New and…Improved? & Andrew in Excess (6 page)

A few minutes later, she helped Kent to the car. They walked in silence, their bodies close. And hot.

“I'm sorry you hurt yourself trying to keep me safe,” she said, her mind racing, her body throbbing, yearning. “I think you should sit out the next adventure.”

“That won't be possible.”

She stopped. “Why?”

“Because I intend to
be
your next adventure.”

“Oh. Oh my,” she whispered, and Kent's dark, heated gaze held hers. She could hardly breathe for the pure joy and terror of it all.

T
HE EVENING WAS CLEAR
,
crisp and beautiful, as only a night in the high altitude Sierras could be. And pain throbbed like crazy through Kent's system, centering in his ankle, making him delirious.

That had to be it; he couldn't think of any other reason why he'd said what he'd just said.

“You didn't mean it,” Becca said lightly enough, but not so casually that he couldn't hear her uncertainty. “You couldn't have meant it. You don't do relationships with women, other than for…”

“For…what?”

“You know. S. E. X.,” she whispered, looking everywhere but at him, which must have been difficult since she was supporting at least half his weight and he was draped all over her.

“What are you talking about?”

“I work for S.S.L. don't I? Everyone there knows everything there is to know about everything, just ask any one of them.”

“And it's common knowledge, apparently,” he said wryly, “that all I do with women is have sex.”

They'd reached the car now, and when he leaned on it for support, she backed away from him and turned toward the lake, which was only about fifty yards off. The moon had risen, tracing a silvery pattern across the black water.

“Becca?”

She wouldn't look at him. “Lovely night.”

“Hello?”

She finally turned toward him, shooting him a smile void of her usual wattage. “Hello.”

“Are you going to answer my question?”

“Well you did mention red panties the other day.” She licked her lips. “And I know you love that show where the lifeguards bounce around in their little red bathing suits.”

“It's an American institution. Doesn't mean that I'm getting—”

“It's really none of my business anyway. Even if everyone says you could have a date with a different woman every day of the week. That you've…you know, gotten lucky more times in the past month than they have in their lifetime. That—”

“Becca.” He had to laugh. “Can we establish
here, for the record, that we're talking about gossip, not fact?”

The pale light shimmered through her lovely hair, but it also cast her face in shadows, hiding her emotions from him. “By my calculations,” she said, “if you truly have gone out as much as everyone says, you've…”

“Had sex?” he asked tightly.

“Yes. That. Over a hundred times this year alone.”

He stared at her, torn between the need to laugh again and be insulted. “You can't possibly believe that.”

“As for me, I haven't…well, it's been so long I've forgotten how, and even if I could remember, I don't think there's much that was all that great about it. Don't get me wrong,” she said quickly as he stood there, rooted in shock, “I've read plenty of romances, I know how it's
supposed
to go, I'm just saying I've never seen fireworks, never felt as if I was falling off a cliff, or sailing through the air in passion. I've never exploded with ecstasy.”

Kent opened his mouth, but nothing much came out. He couldn't decide which was taking up the most brain space—ankle pain, frustration that she actually believed he was promiscuous, or arousal
over the thought of showing her exactly what it felt like to explode with ecstasy.

“And truthfully, even in the adventurous spirit, I feel a little intimidated by the differences in our experiences.”

“Becca.” His voice was thick, husky. He couldn't help it. “First of all, I have a fraction of the ‘experience' you seem to think I do, and second—”

“Oh Kent…really?”

“Really.” Her eyes were wide and on his. Her body, so nicely showed off in those snug punk shorts and a T-shirt, had his fingers itching to touch, to skim over all that creamy skin and explore to his heart's content.

Heart's content.

When had that happened? When in the world had she sneaked beneath his defenses? The moment she'd fallen right out of the sky and into the water at his feet, he realized.

“What?”

She was blinking at him and he groaned. “Did I say that out loud?”

“What happened the moment I fell out of the sky?”

“Fresh air,” he decided. “I need fresh air.”

“We're standing in it. Doesn't get much fresher.”

“Humor me.”

“Okay.” She helped him into the car. “But I'll have to drive.”

“No.”

She pointed to his bandaged ankle.

Damn. She wanted to drive his baby, his pride and joy. “I can handle it.”

“Don't be silly. Hand over the keys. Come on,” she coaxed. “You can do it. Just drop them into my hand.”

He clutched them tighter. “You might get a ticket, most people do in a car like this.”

“Kent.” She wriggled her fingers for the keys.

“But—”

“Kent.”

In the end, she had to pry them from him and he sat in the passenger seat, agonizing over the two minute drive. “Be careful.”

“Yes, dear,” she mocked.

“Watch for cops.”

“I'm watching.” She went to turn the key and he slammed a hand over hers.

“The clutch,” he said through his teeth. “You have to put in the clutch first or—”

“Oh!” She laughed. “Of course.” She slipped
in the clutch and sent him a sweet smile. “Got it.”

He had a very bad feeling about this. “How about we walk?”

“Don't be ridiculous.” Slowly she eased out of the parking spot, Kent grinding his teeth all the way.

“Relax.” She revved the engine, going faster. Then faster. Up ahead, the light went from green to yellow.

She didn't slow.

From yellow to red.

No slowing.

“Becca.”

“I see it.” She hit the brake but not the clutch.

They jerked forward until Kent was kissing the windshield.

“Sorry,” she muttered, catching the clutch just before they stalled.

He pried himself off the glass and glared at her. “Careful.”

“I am,” she said, insulted.

“You're going to get a ticket.”

“I am not going to get a ticket.” She looked at him. “You know, you're more concerned about your car than—”

“A stop sign,” he said quickly, bracing himself against the dash. “Don't get a—”

“I told you, I'm not going to get a ticket!”

“Watch out. Don't go through it—”

She did.

And
that's
when she got a ticket.

 

“N
ICE NIGHT
,” Becca said. They'd stopped at the lake after her ticket because Kent needed more fresh air.

He was considering sitting on the beach until he could drive, even though that conceivably could be days. He didn't mind.

“I still want to take the deal,” she said suddenly. “That is, if you're still offering.”

“The deal?”

“You know, the adventure. With you.”

Small, relentless waves hit the shore noisily, only feet from them, while Kent drew a deep, careful breath. “I think we just had our adventure,” he said.

She laughed. “Well, okay, if you consider getting a ticket the best adventure you've got in you.”

He narrowed his eyes and looked at her. “Don't you dare twist that ticket around to be my fault.”

Again, her laughter floated around him, warming him even though he preferred to hold on to his
irritation. If he was irritated, she couldn't turn him on. Right?

Wrong.

“You know, you never talked about yourself,” she said, tipping her head back to look up at the incredible sky. “You grew up here.”

“At south shore.”

“Any brothers or sisters?”

“No.”

“Do you get home often?”

“No.” He tried not to tense, but it was impossible. He hated talking about his past.

She studied him thoughtfully. “So talkative.”

She was beautiful in the moonlight. Soft, sincere. And she wanted to know him. How many people in his life had really wanted to know him?

How many had he
let
know him?

He clasped his arms around his knees, ignored the shaft of pain in his ankle and stared into the most amazing night he'd seen in a while. “I grew up with my mother, she worked at one of the lower-class hotels. Cleaning, cooking, whatever kind of work she could find, when she could find it. I never knew my father, she said she didn't, either.”

“It must have been rough,” she said quietly.

Rough about summed it up, but he shrugged.
“We lived day to day, sometimes with her friends, sometimes out of her car. I hated it then, and I hate remembering it now.”

Her gaze was luminous, filled with the compassion he didn't want, and other things he
did
want. “You've come so far, done so much for yourself. It's a miracle.”

“For a street rat, yeah.”

“Summer and I grew up here in Incline, and had a house right on the lake. We had a tennis court, an indoor swimming pool, servants, everything we could want.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Everything except parents.” She smiled when he looked at her. “They traveled extensively, they were rarely home. Sometimes I used to have nightmares that they'd forgotten us, that they'd never come home again. We'd worry about what would happen if the servants ran out of money, if they'd take off and just leave us alone to fend for ourselves.”

He shook his head, angry for the two helpless, little children they'd been. “What happened?”

“One day my parents really didn't come home. Their plane crashed somewhere in Europe, where they'd been vacationing.”

“Becca…God. What a nightmare.”

She shrugged. “I'd just turned eighteen. Summer was only sixteen, but they let her stay with me because I'd always been so—” She broke off, let out a self-deprecating smile. “Good. Responsible. We turned out fine,” she said softly.

Fine. There was that word she so resented, and he thought now, finally, he could really understand why. “So…we're both fine?”

With a smile, she turned to him. “Yeah.” Her humor faded a bit as she held his gaze, replaced with nerves and awe and something else, something he couldn't quite name. “Actually, I feel very fine right now,” she whispered. “Right here, with you.”

She was pressed to his side, held there by his own arm. He could feel the heat of her skin beneath her clothes. Her hair smelled wonderful and he shifted just a bit closer still, more relaxed and comfortable than he could remember ever being.

He considered kissing her senseless, he knew he could do it. Considered taking that adventure right now. It'd be incredible, with only the sounds of the water and the moonlight for company.

Making his move, he slowly drew her in his arms and looked at her mouth, which trembled open.

He leaned closer, all sorts of hot thoughts tumbling though his head. Hot thoughts and light—

Light?

Bright, glaring light. “What the—” Turning, he shielded Becca.

A cop stood there, wielding his flashlight. He sighed, loudly, at the sight of them. “You guys are too old for this necking at the lake stuff,” he said grumpily. “Take it to a hotel, will ya?”

“I
DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO
write you up,” the cop said when neither of them moved.

Becca let out a laugh at that. She clamped her hand over her mouth and blinked her huge eyes up at the officer.

“Everything okay?” he asked her, frowning, shining the light in her face for a moment. She nodded, but he didn't relax. “Let me see your identification please,” he said to Kent, who inwardly groaned, but reached into his pocket.

“You wouldn't believe the evening we've had,” Becca told him.

“Try me.”

“Well, first Kent hurt his ankle trying to show me how to rock climb, then I got a ticket in his car—”

“You got a ticket? This evening?”

“Just a little one. And getting another would sort of ruin our plans.”

The cop studied Kent's driver's license. “What plans, ma'am?”

“Another adventure.” She looked at Kent and smiled. It wasn't a casual, oh-let's-go-eat-sushi smile either. No, it was the mother of all smiles, a cat-in-cream smile.

“An adventure,” the officer repeated doubtfully, dividing an annoyed look between the two of them. “And would this include anything illegal?”

“Absolutely not,” Becca said sweetly, with contrasting fire in her gaze.

Kent's heart stopped. Desire flooded him.

The policeman sighed in annoyance. “Just make sure you go home first, could you? I don't know what you people see in these woods. It's damn cold out here.”

“You've never been in love,” Becca decided.

No, Kent thought. Not love. Never love.

Vaguely he heard Becca answer another question before they were left alone, but he couldn't concentrate on any of that now.

He'd only offered an adventure, nothing else, he assured himself. He hadn't led her on.

Not on purpose anyway.

“Whew, that was close,” she whispered with a smile, moving close again. Happiness shimmered
from her. “This must be what it's like to be a lust-struck teenager. I think I like it.”

Her eyes were shiny with excitement. Just excitement, he told himself, but that was a lie, too. There was more in her gaze, much more, and he felt his heart crack.

Dammit!

He'd known this would happen, that his fondness for her as a friend would war with the part of him that lusted after her. They hadn't even done anything more than kiss, and already he was feeling responsible for her, worried that he was going to hurt her.

He wasn't even aware of moving back away from her until she sighed, a wealth of sudden sadness in the sound. “You have that panicked look on your face,” she said quietly. “The one that Cookie told me about. She said it's the look you had last summer when your girlfriend brought up the price of diamonds.”

“She wasn't my girlfriend.”

Wrong answer. Becca's face blanked, all emotion cleanly wiped away. “Oh, would you look at that?” she said, glancing at her watch. “It's late. I'm sorry.” She rose gracefully. “I'll walk.”

“No, you won't.” He managed to hobble after
her and after a brief hesitation, he handed her his keys.

“What if I get another ticket?” she asked coolly.

“You won't.” He held the driver's door open when she would have shut it on his face. “Becca…I'm sorry.”

She looked straight ahead through the windshield. “Nothing to be sorry for. You've changed your mind. You can't handle it. No biggee.” Disturbingly distant, she put the key in the ignition. “Get in, Kent. I'll drive you home and walk from there.”

“And then what?”

“Then you leave me alone.”

Leave her alone. Was he really supposed to be able to do that?

Hunkering down, ignoring the pain in his ankle, he leaned into the car, putting a fist on either side of her hips, caging her in so that she had no choice but to look at him. “Becca—”

She simply started the car and put it in gear. “Better get in,” she said casually, revving the engine. “I know how fond of your toes you are.”

 

A
T
S
IERRA
L
AB'S
weekly staff meeting, everyone currently involved in a project read off their latest progress.

Becca was up.

She had the most erotic voice, Kent thought, lost in it like a stupid lovesick fool.

Around a table laden with donuts, bagels, croissants and various juices sat Dennis, Jed and two of Kent's other lab techs, Sally and Tiki.

Despite himself, Becca continued to hold Kent's attention. Her eyes were intent, her body leaned forward toward the others as she spoke.

She loved her job and it showed.

She was upset with Kent and that showed, too.

She hadn't spoken to him all morning, despite his repeated attempts to get her to talk. He'd asked, as he'd trailed her down the hallway, if she was okay.

Yes.

That was all, just yes.

He asked if she was mad at him.

No.

She wasn't mad. She wasn't anything, but late for their meeting, and could he please remember they were at work and not on their own personal time?

Dammit, I'm the boss,
he'd called after her as she'd rushed down the hall, away from him, hips gently swinging, skirt flying, legs flashing.

Frustrated, he'd followed her into the meeting.

Her hair shone under the lights and so did her green eyes. Kent sat there morosely and lost the train of what she was saying. Instead he tapped his pencil against his thigh and wondered yet again how he'd never noticed her eyes before, when they intrigued him so much now, and knew it was because she no longer wore her glasses.

“I liked those glasses,” he muttered.

“I'm sorry, Kent…what?”

Startled from his sulk, he looked up to find everyone looking at him. Everyone except Becca.
Great.
“Nothing.”

Jed took the floor next and Kent quickly lost track of his project too, as he stared at Becca. The
new
Becca. He liked her all pretty and polished, anyone would. She was beautiful.

But the truth was he liked her natural, too, without the makeup and the hair. Without the fancy clothes.

He missed her jeans.

“What?” several people asked him at the same time.

“What
what?
” Kent said, confused.

“Jeans,” Dennis repeated patiently, his eyes full of mischief. “You miss her jeans. Should I bother to ask
whose
jeans you miss?”

Kent didn't dare glance at Becca, but he heard a clunk and couldn't resist.

She had dropped her head to the table. Her ears were red.

“Nothing,” Kent mumbled. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Dennis nodded seriously, his mouth quirking with barely repressed laughter. “Uh-huh. Maybe you ought to try to stay with us here today, boss.”

“Just continue.” He couldn't believe the calm in which they did, especially Becca.

How had she forgotten what had almost happened between them? Had she forgotten their kiss? She couldn't have. He could live to be a hundred years old and never forget that kiss.

Suddenly he registered everyone's collective gasp. With dread, Kent looked around. Becca was beet-red again and he closed his eyes. “Don't tell me, I said that out loud too.”

“Yep.” Dennis didn't bother to hide his grin now. “Is there maybe something you'd like to share, Kent? Something about…” He glanced at Becca, who studiously avoided everyone's gaze. “About a kiss, perhaps?”

“Yes,” Tiki said, laughing. “Tell all.”

“Or maybe we should be asking Becca?”

Everyone in the room seemed to be enjoying Kent's and Becca's discomfort immensely. Becca on the other hand, looked as though she wished a huge hole would open up and swallow her alive.

“How about it, Becca?” Dennis lifted one eyebrow. “Anything new?”

“Dennis?” Kent interrupted politely.

Dennis turned to him, still grinning. “Yes?”

“Shut up.”

Everyone laughed at that, but there was more than one speculative glance divided between himself and Becca, who had stopped avoiding him to glare at him. He couldn't blame her. “I'm sorry,” he mouthed and she rolled her eyes and looked away, doubling the distance between them.

He wasn't helping his cause any. And what cause was that? Hadn't he'd known this was a bad idea from the very start?

He should just let it go.

That would be smart. No more rhapsodizing over her voice, no more mourning like a lovesick dweeb over her eyes. They'd just forget about this attraction. They were grown-ups, they could do it.

Becca passed him a quickly sprawled note.

You're off the hook. I'm going to find another adventure. Go away.

Good, he thought, waiting for the relief to hit him. She'd made it so easy.

There would be nothing more between them, they were free to go on with their lives. He liked his life, quiet and simple. No permanent ties.

Yep, things were good.

Really good.

But damn if a small part of him wondered what she'd do now. Becca was different, special, she needed someone who would appreciate her, and he had the sinking feeling by turning away, he'd made the biggest mistake of his life.

Around him, the meeting continued. Tiki was speaking and everyone was listening.

Yeah, Becca had made it real easy for him. So why did he feel so miserable?

Across the table, his gaze met hers. “I can't do it, I can't go away,” he said to her. The thought of his life stretching out in front of him, long and lonely, didn't seem to hold the same appeal it used to. “I don't want off the hook.”

Abruptly, Tiki stopped talking, and everyone stared at him.

Becca rose to her feet in one fluid move. Another few steps and she was at the door. “This is really my fault,” she said to him. “Don't feel badly.”

“Wait!” he called to her as she turned to leave.

“I thought I knew what I wanted,” she said, clearly conscious of their audience as she kept her gaze down. “And it was all great, really great. Especially the makeover, which gave me the in with you. But it's no longer enough, Kent. I'm sorry.”

Wait. Makeover? Did she really believe that had made any difference to him? “Becca—”

“No.” Her smile came straight from the gut, and it was so sad and wrenching, it nearly broke his heart. “Don't say anything. Goodbye, Kent.” She closed the door behind her.

When she was gone, everyone turned to Kent, eyes wide and curious.

“Well, that meeting went well,” he said.

 

L
AKE TRAFFIC WAS LIGHT
, it took him only a few minutes to get to the salon.

Summer looked up from her client when he limped in. She gave the woman's hair a gentle pat, whispered something, then came toward him with a welcoming smile.

No tight black dress today, but a snug skirt beneath a cropped top and an open denim jacket. Young chic. She was gorgeous, and by the confi
dent way she sauntered over to him, Kent knew that she knew it.

“Dr. Dreamboat,” she said, laughing when he grimaced at the nickname. “What can I do for you? A manicure? Pedicure?”

“No,” he said, backing up a step, imagining himself tied to a chair and having his ticklish feet worked on. “Nothing for me. I came about Becca.”

Summer's smile faded. “Is she okay? Hurt? Sick?”

“No.”

But something in his expression must have tipped her off. She took his arm and led him past her client, smiling at the woman and promising to be right back.

Her office was a cool, white, comfortable room made interesting with lush, green plants. She gestured him to a chair, and once he sat, she leaned back against a small, neat desk. “What's the matter with Becca?” she asked.

“Me, mostly. But it's also your makeover.”

“Excuse me?”

Kent rolled his shoulders. “It's confusing, but she wanted this new adventurous life-style and she thought the new look could give it to her.”

Summer crossed her arms. “Don't be silly. This
makeover has been good for her. She's even gone out on a
date.
She would never have done that before, she'd never have made the time for herself.”

While that was fascinating information Kent filed away for later, he couldn't let this go. “Yes, she's definitely come out of her shell. She's on a mission for a good time.”

“So give her one.”

That he'd wanted to do exactly that didn't escape him. “I'm off the hook apparently,” he said wryly, and at her narrowed brow, he shrugged. “Her words.”

“You idiot. What happened?” She sighed when he didn't answer. “And here I thought you were so smart.”

“Are you going to help me here or not?”

“Why?”

“
Why?
What kind of question is that?”

“A good one,” she said evenly. “You care about her.”

“Yeah. So?”

“You also love her.”

As far as shock value went, it was a good one. He could feel his lungs constricting, closing off air. “I've got to go.” He was at the door, his
throat tight, his heart pounding, when Summer stopped him.

“You know what I think, Dr. Dreamboat? I think you're a big phony.” Her voice softened, filled with sympathy. “You're far more involved here than you want to be, aren't you?”

Well there was a news flash. “Look, are you in or not?”

She studied him, then smiled. “You can put away that dark, gorgeous scowl. I'm going to help your sorry hide, even if it means I have to resort to bribery.”