Need You for Always (Heroes of St. Helena) (27 page)

“What’s wrong with my outfit?”

“You look like a yellow crayon who stepped in grape juice.”

She looked at him in disbelief, then outrage. “I do not! That dress revealed more secrets than Victoria’s new catalog.”

He held up the dress and she grimaced. “Secrets or not, the only thing you’re going to attract with this dress is honeybees, not a hookup.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not looking for a hookup,” she mumbled, snatching her dress back. And because he already knew that, just like he knew one more frustrated huff would have her popping right out of that bra, he let her take it. Even turned his back when she slipped it back on. Because getting a boner for Pollyanna wasn’t a smart move.

“But if I were . . .” she said so quietly he turned back around. She was once again in the yellow jumper, zipped up to her sternum, and fiddling with the little silver heart charm dangling from her necklace. “Are you saying I have to change how I look to get a guy?”

“No.” He actually liked the crazy cutie exactly like she was. Her blinding fashion sense was loud, quirky, and kind of adorable. Except, he remembered, those of the adorable-crazy-cuties variety tended to want more than he was willing to give. So he checked himself, then gave a silent lecture that she wasn’t asking about
his
preferences, but Dr. Dildo’s. “However, if you want
that
guy with the kid, then yeah, you got to up your game.”

She looked so incredibly confused he reached for the front zipper of her dress to show her.

She smacked his hand away. “Hey.”

“You asked for my help, so let me help,” he said, grabbing a red belt off the silk robe and tying it around her waist, cinching it in and showcasing her flat stomach. When she no longer looked like a chewing gum wrapper, he tugged the zipper south, far enough that the collar of the dress opened and slid down one arm.

Her shoulder was now exposed as well as a nice hint of her Copacabanas. “You need new lipstick.”

“My lipstick is not the problem. This is the third color I tried this month and the saleslady at the drugstore said it is the perfect shade.”

“First problem with what you said was drugstore, since we both know that the saleslady in question is Mrs. Peters, who hasn’t changed lip color since Carter left office.” He undid her hair, which was held up by a chopstick. Not a decorative one, but a wooden one from the takeout place down the street.

“My curls are out of control, I wouldn’t do that,” she said, her hands coming up to her head. He intercepted them mid–helmet pose and set them back at her sides, squeezing her wrists so she knew to leave them there. And miracle of miracles, she actually listened.

“You have slept-in bed waves, not curls,” he corrected and,
yup
, one pull and all of those melted-chocolate waves came tumbling down to her midback.
Like walking sex
, he thought. “Back to the lipstick. Are you really wearing pink with glossy shine and glitter?”

She shifted on her feet. “So?”

“So it’s a problem.” He handed her a tissue and waited while she wiped it off. Then he put his fingers in her hair and gave it a little shake and stepped back to study his work. “Better. But still missing something.”

“Wow, you sure know how to sweet-talk a woman,” she mumbled, and that’s when he realized what it was. Sunshine was looking self-conscious, which he’d never seen before. She usually marched to her own beat and flashed those pearly whites at anyone who looked at her strangely—her version of flashing the bird. Only good-girl style. But right then, standing there looking bed rumpled and sexy as hell, she was uncomfortable.

So Adam did the only thing he knew would work. Okay, the second thing, since what he wanted to do wouldn’t be appropriate—she wasn’t looking for a hookup. So he slid his fingers deeper into her hair and kissed her.

And
holy shit
, Harper Owens with her warm smile and rainbow dreams might look like the kind of girl one would bring home to Sunday dinner at the parents’, but she kissed like she’d rock your world on the car ride over.

And back.

She made a soft little mewling sound that drove him crazy, because it was half-surprised and wholly aroused. Without warning, she pulled his lower lip with her teeth, sucked on it for a good minute, and he manned up in the most embarrassing way. But then her hands were on him, threading through his hair, playing with the ends at the back of his neck, and he forgot what the problem was.

Forgot why crazy cuties were a bad idea.

“Adam?” she purred, and he started walking backward into the dressing room when he realized she wasn’t moving with him. She also wasn’t kissing him anymore. In fact, she looked all prickly.

“Adam?” a sultry voice teased from the other room. “Where are you?”

Harper cleared her throat and took a step back. A big step back. “He’s out here, Baby.”

Four things hit Adam simultaneously. First, he’d come here tonight with the stacked blonde he’d met at the bar for a private lingerie show and a fun game of Spin the Spinner. Second, he’d almost had sex with a girl named Baby. And third, he’d just made out with the weird art teacher—and he’d liked it.

Hell, based on the tent in his pants and the way he was gasping for breath, he’d more than liked it. His lips still tasted like some kind of fruity umbrella drink, and he wanted another sip.

Which brought him to the last revelation of the night. Harper Owens was a closeted hottie. And if she’d disliked him before, which he could only assume since she’d never looked twice at him until tonight, then she’d hate him now.

Her hair was magically back up in its messy twist, her dress was zipped to the neck, and she was shooting glares frosty enough to cryogenically freeze his nuts for decades to come.

“Oh, hey, Harper,” Baby said, stopping at the entry to the dressing room. She was in stripper heels, fishnets, and three leather straps that strategically crisscrossed her body. Her hair was ratted, her lips ruby red, and she should have had him revving to go. Only Adam was too busy watching Harper. “What are you doing here?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

about the author

PHOTO
©
TOSH TANAKA

Marina Adair is a #1 national bestselling author of romance novels. Along with the St. Helena Vineyard series, she is also the author of
Sugar’s Twice as Sweet
, part of the Sugar, Georgia series. She lives with her husband, daughter, and two neurotic cats in Northern California. She loves to hear from readers and likes to keep in touch, so be sure to sign up for her newsletter at
www.marinaadair.com/newsletter
.