“What the-” she heard Tanner say, with some colorful words added on the end of that.
Raising her brow, she followed the extension cord and found him standing in the middle of the room, back to her, arms extended over his head, holding a nail gun.
“That’s not funny, Juan,” he said without looking. “Just because you have a hot date and have to leave early, some of us still have work left to do. Plug it back in.”
“It’s not Juan,” Cami told him, fascinated by the play of muscles stretching his T-shirt taut across his back. His arms were pretty nice, too, all damp and tense and straining.
She thought he might have sworn again, softly this time, before slowly lowering the nail gun.
At the sight of her, his eyes flared with heat, stroking her destroyed ego just a bit.
“Hi,” she said, running her hands down her sundress. She’d worn a sundress on both of her dates, but those had been relatively conservative.
Sleeveless, but loose and flowing and flowery.
This sundress was siren red, short as sin and just as snug. So snug, in fact, she hoped there wasn’t a fire or some other natural disaster be cause she wouldn’t be able to run for help without hitching the skirt to her waist, which wouldn’t be exactly ladylike. Not that she was going for lady like at the moment.
“You weren’t wearing that a few moments ago when you came prancing down the hallway with a bag of potato chips.”
Damn, her sister had stolen her chips. Again!
Somehow she knew Tanner should be told about Dimi, and now would be a good time, but keeping that part of her life to herself was deeply ingrained.
“Don’t tell me,” he said in a low, rough, nearly strangled voice. “You’re going on another date in that.”
“No, I wanted to talk to you.”
“In that?”
“What’s wrong with it?” She smoothed the bodice, which lifted her breasts up and out so far she didn’t dare breathe or she’d pop out.
Definitely not ladylike.
Still, her body was demanding air-it was funny that way-and she couldn’t hold her breath another moment, so she drew in the shortest one she could manage.
Tanner’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “Don’t do that,” he said, lifting a hand as if to stop her.
“I have to,” she said, dizzy with effort. “Or I’m going to pass out.” And because suddenly she really felt her world fading, she put her hands to her knees and bent over.
Tanner swore again, far more vividly than before.
Definitely he was still mad at her.
She heard his nail gun hit the floor. Then, from her bent-over position, his feet appeared.
“Sit down,” he commanded.
She thought about that. “Can’t.”
“Why?”
“My dress is too tight.”
He was silent for a moment, then suddenly her world spun as he swung her up. One of his arms supported her back, the other was beneath her knees, leaving her no choice but to throw her arms around his neck. And because she’d been wondering what his strong shoulders would feel like beneath her head, she set it there. Then she sighed, because it felt heavenly. He felt heavenly.
“Cami.”
Just that, just her name, in a voice so serrated and sexy she nearly sighed again. She felt his arm supporting her back, his fingers angled just beneath her breast. It tingled.
His other arm held her legs, which meant the fingers of that hand were on the bare skin of the back of her upper thigh.
Nice. She wished he wasn’t still so mad at her, wished that she could explain herself better, that she was as good at talking about her feelings as he was, because maybe then she could make him understand that this attraction could be a beautiful thing. Temporary-since she couldn’t think permanent-but beautiful.
Thinking that, and melting just a little, she sighed.
Then remembered she wasn’t supposed to breathe or she was going to pop right out of her dress. With an odd mix of dismay and anticipation, she glanced down. Yep, her nightmare had come true. Definitely that was half a breast straining free of the red material, including a nice peekaboo shot of one rosy, hard-tipped nipple.
“Cami,” Tanner said again, in a voice so low and tight her entire body shivered.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pulling one hand from around his neck, covering her bared breast with her fingers.
“You’re killing me,” he said huskily.
“Does that mean you’re not still mad at me?”
He let out a rough laugh that held no humor. “Look, you wanted to talk, and I’m trying to remember that, instead of doing what I want, which would be to press you against that wall there and taste what you’ve just offered me up.”
Visions of that very thing danced in her head and made her bones melt.
“Listen, Cami, client or not, crazy or sane, for better or worse, you’re making me so hot and bothered I can’t think straight. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“That you…want me?”
“I want you so bad I’m weak as a baby.”
The sound that escaped her was far more like a whimper of pleasure than of mortification, and his eyes practically smoldered. His chest rumbled with a groan and he closed his eyes to the sight she’d unwittingly planted on him. “Talk,” he said through his teeth.
“I…forgot what I wanted to say.”
“Why?” he asked the ceiling. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“I don’t even know what ‘this’ you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?”
Then she was falling, as he’d dumped her on the couch. Standing over her, hands on his hips, his chest rising and falling harshly. “I tried to talk to you before you went on either of those ridiculous dates,” he said. “You didn’t want to.”
“Yes, I did.”
“No. You wanted surface stuff, like how’s the weather and can you redo my town house kind of talk. I’m trying to stick to that, because I understand you don’t want more, but in that dress, it’s nearly impossible.”
“I didn’t mean to flash you,” she whispered.
“What did you mean to do?”
“Make you notice me.”
“Done.”
“Make you hot.”
“Done.”
Nervous, she licked her lips, and he groaned again. “Maybe you don’t realize the truth here, so let me spell it out. I want more from you than you can give. You’re too busy giving to everyone else. You give them your all and leave nothing for yourself, and I can’t stand it. I want a woman who knows her mind and isn’t afraid to speak it. I want-”
“I know my mind and I was trying to give it to you,” she said in her defense. “It’s just that I couldn’t hold my breath and talk at the same time, so I chose breathing and you saw what happened.”
“Yeah, you nearly gave me heart failure!”
He wasn’t talking to her, as she’d wanted. He wasn’t even lusting at her at the moment, which would have been nice, too. But he was yelling at her, which was better than being ignored, but not quite as good as, say, getting a filling. “What did you mean, you want more from me?”
“I’m tired of sending you off on dates you don’t even want, then having to rescue you. I’m tired of you saying yes to everyone but yourself. I’m tired of you dressing up for men too stupid to appreciate you. I’m tired of-”
He broke off and clamped his jaw shut. Then he shoved his fingers through his already unruly hair and turned in a slow circle before facing her again, where she was still sprawled on the couch.
“Tired of what, Tanner?”
“Tired of fighting your wall.” He sank to the coffee table next to her. “You have one, you know. Made of stone. It’s probably from watching your father flit from relationship to relationship, or maybe it’s from fighting your mother’s strong will, I don’t know. But whenever I try to get close to you, you add another layer, fill up your moat, and hide behind it.”