A flower.
Surprised, she lifted it to her nose and scanned the house’s open floor plan for Jude. Why would he pick a flower? And then just leave it sitting here without water? Here, where she’d be sure to see it…
She scowled at the book, which she’d laid on the counter when she picked up the flower. Its candy-colored cover showed a shirtless man in a pair of low-riding jeans, his very fine backside turned to the reader, with a rose in his hand, hidden behind his back for the unsuspecting heroine. The hero had spent most of the book trying to seduce his love with flowers, which made him charming.
Not so much with Jude, who had hinted oh so casually this morning that Seth’s sister was a book addict and since this used to be the Harlan family’s vacation house before Seth moved in fulltime, Abby may have left something behind for her to read.
That conniving…sweet…no, definitely conniving jerk!
Incensed, she stepped on the trash can pedal to open the lid and dropped the perky pink flower in. She started to toss the book in after it, but hesitated. She knew the hero would get his woman in the end, and yet, she had to finish reading it. She could use a happily ever after in her life right now, so she let the lid drop and set the book aside on the counter. She’d come back to it later. Right now, she had to set a certain thick-skulled man straight about their relationship. Again.
She thought he was in the garage, so she started when she marched into the living room and found him sprawled facedown on the couch, sound asleep. Should’ve figured as much—he was an early riser and afternoon-nap taker, after all. One arm hung limply off the side of the cushion, and his bare feet stuck out over the couch’s arm. His T-shirt had ridden up in his sleep, showing a glimpse of his deeply tanned skin and the ink of that back tattoo he was so protective of. Curiosity overrode her annoyance, and she drifted closer.
What was that tattoo? It wasn’t “nothing” like he’d said. It meant something to him, and she couldn’t help it, she was dying to find out what. The dog tags, the ballet slippers, the intricate swirls of words… What did it all signify?
Sam lay on the far arm of the couch by Jude’s head, curled up, his green eyes focused with unblinking intent on Jude. Maybe the cat was plotting his demise after all. The two got along about as well as cops and criminals. Still, she was inexplicably pleased to see them sharing the same piece of furniture without incident.
If Jude didn’t notice Sam on the couch with him, he must be sound asleep. So maybe she could sneak up, take a better look at that tattoo of his…
Just a quick peek. He’d never even know.
On quick, silent feet, she tiptoed around to the other side of the couch and leaned over the back. No movement from him, not even a finger twitch. Oh, yeah, she could march the entire beach crowd through the living room right now, and he wouldn’t have the slightest idea.
Out. Cold.
She tugged lightly at the hem of his T-shirt, exposing another inch of bronzed skin, then another—
And before she drew her next breath, he grabbed her, flipped her over the back of the couch and had her pinned under him. She squeaked in alarm, and as the fog of sleep cleared from his eyes, he loosened his grip.
“What were you doing?” he demanded, sleep still coating his voice in rust.
“I was only checking to see if you were awake.”
“By stripping me?” He yawned and rubbed his free hand over his face. “Huh. Interesting way to wake a guy. I feel kinda violated.”
“Liar.” Flustered, she struggled against his hold. The twinkle in his no-longer-sleepy eyes proved he was enjoying this too much. Great. What a way to give him more ammunition. “Let me up.”
He pretended to think about it for all of a half second. “Nuh-uh. I like you under me.” His hips pressed into hers, and the bulge of his erection prodded her through her skirt, hit just the right spot. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from moaning, but her body still betrayed her, arching up to meet his.
A smile inched up one side of his lips. “You like you under me.”
With his hand still on her neck, his thumb stroking back and forth over her pulse point, there was no way he couldn’t feel the way her blood pressure spiked at his words.
“You know I do, dammit. But I told you—”
“One night. Yeah.” He grumbled something under his breath, but finally rolled off her and gained his feet. Hands resting on his lean hips, his body still very aroused, he stared down at her. “You are the most frustrating woman I know.”
“Wow. That’s saying something, since you’ve known scores of them.”