Smart and Sexy (9 page)

Her own gaze didn’t hold steady through that beat. It couldn’t, not with his hand on her, the heat from it seeping into her like a soothing balm.

“Is that how he went through his trust fund?”

“Yes. But he went through it a long time before I ever knew it.”

“How long?”

“Before he married me. My father…” She shook her head. Here was the hard part of the confession. “My father screwed him out of a bunch of money. He never recovered from that.”

“So what, your father gave him you?”

At that humiliating truth laid out bare, she closed her eyes. But there was no more hiding what her life had been. He’d seen the proof in her eyes. “You could say so, yes,” she said, remembering the feeling of betrayal when she’d found out the truth.

But now she felt as if the cold night had gotten inside her bones and was going to rip her apart. She heard Noah swear, the rough sound from deep in his throat only making her shiver yet again. She turned her head to the window and stared into the black, stormy night.

She felt stripped bare, and more vulnerable than she’d ever been in her life.

“Bailey,” he said very quietly, reaching out for her hand, rubbing his fingers over hers, clearly trying to infuse her with his heat.

Helpless against the pull of his voice, she looked at him.

“There’s more.”

Yeah, there was more, lots more, including the answers he wanted. It was just that she didn’t have as many as he might have liked, and she didn’t intend to give them to him in any case. “Alan owed people big. And when he couldn’t pay, they killed him.”

“And now they’re after you. Which makes sense if they’d killed you, but they didn’t.”

She just looked at him, warring with her own serious trust issues. Luckily for her, he seemed to take this all in with a grim composure that was somehow, shockingly, like a calming balm on her panic.

“They want something from you,” he said, watching her very carefully. “Whatever it is, they want it badly.”

“Yes.”

“And they’re not going to give up until you deliver.”

True enough.

He looked resigned. “So where are you headed next?”

“To either of the two remaining resorts in Alan’s name.”

She watched him absorb that, then slowly shake his head. “You’re still hiding.”

“Yes, because if they catch me—”

“No, from me. You’re still hiding from me.”

What could she say to that? To the utter truth? “It’s nothing personal,” she said quietly.

“Yeah, it’s personal. It’s very personal.” And he got out of the Jeep.

Frustrated, uncharacteristically uptight, and the capper…inexplicably aroused, Noah came around the Jeep for Bailey, leading her through the garage to the inside of the house.

He had no idea what it was about her, either that fierce pride in her eyes that said she’d rather not have needed his help, or the way he felt when she laid those eyes on him, or maybe it was more base than that; maybe it was simply her mouth-watering body.

He had no idea, but he tried to put it, and her, out of his head.

He’d stayed here before, many times, and was already familiar with the house. He cranked up the heat, all while holding on to the soggy, still shivering woman.

The people who owned the house were incredibly wealthy but not showy. As usual, the place was clean, warm, and cozy. Just as he liked it. The living room opened into the kitchen, and on the counter was a basket filled with his favorite junk snacks: cookies, donuts, and chips. Maddie had had it stocked for him. “Hungry?”

Bailey looked at the offering and shook her head.

“Don’t tell me. Health food nut.”

“Good food never hurt anyone.”

He, not nearly so picky, grabbed a large chocolate chip cookie, and munching, found her an apple in the refrigerator, which she took with a wild shiver.

“Come on.” He led her through the house and up to the master bedroom, where he would have pulled her into the bathroom, thinking a hot shower was what she needed, but she dug her heels into the carpet and shook her head more violently than the rest of her was shaking, which was really saying something.

“You need to get warm,” he said.

“I’m fine.”

Bullshit, she was fine. The car ride might have begun to warm her up, but it hadn’t fully done the job, and he needed to do something. Clearly she was pulling the shy card, but it was too late for that.

“N—no need for a shower,” she said through chattering teeth.

“You have to get warm.” He lifted his hands to his own shirt, which he unbuttoned.

Her eyes widened. “Um—what—”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m just about done with being cold and wet.”

“Yes, but—”

“Hurry.”

Her gaze locked on his chest. “H—hurry to what?”

“Strip.”

B
ailey could not have possibly heard him right. Strip?
Strip?
Was he insane? Suddenly being too scared to think and too frozen solid to imagine ever being warm again took a backseat to this new and entirely disconcerting situation.

She was alone in a house with a man she hardly knew, a big, strong, tough man who knew his way around trouble, who looked like sin on a stick, oh, and he’d
unbuttoned his shirt.

Strip…

How was it even possible she wanted to do just that? She’d seen men naked before, so she had no idea why the sight of Noah undoing his shirt, revealing a wedge of bare torso, made her mouth suddenly dry, but she wasn’t sticking around to find out. “Noah—”

He took a step forward, and she took one back, which had the high mattress hitting her in the butt.

As if that had been his plan all along, his hands went to either side of her hips, resting on the thick bedding, his body close enough to share some of that heat he had radiating off of him, not to mention the sheer, hard strength of him pressing against her.

Strip…

She wanted to, she really did, and it had nothing to do with impending hypothermia and everything to do with how he made her feel when he looked at her, touched her.

Kissed her.

God. She was really losing it here, as surely as the room was beginning to warm from the hot air coming out of the heater vents, enclosing them in an intimacy she wasn’t sure she could face. He couldn’t really want her, could he? Not after what she’d done, dragging him here.

Putting his life in danger.

That last thought made her breath catch, made her hug herself and close her eyes until he lifted her chin. He was close enough that his broad shoulders blocked out the light. “Just want to warm you up, Bailey.”

She
was
cold,
beyond
cold, and shaking so hard she could feel her brain cells rattling together.

And still, she could think.

And what she thought was that things were worse than ever. She hadn’t found the money. One resort down, two more to check. And now that Noah had helped her lose the men on her tail, she should go immediately. That meant going back out there….

Closing her eyes again, she weaved in exhaustion, then felt his hands on her arms again. “Hey,” he said, bending a little to peer into her face. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.”

“Really? How?” She didn’t pull away. She no longer had the energy; the cold had sapped it right out of her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I have to go. I need to call a cab, or—”

“No. Hell, no.” With that he dropped his shirt to the floor and pulled her into the heat of his body. “No one’s going anywhere, not tonight.”

She resisted—barely—the urge to bury her nose against him and inhale him up like a forbidden treat. But she couldn’t resist the heat of him. “I have to—”

“Stay,” he commanded quietly. “You have to stay. Tomorrow is soon enough to figure it all out.”

At the thought of turning it off for the night, she nearly melted. She was helpless against the pull of him, and couldn’t help but lift her arms and wrap them around his waist.

When she did, he sucked in a harsh breath. “Your hands are frozen.”

Yes. Yes they were, and to prove it, she ran them up and down his back, gliding them against sleek, smooth skin and sinew, thinking,
Yum.

“Christ,
woman.”

At his tortured tone, she laughed.
Laughed
. She couldn’t believe she’d managed to find anything funny about this night, hell, about her
life
, but he’d made her laugh.

But then he wrapped his fist in her hair and gently tugged her head back to meet his gaze. His eyes weren’t laughing, but oh, so serious, and her smile slowly faded.

He just looked at her, a look that brought a whole new meaning to anticipation, and she shivered, a bone-deep quiver that had him letting out a low sound filled with regret, concern.

And arousal.

It brought her own to the surface, and then suddenly he was even closer, running his nose along her jaw, pressing his cheek to hers, and then finally,
finally
, kissing her.

There was nothing, nothing in the entire world, like kissing Noah Fisher. His mouth touched hers at the corner, and then his tongue, and she opened for him, opened and dove in, and lost herself. The night had been so monumentally bad, a nightmare. The only thing holding her together was him: his heat, his strength, his unbelievable wit and ease in any situation.

Only when air was necessary did they break to breathe, and again he lifted her face to his, gaze serious. “Back to that whole stripping thing.” He stroked a finger ever so lightly over her jaw, then down her throat, her shoulder…nudging her sweater off as he went.

Oh, God. She’d never toggled back and forth between fear and arousal before, but she’d been doing just that since she’d stepped onto his plane, watching him pilot without knowing he had an audience.

He was looking into her eyes, and whatever went through his mind, his jaw went tight, and he moved into the bathroom and cranked on the hot water in the shower.

“Kick off your boots,” he said, coming back to her.

“Um—”

His eyes held…things, lots of things, and that was when she realized. She wasn’t so much in danger from the bad guys at the moment, but from within her own self.

Serious danger.

“Bailey—”

Just then, from inside her pocket, her cell phone vibrated and chirped, signaling she had an incoming text message.

Noah watched Bailey debate with herself on whether to look at the message in front of him or not, but she finally reached into her pocket and opened the phone.

WHERE R U?

“Where is
he?”
Noah countered, reading over her shoulder.

“Hidden.” She looked away, and chewed on her lower lip in a gesture of nerves. “Hopefully.”

“What does that mean?”

She said nothing, and he sighed. “Bailey.”

“After—” Her mouth tightened. “I told him to stay away. But now I’m afraid he’ll get so worried about me he’ll come back.”

“Why didn’t you go with him?”

“He’s fine moving around doing carpentry, which suits him. But my life is in California, Noah. I teach here….” She shook her head. “I really thought I could handle this.”

She had courage and guts, and he didn’t like the way that softened him even further toward her. “Don’t,” he said when she hit reply. “Don’t text him back.”

“What? I have to.”

“Fine. But don’t tell him where you are.”

“Why?”

He just looked at her.

Still shivering, she looked shell-shocked, frozen to the spot. “Are you kidding me? You actually think he—”

“I don’t know what I think. Keep your location quiet.” Hating the fear on her face, he had to temper down on his bottle of emotions, of which frustration and impatience were leading the way. “If he’s really gone, then it doesn’t matter. Right?”

She hadn’t moved other than to keep shivering. Her eyes were dilated, and she looked near shock. Steam drifted in from the opened bathroom. She nearly dropped her phone, she was shaking so hard. He had to get her into the hot water.

To that end, he took the cell phone out of her hands and set it aside.
Clothes next,
he thought.

“C—cold,” she said.

“I know.” He shouldn’t care. She’d hijacked him, had really thrown a wrench in his whole ski-and-screw-his-brains-out weekend, but she’d been desperate and terrified, and he’d been helpless against those things. Still having no idea exactly what she’d been through, but more determined than ever to find out, he dipped down a little to look directly into her eyes.

She tried to look away, but he simply cupped her jaw. “I’m going to help you,” he said, and ran his hands down her arms. “Starting with a hot shower.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Could have fooled me.”

A sound of extreme exasperation left her lips, which he figured was a good sign. If he could piss her off, she wasn’t dying of hypothermia.

“Okay, up until this point I needed your help,” she conceded. “But I’m fine now.”

“Okay.” Leaning back, he crossed his arms. “Go ahead, get yourself warm, then.”

She glanced through the open door at the shower, at the steaming air rising from it, and walked into the bathroom. She lifted her fingers to her sweater as she looked pointedly at the door, which he ignored. “I’ll be fine,” she said, her fingers trembling so that she could hardly grip the buttons on her sweater. “Just fine.”

“Uh huh.” He followed her. Brushing her fingers aside, he went for the buttons, but there were a million of them, and they were tiny and slippery. He got two undone, just enough for his fingers to brush creamy, soft skin beneath. A muscle in his jaw began ticking. “Do these buttons even function?”

“They did this morning.”

He sighed. “Your lips are blue.” So was her skin, blue and mottled.

“We’re not…doing anything.”

Other than getting naked. That would probably be enough for him, after six months. “I know.”

“Good. Because it’s been so long, I’ve forgotten how.”

He stared at her, his brain whirling from the quick subject change, not to mention the subject itself. “How long?”

“Really long.”

“Really long,” he repeated, a little dumbfounded, still holding on to her sweater. He could feel her smooth skin beneath his fingers. Just from that, he got hard.

“He lost interest,” she whispered.

Jesus, how was that even possible? “Don’t take this the wrong way, Bailey, but Alan was a complete idiot.”

She lifted a shoulder, and he vowed right then and there to somehow make sure she knew that there was nothing wrong with her, to prove exactly how desirable she was, but right now, he had another mission.

Get her warm. Make her feel safe. Without letting her think on it too long, he tightened his fingers over the hem of the fuzzy soft material that had been clinging to her breasts for the past hour—not that he’d noticed.

Shit, he was such a liar. He’d so noticed.

He’d noticed and had found himself nearly poleaxed by the way her nipples, two tight peaks, pressed against the thin, wet, soft material.

Alan had lost interest? Noah would have to lose his head. Both of them. The hot, brain-cell-melting kisses they’d shared hadn’t helped. No, those hadn’t done anything but make him want more.

Then her eyes met his, wide and half wild, and he tempered down on himself and his ridiculous thoughts. This was about getting her warm.

Not
about the fact that he was hard from just looking at her.

Nope, his needs had no place here, no place at all. Repeating that like a mantra inside his head, he lifted up on her sweater, forcing her arms up over her head.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

She said nothing to that, which sent a foreboding down his spine. If someone had laid his hands on her…well, he didn’t want to think about it. He’d spent his entire life hating violence, and yet it was pouring through his veins now.

“I just don’t want to be dead,” she whispered. “I want to stay alive.”

He stared into her eyes, seeing all sorts of things there, things that somehow soothed the beast roaring within him, things that made him incredibly aware of his fingers resting on her sides, spread wide so as to touch as much of her as he possibly could. “Alive is excellent.” His thumbs were just beneath her breasts. If he moved them, he’d be able to feel those curves, take the weight of them in his palms and—

And she was breathing erratically again, so he swallowed his own emotions, his arousal, and kept going.

He pulled the sweater off over her head.

Her bra…it was a barely there number, a pale, pale pink thing that just skimmed her nipples with satin and lace, like in his fantasies. Her breasts were two perfect pale curves plumping out of the bra, tipped with small, tight nipples poking at the satin, and her quickened breathing didn’t help any.

Truth was, he was breathing as wildly and as loudly as she was. He could hear them both over the water hitting the tiles in the shower.

Bailey stared at his throat while he took in the button and zipper on her jeans. Since she didn’t reach for either, he sucked in a breath and did it himself, trying to ignore the way her belly fluttered when he touched her skin.

Pop went the button, and with a hard swallow he reached for the tab of her zipper.

The rasp of the metal sounded incredibly loud in the room.

Then he dropped his gaze to look down at what he’d exposed, and what he’d exposed was a wedge of soft, creamy, pale skin that he wanted to put his mouth to so badly he was shaking for it.

For her.

Yeah, way to keep your distance
.

Tightening his mouth, he hunkered down before her and pushed her jeans to her thighs, trying not to notice that he was at eye level with the most beautiful, erotic sight he’d ever seen—a pair of absolutely heart destroying pale blue string bikini panties with a satin ribbon over each hip and a little triangle that barely covered her mound. Trying not to stare, he shoved the denim farther, to her knees.

Looking at her perfect body, it was a moment before he was able to speak. He wanted to hold her. God, he wanted that so much he ached. Surging to his feet, he looked into her eyes and felt his heart engage.

Hard.

Which was some pretty damn bad timing.

With the slow, exaggerated movements of someone either sick, drugged, or exhausted beyond all sense, she kicked free of her boots.

And then stepped out of her jeans.

His heart stopped, then kicked back into action, going from zero to sixty in two-point-one seconds. Maybe less.

Oblivious to his reaction, she turned her back and afforded him a front-row-seat view of a world-class ass.

Weaving, she grabbed the shower door. He lurched to help, but she held up a hand to hold him off, and he forced himself to stand very still rather than put his hands all over her.

“I’ll be quick,” she promised, glancing at him over her shoulder as she gripped the shower door. “So you can warm up, too.”