Tempting Meredith (8 page)

Chapter Six

Meredith eased out from under Charlie’s arm before he was fully awake. It took him a few minutes to realize she wasn’t making a quick trip to the bathroom. He rolled out of bed and followed the rustle of her movements. The lamp was still on in the living room, and she was dressing. She’d put on her panties and the green shirt with those sexy thin straps and was bent over her jeans. The woman had a damn fine ass. Substantial enough for a man to sink his hands into. Not like those bony, skinny-assed models.

“What’s up?”

She startled but didn’t stop what she was doing, didn’t look at him, just hid that beautiful ass with denim. “I need to go home.”

“It’s three in the morning. I thought you were staying for breakfast.” Well, didn’t that sound whiny?

“Thanks for the offer, but I teach a nine o’clock class. Sorry. I should have mentioned it earlier.”

“I can get you out of here in time.”

“That’s thoughtful. Really. But I need to shower and change clothes.”

It was more than that, but he wouldn’t force the issue. They could work up to spending the night. Sleeping together required a different kind of trust and intimacy than sex. Meredith wasn’t there yet. He was kinda surprised
he
was. Was he that homesick? That desperate for someone to talk to over breakfast? “Okay. Hang on. I’ll get dressed.”

“Don’t worry about it. Go on back to bed. I can let myself out.”

Was she kidding? “I’m not going back to bed. I’m following you home.”

“Don’t be silly. I know the way.”

“It’s late.” He shook his head trying to clear the cobwebs. “Or early. Either way, it’s not the best time for a woman to be out alone. I wanna make sure you get home safely.”

“I can take care of myself. Remember, I have a gun.”

Why was it people thought merely owning a gun would keep them safe? She’d shot it for the first time a few days ago. She might be good with it on the firing line, but when it came to using it against a person or even an animal, he suspected she’d freeze or fumble it. Most people did. “Locked up in the trunk. You gonna have the guy wait while you get it out, load it
and
change out of those sexy heels?”

“I’ll lock the car doors. I’ll be fine.”

“Take your pick. You can come back to bed, sleep a few more hours, then head home when it’s light without me on your tail, or you can leave now with a shadow.”

She stood in a cloud of curly blond hair framing big blue eyes. Very pretty. But she was definitely pissed. The tight line of her pink lips and her clenched hands clued him in, not to mention the blue fire in those eyes.

Tough. His parents and grandparents had raised a gentleman, and a gentleman didn’t let a date wander the streets alone at this hour. He could almost see the wheels spinning in her head as she tried to figure out how to leave without him. It was hopeless, but he’d let her come to that conclusion on her own. Granted, she was smart enough to come up with all kinds of arguments, but he was determined. No way was she talking him out of this.

“Charlie, come on. This is ridiculous. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was sixteen.”

Did that mean she hadn’t lived with her parents those first two years of college? That kind of bothered him. Still, he tried not to judge. Maybe she’d been as mature as she was smart. He smiled his most charming smile. “I get that, and I respect it. But if something happened to you, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I won’t invite myself in if that’s what’s worrying you.”

She rolled her eyes, then plucked her shirt off the floor and yanked it over her head.

He picked up his own shirt and shoved his arms into the sleeves then started for the bedroom to get his jeans and shoes. At the door separating the bedroom from the living room, he faced her again and said, “Don’t walk out that door without me. Got it?”

“You’re serious. You’re really going to follow me home.”

“Serious as a tick on a dog.”

Her lips quirked, fighting a smile. Yeah, the country boy colloquialisms worked every time. In the end, she sighed. “Fine. I’ll wait until it’s light. But I’m not happy about it.” She sat on the sofa and crossed her arms over her chest.

“You gonna sit here until the sun comes up?”

“That’s the plan.”

Good God, the woman took stubborn to a whole new level. He thought about joining her, but she was dressed except for her shoes, and he was only wearing his shirt. He trudged back to his room, found his jeans and pulled them on. Then he returned to the living room and plopped on the couch beside her. He picked up the remote off the end table. “You wanna watch something?”

“Sure.”

He turned on the TV and started flipping through channels. Infomercials, news. He found a war movie. She probably wouldn’t like it, but there was nothing else. Even with the boom of canons and the rat-a-tat-tat of guns, his eyelids drooped. His head bobbed, jerking him awake. He glanced at Meredith, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as his mother used to say. He fought back a groan. He just wanted to stretch out and sleep. But that wasn’t an option. She might sneak out. Unless...

He toppled over on his side and rested his head in her lap. She wasn’t going anywhere—not without him knowing about it. Satisfied with his solution, he slept.

When he woke up, his face was tucked against Meredith’s thighs, his arms wrapped around them. He lifted his head. Light filtered through the beige aluminum mini-blinds behind the sofa, and the TV was still on. Meredith was stretched out on the couch beside him, her face enticingly close to his crotch, sixty-nine. They hadn’t visited that position last night. Something to look forward to. But not this morning.

It was about six. He had no doubt that as soon as she woke up, she’d shoot out of here. Maybe the scent of food would tempt her into staying for breakfast. If he could get off the couch without waking her.

He scooted backward and, bracing a hand and foot on the floor, eased away from her. Holding his breath, he watched her, praying she didn’t wake up. She curled up tighter but that was it. He lifted the afghan off the back of the couch and carefully draped it over her. Padding on bare feet, he made his way into the kitchen. He started the coffee first then mixed the pancake batter so it’d be ready to pour. Nothing better than pancakes right off the griddle. He hoped she wasn’t one of those no-carb people. He put some butter in a glass measuring cup to melt in the microwave. With nothing left to do, he went outside through the kitchen door and around to the front to fetch the newspaper. When he returned to the kitchen, she was standing bleary-eyed at the bar that separated the kitchen from the den. His heart skipped a beat, and he couldn’t hold back a big shit-eating grin.

He tossed the newspaper on the bar. “What do you take in your coffee?”

“Sugar. Real sugar,” she snapped. “None of that fake crap.”

Ouch. Not a morning person. Or maybe she was just pissed at him. Could be lack of sleep, too. Neither one of them had gotten much last night. If he hadn’t been so happy to have her here, he might be a tad grumpy, too.

He poured a big cup and set it on the bar with a teaspoon and a small bag of sugar. “You like pancakes?” he asked.

She perched on the barstool. “Yes, I’m starving.”

Her answer surprised him, leaving him off kilter. Despite his cautious optimism in whipping up the batter, he’d expected her to tell him not to bother. Figuring she’d bolt any minute, he kept an eye on her as he heated the griddle. He wouldn’t follow her home. It was light out, and daylight had been his only condition. But it sure would be nice if she stayed for breakfast.

After stirring sugar into her coffee, she picked up the paper, slipped off the rubber band and unfolded it. He wanted to talk, to ask about her family and her work, her life, but he was afraid she’d hightail it home if he reminded her of his presence. So he didn’t say anything until the pancakes were on the bar and she’d poured melted butter and syrup over hers.

“You’re a pretty big deal in your field,” he said.

She swallowed her pancakes and sipped her coffee before answering. “You looked me up online.”

“I asked Darrell.”

She continued eating.

“I hope that doesn’t get him in any trouble.”

“Why would it? But you’d have learned more online.”

“There are just some things a computer can’t tell you.”

“Such as?”

“If your students like you.”

She grimaced, as if he’d touched a nerve, then cleared her throat. “Actually, there are websites where students rate and comment on professors.”

“Human nature being what it is, I suspect that students with negative feedback post more.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never checked them. We give students a survey at the end of the semester and ask that they fill them out anonymously. That gives me a more complete data set.”

“I didn’t figure you for a tattoo person. Nice ink,” he said, referring to the dandelion he’d seen on her stomach, its delicate seeds floating across her hip as if a child had just pursed her lips and blown. It seemed so unlike her. At least the part of her she showed the world. The tat was fun, childlike, carefree. Meredith, well, Meredith wasn’t.

She stiffened. “Thanks.”

“Any significance?”

“No.”

Bullshit
. But he didn’t confront her. He let her eat a few more bites before he spoke again. “Tell me about your family.”

“Why?”

Mary, Mary quite contrary. “Just making conversation.”

“Tell me about yours.”

“Okay. My parents are retired. No brothers or sisters.”

“They live around here?”

“They’re outside of Junction.”

“But you went to school here?”

“I lived with my grandparents during the school year.” He paused, a little choked up. The grief of losing them three years ago had been like what he imagined most people experienced when their parents died. “Mom and Dad thought I’d get a better education in a larger district.”

“Did you?”

“Probably.” He wondered how his next admission would hit her. After all, she’d earned three degrees, including a Ph.D, and had done it in record time. “My parents were disappointed when I dropped out of college after the first year.”

She shrugged and said matter-of-factly, “At least they cared.”

“Yours didn’t?” When she didn’t answer, he said, “Of course they did. You couldn’t have gone to college early if they hadn’t.”

“I can be stubborn.”

He twisted his back, trying to work out the kinks from sleeping on the sofa, proof of her stubbornness. “Nah. Really?” She’d finished off her pancakes and was eyeing the stack in the middle of the table. Good to know she had an appetite this morning. She’d barely touched her dinner last night. Maybe taking her to hang out with his friends hadn’t been the best idea. But once they’d started playing pool, she’d seemed to enjoy herself.

He loaded his plate with three more pancakes and doctored them up, hoping she’d do the same. Instead, after he’d taken his first bite, she reached across the table with her fork as if she was going to stab a bite of his stack, but she stopped suddenly and placed her fork on her plate.

She scooted her chair back and said, “I need to get home. Thanks for breakfast.”

He swiveled on the stool and watched her put on her shoes. “Can we go out tonight? Someplace quieter. I’m sorry about all the interruptions last night. I didn’t think we’d be the main attraction at dinner.”

She grabbed her purse and headed for the door, speaking over her shoulder, but he didn’t miss the shadow of sorrow on her face. It bothered him, tempered his mood. “Sorry. I can’t.”

He tried another tack. “Okay, pick a day.”

She fumbled with the lock on the front door. “It’s a bad week. We’re preparing for finals.”

He chuckled and placed his hand over hers, unlocking the dead bolt. “Why is it bad for
you?
You’re the prof.”

“Last-minute tutoring. Kids tend to panic right about now.”

He supposed that was a reasonable excuse, although it sounded funny coming from someone who looked younger than the “kids” she taught. She tried to open the door, but he pressed his palm against it and crowded her.

“Dinner Friday evening. The kids’ll be kegging.”

“It’s not a good time for me. I’m up for tenure.”

Not so reasonable. Yeah, tenure was a big deal, but surely she had time for a social life. He turned her toward him and searched her face for a clue. He couldn’t find one. Nothing. She was a blank slate. Except for that sadness. And he was fairly certain he hadn’t caused it.

He lifted a hunk of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers. “I’m not dropping this unless you give me a good reason.”

“Did you bring scissors?”

“Huh?”

“If you didn’t bring scissors, you’ll have to drop it. I’m not leaving without my hair. All of it.”

Ah. A sense of humor. Kind of. He released her hair and slid his hand underneath until he spanned her nape. Slowly, so he didn’t startle or threaten her, he touched his lips to the corner or her mouth. She smelled good. No cloying, overpowering perfume. Just sweet woman. As sweet as her lips stirring hesitantly against his. Her fingers gripped his waist, and her keys dug into his side. She wasn’t pushing him away but reeling him in. It gave him hope. She might be running, but not because she wasn’t interested. He’d kissed enough women who weren’t into him to know when someone was. He lifted his head. Stepping back, he was gratified to see the lack of focus in her eyes.

“You don’t understand,” she said in a hushed voice.

“Then explain it to me.”

She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again they were uncertain, her expression vulnerable, which did all kinds of weird things to his heart. “I could be wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time. But I have the impression you’re looking for more out of this than I am. It’s not you. I’m not ready to get involved with anyone.”

“Then it’s not work.”

“No. It’s the emotional attachment. I’m only interested in a hookup. You seem to want more.”

“So if I can be satisfied with a quick fuck, you’re in.”

Her expression grew leery. “Possibly.”