Four Dukes and a Devil (9 page)

“Well, I guess it’s getting late. I should let you get to sleep.”

“Oh.” She didn’t mean to sound surprised, so she covered it quickly. “Yes, definitely. I’m exhausted. It…was nice to meet you.”

She cringed inwardly. If that wasn’t the most clumsy thing she could have said, she didn’t know what was.

He looked at her, brows raised. “Yeah. You, too. Bike’s in the garage?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes. Are you sure you’ll be all right riding back? It’s so late…”

“Oh sure. You should turn that furnace off for the night, probably, just to keep it quiet. Wouldn’t want you getting spooked in the middle of the night.” A grin shot across his face.

She laughed. “Too late. It
is
the middle of the night.”

“True.” For a second he looked as if he might kiss her again, but he just took a deep breath, and said, “All right, then—”

Steeling herself, she blurted, “You could stay, you know. On the couch I mean. Because it’s so late. If you wanted.”

He pressed his lips together and dropped his gaze. “I appreciate it, but I should probably just take the bike.”

Disappointment sank in her gut as she followed him. “Okay.”

“Hey, what’s your phone number?” he asked. “I’ll call you tomorrow about fixing that thing.”

She nearly stumbled over her feet to write down her number, wondering if she should offer to pay him. She’d cross that bridge tomorrow, she thought, glad that she would see him again despite this awkward ending to the evening.

Once at the back door, he turned and gave her a crooked smile. “It really was nice to meet you, Gray.”

“Yes, it was. Nice to meet you, ah, too. As I said.” She grimaced when he turned to open the door.

What an idiot. How could she be so shy with him now when not half an hour ago she had her hands on his ass while his were under her shirt?

He had just walked down the steps and taken the bicycle from where it leaned against the wall when she felt the prickle of someone watching her again. She glanced behind her into the kitchen, but of course it was empty.

“Hey, Sam?” she called, just before he got on the bike.

“Yeah?” He paused, looking at her with brows raised expectantly.

“What year was it that the duke supposedly died here?”

He furrowed his brow and thought a minute. “Around 1813, I think. Why?”

She swallowed hard. “And when was that Beethoven piece written? The one you played tonight?”

A slow smile started across his face. “Written around 1810, but I don’t think it was performed until close to 1812.”

She nodded, stomach quaking with nerves.

“You’re not thinking we woke the ghost with his favorite piece, are you?” Sam asked with a grin.

She forced a smile in return. “No, no. I was just…curious. Good night, Sam.”

He waved a hand and, with one foot on a pedal, swung his other leg over the seat and took off into the moonlight.

Little had she known this morning when she was cycling madly home naked that the very same bike would be carrying a handsome stranger back to town early the next day.

Once he was out of sight, she moved back into the music room and plopped into the leather chair, frowning. She was tempted to play the Beethoven again because she wanted to remember the feel of Sam’s hands and mouth and body on hers. Had he changed his mind? She’d opened the door to his staying, offering him the couch, which everyone knew could mean anything. But instead he’d chosen to leave.

He’d chosen a cold bike ride at two in the morning rather than staying in her house. With her. Alone.

She sighed. He might have gotten rid of her ghost but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be haunted tonight.

T
he following day was stunning. Warm and sunny, with a cooling breeze flowing through Sam’s open windows. Summer was finally here.

Duke heard him stir and sat up straight next to Sam’s bed, panting in his face. With his brown gaze trained on Sam, Duke conveyed to him that someone’s needs were not being met, and if Sam were smart, he would attend to them fast. Specifically, Duke wanted outside.

“I know, buddy,” Sam said, stretching. The last thing he wanted to do was get out of bed. Instead, he lay listening to Duke’s breathing and remembering the feel of Gray Gilliam’s body against his.

Had he been foolish or fortunate? It was hard to say.

He glanced at the clock, nearly nine o’clock. He’d better get a move on. Recalling Duke’s early escape yesterday reminded him that he’d left the dress—
Gray’s
dress—in the washer overnight. He pushed out of bed and padded down the stairs in bare feet. Retrieving it from the washer, he shook it out, then took it out back to hang it on the clothesline. If there was one thing he’d learned from the last woman he’d dated, it was that girl clothes often did not take kindly to the dryer. In addition to having his dog steal Gray’s dress, he was not willing to compound the problem by ruining it.

Not that it would matter if he never got up the nerve to give it back to her. He’d had plenty of opportunities last night to mention that he had it, but it never seemed like the right time to embarrass them both.

Duke trotted around the small yard, content this morning to do his business locally. Sam scrounged up a couple of clothespins and hung the yellow sundress on the line, where it waved like a conquering flag in the freshening breeze. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman’s dress in his house, and he couldn’t help thinking how nice it would be to have the woman who owned this one there, too.

Then again, she could turn out to be a nut. Last night had been a lot of fun, but it was only one evening. He’d misjudged people with more time than that to observe them. Carolyn, to name one. The woman who’d taught him, by throwing an antique vase at him, that women’s clothing should not go in the dryer.

That was one thing that had occurred to him last night as he’d been looking at Gray’s furnace. She was beautiful, and intelligent, and certainly seemed nice, but he didn’t know her at all. If they had slept together, and she’d turned out to be different than she seemed, it would have made for a very long summer.

If he was honest, though, the real reason he had decided not to spend the night was that he was afraid she
was
everything she seemed to be. That was, the kind of girl he could really fall for, and the last thing he needed was to fall for someone who was leaving in a month or two.

That said, it had been hard to leave her. With her wide blue eyes and kitten-soft hair, not to mention her killer body, he’d damn near had to tear himself away.

From inside the house, Duke barked, and Sam jogged up the back steps to find the dog at the front window, tail sailing back and forth like the white flag of surrender. Inexplicably, his nerves jumped, as if he knew Gray was at the door. He felt the conflict of wanting desperately to see her and yet not wanting to ruin the memory of the night before by seeing her again. What if she wasn’t what she’d seemed?

He was being stupid, he thought, and opened the door. But the porch was empty. He took one step out and saw someone move around the corner of the house, clearly heading toward the back. He caught a fleeting glimpse of blond hair, and excitement rippled through his chest.

It
was
Gray. Had she gotten a ride in somehow? Was she looking for her bicycle? Or him?

On the heels of that thought, he realized that she was heading for his backyard. The very place her dress hung drying in the summer air.

Laying his head back, he closed his eyes and cursed.

Duke barked and ran for the back door. Sam followed, squinting his eyes as if that might change the view. Out the window he saw Gray, in a short white tee shirt and clamdiggers, standing by the clothesline fingering her dress.

With a deep, bracing breath, he opened the back door. Duke bounded out, tail high and wagging wildly.

Gray turned toward him, and on her face he read shock, then surprise as she spun toward the approaching dog.

“He’s friendly,” Sam called, sensing doom. This was the part where she suspected him of doing something awful. Where he had to explain the unexplainable—really, the dress just showed up on my lawn—with an excuse as flimsy as “the dog ate my homework.”

Duke bounded toward her, but rather than looking afraid, Gray knelt and extended her hand, palm up, for Duke to inspect.

“Is this where you live, you naughty thing?” she said, laughing. She turned a bemused expression on Sam. “This is
your
dog?”

He shrugged ruefully. “If I say yes, are you going to be mad at me?”

“That depends,” she said, rising. Duke sat on her feet and leaned up against her thigh, snowy head bent back to look up at her adoringly.

Traitor,
Sam thought. He should be over there ripping the dress off the line, to show her how he’d done it.

“Why do you think I’d be mad?” She eyed him suspiciously.

Too late, he realized that by admitting he knew this was her dress, he was divulging that a) he’d seen her naked on the bicycle and b) he hadn’t told her. His mind worked furiously, as his face warmed with shame, but all he could come up with was the fact that he was pretty much screwed any way this played out, so it was probably best to stick to the truth.

“Are you blushing?” she asked, eyes wide. Then she closed them, putting one hand to her brow. “Oh my God. You saw me, didn’t you? You saw me riding home yesterday morning. Is that why you came and talked to me at the bar last night?”

“I—well—it’s—the thing is…” There was no way out of this. Yes, he’d seen her, but that wasn’t his fault, was it? And yes, it was why he’d talked to her at the bar, but he’d have talked to her anyway. She was gorgeous. And yes, his dog was the reason she’d had to ride home naked to begin with, but it wasn’t as if he’d trained Duke to do that kind of thing. He’d been as shocked as anyone when he found the thing in his yard.

With both hands, she covered her face and bent over at the waist. For a horrified second he stood frozen, watching her shoulders shake.

Good God,
he thought,
she’s crying. She’s going into hysterics.

Beside her, Duke stood up, still wagging his tail and hopping lightly off his front two feet to lick her arm.

“Gray, I’m sorry.” He strode toward her, hands outstretched. “I don’t know how it happened. Heck, I can’t even imagine how he got the thing off you to begin with. But I swear, I had nothing to do with it. I—”

She straightened and he saw that her face was wet with tears. But instead of the desperate look of unhappiness he’d anticipated, he saw that she was
laughing.
She’d been bent over at the waist, convulsed with laughter.

His heart lightened immediately. “What?”

“I can’t believe it.” She giggled through a hand now at her mouth. “Of all the people…” She laughed again, then tried to sober, wiping her eyes and stifling her mirth. “That
is
why you talked to me last night, isn’t it?”

“Gray, I would have talked to you anyway. My God, you stood out at that bar like an angel in a tar pit. But believe me—”

“Did you even think about telling me you had my dress?”

“Of course!” He threw out his arms. “But tell me, how do you do that? How do you say to someone you just met that, by the way, you have her clothes at your house.”

She arched a brow. “It beats having her
find
her clothes at your house.”

He inclined his head. “I’ll give you that. I’m sure it looks…odd.”

“I’ll say. Just tell me this. Were you down there? On the beach? Did you watch me…?”

“What? Oh, no. God, no. Believe me, if I’d seen Duke take your clothes, I’d have gotten them back to you right away. I found the dress right over there”—he gestured toward the spot—“late yesterday morning, after he got back to the house covered with sand. But…how did he even get the dress? What were you doing without your clothes?”

It was her turn to blush. “Acting totally out of character. For which I was punished severely.” At his confused look, she added, “I was skinny-dipping.”

The visual this statement brought with it made his lips curl into a smile. “Okay, now I have to confess that had I seen that, I would definitely have returned the dress. But I can’t say how quickly.”

Incredibly, she laughed. Then, with one hand scratching Duke’s ear, she reached out and touched her dress again. “Did you actually wash it?”

“Yeah, it, uh, looked a little the worse for wear when Duke brought it home.”

“You named your dog Duke? What is it with this town and the Duke of Dunkirk?”

“I didn’t name him after that duke. I didn’t name him after
any
duke. It just, well, I don’t know. Maybe I did. Come to think of it, the name just came to me, and it seemed to fit.”

“It does fit.” She leaned down and looked Duke in the eye as she buried her hands in his fur. “So you’re the guy in the long coat I’ve seen walking with him on the beach.”

Sam frowned. “Uh, no. Probably not. I don’t own a long coat, for one thing. And lately I’ve been too swamped with work to walk him much.”

“Does he go with you to your jobs?”

“My, uh, jobs?” He frowned, shook his head. “No, I work at home.”

She cocked her head. “I thought you were a plumber. Because you were going to come fix my furnace. You have—tools. You know what to do with pipes and stuff.”

He chuckled. “No, sorry. I’m nothing so useful. I’m a music reviewer. Classical, for magazines, mostly. CDs, concerts, DVD performances.”

Her expression cleared. “That’s how you knew that Beethoven piece.”

“Everybody knows that Beethoven piece.” When she flushed, he added, “Everybody who’s into classical music, that is. Hey, listen, I was going to call you. How ’bout I come work on that furnace this afternoon, if that’s all right with you.”

She beamed. “That’d be great!”

“I can bring your bike, too, when I come. I’ll just throw it in the back of the truck.” He indicated the pickup next to the garage. “How did you get here this morning?”

“I walked.”

His brows rose. “That’s quite a hike.”

“Oh, I love to walk. And it’s a gorgeous day.”

He gazed at her, knowing that a besotted look had settled onto his features. “Gorgeous,” he agreed.

She smiled. “I was thinking, when you’re done with the furnace, I could treat you to dinner. As a thank-you. I’m a pretty good cook.”

A gratified warmth spread throughout him. It was easy to say he didn’t want to get involved with someone who was leaving, but when faced with this amazing girl, it was getting too hard to say no.

“That sounds perfect.”

She nodded once, smiling, and turned to go. A second later she turned back. “Oh, and Sam? Could you also bring my dress when you come?”

He laughed. “No problem. I’ll send Duke over with it the minute it’s dry.”

Several hours later, Sam emerged from Gray’s basement, a bag in his hand and the heater humming, if not quietly at least effectively, behind him.

Gray turned from the stove where she was sautéing onions and couldn’t help grinning at the handsome, disheveled man before her.

“Have you exorcised my ghost?” she asked.

“That should be the last you hear of him.” He held aloft a bag full of clanking parts. “No more ghostly wailing. No more cigarette smoke. Do you think you’ll be lonely?”

“Hardly. Relieved is more like it. So how do you know how to do all that stuff?” She wiped her hands on the towel over her shoulder.

“Hey, you live in old houses long enough, you learn how old stuff works.” He leaned a hip against the counter. “That smells great. What is it?”

“We’re having shrimp scampi. I hope you like garlic.”

He grinned. “Only if you’re eating it, too.”

Gray blushed with pleasure. “It’s only fair.”

They stood there a moment, both wearing dopey smiles and goggling at each other, before Sam said, “So, you mind if I take a shower?”

“Oh no, not at all. The bathroom’s at the top of the stairs.”

“Great.” He dropped the bag on the counter and headed for the stairs, leaving Gray to cook and think about the naked man being caressed by warm soapy water not fifteen feet above her.

It was only about ten minutes later when Sam called down to her.

She moved to the bottom of the steps and saw his wet head poking out of the steamy bathroom. “Need someone to wash your back?” she teased.

That fabulous smile overtook his face again. “Actually, I was looking for a towel, but if you’re offering…?”

She started up the stairs. Ah, the temptation. The linen closet was right next to the bathroom, and he watched as she retrieved a clean towel and handed it to him.

He took it with one hand, his fingers covering hers on the terry cloth, and pulled her closer, the door shielding all but his head and one shoulder. He kissed her, damply but chastely, and smiled. “Thank you.”

Her gaze caught and held his. “You’re welcome.”

They stared at each other a long moment, then both leaned simultaneously in for another kiss.

Feeling gutsy, as was so easy with this guy, Gray pushed the door wider with one hand and stepped into his embrace. Sam deepened the kiss, pulling her close to his wet body, the length of it hard against Gray’s. She felt his arousal stiffen against her and pushed her hips into his. Her hands held his head, fingers woven through the wet tendrils of his hair.

Heat fired between them, and it wasn’t just because of the hot shower. Sam’s hands rode down her back, then around her waist and beneath her shirt.

Gray let her fingers run down his ribs and around his hips to the hard evidence of his desire. “Let’s go into the bedroom.”

Sam pulled back. Gray had just enough time to worry that he might refuse, when he smiled, and said, “Lead the way.”