Doing It Right (7 page)

“We’re not a team. I’m never in a team,” she said fiercely, and tried to take the washcloth away from him. He held it high above her head, out of reach.

“Stop me if you’ve heard this before, but bullshit.”

“I can’t keep you safe if you’re not going to listen,” she said flatly. She gave him a disgusted look as he dangled the washcloth out of her reach, as if saying:
You don’t really think I’m going to jump for that, do you?

“Well, I won’t stay safe if it means you’ll get hurt. Period. The end. The fat lady singeth.”

She stared at him. “You’re an idiot.”

He raised an eyebrow at her and sponged the rest of the drying blood off his face. The nosebleed had stopped a few minutes ago, luckily. “I don’t want to see you get pounded, ergo I’m an idiot? What, you’ve never hung around with one of the good guys before?”

“I’ve never hung around with a moron before,” she muttered, looking away.

He caught her chin and gently forced her to
look at him. “In all the excitement,” he said mildly, although his heart was starting to pound, “I forgot to thank you for kicking some major ass on my behalf.”

He leaned forward to kiss her and to his amazement and pleasure she met him more than halfway. She tenderly licked his sore upper lip, then her tongue slipped past his teeth and suddenly he was tasting her, devouring her, holding her tightly against his chest and kissing her with all the passion and excitement she had called up in him from the moment he first saw her.

Jared, who’d been sure the infatuation was one-sided, was thrilled to feel Kara’s hands slip under his shirt, her fingers brushing across his nipples and sliding through his chest hair.

He cupped her head in his hands tenderly, carefully, as if holding a Fabergé egg, precious and priceless. He pulled at the clip keeping her hair up. Suddenly the rich blond waves were tumbling past his hands. He groaned and buried his face in her hair.

“Oh, we can’t,” she said in one breath, then nipped at his ear with her small teeth.

“We hardly know each other,” he agreed with a groan, and kissed her throat. He brought his hands down to her waist, across her taut stomach, and up under her T-shirt. He closed his eyes and rubbed his face against her hair like a cat, for Jared Dean was a pure sensualist and nothing was more delightful to him than the feel and smell of a woman’s skin and hair.

He explored her body as a blind man would, bringing his palms across the muscles in her abdomen, sliding up, marveling at the sleek power contained in her body. He found her bra and—hooray!—realized the clasp was in front; with one sure tug the fabric parted and her breasts were in his hands. He groaned again at the sheer joy of it, of her. Firm and sweet and fitting exactly into his palms, he caressed the tender undersides with his knuckles, then brought his thumbs to her nipples. She moaned and pressed against him as he stroked the stiff peaks, then kissed him so hard his lips flattened against his teeth. He had time for a dazed thought—
Did I ever think this woman was a cool one?
—before she was tugging at his shirt so hard, he could hear the buttons popping off and clattering on the bathroom tile.

“That’s right, you’re strong, rip our clothes off, rip
all
of our clothes off,” he mumbled in delirious joy. “Take me, I’m yours.” Her soft laughter brought a silly, pleased grin to his face.

She started to lean forward to kiss his now bare chest, but he stopped her long enough to pull her shirt over her head. Her bra straps were sliding off both shoulders but he couldn’t take the time to help her out of it; he was transfixed by the perfection of her upper body. Slim, yet sleekly muscled, with proud, high breasts, her nipples were the dark pink of prairie roses and he would have gladly traded his medical license for a taste. Praise all the gods who ever were, he didn’t have to. He kissed one, then licked, then sucked, pressing the nipple
to the roof of his mouth and tightening his grip at her sigh.

His arms were around her waist, then slid lower to cup her firm buttocks and pull her gently against his groin. She pushed back and he loosened his grip at once, but to his delight she wasn’t pulling away, just trying to get more room. It was then that he noticed his nimble-fingered Kara had gotten his fly unbuttoned and his zipper down without him noticing.

And then her fingers were curving around his shaft, gripping him with cool and delicious friction, and he had time for one distracting thought—
God, don’t let this be another fantasy
—before gladly giving in to the sensation. Kara’s fingers, which slipped past locks and dealt blows hard enough to fell grown men, were the sweetest of dreams as she caressed, stroked, squeezed.

“OhKaraGod,” he gasped, then brought her breasts together and ran his tongue along her cleavage as her breathing harshened and her fingers ran across his now slippery tip. He groaned and managed to stop himself from squeezing the pale globes until he marked her with his fingers. He wanted to mark her. He wanted to kiss and suck every inch of her body, leave a ring of hickeys around her throat like a necklace, wanted to write his name on her forehead with a laundry marker, wanted to marry her so she would be his forever, and he hers. Instead, he stopped himself from squeezing and attacked the button fly of her jeans. Being a fumble-fingered physician, his technique
wasn’t nearly as stealthy as hers. She didn’t, thank God, seem to mind.

“More.”

“Yes.”

“I want—”

“That’s so good—”

“Yes, you—”

“You—”

“Oh yes—”

He didn’t know who was saying what, didn’t care, it didn’t matter. The only things in the world were her breath, her skin, her face, her sweet, courageous self.

“I’ve got to … got to send him a thank you note,” he managed, then kissed her again.

“Who?” She said the word into his mouth, then lightly bit his lower lip and squeezed his throbbing dick with perfectly even pressure from each finger, stopping just short of pain, making him want to beg her to do that again. “Who?”

Who indeed? What the hell had he been talking about? Oh yeah … “Carlotti. One Eyebrow. The wonderful thug who brought you into my life. I’ll send him flowers. Wash his car for a year. Something.”

He felt the change in her at once. One instant she was warm and willing and had her hands all over him. The next, she was letting go, looking at him with eyes full of fright, then, in the next instant, eyes that showed nothing except cool waiting.

“That’s enough of that,” she said calmly, and gently pushed him back.

“Guh,” he said, conscious of the fact that most of the blood his brain used was currently residing in his dick and, as such, he was definitely having trouble keeping up. “Wha …?”

“Sorry about that. We shouldn’t mix business with, uh, other things. Why don’t you zip up and join me in the living room?”

“Why don’t we have sex on the bathroom floor instead?” he asked in what he hoped was a reasonable tone, but what he was afraid sounded dangerously low and rough with lust. He felt growing anger and stomped on it. No meant no, of course, but he could easily have strangled her. Had he ever been so aroused? Not since the night he lost his virginity—and maybe not even then.

“No thanks.”

“The kitchen floor? The living room? The fire escape? The hallway? The corner diner? Where?”

“Get dressed,” she said, not unkindly, and left the room.

S
tupid. Stupid. Stupid. The thought thundered through her brain, even as she cupped her breasts, even as she ached for more of Jared’s mouth and hands. She had nearly let him take her. “Let him”—ha! She had nearly raped him in his own damned bathroom, that was how badly she wanted him. He was all that was good and she was exactly the opposite, and why oh why couldn’t she keep that in mind?

Kara fastened her bra, pulled her shirt back over her head, and sat down on the couch, dreading the moment Jared would come out of the bathroom. She’d abused him dreadfully, bringing them both to the edge then backing off and walking out without so much as a “Sorry, I’m not that kind of girl.” She wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d wanted to slap her. She was so disgusted with herself she would have stood still for it.

But only once.

She tried to pull her hair into a ponytail with trembling fingers, then remembered the clip was still in the bathroom and gave up. “Remember the rules,” she said softly, trying to soothe herself, calm herself. Her voice sounded hoarse and she cleared her throat and went on silently, trying for calm. Usually she didn’t have to try.
People you care for die or leave. Sometimes they can help it and sometimes they can’t. Either way, it’s better—safer—to never show true feelings. Don’t get close. Don’t get personal. You stupid cow.

Scolding herself usually made her smile. Not this time. She had used Jared badly and owed him an explanation she would never let him hear—that she was powerfully drawn to him, that she would take a knife in the kidney before seeing him hurt, that she wished they could be together. Might as well wish she wasn’t a carbon-based life form.

Jared walked into the room and tossed her hair clip at her, gently underhand. At least he hadn’t fired it at her face with all his strength. She caught the clip and immediately pushed her hair up into it. She couldn’t look at him.

“It’s my breath, isn’t it?”

Startled, she looked up and opened her mouth to reply.
Might have known he’d turn it into a joke
, she thought ruefully, and on the heels of that,
You’re not worthy to be sitting on his couch, much less putting your hands on his body, so keep it in mind, okay, doll?

He held up his hands. Skilled hands, healer’s hands. Lover’s hands. She tried not to stare at his
fingers. “No, no, you can tell me. I won’t be mad, I promise. Too many onions on my burger, right? I can take it.” He grinned at her, that crooked smile she was starting to love.

“I’m sorry,” she said. She looked up at him helplessly. “I don’t have an explanation.”

“That’s okay, I do.” He flopped down beside her and put his feet on the coffee table with a satisfying thump. She wanted to snuggle into him, the warmth of his body. Instead, she stared at the carpet. “You’re secretly in love with me and couldn’t help yourself. Or you’ve been heavily medicated for some time and need new drugs. Or you lost a bet. Or—”

“You’re very nice,” she interrupted, patting his thigh and then snatching her hand away. His thigh was long and heavily muscled; she wondered what he did to stay in shape. She wondered what he would think if she kissed him where her hand had just been. “But you’re not for me.”

“Not for you? What, like I’m something you’d pick up at Macy’s?”

“Not Macy’s,” she said, hating her cool tone but helpless to stop. “Maybe Kmart.”

His eyebrows arched. “Mee-yeow! Hey, don’t take it out on me because you’re sexually frustrated, sweetie. I was all set to tango …
you
were the one who called time out. Aarrggh!” He clutched his head, writhing. Alarmed, she reached for him, then forced her hand to drop back to her lap.

He looked up and speared her with his direct gaze. “I don’t want to fight. Listen, I only kissed
you because I couldn’t stand being near you and not touching you. And because I really did want to thank you for taking care of the bad guys in the park. That’s twice you’ve saved my butt. You barely know me and you keep putting yourself in danger for me. It’s maddening, but sexy as hell.” He picked up her hand and she let him, afraid to speak, afraid to return the pressure of his fingers. “Why are you doing this? Why me?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“Well, I do,” he said with maddening assurance. “It’s because you’re good, you couldn’t stand to see someone in trouble and had to help. You—”

She flung off his hand and jumped up. “I’m
not
good!” she practically shouted. “I’m as far from good as someone like you could imagine.”

His eyebrows arched. “Someone like me?”

She ignored the interruption. “I’m helping you because you’ve got a nice body and great eyes, okay? I’m in it for purely selfish reasons, I’m—I’m planning on shoring up your gratitude and trading it for sex, I—stop
laughing
.”

He had actually fallen off the couch, was holding his stomach and giggling like an idiot. He choked off his mirth and said, “Sure you are. That’s why you bolted out of my bathroom like your hair was on fire. ’Fess up, Kara. Why are you here?”

“A very good question,” she grumbled, and stepped over him to leave. Damned if she was going to tell him a thing. Not that she had been
planning to. But if she had been—and she had
not
been—she wouldn’t now. No way. The man turned everything into a joke. She couldn’t bear it if he turned her life into a punch line. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t leave your apartment until I come back.”

He rolled over, cat-quick, and grabbed her lower leg. Her progress toward the door slowed dramatically as she found herself lugging his two hundred pounds. “No you don’t,” he grunted. “You’re not doing one of your Batman-type fadeouts. We’re going to have a real talk like two people in a relationship.”

“We’re not in a relationship.” She braced herself and pulled, with no luck. He was stuck to her leg like a lamprey. She had no leverage. She could have loosened his grip any number of ways—kicking him in the eye would be a good start—but couldn’t bring herself to hurt him. Not physically, anyway. “Let go. Before I
put you in traction.
”

“I’ll call that bluff, thanks. Bodyguards don’t whup their clients. Besides, we both know you’re crazy about me.” He chortled over what he probably assumed was a gross exaggeration. “Now talk! Who are you? Why are you here? When are you going to marry me?”

She stopped pulling and looked down at him. He was sprawled behind her, holding onto her calf with white knuckles. “Stop joking.”

“I’m not,” he said quietly. “I think you’re fabulous. I want to be with you all the time. You’re
beautiful and smart and tough and vulnerable and sweet and a fantastic kisser and you have the prettiest breasts I’ve ever—”

“Stop it! You don’t know me, you don’t know anything about me, now
let me go
.”