Just One Look (15 page)

Jennifer tried to keep her mind and her eyes on her magazine, but found her attention wandering to the screen. It was going to be another long, hot night, she decided, despite the fact that the temperature outside was in the low forties. All night, she'd have to fight the need to climb onto Matt's lap and show him how unrepressed she was.

Just thinking about that, she jumped up and paced around the living room, eying the furniture.

"What's the matter? Movie upset you?"

"No," she snapped. "I thought maybe I'd move this table to the other side of the room." She lifted the small piecrust-edge table and carried it over next to the window.

"Nervous energy, huh?"

"Not at all. I'm going to get a glass of water. Do you want one?"

He declined and watched her hurry away. This evening was worse than last night, he thought. He could almost see electrical sparks in the air.

Finally, the movie was over. Jennifer returned to the living room. Matt removed the movie from the player and placed it in the case. Then he stepped into his trousers.

So he had underwear on all the time, Jennifer thought, watching his every move.

He turned his back to her while he tucked in his shirt and fastened his pants. The quiet rasp of the zipper stung her nerve endings. In a few minutes, he'd finished dressing.

"Goodnight, Jennifer. I think we made some real progress tonight." He smiled and walked to the door.

"Just like that. You're leaving?" In a daze, she followed him.

"Tomorrow's going to be a full day." At the door, he shook her hand and left. She couldn't believe it. He was leaving her, again. She felt like screaming in frustration.

* * *

The next night, Jennifer had come up with a plan, an easy way out of her predicament. She'd simply tell Matt that he had cured her. She sprayed perfume over her body until the scent wafted from her with each step.

Her hands stroked the pale gold silk nightgown. Form fitting cups of silk clung to her breasts. Wide straps rose from the bodice and flowed over her shoulders. A gored skirt fell from the fitted waist to her feet. The golden fabric shimmered in the dim light. This had better work, she thought. If it didn't, as a last resort, she had stocked up on whipped cream.

Jennifer slipped into the matching robe and left it open to reveal the form-fitting gown beneath. The heeled backless slippers on her feet were the same gold color. She felt sensuous, beautiful, and beyond primed to consummate the desire she and Matt had stoked in each other.

When she heard the doorbell ring, she checked the mirror one last time then went to let Matt in. He'd called to say he had something special planned tonight. Well, so did she. Ravel's
Bolero
played softly in the background just as it had the first time she'd played at seducing him. Only this time, she wasn't playing.

Jennifer opened the door and stood there, hoping he noticed the picture she made with the light behind her.

Before she could speak, he said, "I have a surprise for you, but I need to use your phone. My battery's going, and I need to respond to a voice mail."

"Of course," she said, standing aside. He walked past her as if she looked no different from last night when she'd worn footed flannel jammies and a ratty robe. Crestfallen, she followed him.

He hung up after a minute. "I was afraid of this. I may have to leave suddenly. I'm on call."

"Why don't we sit down and listen to the music," she suggested, feeling suddenly awkward. He didn't seem a bit impressed with her carefully-planned allure. With him so abrupt and matter of fact, she didn't know how to get him in the mood. The negligee didn't seem to be working.

"Okay," he said.

"Don't you want to take some clothes off first?" She couldn't resist asking.

Matt laughed. "Not yet. I'm a bit tired."

Jennifer steamed at his comment. Maybe he had a headache too, she thought resentfully as they settled on the couch. What would he do if she suddenly jumped him?

"Nice music," he said. "But don't you have something a little sexier?"

Jennifer's shoulders slumped. Maybe she really didn't have a good understanding of what was sexy and what wasn't.

They sat for several minutes, not touching, not moving, just listening to the music. Damn. The music stirred her blood, if not his. She listened as it built slowly, growing louder, faster, straining toward a climax. How could it not affect him?

Just as she gathered her courage to speak, he reached out and touched her shoulder with his index finger. She shivered in response.

"Don't you want to know what the surprise is?" He asked, slowly sliding his finger down her arm to the back of her hand. Then he drew it across her knuckles, ever so slowly, traced her little finger, then each finger in turn.

Even that sent her pulse into orbit. She decided that it was a good thing he hadn't made love to her. She probably would have expired on the spot.

"Jennifer?" He asked, sliding his finger between two of hers and stroking up and down in a way that made shivers race up her spine.

"Yes," she whispered, staggered by the suggestiveness of his movements.

"The surprise, Jennifer. Don't you want to know what it is?"

"Yes," she whispered, mesmerized by the movement of his index finger caressing her hand.

"Okay." He removed his hand from hers. She felt abandoned as if he'd walked out in the middle of making love to her.

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small bottle. Slowly, he removed the top. A heavy scent reminiscent of rose and musk and jasmine teased her.

"What is that?" She reached for it.

He wet his finger tip with the liquid in the bottle and stroked the pulse spot on the inside of her wrist. Then he lifted her wrist. "Do you like it?"

She sniffed delicately. "Yes, it 's very nice."

"It's massage oil. I thought I'd rub it into your skin until you glowed."

Oh, yes, she cried silently. Yes! She was so stunned by the mental image that all she could do was nod her agreement.

"All right," he said. Then the phone rang. "Oh, I'd better get that. I gave them your number."

No, no, no, Jennifer wanted to scream. She rested her forearms on her thighs and lowered her head to rest, unable to believe he'd walked away. Again. After a murmured conversation, he returned. "I'm sorry, Jennifer, but I have to go."

No. He couldn't leave her in this state. Not again. "But what about the massage oil?"

"Oh, you keep it. Maybe you can use it as bath oil." With a quick kiss on her forehead, he departed.

"Bath oil? Bath oil? I don't believe this," she wailed. "I'm trapped in a chastity nightmare."

The last few days could be characterized as the agonies of the damned, Matt thought. He'd ended up driving by himself to her parents' lake house. He was afraid he'd taken his payback a little too far. Jennifer was cool and hostile, and she hadn't spoken ten words to him since he'd arrived in time for breakfast. Alva and her friend Bill Dixon were already gathered around the rectangular kitchen table.

Matt took the bench opposite Alva and Bill. He sniffed appreciatively as he settled next to Jennifer. At least her mother hadn't shunned him. And she'd kept her promise about making yeast waffles. The country smoked ham had been a plus. He hadn't had a breakfast this good since the last time his mom had indulged him. The big rectangular table held platters of food and a carafe of coffee, and the delicious-smelling aromas made him realize how hungry he was.

"So tell me, Matt," Bill Dixon said, "what type of fishing did you do down on the coast?"

"I've done a little of everything. Popping, wade fishing, shallow water, deep sea. Fished from a pier. Fished from a motor boat. Went out in the Gulf on some of the bigger boats. It's all good."

"Popping? What's that? Do you pop the fish right in the kisser?" Alva asked. She passed the platter of smoked ham to Matt.

Matt smiled. "Not exactly. You use what they call a popping rod and fish from the pier or a boat. You constantly jerk the rod so the bait bobs, or pops, up and down in the water. It's supposed to attract the fish's attention and hook it then the jerking motion sets the hook."

Matt helped himself to some of the ham and passed the platter to Bill. When the platter of crispy waffles reached him, he took one of those and drenched it with real maple syrup from a stoneware crock.

For several minutes, Ed and Bill, who'd discovered that they'd met last year at a bass tournament in east Texas, discussed the merits of driving down to the coast in the spring and trying their hand at salt water fishing which neither had attempted before.

Maybe he had gone too far, Matt thought, cutting a bite of ham from the thick slab. He stared at Jennifer, hoping she'd look at him instead of through him. He looked at his plate. Suddenly, he wasn't hungry. Mechanically, he chewed.

He'd had to use ever ounce of his will power to force himself to stay away from Jennifer the last few days. After their last encounter, he'd known he couldn't trust himself to be alone with her again. He swallowed hard, thinking about the way she'd greeted him that night. She'd been the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He'd wanted to rip that gold silk negligee from her luscious body.

He'd known then that he couldn't hope to keep his desire on a short leash, especially when it seemed that she'd decided to seduce him. Even cold showers had proved futile so he'd given them up. He couldn't give up thinking about her though, fantasizing about her. Regretting what he'd thrown away that night. He only hoped she'd give him that chance again.

Maybe it had been a dirty trick, arranging for his answering service to call him that night. But the trick had been on him too. When he'd got home, he'd decided he was tired of playing games. It was time to end this charade.

He wanted her. In bed, out of bed, anyway he could have her. After the way she'd responded to him those times, he hoped that she wanted him too. At least he'd thought so until he'd arrived here. Now he wasn't so certain.

Last night, the seeds of worry had been sown when he'd phoned to see if she'd ride with him to the lake house. He'd even have driven his Jag instead of his pickup if she'd agreed to go with him. She'd refused, saying that Alva and Bill were picking her up. But when he'd pulled into the yard, he'd seen her gold Lexus parked next to her parents' car. He figured the black Dodge pickup must belong to Dixon.

After chatting with Bill a few minutes, he'd discovered that Jennifer had never intended to ride with Alva and Bill. She hadn't wanted to ride with him, he thought, dejected.

Now, she sat next to him, but she completely ignored him. She acted as if she didn't know him any more intimately than she knew the five pound smallmouth bass they said she'd hauled out of the lake this morning.

"So that little fish was the only one you caught this morning?" He asked, needling her, wanting her to at least look at him instead of through him.

Jennifer bristled. "Five pounds isn't exactly a small bass."

He nodded. "You're right. It's not bad. For a girl."

Alva and Ronnie complained loudly about his remark to the accompaniment of laughs from Ed and Bill. Jennifer didn't say a word. She merely looked down her nose at him.

Matt's spirits lifted. At least she wasn't ignoring him now. "Ronnie, these are the most delicious waffles I've ever eaten."

"Why, thank you. Actually, the recipe is Jennifer's. She's an amazing cook."

Jennifer cringed. The weekend was going to be difficult enough without her mother's matchmaking attempts. She wished she'd made an excuse and stayed home, but she hadn't wanted to disappoint her dad. He'd planned on their competing in the tournament together since last year.

Maybe if she could keep her feelings under control, she'd manage to get through the two days without any bloodshed. Heaven knows, after that last frustrating evening with Matt, she'd been hell to live with. Her frustration had proved fertile ground for irritation to turn to anger. Still smarting from his rejection, she decided that she wouldn't go to bed with Matt Penrose if he got down on his knees and begged.

She picked up her knife and fork and began cutting the ham. She worked away on the slice of meat until she had reduced it to quarter-inch cubes. The man was impossible. How had the tables turned so swiftly? One minute she had him salivating over her, and the next he was teasing and taunting her with his body.

"Everything about fishing sounds tiring," Alva said. "You have to do all that popping or casting to attract a creature whose brain tissue is the size of a peanut. Next you have to perform some complex maneuver to set the hook in his poor little mouth. Then you have to yank him out of the water."

"Not necessarily." Jennifer lay her fork down and picked up the heavy coffee mug. She smiled sweetly at Matt. "Some fishermen like to bait the hook and entice the fish, teasing it, never giving the fish what it wants. Then they get tired of the game and leave."

Matt smiled back. "And some fishermen just don't like playing juvenile games."

"Well," Alva said, "I think that if I wanted that kind of aerobic workout I'd go to the gym. Treadmills don't smell as bad as fish. I'll let the rest of you have all that fun. I'm here to rest."

"I agree, Alva." Ronnie refilled everyone's coffee cup. "My favorite kind of fishing is sitting on the end of that pier." She waved toward the pier visible through the back windows. "Give me a comfy chair and a cane pole and a glass of lemonade, and I'm set for the day."

"She's so considerate of the fish that she doesn't even put a worm on her hook." Ed's eyes twinkled.

Jennifer pushed her plate away. She challenged Matt with a look. "I don't play games. When I fish."

"Oh, really? I thought game-playing was one of your specialties," Matt said, shoving his chair back.

The others stopped talking and looked at Matt and Jennifer.

"It's not, but I can play the game as well as the next person." Jennifer stood, her chest rose and fell quickly with each agitated breath.