Wild Fire. Debra Cowan

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СКАЧАТЬ swelled between them. Her smile faded, replaced by confusion.

      Trying to ease the moment, Clay went with the first thing that came to mind. “Where is that darn tattoo?”

      Uncertainty flashed across her gamine features, then she arched a brow. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

      Hell, yes. He’d like to find it with his hands, his mouth. It took everything he had to pretend that raw, primal need wasn’t clawing through him. “You know I’m going to find it one of these days.”

      He saw her take a deep breath and struggled to keep his gaze on her face. Not that it mattered. The sight of her half-naked would be carved into his brain for the rest of his life.

      Of course he’d noticed her before. She was right—he’d seen her plenty of times in a bathing suit. She was a good-looking woman with a great body. But he’d never felt like this when he’d noticed. Never been so aware of the powder-fine texture of her skin, the tempting fullness of her breasts, her taut waist. She wasn’t as tall as either of his sisters, but her legs were leanly muscled and strong. The image of those legs wrapped around him exploded on his brain. Startled at his thoughts, he slammed on the mental brakes.

      It was too late. The confusion he’d seen earlier in her blue eyes was now panic. She moved toward him, keeping a healthy distance. “I didn’t know you were coming home.”

      “Finished my call and thought I’d come back to clean up.” The heated rush of his blood took him off guard.

      She stood nearly even with him now, close enough to touch. And he wanted to.

      Slanting one arm across her middle, she curled her palm around the side of her neck in a self-conscious motion. “I’m going to go get dressed,” she said huskily.

      It was only then that Clay realized her gaze had dropped to his bare chest. Her lips parted slightly and she stared with a feminine appreciation he couldn’t remember ever seeing. At least, not when she looked at him. His heart thudded hard.

      She looked up suddenly, and her gaze crashed into his. Something flickered in her eyes. Was it just his imagination, or had the air in the room turned electric? A strange sensation traveled up his arms.

      Whatever was going on had him off balance and from the look on her face, he wasn’t alone. He thought about tossing her a robe, but he didn’t have one. She looked dazed. And nervous. She moved toward the door.

      He started for the bathroom, trying to sound normal, as if lust weren’t boiling him from the inside out. “I’ll be out in a minute,” he said gruffly. “Meet me in the living room.”

      She nodded, turning quickly to leave. As he stepped into the bathroom, he heard her shut the door in the bedroom. Bracing an arm against the door frame over his head, he cursed. He was turned on as hell right now, but he’d seen her face. She hadn’t been afraid; she’d been wary, guarded. With him. He didn’t blame her. There had been nothing friend-like in the way he’d looked at her.

      After telling himself for days that the previous instance had been a fluke, that his body’s response to hers hadn’t meant anything, Clay was forced to admit he’d been dead wrong.

      Until now, no woman had affected him since Megan’s death. Not physically, not emotionally. Why did Shelby have to be the one? She’d seen his reaction and hadn’t bought his lame explanation about why he was practically drooling over her. For a split second, he’d seen an answering heat in her eyes. Before the nerves set in.

      He knew how she was about romantic relationships. Still, he couldn’t deny that he wanted her. Wanted her with more ache than he could ever remember feeling, even for his late wife.

      He didn’t know what these feelings were or what they meant. He had told himself that he could ignore what had happened before, that he could make the lust, this increasing physical awareness of Shelby, go away. The cold hard truth was he couldn’t. What the hell was he going to do?

      Chapter 4

      Whoa, whoa, whoa. That was all Shelby could think as she and Clay drove to Presley’s oldest high school. Her skin tingled as if he’d put his hands on her. He hadn’t, but he’d looked as if he wanted to. And she had wanted him to. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t deny it.

      She was uneasily aware of her body. Of the two feet that separated them. Of the current of sensation humming between them. She stared out the window; she didn’t trust herself to look at Clay. Not yet, anyway.

      She plucked at her pink, lightweight sweater, ran damp palms down the legs of her khaki pants. Was her response due to the concussion? Another of the erratic, uncontrollable emotions Dr. Boren had warned her about?

      Coming out of the bathroom to find him had been a surprise, but what had jolted her senses like a live wire was the way Clay’s gaze had done a slow, appreciative glide down her body.

      He wasn’t the only one who’d looked. He’d been wearing only jeans and as she followed the lines of his powerful body, she’d become suddenly and profoundly aware of his smooth, supple skin, the tan that faded into paler skin at his hips, the thin bands of muscle across his abdomen. She’d seen his chest before—they’d spent countless summer days at the lake—but yowza. It was all hard angles and planes and sleekly defined sinew, just like his shoulders and his arms. Dark hair coiled on his chest and formed into a thin line down the center of his ridged abdomen. He’d caught her looking. She couldn’t help it; he was something else.

      The moment had grown between them, clutching deep inside her and igniting a tiny flame of temptation. She could still smell his flesh-warmed woodsy scent, see the hard throb of his pulse in the hollow of his throat. She’d tried to dismiss her body’s response, but she couldn’t halt the heating of her blood, the heavy ache in her breasts, the tightening in her belly.

      At first, he’d looked as startled as she’d felt, and then he’d looked…hungry. A shiver rippled through her. No man had ever looked at her that way, not even her ex, Ronnie, when they’d begun dating and things had been hot and heavy between them.

      What was going on with Clay? And her? He was nine years older than she was. She had never felt toward him exactly as she had toward her brother, but she’d never wanted to jump his bones, either. Certainly never considered that he might want to jump hers.

      Jeez, Louise! This was Clay! Restlessness moved through her. Her skin felt tight. She ordered herself to stop thinking about his chest, his body, his everything.

      It wasn’t until they were walking through the school’s front door that Shelby had the presence of mind to speak. “You never said exactly why you wanted me to come to M.B.’s school with you.”

      “Oh,” he said gruffly, pausing at the corner of a long corridor before starting across the vinyl-floored hallway for the school office. Fronted by glass walls, a long counter stretched along the width of the rectangular room. Several women and students worked behind it. “I thought you might get a glimpse of someone here that would help you remember something.”

      “Good idea. I hope it works.” It was on the tip of her tongue to say something about that bizarre exchange in his bedroom, but for the first time in their long friendship, she didn’t feel she could talk to him. Not now, anyway. Not when she could still feel this tight pull in her belly.

      As she and Clay СКАЧАТЬ