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Sean’s house. Sean’s unpretenious, ordinary, typically beautiful house. Growing up in Greenville, she’d been past it a thousand times. But last night had been the first time she’d stopped and looked at it. It was a conventional story-and-a-half bungalow, with a wide front porch and requisite swing. Although much smaller than the brick Georgian she’d grown up in, the house plucked her Home Sweet Home heartstrings like no place she’d ever seen. Far from magazine perfect with its barren flower beds and hedges in desperate need of trimming, the quiet home called to her. Like a friendly smile and a welcoming wave.
Would she have reacted that way if it hadn’t been Sean’s home? She didn’t know. But because it was his—because he’d chosen it and made it his own—she’d come to find herself studying it. Considering it. Imagining possibilities.
Opening her eyes just a slit to make certain her clothing still tumbled inside the two dryers, she wished she could forget the sense of rightness that had overcome her when she’d walked up the front steps. It had been storybook warm and fuzzy. Like coming home. And how could she dump a pizza—knowing that doing so would invite every nocturnal critter in the neighborhood to come and feast—on storybook warm and fuzzy?
She couldn’t. And in the end, she’d tucked the movie in the mailbox and, almost reverently, descended the stairs. The next time Sean took out his trash he’d find the Romano’s pizza box—contents intact, thank you very much—inside his garbage can by the garage.
A smile curved her lips at the small victory and remained there when she pictured his face as he lifted the lid. Remembering his reaction to the disappointing moments of the previous week’s football game, she knew he wouldn’t be angry. Or even disappointed. Heck, he’d probably have a good laugh over her retribution and set his mind to thinking up his own retaliatory prank.
She shifted her numbed rear end and crossed her arms. Why was it she couldn’t work up a real anger about his recent relentlessness? Oh, she’d tried to fool herself into thinking he was being a pig-headed pest. But Sean’s killing-her-with-kindness tactics were wearing down her best-intentioned defenses.
The sound of slowing dryers brought her out of her drowsy ponderings. She carried her empty baskets over to the machines and scooped out her warm clothes. She lifted one basket and headed toward one of the chipped Formica folding tables. Turning to retrieve the second, she found Sean there, gripping it in his large, capable hands.
“Fancy meeting you here.” The dazzling smile on his face was hotter than the inside of one of the running dryers.
She was so attracted to the man, to that smile, that she momentarily forgot her frustration. “What are you doing here?” She took hold of the sides of the plastic basket, accidentally brushing his hands before he released it. Trying to ignore the electricity zapping along her arm, she turned and set the basket on the table.
“Laundry.”
In her peripheral vision she could see him lean one hip against a washer. She pulled a toasty pair of jeans off the top of the basket, shook them out and folded them neatly.
“Don’t you have a washer and dryer at your house?” If she had a place roomy enough for her own set, she certainly would. She shook out a pair of blue-checked cotton lounge pants and folded them, setting them on top of the jeans.
“Okay, I confess. I’m not here to do my laundry. Hey, nice panties.”
She quickly shoved the fuchsia silk bikinis in between her other items and turned to meet his gaze. “Then why are you here?”
“To spend time with you, of course.” His grin waned. The man was 100% sincere.
Gigi studied his face. That’s all he wanted. To spend time with her. His candor shamed her into being equally honest, at least with herself. She couldn’t think of anything she’d rather do than spend time with him.
“Just so you know, cornering someone at the laundromat is not a date.” Where did that bit of sass come from? Surprised and yet proud that a smidgeon of backbone remained, she turned back to her folding.
“Definitely not.” He sounded comically affronted. “What kind of a cheapskate do you think I am?” She smiled to herself, dumped the rest of the basket on the table and began matching socks.
Sean leaned closer to whisper near her ear. “When we go out, and you’ll notice I said when, you’ll get nothing but the best.”
Oh, God. His warm breath on her neck sent flutters through her stomach and down between her legs. Afraid she’d moan aloud, she bit her bottom lip and concentrated on starting her basket of whites.
He continued his assault on her senses, his voice a low purr. “I heard about this great bed and breakfast north of Cincy. Silk sheets, breakfast in your room, a bathtub big enough for two.” She tried not to slow her hands, as his words conjured erotic images in her mind.
“Or maybe you’d prefer a weekend in New York. A Broadway show, a carriage ride through Central Park?”
Gigi tightened her fists in the cooling cotton of her ancient Tinker Bell nightshirt and closed her eyes in hopes of gaining some resolve.
The soft rumble of his voice filled her as he leaned even closer. “I want to take you to all the places you want to go. I want to share every spare minute I have with you.”
Her eyes slowly opened, but she stared straight ahead, unseeing. Listening. Imagining.
“I want to wrap my arms around you and never let you go.”
Her legs were about to give way when his arm slid around her back and his fingers grasped her waist. Gigi twisted slightly and, ignoring any remnants of restraint, met his lips halfway. Their kiss was chaste and yet hinted at the fire his words had stoked. As their lips parted, her eyes opened and she met his gaze. The connection between them was unmistakable.
“Are you finished?” he whispered, never breaking eye contact.
She nodded, unwilling to sever the tie by speaking. Sean leaned forward to place a kiss on the tip of her nose, then transferred her stacks of folded clothes into the baskets. After setting one basket on top of the other, he carried both to the door. She followed in a lust-induced trance.
As he pushed the door open with his back and she walked past, he asked, “Would you like to go to lunch and catch a movie?”
A date. He was asking her out on an official date. No pressure for sex, no quickies, no one night stands. Simply an opportunity for them to spend time together. Unlike the last time they’d gotten together, there would be no misconceptions if she accepted.
A small part of her still wanted to resist. To prove, at least to herself, that she could stay focused on her original goal. But the admiration and longing she felt for him had worn down her will to continue the battle. “All right.” She knew her desire was unmasked but she didn’t care.
They walked side by side to her car and Sean deposited the baskets in the back seat. “I’ll follow you back to your place and help you carry everything in. Be thinking about where you’d like to eat and a movie you’d like to see.”
But as Gigi drove back to her apartment, her eyes intermittently flicking to look at Sean’s car in the rearview mirror, she gave no thought to either. As they made their way up the stairway and Sean waited while she unlocked her door, she made her decision. He set the baskets on the floor inside the door, and she turned the lock behind them.
At the audible snick, he straightened and met her gaze. Gigi extended her hand, laced her fingers between his and pulled him down the short hallway toward her bedroom.
Chapter Fifteen
Hot damn. The look in her eyes as she’d taken his hand was blatantly sexual, but the realist in Sean questioned the wisdom of following her to her bedroom. Not that he wasn’t one hundred percent interested in spending the rest of the weekend making love to Gigi. But his game plan had involved easing his way into her personal space before slipping back into her bed. He sure didn’t want to do anything to cause a repeat of their last post-coital blow-out. He was torn. Doubt had him wondering if he should drag her back out to his car and follow the strategy he’d s
o carefully mapped out.
What kind of idiot was he? Turning down an afternoon of lovemaking with Gigi was like telling the Publishers Clearing House prize patrol, “No, thanks. Go ahead and keep that million dollar check.” So when Gigi pushed open her bedroom door, he was only one step behind her.
Her bedroom was neat but far less formal than the living room. A crisp white-striped comforter covered the mattress of the wrought-iron double bed. An old, painted dresser stood below a large white-framed mirror, and the room smelled like dryer sheets.
Gigi crossed to the window and tilted down the white mini-blinds. With her luscious body silhouetted against the glowing background, his train of thought derailed. She moved to stand before him, her green eyes dark and glittering. Her hands slid up his chest to settle on his shoulders, knocking him out of his stupor.
He gripped her hips. “I can’t believe I’m asking this.” He dropped his gaze, shook his head slightly and looked back up. “Are you sure this is what you want? I mean, I don’t want you to feel pressured to...” His words trailed away as the corners of her full lips turned up.
“Oh, I still expect lunch. But since I’m not that hungry yet, why don’t you work up my appetite?” Her hands slid up to the back of his neck, her fingertips stroking the ends of his hair.
Well, then. That seemed pretty damned certain. His head dipped toward her upturned face. Their eager lips nibbled and their tongues tasted playfully before he deepened the kiss. When she opened for him, his tongue slid inside and swirled with hers in the erotic dance of lovers. His hands slid around to her ass where he squeezed, kneaded, and pressed her body tighter against the firmness of his erection.
Her answering moan vibrated through him, and he broke the kiss, sweeping her up in his arms and carrying her the short distance to the bed. He set her down and she rose up on her knees, pulling off her top. Following suit, Sean whipped off his own shirt, toed off his shoes and shucked his cargo shorts. By the time he was naked, so was she.
“Condom?” she asked.
At least one of them was thinking. He picked up his shorts and fished one out of his wallet. Not having anticipated this afternoon’s jackpot, he only had the one. How did that saying go? People plan and God laughs? Well, Sean figured he must be keeping the Big Guy in a constant state of rib-aching hilarity.
He turned to find Gigi lying back against the pillows, crooking her finger at him. The sight of her—perfect breasts that he wanted to spend hours worshipping, slender legs that he wanted to feel wrapped around his hips—made his already erect penis twitch in anticipation.
“Yes, ma’am.” He tossed her the condom and crawled over her, holding himself up on his hands and knees. She wrapped her arms around his neck and with surprising force pulled him down. He resisted.
“I don’t want to squash you.”
She shook her head. “You won’t, I promise. I want to feel you on top of me. Skin to skin from head to toe.”
Sean eased himself down on top of her, his erection nestled conveniently in the vee of her legs. Christ, she felt good. So smooth and soft. As they kissed, he leaned one elbow into the mattress and stroked his free hand down her silky side and around the back of her thigh. It wouldn’t take much to nudge her leg over and slip into her.
As if she read his mind, Gigi broke their kiss, gasping. “Condom. Now.” She fumbled blindly for the package alongside her hip. Finding it, she handed it to him. Then, while he tried valiantly to unwrap the thing, she teased the underside of his shaft with the tip of her finger.
“You know,” he ground out in warning, “paybacks are hell.”
With a laugh accented by a delicate snort, she ceased her tactile teasing. But no sooner had he covered his length and repositioned himself between her spread thighs than she was pulling him atop her.
“I want you,” she said. “I’ve been going crazy, trying to pretend I was immune to you. But, God help me, I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Her admission made his chest swell. She positioned him to enter her and he filled her body as fully as she had filled his heart. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head either.” He kissed her, trying to communicate with his kisses all that he couldn’t yet put into words.
Their slow and easy rhythm rocked the bed, and the corresponding squeak bounced off the hardwood floors and echoed throughout the room. He stopped kissing her and pushed up on his hands long enough to admire the woman beneath him. Eyes closed and face radiant, she grabbed hold of two of the slats of the iron headboard and slid her arches along the backs of his thighs. Her strawberry-tipped breasts shook with each of his thrusts, and she was so damned sexy, he had to hold back, resist pounding into her the way he wanted to, for fear of breaking the antique bed. The employees and customers downstairs at the floral shop must be laughing out loud.
When she gave several small cries of delight, he knew she was approaching release. He recaptured her mouth only a moment before her narrow passage contracted around him. Her body gripped his erection in a hold so overwhelming that nothing could have forced him pull away.
She released the headboard and grabbed his ass as if she feared he might pull out. Fat chance. If anything, his pace quickened as he felt the onset of his own orgasm. Too soon, he stiffened above her. Face skyward and back arched.
Minutes later, Sean disposed of the condom and came back to the bed to lie behind her, his front to her back. Gigi’s hand shot to her stomach when it growled loudly.
Sean covered her hand with his and nuzzled her ear. “Guess we worked up your hunger, huh?” He’d rather sate himself with more of her, say for the remainder of the day, but he had promised her a meal and a movie. He tickled her side and they rolled together, threatening to tumble off the bed. “What do you say we grab that lunch and a take in a movie?”
She kissed his cheek with a resounding smack. “Yes to lunch, but I’m not in the mood for a movie.” She swung her legs off the bed and stood, searching the floor for her clothing.
“You don’t have to sell that idea to me. So, what are you in the mood for?” Sean asked. He lay on his side, his head propped on his hand, waggling his eyebrows. “Other than me, of course.”
Her response was to roll her eyes and throw his briefs at him. Then she picked up her panties and stepped into them. “If I don’t have nourishment soon, I might not have the energy to make it back here.”
That did it. Sean was out of the bed and dressed in record time. “Seriously, where would you like to go?” He followed her out of the bedroom, admiring the view of her rear end as it swayed ahead of him. He hoped she was a fast eater.
She glanced at him as she gathered her purse and keys. “I’ve been craving Romano’s.”
“Romano’s? That’s what I had delivered here last night. Didn’t you get—”
She chuckled. “I take it you didn’t look inside your garbage can.”
Say what? She’d put her pizza in his garbage can? At his place? “You came to my house just to throw away a pizza?”
The idea of Gigi coming to his house didn’t seem odd really, but he was sorry he hadn’t been there. Maybe after lunch he’d take her there and show her around.
“Yep. And the DVD is in your mailbox.” She gave him a neener-neener grin, swung open the door and stepped out on the landing. He pulled the door closed, pushing the button on the inside knob as she started down the stairs.
“But ever since I smelled that pizza I’ve—” The door at the bottom of the stairs swung open and she lifted her head to see who it was. Her hand grabbed for the railing as she descended to the last step.
Al Matthews appeared in the open doorway. The look of surprise on his face intensified as his gaze went from her to Sean.
“Mr. Matthews! What a nice surprise.” The pitch of her voice sounded about an octave above normal. Although a smile was plastered on her face, Sean could tell she was freaking out inside.
“I ran into Sean at the laundromat, and he offered to help me get all my
baskets home.”
His stomach pitched.
“You live here?” Al looked at first Gigi and then Sean.
Sean held the man’s gaze, determined to keep his expression neutral. Al broke the visual connection first to refocus on Gigi.
She wore her innocent face now. “Yes. Didn’t you know?” She flipped her hand casually. “You were probably too busy to note the address on my application.” She flicked her attention briefly between the men. “Actually, Sean and I were pretty surprised to find out we live so close to each other.”
Sean felt his lips compress. He’d known where she lived for over a week, but she was making it sound as though he’d found out just minutes ago. Dawning truth made his gut twist. She was going to pretend there was nothing between them. Nothing more than co-workers who ran into each other while doing their laundry.
His blood turned molten. What a fool he was for putting himself right back in the same pathetic situation. He’d believed she’d changed her mind about him. About giving them a chance. What a fucking fool.
He had to get out of here right now. He’d been working hard to earn Al’s respect, and blowing his stack here would ruin that, big time.
“Well, I’ve got to hit the road.” He looked at Gigi, doing everything in his power to mask his fury. “My washer should be fixed by next weekend, so I doubt we’ll run into each other any more.” His heart couldn’t take it. Dating his neighbor George’s chainsaw-wielding niece had to be a lot safer than attempting to get serious with Gigi Thompson.
If there were ever a time Gigi wished she could roll back the clock—freeze it long enough to think things through and then resume play following a different course—this was it. Okay, her explanations had been lame, but the immediate reaction to protect herself had been instinctive, to forestall the confrontation with Al until she’d had time to consider the ramifications and discuss their situation with Sean. The events of the day had been unexpected and come about so quickly, she hadn’t had time to think about how to deal with Al. They’d been making love less than a half hour ago, for goodness sake.