Just Like a Man (31 page)

"That's okay," she told him. "I can take it from here. Thanks."

"The hell you can," he said, opening the door. "I'll see you up."

But again, she hesitated. "You don't have to, really."

"Yes, I do."

She relented with unmistakable reluctance, and preceded him through the door, making her way to the steps.

"No elevator?" he said.

"It doesn't work," she told him. "It hasn't since I moved in."

"Which would have been?"

"July. I moved to Indianapolis from Bloomington for my job."

"You went to IU?" he asked as they began to climb the stairs.

She nodded. "Cheaper than going out of state. And it's a really good school."

Pax was about to agree and tell her he knew because he'd gone there himself. Then he remembered he wasn't T. Pax-ton Brown, but a jobless loser named Thomas Brown who was in returning ed. Selby might wonder, if she knew he'd earned two degrees in computer science. And he didn't want her wondering right now. He wanted her comfortable. He wanted her trusting. He wanted her reassured.

Hell, he just plain wanted her.

Which was why, when they finally reached the sixth floor and made their way to her front door, and when Selby turned to tell him good night, he lifted a hand to her face. Her eyes widened in surprise when he touched her, and her lips parted, as if she were about to speak. So before she had a chance to do something crass like ask him what the hell he thought he was doing, Pax dipped his head to hers and kissed her.

He had intended for the kiss to overwhelm her, to be a long, fierce, thorough penetration of her mouth that would throw her off her guard and enable him to take advantage. He had wanted to do to her standing up what he would later be doing to her lying down. He'd wanted her to come undone, to invite him inside, to insist he stay the night. But his first taste of her was so dizzyingly exquisite, so mind-bogglingly intense, so unexpectedly delicious, that his entire body shuddered in response.

It was Pax who ended up being overwhelmed.

He wasn't used to losing control of a kiss, but the sensation of Selby's mouth beneath his made him forget about everything except her. He lost himself in the potent, coffee taste of her, in the sweet, powdery scent of her, in the hushed, gentle murmur of her, in the soft, lithesome feel of her. His hands connected with her then, roving hungrily over her round curves, into the dip of her waist, over the flair of her hips, then higher, to hesitate under the swell of her breast. And as he touched her and deepened the kiss, all he could think about was how badly he wanted to bury himself inside her, surging as deeply as he could, thrusting as hard as he could, lunging as quickly as he could, over and over again, until neither of them could tell where one body ended and the other began.

As thoughts of doing just that to her flashed strobe-light fast through his brain, Pax crowded her back against her front door and pushed his body into hers, his forearms bracing on each side of her head now, his hips pressing into hers, his pelvis rocking forward. Only the need for breath made him tear his mouth from hers, and when he did, Selby gasped and cried out, a sound so fraught with fear, Pax had no choice but to halt what he was doing.

When he looked at her face, he saw her eyes hadn't widened in surprise, but in alarm. And though her hands were splayed wide across his chest, it wasn't because she was overcome with passion, but because she was trying to push him away. She was indeed frightened. And Pax could scarcely believe he was the reason for it. He'd never frightened a woman in his life.

But then, why should he be surprised? he asked himself. Hell, he'd just terrified himself, too.

As he studied Selby's expression more closely, though, he thought he detected something else mingling with her fear, a raw desire he only recognized because it so completely mirrored his own. She was scared, yes. But she was aroused, too. Probably not because she wanted to be, but there it was all the same.

In spite of that, Pax reined in his passion as quickly as he'd loosed it on her, and he pushed his body away from hers.

"I'm sorry," said, taking a giant step backward so that he wasn't crowding her. "I didn't mean for that… I mean, I wasn't trying to… I just wasn't thinking…"

And that was when Pax knew he was in serious trouble. Because not only had he just retreated from a woman—something he'd never done before—but he realized he really
hadn't
meant for that to… And he
hadn't
been trying to… And he
hadn't
been thinking… He'd wanted Selby the same way he'd wanted scores of other women, but he hadn't taken her the way he had scores of other women. Rewinding to the moment he'd dipped his head to hers, he realized he hadn't been plotting and calculating the way he normally did when he kissed a woman. He'd simply been acting on impulse. And Pax was
never
impulsive when it came to women.

Then he realized something even more significant. He realized that the way he wanted Selby
wasn't
the same way he'd wanted scores of other women. Something about her made him want her even more. He wasn't sure what it was or where it had come from or why she should be any different. He only knew he wanted Selby Hudson with an insatiability he'd never felt before.

Which, he couldn't help thinking, would just make it all the sweeter when he had her.

Because he would have Selby Hudson, he promised himself. And he would have her on his terms. He was just going to have to rework his strategy, that was all. Because she made him feel things other women hadn't, and she made him want things he'd sworn he would never want again.

That shouldn't cause too many problems, though, he thought. Because when all was said and done, she was a woman. And these days, at least, Pax knew exactly what to do with them.

"I'm sorry," he said again, feeling strangely sincere when he did.

For a moment, Selby only stood frozen in place, staring at him, her eyes dark with something Pax was too afraid to think about, her mouth pink and swollen from the harshness of his kiss. God, he wished he could read her mind just then. But he could no more guess what was going through her head than he could understand his reaction to her. Finally, though, she nodded, slowly, uncertainly. But she still looked a little dazed by what had just happened.

And then, very softly, very cryptically, she said, "No harm done. I just need to be careful not to let it happen again."

She spoke like she thought he was dangerous, Pax thought. And where before, with other women, he might have kind of liked that response, now he felt oddly uneasy. He didn't want Selby to think him dangerous. Probably because, unlike other women who found an element of danger to their liking, Selby wouldn't consider it a selling point.

So he'd have to go about seducing her in other ways. Fortunately for Pax, he knew all about seduction. Especially when it came to women like her.

"I'll, um, I'll see you in class," she said quietly, her gaze flitting over everything in the hallway except Pax. Then she jingled her keys in her hand in obvious dismissal. "Thanks for the coffee," she added.

"Don't mention it," he replied. Which was an unnecessary remark. Because he was pretty sure Selby didn't want to mention it again.

But that was okay, he thought as he watched her squirrel herself quickly into her apartment and close the door, then listened to the thrust of the deadbolt being jacked into place. He still intended to pick up right where they left off next time they were together. And he'd make sure Selby was so preoccupied then, she wouldn't want to talk anyway.

The night after scaring Selby by kissing her, Pax had the bejeezus scared out of himself by her.

He was minding his own business, sitting at the bar in Trino's with a colleague, waiting for a table to open up amid the Friday night crush of people, when he looked out across the restaurant and saw Selby waiting on one of the tables. At first he told himself it couldn't be her, that it was just some woman with the same haircut and build. The restaurant was dimly lit, after all, and she was a good thirty or forty feet away from him. But then she smiled at the couple she was waiting on, and the breath left his lungs in a long, emptying
whoosh,
and he knew without question it was her.

What the hell was she doing here, waiting tables? he wondered. She already had two jobs as it was. And how was he going to explain his presence here if she saw him? No way could Thomas Brown afford to eat here. And no way would Thomas Brown be wearing what was clearly a very expensive suit.

Damn. How was he going to work this? he wondered further as he turned his entire body on the barstool to face away from where Selby was scurrying around down on the restaurant floor. Fortunately, this left him looking at his colleague instead of away from his colleague. His colleague, Ellen. Ellen Howington. Of Howington Electronics. A knockout redhead who was nothing if not staggeringly gorgeous. So even if he managed to conjure from thin air some lame excuse as to why Thomas Brown would be sitting in an overpriced restaurant wearing an overpriced suit, he'd have to come up with yet another lame reason for why Thomas Brown was here with what, to the casual observer, looked to be an overpriced woman. Because Selby would never believe the truth, that this was a working dinner with an out-of-town associate who would be returning to her home—and her husband and kids—in Chicago next week, after concluding her business in town.

Oh, man. He couldn't risk Selby seeing him here like this. Or, worse, wind up himself at one of her tables. But he and Ellen had just ordered drinks to help pass the time of the thirty-minute wait for a table. And he always brought Ellen to Trino's when she was in town, because she loved the place so much. What was Pax supposed to do? Grab her by the wrist, tell her to forget their drinks—not to mention dinner—and drag her off to the nearby Bob Evans instead? And just hope that Selby didn't see them as they made their escape?

"Ellen," he said as she concluded the call she'd taken as they sat down and folded her cell phone closed, "do me a favor, will you?"

"Sure, Pax, anything."

"Look over my shoulder," he instructed her, "down at the restaurant floor. Do you see a waitress down there, early twenties, black hair about chin length, really cute?"

Ellen grinned, but did as he asked. "Yeah, I see her. Who is she?"

"That's not important," Pax told her. "Just tell me if she comes this way, all right?"

Now Ellen arched her auburn eyebrows in surprise. "You're hiding from her?" she asked incredulously. "Oh, I think who she is is
very
important. Tell me."

He shook his head.

"Tell me, or I'll wave a hand and draw her attention and tell her to come over here."

"You wouldn't dare. I introduced you to your husband."

"And I paid you back by naming our son after you. I don't owe you anything anymore. Tell me who she is. A recent conquest you're trying to avoid?" Her grin turned wicked. "Or did you just find out about a daughter you never knew you had?"

"It's a long story," Pax told her.

"And it's going to be a thirty-minute wait for a table."

"Another time, Ellen," he said. "I promise. I just can't go into it right—"

"She's coming this way," Ellen interrupted him, turning to face him fully. "Just keep your back turned and talk to me, and she'll never be able to tell it's you." And then she launched into what was obviously a fabricated recount: "So I told him, 'You can't talk to me that way,' and he said, 'Oh, no?' and then I said…"

Everything Ellen said after that was completely lost on Pax, because Selby sidled up to the bar between him and the woman seated on his other side, her shoulder softly brushing his.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said as she nudged him. But she was clearly distracted, because she didn't even wait for a reply, and instead beckoned to the bartender. "Bernie, can you change a twenty for me? I'm out of ones."

"For you, Selby Hudson, I'll do anything," Bernie said with a flirtatious chuckle, something that made Pax want to leap over the bar and strangle the guy with his bare hands.

Before he had a chance, though, Bemie took the bill from Selby, and Pax watched from the corner of his eye as he threaded his way through the other bartenders to the cash register in the middle of the bar. Pax held his breath and pretended to be interested in whatever long-winded tale Ellen was recounting, but his body fairly hummed with the frustration of knowing Selby was so close and he couldn't reach out to touch her. It was through no small effort that he forced himself to sit still and not turn around to look at her. But when he heard the outburst from the woman seated next to him, the one on the other side of Selby, he couldn't help but twitch and turn his head just the tiniest bit.

"Selby? Selby Hudson? Omigod, is it you?" the woman said in the shrill, stupefied voice of the overly inebriated.

Even over the din in the bar, Pax heard Selby's responding sigh, a sound that was a mixture of irritation, resignation, and dread. "Yes, Deedee," she replied, obviously having recognized the woman even before being recognized herself. "It's me. Hello."

The woman identified as Deedee expelled a sound of obvious astonishment. "I hardly recognized you! You're not fat anymore!"

Fat?
Pax echoed to himself, puzzled. What the hell was she talking about? Selby was just right, round and soft in all the places a woman should be round and soft.

But Selby confirmed the other woman's comment—sort of—when she replied, "Yeah, I've dropped a few pounds since high school."

"A few?'
Deedee the Shrill repeated. "You were as big as a house in high school." The woman laughed, a sound not unlike what one might have expected to hear from a dying horse. She was evidently speaking to her companion—whoever the unfortunate soul was—when she added, "Selby and I went to high school together in Dorsey. In the senior class superlatives, she was voted 'Most Likely to Hover over the Super Bowl with the word Goodyear Emblazoned on Her Butt.' Or something like that. Omigod, it was
so
funny."