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Authors: Cathie Linz

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BOOK: Bad Girls Don't
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“Have you come to give me another lecture?” she snapped.
“Hello, Nathan.” Angel greeted him with a smile and tugged him inside. “I was just leaving, so you two can speak privately.”
Skye had never seen her make such a fast getaway. Usually, speedy exits were
her
specialty, not Angel’s.
And so Skye stood there, in her yellow shorty pajamas with the little llamas on them. A gift from Angel. Julia would have been horrified to stand before a man at midnight dressed the way Skye was, despite the fact that the pajamas covered her as well as a regular pair of shorts and a sleeveless shirt.
“I, uh, saw your lights on and I . . . uh . . . where’s your daughter?” Nathan asked, looking around.
Skye’s temper flared. “Is that why you came? To check on the welfare of my kid? Why? Do you think I’ve got her dangling out a window or something?”
“No. It was just a simple question. Why do you take everything I say the wrong way?”
“Why do you
say
everything the wrong way?”
“Because of this.” Sliding his big hands around her head, Nathan pulled her to him. Her lips were parted when their mouths met, allowing his tongue undisputed entry.
His hands remained where they were, cradling her head.
Skye ran her hands all over him. She couldn’t help herself. She tried reminding herself that the last time he’d held her in his arms, he’d ended up walking out on her, leaving her hot and damp and aching for him. It didn’t work. She didn’t seem to care about the past at the moment. The here and now was way too exciting.
“You drive me crazy, do you know that?” he mumbled against her mouth.
“Ditto,” she mumbled back, stringing a line of heated kisses along his Mt. Rushmore jawline.
“When I saw that guy touching you, I wanted to flatten him.”
“Me, too.”
He brushed his fingers across her cheek. “You could have gotten hurt tonight.”
“So could you.” She kissed his fingertips.
“It’s my job.”
“Mmmm, don’t remind me.”
“This is crazy.” His voice was husky as he nibbled on her ear.
“I agree.” She tilted her head to grant him better access. “Totally crazy.”
“We’re complete opposites.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I didn’t mean to come here tonight,” he admitted.
“Yet here you are.”
“I couldn’t seem to stop myself.”
“I feel the same way.”
After that, words were discarded for actions. Only this time, Skye wasn’t about to allow Nathan to take charge like he had before. If anyone was going up against the wall, it would be him. But en route, she decided the couch might be a better option. It was big and round.
Throw pillows went flying as they bounced onto the couch. Skye rolled until she was on top, which should have made undoing the buttons on her pajama top more difficult for Nathan, but somehow didn’t.
Not that she minded having his big, warm hands on her bare breasts, his callused thumbs brushing over her nipples. Mmm, she didn’t mind at all.
Tugging her down on top of him, he licked his way around the creamy mound of her breast before taking her nipple into his warm, wet mouth, tantalizing her with his surprisingly talented and creative tongue.
His hands were now free to pursue other treasures, sliding beneath the hem of her shorts to stroke her through her bikini underwear. Draped atop him as she was, she didn’t think he’d be able to do half the things he was doing to her—provocative, wonderfully wicked things.
Nathan shifted his attention from her left breast to her right just as his finger slipped beneath the elastic edge of her skimpy underwear to plunder the damp depths of her femininity.
And, just like that, she came. Powerful surges seized her vulva or vagina—one of her V-parts was vibrating. No,
all
of them were. She panted and pulsed with delight.
Not satisfied with giving her just one orgasm, Nathan slowly built up her pleasure again . . . and again. A brush of his thumb, just so, up against her clitoris, sent spasms of bliss coursing through her.
When Skye finally caught her breath, she was drenched with satisfaction, yet still wanted him to come within her.
She was reaching for the zipper on his jeans when the sound of her daughter’s sleepy voice stopped her.
“Mommy, what are you doing? Why are you squishing the kitten-book man like that?”
Nathan tumbled Skye onto the couch and shot to his feet. Or tried to. She suspected his hard-on had prevented him from moving as quickly or standing as straight as he would have liked.
“I . . . uh . . . you . . . uh . . .” Nathan looked frantically at Skye.
Still trying to collect the scattered molecules of her body after that last explosive orgasm he’d given her, Skye was unable to move.
“Mommy, were you turning him into a toad? Was he mean to you again?” Toni gave Nathan a glare that was fiercely protective of her mother.
“No, he wasn’t mean. He was being very, very,
very
. . . nice.”
Did Nathan just snort at her in a muffled sort of way? “If he was nice, then why were you squashing him?” Toni asked.
“We were just fooling around,” Skye said.
She definitely heard him snort this time.
Skye ignored him and focused on her daughter. This gave her the energy to get up from the couch and hurry over to Toni, who had her beloved Ta the Tiger clutched in one hand. “What’s the matter, honey? Did you have a bad dream?”
Toni yawned, then said, “I heard noises.”
“Must have been the television,” Nathan mumbled.
Skye rolled her eyes. “We don’t have a television.”
His disbelieving look clearly said what kind of weirdo doesn’t have a TV, but aloud he just said, “I’d better be going now.”
“Don’t you want to read me a story from the kitten book you gave me?” Toni asked him.
Every muscle in Nathan’s face froze.
Taking pity on him—after all, the man had given her a Big O three-peat—Skye said, “He can’t tonight. Maybe next time.”
As she watched Nathan walk toward the door, she wondered if there would be a next time. Or if he’d retreat behind that thick wall he’d built around himself.
Chapter Nine
“I
think Haynes is having trouble with his sixth chakra,” Brock, the jock quarterback, told Skye before the team’s yoga class began. “Isn’t that the one located between the eyes that gives you clear vision of the world around you? The third eye, right?”
Skye nodded. “That’s right.”
“Well, his third eye isn’t working.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because the moron can’t catch any pass I throw him,” Brock drawled.
To which Haynes responded, “Maybe if you threw more accurately, I’d be able to catch your passes.”
“Have you both been doing your visualizations?” Skye asked.
“I’ve been visualizing that new bootie-licious babe on the cheerleading squad,” Brock said.
Skye wasn’t impressed. “Maybe that’s why you’re having trouble with your passes.”
Brock smirked. “My passes are always successful. Especially with the babes.”
“Which would be fine if you were trying out for the cheerleading squad,” Coach Spears growled. Where had
he
come from? The coach had a habit—or talent, depending on your point of view—of appearing out of nowhere. And the guy had eyes and ears in the back of his head. He missed nothing. It was uncanny. “Is that your plan, Brock? To become a cheerleader?”
Brock hung his head. “No, Coach.”
“Then stay focused. Our opening game is next Friday. You’re coming,” he said curtly to Skye.
She didn’t answer. She did not respond well to orders. Coach Spears belatedly remembered that and decided to play the sympathy card. “The kids are counting on you.”
One wave of his hand, and the team instantly looked at her en masse with sad puppy-dog eyes.
“Fine.” Skye sighed. “I’ll be there.”
Now the guys were all high-fiving each other. She even saw a few exchanging dollar bills, as if they’d placed a bet on her answer.
She clapped her hands to get their attention. “Okay, remember what I said about yoga offering you a complete body workout, balancing the stresses of your football practices and correcting the tightness that might cause pulled hamstrings or knee injuries. So let’s begin with your breathing . . .”
They knew the routine now. Some had even come up with their own names for a few of the poses.
“Now move into the Monkey forward bend.”
“Monkey butt in air,” they all translated.
“Warrior One,” Skye continued. This series was their favorite. “Holding Warrior poses develops balance and concentration,” Skye said as she did the pose with them. “You can overcome any obstacle. Smoothly moving now into Warrior Two. Spine straight. Exhale and bend your right knee. Good. Good. Breathe deeply.”
And so she put the team through their paces. Watching them, she could see how they’d improved over the past few weeks. Their confidence had increased, as well as their ability to focus.
Coach Spears always disappeared during their workout, as if he were afraid Skye might try and press him onto a yoga mat and put him to work. But he always magically reappeared the moment they were done.
“I’m expecting great things from you.” The coach gave them all a look, not unlike the variety that Sister Mary could come up with. It was a look that got results. “Do not disappoint me. Now hit the showers.”
The team headed out of the gym like a herd of buffalo. “You’ve done a good job with them,” Coach Spears told Skye.
“So have you.”
“I’ve got to tell you, I wasn’t sure about this entire yoga thing.”
So he’d told her every time she’d shown up.
“But I’m thinking, this is working,” he admitted. “Of course, I’ll think it works even better if we win that opening game.”
“That’s up to fate and karma.”
“Fate and Karma? Are those linebackers on the Cougars team?”
“No.”
“My team holds their own fate in their hands. And that better be all they’re holding,” he muttered with a dark look toward the exit leading to the showers. “Gotta go.”
 
 
“Meditation is a way of living,” Angel told Adam in the quietly rich confines of his inner office on the top floor of one of Philadelphia’s premier buildings.
Adam said nothing, a look of concentration on his face. Angel had the uneasy feeling he was thinking about his business deals.
“Truth and beauty are infinite things,” she continued brightly. “There is no formula for meditation.”
“Well, there should be,” Adam said. “Who the hell has the time to sit around trying to figure out truth, justice, and the American way?”
“I believe that’s Superman’s line. I don’t think he was into meditation.”
“What do you know about Superman?”
Angel thought his question sounded rather dismissive. And she was getting another hot flash, which aggravated her. But then, today, just about everything aggravated her. “A friend of mine owns a comic-book store.”
“That shouldn’t surprise me.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you’ve got a lot of friends in unusual professions.”
“I’m going to ignore that rude comment and continue our lesson.”
“How long is it going to take for me to perfect this meditation thing?” Adam demanded impatiently.
“Is that your goal?”
“One of them.”
“A goal is in the future. In order to meditate successfully, you need to live in the present. It’s not a matter of effort or control.”
“I’m all
about
effort and control.”
“I had noticed that.” Angel fingered the amethyst crystal around her neck. It was supposed to calm an overstressed mind, but, so far, it wasn’t working. Maybe hot flashes blocked the crystal’s healing force.
“I talked to Julia last night,” Adam said abruptly.
“So she told me.”
“Did you tell her we’re seeing each other?”
“No. Did you?”
“I may have alluded to it.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
Angel unbuttoned the top button on her billowy Indian-cotton shirt. The thing was suffocating her, making her want to suffocate Adam.
She wasn’t normally a violent person. But she wasn’t normal at the moment.
What had made her think she could manage Adam? That she could turn him into a better man? A meditative man.
“I must have been delusional,” she said softly.
“And that’s why you don’t want Julia knowing we’re seeing one another?”
“You make it sound like we’re a couple or something.”
Adam raised an eyebrow. “Is the idea so outlandish?”
“Totally.”
“Why?”
“What’s wrong with you today?”
“Nothing. What’s wrong with you?”
“A lot.” She reached for her bottle of chilled water and took several gulps before placing the cold bottle against her wrist. Hadn’t she read someplace that doing so would cool you down in the middle of a hot flash?
“Are you ill?” Adam asked.
Did he look concerned for her . . . or for himself?
“Don’t worry. What I have isn’t contagious.”
“What is it?”
“Menopause,” she snarled. “You wanna make something of it?”
He backed up as if she’d just turned into a she-wolf. “No.”
“Good. Because I’m in no mood for a hassle.”
“I can see that.”
She unwrapped the scarf she had around her neck.
“What are you doing?” He eyed her cautiously, as if afraid she might use it to strangle him.
“I’m hot. What’s the temperature in here?”
“I always keep the office at sixty-nine degrees.”
The bottle against her wrist wasn’t helping the coal furnace burning in her chest. So she splashed a little cold water down her shirtfront. Or that was her intention. The result was closer to a drenching than a splash. Her thin cotton shirt now clung to her breasts. She peeled it away from her skin and glared at Adam as if this were all his fault. “What are you looking at?”
BOOK: Bad Girls Don't
7.76Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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