Hands On (12 page)

“Then come home with me. We can put most of your stuff in the Caddy and let the paper-pushers deal with all the house mess.” He nodded in the direction of her house. He chuckled. “I should have known you’d pick the worst one on the rental market. No sense. You need a keeper.” He looked at her fondly.

His words erased any doubt. “Rick. I’m doing fine. I don’t need a keeper anymore.”

“There is someone else!”

“So what if there is? It’s not like you and I were happy together. You made it perfectly clear you thought I was a manipulative bitch, when I wasn’t being a total ditz. You’d be back to calling me a ball-buster in a day or two and making me feel like dirt the rest of the time. What kind of home would that be for either of us?”

“But I said I’m sorry. I drove all the way up here to bring you back.” Rick sounded petulant, like a child who didn’t understand why he couldn’t have candy.

“Thanks, but sorry. I’m staying here.”

“It’s him, isn’t it?” His face sharpened with anger. “Who is this guy?” His fists clenched again, only instead of throwing his keys or stalking away, he stepped closer. He raised a fist. Fear belatedly knifed through her. Was he actually going to hit her again?

Harry skillfully piloted his Aston back up Hillview Boulevard, reining himself back from tromping the gas pedal. The sports car growled and trembled with power, wanting to go faster than he did.

Much like Ginnie.

He shouldn’t have rushed out like that. It smacked of cowardice, and he was no coward.

The exasperating woman kept pushing, though. Poking at him. Trying to get inside his head. Looking for the lever to pull that would make him dance on her strings. Maybe. The crazy thing was, he was pretty sure she meant well. He could probably trust her. He wouldn’t, of course, but she wasn’t like Jaye Rae.

If they were going to get along while she lived with him—no, not lived with him. She merely lived in his guestroom temporarily, by herself. But if they were going to be roommates, they had to get a few things clear. She had to understand he wasn’t a touchy-feely sharing sort of roommate. She had to respect that, because he didn’t want to boot her out again.

She made a mean steak dinner.

He turned up the residential street that led to a smaller road on which his house sat. He eased the Aston up into his driveway before noticing the couple next door. Then he saw it wasn’t the couple next door. Before he switched off the ignition, he recognized Ginnie, and some strange guy. The guy had his fist in the air, ready to hit. Harry’s tension level rocketed skyward. He leapt out of his car, keeping himself from running only because he’d gained the guy’s attention. He intended to keep it.

His gut tensed and his muscles readied for a fight. Who was this jerk who threatened Ginnie?

“Is this him?” the guy asked Ginnie. “Is this the reason you won’t come back with me?”

“I’m not going with you because we’re done, Rick.” She frowned at him. “Please just leave.”

“Just like that? I don’t think so.” Rick took her arm. “We’re not finished.”

“Let her go.”

Harry figured the menace and tension he felt communicated itself adequately, because the intruder took his hand off her. He still stood too close to Ginnie for Harry’s taste. “Now, get in your shiny wagon and go back to wherever it is you came from.”

“She’s coming with me.”

Ginnie shook her head.

Did this Rick have a death wish? Didn’t he realize Harry would be delighted to pound Rick’s thick head into his thicker neck? This Neanderthal was obviously doing his best to intimidate Ginnie—standing too close, looming over her—but she wasn’t having any of it, Harry saw with pride. She tilted her chin up and refused to be pushed around. “I’m not going with you, Rick.”

Harry’s rage slowly built at the way Rick wasn’t taking the hint. Harry stood ready to step in at the first sign of escalation—he had to hold himself back, actually—but he wasn’t sure if he should interfere.

Of course he shouldn’t interfere, logically, but his urge to protect Ginnie bypassed logic. It propelled him toward a physical brawl. It just wasn’t like him. He knew better than to let emotions rule him. That’s what bothered him the most.

Aside from this jerk bullying Ginnie.

Harry placed himself right in front of her, facing Rick. “Hey. You like picking on women? Is that how you get your jollies? Huh?” He leaned forward, closing the inches between them.

Rick took a step back, looking confused.

“If you want a fight, I’d be happy to oblige.” And he would be too. Delighted, even.

Rick read the news on his face. “I never hurt her,” he muttered. “Not that she didn’t have coming.”

“Get in your car. Drive away. Don’t come back.”

Rick’s eyes narrowed. Harry felt hopeful. But then Rick looked away. “Fine.”

“Bye-bye, then.” Harry eased another millimeter into Rick’s space. Not even a little fight?

Rick paled and took a step back.

Guess not.

As Rick turned and scurried back to his vehicle, Harry stared after him. Too bad he wouldn’t be able to burn off some of his energy. All the amped-up feelings roiling around inside him weren’t going anywhere.

He turned to Ginnie. “I don’t like your ex.”

“I don’t like yours, either.”

They stared at each other, then, simultaneously, burst into laughter.

Chapter Seven

Ginnie led the way into Harry’s house. He followed, closing then locking the door behind him.

“That was weird,” Ginnie said. “Rick’s always had a temper, but he was actually menacing me out there.” She still felt indignant that Rick had made her afraid, but very glad Harry had come back when he had. “I don’t know what got into him. He admitted stealing my stuff. He said he was sorry, and then actually expected me to hop into his car and head home with him, like we could just pick up where we left off.” She shook her head, baffled.

“I’m not surprised,” Harry said, staring at her. “He wanted you back, but on his terms. He’d probably pushed your buttons successfully before, and he thought he could do it again.”

The truth of that hit Ginnie. “And he’d called
me
manipulative. He was the control freak. His style was just more passive, so I didn’t see it. I wasn’t a ball-buster.” She intercepted Harry’s look. “Oh yeah, he called me that. And control Nazi. And worse.” Grinning, she gave him a teasing look. “Then you rode up on your white horse and saved me again.”

“I didn’t—”

“Your armor all shining, ready to do battle for truth, justice and the American way.”

“My armor is tarnished, Ginnie. Don’t—”

“You’re my hero.” Ginnie batted her eyes at him. Was he blushing? He was!

“You’re insane.” Harry stalked into the kitchen. Ginnie followed, delighted with him, but also still pondering his words.

“Pushing my buttons,” she mused aloud. “I never thought of it that way. But he and my mom both always said I had a taste for being top dog. To, ah, a pretty large degree. And Helping Hands alluded to something along those lines too.”

Harry fixed himself a scotch. He raised an eyebrow, holding up an empty glass. She nodded.

“Ginnie.” He handed her a drink. “What makes you think you’re the only one allowed to take charge?” He took a sip of his, looking at her.

His words brought her up short. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, just because you have controlling tendencies—which isn’t always a bad thing—that doesn’t rule out others having those same tendencies. Rick clearly did.”

“My mom too,” Ginnie said, sipping the strong alcohol. She laughed a little. “At least I come by it honestly.” She told Harry about her dad leaving her mother, and the awkwardness of her mom dating, and about some of the fights. She concluded, “I never felt good enough for her, or like anyone would appreciate the real me. Abandonment issues. I suppose pop psychology would say I’ve overcompensated by trying to put myself in positions where I can better control my environment.” She leaned on the counter, smiling, and looked at him under her lashes. “But I’m not a ball-buster by choice.”

Harry smiled back at her. “Very glad to hear it.”

He was so hot, her hero. She stared at the way a smear of liquor made his curvy lips shine, and jolt of lust zapped her. She traced a finger along the side of the counter, skating near his hand without touching. “Would you really have beat up Rick?”

“I don’t like men who threaten women with violence.”

“So, you would’ve, but it wouldn’t have been anything personal?”

Harry stared at her. “It would’ve been personal.” He moved closer.

A thrill went through her. The heat in his gaze ignited her all over. He looked ready to gobble her up. She could feel his intensity all the way down to her feet. Her body responded to his proximity, his scent, his unspoken message, with a surge of desire. And yet…

“Am I making you nervous, Ginnie?”

Her hand trembled, and she had to set down her drink. She looked at her offending hand rather than meeting his gaze. “A little.” Her hands never shook. Never. Her marionettes would look palsied if she didn’t have total control over her hands. Harry certainly did make her nervous. What she craved was for him to take her so wildly, violently and completely that she wouldn’t have the presence of mind to worry about whether or not she lost control. She’d never felt that way before.

“What are you afraid of?” His voice was a deep and honeyed tone that snaked through her sensuously.

She was afraid she’d lose herself. That she’d bare her soul to him only to have it measured and found wanting.

“Nothing.” She picked up her glass with both hands. Sipped. Put it down carefully. With both hands.

His gaze tracked the movement, then returned to her face. “I think I understand.”

“If you think I’m—”

“Shhh. Listen to me.”

As if she could conceive of doing anything else with him looming over her, his heat and scent making her feel lightheaded. Or maybe it was the drink.

He caressed her arm with his fingertips.

Nope, definitely him. Her skin pebbled under his touch, her fine hairs rose, and she shivered pleasurably. It was the entire delicious six-foot package of him. She could have been frightened of him, the way he eased into her personal space as if he owned it. He’d intimidated Rick until her ex had slunk away like a defeated schoolyard bully.

But she didn’t feel frightened of Harry at all.

“I want to show you something. Close your eyes.”

She thought about it, then did. “Going to be hard to see what you have to show me.”

“Keep them closed.”

She let out a little shriek and her eyes flew open when he scooped her up. “Trust me,” he said, his warm breath tickling her ear. It felt as erotic as another fine touch. He waited until she closed her eyes again. “Good.”

She could hear from his voice that he wasn’t smiling. Somehow that both calmed her and stimulated her, as if he’d found some key to her psyche. He carried her slowly, not hurrying. “Keep them closed,” he insisted. “You think too much and worry too much. About who might hurt you. About who might take advantage of you if you let your guard down. And so you turn suspicious and untrusting, and you know what an untrusting person does? Hmmm?” He nuzzled her ear.

She made a small sound. From the different scent of the air she could tell they were entering a little-used room. She wanted to peek, but didn’t. “I’m keeping my eyes shut.”

“I know you are. That’s very good.” She felt his hair brush against her cheek as he walked, and then, surprisingly, his warm lips touched her forehead. Without sight, the sensation was intense.

He continued talking as if he didn’t realize he’d just turned her bones to jelly. “An untrusting person tries to control her environment completely.” He let go of her legs, allowing just her toes to touch the ground, then loosened his grip on her torso slightly. She slid a few inches down his body. Every sensation felt magnified. She jerked as his voice suddenly invaded her other ear, filling her head with his deep-timbered murmur. “You’re not in control right now, are you?” He teased her with the feel of his body, then moved back slightly. “You have to understand. It’s much, much better when you’re able to let go completely. Sometimes it’s good to do so. You’ll find with me, it’s good.” He pressed her to him again, hard, and she gasped.

He began to undress her. “Keep your eyes shut,” he commanded. He stripped her clothes off quickly and had his off even more quickly. He stepped close enough to her for their body heat to mingle and his delicious breath to tease the nerve endings of her face. His lips moved against hers. “I’m going to demonstrate something.” She felt and heard his smile. Her body seemed to open up, becoming sensitive all over. She heard a moan, felt the vibration against their lips and knew she’d made the sound.

When his lips opened and his tongue plundered her, the electricity forked through her body. Taking effortless possession of her mouth, he lifted his other hand to the base of her head. He tilted it here or there as it pleased him. His tongue slid out, then in again to tease and play with hers.

Then he stopped. Air rushed into the small gap between their faces, cooling her enough for frustration. “Don’t stop,” she breathed, feeling her eyelids flutter.

“Hush, you,” he said with mock severity. “Aren’t you enjoying yourself?”

“Oh yes.” She barely recognized her own voice—breathy and full of want. She was more than enjoying herself. Her body ached for his. She moved against him.

“No. Now I want you to sit on the edge of the bed. It’s just behind you. That’s right, sit. Now scoot back until your feet are at the foot of the bed. Very good.” He sat beside her feet and proceeded to caress them, thumbing her toes in a slow, sure movement before skillfully twisting a firm knuckle between the front pads.

She could swear she felt the sensation directly between her legs. She groaned more loudly and reached for him.

He laughed, tucking her arms by her sides. “Patience. Trust. You like what I’m doing to you, so why not just go with it? Let go of control. Try it. Just feel.”

Was his voice becoming husky with desire? She was so tempted to peek, but was enjoying the things he made her feel way too much to jeopardize the situation. She squirmed happily on the bed. Was this what being out of control felt like?