Just One Look (14 page)

Two could play this game, he thought, turning on his alarm and crawling into bed. He had from now to Saturday morning to get Jennifer primed for a taste of her own medicine. Foreplay without fulfillment equaled frustration. He knew that fact intimately and before he was finished with her, she'd know it too.

* * *

Jennifer waited until five o'clock the next day, but Matt didn't call. Finally, she took the initiative and called him. When she asked him if he'd like to join her for dinner at one of her favorite restaurants, he agreed to meet her there at eight. She arrived a few minutes before eight, but he was already there, waiting in the entry for her.

She smiled, happy to see him. "How was your crowded day?"

"Oh, fine, fine," he answered, placing his hand on the small of her back while the hostess escorted them to their table.

"You seem a bit preoccupied," she said, after they'd placed their drink order.

"Actually, I had a couple of cancellations this afternoon so I spent the time working on your problem."

"My problem?" Jennifer's brow wrinkled in confusion.

"Yes, you know, your feelings of sexual inadequacy."

"Oh. That problem." Though she'd decided to confess everything to him tonight, she didn't want to have to discuss her nonexistent problem right now. She wanted to stare soulfully into his eyes and send him an E.S.P. message to sweep her into his arms and head for the nearest bed. After that, perhaps he'd be more than forgiving of her impulsive prank.

"I wanted to tell you that I did some research on the subject. I was surprised to discover that you do fit the stereotype perfectly."

She frowned. "I do?"

"Yes. I must admit that at first I thought you were playing some kind of practical joke on me, but I told myself that was insane. You wouldn't do something so juvenile. So lacking in good taste. You're too mature for such behavior. Besides, what reason would you have for doing such a thing?"

Jennifer squirmed and couldn't meet his eyes.

"Then when I read the most recent research on the subject, I realized that you desperately need help."

His patronizing remarks pricked her temper. "What research is this exactly? I haven't seen anything cross my desk that would make me recognize myself as a stereotypical case."

He patted his pockets. "I intended to bring you some notes. I'm in the process of writing up a bibliography. I might publish this as a case study in a medical journal."

At her squawk of outrage, he held up his hand. "Never fear. I wouldn't think of violating your privacy by using your name, but there are probably a lot of emotionally-immature women with sexual problems who could benefit from such an in-depth report."

"Look, Matt, about that," Jennifer began.

"No, seriously, I'll be discreet. I won't show the case file to anyone. Not even Sylvia."

"Case file?" Jennifer paled at the thought of the potential embarrassment.

"Hey, I consider this confidential even though you aren't really my patient, as we have agreed, I'll afford you the same confidentiality. I'm just a friend, a consenting adult, helping another friend who is also a consenting adult. Isn't that how you phrased it?"

She nodded, too miserable to reply. She couldn't possibly confess now.

"As I was saying, I transcribed my notes on our first meetings."

"Notes? You made notes about our," she swallowed. "About the times we've been together?"

"Yes, purely for scientific purposes. Then I wrote out an action item list with concrete suggestions of methods we can use to try to overcome your problem."

"Action item list? Concrete suggestions? You sound like Alva," she muttered, smiling gratefully at the waiter when he placed a frozen Margarita in front of her.

"Oh, yes, the beautiful Miss Hernandez." Matt smiled. "She's really exquisite, isn't she?" He sipped the Margarita on the rocks that he'd ordered and asked, "She's not engaged, is she?"

Jennifer felt her heart crack. "No, she's not. Why do you ask?"

"Well, she's extraordinarily lovely. And she seems to have such a sparkling personality. I thought I might ask her out sometime. She's the kind of woman I'm looking for. Do you think I'd stand a chance with her?"

Jennifer was saved from comment by the arrival of their food. She considered dumping her enchilada special over his head but restrained herself. This was going horribly wrong. He was supposed to be interested in her, not Alva.

"Hey, this is great." He forked another bite of the spicy enchiladas. "Anyway, to sum up, I think I've figured out how to cure your problem, and we'll get started on it right after dinner."

That killed Jennifer's appetite completely. She wanted to tell him to take his concrete suggestions and use the concrete to make shoes for himself then wear them swimming in the Trinity River.

Uneasy, she fluffed the Spanish rice with her fork. What did he have in mind? She wondered, watching him eat his dinner with obvious pleasure.

Matt thought asking about Alva had been a stroke of genius. It had made Jennifer's face look like a thundercloud. She was so angry she couldn't even eat, he thought smugly. If she was upset now, just wait until later.

His eyes softened as he looked at her troubled face. If she'd confess her stupid prank, he'd be glad to kiss and make up with her.

* * *

Later that night, Jennifer discovered the technique Matt intended to use to help her forget her sexual inadequacies. He planned to drive her insane. That had to be it, she thought, sitting tensely on her couch while she watched him remove his sport coat, then the black turtleneck sweater. She stifled the gasp on her lips. His body was muscled and hard in all the right places. And she wanted to touch all those places.

"I know we kissed and that was brave of you, especially when you endured me touching you, but it occurred to me that you hadn't touched me or seen me. So here I am. At least part of me." He chuckled. "Nothing to fear, is there?"

Jennifer's breath came in short pants as she stared at the dark hair curling over his chest. Flat nipples peeked out from the hair that tapered to a point and disappeared below the belt of his trousers.

He sat down next to her and picked up the glass of wine that she'd poured for him and leaned back. He stretched both arms across the back of the couch. "This is okay, isn't it?"

She couldn't answer or even nod. She was mesmerized by his body, and the warmth radiating from it that matched the heat unfurling inside her. Even the tufts of dark hair beneath his arms were sexy, she thought.

"Now, come here." Reaching out with one hand, he gently pulled her back against him.

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes for a minute, savoring the feel, the smell, the heat of his body. In another minute, she knew he would kiss her, touch her. One thing would lead to another and, finally, at long last, they'd be in her huge four-poster bed.

"Give me your hand," he said. She didn't move, her limbs paralyzed with sexual lethargy. Matt lifted her right hand. He placed it on his chest. In a rough whisper, he commanded, "Touch me. Stroke me."

She did, loving the feel of the muscles, the crinkly hair between her fingers. His nipples puckered when she rubbed over them. She could really get into this. If he kept this lesson up, she'd be willing to call a truce.

"This is good, isn't it?" He murmured, his mouth so close to her ear that she could feel his breath.

"Oh, yes," she whispered, smiling softly. Everything was going to be all right.

"Great! Tomorrow, we'll take it another step." He picked up her hand and returned it to her lap.

She stared in disbelief as he lifted the TV remote from the coffee table. A quiet click followed up that action and the television roared to life.

* * *

The next night Jennifer paced her condo like a caged animal. After the frustration of last night, she knew that she couldn't take another of Matt's concrete suggestions. She'd tried to call him, but he'd been busy all day. So she'd told the receptionist at his office to tell him that she was unavailable tonight.

Just thinking about him made the blood pound between her thighs, like a hypnotic drum. Damn the man. How could he sit half-naked next to her and not be affected? She would not see him tonight. She'd already changed clothes and wore her flannel pajamas and robe.

When the doorbell sounded, Jennifer whirled. Her heart began to pound. For a moment she considered not opening the door. But she couldn't resist.

Matt wondered if he'd be able to leave her untouched tonight. Desire was a double-edged sword when wielded for revenge, he thought, pushing her doorbell again.She knew he was at the door. If she had an ounce of sense, she wouldn't let him in.

Jennifer found herself flying across to the floor. Breathlessly she threw open the door. "Hi," she said. "Didn't you get my message?"

"No, what was it?" Matt asked, stepping inside.

She wondered what was in the brown paper bag he carried. "I said I wouldn't be available tonight. I had plans."

He looked her up and down, noting her unbound breasts. "Well, you look as if you're ready for a night at home. Plans change?"

Matt noticed when she gave up the fight to resist him. Encouraged, he figured maybe she was like him. She'd rather share a frustrating evening with him than be frustrated alone. Either way, he'd be in her thoughts.

"Yes, I guess my plans changed," she said, closing the door and following him to the living room.

Matt turned on the television and ignored her dismayed groan. "I know you probably want to watch part two of that documentary on locusts that's airing tonight, but I picked up a movie that I thought might inspire you. Is that okay?"

Jennifer shrugged. At least a movie might hold her thoughts from the man and his next concrete suggestion.

"Why don't we get something to drink before I start the movie?" He suggested. "Some strawberries to munch on would be good if you have any left."

"Not a one," she snapped, stomping to the kitchen. A drink? No wine. That would be a mistake. She made two cups of instant hot chocolate and carried them on a tray to the living room. Feeling extremely put out, she set the tray on the coffee table and turned to ask him sarcastically if he needed anything else.

Slack-jawed, Jennifer stared. His shoes, with socks tucked neatly inside, were on the floor by the coffee table. His bare feet were propped on her coffee table. Her eyes followed his feet to his naked, well-shaped legs until her gaze was blocked by his shirttails. He'd shucked his trousers and coat but still wore a white dress shirt. She could only imagine what was beneath the shirt. Her imagination raced away.

"Come sit beside me." He patted the spot on the couch next to him.

As if she were a retriever trained to voice command, she plopped down.

He took her hand and placed it on his thigh.

Jennifer didn't move her hand a millimeter. She was afraid that once she started sliding it up his heavily-muscled thigh, feeling the rasp of the crinkly hair on his leg, that she wouldn't be able to stop at the shirtline. Why was he torturing her this way?

"Come on, don't be afraid." Matt placed his hand on hers then slid her hand up his leg. He waited a moment then slid it up to the hem of his shirt. Her hand left a trail of fire everywhere it touched. He knew he wouldn't be able to take very much of this.

"See, not much different from your leg is it?"

"Oh, but it is," she whispered, squeezing the muscle beneath her hand.

Matt sucked in his breath. "Very good," he said, as if praising an obedient puppy.

Then she saw him lift the remote control and she wanted to scream with frustration.

"I found myself thinking about your eating those strawberries and remembered this movie," Matt said. "If you watch this, I think you'll see that eating food can be pretty seductive." He chuckled, "You might want to try some of these techniques if you want to seduce a man after you've solved your problem."

Jennifer gritted her teeth. She would not kill him, she swore. Prison wouldn't be worth it. Besides, the only lethal weapon she could readily spot was the silver serving tray and she didn't want to dent it by pounding it over his dense head.

"What is this inspirational movie?" She asked, jerking her hand from his thigh. "
Debbie Does Dallas
?"

He laughed. "No, it's a little more mainstream than that. It's called
9 ½ Weeks
. True, it's an oldie, and parts of it are rather ridiculous, but on the whole, I think you'll find it interesting. If you have any questions, we can discuss it as it rolls."

"Believe it or not," Jennifer retorted. "I've seen this movie. I don't think I need you to explain it to me."

He grinned and merely said, "Good."

"Since I've seen it, I think I'll read one of my journals while you watch it."

"I guess that will be okay. If I see something of particular interest that might help you with your problem, I'll point it out to you."

Jennifer rushed to her study and got her magazine. She also grabbed up the hand-crocheted afghan off the chaise and carried it back to the living room. Out of self-defense, she said, "I thought you might be a bit chilly so I brought you a cover."

"It is a bit cool in here," he said. "I guess it would be okay to cover up. You'd still know that I'm practically naked underneath so that will serve the purpose of desensitizing you to male nudity."

Matt grabbed the cover gratefully. He didn't think he'd have managed to get through the movie with her beside him making those breathless little sounds. "That's better."

It was all he could do to speak in a normal tone of voice. As soon as he got home, he'd be diving into an ice cold shower though he figured that no amount of cold water could kill his escalating desire for her. Tonight was turning into pure torture. Tomorrow, he had to come up with a better scheme because all this seduction was playing hell with his sleep, his practice, and his libido.

"Glad to hear it," she said tersely, settling on the couch, but as far from him as possible he noted.