Incidental Contact (Those Devilish De Marco Men) (6 page)

Before she could wrap her fingers around the metal canister, he pulled the light back. “I thought about this all the way home. Our deal can work. I mean, I’ve got ex-girlfriends coming out of my ears. They only wanna get back together so they can help me spend that damn insurance money. And if you’re trying to piss Drew off. I guarantee, I’m the right man for that job.” He drew an X over his heart with his forefinger. “And I will teach you to feel sexy. Cross my heart.”

Drew bitched whenever Amy spent time with Lila, once he’d learned the widow had moved in with Colton. In fact, he disliked all of the De Marcos. He called them redneck pretty boys and said Eric, in particular, was dumber than dirt.

Eric might not be ambitious, but she didn’t think he was dumb. According to Lila, he’d designed Colton’s bungalow and this cabin.

“So... you’re gonna teach me to feel sexy, and I’m supposed to scare off all interested females?” She hoped she sounded calm, but inside her mind, she was screaming.
What am I doing? For starters, I can’t hold up my end of the bargain. Not to mention, damn, that’d be a full-time job.

But the job had some impressive benefits. Her nipples throbbed their agreement.

He chuckled. “My usual rule is that a woman has to be big enough to have her own place before I’ll touch her. Women
do not
come here. When word gets out you’ve moved in, that should shut down the gold diggers.” He smiled as though he’d found the solution to world peace.

Relief swept through her. Understanding his motivations let her put his offer into perspective. She knew the publicity over his mother’s death had affected his family, but she hadn’t put much thought into the life insurance money, although Lila had mentioned their unexpected windfall.

Now, the entire evening made more sense.

His haircut made him look different, more mature, and even better-looking. The damn sizzle zipped through her again. He moved closer and she found it hard to breathe. Snatching the flashlight, she whirled, hurrying out the door.

She needed more time to think and she couldn’t seem to do that when he was nearby.

She thought the cold air might clear her head, but the truth was, that now that his haircut looked like a grown man’s, she found it harder to deny the attraction she felt to the man.

Since her shock over Drew’s engagement was wearing off, she realized every passing day without any contact made not seeing him a little easier. He’d ridiculed her beliefs as well as her leisure-time pursuits. He even made fun of her for wanting a job in public education.

Had she put up with him out of fear there’d never be another man who wanted her? If so, then throwing away three years was what she was sorry about, not losing him.

But, she did want to show his dumb ass she wasn’t crying because he hadn’t come crawling back.

With any luck, Drew will think I got a better offer, too. This will work out just fine. 

Shivering, Amy pawed through her trunk one-handed. The flashlight illuminated the black-and-white striped shirt easily, but the black slacks that went with her uniform proved more elusive. And where were her black athletic shoes? 

By the time she’d found all the pieces to her uniform, her ears, toes, and fingers were numb. Too numb to hunt for regular clothes. She’d just wear the uniform to school.

Walking up the front steps didn’t feel like going toward her future so much as turning her back on the past. Twenty-two was damn old to have had only one lover. Maybe her lack of experience led her to settle for less than she deserved. Who was she to question why the Fates had decided the hottest man in the county would offer to make her feel sexy?

“Russian tea,” Eric stated when she stepped into the kitchen. He held up a mug.” Want some?”

“What’s Russian tea?”

“Cynda made it. I think it’s made with Tang and powdered tea. I like the taste and all I have to do is drop some into hot water.” He grinned, stepping closer. She couldn’t tell what was in the hand he waved. He dunked something into the cup.

“No extra charge for the cinnamon stick. Part of the house service.” He winked.

She dropped her shoes, shifted her clothing to one hand, and took a sip. “Not bad. Can I use the washer and dryer?”
Could I sound less sexy?

“Sure.” He gestured to a room off the kitchen. She was relieved to find no dried clothing stuck to the drum, the way Drew left them, assuming she’d handle the chore. Dropping her uniform in, she added soap, punched the button, and took a deep breath.

He leaned against the bar, still sipping the hot tea. When he offered her another sip, their fingers touched and she felt that damn sizzle again.
What the hell is that?

He refilled his cup and held out a hand. “Come warm up by the fire.” Giving her a crooked grin, he asked, “Are your feet cold?”

“Little blocks of solid ice,” she admitted, returning the smile. W
hy did his eyes go all hot?

He flicked off the light, leaving the fire as the only illumination. Standing by the sofa, she let him take the mug from her hand. Every time he touched her, her nervous system went haywire. He set the cup on the huge coffee table, beside a bowl piled high with chunks of chicken, carrots, and flaky crust. His bowl and a second cup sat at the other end. Her heart lurched when he turned to face her. His spicy, masculine scent obliterated the smell of burning wood. Her folds began to swell.
Is this normal?
Drew’s cologne never made her feel aroused.

“Here,”—he flopped down on the couch and patted his thigh—“stretch your legs across my lap. Let me get those little feet thawed out while we eat.” He divested her of her shoes while she picked up her fork. “Good god, what size shoe do you wear?” He turned her sneaker in his hand.

She rolled her eyes. “On a good day, I wear a ladies’ five. On a bad day, I have to go to the kid’s department and buy a junior’s four.” His laughter made her huff. “You have no idea how hard it is to find a decent pair of shoes.”

“I bet I do. I wear a fourteen.”

His fingers swept across her sole, chasing the icy pins and needles from one foot, while Grams’ delicious casserole melted on her tongue.
I could get used to this.
The view was incredible. He scarfed the contents of his bowl down before she’d taken four bites. Next, he shed his flannel shirt and she poked herself in the chin with her spoon. His thermal undershirt contrasted nicely with his olive skin. The unbleached knit strained across his muscular chest. Shadows accented the planes of his face. The fire accented the rich colors of the tattooed sleeve encasing his left arm.

“What made you decide to be a teacher?” His inquiry surprised her. He lifted her foot. She moaned when his strong thumb drove into her arch. The penetrating motion felt so good, she couldn’t stop her hips from rising off the couch. She clutched her bowl. He tugged off her sock, laughing at the cartoon penguins decorating her knee-highs.

For the first time in her life, Amy wished she had a pedicure.

She managed to tick off the most important reasons, despite the pleasure clouding her brain. “I like children—when they belong to someone else—and I get summers off.”

He removed her other sock. “I’m into OPK myself.” He grinned and explained, “Other people’s kids.” The stroke of his thumb across her bare skin made her folds swell and ache. She managed to take a few bites before he asked, “What will you do with those summers?”

His strong hands felt magical. He had the blood flowing to her feet again. The rest seemed to be pooling around her clit. “Visit every major league ball park. Go to Vegas and bet on a sporting event, just to say I did. Start classes toward my Master’s degree. Eventually, I want to be a school principal.” The insistent throb in her channel made thinking hard, much less eating.

“A principal?” He laughed again. “You’re mighty small to be a principal. Most fourth graders are bigger. And they have bigger feet.”

Giggling when he raked his nails across her instep, she showed him how nice and tall her middle finger could be. “That’s why I’ll have scary assistant principals about your size. Duh.”

“And this charity thing you want to talk to Phil about? What’s that?”

“Wheelchair basketball.”

Her eyes had adjusted to the low light. His brows rose and his eyes grew wide. “They play basketball in wheelchairs?”

“They do. Picture a cross between basketball and demolition derby. They’re hard-core players, always banging those chairs together. They always need to pay for insurance, new uniforms, that kind of thing.”

“So, what’re you asking Phil to do?”

“I want to hold exhibition games one weekend at the mall. I want him to donate the space and advertise the event.”

Why couldn’t she say that earlier? At least her tongue seemed to work now. He wouldn’t care about her other reason, she figured. If she couldn’t make this exhibition happen, she wouldn’t graduate in May.

He stopped her massage long enough to strip off his shirt. So much for her working tongue. She’d seen him shirtless before. She just hadn’t been expected to talk during the experience. Her mouth went dry.

When he sat back, she eyed the rippling muscle and bronze skin. Not graduating suddenly meant little. What mattered was how she wanted to rub her nose in that perfect mat of dark hair on his chest. The urge was foreign, like someone else stuck the idea into her brain. She’d never been this close to male perfection. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be, since their proximity gave him ample opportunity to see her imperfections, yet at the same time, she wanted to curl up against his strong chest.

When he placed her heel at the base of his palm, her big toe barely reached the first joint on his fingers. “Little feet are sexy.”

He really is a nice guy. This is fun
. She relaxed the last bit of nervous tension stiffening her spine and dug into the casserole.

When she’d savored the last bite, he pushed her legs aside. She froze, unsure what he intended.

“Lesson time,” he rasped, studying her face. “Be sure this is what you want, Amy, because in a few minutes, there’ll be no going back. I’m going to learn your body the way I learn a new car, so I know exactly what makes you hum. I’m going to figure out what it takes to make you scream and how to make you beg. And you can bet, I’ll memorize the sounds you make when you come, so I can play them in my head when we’re not together.”

Dear. God
. He had yet to really touch her and she felt more aroused than she’d ever been. One part of her brain was yelling,
Hype!
The other half was screaming,
What the hell are you waiting for?

“I’m sure.” Amy managed to force the words past her lips.

“And all your orgasms belong to me. That’s the deal-breaker.”

She managed to squeak, “Huh?”

His grin looked so wicked, her sex clenched in response. “I mean, you may only orgasm with my permission. You have to agree right now, whenever and however I want to give you one, I’ll give you one. And you’ll accept however many I choose to give you. I’m not a one-and-done kind of guy.” She prayed she wasn’t making a wet spot on the leather couch. “And no cheating. You can’t give yourself one unless I’m watching. We do that on Sundays. Masturbation’s good for the soul.” He winked.

Hell would freeze before she’d touch herself while he watched. “You can’t be serious.”

“No better way to feel sexy than to climax. I won’t be with anyone else while we’re together and neither will you,” he continued. How many offers a week did he think she got, anyway?
He must be projecting.
“As long as you live here, you’ll not resist when I want to make you feel good. And when we end this, you won’t run to Lila and cry ‘foul’. Is that our deal?”

She nodded, dragging her tongue across her dry lips, loving the way his eyes tracked the motion. “That’s our deal,” she affirmed, meeting his gaze. “And I’ll try to scare the gold diggers away.” Raising her hands, she waggled her fingers in a pathetic attempt to look scary.

A smile flitted across his lips, but the expression in his eyes was serious. “I’ll pay, of course, but you will groom yourself to my liking.”

She was so tired of blushing. This man talked about stuff she wouldn’t discuss with her mother as casually as she’d talk about football.

His voice was low and hypnotic. The heat from the fire warmed her, yet chills raced down her spine. Her nipples hardened into throbbing darts, but nerves stiffened her spine.

He stood. “Lesson number one. Let’s get started.”

Now that the moment had arrived, she wasn’t sure she had the guts to take off her clothes in front of a man this gorgeous.

“C’mon, city girl. Don’t tell me you’re gonna turn down the chance to sit in a hot pool and watch it snow?”

Clearing her throat, she tried to stall. “Really? You just got the fire going.”

“Bawk, bawk. C’mon, Chicken Little. Let’s get wet.” Shaking his head, he unfastened the waistband on his jeans.

She was already wet where it counted, but she held on to the hope he’d be less beautiful undressed. Less perfect. Just one physical flaw would make her feel less awkward about her many, but she knew better. Drew would’ve had a fit if he’d known how often she’d dropped by Lila’s while the brothers were adding a nursery onto Colton’s bungalow. After an hour or so of hammering nails and throwing two-by-fours around like toothpicks, the trio usually took off their shirts.

He shoved his jeans and boxers down his hips as casually as she’d take off mittens. Dark hair dusted his calves and thighs. When he straightened, she jerked her gaze to his face, feeling like an uncoordinated teenager. Her other first time had been just as awkward.

“I’ll spot you the underwear.” He grinned like he knew she wanted to check out his cock, but was too embarrassed. “For now.” He took her empty bowl, placing it on the table. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her off the couch. The effort made muscles ripple and bulge in his abdomen and her feet got tangled, but she righted herself before she banged into him.

She expected to go to his bedroom, which had to be behind the kitchen, but he sauntered toward the stairs to the loft. She didn’t think he’d fit into a twin bed, but she followed. He flipped a light switch. All she could see was their reflection in a pair of glass doors she hadn’t noticed.