Free Falling (9 page)

“Okay, okay, don’t panic,” she told herself.
Emily or Alex would be coming home anytime. Free hadn’t shut the
bathroom door. If she yelled when she heard someone come into the
house they would definitely hear her. The front door was open, but
she would hear the screen door when it slammed. All she had to do
now was relax and listen for one of her housemates to arrive. And
pray one of them came home before she shriveled into a human-sized
prune. Draining the water was not an option since it provided the
only cover for her naked body.

~*~

The knock that rattled the old screen door
startled Free from the doze she had slipped into. She jerked to
attention, then shivered as her surroundings, cool water and all,
pervaded her consciousness. She had no way of knowing how long she
had been in the water, but judging by the throb in her toe and the
temperature of the water, it had been awhile.

The screen door rattled again. Someone was at
the door, but it wasn’t Alex or Emily—they wouldn’t knock. Maybe
Lance had forgotten something in her truck. Free shivered again and
decided she would just have to take her chances. She couldn’t risk
spending any more time in this predicament.

“Hello! Who’s there?” she shouted. Her
bathroom was the second room on the left past the staircase.
Whoever stood on her porch at the moment would hear her. Free
grimaced and tried to support her cramping leg by propping the
other one beneath it.

“It’s Mac.”

She cringed as the deep, masculine sound of
his voice echoed down the hall. Damn!

Why couldn’t it have been anyone else?
Damn!

The Girl Scouts selling cookies? Lance, Phil,
anybody? Double damn!

She glanced down at herself and shivered
again. At least the slowly dissolving bubbles afforded her some
protection. Just to be sure, she wiggled her foot from side to side
and tugged hard. It still didn’t budge. She swallowed her pride and
did what she knew she had to.

“Mac, the door is open,” she called out. She
moistened her lips and sucked in a bolstering breath. “I need you
to come in and help me. I’m stuck.”

“Stuck? What do you mean stuck?” His voice
was louder now. Free could picture him at the door, his face
pressed to the screen.

“Please, just come inside and help me.” She
closed her eyes. “You’ll see when you get in here,” she muttered
more to herself than to him.

She heard the creak of the screen door’s
hinges and then the slap of wood against wood. She told herself
that she should be thankful, but somehow she couldn’t manage the
emotion. Mac’s footsteps thudded in the hall.

“Where are you?” he asked cautiously.

“Second door on the left.”

Free checked the bubble level once more, then
gripped the sides of the tub as she watched the doorway. This had
to be the most humiliating experience of her life. Heat climbed up
her neck and spread across her cheeks in anticipation of the
inevitable. Mac McFerrin was about to see her naked, save for some
strategic bubbles, with her toe stuck in a faucet. She blanched at
the cold, hard reality.

When he stopped in the doorway, his mouth
dropped open and his eyes widened in surprise. He blinked twice and
then looked again. Instantly he spun around, giving Free his
back.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I didn’t
realize…
damn
,” he finished, the words almost too low for her
to hear. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “What
exactly is the problem?”

His tone sounded strained, with the effort of
hiding his surprise, she supposed. After all, how often did a man
walk into a bathroom to find a naked woman—a stranger,
practically—in a tub demanding his assistance? “I’m stuck,” she
groused, her humiliation complete.

His hands went to his waist in that
take-charge stance she’d seen him in on more than one occasion.
“You’re going to have to be a bit more specific. Exactly what part
of you is stuck?”

“My toe,” she murmured, tugging once more in
a last-ditch effort to get loose. She winced at the flash of pain
that shot across he top of her foot and up her aching leg.

Mac turned around slowly, his gaze connecting
with hers. “Your toe?” he echoed, disbelief claimed his
features.

Free nodded.

He smiled, then rubbed his jaw to hide his
widening grin. “Your toe?” he repeated.

“That’s what I said. Are you deaf?”

Mac looked down and shook his head, obviously
trying valiantly not to do or say anything that would humiliate her
further. Then it came. Real belly-busting, side-splitting laughter
rumbled from his throat.

Free’s eyes narrowed and she glared at him,
too embarrassed to speak at this point. She felt like a total
idiot.

Mac licked his lips and drew in a big breath,
then shrugged. “Okay,” he said, barely suppressing his laughter,
and stepped toward the tub. His gaze traveled from her face to the
only other part of her which protruded from the water. His brow
knitted in puzzlement as he opened his mouth.

Free cut him off. “Don’t ask,” she warned.
“Just get me loose.”

A forced seriousness in his expression, Mac
stroked his chin with the fingers of one hand as if considering the
best approach. “I’ll give it my best shot,” he finally said
flatly.

Though he didn’t sound optimistic, she
breathed a sigh of relief. The water was getting colder by the
minute, her bubbles were disappearing entirely too fast, and her
skin felt tight and wrinkled.

He took off his tailored suit jacket and hung
it on the doorknob. Despite her current circumstances, she noted
again how oddly out of place his ponytail seemed. Silk shirts and
ties, elegantly tailored suits and long sexy hair. What a
combination.

He unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his
sleeves, all the while keeping his gaze focused on the faucet. She
watched as he shoved aside her clothes and knelt next to the tub,
then hesitantly reached for her foot. She shivered when one big
hand clasped her ankle and the other closed around the arch of her
foot. The warmth and slight roughness of his hands made her tender
flesh tingle. He tugged gently but her toe remained lodged inside
the ancient fixture. When he pulled harder, Free couldn’t stifle
the gasp.

His gaze sought hers, concern clear in his
eyes. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head and fought the sting of
tears. “Of course I’m not okay. My toe is stuck. I am freezing and
my skin looks like I belong in a group with the California
Raisins.” She hated the way her voice climbed into a full-fledged
whine, but she couldn’t help it. If Mac couldn’t get her loose,
crying would be the next indignity.

He surveyed the situation again and sighed.
“Removing the spout is out of the question.” He looked over his
shoulder and scanned the old pedestal sink. “What we need,” he
began, his searching gaze roaming over the room, “is a lubricant
and maybe some Q-Tips.”

A lubricant? What did she have? Oh, yeah!
“There’s something in the medicine cabinet. It’s old, but it should
work.”

Mac stood and opened the mirrored cabinet
above the sink. “What am I looking for? A bottle, a jar?”

“A tube, I think.” Free craned her neck to
see each item he examined. “That’s it!” she exclaimed when he
picked up the old tube.

He twisted at the waist to look down at her,
amusement twinkling in his eyes. “KY Jelly?”

Heat flooded Free’s face. Why couldn’t it
have been anything but that? Murphy’s Law, she decided. “It’s
not—never mind,” she muttered. Why bother explaining that the
probably-out-of-date product didn’t belong to her? “The Q-Tips
should be there, too.”

A wry grin hitching up one side of his mouth,
he turned back to the cabinet and located the other item he needed.
Free closed her eyes and exhaled in disgust. Why did crazy things
always happen to her whenever this man was around? It was as if
fate had decided to throw the two of them together in bizarre
situations.

“I’ll need to drain some of this water.”

His raspy baritone snapped her out of her
self-pity session. He was on his knees at the side of the tub
again. “What?”

“The water,” he repeated. “I need to drain
some of the water.”

“No way!” She glared at him. The water and
ever-diminishing bubbles were the only things allowing her any
shred of decency.

“The tub is so full that we’re going to make
a hell of a mess if we don’t.”

“I don’t care. The water stays.”

He shrugged. “Whatever you say, it’s your
bathroom.”

She shot him another heated glare and he
promptly set to the task of using Q-Tips to shove jelly into the
spout around her toe. What if this didn’t work?

It had to work. She wasn’t about to involve
anyone else in this fiasco. If Mac couldn’t get her loose, she’d
just stay here until she dissolved.

When he had injected as much lubricant as he
deemed necessary, he grasped her foot again and worked her toe back
and forth. Water splashed over the edge of the tub. His sleeves and
shirt front were soaked, but he didn’t seem to notice. After adding
more lubricant, he wiggled her foot again, then repeated the
process.

“You know,” he said, as he poked and prodded
with the Q-Tip, “if you’d get rid of this prehistoric faucet, you
wouldn’t have to worry about this sort of thing.”

“This is a perfectly good faucet,” she
protested. She loved the curving shape of it, she didn’t want a new
one. She just wouldn’t
ever
stick her toe in the spout
again.

“I’ll bet it drips,” he countered.

“Lance works on it from time to time.”

Mac shot her a look. “Does he stop the
drip?”

Free lifted her chin a notch. “Pretty
much.”

He shook his handsome head. “That’s what I
figured.”

Finally, her toe slipped out. She cried out
in relief and cradled her foot in her hands and inspected her
reddened toe, then wiggled it and winced at the soreness.
Immensely, grateful, she lifted her gaze to Mac’s and for the first
time noticed just how close he was. Close enough that she could
smell the intriguing scent of his cologne. Close enough to kiss his
gorgeous mouth. How could any man be so undeniably, irresistibly
handsome?

“Thank you,” she managed rather
breathlessly.

“You’re welcome,” he answered, just as
breathlessly. That electric blue gaze was no longer on hers, but
had latched onto her mouth. His full lips parted just enough for
him to lick them, and the movement sent a spear of heat diving
through her. Desire followed hot on its heels.

She watched, mesmerized, as his gaze moved
even lower. Down her throat, over the slope of her shoulder, then
lower still to the slowly dissolving bubbles that barely concealed
her breasts. His knuckles were as white as the porcelain rim he
gripped.

“Would you hand me my robe, please?” she
asked tentatively.

His gaze jerked back to hers, his pupils wide
with desire. “Sure.” He pushed quickly to his feet. “Where is it?”
He glanced around, spotted it hanging on the back of the door and
carefully removed the old terry-cloth robe from its hook. He held
it at arm’s length.

Free smiled as she reached for it. The
knowledge that he didn’t trust himself to come closer again made
her feel a little giddy. He looked anywhere but at her now. A
moment of awkward silence passed before he had the presence of mind
to turn his back. Her smile widened at his uneasiness. Scorpios
were reputedly hard to rattle, but Mac was definitely rattled at
the moment. But then, so was she.

Free stood, the cold water and remaining
bubbles slipping down her naked body. Mac visibly stiffened at the
sound of water sloshing in the tub. She stepped onto the wet floor
and pulled on her robe, then tightened the sash at her waist. She
touched his rigid shoulder and he turned to face her.

“Oh, my,” she said when she saw how wet his
clothes had gotten. “You need a towel.” Free reached past him for a
towel stacked on the antique dry sink she used for storage. She
offered the towel, but he made no move to take it. His eyes were
fixed on her left shoulder, the one bared by the carelessly donned
robe.

She shrugged the robe into place and produced
an apologetic smile. “You’re all wet,” she reminded him as she held
the towel against his damp chest. His white silk shirt had become
transparent, clinging to every contour of his awesome chest. Free
knotted her hand in the fluffy towel to prevent the natural impulse
to more closely examine that muscled terrain.

“It’s okay,” he said hoarsely. “I should go.”
He started to back up before the words were out of his mouth. “I
have work to do and—” The doorframe stopped him. He banged hard
against it.

Free winced in sympathy. “Thanks again for
rescuing me.” She hugged the towel and followed his backward
movement through the doorway.

Mac paused, then swallowed, his throat work
extra hard with effort. “It was no big deal.” He shrugged stiffly.
“You’re…you’re welcome.”

Not quite allowing herself to act out her
earlier fantasy for fear of losing control, she tiptoed and placed
a light kiss on his tense jaw. It was during that brief moment when
she pulled away, that almost imperceptible pause, that she realized
just how much she wanted this man. The pull of attraction was so
strong, so overwhelming that it took every ounce of restraint she
could muster not to press her lips to his. He stood absolutely
still, waiting to see what she would do next, she assumed. His eyes
never left hers.

Free couldn’t turn away. She was blind with
desire, crazy with passion, hot with need. Even if Mac McFerrin was
all wrong for her. They were too different. And he was, in effect,
her boss. She knew business and pleasure didn’t mix. The only thing
they could possibly hope to have together was a casual affair and
Free didn’t do casual affairs.