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“You know store-bought never enters this house.”
“Oh, believe me, I know. That would be sacrilege. Rightfully so.”
He told her, “I’m gonna take a quick shower. Make yourself comfortable.”
While the water heated in the pot for steaming the clams, Rafe disappeared into his bedroom. He returned minutes later, wearing a pair of faded Levi’s that fit him sinfully well. Enough to make her drool. It was his bare chest and feet, and his damp, tousled hair that caused her nipples to tighten.
Perhaps coming here had been a mistake…
Rafe handed over a crisp, white dress shirt and said, “Slip into this if you want.”
She stared at the offering, thinking it was much too intimate.
“Rafe—”
“Don’t get antsy on me. I’m not trying to get you naked.” He grimaced. “Okay, that’s a blatant lie. Just…you know. Relax a little. As if you were in your hotel room.”
Those words helped her to breathe easier.
Jenna took the shirt from him and said, “Thank you. I am dying to get out of these shoes and this dress.”
She turned so he could work the zipper, then she left him, opting to change in the guest bathroom. She deduced leaving her bra and panties on was the most sensible way to go. Though, deep down, Jenna still wasn’t wholly convinced being in Rafe’s loft was the smartest thing for either of them, given the heat and attraction they both felt. As well as the obvious conflicting emotions.
She wanted him. No denying it. But if she allowed them to travel that path again, they’d only end up at that T in the road she’d thought of the night before.
Confusing Rafe more, or complicating his life, was not what Jenna wanted. Yet her fingers burned to touch his skin. Tangle in his hair. Wrap around his thick shaft.
A soft moan escaped her parted lips. She couldn’t help but think of Rafe crushing her against his hunky body and kissing her deeply, passionately. The way he’d done before Tad had interrupted them with his phone call.
“Hey.” Rafe’s rich tone eased over her like a sensual caress.
Her gaze lifted from the line of buttons she’d absently fastened. She smiled at him in the reflection above the double vanity. All six-foot-three-inch dreaminess filling the opened doorway behind her, his shoulder propped against the wood frame, his arms crossed over his wide, smooth, chiseled chest.
She choked down a sigh of longing.
“You okay?” he asked.
Jenna nodded. “Sure. Just thought I should change in here.”
“And deny me the visual?” He scoffed good-naturedly. “I may never forgive you.”
She stared at him a moment in the mirror. Her stomach knotting. She asked, “Have you, Rafe?”
Shoving away from the doorframe, he crossed to where she stood. She turned to him. His fingers grazed her cheek. “I think you already know the answer to that, sweetheart. I wouldn’t call you every few weeks if I hadn’t.”
She gazed into his eyes. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“I’m not the only one who got hurt, am I?” Rafe’s head dipped and he kissed her on the forehead. “There’s quite a bit of fault to be placed at my feet too. And speaking of… Dinner’s ready. We can sit on the sofa and I’ll rub those sore arches of yours.”
She followed him into the kitchen to retrieve her glass of wine. He dumped pasta into a bowl and added the steamed clams and white wine sauce, gently tossing the pasta. Jenna took her dinner into the living room. Rafe followed, turning on the CD player, already having his favorite jazz music cued.
“Duke Ellington,” she mused. “I haven’t heard him in a while.”
“That’s because you’re still hung up on Billy Idol.”
“I do like my bad boys,” she reminded him with a smile.
He settled next to her. “Never thought I fit the category.”
