Something About Joe (10 page)

He wasn’t hanging around to discuss his
family situation. The impulse to kiss her wasn’t getting any easier
to fight.

“
I’ll get
Wendy to call you,” he said, as he picked up his guitar and headed
for the door.

A
llison found it difficult to get
to sleep that night—she couldn’t stop thinking about Joe. Not just
how sexually attractive she found him—but also about how different
his experience of family was to hers. He’d obviously grown up in a
happy, loving family—that’s where he must get his confidence and
strength of character. His parents sounded like wonderful people.
She couldn’t believe what they’d done for his cousin.

If only her own mother had met with such
kindness and acceptance from her family when she’d found herself
pregnant as a teenager. How different Allison’s life might have
been.

No wonder
Joe was such a decent guy himself. A family man. She pushed away
the unbidden vision of Joe kicking a soccer ball around with
Mitchell. Of Joe teaching her son to shoot hoops.

No. No. No
. Joe Martin was
totally wrong for her. And that was apart from the fact that he’d
agreed with her that kissing wasn’t a good idea.

She had to
stop these crazy fantasies. Maybe she needed to start dating again.
Perhaps she was reacting so strongly to Joe because she’d been
without a man for so long—since Peter had moved out because she’d
insisted on keeping the baby.

Going out
with Clive on Friday night was probably a good idea, though she’d
accepted his invitation half-heartedly. He’d said it was to
celebrate her coup. That she deserved to be treated to a night out
for all her hard work. But the way he’d said it, made her sense the
evening out wouldn’t be strictly business.

P
erhaps a date with Clive wasn’t
a bad way to get back into the dating scene. He was reasonably good
looking, intelligent and from her world—he understood only too well
the pressures their business could put on relationships. She’d been
through one divorce; he’d been through two. They spoke the same
language.

Not like Joe
Martin. He was so out of her sphere of experience, she would never
have met him if it hadn’t been for this extraordinary situation
that had forced them into each other’s company.

So why didn’t she give Clive a thought as
she fell into a restless sleep, but rather kept remembering how
wonderful it had felt to be in Joe’s arms?

CHAPTER FIVE

Joe
had to make himself sit on
the sofa in Allison’s living room. Otherwise he knew he’d pace up
and down the room, wearing out the floorboards and getting angrier
by the minute.

It wasn’t
Wendy’s fault
she’d developed a migraine
and couldn’t look after Mitchell for the evening. He wasn’t angry
with her. He was angry with himself for volunteering to step into
the breach and help Allison out. He’d felt responsible because it
was he who had suggested Wendy as a babysitter.

But it had been a mistake. A big mistake.
There was no way he should be here making it easy for Allison to go
out on a date with another man.

He could
hear her footsteps on the wooden floor above as she moved around
her bedroom. He’d already endured the torture of listening to the
shower running and imagining her stepping into it naked. Erotic
thoughts of helping soap her full breasts and around her
deliciously curvy hips had to be forced away from his mind as his
jeans grew uncomfortably tight.

What was she
wearing now? Black lace panties? A garter belt perhaps? Was she, at
this very minute, sensuously sliding silky stockings up and over
her long, elegant legs? He got up and started to pace
again.

Who was this
guy she was getting all dressed up for to go out with tonight?
She’d said it was her boss. But he’d sounded like an utter jerk
when he’d been hassling her on the phone at seven AM that first
day, before that big meeting. He didn’t really care about Allison,
Joe was sure of that. And Allison obviously didn’t have great taste
in men. First that jerk of a husband and now this guy.

His opinion
of her ex-husband, Peter, hadn’t risen when he’d looked for some
music to play this evening. All Allison had was one Norah Jones, a
Michael Buble and a few old Celine Dion CDs. He’d bet her ex had
cleaned her out of everything else. The women rarely scored the
music collection in the divorce settlement. A divorced mother he’d
nannied had told him that was the way it usually worked.

But in spite of that, and everything else,
Allison still had photos of the guy all around the room. It still
gave him the creeps having him staring back at him with those icy,
pale blue eyes wherever he looked. Maybe this time he really would
turn the photos to the wall after she’d gone.

Joe flung
himself on the sofa again. He drummed his fingers impatiently on
the coffee table. Got up, then sat down again. Then got up again
very suddenly as Allison came down the stairs.

She wore a
short black dress that clung to her awesome curves, sheer black
stockings—he knew it, he just knew she’d been sliding them on as
he’d been fantasizing about it—and high-heeled black
shoes.

She’d done
something different with her hair, and it fell loose around her
shoulders in soft, caressing waves. Her eyes were darkened with
more makeup than usual and her mouth was lipsticked glossy,
alluring red. Her perfume wafted across the room to him.

He wanted to march her back up the stairs
and make her put on something shapeless, long and boring. An old
sack, preferably.

He had to clear his throat before he spoke.
“You look beautiful,” he said gruffly.

She smiled her pleasure and her green eyes
glowed. “Thank you.”

Beautiful
was too weak a word to
describe how she looked.
Sensational
.
Stupendous
.
Sexy.
He
couldn’t stop his body from reacting. He wished he had a magazine
or something to hold in front of his jeans.

How could he
bear to see her parade herself in this follow-me-home-and-bed-me
outfit before she went out with another guy?

Old Clive
would be gloating when he clapped eyes on his date for the evening.
Joe’s hands clenched into fists at the thought of it. And yet he
knew he couldn’t offer what she was looking for—commitment and
permanence.

“
I really
appreciate you cancel
ing your band
practice so I can go out,” she said.

Joe looked
somewhere above her head. At the watercolor on the wall. At the
gilt-edged clock. Anything to stop him staring at the enticing
swell of her breasts. “You’re welcome,” he managed to choke out
through a throat dry with desire. “Where are you going?”

“
Dinner.”
She named one of the most fashionable and expensive restaurants in
town. He hadn’t been there. Yet. But when the big bucks started
rolling in from the band, he’d be able to be there and anywhere
else on the A-list he cared to be. If that was how he chose to
spend the money.

“
I have my
cell phone with me if you need to call.” She indicated a glittering
purse that swung from her wrist.

What else was in there? Joe couldn’t help
but wonder. A discreet little foil pack for the after-dinner
entertainment?

He shook his
head to clear the thought. It was completely out of order. For a
divorced woman of thirty-two, she had a surprising air of innocence
about her—in spite of that dress. And look how she’d pushed him
away last night. Somehow he doubted—or wanted to doubt—that sex was
on Allison’s agenda for the evening. Even if Clive was hoping it
was.

The doorbell rang. “He’s here,” she said.
Her hands went to her hair to smooth it into place.

The gesture
hurt him. He didn’t want to see her grooming herself for another
man. He had to stop himself from reaching out and circling her
wrists with his hands, to stop her from making herself looking any
better than she already did.

Joe had been
expecting Clive to be short and round and bald. He wasn’t. He was
about Allison’s height, attractive enough, and well
built.

Her
date’s
eyes gleamed appreciatively when
he saw Allison, and he kissed her on both cheeks as he complimented
her on her appearance.

His
handshake when he was introduced to Joe was firm, and he did a good
job of hiding his surprise when told Joe was the nanny.

Joe drew
himself up to his full height as he shook Clive Henderson’s hand.
He was unreasonably pleased he towered above the older
man.

Clive was
probably about forty, and wore a superbly-tailored suit and an
expensive watch—just the kind of guy you’d expect someone like
Allison Bradley to date. And the new-model Porsche he’d parked
outside the gate only served to accentuate his
suitability.

Instead of hoping that Clive would succumb
to some debilitating, but not fatal, attack that would force him to
cancel the date, Joe knew he should be glad she was dating someone
so suitable.

It wasn’t easy for single mothers to start
dating again. He knew that. They weren’t just looking for a man for
themselves, but also a father for their children.

It was a big
ask of a man. Too big for him. Impossible for him. He couldn’t
offer her that kind of commitment.

Instead he
was Mr. Nice Guy, facilitating her opportunity to date someone like
Clive.

And hating every second of it.

He could sense the air of Allison’s small
hallway filling with testosterone and pheromones and all those
invisible, primal sexual substances that had had men fighting over
women since caveman days.

He saw
Allison shift quizzical green eyes from him to Clive and back
again, sensing something was going on, but not realizing the two
men were sizing each other up.

Not a word
was spoken by either man, but Joe knew that Clive wanted her, and
that Clive knew Joe wanted her.

Very deliberately, Clive put his arm
possessively around Allison as he ushered her down the path. And
Allison, though she looked a little startled, did nothing to shrug
off his arm.

Joe could
hardly wait to slam the door on the sight of their departing backs.
He could smell her perfume lingering in the hallway, heady and
sensuous but still with an appealing freshness—just like Allison
herself.

Never, ever,
in his lifetime had he wished he were another man. Just now he
found himself wishing very hard he could be in Clive Henderson’s
shoes for the night.

A
llison pushed away her empty
coffee cup with a sigh of relief. She and Clive had talked all they
could about their success with the Hong Kong bankers. At last she
could start turning her thoughts homeward. Though that was the
trouble. Her thoughts had been straying homeward all evening. To
Joe.

This was an odd date.

Clive had
been her mentor and friend since she’d started at the bank, and
she’d always been able to speak easily and freely with him. He’d
made no secret of his attraction to her but she’d always dismissed
it with a joke, refusing to take him seriously.

She’d had
dinner with him before but tonight was different. This was a proper
date. Her first date with a man other than Peter since she’d met
Peter six years ago.

She hadn’t consciously set out to become a
born-again virgin since the split with Peter. The reality was more
mundane. The sheer effort of being a full-time working mother of a
very young child hadn’t left her with enough energy to bother with
dating.

Mitchell
still didn’t sleep through every night. She figured she hadn’t had
a proper night’s sleep since he was born.

What she’d
longed for, desired and craved had been sleep—not sex.

Until Joe had come into her life.

Being around him was awakening feelings
she’d thought were dead and buried. In fact, she didn’t think she’d
ever before felt those quivery, shivery tremors of excitement he
aroused in her.

Her plans
for the evening had gone totally haywire when Joe had told her that
he, not his sister Wendy, would be minding Mitchell for the
evening.

Joe had somehow butted in on her date.

She had gone
out with Clive to test whether she could cross the border from
friendship into something else. Why then, as she’d slid on her
silky pantyhose, as she’d slithered into her dress, had she been
thinking—again—of how she wanted to impress Joe?

She had
bought
her dress in a sale months before
but had never had a chance to wear it. It wasn’t the kind of thing
she usually wore, but she’d hoped being black it would be
flattering. And it was—minimizing her tummy while emphasizing her
bust. She felt good in it, desirable for the first time in years,
confident she looked her best.

Her mouth
had been dry with anticipation of Joe’s reaction as she’d come
slowly down the stairs. When he’d said she looked beautiful, her
heart had sung with the stars.

She glanced at her watch.

“Bored?” Clive asked, with a cynical twist
to his mouth.

“
No! Not at
all, I’m having a marvelous time. I...uh...I was just thinking
about Mitchell.”