Good with His Hands (17 page)

What Sean really wanted was a moment alone with her to greet her properly. From the way she wasn't quite meeting his eyes or stopping in his orbit for long, he guessed she wouldn't welcome a public display of affection. Well, they hadn't been dating long. Maybe being with him in front of her friends was an adjustment.

When she excused herself to go back inside for plates and condiments, he seized the opportunity for a moment alone and volunteered to assist. No sooner had they set foot in the apartment than he pulled her into his arms. After the barest hesitation, she melted against him, kissing him with the same welcome he'd glimpsed in her eyes when he first arrived. He hadn't consciously realized his shoulders were bunching with tension until they relaxed again.

“That was nice.” She smiled up at him. “But we should probably get back out there.”

“Okay. Later, though, I want you all to myself. Come home with me after the movie?” His words were a lot more patient than what he was thinking.
Come home with me now.

She nodded eagerly. “I'd like that.”

The genuine enthusiasm in her gaze as she smiled up at him was reassuring. Her earlier withdrawal must have been his imagination.
Quit overreacting.
The problem with being so happy was that, at times, it seemed too good to be true. Yet, when he touched her, it was obvious she wanted him as much as he did her—which made him a very lucky man.

She'd forgiven his lie, they'd met each other's families and she would be spending the night in his bed. What more could he ask for?

 

13

A
FTER
AN
HOUR
and a half of listening to the people around him share college stories—a topic Sean was ill-equipped to participate in—he was anxious to leave. He told the Talbots that it had been nice to meet them, a tactful fib he figured even Dani would pardon, then went inside to see if she was ready. Meg had excused herself to the kitchen to bring out dessert. Sean and Dani had declined, claiming that they were saving room for overpriced theater junk food.

Dani had been vehement. “An action movie without popcorn is like a football game with no goal posts.”

Letting himself in through the backdoor, Sean heard Dani's voice from the kitchen. “You really don't have to keep thanking me,” she said wryly.

“But I do! I'm grateful for today. And for letting me stay with you. For giving me your approval to see Bryce. It's funny that I like him so much, isn't it? He seems more your type. I guess your good taste in men is finally rubbing off on me.”

Sean's jaw clenched, but he told himself to get over it. He'd known since day one that Dani had found Bryce attractive. That had been superficial, a few passing glances that were nothing compared to the hours she'd spent with Sean.
He
was the one who'd shot pool with her, danced with her at the country club, made love to her until they were both too spent to move. Ridiculous to be jealous over what-might-have-beens.

He cleared his throat more loudly than necessary, making his presence known.

Dani poked her head around the corner. “Just let me grab my purse.” She disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a giant handbag.

He couldn't help laughing at its size. “Are you planning to smuggle in your own popcorn and soda?”

“No.” She smirked. “It has some essential overnight gear, though. Like pajamas.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Didn't I tell you? Dress code at my place is sleeping in the nude.”

Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. “You might like these pajamas—they're from Meg's shop.” She paused, tapping her index finger against her lips. “Although, strictly speaking, it's probably inaccurate to call a few scraps of black lace pajamas.”

The visual images damn near shorted out his brain. So much for concentrating on the movie. “What about clothes for tomorrow?” he asked once he found his voice. “Are those crammed into your purse, too?” Which would be either really impressive or really scandalous. How small did a dress have to be to fit into a purse?

She laughed. “No, I'll come home to shower and change. I have a house showing scheduled in the morning before I head to the office, so I've got a little extra time.”

He almost asked if she was sure she didn't want to get ready at his place. It seemed more convenient. But at the thought of Dani in his shower, he suspected they'd both end up late for work.

* * *

T
HEY
LEFT
THE
movie theater with differing opinions. “So you didn't like it?” Sean asked as he unlocked his SUV. He'd had a great time, although that could have been the company more than the film.

“I didn't exactly dislike it. I mean, I loved the first half. But when the villain took his girl Friday hostage and the hero realized he loved her? It got a little sappy for me.”

“You have a problem with happy endings?” Sean teased.

“I... Maybe I question how happy they actually are. Or how the characters know they're with the right person.”

“You just know.” The words came out of nowhere, sounding incongruously serious for a conversation that had started with commentary on the hero's tights. He aimed for a more flippant tone. “I guess we'll have to wait for the sequel to see if they're still together.”

Would he and Dani still be together by the time a sequel was released?

The thought was wildly unexpected. A follow-up movie was at least a year away. He'd never had a romantic relationship that had lasted that long. It wasn't even something he often considered. Yet he could easily imagine wanting Dani every bit as much one year from now as he did tonight. It was a foreign but not unpleasant feeling.

Dani didn't seem to mind his quiet introspection. As he drove, she turned up the radio, bopping along to some classic rock. It only took a few minutes to reach his town house.

He was renting from a man who'd invested heavily in real estate and had given Sean a good deal. In exchange for some minor repairs and carpentry to the townhomes the man owned on this block, Sean paid only about half the usual rent. It allowed him to live in a nicer place than he otherwise could have afforded. The floors weren't real hardwood, but they were a reasonable facsimile. Large windows helped create the illusion of space. The two-story townhome was nowhere near as luxurious as Bryce's loft, but it was sufficient for him. And preferable to Dani's small apartment.

“This is great,” Dani said, dropping her purse on an end table and looking around. “I'm jealous.”

He had the sudden mad impulse to give her a key and tell her she was welcome to visit any time. Or would that fall under her definition of too sappy?

“Hey.” She poked him in the arm when he failed to respond, a teasing lilt in her voice. “You're not still thinking about the superhero's choice of crime-fighting ensemble, are you? Because if you're pondering his clothes instead of how to get me out of mine, I'm going to be deeply offended.” She reached for his hand and led him to his favorite recliner, shoving playfully at his chest until he sat down.

“I wasn't thinking about superheroes. I was thinking about us,” he admitted. “I've been doing that a lot.”

Her smile faltered. “Oh?”

“All good things,” he assured her. Scary good. Like, for the first time in his life he could understand how a couple could be married as long as his parents had been without getting tired of each other.

She perched on his lap. “There's definitely a time for thinking.” Her fingers threaded through his hair, and she nipped at his lower lip. “But this feels like a time for doing.”

That sounded like a philosophy he could support. Abandoning his awkward attempt at conversation, he lost himself in the pure, perfect pleasure of kissing her. Her tongue clashed with his, and lust shot through him. What was it about this woman that always had him teetering on the brink of need? A look, a touch, a kiss and suddenly getting his hands on her was as crucial as breathing.

He bunched up the material of her loose skirt, sliding his hands beneath the silky material, across her even silkier thighs. She squirmed atop him as if she weren't sure whether she wanted him to slow down or move faster.

He traced the outer edge of her ear with his tongue, loving how she melted against him. “Everything okay?”

“Everything's wonderful.” She rocked against him for emphasis, and he sucked in a breath at the exquisite sensation. “It's just...when you touch me like that, I get distracted.”

“Distracted from what? If you tell me you're trying to calculate mortgage rates, I'm going to stick my head in the oven.”

She laughed. Then she braced her hands on the arms of the chair and pushed, unexpectedly getting to her feet. He immediately missed the contact.

“Wait, I take back the smart-ass comment,” he said. “I—”

“Shush,” she scolded playfully. “Do you want to know what you distracted me from or not?”

What he wanted was to haul her into the bedroom, but the wicked glint in her eyes was intriguing, so he kept quiet and let her continue.

“I have these thoughts. Actually, it's more accurate to call them fantasies.” Her voice was velvet-wrapped sin, and he grew harder simply listening to her.

“Fantasies are good,” he said hoarsely. Yay fantasies.

At the interruption, she shot him a stern look, but amusement danced in her gaze. “I think about things I want to do to you, things I plan to do, but then I get too caught up in how it feels when you touch me here.” She slid her hand past the strap of her halter top, stopping when she reached the swell of her breast. Then her hand skated lower, temporarily disappearing between the loose folds of her skirt. “And here.”

He forgot to breathe. Fully dressed, she was still the most erotic thing he'd ever seen. His voice was so strained it was barely recognizable in his own ears. “So if I promise not to, um, distract you...”

She gave him a grin of such devilish intent he doubted he would ever recover. “Well, that would leave me free to concentrate on other things.” She hooked a finger through the belt loops on his jeans and tugged.

He scooted closer, to the edge of the chair, and she reached for the button. He was practically panting by the time she worked the zipper down and pulled him free. With the grace of a ballerina, she dropped to her knees between his legs. She raked her fingers over him, scraping lightly with her nails just enough to make him hiss in conflicted pleasure.

Then she leaned down and closed her lips over him, drawing him into the indescribable bliss of her mouth. An almost brutal ecstasy sizzled through him, incinerating coherent thought.

Within minutes, he'd forgotten his own name. But hers rolled off his lips over and over like a mantra.

* * *

D
ANI
SHIFTED
IN
her seat, trying to focus on what Renee was saying about lending limits for homebuyers. But Dani was having a difficult time with mind over body today. Last night, Sean had made love to her with a pounding ferocity, as if he couldn't get close enough, as if he needed to make himself part of her. She wasn't exactly sore this morning, but there were enough physical twinges to keep him at the forefront of her mind.

“Did I lose you?” Renee asked, sounding surprised. Dani had never been one for daydreaming.

“Sorry. I was just making a mental note that I need to call Sean Andersen today.” When her employer's eyebrows shot upward, Dani realized her mistake. “Ross! Ross Andersen.”

Renee rose from the chair on the other side of Dani's desk. “Well, make sure you get your head together before you call him.”

“Yes. Absolutely. Will do.” Dani couldn't have been more mortified if she'd been caught doodling little hearts with Sean's name in them. So they'd had an intensely passionate night—it hadn't been the first one they'd shared. Nor did it change the effort she owed her clients.
And myself.

When her phone rang, she reached for it eagerly, determined to sound her most professional. But it was Sean's number on the screen. It annoyed her how happy she was to see it there. “Hello?”

There was a pause, no doubt due to her irritated tone. “Rough day?” he asked carefully.

“Sorry. You caught me at a bad time.”

“Want to talk about it?” he offered, making her feel even worse for the way she'd snapped her greeting.

“Thanks, but no. I'm just a little behind and need to kick it into gear.”

“Then I'll make this quick. Some of us are planning to go bowling tonight. I remembered that you used to bowl and thought you might like to join us. At least one of the other guys is bringing his wife.”

“Tonight?” They'd seen each other as recently as that morning. And she hadn't gone an hour without thinking about him since driving away from his place. Spending a second consecutive night with him didn't seem conducive to her plan of moving slow and not getting overly attached.

When her silence began stretching into awkwardness, he added, “I just thought I'd toss it out there in case you weren't busy tonight. No big deal. If you decide you want to join us, text me later.” Something about the way he tried to make the invitation sound casual made it even less so.

“Okay.” Her innate sense of honesty prompted her to add, “But I don't think I'll make it.” The bigger question was, what about the next time he called?

How long was an appropriate amount of time to go between seeing him so that she could reassure herself that the relationship wasn't getting serious? And what would happen when she could no longer believe that?

* * *

T
HE
CRASH
OF
bowling balls thundering into pins had become white noise, a distant background to Sean's thoughts as he awaited his turn. Jacob and his wife stood by the ball return, affectionately heckling each other. Alex had gone for a pitcher of soda and, with any luck, the bartender's phone number. Sean was lost in mental replays of his phone conversation with Dani today. She'd sounded...strained.

He'd never been a paranoid person. With the exception of his competitive streak, he was fairly easygoing. But first there'd been the weird distance at her cookout, which he had tried to chalk up to his overactive imagination and feeling out of place among her college-educated friends. Then today—

“When I told you the cheerful whistling was getting creepy,” Alex said, setting a pitcher and a stack of plastic glasses on the table, “I didn't mean you should take up brooding. Find some middle ground, dude.”

“Sorry.” He poured himself a soda. “How'd it go with the bartender?”

“She remembered me from last time I was here and seemed glad to see me. Victory is imminent.”

Sean made a skeptical noise.

“You doubt my skills with the ladies?”

“No. But ‘the ladies' can be unpredictable.”

“No kidding. I have sisters, remember?” Alex nodded toward the lane. “You're up.”

Sean knocked down eight pins but missed the split. Alex got nine, then threw a gutter ball trying to pick up the spare. Jacob's wife got the first strike of the game and smirked at the men. It was a shame Dani hadn't come—she'd like Maria.

“Okay, seriously.” Alex slugged him in the arm. “What the hell? You're depressing me. What zapped your good mood? I thought you won the girl.”