Since her back was momentarily to the armchair, she gave Sean an apologetic whaddya-gonna-do smile and sat down in the curve of his arm. He dropped his hand onto her shoulder as she hit Play on the remote control.
She tried to pay attention to the movie. She watched as a woman dropped a cookie sheet of burnt cookies in the sink, and then a man walked into her kitchen. He had a gun and he told her he’d kidnapped her son. Emma followed along at first.
But Sean’s body was putting off enough heat to melt marshmallows and a whole lot of his body was touching her body. His arm around her shoulders. His thigh pressed to hers. Their feet sometimes brushing. It was distracting.
“You watch,” Gram said. “The man she has to deliver to the kidnappers is going to end up being the father of her son and I bet he doesn’t know.”
Emma managed to keep enough focus on the television to see that she was right but Sean was relaxing, which meant even more of his body was touching hers. And minute by minute she was becoming the marshmallow, melting against him. He smelled good and felt good and…she was in so much trouble. This wasn’t her man to lust after. Well, technically she could. She just couldn’t act on it.
Sean was temporary. There was no sense in getting used to having a man to snuggle on the couch with or to open stubborn jars or to do her heavy lifting because as soon as Gram was gone, so was he. And that’s the way she wanted it. It would probably be another five years before Landscaping by Emma was ready for her to do the husband-and-babies thing.
And when she did go husband shopping, she wasn’t going to settle for a guy whose entire life revolved around football, steak, beer and women. Or a guy who thought only Bob or Fred could mow lawns. Sean wouldn’t even let her drive her own truck.
Halfway through a scene in which the mom and dad were rappelling out of a helicopter with guns blazing to rescue their kidnapped son, Sean’s hand shifted and his fingertips started tracing circles against her shoulder. His attention was on the screen, as was Gram’s, so Emma wasn’t sure he was even aware he was doing it.
She was aware of it, though, that was for damn sure. Aware of the warmth of his touch through her T-shirt and very, very aware of the way her body reacted as if he were stroking parts of her a lot farther south than her shoulder.
When his fingers worked their way down to the end of her short sleeve and touched bare skin, she totally lost track of the plot unfolding on the television screen. Temporary or not, it sure was nice being touched by a man. It had been…a long time.
“Can you pause it for a minute?” Gram asked. “Intermission.”
When Emma leaned forward for the remote, Sean withdrew his arm and let his feet fall to the floor. “Sounds like a plan.”
Gram left in the direction of the kitchen and Emma stood, intending to get out of Sean’s way but, when he stood, he grabbed her elbow and spun her around.
His mouth met hers, hot and hungry, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as she responded in kind. So what if he was temporary? She’d enjoy it while it lasted. His hands were on her hips and he pulled her closer—close enough so she could feel he wasn’t pretending to want her.
The kiss was incredible and she stood on her tip-toes, reaching for more. Her fingertips found the back of his neck and she stroked him from the knot at the top of his spine and up into his hair and back.
Sean pulled away from her so fast she almost fell over. “Shit.”
“Flattering.” Her senses were still so overwhelmed by him she didn’t trust herself to say more.
He ran his hand over his hair, shaking his head. “That was…”
Wonderful, Emma thought. Amazing. Toe-curling. “That was what?”
“A mistake.” He pushed by her and a few seconds later she heard his footsteps climbing the stairs.
“Jerk,” she muttered, but the word didn’t have a lot of oomph behind it. She was still too breathless from being kissed so thoroughly by a man who knew what kissing was all about.
No doubt about it—she was in trouble.
Sean had to get out of the house or he was totally going to lose it. He wasn’t sure if that meant punching a hole in the wall or tossing Emma over his shoulder and carrying her off to bed caveman-style, but either was a bad idea.
Time to go for a ride and get some space, but first he stuck another sticky note to the mirror and uncapped the Sharpie.
You can hold my hand or pat my head or scratch my belly, but don’t rub the back of my neck again unless you want to get naked.
He went back downstairs and grabbed the keys to his truck off the hook by the door. Cat was back in her chair when he popped his head into the living room.
“I have to bail, ladies. Kevin called while I was upstairs and needs a hand with something.”
“But the movie,” Cat said.
“You’ll have to tell me how it ends.” He forced himself to look at Emma, who was doing a pretty poor job of hiding her annoyance. “I might be late, so don’t wait up.”