Nothing But Trouble (11 page)

“Thank you for not wanting to insult me,” he said.

Her eyes flashed brighter. “Okay, they were all right. I liked them. But don’t think I don’t know they’re supposed to be an aphrodisiac or something.”

“That would be oysters.” At her disappointed frown he quickly added, “But I’ve heard escargots are almost as good.” If she wanted an excuse to blame her desire on, he’d damn wel give her one.

She tsked. “It won’t work, you know.”

“I know. You just don’t like sex.”

“I really don’t.”

He sat down again. “Why not?”

“What’s to like about it?”

“Boy, have you been with the wrong men.”

She pursed her lips. “Oh, and you’re just the one to prove he wasn’t doing it right, is that right?”

He?
The woman had been with one man in her entire life?

Brandon liked the thought of that more than he would ever admit, but it stil seemed hard to believe. Laura was a gorgeous woman.

However, it worried him a little that whoever this “he” was had real y done some damage. Brandon would have to go slow and gentle, which was great, but in his aroused state, a kind of torture. “I’d sure like to give it a try,” he finally said.

It was her turn to stand. “Wel , I’m stil thinking about that.” She strolled across the room and grabbed her purse and began rooting through it. “I’l be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“Supper’s done, right?”

“Wel , there’s dessert if you want it.”

“I’m pretty stuffed. Do you?”

“Not really.”

“Good, then I’ll be right back.”

“What are you doing?”

She final y pulled a toothbrush from her purse, wrapped in a plastic bag. “To brush my teeth.”

“Oh. Okay.”

She began to head toward the bathroom, but then glanced over her shoulder. “What are you looking so surprised about?

Do you think I’d be giving you your second kiss without brushing first?”

He stared after her until she disappeared, barely registering that sexy walk. As soon as the door closed he yel ed, “Juice!”

A moment later Juice emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. “Ready for dessert?”

“No dessert. Forget the dishes. Al of you go away.”

“We haven’t even begun the cruise yet.”

“Maybe later. Just go. Now.”

“When do you want us back?”

“Tomorrow.”

BY THE TIME Laura emerged from the bathroom, the table had been cleared, candles blown out, lights dimmed even further, and soft music wafted through the air.

Brandon watched her take it al in, glad that instead of her usual suspicion, a smal smile quirked her lips. He carried her refreshed wineglass to her, anticipation drumming through his veins. Even if nothing more came of it than a night of kissing, he’d be happy. He thought he could probably spend about a year kissing her.

“Minty fresh?” he asked, already getting lost in those soft brown eyes.

“Al clean,” she answered softly.

Brandon held up his goblet. “Here’s to kissing.”

She smiled, clinked glasses, then sipped. “You play dirty,”

she commented, glancing around.

“Uh-huh,” was al he could think of to say.

Celine Dion’s wildly romantic “I Love You” began, and Brandon grabbed her glass and set it and his down on the coffee table. “This is my favorite song. Dance with me?”

“Oh, no! I can’t dance.”

“Then let me teach you.”

“I don’t think—” she began, even as he tugged her to the center of the room.

The boat was rocking softly, almost in tune with the music, and Brandon pulled Laura into his arms. “It’s easy. Just let the rhythm of the song take over.”

He put her hands on his shoulders and lightly grasped her waist. “Just so you know, you’re al owed to put your head on my chest.”

She stared up at him. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Because it feels good.”

He began swaying to the music, and after a few seconds she relaxed and found her rhythm. And little did she know, she had
great
rhythm. Before long she tentatively laid her cheek against his chest, and Brandon rested his chin atop her head. He started humming to the music in an effort to distract himself from the fact that holding her was doing wild things to his body.

He felt her chuckle against his chest. “What?” he asked.

She looked up. “This is wonderful. I can feel your heartbeat.”

Which was probably racing. Oh, Lord, he wanted to kiss that mouth. It took every ounce of restraint he possessed not to lower his head and capture her lips. “Would I steer you wrong?”

he said, his voice a little hoarse.

She rested her cheek against his chest before answering, so he had to strain to hear her. “Wel , you haven’t so far.”

Of their own accord, his hands began gliding up her waist and down to her hips. And up again. She had wonderfully enticing curves. And her hair smel ed fantastic. “Can I ask you something?”

“Maybe,” she mumbled, without looking up.

“What happened to you to make you so leery of men?”

“My husband was a jerk.”

Brandon immediately stopped dancing. “Your what?” he said, grasping her upper arms and holding her away from him so he could look in her eyes.

She made a protesting sound, as if he’d taken away her teddy bear or something, but looked up. Her eyes switched from dreamy to ornery in a mil isecond. “You heard me.”

“You were married?”

“Unfortunately.”

He searched her face. “Did he hurt you?”

Her jaw tensed. “Not in the way you think. He didn’t hit me or anything.”

Brandon could understand that. The guy wouldn’t dare, unless he had a death wish. “Then how was he a jerk?”

“I guess my expectations were a little high,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I expected him to work for a living.”

The Celine Dion song had ended, so Brandon led her to the couch. “Tel me about him.”

“I’d rather dance.”

“We have al night to dance. Tel me about your husband.”

She frowned at him. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because I’m interested.”

Laura sighed. “He was my first boyfriend. Secret, that is. My father had insisted I couldn’t date until after I graduated from high school.”

“What was his name?”

“David. David Connor.” She heaved a sigh again. “He was handsome and charming, and boy, could he talk a good game.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning he was a con artist. He and I used to take walks in the woods and talk about how we were going to make our break out of Red Dog—”

“You lived in a town cal ed Red Dog?” Brandon asked, suppressing a grin.

“You got a problem with that?”

“Not me,” he said fast, shaking his head.

“Anyway, we dreamed about getting out. We were going to get married as soon as we graduated, then move to New York.

He wanted to be an actor.”

“Uh-oh.”

She peered at Brandon closely. “You know, he was good-looking, but not one-tenth as good-looking as you. You ever wanted to be an actor?”

Again he tried not to smile at the backhanded compliment.

He was pretty sure she hadn’t meant it as one. Just a mere observation. “Not a chance.”

“Model?”

“Nope.”

She stared hard at him for a moment, then nodded.

“Anyway, so that’s what we did.”

“What did you plan to do? Open your bar?”

Her snort wasn’t very ladylike. “Not hardly. We were both going to work until David’s career took off. And then I was going to go to college. I had the grades, you know.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“Wel , David forgot to mention that he couldn’t hold down a job and build an acting career at the same time. I was working three jobs just to pay the rent on a studio apartment and keep food in the house. He was spending it faster than I could make it on clothes and getting his teeth capped and al that stuff actors do to try to make themselves pretty. Not to mention acting classes.”

“Jeez,” was all he could think of to say.

“I’d escaped my father’s control just to find myself in another kind of trap. It became pretty obvious that I was never going to get to go to college, and that David wasn’t going to be an overnight sensation any time soon.

“So I kicked him out and kept working and paid off al the debt and then began saving. I studied up on business opportunities and realized that bookstores didn’t make nearly as much profit as bars. Since two of my jobs were at bars, I figured I knew enough about how they operated to run my own.” She held up her hands. “End of story.”

“Did David ever make it?”

“As an actor? I have no idea. When I kicked him out, he made noises about going to L.A. I haven’t seen him in any Movies of the Week, so who knows?”

“Do you still love him?”

She gaped at him. “Hell, no. I think I saw him as my ticket out of Red Dog.”

Brandon knew his next question was rude, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from asking. “So he’s the reason you don’t like sex?”

“Well, I’d like to blame him for that, but I think it’s more my problem than his. I’m just not cut out for that stuff.”

She didn’t know it, but Brandon couldn’t wait to prove her wrong. But he just nodded thoughtfully, as if accepting that concept, al the while forcing himself not to pounce. Patience, he decided, sucked.  

“Wel , I’m sorry the marriage didn’t work out, but I have to say, I’m not sorry you’re single now.”

“You and me both.”

“Want to dance some more? Or maybe watch a movie? Or play a game?”

“What kind of game?”

“Hmm, well, we have cards, Trivial Pursuit, Sorry and maybe Clue.”

She looked away. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to get that kiss I owe you out of the way.”

“You would?”

She plucked at her skirt. “Yeah. I don’t like owing anyone anything.”

“Heaven forbid.”

Brandon waited. So did she. Final y she glared at him.

“Well?”

“You owe me the kiss, remember?”

“It wouldn’t hurt you to start it off.”

“Do you want me to start it off?”

“Yes.”

“What the lady wants . . .”

He put one hand on her cheek, then slid it along under her ear to the nape of her neck. Laura sucked in a small breath and closed her eyes. Brandon had to grin as he watched her lips part in anticipation of this sacrifice.

He leaned toward her and planted the most chaste kiss he could manage, then sat back and watched her face. She was so beautiful, and she thought she didn’t like making love. Gold mine. She waited a couple of seconds, then her eyes fluttered open. “That’s it?”

“You have fulfil ed your end of the bet.”

“You call that a kiss?”

“What would you cal it?”

“It sure as hel wasn’t a kiss,” she said, grabbing the lapels of his shirt. “Do it right.”

“Show me how,” he whispered.

“You damn well know how.”

“I do?”

“Unless you had a lobotomy since the other night, you do.”

“You want me to kiss you like the other night?”

“It’s what I owe you.”

“That’s right, you do,” he said, and then he real y kissed her.

Amazing, how their mouths moved together, lips molded and seduced, tongues touched, then played. He felt arousal consume his body like fire, burning in every cel . Her mouth was so soft, so giving, yet her hands on his shirt tightened, and brought him closer, as if she were afraid he’d stop.

She had nothing to worry about.

Brandon cupped her face to keep his hands from wandering everywhere else. He tried to remember why he wasn’t allowed to initiate touching, but he was quickly losing all ability to think.

The way she held him close, the way she put her whole heart and soul and mouth into their kiss, led him to hope for more.

Then, just as he was about to kiss her again, she shoved him away with a power that would bruise if he had any blood left in the upper portion of his body. He opened his eyes to find her glaring at him.

“What?” he asked, trying to get reoriented.

“So you’re not going to touch me, ever?”

“I’l touch you the second you want me to.”

“Why can’t you just try it, like every other normal man on the face of the earth?”

He couldn’t stop staring at Laura’s mouth. “Ah, I don’t want to offend you.” He took a shaky breath.

“Could we skip the ‘perfect gentleman’ routine for now?”

He grinned. “Okay, let’s try something else. How about a game of strip poker?”

“You’re on.”

* * *

SITTING IN JUST his boxers, Brandon was seriously questioning his strategy. Getting naked had been the goal, but he hadn’t planned on getting there al by himself. Laura had won six straight poker games. He’d accuse her of cheating, except for the fact that he’d dealt three of the hands himself.

As she sat there, completely dressed and with a smug smile on her face, Brandon wanted to leap on her and kiss her senseless. This letting her make all the moves thing wasn’t working, considering she wasn’t moving at al .

“Ready to lose your shorts, pal?” she asked, as she shuffled the cards.

He never thought he’d be uncomfortable nude, but right now he was feeling a little conspicuous. He grabbed the cards from her and said, “Let’s try another game. Al or nothing.”

“Trying to change the rules in the middle of the game?” she asked, but then her gaze wandered down to his bare chest, and she swallowed.

“Obviously you’re a card shark. I just want to even the playing field.”

“Blackjack?”

“Go Fish.”

Her head jerked up. “Go Fish?”

“That’s right. A simple game.” And one he’d learned early in life to win by watching how his opponent handled the cards.

Okay, so it was a little underhanded. But, he rationalized, she hadn’t mentioned she was a poker shark, either, when they’d entered into the initial bet.

“What do you mean by ‘al or nothing?’”

“Loser gets naked. Completely.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why in the world would I agree to that? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m winning here.”

“Maybe I misjudged you. I could have sworn you couldn’t resist a challenge.”