Kitabı oku: «Real Men: Rugged Rebels: Watch and Learn / Under His Skin / Her Perfect Hero», sayfa 3

5

AT THE SIGHT of Chev Martinez’s face illuminated in the window across from hers, Gemma froze. From the guilty look on his face, it was clear he’d been there for a while, watching her. Watching her dress … and undress. The pale pink lace bra and bikini panties she wore left more skin uncovered than not. Several outfits were strewn over the bed.

A hot flush spread over her face and arms as she realized just how much of a show she’d inadvertently given him. And while her mind screamed for her to cry out in alarm, to cover herself and yank the curtain closed, her body seemed unable to comply. Slowly she realized that the inability to move was actually the unwillingness to move.

It was as if her wanton thoughts of him watching her had conjured up his image, had drawn him to the window. How could she shriek and flail about when she was the one who’d secretly wanted him to be there, and he was the one who looked stunned and … trapped?

It would be less embarrassing for both of them, she decided, if she pretended she didn’t see him. So, with her skin warm and tingling, she turned her back and unfastened her bra, then retrieved a nightgown to slide over her head.After the white filmy fabric fell into place, she turned back to the window and pretended to ignore him, although her nipples had hardened and warmth radiated from her sex. She gathered and rehung the clothes in the closet, all the while wondering if he was still there, and somehow knowing that he was. It occurred to her that even wearing the nightgown, silhouetted in the light and braless, she might as well be topless.

Did he like what he saw, she wondered. Feeling naughty, she turned sideways to give him a good view of her profile. Desire blazed through her body with an intensity that she hadn’t felt in years … since college. She yearned to touch herself, but she had to remember that she and Chev Martinez would likely be crossing paths again soon. Performing for strangers as she had in college had been risky enough, but performing for a man who knew where she lived …

With slow reluctance, Gemma reached for the light switch and flipped off the bedroom light. Then she crawled into bed and lay there in the still, warm air, her body covered in a sheen of perspiration, pulsing with need. What had come over her? Was this the person she was without Jason? Libidinous? Out of control? Did she need his steadfastness to keep herself morally in check? Was she bound to slip back into the wickedness of her deviant sexual fantasies?

Several minutes later, the sound of an engine starting next door came through the open window, followed by the clatter of his truck leaving the property. She wondered what the dark-haired, dark-eyed man thought of her. Did he think she was depraved, or had she given him a hard-on? If the facilities in his house weren’t yet functioning, he might be sleeping elsewhere. Was he fleeing to a girlfriend or wife nearby to share what had happened with a laugh before tumbling into bed? He hadn’t been wearing a wedding ring, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything, considering he worked with his hands all day.

Night sounds floated into the stillness of her room. Cicadas and other nocturnal insects emitted strident noises in rounds that swelled and ebbed. The perfume of fresh-cut grass and moon-blooming flowers rode the air. She felt utterly alone with her thoughts and nervous about this sense of restlessness her note to herself had reawakened. Knowing that sleep was long in coming, Gemma turned on the nightstand lamp and gingerly reached for the folded sheets of the abandoned letter.

With her heart pounding, she picked up reading where she’d left off, where the unknown boy at a party had watched her from across the room.

It made me feel like I was someone else. So I decided to become someone else. The next day I put on the sexiest pair of panties that I owned (pink with white lace), along with a short pleated plaid skirt and a white blouse. In the bathroom at the train station I put on a brown wig that my roommate had worn in a play, and large dark sunglasses. Then I got on a train going to a part of town where I knew no one. It was rush hour and the train was crowded, but I waited for just the right person. He got on a few stops later. He was cute and wore a gray pinstripe suit. He looked as if he was just out of college, probably working at his first job in an office somewhere. He sat a few feet away, facing me. He noticed my legs first. I was wearing white socks that came up to my knees, and black Mary Jane shoes. His gaze stopped again at my skirt, so I twisted in my seat to lift it a few more inches. And I parted my legs.

His eyes widened slightly and he glanced up to my face. But I kept my head slightly turned. With my dark glasses, he couldn’t tell that I was looking at him out of the corner of my eye. He wiped his hand across his mouth and looked around to see if anyone else had noticed the panty show, but no one had.

His face turned as pink as my panties, but he kept watching, kept staring at me, sending tremors through my body. I knew he wanted me. I felt myself grow warm, then wet as I wiggled my skirt higher, my knees wider. I knew I was staining my panties, and wondered if he could tell. Apparently so, because he moved his newspaper over his crotch, then slid his hand beneath it. Knowing that he was secretly jerking off while staring at my pink panties made me feel powerful. I let him get his fill for several minutes, until his eyes went glassy. At the next stop, I got off the train. As the train pulled away, he was craning to see me through the window. I gave him a little wave to let him know that I had been in on it all along.

I could hardly wait to get back to my room. Thank goodness my roommates were gone. I went into the bathroom and closed my eyes, remembering the way that man had looked at me, and I made myself come over and over again.

Gemma set aside the letter, her ears pounding with the thrum of longing coursing through her. She sighed and pushed her sweat-dampened hair away from her face. Her mother’s attempt at depicting sex as a necessary evil had backfired. By the time Gemma was finishing up college, she’d been burning up with a curiosity that Dr. Alexander’s class had unleashed with a fury. What had been taboo had suddenly seemed accessible, only she hadn’t been equipped to deal with the emotional and physical freedom. She’d been young and foolish, tempting fate with strangers in the pursuit of a sexual thrill. It had been liberating and exciting, but she had gone too far.

She was older now, wiser. She could control her fantasies, exercise restraint. She didn’t have to act on them like before. The performance at the window had been accidental. She hadn’t done anything that couldn’t be innocently explained away.

Thank goodness.

Feeling relieved, Gemma turned over her pillow to find a cool spot and willed herself to go to sleep. She needed to be rested for her interview in the morning. Hopefully everything would go well and she would find a job quickly. Then she and Chev Martinez might not have the occasion to even see each other again before he moved on to another job. The incident would be forgotten. Perhaps, it had already been forgotten by him.

But her body still hummed with memory of his dark eyes on her, and for the first time since Jason’s abrupt departure, Gemma fell asleep with the image of another man in her head.

CHEV PUSHED AWAY the remnants of a steak and baked potato and wrapped his hand around the fresh cold beer that the barkeep set in front of him. The any-town bar and grill was busy for a weeknight, with the jukebox blaring and the brews flowing freely between the men, some still garbed in work clothes, and the perpetually half-dressed coeds that populated every town in Florida he’d ever lived in, from Kissimmee to Miami.

“Lived in” was a stretch—more like visited. Moving from one commercial carpentry job to another, scouting for houses to flip in between. He couldn’t remember being anywhere for longer than six months in the past five years, since his engagement to Brooke had ended so disastrously. At least he’d learned that his fiancée slept around—and upside down—before they’d said their vows. For the first two years afterward, he’d worked eighteen hours a day to keep the pain at bay, and by then, the frantic work pace simply became a habit. Lingering in one place too long would simply lead to … complications. His mantra was to keep his relationships light … portable … temporary.

And tangle-free. He didn’t need to be arrested as a Peeping Tom for spying on the ex-wife of the state attorney general.

Chev shifted uncomfortably on the stool. He hadn’t maintained a hard-on this long since high school, but even after a cold shower and a hot meal, he simply couldn’t get the image of Gemma Jacobs out of his mind. He’d thought she caught him watching her, but then she had gone on as if nothing had happened, donning a nightgown that was as good as transparent, giving him a gut-clutching view of her full breasts tipping forward as she reached and leaned and stooped before finally turning off the bedroom light.

It was almost as if.

No. He scoffed. A woman like Gemma wouldn’t …

Would she?

He pulled his hand down his face, wondering if it were possible that she had caught him watching her but hadn’t minded. And, in fact, had extended the performance a little longer …

Then he expelled a harsh little laugh. Wishful thinking. Because the only thing hotter than watching her dress and undress in the window would be if she’d known he was watching her.

The moisture left his throat as his cock grew harder. He tipped up the beer and shifted again, troubled by the sudden thought that, after meeting Gemma and now having her nude body branded on his brain, there would be only one way to fully sate his appetite.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon. The woman was way out of his league.

He turned his head and saw two pretty young brunettes staring at him over the tops of their drinks. They smiled and waved, twisting their tanned, nubile bodies to best advantage. Arms draped around each other’s shoulders, they kissed full on the mouth for his benefit. He set his jaw at the lust that surged through him and considered the doubleheader diversion. A heartbeat later, he rejected the idea. Another time, he might have been interested, but tomorrow would be a long workday. It was best to call it a night. He gave the women a clipped nod, then tossed money on the bar and downed the rest of his beer before leaving.

He mentally kicked himself all the way back to Petal Lagoon Drive. Those two brunettes could’ve taken the edge off his libido and taken his mind off the blonde next door.

For a while.

The house next to his fixer-upper was dark when he pulled into the driveway, dimly illuminated by a dusk-to-dawn light on the street. His loud rumbling truck plowed through the quiet of the upscale neighborhood, reminding him that he didn’t belong. He cut off the engine and sat listening to the silence of the suburbs, wondering what it would’ve been like to grow up in such an insular, privileged environment. A yard … trees … a pool … good schools for him and his siblings … good jobs for his parents. A world away from el Barrio where he’d spent his youth in Miami.

He climbed out of the truck and closed the door as quietly as possible, glancing up at the darkened window of Gemma’s bedroom and feeling like a fool. The “performance” had been a fluke, and he’d have to put it out of his mind until the renovations on the Spanish house were done and he could sell it. Then, as far as Gemma Jacobs was concerned, out of sight was out of mind. In fact, starting tomorrow, he would do everything in his power to make sure that he and the blonde divorcée didn’t cross paths again.

Staying away from her bedroom window would require a tad more willpower, but he’d put up a drop cloth, shutter the window, blindfold himself if necessary. Just because he hadn’t been caught this time didn’t mean he’d be so lucky next time.

And just like that, he was already fantasizing about next time…

6

DESPITE AN UNEXPECTEDLY good night’s sleep, Gemma was jumpy as she sipped morning coffee standing at her kitchen window. She couldn’t decipher if she was most nervous about the interview with the employment agency, or the possibility of running into Chev Martinez again after her unwitting peep show the night before.

His silver pickup sat next door in the early morning light, but all was quiet around the property as far as she could tell. She checked her watch—it was still early, but if she left now, she might be able to get away without even having to make eye contact with her neighbor.

She swung her bag to her shoulder and exited to the garage that seemed bare with Jason’s car gone and his sports equipment missing from the walls. A black-and-gold monogrammed golf towel lay on the sealed concrete floor. Her heart squeezed as a fresh wave of loss swept over her. Gemma picked up the towel and ran her finger over the elegantly stitched letters, trying to remember who had gotten it for Jason. It didn’t matter, she decided, laying it on a shelf. It was just a reminder of all the details in his life that were no longer her concern. She inhaled deeply and turned toward her car, thinking that if she couldn’t rewind time to fix her marriage, she wished she could at least fast-forward to the day when things were okay again.

The pencil skirt she wore restricted her movement as she swung into the seat, but she told herself that she’d better get used to dressing up every day if she were going to rejoin the working world. Thank goodness that no one in Florida wore panty hose, but the rest of her outfit made her feel … proper. She was already eager to take it off. When the image of undressing with an audience of one flashed into her mind, she banished the thought. Squeezing the garage door opener on the visor, she started the car engine, poised for a quick escape. If she were lucky, she could postpone her next—undoubtedly awkward—conversation with Chev Martinez indefinitely.

Gemma put the car in Reverse and glanced in the rearview mirror, then slammed on the brakes.

Sitting behind her car, staring back at her was a large blue fowl, about three feet tall, with a sleek, pear-shaped body and elongated neck. He lifted his small, elegant head and emitted a loud, singsong call, then unfurled his tail plumage in an enormous, dazzling fan of iridescent greens, blues, aquas and golds, all sparkling in the morning sunshine.

She gasped in delight, having never seen a peacock at such close range. It was an extraordinary creature and rather intimidating in its full extension as it preened. It also appeared to be rooted to the spot.

Gemma backed the car out a few inches, hoping the movement would startle the bird into action, but he maintained his ground. She bit her lip and looked around. All was quiet. Nothing and no one around to distract the bird away from her driveway. She lightly tapped the car horn, but the cock merely bobbed his head, sending a plume of brilliantly colored feathers dancing. Gemma put the car into Park, and opened the door to step out.

“Shoo!” She waved her arms and walked toward it. “Go away!”

The creature seemed entirely unfazed.

“Move, birdie!” she shouted, flapping her arms. “I have to be somewhere important!”

The bird extended its neck and hissed at her. Gemma shrank back. She’d heard that peacocks could be aggressive and didn’t relish being flogged.

Now what?

A low, rolling laugh reached her ears. She turned her head to see Chev standing at the edge of her yard, hands on lean hips, surveying the situation, a grin on his handsome dark face. Her midsection tightened, both at the sight of him in clean worn jeans and T-shirt, and at the knowledge that he’d seen enough of her last night to play connect the freckles. How would he react to her having ignored him? Would he assume she hadn’t noticed she was being watched, or would he assume that she’d noticed and that she’d enjoyed it?

Gemma’s face warmed. God help her, she had enjoyed it.

He walked closer, assaulting her senses. Her chest rose, pulling at the breast button of her starched white shirt. Her breath quickened and she couldn’t tear her gaze from his dark, probing eyes.

“Trouble?” he asked mildly. The tiny gold earring in his left lobe glinted against his bronze skin.

She gestured toward the bird, feeling foolish. “I opened the garage door and he—it—was there. I don’t suppose it’s yours?”

His smile revealed white teeth and pushed his cheek-bones higher. “No. It might have flown away from a zoo, but most peafowl are wild.” He looked up into the trees. “Normally they don’t travel alone. This fella must be lost from his bevy, or is looking for a new one.”

Gemma relaxed a millimeter. “You seem to know a lot about peacocks.”

He shrugged, displacing muscle under his T-shirt. “My grandparents used to have some on their property in Puerto Rico.”

The exotic lineage suited him. “Does that mean you know how to get them to move?”

He laughed, a pleasing rumble, then strode toward the bird, waving his long brown arms. The bird, apparently more intimidated by someone larger and moving faster, startled, then moved away with a ruffle of bright feathers and a protesting yelp.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“Glad to help,” he said with a slow nod.

Was it her imagination, or did his gaze pass over her? Had he remembered her outfit from the previous night’s dress rehearsal? Her thighs tingled and she was glad to have the car between her and this enigmatic man who could set her skin on fire with his searing glance.

His mouth opened slightly and she sensed he wanted to say something, but his words fell silent on the heavy, humid air that hung between them. She knew how he felt—words would change everything. An apology would only multiply the awkwardness … a compliment could seem … unseemly.

“I’d better go,” she said. “I’m late for a job interview.”

His expression cleared and he stepped back with a little wave. “Good luck.”

She swung back into the car and eased out of the drive-way,glancing in the rearview mirror as she drove away. The man was striding back to his property, head up. Gemma shivered in the heat and exhaled a pent-up breath, trying to steer her mind away from her sexy—and temporary—neighbor and back to the task at hand: getting a job.

FROM THE OUTSIDE, the employment agency looked less than promising, wedged into a storefront in a shabby strip mall between a sandwich shop and a check-cashing joint. She hesitated before pushing open the door but forced herself to keep moving. The middle-aged woman behind the piled-high desk was on the phone, but waved for Gemma to come in. Her sharp, appraising glance left Gemma feeling as if she’d missed the mark with her prim outfit.

“You scare off everyone I send over there,” the woman barked into the mouthpiece. “Up the hourly rate and I’ll see what I can do.” She banged down the phone, then turned toward Gemma. “What can I do for you?”

Gemma considered saying she was at the wrong address, but the image of the bills accumulating on her kitchen table was a stark reminder that she’d already put off this day for too long. “I’m Gemma Wh—er, Jacobs. I have an appointment.”

The woman jammed on reading glasses and consulted a large wall calendar. “Yeah, there you are.” She gave Gemma a flat smile. “I’m Jean Pruett. Have a seat, honey.”

Gemma glanced at the mismatched chair opposite the desk that was filled with stacks of papers.

“Just set those on the floor.”

She did, then lowered herself onto the edge of the chair.

“So, what kind of work are you looking for?” Jean asked without preamble.

“Preferably something in the art field. My degree is in art history.”

Jean winced. “What’s your work experience?”

Gemma shifted in the stiff chair. “In college I was in work-study programs with local museums—cataloguing and preservation.”

“I meant lately.”

“Oh. Lately I’ve been involved in charity work mostly, fund-raising, that sort of thing.”

“I see. Do you have computer skills?”

Gemma brightened. “I have a computer at home.” A castoff from Jason, which she’d never turned on.

“Do you know how to work with spreadsheets, databases or Web design programs?”

“Er … no.”

“Do you have a teaching certificate?”

“No.”

“Speak a second language?”

“I took a Spanish class … in high school.” Which only made her think of Chev Martinez. Por dios, the man had a body. But for the life of her, she couldn’t recall any other words in Spanish.

Jean sighed. “I’m sorry, Miss Jacobs, but unless you can give me something more concrete, I’m afraid I don’t have anything for you.”

Gemma felt the flutter of panic in her stomach. She didn’t want to rely on Sue or Jason’s contacts to find employment. “Surely there must be something.”

“Most of the jobs I fill are temporary, either short-term or a few days here and there. They require either specific qualifications, or no qualifications at all, meaning the jobs aren’t very desirable. And I can see from your appearance—”

“Try me,” Gemma said.

Jean looked dubious, but turned to her computer and clicked on the keyboard for several long minutes. “Something in the art field, you say?”

“Do you have an opening?”

Jean named the art museum that Gemma had called the previous day about the executive assistant position. “They’re looking for tour guides—”

“I’ll take it.”

Jean pursed her mouth. “It does pay pretty well for a part-time position. And it says chances are good it will become full-time. Can you start today?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good. Um, there’s only one catch….”