. Again. Mandy had not-so-helpfully analyzed and over-analyzed Diana’s so-called writer’s block. Supposedly, Diana was so afraid to fail that she couldn’t get a word down on paper. It was, Mandy reasoned, safer not to try than to try and fail. But Diana had to kick fear in the balls. Then she had to find her balls. She had to plunge head-first into this blank page, which she could always fix later. This was truth on a fundamental level, and yet still no words would come.
Somehow, in one thousand words, Diana wanted to get across the heart and soul of the small town fire department. Benny and his foster kids. Julie and her ground-breaking. Scott. Except that she couldn’t write much about him. He didn’t want the attention.
There was a knock at the door because somehow the entire world seemed to be hyper aware when Diana was writing and could use an interruption. Diana looked through the peep hole, but it wasn’t FedEx or the UPS guy delivering a robe or flannel PJs. This time it was Scott, and he had a toolbox with him.
“Hey,” he said when she opened the door. “Got the new sink.”
“I thought Wallace was going to do that.” He looked sexy as sin in faded blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt, the cotton straining tightly against his broad shoulders.
“He sent me and he’s the boss. Can I come in?”
She’d been blocking the doorway like some kind of bridge troll. “Oh, sure. Come on in.”
“How you doing, pal?” He strode past her, carrying the faded toolbox.
“Great, buddy.”
“The old folks at bingo?”
“Yep.”
At least Diana was no longer embarrassed to have company. The counters were cleared of books and magazines and had gone into storage to appease Gran. Diana had managed to clear out the backyard shed too, findings odds and ends that could be used in the spare bedroom once she moved out of it. She planned on making the spare room into a sewing and reading room for Gran, who far from being a shut-in or a hoarder, might be the sanest person in their entire family.
Scott set down his tool box near the sink. He sure didn’t smell like a sweaty hard working man. More like pine scented and fresh. Edible. A minute later he went out to get the new sink which he carried inside without much effort. Diana tried to ignore him, sitting at the kitchen table and staring at the blank screen, purposely furrowing her eyebrows in concentration. Maybe if she looked mean enough, the words would come. Maybe if she threatened them. Worth a try.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Writing.”
“Because it looks like it’s pissing you off.”
“It is.”
He glanced over her shoulder, so she clutched the Alphasmart to her chest. “You can’t see yet.”
“Sure. But a guy could get paranoid.”
“Well, don’t take it personally. I might not be writing about you. And I’m private about my writing.”
“Just pretend I’m not here.”
Diana restrained the laugh. Right. She should pretend that the man with the rocking hard body, the man that made her skin snap crackle and pop, her pal, her buddy, wasn’t just feet away from an available bedroom?
“I’ll try.”
To his credit, Scott stopped talking to her. He became completely involved in his work, doing whatever the hell he was doing with that wrench. She knew this, of course, because she kept busy watching him instead of writing. He was one hell of a distraction, muscles rippling through his well-worn t-shirt. Those long legs and fine ass—
She gave up and walked the Alphasmart to her bedroom. Slipped on a pair of sandals and walked back to the kitchen to get a cold bottle of water from the fridge. She held it against her forehead and considered putting it between her thighs where the real heat seemed to be.
“How’s it going?” She stood in the doorway.
“I should ask you that,” Scott said from underneath the old sink.
“Good,” Diana lied. “I rented a studio in town. I move in tomorrow.”
“No kidding. Where?”
“The Victorian Gardens about a mile from here. I’ll still be close to Gran.”
She could hear him wrenching away under the sink. “Thought you were leaving at the end of summer.”
“I got a month-to-month lease.”
“Hard to find. Let me know if you need help moving.”
She snorted. “There isn’t much to move.”
She’d been by the fire station the day before yesterday. Her laptop: death by drowning. All of her clothes had smoke damage. Fortunately she’d salvaged her ID and some credit cards she’d had in the nightstand drawer.
“Or if you need any help at all.”
“Of course, Scott, I know you want to help me. You want to help everybody.”
“Not everybody.”
“Okay, almost everybody. But I’m good. Really. I got this.”
“Except that place you’re about to move into? It ought to be condemned.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Sure, it was small and old. The owner had obviously cut corners. But the price was right.
There was only a grunt from Scott. She supposed that meant he disagreed.
Diana made an effort to sound casual. Unaffected. Simply curious. “Hey, so who’s Brenda?”
If she wasn’t mistaken, he stopped his wrenching. “A friend.”
“Yeah, you have lots of friends, don’t you?” Her throat tight, the question no longer felt casual.
“Not like you.”
; Liking that answer, she decided to quit while ahead. “Do you need some help?”
“Actually, I need to turn off the water at the main. You know where that is? I’m sure it’s the same as my house. It’s next to the hose spigot. Turn the bar and that should shut the water off.”
“Be right back.” Diana walked to the front of the house and Gran’s hose. A large fern blocked a clear view, but she fished around and found a bar underneath. He’d said to turn it, but would that be right or left? Righty tighty, lefty loosey, she remembered from watching home improvement shows with Bradley. Easy decision, since the bar wouldn’t turn right or left. She yanked it up as hard as she could, then went back inside.
“It’s done,” Diana said.
“Thanks.”
She heard a few more wrenching sounds under the sink and a moment later a jet stream of water sprung out full force. The spray hit Diana right in the chest, managing to soak her t-shirt. She didn’t know a damn thing about plumbing, but her guess was that this wasn’t supposed to happen.
“Oh, crap!” She turned to go back outside and turn the lever the other way, but instead she tripped over Scott’s long legs.
“Diana!”
She recovered from a face plant by splaying her hands out but now they slid in the water in two different directions.
“You okay?” Scott squatted over her holding out his hand, eyebrows furrowed. Of course he would be worried about her even as Gran’s kitchen had turned into an adult version of a slip and slide.
“Oh yeah. I’m good.” On all fours, she tried to get up using him for leverage.
“Need to go shut the water off.”
He probably would have been able to do that, had she not slid right into him and almost knocked him down. Thankfully, he was sturdy and probably had a better sense of balance than she did, so he didn’t fall.
“Stay.” Scott stood her up, and steadied her in place by putting a hand on each of her shoulders.
He ran out of the house, impressively not tripping or sliding once. A moment later, the water stopped spewing out of control and Scott walked back inside. He kind of looked like he’d taken a shower with his clothes on. This made his jeans and shirt stick to him, kindly outlining every inch of hard body perfection, and there were many, many inches.
She grabbed a dish towel and patted her flushed face. “Sorry. I guess I sort of turned that the wrong way.”
“Good guess.”
Her mom jeans were plastered to her, not to mention her loose and gauzy peasant blouse which was pretty much see-through right now. Another free show for the guy. “Oh crap.”
He gave her that oh-so-wicked smile again. “You could headline a wet t-shirt contest right now. And win.”
“I’m not wearing a t-shirt.”
“That’s my point.” He grabbed another dish towel nearby and ran it over his head a few times. The hairs spiked up and so did her heart rate.
“More towels. That’s what we need.”
She needed to change too but for now, she’d rather clean up before Gran got dropped off and freaked out about the water bill. She got upset when her PG&E bill was more than sixty dollars. Diana glanced at the clock. They had about an hour before Gran returned, unless she went to lunch with Pop. She’d mentioned the possibility before leaving, but there were no guarantees.
Scott followed her to the linen closet and they begin laying towels all over the kitchen floor, soaking up the mess and wiping down cabinets and countertops. They worked silently for a few minutes until Diana said, “Thanks for not giving me a hard time about this.”
“Who said I’m not?” He slid her a look. “Later.”
His hot look swept over her, and she suddenly wasn’t sure how much longer she could refrain from jumping him, friendship be damned. She carried some of the heavy wet towels into the laundry room. “I’ll just throw these in the wash first.”
She opened up the washing machine, filled it with some towels and added soap. “I should get out of these wet clothes.”
“Probably.”
It occurred to her that Scott needed to dry his clothes before he went home, so the least she could do was offer him the perfectly good dryer right next to the washing machine. It would be the right thing to do, hospitable even, and she was suddenly all about doing the right thing.
“You might want to get out of those wet clothes too.” She turned her back to him, and opened the dryer door. “I can dry them for you at least.”
When she turned around, Scott already had his shirt off and handed it to her. Diana tried not to salivate as she threw it in the dryer. But then Scott pulled out his wallet from his back pocket, slowly slid his jeans off and her heart skipped several beats. The water had them so skin tight on him that he had to slowly slide them off his hips and oh. Sweet. Baby. He almost pulled off his boxer briefs with them, but they stayed on. Damn shame.
He studied her without a hint of a smile, and handed her the jeans. “Thanks for drying my clothes.”
“No problem.” She stuck them in the dryer. “I should probably dry mine too while I’m here.”
Scott helped her take her shirt off, then slid her jeans down her legs. She threw them in the dryer and pushed the button to start the timer. The dryer usually went for thirty minutes, and a whole lot could happen in thirty minutes. Gran could come back early, for instance, and find Diana half naked in a lip lock with Scott. Or she might have lunch with Pop and not come home for another hour.
Possibilities.
He could be your rebound guy, Mandy had said.
She stood in her matching pink panties and bra, shivering a little bit either from the cold or the thrill that spiked down her back and made its way due south. He didn’t say a word while one finger ran down the length of her arm, skimming over her waist then sliding down to her hips. He squeezed her ass.
“Kiss me,” Diana said.
“Yes, ma’am.” He pulled her to him, and proceeded to kiss the hell out of her, his tongue darting in and out possessively, making her crazy.
He kissed her over and over again and she melted right into him. The man was the world’s best kisser, hands down. His kisses were foreplay. They were a promise to something bigger and better. She wanted bigger. She wanted better.
She had trouble catching her breath because this might be the single most erotic moment of her life and it was in a laundry room while she waited for dry clothes. He moved to shut the door, then teased the strap of her bra down with his teeth, and pushed the cup aside. His thumb played with her nipple for a moment before his mouth took its place. He sucked, licked and tasted, and Diana’s knees almost buckled. When his finger went under her panties, touching and teasing her in all the right places, she almost came on the spot. She pushed him back, earning a surprised look out of him. Then she fell to her knees in front of him, tugging down his boxers, that last piece of cotton still between them. She felt his body stiffened, and he moaned when she took him into her mouth.
“Wait,” Hand in her hair, he groaned and moved her head back. “We can’t do this.”
Diana wondered if he was going to choose now to bring up the fact that they were supposed to be just friends. Because she couldn’t take that. “Why not?”
“We have a history of being interrupted,” he said, bringing her off her knees.
“My bedroom. Now!” Diana grabbed his hand, and he stopped only long enough to reach for his wallet. With any luck he had a condom in there. Or two.
She opened the door to her bedroom, and Scott stopped in his tracks, checking out the ‘N Sync’ poster and side by side twin beds. And possibly trying hard not to laugh.
“My Gran is stuck in the past! One problem at a time.”
But then there was another problem, because no way would Scott fit on her twin bed. At five foot ten she barely fit in it, able only to sleep in a fetal position. It would not do for six foot three Scott, who might even break the bed. Then how would she explain that to Gran?
Necessity
being the mother of invention, Diana worked quickly, pulled the bedcovers and pillows off both beds and threw them on the floor. The floor was plenty big enough.
“Lay down, soldier.” She pointed to the ground.
He did. “I take it back. I like it when you’re bossy.”
She joined him, intent on getting back to where she’d left off. She slid his boxers completely off this time, but before she could do anything else he’d rolled on top of her and pinned her under him.
“Now I’m in charge.”
“Hey, I was starting something there.”
“It was something all right. Much more of that and I wouldn’t have lasted.”
She squirmed under him, smiling. “Let me get back to it.”
“Later. How is it you still have your underwear on?” He remedied that swiftly, sliding off her panties and unsnapping her bra.
She lay naked before him, splayed out for his viewing pleasure. Strangely, under his lust-filled gaze she no longer felt even slightly inadequate about her body. Whatever size she was at the moment, eight or twelve or two hundred, it didn’t seem to matter much to Scott.
What a turn-on.
Diana removed her glasses. “We don’t have much time.”
“Don’t rush me.”
She started to protest, but was only able to suck in a shaky breath when he began a slow tour of her body with his tongue. He seemed to know exactly which destinations to stop, where to linger, where to park. He sucked in one nipple and she arched into him, then went temporarily insane when he nudged her thighs open and put his mouth on her. That tongue, flicking in and out of her took her to the edge and back again two or three times before she came, whispering his name, shuddering under his touch.
When she was able to breathe again, she opened her eyes to see that he was already slipping on a condom. “Hurry.”
“Why? Are you worried we’ll get caught?”
“Um, yes?”
“Does that turn you on?” He flashed a wicked grin.
She smiled back. “You, Scott, you turn me on.” She wrapped her legs around his back. Right here, right now, naked as a hairless cat, she could admit to that fact. “I don’t need anything but you.”
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