Between The Sheets (10 page)

“How do you feel about well-done steak?”

“I prefer it that way,” she called out from the doorway, where she stood opening and closing the door like a fan.

He went to work trying to salvage what was left of their meal, waiting to see what April would do next. Would she try to buy some time before dealing with the issue of their attraction again? Another test.

She showed up back at the bar.

He held a knife above a tomato and waited.

“Rex, I won't deny I'm attracted to you,” she said. “But I do have some solid reasons why this can't work.”

He liked the fact that she dealt with the situation head-on, but she sounded determined and articulate, no longer breathless and off balance. The interruption had allowed her
to put distance between them and catch her breath. He made a mental note not to give her too much distance in the future.

“Why don't you set the table and we'll talk about it?”

“No need. I'll eat while I work.”

Shaking his head, he set the knife down and handed her two plates. “I insist you sit. You've been standing all day and I want to hear about these solid reasons.”

For a moment he thought she'd argue, but she accepted the plates. “There's no room on the table.”

“Try the coffee table if you can get to it.” He assembled the accoutrements she'd need for their meal. “Or the bed. We can have a bed picnic. The sheets are water-resistant, so we don't have to worry about the mattress.”

She managed to get to the coffee table.

“I'm not comfortable with the work thing between us,” she said when she returned to the kitchen to pick up silverware and napkins. “It's important I live up to expectations on this job.”

“I see.” He arranged the tomatoes in the salad bowl. “But you're very competent, and I'm easy to work with. I have high expectations, but I don't expect you to read minds. I'll tell you what I need. So far you've not only met my needs but anticipated them. I don't understand your concerns about job performance.”

“I told you I'm not out of my office that much,” she said hesitantly, and he couldn't help but notice that she was hanging onto the silverware for dear life. “I can't jeopardize getting this job right.”

Rex might not have understood her concerns or exactly why this particular job was so important, but it was. There was more going on here than he understood. Instinct told him she was dancing around the heart of the issue and if he could just get her to open up, he could figure out what the
problem was, maybe even find a way to help her deal with it.

“Come on. Let's talk while we eat.” He reverted back to distraction. Handing her the salad bowl, he motioned her toward the table then followed with the steak and a bottle of dressing. “I'm usually moderately proficient in the kitchen.”

“With an Italian mom, I'll bet.”

“She's one Italian in a family of Irishmen. It's a strange mix to say the least. Here's hoping this isn't too bad.”

“The salad looks good,” she said generously. “And you made enough so we won't go hungry.”

In his opinion, a salad didn't constitute a balanced meal, but he kept his opinion to himself. He didn't ask if she wanted wine, just returned to the kitchen to pour two glasses. With any luck, the alcohol might have a calming effect.

Just the thought almost made him laugh. He'd never had to resort to getting a date drunk before. Technically April wasn't a date but he wanted her to be.

Sitting on the floor across the coffee table from her, Rex tried the steak, found it too well-done for his taste but not bad all things considered. She seemed to be enjoying her meal, though. “I'm glad I cooked. You were hungry.”

Shrugging, she rested her fork on the edge of her plate. “It's very good despite the mishap.”

“I was hoping to impress you.”

She took this news by darting her tongue along her lips, a quick motion that riveted him to the way her lower lip shone, made him imagine what her mouth would taste like. “You have. I'm impressed by any man who can make his way around the kitchen.”

He had some work to do disabusing her of the notion that
he was “any” man but her concession was a step in the right direction.

“So you're worried about a relationship interfering with work,” he said. “What if I can convince you that exploring our attraction to each other and following its natural progression will actually improve your job performance?”

“How do figure you can do that?”

Rex leaned back against the foot of the bed, hung his hand over his knee. “Since I'm making you nervous, getting to know me better should help you feel more comfortable.”

“That's one way of looking at it, I suppose. Of course, getting to know you could just make me even more nervous.” She toyed with the wineglass. “It's better to be safe than sorry.”

“What do you suggest we do about this raging attraction between us?”

“Ignore it. The only thing to do.”

He considered her, could detect nothing at all coy in her expression, so he had to assume she honestly thought they could ignore how they felt. Forget the fact that she was already so jumpy she'd gotten downright dangerous and he'd torched a perfectly decent cut of meat in his white heat to kiss her.

“Did you know that seventy percent of couples who gave in to their attraction right away reported having better orgasms than couples who fought their attraction?”

“Are you joking?”

“It's a fact,” he said stoically. “I conducted the analysis for a medical facility that studied nifty stuff like average erection angles and typical duration of orgasm.”

She stared at him wide-eyed, the wineglass poised in midair, clearly not sure what to make of his statement. But he got exactly what he wanted—he'd distracted her.

“Good chemistry doesn't come around that often in my experience, April. Seems a shame to waste a good thing.”

She abandoned her wineglass and crossed her legs, the gauge on her nervous meter clearly rising. “Just because we're attracted to each other doesn't mean we have to act on it.”

She admitted to being attracted to him so casually that he had to force back a smile. “That's true. I'm not looking for coercion here. I'm looking for seduction, for a chance to give our chemistry a fair shake and see where it leads.”

“We're two ships passing in the night. Where can it lead? A fling?”

“Are you looking for long-term?”

“No.”

The panic in that
no
blew his theory right out of the water. “You don't want long-term and you don't want a fling. What do you want?”

She scooted back from the table, clearly losing her battle with the jitters. Scooping up her plate, she headed toward the kitchen. Rex recognized the stall tactic for what it was and knew he didn't stand a chance as long as she could pace.

Distraction and distance were the dynamic duo for dealing with April. But he'd pushed as far as he could right now. Whatever was holding her back—and his gut told him they still hadn't hit on the real reason yet—she would have to decide when and if she wanted to share. He was only making her more nervous by prying.

“I'll take that as an ‘I'm not sure' and leave it at that,” he said. “Sound good?”

To his surprise, he heard her laugh, but when she emerged from the kitchen she met his gaze with an expression that was clearly more desperation than amusement. “The truth
is I'm not exactly at my best leaping into new situations. I try to avoid them whenever possible. It's safer that way.”

“Safer?”

“For you.”

He followed her gaze to his hand. “It's just a bruise.”

“It's not
just a bruise,
Rex. It's an injury. One I caused.”

“It was an
accident.
They happen.”

Giving a shaky laugh, she thrust her fingers through her hair, winced. “Yeah, unfortunately they do.”

The resignation he heard in her voice gave him a sharp pang of guilt for steering her someplace so obviously painful. He'd meant to convince her to explore their attraction and he'd upset her instead. “Listen, April, I'm—”

“It's not you, Rex. Really. I'm actually rather flattered that you're interested in me.”

Flattered?
Hell, this was getting worse by the second. “April, you don't have to—”

“I may be attracted to you but even if I wanted to get around the work thing, I can't.”

With four younger sisters, Rex recognized a roll when he saw one. She was on one now and he decided he deserved whatever he got for pushing. “April, I—”

“It's me.” Inhaling deeply, she looked a bit frayed around the edges. “I…I just don't do the sex thing very well.”

Of anything she could have possibly said to him,
that
was about the absolute last he'd expected. Surprise made him open his mouth before his common sense kicked in. Instead of telling her that he respected how she felt and to consider the subject dropped, he said, “Really?”

Really
invited an answer. He got one.

“Can't relax, can't have sex. Does that make sense?”

Whether or not she made sense wasn't the issue as far as Rex was concerned. Two things were happening here. The
first was that April wouldn't be spilling her guts without a very good reason. Although he'd pushed, he really hadn't pushed hard enough for her to open up like this, which led him to the second realization—this subject hit seriously close to the bone.

She didn't seem to notice he hadn't answered her question. She was off and running—literally. Her slippers shuffled across the carpet as she paced between the dining room and sitting room. With animated hand gestures, she told him about being so high-strung that whenever she tried to get close to a man, the situation always resulted in some accident.

Exactly what had happened today.

She obviously needed to talk so he sat back to listen. Fixing his gaze on her face, he refused to give in to the urge to glance down at the gentle swaying motion of slim hips and long legs. But even though he didn't look, Rex couldn't forget how she'd felt in his arms earlier. Or how she'd seemed to melt just as he'd been about to kiss her.

There'd been an element of surprise about her that he found very arousing. She'd been so breathless, so ready. That memory of those parted lips imprinted on his brain, made his body react to the lovely display she presented, made this feel like more than wanting sex.

He could help her overcome this obstacle if she'd let him.

She wound down by saying, “Trust me, you'll be safer in the long run.” And as soon as she paused to draw air he was ready.

“What if I'm willing to chance it?”

“Rex, I can't.”

Perhaps she
couldn't,
but everything in those incredible eyes said she
wanted to.
That was enough for him. At least for now. “Tell you what. I'll accept that if you'll accept my help trying to relax.”

“You want to make a deal with me?”

He nodded. “Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time I conducted analysis for a research foundation that studied oddball human ailments. Fascinating place. I acquired data about massage as a viable treatment for various maladies so the facility could meet the requirements for a federal grant. While I was there I became obsessed with massage, not so much for the health benefits, although that's definitely a part of it, but because it feels so damned good. I've got a massage therapist in every major city from the eastern seaboard to L.A.”

“And what does this mean to me?”

“It means I'm very well versed in the effects of massage. But that's not the end of my story. I wasn't content to just get massages. I wanted to understand everything about them. I've studied the subject and attended a number of seminars. I even went to an international conference once.” He smiled. “What this means is I can give a decent massage. I know plenty of techniques to help you relax. The question is—will you let me?”

“This won't be about seduction?”

“This will be about
relaxing.
” His smile deepened. “I won't deny how much I want to touch you, but you have my word I'll be a perfect gentleman, unless you give me permission otherwise.”

Finely arched brows drew together in a frown as she considered him. Beneath the hesitation, beneath the skepticism that clearly questioned his motives, he glimpsed longing.

“Will you let me try to help?”

He reached for her hand and she stared down, and he sensed that something about the sight of their clasped hands fascinated her. He squeezed, just enough to encourage, to push her over the edge to acceptance.

When she lifted those wide eyes to his, he saw the answer
reflected deep in those violet depths, knew she couldn't resist, even before she said, “You promise?”

“I promise.”

But if helping her relax just happened to wear down her defenses and make her open to seduction, April had the free will to resist that.

If she wanted to.

A
PRIL STARED
into Rex's face and those melting dark eyes seemed to see right through her. But he couldn't see that she was a private investigator paid to be keeping her eyes on him—a relationship that precluded any other.

But he wasn't talking about seduction. He was talking about massage and he'd promised to be a gentleman.

Could she trust him?

Could she trust herself to resist him?

The man scattered her wits. And if April were honest, she wanted to feel the way she did when he touched her. And what if he was right? What if relaxing would help her calm down enough so she could catch her nerves before the alarm in her head started shrieking and she reached critical mass?

Jeff had thought relaxation would work.

Vic had thought control.

Kenny spontaneity.

But they'd all been talking about sex and all the tricks she'd learned to contain her livewire physical impulses didn't work with sex. Arousal blinded her to the warning signals. She got nervous and disaster struck before she'd regained her senses enough to realize what was happening.

Just like today, and Rex had only been holding her….

But he'd promised to be a gentleman.

He'd also admitted to wanting to seduce her.

Gazing deep into his dark eyes, April searched for an
swers. She wanted to believe he could help her, more than she'd ever wanted anything before.

“What do you have to lose?” He slipped his fingers through hers and the warmth of his skin sapped her resistance with that crazy sense of rightness.

The answer was really as simple as how badly she wanted to feel the way she felt when he touched her.

“Okay.”

The word filtered between them, oddly tame to have such bearing on her emotions, and on Rex. His face softened around the edges, his approval chasing away the last of her hesitation, his smile warming her from the inside out.

“Let's get started.”

“I'm in the middle of inputting today's data.”

“You've been working all day. You've earned a break.”

Steering her toward the bed, he motioned her to sit. He sank to his knees in front of her and then his hands were on her again, his warm fingers enfolding her ankle, sending a heat wave sizzling through her panty hose and straight up her calf. He pushed off her slipper, his hand lingering with the motion, following the arch of her foot, rounding the curve of her toes.

Then he repeated the process, his hands lingering just enough to let her sample his touch. But a sample was all it took to make April question her intelligence. Her body felt wired with a live current, ultrasensitive and primed to react.

“I'll start with your neck and shoulders,” he said. “Sound good?”

He was keeping everything on the up-and-up and April appreciated his effort. But she still found herself forgetting to breathe, anticipation taking a deep hold of her, yet not quite pushing her into the red zone. Her alarm was currently within an acceptable range so she inhaled deeply and nodded.

“All right then, turn around. I'll sit behind you.”

Drawing her legs up, she braced herself against the sinking mattress when he sat behind her. With a light touch, he brushed her hair from her neck.

“Pull your hair up with that clip. Most of it has fallen out and I want to work your neck muscles.”

He sounded so pragmatic and professional that she almost smiled. Almost. There was something so pitifully desperate about the way she longed to be touched. For a woman who'd sworn off sex, she was playing with fire. She'd already damaged three body parts today—her head, his mouth and hand—and now she was gearing up all over again….

“Rex, what if I hurt you?”

“Shh. I'm willing to risk it.”

Slipping his fingers around her throat, he eased her forward until she circled her head in a slow, smooth motion that made her neck creak and her muscles pull.

“This is a handy trick to know. Easy to remember and you can do it anywhere. File this one for future reference.”

Trailing his fingers beneath her chin, he directed her to deepen the motion until muscles were pulling halfway down her back, a sensation that wasn't unpleasant. “I'm going to let you go. Keep that up until I tell you to stop.”

She did as he asked while his fingertips trailed down her throat, caressing the muscles there with a touch that was still slow, smooth,
safe.

A gentleman's touch. A very skilled touch.

“You're very good.”

“Thank you.”

“How often did you say you get these?”

“Usually three times a week.”

“Will you invite me along?”

Another chuckle, a rich burst of sound that gusted over
her hair, ruffling wisps against her cheek. “I plan to perform the service on you myself.”

There seemed to be innuendo in that statement, but April found she couldn't concentrate long enough to be sure. The sound of his husky voice was dulling her wits and the steady motion of his hands lulling her senses.

“Who knew that analyzing data for a research foundation could be so rewarding?”

“The project was intensive so I tried out a variety of massages to bone up on the subject. Helps get me in the right frame of mind to work. I try to immerse myself in all my projects. Gets my brain working.”

“Like trying out the different sleeping styles?”

“Yes. After I completed that project, I was hooked. I've been exploring reflexology lately. Fascinating subject.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

She couldn't think of a reply. She'd been degenerating into babble, which was never a good sign, but now the steady rhythm of his hands, the slow, smooth circles were making her head feel too heavy for her neck.

The man had magic hands because she'd never felt this way in her life. Perhaps it was a combination of the meal or the wine or even the late nights spent studying marketing to establish her cover, but she could barely keep her eyes open.

Finally he trailed his fingers back under her chin and he brought her movements to a stop before probing the muscles around her neck and the juncture of her shoulder blades again. “That's much better. How do you feel?”

“Drugged. Did you put something in the wine?”

He only chuckled, continued moving those magic fingers along her throat, his skin warm against hers, exploring with
a gentle, persistent demand to relinquish tension, to trust him.

She did, though she could find no logic in that particular response. Then again, with her head filled with clouds, how could she possibly expect herself to think clearly?

Not part of the plan, not with this languor pouring through her, stealing her senses, making her drowsy. Her brain wasn't working right because she found her thoughts drifting off to the other women Rex used these magic fingers on. Was massage a part of his normal repertoire?

Not that the man needed maneuvers. He was so handsome, so completely personable. She'd bet he could charm a woman right out of her clothes if he wanted, just as easily as he'd charmed her into this massage.

But it drove home how little she actually knew about him. Sure, John had researched him and she'd studied the findings, briefed herself on his basics. But nothing she'd read had prepared her for the man himself. No report could have ever warned that all he would do is smile and she would dissolve into a babbling idiot. Or his touch would melt away the walls she'd been building around her emotions since her all-important decision to give up men after Jeff.

She hadn't expected Rex Holt, couldn't have known how she'd react to him if she had. And she was reacting. With each skim of warm fingers across her bare shoulders, each caress between her shoulder blades, she responded. Her senses were blossoming to awareness even as her body was slipping into a coma.

April couldn't resist, not when Rex shifted position, leaning against the sofa back and spreading his legs to pull her against him. Some part of her brain warned her to protest, but she could barely keep her eyes open. She roused only enough to do as he asked, to sink back against him until
she could feel his hard thighs cradling hers, his tight stomach pressed against her back.

And all the while his hands continued to work, massaging, stroking, kneading. His touch was never intrusive, yet was solid enough to coax the tension from her muscles, to make her relax and prove that being curled up in the shelter of his hard body was exactly where she wanted to be.

 

T
HE NEXT TIME
April opened her eyes two thoughts struck her simultaneously—the suite was still dark with the haze of late night and she was draped across a warm, strong male body that shouldn't be in bed with her. It took a sleepy moment to remember Rex's massage and realize she must have passed out.

Which didn't explain why he'd slipped between the sheets instead of waking her up….

They were both fully clothed, or almost. Her skirt had ridden up around her hips and he'd stripped off his sweatshirt, leaving her head nestled in the cradle of his strong shoulder, her cheek pressed against warm, bare skin.

For a drowsy moment, April savored the feel of his hard body against hers, the way her hand lightly rested on the crisp silk hairs of his chest, the way her leg fit snugly against his, the other hiked high across his thighs.

He'd covered them during the night and the water-resistant Fetish Collection sheets created a warm cocoon, a place where only this moment and this man existed, where she could linger in half sleep and enjoy the feel of his strong body.

She'd never made it through the night with any of her former boyfriends so she'd never experienced anything to rival this indolent, sated feeling that deterred her from awakening. She wanted to languish around in this dreamy state, savoring the heat of the man against her.

His chest rose and fell with deep, even breaths. His heart beat a steady rhythm beneath her cheek. He'd wrapped an arm around her shoulder and his hand rested just above her breast. She definitely wasn't awake yet because the sight of her nipple peaking through her silk blouse made her smile.

“The Shingle.” His sleep-rough voice jolted the quiet.

His arm tightened around her, pulled her impossibly closer and April glanced up, into his handsome face, realized that not even sleep dimmed this man's star quality.

With his tousled hair and dark stubble, he looked much more male, far less polished and professional than she'd seen him. There was something about his heavy-lidded expression that accentuated the way her breasts were currently brushing his bare chest, the way she fit perfectly into the crook of his shoulder. The way that problematic skirt left her thigh bared.

Unfortunately, rearranging her skirt now would only let him know that she'd noticed. “What did you say?”

“We slept like shingles. What does that say about us as a couple?”

There was no
us,
no
couple.
A night spent wrapped around each other had been pure chance, an
accident.
“It says you have a big ego and a sense of entitlement, which sounds about right since you took advantage of me.”

Rex only laughed. “How do you figure that?”

“I fell asleep. You didn't wake me. You just crawled in bed. Half-dressed, I might add.”

“I was already in bed and I'm not half-dressed. I only took off my sweatshirt because you were getting hot.”

No small wonder with all that hard body pressed up against her. She made a move to get up and found herself thwarted again when he propped his chin on the top of her head to stop her.

“Don't go,” he said. “I like testing the sleeping styles with you. It's even more fun without an audience.”

“You promised to be a gentleman.”

“I have been, believe me.”

That statement was so rich with implication that she slid her knee down his thighs, deciding she didn't need proof. “No one to blame but yourself. I signed on for a massage.”

“This was part of my relaxation therapy.”

“What relaxation therapy? I agreed to let you give me a massage. You put me into a coma.”

“You agreed to let me help you try to relax. A massage was only part of it.”

“What's the other part—sneaking a feel whenever you can?”

Before she registered what was happening, he flipped over, used his powerful body to press her into the mattress. She rolled with him, stretched full-length beneath him, his long legs bracketing hers and holding her tight.

Whipcord arms came around her and he levered himself up, stared into her face, a position that pinned her hips beneath him and drew attention to the steely length of erection that supported his earlier claim of gentlemanly behavior.

“Rex!” His name slid out on a gasp, though April wasn't sure what to say because her senses overloaded with the feel of him against her.

He smiled, his star quality on high-beam until he nearly blinded her. “Let me kiss you. I'll promise to be a gentleman and stop when you tell me to.”

Stop? The man had her surrounded. He blocked out the whole world with his body, awakened all those achy places he'd aroused with his magic hands last night.

“Just one kiss, April, to see if you like it.” And then he lowered his face toward her with exquisite slowness, allow
ing her a chance to retreat or to savor what was about to come.

Decision by indecision.

The instant their lips met, April knew this would be no kiss as she'd ever experienced one. Rex seemed to explode with emotion. His muscles gathered against hers. He tucked her into all the sculpted places of his body, enfolded her in a layer of hard, aroused male.

Perhaps it was her state of semiconsciousness or perhaps it was just
him,
but she'd never felt anything like the way she felt now. Not quite awake, but very aware, her every sense heightened, focused on this man in a way only consciousness could allow.