Under Her Skin

“That’s different. Your mother is probably nice.”

“She’s a lot of things. You can discover each and every one of them when you meet her at lunch.”

Suddenly the diamond ring on her left hand felt very heavy. Lexi sighed. “I’ll have to check my schedule.”

“You do that. And you have less than four days left to move in.” His dark eyes gave nothing away. “Until Saturday night.”

“You’re very anxious to claim what’s yours.”

One corner of his mouth turned up. “I know.”

She wanted to tell him she needed more time. That while she could easily move into his house, she wasn’t ready to be in his bed. They were practically strangers. They couldn’t sleep together. Except they’d been strangers that first night and it hadn’t mattered at all.

“I’ll be there,” she murmured. “A friend is helping me move.”

“What kind of friend?”

She rolled her eyes. “Her name is Dana and she’s a deputy, so don’t piss her off or she’ll arrest you.” She put her hands on her hips. “I said I wasn’t seeing anyone and I’m not. I wouldn’t lie about that.” Besides, why would he care? Or was it a guy-pride thing?

“I believe you.”

“Obviously not, if you’re asking all those questions.”

He touched her cheek. “You have a temper. I like that.”

“Then you’ll be a very happy man. I’m a pretty crabby person.”

That made him laugh. “I doubt that, querida.”

He leaned in and kissed her. Just once, for a heartbeat. Then he straightened and pressed a set of keys into her hand. “For your car.”

She watched him walk away.

Not sure what to make of any of it, she got back in the car and started the engine. It sounded good—as if someone had taken care of it. Probably Cruz’s housekeeper, she thought grimly. Although the woman had apparently been incredibly clean. There wasn’t a mark on it and no sign of—

Her gaze fell on the odometer. The car had only been a few months old when she’d lost it to Cruz. She’d driven to California and back with her girlfriends, then to college and home a few times. She didn’t remember the exact mileage, but it had to have been under ten thousand miles.

The odometer read 8962.

There was no way someone had been using this car, she thought, beyond confused. But it had been kept in good working condition. Had Cruz really kept her car all this time? It was the only answer that made sense, except it didn’t make sense at all. Why would he do that? He could have sold it and made thirty or forty thousand, easy. Maybe more. If he hadn’t wanted the car, why had he raced her in the first place? And why was he returning the car to her now?

CHAPTER FOUR

CRUZ SHOWED UP AT Lexi’s condo Saturday morning with coffee and half a dozen boxes. He told himself he was there to help, and possibly to make sure she was going to be moving in with him. Despite the announcement in the newspapers, he wouldn’t believe she was really his until he saw her in his bed.

The complex was small, with only a couple dozen units, all two or three stories, some with a small yard in back. Lexi’s was on the end. He parked in front, then carried the coffee and boxes to the front door.

She answered almost immediately, then stared at the flat boxes he held.

“Not that you don’t trust me,” she said, stepping back to let him in.

“You can never have too many boxes.”

He stepped into the open space and had a brief impression of pale colors and plenty of light. But most of his attention was on Lexi herself.

She wore jeans and a T-shirt. Her feet were bare, as was her face, but considering it was early on a Saturday morning, that shouldn’t be a surprise. Still, there was something compelling about her. She looked scrubbed clean and impossibly sexy.

She eyed the coffee. “Is that for me?”

“A skinny latte,” he said. “I didn’t know what you liked.”

“Close enough.” She took it from him and sipped, then sighed. “Oh, yeah. Now I’m functional. You’re up early.”

“So are you.”

“But I live here, so it was less effort. Come on in.”

She led the way into a large living room. There were a couple of paintings on the wall, a few pieces of art glass, magazines on the coffee table and a to-do list scrawled on a pad left on the floor.

Lexi was everywhere. In the subtle print on the sofa to the abandoned high-heels by a club chair. Two Thomas McKnight watercolors flanked the small fireplace.

“No ruffles?” he asked.

She laughed. “I’m not that girly. At least not in public. You should see the bedroom. Plenty of lace and satin there.”

The words seemed to hang in the air. He thought about her bedroom, or more specifically, her bed. What it looked like, what it would feel like. Who else had been there with her and had he been able to please her? Which made Cruz think of the night he and Lexi had been together. Everything had been perfect—better than perfect—until he’d found out she was a virgin. Why had she wanted him to be her first time?

The question had always bothered him, but it was nothing compared with the heat of need that flared up inside of him.

“Did you, ah, bring any packing tape for those boxes?” she asked in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

“It’s in the car.”

“Good. Good.” She looked at him, then away. “Did I thank you for the coffee?”

She must feel the tension, too. Sexual awareness sparked whenever they were in the same room. Lurking…taunting…promising. He only knew one way to make it go away.

He moved toward her. She took a step back. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed. He could see how quickly she was breathing. Then she was standing still and he was next to her. He reached for her.

She ducked and spun away. “Are you hungry? I’m starving. Have you had breakfast? There are a couple of great places in town. Come on. I’ll show you. We don’t even have to take the car. That’s one of the nice things about living in Titanville. It’s like a little village. Everything is so close together.”

She hurried past him.

He could have caught her and drawn her to him. He could have held her and kissed her and made her want to surrender. But he didn’t. There would be plenty of time for that when she moved in to his place. Plenty of time to take her slowly, patiently, easing her over the edge so that she had no choice but to fall. In six months he would let Lexi go, but until then he would own every part of her.

She paused to slip on shoes, grab her purse, then they were out in the cool morning and walking the two blocks to the main part of town.

“My great-great-grandfather was a known gambler and womanizer,” she said, speaking quickly and keeping at least a foot between them. “He was good at both, constantly winning at cards and bedding any lady he chose, including the mayor’s wife and the preacher’s sister. More than one school teacher left in disgrace, pregnant and unmarried. Shifty gamblers came in from all over to challenge him to a game or two of poker. When he won again and again, they accused him of cheating. Fights broke out. It was a disaster for everyone who wasn’t him. The townspeople couldn’t tell him to leave. He owned more land than anyone around, but his way of life was ruining theirs. So they had a meeting and asked him what it would take to get him to settle down. To give up the cards and limit his womanizing ways to trips out of town.”