Hard Habit to Break (9 page)

There was something infinitely sexy about a woman telling a man she wanted to go to bed, Matt decided. Maybe it was the imagery the word
bed
conjured up in a man’s mind that physically affected his body. But he had no need of his imagination to picture Liz lying on a bed. He’d seen the real thing.

Unfortunately his patience had rapidly dwindled with Liz’s casual dismissal. It was time to let her know there was a payment for “the full force of her admiration.”

Sternly he gazed at her for a long minute. Then he pulled the soaking wet turtleneck sweater over his head and dropped it onto the floor.

“Since you’ve so kindly washed my clothes,” he said, “you can dry them too.” Steadying himself with one hand on a kitchen chair, he gazed directly into her shocked, widening eyes as he began tugging off his tennis shoes. “You’ve got ten seconds to find me a towel bigger than a postage stamp, woman, or I’ll strip
you
bare.”

Liz didn’t move until his second shoe hit the vinyl tiles, then she fled the room. Grinning, Matt pulled out the chair he was leaning against and sat down. It felt good to exert his rights as a man.
She probably would never let him get away with it again, but it felt good.

As Liz hurriedly gathered several large towels from the shelf of the upstairs linen closet, she cursed herself for her cowardice. Maybe if she had stayed and bluffed it out, Matt really wouldn’t have … He would. Somehow he always managed to force her into acknowledging the physical attraction she felt for him.

She started laughing as she remembered what had caused the latest appearance of his machismo. The total astonishment on his face when she’d flung the bucketful of water at him had been more priceless than the Picasso he owned. She had to admit he had class for calmly asking to borrow a towel. Most people would have exploded in anger at her childish prank. And while it had been childish, she didn’t regret it. It had felt good to have outwitted him for once. He’d probably never let her get away with it again, but it
had
felt good.

Returning to the kitchen, she was a little apprehensive as to his state of undress, and she peeked around the corner before entering. Seeing he was still in his jeans at least, she swept into the room and dumped her armful of towels onto his lap.

“Towels, as you requested, O mighty macho one,” she said, her lips drawn back into a wide grin.

He draped one towel over his shoulders and stood. “The humility in your tone is quite touching. Have a good laugh upstairs?”

“After I was done cursing you,” Liz chuckled again.

“Ahh,” he murmured with a smile. “Now, that sounds promising.”

“My cursing sounds promising?”

“Mmmm. Where’s your dryer?”

She jerked her head up, startled. “My dryer?”

He nodded. “You know, the machine that whirls the clothes around until they’re dry. You
are
drying my clothes.”

“I am not!” she protested, her hands on her hips. “Go home and use your own.”

“I really think you ought to reconsider,” he suggested in silky tones. He picked up the bucket and walked over to the sink. “Otherwise,
you’ll
be needing a towel.”

“You wouldn’t!”

He turned and gave her a look that said he most definitely would, then shoved the bucket under the tap. Liz blanched as he spun the cold faucet on full force. Water rattled loudly against plastic.

“Matt, the laundry room is to your left.”

She sighed loudly with relief when he turned off the water. Cowardice had its place sometimes, she decided. Anyway, the wet look wasn’t “in” this year.

“Smart girl,” he said, patting her cheek as he passed her.

“Brilliant,” she muttered, resisting the urge to shove her foot against his taut buttocks. Instead, she clenched and unclenched her hands in frustration.

The laundry room door closed behind him, and Liz soundly cursed herself. If only she hadn’t insisted on playing his game! Now she was stuck with him while his clothes dried.

Groaning out loud, she couldn’t believe he was actually in her house, stripping down to his bare skin.

“Oh, no!” she gasped, realizing Matt would be dressed only in a couple of towels when he re-emerged from that room. She had enough trouble controlling her physical and emotional reaction to him when he was clothed—but in a couple of towels!

Liz spun on her heel and ran for the stairs, intent on reaching her bedroom with its lovely stout lock on the door before Matt was aware she’d retreated in defeat. She acknowledged that not only did cowardice have its place on occasion, but it was also the only sensible means of survival sometimes.

And there’d better be a six-inch yellow streak running down her back right now, because she wouldn’t give a wooden nickel for her chances of surviving Matt, she thought wildly. Her mother hadn’t raised any stupid daughters.

In her dash through the living room Liz felt her panic ease as she caught sight of the staircase along the left wall. She ran toward it. Shifting mental gears, she slowed but still took the steps two at a time.

She was up the stairs in a flash and halfway down the hall before she heard a sudden noise behind her. Then a hand grabbed her arm and spun her around.

“Going somewhere?” Matt asked in a chiding voice.

He towered over her, dominating her senses with his nearness. Dark curling hairs covered the wide expanse of his upper chest. The towel draped across his hard shoulders did nothing to hide his physique. The muscles in his arms were lean and hard rather than heavy. In the deep shadows of the hallway his features were a mere outline of male menace. But his green eyes were clearly visible, a tender longing blazing in them.

Liz stared at him, all too aware of the towel that barely covered his hips. She couldn’t seem to breathe, and her numbed brain couldn’t find the right command that would start her lungs working properly again. Her nostrils were filled with the scent of subtle cologne and male flesh.

“I don’t think I want to know where you were going,” he murmured when she didn’t answer his question. “But you were headed in the right direction for what I have in mind.”

His words should have broken the spell holding her will in check, but they didn’t. Instead, a hard shaft of desire shot through her, trapping her as effectively as his body did. She dimly realized the little girl in her had brewed more than one mischief tonight when she’d ignored the bank manager’s common sense and propriety to play Matt’s little-boy games. Now only the woman in her was left, helplessly responding to the man.

Matt slowly lowered his mouth to hers, his lips softly seeking her resistance. Cold reason clamored inside her for an instant, then vanished in an overwhelming rush of brightly colored sensations. Those sensations coursed through her veins, offering a sensual danger, a delicious fulfillment if she played out the game to its final goal. But those same heady sensations also promised peace and relief from all the restrictions imposed upon her. If only she dared to reach out.…

And why shouldn’t she? Every woman deserved to follow her heart for one night, Liz thought in a haze of emotion. Every woman was entitled to one mistake. And in spite of feeling more like a female goddess of power, she was, after all, only a woman. An imperfect woman allowed her one mistake of a lifetime.

Well, if Matt was a mistake, at least he was a perfect one.

Pressing herself fully against him, she parted her lips, allowing him access for a more intimate game. As his tongue delved inside to mate with hers, she rushed to meet him in the give and take of the kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers burrowing under the draped towel to
warm skin. She felt a deep pulling inside her that tightened her belly and thighs.

His lips seared hers, intent on drawing out all the passion of which she was capable. His body crowded her against the wall, his arousal cradling itself naturally in the junction of her legs. A strong hand cupped her breast, thumb rubbing insistently over her taut nipple.

Powerless at the churning emotions inside her, she clung to him. She didn’t hear the low moan that issued from her own throat. The kiss was endlessly satisfying, yet still not enough. She wanted more. She wanted everything. With him.

Matt seemed to sense her thoughts at the same moment. For an instant his mouth dropped to the base of her throat, then he suddenly lifted her in his arms.

And turned around toward the stairs!

“But the bedroom’s the other way,” Liz blurted out, clutching his shoulders to steady herself.

His grin flashed whitely. “You have a wonderful sense of direction in the dark, Liz, but my clothes are downstairs in the dryer.”

“But … I thought …”

“You thought what?”

She felt the heat radiating on her cheeks, then cleared her throat before stammering, “You … you know.”

“Yes?”

“Stop playing dumb, Matthew Callahan! Now, put me down.”

He just laughed and held her even more tightly as he descended the stairs. Furious and embarrassed, she swatted his bare shoulder.

“Behave, Liz, or I’ll dump cold water on you to cool you off.”

Narrowing her eyes at his amused features, she clamped her teeth together. Damn him! The man had ranted and raved for days about how they would make love. And now she had finally admitted he’d been right. She’d actually been in his arms, actually been ready to make love with him, and the last place he was interested in was the bedroom. She couldn’t believe he could kiss her like that one moment and calmly walk away the next.

“You are a tease,” she finally said.

He stopped on the bottom step and turned his head toward her. “I’m no tease, sweetheart. Unfortunately though, I realized that you are.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

She pushed against his chest and he released her legs, letting her slip down his body. Even through her anger she could feel every inch of him burning into her own flesh. Her feet met the floor with an abrupt jolt, and she backed up a step.

“I was hardly teasing you. In fact, what happened between us was total honesty. Or do you constantly need the game-playing to get turned on?”

At her words the amusement vanished instantly from his face, and he glared at her. His body tensed and his hands curled into fists at his sides.

Liz sensed his temper was about to erupt, and she planted her feet firmly on the rug, ready to welcome it. Matthew Callahan could shout until
he was hoarse. Then she’d tear into him for playing his stupid games and bruising her emotions beyond endurance.

Angrily he slashed the air between them with one hand. “You want honesty? I’ll give you honesty. I stopped us from going to bed together because
you
weren’t ready. It took everything I had to stop it, and believe me, honey, it was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life. I’ve watched you every day, watched you in your prim business suits going back and forth from the bank, knowing that there was a passionate woman underneath. Knowing that hidden woman was waiting there for me to let her out. But tomorrow morning you would have regretted what you’d done, and I knew it. That’s why I stopped it. I want you, Liz, but I want you fully and completely and with no regrets.”

She closed her eyes in self-recrimination. He was right. She hated to admit it, but he was right. She would have absolved herself afterward by blaming him. Still, knowing he’d done the right thing didn’t stop the aching desire that continued to flood her body. Instead, she wanted him even more, simply because he cared enough to stop her from doing something she’d regret, no matter what the cost to himself.

“I think I hate honesty,” she finally replied, opening her eyes.

Shaking his head, he chuckled dryly. “Not as much as I do.”

He stepped off the bottom step and enfolded her in his arms. The embrace was comforting, and Liz laid her head on his chest.

“I’m still furious with you, you know,” she said, slipping her arms around his bare waist.

“I’m not too thrilled with myself either,” he replied, his fingers smoothing her hair.

And that was an understatement, he admitted silently. Knifelike physical pain had plunged through him when he’d pulled away from her. It had taken every ounce of his self-control to turn away from the bedroom. But he’d instinctively known, in spite of Liz’s physical response, he’d only be seducing her. Somehow he hadn’t been willing to follow in Don Juan’s footsteps to that extent.

From the beginning Liz had been very special, and he wanted every part of her—mind, heart, body—with him all the way. Until that moment came, he was willing to wait.

He grinned, thinking of an old Billy Joel song. If only the good die young, then he’d be in his grave tomorrow for his saintly actions tonight.

And he had the feeling he’d be canonized before the week was out.

“So you’re from Chicago,” Matt called through the closed laundry room door.

Knowing he was in the process of dressing, Liz tried to suppress the butterflies in her stomach. In spite of the stout barrier between them, it was much too easy to remember his earlier attire. And how his body had heated hers.