Here Comes Trouble. Donna Kauffman
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I should know better. She was sleeping mere seconds earlier, I swear.”
Kirby slipped between the crouched pair and through to the back porch, where she grabbed the now completely gnarled and mangled cashmere sweater from the kitty fort and carefully worked the little mangler free from Brett’s T-shirt. And his skin. “Got her.”
Brett straightened, which kind of trapped her between the screenless door and…well, him. “Thanks.”
“Why don’t you let me get something to clean those scratches up? I know from experience they’re going to sting.” She inched out from the space between his chest and the door behind her, and went over to the kitty fort. “Did she escape from this?”
He shook his head. “No, I figured as long as I was right at the door, I’d give her some room to play a little.” He lifted his hand. “I know, you don’t have to say it.”
Kirby deposited the kitten back in its safe room, putting her down, sweater and all, before turning back to him. “I wasn’t going to say a word.”
He gave her an amused “sure you weren’t” look, which made her bat her eyelashes all innocently. He shook his head, she smiled…and suddenly there was all that tension again. Just like that. The silence stretched and then expanded some more. And she was pretty damn sure she wasn’t imagining anything. Then he took a step toward her, and she was instantly rooted to the spot. Here it was. Her chance. No regrets this time. He was totally focused, intent…on her. The most tantalizing sort of awareness hummed over her skin and she prayed she didn’t do anything stupid to ruin the moment.
It had been longer than she cared to think about since she’d last been kissed. Not that it would have mattered. Despite all of her personal mission statements where men were concerned…she’d never seduced, much less been seduced, by anyone like Brett. Casually or not.
He moved closer, and she tried to look…what, casual? Ready? Turned on? Needy? She was afraid she was all of those, except that first one. Could he tell? Did it matter? She fervently hoped not. There wasn’t much she seemed to be able to do about it. As he closed the final bit of distance between them, she thought her heart might thump its way right out of her chest.
Her lips parted on a soft sigh as her gaze dipped to his mouth and lingered there. That perfectly sculpted mouth, which was attached to a perfectly sculpted body. And it was going to be touching hers, tasting hers, in just a matter of seconds. She had to curl her fingers in to keep from grabbing him. Had to lock her knees to keep her thighs from shaking. Wanted, desperately, to press her hand over her stomach, to make sure she wasn’t going to be sick from the anticipation of it all. Because nothing says seduce me like puking on a guy’s feet. That would be sexy, huh?
She really wished she could be a whole lot more The Graduate about this. But she was clearly no Mrs. Robinson, the experienced older woman, ready to school the younger man in the fine arts of seduction. But then, there was nothing remotely Dustin Hoffman–ish about Brett, either.
He leaned his head down, she tipped up her chin, and at some point her eyes drifted shut. But the next thing she felt wasn’t his warm, oh so perfect mouth on hers…no, her lips were brushed with something that felt like—
She blinked her eyes open as he finished pulling his T-shirt over his head, then swiveled his back to her. “How bad is it?”
She blinked a few more times, then squeezed her eyes shut in abject mortification. Please, she silently prayed, if there is a God, let him be the kind of benevolent deity that uses his wise powers to keep her gorgeous guest completely oblivious to the, clearly, very wrong conclusion she had drawn regarding his sudden interest in her. That, or allow the earth to open up and swallow her whole. Or both. Before she did something else stupid.
It damn well wouldn’t hurt if he’d stop disrobing every other second, too.
“You’ll live,” she choked out, feeling every bit as ridiculously foolish as she’d suspected she would last night.
No regrets. Right.
“I—I have some antiseptic spray in the kitchen that might be a good idea. We should clean up the deeper gouges.” She winced as she leaned in to examine the scratches and punctures a bit more closely. “I think there’s a little T-shirt fiber stuck in a few.”
I also think I don’t need to be spending any more time inspecting any part of your perfectly perfect naked skin, she thought as her gaze began to wander beyond the immediately affected areas. Which, in turn, had immediate effects on her. She abruptly straightened and did her best, which was to say made any effort at all, at sounding calmly efficient and otherwise entirely unaffected by him and his godlike body. Which, seriously, she was both breathing and female, so that was already over-reaching where both goals were concerned. Still, she was proud that she actually spoke in complete, nondithering sentences. Something to build on, anyway. “Head inside and we’ll take care of it.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Thanks. Then I’ll get the screen done.”
“No, that’s okay,” she said, perhaps a bit more forcefully than necessary, “you don’t have to—”
“I know, but I can, so it’s the least I can do.” He headed toward the kitchen door, and Kirby followed behind. “You always have such a hard time accepting a little help?”
“No,” she said, knowing that was only partly true. “It’s just, you’re a guest. You’re here to relax, and…do whatever it is you want to do. You’re not paying to stay here so you can help with chores. Much less rescue your hostess or be attacked by the local psycho kitten.” She scooted around him as soon as they were both in the kitchen and went immediately to the cupboard below the sink where the first aid kit was stashed.
“I’m pretty sure feeding me dinner wasn’t part of my room and board, either. I was simply returning the favor.”
“I fed you because you saved my life. I owed you, not the other way around. We’re even. Well, if you can consider chicken and mushroom casserole an even trade for a life.” Knowing she was babbling, but seemingly unable to stop, she braced herself and stood up only to clutch the kit to her chest when she realized he was standing right beside her. She winced a little when the kit rubbed at her scratched stomach.
He took the kit from her and then did that quick, half-smile thing she was coming to realize he did when he was amused but trying to be polite.
If only he knew just how impolite she’d been with her thoughts of him.
“What?” she said as he placed the kit on the counter. She reached out to help him unclasp the safety latch on the front of the kit.
“I was just thinking that, in the end, all we were both trying to do was help the poor, defenseless little kitty cat, and look at the both of us.” His tone took on a wry note. “I’m thinking maybe she’d have been better off left to her own defenses.”
Her own lips twitched. “You might have a point.” She went to draw her hand away, but his fingers brushed over hers as he went to lift the lid off the kit, then more deliberately when she didn’t move them away. She looked at his fingertips as they lightly stroked over the backs of her fingers, as if she was having some sort of out-of-body experience. Except her body was experiencing all kinds of things at the moment and she felt every electrifying one of them. She didn’t lift her gaze to his, not fully prepared for what she might find in those green eyes of his. Was she making this up, too?
“Kirby.”
She took another millisecond to decide, so he lifted his fingers from hers, to her chin. One little glimpse of his eyes, that intensity, that focus, so close up, so…intimate. And she knew right then, if he asked her to clean his wounds, or…or something else that had absolutely nothing to do with kissing her senseless, well, she would not be held responsible for her actions.
“Am I the only one who can’t stop thinking about this?”
“A-about—this?” she said, sounding more than a little breathless. She