hoped.
Heading toward the front door, he bumped into the woman in question coming out of the kitchen. In place of her travel outfit, she now wore a T-shirt and skimpy shorts and was carrying a glass of water. When they bumped, her hand jiggled, spilling drops from the glass on both of them.
“Crap.” She shook her hand to rid it of the moisture.
“I already showered,” he teased. “Remember? You saw me?”
“Okay, okay, I’ll say it.” She bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry. And I’m clumsy. Shoot me.”
She hurried into the kitchen for a paper towel, bright red staining her cheeks. Joe swallowed a smile when she busied herself blotting his shirt, frowning as she did so.
“There.” She stepped back and studied his chest. “I think you’re good to go.” She crumpled up the paper towel. “Wherever you’re going.”
“Shay.” He cupped her elbows and kept his voice low and even. Steady. Why did he get the impression he spooked her? He’d have to think about that. “It’s okay. It’s just a shirt. And it’s washable. Got it?”
“Yes.” She still wouldn’t look at him. “I, um, think I’ll just go back into my room.”
Damn!
“Wait.” He didn’t want her to retreat, even though he knew he should just leave it alone. Especially since—shock!—just touching her made him so horny he was afraid his cock would strangle itself.
“I’m going to my room, Joe.” Why did she refuse to look at him?.
“Wait. I, um, was going to head out for some dinner. Want to join me?”
She looked down at her outfit and then raised her eyes to him, a tiny smile teasing her mouth. Finally. “Where are we dining? Goodwill?”
“You know what? I don’t think I’m in the mood for a restaurant. How about if I order a pizza delivered? You can choose the toppings,” he coaxed.
What the hell was he doing? He needed to put space between them until he figured out what was happening here. Preferably several city blocks.
“Why do you want to eat with me?”
Of course he didn’t have a sensible answer for her. He just knew it was important to get her to say yes.
“Um, because I’m hungry and you’re hungry so, food together?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “There’s a special on tonight about Joe Montana and I plan to watch it.” She waved her hand at the living room. “In there, on the big-screen television.”
He chuckled. “Really? Your big hero? The man you raved about incessantly when you were younger? Okay, I think I can handle that.” He winked. “Although we both know I’ve got him beat in all categories.”
“In ego, maybe.” She tilted her head and looked up at him again. “You sure you want to do this? Buy a pizza and share it with me?”
“Sure, kid. It will be like old times. Only without Hank. We’ll just eat his share.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Was that disappointment on her face, or was he just imagining it? What did it mean? Did she regret accepting his invite, or did she read something more into it? Well, regret just wouldn’t work. This pizza thing was just damn stupid if he wanted to put space between them. Where was his brain when he needed it to work?
“I’ll call it in,” she told him. “I have the number on speed dial.”
“You and Hank don’t do much cooking?”
“Hardly.” She fetched her smart phone from her room and punched in the number, snapping out her order. “Lots of pepperoni and mushrooms,” she warned Joe when she hung up.
“Yeah?” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the kitchen counter. “I would have thought with all those years in New York you’d want pineapple chunks and chicken.”
“Please,” she mocked. “Do I look like I’d eat designer pizza?”
He watched her refill the water glass and take a long drink from it. The play of muscles in her throat as she swallowed fascinated him, as did the shift of fabric over her breasts when she lifted her arm. He noted the outline of her nipples beneath the flimsy T-shirt, a sure sign whatever was scratching at him was doing the same to her. His palms itched to cup those mounds and he curled his fingers to keep from reaching out to her.
Again the devil in his head, the really horny one, reminded him this was Shay. Hank’s baby sister. He needed to keep repeating it to himself. What the fuck was wrong with him? Now here she was. In this house. With him. Alone. And his brain and his dick seemed to be getting different messages.
Shit!
“Hello?” A hand waved in front of his face. “Anyone in there?”
“What? Oh, sorry.” Damn. He’d just spaced out. He hoped drool wasn’t running down his face. “Late hours catching up with me.”
“Maybe you should cut back on that list of women.”
Again with the women.
“Shay, look at me. Put down your empty glass and turn around to me.”
“You don’t tell me what to do,” she snapped.
“Please turn around and look at me. Okay?”
She set the glass in the sink and turned slowly, leaning back against the counter. Unfortunately when she did it stretched the T-shirt even more against her nicely rounded breasts and her nipples that reminded him of the gumdrops he loved. He forcibly restrained himself from smacking his lips.
“What?” The word was filled with belligerence.
“We haven’t seen each other much in a lot of years. Many, many, many years.”
“Yeah? So?”
“Did it ever occur to you I might have changed? Maybe I might not be the guy with the overload of testosterone anymore?”
She barked a laugh. “Right.”
“Maybe I’m a lot more like Joe Montana than you think, him who you so revere.”
“Hardly.” Was it possible for someone shorter than him to look down her nose at him? “He was never Mr. Playboy with a gaggle of females hanging off his arm. He was always business. Nothing more.”
In two strides, he was in front of her, his fingers wrapped gently around her upper arms. She tensed immediately and her lips thinned. He eased his hold, but he didn’t back away.
“I may not be Montana but I’m not the person you think I am, either. And somehow I’m going to make you see the truth of it while we’re here together.”
He
