Good with His Hands(9)

"What can I say? Making you feel good is addictive." He tipped her chin  up with his finger and kissed her. With their earlier urgency somewhat  mellowed, this kiss was slow and leisurely. The sex had been incredible  but, in retrospect, he wished he'd taken more time to explore her body,  to find all the secret places that made her moan and writhe.

He straightened abruptly, reaching for the bottle of body oil on the  shower shelf. "You know, you should never underestimate the importance  of moisturizing." He started to pour the liquid into his palm, then  changed his mind, drizzling it directly across her shoulders and chest.

Her earlier lassitude was gone, her dreamy expression replaced by an  eager gleam in her gaze. How was it possible for someone's eyes to be so  dark and so bright at the same time? He rubbed the satiny oil in lazy  circles across her skin. When he caressed the undersides of her breasts,  her head fell back, lips parted on a noiseless sigh.                       
       
           



       

He brushed a thumb over one taut peak. "I didn't get the chance,  earlier, to taste you here." An oversight he meant to correct  immediately. He bent his head, swirling his tongue around her nipple,  then sucking hard.

She made a sound low in her throat that reverberated off the tile  walls. If it weren't for his realization that the water pelting his skin  was turning increasingly cool, he could happily stay here for hours.  Reluctantly, he let her go.

"You weren't kidding about the short-lived hot water," he complained.  "If we don't get out of here, we're going to turn into popsicles."

"Told you," she said ruefully. As she drew back the shower curtain, she  added, "It's probably just as well. I'm starting to get light-headed  from hunger. Not that I was thinking about food while you were... With  your mouth on me, I can't think at all."

"We'll have to test that theory later. There are other places I still  haven't had the chance to kiss you," he drawled, his voice full of  wicked intent.

She stilled, her eyes wide and her cheeks rosy with color. It took  considerable willpower not to scoop her up and carry her to the bed in  the next room. But then she blinked, shaking off her reverie and  grabbing an oversize blue towel. She handed him a matching one.

Wrapping herself in terry cloth, she tucked in the corner so that it  formed a mini-dress. "I really am starving. Three beers and a handful of  chips does not a dinner make."

"You sure?" He secured his own towel around his waist. "I have a number of buddies who would consider that fine dining."

"I just hope I have actual groceries. I put in what feels like a hundred hours of work this week."

Including going to the office on a Saturday. "Are you always so driven,  or were you going out of your way to stay busy?" he asked tactfully.  The days leading up to the aborted wedding must have been tough.

"Both. My colleagues call me ambitious."

He managed not to wince at the word. Once she knew more about him,  would she share his ex's opinion-that Sean was going nowhere simply  because he didn't wear expensive suits to work? He was currently the  lead builder on a new phase of a luxury subdivision. He'd worked before  in brick and concrete neighborhoods where every house looked alike and  the only landscaping attention was given to the token shrubbery  surrounding the pool area and private tennis courts. This subdivision,  on the other hand, had personality in addition to the community pool and  clubhouse. Flowering magnolia and dogwood trees offered shade and color  in generous-size yards; stately pines marched along property lines. It  struck him as the kind of dream neighborhood his parents would have  loved to raise him and Bryce in, had they ever been able to afford it.

"I've always been goal oriented," Dani continued as she flipped on her  bedroom light. "And I don't mind busting my ass to meet those goals."  She shot him a grin. "But I try not to let it make me stuffy."

"Definitely not the word I would use to describe you."

Her apartment was so small there was no hallway. The living room sat in  the center, with a kitchen and bedroom at either end. Now that there  were more lights on, he was getting his first real look at the place. A  flat-screen television hung on the wall, above a shelf of DVDs. Most of  the titles he glimpsed were action movies.

"You bowl?" he asked, spotting a turquoise bowling bag in the corner.

"It used to be a weekly tradition for me and my dad. He gave me a ball  for my birthday a few years back, but it's been a while."

"That him?" Sean asked, noting the framed eight-by-ten on a small end  table. It looked pretty recent. Sean knew the stern-jawed man with  silver hair was her father even before she nodded. The man had the same  dark eyes as his daughter-and the same air of determination.

"Yep, that's the Major," she said, affectionate pride in her voice.

In the kitchen, a couple more photos were stuck to the refrigerator  with pizza delivery magnets. One was a shot of Dani in a tank top and  sunglasses, a runner's number pinned to her shirt.

"Last year's Peachtree Road Race," she said, following his gaze. "The other one's me and my friend Meg."

The two women sat on the deck of a boat, crossing their eyes comically and raising bottles of beer.

"She barely looks old enough to drink," he commented. "Or...I don't  know." It wasn't that the pretty woman literally looked underage. It was  more a sense of innocence and youthful merriment. Strawberry-blond  ringlets framed a cherubic face with a button nose, a smattering of  freckles and a sweet smile. "If I had to guess, I'd say she either  teaches kindergarten or directs a church choir. Maybe both."                       
       
           



       

"She owns a high-end lingerie store and sells the occasional sex toy at private parties."

While he absorbed that bombshell, Dani added, "I actually need to send  her a quick text to let her know I, uh, got home okay. Excuse me for a  sec?" She retrieved her cell phone from the purse she'd dropped as soon  as they entered the apartment.

Sean continued his informal study of her place. Her personal mementos  seemed limited to the three pictures he'd seen. Because she wasn't  overly sentimental, or because she'd removed any keepsakes that included  her ex? Sean had an irrational urge to punch the unknown former fiancé  in the nose. He hated the idea of any guy hurting her.

"Okay. Food," Dani said decisively. She swung open the refrigerator  door, frowned at the array of takeout containers, then checked the  freezer.

Watching over her shoulder, Sean laughed. "Takeout food, beer and  pizzas? You have the body of a swimsuit model, but the refrigerator of a  frat house."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, and I suppose your fridge is full of kale and imported brie?"

"Touché."

The kitchen was small enough that Dani could preheat the oven without  even stepping away from the fridge. She pulled a square box from the  freezer. "I doubt college boys splurge on gourmet Mediterranean veggie  pizzas. This okay with you?"

He nodded. Although he hadn't given food much thought before she mentioned it, now he realized he was famished, too.

She opened an overhead cabinet, which caused her towel to slip a  tantalizing half inch, and got down two glasses. "Help yourself to  anything you want to drink."

He waited until she was done with the pitcher of filtered water, then  poured himself a glass, as well. The digital display signaled that the  oven was preheated, and she set the pizza on the rack.

"Frozen pizza and a dress code of towels." She grinned at him as she  set the timer on the microwave. "Do I know how to throw a classy dinner  party or what?"

"Best social event I've been to all year. And, trust me, I was dragged  to plenty." He hadn't meant to add that part, but it was true. Tara had  the busiest calendar of anyone he'd ever known.

"Work events?"

"No. Ex-girlfriend, hell-bent on networking." Looking back, he was  surprised he'd convinced the youngest daughter of Dunwoody socialites to  go out with him in the first place. "You're not the only one who's been  through a breakup recently," he commiserated.

"Were the two of you serious?"

"There was a time I thought we might be, but we never lived together or  got engaged." He could imagine the disdain on Tara's face if he'd  proposed. "She wanted someone different. Or at least, she wanted me to  be someone different."

"Then she's a moron. You're..." She ducked her gaze. "Well. You're you."