Читать книгу Notorious - Vicki Lewis Thompson - Страница 9

KEELY HAD MADE a career of acting on impulse. This particular impulse—to play along with Noah’s outrageous plan to save her—could be lots of fun, especially if she turned the tables and took him for a walk on the wild side, instead. So why this sudden attack of nerves?

Maybe she was still dealing with the news that her sister and Jonas were getting married. That situation would definitely take some getting used to. Yeah, it was the sudden word of their wedding that had her spooked.

Surely she wasn’t still into Noah the way she had been at sixteen. And seducing him here in Vegas would be an awesome way to get revenge for the way he’d brusquely pushed her away at that tender age. But in order for that revenge to be sweet, she had to be certain she was completely over him. Well, she was. Of course she was.

Shaking off her uneasiness, she walked into the sparsely populated bar and glanced at the blond woman gyrating on the small stage. No, that wasn’t the one. Her interview subject was a brunette.

“Would you like a table?” A thin man dressed in a white shirt and tight black pants appeared at her elbow.

“No, thanks. I’m Keely Branscom and I’m here to talk with Suzanne.”

“Oh!” The man grew more animated. “You’re the reporter from Attitude! She’s in the back. Please sit down. I’ll go get her.”

Keely pulled out a chair at the nearest round cocktail table and sat. This might take longer than she figured. No doubt Noah would be outside having a conniption, thinking she was secretly filling out a job application. But she couldn’t be rude and leave without speaking to Suzanne.

The sound system in the bar wasn’t very good, but the blonde on the stage was an excellent dancer. Keely counted five men in the place, all of them with their attention glued to the stage. She’d love to believe they were admiring the skill of the performance, but after years of reporting on the guy/gal scene for Attitude!, she could reasonably conclude they were fixated on the dancer’s chest instead of her footwork.

In general, a man’s motivation was pretty simple, which was one reason she was so intrigued by Noah’s offer to reform her. His motivation was more complex. She really believed he didn’t intend for them to have sex. Well, he just might have to reevaluate that decision.

“Ms. Branscom?”

Keely glanced away from the stage and saw that a curvy brunette in purple spandex stood next to the table. Keely pushed back her chair. “Suzanne?”

“That’s me.” Suzanne held out her hand.

Keely stood and shook her hand. She had to practically shout to be heard over the pounding music. “Please call me Keely. Listen, it turns out now isn’t a very good time for me to do the interview, after all. I wonder if we could reschedule.”

“I guess so.” Suzanne raised her voice and leaned closer to Keely. “The only thing is, I have, like, this horrific exam coming up in my psych class, so I need to spend most of my free time, like, inhaling the textbook. And tonight I’m dancing.”

“Right.” Keely was glad they weren’t conducting the interview like this. It would give her a headache in no time. She wasn’t sure when she’d stopped loving loud music.

She quickly considered how to work around Suzanne’s schedule and her own interesting situation with Noah. He’d probably have some wedding-related thing going on tonight, so she might be able to slip over here.

“Do you get a break tonight?” she asked.

“Sure.” Suzanne raised her voice as the music’s volume increased. “About ten-thirty!”

Keely had to shout, too. “Are you planning to study during your break?”

“Nah! I’ll probably kick back! I only get about fifteen minutes!”

Blissfully, the music changed tempo and became softer. “If you’re willing, I could do the interview then.” Keely couldn’t get over how young Suzanne looked. Yet she was twenty-two, three years older than Keely had been when she’d posed for the centerfold.

“Tonight would be cool, but are you sure that’s enough time?”

“Maybe not, but we’ll get a start, anyway.”

Suzanne glanced over at the stage. “Joy, she’d like to be interviewed, too. She’s not going to college, like me, but she’s going to beauty school. Does that count?”

“Sure does. Anybody who’s dancing to earn tuition fits into the article.”

“Cool. That’s her on stage now.” Suzanne watched for a moment and unconsciously began to wiggle in time with the music. “She has some dynamite moves.”

“Yes, she does.”

“That guy over there in the black T-shirt is her boyfriend. I am, like, so jealous. He is totally hot.”

“He is?” Keely could only locate one person in a black T-shirt, and he didn’t look like anything special. For one thing, she was getting sick of shaved heads and multiple piercings. And baggy pants did nothing for her these days, either. Plus, he looked more like a kid than a man.

“Yeah, he’s awesome.” Suzanne gazed at him in rapture. “Totally.”

Keely glanced from Suzanne to the kid and reminded herself that this was her magazine’s target audience. She needed to do a better job of relating. “He is pretty cute,” she said. Cute was as far as she would go. And cute didn’t do it for her anymore, unfortunately.

But someone who did do it for her stood right outside, waiting. “Well, Suzanne, I’ll see you tonight, then,” she said.

“Maybe Joy can come by so you can talk to her, too.”

“That would be great. Thanks.” Keely shook hands with Suzanne and hurried outside.

Noah was lounging against the side of the building, but he looked wary, not relaxed. He straightened and walked toward her. “I was beginning to wonder if something happened.”

“Sorry. It took a while to find the person I needed.” She gazed at him with new appreciation. Now here was an example of hot. His clothes might not be trendy, but they were classic turn-ons, at least for her. She’d grown up admiring the way a pearl-buttoned western shirt defined a man’s broad shoulders and how smooth-fitting jeans defined even more interesting parts of his anatomy.

Noah looked mighty fine in that department. For years she’d dreamed of exploring the wonders so lovingly cradled by his Wranglers. From all indications he had a body built for serious sinning. Consequently he’d been a worthy challenge ever since she’d hit puberty.

But as luck would have it, when she’d gone for the gold that night in the barn, he’d turned her down. He hadn’t been particularly gentle about it, either. For three years she’d tried to get even with him for that rejection, taking every opportunity to taunt him with what he’d missed. He hadn’t cracked.

But she’d learned a few things since then, and they’d be sharing a hotel suite. It just might be Samson and Delilah time.

“You know, I’ve been thinking…” he said, his voice sounding tight.

Uh-oh. She lifted her gaze to his face and tried to look innocent. “About what?” He must have caught her ogling. She’d have to be more careful not to overplay her hand. Some men loved being checked out. Apparently it made this particular man nervous. She slipped on her sunglasses to give herself more leeway.

“Why don’t I see if I can get you a room on the same floor?” he said. “You’d probably be more comfortable with that.”

Oh, he’d definitely caught her ogling. She had to take quick action. “No way, baby doll! I feel like enough of a charity case as it is! Tell you what, let’s forget the whole thing.”

“No, no. We’re not going to forget the whole thing.” He sighed. “Come on. The hotel’s this way.”

So he had a place on the Strip. She would have liked that, too, but the magazine had booked her at one of the less expensive places downtown. Maybe when he was otherwise occupied, she’d head over there and pick up a few things.

She fell into step beside him. “You know what your problem is? You think too much.”

“Could be. But that’s better than not thinking enough.”

“Ah. That would be me you’re referring to, wouldn’t it?”

His mouth twitched with amusement. “I didn’t mean just you.”

“Oh, you probably did, but that’s okay. I won’t take offense. It you’re talking levels of caution, on a scale of one to ten I’d be a minus fifteen.”

He laughed.

“You, on the other hand, would be a plus thirty.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“No, I’m not!” She felt great walking down the street with Noah. Because she stood five-eight in her bare feet and had generous breasts, not many men could make her feel small and delicate. Noah had the height and breadth of shoulder to carry it off. Maybe it wasn’t politically correct to enjoy that, but she did. She always had. Always. Uh-oh. What if she wasn’t over him?

“If I’m so damn cautious,” he said, “then why did I take up bull riding?”

“I thought about that. And it does indicate a streak of daring hiding in there somewhere.” She had to be over him, she decided. After all, it had been years.

“See?” He looked pleased with himself. “I can be daring if I want.”

“Yes, but you only have to maintain that daring for eight seconds or less. That’s not a long time.” She kept up the banter, but inside she was scanning for evidence, trying to decide if she was still hooked on Noah.

“Oh, yes, it is a long time. When you’re in the heat of the action, eight seconds is an eternity. A lifetime.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Well, I sure hope that’s not your attitude when you make love. If so, your lady friends must be very frustrated.” There. If she could poke fun at him, then she was over him. Definitely.

He blushed. “We weren’t talking about that.”

“I was.” That blush of his was so cute. The people she hung out with in L.A. were all pretty jaded when it came to sexual innuendos. Finding a man who could blush when he talked about sex was refreshing. And arousing.

He tugged his hat down lower over his eyes. “Well, I wasn’t thinking about that particular subject, and you know it.”

But he was now, and that was her goal. If only she knew for certain she could pull off this caper without getting hurt herself. “The fact is, I have no idea what kind of lover you are, Noah. You’re a conservative guy, so when you talk about eight seconds being an eternity, I can’t help wondering if you think that’s plenty of time for—”

“Of course it’s not!” He was really red now.

She’d forgotten how adorable he could be when he was flustered. “Well, good. Glad to hear it. Because most women need a whole lot more than eight seconds to become thoroughly—”

“I’m aware of that! Now, could we please change the subject?”

“Sure. Be glad to.” She used to love teasing him like this. She loved it still. Probably too much, and she’d be wise to walk away from this whole setup. But then she’d never know if she could succeed in breaching his defenses. She had to know, no matter what it might cost her. And she was tough. She’d picked up the pieces before and could do it again. Damn the torpedoes. Full speed ahead.

“Thanks.” He sighed in apparent relief.

Little did he know there was no relief in sight. “Oh, there’s a drugstore,” she said. “Would you mind if we stopped in there before we get to the hotel? I need a few things, and I’m sure they’re more expensive in the hotel shops.”

“That’s fine.” He sounded grateful to be doing something as harmless as shopping. “I guess you would need a toothbrush and…other stuff.”

“A big bottle of lotion, for one thing. I’d forgotten how desert heat affects my skin. Back on the ranch I had to practically take a bath in lotion, remember?”

“Can’t say as I do.”

Liar. “Oh, sure you do. You even commented about it one evening when I was on the front porch of Dad’s house, slathering it all over my legs and arms. You said if I kept that up I’d slide right out of bed in the middle of the night.”

“Mmm.”

“My favorite is raspberry-scented, but they might not have that.” She peeked at him as they walked through the door into the air-conditioned store to see if any of what she’d said was registering. He looked more than a little agitated.

Two years ago she’d done an article on scent as an arousal factor. All the guys she’d interviewed rated scent very high, and most of them fondly remembered how former lovers had smelled like cinnamon, or lily of the valley, or in one instance, chocolate. She was counting on Noah having the same response, and she’d used raspberry-scented lotion ever since she’d turned fifteen. If she couldn’t find any in the drugstore, she’d smuggle over the bottle she had in her hotel room.

But raspberry lotion wasn’t her primary target in the drugstore. She could hardly wait for the moment when Noah discovered what she planned to stock up on.

NOAH HAD BEEN in tight spots in his life and he’d always managed to come out okay. He clung to that hope as he followed Keely around the store and tried not to think of the scent of raspberries.

That scent had drawn him to her dad’s porch on the night she’d mentioned. Dressed in cutoffs and a halter top, she’d stationed herself on the creaky old porch swing with a bottle of that damn lotion. To get near her, he’d made up some excuse about checking the area for snakes.

Keely wasn’t the type to run off screaming at the mention of a snake, so while he’d swung a flashlight beam around and pretended to scout for rattlers, she’d nearly driven him crazy smoothing that creamy, fragrant stuff over her bare legs. They hadn’t talked much, but he remembered crickets chirping and the rhythmic squeak of that swing, which could have passed for the sound of bedsprings. To this day he couldn’t smell or taste raspberries without hearing that steady creak and seeing her hand slowly massaging the tender skin of her inner thigh.

That might have been the first time she’d discovered the stuff, but after that she’d used it constantly, trailing the scent of raspberries wherever she went. He’d come to dread that aroma, because it never failed to give him an erection, no matter how inappropriate the moment. More than once she’d glanced at his crotch and smiled, as if thrilled with her new power.

Then, a few weeks after she’d turned sixteen, she’d waylaid him in the barn. And she’d smelled exactly like a bowl of fresh raspberries. She’d tasted like that, too—juicy and moist, bursting with ripe sweetness.

He often wondered if she’d been a virgin then. If so, he’d bet she hadn’t stayed one long after he’d turned her down. He’d probably given up the chance to be her first lover that night. Saying no hadn’t been easy, considering she didn’t look or act like any sixteen-year-old he’d known before or since.

But somehow in the midst of that hot, wet kiss, he’d remembered she was sixteen, and all the lust in the world wouldn’t change that. He’d left the barn in a hurry, followed by the angry insults she’d hurled after him. At the time he’d thought she was furious. Now he wondered if she’d been more hurt than angry. He hadn’t been particularly sensitive about ending the embrace.

Sensitivity hadn’t been on his mind. Self-preservation had been all he could think about. God, how he’d wanted her. But giving in would have meant angering and disappointing two men he cared about—his father and hers.

Shortly after that he’d gone out on the rodeo circuit, figuring escape was the only answer. During his brief trips home over the next three years he’d noticed that Keely had gone overboard to become the sex symbol of Saguaro Junction. But innocent or wild, she turned him on like no one else. How ironic that he hadn’t wanted to be her first lover, but later on he hadn’t wanted to be the next one in line, either. With great difficulty he’d kept himself in check.

He was much older now and should have better control. But as he watched her scan the shelves looking for her raspberry lotion, he wondered if he’d changed at all where Keely was concerned.

All of a sudden she pounced on a bottle. “Look! Here it is!”

“Looks like it.” He groaned to himself. Wouldn’t you know.

“Okay, now a toothbrush.” She moved quickly to that aisle and grabbed a red one. “What kind of toothpaste do you use?”

He told her.

“That’ll be fine. We can share, if that’s all right with you.”

“Uh, sure.” He was aware of another customer, a matronly woman, giving them both the once-over.

“Great. The hotel shampoo will do for a couple of days, but I’ll have to buy deodorant. I don’t want some bracing, manly smell on my body.”

His mind spun wildly as he followed her to the antiperspirants. What in God’s name had he been thinking, proposing this scheme? How was he supposed to keep a level head while they shared the same shower, the same sink, and squeezed from the same toothpaste tube?

Dark red hair bouncing around her shoulders, she stalked through the rest of the store as if looking for something.

And like an idiot, he had to ask. “Is there something else you need?”

“Condoms.”

He choked. “Why?”

“I’m surprised you would say that. Really, Noah, I’m beginning to wonder what kind of sex life you have. Ah, there they are, the little devils. Here, hold my stuff for a minute so I can look these puppies over.” She shoved her lotion, deodorant and toothbrush into his hands.

Panic swelled within him. “Look, you don’t need those things. I’m telling you, we are not—”

“Oh, these aren’t for you.”

“They’re not?” The conversation had gone from bad to worse.

She studied the packages hanging on the display rack. “Not unless you change your mind.”

“I won’t, so let’s just go, okay?” He glared at a teenage kid who was lingering nearby, obviously enjoying the show. The kid grinned and left. Noah lowered his voice. “Come on, Keely. Forget this stuff.”

She ignored him. “These prices are really reasonable. Maybe I should stock up. You’d think men would look for inexpensive stores like this, but no. They like to be spontaneous, which usually means paying top dollar because they’re in a rush. Or worse yet, suggesting we skip this step. Ha. As if.”

He tried again. “All things considered, I don’t think you really need to worry about—”

“I make it a habit to have some on hand in a couple of sizes, for emergencies. And we’re here, after all. I really can’t imagine a better bargain coming along anytime soon.” She took a package from its hook and began reading. “‘Ultra-comfort. Unique shape for more freedom.’ I wonder what that means?”

“Keely.”

“Noah,” she mimicked. “Hmm. Maybe these are better.” She unhooked another package. “It’s so hard to know which ones are the best, with all these great descriptions—‘shared sensation, enhanced pleasure, ultimate feeling.’ Oh, look. Here’s one with a larger tip, and then there’s the ribbed kind. Which do you think is the best?” She turned to look at him, a package of condoms in each hand, and devilment shining from those green eyes.

He ground some more enamel off his back molars. “Keely Branscom, you are doing this on purpose.”

“Of course I am! I always budget money for a package of condoms.”

“You’re trying to get me going, is what you’re doing.”

“From the way you’re breathing, I’d say I’ve succeeded.” She grinned. “I really am buying the condoms, Noah. At least two packages of extra-large. And I’m giving you a chance to tell me which kind you like.”

His jaw was clenched so tight his teeth seemed welded together. “We are not going to need them.”

“Maybe not. But that’s the thing about condoms. The packages are small and they store well. And there could be a time when you will thank me for planning ahead. Now give me my stuff. It’s time to check out.” She took her items from him and sashayed down the aisle with her lotion, her deodorant, her toothbrush and two kinds of extra-large condoms.

She obviously expected him to be wearing them before the weekend was over. It was a classic case of damned if he did and damned if he didn’t.