Do Me Right (11 page)

She wandered into the kitchen and stared at the refrigerator. She didn't have to open the door to visualize the contents: one almost-empty jar of peanut butter, two Red Bulls, a half-empty case of Mountain Dew, a lump of old cheese, coffee creamer, leftover Chinese takeout and two bottles of white wine. The wine was tempting, but without food to go with it, she'd end up sloshed in no time.

She turned and picked up the phone intending to order a pizza but found herself punching speed dial for Zach's number. She always felt better after she talked to him.

After four rings, the answering machine picked up. "Hello. We're not home now, but leave a mess--"

"Hold on, I've got it." A familiar female voice interrupted the recorded message. "Sorry about that. I was in the other room. Hello?"

"Jen, hi. I'm sorry. I was trying to call Zach. I must have punched the wrong speed-dial button."

"No, that's okay. You got the right number." She heard the clank of an earring against the phone as Jen switched the receiver to her other ear. "It was silly for both of us to pay rent on expensive places, so we're sharing a place now."

Theresa grinned. "You're living together?"

"Well...yes." She heard the smile in Jen's voice and pictured her probably perched on the edge of the bed twirling her long blond hair around one finger. "This way we get to see each other more and we don't waste time commuting between our apartments."

"Does your dad know yet?"

Jen sighed. "No. He'd only get upset."

The chief would be upset all right. He'd had a hard enough time letting his little girl go off to Chicago with Zach. "He's always worried about you being safe, right?" Theresa said. "Maybe you could point out to him how much safer you are with Zach there instead of being alone at night and stuff."

"Hey, that's a good idea. Thanks. I just have to work up the nerve to tell him before he and Mom come to visit. Hey, I hate to run, but I've got a rehearsal I have to get to. You want to talk to Zach?"

A few seconds later, her brother got on the line. "Hey, sis, what's up?"

She leaned back against the kitchen counter. "I just thought I'd call and see how you were doing."

"I'm doing great. The school is having this juried art show next month and one of my paintings is going to be in it."

"That's terrific. I mean, it is, isn't it? A juried show--that sounds kind of prestigious."

"It is. The professors picked the best work from each class to be in the show. Not everybody made the cut." She heard the pride in his voice, though Zach was never one to brag.

"That's great. I'm really proud of you." She switched the phone to her other ear. "Hey, speaking of paintings, Chief Truitt was in the shop today and he saw the piece you sent me. He said to tell you you still owe him a painting for his collection."

"What was he doing at the shop?" Zach's voice was wary.

She grinned. "He's thinking of getting a big eagle tattooed across his chest. Maybe with an American flag. But don't tell Jen. It's a surprise for her."

"Cute. Now what was he really doing there?"

"Oh, we had a little trouble with protesters blocking the entrance. He came down and ran them off. I guess I had him all wrong. He was actually real decent about the whole thing."

"He's not so bad once you figure him out. So the protesters are still hanging around?"

"Worse than ever. 'Clean' Carter had a big press conference near the shop this morning and the place was packed. Business is way down. I even came home early today. If it keeps up, I may have to let the new girl go."

"Just hang in there. This will blow over sooner or later."

She shook her head. "I don't know. Some folks are already packing up and calling it quits. Axel has the Waterloo Tavern for sale."

"You lie!"

"I wish I did. He says he's moving to Houston to be near his daughter."

"Then this is just an excuse to do something he wanted to do all along."

"I don't know, Zach. It's pretty depressing down here these days."

"Don't let it get you down. Just hang in there. You know you can take money out of savings to make payroll if you need to."

"I know. But I hate to do that. That's your money for school and your future."

"I'm doing okay. I've even sold a few pieces on the side. And there's a shop here where I can work evenings and weekends when I feel like it. Good people."

"Sounds like you're saving a little on rent these days, too."

"We wanted to be together more. With Jen's rehearsals and the performance schedule and my classes and working, it was wild. This gives us more time with each other."

"I think it's a great idea. I'm happy for you. I really am."

"What about you? Are you seeing anybody?"

She stared at the phone. Did he have some brotherly sixth sense or something? Or maybe he'd talked to Scott. "I'm going out with this guy I met at the shop. Nothing serious. We're just having fun."

"Who is he? One of the regulars? Not that biker, Joe. He always had a crush on you."

She made a face, thinking of the short, portly blonde who had a cartoon of Porky Pig tattooed on his right arm. Unfortunately the artwork only served to call attention to Joe's marked resemblance to the famous animal. "It's nobody you know. He's a cowboy. A rodeo rider. He broke his wrist and is killing time. I thought we might as well kill it together."

"A cowboy, huh? Well that's different. You take care of yourself, okay?"

"Don't I always?"

"I still worry about you down there and me up here."

The concern in his voice made a knot form in her throat. "I'll be okay," she said. "I'll let you go now. Talk to you soon."

"Sure thing."

She hung up the phone and stared at the receiver, swallowing tears. He'd sounded so good. Really happy. That made her miss him that much more.

So he and Jen were living together? About time. She figured before too much longer they'd make it official. A few more years and she could be an aunt.

She liked the sound of that. Not that she was one to go gaga over babies, but a little niece or nephew would be fun.

The doorbell rang, knocking the warm, fuzzy thoughts right out of her head. She went to answer it and found Kyle tricked out in full western regalia--hat, chaps, leather vest, even boots with spurs.

"The Fat Stock Show isn't until next February," she said.

"This is my surprise." He walked past her and she noticed he was carrying a boom box.

She shut the door and locked it. "What is this?"

"First off, you have to promise not to laugh."

She shook her head. "I don't think I can promise that."

He set down the boom box, then stripped off the cast and dropped it on the floor beside the stereo. He took hold of her arm and steered her to the sofa. "You just sit there and play along, okay? I'm doing this for you."

"Doing what for me? And why do you think I need you to do anything?" But she sat in the center of the sofa, arms folded across her chest.

"I know you've been down about everything that's going on at work and all. I thought this might distract you." He looked around the room. "Now first, we need a little stage setting." He moved a lamp and tilted it to serve as a makeshift spotlight. Then he pulled the coffee table out a little. He started toward the boom box, then stopped and turned back to her. "Oh, I almost forgot this." He pulled a wad of bills from his pocket and handed them to her.

She stared at the money. "What in the world...?"

He grinned. "Just wait and you'll see." He punched Play on the boom box, and music with a punchy beat filled the room. A woman began to sing about wanting a cowboy.

Theresa winced as Kyle climbed up onto the coffee table. "Careful," she said.

"Oh, I'll be fine." He struck a pose, hands on his hips, and grinned down at her.

He looked so pleased with himself, she didn't have the heart to tell him she'd been more concerned about the finish on the table than his personal safety. "You're not going to do what I think you're going to do, are you?" she asked, fighting the urge to giggle.

"Hey, I might be on to a second career here." He swiveled his hips in time to the music.

She couldn't help it now. She collapsed against the cushions, laughing.

He pretended to glare at her, though the laughter in his eyes diluted the fierceness of the gaze. "This isn't easy, you know. Give me some credit. How many men do you know who'd make a fool of themselves this way for a woman?"

His words changed her laughter to a deeper emotion. He really meant that, didn't he? He
wanted
her to be happy, even if it meant doing ridiculous things to make her smile. An invisible hand squeezed her heart and she blinked back tears. "I won't laugh anymore, I promise," she said. The trick would be avoiding bursting into tears.

He swiveled and turned and began to get a rhythm. He really wasn't that bad. A little stiff, maybe, but she had to admit he looked good in that outfit. Very masculine. Virile.

His eyes locked with hers, the laughter gone now, replaced by definite heat. He unfastened the top button of his shirt and she began to feel warm, mesmerized by the section of chest revealed with each undone button. Oh, wow. He might really be on to something here. She sat back and tried to relax, fighting a losing battle against the tension coiling within her.

He slipped off the vest. "Hold this." She scarcely had time to put up her hands before he tossed it to her.

She clutched the vest to her nose and inhaled. It smelled like Kyle--dusty leather and outdoors and an underlying sweetness.

"You're supposed to be watching me."

"Yes, sir." She laid the vest aside and focused her attention on him once more. Continuing to sway in time to the music, he slowly pulled his shirttail out of his pants. She caught a glimpse of his stomach and her insides quivered.

He turned his back to her and lowered the shirt over his shoulders. The sight of those tan, muscular shoulders did something to her. He was so strong, yet he could be so gentle.

He let the shirt drop and turned back around, revealing his naked chest. The woman in the song was moaning about riding her cowboy, and Theresa licked her lips. There were definitely a few things she'd like to do with the man in front of her.

"You like what you see?" he asked.

She nodded. "I have to admit, this is kind of sexy."

"You ain't seen nothing yet, darlin'."

With something less than grace, he pulled off first one boot, then the other, sending them thudding to the carpet. The sight of the muscles in his chest and arms flexing stopped her laughter, though.

He began to sway again, putting his hands behind his head, swiveling his hips, then thrusting his pelvis. It would have been comical in another context, but the heat in his eyes, the intent behind the movement, made every gesture incredibly seductive. "Oh, yeah," she murmured.

He loosened the tie at the side of his chaps, then reached for his belt buckle. "You want this off?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes."

"Then you need to show me the love, honey. You don't think those guys up there on stage are taking it all off for their own enjoyment, do you?"

She grinned. "Then come here and I'll show you."

He danced to the edge of the table. She reached up and tucked a dollar bill into the waistband of his jeans, sliding her fingers down as far as she could, feeling his stomach contract, the wiry hairs that formed a V toward his crotch brushing against the back of her hand.

She rose, intending to steal a kiss, but he backed away. "Uh, uh, uh." He wagged a finger at her. "They have rules about touching the help, you know."

"I thought that was only in topless bars."

"Maybe so." He shrugged. "That's the only kind I've been in."

She sat back and folded her arms across her chest. "Keep dancing. You have a lot more to take off."

He unhooked the belt buckle and drew the belt oh-so-slowly from the belt loops. Next he undid the top button of his jeans. She was wet with anticipation as she waited for him to lower the zipper. But instead he trailed his fingers up and down that metallic line. His erection was clearly evident now. "It turns me on having you look at me that way," he said.

"Look at you what way?" She tore her gaze from him, but her eyes were drawn back to him by a pull at least as strong as gravity.

"Like you might just self-combust if I don't make love to you."

She squirmed. "I think you're exaggerating."