Material Girl (26 page)

Robin laughed, shook her head. “No. But I said the Pledge of Allegiance.” She took another careful step forward. “And I ate a cheeseburger. With fries.”

“Wow. Better call Ripley's. Pretty soon we'll have to tether your legs and arms so you won't float away before the parade.”

She laughed lightly, her teeth snow white in the early evening light. “So what about you? Did you renovate anything?”

“You mean, did I manage to accomplish anything between your grandpa's jokes and Zaney's new addiction to Wheel of Fortune?”

“Oh no,” Robin groaned.

“I'm really glad you're back,” he blurted, surprising himself with the admission.

“Yeah, I know—I'll call Grandma tomorrow. I bet she doesn't know he's over here.”

She missed his point completely—the woman had a real knack for doing that. They stood awkwardly; there was so

much Jake wanted to say about yesterday, so much he didn't know how to say. Deep conversations about his feelings were not exactly his forte. But then he remembered something. “Come here,” he said, unconsciously extending his hand to her. “I want to show you something.”

Robin glided forward, slipped her hand into his. Jake led her to the big bay window. “I found this earlier,” he said, pointing to a scratch in the woodwork. “Looks to be pretty old.”

She leaned forward, peered closely at the inscription:

LH and DD Forevermore

“Oh my,” she whispered. “Forevermore.” She looked at it wistfully, then shrugged. “Kids, I guess.”

“Kids? I thought maybe it was a man who loved a woman very much.” Yeah, and since when had he become so sentimental?

“Then it's a wonder he didn't come back and scratch it out.” She turned slightly, glanced up at Jake, and laughed. “You don't really believe it was forevermore, do you?”

Funny, he hadn't realized it before now, but the concept of “forevermore” was a notion that lurked on the edge of his consciousness, forbidden to enter. He shrugged selfconsciously. “Don't you believe in it?”

“God no!” she laughed. “Do you know anyone who has actually made it?”

Good point. But he wanted to know someone who had made it. He wanted to make it. “I guess not.”

Robin sighed, looked again at the inscription. “I don't really think in terms of forever. I don't think of anything other than where I am going next. But lately I've begun to think that maybe I haven't been doing anything except running around in big circles. Maybe that's my forevermore— caught on one big loop going nowhere and I can't get off.” She laughed, slipped away from the bay window, and moved to the center of the room.

Jake watched her, wondering what had happened in her

life that would cause such a beautiful woman to have no more hope for love than Robin did.

“Have you eaten?” she suddenly asked him. “I was sort of craving Thai food—I'd love to take you along. You know, payback for watching Wheel of Fortune with Grandpa.”

Say no, he told himself. He needed to study, needed desperately to study before he fell further behind. Not to mention his vow to himself to never repeat what had happened Sunday. It was a bad idea, very bad, given their yo-yo dance. “I've really got—”

“It's still pretty early—we can swing by your house,” she interjected. “Zaney said it was in the Heights, right?”

Jake did a frantic rake of his brain to remember if he had left anything objectionable lying around. God, he wasn't actually considering—“Yeah… sure,” he said out loud, feeling like a monumental fool the instant the words slipped off his tongue.

As Jake made his way through the streets of Houston to the Heights (Robin following in her Mercedes), he said aloud, “You are a goddam idiot. You are going to get all wrapped up in this and then what? To hear her say she doesn't want you around? Because she will, you stupid asshole.”

His brain was obviously clueless, his groin was clearly running the show, and that annoyed Jake to no end. The more he knew Robin, the less he wanted that to be a reason to be with her—he did not want to lust after her, but she was so gorgeous that a man could hardly keep from it. It was all too complicated for his peabrain to understand, and, he thought as he pulled up to his house, slammed the truck into park, and got out, he wasn't going to try and understand it. Not right this moment, anyway. He had the more immediate problem of making sure there wasn't any dirty underwear in plain sight.

Parking behind him, Robin stepped out of her car and looked up in awe at the old Victorian house. “Ooh, this is beautiful!” she said, coming around the front of her car.

"I'm doing some work, so it doesn't look too great in-

side," he warned her as they descended the old steps onto the wraparound porch, painfully aware that his house, while charming, did not even come close to comparing with hers. His was a house that was attainable—hers was a house straight out of a Hollywood movie. He fumbled with the lock, opened the door and stood aside, letting Robin precede him. She walked in slowly, admiring the ten-foot ceilings, the elaborate crown molding, and the old floor-to-ceiling brick fireplace.

“This is wonderful,” she said, walking deeper into the room. “Cozy, cheerful… much more warm and inviting than mine. Mine could double as a museum, don't you think? Mind if I look around?”

“Help yourself. I'm gonna grab a shower. There's some beer in the fridge if you'd like one.” As he disappeared into his room to shower and change, he watched her wander into the dining room, glance at his homework strewn across the table, then on, to the kitchen.

Jake reappeared twenty minutes later, showered, shaved, wearing khakis and a crisp white shirt that he had, t hank fully, found in his closet.

Robin was sitting in his one chair, a recliner, flipping through the pages of Architectural Digest. She glanced up as he walked in the room, flashed an instantaneous smile that made him warm all over. “Why, Mr. Manning,” she said, coming to her feet.

“Okay, I'll admit it. I have more than jeans and T-shirts.”

“Yeah,” she said, walking closer. “You're really cute.”

“Cute?” he groaned, rolling his eyes as Robin laughed. But it pleased him enormously. Definitely more than it should have.

The restaurant was a small place, decorated like an Asian river delta, with grass thatching, warm colors, and waiters in Saipan hats. Jake had never had Thai food, or any other international cuisine. Unless you counted Mexico . The menu might as well have been printed in Chinese for all he could make of it. Robin very artfully suggested some dishes he might like without making him look like a clod.

“Great,” Jake said quickly to their waiter as she pointed

out the spicy peppered shrimp, which, she claimed, went well with beer. She ordered chicken with red curry and pineapple, which sounded wholly unappetizing to Jake, but what the hell, he was game for a little experimentation. Of any kind, come to think of it.

When the waiter brought him a beer with a funny red label on it and Robin a glass of rice wine, he held his breath and drank and asked about her trip to Minot . She confessed to feeling out of place, but seemed really taken with the Pledge of Allegiance, which he found peculiar. It was funny how she could speak of a regular old run-of-the-mill American town like it was another planet. He supposed that was because Robin did occupy a whole other planet than most regular folk. Robbieville, he thought as he watched her hands moving, sketching in midair the various people she had met, where money is consumed like water and people flit in and out with no apparent purpose or destination. It was a world most could not fathom and a few could only dream of, yet there were moments he had the sense that Robin wanted off her planet, wanted to be down here with the mere mortals.

Over dinner, Robin made him very happy by telling-him that Mr. Slick had gone to New York for several days. If he never laid eyes on that ass again, it would be too soon.

“And I have to go to Burdette Saturday,” she moaned. “Evan is soooo much better at this than I am. He knows how to put people at ease. I seem to make them uptight.”

She stared at her plate for a moment, then suddenly gasped and looked up. “You can go with me!” she exclaimed. “Yes, yes, say you will, Jake! This Saturday—it won't take long, I promise. We'll just jet up there, spend a couple of hours and come right back—”

Bad idea, extremely bad idea. He held his hand up, shook his head. “Wait, wait… I can't go to Burdette with you. I don't know anything about—”

“You don't have to know anything! Just come with me, I'll do the talking.”

He had no doubt about that. "I've got my own work to do. Besides, what am I supposed to do while you are wheel-

ing and dealing?“ he asked, helping himself to some of her chicken. ”Just sit there and twiddle my thumbs?"

“Oh, come on, you're my pal, aren't you?”

A pal. They were pals. Okay, as long as he knew the ground rules. “I'll think about it,” he said.

They continued to chat like old friends, at least until the check came. When the waiter put it down, Jake reached for his wallet, but Robin slapped her hand down on the leather case. Jake instantly covered her hand. “Let go,” he said gruffly.

“No. It's my treat. I invited you, remember?”

“I remember, but I don't like women to pay my way.”

“Excuse me? What's that, caveman rules? Welcome to the twenty-first century.” Robin tried to yank the check toward her, but Jake held fast.

“I'm serious,” he said, and he was—very serious.

Robin smiled sweetly. “Don't be silly, Hammerman. A, you can't afford it, B, you're my contractor, and C, I already had dibs.”

“No way,” he insisted. “Let go.”

Robin shrugged. “Okay,” she said and relaxed her hand. Jake reached for his wallet again, at which point Robin suddenly snatched the check up and fled to the front of the room, damn her. And then she brought him home, just like he was a girl, driving the entire distance singing the wrong lyrics to the radio, refusing to listen when he tried to set her straight.

She was exasperating and pushy, this one, but Jake did not want the evening to end. The Thai food had been, well…informative… and the company had been, oddly, the best he had had in years. She had a way about her, a spark, a unique view of the world. And it seemed that over dinner, the more Robin talked—her slender, illustrative hands moving wildly in time with the tenor of her conversation—the more enchanted he grew.

When they reached his house, he glanced at his watch— ten o'clock . He had a crew showing up at eight in the morning. Today had been grueling; he really needed to sleep.

“I've got a new Red Temple CD. Wanna come in for a little while?” he heard himself ask.

“Are you sure? It's getting late,” Robin said, but she had already turned off the car.

Inside, he offered her a beer, and wished he had something a little more sophisticated when she declined. She was standing in the middle of the room as he put the CD in the player, and as a haunting strain of a violin lifted from the speakers, he turned around, intent on making her sit in the one chair he had while he fetched another from the dining room.

But Robin surprised him. Shocked him. Put him back on his heels and floundering like a fish as she came striding forward, slipping into his arms as if she belonged there, tilting her head back and going up on her toes to kiss him.

That kiss knocked him for a loop, sent him reeling, his heart tumbling and pinging off the wall of his chest. Her lips drifted across his like a whisper of silk, tantalizing him. Her arm slipped around his waist, pulling him closer, and she nestled against his chest. With her breasts pressed against him, he could feel the heat of her body and the shot of fire straight to his groin. Mentally, Jake stumbled; he was unaccustomed to being the recipient of bold ardor, always the one to initiate. Her hand was now on his rib cage, moving up, slipping around to his arm, then his neck, until she cupped his face.

Jake recoiled as if he had been burned by fire.

Robin opened her eyes, smiled so seductively that he believed for a split second he might literally collapse to his knees. If she touched him again, just touched him, he feared how he might react, how swiftly he might sweep her into his arms, carry her to his bed.

“What's the matter?” she said in a throaty whisper. “Don't you like it?”

Shit, he liked it all right, liked it so damn much he couldn't find his tongue to tell her to stop.

With her finger, Robin lightly stroked a trail across his lips, then kissed the corner of his mouth, trailing a row of feathery light kisses to his ear. “Don't you want me?” she

whispered, and the dam burst, flooding every part of him, hardening his cock to the point of aching. The rock music was blaring in the background now, creating a white-hot noise to surround them.

There was only one problem—she had invited him to dinner, she had paid for it, and she had driven him around like someone's granny. He'd be damned if she was going to take this from him, too. Jake suddenly grabbed her hands and pushed them behind her back. “You're gonna have to learn that you can't always just take what you want,” he said low.

“What's the matter?” she purred, smiling seductively.

“Sometimes, it's sexy for a woman to be aggressive. But most of the time, its sexier if she just lets herself be a woman. Relax,” he said, returning her smile.

Robin arched a brow. “Another chapter from Confessions of a Neanderthal?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, inhaling her scent. “A chapter from I'm gonna make you scream.”

“Ooh,” Robin said and laughed low, letting her head fall back, exposing the creamy white skin of her neck.

Jake pulled her into his chest and with his mouth, he found her neck, devoured the flesh there before lifting his head so that his lips were against her ear. “I want you,” he said gruffly. “I want you so bad I just might explode.”

She sighed, wrapped her arms around his neck as his lips grazed the curve of her throat. His hands had started a slow ascent up her rib cage; as he drew her earlobe between his teeth, he sought her breasts, finding them, cupping them, rubbing his thumbs across the flimsy fabric of her blouse. He could feel her body seize with his touch, and that only made his desire burn. His hand moved again, to her bottom, kneading it, holding her tightly against his rigid shaft while his tongue dueled wildly with hers.