Good with His Hands

There was the slightest note of shyness in her invitation, which he found endearing. It was difficult to imagine such a forthright, sensual woman feeling bashful. But forthright didn’t mean invulnerable. He recalled the flash of emotion in her gaze when she’d confessed that her ex-fiancé had eloped with someone else.

“I would love to join you, assuming I can still move.” He wiggled his toes experimentally.

She unfolded herself from their tangle of limbs, raising her arms over her head and stretching her spine. Then she stood, grinning over her shoulder. “I’ll try to save you some hot water, but I can’t make any promises. It doesn’t last long.”

Watching her stroll across the room, her nude body outlined by the illumination coming through the window, helped him rediscover his energy.

She’d left her bedroom dark as she passed through, but light spilled from the bathroom. It was pretty basic—navy towels that matched small area rugs and a clear shower curtain imprinted with dark blue swirls. With the exception of the curling iron and cosmetics on the counter, he wouldn’t have guessed the room belonged to a woman. His ex had fancy soaps no one was allowed to use, lace-edged washcloths and scented candles on a shelf above her tub. She’d also favored lots of sweet-smelling potpourri; visiting her apartment was like being trapped inside a raspberry. Dani didn’t need pastel throw pillows or ruffled curtains to highlight her femininity—it was stamped on every curve of her body, from her lush lips to the graceful arch of her foot.

Standing beneath the spray of water, she smiled at him through the translucent curtain. “Here to wash my back?”

“Something like that.” He stepped over the side of the tub, joining her.

Squeezing into the narrow bathtub was like cuddling on the couch all over again—crowded, yet not uncomfortable. He liked being here with her. Too bad you won’t be with her much longer. The thought was a dark whisper in his mind, an unpleasant reminder that their time was limited. When he told her the truth tomorrow...

“Here.” He reached for the shampoo bottle she held. “Let me.” He squeezed some of the citrusy shampoo into his palm and worked it into a lather.

With the water temporarily taming her curls, her hair hung even longer than it had dry. He took his time, massaging her scalp, working the shampoo through each strand, enjoying her soft mmm of contentment. She was gratifyingly vocal, making it easy for a guy to tell when he was doing something right.

After he’d finished with both the shampoo and conditioner, she turned in his arms, snuggling against him as she dotted kisses along his collarbone. “That felt good. I can’t remember the last time I was this relaxed.”

“What can I say? Making you feel good is addictive.” He tipped her chin up with his finger and kissed her. With their earlier urgency somewhat mellowed, this kiss was slow and leisurely. The sex had been incredible but, in retrospect, he wished he’d taken more time to explore her body, to find all the secret places that made her moan and writhe.

He straightened abruptly, reaching for the bottle of body oil on the shower shelf. “You know, you should never underestimate the importance of moisturizing.” He started to pour the liquid into his palm, then changed his mind, drizzling it directly across her shoulders and chest.

Her earlier lassitude was gone, her dreamy expression replaced by an eager gleam in her gaze. How was it possible for someone’s eyes to be so dark and so bright at the same time? He rubbed the satiny oil in lazy circles across her skin. When he caressed the undersides of her breasts, her head fell back, lips parted on a noiseless sigh.

He brushed a thumb over one taut peak. “I didn’t get the chance, earlier, to taste you here.” An oversight he meant to correct immediately. He bent his head, swirling his tongue around her nipple, then sucking hard.

She made a sound low in her throat that reverberated off the tile walls. If it weren’t for his realization that the water pelting his skin was turning increasingly cool, he could happily stay here for hours. Reluctantly, he let her go.

“You weren’t kidding about the short-lived hot water,” he complained. “If we don’t get out of here, we’re going to turn into popsicles.”

“Told you,” she said ruefully. As she drew back the shower curtain, she added, “It’s probably just as well. I’m starting to get light-headed from hunger. Not that I was thinking about food while you were... With your mouth on me, I can’t think at all.”

“We’ll have to test that theory later. There are other places I still haven’t had the chance to kiss you,” he drawled, his voice full of wicked intent.

She stilled, her eyes wide and her cheeks rosy with color. It took considerable willpower not to scoop her up and carry her to the bed in the next room. But then she blinked, shaking off her reverie and grabbing an oversize blue towel. She handed him a matching one.

Wrapping herself in terry cloth, she tucked in the corner so that it formed a mini-dress. “I really am starving. Three beers and a handful of chips does not a dinner make.”

“You sure?” He secured his own towel around his waist. “I have a number of buddies who would consider that fine dining.”

“I just hope I have actual groceries. I put in what feels like a hundred hours of work this week.”

Including going to the office on a Saturday. “Are you always so driven, or were you going out of your way to stay busy?” he asked tactfully. The days leading up to the aborted wedding must have been tough.

“Both. My colleagues call me ambitious.”

He managed not to wince at the word. Once she knew more about him, would she share his ex’s opinion—that Sean was going nowhere simply because he didn’t wear expensive suits to work? He was currently the lead builder on a new phase of a luxury subdivision. He’d worked before in brick and concrete neighborhoods where every house looked alike and the only landscaping attention was given to the token shrubbery surrounding the pool area and private tennis courts. This subdivision, on the other hand, had personality in addition to the community pool and clubhouse. Flowering magnolia and dogwood trees offered shade and color in generous-size yards; stately pines marched along property lines. It struck him as the kind of dream neighborhood his parents would have loved to raise him and Bryce in, had they ever been able to afford it.

“I’ve always been goal oriented,” Dani continued as she flipped on her bedroom light. “And I don’t mind busting my ass to meet those goals.” She shot him a grin. “But I try not to let it make me stuffy.”

“Definitely not the word I would use to describe you.”

Her apartment was so small there was no hallway. The living room sat in the center, with a kitchen and bedroom at either end. Now that there were more lights on, he was getting his first real look at the place. A flat-screen television hung on the wall, above a shelf of DVDs. Most of the titles he glimpsed were action movies.

“You bowl?” he asked, spotting a turquoise bowling bag in the corner.

“It used to be a weekly tradition for me and my dad. He gave me a ball for my birthday a few years back, but it’s been a while.”

“That him?” Sean asked, noting the framed eight-by-ten on a small end table. It looked pretty recent. Sean knew the stern-jawed man with silver hair was her father even before she nodded. The man had the same dark eyes as his daughter—and the same air of determination.

“Yep, that’s the Major,” she said, affectionate pride in her voice.

In the kitchen, a couple more photos were stuck to the refrigerator with pizza delivery magnets. One was a shot of Dani in a tank top and sunglasses, a runner’s number pinned to her shirt.

“Last year’s Peachtree Road Race,” she said, following his gaze. “The other one’s me and my friend Meg.”

The two women sat on the deck of a boat, crossing their eyes comically and raising bottles of beer.

“She barely looks old enough to drink,” he commented. “Or...I don’t know.” It wasn’t that the pretty woman literally looked underage. It was more a sense of innocence and youthful merriment. Strawberry-blond ringlets framed a cherubic face with a button nose, a smattering of freckles and a sweet smile. “If I had to guess, I’d say she either teaches kindergarten or directs a church choir. Maybe both.”

“She owns a high-end lingerie store and sells the occasional sex toy at private parties.”

While he absorbed that bombshell, Dani added, “I actually need to send her a quick text to let her know I, uh, got home okay. Excuse me for a sec?” She retrieved her cell phone from the purse she’d dropped as soon as they entered the apartment.

Sean continued his informal study of her place. Her personal mementos seemed limited to the three pictures he’d seen. Because she wasn’t overly sentimental, or because she’d removed any keepsakes that included her ex? Sean had an irrational urge to punch the unknown former fiancé in the nose. He hated the idea of any guy hurting her.

“Okay. Food,” Dani said decisively. She swung open the refrigerator door, frowned at the array of takeout containers, then checked the freezer.

Watching over her shoulder, Sean laughed. “Takeout food, beer and pizzas? You have the body of a swimsuit model, but the refrigerator of a frat house.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and I suppose your fridge is full of kale and imported brie?”

“Touché.”

The kitchen was small enough that Dani could preheat the oven without even stepping away from the fridge. She pulled a square box from the freezer. “I doubt college boys splurge on gourmet Mediterranean veggie pizzas. This okay with you?”