Читать книгу Good with His Hands - Tanya Michaels, Tanya Michaels - Страница 11

3

IDIOT, IDIOT, IDIOT. Sean wanted to howl at the bitter unfairness of the situation, at his own stupidity. He was in his brother’s office building, so why the hell hadn’t it occurred to him that the stunning brunette had mistaken him for Bryce? Maybe because no one had confused the two of them since second grade. They were too dissimilar.

The disappointment at hearing his twin’s name from Dani’s full, cupid’s bow lips stabbed deep. The idea of his brother flirting with her, touching her... His hands clenched into fists at his sides. Then again, she must not know Bryce, or why would she have introduced herself? Sean spared a moment of contemptuous disbelief for his permit-seeking, suit-wearing brother. The man worked down the hall from a woman who looked like this and had never even asked her name?

Idiocy must run in the family.

As he mentally berated both himself and his brother, Dani’s forehead crinkled. “Damn,” she sighed, regret lacing her husky voice. Had she taken his silence as rejection? “Was I too forward?”

“What? No. Actually, I like that in a woman.” A lot. She was gorgeous, with her wild fall of dark hair and her long, lean body, but what made her sexy as hell was the sense that she knew what she wanted and wasn’t shy about going after it. When she’d first seen him in the hallway, the awareness in her gaze had been like a wave of heat, burning a tantalizing path.

He’d always been drawn to brunettes. In her body-hugging top, nails painted a fearless red, she looked like his fantasy made real. But, odds were, when he told her he wasn’t Bryce, she was going to be mortified.

They’d reached the parking lot. When he informed her of her mistake, would she bolt for her car? She’d be gone from his life as suddenly as she’d appeared. Everything inside him protested at the idea.

Guilt warred with lust. Sean was ready and willing to help her forget her problems and bolster her wounded ego. But she wants Bryce. Except, Bryce wouldn’t have been any good to her. Mr. Rules and Regulations would never go home with a woman whose name he’d only just learned; he’d be appalled by the very idea. If Dani wanted a good time, then she had—however inadvertently—chosen the right brother.

Even Sean’s ex-girlfriend, the one who’d despaired of his never amounting to anything, had said so. Tara’s parting words echoed in his mind. “If you and that sophisticated twin of yours could be combined into one person, you’d be the perfect guy. He’s the one with ambition and smarts...but, let’s face it, you sure know how to show a girl a good time.”

Unaware of his mental anguish, Dani smiled. “As long as I’m being blunt and inappropriate anyway, can I just say, now that I’ve seen you in short sleeves, I think it’s a shame you wear all those jackets?” Her gaze went to his arm, as tangible and arousing as a caress. She was attracted to him. Specifically.

It was impossible not to return her grin. “Want me to flex or anything? I live to serve.”

“Then have that drink with me,” she coaxed.

He took an involuntary step closer, breathing in her honey and vanilla scent. How could any man refuse her? “Absolutely.”

* * *

I CAN’T BELIEVE I’m doing this! Dani’s gaze darted to the rearview mirror, as if she had to make sure Gray’s SUV was still there. Without the physical evidence, this seemed more like a naughty daydream than real life. Her skin was tingling all over. Between adrenaline and hormones, she had to squeeze her fingers around the steering wheel to keep them from trembling.

Back in the parking lot, before they’d gone to their own cars, she’d thought he might kiss her. She’d barely been able to tear her gaze from his mouth. Had he been able to tell how hard her pulse was pounding? She’d been so turned-on that anything they’d done would have felt natural. The drive to the bar, however, allowed just enough time for nerves to creep in.

It had been months since she’d had sex and years since she’d been with anyone other than her ex-fiancé. Needing moral support, she instructed her phone to call Meg.

“Hey,” her friend answered, sounding relieved. “I’m glad it’s you! I’ve been trying to give you space today, in case you didn’t feel like talking, but—”

“I don’t mean to cut you off, but we don’t have much time.”

“Well, that sounds dramatic. Like, you’re fleeing the country from bad guys and need to tell me you’ve left something important in a bus-station locker. Or you’re going to ask me whether you should cut the blue wire or the red wire.”

Dani laughed. Apparently, all the action movies she made her friend watch had left an impression. “I went into the office today, and Hot Architect was there! Well, Gray.” In the military, nicknames were common; she rarely thought anything of using them. But calling him Gray felt intimate and gave her a rush of pleasure. “Short for his last name, Grayson.”

“You’re already on a nickname basis?” Meg asked, sounding impressed. “You work fast.”

You don’t know the half of it. “I have to tell you something, and if you love me, you won’t talk me out of this.”

“This promises to be good,” Meg said cheerfully. “And I think we both know I’m the ‘jump out of the plane, worry about the parachute on the way down’ friend. You’re the voice of reason who talks me out of things. Or tries to—I rarely listen to good sense.”

Maybe Meg’s “seize the day” attitude is rubbing off on me. “Gray’s in the car behind me right now, following me to the bar in front of my complex. And if things go well over drinks...”

Meg let out a squeal of delight. “You’re taking him home with you!”

“I haven’t decided for sure.” The hell you haven’t, her libido argued. “Would sleeping with him be completely crazy?” Not that sane had gotten her anywhere, except dumped and relocated to a crappy apartment.

“Crazy’s what you need tonight. Celebrate your freedom! Instead of tying the knot, you can tie up Hot Architect.”

Dani grinned. “So much for any worry that you might judge me for seducing a stranger.” Despite how often their paths crossed, she knew almost nothing about him.

“No judging! But for safety’s sake, check in with me tonight and again in the morning. If I don’t get proof of life, I’m showing up at your place with Nolan.”

Morning? Recalling how good Gray looked in his black T-shirt, she shivered. What would it be like to wake up in those muscular arms? Assuming he was the kind of guy who stayed the night instead of leaving afterward.

“I’m not getting up early just so I can run out for a paper with the date on it and send you a picture,” Dani joked, “but I will text you.” She was grateful to have someone who looked out for her. The two of them had met in the waiting area of a salon four years ago, striking up conversation over the trials of curly hair in a humid climate, and now they were as close as sisters. Meg had even tried to fix up Dani with one of her brothers, saying that if things worked out they could be sisters-in-law.

“I’m keeping my phone by me for the rest of the night,” Meg said. “And hoping for salacious details.”

Dani braked at a red light, swallowing hard. The bar was on the left just on the other side of the intersection. “I’m about to turn into the parking lot.”

“Okay. All kidding aside, there’s something you should consider. As your best friend, I have to ask...are you wearing good first-impression underwear? Please tell me it’s something from the store!” Meg extended Dani a special friends-and-family discount.

Dani laughed, her nerves dissipating. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m wearing plain cotton. The set matches. Do I at least get credit for that?”

Would Gray have preferred something lacy and silk to the basic sky-blue pieces? Then again, depending on how the evening went, maybe she wouldn’t be wearing them for long.

* * *

DANI CONGRATULATED HERSELF on fitting the car into such a narrow parking space—it was admirable that she’d done a precision job considering her shaky hands and accelerated pulse. She figured the adrenaline in her system was one part nerves, two parts sheer sexual anticipation. By the time she’d taken a deep breath and gathered her purse, Gray had reached her driver-side door.

He opened the door for her and extended his hand to help her out of the car. Old-fashioned gallantry, or was he simply as eager to touch her as she was him? His fingers grazed her palm, which she’d never considered a sensitive part of her body before today. Now, sensation shivered through her.

“Thanks,” she said, hearing the slight, breathless catch in her voice.

“It seemed like the chivalrous thing to do.” Though his expression remained deadpan, wicked humor glinted in his eyes. “Wouldn’t want you to think you were out with less than a perfect gentleman.”

“Honestly? I’d rather spend tonight with an imperfect one.”

That earned her a low, rich laugh. “Then you definitely have the right guy.”

As she preceded him inside, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior. The bar had a cool, cave-like feel, with few windows overlooking the parking lot and street. But it was a classy cave—no smoke or scarred tables—boasting a quality list of domestic and imported beers.

Gray looked around. “Private booth, or would you rather sit at the bar?”

As nice as the private part sounded, she felt too restless to sit. Being this close to him had her buzzing with energy. “Third option—pool table. Do you play?”

“Yeah.” He smiled sheepishly. “But I should warn you, I can get pretty competitive.”

Something else they had in common. “That’s okay. My friend Meg says I redefine the word.” Dani had taken a game night with the Raffertys a little too seriously last summer, and Meg’s family still teased her about it. But Major Yates had raised his daughter to be goal oriented. Sportsmanship had been more of an afterthought.

Gray smirked. “Then this should be interesting.”

At the bar, they asked about table availability and got a set of balls. Cues and racks hung by the tables. The cashier assured them a waitress frequently circulated the pool area and would take their drink orders soon. To the right of the main seating area, a short set of stairs led down to a recessed pool hall. The row of six pool tables was separated from the rest of the bar with a railed half wall. The opposite wall was completely mirrored, reflecting a rainbow of neon from various beer signs.

Two of the tables were still vacant, and Dani went immediately to the one farthest from other players. A drink menu sat on the railing between a couple of leather-topped stools. Gray picked it up, flipping through the laminated pages.

“You want a look at this?” he asked.

She shook her head, gaze locked on his. “Not necessary. I know exactly what I want.”

Being cheated on was tough on a girl’s self-esteem. But with one steamy glance, Gray managed to restore any confidence she’d lost over the past month. For a second, he looked dazed, and it was heady, having an effect on a man so ridiculously sexy.

He recovered quickly. “Well, don’t be shy. Let’s hear it.”

You. On that pool table. “Draft beer.”

“So you don’t go for the froufrou drinks?” He tilted his chin toward a waitress at the far end of the pool hall. On her tray were two foamy drinks in varying shades of pink and something bright blue in a glass the size of a small fishbowl, complete with a swizzle stick of impaled fruit.

“Drinks with paper umbrellas have their place,” Dani said. “Like, if I’m poolside at some tropical resort. Champagne—expensive champagne—is for when I close on a high-dollar property, tequila shots are for bad breakups, sangria is for TV show marathons with my best friend. But draft beer is for when I’m about to kick some guy’s ass in eight ball.”

“Then maybe you should be more concerned about the right drink for when you fall a dismal second.”

She grinned, liking the pure challenge in his voice. “I don’t know what beverage that could be. You’ll have to tell me after you lose.”

The waitress reached them a few seconds later. Dani ordered a Belgian white they had on tap. Gray asked for a dark ale. As the waitress departed, the two of them selected cue sticks and continued quizzing each other on the right cocktails for increasingly absurd occasions.

“When your team wins the Super Bowl?” Gray asked.

“Alabama slammer. What about if you win an Academy Award?”

“Famous gold statue? Goldshläger, obviously. Toasting your fortieth birthday?”

“Something sophisticated and grown-up. A martini, maybe?” She shrugged. “I’m nowhere close to knowing that one.”

“Me, neither. Monday’s my thirty-fourth birthday.”

“Oh.” His birthday was in two days? “Happy birthday.”

He gave her a wolfish smile. “As early celebrations go, today has been off the charts.”

Did he see her as his gift to himself? She swallowed, hoping she lived up to his expectations. “Perfect cocktail for a zombie apocalypse?”

“Rookie mistake. Zombie apocalypse is the time to stay sober. It’s critical to keep a clear head and steady shooting hand for those all-important double taps.”

She laughed. “Good point.”

After the waitress returned with their drinks, Gray clarified that they were playing basic eight ball and that they had to call their intended shots.

“Hell, yes,” Dani insisted. “Miss your pocket, lose your turn.”

He set the plastic triangle on the green felt. “Ladies first?”

“Or we could lag for the break,” she said, suggesting the more official method of shooting a ball off the far rail. Whoever’s ball came back closest would break.

“Serious player,” he said approvingly. “Most of my construction buddies just flip a coin.”

Construction buddies? Dani knew it wasn’t uncommon for architects to visit build sites, so it shouldn’t surprise her that he had friends among the construction crews. Yet she had trouble picturing the man who normally wore expensive suits, the one who was so reserved he’d never fully smiled at her until today, trash-talking construction guys over beer and pool. She started to tell him that he seemed different, which she meant as a compliment, but she couldn’t think of a way to say it that wouldn’t make him sound previously aloof or stuffy. Weren’t most people more likely to loosen up on the weekends? So stop overanalyzing and just be thankful you ran into him on a Saturday.

They each selected a solid-colored ball and shot for the foot rail. The balls rolled back, hers stopping a fraction of an inch before his.

“Your break,” she said.

“Close, though.” He gave her a look of mock regret. “I guess a player with your skill isn’t likely to do the girl thing, huh?”

“Girl thing?”

He sipped his beer. “You know, where you ask a big strong guy to help you with your form so he has a reason to put his arms around you.”

Dani stepped forward, leaning her pool cue against the railing. Looking intrigued, he set down his beer as she moved closer, invading his personal space.

She reached for his hand. His fingers were cool from the beer, but heat rolled through her anyway. “I’m a woman, not a girl. If I want a man to touch me, I don’t need a lame excuse.” She settled his hand on the curve of her hip, her pulse kicking up a notch when they were close enough that they could have been kissing.

His eyes were mesmerizing, light-colored but blazing with intensity. “Good to know.” Raising his free hand, he traced her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. Desire had been sparking inside her since the moment he’d smiled at her in the office hallway, but now a pang of sharp arousal jolted her—and they were fully dressed in a public place. Imagining the kind of magic he could work in the privacy of her apartment left her dizzy.

If she didn’t move away from him, she would be in no condition to shoot pool accurately. Which might not matter in the larger scheme of things, but she had to admit, part of her wanted to impress him.

When she stepped back, reaching for her drink, Gray gave her one more scorching look, then took his place at the table. The competitor in her wanted to watch the balls scatter and check for strategic positioning; the female in her was having difficulty looking away from the back of his jeans. When he’d said earlier that he liked physical activity, it had obviously been more than innuendo. He was in fantastic shape.

“You’re up,” he said, drawing her attention back to the game.

She scanned the table. He’d pocketed the seven, so she was stripes. She called the eleven and leaned down to take her shot. Recalling the appreciative way she’d watched him shoot, she stole an involuntary glance toward the mirrored wall at the last second. His reflected gaze locked on hers—avid and hungry—and she fumbled her shot. The eleven rolled in right where it was supposed to, but the cue ball followed.

Annoyed with herself for the undisciplined lapse in concentration, she let loose a stream of profanity.

Behind her, Gray laughed. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Actually, she died when I was a baby.”

He paled. “Oh, God. I’m—”

“You didn’t know.” Whenever she told someone about her mom, she felt as if she should be sadder, but she didn’t remember the woman at all. The deepest sorrow she’d experienced was for her father’s loss. “My dad raised me and, incidentally, taught me most of the bad words I know. He wasn’t above swearing at soldiers if it motivated them, and sometimes he forgot to turn it off at home.”

“Military, huh?”

She nodded. “Army.”

“My father had his own roofing company and took on a lot of small construction jobs for extra income. He was careful, but anyone who works with tools that often is gonna catch his thumb with a hammer from time to time or run afoul of a circular saw.” He smiled. “Colorful words abounded. Of course, he swore me to secrecy. Mom would’ve had a fit if she’d known the vocabulary I was picking up in the garage.”

He surveyed the table, nostalgia fading as he immersed himself in the game. Using the conveniently positioned stripes, he knocked in two easy shots before having to stop and think about what he wanted to do next.

“If I were a show-off,” he said, “this is where I’d impress you with some fancy trick shot.”

She smirked over the rim of her beer. “In my experience, guys who really know how to handle their sticks don’t need to compensate with trick moves.”

“Need? No. But nothing wrong with spicing things up every now and then, right?” Giving her a suggestive smile, he executed a perfect behind-the-back shot.

She bit back her own smile. “I refuse to contribute to your ego by applauding that.”

“You can admit I make you weak in the knees. I won’t lose respect for you.”

She snorted. He sank a fourth ball before finally missing. Dani used the opportunity to reclaim her dignity with a great stop shot. The waitress brought another round of drinks while Dani pocketed two more, steadily closing the gap. But then she was left without a shot. Even as she banked the cue ball as best she could, she held no real hope. Sometimes, physics was against you.

Gray returned to the table. She sipped her beer, watching in admiration as he ran the table. His cockiness at pool was well warranted. After knocking in the eight ball for the win, he sauntered back to the railing with a satisfied smile.

“Now I wish we’d bet something,” he said. “Or that I’d suggested strip pool.”

The idea was appealing, if either of them had a pool table at home. She slid off her stool and began gathering the balls to rerack. “You can’t play strip pool in public.”

He joined her at the table, leaning close as he lowered his voice. “Sure you can.” His breath feathered against her ear, a tantalizing tickle of warmth. “You just have to remove things that aren’t obvious to everyone else in the room.” For the second time that night, he cupped her hip. Then he traced a finger across the denim, just above the elastic band of her panties. “Like...earrings.”

His outrageous teasing made her laugh, and she shoved against his chest. “You are a bad man.”

He dipped his head in agreement. “Being bad is my best quality.”