Love Jones For Him (3 page)

“You look like you need cooling off,” she explained, as he straightened from his task and turned to face her.

Oh. Wow.

There she was, getting the full frontal of Gordon shirtless, in nothing but dangerously low-slung, faded blue jeans. His dark blond hair was slightly tousled, some errant locks brushing his forehead. Her eyes swept downwards and it almost got difficult to actually breathe.

Victoria was no expert on the male form.  But if she was judging by her personal taste, then Gordon had to have the best body structure she’d ever seen. He was all chest and torso, the muscles ripped and golden and looking tempting to touch. From his wide shoulders to his smooth chest to his incredibly sculpted abs, he was a vision for Victoria’s starved eyes. There was no hint of fat anywhere, just a perfectly lean, healthy, sexy body that seemed lifted straight out of a male fitness mag.

His long legs were encased in those sinfully snug jeans, and if her eyes lingered a second too long on his crotch area, she hoped he wouldn’t notice. If a man’s body could create the most wicked, filthiest thoughts in the most innocent woman’s mind, it was a body like Gordon’s. And Victoria was far from innocent. So her imagination was working on overtime right then.

Finally, she trailed her way up to his face. The fact that she’d spent the last fifteen seconds ogling his half-naked body didn’t seem lost on him. There was a crooked lift to his smile; his jewel-like eyes twinkled. He had that look on his face that told her he liked being ogled. By her.

Oh no, she thought in sudden despair. The “Love Jones”. She had it for him. No wonder she was always looking for an excuse to bump into his work space; why she took every opportunity to talk or see him whenever he was in the house. She was into him, big time – like she’d never been into any guy in a while – if ever. She just had to look at him and she thought of silken sheets, a king-sized bed, and the sweet, hot musk of all-night sex…

Yep, she had a Love Jones for him all right.

His magnetism was coming off him in waves, and she was standing there, soaking up the masculine, red-hot ambience he exuded. I’m male. I’m fuckable. Want me.

His body, his eyes, seemed to be telling her those words. She blinked, and almost stumbled back. His hand shot out to grip her arm before she could topple over some work tools.

“Careful,” he said, in his clipped, sexy British voice. His fingers wrapped easily around her slender arm; her skin tingled beneath his touch, which was warm, alive. Her eyes flew involuntarily up to meet his, and found in them a flash of something. His fingers tightened on her wrist for a fraction, and there was a time-bubble moment when everything was blocked out but their locked gaze, and the sound of their breathing in the silence of the room. The element of sexual tension had now been established; Victoria just wasn’t sure from whom it had emanated. Was she the only one who felt it, or did he feel the same?

She chewed on her lip in confusion, frowning with annoyance at herself for being silly and fanciful.

“I know. My fault – I guess any room you haven’t finished is a danger zone,” she said, forcing a light tone and a smile. He slowly let her go; once he seemed sure she’d regained her balance. “When exactly do you think you can be finished – I mean, with the whole house?”

“At this rate, pretty soon. I’d say before the end of the month. Why?”

She shrugged. “I live in New York, that’s where my work and family is. Family being just my paternal grandmother, but…well, I miss her. I miss home.”

Victoria watched him lift the glass of juice to his lips, tipping his head back as he downed the contents in a few gulps. She stared at the powerful column of his throat as if mesmerized. Her lips seemed to itch to place itself upon the strong cords of his neck, to taste the thin sheen of perspiration coating his smooth, golden skin. Her teeth longed to sink into that sweet-looking flesh and nip him, ever so gently, before she’d run her tongue flat along the plane of his collar bone, savoring his deliciousness.

Her immoral thoughts were beginning to make her face feel hot. Thankfully there was no chance of her being able to blush – but all of a sudden, she was beginning to understand what the term “hot under the collar” meant. She was definitely that, and much more.

“Is there anything else you miss? Or should I say, anyone?” he asked, done with the glass, which he handed to her. Their fingers brushed, and the brief, almost-nonexistent contact was enough to set her tingling all over again. What on earth, she swore, getting all the more furious with herself.

Being around Gordon was reminding her about the sorry state of her sex-life in the past several months. True, it had been her choice to stay single and stay celibate, but she was beginning to think that the effects were causing her to be too over-conscious of this very gorgeous and sexy contractor guy she had working on her home. She’d like to think it was all about his face and body, but that wasn’t the truth. There was something about him that drew her, made her glad to see him, even if it was just a glimpse she had of him, busy at his tasks.

In the past few days since the renovation went underway, he’d been the perfect professional. Always courteous and even friendly, but that was all. No matter what he seemed to think about her and what was becoming her increasingly obvious attraction to him, he showed no sign. Well, maybe until now. She blinked to clear her thoughts as she tried to answer his question.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “I guess I have friends I miss too – but I don’t have anyone in the romantic sense pining for my return or anything, if that’s what you’re asking.” She tried not to feel guilty thinking about Jeff, who was still ringing regularly to keep abreast with her activities. She kept telling herself that Jeff had no claims on her, and that she was free to feel or do anything with anyone she chose.

And yet, she couldn’t help feeling like she’d betrayed him somehow. For simply wanting Gordon the way she did, in the way she’d never wanted Jeff, made her feel like she’d let Jeff down. But that was silly, wasn’t it?

Gordon was saying with a shrug, “I was simply wondering, why the hurry with the renovations and all that. You’re in a new city, just waiting to be explored. There’s so much on offer while you’re here. Maybe it’s time you focused on enjoying your stay rather than counting the days till you can leave.”

“I am enjoying my stay,” she said defensively. “I’ve been touring the city whenever I can, visiting the many sights. Abbey has been great, showing me around and even taking me to the theater. The fact is, Gordon, that no matter how much I get to enjoy it here, one day I’ll still have to return to New York and my life there.”

“Of course,” he said, his tone light as he picked up his tool again. “But that’s the thing about life: you never know, do you?”

“I guess you’re right,” she replied, getting confused again by his mysterious words. With a quick smile, she excused herself and left him to get back to work, her head in a whirl.

***

He slipped into bed beside her, and she started.

“What...what are you doing?” she asked in panic, turning on her side to find Gordon beside her. She could feel the heat of his lower body close to hers beneath the sheets. Her eyes couldn’t seem to tear away from the sight of his muscular chest, the tiny nipples invitingly brown, pebbly. She wanted to catch one in her teeth so bad, she trembled.

He smiled a slow, wicked smile, leaning back on his elbows as he watched her watching him. “Answering your call, honey,” was his cocky reply.

She frowned, even as her heart pounded. Gordon, in her bed. Every hot-blond inch of him just laying there waiting to be enjoyed. But why did this feel so crazy?

“My call?”

“Yes,” he said plainly, his jewel-like eyes darkening almost black. “Your body, Victoria. It’s been calling out to me and I can no longer ignore the signals. You want this; you need to come get it.”

With those rumbling, heart-tripping words said in that hot British voice of his, Victoria started to feel a definite moistening between her legs. She locked her knees together reflexively. He couldn’t possibly be serious – could he?

She was beginning to discover that he’d never been more so. He was lying back, lifting his arms and locking his hands beneath his head in a reclined pose. That wicked smile never moved from his lips, and she swallowed at the undeniably delicious image of him spread out like a buffet just waiting to be devoured. For some reason, the small golden tufts evident in each exposed armpit were an immense turn-on. This was surprising to Victoria because she wasn’t a fan of armpit hair. But on Gordon, it was the sexiest thing ever. Her pussy throbbed and dampened even more.

She couldn’t wait to take a bite of him.

He seemed to read the capitulation in his eyes, and his grin widened with satisfaction and approval. “That’s it, baby. Take a big bite. Take anything you want.”

Her eyes widened at his words. How had he read her mind? Was that even possible?

This was definitely getting too crazy.

“Victoria…,” he said warningly, as she hesitated. Her whole body was quivering; she needed so much to give in. She’d never wanted anything so bad in her life. To succumb to her desire, her lust, for Gordon in every way. And yet…

“Gordon, I…,” she began, shaking her head in confusion. And just like that, he disappeared.

*

“No!”

Victoria woke up with a start, suddenly realizing she’d cried out in her sleep.

Looking around at her empty bedroom, she placed a hand to her heaving chest. Damn. Just a dream. A very spicy, short-lived and dissatisfactory dream. Her breasts tingled beneath her shirt, and the cleft in her thighs felt decidedly wet. Double damn.

It wasn’t the first time that Gordon had flavored her dreams. But this one had left her feeling particularly bereft for some reason.

The room was slightly dim, and she realized it was evening. She glanced at the bedside clock, which said six pm. She’d come up to take a nap, and had obviously overslept.

She’d barely managed to freshen up when the doorbell rang. There were sounds all over the house of work being done; today Gordon had brought in the other work men to handle the electricity and plumbing in some of the rooms.

Quickly, she headed down the stairs, pausing at the bottom when she realized that Gordon had already got there first, and had thrown open the door. The sight of Diane Wakefield standing on the doorstep was a shock to say the least.

Now what, thought Victoria, as she pasted an automatic smile on her face.

Chapter Six

Diane Wakefield was a hard woman to figure out. Victoria put up her guard, her courteous smile never leaving her lips as she responded to the older woman’s equally polite veneer.

“I think I like what you’re doing with the place,” she said, as they walked through the house. There’d been a look of surprise on her face when she’d seen Gordon at the door. Victoria had thanked him and quickly attended to her visitor, who still sent him curious looks as he excused himself to get back to work.

“Thank you,” Victoria said. “I didn’t want it to lose its homely, welcoming feel. Most of the work that needed to be done was mostly cosmetic. There was never any real damage to the house.”

“I can imagine so,” Diane said, her slightly thin lips curling somewhat. She lifted a framed picture from the shelf. They were standing in the living room, which was almost completely renovated.

“How much of your family history do you know, Victoria?” she asked suddenly, turning to the younger woman, who shrugged.

“Not as much as I should, surely. I’m not even sure who’s in that picture,” she said, nodding to the framed photograph of a young girl dressed in a pretty dress and hat, smiling into the camera. It was a black and white photo, so it was hard to tell the color of the dark-looking hair.

“That’s Mary. Your mother,” Diane said, glancing at Victoria. “I think she was almost eight here. We were both brought up in this house, you know.”

Once again she looked Victoria’s way, and this time her eyes had a flash of accusation. That same guilt she kept feeling of late, pricked Victoria’s conscience. Guilt for wanting to sell, and for wanting to leave it all behind. She tamped it down as silly; she had to keep remembering she was only being practical. That was the keyword here.

“Our mother raised us all on her own – just like I hear your paternal grandmother raised you. Our parents were divorced, and then my father remarried. It just seemed less hassle to stay with our mom all year round. I loved this house,” Diane said with a sigh, her eyes lifted as she swirled round slowly on her heels. “It was the only real home I knew. The only place I felt a real sense of family. With my dad and his new family, I always felt like the outsider, the unwanted child. Mary and I never felt unwanted here.”

“But then my mother left – for America,” Victoria supplied. While Diane spoke, her normally stern face had softened, her lips looked less pinched. Now, they thinned once more.

“Yes, for university. She got a scholarship to Yale – where she also met your dad. A year later, she was pregnant, with you. They never got married, did they?”

“No,” Victoria replied, her voice quiet. “But they were very much in love, till the day they died.”

Diane looked thoughtful. “My parents never approved of the match, apparently. Not so much because your father Nick was black, or American, but because she was so young. Barely nineteen when she left England, and by twenty, she was a mother.”