Someone Like Her(44)

 “Why you staring at me?” One eye slitted open.

 She shrugged. “Why not?”

 “Tried to get you outta my head.” Surprising her, he leaned over and gave her a clumsy kiss.

 He smelled like booze, cheap perfume, and cigarettes. “God, you stink.” Of the three, some other woman’s perfume on him was the worst. The only way he could smell like that was if the woman had climbed all over him, and obviously, he’d allowed it. Rat bastard.

 “Then we need a shower.” He opened the door and stumbled out. He made it halfway up the sidewalk before he realized she wasn’t with him and turned around, weaving his way back to the car. “Come,” he said, tapping on the window.

 Did he think they were going to have sex? No way. He was drunk. She’d seen too many wasted men, many of them mean, fumbling in their efforts to screw Lovey Dovey, sometimes knocking her around. Not that she believed Jake would mistreat her, but he wasn’t particularly appealing in his current state. If she was smart, she’d go home and bring the Challenger back to him in the morning.

 He opened the door and tugged on her hand. “Come on.” A lopsided grin appeared on his face. “Please.”

 Apparently, she wasn’t smart. Besides, she had the keys to his condo and doubted he could manage to find the keyhole. She’d at least unlock the door for him, maybe make a pot of coffee. He could sure use some.

 This was the first time she’d been inside his condo, and she looked around with interest, surprised at how nice it was. She’d expected something messy—clothes and magazines strewn about—the furniture worn and cheap.

 It was, instead, understated elegance, and as neat as a pin. She hoped he never saw her room. If he was responsible for the décor, then he had a good eye. A brown leather sofa, a matching Euro chair, and a glass coffee table, were the only pieces of furniture. A sand-colored seagrass area rug covered part of the dark wood floor, the biggest TV screen she’d ever seen hung on one wall, and a painting that appeared expensive was on another.

 She walked to the picture and studied it. The scene was the back of a young woman with long black hair wearing a knee-length yellow sundress looking out over the Gulf at the rising sun. Barefoot, she stood ankle deep in the water, and the breeze lifted her hair and the hem of her dress, showing a glimpse of one brown thigh.

 Maria felt Jake’s breath on her neck, which would have been nice if he didn’t smell like a brewery. “This is a nice picture.”

 “She’s you.”

 Wow. He’d bought a painting because it reminded him of her? That pleased her to no end, but she would bet her cat he’d deny it to hell and back when his brain wasn’t pickled. She turned around. “Why don’t you jump in the shower while I make you some coffee?”

 “You don’t know where the kitchen is. Come with me and we’ll find it together.” Again, he gave her a drunk, lopsided grin. “After we shower me.” Grabbing her hand, he tried to pull her with him.

 She pulled away. “Oh, no. I’m not bathing with you tonight, much less sleeping with you. If I do, you’ll be angry with both of us in the morning. When it happens between us, I want you to be fully aware of what you’re doing. I don’t want regrets, Jake. Now off with you.” She waved a hand toward the hallway.

 “You’re no fun,” he grumbled and weaved away.

 The kitchen wasn’t hard to find as it opened to the great room. She found the necessary supplies and had a strong pot of coffee waiting when he returned. The man who walked into the room wore only a pair of damp red boxer briefs, his hair dripping water, his chest and long, muscular legs glistening with droplets. The air swished out of her lungs. Holy moly.

 She tried to think of something to say besides, “Holy cow, I want to jump your bones,” and settled for, “Did you forget how to use a towel?” Thankfully, her voice sounded only a little raspy.

 He scrunched his eyebrows. “Huh?”

 “It doesn’t look like you dried off.”

 His chin lowered and he stared at his chest. “Knew I was forgetting something.” He lifted his head, a very wicked smile on his face. “You could dry me off.”

 I’d love to. “Some other time. Here, come drink this coffee.”

 “Okay, and then you can dry me.”

 Not weaving as much as he was before his shower, he made his way to the table. He brought the cup to his mouth, took a swallow, and then jumped up. At the sink, he spit it out. “Jesus Christ, Maria. How much coffee did you put in this?”