Page 10 of Tempting as Sin
“Hey,” she said back. “It’s Li—Lindsay.” She was a lousy liar. Why hadn’t she given him her real first name, at least? It would have been stupid to share her last name and where she lived, sure, with some guy she didn’t know. Sinful, Montana, was way too small a town. The fake first name, though, had been a step too far. How could she tell him now that she’d lied, that she’d been trying on a new, braver persona?
Somehow, that was how.
“Well, hey, you,” he said, and she knew exactly why she’d called. Which was basically because every cell in her body had wanted to hear his voice. “Did the car make it back, too?”
“Yep. And the key was right there in a magnetic box in the wheel well, just like Sandy promised. You have competent friends. How does an out-of-towner just happen to know a guy with a tow truck and a wife willing to drive that far on a rainy night?”
“Pure luck,” he said. “But then, I’m a lucky guy. So have you thought about tomorrow? Today, that is. What’s your pleasure?”
She stretched out a little more luxuriantly. Jace and Paige might not care too much about clothes, but they hadnicesheets. Flannel, and soft as a man’s old shirt, the kind you borrowed from a guy after the first time you made love. The kind his eyes would light up to see you wearing.
Whoa.She hadn’t had that first-time, this-time, breath-catching feeling, that hitch in her voice and tremble in her legs, for a long,longwhile. Her body hadn’t been this tuned up in forever, either, like every single piece of her was open, thirsty, drinking in every sensation. The rain drumming on the houseboat’s roof, her hair still holding the scent of her shampoo, the darkness wrapping around her, keeping her close and safe, and Clay’s voice, warm as amber. She said, “Hmm,” drawing the syllable out until it was a slow, sleepy hum. “Flying lessons are out, and I’m busy during the day. What would you think about meeting me for dinner?” He was letting her choose again. She loved it.
“I’d like that just fine,” he said. “If you wore your boots again, we could go for a walk along the Embarcadero afterwards and look at the lights. That’d be real nice, walking with you.”
“Mm. There’s that rain, though.” She was teasing a little, just because it was fun. “Are you sure you want to get me wet?”
She only realized what she’d said when it was out there. The silence at the other end of the line told her he hadn’t missed it, and she waited, almost holding her breath, to see what he’d say.Don’t be a sleaze,she begged him silently.
“I’m going to pass that one by,” he finally said, and she let her breath go again. “And say that I’ll be buying the biggest umbrella I can find, and thinking about you holding my arm and snuggling up some. But if I’m also thinking about how it felt to holdyou,and how much more I want to do…well, I’m nothing like a perfect guy.”
“You’ve been pretty perfect up till now.” She leaned back against the headboard. “I’m going to take things that step too far,” she somehow found herself saying, “and ask what you’re doing. Why you weren’t asleep. What you’re…” She’d had to stop and clear her throat. “Wearing.”
“I’m in bed. Just like I’m imagining you.” That honey might not be quite so smooth anymore. “I came back to the hotel, took a shower, and still couldn’t sleep. I was thinking about having somebody too sweet backed up against the wall. Thinking about how she danced, and about those dimples she showed me when she smiled. How she smelled like flowers. I wanted her with me like crazy. I still do. And as for what I’m wearing…I could lie, but the answer is, nothing. Want to tell me about you? I’d sure like to hear it.”
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d tingled like this, like he was touching her already. “I’m in bed, too,” she said. “I always wear something to bed. I like nightgowns. Pretty ones, with tiny ribbon straps. Silk, if I can get it. I like the way it feels against my skin. I’m wearing one of those now.” She hesitated, then said it. “And that’s…all.”
A long, slow sigh. “All right. Thanks a lot. That’s going to help.”
She had to laugh. “Youasked.”
“I did. And when I get up in the morning, I’m going to ask around, find a place good enough to take you, and text you where it is. Seven work for you?”
Lily thought about dinner with Paige and Jace, and then she didn’t. It was one night out of her life, and she needed that next adventure. She’d walked away today. She didn’t think she’d be doing it again. “Seven works,” she said.
“Then I’ll see you at seven,” he said. “Be good till then.”
Tuesday at noon, and, yes, it was raining. Again. Still. She was going to be glad to go back to the Montana snow.
No, she wasn’t. She was telling herself that because she didn’t want to admit how much she wanted to see Clay, and how much she was trying not to think about leaving tomorrow, like a woman who’d never learned a single lesson.
She shifted both grocery bags into her left hand and scrabbled in her purse for her keys while she hustled across the floating pier through the driving rain, stopped to get through the locked gate, and kept going toward the slip that held the houseboat. She was soaked, and she still needed to make this chicken molé, because she’d promised. Before she got ready to leave and meet Clay again.
When the heel of her boot caught between the planks a few steps from the door, she wasn’t one bit prepared for it. Her momentum carried her forward, and she stumbled hard. A loaf of bread in a paper bag and a cardboard carton of eggs slid out of the bag and hit the deck even as she flailed, and then she was following her groceries straight on down.
Except not. A hand like iron around her upper arm, a hard arm wrapped around her waist, and she was upright. And already opening her mouth to scream.
“Most women,” a voice said from behind her, “wear flats around boats.”
She was smiling even as she turned, and then she wasn’t. A paralyzed second, and she was whirling again, except she couldn’t. Her boot was still stuck.
It wasn’t Jace, despite the Australian accent. It was a stranger, the hood of his anorak pulled low, hiding half his face, but a scruff of black beard clearly visible on a hard jaw. As big as Jace, and as strong, from the feel of those hands.
But that wasn’t why she was trying to run. She’d seen his eyes.
Silver-blue, shining out of the darkness under the hood like they were lit up. Those eyes weren’t normal, and the cold down her spine wasn’t the rain. She couldn’t breathe, and she had to breathe. She had torun.
She was still trying to tug her boot loose when the Iceman let go of her like she’d burned him, said, absolute blankness in his voice, “You’re joking. No. Bloody hell.” And she hauled in a breath and realized,No. Wrong. Quit being so jumpy. It’s fine.
