Do Me Right (3 page)

He smiled, remembering her feeble denials that there wasn't anything between them. One kiss had shown her for a liar. Next time she'd have to find another excuse to refuse him.

Judging by the way she'd melted in his arms just now, she wouldn't say no much longer. He stared down the empty street in the direction she'd driven, wondering what his next move would be. On the one hand, he could show up at her shop tomorrow and continue to play the game--flirting and touching, daring her to give in to her feelings and give herself up to six weeks of very physical therapy that would benefit them both.

On the other hand, a little voice in his head was telling him to turn around and run the other way. A woman like Theresa Jacobs didn't ever really surrender. Women like her took prisoners. With one kiss, he was already halfway snared in her web. Not exactly a good beginning for a casual alliance. He wanted fun without forfeit, a way to give his body without worrying about his heart. One look at Theresa, with her tattoos and leather, her overt sex appeal and go-to-hell attitude, and he thought he'd found the perfect partner to help occupy his time while he was forced to remain close to home.

Now he wasn't so sure about what he'd thought was a brilliant plan.

He straightened and headed back toward the bar. Maybe a stiff drink, or a few stiff drinks, would drown out his doubts. But he doubted he'd see clearly through an alcoholic haze, or know any better what he should do if he woke in the morning with a hangover. So he detoured past the Library Bar and headed for the lot where he'd parked his truck. Gold's Gym was open twenty-four hours. A few miles on the treadmill or lifting weights with his good hand might clear his head.

Or at least wear him out enough to sleep without dreaming of a certain leather-clad siren and a single scorching kiss.

She poured a generous amount of lavender-and-vanilla bubble bath into the old-fashioned claw-foot tub and turned both taps on full. A soak in the tub was bound to relax her enough so she could sleep. In the morning, she'd be able to make more sense of her feelings.

She turned and caught sight of herself in the mirror and froze, studying her reflection with a critical eye. Two years shy of thirty, she was holding up well. Though she enjoyed eating too much to be overly skinny, she had an hourglass shape men appreciated, with definite curves she wasn't afraid to show off. Her tattoos were artistic, not overwhelming: a snarling tiger on her left shoulder, a band of flowers around her right bicep, the Chinese symbol for courage on her right ankle.

Her full breasts were still firm, the Celtic knot a lacy etching between them. Her nipples were dark against her pale skin and erect now in the coolness of the apartment. She smoothed her hand down her sides, watching the nipples pucker further at her touch.

She lowered her gaze to her stomach, slightly rounded and soft but not fat or flabby. A gold
T
dangled from the ring in her navel, a single diamond chip winking in its center.

She slid her thumbs beneath the narrow waistband of the thong and skimmed it down her thighs, watching herself in the mirror. Her dark pubic hair was trimmed close, an inch-wide strip down the center. She wondered what Kyle would think if he could see that. Would the sight of her naked excite him?

She'd felt him tonight, the ridge of his erection hard between them. He'd been hard all over, really, muscles like iron holding her with surprising tenderness. She grew damp at the memory.

Once the tub had filled, she turned off the taps and slid beneath the bubbles. The warm water caressed her and she sighed, breathing in the rich perfume of lavender and vanilla. Eyes closed, she willed herself to relax. This was her sanctuary, a place where worries were banished.

But even this treasured ritual couldn't erase thoughts of the kiss she'd shared with Kyle. The moment was seared into her brain. As soon as she closed her eyes, she saw him again, his lips curved in a lethal half smile, his eyes assessing her, stripping her bare.

But it was his touch that had been her undoing. The memory of his lips and hands on her still burned her, awakening feelings that had lain dormant too long.

She slid soap-slicked hands up to cover her breasts, rubbing back and forth across aching nipples. It was a poor substitute for what she really wanted--a man's hands,
Kyle's
hands, on her.

Imagining it was Kyle's hands she was guiding, she moved lower, across her stomach, down between her legs. She pretended it was his fingers parting her folds to stroke her clit, his body satisfying the desire building within her.

Our bodies are saying things to each other. Don't you want to finish the conversation?
His words returned to her, fuel to the fire burning inside her. If a man could get her this hot with only the memory of his voice, what would happen if she invited him into her bed?

She arched up, anticipating release, water sloshing over the sides of the tub. Her cries echoed in the room as her climax overtook her. Eyes closed, she sank down in the tub again. She'd found physical release but nothing like what she really wanted. What she really needed.

The picketers were patrolling the sidewalk in front of the tattoo parlor when he returned to the shop. "Sir, you should read this!" An earnest-looking woman shoved a flyer into his hand as he reached for the door of the shop.

Printed on blaze-orange paper, the flyer read "Keep Austin clean! Take back the streets for our children! Fight for a family-friendly Austin! Vote for Darryl 'Clean' Carter for City Council Place Four!!"

"Nice exclamation marks," he said, attempting to hand the paper back to the woman.

"Oh, no. You keep it." She frowned at his hand on the doorknob. "You don't really want to go in there, do you?"

"I don't?" He removed his hand from the doorknob and turned to face her. "Why not?" He looked at the others, who had stopped marching with their signs and gathered around like buzzards waiting for their turn at the dead armadillo on the side of the road. "What is y'all's objection to this place?"

"This isn't the kind of thing children should be exposed to." A man in a dark suit and helmet hair stepped forward. "It's morally repugnant and encourages overt sexuality and flaunting of the body."

"Brushed up on those vocabulary words, did you?" Kyle grinned and made a show of looking around them. "I don't see any children here, do you?" He scratched his head. "Guess they're all at home, watching sex and violence on TV."

The man glared at him. "This is not something to be made light of," he said.

"Right." Kyle turned and grasped the doorknob again. "Don't wear yourselves out toting those signs or anything."

The string of bells on the back of the door announced his entrance into the shop. One of the cats, curled up in a chair by the door, blinked at him sleepily. The blond dude who'd been there the other day looked up from the computer behind the front counter. "Can I help you?"

"I just stopped by to see Theresa."

At the sound of her name, she looked up from her seat next to the tattoo chair. She shut off the machine and blotted the partial tattoo on the back of the man who reclined beside her. "Kyle, what are you doing here?"

Was it his imagination or was her voice a little breathy? He strode into the room and lowered himself into a folding chair near her work area. "I came to see you, of course." He nodded to the man, a middle-aged biker type with a long, gray pigtail and grease-stained jeans. "Don't let me interrupt."

She switched on the machine again. "Eric, this is Kyle. If you don't want him to watch, I'll tell him to leave."

Eric raised his head and looked Kyle up and down. "Don't make no difference to me," he said and lowered his head again.

Theresa turned her attention back to the tattoo, which was fine with Kyle, as it gave him the chance to watch her. A pair of fine lines creased her forehead as she concentrated on her work. The design taking shape beneath her hand was intricate and colorful: a whole garden full of roses surrounding some sort of fantastic bird--a phoenix, maybe--in brilliant reds, greens, blues and yellows. She was working on the bird now, inking in the tail feathers.

Bent over like this, he had a terrific view of the tops of her breasts swelling at the neck of the leather vest she wore. Some kind of flower or design was tattooed in her cleavage. He was definitely interested in getting a closer look at that....

"Shouldn't you be back at the ranch punching cows or something?"

Her voice pulled him out of the beginning of a very interesting fantasy. He raised his eyes to meet hers. "We don't punch 'em anymore," he drawled. "We just suggest they move 'long. It's more PC that way."

Eric made a choking sound, but Kyle soon realized it was a chuckle, muffled by his position. "I'm going to remember that one," the biker said. "What happened to your arm?"

After less than a week, the question was already getting old. He looked at the blue-wrapped cast. "One of the cows punched back."

The biker laughed again. "You're a riot."

"Guess if the rodeo gig doesn't work out, I can be a stand-up comic in a biker bar," he said.

Theresa apparently didn't appreciate his humor. She was still frowning. "What
have
you been doing since you got hurt? Just sitting around on your ass?"

He winced. That was a low blow. Just because he was twenty-nine years old and didn't have a real job didn't mean he was a bum. "I'm exploring my options," he said.

"Hmmph." But the slight flush to her cheeks made him think she was remembering how he'd asked her to help him pass the time while he was recuperating.

He sat back, hands behind his head. "I thought about taking up panhandling," he said. "But there seems to be a glut of people in that line of work around here lately. Then I heard they were auditioning for Chippendales dancers, so I thought about strapping on my chaps and giving it a go." He gave an exaggerated shimmy. "What do you say, darlin'? Think I've got what it takes?"

Aha! She looked! He deliberately licked his lips. He'd be happy to show her he had what it would take to please her.

"Maybe we could hire him to run off those picketers," the blonde behind the counter said.

"I don't think one beat-up cowboy's going to scare them much," she said.

If he thought she really meant the words, he might have been insulted. But the very way she avoided looking at him told him she was all too aware of his presence. He liked that. She didn't look like the kind of woman who was easily unnerved, but he'd managed to get to her. Score one for the cowboy, beat-up or not.

"Besides, it's a free country," Theresa continued. "We can't stop them from walking on the sidewalk."

"Screw 'em," Eric said. "They don't know what they're missing."

"They don't have much of a sense of humor, do they?" Kyle leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "A guy out there told me this place 'encourages overt sexuality and flaunting of the body.' Like that was a bad thing."

"Hey, if you've got it, flaunt it," the blonde said, flexing a scrawny arm.

"Sounds good to me." Kyle's gaze lingered on Theresa's inviting cleavage once more. "What do you think, Theresa?"

She switched off the machine and patted Eric's shoulder. "I think that's all for today," she said. "Next time I'll do the talons and finish up the pyramid at the bottom."

"Thanks, T," the biker said. He raised up on his elbows while she cleaned and dressed the fresh tattoo. "You here for a tattoo?" he asked.

Kyle shook his head. "No, I'm just here to harass Theresa. I know how much she loves it." There went that blush again, the slightest pink along her cheekbones. It was immensely gratifying and sexy as hell.

Eric dressed and left. Kyle got up and walked over to where Theresa was cleaning off her work space. "I've been thinking about you," he said softly.

Her shoulders stiffened, but she kept on working. Pretending to ignore him.

He smoothed his hands down her upper arms. "I've been thinking about the way you kissed me."

She shrugged out of his grasp and moved over to the workbench. "I didn't kiss you.
You
kissed
me
."

He followed. "Ah, but you kissed me back."

She stripped off her latex gloves and turned to face him. "So what if I did?" Her breasts rose and fell, almost brushing the front of his shirt, though whether she was breathing hard from anger or arousal, he couldn't tell.

"A woman who can kiss like that shouldn't be content with just a kiss." He resisted the urge to touch her again, and settled for staring into her eyes. They were dark brown, almost black, a shade lighter than her hair. Heavily lined in black, the lashes lush with mascara, her eyes looked exotic. Erotic as the rest of her. He shifted his stance to accommodate his growing erection. If she had any doubts about his reaction to her, one look would tell her all she needed to know. "Don't tell me you haven't been thinking about the proposition I made."

She glanced past him, over his shoulder. Too late he remembered the blonde at the cash register. "Scott, go ahead and go to lunch," she said.

"Now?"

"Yes, now. You don't have any appointments until three, do you?"

"Figures you'd run me off just when it was getting interesting." But he scooted his chair back.

A few moments later, the bells on the door sounded and they were alone. He reached for Theresa, intending to kiss her, but she scooted sideways, out of his grasp. "What's in it for me if I do agree to your proposition?" she asked.

He folded his arms across his chest and struck a casual pose against the workbench. "Oh, I don't think you'll be disappointed. The fireworks we set off the other night were just a little preview."

"Don't flatter yourself, cowboy."

He shrugged, ignoring the uneasy feeling in his gut. "What do you want?"

She bit her lip. Her uncertainty surprised him. She took a deep breath. "Okay, here's how it is.
If
I agree to do this, it's just you and me for six weeks. No other women on the side."

Easy enough. He nodded. "Darlin', I don't intend for either one of us to have
time
to see anyone else."

She hugged her arms across her breasts. "And you won't try to change me--not the way I dress or act or anything."

He looked her up and down. "I wouldn't change a thing."

"And no lies."

He blinked. "What would I lie about?"

"In my experience, some men will lie about anything. Just don't try it with me. If I find out you've lied, you
will
live to regret it."

He was starting to get a picture here of one or more lying, cheating, manipulative men she'd been involved with in the past. The thought of some bastard hurting her that way made him more than a little angry. "No lies from me," he said. "Believe it or not, all that stuff about truth, honor and the cowboy way isn't just hogwash."

She nodded, though she hadn't relaxed one bit. "All right then."

Not quite the enthusiastic response he'd been hoping for. "Is that a yes?"

"Come back tonight after closing." She turned and began rearranging things on the workbench. He stared at her back, at the leather miniskirt that clung to her shapely backside, at the fall of straight black hair that reached almost to her waist, at her shoulders hunched against him. That was it? An order to come back later?

"That's not the way to seal a bargain." He closed the gap between them in two strides and put his good hand on her waist, his mouth next to her ear. "We need to give each other something to mark the occasion."

She looked back at him with a puzzled expression. "You want me to give you a gift?"

He smiled at her confusion. He liked this version of her, soft and a little vulnerable, almost as much as he did the sexy, woman-in-charge side of her. Gently he turned her until she was facing him, her back against the workbench. He moved in closer, letting her feel exactly how much she turned him on. "A kiss will do," he said. "One kiss to give us both something to think about until tonight."

Her lips were every bit as soft as he remembered--soft and sensuous. He coaxed them apart and her tongue met his, sparring and retreating in an erotic dance. He sucked gently at her mouth and she responded, nipping at his upper lip, sending a jolt of heat straight to his groin.

With a sound that was part growl, part purr, she reached up and put her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. She pressed her breasts to his chest and ground her pelvis against him. He slid his good hand down to cup her bottom, bringing her closer still. They were as close as they could be without being naked, and the sensation drove him half-crazy. To hell with waiting until tonight. They had a pretty comfortable-looking reclining chair right here....

Then, in an instant, it was over. She slipped out of his arms and stepped back, one hand to her swollen lips, her breasts rising and falling as she struggled to control her breathing. "I-I'll see you tonight," she stammered.

He started to protest, then thought better of it. She'd laid down the rules, and for now he'd do best to follow them. He didn't want to risk her turning skittish and backing out of the deal. Not when he was on fire with wanting her. He took a step back, toward the door. "Yeah. Tonight."

Before he could change his mind, he turned and left, pushing past the protestors, ignoring their attempts to press more flyers on him. He had to get away from Theresa now, but he'd be counting the minutes until he saw her again.