“The obvious. Trying to make Emma jealous by paying attention to me.”
“And you don’t want to help his plan?”
Rina rolled her eyes. Men could be dense when it came to matters of the heart. “Of course I do. B
ut I don’t want to hurt Emma. She’s not just independent by choice, but rather by necessity. She’s afraid her son will put her in a home. If she lets herself get close to a friend of his, she fears the same result.”
“She said that?”
Rina shook her head. “Insinuated it. And I don’t want to be the one to push her into something she’s not ready for. Stan admitted he just wants Emma’s companionship, but until she can trust him, she’s not going to give an inch.” Which pretty well summed up any female who’d been hurt or disillusioned by a man, Rina thought.
“So you’re looking out for her.”
“That’s what friends do,” she murmured.
“That’s what special, caring people do.” His blue eyes bore into hers, causing warmth to blossom in her chest.
After working at her computer all day yesterday and late into the night, finishing this week’s column, Rina had had it with sweatpants. She’d had it with being alone and she no longer wanted to make Colin sweat. Not in a bad way, anyway. Saturday night was over, and so was her overreaction to Colin’s defection. Joe had been in the hospital. Case closed.
So this morning, she’d dressed with Colin in mind, seeking to grab his attention and not let it go. It had been a girlish impulse and she’d accomplished her goal. But as usual, Colin had more insight than she’d counted on. He’d looked beyond the physical, deeper than the packaging. He’d seen the woman beneath and obviously admired her.
He tangled his hands in her hair, the erotic tugging sensation rippling through her veins. His admiration and perceptiveness took her off guard. She wanted to keep her barriers high, but resisting him was impossible. And when he lowered his head for a deep, leisurely kiss, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
His lips were warm and provocative, taking possession and immediately setting her on fire. No big surprise there. Her tongue met his, swirling, seeking, demanding as much as he gave. And then his hands slipped to her thigh, his large palm branding her. “Do you have any idea what that short skirt does to me?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“Looking at those long legs makes me hard.” He deliberately brushed against her thigh, giving her tangible proof.
She sucked in a breath, her body reacting to the knowledge he wanted her. Here, now, in the dark stairwell, Colin Lyons wanted her. His body backed up his claim and hers went into heated overdrive. Dampness slicked her panties and a rush of desire swamped her.
“And wondering what’s holding those things up is driving me insane.” Without awaiting permission, his fingers traveled upward until they came in contact with the elastic-rimmed lace that held the stockings up on her thigh. His fingertips hit bare skin and he let out a sharp, harsh breath. “Damn.”
She shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “These are more comfortable.”
“For whom?”
She laughed. “For me. Panty hose cuts into my stomach.”
“What happened to the baggy clothes?” A muscle ticked in his jaw and Rina knew her new look was getting to him.
But far from enjoying the knowledge, it made her uneasy. Because she wanted to know for sure that Colin was attracted to Rina Lowell, the woman. And though he showed interest in the many facets of her personality, she couldn’t deny he was enjoying her transformation.
So had Dave from the coffee shop, who’d turned persistent, and Rob who’d delivered her pizza last night. She could have had a date with a number of men, including the wealthy Edward Worthington III. But not even in the interest of research could Rina bring herself to go out with anyone other than Colin.
“And what’s beneath the skirt?” Colin asked. “What’s warming you during this cold, winter weather?”
She was tempted to tell him that she didn’t need clothing, not when the heat in his voice could do the trick instead. “Good old-fashioned underwear, Colin, what else?”
An upward sweep of his fingers over her silk-covered mound assured him she was telling the truth. But that same motion set off fireworks inside her brain and triggered mini-explosions, the equivalent of minefields in strategic areas of her body. Her nipples peaked, aching for his touch, and a dewy heaviness pulsed between her legs. “You don’t play fair,” she whispered.
“Dressed like that, neither do you.” His mouth hovered over hers.
Her lips parted, craving another kiss, but he gave more than she asked for as his finger found the pulse point between her legs. Arousal washed over her, and she jerked her hips forward, seeking to deepen the pressure of his fingertip.
“That works for you, huh?” Resting his cheek against hers, he leaned his body forward, thrusting his hand harder against the tiny pearl of desire begging for release.
“Oh, yes.” Her lips lingered against his skin as she inhaled his masculine scent and her desire peaked higher.