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“How do you figure?”
“Possession. Nine-tenths of the law. Out.”
“I need a shower.”
She gestured toward the bathroom door. “I promise not to bother you.”
He ambled closer. “I’m seriously starting to worry about you.” As he drew up next to her, he caught the scent of his favorite shampoo. It smelled better on her. Her wet hair lay against her head, and the flicker in her eyes told him he was making her nervous. Excellent. He gave her a slow once-over. “I mean it, Blue. I’m seriously starting to believe you might be frigid.”
“Really?”
He circled her, taking in the soft, damp nape of her neck where her hair parted, the gentle curve of her narrow shoulders. “I don’t know…Have you thought about seeing a sex therapist? Hell, we could go together.”
She grinned. “I haven’t had a boy try to get into my panties by telling me I was frigid since I was fifteen. I feel like a kid again. No, wait. That’s you.”
“You’re right.” He touched her shoulder with the tip of his index finger and had the satisfaction of seeing her skin pebble. “Why go to a therapist when we can fix that dysfunction here and now?”
“The gap. You keep forgetting about that gap we have going. Remember? You, gorgeous and useless? Me, smart and hardworking?”
“It’s called chemistry.”
Her derisive snort told him he’d done it again. Instead of keeping his focus on the goal line, he couldn’t resist sparring with her. It was a tactical error he’d never have made if he’d had any actual practice seducing women. Hell. Up until now, just saying hello had been good enough. He frowned. “How about you stop being a wiseass and get ready for our date?”
“We have a date?”
He pointed to the sacks. “Pick out any old thing to wear.”
“You bought me clothes?”
“You don’t think I’d let you shop for yourself.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a chick.”
“You might want to ask the Packers defense about that.” It was way past time to remind her who was in charge. He dropped his hands to the waistband of his shorts. “Or maybe you’d like to peek in the shower and see for yourself.” He flipped open the tab.
Her eyes went right to the goal post. He played with the top of the zipper. She seemed to have a hard time raising her head, and when she finally did, he hit her with the same condescending smile he used on rookies who couldn’t back up their trash talk. Then he stepped into the bathroom.
Blue watched the plastic fall back into place after him. The man was a devil. Her fingers twitched. She wanted to throw off her towel, march in there, and get it on. Dean was her once-in-a-lifetime chance to play with the pros, and if her mother hadn’t chosen this particular time to empty out her bank accounts, Blue might have been able to overcome her aversion to meaningless sex and rationalize a one-time trip to the locker room.
She kicked aside the sacks, resisting the temptation to peek inside and see what he’d bought. Instead, she pulled on clean jeans and her freshly laundered black muscle shirt. She semidried her hair in the hallway bathroom, snagged it into a ponytail, thought for a moment, then dabbed on some mascara and lip gloss.
She made her way downstairs to wait for him on the front porch. If they’d been a real couple, she could have sat on the bed and watched him get dressed. And what a glorious sight that would have been. With a sigh of regret, she gazed toward the overgrown pasture. By this time next year, horses would be grazing there, and she wouldn’t be around to see them.
He was ready in record time, but as he came out on the porch, she spotted a filmy lavender top dangling from his fingers. He passed the garment from one hand to the other, not saying a word, letting it speak for itself. The late afternoon sun caught a sprinkle of tiny silver beads, like bubbles in a froth of lavender sea. The fabric swayed from his fingers like a hypnotist’s watch.
“The thing is,” he finally said, “you probably don’t have the right bra. I’ve seen girls in clubs with tops like this, and they wear a bra with lacy straps. Maybe a contrasting color. I’m thinkin’ pink would be nice.” He shook his head. “Aw, heck, I’ve embarrassed us both.” Not looking the slightest bit embarrassed, he dangled the lavender confection a few inches closer. “I tried to buy you something with spikes and leather, but, I swear, if there’s an S&M shop around here, I sure as hell couldn’t find it.”
She’d entered the Garden of Eden, except this time Adam was holding the treacherous apple. “Go away.”
“If you’re afraid to claim your womanhood, I understand.”
She was tired, hungry, and feeling more than a little sorry for herself or she wouldn’t have let him bait her. “Fine!” She grabbed the lavender temptation. “But you gave up a Y chromosome to do this!”
When she got upstairs, she whipped off her muscle shirt and pulled Satan’s garment over her head. A ruffle fell softly at the hem, where it brushe
d the waistband of her jeans. Delicate ribbon ties curled over her shoulders. Her bra straps showed; he’d been right about that. Of course, he’d been right. He was an expert on women’s undergarments. Fortunately, her own bra was pale blue, and although the straps weren’t lace, they weren’t white either, which even she knew would have been an unforgivable fashion faux pas to Mr. Vogue Magazine downstairs.
“There’s a skirt in one of those sacks,” he called up the stairs, “just in case you’re interested in getting rid of those jeans.”
