Читать книгу Close Up - Erin McCarthy, Erin McCarthy - Страница 12

4

SEAN WASN’T ABOUT to let Kristine get hurt trying to crawl out of the window. Or injure any particularly soft spots on her body. So while maybe he didn’t need to grip her precisely where he was, he had her best interests in mind.

And he was nothing if not an opportunist.

“Whoa,” he told her, moving right up against the wall so he could ensure that, if necessary, he could yank her back toward him. He didn’t want her spilling out the window.

“I think I’m okay,” she said, but her voice was shaky. She glanced down at him with limpid eyes. “Though I’m afraid if I shift I might have an orgasm. Could you move your thumb, please?”

Sean laughed. Leave it to Kristine to tell it like it was. “I don’t want you to fall.”

“Your thumb isn’t holding me up. And you’re not playing fair.”

That gave him immense satisfaction. “I wasn’t aware we were playing. I thought we were trying to get out of this room so this photography event can happen and we can get divorced.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re definitely playing a game. Only I don’t know what it is. You know I suck at strategizing. I would be the first person off Survivor because I don’t understand scheming.”

“I’m not scheming.” Not much, anyway. “I am legitimately trying to keep you from falling. And I am legitimately using it as a reason to touch your body.” He stroked his thumb up and down, slowly. “It doesn’t seem like you mind.”

“Just because my body responds to you in some sort of sexual recognition doesn’t mean it makes sense for us to do this. We should talk.”

They could talk. And then he could make love to her. Worked for him. “Right now? My hand is going numb and I imagine your ass is doing the same.”

Kristine frowned, but she shook her head. “This isn’t over.”

He’d never thought it was. What should have been a fight and reconciliation had just ended with the fight, and he’d spent years wondering why. Did she even realize how loaded that sounded? “Agreed.” Slowly, he withdrew his hand. “Now just swing your other leg over and ease down. Don’t let go of the window until you’ve slid as far down the wall as you can, okay?”

“Got it, coach.” She drew up her other leg. “I would say this is inspiration for me starting an exercise regime, but that would be a total lie. I hate working out and that is never going to change.”

Frankly, Sean couldn’t imagine what hard-core athletic ventures would do to Kristine’s body. It would take away all those curves he loved so much, tone away the soft angles and make it not nearly as much fun to touch her. “You certainly get a workout talking,” he teased her. “You could have jumped out this window three times by now.”

She made a face at him. Then she slid down the wall, making tiny little exclamations of distress the whole time. Sean jumped up to grab the ledge so he could watch her and make sure she was okay. She landed on her feet and turned around and gave him a thumbs-up.

“Awesome job,” he told her sincerely. “I knew you could do it.”

She adjusted his pants on her hips and grinned up at him. “You know, it occurs to me that I am in a power position here. I’m free, but you’re still locked up. What if I just walk away?”

He snorted. He didn’t believe for one minute she would leave him there. “Bullshit, Kristy. You wouldn’t do that and you know it.”

But then he realized she had actually done that very thing. She had left town and changed her number. For the first year, he’d had no idea where she was or what she’d been doing until he had hounded her mother to tell him. But he hadn’t done anything with that information because, at that point, what was there to say? His frustration resurfaced and without another word, he dropped back down onto the floor.

What the hell had he been expecting? That he would show up at the gallery and somehow the past would all make sense?

Sean paced around and around the storeroom, checking his phone. No word from Michigan. He suddenly felt trapped. Which was stupid, given that Kristine was already out of the storeroom and he had gone to the gallery on his own initiative. He was simply on edge. The day’s events had been out of his control and he was never comfortable with that. He’d built a life around being in charge and he did not like how off-kilter he felt.

It didn’t help when the door was suddenly thrown open and Kristine appeared looking absolutely frantic. “Sean, oh, my God, someone vandalized the exhibit!”

She unzipped his pants and shoved them down with no concern for modesty whatsoever. “This is awful,” she moaned, bouncing around in her underwear trying to remove his pants from her ankles.

What was awful? Oh, right, vandals. Because from where he was standing, nothing looked awful at all. In fact, the view was downright mouthwatering. He was unable to think or take action.

Sean couldn’t even speak until his own pants hit him in the face. Then he forced himself to focus. “What do you mean, vandalized?” he asked as he dragged his pants down off his face into a ball.

“Get dressed.” She rushed to grab her skirt from the floor. “This is a nightmare. I’m going to be fired!”

The situation sounded like something requiring urgent attention, and the businessman in his brain rang alarm bells indicating he needed to take action. But Sean the man, the husband, was unable to really focus on anything other than Kristine in her underwear, bending over. Her panties had ridden up on her cheeks, exposing the curve of her bottom on both sides, along with her little cupcake tattoo. Many a night he had taken a bite of that sweet treat, sometimes in playful pretend, sometimes as a heady erotic nip.

But then she wiggled into her skirt and Sean forced his thoughts off sex with Kristine and onto what she had said. “Why would you be fired?”

She hopped up and down as she pulled her heels back on. “They defaced the photographs! Who could have done that? And do you think they actually locked us in on purpose so they could do this?”

His brain returned to its normal state of reason as he realized that either the caterer was actually a protestor or that someone had been watching the gallery waiting for an opportune moment to cause trouble. “I think that is absolutely what happened. It would be the mother of all coincidences if they didn’t.” Sean shook out his pants to pull them back on. “Did they leave political messages? What do you mean by defacing?”

Kristine bit her lip, and for a second he could have sworn she knew more than she was saying. “It looks juvenile, actually—”

But then she stopped talking as she caught sight of the huge erection he sported. “Sean! Put your pants on. Geez...”

“What? I can’t help it. You bent over. I’m a simple man, babe.”

But Kristine just rolled her eyes. “I will never understand how men can think about sex in times of crisis.”

Overdramatic much? Sean pulled his pants on. “This isn’t a tsunami. We are not being hunted by a crazed killer. Someone threw chairs around and stole the champagne glasses. It’s not a crisis—it’s an irritation.”

“They didn’t steal the glasses. They spray painted underwear on some of the models in the photos.”

Sean blinked. Then he started laughing. He couldn’t help it. “That’s just dumb.”

“It’s not funny!”

“It kind of is, you have to admit. They put underwear on the models?” He shook his head. “Some people have too much damn time on their hands.”

“It might be funny if it wasn’t happening to me.” She strode past him. “What am I going to do? The exhibit is supposed to open in two days! Friday is a charity fund-raiser for breast cancer research. This is just so bad. I’m going to lose my job and I’m going to starve.”

He was tempted to offer for her to eat him, not in sarcasm, but as an innuendo, but one thing he knew was that Kristine couldn’t be teased out of hysteria. She needed a solution to the problem, however large or small, and she needed one offered quickly before her panic escalated. “Let’s take a look at the damage before you file for unemployment.”

“I can’t imagine this will look good for your security firm, either,” she said, rushing anxiously across the backroom.

Oh, hell, no, he wasn’t going to let this fall on Maddock Security. “Our contract states we start at 7:00 p.m. on Friday, an hour before the guests arrive. This is not my fault. I was here because of the divorce papers, not because of work.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Really? You came here just because of me?”

“Of course. It was totally out of the blue, Kristine. I wanted to talk to you. I was curious why the sudden action. But never mind. Let’s see what happened here and figure out how to solve it. No one is getting fired, I promise.”