Want Me. Jo Leigh
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he’d work in a couple of massages while he was here. The shower had helped get the kinks out, but now he was running late. He finished shaving, then wiped the shaving cream away. Making sure the towel around his waist was secure, he opened the bathroom door and bumped right into Shannon.
He decided to ignore that his startled squeak was almost the same pitch as Shannon’s. “Sorry, sorry.”
She’d backed up a couple of steps, pulling the top of her robe together. “No, I just didn’t expect …”
Her gaze had gone from his face to his chest. And stayed there. He checked. The towel hadn’t fallen.
She let go of her robe to gesture at his body, at least from the neck down. “When did all that happen?”
He chuckled. He’d been a skinny kid, but he’d done a great deal of hard manual labor overseas, and when there were lulls, he kept himself ready. He returned her gesture, although his wave was focused more around the breast area. “When did all that happen?”
“Point taken,” she said, with an uneasy laugh. “But hey. Nice.”
“You, too.”
“Now go away. I need to shower.” She sounded friendly, unaffected, but he’d seen the telling blush as she pushed past him in a sudden hurry. “You better not have used up the hot water.”
“Would I do that to you?”
She turned, her gaze flickering to his chest before meeting his eyes. “Please.”
“Yeah, okay. But it wasn’t my fault. Have you ever slept in Myles’s bed? I kept waking up thinking I was being smothered.”
“So, no hot water left?”
“I wouldn’t linger if I were you.” He couldn’t, either. Not without embarrassing himself. Partly her fault, the way she’d looked at him.
Shannon sighed.
He accidentally brushed her arm. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more considerate. I will. I haven’t had to be for a while.”
She stared at the place he’d touched her, and when she looked up again, he knew he was in trouble. She was a very beautiful woman. Not a kid, not a teen. And he’d spent a few hours of sleeplessness thinking about how pale her skin was and if all her hair was as stunningly red. He’d felt weird about that last night, but not now. He wanted her, and he was pretty damn sure she wanted him right back.
She cleared her throat, then hurried into the bathroom and shut the door.
It was a problem. He had no idea what the ground rules were. Except that he had no business being half-hard standing in the hallway. He made it to Myles’s room in case Brady hadn’t gone to his girlfriend’s place last night, but Nate was acutely aware that the next door over was Shannon’s bedroom. That she was taking a shower right this minute. Naked. Pale. Her nipples would be pink.
Like the color of her blush. Shit.
“WAIT,” SHANNON SAID, pointing at Nate. “Come over here and stand in front of the fireplace.”
“Why?” He glanced at his watch.
“It’ll only take a second. I need a couple of pictures.”
He frowned at her, but he was moving in the right direction. “For what?”
“Neighborhood blog. No big deal, but I edit the damn thing and I need filler.”
“Wait a minute. What are you going to say?” He had reached the brick fireplace and placed his hand on the mantel.
She doubted he even realized he was posing, but she brought up her cell phone quickly, clicking as often as she could between flash charges. “You live a very adventurous and heroic life,” she said, moving a bit to her right to get another angle. Then she zoomed in even closer. He looked great in his dark suit, no tie, off-white shirt with the top button undone. She wished she could have gotten him in his towel this morning, but then again, she probably wouldn’t have been able to keep her hands steady.
She clicked again. “You’re a native son. It’ll make a great story.”
“How many people read this blog of yours?”
“Oh, a lot.”
“I’m not sure about this. There are people I don’t want to see. I was hoping to keep the visit quiet.”
“Oh, well, that’s easy to solve. I’ll run it after you’re gone. And I’ll make sure to say great things about your organization. I looked it up. You guys do fantastic work.”
“Yeah, we do. And they’ll appreciate the mention,” he said, then glanced at his watch again. “I’ve got to go.”
“Fine,” she said, stealing one last picture.
“But I get to read it, and if I don’t like it, you’re not going to run it.”
She wanted to argue, but it didn’t really matter. She could easily skip writing a piece for the blog. This session was about the trading cards. “Deal,” she said.
“Okay. See you tonight.”
“Maybe Molly’s?”
He smiled as he passed her. “Yeah, Molly’s sounds great.”
She watched him as he walked, still stunned at her reaction to his … to him. The thing was, she hadn’t expected the change. He’d been one of those narrow boys, no ass, no chest to speak of. Like most of her brothers. Myles hadn’t been that way, though, at least not after puberty hit. He’d gathered a harem when he got on the junior varsity football team, and that hadn’t all been due to padding.
But Nate, he’d had an average, if slim, silhouette the last time they’d been to the community swimming pool. He’d been seventeen, she’d been twelve, and she’d threatened to drown him if he continued to splash her with his stupid cannonballs.
He wasn’t average anymore. Not a muscle man, either, just, well, sculpted. Defined. Enough chest hair to be enticing instead of daunting, and those guns … who would have guessed?
She’d reacted. As any woman would. But being attracted to Nate seemed every kind of wrong.
She’d make his trading card first thing. Get him out on the market. It probably was good that she hadn’t taken a picture of his naked chest. There’d be a riot at St. Marks.
Her mother’s call from the kitchen snagged her attention, but a quick look at the clock got her moving. She had a huge day ahead, and now she was going to have to put together Nate’s card.
It was possible that would have to wait. The lunch group wouldn’t get together for another week. For now, she’d look at the pictures, make sure she had a winner. She hoped so. It would be difficult to come up with another excuse.
“I’ll have something at the plant,” Shannon said as she got her coat from the peg. “I’ll be in and out all day.”
“Don’t get doughnuts,” her mother said, popping up in the dining room. “Your father can’t say no.”
Shannon opened her mouth to object, then sighed. “How do you do that?”
“I’m your mother. You can’t keep secrets from me.”
“That’s what you think,” she said, putting her phone into her purse.
“You and Steven Patterson. Coney Island.”
Shannon froze. “What are you talking about?”
Her mother laughed. “Don’t try to fool me, missy.”
It was time for Shannon to leave before she started thinking about that tattoo and her face gave her mother more ammunition. She opened the door, but only made it halfway out.
“At least the tattoo wasn’t a tramp stamp,”