Читать книгу Do Me Right - Cindi Myers, Cindi Myers - Страница 9

KYLE WAITED A DAY BEFORE going back to Austin Body Art, telling himself he wanted to give Theresa time to think about his proposition. Time to remember the lip-scorching kiss they’d shared and contemplate what that kind of kiss might lead to once they got their clothes off.

In reality, he felt the need of a little cooling-off period himself. He was sure he could handle anything Theresa threw at him, but he had to admit he’d never been involved with someone who made a living poking people with needles. Not to mention one who’d practically melted his bones with a single kiss. He needed to rest up for his next move.

The picketers were patrolling the sidewalk in front of the tattoo parlor when he returned to the shop. “Sir, you should read this!” An earnest-looking woman shoved a flyer into his hand as he reached for the door of the shop.

Printed on blaze-orange paper, the flyer read “Keep Austin clean! Take back the streets for our children! Fight for a family-friendly Austin! Vote for Darryl ‘Clean’ Carter for City Council Place Four!!”

“Nice exclamation marks,” he said, attempting to hand the paper back to the woman.

“Oh, no. You keep it.” She frowned at his hand on the doorknob. “You don’t really want to go in there, do you?”

“I don’t?” He removed his hand from the doorknob and turned to face her. “Why not?” He looked at the others, who had stopped marching with their signs and gathered around like buzzards waiting for their turn at the dead armadillo on the side of the road. “What is y’all’s objection to this place?”

“This isn’t the kind of thing children should be exposed to.” A man in a dark suit and helmet hair stepped forward. “It’s morally repugnant and encourages overt sexuality and flaunting of the body.”

“Brushed up on those vocabulary words, did you?” Kyle grinned and made a show of looking around them. “I don’t see any children here, do you?” He scratched his head. “Guess they’re all at home, watching sex and violence on TV.”

The man glared at him. “This is not something to be made light of,” he said.

“Right.” Kyle turned and grasped the doorknob again. “Don’t wear yourselves out toting those signs or anything.”

The string of bells on the back of the door announced his entrance into the shop. One of the cats, curled up in a chair by the door, blinked at him sleepily. The blond dude who’d been there the other day looked up from the computer behind the front counter. “Can I help you?”

“I just stopped by to see Theresa.”

At the sound of her name, she looked up from her seat next to the tattoo chair. She shut off the machine and blotted the partial tattoo on the back of the man who reclined beside her. “Kyle, what are you doing here?”

Was it his imagination or was her voice a little breathy? He strode into the room and lowered himself into a folding chair near her work area. “I came to see you, of course.” He nodded to the man, a middle-aged biker type with a long, gray pigtail and grease-stained jeans. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

She switched on the machine again. “Eric, this is Kyle. If you don’t want him to watch, I’ll tell him to leave.”

Eric raised his head and looked Kyle up and down. “Don’t make no difference to me,” he said and lowered his head again.

Theresa turned her attention back to the tattoo, which was fine with Kyle, as it gave him the chance to watch her. A pair of fine lines creased her forehead as she concentrated on her work. The design taking shape beneath her hand was intricate and colorful: a whole garden full of roses surrounding some sort of fantastic bird—a phoenix, maybe—in brilliant reds, greens, blues and yellows. She was working on the bird now, inking in the tail feathers.

Bent over like this, he had a terrific view of the tops of her breasts swelling at the neck of the leather vest she wore. Some kind of flower or design was tattooed in her cleavage. He was definitely interested in getting a closer look at that….

“Shouldn’t you be back at the ranch punching cows or something?”

Her voice pulled him out of the beginning of a very interesting fantasy. He raised his eyes to meet hers. “We don’t punch ’em anymore,” he drawled. “We just suggest they move ’long. It’s more PC that way.”

Eric made a choking sound, but Kyle soon realized it was a chuckle, muffled by his position. “I’m going to remember that one,” the biker said. “What happened to your arm?”

After less than a week, the question was already getting old. He looked at the blue-wrapped cast. “One of the cows punched back.”

The biker laughed again. “You’re a riot.”

“Guess if the rodeo gig doesn’t work out, I can be a stand-up comic in a biker bar,” he said.

Theresa apparently didn’t appreciate his humor. She was still frowning. “What have you been doing since you got hurt? Just sitting around on your ass?”

He winced. That was a low blow. Just because he was twenty-nine years old and didn’t have a real job didn’t mean he was a bum. “I’m exploring my options,” he said.

“Hmmph.” But the slight flush to her cheeks made him think she was remembering how he’d asked her to help him pass the time while he was recuperating.

He sat back, hands behind his head. “I thought about taking up panhandling,” he said. “But there seems to be a glut of people in that line of work around here lately. Then I heard they were auditioning for Chippendales dancers, so I thought about strapping on my chaps and giving it a go.” He gave an exaggerated shimmy. “What do you say, darlin’? Think I’ve got what it takes?”

Aha! She looked! He deliberately licked his lips. He’d be happy to show her he had what it would take to please her.

“Maybe we could hire him to run off those picketers,” the blonde behind the counter said.

“I don’t think one beat-up cowboy’s going to scare them much,” she said.

If he thought she really meant the words, he might have been insulted. But the very way she avoided looking at him told him she was all too aware of his presence. He liked that. She didn’t look like the kind of woman who was easily unnerved, but he’d managed to get to her. Score one for the cowboy, beat-up or not.

“Besides, it’s a free country,” Theresa continued. “We can’t stop them from walking on the sidewalk.”

“Screw ’em,” Eric said. “They don’t know what they’re missing.”

“They don’t have much of a sense of humor, do they?” Kyle leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “A guy out there told me this place ‘encourages overt sexuality and flaunting of the body.’ Like that was a bad thing.”

“Hey, if you’ve got it, flaunt it,” the blonde said, flexing a scrawny arm.

“Sounds good to me.” Kyle’s gaze lingered on Theresa’s inviting cleavage once more. “What do you think, Theresa?”

She switched off the machine and patted Eric’s shoulder. “I think that’s all for today,” she said. “Next time I’ll do the talons and finish up the pyramid at the bottom.”

“Thanks, T,” the biker said. He raised up on his elbows while she cleaned and dressed the fresh tattoo. “You here for a tattoo?” he asked.

Kyle shook his head. “No, I’m just here to harass Theresa. I know how much she loves it.” There went that blush again, the slightest pink along her cheekbones. It was immensely gratifying and sexy as hell.

Eric dressed and left. Kyle got up and walked over to where Theresa was cleaning off her work space. “I’ve been thinking about you,” he said softly.

Her shoulders stiffened, but she kept on working. Pretending to ignore him.

He smoothed his hands down her upper arms. “I’ve been thinking about the way you kissed me.”

She shrugged out of his grasp and moved over to the workbench. “I didn’t kiss you. You kissed me.”

He followed. “Ah, but you kissed me back.”

She stripped off her latex gloves and turned to face him. “So what if I did?” Her breasts rose and fell, almost brushing the front of his shirt, though whether she was breathing hard from anger or arousal, he couldn’t tell.

“A woman who can kiss like that shouldn’t be content with just a kiss.” He resisted the urge to touch her again, and settled for staring into her eyes. They were dark brown, almost black, a shade lighter than her hair. Heavily lined in black, the lashes lush with mascara, her eyes looked exotic. Erotic as the rest of her. He shifted his stance to accommodate his growing erection. If she had any doubts about his reaction to her, one look would tell her all she needed to know. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been thinking about the proposition I made.”

She glanced past him, over his shoulder. Too late he remembered the blonde at the cash register. “Scott, go ahead and go to lunch,” she said.

“Now?”

“Yes, now. You don’t have any appointments until three, do you?”

“Figures you’d run me off just when it was getting interesting.” But he scooted his chair back.

A few moments later, the bells on the door sounded and they were alone. He reached for Theresa, intending to kiss her, but she scooted sideways, out of his grasp. “What’s in it for me if I do agree to your proposition?” she asked.

He folded his arms across his chest and struck a casual pose against the workbench. “Oh, I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. The fireworks we set off the other night were just a little preview.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, cowboy.”

He shrugged, ignoring the uneasy feeling in his gut. “What do you want?”

She bit her lip. Her uncertainty surprised him. She took a deep breath. “Okay, here’s how it is. If I agree to do this, it’s just you and me for six weeks. No other women on the side.”

Easy enough. He nodded. “Darlin’, I don’t intend for either one of us to have time to see anyone else.”

She hugged her arms across her breasts. “And you won’t try to change me—not the way I dress or act or anything.”

He looked her up and down. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“And no lies.”

He blinked. “What would I lie about?”

“In my experience, some men will lie about anything. Just don’t try it with me. If I find out you’ve lied, you will live to regret it.”

He was starting to get a picture here of one or more lying, cheating, manipulative men she’d been involved with in the past. The thought of some bastard hurting her that way made him more than a little angry. “No lies from me,” he said. “Believe it or not, all that stuff about truth, honor and the cowboy way isn’t just hogwash.”

She nodded, though she hadn’t relaxed one bit. “All right then.”

Not quite the enthusiastic response he’d been hoping for. “Is that a yes?”

“Come back tonight after closing.” She turned and began rearranging things on the workbench. He stared at her back, at the leather miniskirt that clung to her shapely backside, at the fall of straight black hair that reached almost to her waist, at her shoulders hunched against him. That was it? An order to come back later?

“That’s not the way to seal a bargain.” He closed the gap between them in two strides and put his good hand on her waist, his mouth next to her ear. “We need to give each other something to mark the occasion.”

She looked back at him with a puzzled expression. “You want me to give you a gift?”

He smiled at her confusion. He liked this version of her, soft and a little vulnerable, almost as much as he did the sexy, woman-in-charge side of her. Gently he turned her until she was facing him, her back against the workbench. He moved in closer, letting her feel exactly how much she turned him on. “A kiss will do,” he said. “One kiss to give us both something to think about until tonight.”

Her lips were every bit as soft as he remembered—soft and sensuous. He coaxed them apart and her tongue met his, sparring and retreating in an erotic dance. He sucked gently at her mouth and she responded, nipping at his upper lip, sending a jolt of heat straight to his groin.

With a sound that was part growl, part purr, she reached up and put her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. She pressed her breasts to his chest and ground her pelvis against him. He slid his good hand down to cup her bottom, bringing her closer still. They were as close as they could be without being naked, and the sensation drove him half-crazy. To hell with waiting until tonight. They had a pretty comfortable-looking reclining chair right here….

Then, in an instant, it was over. She slipped out of his arms and stepped back, one hand to her swollen lips, her breasts rising and falling as she struggled to control her breathing. “I-I’ll see you tonight,” she stammered.

He started to protest, then thought better of it. She’d laid down the rules, and for now he’d do best to follow them. He didn’t want to risk her turning skittish and backing out of the deal. Not when he was on fire with wanting her. He took a step back, toward the door. “Yeah. Tonight.”

Before he could change his mind, he turned and left, pushing past the protestors, ignoring their attempts to press more flyers on him. He had to get away from Theresa now, but he’d be counting the minutes until he saw her again.

“SO WHAT’S UP WITH YOU AND that cowboy?”

If Theresa had hoped Scott would forget about Kyle over lunch, she had no such luck. He’d returned fifteen minutes after Kyle left the shop, bearing a burger, fries and a Coke—and a lot of questions.

“It’s personal,” she said, settling at the table in the back room to eat her lunch.

He turned a chair around and straddled it. “That was obvious. How personal?”

“None of your business. Shouldn’t you be up front, in case anyone comes in?”

“We can hear the bells from here.” He rested his chin on his folded arms and studied her. “If you ask me, it’s about time you hooked up with somebody. I don’t think you were cut out to be a nun.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “Just that ever since Zach left, you haven’t been in a very good mood. Getting laid might be just the thing to cheer you up.”

She glared at him. “Who asked you?”

He laughed. “Hey, it always works for me.”

“Some of us don’t get off on sleeping around like a stray dog, okay?”

He preened, running a hand through his spiky bleached-blond hair. “Can I help it if women find me irresistible?”

She took a long drink of Coke and shook her head. “Some women have no taste.”

“So tell me about this new employee you hired. Guy or gal?”

Grateful for the change in subject, she relaxed a little. “Female. She’s a music major at UT.”

“A musician who knows tattoos?” He grinned. “Does she play in a band?”

“I have no idea. Apparently her mom and dad have a shop in Denver. She grew up in the business.”

“I can’t wait to meet her. When does she start?”

“This afternoon.”

He started to get up, but she leaned forward and grabbed his arm, squeezing hard. “Scott?”

“What?” Worry lines stood out on his high forehead.

“No hitting on the help, okay?”

“Just a little flirting….”

“Not if she’s not interested in flirting back. That’s sexual harassment and it could get us both sued.”

She released him and he leaned back, rubbing his arm. “I won’t do anything stupid,” he said huffily. He shoved back the chair and left the room.

She contemplated her half-eaten sandwich. Of course Scott would do something stupid. He couldn’t help it. When a man’s hormones took over, his brain stopped working. Simple as that.

She was one to talk though. She’d just agreed to what was probably a stupid idea. A fun fling with a cowboy stud. It sounded good on the surface, but who knew where that kind of thing could lead? Hadn’t Zach and Jen’s relationship started the same way?

At least theirs had worked out okay. She didn’t have that kind of luck with men. For one thing, she wasn’t the soft, girlie-girl type they seemed to prefer. Even the biker dudes she’d spent time with had accused her of being too tough. The last guy she’d spent more than one night with had said she was too bossy. Which maybe was true, but he’d liked it enough in the beginning.

That was a man for you. Not consistent. When she’d been younger and more naïve, she hadn’t known that and it had gotten her into trouble. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

The bell on the door sounded. She didn’t have an appointment until two, but maybe the customer was early. In any case, she’d lost her appetite for lunch. She wrapped up the rest of the sandwich and stashed it in the refrigerator, then went up front.

She found Scott talking with a petite girl with short red hair. She wore a long, flowing sundress and sandals, and had no visible piercings other than two studs in each ear. A sun-and-moon tattoo adorned her left shoulder.

“What’s your name?” Scott was asking when Theresa joined them.

“Cherry. Cherry Donovan.”

Scott’s eyes lit up. “Cherry. Nice name.”

She scowled at him. “No cracks about the name, okay?”

He held up both hands. His innocent expression wouldn’t have fooled his grandmother. “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

Cherry glanced at Theresa and rolled her eyes. “You thought it. Men always do.”

Scott looked to Theresa for help. She held out her hand. “Hi, Cherry, good to see you again.”

“Hey, Theresa. I’m a little early, but my class this afternoon was canceled, so I thought I’d come on by and spend a little time getting to know the place.”

Cherry had a pretty smile and a vulnerable, elfin quality. Theresa felt like an Amazon. But the girl couldn’t very well help that she was short, could she? “We’re glad to have you here,” she said. “I see you’ve already met Scott.”

“So you’re the new part-timer?” He grinned and stuck out his hand. “I’m Scott.”

“That’s what she just said.” Cherry touched his hand briefly, then deftly moved away. Scott’s face fell.

Theresa turned her head, biting her lip to keep from laughing. So much for Mr. Suave’s chances with his new co-worker. Cherry was obviously less than impressed. “You pretty much saw everything when you interviewed, but I’ll refresh your memory,” Theresa said. She scooped up the cat that had been weaving around her boots. “This is Delilah. The other one, Mick, is around here somewhere.”

“I remember.” Cherry scratched underneath the cat’s chin. Delilah rewarded her with a rumbling purr. Theresa handed her the animal and led the way to the workbench and storage cabinets. “Over here is where we keep all the tattooing supplies.”

“I have my own machine,” Cherry said. “A graduation gift from my folks.”

Scott joined them. “I hear you’re a musician.” So much for thinking he was crushed. Theresa should have known better.

Cherry scarcely looked at him. “I’m a music major, yeah.”

“I used to play in a band myself.” He puffed out his chest.

Theresa figured if she bit down on the inside of her cheek any harder, she’d draw blood. Cherry gave him a scornful look. “I don’t play in a band. I perform with the school symphony. Cello.”

Scott looked so disappointed, Theresa almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “Evenings and weekends, when you’ll be working, are our prime time for walk-ins,” she said. “They’ll keep you busy until you get your own clients.” At least she hoped so. With the picketers refusing to give up, walk-in traffic had been slow lately.

“I can do piercings, too,” she offered.

“I usually handle the piercings,” Scott said.

Cherry shrugged. “I’m just saying I can do them, too.”

“I’m sure there won’t be a problem dividing up the work.” Theresa gave Scott a hard look. At least there’d better not be.

He shrugged. “Sure.”

He retreated to the front counter, probably to sulk. Theresa guessed she could live with that if it kept him quiet. She turned to Cherry again. “When you get a chance, make some copies of your portfolio so we can display them for the customers.”

“Sure thing. And I thought I’d print up some business cards to hand out around campus and stuff—if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course it’s okay. And I’ll cover the cost of the cards.” She’d been about to suggest as much, but the girl got ahead of her. She’d have to be on her toes with this kid. “Come on in back and I’ll show you where to put your things and we’ll go over the operation of the autoclave.”

Cherry deposited the cat on the floor and followed Theresa to the storage closet that served as headquarters for the sterilization equipment. “It’s the same kind my mom and dad have,” she said when Theresa opened the door.

“So I guess you really did grow up in the business,” Theresa said, impressed but not wanting to show it too much.

“I started apprenticing when I was a teenager and I’d work summers and holidays for extra money. It’s interesting work, but music’s really where I want to make my career.” Her expression turned sheepish. “I hope it’s okay for me to say that. I like to be up-front with people.”

“I appreciate that.” It was a little scary how together this chick was. Theresa knew there was no way she’d been this calm and confident at Cherry’s age. “Why don’t we go back up front?”

Scott was still sulking behind the counter. “Why don’t you show Cherry how to get into the computer,” Theresa said. She turned to Cherry. “We’re trying to get all the scheduling and ordering and things like that computerized, but we’re not there yet.”

She nodded. “My parents are technophobes, too. I keep telling them to join the twenty-first century, but they don’t get it.”

Now Theresa felt like an Amazon crone. She was only seven years older than Elf Girl, but it might as well have been twenty. “Scott’s doing a good job of getting us on track,” she said. “He can explain the system to you.”

“Yeah, sure.” He moved over to make room for Cherry in front of the computer.

Ten minutes later, as she was prepping her two o’clock customer—a truck driver named Alan—Theresa congratulated herself on her smooth handling of the potential conflict between Scott and Cherry. The two were both bent over the computer, engrossed in talk of databases, spreadsheets and operating systems.

She’d just started outlining a wolf’s head on Alan’s ankle when the door bells sounded again and a woman in a pink smock took a hesitant step inside. “Uh, I’m looking for a Miss Theresa Jacobs,” she said.

Theresa shut off the tattoo machine. “That’s me.”

“Oh! Then I do have the right place.” Eyes wide, the woman stared around the room.

“Can I help you?” Theresa prompted.

“Oh! Yes. Just a minute. I’ll be right back.” She exited again, the temple bells jangling in her wake.

“Something tells me she didn’t stop by for a tat,” the man in the chair said.

“Sorry about the interruption,” Theresa apologized.

He shrugged. “I’m not in any hurry.”

The woman reappeared in the doorway, her face almost hidden by a large arrangement of yellow roses in a glass vase. “Where should I put these?” she asked.

Theresa’s mouth dropped open. After a stunned silence, she managed to speak. “Why are you bringing those in here?”

“You said you were Theresa Jacobs, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“These flowers are for you.” She set the arrangement on the front counter and pointed to the tiny emblem on the left breast pocket of her smock. “From Pecan Street Florists.”

“Why is a florist’s shop sending me flowers?”

The woman laughed. “Oh, they’re not from us. We’re just delivering them. There’s a card on the arrangement.” Her gaze shifted to the man in the chair, and her eyes widened again as she zeroed in on the beginnings of the tattoo there. “I’ve always wondered—doesn’t that hurt?”

“Not much.” He grinned. “You ought to try it sometime.”

The delivery woman blushed. “I don’t think… At least, I never…” She shook her head. “I have to go now. Enjoy your flowers.”

When she was gone, they all stared at the roses. There had to be at least a dozen of them, a soft yellow with a blush of pink at the tips of the petals, baby’s breath and greenery arranged around them. “They’re gorgeous,” Cherry said.

“Aren’t you going to check the card?” Scott said.

“Maybe later.” She switched on the tattoo machine again. In all her twenty-eight years, no one had ever sent her flowers. She wasn’t sure how to act.

“Oh, go on, check the card,” her customer said. “I’m curious now, too.”

Reluctantly she shut off the machine and stripped off her gloves, then walked up to the counter.

Up close, the arrangement was even prettier. She wanted to bury her nose amid the buds and see if they smelled like anything. She wanted to feel the petals and see if they were as velvety soft as they looked. But she didn’t want to look like a fool in front of everyone, so all she did was reach up and snatch the card from its holder.

The envelope was unsealed, and the card inside was a simple white one. “I’m looking forward to tonight. Kyle.”

“Ooooh, you’re blushing!” Cherry squealed. She elbowed Scott in the ribs. “It must be good.”

“I’ll bet it’s from that cowboy.” Scott leaned over the counter and looked at her around the flowers. “Isn’t it?”

“What cowboy?” Cherry asked.

Theresa hated that she was blushing. She wasn’t the kind of woman who blushed. But then, she wasn’t the kind of woman men sent flowers to, either. She tucked the card inside her top, away from prying eyes. “I suggest we all get back to work,” she said and walked briskly back to her customer.

“It is your birthday or something?” he asked.

She shook her head and put on a new pair of gloves. “No, it isn’t.”

He grinned. “Well, whoever sent you those, I’d say they have good taste.”

Because the flowers he’d chosen were so pretty, or because he’d sent them to her? She didn’t ask. “Why don’t you just relax and we’ll get started again.” She told herself to focus on her work, to stop thinking about the flowers or Kyle Cameron. It was bad enough he’d thrown her for a loop with his kisses. What the hell did he think he was doing turning all romantic and sending her flowers?