Various States of Undress (9 page)

He turned suddenly, his laser stare aimed at the back door. “I need to double-check the exit points.” He looked at the front door next, purposefully skipping over her. “Go ahead and get dressed. Stay in the bedroom, please, until I’ve finished my security routine.”

“That’s an affirmative,” she said quickly.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Or whatever it is you guys say.” She nodded a couple of times. “Uh, I’m going to get ready.”

“Okay. I’m going to shower after I do my check.” He glanced at her, his gaze darting over her robe and resting on her bare feet. He scratched the back of his neck and turned back toward the windows.

“I won’t. You don’t have to worry about me. I know you need to do your job.” Her face hot, she grabbed the cold coffee from the counter and went back into the bedroom. What was she trying to do?

Play nice? Of course she was. She always played nice, and in those nutty moments when she didn’t—like earlier this morning—it never ended well.

Throwing the suitcase on the bed, she sighed and began rummaging for comfortable clothes. But she realized something as she placed the folded stacks of tops and jeans on the rumpled quilt. She hadn’t actually packed sensibly. She’d brought warm clothing, sure, but she’d only packed things that she thought would attract Jake: body-hugging sweaters; scoop-necked, clingy, long-sleeved T-shirts; snug jeans. The only thing even close to being comfortable were a few pairs of yoga pants, and she wasn’t about to wear them without a loose top. Which she hadn’t brought with her. Damn it. What was she supposed to do now? Spend three weeks in her pajamas?

A grim smile formed on her face as she remembered her granny gown, and reaching under the pajamas, she found it. No matter what, she never went anywhere without that old rag. It was her security blanket. But would she dare put it on and parade around just to prove that she wasn’t trying to attract him anymore? It would be petty. Hesitating, she touched the worn, soft flannel and then reluctantly let it go. Things weren’t that drastic.

Settling on one of the long-sleeved T-shirts and a pair of jeans, she got dressed and drained the coffee. Then she made the bed, straightened the room and looked through her camera equipment. When she’d sorted it, she looked at the family photos decorating the room and flipped through a book on fly-fishing. After a half-hour, she was bored to tears and irritated with herself that she was too embarrassed to face Jake. She had to eventually.

So taking a deep breath, she grabbed her camera bag and marched into the living room. Jake stood by the sofa, shirtless, his hands motionless on the waist band of his jeans, which rested low on his hips. After a frozen second, he jerked the jeans up and zipped them.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “It’s cold as hell upstairs and since I didn’t hear any noise coming from your bedroom, I opted to get dressed by the fire.”

Carolina tried not to stare at his carved chest. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have barged in on you.” She hugged the camera bag to her middle and took a half-hearted step backward.

Quickly, Jake grabbed a thermal shirt from the back of the sofa and pulled it over his head. He wasn’t looking her way. So this time Carolina
did
watch as he slid his rock-solid arms into it. And watched some more as he then shrugged into a flannel shirt. And just as he reached for a sweatshirt, he looked up, his green eyes crinkling with amusement.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

Carolina stepped back, bumping into the kitchen counter. “I didn’t mean—”

“Isn’t that why you have your camera out?” He poked his head through the neck opening of the sweatshirt and smiled. “To practice?”

“Of course.” She plunked the bag on the counter and unzipped it. “I wouldn’t mind an impromptu photo shoot. Thanks for offering. Uh . . .” She squinted and looked anywhere but at him. “There’s good light by the recliner. Sit in that and I’ll take a couple of shots.”

Jake laughed and reached for two pairs of socks. “Excuse me, but hell no. You think I want photographic evidence of me kicked back in the president’s chair?”

“He wouldn’t mind.”

“I would.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” she muttered, pulling out the camera and walking into the living room. She looked up at the snow falling heavily outside the windows, fully aware of Jake’s eyes on her body. “Why don’t you sit by the fire, then? Just act natural.”

“That’s what I always do when you take pictures of me,” he said under his breath.

“What?” She froze. “What did you say?”

“Nothing. Just that I always act natural.”

She looked down at her camera and pretended to adjust the focus. Oh, God. He knew that she’d been . . .
Oh, God
. “I take pictures of lots of people at the White House. It’s good practice,” she said.

“What?”

Lifting her head, she gave him a tight smile. “Nothing. Go sit by the fire, please.”

“My pleasure.” With a nod, Jake dropped down onto the brick hearth and pulled on the socks. He shoved his feet into hiking boots and laced them up. “What do you want me to do . . . stare pensively into the flames or something?”

She snickered. “If that’s what comes naturally to you, but I’m not planning on doing a high school senior portrait.”

He frowned. “Okay. How about this?” Sitting up straight, he placed his fists on his thighs and turned his head slightly to the side.

Carolina burst out laughing. “Seriously?”

His frown deepened. “You said a natural pose. I sit like this a lot.”

“When?”

“When I’m being debriefed.”

She nodded and looped the camera strap over her neck. “I see. Well, I think we’re going to need a prop to loosen you up.”

He shrugged and reached for a fireplace poker. “Fine.”

“No, no. Not that. What are you—a Viking warrior?”

“No.”

He could be, though. With the firelight turning the edges of his hair blond and highlighting the planes of his face, he looked fierce. He looked sexy. Even in his layers of shirts, she could see the definition of his chest.

“Carolina?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“I’m not a Viking. Could we just take the photo, please?”

“In a second.” Taking a silent, deep breath, she turned around and scanned the room for a prop. And then a smile crept over her face. “Okay, close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Because. You’ll be more natural when I tell you to open them. Are they closed?”

He sighed. “Yes.”

Tiptoeing toward the sofa, she whisked her Justin Timberlake blanket from where it was draped over an arm. She crossed to Jake and unfolded it. “Hold out your hands and grab this. No peeking.”

He frowned, but did as he was told. “What is this?”

“I’m just adding dimension and color to the shot. Now hold it up. No, not above your head. Just under your chin. Good.”

Trying to hold giggles in check, Carolina flicked on her camera and adjusted the focus. “Okay, get ready. When I say ‘go’ open your eyes and give me a big grin.” She paused, raising the camera, her shoulders shaking. “Go!”

Jake opened his eyes and grinned widely.

Carolina got off five shots before he glanced down and groaned. Throwing the blanket away as if it was covered with spiders, he stood up and pointed at her. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Well . . . yeah.” She laughed and backed up when he took a step forward. “That was the point.”

He shook his head, but a smile played around his mouth. “Okay, you had your fun. Delete them.”

“Delete you? I don’t know. I haven’t even had a chance to look and see if they’re any good yet.”

“They’re not.” He took another step forward.

She shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.” Whirling around, she ran back into the bedroom. He followed, but paused in the doorway.

Still laughing, she hopped up on the bed and removed the camera strap from around her neck. Then she glanced up at him—he wasn’t smiling anymore. His gaze was as hot as the fire he’d been sitting in front of a minute ago.

She sucked in a breath. “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“You didn’t.”

“Well then, why do—”

“We talked about this earlier. You’re not making anything easier by luring me in here.” He gripped the doorframe with his large hands and continued to stare.

She stared right back, anger beginning to bubble up inside of her, but she didn’t say a word. He was being unfair and there was no reason to defend herself.

Finally he dropped his hands and took a step back. “I’ll be upstairs, catching up on some paperwork. Call me if you need me.” He walked away.

Need him? She didn’t need him. She
wanted
him. But just like a lot of things in life, he wasn’t available. And this time, she hadn’t even been trying to take him.

Had she?

Chapter Six

W
HEN
J
AKE WOKE
up face-down the following morning, it was to a metal bar lodged against his abdomen, right across his bladder. He winced, carefully rolling over on the thin sofa-bed mattress.

Six cups of coffee had seemed like a good idea around ten p.m., but right now, that coffee was pure torture.

“Jake?”

He groaned. “Yeah?”

“Would you like some coffee?”

Coffee? His bladder gave an agonizing twinge. “Uh . . .”

“Well, whatever. I’m having some.”

Carolina’s voice came from somewhere over by the refrigerator, and it was clipped. Great. She was still pissed at him and with good reason. He’d been a first-class asshole yesterday. He’d reacted on instinct, which was what he was trained to do, but that training didn’t apply to women. Not at all.

And he didn’t know how to handle that, so he’d just avoided her. Kept an eagle eye on her, but avoided her all day long. It hadn’t been easy.

Sitting up on the edge of the bed, he winced again as the bar on the side dug into the backs of his thighs. “I would love some coffee. Thanks.” he answered. Cordially.

She didn’t respond, but there was a lot of banging of cabinets. He squinted over at her through his fingers. She was a vision in plaid, the voluminous nightgown swirling around her slender calves like a flannel flag whipping in the breeze. The neckline that had gaped open the last time he’d seen her wear it was securely fastened with safety pins. Damn.

“If you make the coffee, I’ll make some of my signature pancakes.” He stood up, doubled over. “Just need to ah . . . be right back.”

“Oh,” she said. “Okay. That would be nice.” The cabinet banging stopped and she looked at him.

He grinned and nodded, just holding back a groan as he took a step forward. She frowned. He attempted to walk naturally toward the downstairs bathroom, but the pain in his gut prevented anything better than an awkward shuffle. The groan slipped out of his mouth.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing sixty seconds won’t fix,” he mumbled.

When he came out of the tiny bathroom, he rubbed his hands together and blew into them. “Still freezing, huh?”

“Yes.”

“The water in that bathroom sink took forever to warm up.”

She didn’t say anything else as she measured coffee into a filter.

He stepped toward the sofa and fished the Justin Timberlake blanket off the bed. It was ridiculous, but surprisingly warm. Pulling it over his shoulders like a cape, he walked barefoot across the cold tile in the kitchen. It was time to apologize—and not just for his own peace of mind. He’d hurt her. Confused her, probably. They needed to talk.

“Carolina, I’m really sorry.” He touched her shoulder.

She turned slightly and gave him a practiced smile. “Thanks.”

“No, I mean it. I overreacted yesterday. It’s in my nature to do that, and it wasn’t personal. Well . . . it was, but I wasn’t trying to hurt you.” He scratched his temple. “What I mean to say is, I realize you weren’t trying to lure me into the bedroom. And as for the blanket . . .” He wrapped it over his chest and tied the ends. “. . . I think it’s kind of great. Kept me warm last night.”

Although not as warm as
she
would have kept him. Thoughts of lying next to her, holding her close, letting his fingers wander over her soft skin, had kept him awake a lot longer than the coffee had. And he hadn’t even intended to fall asleep—but really, it would be dangerous if he hadn’t slept. He had to be alert and functioning.

Smiling bigger, she turned to faced him, her back against the counter. “It’s a great blanket.”

Jake nodded and breathed in, all of his senses consumed by her nearness. He had a sudden urge to knock the coffee maker out of the way and hoist her onto the slick surface of the counter. “Am I forgiven?”

She stared up at him, her lips parted slightly. “I’m not the type of person to hold grudges, Jake. So, yes. Apology accepted.”

He nodded, his gaze flicking down the front of her awful gown. One of the safety pins was crooked, pulled sideways by the fabric stretched over her breasts. “Pancakes?” His voice came out in a growl.

Her eyes widened to match her smile. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

He shrugged. “I’ll let you be the judge. But they’re pretty good.”

She stepped around him then and his chest deflated. The Timberlake blanket slid off his shoulders and puddled on the floor. Carolina picked it up and wrapped it around her, burying her face in it for a moment before reaching around him to turn on the coffeemaker.

Had she just
smelled
the blanket? All of a sudden, his crotch went crazy, and this time it was a big problem . . . because he wasn’t wearing jeans. He was wearing fleece pajama bottoms—bought a couple of years ago before he’d bulked up some—and they weren’t particularly forgiving of bulges.

Turning toward the counter, he yanked down on his thermal undershirt and opened a cabinet, staring blindly at the dry goods inside. “I need some sugar,” he mumbled. Then he closed his eyes. Damn straight he did.

“Over the stove,” she answered, thankfully wandering into the living room.

He glanced over his shoulder, watching her for a moment as she curled up in her dad’s recliner. A small smile still lifted her lips and the sight of it shot through his middle like a bolt of lightning. Did she have anything on under that raggedy thing? And since when was he attracted to girls in granny gowns? His usual type was super-athletic. Driven. Expecting nothing and giving nothing besides pure physical release.