Neck & Neck (21 page)

And instantly he understood why she probably hadn’t asked for help reaching it.

Because the moment his fingers bumped hers, he realized it wasn’t just their fingers that, uh, bumped. Pretty much every inch of their bodies, uh, bumped. And thanks to the way she’d brought herself up to his height by boosting herself up on the shelf, their bodies, uh, bumped in ways that were pretty damned intimate, from the way his thighs pressed into the backs of hers to the way her fanny was cradled by his pelvis. Up this close, he could detect just a hint of that soft scent that had intrigued him since day one, along with something earthy and musky and end-of-the-day erotic that made him want to bend his head to that sexy curve where her neck met her shoulder and just—

Just remind himself that she was engaged to another man. Yeah, that was it.

“Um,” she began softly, her voice catching even on that tiny sound. “I, uh, I didn’t ask for help because I, ah, I don’t usually need help. I usually do just, um . . . just fine. By, uh, by myself.”

There were so many ways—too many ways—that Finn could interpret her words when he took into account their current position. And when she shifted just the tiniest bit against him, against the part of him she absolutely should not have shifted against, it was naturally the most salacious interpretation that exploded in his brain. An image of Natalie writhing naked amid tangled sheets, her golden hair flowing across the pillow, her fingers moving between her legs, her eyes closed in ecstasy, doing it by herself. And the way she was doing it went way beyond fine. In fact, it was pretty damned erotic. That didn’t prevent his fevered imagination from introducing Finn into the picture, too, however. And once he entered it, things went even beyond erotic, straight to incandescent.

Telling himself he was only doing it to steady her, he cupped his hands over Natalie’s hips and spread his fingers wide. The soft fabric of her dress warmed immediately under his touch, making him wonder if the skin beneath was even warmer. Not thinking about what he was doing—how could he, when that heady scent of her surrounded him the way it did?—he inched one hand forward, over her flat belly, splaying his fingers wide. At the same time, he pushed the other downward, along the slender curve of her thigh, toward the hem of her dress. It didn’t take long for cloth to become flesh, and he discovered that her skin was indeed quite warm. Quite soft. Quite . . .

And then he was doing what he’d only thought about before, dipping his head toward her neck, toward that irresistible scent, toward that warmth and softness. When he nuzzled aside her hair, his cheek brushed hers, and it was only at her gasp of surprise that he hesitated. But that hesitation only made him aware of the fact that, instead of dissuading him, she had covered the hand he’d placed on her belly with her own and tilted her head to one side to welcome his advance. That should have emboldened him. Instead, it made him halt.

What the hell did he think he was doing? The woman in his arms was engaged to another man. And yeah, Finn could argue that her encouragement indicated her relationship with Waterman maybe wasn’t on the most stable ground, but there were a host of other reasons not to do this. He’d only be in town for a couple of weeks. Natalie wasn’t the type for a one-night stand. He had no room in his life for any woman who wasn’t a one-night stand. And, in case he forgot, she was trying to get through to Russell, and it was both his job and his obligation as a friend to keep her away.

Somehow, he forced himself to rear back his head, pull his hand from beneath hers and, after only a small hesitation, remove the other from her thigh. Then he grabbed the phone book from the counter and took a giant step backward, turning his back on her as he flipped through it blindly and pretended the last couple of minutes never happened.

“So, do you think I should look under the word
taxi
or the word
cab
?” he asked, hoping he only imagined the uncharacteristic hoarseness in his voice.

He turned his head slightly to look at her out of the corner of his eye—because he didn’t dare look at her full on—and saw Natalie step down from her cabinet perch, then grip the countertop with both hands and drop her head.

“Either one, I imagine, will get you what you need,” she said, her own voice sounding a little hoarser than usual, too.

Oh, he didn’t think so. What he needed right now couldn’t be found in the Yellow Pages. The personals maybe, but not the Yellow Pages.

Hastily, he flipped around until he found the listing he wanted, then he pulled out his cell and dialed the first number he saw. He’d been indulging in a very nice delusion about having the taxi show up in the driveway, honking its horn impatiently, the moment he closed his phone so he could book it out of the house with nothing more than a hasty “See ya, Natalie.” Then the dispatcher of the cab company asked to what address she should direct the driver, and Finn realized that, not only was he going to have to ask Natalie her address, but it was probably going to be a while before a car showed up, thereby necessitating even more conversation.

He asked her for the necessary information, which she relayed in an automatic monotone, and relayed it to the dispatcher, then closed his phone. Alas, there was no portentous honking of a horn outside, however, so he resigned himself to pass what would probably be the most excruciating several minutes he’d been forced to endure in a very long time.

That resignation became dread, however, when Natalie said, without looking up, “Are we going to talk about what just happened?”

Damn. He should have realized she would be one of those can-we-talk types, since she wasn’t a one-night stand type. One-night stands were always so cool with those eloquent lyrics Elvis once sang: “A little less conversation, a little more action.” Though, admittedly, Finn actually preferred a lot less conversation and a lot more action, but that was neither here nor there.

Deciding it would probably be in his best interest if he just went with the obvious male reaction to situations like this one—deny everything—he said, “What do you mean? I needed a phone book; you got one for me. Why would we need to talk about that?”

She expelled a not-so-quiet sigh, then nodded her head. “Hoo-kay. Got it. I just wasn’t clear on the rules there at first.” She finally looked up at him and smiled. It was a forced smile, but at least she was making an effort to abet him in his denial, and that won her major points in any man’s book. “You want some coffee or something while you wait? This time of night—or, rather, morning—cabs aren’t too plentiful. They’ll probably have to send one from the terminal or the airport or something.”

Great,
Finn thought. Louisville, for all its charms, was evidently a little taxi-challenged. Which meant his awkward several minutes could be significantly greater. As would be his awareness of Natalie. And his attraction to Natalie. And his desire to nuzzle Natalie’s hair and neck and run one hand down her naked thigh while the other dove between her legs, then drive them both out of their minds with wanting until they weren’t wanting anymore, they were taking and giving and giving and taking, and touching and tasting and licking and sucking and—

And he was
this close
to crossing the kitchen and pulling her into his arms again when a horn honked outside, signaling the taxi’s arrival.

“Oh, wow,” Natalie said blandly, completely unaware of Finn’s agitated state, “maybe at Derby time it’s a lot easier to get a cab. The driver must have been cruising Frankfort Avenue, looking for fares. Some places don’t close ’til four this time of year.”

She started to cross the kitchen toward the living room, but before she made it—and unable to help himself—Finn snaked out a hand and circled her wrist with sure fingers, halting her progress. When she spun around to look at him, surprise etched on her face, he realized he still couldn’t look her in the eye, so he focused his gaze just over her left shoulder instead.

“Natalie,” he said, still not sure what he wanted to tell her. For some reason, though, he knew he couldn’t leave pretending nothing had happened between them. Although, technically, nothing
had
happened between them, something—something he hadn’t expected and still didn’t understand—had happened between them. Something he couldn’t—and maybe on some level, didn’t want to—deny. With any other woman, he could have. But not with Natalie. He couldn’t pretend with her. Didn’t want to pretend with her.

Which was all the more reason he had to make sure nothing—really nothing—ever happened between them again.

“Look, what happened just now . . .” he continued hesitantly, “well, let’s just say it shouldn’t have happened.”

When she said nothing in response, he made himself meet her gaze, something she’d evidently been waiting for him to do, because she replied as soon as their gazes connected.

“Not that I necessarily disagree with you,” she said, “but what’s your reason for thinking that?”

Her question took him by surprise. Not just the question itself, but her frankness in asking it. He honestly wasn’t sure what to tell her. Probably the truth, since that was what she seemed to want. He just wasn’t sure what the truth was. Not the main truth, anyway. So he told her the obvious ones instead.

“Because I live two thousand miles away and will only be in town for a couple of weeks. Because I’m not at a place in my life where I want to get involved with anyone more than superficially. And because you don’t seem like the type of woman who would be satisfied with a couple weeks with a superficial guy.”

“No, I don’t suppose I would be satisfied with that,” she agreed.

She looked like she wanted to say something else, but she only continued to study him in a way that told him nothing of what she might be thinking. He, too, wanted to say something else, though he still wasn’t quite sure what. Both of them were spared, however, when the cab honked its horn again.

“I guess you should get going,” she said. “Otherwise my neighbors are going to be calling over here complaining about the noise.”

Only then did he realize that not only had he not taken a single step in the direction of her front door, he was still clinging loosely to her wrist. With great reluctance, he released it, then, forcing an encouraging smile that felt in no way encouraging, he said, “Thanks for a nice evening.”

She grinned at that. “Thanks for not pointing out what a disastrous evening it was.”

“It wasn’t disastrous, Natalie. Not by a long shot.”

Again, she didn’t reply, only arrowed her brows downward in a way that made her look strangely vulnerable. Telling himself it was because he wanted to get out before the cabbie honked his horn again, and not because he feared Natalie would say something that might make him think too much about whatever it was that was arcing between them, he impulsively leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, mumbled a good-bye, and headed for the door. He never looked back once.

He didn’t dare.

 

 

FINN’S KISS, HOWEVER CHASTE, HAD BEEN TOTALLY unexpected. Not so much because he didn’t seem like the sweet-peck-on-the-cheek type—though certainly that was true—but because even sweet pecks on the cheek carried the suggestion of a certain amount of affection in them, and affection was the last thing he should be feeling for her. She’d made a fool of herself tonight, drinking as much as she had and passing out in his arms. And she’d inconvenienced the hell out of him, keeping him from sleep he doubtless needed very badly and making him drive her home.

That reminded her that she’d wanted to pay for his cab, so she hurried into the living room, hoping to catch him before he left. But he was already gone, the door closed firmly behind him. She watched through the living room window as he made his way down the front walk and into the waiting cab, alternating between hoping he would turn around and retrace his steps back to the front door to tell her he’d changed his mind about only being in town for a couple of weeks, and then hoping he would never look back and she’d never see him again.

For a moment, she honestly thought it would be that last, because he folded himself into the back of the car and leaned forward to tell the driver his destination, never once sparing a glance toward the house. As the car began to pull away, though, he did turn his head one last time. She told herself she imagined his look of surprise when he saw her still watching him, since it was too dark to tell anything of what might be on his face. But she could see the way he held up his hand in an uncomfortable gesture of farewell.

“Bye, Finn,” she said softly. Her warm breath left a halo of fog on the cool window, obscuring what was left of the cab’s red taillights as it drove away. “Thanks for seeing me home safely,” she added.

At least, she’d been safe until he stepped up behind her in the kitchen. Until he’d roped his arm around her waist and pressed his hand against her stomach. Until he’d dipped his head into the curve of her neck, and she’d felt his warm breath stirring against her nape. She told herself it had only been wishful thinking when she’d felt his mouth skimming over her tender flesh. It had been so long since she’d felt a man’s mouth on her skin that she wasn’t even sure she remembered what it felt like.

She closed her eyes, trying to remember the last time she’d been intimate with a man, then snapped them open again when she remembered. Well, no wonder she’d been so susceptible to Finn. No woman should have to go as long as Natalie had without physical contact with someone who turned her on. Jeez.

And Finn did turn her on.

Something told her, though, that it wasn’t the lapse in her sex life that had made her susceptible to Finn Guthrie. It was the simple fact that he was Finn Guthrie that made her so susceptible.

She told herself it was just as well that nothing had happened, other than a few intimate touches that she’d doubtless be feeling for a long, long time, since the lapse in her sex life was looking to stay lapsed for a while yet. And having even had that small contact with Finn—who was the sort of man who would be able to make a woman completely forget about any lapses—meant the lapse would probably last even longer, because after the intense, immediate way she responded to Finn, other, lesser men were going to be at a total disadvantage.