Page 21 of Take Me Tender

“I’d plow my fist in every one of their faces if I could,” he said.

She didn’t spare him a glance. “I can take care of myself.”

Which went without saying, of course. He hadn’t thought for a minute that she’d welcome the sentiment because it didn’t take a genius to know that his cookie didn’t want to appear capable of crumbling. No tears and trembling lips for this woman—she’d scratch before she cried.

So sympathy was wasted on her…and was no way to get her into his bed.

“I want you anyway.”

She paused now and gazed at him over her shoulder, a feminine sneer curling her upper lip. “Has anyone ever told you you’re incredibly spoiled?”

He pretended to consider. “One of our centerfolds. It was May, I think. I suggested a rainbow-colored thong and a fan that looked like a butterfly. She wanted yellow panties and a peacock feather.”

“Let me give you some free advice,” Nikki said. “No real woman—or woman who retains her real body parts, that is—wants to hear about your uncooperative cover bimbos.”

“They’re not bimbos! They use their modeling fees to pay college tuition.”

“Yeah. For the College of the Casting Couch.”

He grinned. “In any case, cookie, all this resistance of yours has the competitor in me itching to go a round or two.”

“Even Rocky Balboa couldn’t hold onto his champ status forever. So give up, Jay. The truth is, I believe I’ll find it infinitely more satisfying to be the hiccup in your uninterrupted winning streak than just another warm body in your bed.”

He moved so fast that before her mermaid eyes could widen he had her in his arms.

“Wha—”

“Shanna. Coming up the deck steps.”

“But—”

“A deal’s a deal, remember? For a month you agreed to at least look like that warm body in my bed.”

Nikki tried to peer around his shoulder, but he caught her chin between his thumb and fingers and lowered his head.

“Don’t,” she said.

“I won’t. This is just for show.” Except already he could feel her skin heating like a fever beneath his hand. And despite her big talk, her body was leaning into his as if she couldn’t help herself. He gathered her nearer, his forearm pressed against that dip at the small of her back so that their bellies were pressed close.

Apparently close enough for her to feel his aroused response. She frowned. “Jay…”

His mouth was just a whisper from hers. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to try taking this any further. I understand now about your sexual hang-ups.”

Everything that was soft about her stiffened. “What?”

“Sexual hang-ups. Sexual block. Inadequacy. Whatever you want to call it.”

He’d never thought of green as a color that could burn, but it was keeping up with the sudden, laser heat of her blue eye. “It’s what I want to call you,” she retorted. “And that’s completely mistaken. I’m not hung up, damn it, or blocked, or the least bit inadequate in any way.”

“But those men in the restaurant kitchen. How they treated you—”

“Is part of the job. I coped.”

“By closing yourself off.” Jay held his breath, waiting for the pinch of guilt he surely deserved. When sympathy hadn’t worked, he’d figured baiting her might, and it looked as if he’d been right. “By being unwilling to indulge in your own desires.”

“My desire for you, I suppose.”

He slid his hands to her waist then dragged them a few inches upward, hearing her sharp intake of breath as a shiver shook her body. “Is that part of your coping mechanism? To pretend you’re not reacting to my touch? To pretend you’re not curious about what it would be like to be with me in my bed?”

Nostrils flaring, she placed her hands on his chest and shoved him back. He gave her space, then gaped as she reached for the bottom of her stretchy T-shirt.

“You make it sound like I’m afraid.” In one quick move, she drew it off and threw it to the floor. “Since Shanna is obviously not coming inside, it’s time to prove I’m not afraid of sex or of you.”

He took another step back as she slipped out of her sandals and then put her hands to the snap at her waistband. “Nikki…”

The beautiful monster he’d created wasn’t listening. She was breathing hard—if she was a dragon there’d be flames—causing her plump breasts to rise over the cups of her bra that was printed with tiny daisies. It was a hell of a pretty sight to behold, and only the abrupt shucking of her jeans could have drawn his eyes away from it.

But she did that, pushing down her pants and then stepping out of them to reveal the creamy curve of her hips and her long legs. Daisy-printed panties made him want to roll around in fields of Nikki-scented skin. And though she was covered by more fabric than made up most bikinis on the Malibu beaches, he still couldn’t catch his breath.

“Well?” One eyebrow—the one over the green eye—rose in a challenge as she regarded him from his place four feet away. “Who’s afraid now?”

So this was it. He’d baited her to the point of having her. Right now. Right this minute he could lead her to his bed and plant himself in the very center of her summer morning. It would be as simple—and, oh, how he liked simple—as that.

His cock was standing at attention, clamoring to get on with the plan, reacting like the randy adolescent that was all he’d ever expected of it. That was all, maybe, that he’d ever expected of himself.

Ouch. There was a thought that pinched.

And Nikki looked ready to take her own hefty twist out of him. “Well?” she said again, a hand on her hip.

Well, shit. He’d pushed her into half-nakedness, working with that exact suspicion that she’d want to prove she didn’t lack anything—which would give him the chance to prove to her that a man could use his sex only for pleasure.

Her pleasure.

That was suddenly damn important to him, but Tricky Nikki would never make it so easy.

Clamping down on his inner horndog, he stepped forward and took her into his arms. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, yet held her loosely, gently, enjoying the seductive brush of her bare back against his inner forearms, of his cheek against her temple as he breathed in the faint vanilla scent of her hair.

His mouth found hers and he kissed her, kissed her sweet, not dirty like he wanted to, taking his time to savor the softness of her mouth like that first day in his entryway. He’d been amused by his reaction to her then, but it shook him a little now, and he used the unsettled feeling as reason to restrain his impulses.

The Jay he knew wanted to slide down her body. He wanted to catch the edge of her bra with his teeth and yank it over her breasts so he could suck at her nipples. But that wouldn’t be enough. The Jay he knew wanted to go down on his knees and deflower her pussy. He could see himself hooking his forefingers in those pretty daisy panties to slide them to her ankles while placing soft kisses on the inside of her thighs. He wanted to breathe in the scent of her arousal and taste the flavor of her wetness.

But that wasn’t going to happen…yet.

“Well?” she said again, when he lifted his head.

“Well, I’m just not that kind of man,” he told her. “I insist on dinner first.”

“Dinner?” She blinked. “I’ve cooked you dinner every night.”

“I mean a dinner someone else cooks. A date.”

“A date?”

She was unsure and wary again, and he knew it was because he wasn’t reacting the way she’d expected to all the attitude she’d been throwing at him. He wasn’t sure why he was reacting this way either. Why wasn’t he taking immediate advantage of what she’d offered?

Though he didn’t want to think too hard about it, he couldn’t ignore the answer. The fact was, Jay wanted to get close to Nikki before he got inside of her.

Nine

If you’re a kid in Southern California, somebody—whether it’s you or your parents—throws your hat in the ring and I think everyone had a commercial or two.

—DANNY BONADUCE, ACTOR AND RADIO PERSONALITY

Shanna trudged through the sand from Jay’s house to hers, trying to put the image of him and his private chef out of her mind. But it was there despite her best efforts: the way he’d scooped the woman against his body, the way he’d cradled her to his chest, the way he’d been focusing on her with a single-minded intensity that only made Shanna…yearn.

That’s what she wanted. As she approached her mid-thirties, she felt less solid, as if parts of herself could be scattered by the ocean breezes. To be safe, she wanted a man—Jay—to gather her close and keep her in one piece.

To make her whole again.

Or maybe for the first time ever.

The sole of her shoe found a strand of half-buried, rust-colored kelp. As she trod upon it, one of the attached grape sized bladders popped, just like what kept happening to her Jay-and-Shanna-forever fantasy.

Inside the security fence enclosing her father’s marble palace, she settled on one of the stiff chaise lounges, listening to the sound of the surf battling the rush of water over the pool’s three-tiered waterfall. Maybe she should go into town to see if Rico, her stylist, had time to blow out her hair. Or she could call her massage therapist to check if he had a last-minute cancellation.

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