The Virgin Sex Queen (14 page)

The house was
quiet and a peek through Sam’s open doorway revealed him sound
asleep in what was apparently a typical pose for him - buried under
the sheet, shock of hair on the pillow, one bare leg hanging out,
doona half on the floor from where he’d pushed it to the end of the
bed, and SJ reclining against his thigh and glaring a warning at
Sophie not to disturb his warm human pillow.

Amused, Sophie
went to her room and retrieved the laptop, taking it into the
kitchen and turning it on. Pouring a glass of Diet Coke, she copied
her ideas from her notebook into the Book Ideas folder on the
desktop, then logged onto the internet and downloaded emails.

After updating
her website and blog, which she maintained herself, answering
emails, checking out the groups she belonged to, she spent several
pleasant hours surfing the ‘net, checking out new books and author
friend’s blogs, typing comments and generally relaxing and having
fun.

It was
lunchtime when she finally logged off. Returning the laptop to the
bedroom, she retreated back to the kitchen and looked around. The
house wasn’t messy considering two single blokes lived in it, but
it could still do with a tidy. Working quietly, she dusted, swept
and mopped, her own contribution to staying as Sam’s guest even
though he’d never expect it of her. It was probably going to be a
waste of time considering guests were coming over for a BBQ, but
she could always tidy up again tomorrow.

SJ appeared a
couple of hours later as she contemplated the contents of the open
pantry. This time she got out his own bowl for the cat food and he
thanked her by bumping his head against her leg and nipping her
ankle before eating with gusto.

“Geez.” One
hand against the kitchen bench, she rested her ankle on her
opposite knee and rubbed it. “Rough love or what?”

“All males like
some rough love,” a voice drawled. “You know that.”

Glancing up,
she saw Alan standing in the doorway between the garage and kitchen
holding plastic grocery bags.

Be cool
.
Taking a deep breath, she managed to smile genially at him.
Ignore the pulse, ignore the pulse!
“I didn’t hear you come
in.”

“Too busy
spoiling the cat.” Smiling just as genially, Alan crossed the room
to place the bags on the kitchen bench. Bending down, he ran a
finger over her ankle. “SJ has some whopper fangs, his love bites
can hurt.”

One finger on
her skin and she could swear he left a hot spot on it. Determined
not to crumple in a heap at his feet and beg for more touches -
everywhere - she dropped her foot back on the floor and pushed away
from the bench. “Any more bags in the car?”

“I can handle
it.” He strode across the room. “I am a man, after all.” He flashed
her a grin. “And I bite as hard as SJ.”

Thank God he
seemed to be back to normal, not referring to their unexpected
encounter of the night before, that would have made the evening
awkward and the last thing she wanted was to make things awkward
when Sam and Alan had been nice enough to let her stay with
them.

More
comfortable with the teasing Alan, regardless of the fact that his
little comment had her skin tingling, she smiled back at him. “Do
you bite your suspects?”

“Only a nibble,
anything else is frowned upon.” He walked down the two steps and
disappeared behind the open boot of the car. “Really, Soph, I’ve
got this.”

Coming around
beside him, she leaned in and snagged a couple more grocery bags.
“So have I.”

“I’d forgotten
what a determined chick you can be.” Picking up a carton of light
beer, he hoisted it onto his shoulder before grabbing another
carton of Coke and tucking it under his arm.

Impressive.
Sophie forced her eyes away from the flex of muscles in his arms,
resisting the temptation to ogle the way his uniform shirt
stretched tight across his chest as he balanced the carton on his
shoulder.

Stay on a
safe subject.
She followed him back into the kitchen. Man, he
had a nice arse all right. Nicer than her own. Nobody following her
could ever think her arse was nice and tight. Mentally kicking
herself for thinking it, she said, “Schoolyard memories?
Interesting.”

“Oh come on,
admit it, you’re impressed that I remember those days.”

“I admit I’m
impressed you remember anything apart from chick chasing.”

“I’m impressed
that you remember me and my noble deeds.”

“Noble deeds
behind the gardener’s shed. Very noble.”

Alan headed
back to the car. “Jealous?”

Yeah
.
“Not at all. You always were entertaining.”

His eyes
appeared above the bonnet to spear her with a glance. “Oh, I’m
entertaining even now.” He bent back out of sight.

Hmmm, now was
that a loaded reply or an innocent one? Not about to ponder the
first thought, Sophie slid her hands into the grocery bags’
handles. “Still the class clown?”

“How would you
know that?” He followed her into the kitchen. “You were several
years behind me in school.”

“Your
reputation was well known.”

“Wow.” He
grinned. “I’m a hero!”

Sophie paused
meaningfully. “Sure you were.”

“I was a hero
to many girls. Still am, in fact.” He flexed one bicep. “Man in
uniform, body like a Greek god, what’s not to lust after?”

“Hence the
reason why you’re single with no girlfriend?”

“Even Greek
gods need a rest.” He disappeared back into the garage.

Soberly, Sophie
began unpacking the groceries. Alan could easily get a girlfriend,
he was fun, cute, teasing…sexy. Out of her league. Yeah, right out
of her league. Slim, beautiful women were his style, not passably
pretty, fat ones.

Almost
immediately she scolded herself. “Do not think like that. Don’t.
You’re worth something, Sophie. Be the goddess you are. Be-”

A noise had her
looking up quickly to find Alan closing the door, a carton of Diet
Coke on his shoulder, his quizzical gaze on her. “Everything all
right, Soph?”

“What? Yes, of
course.” How embarrassing! Had he heard her muttering to herself?
Even worse, had he
heard
the words? She returned her
attention to putting the groceries away.

“Soph.” He
appeared suddenly before her, his hands on the bench as he studied
her. “Stop.”

Glancing up,
she smiled politely. “Yes?”

“Are you sure
everything is all right?”

“Why wouldn’t
it be?”

“I just…” He
looked a little lost for words, as though he were searching for the
right way to express them, and she froze, mortified.

Oh no, had he
understood what she was saying to herself? Oh sweet mother mercy,
let a hole open up right now and-

“Because if
anything’s wrong, you know you can tell me, right?” His gaze
pierced her.

“Oh, I-”

“I don’t know
what you were telling yourself, but you looked troubled.”

She almost
deflated with relief. He hadn’t actually heard the words.
Thank
you, God!
Her wide smile was genuine. “Oh hero of the
schoolyard playground, what would I do without you?” When he didn’t
smile but just continued to study her with that intensity that he
apparently could call up at will, she stopped smiling.
“Everything’s fine, Alan. I just give myself a pep talk now and
again.”

“Why?” he asked
bluntly.

Oh right,
because he obviously didn’t have to, he wasn’t a sometimes loser
like herself. Jesus! There she went again, putting herself
down!

Scowling, she
grabbed the lettuce from the bag. “Because I need to sometimes,
that’s why.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m
not perfect, all right?” God, did he have to probe at all her
secrets?

Okay, that
produced an altogether naughty, dirty, downright filthy thought,
but sidetracking aside, why did he have to
pry?

“Why?” Gaze
steady, he looked suddenly older, wiser, so much more than just the
funny Cute Boy Next Door. So much like a man with more grit than
she’d given him credit for, more insight, more determination. A
yummy cop who’d take control, tear away her secrets, a yummy man
who’d bare her soul and more-

Damn him for
making her thoughts take a dive into the gutter. Again. And so
damned easily.

Angry at
herself for letting her over-active imagination and obviously
heretofore unknown late twenties crush tap at her senses, she
almost threw the lettuce into the crisper. “Leave it, Alan.”

Ignoring all
signs of her temper rising, he merely asked quietly, “What’s the
problem?”

“You!”

“Why?”

“Geez, is that
the only word you know?”

“I’m just
trying to help.”

“I don’t need
help.” Taking a deep breath, she laid one hand on the bench and
rubbed her eyes with the other hand. “I just talk to myself now and
again, okay? It’s no big deal.” When he remained quiet, she slid a
sideways glance at him to find him watching her unwaveringly. “I’m
warning you, Alan, if you don’t want to be picking bits of this
tomato out of your hair, you’ll leave the subject alone.”

His eyebrows
rose slightly, then he nodded. “Okay.”

She breathed
out a sigh of relief.

“For now.” He
pushed away from the bench.

Sophie swung
around, but he strode to the doorway and out before she had time to
verbally shoot him down. Hands on hips, she blew a puff of air
upwards, dislodging the stray tendril of hair that had escaped her
ponytail to flop over her forehead.

“By the way.”
Alan’s head popped back around the corner. “You might want to keep
that temper under control while Sam’s asleep.”

Her hands
fisted. “My temper?”

“Yeah. It’s not
that time of the month, is it?” He nodded. “Okay, that might be
it.”

It was a good
thing he was wise enough to disappear right then, because she was
annoyed enough to rip his cute head off and shove it up his nice,
tight arse.

Shaking her
head, she looked over the groceries. The drinks she unpacked and
placed in the little ‘fridge that Sam kept all his drinks in and
the rest of the groceries she put away. Hands on hips, she thought
about the night ahead and Sam’s idea of just slicing salad veggies
and bunging them on a plate. Men. Time to be a bit more
creative.

Within the hour
she had pasta salad, rice salad, coleslaw and a garden salad in the
‘fridge. Alan had bought two Pavlovas along with a can of whipped
cream and a hunt through the pantry had produced a tin of
passionfruit. Along with the bananas and strawberries he’d bought,
presumably for the Pavlovas, they’d make a lovely topping. But that
could only be done just prior to serving or the bananas risked
going brown and the cream - she shook her head. The canned cream
would deflate of air. The silly nong should have bought a container
of whipping cream instead, but now last minute prep was called for,
however, she could still slice the strawberries and put them in a
bowl.

She was
chopping the strawberries when Sam came in yawning and rubbing his
hands through his hair, his cargo shorts wrinkled from being pulled
out of the drawer and his chest bare.

Ambling over to
the ‘fridge, he opened it, peering in, his eyes widening. “Soph,
did you do all this?”

“Just my
contribution,” she replied.

“Wow.” Reaching
out, he filched a pasta shell from the pasta dish and ate it. “Yum.
I’ll just have some and check its all tasting fine-”

“Touch it on
pain of knuckle rapping.”

“Just a little,
Soph?” he wheedled. “I’m hungry.” He turned a pathetic expression
towards her. “Worked my arse off all night in the A & E, saving
lives…”

She rolled her
eyes. “Fine. But only a little.”

“Right.”
Straightening, he got a plate and returned to the ‘fridge, opening
the door wide while spooning a bit of everything onto his plate.
“Have to taste everything though, I’d be a bad host if I didn’t do
a taste test first.”

Alan strolled
through the doorway, hair damp and flopping everywhere, similar
cargo shorts to Sam’s and just as wrinkled, feet bare, chest bare,
and the scent of his soap wafting through the air to tease her
senses. Even worse, his shorts rode low on his hips and he had the
best set of abs ever, the muscle running down each side into his
shorts and - sweet mother mercy.
Think Pavlovas! Think
Pavlovas!
Only that was worse, because that made her think of
cream, and that made her think of licking cream, and that made her
think of licking cream from his -
Think lemons! Think lemons!
Speeding tickets! Ye gods!

Looking away
hurriedly, Sophie’s gaze swung between one half naked male to the
other. It was a sudden testosterone overload in the kitchen, one to
make any normal woman’s mouth water and mind go into overdrive, but
there was only one male who attracted her like that. Sure, she
could appreciate Sam’s body as a healthy, muscular specimen, but
that was all. Alan’s body however - holy cow, she wanted to lick
him like a lollypop and plaster herself against all that yummy, hot
skin like a bee to honey.

Tearing her
gaze from Alan, she forced herself to look down at the strawberries
she was chopping. Picking up another, she sought for a conversation
starter, anything to get her mind off the luscious bod leaning
against the bench not far from her.

“Any ideas
about this?” She picked up the spray can of cream.

Sam looked up
from the plate. “What?”

“This.” She
waggled it. “It’s to go with the Pavlovas and fruit, right?”
Risking a glance at Alan of the luscious bod, she was surprised to
see him staring at the spray can. “Spray cream. You bought it,
right?”

“Yes,” he
croaked.

“You all
right?” When he simply stared, she picked up one of the
strawberries and waved it at him. “Strawberries and cream? You
know?”