Lexie (10 page)

Lexie went along mutely as she was herded into the bedroom.

Roxie turned on the bedside lamp and closed the door behind them, blocking Cam out. “I don’t know what he thinks I’m going to do,” she growled. She pulled the curtains closed before opening a dresser drawer and flipping through clothes. “Here.” She tossed a matching set of shorts and a spaghetti-strapped top onto the bed. “It’s about as sedate as I get.”

“Thank you.” Bracing one hand on the wall, Lexie lifted her foot back to grab her shoe. She teetered once, but when Roxie moved to help, she sent her a look of defiance.

“Okay. Sorry.” Her sister held up her hands. She let out a sigh and glanced at the door. “Are you really okay with Attila the Hun being here?”

Lexie bit her lip. She’d never imagined a situation where she’d be stripping with Rowe right in the next room. Or one where they’d be sleeping in the same apartment. Or one where he’d kissed her like a sailor on the first night of shore leave.

Ducking her head, she went for her other shoe. “I guess I have to be.”

“What’s his deal?” Without an ounce of shyness, Roxie kicked off her boots and unzipped her jeans. She peeled them off and dropped them on the floor.

Lexie heard the squeak of the Hide-A-Bed opening, and shivers danced down her spine. “I don’t have a clue.”

Roxie stripped her tank top over her head and turned back the bedcovers. Half-naked, she tugged a lacy nightie from under her pillow. She let it slip over her head and down her body before nailing Lexie with a look. “You didn’t tell me he was sex on a stick.”

Lexie’s head snapped up. She’d managed to get her skirt off, but the silk chemise was proving more difficult. She stopped with it pulled up halfway to expose her midriff.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. That man could melt the polar ice caps, if not for his sparkling personality.”

“He makes me nervous,” Lexie admitted. She rolled her shoulders and was relieved when the fabric lifted and she could get it over her head.

“And by nervous, you mean wet?”

The top fluttered to the floor.

“Come on, you can tell me,” Roxie pressed. “He has to have some redeeming features.”

Lexie stood in her bra and panties, her face hot. “My heart pounds whenever I hear him coming down the hallway at work,” she blurted.

“In a bad way or good?”

“I always thought bad before.” Until that kiss downstairs… And the way he’d held her so protectively from the crowd…

Roxie slipped into bed and propped herself up on her side. “You say he’s your father’s right-hand man?”

Lexie nodded as she undid her bra. It fell to the floor, and she pulled the softer nylon tank over her head. It skimmed down her body and settled close.

Roxie clicked her tongue. “Same size everywhere.”

Carefully, Lexie bent over to put on the shorts. Each time she lifted a foot, she took a moment to make sure she was steadied. Finally, she padded towards the bed. Slipping under the covers, she mirrored Roxie’s pose.

“I thought you two were going to do it right against the jukebox,” Roxie said.

Lexie fingered the pillowcase’s embroidering. “I don’t know why he did that. We’ve barely even spoken before.”

“I think his reason was pretty clear. He doesn’t want to
talk
.”

The pillowcase wrinkled. “I don’t know why
I
did that.”

“Do I have to paint a picture? You want him too.”

“Am I really that drunk?”

Roxie snorted. “Somehow I doubt that if Skeeter had tried the same move he’d have gotten away without your knee in his privates.”

Lexie glanced towards the wall when she heard the squeak of metal on metal. That foldout sofa sounded like it hadn’t been used in years. “But I don’t trust him.”

“And you shouldn’t. The guy made his first move on you when you were drunk.”

Lexie groaned. “How did I get into this mess?”

“Apparently, you’ve got the same affliction that I do—a taste for men who aren’t good for us. Watch out for him, hon, he’ll turn on you.”

“How do you know?”

“Who signs his paycheck? You or Daddy?”

Lexie dropped her head to the pillow. “My head hurts.”

“It’s the bourbon. Or maybe the rum.”

“I’m so drunk.”

Roxie doused the light. “Sleep it off. Things will be better in the morning.”

“Will they?”

“Probably not, but at least we’ll be on equal footing.” Roxie let out an evil chuckle. “That hideaway bed is a killer.”

Cam was awake when Lexie came rushing out of the bedroom. He didn’t sleep much as it was, but tonight? Yeah, not going to happen—especially with the support bar of the foldout bed hitting him square in the back. One look at her panicked face told him what was wrong. He pointed to the bathroom. “That way.”

Roxie was right behind her. “To your left.”

She darted off with her hand folded across her mouth. The door whipped shut behind her.

Cam sat up, his gaze slicing to the sister. She was dressed in a skimpy little nightie. She eyed him back, one eyebrow lifting. He’d stripped down to his skivvies. It was warm up on the third floor even with air conditioning. He’d done his best to get comfortable, but that bed wouldn’t let him sleep no matter what he was or wasn’t wearing.

Sounds from the bathroom distracted them both. They were miserable.

“This is your fault,” he said.

“My fault?” Roxie raked a hand through her hair and glanced worriedly to the bathroom. “You and that so-called family of hers are the ones who sent her my way.”

“She told you that?”

“Not in so many words, but I get what that billboard did.”

“Still think it’s fabulous?” Cam felt his back pop as he got out of bed. He winced and started towards the bathroom.

“Don’t you go near her.” Roxie hurried to plant herself between him and the door. “She’s mortified as it is. Give her a few minutes.”

Damn. As much as he didn’t want to agree with her, she was probably right. Lexie wouldn’t appreciate any help right now. She didn’t even like it when he pulled out her chair for her at meetings.

Because she didn’t trust him.

His jaw clenched. They were going to have to get past that little rub and soon.

Roxie eyed him carefully. “You don’t like me much, do you, Hatchet Man?”

“I sense the feeling’s mutual, Evil Twin.”

Her brow lifted. “I like the sound of that.”

She would.

“I don’t know you,” he said flatly. “And neither does she.”

God help her, Lexie didn’t have the self-preservation instincts of a bunny rabbit, except when it came to him. From what he could tell, she took arrows from the Underhills every day, and she’d fallen for this sister the moment they’d made contact.

He wasn’t as trusting. Put him solidly in the nurture camp.

He’d seen Roxie’s face as Lexie had checked out her apartment. She knew they’d led very different lives. He’d lay odds that she’d already calculated the value of Lexie’s fancy shoes and designer purse. Call him cynical, but he wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to cash in on the game.

“You’re worried I’ll hurt her,” Roxie said bluntly.

“Not really, because I won’t let you.” He didn’t know anything about this woman, other than she was a dead ringer for the one who kept him up nights, but he knew her kind. She had not only the self-preservation instincts of a rabbit, she had the instincts of a tigress. She watched out for Roxie and nobody else. He could see it in the way she moved. He could hear it in the tone of her voice.

She wasn’t a woman to be messed with.

And he wasn’t a man who played games.

The toilet flushed, and there was the sound of the faucet running in the other room. Roxie wandered closer, resting her hand on the doorjamb. “There’s a new toothbrush in the top drawer and mouthwash underneath the sink.”

The only response she got was a groan.

Cam wrapped his fingers around the doorknob. “I’ll take care of her.”

Roxie scowled. “I’m not leaving her to you.”

“The couch is closer to the bathroom.”

“The bed is more comfortable.”

Cam caught the woman’s chin, surprising her. She was tough, but even strong women had their limits—and he did admire her strength. “You’ve had a hell of a day yourself. Just how bad is that headache?”

Her eyes narrowed, and she slowly pulled away. “Somewhere between an axe and a drill.”

“Go sleep it off, Roxie. She’ll be here in the morning.” He glanced at the bathroom door. “In worse shape, but here.”

For a solid minute, she stood watching him.

“Go,” he said. “I won’t hurt her, either.”

He didn’t know who was more surprised when she obeyed. She’d taken two steps before she stiffened and looked back over her shoulder. Her lips flattened. “Hatchet.”

“Your Evilness.”

Moving a bit more gingerly, she returned to the bedroom. She left the door open, and eventually he heard the squeak of the mattress.

Letting out a long breath, Cam stared at the bathroom door. Just how much had these two had to drink? Too much, but he couldn’t really blame them. If he came face-to-face with himself, he’d probably imbibe a little too.

He heard water running again, and he knocked softly. There was no answer.

One thing about Roxie, she called them like she saw them. Lexie would want to be alone. She had a thing about control, about always presenting the perfect picture. She was at her most vulnerable right now, and she didn’t really know either of them.

But he knew enough about her to want to get closer. He wanted to see what existed behind that perfect façade. He had a feeling it was a lot more interesting.

The door squealed as he opened it. The room was so tiny, the door nearly hit her. “Lexie?”

She was standing at the sink with her head bent and her hands gripping both sides of the porcelain as if it were the only thing supporting her. The toothbrush package had been opened, and an empty glass stood nearby along with a big bottle of Scope. “Go away,” she said hoarsely.

He stepped into the small space, shrinking it even more, and awareness lit up his nerve endings. They always did that when she was close, but this time the intimacy was different. He could sense how much she was hurting, feel the biting embarrassment…and see how little she was wearing. “Are you all right?”

“My toenails hurt.” She shuffled around the sink away from him. “Leave me alone, Rowe. Please.”

She was so soft, so vulnerable. Unable to resist the protective instincts roaring inside his chest, he gently cupped the back of her head.

“Ow.”

“Hair too?”

She bit her lip. With her dark hair a cloud around her, it made her skin look ashen. Her toes curled into the floor as if digging in for purchase, and her fingers turned white around the sink.

He moved quickly to the toilet and lifted the seat.

She shook her head carefully. “There’s nothing left in my stomach.”

But the alcohol was still in her system, probing for weaknesses and vulnerabilities. He watched her closely. The barely there number Roxie had given her to sleep in was playing Twister with his brain, but she was shaking.

“Come on.” He wrapped an arm around her back. Bending, he swiped the other under her knees. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

Her breath hitched when he picked her up.

He stopped. “Okay?”

Skin on skin. The awareness bit deeper. Her curves were cushioned against his chest, and luscious skin weighted his bare arms.

Her eyes drifted closed. “What are you doing here, Cam? Why won’t you let me be?”

“If that isn’t obvious, then you’re still drunk.”

Turning so as to not bump her head, he carried her through the bathroom doorway and straight for the opened sofa. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything. Her eyes were closed, and she was rubbing her fingers against her temple.

He lowered her onto the thin mattress. She settled onto her side gingerly and sighed when he tucked a pillow under her head. Her chest rose and fell with each careful breath she took. The motion pressed her breasts against the soft nylon top she wore.

As sympathetic as he was to her condition, Cam was a man. Her breasts were full and firm and shaped in a way that made his range of vision darken around the edges. In the light from the bathroom, he could see her nipples outlined against the soft fabric. He pulled his gaze away when he felt his mouth water, but it just drifted lower. Her legs were bent in the fetal position, and her shorts rode high on her thighs.

Really high.

Crouching down beside her, he brushed her hair back from her face. She didn’t even stir. She was awake but, for once, she wasn’t fighting him.

“Aspirin?” he asked.

She started to shake her head no but then thought better of it.

“Cold rag for your forehead?”