The Best Kind of Trouble
Page 9
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“Is it broken?”
Paddy snorted. “No. But my manners aren’t, either. First things first.” He took a long look up and down, and she was glad she’d worn the heels. “You look pretty. I want to say more, but I don’t know if I should.”
“Well, now you have me nervous.”
He kissed her then. Nothing really untoward, a quick peck smack-dab on the lips. But those traitorous lips tingled and his scent was in her by that point. He wore cologne, which seemed odd, but it was nice. Sexy and masculine without being overwhelming.
He hadn’t had a beard all those years before. She liked the slight scratch of it.
Paddy opened the door and indicated she get in. She managed to do so without showing her underpants or looking too ungraceful.
He got in just a second or two later and pulled away from the curb.
“You have great legs and cute toes.”
He said this as his attention was on the road, so he didn’t catch her blush.
“Um. Thanks.” God, did he have a foot fetish or something weird? She thought back on their time and flushed, a sweat breaking out. Okay, so that was unwise because he was really supergood at sexy stuff. But he hadn’t seemed unnaturally interested in her feet.
“Where are we headed?”
“My boat. I figured we could have dinner out on the deck. It’s such a nice night and it’ll be light until so late. I’ll take us away from the marina. I know a nice little stretch just east of here. Deserted, so we’ll be able to see the sunset and I’ll have you all to myself. But not in an it rubs the lotion on its skin or it gets the hose again way.”
She burst out laughing. “Did you just quote Silence of the Lambs at me? Serial killer dialogue meant to reassure me?”
He cursed under his breath, and she reached out to pat his arm to reassure him. “I know it was a joke. Really. I’m more concerned you have a foot fetish than with you being a serial killer.”
“Foot fetish?”
“The toes comment? I mean, look, if it floats someone’s boat, more power to them. But I can’t even get a pedicure because people touching my feet weirds me out.”
“Note to self, don’t try to paint Nat’s toenails.” He turned with a grin on his face. “We’re both being way more nervous than we need to be.”
“Yeah. Probably.”
“I like cute toes when they’re painted and looking great in nice high heels. I don’t want to lick them or anything. Yours would probably be worth it. But I can control my baser urges.”
He parked at the marina, which was less than five minutes from the library, and walked her down the row, heading to a rather impressive boat.
“So, what’s that? Fifty-footer? Nice.”
“Someone knows her way around boats. I like to go fishing with my brothers and our friends. In the summer, if we’re here and not out on tour, we can watch fireworks from the water. Have dinner out here. It’s a good thing to have. You’re okay with boats, right? No seasickness or anything?”
“I love being out on the water. My grandparents had a boat. Sometimes, as I was growing up, we’d go out on it. They lived on Lake Washington.”
“Oh, Seattle locals?”
“Medina.” Her grandparents had lived in a mansion with a sloping lawn to the lake where their yacht had been moored. Too bad they paid more attention to the lawn and their things than what their spoiled son got up to.
He held her forearm as she got on the boat.
“Oooh, swanky. What brought a rich girl from Medina to a shithole bar in Portland?”
“They’re the rich ones.” She blew it off, not wanting to get into it. She was rich, too, but it was their house and their lifestyle. The guilt would start if she thought about it too long. Guilt and anger and all the stuff she knew didn’t belong to her, but she felt it, anyway.
He let her avoid the topic. “Come on, then. Let me get ready. Have a seat up there. Once we’re away from the marina, I’ll crack open some champagne.”
She watched him, the sun behind his head highlighting him like a freaking angel. He was confident there at the wheel. Hands steady, sunglasses shielding his eyes and rendering him even more attractive.
* * *
THE TIME IT took to get away from the marina to the cove where they finally ended up had allowed her to get herself together and shove all that stuff about her family far away.
He handed her a glass. “Now, what should we toast to? New beginnings? Old times?”
“Dinner.”
He smirked and clinked his glass to hers. “That’s a good start. Come on over and sit while I work.”
She managed to climb down and finally just bent to undo the shoes. Yes, they had been cute and sexy but walking barefoot was easier on a boat than in heels. “Hope you don’t mind,” she said when she caught him looking at her.
“I don’t mind at all. They’re sexy heels, I can’t lie. But I like you making yourself comfortable on my boat even more. I’m hoping your skirt blows up enough for me to see if you’ve still got those bows on the backs of your thighs.”
He’d licked her tattoos a time or three, if she remembered correctly. And she knew she did because it would be impossible to forget a man like Paddy Hurley licking the skin at the top of your thighs and then giving your ass cheeks a sharp nip. She shivered and was proud of the way her voice didn’t betray how breathless he rendered her. “Those’d be some powerful gusts. The breeze isn’t that strong and the dress is long enough to defeat what we’ve got now.”
Paddy snorted. “No. But my manners aren’t, either. First things first.” He took a long look up and down, and she was glad she’d worn the heels. “You look pretty. I want to say more, but I don’t know if I should.”
“Well, now you have me nervous.”
He kissed her then. Nothing really untoward, a quick peck smack-dab on the lips. But those traitorous lips tingled and his scent was in her by that point. He wore cologne, which seemed odd, but it was nice. Sexy and masculine without being overwhelming.
He hadn’t had a beard all those years before. She liked the slight scratch of it.
Paddy opened the door and indicated she get in. She managed to do so without showing her underpants or looking too ungraceful.
He got in just a second or two later and pulled away from the curb.
“You have great legs and cute toes.”
He said this as his attention was on the road, so he didn’t catch her blush.
“Um. Thanks.” God, did he have a foot fetish or something weird? She thought back on their time and flushed, a sweat breaking out. Okay, so that was unwise because he was really supergood at sexy stuff. But he hadn’t seemed unnaturally interested in her feet.
“Where are we headed?”
“My boat. I figured we could have dinner out on the deck. It’s such a nice night and it’ll be light until so late. I’ll take us away from the marina. I know a nice little stretch just east of here. Deserted, so we’ll be able to see the sunset and I’ll have you all to myself. But not in an it rubs the lotion on its skin or it gets the hose again way.”
She burst out laughing. “Did you just quote Silence of the Lambs at me? Serial killer dialogue meant to reassure me?”
He cursed under his breath, and she reached out to pat his arm to reassure him. “I know it was a joke. Really. I’m more concerned you have a foot fetish than with you being a serial killer.”
“Foot fetish?”
“The toes comment? I mean, look, if it floats someone’s boat, more power to them. But I can’t even get a pedicure because people touching my feet weirds me out.”
“Note to self, don’t try to paint Nat’s toenails.” He turned with a grin on his face. “We’re both being way more nervous than we need to be.”
“Yeah. Probably.”
“I like cute toes when they’re painted and looking great in nice high heels. I don’t want to lick them or anything. Yours would probably be worth it. But I can control my baser urges.”
He parked at the marina, which was less than five minutes from the library, and walked her down the row, heading to a rather impressive boat.
“So, what’s that? Fifty-footer? Nice.”
“Someone knows her way around boats. I like to go fishing with my brothers and our friends. In the summer, if we’re here and not out on tour, we can watch fireworks from the water. Have dinner out here. It’s a good thing to have. You’re okay with boats, right? No seasickness or anything?”
“I love being out on the water. My grandparents had a boat. Sometimes, as I was growing up, we’d go out on it. They lived on Lake Washington.”
“Oh, Seattle locals?”
“Medina.” Her grandparents had lived in a mansion with a sloping lawn to the lake where their yacht had been moored. Too bad they paid more attention to the lawn and their things than what their spoiled son got up to.
He held her forearm as she got on the boat.
“Oooh, swanky. What brought a rich girl from Medina to a shithole bar in Portland?”
“They’re the rich ones.” She blew it off, not wanting to get into it. She was rich, too, but it was their house and their lifestyle. The guilt would start if she thought about it too long. Guilt and anger and all the stuff she knew didn’t belong to her, but she felt it, anyway.
He let her avoid the topic. “Come on, then. Let me get ready. Have a seat up there. Once we’re away from the marina, I’ll crack open some champagne.”
She watched him, the sun behind his head highlighting him like a freaking angel. He was confident there at the wheel. Hands steady, sunglasses shielding his eyes and rendering him even more attractive.
* * *
THE TIME IT took to get away from the marina to the cove where they finally ended up had allowed her to get herself together and shove all that stuff about her family far away.
He handed her a glass. “Now, what should we toast to? New beginnings? Old times?”
“Dinner.”
He smirked and clinked his glass to hers. “That’s a good start. Come on over and sit while I work.”
She managed to climb down and finally just bent to undo the shoes. Yes, they had been cute and sexy but walking barefoot was easier on a boat than in heels. “Hope you don’t mind,” she said when she caught him looking at her.
“I don’t mind at all. They’re sexy heels, I can’t lie. But I like you making yourself comfortable on my boat even more. I’m hoping your skirt blows up enough for me to see if you’ve still got those bows on the backs of your thighs.”
He’d licked her tattoos a time or three, if she remembered correctly. And she knew she did because it would be impossible to forget a man like Paddy Hurley licking the skin at the top of your thighs and then giving your ass cheeks a sharp nip. She shivered and was proud of the way her voice didn’t betray how breathless he rendered her. “Those’d be some powerful gusts. The breeze isn’t that strong and the dress is long enough to defeat what we’ve got now.”
