I clenched my jaw. Would Joey have to participate in the rum heist? I hoped he wouldn’t, but something told me he would insist on it, the idiot. I moved in front of him and stood between his knees, running the wet cloth under his chin and behind his ears. His shirt was already loose at the collar, but I undid another button to wipe the back of his neck.
“Somehow I pictured this moment differently, you undressing me. But I do like your outfit.” He was staring at my chest, his wicked grin in place.
I looked down and noticed my belt had come loose and my robe was hanging open. “Enough.” I slapped the cloth onto the table and tightened my robe again. “Or I’ll beat you myself.”
He laughed, clutching his ribs. “Ouch. Don’t make me laugh.”
“Take a few punches in the gut, did you?”
“One or two.” He looked up at me quickly. “But I gave as good as I got.”
“I’m sure you did.” I backed up. “Now take off your shirt.”
“Removing my pants would be more fun, don’t you think?” He stood and slipped both braces from his shoulders at once.
“Will you stop? I want to check for bruises.”
“Sorry.” He tugged his shirt from his pants and began unbuttoning it. “It’s actually a relief to hear you razzing me. I was worried about you tonight.”
I ignored the tug in my chest at his words and the quickening in my stomach when he took off his shirt. Underneath he wore a white, athletic-style tank that hugged his chest and torso. His shoulders and biceps were thick and defined with hard curves, and I was tempted to touch them.
Stop it, you’re the nurse here. And this is pain-in-the-ass Joey, not Enzo.
But I was still worked up from tonight’s twin episodes of sexual frustration, and Joey was right here in my kitchen. And probably willing.
The thought unnerved me. “Take off your undershirt too,” I snapped.
“Yes, ma’am.” He grabbed it from the back and yanked it over his head. “Are you going to be this bossy when you’re a real nurse?” he asked as I circled him, checking for bruises or other abrasions.
“Only to problem patients like yourself.” But the problem was me—or at least my reaction to him. His chest was as muscular as his arms, and the lines on his abdomen made my insides flutter. I resisted the craving to run my hands over them and instead examined a red and purple patch of skin on his left shoulder blade. “Deep breaths.” He did as I asked, without wincing. “OK. You’ll hurt for a while, but nothing looks serious. Let me see your hands.”
He held them out, and oddly, it was the sight of his hands that finally proved too much—I had to touch them. I ran my fingers over each one, saddened at the cuts and swollen knuckles. Images of them working in the moonlight flickered in my mind. “Wash them.” I pointed toward the sink. He soaped and rinsed his hands while I stared at his naked back, watching the muscles flex. It would be so easy. I could go up behind him, press my breasts against his back, run my hands around to his stomach, lay my cheek on his warm skin. I swayed to the side before catching my balance and grimacing.
What is with me tonight?
Turning around as he dried them, he asked, “Now can you tell me what happened at the club?” He set the towel aside and picked up his undershirt from the table, and I was grateful when his chest disappeared under the white cotton. The last thing I needed was to mess around with Joey right in the middle of this. Even if his body was swoon-inducing.
“Like I said, I walked into Angel’s office with an envelope that was six hundred bucks short.” I sat as far as I could from him, on the opposite side of the table.
“What did he do?” He grabbed his blue shirt and shrugged into the sleeves, but left it unbuttoned when he sat down.
“He handed it to Enzo, who counted it and said it was all there.”
Joey’s wide mouth fell open. “You’re kidding me. Enzo covered for you?” He grimaced. “Now you owe him. You don’t ever want to owe these guys a favor,” he scolded, like it was my fault Enzo had lied about the money.
“Thanks for the tip, but I didn’t ask him for a favor. He just did it.”
“Nobody just does a favor like that in this business. He must want something.”
Damn right he does. I blushed under Joey’s menacing stare but said nothing.
“Who else was there? Did it look like Angel had a lot of muscle?”
“Guarding every room,” I said, glad to move off the topic of Enzo’s want. “The only other guy I recognized was his son Raymond. And Raymond’s friend Harry. Don’t know his last name.”
Joey scowled. “Coupla idiots, both of them. Nasty mean streaks, though.” He rubbed his chin, which was shadowed with whiskers. “You hear anything about the rum?”
“Yeah. Raymond said it’s tomorrow night.”