Body Heat (16 page)
Authors: Susan Fox
Boldly he moved down to where the skin was even paler. No camisole, no bra to hide her small, lovely breasts. The top curve of her breast was so soft, yet so resilient under his fingers. Her nipple was rosy. When he touched it with his rough finger, he tried to be gentle. It tightened, formed into a pebbly bud. She moaned softly.
His hand splayed open, covering that whole creamy breast now. A brown starfish on a white beach. He stared mesmerized at the picture the two of them made together, himself and Maura. She looked down, too, and murmured his name . . .
“Jesse? Jesse, are you all right?”
He jerked, and his vision cleared. Staring down, he saw their hands, close to each other on the window frame. Man, he’d gone off into one of those sex dreams.
“Did you get too much sun?” she asked anxiously. “Maybe you should come inside.”
Too much sun? Oh, yeah, he was hot, very hot. But not from the sunshine. “I’m fine,” he said gruffly.
“If you’re sure.”
“Yeah. Let’s get on with this planning stuff. Come on and hop out.”
“I don’t hop out of windows,” she said stiffly.
“Let down your hair for once. Maybe you’ll like it.”
Her eyes widened in surprise and her cheeks colored. He wondered if she was remembering that kiss. She’d liked it—he was sure of that—before she’d decided it was a stupid idea. She muttered something under her breath. He didn’t quite catch it, but it sounded like she’d said, “Liking it’s the problem.”
Then, surprising him, she shoved the window wide.
He stood back. She was wearing a skirt. This should be fun.
She sat down with those long legs tucked neatly together. Then she kinked them sideways, still together, straightened them and swung them over the sill, bumping one knee against the window frame. Yeah, she was klutzy, which was kind of cute for such a classy, buttoned-up woman.
He offered his hand, then realized it was a dumb thing to do, considering how grubby he was.
For a moment, she just stared at it.
He was about to pull it back when she reached for it.
Her slim, cool, elegant hand slid into his rough one, and he felt a shock of awareness. Awareness of her as a woman, and awareness that she was consciously, voluntarily touching him. She didn’t need his assistance, but she was accepting his gesture.
She stood up and gently tugged her hand out of his. “Thank you,” she said, not looking at him.
He cleared his throat. “Welcome.” Then he said, “Virginia’s over there on the swing. Want to get her opinion?”
“Why not?” She sounded almost reckless. “Let’s talk to all of them. It’s their garden, after all.”
Together they walked over to join the group of seniors. Maura said, “Jesse and I have been talking about doing some more improvements to the garden. Don’t get too excited because I’ll need to draw up a budget and get Board approval, but we’d like your input. Jesse, why don’t you tell them what we’ve got in mind?”
Another surprise, her treating him with respect. He squared his shoulders, determined to prove he deserved it.
Half an hour later, they had a plan. He’d drawn out a sketch, and Maura—wearing her sexy glasses, damn her—had made a list of the things they would need. “Now you can call the garden center and get a quote,” he told her.
She took off her glasses and tucked them in her pocket. “Would you talk to them? You’re so much more knowledgeable.”
“Glad to.”
He was amused that she led the way back across the grass to her office window, not to the door that led into the building. Awkwardly she swung over the sill and turned around just as he began to follow her.
He was nearly on top of her before he could stop his forward momentum. He lost his balance and she raised her hand, catching his upper arm, steadying him. He sensed the gesture was automatic. If she’d had time to think about it she probably wouldn’t have chosen to grip his sweaty arm, but he had to admit her hand felt good there. Far too good.
“Thanks,” he muttered. Then, “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Her hand lingered and her eyes glazed over.
Suddenly he wondered if she, too, had steamy fantasies about the two of them.
“Ms. Mahoney?” he said softly.
She jerked, gave a gaspy little breath, and broke the contact. Turning her back on him, she walked over to her desk and took the chair behind it, gesturing him to one across from her. Putting the desk between them. Reminding him—and maybe herself?—of the nature of their relationship.
He had to remember, if things went wrong with Maura Mahoney, he’d blow his community service and end up in jail. Lust was lust, and he could fucking well control it.
She clicked a few keys on her computer. “I’m looking up the phone number.” She frowned, muttered, “Can’t see a darned thing,” and slipped her glasses back on her nose.
He’d pretty much figured out by now that she really did need the glasses; she wasn’t deliberately trying to torture him. The effect was the same, though. His jeans were getting uncomfortably tight.
He sat forward in his chair and rested his elbows on her desk. Could a guy get fired if his boss found out he got a boner most every time he looked at her?
“All right, here’s the number,” she said, reaching for her phone. A moment later, she spoke into it. “This is Maura Mahoney from Cherry Lane. We’re a seniors residential facility. I bought some things there this morning, and we’re thinking about doing some more elaborate landscaping. I’m looking for a quote to present to the Board. Let me put you onto our, um, gardener, and he can tell you what we’re looking for.”
She handed the phone to Jesse and he took it, playing it safe and making sure their hands didn’t touch. “Hi,” he said. “Who’m I talking to?”
“Jesse, is that you? It’s Chris.”
“Hey, Chris.” He’d gotten to be friends with her and her family over the past year or so. “Twice in one day, huh?”
“The plants get there okay?”
“You bet. So listen, let me tell you what we’re thinking of.”
Maura shoved her notebook across to him and he saw another of her lists. He ignored it and leaned back in the chair, his body back to normal now that he was concentrating on business. “Lookin’ for one of those premade pools that you sink into the ground. Want to set it up with a little fountain, recirculating water, you know the kind of thing.”
Maura watched as Jesse talked to the blonde named Chris. Twice in one day. Would they be adding a third time, tonight? Just what had Chris said to elicit Jesse’s enthusiastic “You bet.”
Still, he was sticking to business and seemed to know what he was talking about. He had a great memory, too, never needing to refer to her list.
“Well, that’s great, Chris,” he said. “Really appreciate it.”
The woman said something that made him laugh and duck his head. “Oh, don’t go saying stuff like that.”
Maura gritted her teeth and reminded herself it was no concern of hers. When he hung up, she said coolly, “You got a quote?”
He told her the figure and she wrote it down. “That doesn’t sound bad at all.” She was astonished it was so low.
A knock sounded at the open window.
Jesse got up and ambled over. “What’s up, Fred?”
Fred Dykstra peered in. “We’ve been talking.”
Maura went to join them.
“About this garden we’re planning,” the old man clarified. His phrasing made her glad she’d included the residents in the planning session. She had Jesse to thank.
“Go ahead,” she told Fred.
“It’s likely to be pretty expensive.”
“Jesse just got us a quote and it’s not too bad. The Board may go for it.”
“Got a better idea.” He grinned at her.
“What do you mean?”
“Some of us have a little money we’d like to put into it.”
“But . . . Cherry Lane pays for repairs, maintenance, improvements. Your money is for you, for whatever you want to spend it on.” Most of the residents were far from wealthy.
“Like a fine garden to sit out in.”
“I can’t let you—”
“Listen to the man,” Jesse said.
Since when did he issue the orders? Still, she owed Fred the courtesy of listening. “Go ahead.”
“I’m doing just dandy when it comes to money. Some folks here aren’t, but lots of us have a little extra. There’s only so many ways to spend it. Now we’ve got this garden happening. We’ve helped plan it and we’d like to help pay for it.”
“But . . .”
She jumped when Jesse touched her arm. “Don’t have to decide now,” he said. “Let’s everyone think about it for a day or two.”
She frowned. She wasn’t going to change her mind. But his hand was still there, resting on her forearm, and her brain was turning to mush. “All right.”
Fred tipped an imaginary cap. “Good advice, young man. Now I must go and have a little nap so I’ll be fresh for dinner with the kids. It’s been a fine, busy day!” He whistled as he walked back across the grass, leaning only slightly on his cane.
Maura turned to Jesse. “I can’t . . .” But his hand was on her bare arm, and his body, all that virile masculinity, was just inches away from her. Her mind stalled. What was it she couldn’t do?
Oh, yes, she couldn’t lean toward him, press herself up against that hard, muscled body. Run her finger through the rip that exposed a section of brown chest. She really couldn’t touch the bare thigh, revealed by another rip that had expanded since morning. Run her finger up his inseam to explore . . . “I can’t,” she murmured again.
“You can,” he said in a rough voice. “You know you want to.”
That was the truth. But wait.
She forced her gaze away from his thigh and up to his face, where she saw an expression that a more experienced woman might have been able to read. What were they talking about?
He cleared his throat, glanced away, took a step back. “They want to do it,” he said. “It makes them feel like the garden is really theirs.”
Garden. Oh, yes, the garden. He was still talking about it, while she’d gone off on a flight of fantasy.
She replayed his words. Was her brain completely addled or did they make sense? “There’s no precedent for this,” she said in a worried voice. “I don’t know what the Board would say.”
“Don’t tell ’em.”
The notion was absurd. She aspired to be general manager. She wasn’t about to go behind the Board’s back. “You don’t understand how things work. For example, there will be legal implications to consider.”
He snorted. “A lot of legal hassle that only makes lawyers rich. These folks know what they want to do. So, let them.”
If only it were that straightforward. “I’ll think about it.” But she’d only proceed if she had the Board’s approval and all the I’s had been dotted and T’s crossed.
Jesse’s disregard for lawyers made her remember that she still didn’t know what offense he’d committed. Despite his whole James Dean, Rambo vibe, she was having increasing trouble imagining him as any kind of criminal. But he was, or he wouldn’t be here.
She hadn’t wanted his lawyer, or Jesse himself, to know how unprepared she’d been for his arrival, but now she needed to hear, from Jesse’s own lips, how he’d landed in trouble.
She went behind her desk, sat down, straightened her spine, and clasped her hands atop her desk. “Jesse, I need to ask you something.”
“Yeah?” He settled himself on the windowsill, only three or four feet from her, like a big cat lounging there. A black cat that just might be a panther.
“Tell me about the offense you committed.”
His body tensed, and in that moment he became the panther. He narrowed his eyes and the insolent expression was back. “You’ve read my file, Ms. Mahoney.” The way he said her name was a sneer.
“Actually, I haven’t,” she said, keeping her voice steady.
She read surprise on his face before he swiped a hand across his jaw. After a moment, he measured out the words, “I beat a guy up.”
A brawl. Yes, she could imagine that. It wasn’t a stretch to believe that violence might lurk close to the surface in Jesse, and be easily stirred. She imagined him and some anonymous man in a bar, drinking too much. Trading insults. Moving to fists. Jesse probably hadn’t started it—unless he’d been getting too friendly with the other guy’s girlfriend.
She nodded. It was bad—she abhorred even the idea of violence—but it could have been worse. “There will be no violence here, you understand?”
He raised an eyebrow; it was another sneer. “You figure I’d beat up on a guy like Fred?”
“I have no idea what you’d do. And watch your attitude, Mr. Blue.”
His eyes blazed, his nostrils narrowed, and muscles in his jaw twitched.
Maura wanted to spring out of her chair and take a step backward, but refused to let him know she was afraid. If he had a violent temper, there was no knowing what he’d do. But she needed to find out. If he could control that temper, he could stay. If he lost it, he was out of here immediately, no matter how handy he was in the garden.
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