Satin Pleasures (13 page)

“It’s kind of drastic. But, if a crowd at Fisherman’s Wharf and a full stomach doesn’t do it, we’ll have no choice but to jump off the pier and let the sharks finish us off.”

"I'd say the cure is worse than the illness." She shivered dramatically. "Thanks, but no thanks. My agenda for the day does not include being featured on a shark buffet."

Tempted to throw a companionable arm around her shoulders, Dan tucked his hands in his jeans pockets and walked at her side toward the apartment. "I hope my bread bowl features on that agenda somewhere or I'll pass out from malnutrition. I need the energy to check out a boat at one of the marinas."

Already outfitted for pleasure fishing, it sounded perfect for his purposes when he spoke to the owner yesterday. He had to find a suitable vehicle for his newest venture to remind him hundreds of miles of water would soon stand between him and a tempting brunette who had hydrophobia and made permanency in San Francisco too damned appealing for his own good.

Too damned bad he wasn’t interested in what was good for him. "Come with me, Tess."

"I'd like to, but I need to go to the office."

Hadn't she looked at the color on the stress card last night before she passed out? "What you need is a day off."

Her scandalized expression wasn’t all that unexpected. "As a merchant, I can't believe you'd want me to slough off the weekend before the kickoff of our program. The bazaar is Monday." Prodded, she picked up speed across the beach.

He caught up with her. "As a merchant, I know everything is already set in motion. If it isn't, worrying the details now won't accomplish anything but give you ulcers."

"But—"

Their differences had never been more apparent. Still, he persisted. "Please, Tess. Explore the wharf with me."

Frustration and defensiveness radiated from her in waves. "If I don't go to work, I still have things to do."

"Like what?"

She ticked the items off her fingers.
"Laundry, grocery shopping, cleaning the apartment."

Knowing she'd start a second list if he didn't stop her, he interrupted. "Have you got clean underwear?"

Laughter burst from her lips. "I can't believe you asked me that!"

Unrepentant, he grinned. "As the owner of a lingerie shop I've become a firm believer that, if you have clean underwear, nothing else is important. Your apartment is fine. Your laundry won't walk off without you. And, I can help you shop for groceries." He lowered his voice to share a secret. "Pot pies and frozen dinners are not good stress management."

"And, you have some wild idea about becoming my stress manager?"

He was encouraged by the smile tugging on her lips. After searching in vain through her kitchen for breakfast staples, he knew she was probably down to one meal a day.
Or less.
He had firsthand experience with where that path led.
"Yep, part-time, on a consultant basis.
I don't charge much. Today's fee is a bread bowl of clam chowder."

"Is that all you think about?
Food?"

It wasn't
all
he thought about recently. "Are you questioning my priorities?" he asked with mock affront.

"Would it matter, if I did?"

Her chuckle told him he'd won. "You'll come?"

"Yes. I'll come. But, be forewarned," she scowled at him, "I'm single-minded when I explore. If you can't keep up, you're going to wish you'd let me go to work."

"Not a chance."

Hours later, after the sun had set and they'd returned to her apartment, Dan agreed Tess was the most tenacious explorer he'd ever met and keeping up was a challenge. Part of it was due to the nagging ache in his lower back caused by his moving efforts and a restless night on Tess's abominably short couch. He also hadn't suspected how extensive Fisherman's Wharf was until he'd been introduced to every nook and cranny of it.

Tess didn't do anything half-hearted outside of the office either. Except for the brief time he sidetracked to the marina to examine the boat he subsequently offered to purchase, she never left his side, throwing herself into the part of tour guide with exuberance. After one look at the flush of pleasure on her cheeks, the shine of discovery in her eyes, he was prepared to crawl home.

If she showed half as much passion in bed, a man would have to have a lot of stamina to keep up with her.

The tenor of his thoughts made Dan shift on the living room carpet behind the seaman’s chest that served as Tess’s coffee table. Watching Tess drop her chopsticks into an empty take-out box of moo shoo pork, he rubbed his spine, the ache a welcome reminder of his limitations. Now, when they were back within a stone's throw of a bed, was not the time to realize he should have jumped off the pier when he had the chance.

"What's wrong with your back, Dan?"

Stabbing his last piece of sesame chicken, he didn't look up.
"Nothing."

"I know back pain when I see it. That's the fourth time I've caught you massaging it today."

He'd forgotten how observant she could be. "It's no big deal.
A twinge."
He started to rise from the floor. "I've got to go, Tess. Thanks for coming with me today and—"

"Stop right there," she ordered before he could escape. "You aren't the only one with a corner on concern, you know. Sleeping on my couch last night obviously caused you discomfort. I can't let you leave without doing something about it."

He didn't disabuse her of the notion her couch had caused his problem. If that was male chauvinism, so be it. He had enough weaknesses around Tess. "What do you have in mind?"

She smiled. "I put my rack in the shop for repairs after my last victim so you'll have to settle for a back rub."

Before he could question his sanity, he began to unbutton his shirt. Then, a small voice in his head whispered a warning. “Tess, this is nuts. We resolved nothing this morning. We both know—”

Her gaze was steady. “I know we’re both adults, Dan. Do you want a back rub or not?”

Thinking about her hands on him tightened too many other parts of his anatomy.
"You any good at it?"

He knew he'd spoken out of turn when her smile faded. "Top of the class," she answered abruptly. "Take off your shirt and lie on the floor."

Taking off his shirt without further argument, he laid down. Then, when nothing happened, he lifted his head to see Tess staring down at her hands, that sad, haunted expression he recognized on her face. "Want to tell me what I said wrong?"

With a heavy sigh, Tess pushed him down and threw a leg over the back of his thighs. Straddling him, her long fingers began to probe his back muscles. "I learned massage techniques years ago to ease some of my dad's back pain."

His body automatically responding to the way she surrounded him, he made an effort to focus on the conversation. "Your dad has back problems?"

When she kneaded the muscles at the base of his neck, his groan of pained pleasure almost drowned her response. "Dad was crippled in a car accident ten years ago. When the pain gets bad, sometimes massage helps."

Anguish and helplessness seeped through her voice, making Dan wonder who massaged her pain. "It was difficult for me to lose my father suddenly to a heart attack,” he said, “but watching a loved one suffer for years has to be so much worse. Is there a chance he'll walk again?"

"He'll walk if I have to tap every last surgeon in the Northern Hemisphere." There was no arguing with the steel in her vow.

Dan winced as her knuckle dug into the flesh below his shoulder blades. "Will surgery help?"

"The last two didn't accomplish as much as we'd hoped. This next one sounds promising." She finished with a murmur. "It has to work. This may be our last chance."

Her tension emanated into him from her fingertips, her legs and thighs, from every point of contact between them. Suddenly, Dan knew what drove Tess. On the heels of that realization, he knew he wasn't likely to win any battles against her obsessive behavior. He'd had a good reason for changing his habits a year ago, but he now knew she had equally good reasons for maintaining hers.

"You're paying for his surgeries, aren't you? That's why you want the promotion."

"That's why I'll
get
it."

She would, too, at any cost, and he knew that cost was too damned high. That was why, if he had any sense left, he'd walk away tonight and never come back. Tess needed someone to share her burdens, a champion, and he didn't slay anyone else's dragons any more. He hadn't yet succeeded in slaying his own.

Turning over without thinking, he dumped Tess ignobly onto her bottom. But, before he could say or do anything to save himself, he gazed into her expressive eyes and saw the doubt that undercut her determination, eroded her confidence. It was this deeply buried vulnerability, surfacing unexpectedly, like now, that always hit him the hardest.

He dragged her down to him and smiled crookedly. "Honey, you'll get your promotion. I'm sure of it."

Her breathy sigh warmed his chest. "How do you do that?"

Lost in her nearness, his voice seemed to come from far away. "What?"

"Build my confidence, bolster my spirit and relax me, all at the same time." A blush stole over her cheeks. "I've never had a man believe in me the way you do."

Dan stroked his fingers along her jaw. "You're a special woman, with boundless energy and goals that are important to you. There’s no question in my mind you’ll accomplish what you want but, if you need help in any way while I'm here, you let me know."

"My knight in shining armor," she accused with a watery smile. "You've already done so much. I'm not exactly blind to the way you’ve influenced my disenchanted merchants into falling behind my program."

"Is that why you were upset last night?"

"I thought you were using me to get elected to the Merchants Organization." She saw his frown. "I know it's not true and, after I came to my senses, I knew you weren't that kind of man."

The admiration in her voice made him feel like a hero, when in reality he had more in common with a self-serving jerk. She wouldn't think he was so chivalrous if she knew he'd only begun to smooth the way with her merchants so he could sleep at night and stop worrying about her tendency to overwork.

"Don't make me out to be all that damned altruistic, Tess. I have a vested interest in
A Touch of Silk & Satin
. My family needs this expansion to succeed. Facilitating your program is simply good business." It also wasn't in his nature to sit on the sidelines when there was work to be done. Some compulsive behaviors were more difficult to change than others.

"Whatever the reason,” tendrils of long, silky curls tickled his neck as she kissed his jaw, "thank you."

"You're welcome.”

Dan's voice rumbled through him like thunder, warning of the storm to come if he didn't put at least two city blocks between them. Fast. But Tess was draped over his body, her breasts warming his naked chest through the thin weave of her short-sleeved sweater, and he'd longed for this woman forever.

With one hand on her denim backside, he ground his hard length into her softness. "I've got to run, Tess."

She wriggled on top of him. "You can't."

His interest in nobility was waning.
"Why not?"

Lightly biting her lower lip, she smiled sexily and wriggled again. Her sigh tore at his insides, reclaimed a few hormones that had gone astray, and yanked his pulse up another notch. "Your belt buckle has snagged my sweater. I'm caught."

Well and truly caught.

Tess felt Dan's response and knew it was time to stop fooling herself. Their day at the wharf had been friendly on the surface, but her desire to be loved by this man had only dug deeper with each glance, each shared experience. The yearning had begun the first time she opened her eyes on the bridge and carried her to this moment when she could think of nothing but seducing the man.

Making the single most irrational decision in her adult life, she brazenly leaned down to caress Dan's tanned collarbone with her lips.

He jerked. "Tess! Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"

Yes. She knew. For the first time since the accident, she wanted to take something for herself without considering the cost. Dan was leaving. She'd never have another opportunity to live her midnight fantasy with the only man to invade her dreams, the only man to fill the emptiness in her life.

"I know how to get untangled," she said, "but you'll have to be really still so we don't snag my sweater."

"Oh." He sounded disappointed her concern was for her apparel. "I—"

Her heart in her throat, she cut him off. "You have to be quiet, too." An unfamiliar playfulness struggled to escape her control. "I need to listen for tearing material."

"Oh," he said again. Yet, this time, he didn't sound disappointed. His voice deepened to a husky rasp. "You need me to stay still and not mo...
make
noise."