Level Up (14 page)

Tessa was trying to clean up, humming Ice Cube and shimmying a little. She looked pretty plastered. "You okay?" he asked, forcing himself to ignore his response to José.

She smiled, looking relaxed, more loosened up then he'd ever seen her. She was wearing one of her T-shirts that said "SPOILERS, SWEETIE" under a curly-haired face, and black yoga pants. She was putting plastic cups in a big trash bag, and actually seemed to be making a dent.

It was adorable. She was adorable.

"Don't worry. I'm not that drunk." She tripped on her own sock, and frowned. "I mean, I wouldn't operate heavy equipment or anything, but I'm not as impaired as you'd think."

"Got a high tolerance, do you?" he said, helping her tidy up, moving in sync with her.

She surveyed him thoughtfully. "My family does like to drink, now and then. My grandmother could probably drink Abraham under the table."

"Well, that's saying something," he said, helping her out. "Do you miss them?"

"My family?" She worked efficiently, clearing away papers, throwing out empties. "Yes, and no. I miss my older sister and my older brother. I worry about my little brother, because he was always getting into trouble. Drugs," she said.

Adam sighed. "Sorry. I've got a cousin that fell into that. It's rough.""

"And I do wish my family would be more understanding," she said with a shrug. "I think they never really understood me. My parents didn''t really go to college. My mother got an associate's degree later in life, to be a bookkeeper. My father is a roofer. They don't mind me going to college, but...sometimes, I think they feel like I think I'm too good for them. I'm so different than my brothers and sister."

She tossed away the rest of the trash with a resolute, if somewhat sad, expression. "Anyway, that's why I don't come home. I got the scholarship to U-Dub, interned at a few game companies, and then I got the job at Mysterious Pickles. And the rest is, well, history." She shook her head, as if clearing out cobwebs. ""Now, why did I tell you all that, again?"

Adam tossed out the glass bottles. The house was...well, not neat, but neater. He grinned at her. "You told me all that because you trust me, maybe?"

Her grin back at him was slow, and sexy--and he'd bet it wasn't even deliberate. ""I may trust you," she said softly.

"And you like me."

"I definitely like you," she purred.

He glanced at the clock and winced. If she didn't get some sleep, she was going to have the mother of all hangovers in the morning.

"Come on. Let's get you to bed," he said.

She looked startled...then her grin grew wider.

"You. To your bed. To sleep," he said in a hurry, and she laughed.

"I know. Just teasing you," she said, but he looped an arm around her waist anyway. "You know, I never had as much fun as I had tonight, other than maybe when I met the girls in the bookstore. And even then, I'm still a little nervous around them--like they might just decide I don't fit in, you know?"

"Well, you've known the guys for four years now," he replied. She stopped dead in the hallway, making him pause.

"No. I was comfortable because
you
were there," she said. "I knew that you'd keep me safe. That you wouldn't let them pick on me. That I could let down my guard and you'd have my back. Not that I can't take care of myself," she said, ""but it was nice to know I didn't need to, if I didn't want to."

He smiled at her, pushing some hair out of her eyes. "Damn straight."

"You're nice."

He flinched. "I'm nice," he said, with a sigh. God, what guy wanted to be described with something as tepid as
nice
?

"I like nice," she said. Then she pressed her body against his and kissed him. Hard.

His mind went temporarily blank for a second. Even tipsy, she was a great kisser. Hell, maybe because she was tipsy--because her inhibitions were lowered and her impulses were running amuck--she was more passionate and less restrained, causing her to suddenly become some Shaolin kissing master. All he wanted to do was kiss back, hard.

So he did.

Just for a few minutes
, he thought. Because she felt so damned good. He wove his fingers in her hair, holding moving his lips against hers, tasting her, delving deeper as the kiss went white-hot. She groaned, low in her throat, pressing her breasts against his chest. His whole body tightened in response.

"Adam," she crooned, her voice ragged, her breath hitched. "
Adam.
"

For a second, he wanted absolutely nothing more than to carry her to bed, join her there, and enjoy everything her body was so amply promising.

She's drunk, dude.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. Then he quickly and quietly disentangled her, nudging her to the bed. She tumbled onto it, arching her back, giving him a look of sheer lust that hit him like a bolt of lightning. Cursing his own morals, he pulled her comforter up to her chin. She giggled a little before realizing he really wasn't going to join her. Then she stared, confused, frowning at him from the bed.

"But...don't you...want to?"

"More than breathing," he said immediately, and regretted his choice of words as her eyes glowed. "But remember what you just said? You knew you could let down your guard, and that I'll keep you safe?"

"Yeah..."

"That includes now. I'll even keep you safe from me." He pulled up the blanket and tucked her in. "When you're sober and you want to try that again, I'll do things that will make you forget your own name. But until then----get some sleep, Tess."

"Damn your reason and logic," she said, and he could hear the pout in her voice from underneath the sheet she'd pulled over her face.

He retreated to his room, his body throbbing like one big nerve. He'd never had to do anything so hard in his life.

But she won't be drunk forever,
 he thought. And he'd made one hell of a promise. While he knew it was a bad idea -- he couldn't help but wait to see when, or if, she'd collect on it.

CHAPTER
8

Tessa let out a small shriek when the loud, staccato buzzing went off somewhere near her ear. She immediately noticed two things: one, that the little shriek reverberated through her head like a church bell, and two, the buzzing was her alarm clock--which was making her head ache like a woodpecker was drilling into it. She swatted at the sound, which only managed to make the clock scoot further away. More spastic flailing made it fall on the floor. Finally, she grunted and blindly yanked out the power cord.

"Die, you bastard," she said into the pillow, grateful for the silence.

A small knock at the door had her sit up--a move that was far too fast, making her stomach lurch.

Adam was leaning on the doorframe, a bottle of water in one hand. "Good morning, sunshine."

She was pretty sure her hair was sticking out of her head like Medusa's snakes. At least it was still dark out--ah, January in Washington state--so he wasn't seeing the horror that clearly. "There is nothing good," she muttered.

He held the bottle out to her, then put some pills in her hand. "For the headache," he said, kindly whispering.

"If I ever drink anything ever again," she said, taking the pills and glugging some water, "forcibly stop me. Please."

"I will remind you of this morning," he agreed. "If that doesn't stop you, nothing will. Drink all that water, but slowly. And I've got some food..."

She made a retching noise.

"Dry toast, a little applesauce," he said. "You'll feel better."

She dutifully drank more water. "I may call in sick," she said, then winced. "That wouldn't be very team spirited of me, though, would it?"

"Not really, no."

"And the guys would rib me mercilessly," she realized.

"Yes. Yes, they would."

"Fine." She got up, realizing she was still in the same clothes from the night before. "You tucked me in last night, huh?"

"That, I did."

Suddenly, a terrible suspicion started to bloom. "Did I..." she rubbed at her temple, "um, proposition you, by any chance?"

His grin was huge. "Possibly."

"And you..." She frowned. "Um..."

"Tucked you in and suffered mightily," he said, winking at her. "Come to the kitchen when you're ready."

She groaned. "I'll be there in five," she said. "This is a go-to-work in sweats kind of day."

"No, actually, it's not," he said. "Don't you remember?"

She wracked her pain-filled head. "Remember what...oh,
crap
."

"Can't wait to see you dressed up," he said, winking. "Sailor Moon."

"Crap crap crap." She hopped out of bed, wincing as her head throbbed. "They can't really expect me to go through with this," she said, following him out the door.

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't be surprised if that was exactly why they got you liquored up last night."

"That was team building!" she called, then held the sides of her head. "And
ow.
"

"You were the one that made the promise," he pointed out. "Coffee?"

"Industrial sized," she said.

"Take a shower, you'll feel better. And we'll go in a little late if you need it--they'll understand."

"Don't suppose they'd understand if I just gave them a rain check," she mumbled under her breath, but of course Adam heard it anyway.

"They might understand, but they'd think less of you." He didn't say that he would, as well. Honestly, he didn't have to.

She'd made a promise.
She
would think less of herself if she welshed on the deal.

"Give me a few minutes," she grumbled. "My Sailor Prism Power Make Up is a little out of practice."

He was chuckling as he headed down the stairs. She dashed into the bathroom, jumping into the shower, which did make her feel a bit more human, especially as the painkillers started to kick in. But by the time she headed back to her room and pulled out the costume that Kyla had given her, just a few days ago, when she'd told Kyla about the deal she'd made with the guys to get them to work with her. She suddenly felt sick all over again.

"Whose idea was it to wear a tiny ruffled miniskirt when the wind chill's in the teens?" she muttered, struggling into the unitard with its frilly blue skirt. She tied the bow, put on the blond wig complete with buns and long pigtails, and adjusted the moon tiara over her forehead. Because the whole thing had to be complete, she even put on make-up...which in and of itself was a novel endeavor. She was pretty sure no one in the company had seen her in lipstick. Not even when she interviewed.

As a concession to the cold, she pulled on opaque white tights. The over-the-knee boots were cloth, at least, giving her another layer of warmth, but they were also heeled, which meant she'd need to be extra careful going down the stairs.

"Next time, I'm going to let them duct tape me to an office chair," she said darkly. Then she grabbed the big, full-length down coat that Ani had gotten her one year, when she''d visited the lab in Helsinki. It was white and made her look like a quilted marshmallow.

Very carefully, she negotiated the stairs, walking in. Adam turned around, then burst out laughing.

"Well, the hair's right," he said, smirking. "But what the hell are you wearing?"

"You try wearing a micro-mini when it's twenty degrees out," she muttered.

"Well, the tiara's dead on. Your friend does good work," he said, then stared at her for a second.

"What?" She started to put her gloves to her face, then remembered she was wearing Sailor's full opera-length white gloves, which would get make up smeared all over them if she wasn't careful. "Did I screw up? Is something smudged already?"

"No," he said, quietly. "You've got pretty eyes. I always thought they were brown, but they're more hazel. Now, they're almost green."

She stared at him for a second. His eyes were warm. No, 
hot
. They were blazing like acetylene torches. His hungry gaze burned her, in the best possible way.

He looked like wanted to kiss her, hard and fast and just as hot as his gaze.

She swallowed hard. She suddenly realized--she wanted him to. She had
always
 wanted to. Why else had she kept kissing him at every opportunity, then rationalized it away?

What was her problem?

Maybe she was making it too complicated.

Or maybe you're just being an idiot and putting your hormones in the driver seat, you jackass. Ever thought of that?

She cleared her throat. "If I don't go now, I think I won't go at all,"" she said. "So I guess we'd better, erm, go."

"Okay," he said. "Let's do this thing.""

She started to turn, and heard dripping. "Hey, the faucet's still on. Shouldn't you turn it off?"

"I'm letting it drip. That'll keep the pipes from freezing," he said, following her as she billowed her way down the hallway. "It's just been too cold. They're saying a bad windstorm tonight, too. I wouldn''t be surprised if we lost power."

"Lose power? Will we be okay?"

"Sure. The woodstove works great," he assured her. "We'll camp out here in the living room if we have to, and I've got lanterns...we can even run the generator if push comes to shove."

He sounded blasé, so she felt her anxiety level go down.

"Besides," he added, "if we really get stuck, we can use your coat as a tent."

"Ha ha, funny," she said.

"Need help with the door? Do you need to turn sideways?"

She stuck out her tongue at him, then stepped outside. It was like getting slapped with a frozen washcloth, and she caught her breath. "
Crap!
"

"Brisk," he agreed, locking the door behind them. "Do I need to get a shoehorn or something to get you in the..."

"Oh, shut up," she said, taking a step and forgetting she was wearing high heels. She pitched forward, yelping.