AddingHeat (2 page)

Chapter Two

Had she actually accepted a
date
? It was only 2:45
and she was inspecting herself in her bedroom mirror, in her snuggest jeans,
leather ankle boots with a two-inch heel, a cream-colored T-shirt with
embroidered flowers around the neck and a couple of jackets at the ready. The
temperature gauge read seventy-two, but she wasn’t sure where he’d take her and
how fast they’d go. And if they made it all the way up to the Poconos, it’d be
cooler in the mountains, so the wind chill factor would come into play—

Good grief, she was acting like a teenager on her first
date. He was merely delivering Aunt Esme’s
tax return
, for crying out
loud!

Still, she’d fussed with her hair but decided if they were
riding a hog, she’d better keep her ponytail, especially since she’d probably
be wearing a helmet. Although she did stroke on some tinted lip gloss.

She’d gotten an earful about Con Junior from her aunt. His
family was salt of the earth, he was up and coming, blah blah. Sounded as
though he might be too goody-goody for her. If she was planning to take up the
cougar challenge, she wanted hot sex, not a man with a PG rating who passed
muster with her relatives.

But would he want hot sex with her? Sure, she was in great
shape for her age, burning so many calories on the job she didn’t have to worry
about dieting, but still, time and gravity were inexorably reminding her she
was no longer in her twenties. Or hell, even her thirties.

The growl of a heavy engine broke into her thoughts. She
went to the window in the upstairs hallway that overlooked the driveway, and
saw a large black truck coming to a stop at the front door. She dashed
downstairs wondering, why did he have to put the motorcycle in back of the
truck?

She opened the front door as he got out of the truck,
wearing—

Biking shorts
?

Could he be any more goody-goody than thinking a
bicycle
ride was an appropriate first date?

The dimple in his smile as he waved hello didn’t catch her
interest this time. She was angry that she’d been hoodwinked. No, that wasn’t
fair. It was her own fault she’d misunderstood.

But oh lord, when he walked to the back of the truck, her
eyes popped at the finest, tightest, roundest ass she’d ever seen. Come to
think of it, his thighs were more muscular than she’d imagined when she’d seen
him in loose-fitting dress pants at the Senior Center.

And his belly. It was concave under the spandex. His clothes
looked painted on, and every step showed the flex and flow of his muscles. Not
an ounce of fat. Anywhere. She could just imagine the type of woman he probably
dated. No way was she in anywhere near the shape of those twenty- and
thirty-somethings with hard bodies and unlined skin who rode in biking
marathons.

He looked like one of her employees, young and buff and…

She gulped. Was he actually being a
tease
? Or was she
just acting like the dirty old lady Larry had accused her of being?

Larry. Good grief. She’d consciously avoided him, avoided
the upcoming confrontation, since the other morning when they’d shared that
unexpected kiss. She’d always considered Larry in the context of an employee,
not a man, although he was tall and burly and masculine down to his big
workboots. But his kiss was as manly as any she’d ever experienced. She’d
probably be smart to consider dating Larry and leaving Con to the younglings.

“You might get a little warm and sweaty in those jeans,” Con
said as he rolled out one of the bikes and leaned it against the porch railing.
“And you might want to wear sneakers.”

Was this guy really a nerd? Or was this his way of trying to
impress her?

Okay, she’d show him. Without a word she marched back
upstairs and a few minutes later walked back out wearing a brand-new outfit
she’d bought for wintertime exercise at a health club she never got around to
joining—tight, mid-thigh, spandex workout shorts and sports bra that lifted her
ample breasts and maximized her cleavage. The get-up showed a fair amount of
skin between garments and she was gratified that his mouth actually dropped
open as he rolled the second bike to a stop.

“Is this better?” she cooed. And smiled at the instant bulge
his molded shorts couldn’t hide.

Instead of turning to hide his erection, as she’d expected a
goody-goody to do, his eyes shot lightning bolts and he strode purposefully
toward her.

“I‘ve wanted to do this since the moment I laid eyes on
you,” he murmured as he cradled her head between his palms. His mouth touched
hers and all hell broke loose inside her.

He shifted his stance, bringing her in closer contact with
all his bumps and ridges. She found herself responding, not just to the feel of
his lips, firm yet featherlight as they teased her mouth, but to the heady
sense of being enveloped in a cocoon of testosterone as he wrapped his arms
around her shoulders. Then he spun them around so her back was against the
driver’s-side door and he sandwiched her between it and that hard, wiry body
whose firm texture took her by surprise.

Oh God, it had been so long since a man had rubbed against
her in such a sexual way. Her pussy tightened. Her nipples jumped to attention.
Of their own volition, her arms encircled his waist and her hands began
stroking that muscled back.

Suddenly it wasn’t enough. Something inside her reared up,
something frustrated and hungry and ignored too long. Grabbing the stretchy
fabric, she yanked his shirt from his waistband to feel smooth, warm skin, like
silicone over iron. She wanted to lick him all over, wanted her naked body
rubbing against his. She wanted to see, to taste the cock that was poking into
her belly like a shovel handle.

Her mouth captured his tongue, sucked it in like a Popsicle.
Her hands moved to map the curvature of his waist then delved upward to follow
the ridges of his abs to search for those flat nipples she loved to scratch,
like pushing buttons, to make a man jump to her beat.

“Giselle,” he murmured, wrenching his head back. “Stop.”

Somewhere amid all the jumbled emotions, her brain began
functioning, then tossed out a bitter thought. He was calling a halt because he
was embarrassed. She had to be a dozen years older than him. And yeah, he’d
reacted to her blatant display of curves and skin, and she’d been thrilled that
he seemed attracted to her, but now he’d come to his senses with a vengeance.

She went rigid against the truck, let her hands drop. Felt
him step back and watched as he tucked in his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” she said through clenched teeth. “I didn’t mean
to make you—”

“We have company.”

“Uncomfortable— What?”

“Someone’s coming down your driveway. See that plume of
dust?”

“Dust?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want anyone to see you in a compromising
position.”

With difficulty, Giselle focused on the approaching vehicle.
A truck. A very familiar truck.

“Larry,” she said in a disbelieving voice. “Larry?” she said
again when he stopped right behind Con’s truck. “What’s the matter? Is
everything okay?”

The grizzled man stepped down to the ground and hitched up
his jeans. He wore a muscle shirt that displayed beefy biceps and huge
shoulders and minimized his thick waistline. “That’s what I came down to find
out. I happened to be passing by and saw a honkin’ big truck I didn’t
recognize. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Larry’s possessive attitude reminded her of their kiss. Did
he actually feel he had a claim on her? That she couldn’t date anyone?

“That’s so sweet of you, Larry. Thank you for your concern.
But it’s okay. This is Conlan Trowbridge. He brought Aunt Esme’s tax returns
for her to sign. You know, from the Senior Citizens’ Center? Con, this is Larry
Pulaski, my valued foreman.”

They shook hands briefly, but to Giselle’s eye it looked
like a mongoose and a snake sizing each other up. She blinked to clear such an
unlikely image from her brain. Con’s kisses had bumfuzzled her.

“He selling bicycles too?” Larry eyed the two bikes then
switched his gaze to Con, who had lifted one of the helmets hanging from the
handlebars, then to Giselle, lingering on her bare skin between bra and shorts
until she felt uncomfortable.

“He asked me if I wanted to go for a bike ride, and I
accepted.”

Larry’s gaze lifted slowly from her waist to her cleavage,
then to her eyes. It felt as if he were devouring her. “Anything happens to
you, he’ll have to answer to me.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Larry, I know these roads like the
back of my hand.”

“I’m not worried about you getting lost.”

“Larry, I’m forty-four years old. I’m accustomed to making
decisions for the business and I can certainly make them for my personal life.
I thank you for stopping by, but we’re ready to go now. I’ll see you tomorrow
morning at seven, okay?”

She turned toward the house, unwilling to make a scene that
would give more credence to their kiss than was warranted. “I’ll just lock the
door and we can be off, okay, Con? Let’s take advantage of this lovely
afternoon.”

A moment later she slipped the key inside a small fanny pack
and accepted the helmet Con held out to her.

“Really, Larry, it’s okay.” To emphasize her point, she
rolled the smaller bike between the two trucks, slung a leg over the bar and
fitted her sneakered feet to the pedals. The breeze felt good on her face as
she accelerated. On making the turn onto the paved road she glanced back. Larry
still stood watching them, hands on hips. She’d have to have that talk with him
tomorrow morning. He wasn’t her father, to be vetting her dates as though she
were sixteen. Still, he was correct in that they
were
both of an age,
and his experience on the job had kept the business afloat until she’d been able
to grasp the rudder. She needed Larry in her life. He was calm and stable and
he knew her better than anyone else did.

Then her words replayed in her brain and she chewed on her
upper lip. She’d out-and-out admitted her age in Con’s hearing. Was he even now
having second thoughts knowing how much older she was than him? Maybe Larry was
right and she should try to act her age.

* * * * *

As they leisurely made their way over mildly rolling hills,
Con noticed some fields awaited the plow and some had already been turned,
exuding the unmistakably fecund smell of the rich Bucks County soil. But only
half his brain was appreciating rural delights. The less relaxed half decided
that Larry Pulaski was going to be trouble. A couple inches taller and fifty
pounds heavier than Con, the foreman had scrutinized Giselle as though she was
a marble goddess come to life in a museum. He’d damn near seen drool seep out
of the older man’s mouth, and he couldn’t blame him. The sight of Giselle
Sheridan in tight spandex had brought whips and blindfolds to mind and sent
blood straight to his cock, enough that the other man had noticed.

And he’d been ready to jump her bones with just the
slightest encouragement. Which encouragement his testosterone-drenched brain
thought he’d detected in the way she’d all but ripped off his shirt while
they’d kissed. Hell, the luscious feel of her sandwiched between him and the
truck had pushed him to the edge of his control.