The Naughty Nine: Where Danger and Passion Collide Read online

  “No, not at all. If you’re...that kind of woman.”

  She scooted a little closer to her own door, away from him. “Which works out well, because I am that kind of woman.”

  He slid after her. “Are you?”

  Gently, he caressed the back of her neck. His thumb and forefinger were callused, she noted absently, the pads roughened from hard, physical work.

  Fighting a losing battle not to enjoy the feel of his touch, she tried to focus. “I’m a nursery school teacher,” she said a little breathlessly. “I raise roses on the weekends and read romance novels in the evenings. And until tonight I hadn’t had a date in three years. I’d say that’s about as safe as it gets.”

  “Makes me wonder what you’re hiding from.”

  It was a real effort not to let him see just how near the mark he’d hit. “Why would I be hiding?”

  His brow went up. “So, you’re not?”

  “No.”

  “Prove it. Come here.”

  He leaned in at the same time he pulled her closer, bringing her face to within inches of his. “Let me see the tip of your tongue.”

  Losing her nerve completely, she shook her head, keeping her lips firmly closed.

  “Who are you afraid of, Mary Alice? Me...or yourself?”

  She swallowed heavily. “Don’t be ridiculous. Neither.”

  “Show me.”

  There had to be something basically illogical about proving she didn’t want to get involved by letting him kiss her—if in fact that was what he was going to do. But she couldn’t have come up with a counter-argument if her life and future depended on it.

  And she had a sinking feeling they just might.

  “Fine,” she said, desperate to prove they were both wrong.

  His hooded gaze traced her mouth for a moment before locking onto her eyes. Her cheeks burning, she hesitantly poked her tongue out between her teeth.

  His grip on her neck tightened. She watched with a madly tripping heart as his face came closer and his own tongue emerged, stopping a hair’s breadth from hers. She wanted to close her eyes, but his hypnotic gaze held her paralyzed.

  He lowered a fraction and she tasted him. Warm and spicy, with a hint of lime. Then he proceeded to torture her. Teasing her senses with the very tip of his tongue, not allowing more contact than the size of the rounded end of a well-used crayon.

  Oh. My. God. She thought she’d pass out from the sheer eroticism of the act.

  Very gradually he increased the area of contact, skimming his tongue back and forth along the edge of hers, then over the top and around in a circle. Every molecule in her body throbbed. Feelings and sensations she’d never known she was capable of surged through her, carried on the incredible power of the sensual current he’d created between them. She wanted more. But his firm grip on her neck prevented her from moving closer.

  Finally, in frustration, she stretched her tongue as far as it went, trying to capture his quicksilver touch.

  His thumb skimmed around and found her chin, urging it down. Suddenly, they were mouth to mouth, deep inside each other, his tongue thrusting, claiming her, marking her with his profoundly male taste. Coaxing and teasing. Seducing her with heavy hints of sensual pleasures she’d only dreamed of. Pleasures she had dreamed of. Like...last night.

  Of their own volition, her fingers sought his shoulders, his hair. She wanted to touch him, to pull his body to her. Wanted to abandon herself to his mad, sensual dance, and allow him to discover the secret yearnings she’d kept hidden so deep inside for so long. So very long.

  Abruptly, she stilled.

  Oh, Lord, what was she thinking?

  She jerked back, and he let her escape just far enough to elude him.

  “You have fantasies about sweaty men on road crews,” he whispered into her ear. “You eat your dessert before your dinner, and you let a man you barely know kiss you to within an inch of your life. But you want me to believe you like things safe? I don’t think so, Mary Alice.”

  “I do!” Frantically, she twisted and pulled at the truck’s door handle.

  “Run away if you like, Angel. But you can’t escape what just happened. Let me show you how good it is to dance out here in the eye of the storm.”

  “No.”

  She jumped out of the truck and ran to the door of her cottage. As she struggled with shaking hands to fit the key into the lock, Bridge came up and took it from her.

  “Here.” He opened the door and reached around the jamb for the light switch. After giving the room a quick visual check, he turned to her. He smiled down tenderly, as if he knew the chaos he’d created within her, then he reached up to touch the wild strands that had fallen from her bun. “Just think about it, that’s all I ask.”

  She doubted if she’d be able to think about anything else for a month. But it wouldn’t make any difference. She didn’t want to get involved with him. With anyone.

  He stuck his hands in his pockets and jogged down the steps.

  She leaned against the doorjamb and let out the breath that was choking her. She wasn’t hiding. She just liked her safe, secure life exactly as it was. Honestly, she did. She had her Master List nearly complete, and when it was, her life would be perfect. Her days would be filled with her house, her job, her roses, her friends, and a brand new pet. With no man to bring pain into it.

  With. No. Man.

  “Bridge!” When he turned, she had no idea what she wanted to say. “I—”

  He flashed her a roguish wink. “See you tomorrow, Angel.”

  Stop in the Name of Love: Chapter Thirteen

  “That’s it, Mary Alice Catherine,” declared Nancy the next morning. They had met early at school to cut out construction paper shapes for the day’s art projects. “I can’t believe it. You’re drawling.” Nancy speared her with a look worthy of Sister Benedict back at Immaculate Conception.

  Mary Alice nearly groaned out loud at the mental image name of her elementary alma mater conjured up. Why did everything remind her of sex this morning? “I am not drawling.”

  “Where were you last night?” Nancy demanded. “I called three times.”

  “What happened to the dirty movie?” Mary Alice asked, concentrating on not snipping off her finger along with bits of paper.

  “It was great. We only made it half way through. And don’t change the subject.”

  She avoided her friend’s laser-like gaze. “I was out.”

  Nancy tipped her head, eyes narrowing. “Spill.”

  Mary Alice took a deep breath and let it out. “If you must know, I went to the Blue Palomino with one of the guys from the road crew.”

  Nancy froze, her eyes going wide as beach balls. “You’re dating a musician?”

  Mary Alice let out a nervous laugh. “Not that kind of road crew. One of the construction workers fixing the road in front of my house.”

  Nancy just stared.

  “My God. I’ve rendered her speechless.”

  “I— You— That’s— Wow.”

  “Why thank you, Nancy. As a matter of fact, I did have a wonderful time. And, yes, he’s intelligent, incredibly good looking, and a great dancer, too. Did I mention his kisses could scorch paint off the walls?”

  “Mary Alice!” A slow grin crept over her friend’s stunned face. “Scorch paint? Really?”

  Mary Alice stifled the urge to touch the tip of her tongue. “Down to the undercoat.”

  Nancy let out a low, sultry laugh. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you weren’t drawling but drooling.”

  “Ha ha.”

  “When do I get to meet him?”

  Mary Alice glanced at the clock and calmly started gathering up the mess. “It was just one date. I’m not seeing him again.”

  Incredulous, Nancy folded her arms across her chest. “Why not? Worried about your paint job?”

  Mary Alice shot her friend a withering look. “He’s a confirmed bachelor. He doesn’t want a real relationship—he’s just looking for someone t
o keep his bed warm and lively.”

  “And this is a bad thing because...?”

  “Oh, Nan. You know me better than that.”

  “Yeah. I know what you want everyone to believe—all that prim and proper stuff. And I know how you’ve convinced yourself that buying a house, having the right job, getting into the proper service clubs, and volunteering with the correct organizations will make your life fulfilling.”

  “Which they will,” she said firmly.

  Nancy propped her chin on a hand. “Bullshit. I’ve seen the longing in your eyes when I talk about Ben and me. What you really need is someone to love. And someone to love you back.”

  Mary Alice looked away, wishing she could summon a lie and deny it. “I’m getting a dog as soon as I can research appropriate breeds.”

  “Dog schmog. Listen to yourself, Mac! It’s been three years since Jack died. You need to move on with your life. But you’re running as fast as you can in the other direction because you’re afraid you might like what you find in the arms of a man you’re actually attracted to.”

  “There’s a big difference between love and attraction,” Mary Alice pointed out.

  “What’s wrong with both? Honey, you can’t bottle yourself up forever. Eventually, you have to let yourself feel again, or you’ll go crazy. You have so much love inside you it’s just bursting to come out. Does this guy want to see you again?”

  Crossing her arms tightly over her chest, Mary Alice reluctantly nodded.

  “So, go! Give yourself a chance to live! You might even change his mind about the relationship part.” Nancy peered at her calculatingly. “And if you have a little fun along the way, what’s the harm? You’re over twenty-one.”

  “That’s part of the problem,” she said, blocking out the part of her that was actually listening to her friend’s advice. “I’m old enough to know the consequences—”

  Suddenly, the door to the playroom opened, and she looked up, infinitely relieved at the timely interruption. She smiled at the tiny newcomer. “Ivy! Hi, sweetie.”

  Ivy was one of the kids in her Toddlers Class. The towheaded girl shyly buried her cheek in her foster mother’s skirt as she was led through the door.

  “Thanks so much for letting me bring her in a few minutes early today, Mary Alice. You have no idea what a help it is.”

  She smiled. “No problem, Heather. Want to help carry the construction paper into the art area, Ivy?”

  Nodding, the little girl gave her mother a big hug and kiss good-bye, and came to stand next to Mary Alice. As Heather turned to go, she blew a kiss to the three-year-old and sent a silent, grateful smile to Mary Alice. They had worked hard all year to get Ivy to the point where she trusted her teachers enough to leave the protective shield of her foster mother’s arms willingly. She still didn’t talk, not a word, but she loved playing with the other children. As long as Mary Alice was in sight, she did fine.

  It was adults Ivy had trouble with, and all of the nursery school staff was involved in rebuilding her trust.

  “Can I come with you?” Nancy asked gently.

  With serious eyes, Ivy looked up at Mary Alice, who smiled and nodded encouragingly. The little girl glanced hesitantly at Nancy, then tugged at Mary Alice’s hand, dismissing the other teacher. She and Nancy exchanged a look of understanding.

  “That’s okay. I should be getting up to my classroom, anyway,” Nancy said.

  “See you after school?” Mary Alice asked.

  Her friend shook her head. “Gotta go pick up Ben at the hospital.” She grinned. “Assuming he lived through the tests.”

  Mary Alice chuckled. She admired her friend for being so calm in the face of her husband’s mysterious symptoms. She would have been a wreck, even if it was just tests. “I’ll give you a call later to see how it went.”

  “You do that. We can finish our conversation.”

  Mary Alice made a face. “Come on Ivy, let’s get this art project set up, shall we?”

  But for that whole day at school, Mary Alice couldn’t shake her friend’s advice.

  Give yourself a chance to live.

  Was she fooling herself to think she could be content with the life she was so carefully molding? She did have a lot of love to give. Up until now, she’d believed showering it on her tiny students and buying a dog would be enough to keep her happy. But she had to admit, Nancy had touched a nerve. Maybe she was right about moving on.

  Mary Alice longed for children of her own. And to make that happen she’d have to overcome her fear of getting close to a man emotionally. Because purely physical closeness would feel wrong without the emotional part, too.

  She lightly touched her lips. Well. At least, she’d thought it would...

  But apparently there was something to be said for purely physical pleasures.

  Even so, Russell Bridger was the absolute worst possible man to test her sexual wings with. He was footloose and fancy-free. He wasn’t interested in a relationship. He wasn’t the wife and kids type. And as tempting as it was to just go for the temporary fun, she knew herself well enough to know she wouldn’t settle for the kind of no-strings relationship he was offering.

  The possibility of a real family would be the only reason she’d risk putting her heart on the line again.

  Letting out a sigh, she chided herself for even going there. After all, agreeing to a date or two was just the smallest first step toward the possibility of a relationship. Who said it would go any further? Or that she’d want it to? They weren’t talking picket fences, here. Maybe after giving dating a try, she’d realize she really couldn’t do it. Better the man didn’t have any expectations. Better a man who wouldn’t be hurt when she left him. Better a man like Bridge.

  Mindless sex wasn’t intrinsically a bad thing. Lots of people did it. Men and women. But Mary Alice had been the living definition of prim and proper for so long, she didn’t know if she could make such a drastic a change in her lifestyle. Especially on her first true venture into the dating world. Jack didn’t count. She’d known him practically since diapers.

  On the other hand, she would never know if she even wanted to try mindless sex with Bridge unless she saw him again.

  God, this was so confusing.

  And heaven help her, she was actually beginning to take Nancy’s suggestion seriously.

  Later that afternoon, as Mary Alice groomed the rose garden in front of her cottage in preparation for the Historic Rose Society membership committee’s visit the next day, she continued the debate with herself. She could see Bridge now, working out on the street in front of Charlie’s house, all flexing muscle and bronzed skin under his bright orange construction vest. The sexy planes and angled cheekbones behind his mirrored sunglasses were enough to take any woman’s breath away.

  If she had even a lick of sense, she wouldn’t let herself get within a hundred yards of a man who so blatantly exuded masculine temptation. She needed to peel her eyes off that sexy body before she gave her rose bush a Mohawk by accident.

  If only she could talk her eyes into moving.

  She and Bridge hadn’t spoken since he dropped her off last night. He’d been busy directing a long line of traffic when she’d walked by that morning to get to her car, and when she parked it after school he’d been talking with his foreman.

  She realized with a start that she’d missed his usual sexy flirting. The way he looked at her—like she was a beautiful, desirable woman.

  He glanced up and waved when he saw her studying him from under the brim of her gardening hat. Knowing she was playing with fire, but unable to help herself, she sat back on her heels and smiled, raising a gloved hand in greeting.

  Girl, you are in big trouble.

  A short time later the crew packed it in for the day, and she spotted Bridge heading her way. On her knees, she brushed at the dirt covering her jeans and T-shirt, only succeeding in making the mess worse.

  “Hi. Doing some gardening?”

  She smiled. �
��Have to have the yard looking its best for my interview tomorrow.” She’d told him last night about her quest to join the Historic Rose Society and have a couple of Mrs. Trent’s old roses listed in their registry.

  “Well, it looks great to me.” He tossed his hard hat onto the grass and lowered himself down beside it. “They’re bound to be impressed.”

  “Thanks.” She looked around. It was pretty, she had to admit. The lush, English style garden was one of the things that had sold her on the cottage the minute she’d laid eyes on it. The plants had been wild and rampant, neglected due to Mrs. Trent’s failing health, but in the two years since Mary Alice bought the place, she’d gotten the gardens into picture-perfect condition.

  The ideal setting for a spinster teacher-lady hiding out from life, Nancy had said.

  Mary Alice frowned. “The lawn really should be mowed, but it’s getting dark and I won’t have time tomorrow after school.”

  Bridge lay back, propping himself up on an elbow, looking absurdly handsome. “I’ll knock off early tomorrow and mow it for you, if you like. You have a mower?”

  “Yeah,” she said hesitantly. “That’s very nice, but you really shouldn’t—”

  “I’d like to do it. I live in an apartment, and I miss putzin’ around in a yard.” He broke off a long grass stalk and chewed on it. “Besides, I’d want something in exchange.”

  She pulled off her gardening gloves and regarded him suspiciously. “Forget it, Bridger. It can stay long.”

  He let out a low chuckle. “What are we talkin’ about here? The grass or my—”

  “Both!”

  “—face,” he finished with a twinkle in his eye. “Ow!” he exclaimed when she smacked him on the shoulder with her dirty gloves. He grabbed them, pulled, and rolled onto his back, bringing her down on his chest when she didn’t let go soon enough.

  “Oof!” Her breath whooshed out when she met that solid wall of muscle.

  Not that she wouldn’t have lost it anyway.

  She clutched his shoulders to keep from squishing into him. Unfortunately, that just gave her a better view.

  A layer of road dust covered his face around the clean mask left by his sunglasses. It clung to an arousingly male five-o’clock shadow. His vest had slipped aside, revealing tantalizingly defined pecs and a set of flat, brown nipples. A decorative but modest sprinkle of black hair curled down his chest, the funnel disappearing under her where she lay across him. Through the soft cotton of her T-shirt and flimsy sports bra, the tips of her breasts grazed his body, instantly pebbling at the contact.