His By Design (10 page)

Back inside, she wasn’t sure what to expect from Jeff. Things had changed so much in the past twenty-four hours. She could hear him moving around upstairs and went up to see the progress he’d made while she and Frank were gone.

He was on his cell phone, so Zoe ducked behind some boxes and eavesdropped shamelessly.

“Hey gorgeous, it’s your favorite carpenter.” (Pause)

“I’m good. You? (pause)

“Nah, I can’t tonight, sorry.” (pause)

“Maybe. I can’t promise anything.” (pause)

“Listen, Christy, I need to put a to-go order in for—” (pause)

“No. I don’t have time to stay for lunch today.” Sigh. “I can’t help that, babe, I’ve got work to do. Just get my usual order ready and I’ll swing by and pick it up, okay?” (pause)

“Thanks. Catch you later then. Bye.”

He stuffed his phone in his pocket. Shook his head. Another sigh.

Zoe tiptoed back to the stairwell, then made sure her footsteps could be heard coming down the hall.

“Hey, Jeff, are you busy?”

“Nope. I’m just napping up here. What do you need?”

I need the truth from you, Lothario. Why do you need a lunch order if we’ve already eaten? And why do you sound so chummy with ‘Christy’?

He’d gone back to grouting the tile he’d set last night.

“Your dad is on his way back to Baltimore. I told him to come see us again when the gallery opens. I want him to see the finished product. He’s a nice guy, Jeff. I see a lot of him in you.”

Jeff snorted. “Not all that much, except for teaching me all this.” His gesture encompassed the whole space. He shot her a suspicious glance. “Why? What did he tell you about me?”

“Not a lot, really. He mentioned that you two didn’t have the best relationship when you were a kid.”

“Yeah, that’s certainly true.”

“But he seems to think that’s all behind you both and that things are good between you now.”

Jeff didn’t reply. He just kept working the grout into the joints in the tile. Finally he said, “I’m not sure I should let you do anything at all today with that bum thumb.”

Nice change of subject, she thought. She looked around then went back to her bedroom and checked out the bathroom. “Looks like all the place needs is a coat of paint. I can do that without doing any more damage to my thumb.”

She came back around the corner. “It’ll be easier to paint now before you put the trim up. I won’t have to be so careful.”

Jeff sat back on his heels. “If you’re sure it won’t be too painful . . .”

“I’ll be fine. Really. “I’m going to go change clothes. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

“Okay. Hurry back.”

Jeff delivered his final comment with a look that sent warmth spiraling through her and woke up all her erogenous zones. What would happen when she came back? It would be hard to keep her mind on her painting, that’s for sure. Especially since she’d given him permission to kiss her whenever he wanted.

As she cut across the town square, she heard the unmistakable sound of Jeff’s bike. The streets around the square were empty. Perhaps it was someone else’s motorcycle she’d heard. Zoe almost detoured to Ed’s diner to catch him there, but felt like she’d be spying.

After all, it’s not like we have a relationship. A few kisses did not make him my boyfriend. A few kisses just made me . . . easy.

Chapter 10

Jeff dropped the keys to her new apartment into her hand. It was finished. He had borrowed Mr. Pennypacker’s old pickup truck and together he and Zoe had driven to D.C. and cleaned out the storage unit she’d rented. Zoe was grateful for one less bill to deal with every month.

Now that her bedroom furniture was arranged to her liking, a feat that had required Jeff to shift things around several times, Zoe loved the way it had turned out. Thanks to Jeff’s design talents and carpentry skills her new home was light-filled yet warm and cozy. A sofa from Ikea and tan linen Roman shades on the tall windows were all the new things her budget would allow. The rest came from her old apartment. The sense of ownership flooded her with a kind of joy she’d never known. This was no rental, this building and everything in it belonged to her. She wished her mother could be here to see her dream beginning to come true.

Jeff came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. “Happy, sweet cheeks?”

She leaned against him and sighed contentedly. “Very.” She swiveled around and put her hands flat against his chest. “And I have you to thank for it. I can’t tell you how much I—”

He leaned down and kissed her, slowly and tenderly. “Let’s call it a joint effort. You worked every bit as hard as I did.”

She shook her head. “That’s a lie, and you know it. I’m glad you let me help though, after I had my, ahem, accident.”

He examined her thumb. A faint scar was all that remained. “I was afraid that if I hadn’t, you’d have been the one here in the middle of the night trying to do something dangerous. My heart couldn’t take that kind of strain. Letting you work with me was self-defense.”

She took a deep breath. “I, uh, wondered if you’d like to stay for dinner?”
Unless, of course you have a hot date with Christy.
“Seems only right I should share my first meal here with you.”

Other than an occasional kiss, their relationship had stayed fairly platonic. Zoe wasn’t sure if that was intentional or just the result of long workdays and exhaustion. She didn’t want to put any pressure on him. On the other hand, a couple of hours making out on her new sofa would go a long way toward restoring her sense of feminine desirability.

He hesitated, and her heart took a nosedive.
I guess the waitress at Ed’s Diner will be the lucky one tonight. Those kisses that stir my blood are probably just casual fun to him. Something he does with every woman he knows for longer than a day or two. Maybe even an hour or two.

She steeled herself for rejection and mustered a light-hearted escape clause. “Not that I’m actually going to cook. Culinary arts are not my strong suit. I was only going to order some take-out from Donatelli’s, so if you have other plans, it’s no biggie.”

She went to her brand-new refrigerator and took out the bottle of wine Amanda had given her as a housewarming gift. If he wasn’t going to stay, she’d probably drink it all herself.

He took it out of her hands and set it on the counter. “Come here, sweet cheeks.”

He tugged her close and dropped kisses, first on her nose, then each cheek, then—finally—on her lips. She put her arms around his neck and melted against him, her breasts crushed by the flat plane of his chest as his arms tightened around her. His tongue teased her lips apart and sought entrance to her mouth and she could feel the growing evidence of his desire pressing against her belly. He fumbled with the hem of her shirt, finally slipping his hand underneath. Her skin quivered at his touch and she felt dampness begin between her legs.

His fingertips grazed the underside of her breast and she moaned into his mouth, curling one leg around his thigh. He boosted her up onto the counter and unzipped her jeans while she tugged his shirt up, both of them suddenly frantic to touch and be touched. She planted kisses on his chest and licked a nipple as he stripped her shirt off and unhooked her bra. The air felt cool on her heated skin and she shivered, more from passion than the cold. He took her mouth again, fiercely this time, his tongue thrusting inside as she opened to him.

Inside her head, her conscience screamed, “Stop! You know he wanted this right from the get-go, and now you’re giving in. Just what you swore you wouldn’t do.” I’m weak, she admitted, then slammed the door on her common sense.

He picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, her legs wrapped around him, the bulge of him pressing against her. He made quick work of her jeans and the now soaked thong underneath. He laid her back on the bed and gazed at her with an intensity bordering on awe.

“God, you’re gorgeous, woman.” He traced a finger between her breasts down to her navel.

She squirmed in delight. “Get rid of those pants and let me see you. All of you.” The washboard abs descended toward a dark patch of hair which rose above the edge of his low-slung jeans. No boxers, no briefs. His erection sprang free as he lowered the zipper. He kicked them off and followed her down, pressing her into the mattress, the length of him cradled against her heat.

He’d taken a condom out of his pocket and tossed it onto the pillow. She reached for it. He cuffed her wrists with his hands. “Slow down, sweet cheeks, we’ve got plenty of time.” He busied himself with her breasts, first licking and suckling one nipple then switching to the other.

She gasped and arched toward him, her back bowing off the mattress. “Maybe you have plenty of time, but I want you inside me. Now. Really. Right. Now.”

She fondled his hard length and cupped his balls. With that kind of encouragement, he reached for the condom and ripped it open with his teeth. Covering himself quickly, he then dipped a finger into her and spread her juices on the nubbin at the top of her cleft. Hot white light showered through her, igniting every last erogenous nerve ending. She couldn’t wait any longer. She directed his shaft right where it needed to go.

“Now,” she demanded.

With no hesitation, he thrust his full length into her, grasping her hips and raising her off the bed to penetrate her completely. She moaned as he slowly withdrew only to slide into her again, stretching her to accommodate his fullness.

She tried to hold back but it had been too long since the word sex meant anything other than M or F on some form. She was so close to the edge. And he lit her up like a Fourth of July firecracker with a very short fuse. His next thrust took her over the brink and she dug her nails into his shoulders as the walls of her vagina convulsed around him.

He leaned down and kissed her, never stopping the rocking, fluid movement of their mating dance, until she realized he was bringing her back to the peak once again. Her eyes flew open.

“Oh yeah, darling, we’re not done yet. Not by a long shot.”

He reached between them and circled her bud with his thumb. Then he lifted her legs to his shoulders as the exquisite sensations built and built toward climax. This time his strokes were fast and furious and when her release took her, he followed, shouting her name.

Zoe gave some consideration to staying in this position—pinned to her mattress by a gorgeous hunk of male—for the next few days. That plan had a lot of merit. Until . . .

“Was that your stomach growling?” Astonishment was clear in his question.

It was. And loudly too. No mistaking that sound for anything remotely sexual.

“Um, yeah,” she admitted. “I was in the process of inviting your for dinner when we . . . got sidetracked,” she offered in her defense.

“Sidetracked? Is that what they call it now?” He laughed and kissed her on the nose.

She poked him in the ribs and sighed. “Really. I have to have food. I know it’s not fashionably ladylike, but I have a very healthy appetite. Much as I hate to move even an inch from this spot, if you don’t want to hear an even louder chorus from stomach-central, you’d better let me call Donatelli’s and order us some dinner.”

She gazed up at those sparking blue eyes and sexily tousled hair. It was enough to cause her nether regions to produce an orgasmic echo. Which in turn caused one of Jeff’s brows to shoot up and a quirk to appear on that expressive mouth.

“You
are
staying for dinner?”

Or would this be a slam-bam, thank-you-ma’am, I’ve really got to run, but thanks for the memories, kind of thing? Now would be the time to find out if he’s playing me like a violin for all the fun and games he can get, or if this might actually turn into . . . something.

His eyes turned tender and he brushed a kiss across her lips. “Yes, sweet cheeks, I’m staying for dinner. I will even volunteer to put on clothes and brave the night to go pick it up. That way you can stay gloriously naked. Which has become my favorite view.”

He planted another kiss on the peak of one breast. It immediately pebbled.

“No. Stop. Let me at least order dinner.” She looked up at him with a smug smile. “That should give us almost thirty minutes before you have to go pick it up . . .”

He grinned wickedly. “Let me get your cell. And another condom.”

He slid off the bed and headed for the kitchen. She enjoyed the view of his retreating backside and quashed the whispering voice in her head that said, “This is too good to be true. Beware. Life-sized replicas of Michelangelo’s
David
must have dozens of women’s numbers in a very thick little black book. You’ll merely be the latest entry.” She tucked the sheet around her and sighed. Maybe not. Maybe she could be ‘The One.’

“Yeah, right,” the inner voice said.

The subject of her musings was back in seconds and slid under the sheet as he handed her his phone. “I couldn’t find yours. Do you know the number?” He was already running his fingers across her belly, sending quivers through her muscles and heat arrowing to her core.

“Yes, I know the number. I— Stop that for a minute, will you? I have to talk on the phone. Like a normal person. Not like one who is being ravished while she tries to order linguine with clam sauce and garlic bread.”

His hand stilled but he continued to nuzzle the side of her neck. She managed to put the order for take-out in without sounding too much like a woman who was about to have mind-blowing sex.

For the third time.

In an hour.

She tossed the phone onto the nightstand, and purred, “Now, Studley-Do-Right, you may have your way with me.” She threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged his mouth to hers.

Jeff exited through the front door, glad of the c
ool evening air, cell phone already in his hand. He had to let Jen know he wasn’t coming home for a while. He didn’t want her to worry. He was amazed he even remembered Jen when ninety-nine percent of his brain cells were occupied savoring the memory of the best sex he’d ever had.

The petite ball of fire was a surprise in so many ways, he could barely catalog them all. Her small but beautifully proportioned body was a sculptor’s dream. High, firm breasts, not overly large, fit his hands perfectly. His palms itched to feel them again. Her hair was like silk, so long it almost reached her waist when she let it down. Her skin felt like satin and tasted like . . . sin.

He stopped walking and adjusted his jeans as Jen answered the phone. Now it was his turn to make sure he sounded normal.

“Hey, Bug, I’m gonna be late getting home tonight. Is there enough left over from last night for you to have for dinner?”

“Oh yeah, there’s plenty. Don’t worry about me. Are you still at Zoe’s, arranging furniture?” She chuckled. “Putting everything where she wants it?”

Well, he put one thing right where she wanted it.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, sort of. You know how you women like to change your minds every ten minutes when there’s some poor sucker available to push sofas and shit around.”

“Yeah, I know. We’re such a burden to you big strong men. Well, tell her I said hello.”

“What?” He jerked to a stop at Donatelli’s door.

“Only kidding. Just wanted to see if you were really paying attention to this conversation, or deep in thought about how you could get into Zoe’s pants.”

“Bug, I’m not trying to get into Zoe’s pants.” There was no trying. He’d been there, done that, and wanted to do it again about a million times. This conversation needed to end before she asked more questions that he couldn’t skirt around the truth answering. “I may be late. Who knows how long furniture arranging could take. So I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure, hot shot. Time to start telling her what a great artist you are. Laying the ground work so to speak.”

“Right. I’ll do that. Bye, now.”

He snapped his phone shut. He was definitely laying some groundwork. But the sands were already shifting under his feet. The little white lie of passing Jen’s paintings off as his own was starting to look very gray.

Back at the apartment, he found Zoe had donned a short silk robe, the sash around her waist not enough to keep it from gaping open when she reached for the paper sack.

He couldn’t resist slipping an arm around her and pulling her into his embrace. “I thought I gave you strict instructions to remain naked.” His hand slid up underneath the hem and caressed her bare backside.

She pushed against his chest and made an exasperated sound. “I’ll get naked when you get naked.”

He let her go and began to unzip his jeans.

“Stop. We’re eating dinner first, Studley. Leave the pants alone and uncork that bottle of wine.” She gestured to the counter where a pair of glasses, the wine bottle and a corkscrew waited.

“As you command, sweet cheeks.” He busied himself with the wine while she dished out the pasta. “Mmm, smells good.” He leaned over and nibbled her behind the ear. “Not as good as you, though.”

“You’re good for my ego, Studley, but you don’t have to lay it on so thick.” She smiled up at him.

I’m not saying anything that isn’t true.” So far. “You smell like honey, and flowers, and hot, tropical sunshine. It’s very sensual. And what’s with the Studley nickname?”

“It’s a take-off from Dudley-Do-Right, from
The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show
. You’ve heard of him, right? The Royal Canadian Mounty who’s so loyal and honest, strong and handsome and, you know, always looking out for the damsel-in-distress? The difference is”—she leaned over the counter to kiss him—“you are most definitely a stud not a dud.”