Good Girls Don't (32 page)

Besides, Ethan was the only hottie from work who wasn’t making the trip. Probably just as well. Clarise had wisely decided not to risk their friendship, or her job, by confessing her crazy obsession. No need to jeopardize either for a weekend romp with the boss.

The blond hunk stared at her via the television screen as though willing her to grant his next request.

Go on, Blue Eyes, ask.

And, since forty-eight seconds had passed, he did.

“Shimmy for them, darlin’,” he said, removing a strand of gold beads from his neck and dangling the glittering loop from one of those beautifully long fingers. “Come on. Give us a little shake.”

Clarise flashed a siren smile, trying her best to imitate the one the woman tossed him on the video. Then she leaned forward and flitted her shoulders back and forth, sending Granny Gert’s heritage swinging like heavy water balloons in front of the screen.

The knock on the door caught her mid-shimmy, and she abruptly stopped moving. Well, most of her did. Boom One and Boom Two still had a whole lotta shakin’ going on.

She slapped at the
TV/VCR
combo to stop the tape. However, in her haste to get rid of the evidence, she hit the volume button instead. Within half a second, blonde and friends screamed their approval at the hooters on display.

“Yeah, baby, show us what you got!” one yelled.

“Have mercy!” blue eyes added.

“Bon dieu, sweet mother,” the third decreed.

“Ohmigod,” Clarise whimpered, grabbing a fistful of bra and shirt with one hand, while the other frantically punched the
POWER
button on the television.

“Clarise, is that you? Miles said you were in the lounge,” Ethan called from the other side of the door. “Are you okay in there?”

Great. Just great. While she was playing exhibitionist with the blond hunk on the screen, the real deal was perched outside. The most gorgeous sandy-haired, turquoise-eyed male she’d ever seen, who happened to be her boss and one of her closest friends, was merely feet away. Listening.

Or was he? God, what had Ethan heard?

She immediately regretted her decision to have Jesilyn and Rachel vacate the premises for lunch. She should have had them on watch duty. Or rather, on Ethan Eubanks watch duty. And she should have told Miles Watkins to keep his big mouth shut about her whereabouts. Good Lord, she hoped he didn’t tell Ethan what she was doing, too! The eye candy factor took an abrupt turn from sweet to sour.

She attempted to control her pulse. Miles only knew she needed privacy; she hadn’t mentioned why. Thank God.

“Clarise?” Ethan repeated.

Didn’t he say his lunch meeting would last two hours? And did he realize how he had surprised her by coming back early? Or how big a surprise it was? As in, a surprise heart attack for Clarise?

She was usually pretty good at hiding things from Ethan. They’d grown close, but she still kept her secrets guarded. Not many secrets, mind you. Only two. One, her real career goal. And two, the fact that he made her head swim and her heart tremble.

Heat crept up her body, starting with her bulging boobs, then worked its way up her throat to settle in her cheeks. “I’m—fine.”

“I need to speak with you about this weekend,” he said, that sexy, raspy voice making her nipples salute.

Would it be too much to ask for her weekend lover to sound like Ethan? Look like him? Act like him? Since none of her coworkers met any of the preceding criteria, she’d bet it was definitely too much to ask.

“Sure.” She yanked the mega-cups of her bra together and fastened the closure without taking time to situate the two mounds in their holsters. As a result, righty had a hefty portion plumped over the top and lefty had some side action happening, with a paunch of flesh poking her armpit.

The doorknob jiggled, and her pulse skyrocketed.

“Do you need me to come back?” he asked, with more than a hint of curiosity in his tone.

“No,” she gasped. Lord, did stripping in the employee lounge qualify for a pink slip? Probably, although she’d bet Ethan would chalk it up to progress. He’d been trying to get her to come out of her shell for the past three years. If he only knew, she’d do more than that. By tomorrow, she’d be coming out of her top. Then, if she did it right, she’d be coming period. With the lights on. Or outside. Or on the grass. Or all of the above.

Clarise fumbled her way with the buttons then jabbed the ends of her blouse into the top of her skirt, all the while thanking God and heaven above for elastic waistbands. Then she snatched her red scarf off the couch and quickly tied it at her waist as elegantly as possible, given her shaky fingers.

Making certain the television was off, she took a deep breath, unlocked the door and opened it.

Dang if his eyes weren’t bluer than she remembered. Double-dang if he didn’t look even better than last night’s dream.

Clarise swallowed. She would not think about that now. Wouldn’t picture the way she’d envisioned him tearing her clothes from her body in a frantic effort to touch her, hold her, get inside of her.

She focused on those waves of sandy hair, thick brows, strong jaw, totally kissable mouth, broad shoulders . . .

Heavens, what was she doing?

Blushing. That’s what. And from the brilliant grin on that gorgeous face, he’d noticed. If he ever found out how he made her pulse pump, she didn’t know what she’d do.

“You wanted to talk about this weekend?”

“Yes, I do.” He indicated the television and the neon green glow from the VCR portion. “Watching a movie?”

Great. The tape was still rolling, even though the screen was off. And he could see that blinking arrow, dadgummit.

“Yeah,” she said, stretching a finger toward the machine and punching the
STOP
button. A surge of relief flooded her when that tattletale arrow disappeared.

“Sounded like a Gasparilla parade. Trying to get an idea of what’s in store for the weekend?” He crossed the lounge, opened the refrigerator and withdrew a Coke. “Hey, I didn’t mean to make you nervous yesterday, but I thought I should warn you about some of the—activities—down there.” His mouth crooked to the side. Then he took a long drink from the bottle, as if he had to do something with those enticing lips to keep from outright laughing at her attempt to blend with the wild women of Tampa.

Clarise wanted to spout some smart remark about how she could be sexy if she wanted, but she couldn’t concentrate on anything beyond watching his neck pulse with each swallow.

Ethan lowered the bottle and grinned. “Not that I think you should pass on the trip. I’m glad you’re going, but you’ve never been around anything quite like Tampa during Gasparilla. I just want you to be prepared.”

“I’m ready,” she said, and couldn’t keep her smile from bursting free.

He laughed, and the luxurious sound rippled down her skin like hot shower water, touching her everywhere.

“I have no doubt you’re ready, but is Tampa ready for you? Clarise Robinson, letting her hair down? I thought you said you’d never be caught dead at one of those parades.”

“That was last year, and I had a case of cold feet. This year is—different.”

“Different how?” he asked.

Clarise had a hard time hiding things from this man. Truthfully, the big 3-0 had been a major factor in the decision to bare the Robinson Treasures at Gasparilla. She sure wasn’t getting any younger, and she sure wasn’t finding her way into Ethan Eubanks’s bed. So she might as well find her way into someone else’s, right?

She turned away from him and prayed he wouldn’t realize that the combination of her birthday and his apparent lack of romantic interest had convinced her to go through with the trip. Their friendship had developed so steadily over the past three years that typically Ethan could look at Clarise and know her every thought, dream, and desire. Matter of fact, it amazed her that he hadn’t instinctively recognized her obvious attraction.

But he hadn’t. And she thanked heaven above for that small miracle.

“You told me repeatedly I should take this trip, and now that I’ve decided to go, you’re trying to talk me out of it.” She pivoted, crossed her arms beneath her chest and glared at him. “I’m old enough to have some fun, and I’m going to,” she added, her frustration at having been caught mid-strip wedging its way into the words. Then again, was she frustrated that Ethan had caught her, or that he’d never realized the one she really wanted to strip for . . . was him?

He took another drink and stepped closer. “I’m glad you decided to go, Clarise.” The corner of his mouth dipped down, and he shrugged. “I just hate it I’m going to miss the show.”

“The show?” she asked, trying to keep her attention on his eyes, rather than his mouth.

“Yes, the show. Clarise Robinson, unplugged. I’ve got to tell you, I’m jealous.”

“Jealous?” she asked, her vocabulary taking a momentary nosedive while he stepped even closer.

“Of all the guys in Tampa. I’ve been waiting to see you let that airtight guard down for years. Now you decide to set the wild side free, and I’m stuck in Birmingham with a major meeting. Hell, yeah, I’m jealous.” He grinned, and her frustration dissipated.

“Stop it, Ethan.” She playfully shoved his arm. Problem was, the rock solid bicep stopped the momentum of her palm. And started the momentum of her uterus. Clarise chuckled through the sexual tension that existed only on her side of this fence. Yeah, he flirted with her on a daily basis, but it was merely a sociable banter. He didn’t mean anything by it, and Clarise was smart enough to realize that. Why would a guy she’d classify as “God’s gift to females” even think twice about an abundantly proportioned best friend with plain hair and a semi-cute face? A great personality and business smarts could only go so far in the world, and evidently neither went far enough to gain Ethan’s attention beyond friendship.

“All right, I’ll confess. Miles told me you were in the lounge practicing your flashing technique, and I was curious. One, I can’t believe you’re actually going on the trip, though I do think it’ll be good for you. And two, I am envious of the men who get to be on the receiving end of your shimmy.” He grinned. “By the way, I heard the guy’s command from the video. Did you give him what he wanted?”

Her blush came fast and furious, making her cheeks burn. She wasn’t about to answer his question. Instead, she focused on the guy who ratted her out. “Miles told you?” Then she shook her head. “He didn’t know.”

“Rachel told him.”

“Is anything private here?” She moved toward the television and pushed the
EJECT
button on the VCR.

Ethan shrugged. “Obviously, not much. So, come on. Let me see what you’ve got.”

Another trickle of heat burned her chest. Heck, she’d love the opportunity to show him aplenty, probably more than he wanted to see. Twenty or thirty pounds more, she suspected. She grabbed the video and looked up.

His expression had altered from teasing buddy to compassionate friend. Had he realized how embarrassing this was for her?

“Clarise. I’m not serious.” He placed his Coke on the table and moved toward her again.

Clarise gripped the video like a lifeline, while she waited to see just how close he’d come.

Ethan stopped merely a foot away, leaned casually against the wooden cabinet enclosing the television unit. “I wouldn’t do you that way. You can save your secret shimmy for the guys in Tampa. It was a joke.”

She blinked. Nodded. “Right, I knew that.”

“But I am pleased that you’ve decided to have some fun. And...”

“And?” she whispered.

“And I really do wish I could go down there and see you at your first Pirate Fest. You deserve to have a good time.”

His sincerity touched her heart. He really did care about her and wanted the best for her. Delight radiated from her center. Unfortunately, it was followed by the sudden urge to fling her body against his, wrap her legs around his waist and kiss the living daylights out of him.

Thank goodness for self-control. She shifted from one foot to the other and backed away from the too-close-for-comfort situation.

“Why don’t you head out early and finish up your packing. That way you won’t forget anything you need.”

Forget anything she needed? She’d already packed the only real necessity, an industrial-sized box of condoms.

“Sound good to you?” he prompted, reminding Clarise she’d yet to respond.

She looked at the round clock on the wall. Two
P.M.
“I have three hours before I get off.”

“I’m giving them to you. You work too damn hard anyway. Besides, Abby is working in the Women’s Department today. She’ll be running the place while you’re gone; might as well let her go ahead and get started. Take the afternoon and prepare to have fun.” His face sobered. “Do you plan to take someone along?”

She blinked. “Take someone along?” How would she have a weekend of wild sex if she took someone along? And who would she take? Babette was currently visiting their folks in Florida and was leaving tomorrow on a cruise that would celebrate, yet again, her December graduation from college. Clarise wondered if her sister would ever stop celebrating and start working. Probably not.

Then there was Grandma Gert, who would come to Tampa in a heartbeat and strip down to her enormous brassiere and equally enormous panties, regardless of whether gold beads were involved, if someone like Blue Eyes tossed her a come-hither smile.

“Tampa tends to be an interesting place for couples to visit,” Ethan continued.

Oh. Well. She should’ve figured that one out, but leave it to Clarise to hear “bring someone along” and immediately think of her whacked-out family. “I’m not bringing anyone along,” she said, “but I do plan to have fun.”

“Obviously,” he said, nodding toward the television. “I’m betting you’ll have the best shimmy there.”

That itch to fling against him pulsed through her again, and this time, she didn’t completely resist. “Thanks!” She wrapped her arms around him, and the video and notebook slapped against his broad back with a loud smack.

Clarise barely noticed. She was too lost in her close proximity to Ethan to care.