Crazy Love (23 page)

“You want to get this finished before that storm hits?” He jerked his head towards the gathering clouds, dark and ominous, promising a downpour.

A tiny frown worried her forehead as Ripley howled from next door. “Yeah.”

“Then quit looking at me like that.”

The frown vanished, replaced by a wicked smile. “Fine. You don’t want to see me watching you?” She pointed at the opening. “Then why don’t you tackle that roof from the inside?”

“But then you get to stare at my—”

“Fair turnaround, Slick. In you go.”

Wearing a grin to match hers, he dropped onto all fours and stuck his head in the kennel. “You know you’re going to pay for this, right?”

He only just caught her “promises, promises.”

There is a god
, Sierra thought as she faced Marc in her bathroom, struggling not to drool as water sluiced down his body after they’d been caught in that impromptu storm.

She’d wished for a minor miracle and looked like she’d got it. What started out a boring job ended up having side benefits as she’d watched his muscles flex and shift and bunch deliciously as he lifted wood, hammered nails and sealed cracks in Ripley’s kennel.

While the perv fest had been amazing, the miracle occurred when he lost his keys. They’d spent several minutes on hands and knees in the pouring rain looking for them and by the time they gave up and made a mad dash for her place they were soaked to the skin.

Yep, a definite miracle, as she struggled not to stare in frank admiration at his pecs delineated by the sodden cotton clinging to his chest. He looked good enough to eat and if she stayed in the bathroom one second longer she’d gobble him up.

“Do you have something I can change into while my clothes dry?”

He peeled off his T-shirt in one fluid movement and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. If his upper body looked good clad in cotton, the sight of tanned, taut flesh covered in a smattering of dark hair was breathtaking.

“Sierra?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” she mumbled, finally tearing her gaze away from his half naked body and heading for the door. “You can wear one of my robes. I’ll leave it outside the door. Help yourself to towels and soap. Everything you need is in there.”

She pointed to a cupboard beneath the vanity, wishing she’d stop babbling.

“Thanks, I won’t be long.”

By his wry grin he knew exactly what she was thinking before he turned away and bent down to the cupboard.

Oh boy
…She turned and fled before she grabbed his butt, peeled off the wet denim and begged him to take her.

Oblivious to the trail of water on the floorboards she raced into her bedroom, grabbed her old cotton dressing gown that was about three sizes too big and dumped it outside the bathroom door. There, now she wouldn’t need to see all that yummy skin exposed again. Worse luck.

In her smaller bathroom she showered in record time, wanting to be dressed and downstairs before he finished. Having him down the hallway, naked, was way too tempting. She’d already made a fool of herself by ogling him and if he’d shown any interest in return she might’ve made some light, flirty comment and seen where it led.

Instead, he’d stared at her with those all-seeing, all-knowing chocolate eyes, desire simmering in their obsidian depths before turning away on the pretext of getting a towel.

Realistically, they needed to shower and dry off before they caught pneumonia but who could think realism when faced with that glorious chest?

Shaking her head to erase the image of his naked torso from her mind, she donned jeans and a T-shirt, ran a comb through her tangled hair and twisted it into a messy topknot secured with a butterfly clip.

Glancing at her reflection, she stuck out her tongue. Without makeup she looked about fifteen years old, her freckles standing out like sprinkles on a cupcake, and her hand strayed to a foundation compact before she snatched it away.

If Marc didn’t like her the way she was, tough. Besides, he’d seen her dolled up and despite a few kisses and loads of flirting they hadn’t ended up where she wanted them. Indulging in wild, climb-the-walls sex.

With him heading back to LA soon, she’d all but given up. If he wanted anything to happen between them now he could damn well whistle for it.

She headed down the hall, had almost made it to the stairs when the bathroom door opened.

“Finished…”

The rest of her sentence died on her lips as Marc exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam, ludicrous yet gorgeous in her fluffy white robe.

“Nice robe,” he said, grinning as he thrust his hands into the pockets.

The action caused the material to gape in front and she quickly averted her gaze before she had a total meltdown and tumbled down the stairs.

“Suits you.” She kept her gaze trained on his face, silently reciting ‘
don’t look down, don’t look down
’. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

Was that a glimmer in his eyes, a hint he wasn’t talking about food? In the darkness of the landing she couldn’t tell and cursed her overactive imagination.

“I’ll rustle up some grilled cheese sandwiches and coffee.”

“Perfect. Can I use your dryer downstairs?”

“Go ahead.”

Rather than moving they stood there like statues, stares locked before he finally turned away.

“See you downstairs.”

She nodded, concentrating on the suddenly onerous task of putting one foot in front of the other as she descended. Her mind was a jumble of mixed messages and loaded quips. Should she tease him a little and see what happened? Use this miracle of having him butt naked beneath that robe, in her house, to full advantage?

It was an opportunity too good to pass up. She’d been whining about his backing off and it was way past time to put him to the test.

She straightened her shoulders and marched into the kitchen, opened a bottle of merlot rather than switching on the percolator, and laid out cheese and fruit on a platter rather than firing up the grill. Setting the lot on a tray, along with wine glasses, she headed for the living room.

The storm raged outside, complete with deafening cracks of thunder and flashes of lightning, and as she dimmed the lights in the living room, fate lent another helping hand by cutting power, plunging the house into darkness.

“Perfect,” she murmured, lighting the candles scattered around the room and standing back to admire the ambiance.

If City Boy didn’t get the message now, she’d give up.

The last few steps on the staircase creaked and she turned to find him standing in the doorway, his arms laden with wet clothes.

“Through there.” She pointed to the laundry, “Though I doubt your clothes will be dry in a hurry. We just lost power.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Lucky you collect candles as well as—” he paused, and she fervently wished they’d use her other collection tonight, “—everything else.”

His gaze flicked to the coffee table where she’d laid out the wine and platter, a smile playing around his lips.

“If that’s merlot, I’m yours.”

Alleluia, he’d switched to flirt mode without her having to instigate anything. So far so good. Now, if he’d dump those clothes and jump her…

“I’ll pop these in the dryer for later and be back in a minute.”

Make it a second
, she silently pleaded, staring at his butt as he exited the room, heat surging to her cheeks and scorching a few places along the way.

She needed a distraction before she padded pathetically after him and settled for pouring the wine, taking hers across the room to look out the window. Jagged lightning streaked across the sky, lighting the backyard for an instant. Ripley lay huddled in his newly repaired kennel, a giant paw over his ears as if to block out the thunder and she suffered a moment’s remorse.

Sorry, darling. Three’s a crowd in here tonight
.

She had many similar evenings like this to share with her beloved pooch whereas Marc would be gone all too soon.

“A girl after my own heart.”

She turned as he picked up his wine glass, took a sip and joined her at the window. “Perfect. Maybe I should lose my keys all the time.”

“I don’t think they’re outside,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady as her pulse tripped at his nearness.

He smelled as good as he looked, the vanilla guest soap he’d used tempting her to taste him. And come back for seconds.

“Could’ve sworn I had them when I locked up the apartment, then I popped into Flo’s. Maybe I left them there?”

That devious matchmaker. At the end of the bridal shower Flo had said if Sierra didn’t do something about the standoff with Marc she’d do it for her.

Could the wily woman have snaffled Marc’s keys and hidden them? If Flo had heard her repairing the kennel and known he was visiting, it was a no-brainer. Flo knew what summer storms were like in these parts and if Marc got caught in one and couldn’t get into his apartment…

Oh yeah, the more she thought about it the more convinced she was Flo had a hand in this.

With Marc leaning against her sideboard looking totally at ease in her robe, Sierra could kiss her.

He sipped his wine and closed his eyes, pleasure softening his mouth. If only he wore that expression when looking at her.

“Fine drop.” His eyes snapped open to pin her with a loaded stare she had no hope of deciphering. “So you’re a wine connoisseur among your many talents?”

She laid her glass down and planted her hands on her hips in a provocative pose.

“You think I’m talented, huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

He placed his glass on the sideboard and slid his arms around her, pulling her close. Her heart hammered in her chest as she stared into his eyes, trying to assess how far he was willing to take this.

“You hungry?”

Lame, real lame, considering she’d already asked him upstairs, but it was the best her oxygen-starved brain could come up with while reeling from having his arms around her.

“Ravenous.”

By the gleam in his eyes, ebony in the candlelight, she knew it wasn’t for food.

The tip of her tongue flicked over her lips while her hands toyed with the sash holding his robe together.

“I’m rather peckish myself,” she said, chuckling at the exaggerated way he smacked his lips, as if about to devour a feast. Hopefully, he was looking at it.

“You sure? Indulging our passion for uh,
food
can be dangerous. Could become addictive.”

“We can live in hope,” she said, tugging on the sash in response.

There was no question in her mind: this was it. Time to make her fantasies become reality. “Remember that other collection I want to show you? In my bedroom.”

He stepped away, leaving her slightly shivery before reaching for her hand. “Speaking of collections, want to make use of some of those?”

She followed his gaze to the jade box and nodded shyly. “Guess it’d be a shame to let them go to waste?”

“Damn right.”

He delved into the box and stuffed a handful of condoms into his pocket. “Never let it be said I don’t do my bit for the rubber plantations of the world.”

She batted her eyelashes at him and smiled. “My hero, the environmentalist.”

“I’ll show you hero.” His growl had her chuckling as he swept her off her feet and into his arms.

“Slick, I’m a sure thing. You can put me down,” she whispered in the vicinity of his ear, liking his mock gallant act despite her feeble protest. “Wouldn’t want you to put your back out or anything.”

“My back’s fine, as I’m about to prove to you.”

He marched up the stairs as if she weighed nothing and headed straight for her bedroom, almost tripping as fast as her pulse.

“You’ve been teasing me long enough, Angel Face. Time to get what you deserve.”

“About time.” She clapped her hands, their banter quelling her nerves somewhat.

For someone who wanted this so badly she was a mess, her tummy tumbling in a frightening free-fall, her muscles sluggish and lethargic, like he’d drugged her with one sensual glance.

He paused outside the door and let her slide to her feet. Slowly, very slowly, their bodies plastered against one another, leaving her in little doubt as to how he’d prove his back was okay.

“Last chance. If you open this door, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

She turned the knob and opened the door with a flourish. “Go ahead, Slick. Time to show me what you’re really made of.”

He pulled her back against him and nuzzled her neck. “I love a challenge.”

“That wasn’t a challenge.”

She slipped out of his arms, grabbed his hand and led him into the bedroom, hoping she was doing the right thing. Taking the next step with Marc would involve more than opening her legs; her heart would be laid bare too, as much as she tried to convince herself otherwise. “But this is.”

“Wow.”

He looked around, his eyes widening at the hundreds of dream catchers suspended from the ceiling.

“If you can successfully navigate your way through the dream catchers to the bed, maybe some of your dreams come true?”

“One of them already has.” He took hold of her hand, dodged his way through the dream catchers, led her to the bed and cupped her cheek in his hand. “Being here with you.”

She melted.

There was no other way to describe the feeling his words elicited, her bones liquefying and her muscles joining the party as heat seeped through her, intense, scorching heat that would combust her on the spot if she didn’t do something to relieve the pressure-cooker of simmering need threatening to explode.

Without saying a word she tugged at the sash of his robe, watching the folds fall open to reveal expanses of tanned skin and so much more.

As her gaze dipped, drawn to his erection, she couldn’t help but gasp. “Wow.”

“You approve?” He shrugged out of the robe and reached for her.

“Uh-huh,” was all she could manage as he slipped his arms around her and she came into contact with all that tantalizing male flesh, her hands eagerly exploring every contour, every ridge.

“One of us is way overdressed.” He groaned, an earthy, sensual sound torn from deep within as she wrapped a hand around his shaft and started stroking.