Under the Covers (21 page)

Had Shelly simply been looking for a way out and used Abby as a scapegoat?

* * *

"So what would you say is the most important ingredient in keeping a relationship alive? I know you mentioned listening to your partner; are there others?"

Lenny's deceptive face flashed into Abby's mind. "Honesty. Love. And respect." None of which Lenny had had for her.

"Mr. Jensen, how do you feel about your wife's work?"

Harry cleared his throat, his hand twitching inside hers, but his smile oozed with charisma.

He should land a part in a major film after this charade.

"My wife is a masterpiece with words. She really cares about the people she's helping." He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers, his lips lingering seductively. "And of course, I'm glad to offer my assistance in her research."

Kay Lin laughed along with the audience. "On that note, I think it's time to have our demonstration. Dr. Jensen, are you ready?"

No. "Yes."

"Mr. Jensen?"

"I'm looking forward to it."

Challenge filled his voice, his sultry smile only adding to the quiet tension building between them.

"Okay, Dr. Jensen, it's your show."

Abby inhaled a calming breath and tried to imagine she was in her office, conducting normal therapy, leading a needy couple into one of her relaxation exercises.

"When two people first fall in love, each feels a euphoria at the sound of the other person's voice or when they first walk into a room. Physical reactions prove this," Abby began. "The person's heartbeat accelerates, their palms turn sweaty, breathing becomes unsteady. But later, when the newness wears off, especially after years of marriage, those physical responses fade. We all get distracted by daily life." She paused. "Hectic schedules, the stress of our jobs, children, family issues and problems, there are a million things that can interfere with a person's mental state as well as their sexual drive."

A few people in the audience amened her comment.

"My program and the exercises in the book encourage people to take time to nurture their relationships. To tune in to their partner's needs, to show more affection. A family should set aside time to discuss problems, so they don't linger and fester and follow the couple into the bedroom."

Abby faced Harry and gestured for him to angle his chair toward hers. "First; I encourage a couple to look into each other's eyes and really see the other person. To listen to the feelings and emotions your partner may express through his body gestures, his movements, the expression on his face."

She demonstrated by gazing into Harry's eyes. Hunger and desire sparkled there, along with other emotions she couldn't read. "I encourage them to focus on the positive things about their spouse, to look for the beauty, the inner qualities that first attracted them to their partner."

"So there's no touching yet?" Harry asked.

The audience laughed.

"Not physically, but there's touching with the heart. With the eyes, with the soul. When you tune in to another person's needs and become more giving, the other person automatically does the same." Abby's soft voice quieted the crowd. "Next, I ask each client to tell their partner the things they admire or like. The things they want. The places that crave the other's touch."

"Show us," Kay Lin suggested.

Abby glanced at the host, then back at Harry. He nodded, his mouth twitching into a smile that twisted mischievously at his broad jaw.

"All right. In the beginning, I ask couples to remain dressed when they do this. But later on I suggest they remove their clothes and do the same exercise with the lights dimmed. Obviously we can't take our clothes off on TV."

A few people in the audience called out, "Why not?" while others chuckled. Harry Henderson had the nerve to wink. As if on cue, the TV crew dimmed the lighting to a soft glow.

"Sometimes I ask couples to sit in the dark with only a single candle lit." She took the actor's hands, her heart pounding at the electricity that zinged through her. Since she didn't know Harry very well, she focused first on her physical responses to him. "I like the sound of your voice when you say my name in the dark, Har—"

He made eyes at her.

"Lenny. And I appreciate the way you stand by me no matter what I ask of you."

His dark eyebrow arched. "Your eyes hypnotize me, Abby. And your voice reminds me of an old blues song, soft and husky, like a kiss in the night."

Abby swallowed. Wow, he was good. "Your hands feel so strong and warm that just touching them sends desire surging through me. And when I look into your eyes, I see love and strength. I see a man I want to be with."

"Can we touch now?" Harry asked, his voice gruff.

The audience laughed again.

"Not yet," she murmured. "Tell me how you want to touch me."

He coughed, an odd look on his face. "My hands itch to caress you, Abby. To thread themselves in your hair." His fingers tightened around hers. The crowd grew still. "To pull the pins from your hair and let it fall around your shoulders. To sift my hands through those long, wild curls." His eyes became hooded. "To tear that shirt off of you and press my lips to the soft skin at your neck. To suckle your—"

"Well, I believe you have the idea," Abby said, abruptly cutting him off.

She turned to the audience, ignoring the heat rising between her and Harry. Releasing the breath she didn't even realize she'd been holding, she gasped when the front clasp of her bra snapped open.
Drat.
Her breasts spilled over the cups inside her shirt. If she moved the wrong way...

She pressed her arms tightly by her sides to keep the underwire pads from slipping into her armpits, and smiled tightly at Harry. Damn, the man had her all shaken up. Her nipples were hard as rocks. And he had only been acting.

Hadn't he?

* * *

A few minutes later, Hunter gripped the producer's hand and bade him good-bye, willing his body back to normalcy. He'd made a fool out of himself over Abby Jensen.

Granted, everyone thought he was playing a part, but he'd meant every damn word he'd said.

What the hell was happening to him?

Stress over too much work? Over not being with Lizzie enough?

Being attracted to a sexy woman wasn't a crime, he reminded himself. And although at first he'd thought the woman wasn't his type, now he could see he'd been wrong.

Oh, he'd been dead wrong.

Because Abby Jensen was one sexy lady.

She might not be his type for a long-term relationship, but she had definitely awakened his sex drive—a sex drive that had been sleeping since Shelly had divorced him a year ago. And although he normally was a boob man, her ass looked great and tempting.

Arguments warred in his head. Maybe she was his type all the way around. She claimed she wanted marriage and a family. The same things he'd wanted since Lizzie came into his life.

But her methods were unorthodox. She had no right to stir up trouble with her book, making women think they weren't happy with their men. And he wouldn't be suckered in by those haunting angelic eyes or that sultry, seductive voice.

Besides, she claimed honesty was one of the three most important factors in keeping a relationship strong while she was lying to everyone, including him.

And she still had a freaking husband!

He was so lost in turmoil, he didn't realize she'd moved up beside him. They walked together through the backstage, past the other sound rooms, and out into the night. Stars glittered from a moonlit sky, a breeze stirred the surrounding trees, and the whisper of her exotic perfume wafted toward him. He tried to focus on the city lights ahead, the beauty of the Atlanta skyline, the buzz of people and traffic.

She turned to him amidst the hum of it all, a cool, detached look in place.

Obviously she hadn't meant what she'd said about wanting to be with him.

"Thanks, Harry. You did a great job."

"You're not such a bad actress yourself." She winced and he realized his bitterness had rung through.

"I don't like lying like this, Harry." She stood awkwardly, her arms pressed to her sides like a tin soldier.

"Why don't you tell me what's going on, Abby? Maybe I can help."

"I... I can't."

He steeled himself against the vulnerable look in her eyes. "I guess it's just a job for both of us then. But you want to continue the charade?" He'd given her the opening. He waited with bated breath, hoping she'd tell him the truth.

Not for the story now, but for him.

She didn't comment, simply gnawed on that bottom lip, and tightened her arms as if she thought he might grab her any second. Damn, it was tempting.

The skin on her bottom lip turned red with her bite marks. He found himself wanting to touch it. To kiss away the pain. To hear her husky voice murmur those words she'd whispered during their exercise. Except this time she would mean them.

"I have to keep up pretenses right now," she whispered. "Until I find Lenny."

"Right."

He shifted, his shoes still squeaking with water in the silence.

"What happened earlier, Harry? Were you hungover when you came in?"

"Hungover?" Anger splintered through him. Anger that she wouldn't be honest. That she thought he might be irresponsible enough to show up drunk. Anger at the whole situation.

"No, Abby. For your information, I just came from a harrowing day at the fair with my daughter. I rode the Dragon seven times with her and nearly broke my neck on this ride called Drop Dead, Fred." He shuddered, remembering the feeling of being dropped through the air upside down with nothing but that flimsy rope tied around him. "God, I hate heights, and that one dropped me into a pool of water."

Abby suddenly chuckled, and he realized what he'd just admitted. The fact that she'd driven him to confess his phobia only infuriated him more. And now she was driving the knife deeper into his wounded pride by laughing out loud at him.

"Did you tell your little girl about your acting role?"

Right.
Like he'd confess that to a five-year-old. "My daughter is too young to know about your book or sex."

Abby's mouth gaped. "You make me sound like a pervert. I'm not suggesting you read my book to her."

"I didn't mean that, but she's only five."

"Well, granted, that's too young for a full explanation, but insinuating that sex is something dirty isn't healthy either."

"I didn't say it was dirty. I just avoid the subject." He rubbed a hand over his face, and his mustache came off in his hands.

"Don't you want her to grow up to be a normal, healthy, sexual woman?"

"No. Hell, no." Panic seized him at the thought. "I hope she doesn't find out about sex until she's at least forty."

"That's a tad archaic, Harry."

Archaic
? "Look, Dr. Jensen, I don't believe in all this hogwash in your book. And if you want to know about archaic, I'll show you. This is archaic." His temper boiling, he dragged her into his arms, lowered his head and claimed her mouth with his, releasing all the pent-up frustration and fire in his body and his loins into the kiss.

* * *

Abby struggled not to succumb to the dangerous passion brewing between her and this actor, but his hands yanked her into the vee of his thighs, his corded muscles bulged against her legs, and her knees buckled. Surrendering was not an option. He was plundering at will.

She had never been kissed like this.

Not by a man who exuded such potent desire for her.

The feeling was drastically unsettling and titillating at the same time. He was like a caveman, barbaric and forceful. His hands cupped her face as he drove his lips over hers and ravaged her mouth with his tongue. The rasp of his labored breath ripped another layer of fight from her, and she clung helplessly to him, her nails digging into the strong muscles of his arms. His hands slowly dropped, brushed across her shoulder blades, stroked her arms, cupped her bottom and pulled her closer—so close his sex hardened and throbbed against her own burning heat.

Then his hands were everywhere, stroking and rubbing. His lips traced a path down her neck, nipping and suckling until she moaned and leaned into him. Tortured by his mouth, she could only gasp for breath as his hands found her waist and his fingers danced up to her breasts. Then suddenly he pulled away, a perplexed look on his face. "What the hell?" Laughter followed.

Abby's cheeks burned as she glanced down and saw the pads of her bra floating up around her shoulders.

Chapter 14

Strange Bedfellows

"Maybe you should just give up on the underwear altogether," Hunter murmured.

Abby closed her eyes for a nanosecond, humiliation scorching her face. When she opened them, he could see her struggling for dignity. "You... the clasp came undone. And I was going to go to the rest room to fix it before we left, but the producer didn't give us time."

"Uh-huh." He gestured toward the pads. "You don't really need those, Abby."

Her lips pressed into a tight line. "I have to go. Good night, Mr. Henderson."