Читать книгу Playboy's Ruthless Payback - Charlene Sands - Страница 13

Six

The guy at the first tow truck company hung up on her, the guy at the second tow truck company actually laughed when she’d asked if he could come out and excavate her car, and her third call had gone straight to a machine.

Olivia had known it would be somewhat of a long shot to get home tonight, but after the way her body had reacted to Mac’s touch earlier—a very simple, not that overtly sexual a touch—she was really hoping.

She sat on the edge of Mac’s king-sized bed, her shoulders drooping forward. She was tired and cold, and disappointed in herself for caving in and taking his room. A better woman might have stuck to her guns about not bunking in Mac’s sparse, octagon-shaped room, maybe grabbing a few extralong towels from his bathroom and cuddling up on the carpeted floor of one of the empty guest rooms. But she was a wimp that way. She liked her creature comforts. She’d always wondered about people who liked camping. Strange noises and bugs for bunkmates…what was the attraction? Anyway, she was sleeping in Mac’s bed tonight. She just hoped he’d keep his word and wouldn’t venture out of the den to find her.

She pulled the comforter off the bed and wrapped it around herself. Then again, why would he leave such a lovely, warm spot by the fire? Olivia blew out a puff of air to see if she could see her breath. It was cold as hell in Mac’s house, a ridiculous kind of cold that sank deep into your bones and could only be relieved by a hot bath. She didn’t know what that handyman did around here, but first thing tomorrow, she was calling in a professional heating technician. Forget all the warm, family friendly furnishings. If the house felt like an igloo, the DeBolds were going to head straight for the nearest five-star hotel.

Olivia thought about lying down and trying to sleep, but when nature called, she threw off the comforter and dashed into the master bathroom. And there she saw it—surrounded by beautiful pale brown tumbled stone was a massive box of glass with a rain showerhead above and four body sprayers along one wall. Oh, she wanted to cry it looked so inviting.

Did she dare? Maybe just a quick one? Just to get warm.

Feeling a sudden burst of happiness at the thought, she flipped on the water and turned the temperature knob to the equivalent of “hotter-than-hell.” After closing the door to keep all the beautiful heat contained, she got undressed. She was just about to step inside the shower when she heard a knock on the bedroom door.

Her heart dropped into her stomach. No, no, no. Not now. Why was he here? Did he have radar or a sixth sense that told him when there was a naked woman in his room or something?

She snatched a huge white bath sheet and wrapped herself in it, then she opened the door and walked out into the frigid air.

He was knocking again. “Olivia?”

She opened the door just wide enough to accommodate her head, but hid the rest of her from his view. “Yes?”

“So you took the room?”

“Yes. I took the room. Can we not make a big deal out of it?”

“Of course.” He grinned. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. Just tired.” And cold. “What’s up?”

He didn’t look convinced. In fact, he was trying to assess the situation as he spoke. “I put a frozen pizza in the oven if you’re interested.”

She shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m not very hungry. Just tired. Very, very tired.”

“All right. Good night, then.” Olivia thought that he was about to leave, that she was about to finally get warm, but then he paused and cocked his head to one side. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” she asked innocently, as if she didn’t know.

“Is that water running?”

“No.”

His mouth twitched. “Are you taking a shower?”

“Not at this precise moment,” she said with irritation, which caused him to grin, full-on and slightly roguishly.

“Taking advantage of my steam shower, are you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, for God’s sake.”

“Hey, I don’t blame you, the thing is awesome.”

“Well, good…then I’m going to go—”

“Have all the towels you need?” he asked.

“Yes.”

She looked expectantly at him. Time to leave, Mr. Valentine. What more was there to say? After all, he’d humiliated and humbled her, what could be left? But he didn’t leave, he just stood there looking sexy in his black sweater and pants.

Olivia let out a frustrated breath. “I’m freezing, okay? I need a way to warm up.”

His grin widened, his gaze dropped. “No, too easy.”

“Good night, Mac,” she said through gritted teeth. “Enjoy your pizza.”

He chuckled and pushed away from the door frame. “All right. Enjoy your shower. But,” he said as he turned to walk away, “if you find that you can’t sleep or you get hungry, you know where to find me.”

“That, I can promise you,” she called after him, “will never happen.”

Mac put another log on the fire, then rescued his bottle of beer from the rutted mantel before dropping back into his chair. The book he was reading was pretty dull, but he was halfway through it and he wasn’t a quitter. Just as he was about to find out why early man and an anthropoid ape had almost the same number of cranial bones and teeth, he heard footsteps behind him.

“You suck, Valentine.”

Mac chuckled and turned around. “Now why would you say something like—” The words died on his lips as he caught sight of her, practically glowing in the firelight. From the moment he’d seen Olivia Winston, serving up brownies and attitude in her office kitchen, he’d found her incredibly attractive. Tonight, however, she was breath-stealing.

Her white blouse was untucked and rumpled, and resembled a man’s shirt with the cuffs falling loose about her hands. Her long, black pants seemed a little too big without the heels and belt, but it was her face and hair that had his pulse running a race at the base of his throat. With no makeup, she looked fresh, delectably soft, her flawless skin glowing a pale peachy color. Her long, damp, dark hair swung sexy and loose, and reminded him of a mermaid. It took every ounce of control he had not to take her in his arms and kiss her until she realized just how perfectly their bodies would fit together.

She walked over and dropped into the chair beside him. “My hot shower wasn’t so hot.”

“No?”

She tossed him a look of mock reproof. “And it’s all your fault.”

“I did inadvertently ask if you wanted me to join you,” he reminded her, taking a swallow of his beer.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“No?”

“You made me stand at the door talking to you so long the hot water was almost gone by the time I got in there.”

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “Let me make it up to you with a never-ending fire and a cold slice of pepperoni.”

She looked unconvinced at first, then she shrugged. “Okay.” She took a piece of pizza from him and practically attacked it. “Oh, the fire feels so good. Your room is freezing, Valentine. This house is freezing.”

“It can get a little cold, I guess.”

“You sound like you don’t mind turning into an ice cube every time the sun goes down.”

“I hardly notice. I’m really only here to sleep.”

“Well, first thing tomorrow I’m calling a heating technician. The DeBolds may sell ice, but they don’t want to sleep in it.”

He grinned at her. “That was funny, Liv…clever.”

She shrugged. “I have my moments,” she said, reaching for a second slice of pizza.

Mac grabbed another bottle of beer from beside his chair, opened it and tipped it her way. “Something to drink?”

“Sure, why not?” She took the cold bottle from him. “Thanks.”

“You bet.”

“Sitting in a freezing house in front of a fire eating cold pizza and even colder beer—this night couldn’t get any stranger, could it?”

He sipped his beer, then said, “How about if I tell you that when I was around nine or ten I thought—well, I’d hoped—I’d grow up to be a comedian.”

She turned to stare at him. “That would be stranger.”

“Hard to believe, I know. I’d put on one of my foster father’s suits and tell incredibly awful jokes to these three crazy dogs they had. I was really into toilet humor at nine.”

“You grew up in a foster home?” Her tone had changed from cute sarcasm to barely disguised pity in a matter of seconds.

He hated that, and rarely told anyone about his less-than-ideal beginnings to avoid hearing just such a reaction. He didn’t know why he’d just blurted it out to her. Inadvertently, yes, but still… Maybe he needed to ease up on the beer. “I lived in a few foster homes. No big deal.”

“What happened to your parents?”

“My mother died when I was two, and my father was never really in the picture.”

She bit her lip. “That’s tough.”

He shrugged. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Was the foster father you borrowed the suit from a good guy at least?”

“He wasn’t awful. Although he did come home early one night to see me knocking around in that suit and he was pretty pissed off.”

“What did he do?”

“Went for the belt.”

Olivia’s mouth dropped open. “What a bastard. What a cowardly piece of trash. If I had been there I would’ve kicked his—”

Mac’s dark laughter cut her off. “It was no big deal. It happened.” Even though he said the words with cool casualness, he appreciated her passion and protective nature. “You know, twenty-five years ago, there wasn’t this push for fathers to be loving and gentle. ‘Hands-on’ had a different meaning.” He took a healthy swallow of beer. “Every kid got boxed by their dad, foster or not, once or twice while they were growing up.”

She sat forward in her seat, and looked at him with a strange mixture of sadness and care in her eyes. “No, they didn’t.”

Sure, he’d had a few beers, but he understood exactly what she was saying, and who she was saying it about. His jaw twitched. Owen Winston may have disciplined with words, but he was certainly no saint. “Well, I learned my lesson,” he said tightly. “I never touched his suits again.”

They were both quiet for a while after that, both drinking their beer and staring into the fire. Mac’s ire subsided, and he was close to sleep when he heard her say his name.

He turned his head. “Yeah?”

“What happened to the career in comedy?”

He chuckled. “Ended shortly thereafter.”

She smiled. “Bummer.” Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the fire and she looked really beautiful.

“Or a blessing—depending on how you look at it.”

Yawning, Olivia curled deeper into the chair. “Well, feel free to try out any new material you’ve got on me.”

His body stirred with her words, but he said nothing. He wasn’t going to push things. Whether she wanted to admit it to herself or not, she was growing interested in him, attracted to him, and someday soon he would have her in his bed. It wouldn’t make nearly the impact if he took what she wasn’t ready to give. Owen Winston needed to know that his sweet, innocent little girl had come to Mac all on her own.

Mac heard her breathing grow slow and even, and after a few minutes, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to sleep, too.

Olivia woke up in a daze. In front of her the dying fire crackled softly. For a moment, she thought it was morning, but with a quick glance to the windows to her left she saw that the inky blackness of night had yet to turn to the steely gray of dawn.

“Hey.”

She looked over at Mac, who was sitting forward in his chair, his dark eyes seductive and hungry under heavy lids. “What time is it?”

“Around three.”

She blinked a few times, feeling foggy. “I should go back to bed.”

“But it’s cold in there.”

“Yeah.” But she didn’t move. She just stared at him.

Mac got out of the chair and went to her, sat on his heels in front of her. The hot flicker in his gaze made every bit of Olivia’s tired limbs feel on edge and alive.

He reached up to touch her face. She grabbed his wrist, that hard, thick, oh-so-masculine wrist, and he stopped and stared at her. Her heart thudded in her chest as he leaned in, his gaze hungry, his mouth so close. Looking back on that night, Olivia had wanted to blame the foggy tiredness in her brain or the cold and snow for what she did next. But she knew exactly why she went temporarily nuts. All the frustration she felt at her attraction to Mac, and all the years of pushing aside her feelings of need and desire, just seemed to explode in her face at that moment.

Her hand snaked around his neck and she pulled him down for a kiss. And not a peck kiss, either, but a full-blown, lip-nuzzling, teeth-raking, breath-stealing kiss.