Finding Home (11 page)

Sean’s intense eyes bored into hers. “Still makes me feel weak. I’ll start paying you now that I’ve got work.”

She nodded, too concerned about bruising his ego to refuse the money. “Absolutely. But take your time. Whenever you feel you can afford it.” Squeezing his arm, she added, “And it doesn’t matter if we fight sometimes. Roommates always do. It doesn’t mean I don’t like having you here.”

His face was only a few feet away, his sapphire eyes looking down into hers. Megan’s heart sped up as Sean’s gaze moved from her eyes to her mouth. He inclined his head slowly toward her, bridging the distance between them.

Her breath caught in her throat as she realized what was about to happen. Releasing his arm, she stepped back quickly. “All right then. That’s settled. Let’s tidy up the kitchen then kick back.”

As she finished clearing the table, Megan was intimately aware of Sean’s body moving around hers. The room was too small for them not to bump into each other now and then. It was like they were doing an intricate dance around one another, working in proximity while attempting to keep their distance.

They passed the rest of the evening watching television. Megan curled in her armchair with her laptop open, reworking her article. She was glad to have distraction of the TV as a buffer between them. It was hard to come home from a busy day of work and deal with the emotional turmoil of living with Sean. Part of her wished she’d never invited him to stay then cringed at her own selfishness.

But glancing over at him during a commercial break from C.S.I., her heart twisted in her chest. He’d fallen asleep on the couch, his long eyelashes fanned over his bruised cheekbones. His mouth was slightly slack and his lips looked so kissable…and vulnerable. How could she have thought for a second she’d done the wrong thing when the alternative for him was sleeping on the floor in an unheated building?

Megan closed her laptop and put it down, then turned her attention to solving the week’s mystery through forensics. When she woke, it was to a figure looming over her, a hand touching her arm. She let out a startled, “Ah!”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. You fell asleep.” Sean’s fingers stroked down her arm before he stepped back.

She gasped. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry,” he repeated. “I thought you might want to go to bed.” He sat on the edge of the couch, which was made into his bed for the night.

She rubbed her eyes and sat up. “Yeah. Thanks for waking me. Well, goodnight.” She felt embarrased, like a drop-in guest who’d overstayed her welcome. Her living room had become his bedroom again.

“Night.” His voice was husky and low, sensual as a caress.

Megan felt his gaze burning into her back as she left the room and remembered how his hand had lingered on her arm after he woke her. She was intimately aware of his presence nearby as she walked down the hallway, used the bathroom and got ready for bed.

The jolt of waking so abruptly left her sleepless and she lay for a long time picturing Sean in the next room. Visions of him sleeping led to visions of him doing other things. But furtive fantasies about him couldn’t substitute for the real thing. She longed to know what he kissed like, how his skin felt beneath her hands or his hair slipping between her fingers. How hard were the muscles that stretched his T-shirts and how soft were his lips?

Finally Megan gave in and allowed her hand to move down between her thighs. She closed her eyes and stroked herself to an abrupt and unfulfilling climax. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly. She gave a low moan and turned on her side, the tension churning inside her not alleviated at all.

ZY

The next day, Sean dressed in some of his old street clothes—the baggier ones rather than the low-riding tight jeans—and left for work at seven a.m., clutching a brown-bag lunch of sandwiches and an apple. The construction site boss turned out to be as good as his word and Sean called her from a payphone to let her know he’d be out working all day.

That evening, Megan made a point of leaving work as early as she could so she could welcome him home. She got in before he did and started cooking. She didn’t have time to make anything fancy, but figured he would be starving and steak and baked potatoes would hit the spot after a day’s worth of heavy lifting.

By the time Sean walked through the door, dinner was well on its way and Megan poked her head through the doorway to say hello. He looked exhausted, but in a good way. He was covered in plaster dust and dirt from head to foot, his clothes stained and his face and arms streaked where the rivulets of sweat had traced patterns in the grime.

The mixture of sweat and dirt made his arm muscles stand out in sharp relief. Sean undeniably looked good in his rough, sweaty, testosterone-laden construction guy incarnation. She could just imagine the looks he got from passing women as he walked through the site carrying heavy loads, muscles straining with effort, and she suddenly wished she could be there gawping at him and his sexy ass while he worked. She mentally slapped herself and tried to refocus.

“So?” she asked, but she could see in his eyes it had gone well.
“It was good. I mean, the work’s hard, and the pay’s not great but…it feels fucking good to be earning money doing something like that for a change. You know, something I don’t have to be ashamed about.” Sean looked down at his feet and back up again, so vulnerable for an instant that Megan wanted to drop her skillet and rush over to hug him.

She pretended she hadn’t seen him drop his guard. It pained her to think how much he must have repressed his true feelings over the past couple of years, pretending he was cool with his life as a prostitute.

But he really did look happy right now.
“Why don’t you take a shower while I put the finishing touches on dinner? You can tell me all about it while we eat. You must be starving.”

“Yeah.” He grinned. As he walked past her on his way to the bathroom, she caught his masculine, musky, sweaty scent, which was almost overpowering and triggered a rush of heat in her. Jesus, it was such a primal, animal response to his male pheromones. She bit the inside of her cheek, hard, and forced herself to concentrate on the steak.

She had to keep this under control or she’d be going crazy in a matter of weeks. That, or something would happen.

On Saturday, Megan brought Sean with her when she went to cover her assignment on the community playground building project. When they got out of her car, the vacant lot was already teaming with workers and Megan saw one of the newspaper photographers, Charlie, snapping shots. It was interesting how people slipped into traditional gender roles when working on a project like this. Men did the actual building; measuring, cutting, sawing and bolting large boards together into some kind of climbing structure and a swing set. Women supervised kids in cleaning up the lot, discarding the trash and digging several flower beds. The ladies also laid out a brunch buffet on a long table off to one side.

Charlie caught sight of Megan and came toward her, snatching a muffin on his way past the table. “Hey. I’m outta here. I’ve been shooting for twenty minutes. I’m sure I’ve got something usable and I’ve got better things to do on a Saturday morning.”

“Wait. I haven’t even talked to anyone. How do I know you’ve got all the pictures I need?”

“Trust me. This is standard stuff. It really doesn’t matter who’s in charge of the project or who you interview, Rossi will always choose the ‘happy kid’ shots. See ya.” Charlie gave Sean a curious once-over, then hurried off to his car.

Megan located the contact person whose name she’d been given, Mrs. Xavier Solis, while Sean wandered over to the construction crew to see if he could help. There wasn’t really a lot to cover here, Megan quickly decided after about five minutes of questioning Mrs. Solis.

St. Gervase Church and the Corazon Community Club had joined together to raise funds for playground building materials through car washes, a bazaar and contributions from the congregation and the community. This urban renewal project was the kind of grass roots, feel-good story that Rossi loved to spotlight, but there wasn’t a lot of drama for a reporter to sink her teeth into with sunlight and daffodils.

Megan got quotes from a couple more people, observed the milling children and busy parents, making mental notes of how she would describe the scene, then looked around for Sean to tell him she was ready to leave. He held a two by four against a post while one of the other men screwed a bolt into place. She watched for a moment. He looked so relaxed and content, grinning and talking to the guy as they worked together, she decided not to disturb him.

She went over to where the ladies were transplanting flowers into the garden plot they’d created. A pair of women transporting a small tree with its roots balled up in burlap came past, laughing as they struggled to carry the awkward bundle. Megan stepped forward. “Can I help?”

Before she knew it, she was shoveling dirt and helping them wrestle the tree into the hole they’d dug. Someone connected about five lengths of garden hose until they reached a working spigot and Megan watered the sapling. Her jeans were spattered with mud by the time she’d finished.

“Having fun yet?” Sean’s voice came from behind her and the husky tenor of it raised gooseflesh on her arms.

“Loads. Gardening is my life.”

“Do all reporters get as hands-on with their subjects as you?” he asked, coming up beside her and adjusting the small tree so it stood straighter in its bed of dirt.

Both his tone and words sounded suggestive and ripe with double meaning. She was sick of him putting her on edge and making her feel lust-addled and confused. Besides which, the tree wasn’t crooked and she wanted him to quit messing with it. She turned the spray of water on him.

With a gasp of shock at the sudden burst of cold, Sean leaped back. “Fuck!”

“Language! Church group,” she cautioned, dousing him from his chest to his knees.

“Cut it out! That’s fucking cold.”
“You cut it out,” she returned, turning the spray back on the soupy mass of mud around the base of the tree. “Quit talking dirty all the time.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he protested. “Jesus Chr….” He glanced over at a group of the church ladies who watched them. He held his T-shirt away from his body and wrung out water.

“It’s not what you say. It’s the way you say it,” Megan said primly. She let go of the trigger on the nozzle and set the hose on the ground.

“Oh yeah? Maybe it’s just your dirty mind.” He grabbed the hose and Megan realized she’d made a fatal mistake in releasing control of it. He flipped it on and turned the spray on her, hitting her in the shoulder with icy water. She shrieked and ran out of range.

“Grow up,” she said from a safe distance. Sean grinned and turned off the water. Megan squeezed moisture from her sleeve as she came back over to him. “You’re setting a bad example for the children.” And even though she was only teasing, it seemed to be true enough as one of the little kids came running and picked up the hose.

“Benny! Benito, drop it!” The boy’s mother followed him, glaring at Sean and Megan and extricating the garden hose from her son’s hand before he could use it against her.

“Sorry.” Megan apologized for creating a scene and inciting misbehavior in a minor. She walked back toward Sean and, as she passed the tree she’d helped plant, slipped in the puddle of mud and fell square on her ass.

Sean laughed aloud as she cursed. She glared at him, not truly angry. His face was so open and happy, his laugh deep and full, she was thrilled to hear it. He went to help her up. His warm, strong hand seized hers and pulled her to her feet, then he held on longer than necessary. He stared into her eyes, and time froze for a moment.

Heat radiated from his body, bathing her in warmth. A sheen of sweat slicked his face and arms and she longed to lean in and lick the salt from his skin. He smelled so good, like fresh sweat and soap. Megan breathed him in deeply. In her mind she heard his words from the night she’d brought him home, “With you—well, it wouldn’t be a chore.” A picture of entwined limbs and thrusting bodies swirled in her head and she felt suddenly short of breath.

Then Sean dropped her hand and stepped away.

Megan’s skin burned even after he’d let go. She turned to examine the seat of her jeans. “Oh, great!” She glared at Sean again. “Okay, we’ve done the good deed thing and helped out for almost two hours. Can we go home?”

“Your call,” he said, smiling once more at her misfortune.
“Ms. Lennox,” Mrs. Solis called as they walked past. “You and your boyfriend must have something to eat before you leave.” She gestured to the buffet table.

“Oh, he’s not…” Megan began, then realized it wasn’t worth correcting the woman. “Sure. We’d love to. We’re starving.”

They loaded up a pair of plates with homemade enchiladas in several types of sauce, salads, side dishes and desserts. Then they sat in the dirt at the edge of the lot with and watched the workers carry on with construction. The sun shone hot and quickly dried their clothes.

Megan thought about the continual surprises Sean brought to her life. If she’d been here on her own today, she never would have stuck around to help, but it really had turned out to be fun.

“This is nice,” Sean said after a bit, “building a playground. Although it’d be better for the older kids if they made a skateboard park or something.”

“Maybe in the next vacant lot. Why? Do you skateboard?”
“It’s been a while.”
“How do you feel about rollerblading? We could go home and get cleaned up, then I’ll take you to the park where I like to go. I’ve got my blades and we could rent some for you.”

“Sounds like fun. I’d like to see you fall on your ass again.”
“Never happen. I’m a great skater.”
“Well then, I guess I’d just like to see your ass, period.” He gave a lascivious glance at her rear.

“Never happen,” she repeated dryly.

He leaned in close. “I bet you look real cute skating around in cutoffs—all that long leg showing.”

“Keep teasing about it and you’ll never find out.”

He laughed again, a warm chuckle that felt like the sunshine on her skin. Leaping up, he took her by the hand and pulled her to her feet. “Come on. I want to race you. See how good you really are.”