Leading the way, she headed for the main room. She opened a wardrobe to reveal an entertainment center. A small, portable DVD player sat on top of a larger, plug-in model.
“Nice,” he said. “Oh, that reminds me, tomorrow I need to look at that generator of yours. I got the shack that’s holding it fixed up, and it may be as simple a job as cleaning it out and fresh fuel in it.”
She turned to him and held up a finger. “Rule one on movie night—no work talk allowed.”
He slumped onto the couch. “What’s rule two?”
She grinned. “There is no rule two, but it always sounds better if you number things.”
“You have the makings of a marketing person after all. Now are we talking or watching movies here?”
Chapter Ten
They settled down on the sofa in the main room. Karen fiddled with the DVD player—it had been too long since she’d last used it and she could barely remember how to turn it on.
Overly aware of Mike, she glanced over her shoulder at him. He sat relaxed on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, a beer dangling from his fingers as he glanced around the room. She looked, too, wondering what he'd say.
She’d tried to make the main room homey and inviting, with photos of her parents, large, comfortable chairs, and end tables scattered around. Now she thought the chairs and the sofa all looked a little shabby. She needed a new rug to replace the straw mat covering on the floor—and the floors needed refinishing. The room also could use fresh paint—the off white looked more like tan these days. She let out a breath—so much to do. But it was movie night tonight—th
e first night she’d taken off in months.
Getting the movie playing, she came back and sat next to Mike—with a bowl of pretzels between them. It had been stupid to avoid him for a day, but she’d needed to establish her own space. He…he was just too much sometimes. Too charming, too pushy, too…too everything. Like today when he’d told her she should just torch the huts. No way was she doing that. Those huts had been her dad’s idea, and she was going to make it work. Somehow. She sipped her beer and tried not to think about the stack of bills waiting for her attention—with Lyle’s demand for payment in full on top.
Bastard. She was sure now he’d romanced her—and had offered the loan—just to get the property. And she’d fallen for it. She’d been grieving, and he’d seemed to offer her a strong shoulder to lean on. She should have known better. Money always came with strings attached—and she’d been a fool not to realize that.
Well, at least she was done letting guys take advantage of her. From now on, she was going for guys without any kinds of strings attached.
Reaching for a pretzel, she brushed Mike’s fingers with hers. Her face flamed hot. She could remember all too clearly what those clever fingers had done to her the other day. And, yeah, that was the kind of arrangement she wanted—a quick fling and done.
She kept her stare locked on the movie—but she couldn’t even say what was going on. She could hear Mike shift on the couch, could hear him swallow his beer. The next time his fingers brushed hers and her breath caught in her throat.
The tension between them seemed to crackle in the room. She fought her own pull toward him. Over and done, she told herself. She was willing to bet he didn’t want the complication of a relationship—not when he was leaving as soon as he could. And she didn’t need a pushy guy like him around. Nope—standing on her own two feet was best.
Drinking down her beer, she snuggled deeper into the couch. The day’s work had left her muscles feeling used, but she was used to hard work. And the beer was a luxury—she usually didn’t drink much. With a happy buzz going on, she reached for another pretzel—and got Mike’s fingers instead. He’d already grabbed the last one. She glanced at him. He smiled at her, his eyes bright. “Last one’s mine. You snooze, you lose.”
“Oh yeah? I’m not letting that one go.” Grabbed his hand, she snapped the pretzel from his fingers. “See what happens when you challenge the boss?” Mike grabbed for her. She popped the pretzel into her mouth, chewed and held up her empty hands. “All gone.”
“This means war!” He dug his fingers into her side until he found the ticklish spot right over her ribs. She laughed and tried to grab his hands, but he slipped away and attacked again.
“Stop please. Okay—I give up!”
He stopped tickling but didn’t move his hands away. She could hear the movie still playing, the voices muted in the background. The sun was setting, washing the room with a warm golden light. The glow of the TV screen flickered.
Smiling, she tried to push Mike away. He didn’t budge. Instead, he leaned on his elbows and fingered her hair. “Why do I always want to touch your hair? To touch you?” Lowering his face to hers, he captured her mouth in a deep kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, tasting the yeasty beer on his lips and tongue. He pushed his hand up under her shirt.
She slid her hands under his shirt, too, and wiggled underneath him. What was it about him that kept her wanting to touch him? This was crazy—nuts. But she wasn’t going to run away again. She wanted him as much as he seemed to want her. Pulling back and breathing hard, he stared down at her.
She touched a finger to his mouth. “Your room or mine?”
“How big is your bed?”
“Big enough.” Scooting out from underneath him, she grabbed his hand and pulled him with her. She left the TV running. In her room, she shut the door. He grabbed her tank top and pulled it off over her head. Stepping close, he licked her skin. “What is it you smell like? Some kind of flower?”
“More like sweat.” She grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him.
Gripped her hips, he lifting her up and walked her to the bed. He put her down on top of the covers and started to strip. “Please tell me you have condoms.”
“Top drawer in the nightstand. But they’re a few years old.”