New and…Improved? & Andrew in Excess Page 10

  There’d been a time in Kent’s life when he would have jumped all over that promise in her eyes. But things were different now, both the times and himself.

  He still enjoyed women, no doubt. But suddenly all he could think about was one woman-Becca. And though the thought still brought an abrupt and terrifying change to his pulse, he couldn’t just ignore it.

  “I’d really like just a moment with Summer,” he said to the young woman. “I can wait.”

  She frowned slightly, an expression exaggerated by her black lip gloss. “She’ll have another client waiting after this one-”

  The phone rang, and Kent listened as she reluctantly accepted the cancellation of Summer’s next client.

  “Well, then,” Kent said with a smile, when she’d hung up. “Summer will be free soon.”

  “Sure.” Cool now, she folded her hands and looked at him. “For a client.”

  He gave her his best I’m-so-charming smile. “I just need a moment.”

  “Sorry. If you want to talk, you’ll need to make an appointment. How about a cut and style? Or a manicure?” Her gaze ran over his body, past the dark polo shirt tucked into even darker jeans. “Massage?”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “Obviously you’ve never had one. Here-” She bent and took out a deep green robe from a drawer. “You just strip down to the buff and-”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “We have a male masseuse, if you’d prefer. You know, for modesty’s sake.”

  Kent couldn’t believe it. “You’re telling me that in order to talk to Summer, I need to let someone put their hands all over me?”

  “Yep.” Her smile turned a bit naughty. “Of course, if you’re shy, or…whatever, you can always just have your hair done.”

  Oh what the hell, his reputation was already shot thanks to Mrs. Fritzle. What more could one little beauty salon treatment cost him? “Fine. Haircut.”

  “And style,” she added, penciling him into Summer’s schedule. She lifted her triumphant, laughing gaze. “Name?”

  “Kent Wright.”

  Her pencil froze. Slowly she lifted her gaze to stare at him. “Dr. Kent Wright?”

  “Yes.”

  She laughed, revealing a pierced tongue. She tucked that tongue into her cheek. “Heard about what happened with the police. And the-” She leaned close and whispered, “-panties.”

  Perfect. He hadn’t been nearly humiliated enough here. “It was makeup,” he corrected wearily. “Not panties.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Look, why don’t I just wait over there for Summer?”

  Before he could turn to the reception area, his green-haired torturer asked sweetly. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a beauty treatment as well? Maybe a facial?”

  “Just get Summer,” he said through his clenched teeth.

  “SO…EVERYTHING BACKFIRED on you, I heard.”

  It was difficult for Kent to reply since he lay stretched out, his neck on the edge of a chilly sink, his head in that sink getting “the full treatment.”

  Above him, Summer shook her head. “At least you didn’t get arrested.” Squirting some conditioner into her hand, she slowly massaged it into his head. Despite feeling silly and uncomfortable, he couldn’t prevent the distinct uncurling of his toes as she kneaded his scalp.

  “Good?” she asked, working more magic with her fingers.

  He shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s okay.”

  Summer snickered. “Liar. You’re positively melting.”

  “I never melt.” Well, not quite. He melted over Becca’s smile. Over her kisses, her touch. He melted every time she so much as looked at him.

  Which really threw this just-fun theory all to hell.

  “Why is it so hard for a guy to admit he likes being pampered?” Summer wondered. “Look, I could have told you breaking and entering Becca’s wasn’t exactly the smart route to take.”

  “Well thanks for coming up with something better.”

  Summer started to rinse him out. With cold water. He sucked in a breath.

  “Sorry,” she said sweetly, and the water magically warmed.

  “And I didn’t break and enter,” he corrected. “I was already there.”

  Abruptly, the water flipped off. Summer’s face appeared above him, creased in a frown. “Already there? Doing what?”

  “None of your business.”

  Their eyes met and Kent waited while Summer assessed, decided. Then smiled. This time, when the water came on, it was deliciously toasty. “You love her,” she breathed.

  He made a noise that he most definitely meant as a denial.

  “You do.”

  He snorted and pushed out of the chair as soon as she’d finished. “By the way, thanks ever so much for that help you offered.”

  “Hey, don’t blame me, you said you had it all figured out.” But she sighed. Bit her lip. “And I did help.” She sighed again. “Today. If you’re interested.”

  “I’m interested.”

  She looked him solemnly in the eyes. “I love what I did for her,” she said quietly. “The makeup, the clothes, especially the okay to go for it. It’d been a long time coming. But I’m also the first to admit she took it wrong. She honestly believes it’s all that extra stuff that finally caught your attention.”

  “I couldn’t care less about that extra stuff.”

  Summer gave him a long, thoughtful look. “Does she know that?”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “I thought she might when I tossed away her stuff.”

  Summer looked disgusted. “Words, Kent. Women need words.”

  “This was supposed to be just casual,” he muttered.

  “And is it?”

  Yes.

  Hell, no.

  When he didn’t-couldn’t-answer, she led him through the busy salon, where he was subjected to more than a few whistles. They made Summer laugh, and made Kent grit his teeth.

  Then, finally, they were in her office.

  On her desk lay a garment bag, filled with clothes.

  “Becca’s new clothes,” she whispered, even though they were alone. “She hasn’t even worn these yet.”

  “You went breaking and entering too?”

  At his surprised and delighted laugh, she lifted her chin. “No. But the dry cleaner owed me a favor. And I figured if you loved her enough to do it, I did too.”

  He cringed as if struck. “Would you stop flinging that word around?”

  She blinked innocently. “What word?”

  Kent unzipped the garment bag and tried to ignore both her and that funny feeling deep in the pit of his belly, not easy to do when he was deathly afraid she was right.

  The L-word just might be involved here.

  “Not ready to talk about it?” she asked, tsking sympathetically. “Don’t worry, Dr. Dreamboat, this will all work out.”

  “So glad you think so. You’re not the one on notice at the police station.” He fingered the stack of elegant clothes, the same ones he’d seen on Becca for the past few weeks. “Tell me you left her nothing but-”

  The knock on the open door surprised them both.

  So did Becca as she walked in. “Well hello there,” she said with a genuine smile for both of them. “What’s this?”

  Kent froze. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Summer do the same.

  “Sorry, did I startle you?” Becca asked. She wore a soft blue sweater over a matching skirt that managed to be sophisticated yet sweet and still show off her lush body. Her eyes sparkled, her skin glowed. When she turned to look at him, her hair danced over her shoulders in a way that made his fingers long to touch.

  But it wasn’t the physical attraction that jolted him now. Her smile twisted at him, warmed him from the inside out. Not for the first time, he was struck hard by his feelings for her, by the very strength and depth of them. He just didn’t know what to do with them. If he went with the flow, and things didn’t work out, he’d lose her. There’d be n
o more daily chats, no more laughter and shared jokes. No more easiness, or affection, and he’d miss her with all his heart.

  But if he didn’t go with these new emotions, if he backed off now, he’d lose her anyway.

  Screwed either way.

  There was still a smile of greeting on her lips. Her laughing, bewildered eyes took him in, from the black smock he still wore, to his wet hair dripping down his back.

  “Becca…” Summer shot Kent a warning glance and smiled at her sister. “Hon, what happened? I thought you had school tonight.”

  “I had a bit of an attitude.” Her gaze met Kent’s. They’d made love on his desk only hours before and yet none of the need had faded, it was a tangible thing between them. So was affection and overwhelming tenderness. Helpless against the pull of that last emotion, he found himself moving closer to her.

  “Well it’s great to see you,” Summer said brightly. Too brightly. “But I’m right in the middle of giving Kent a great new ‘do’-” She moved toward the door, her arms outstretched, trying to shoo everyone out, especially Becca. With one nervous glance at the stack of clothes on her desk-Becca’s clothes-she said quickly, “Let’s go on out there and you can give me tips while I work.”

  But Becca ducked beneath Summer’s arms. She was still looking at Kent, with a sweet, baffled smile. “I didn’t know you were going to get your hair cut. Here.”

  It was a clear question, and he opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, she turned to Summer’s desk.

  And saw her clothes.

  Kent groaned silently.

  Summer groaned, not so silently, and made a move to stop her sister.

  Avoiding Summer’s hand, Becca evaded and rounded the desk, then touched the open bag. As she flipped through the clothes one at a time, her jaw tightened. Her expression darkened. “What’s this?”

  Summer’s smile faltered. “Uh, hon? Remember yesterday when you didn’t press charges against panties-man here?” She bit her lip. “Think you’re going to be that generous today too? Jail time really wouldn’t suit my schedule.”

  Kent sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

  Becca let out a sound of disbelief. “What’s going on?” She glared at Kent. Crossed her arms. Cocked a hip.

  Waited.

  And basically looked so damn irresistible he had to slip his hands into his pockets to keep them off her. “Yeah, about the clothes…” He peeked at Summer, who had apparently found something fascinating on the ceiling to stare at.

  “You stole them?” Becca asked him incredulously.

  Kent again looked at Summer, expecting her to jump in and explain, but she still studied the ceiling intently, as if counting the squares were of utmost importance.

  “How could you?” Becca asked him, hurt.

  He’d had no intention of dropping a dime on Summer, really he hadn’t. But she was humming nonchalantly, looking amazingly innocent, while he was sinking fast.

  And the woman he was hoping to coax back into his arms-soon-was sending him a withering look, and this time, dammit, he’d done nothing wrong!

  Carefully he weighed his options, but he had none. “Summer stole your clothes. And if I were you, I’d sic Mrs. Fritzle on her.”

  “Snitch,” Summer hissed beneath her breath.

  “But…why?” Becca asked Summer.

  Inhaling a deep breath, Kent reached out and took Becca’s hands, then drew her resisting body closer.

  “It’s the makeover,” she said quietly, still angry. “Isn’t it? It’s how I pushed you into…” Hesitating, she blushed, then looked at Summer.

  She covered her ears and turned her back to them. “I’m not listening,” she said, sneaking a peek over her shoulder. “Unless it’s good.”

  Becca sighed and returned her attention to Kent. “It’s because of how I pushed you into sleeping with me, when you didn’t want to.”

  “Didn’t want to?” He laughed incredulously. “Is that what you think?”

  “I don’t know.” She lifted a shoulder, her misery barely masked by her coolness. “Since you rarely tell me what you’re really thinking.”

  Gently he lifted her chin. Kissed her. For a second she remained impassive, but he persisted, giving, urging, desperately trying to reach her.

  Only when her fingers curled into his shoulders, when she made that soft, helpless sound of awakened desire, did he lift his head. “Did that feel like something I had to do?”

  Her eyes were luminous. And sad. “I want the words, Kent.”

  “Well, duh. I told you that much, Ace,” Summer broke in helpfully.

  When they both glared at her, she covered her ears again, and also closed her eyes. “I’m not even here,” she assured them. “Unless you need me.”

  “You’ve done quite enough,” Kent muttered.

  “I’ll take my clothes,” Becca said to Summer, backing away from the both of them. “And you might as well tell me the truth. There never was a contest for the makeover, was there? It was just a way of roping me in.”

  Summer dropped the hands from her ears and made a disparaging sound. “I just wanted to help.”

  Becca let out a smile that was both warm and sad. “I know. And you did. Actually, both of you did.” She scooped up the garment bag, walked to the door. When she had her hand on the handle, she turned back. “I understand what you tried to give me, Summer. And it was wonderful. Exciting.” She looked at Kent and her eyes clouded, which broke his heart. “I understand what you tried to give me, too,” she whispered to him. “And it was also wonderful and exciting. But I still want more, Kent.”

  “I know,” he said to the door after she’d shut it. “Dammit. I want more, too.”

  Summer grinned at him, making him swear colorfully.

  “Love, love, love,” she sang, then laughed. “Oh don’t worry, Dr. Dreamboat. I’m going to make a great sister-in-law.”

  He nearly passed out at the thought.

  13

  I T WAS LATE , but Becca didn’t feel like going home. She’d been riding for an hour already now and her legs had long ago turned into rubber, but she didn’t stop. Instead, she rode to the lab, hoping to be able to be alone and think.

  Quivering muscles or not, it was time to face the facts. She’d set out to have a good time and had ended up falling in love, and the man she’d fallen in love with didn’t “do” love.

  Oh, he cared for her; she had only to look into his expressive eyes to see that. He wanted her, too. Every time he held her in his warm, strong, capable arms, that wanting surged like a live, tangible thing between them.

  Thankfully the lab was empty. No one to see the stupid tears on her cheeks, no one to witness the self-pity she so rarely allowed herself.

  All she wanted now was to lose herself in work. Unfortunately, some data she needed sat on Kent’s desk waiting his approval.

  Letting herself in his office, she took a moment to stand there and simply absorb his favorite space. She could feel him here, could imagine him standing tall by the window, his eyes flashing wickedly when he shot her that just-for-her smile.

  She got what she needed from his desk, then stared in surprise at the trash can. The lingerie catalogue. This was a prized possession, favorite reading material, fought over by every single male in the lab on a daily basis.

  Why had Kent thrown it away?

  It didn’t matter, she told herself. He could do as he wanted. So could she. Wild, fun, adventure. Her new motto. Yeah. She was a new woman.

  But some of the wind left her sails when she realized she was a new woman who still had to ride home. Alone.

  F INALLY, KENT THOUGHT as relief washed through him. Finally. When Becca got off her bike, he rose off her top stair where he’d been waiting and worrying.

  She stood there in the light of the moon’s glow looking soft and vulnerable. Automatically, as if it was the most natural thing in his world, he reached for her, but at the last second, he stop
ped himself.

  She’d been crying.

  “You’re hurt?” he demanded in a voice gritty with concern as he took her arm to turn her toward him so he could get a better look at her. Years of nasty tumbles had him checking out her knees and elbows first, but she shook her head.

  “I’m not that pathetic,” she said. “I can ride a bike.”

  He knew then, without her saying it, that he’d given her that sad, haunted look. In light of that, he had no right to haul her close the way he wanted to do. To bury his face in the soft spot of her neck, to wrap his arms around her and hold on tight.

  While he was still standing there like an idiot, she crossed the threshold and surprised him by walking directly into his arms.

  She felt like heaven. “I’m so glad to see you,” he whispered.

  She simply pressed closer, put her cold nose to the crook of his neck and held on. “You threw away your lingerie catalog,” she said, her voice muffled. “How come?”

  The question completely baffled him. “What?”

  She pulled away and looked at him. “You’ve never thrown one of those away. You and the guys save them-I know where you hide them.”

  “Uh, yeah. Well.” Embarrassed, he cleared his throat. “I threw this one away, okay?”

  “Why?”

  He sighed. “Wouldn’t you rather know why I’m here?”

  She lifted a shoulder. Studied her feet. Blew out a breath. “Okay.”

  “So enthusiastic.”

  “Okay, fine. If you must know, I’m a little nervous you’re here to say something like, ‘you drive me crazy, Becca. You ruined a good pair of my shoes, twisted my ankle and got a ticket in my car. You’re too much trouble, so stay out of my life.”’ She flashed an uncertain smile that both warmed and broke his heart. “That’s what I’m thinking you should be saying to me.”

  “You can’t really think that.” But she did, he could see that more clearly than the nose on his face. “Okay, I’m not good at words, but I’ll try. For you, I’d try anything.”

  “You…you would?”

  “I let you drive my car, didn’t I? Come with me.”

  “Where?”

  “Your bedroom,” he said, his voice already husky at the thought of her there.