Tease Me (18 page)

Maybe she should throw Tucker up against the nearest wall and beg him to take her,
and to hell with self-improvement.

“Where’s the light switch?”

“Maybe you should get a grip on yourself and do things the way you said you would,”
she muttered.

“What was that?” he asked distractedly.

She heard him groping the wall next to the door. With a disgusted sigh she reached
out and flipped the switch, casting the small apartment in the soft glow of an
antique stained-glass foyer lamp. “She keeps her papers in here.” Lainey didn’t look
at Tucker as she stepped past him into the small living room. She was feeling like
a consummate fool as well as a sneak, and she wanted this evening to be over as soon
as possible.

The sitting room, as her aunt was fond of calling it, was small. Two walls were lined
with bookcases, crammed full with well-read books, framed photographs, and a tea-cup
collection. A thinly padded floral brocade settee, fronted by a small Queen Anne coffee
table and framed with matching end tables, faced the lace-curtained picture window.
In contrast there was an overstuffed side chair with a standing lamp in the opposite
corner. Lainey stepped unerringly around the faded brocade ottoman placed in front
of the chair, reached under the fringed edge of the lampshade, and pulled the chain.
This light was a bit brighter, revealing the large knitting basket wedged between
the lamp and the chair and the numerous yellowed paperbacks stacked on the small table
that ringed the lamp stand.

She knelt in front of the antique oak secretary that occupied the remaining space
and reached underneath the bottom drawer. Taped there was a small jeweler’s envelope
containing a key, which she took out. She opened the desktop and lowered the writing
surface, then pressed a small wooden panel inside the desk, which sprung open to reveal
a small drawer. She used the key to unlock it and slid it open.

“Quite the sleuth,” Tucker said from behind her shoulder.

She’d been aware of his exact location every second but refused to let herself think
about it. Her hands were thankfully steady as she lifted up the wooden lid. “She’s
an Agatha Christie and Ngaio Marsh fan. She only bought this desk because of the secret
compartments.”

“A worthwhile reason.”

Lainey smiled. “I thought so too.” She chanced a glance at him. “This was the only
one she revealed to me, though.”

He smiled back. “A woman has to have her secrets.”

Lainey snapped her attention back to the drawer and lifted out a soft binder that
had been folded in half. She opened it and scanned the cover. “ ‘Greensleigh Knolls,
the resort for active seniors,’ ” she read. “There’s quite a bit here and …” She slid
out another stack of papers that had been folded and wedged in the back. She un-folded
them, then looked at Tucker. “It looks like a contract.”

“Uh-oh.”

Lainey’s expression must have revealed her thoughts. Tucker took the papers from her
hand. “We’ll go over this stuff with a fine-tooth comb. I’m sure we’ll find a way
to prove this is a scam.”

“What if it’s too late? If she signed this—”

“We’ll get her out of it somehow.”

“Well, we’ll never get all of this read before she gets home. I don’t have any idea
when she’d check on these papers again, but I don’t think we should keep them.”

“Lillian has a copier in her office at the salon. I’ve got the keys. We’ll pop over,
make copies, and have the originals all back, safe and sound, before Minerva gets
home.”

Lainey shook her head. “Am I the only one who thinks this is starting to feel like
a bad B movie?”

Tucker grinned. “Bad B movies have at least one good thing going for them, though.”
He headed for the door. “Are you coming with me or do you want to stay here?”

The evening’s back on track
, she schooled herself. “I’m coming.”

He held the door for her. “You’re not going to ask me?” he said, as she stepped into
the darkness at the top of the stairs.

The light from the foyer caught the irrepressible twinkle in his eyes.

She sighed. “I’m sure it’s another bad decision on my part, but what’s one more? Okay,
what’s the best part about bad B movies?”

Tucker pulled the door closed, shutting out all the light, and stepped next to her,
crowding her in the small space. His voice was a whisper in the dark. “Because the
hero always gets the girl.”

“I’m not ‘the girl,’ ” she said, proud of her steady voice. However, her knees had
gone all shaky, and she could barely hear over the thrumming beat of her heart.

“Sure you are.” He stepped closer. “If I’m the hero, I choose who the girl is.” Her
back hit the wall. He braced one hand on the wall above her shoulder and leaned in.
“And I most definitely choose you.”

She could feel his warm breath. His lips were right there for the taking. All she
had to do was reach up and … She swallowed against a suddenly parched throat. Where
had all the air gone? It was her stairwell fantasy, only it was real and about a hundred
times better than she could have imagined.

She reached out and gripped the handrail, then slid out from the narrow space between
Tucker and the wall and took a step down before she did something … impulsive.

“We’d …” She cleared her throat. “We’d better get those copies made.” She took another
step, holding the
railing for all she was worth, more to keep from reaching for Tucker than for balance.
“It’s getting late.”

She heard Tucker step down behind her and ordered her feet to keep going. She was
in the storage room with her hand on the back door when she felt him move in close
behind her.

“It’s later than you think, Lainey.”

A shiver of pure pleasure tingled down her spine.
Minerva first
, she ordered herself,
think with your head
.

There were times when being responsible was a real drag.

With a resolute tug, she opened the door and stepped out into the humid night air.
A single light on a telephone pole cast the alley with a dull yellow glow. She headed
straight toward the back of the salon without another look in Tucker’s direction.

Tucker smiled at Lainey’s quickly retreating form. It had taken all of his self-control
and then some to keep from tossing the papers down the stairs and hauling her up against
that wall, wrapping those slender legs around his waist and kissing her until she
agreed that all this dancing around was exactly that: a prelude to the inevitable.
This was definitely the most excruciatingly protracted foreplay he’d ever experienced.

But Tucker wanted more than a hot romp in a dark stairwell. He wanted hot romps whenever
and wherever they chose to have them for the next fifty years. He wanted it all. So
he’d let her run. Again. Because when they started romping, he damn sure didn’t want
anything between them but one-hundred-percent unrepentant, open-ended need.

He watched her tuck her hands tightly across her waist and tap her toe as she impatiently
waited for him to
catch up.
Oh, I’ve not only caught up, I’m a whole bunch of steps ahead of you
, he thought. He’d backtrack and follow her lead, but that didn’t mean he didn’t intend
to do whatever it took to nudge her down the path of choice. The one that ended in
his arms … and in his heart.

He walked the last several feet and didn’t stop until he was directly in her personal
space. There was enough light to see her eyes widen in reaction to his proximity,
then narrow warily. She stepped back. He slid a quick glance over the front of her
dress, where her crossed arms had pushed up her breasts—her aroused breasts. He smiled
even as the ache grew and tightened inside him, then turned toward the door and fished
the keys from his suddenly less roomy pants pocket.

He stepped inside and held the door for her. “This way.” He waited for the door to
click shut behind her, then led the way down a short, dark hallway. Using another
key, he let them into a small office. Instead of flipping on the bright fluorescents
overhead, he turned on a small chrome desk lamp.

“Is that a—”

“Lava lamp,” Tucker finished, staring at the two-foot-high monstrosity that graced
the corner of Lillian’s postmodern black acrylic desk.

“It’s purple.”

Tucker understood her reaction; it mirrored his own the first time he’d seen the violet
globs oozing up and down inside the glass lamp. “Her favorite color,” he said.

She glanced around the room. “It pains me to say this, but it actually goes with her
decor.” Lainey smiled when he laughed, then quickly turned to the copier and searched
for the power switch.

“It’s on the right side, in the back,” he said.

She found it as the sudden hum of the machine testified.

“It takes a few minutes to rim the warm-up program.” There were two semicircular,
black patent-leather chairs fronting Lillian’s desk. Tucker dragged one close to the
other, sat down, and motioned to the empty chair. “Why don’t we flip through this
while we wait? See what we’re dealing with here.”

Lainey held her position standing guard over the copier, her spine rigid. “If you
don’t think Lillian will mind, let’s just make two copies, put the originals back,
and call it a night. We can both go over them on our own, come up with some ideas,
and discuss them later.”

Tucker reined in a frustrated sigh. Maybe it
was
time to step back a little, give them both some space. Neither his head nor his heart
bought that theory. His body was certainly calling in with a very vocal no vote. But
there was no doubt that she had to resolve the situation in her own way. The tough
part was admitting that his frustration was actually based more on fear than an overdose
of unrequited testosterone-fueled lust—fear that when this was all said and done,
no matter how he handled it, she might not choose him.

Why the hell was he torturing himself? Why didn’t he just see the problem with Minerva
through, kiss Lillian good-bye, and take the next plane back to Seattle, where there
were probably dozens of women who wouldn’t fight off his attentions?

Because, his little voice responded matter-of-factly, there was only one woman’s attention
he wanted and she was not in Seattle. No, he thought grumpily, she’s two feet in front
of me, but at least a million miles out of my
reach. And his little voice was right. Nothing and no one could have made him get
up and leave.

Falling in love was hell.

“Two copies. Okay,” he said evenly.

She eyed him warily. “Okay? Just okay?”

Tucker fought not to crush the papers in his hands. “Meaning ‘Okay, I’m willing to
do this your way,’ ” he said slowly through clenched teeth as his control eroded.
“But only because if I do it the way
I
want to, I risk watching you run away again. And the only direction I want you running
in right now is toward me. So,
okay
, we do this your way, slow and easy.” His gaze wandered down her body and back up
again. He had to lock his knees together when he saw her nipples pressing hard against
the soft cotton of her dress. His voice when he spoke again was barely more than a
growl. “Because my way would be hard and fast and forever. And I don’t think you’re
ready for that last part. Yet.”

She reached behind her blindly and clutched the copier machine for support. He watched
with rapt fascination when her throat worked once then again, and almost lost it completely
when he looked back at her face and found her staring at his very obvious reaction
to her reaction.

He made no attempt to shift, though he would have given anything to rip his pants
off all together and assuage the ache that was now bordering on physical pain. “You
do that to me with a smile, Lainey.” There was no mistaking that she understood what
“that” was. “Hell, you don’t even have to be in the room. Thinking about your smile
does that to me.”

She dragged her gaze to his, a beautiful flush darkening her skin. “Tucker—”

“But making me hard isn’t what this is all about,” he
continued forcefully. “If we’re talking stimulation, then I wish we were built so
that you could see what you do to my mind. You want to talk aroused, Lainey? You want
to talk hot, hungry, and out of control? You should be inside my head right now. Because
it’s what’s up here”—he tapped his forehead—“that makes what’s down there so damn
intense, I can barely sit still.”

She released a rough sigh, then dragged in an audible breath. “So … I’m supposed to
want you for your mind, is that it, Tucker?”

“I want you to want me with yours,” he responded. He nodded at her dress. “I can see
that you want me with your body.” She stiffened but didn’t look away or move. He silently
applauded her. “At any other time in my life that would have been enough. Hell, more
than enough.”

“But not now.” She made it a statement.

He shook his head. “Now I want more. And that means waiting for you to figure out
what you want and why you want it. You have to be sure, because I’m damn well not
going to be added to that stupid list of yours.”

“You’re angry.”

He shook his head, striving to maintain what little patience he had left, with himself
more than her. “Impatient is more like it. If I want something, I figure out how to
get it and go after it. It’s what made my business so successful.”

“I’m not a business acquisition.”

“I’m well aware of that. But this is new to me, too, Lainey. I sold my business because
I wanted a new life, one that wasn’t strictly business. But the only handbook I have
is the one that got me here in the first place. I don’t know how to do things differently.
But I’m trying.”

She lifted an eyebrow.

He bit off a sigh, then smiled sheepishly. “I said I was trying. Actual achieving
it will apparently take a bit longer.”

Her smile was brief. She opened her mouth to speak, then apparently changed her mind
and shut it again.

“What?” he asked. When she didn’t respond, he prodded. “Tell me.”