Luck of the Draw (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 1) (15 page)

June 16
Flirtation. Some call it harmless. Some call it scandalous. Some call it a lost art. I don’t know what to call it except... wow
!
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CHAPTER
TWELVE
____________________

K
ATE WOKE THE NEXT MORNING to the shrill ring of the phone on her nightstand.

“Hello?”

“Kate, it’s your grandmother.”

“Nana? What’s...? It’s only,” she peered at the clock, “seven a.m.”

“I’m sorry. Were you not awake?”

Kate spit out her night guard, pushed the hair out of her eyes and slumped against her pillows.  “Yes. No. I... Liam’s sleeping in. We made s’mores on the beach last night with... Anyway, we were up pretty late. What’s up?”

“I’m coming home early. Today, as a matter of fact. Turns out if you’ve seen one quilt, you’ve seen them all. I’m calling to see when I can stop in and see my favorite little boy. I miss him. I know it’s only Tuesday, but I was hoping to catch you and see if we can get together later this week. I thought I’d better check with you now so you could fit me into your plans.”

“We have no plans, Nana. We’re still getting settled.”

“Good! Then maybe we'll see each other in a couple days. How’s dinner and ice cream sound? There’s a new playground near the ice cream place. You think Liam would like that?”

Kate chuckled. “I think we’d all like that.”

“I’ll pop in tomorrow, then, and set something up. Oh, but not Friday. I’m getting together with the ladies Friday.”

“Right. Speaking of the ladies, I think I sort of volunteered to help Ruth Pearson with her beefcake calendar.”

“Oh! Wonderful! Sounds like the perfect job to take your mind off everything.”

“That’s the problem. I think it might be a bigger job than I’d thought, and I don’t have a lot of spare time to spend on something like that. I
—” Wait. It’s not like she could admit she’d been sent on leave by Nancy to find her passion. Nana would have a field day with that one! “Besides. I don’t think it’s appropriate,” she said instead.

“Well, you won’t sign up for a dating service. You never go out. Think of this as an opportunity to preview the eligible men in the area. What harm is there in that? No one has to even know it’s you. You can set up an e-mail account, assume a name. It’ll be completely anonymous.”

“Right. I’ll just call myself Desperate in Dallas.”

“Now, you’re being cheeky. It doesn’t become you. Just pick a character from your favorite book or something. Come on, Katie. It’ll do you good to see what’s out there.”

“Nan—”

“And, it’s for a good cause…”

“So I’ve heard. Still—”

“I’m sorry. I have to get going if I’m to make good time. Why don’t we talk when I get back?”

“Nan—”

The phone went dead. Kate slumped against the headboard. If she hadn’t had so much fun with Jim yesterday snapping pictures at the dock, she might actually feel more resentment over Nana’s heavy-handed interference in her personal life. God bless her.

No sooner had Kate set the phone on the hook when it rang again. She picked it up. “Nana, it’s not polite to hang up on people when—”

“Kate? It’s Jim. Jim Pearson.”

“Jim!” Kate sat up straighter and ran a hand through her hair. “I thought— what’s up?”

“I’m sorry to call so early, but...” He cleared his throat. “Can I come in?”

“Come in?”

“Yeah. I’m out front.”

“You’re
here?”
Okay, when she’d fantasized about seeing him again, she hadn’t intended for it to be at the crack of dawn before she’d even showered! Kate scurried out of bed and peered through the curtain. Sure enough, there he stood on the front path.

“I, uh... why are you here?” she asked, hastily stepping away from the window.

“I have the new shower head and knob I mentioned the other day. I was hoping to switch out the old one before heading to my first job if that’s okay. It’ll only take a few minutes. You won’t even know I’m here.”

“Sure. Hang on a minute. I’ll let you in.”

Shower knob?
Images of Jim, wet and sexy, and standing in the lake flashed into her consciousness. Kate frantically searched for her robe and threw it over the faded oversized T-shirt she’d worn to bed, pulling the sash tight. She couldn’t remember, precisely, whether she’d remembered to lock the front door or not, but she’d be damned if Jim—heck
any
man—would occupy the only bathroom in the house if she’d yet to even brush teeth.

A few minutes later, her hair hastily finger-combed, her teeth brushed and a lightning fast coat of lip gloss on her lips, Kate opened the door with as much aplomb as she could muster.

“Good morning,” she said brightly as she ushered him in. “Sorry it took so long. I, ah, was just checking on Liam. He’s still asleep.”

“He is?” Jim stepped in, some shiny shower thingy in one hand and a toolbox in the other. “Aren’t kids usually up at the crack of dawn?”

“Last night was pretty exciting. Wore him out, I think.”

“I hope he had fun.”

“We did. I mean, he did. We both did.”

Kate’s mouth went dry. Jim stood silently, casually gorgeous in a plain navy tee and tan pants. He smelled fresh and clean like Ivory soap. Kate tried to inhale without being obvious.

Jim nodded, his eyes skimming over her quickly. “I’d better get to work if I’m gonna make it to my job at nine.”

“Of course.” Kate chewed the inside of her cheek as she followed him down the hall. “I, ah, was going to start some coffee. Can I bring you a cup when it’s done?” Best to act casual. Friendly. Like sexy, flirty games of chicken raft and shirtless photo shoots were par for the course.

“That’d be great. I take it black.” Jim was already setting down his toolbox and stepping behind the shower curtain, his apparent indifference not doing great things for Kate’s self-confidence.

“Okay.”

“And Kate?”

She paused, a shiver of breathless anticipation coursing up her spine at being called back. “Yes?”

“Better do it before I shut off the water.”

She nodded, deflated. “Sure.”

For heaven’s sake, what did she expect? Here she was in a tired old bathrobe, her hair a mess, no make-up... Did she really expect him to pin her with his eyes, press her against the bathroom wall, and have his hungry way with her?

She pulled out mugs and started the coffee. Dear Lord, if she were this bad over one eligible man in her vicinity, what kind of disaster would the charity calendar prove to be? Did the ladies even know what a fragile state she was in? Was this even
normal?

No. Nothing was normal. Her life was one big raucous roller coaster, and it was heading for the big dark TUNNEL with a capital T.

Bedsides, mooning after her good-looking neighbor probably wasn’t what Nancy had meant when she’d told Kate to ‘find her passion.’ Not that he was an unpleasant diversion. Thinking about him kept her mind off worrying about REAL LIFE.

Damn. The capital letters were back. That couldn’t be a good sign.

“
Ow!
” A loud clatter of something falling into the tub was quickly followed by a colorful curse and the distinct sound of water spraying.

“Everything all right?” Kate hovered near the bathroom door, a masculine-sized mug of coffee in hand.

More frantic fumbling, more mumbled curses, and more water spraying sounds emerged from behind the shower curtain.

“Jim?” Afraid to interfere but also intensely curious about what was going on, Kate peered around the far end of the curtain. “
Oh, my.”

Jim stood like a dog caught in the rain, giant water splotches soaking his front, water dribbling from his hair and nose. And the new shower thingy was on the floor of the tub.

“What happened?” Really, she was making every effort not to laugh. A supreme effort.

Jim wiped his dripping brow with his forearm. “Forgot to turn off the water.”

“I see.” Kate could feel the corners of her mouth twisting up, could feel the bursts of laughter trying to sneak out of her lungs, her nose. “I, ah, brought your coffee,” she said, holding out the mug.

He took it with as much dignity as possible under the circumstances. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Letting the curtain fall back into place, she allowed a single hiccup of laughter to escape. “It could happen to anyone.”

He sighed, a long-suffering good-natured sound that had her snorting indelicately and covering her mouth with her hand. “Thank you,” he said. “Could you hand me something to dry off with?”

Kate hurried to the linen closet and grabbed a towel. She thrust it behind the curtain.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She stood outside the tub as he set his coffee on the edge to dry himself.

“You know,” he said, “you really don’t have to stand there.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.”

“I don’t mind you standing there,” he added as he pushed aside the curtain and stepped from the tub, scrubbing his hair with the towel. “But you are somewhat to blame for this.”

“I am?” she squeaked. Heavens, he was good-looking all wet and frumpled. His water-soaked T-shirt was plastered to his chest. Kate’s tongue became the Sahara.

“
Mmm hmm,”
he nodded. Now he was finger-combing his hair, a crooked grin making his face boyishly appealing as he dropped the towel on his toolbox. “I was thinking about you, you see—”

“You were?” Kate backed up against the sink, the small bathroom feeling suddenly much smaller. Dangerously small. As small as the pocket in her lungs still capable of holding air. “What were you thinking?”

He paused, his eyes dancing. “I’m thinking I ought to keep that to myself.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think we know each other well enough for me to tell you that.”

Suddenly the flannel of her robe felt very hot on her skin. Kate sucked air through her nose and stared at his lips, that crooked smile teasing her, beckoning her. “I want to know,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

He wasn’t touching her, was still nearly two feet away, but every nerve cell in her body registered his presence. Her skin tingled with the need to make contact. Her fingers itched to press themselves against his damp skin. He took a step forward and she almost moaned.

He said nothing, simply stared at her, his eyes dark, his face taut. His smile had disappeared, replaced by a look so smoldering Kate nearly pooled at his feet.

“
I don’t want
—” he began.

“
I know
—” she agreed.

And then his lips were on hers, hard, scorching, stealing the remaining air from her lungs.

Dear Lord
, she thought,
if I suffocate because this kiss never ends, this is exactly how I want to go.

He pulled back, blinking at her, shaking his head in confusion. “I don’t... want...” he began again.

“I don’t care,” she said. Then she grabbed his face in her palms and yanked him back to her, fusing their lips once more.

She
did
moan this time as his hands held her shoulders almost desperately, his fingers squeezing her flesh as he plundered her mouth, those beautiful, skillful lips lighting a fire in her that burned all the way to her toes.

He might have said something more, but having finally tasted this man
—this man she had already seen naked—she couldn’t get enough of him. She pressed him back, eager, hungry, pinning the door closed behind him as his hands—
Lord, those hands!
—splayed across her back, kneading the fabric, her flesh.

He groaned, a deep masculine sound of surrender before spinning her around and pinning her to the door in his place.

There was no thinking. No rationale. No analysis of what was happening. For the first time in her life, Kate was acting on instinct alone.

And it felt incredible!

Her hands ran down his sides, over the rough fabric on his hips and pulled him hard to her. He grunted against her lips, a light sound of surprise and then issued a moan as his erection pulsed against her.

Her robe was halfway down her back, his hands hot through her tee, when he pulled back, gulping air. “Kate?”

“Please don’t talk,” she insisted, pulling his lips back to hers.

She didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to analyze what in the world she was doing with this man in this place at this time...

Didn’t want to admit that it was wrong for more reasons than she could ever count.

She inhaled deeply.

She had to stop smelling him. Had to stop
kissing
him.

With a heavy sigh
—because, Lord, it was painful to do so—she pulled away, her breathing as labored as his. “I think… we… should stop,” she managed to say—pushing the words through her lips—lips that were still tantalizingly close to his.