All Grown Up (2 page)

With a sigh, she took off the mock twinset,
wishing it weren’t one piece crafted to look like two. Wearing damp
cashmere wasn’t appealing. A little snooping revealed a basket of
washcloths under his sink, and she used one to remove the remainder
of the chowder. Could she just hide out in his bathroom until her
sweater dried, make a quick goodbye, and forget all about this
unpleasant evening?

A knock at the door told her probably not.
“Yes?” She frowned at the squeak in her voice.

“I brought you a shirt.”

She nibbled her tongue, wondering if it was
better to put on her wet sweater or to borrow a piece of clothing
carrying his scent. It would be like having his arms around her.
Shivering at the thought, and trying to stifle any unwanted
thoughts, she unlocked the door and extended her hand to take the
garment. “Thanks.”

“If you want to give me your sweater, I can
wash it for you.”

“No, thanks. It’s cashmere. I’ve done a bit
of hand-washing. If it’s okay, I’ll just leave it on your counter
to dry a tad?”

“Sure.”

He walked away, and she closed the door
again, this time not bothering with the lock. She grimaced at the
pajama shirt. The white fabric, with a subtle blue pinstripe,
wasn’t going to hide her red bra at all. The alternative of
removing her bra was even worse, so she slipped it on with a sigh,
buttoning every button.

Erin groaned at the sight in the mirror.
Surprisingly, the top was roomy everywhere, except her bosom. No
surprise there. The buttons strained across her generous chest, and
the red bra lifted the “girls” higher, making them more prominent.
Why hadn’t she brought a jacket? It was a nice spring day, so she
hadn’t bothered, but now regretted it. She could have slipped on
her jacket and gone back to her hotel, stopping by to return the
shirt before she left the city in a couple of days.

Hindsight. Sighing, she laid the sweater
flat, hoping it would dry quickly, and took a deep breath before
opening the bathroom door. “Blake?” She half-hoped he wouldn’t
answer, that he had left without a word.

“In here,” he called from the living room,
ruining her little fantasy. Of course he hadn’t left his own house,
just because she was uncomfortable—and half-dressed—around him.

Bach came to meet her and led her back to the
living room. Erin barely hid a grimace when she saw he had only a
sectional. There would be plenty of space between them, but she
would have preferred her own chair. She sat down, catching his
wide-eyed appraisal from the corner of her eye. The bane of her
existence drew his gaze like a magnet, and she had to resist the
urge to cross her arms over her breasts. That would be too
blatant.

“Would you like to watch something?”

She nodded. Television negated the need to
talk. “Anything is fine.”
Not sports
, she said silently.

He flipped it to a neutral comedy station,
and the show became part of the background, rather than the focus
she had hoped for. Erin searched her mind for a meaningless topic,
but Bach startled her by jumping on to the couch beside her. He
sniffed her neck and wagged his tail. She giggled, and he wagged
harder.

“Bach,” said Blake, sounding stern. “Watch
your tail.”

Too late. The bushy tale knocked off an
abstract sculpture on the end table. “Oops,” said Erin, unable to
suppress a chuckle as the dog tried to climb on to her lap. “Okay,
boy, lay down.” To her surprise, the dog obeyed, curling up on the
cushion beside her. She stroked his fur in reward and turned her
head to Blake. “Do you need help cleaning it up?”

He shook his head. “Nope.” The figure was in
two pieces in his hands.

She frowned. “I’m sorry. I feel like it’s my
fault it got broken.”

Blake gave her a lazy grin. “It’s not your
fault my dog finds you irresistible. As for the statue—well, it was
ugly, and I never liked it.”

“Why’d you keep it?”

He shrugged, heading into the kitchen. “It
was a gift.”

The way he said it revealed it was probably a
gift from one of his entourage. Rolling her eyes, she returned her
attention to Bach. Every nerve in her body jumped to attention when
he sat down on the cushion beside her, several closer than where
he’d been to start with. She’d chosen the corner cushion, so there
was nowhere to go. Only Bach separated them.

He whined and rolled over on his back.
Charmed, Erin reached out to scratch his tummy as Blake did the
same. Their hands collided, and she immediately snatched hers back,
as though his touch burnt. In a way, it did. Every touch sizzled
her nerve endings and contributed to a slow burn of desire. Thank
goodness she’d had the forethought to pack her vibrator for the
trip. After this tense, frustrating evening with him, she was going
to need it.

Blake tilted his head, examining her as
intently as he might one of his spreadsheets. “You don’t like me at
all, do you?”

Erin froze, struggling to swallow the lump in
her throat. “Don’t be silly. I don’t even know you.”

“You know me a little. It seems like you know
enough to think you don’t like me.”

How could she respond to that? “It’s not
important.”

He frowned. “I’d like to know why you don’t
like me?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like you.” She sighed.
“I just don’t know you.”

“Let’s get to know each other then.”

Erin licked her lips. “What’s the point? I’ll
be going back to my hotel in a little bit. I doubt we’ll see each
other again.”

Blake shifted, bringing him a fraction
closer. “You’ve decided on New York?”

Erin shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”

“If you move here, it would be nice to have a
friend.”

She gave him an impersonal smile. “I’m sure
I’ll make friends quickly.”

“Just not with me.” He sighed, looking
annoyed.

It took considerable effort to rein in the
impulse to brush the blond hair off his forehead and smooth that
worry spot between his eyebrows. “I didn’t say that,” she said with
a sharp edge of irritation.

His gaze drilled through her, daring her to
lie. “You don’t have to say anything. I got the picture loud and
clear without you uttering a word.”

Looking away, she chose not to answer. She
could either stroke his ego and tell him she was deliberately
keeping herself from liking him, or she could let him think she
just didn’t click with him. That was far better.

Bach rolled over again, sitting up. He put
his head on her shoulder, as if commiserating, before jumping down
and trotting across the hardwood floor to some unknown
destination.

“Dinnertime,” said Blake. “He eats this late
every night. I think he waits to make sure he’s not going to get
even one more scrap of human food before giving in and eating the
dog food.”

Erin managed a small smile, glad he was
smoothing over the incident. Her relief faded when he closed the
distance between them, placing his hand on her knee. “What are you
doing?” She hated the panicked virgin tone that emerged.

“A little experiment.”

She glared at him. “I’m not into
experimenting.”

Blake quirked an eyebrow. “Then why are you
going into research?”

Balling her hands into fists, she said, “I
meant personally.”

“Indulge me.”

Eyeing him warily, she asked, “What do you
want?”

“A kiss.”

“What? Why?”

His hand crept an inch higher. “I want to
prove or disprove a theory.”

“What theory?” she asked with narrowed
eyes.

“I want to see if it’s all of you that
doesn’t like me, or just your mind.” Blake put his arm across the
back of the couch, just behind her shoulders. “I get the feeling
your body likes me just fine, which annoys you.”

Erin stiffened her spine. “Don’t be
ridiculous. I have to go. I’m sure my sweater is dry now.”

Blake held up his hands in a classic position
of surrender. “Okay. I understand if you’re too afraid.”

Knowing he was baiting her to provoke his
desired reaction still didn’t keep her from responding. “I’m not
afraid of you or a little kiss.”

“Prove it,” he said with an air of
cockiness.

Stalling for time, she asked, “Why do you
even care?”

He shrugged. “Let’s just say I’m not used to
women not liking me.”

Erin snorted. “So I’ve heard.”

Blake frowned. “What are you talking
about?”

She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “It
doesn’t matter. I’ve just heard a few stories from Ethan.”

“Ahh.”

Erin smirked. “Aren’t you going to ask what
stories?”

Infuriatingly, he shook his head. “Nope. I
can imagine what he said, and most of it is probably true.”

She blinked. “So, you are a man-whore?” Erin
clapped a hand over her mouth and cut off a burst of nervous
giggles. “Gosh, I shouldn’t have said that. I apologize.”

To her surprise, he didn’t look offended. “I
don’t think I was a man-whore, but I have been a bit…indiscriminate
in my past. I’ve been working on changing that for the past several
months.”

“Good luck,” she said lightly. “I hope it
works for you.”

“It was.” His gaze dropped briefly to her
chest before returning to her face. “I hadn’t found anyone tempting
enough to break my celibacy…until now.”

Pretending she hadn’t noticed his declaration
or his gaze on her breasts, Erin cleared her throat. “Well, I
should get dressed.”

He took her hand when she would have stood
up. “Aren’t you forgetting the experiment?”

Damn him for reminding her. She’d hoped he
would let it slide. “Not at all.”

“Good.” He cupped her chin, tipping her head
to meet his.

Erin prepared herself for a quick, greedy
kiss. The first light touch of his mouth on hers blew away that
notion, as he teased and nibbled her lips, coaxing her to open to
him. Without quite realizing she’d done it, Erin accepted his
tongue, stroking it with her own. Heat coursed through her, making
her nipples hard and her pussy wet, all from just a little kiss.
Imagine what he could do to her if given free rein over her body.
She moaned at the thought.

Blake deepened the kiss, pressing his mouth
more firmly against hers and sealing in the little sighs that
escaped when he began stroking her hip. Her hands remained demurely
on her lap, but it was a struggle not to thread her fingers through
his hair and pull him closer still.

A touch of sanity returned when his hand
moved from her hip to below her breast, stroking across the soft
fullness without touching her nipple. Gasping, Erin broke away, not
looking at him while she regained control of her breathing.

He didn’t move back. Blake maintained the
same position, complete with his hand still almost on her breast.
“I think my hypothesis is right. Your body likes me.” His thumb
flittered across her nipple, making it harden further. “A lot. So,
why doesn’t your head?” He stroked her temple.

Erin swung her head to meet his gaze. “You’re
attractive. A corpse would probably respond to you. That doesn’t
mean I have any interest in receiving a pity fuck, Blake.”

He frowned. “What?”

She sighed with exasperation. “I don’t know
what Ethan told you. I doubt he blatantly asked you to have sex
with me, but he should have kept his mouth shut.”

Blake leaned back a bit, looking genuinely
confused. “I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

She hesitated. “You don’t? He didn’t mention
Mick?”

“Who the hell is Mick?”

“An ex-boyfriend. Ethan thinks he broke my
heart, so he’s been trying to set me up with his friends.” She
rolled her eyes.

“Did he?”

“What?”

“Did this Mick jerk break your heart?” A hint
of anger showed in the way his mouth tightened.

Erin shook her head. “No.” He hadn’t broken
her heart, but he’d really ripped out a chunk of her self-esteem,
the lying, cheating bastard. He’d been screwing his roommate and
had the gall to blame her, because she refused to lose weight—as
though she had made the choice just to piss him off, and not
because her body was naturally curvy, and she couldn’t lose weight
easily, no matter how much she exercised. Having long ago decided
to focus on being healthy instead of being a certain size hadn’t
done much to keep her from finding new insecurities upon Mick’s
betrayal.

“Good.” He leaned a little closer. “I’d like
to fuck you, as you so eloquently put it, but it has nothing to do
with pity. The moment I saw you tonight, I got an
insta-erection.”

Erin snorted. “Sure, ‘cause I’m just so
desirable.”

“You are.” He grimaced. “I find you
alluring.”

She shook her head. “Yeah, not buying it, but
thanks for the effort.”

Blake crossed his arms, anger sparkling in
his hazel eyes. “Not buying what? That I find you sexy?”

“Bingo.” She scooted back, preparing to get
up. “Perhaps it’s the novelty. Maybe I’m the last girl in Seattle
you haven’t fu—”

“Don’t.” His eyes narrowed. “Do not bring up
my past as a way to get out of this discussion. I was honest with
you about that, and it should be a non-issue.”

She swallowed the rebuke, nodding. “You’re
right. I apologize for the comment. Anyway, I have to get
going.”

He hesitated a moment before leaning away
from her. “Fine.”

“You aren’t going to argue?” she asked it
with a touch of sarcasm, but couldn’t deny the surge of
disappointment at his easy surrender.

“Why bother? You’ve already made up your mind
about what I think.” He shrugged. “Why would you listen to what I’m
saying when you clearly know me so well?” he mocked.

Erin hesitated. “If I offended you, I
ap—”

“I don’t want another apology,” he said in
almost a snarl.

She frowned. “What do you want?”

“You. I want you to stop pretending like
there’s no attraction between us, that you don’t want me to take
you into my bedroom and touch every inch of you. I want you to stop
running away.”