Smiling, he set her down, backed her under the shower water, and began to massage her scalp as the shampoo came out. As he touched her, his chest was against hers.
“You could open a chain of salons with this technique,” she said.
“I’m only interested in here and now and one client.” He looked her in the eyes.
“Good answer.” She picked up the bar of soap. “I think you have body parts that need washing. Mind if I do it?”
“Please,” he said, then closed his eyes as Chelsea moved her hands downward.
The smell of pancakes woke Chelsea. When her stomach gave a growl, Eli reached out for her. She kissed the back of his neck.
Last night, there’d been twice in the shower, interspersed with lots of soapy fondling and exploring of each other’s bodies. Then they’d moved into the bedroom. When they’d knocked a chair over and Chelsea said, “Shhh. Pilar is next door,” they went downstairs to his bedroom.
Hours later, when they collapsed on the bed, the sun was up, peeping under the shades. They flopped back on the bed, their hunger for each other sated for the moment, and fell asleep, their bodies intertwined.
“I’m going to get something to eat. Keep sleeping,” Chelsea said.
He didn’t reply and he didn’t move.
As soon as she was out of the bed, she realized that she had no clothes downstairs. Eli and she had both been nude when they came down the stairs, and she had a few bruises from the stair treads. She couldn’t help thinking that she was glad Pilar hadn’t left her room during that short, energetic trip on the stairs.
In the walk-in closet she put on a pair of Eli’s boxer shorts and one of his white dress shirts. It wasn’t much, but it was a great deal more than she wore on most photo shoots. She thought about trying to untangle her hair but didn’t.
She padded barefoot across the living room and as soon as she entered the kitchen, she saw Lanny Frazier. He was leaning against the counter, coffee mug in hand, and looking her up and down. He was a large, handsome man, his eyes half-closed, inviting.
Chelsea gave the look back at him. “I guess I should have brushed my hair.”
“Not on my account, Tequila Lady,” he said, his voice slow and seductive as he let her know he remembered her from the bar.
Pilar, a plate in each hand, stepped between them, her eyes on Lanny’s. “She’s all used up. Last night she and Eli sounded like a herd of cattle.”
“Yeah?” Lanny said.
Chelsea wasn’t fooled by his glances. She knew when a man was interested in her and this one wasn’t. Not really. She took a piece of bacon off one of the plates Pilar was holding. “Yes, I’m taken, but I’ll put you on my list.” She paused. “At about a hundred and twenty.”
There was a little guffaw of laughter from her left and she saw a big kid—no, a huge, enormous boy—sitting at the breakfast table, his head down, a sketchpad in his hands. He looked like a bigger, younger version of Lanny.
Chelsea went to sit by him at the table. “Drawing anything interesting?”
He turned the pad around to show a sketch of Chelsea, her long legs exposed, yet looking demurely innocent. Lanny was looking at her in a lecherous way.
She laughed. “Perfect. Have you met Eli?”
“At the gym,” the boy said.
“Oh? Did you bench-press Jeff?”
He looked at her, his eyes full of laughter.
Lanny sat down across from Chelsea. “This is my baby brother, Shamus. He leaves for college in just a few weeks. We’re going to miss his constant chattering. Can’t get the kid to shut up.”
“I think his drawing says everything about you.”
Pilar put the plates in front of the two males and gave Chelsea a look to stop flirting. She was wearing a pair of shorts and a little T-shirt, and looked quite as good as Chelsea did. “You want some pancakes?”
“Sure,” Chelsea said. “Just one. No, make that three. Eli wants me to get fat.”
“You could use a few pounds,” Lanny said. “So where is he hiding?”