“What are you doing here?”
“Wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“I’m fine.” When he didn’t move, she reluctantly admitted, “It’s just a little sore.”
“I wasn’t talking about your butt, although, if you think my night vision is impressive, you should check out my massaging skills.”
She felt the air shift around her as though he was moving closer, moving into position to give her a hands-on demonstration of those skills. The mere idea of his big hands on her jump-started every suppressed urge she’d been ignoring since Richard walked out.
“I’m fine.” She shoved at his chest, not wanting any of his skills, massaging or otherwise, near her. He was so refreshingly male that, just like most women in town, she didn’t think she’d be able to resist, even on her best days.
“Are you, Abs? Because if not, I’m here to help you,” he whispered, sliding an arm around her waist and proving her point. Desire and something much more vulnerable rushed through her body and settled in a part of her chest that she’d long ago designated off-limits to the dicks of the world.
And in true Jack Tanner fashion, his hands slipped even lower, proving that the kind of help she needed and the kind he was offering didn’t match up. The only reason her body heated up, she convinced herself, was that seven years with only a vibrator for company could do that to a girl.
Nope, taking him up on his kind of help was a bad decision. It wasn’t the guaranteed hot night she was worried about. It was the cold bed and even lonelier morning after that were sure to follow.
CHAPTER 3
Really, Jack?” She took a big step back and reached down for her purse and—whoa, what was up with the don’t touch me asshole glare? “The last time you used a line like that on me, you managed to help me right out of my kick pants, only to take off with some blonde afterward.”
“What line?”
She raised a brow and, okay, so maybe putting his hands on Abby had been a serious lack of judgment. Sure, she’d looked lost and disappointed and in desperate need of a hug. But the second his hands slid down her back and she snuggled closer, all of his good intentions went to shit. And all he could focus on was that his fingers were inches from her ass, and her breasts—the ones he’d been dreaming about since he was seventeen—were crushed up against his chest. And that she needed him.
The DeLuca Darling, who didn’t need anyone, needed him. Then she gave a horrified expression, as though realizing who she was talking to, and it became “I don’t want to talk” and “hands off.”
Which worked for him, since listening to her talk about the dickwad she’d been married to always managed to make him mad. Although the “hands off” part he’d like to change.
“And I was only going to take Kendra Abrahams to homecoming because she’d already asked.”
“You had sex with me the week before.”
“I couldn’t cancel. I had her corsage ordered and everything,” he explained. “Not that it mattered, since your school’s mascot mysteriously ended up in my truck for a joyride,” he said, smiling when her only response was a long, weighted silence. Guilt did that to a person—especially Abby. “But if I hadn’t been banned from the dance, I would have wanted to go with you.”
At that she looked up, and the expression she shot Tanner about singed his soul. He wasn’t joking about his night vision. Lit only by the faint glow of the moonlight, he could make out that her big brown eyes were slit into a glare that was too frosty for his taste, and her lips twitched slightly as though trying not to laugh in his face. A task at which she failed miserably.
“And we were in high school,” he added as though that made up for the fact that he had taken her virginity in a wine cave.
He’d gone there with good intentions; she’d called him crying and upset and needing a friend. What happened after he’d arrived, after she’d started kissing him . . . well, he hadn’t been thinking like a friend. Worse, he’d behaved exactly like people expected him to.
“I was actually talking about junior year of college, after the UC All-Star Bowl,” she said.
Now, there was an image. “Well, you were wearing red kick pants, I thought it was a go.”
“My whole cheer team was wearing red kick pants,” she said, fumbling around in her purse and coming up with a tape measure and a little notebook. “But with that lovely reminder, you can help me out by leaving.”
Not waiting for him to respond, she turned her back on him and, hands out in front of her, blindly searched for her flashlight. He watched her for a good minute, especially focused when she dropped to all fours, shaking that heart-stopping ass for his viewing pleasure, then started back toward him, giving him something else entirely to focus on. The moonlight cast a faint glow across her face and the generous shot of cleavage she had going on.