Good with His Hands (4 page)

“Or we could lag for the break,” she said, suggesting the more official method of shooting a ball off the far rail. Whoever's ball came back closest would break.

“Serious player,” he said approvingly. “Most of my construction buddies just flip a coin.”

Construction buddies? Dani knew it wasn't uncommon for architects to visit build sites, so it shouldn't surprise her that he had friends among the construction crews. Yet she had trouble picturing the man who normally wore expensive suits, the one who was so reserved he'd never fully smiled at her until today, trash-talking construction guys over beer and pool. She started to tell him that he seemed different, which she meant as a compliment, but she couldn't think of a way to say it that wouldn't make him sound previously aloof or stuffy. Weren't most people more likely to loosen up on the weekends?
So stop overanalyzing and just be thankful you ran into him on a Saturday.

They each selected a solid-colored ball and shot for the foot rail. The balls rolled back, hers stopping a fraction of an inch before his.

“Your break,” she said.

“Close, though.” He gave her a look of mock regret. “I guess a player with your skill isn't likely to do the girl thing, huh?”

“Girl thing?”

He sipped his beer. “You know, where you ask a big strong guy to help you with your form so he has a reason to put his arms around you.”

Dani stepped forward, leaning her pool cue against the railing. Looking intrigued, he set down his beer as she moved closer, invading his personal space.

She reached for his hand. His fingers were cool from the beer, but heat rolled through her anyway. “I'm a woman, not a girl. If I want a man to touch me, I don't need a lame excuse.” She settled his hand on the curve of her hip, her pulse kicking up a notch when they were close enough that they could have been kissing.

His eyes were mesmerizing, light-colored but blazing with intensity. “Good to know.” Raising his free hand, he traced her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. Desire had been sparking inside her since the moment he'd smiled at her in the office hallway, but now a pang of sharp arousal jolted her—and they were fully dressed in a public place. Imagining the kind of magic he could work in the privacy of her apartment left her dizzy.

If she didn't move away from him, she would be in no condition to shoot pool accurately. Which might not matter in the larger scheme of things, but she had to admit, part of her wanted to impress him.

When she stepped back, reaching for her drink, Gray gave her one more scorching look, then took his place at the table. The competitor in her wanted to watch the balls scatter and check for strategic positioning; the female in her was having difficulty looking away from the back of his jeans. When he'd said earlier that he liked physical activity, it had obviously been more than innuendo. He was in fantastic shape.

“You're up,” he said, drawing her attention back to the game.

She scanned the table. He'd pocketed the seven, so she was stripes. She called the eleven and leaned down to take her shot. Recalling the appreciative way she'd watched
him
shoot, she stole an involuntary glance toward the mirrored wall at the last second. His reflected gaze locked on hers—avid and hungry—and she fumbled her shot. The eleven rolled in right where it was supposed to, but the cue ball followed.

Annoyed with herself for the undisciplined lapse in concentration, she let loose a stream of profanity.

Behind her, Gray laughed. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Actually, she died when I was a baby.”

He paled. “Oh, God. I'm—”

“You didn't know.” Whenever she told someone about her mom, she felt as if she should be sadder, but she didn't remember the woman at all. The deepest sorrow she'd experienced was for her father's loss. “My dad raised me and, incidentally, taught me most of the bad words I know. He wasn't above swearing at soldiers if it motivated them, and sometimes he forgot to turn it off at home.”

“Military, huh?”

She nodded. “Army.”

“My father had his own roofing company and took on a lot of small construction jobs for extra income. He was careful, but anyone who works with tools that often is gonna catch his thumb with a hammer from time to time or run afoul of a circular saw.” He smiled. “Colorful words abounded. Of course, he swore me to secrecy. Mom would've had a fit if she'd known the vocabulary I was picking up in the garage.”

He surveyed the table, nostalgia fading as he immersed himself in the game. Using the conveniently positioned stripes, he knocked in two easy shots before having to stop and think about what he wanted to do next.

“If I were a show-off,” he said, “this is where I'd impress you with some fancy trick shot.”

She smirked over the rim of her beer. “In my experience, guys who really know how to handle their sticks don't need to compensate with trick moves.”

“Need? No. But nothing wrong with spicing things up every now and then, right?” Giving her a suggestive smile, he executed a perfect behind-the-back shot.

She bit back her own smile. “I refuse to contribute to your ego by applauding that.”

“You can admit I make you weak in the knees. I won't lose respect for you.”

She snorted. He sank a fourth ball before finally missing. Dani used the opportunity to reclaim her dignity with a great stop shot. The waitress brought another round of drinks while Dani pocketed two more, steadily closing the gap. But then she was left without a shot. Even as she banked the cue ball as best she could, she held no real hope. Sometimes, physics was against you.

Gray returned to the table. She sipped her beer, watching in admiration as he ran the table. His cockiness at pool was well warranted. After knocking in the eight ball for the win, he sauntered back to the railing with a satisfied smile.

“Now I wish we'd bet something,” he said. “Or that I'd suggested strip pool.”

The idea was appealing, if either of them had a pool table at home. She slid off her stool and began gathering the balls to rerack. “You can't play strip pool in public.”

He joined her at the table, leaning close as he lowered his voice. “Sure you can.” His breath feathered against her ear, a tantalizing tickle of warmth. “You just have to remove things that aren't obvious to everyone else in the room.” For the second time that night, he cupped her hip. Then he traced a finger across the denim, just above the elastic band of her panties. “Like...earrings.”

His outrageous teasing made her laugh, and she shoved against his chest. “You are a bad man.”

He dipped his head in agreement. “Being bad is my best quality.”

 

4

“N
ICE
JOB
.” I
T
was damned uncommon for Sean Grayson to smile when he lost, but he couldn't help an admiring grin as Dani pocketed the winning ball in their second game.

She was a worthy opponent. Plus, she was sexy as hell. Watching her lean over in that narrow skirt that hinted at naughtiness without actually revealing anything lessened the sting of defeat. “Best two out of three?” It was a logical suggestion, given that they were currently tied and that the waitress had just brought them a basket of chips and salsa to go with another round of beers. Yet, the longer he spent here with Dani, the more desperate he was to get her alone.

The heated glances they'd shared had escalated to casual—and not so casual—touches. He wanted her. Badly. If his jeans grew any tighter, he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep playing.

“One more,” she agreed. Her dark eyes gleamed with pleasure. Because she was having such a good time? Or because, like him, she was looking forward to what would follow their next match? She'd made it clear with her flirtatious words and body language that she desired him every bit as much as he desired her. “I hate to end on ties.”

He chuckled. “Right? There should always be a clear winner. My mom used to get aggravated at me and my brother for being too compet—” He stopped abruptly. With Dani calling him Gray, like most of his buddies did, and that way she had of grinning up at him as if he were the only man in the world who mattered, he'd almost managed to forget that she thought he was someone else.

“Lost my train of thought,” he mumbled.

She nodded absently, her easy acceptance of his fib making him feel like scum. As far as she knew, she had no reason to mistrust him. “You go ahead and rack 'em,” she suggested. “I'm going to run to the ladies' room.”

Five minutes ago, he would have watched her cross the pool hall, enjoying the view and the graceful, confident way she moved. Now, he was preoccupied with guilt. His almost-mention of Bryce had taken some of the shine off the evening.

A beautiful woman who was supposed to be at her own wedding reception right now had entreated him to show her a good time and help her forget a broken engagement. When he'd agreed, he hadn't been thinking any further than this evening. But now, thoughts of his brother brought unwelcome reality with them. Unless he swung by Bryce's house tomorrow and somehow convinced his twin to quit his job and never step foot in his office again, odds were, Dani would run into him at some point. Even though she'd stipulated that she only wanted someone for tonight, that she wouldn't cling or act differently afterward, Sean couldn't let her face someone she mistakenly believed she'd been intimate with.

Sean could give her exactly what she wanted—a raw, passionate night with a near stranger to keep her mind off the wedding that hadn't happened. But before he left, he'd have to find a way to tell her the truth.
In which case, she'll probably never speak to you again.

The realization sucked. He'd known within moments of meeting Dani that he was attracted to her, but over the past couple of hours, he'd discovered he really liked her. She was smart and sassy, shot excellent pool, didn't seem to have a pretentious bone in her body and, when provoked, had the R-rated vocabulary of a cranky trucker. She was all wrong for Bryce, but exactly the kind of woman Sean could picture himself falling for—except he wouldn't have the chance to fall. They only had tonight.

Which was what she'd wanted in the first place, he reminded himself. She wasn't ready to consider relationships or dating. She'd been very clear about her request—a single, reckless night. And if that was all he got, he planned to make it count.

* * *

B
Y
WINNING
THE
second game, Dani had put herself back in the running for overall victory. In theory, she was good enough to win their final match, too. Yet she was having a hell of a time trying to focus. Ever since she'd returned from the ladies' room, it seemed as if the sexual tension between her and Gray had grown even more electric, crackling all around them with its own magnetic pull. He was as wickedly charming as he'd been all night, but there was no more playfulness in his expression.

Now, the way he watched her bordered on predatory. He was biding his time but would eventually pounce. And she couldn't wait.

She swallowed, her throat dry with anticipation. She flagged down the waitress and requested a glass of ice water. Though she was hardly impaired, three beers had softened the edges of the world. She knew what was going to happen after this final game, and she wanted to be able to participate fully, alert enough to register every delicious detail. When morning came, she didn't want her memories of the night to be vague or hazy. Especially not if Gray was as good in bed as she expected.

Lost in prurient thoughts, she miscued her shot. She was still muttering curse words when he joined her, tugging gently at one of her curls.

“You have quite a mouth,” he drawled.

“That a complaint?” she asked, knowing from his expression it wasn't.

“Yes.” His gaze slid to her lips. “Because your mouth has been distracting the hell out of me all night. I'm too busy imagining kissing you to think straight.”

Same here.
Except, her imagination hadn't exactly stopped with kissing.

Despite her innate competitive streak, right now, she couldn't bring herself to care about pool. She wanted Gray's mouth on her, his hands on her. Since she couldn't seem to find her voice, she met his eyes.

When he cupped her face with his hands, she experienced a giddy rush of excitement. Even though it had only been hours since they'd encountered each other at the office, it felt as if she'd been waiting forever for him to kiss her. His mouth settled over hers, and she parted her lips in invitation. She buried her fingers in his hair, surprised at how silky it was. Their kiss was salty and spicy, and her body pulsed with sensation.

Gray kissed the same way he shot pool, with bold assurance and innate skill. He speared his tongue into her mouth, his possessiveness nearly making her moan, then pulled back, teasing, nipping at her lower lip. She was glad she was balanced between him and the pool table. Despite mocking his earlier boast that he made her knees weak, the longer he kissed her, the less steady she felt.

His hands dropped to her hips, and he pulled her tightly against him. The hard length of his erection was unmistakable. An answering need pooled between her thighs. As much as she was enjoying their kiss, suddenly, it wasn't enough. The sensual hunger blooming inside her had turned ravening.

He must have felt the same way. Lifting his head, he reached for the eight ball on the table and swiped it into a pocket. “Oops.” His breathing was rapid, his voice strained. “Guess I lose. Ready to get out of here?”

Wordlessly, she nodded. If she were any more ready, they'd be arrested for public indecency. A hundred detailed fantasies were bursting to life in her mind, but they all required the same starting point—getting this man alone. Immediately.

* * *

I
RONICALLY
,
DESPITE
D
ANI
'
S
urgency to reach the seclusion of her apartment, the walk across the adjacent parking lots was taking twice as long as usual. Probably because she and Gray couldn't keep their hands off each other.

The starlit line of trees around the perimeter of her complex offered far more privacy than a pool hall. Gray spun her into his arms, taking her mouth in another kiss that made every nerve ending in her body sing with pleasure. But the pleasure was edged with rising desperation. Her breasts ached to be freed from their confines, bared to his touch. The humid spring night around them was silky against her skin, so soft it was a tease. She needed his calloused fingers on her, needed friction.

She moaned into the kiss, dimly aware that she was rubbing her body against his. “My place.” She tugged his lip between her teeth. “I want you, but not so badly that I'm willing to embarrass myself in a parking lot.” Only half sure she spoke the truth, she quickened her pace.

With his long legs, he easily matched her stride. “Dare I ask what you
are
willing to do?”

She could hear the smile in his voice, knew he was kidding, but that didn't stop her fevered mind from creating vivid images in silent reply. “Keep up and you'll find out.”

It wasn't until she turned her key in the lock that she experienced a tiny splinter of shyness. Beyond the physical intimacy of what they were about to do, there was a certain amount of intimacy in simply bringing him home. She'd leased the place a few months ago, when she was still engaged, and had never had a man here.

As if sensing a change in her mood, Gray massaged her neck soothingly, circling his thumb at her nape, applying just the right amount of heavenly pressure. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Resolutely, she opened the door. “I was just thinking I should warn you, I'm not the world's most diligent housekeeper.”

She flipped on the lamp that sat on a small entry table along with her mail. It didn't offer much illumination, only a minimal rebuff against the darkness beyond. Still, it was enough that he'd be able to notice her habit of haphazardly kicking off her shoes when she walked through the door. Open-toed pumps and platform wedges were scattered about, some fallen on their sides like defeated warriors in a mythical shoe battle. Since she hadn't expected to return from the office with a date, she hadn't bothered to tidy the client files, property brochures and books on real estate that cluttered her living room.

“I mean, I'm not a slob,” she defended herself. She never left the apartment with dirty dishes out, and she'd put fresh sheets on her bed just last night. “But my place wouldn't pass military inspection.”

“No worries. I'm not the neat freak in my family. My...”

When he didn't finish his sentence, she glanced over her shoulder and found him frowning.
Nice going, Yates. You had a very sexy man all hot and bothered five minutes ago, then ruined the moment with your inane chatter about housekeeping.

“Danica.” His gaze bore into hers, troubled. “There's—”

“Sorry,” she interrupted. “I don't know why I'd waste a single second thinking about something like laundry or dusting when I could be doing this.” She stepped toward him, not stopping until their bodies touched. His hips cradled hers, the heat of him potent even through his jeans, and her breasts were cushioned against the unyielding muscular wall of his chest.

She meshed her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. Not that it required any effort. He was already lowering his face to hers. But at the last minute, he shifted direction. Instead of meeting her lips, he kissed her jaw and worked his way down the excruciatingly sensitive line of her neck. He bit gently, then less gently, and she trembled. His hands palmed her butt, kneading, making her inwardly curse her skirt. She wanted closer contact, wanted to wrap her legs around him.

He lifted his head long enough to ask, “You're sure? That you want me?” There was an oddly vulnerable emphasis to his words, but she was too lost in sensation to analyze it.

He couldn't tell the effect he had on her? Her pulse was thundering, and she was so wet, she half expected to scent the musky perfume of her own arousal. Her voice was hoarse but audible. “Never been more sure of anything.”

That was obviously the permission he'd needed. His mouth captured hers, feasting. The kiss they shared was deep and wet and gloriously carnal. Not breaking the contact between them, she shuffled back a step with vague thoughts of her bedroom on the far side of the living room. His hands fisted in the hem of her camisole. She obligingly raised her arms, ending the kiss long enough for him to lift the material over her head.

They'd moved away from the slight glow of lamplight in the doorway, but even in the shadows, Gray growled approval at the sight of her breasts covered only by pale blue demi cups. He outlined the swell of one breast, and her nipples contracted to even tighter points. She shifted her weight restlessly, slick with need. It was inexplicable, how the delicate brush of his finger over her skin could trigger such a powerful response. He circled one rigid tip, and she arched her back, reflexively offering herself up for further exploration.

But when he slid his fingers beneath the cotton of her bra, pinching lightly, it was almost too much. She nearly lost her balance.

“W-wait.” Clutching his arm for support, she raised a foot and unstrapped first one high-heeled sandal, then the other. Pivoting, she kicked them under the coffee table by the couch so they weren't lying in the path to the bedroom. This evening was going to end in mind-blowing orgasms, not someone tripping over discarded shoes.

Before she could turn back around to face him, his hands settled on her denim-clad hips. He kissed his way from one shoulder blade to the other. He traced her spine to the top of her skirt, then pointedly tugged the waistband.

She reached for the button above the zipper but paused. “I feel underdressed, comparatively speaking.” Twisting to look back at him, she grinned. “I'll show you mine if you show me yours.”

He whipped off his shirt and balled it up, tossing it in the general vicinity of the coffee table. As he quickly stripped off socks and shoes and fumbled with his belt, she watched over her shoulder. She greedily drank in the sight of his chiseled chest and abs, cursing herself for not turning on more lights. The man was living art. His shoulders were broad and strong, his chest dusted in dark hair that added to his virile air. His torso tapered to an impressively ridged six-pack that she would have assumed was airbrushed if she'd seen it in a photo.