Buried (A Bone Secrets Novel 03) (18 page)

“Perfect,” said Michael. He leaned a little closer to Chuck. “Jamie just didn’t want the town getting the wrong idea…seeing as we’re not married and all. But you seem like an understanding kind of guy.”

Jamie wanted to elbow him. “We don’t want to put you out. Is there somewhere else where one of us can stay?”

“You ain’t putting me out.” Chuck patted her arm. “That’s my job. And I’m the only place to stay for thirty miles. Unless you feel like camping.”

Jamie’s stress level was floating somewhere close to the ceiling. A night alone in a room with Michael Brody. Hormones had been bouncing between them since they met, and now they were going to be trapped in a small space with a bed?

Wait a minute.
What the hell was she worrying about? She took a few deep breaths. She was a grown woman, not a teenager. This man had been flipping all her switches into the on position for the last two days, and now she had a chance to be alone with him. This was an
opportunity
, not a situation to run from. She needed to look at this differently.

Peeking from the corner of her eye, she saw Michael was pleased with the arrangement. Why didn’t this sort of situation stress men?

She needed to start thinking like a man.

If she wanted something from a man, she needed to show him. Or ask him.

What’s he gonna do? Say no?

She doubted it.

“Well,” said Chuck slowly. “I do have the attic room. I don’t rent it out during the summer because the air-conditioning doesn’t—”

“That’ll work. We’ll take it, too.” Jamie exhaled as her argument with her inner vixen suddenly became meaningless. She had her own room. Disappointment surged, surprising her. An opportunity had slipped through her fingers. But more so, she was missing out on taking a chance. She rarely risked anything. But she’d nearly talked herself into risking…risking what? A moment of embarrassment when he refused? Losing out on one of the hottest nights she’d ever experience? How often did men like Michael Brody come along?

This was the first time in her life.

Would there be a second chance?

God, she was confused.

Beside her, Michael’s shoulders shook in a silent chuckle, as if he knew what was going through her mind. She glared at him. “Michael will take the attic.”

Chuck was cool. Michael liked the old man a lot. He’d given Michael a wink as they’d headed up the stairs to the rooms.

“I need a few minutes to check out the attic room,” said Chuck. “I’m gonna let you guys wait in the first room. I’ll go open the windows up in there, but it’s gonna be hot. You better give it some time to cool off.” He handed Michael the key. A real key. Not a key card. “I was just putting a bottle of wine in here when you guys showed up. It’s still cold. Enjoy.” Chuck closed the door behind him, and Michael heard his uneven steps trudge up another set of stairs.

“Perfect,” said Jamie. “I need some wine.” She picked up the bottle, glanced at the label, and deftly used the opener to slide out the cork. She poured a large glass and raised a brow at Michael in question. He nodded and she poured a second glass, handing it to him.

The room was clean, and the king bed looked comfortable. The decor was dated and faded, but Michael could not care less.

Jamie’s wine vanished. She refilled her glass and disappeared into the bathroom. Michael could hear her banging little makeup jars and brushes and shampoo bottles and whatever else women traveled with. She would probably come out in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, even though it was ninety degrees outside. And then send him to his hundred-degree room.

Michael sighed, set down his wine, and flopped on the king bed, tucking his arms under his head. Tomorrow they would talk to Chris and hopefully find out some leads on what happened to Daniel. There was nothing more he could do about it tonight. Thinking endlessly about it wasn’t helping; time to put it aside and pay attention to what was in front of him.

Jamie.

What did he want from this woman?

Sex.

Was that all?

He frowned. No. Not even close.

His body was craving sex. That was obvious. He simply had to be in her presence and he felt his hormones hit overdrive. But he wanted more than that. Michael studied the ceiling. He wanted that part that came after, too. The part where you wake up the next morning and roll over to pull the woman closer to you, knowing neither of you had to leave. The part that sits on the back deck and drinks coffee together, sharing the Sunday newspaper, and discussing where to vacation next.

He could still hear that overpowering voice that’d spoke in his head the first day he’d seen her. The one that’d told him to hang on to this woman. End statement.

Now…how did he let her know? Without her walking out on him or laughing in his face?

Aw, fuck. He was in deep.

And she had the shovel.

He couldn’t blow it tonight. He patted his pocket, checking for his cell phone, feeling an urge to call Lacey and get her advice.

How would it look to Jamie if she came out and he was on the phone with another woman? Not cool.

Think, Michael. WWLD? What would Lacey do?

Lacey would talk. She’d say exactly what was on her mind to Jamie.

He could do that. Just filter out the sex stuff.

He wanted to know what Jamie was thinking. They’d had several moments where he felt like she’d let her guard down
and spoken to him like she’d known him forever. And several moments where the hormones were off the charts.

Lacey would tell him to simply ask Jamie how she felt.

No problem. He sat up, feeling clearer in the head, ready to talk.

The bathroom doorknob turned.

Michael took a deep breath.

Why hadn’t Chuck left a bottle of vodka?

It’s now or never.

She’d had a second chance dumped in her lap when Chuck said he needed to check the attic room. Only a stupid girl would ignore it. Jamie held her breath as she reached for the bathroom doorknob. She’d spent the last five minutes arguing with herself—and finishing that second glass of wine—as she changed into the black bra and matching thong that she’d coincidentally packed.

Some coincidence. She’d known exactly why she’d thrown that black duo in her bag. Because she might end up in a hotel room with Mr. Hottie. And here she was.

The only thing holding her back was herself. She was certain he wouldn’t turn her down. She’d caught him staring at various parts of her body multiple times, and he’d been putting out that protective vibe since her house was trashed. She could almost smell the pheromones.

Today had been one of the most stressful days of her life. There was someone back in Portland, looking for Chris, desperate enough to attack her in her home. But putting nearly an entire state between them and the attacker felt good, and being
close to Michael made her feel safe. Tomorrow he’d help her find her brother, but tonight…

He’d held her hand.

That’s what’d touched her the most and made her melt inside. When he’d taken her hand at dinner with the sheriff as they talked about her nephew, she’d wanted to curl up on his lap and bury her head in his neck.

But tonight she wasn’t seeking comfort. She wanted a taste of the wild ride that the man promised. It leaked out of every pore of his body. Pure testosterone pumped up with smooth male confidence.

What was the worst that could happen? He fucked her and never called? Yes, that would suck, but she’d live. And probably have a memorable night.

Damn it
, she wanted that memorable night.

She wanted it bad. Bad enough to make her step outside her comfort zone. She wanted to be a different woman tonight. Not Principal Jacobs. Not perfectly neat and organized Jamie who didn’t take a step without a plan.

She looked in the mirror and ran her hands over flat abs. Boobs looked good. A thong made almost every ass look good. She could feel the wine warming her limbs, giving her the courage she needed. She wanted Michael Brody and was about to let him know it. She lifted her chin and opened the door.

He stared.

A goddess had emerged from the bathroom and stood in front of him in black lace. Her chin lifted, and she held his gaze, inviting and fearless.

He had no voice. He reached out to touch one thigh and pulled back. He needed to simply look some more, mentally soak in the sight. Jamie was all smooth skin and long limbs, with legs that didn’t end. She brushed her hair over one shoulder and his heart nearly stopped.

“Sweet mother of pearl. You are smoking hot.”

Her laugh warmed his heart.

“What are you doing?” he choked out. She looked ready to go several rounds in bed with him. And he’d just talked himself into having a conversation with her.

His brain shifted mental gears. “Wait. Don’t answer that. Don’t say anything. I don’t want you talking yourself out of this.”

Jamie’s lips turned up. “You’re learning me well. Because if I overthink this, I’ll be back in that bathroom in a heartbeat, and I’ll put all my clothes back on.” A touch of nervousness appeared in her gaze.

And if he made a wrong move, she’d run.

“God, woman. I want you so much at this moment, I think I’m about to explode.”

The nervous light in her eyes evaporated.

“While you were in the bathroom, I convinced myself to spend our evening talking about our feelings.”

Her eyebrows arched.

“I know. Stupid, huh?” This time he did touch her thigh.
Silky.
Just like he’d known it’d feel.

“You have feelings to tell me about?”

“Oh yeah.” He placed both palms on her thighs, staring at the skin under his fingers.
I want to feel you everywhere.

“Michael. Really. What did you want to talk to me about?”

He blinked. And looked up into questioning light green eyes.

Talk to her.

He didn’t want to talk right now. Every thought except one had blown clear out of his brain. He scrambled to get his thoughts together and removed his hands from her legs, because the feel of her skin was short-circuiting his mind even more. She sat on the bed beside him, holding his gaze, and reached for his hand. Hers were slightly damp. This close, he could smell the wine from her mouth.

He licked his lips.

He’d read somewhere that women were turned on by what they heard? And men by what they see?

Too true.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he started. “I want this. I want what you’re…offering. I’ve wanted that from the first time I saw you at the door at your house. You’re the full package, you know? Brains, beauty, and some balls.”

She scowled slightly.

“That’s a compliment.” He wiped at his forehead.
Compliment?
“I mean, you went through some tough shit and came out great.”

Her expression didn’t change.

“Ah, fuck me.
Damn it.
You’d think I don’t know how to talk.” He grabbed both her hands, turned toward her, and looked at her in earnest. “Listen. You
do it
for me, princess. In an amazing way. You get me hot with one look, but that’s not all of it. I don’t want just
that
. I want to wake up in the middle of the night and stretch out a leg and feel yours against it. I want to open my bathroom cabinet and see your makeup next to my stuff. When I pour my coffee in the morning, I want to pour two cups.”