Sets Appeal Page 13

  She hauled in a breath and turned her face around to look at him. “To sleep with you, or not to sleep with you?”

  “That is the question. It’s Friday. We don’t have to do much sleeping. I’d like to do the other thing a few times.” His fingers lightly brushed her cheek, and he gave the slow sort of smile that would make any red-blooded woman seethe with lust.

  “How about my place? Yours gets a bit crowded at times.” She thought she should hint about Lonny before Steve said something.

  His lips pressed together in a firm line. “So I heard yesterday. I didn’t know Lonny had dropped by but when she told me, I took my key back.”

  “So, you see Lonny on Thursdays.”

  “Not usually. And…no, not Keith Urban. That makes it personal. Another actor would be better. That makes it theatrical.”

  She pondered his logic and nodded. “Should I cook dinner?”

  “Is that routine for a second date?”

  “Yes,” she said firmly. “You cooked before the first date and so I’m sure I can cook on the second.”

  He nodded and left, which meant she had to mentally review what she had in the fridge and what she could pick up on the way home. She picked up two steaks because he was a guy and guys ate steak. Her fridge held various ingredients for salad and her father kept her wine supply current.

  She activated her front gates just before seven and a few minutes later she heard his motorbike puttering into the drive. Although she wanted to run to the door, she didn’t want to seem as if she was waiting for him, and so she let him ring the doorbell while she moved the flowers off the dining room table. Such formality might put him off, which was a pity. She liked flowers everywhere.

  “Nice garden,” he said as she opened the door. “Did you do the design?”

  “Just the shapes and colors. I don’t know too much about plants.”

  “I’m pleased to hear you can’t do everything.” He began to walk into her. “Have you started cooking yet?”

  “No. Only the prep.” She backed, her hands on his shoulders and her querying gaze examining the expression on his face, which was inscrutable.

  “Good.” With a grin, he reached out and snatched her into his arms. While he undid the long zipper on her dress, he kept his lips on hers, and he backed her farther into the living room.

  Her dress dropped onto carpet close to the couch and her bra followed. Then his shirt, which he jerked over his head. Before he tossed her onto the couch, he had removed her undies and she wasn’t sure if he had completely removed his trousers before he entered her.

  And, actually, she didn’t care.

  Chapter 11

  Jay opened his eyes. The sunlight filtered through the vine-leaf covered pergola outside the two French doors Vix had in her bedroom instead of a window. A gently wavering dapple reflected on the walls. He stretched, utterly content, noting that Vix slept with one hand under her cheek, an endearing position that suited her. For a while, he stared at her, noting her delicate eyelashes and the lock of pale hair that twisted across her beautiful mouth.

  He contemplated tickling her face with her hair, but decided he didn’t want to wake her, not yet. Even now, he couldn’t believe he lay naked in her bed, in her large white beautiful bedroom, and he needed to get his bearings. Comparing this room to his was like comparing a palace to a dugout.

  Her floorboards were polished, as his would be in a few weeks, but there any resemblance ended. A large red-and-black Persian rug, possibly an antique, carpeted her floor. She had mixed mainly dark wood antique furniture with white painted side-tables holding bronze art deco lamps. Only two paintings hung on her walls, each a light-filled outback scene framed in red. Nothing could have been simpler or more elegant. Maybe taste and style was inbred. He hoped not because one day he should be able to mix and match the way she did.

  He sat up, rubbing his hair, contemplating dressing and leaving. Her white quilted bedspread had been hurriedly thrown off her white-sheeted bed last night and his jocks might lurk underneath. In a trail from the bed to the door, he spotted his jeans and his shirt. His shoes would be in the dining room or the hallway. Untidy, yes, but a formerly unknown urgency had possessed him last night. Perhaps his fear of losing her multiplied these thoughts. The moment she found out who he was, she would dump him. A woman like her would remain loyal to her family, no matter what.

  His thoughts stark, he slid carefully out of her bed, collected his shirt, underwear, and jeans and strode into her on-suite bathroom. One day he would have a bathroom like hers, but not in his current house, which was too small. In the meantime, he enjoyed her shower and her thick white fluffy towels. He didn’t shave.

  She was still sleeping when he went back into the bedroom. He sat on the side of the bed, hoping she might wake up, not knowing whether to stay or discreetly leave. He didn’t know if she would want him to stay, not now that she’d experienced the full deal before dinner and three times during the night. He was under no illusion that she wanted him for anything other than sex. Had she been anyone else, he might not have minded, but she was Vix—one of a kind, talented, generous, and much more sexy than she thought. She’d chosen the wrong husband was all.

  And then she stirred and her eyes opened. She gave the dazzling smile that turned up at either end. “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  “You look fresh and clean. Delicious.” She gave a contented smile, sat up, and glanced at the glass doors. “It’s late. Normally I would go to the gym for a hearty workout. Would you say last night counts?”

  “As exercise?” He pretended to consider. “I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure I maintained a racing heartbeat for quite a while.”

  She dropped her gaze and toyed with the sheet covering. “And now you need a sustaining breakfast. I can’t make you wait until I’ve showered. Help yourself to anything you like in the kitchen. I have cereal, fruit, yogurt, eggs if you like, no bacon, and plenty of bread.”

  He stood. “Okay…but if you want help in the shower, call me.”

  She made a mischievous purse of her lips. “The newspaper will be on the front lawn if you want something to read while you eat.”

  Having been blessed by a far from awkward morning-after, he left to raid her kitchen, deciding not to be impressed by her expensive house and valuable possessions. If Tim had paid for them and lost everything in the divorce, well done her. If she owned them herself, envy wouldn’t make a better man of Jay.

  He ate, after spotting a loose shelf in her bathroom-sized pantry that he could fix and a crooked curtain rail in her sitting room. When she arrived, smelling good and looking even better in burgundy jeans and a soft citrus top, he said, “Do you have a set of tools anywhere?”

  “What do you plan to make?” She poured muesli into a flower-patterned bowl and reached for the carton of milk he had left out.

  “Fix. Everything that needs fixing. What else other than the curtain rail and the shelf in the pantry?”

  “There’s a wobbly tile in the spare bathroom.” She brought her breakfast over to the table where he sat with the newspaper spread out like a respectable married man. “I bought the glue and the grout but I didn’t get around to it. So, do we tell the guys we’re dating?”

  “Maybe not.” He rubbed his chin. “As a matter of fact, I think being a twosome in a work environment is a bit awkward.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. The guys would start being careful about what they said around us. Anyway, it’s nice to share a secret with you. What do you plan on doing today?”

  “Whatever you like.” He grinned, knowing by now that she liked what he liked.

  He had a meandering sort of day, doing odd jobs, making love, eating, making love, laughing, and finally taking a hand-in-hand walk around the botanical gardens, which he assumed was her way of motivating him into fixing his own garden. They spent that night at his house, so that he could change his clothes, and the next
because he realized she could keep her car in the garage if he moved a few things around, and therefore not be seen when he was picked up in the morning by Steve.

  * * * *

  “How was your weekend, Vix?” Steve stood in front of Vix, smiling like a man who’d had a bacon and eggs breakfast. He had shaved off his goatee. Added to that, he wore a working shirt with the sleeves rolled down to his elbows.

  “Fantastic. I’m thinking yours was, too. The clean-shaven look suits you.”

  “You think so?” He rubbed seeking fingers over his chin. “I feel kind of naked.”

  “You look kind of handsome.”

  “Seems the key to success is hiding my tattoos.” He glanced at his colorful lower arms, his lips wryly pressed together.

  “You don’t need to be humble about your arm decorations. You were expressing your inner artist.”

  Steve looked horrified. Jay would have laughed. And at that moment, she knew she had moved on from Tim. Completely. Her first thought had been to compare Steve to Jay instead of relating everything in her life to her ex-husband. Mentally, as well as physically, she had left the man who had in so many ways betrayed her. How amazing that a few bouts of incredible sex could change a woman’s whole way of thinking.

  “Inner artist?” He considered. “Maybe I can use that. Yeah.”

  “So, your big date was a success?”

  He nodded, his grin wide. “Pretty good. I don’t want to brag, though JD’s spitting chips. I reckon he thought he didn’t have any competition.”

  “Spitting chips, how?” Vix put her paintbrush down, momentarily nervous. She’d kissed Jay good-bye no longer than two hours ago when he left for work with Steve, and he’d been very pleased with himself then. A betting person would put money on him not giving a thought to Lonny.

  “You don’t know his style, but he likes to pretend he doesn’t care. Today he’s looking pretty serious, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I think he looks about the same as usual.”

  “He only looks serious when he’s worried.”

  “Maybe it’s work related. Speaking of which, will you have time today to cut out the bay for me?” Vix planned to paint trees and bushes as a panoramic frame around the cyclorama, called the cyc, the last screen before the black wall of the stage. On this, the lighting engineer could project moving ripples of water, representing the bay that would form the background for all the outdoor scenes in the show.

  “I reckon Jay will get Kell onto it. He’ll be here soon if his dates this weekend didn’t take too much out of him. He finished his last job before Christmas. After that, he and Luke will be taking a two-week break. Tradies! They’ve got it good. We’ll be working except on Christmas day.”

  “Everyone?”

  “We need to have the set finished by January the twenty-fifth.” He left to find the sheets of composite wood on which Vix had sketched various trees and bushes, while she sat happily painting a marble finish on the fireplace for High Society’s sitting room scene.

  Kell arrived looking as inscrutable as usual and with barely a consenting nod, he began cutting out the bay. Like Jay, he had the ability to do any job required. Unlike Jay, he applied himself with an intense concentration. He seemed to lose himself in work. Each of the Dee brothers had an amazing work ethic, almost matched by Steve and Trent. As a team, they couldn’t be bettered. She counted herself lucky to be with this team for her first job.

  She had already painted the heroine’s parents and her grandmother, and she thought she would use Geoffrey Rush for the grandfather. Given more time, she would paint Steve and Trent in regency outfits as haughty forebears, which she mentioned during the tea break.

  “Do I get a beard?” Trent asked, his elbows on the bare table and his coffee mug slanting dangerously in his fingers.

  “You get sideburns,” Vix said to the man who didn’t even have side hair.

  “That’d be right,” he said glumly, but she knew he was pleased to have been acknowledged her way. She enjoyed being with these men who, with the exception of Jay, indulged what they saw as her every nerdy whim. Nothing would have surprised her less than to be patted on the head. Had they known who her father was, she would have been treated as James’s daughter, with a small amount of contempt mixed with a large amount of envy. With these men, she had to prove herself, and because they respected her work, she thought she might have.

  “What about me?” Steve looked nervous. “I don’t want one of those white wigs with curls.”

  “Darn. Are you sure?”

  He sighed. “Do what you have to.”

  Jay gave her a chin-down, eyes-up glance of tolerance, and her heart lurched. Had anyone ever looked at her that way, as if she was just Vix and completely acceptable?

  “Do you want me to paint you, too?” Her voice trembled slightly.

  His eyes glinted and creased at the outside corners but he didn’t answer. “Back to work, guys.”

  The men shuffled off but Jay stopped Vix from leaving, too, by taking hold of her left wrist as she went to move past him. She glanced into his eyes and he took her breath away. She slid into his arms.

  “Kiss me, you adorable idiot,” he said in a low voice.

  She didn’t protest about the insult. She kissed him, and he kissed her, taking his time. “Can’t wait for tonight. My place. I’ll let you paint me with soap.”

  She spent the longest working day of her life shaky with anticipation, leaving early and packing a small bag with fresh clothes for the morning.

  Not long after Jay would have arrived home, she drove into his garage and walked in the back door the way Lonny used to.

  “Do you want to eat first?” Jay took her bag and tossed it onto his couch.

  In answer, she stepped out of her shoes and unbuttoned her working shirt. While she stripped to nothing, he did, too. He smiled, gloriously naked, and guided her into the bathroom. “This could be a long shower.”

  He washed her shoulders, her back, and her buttocks, taking his time. Then, he turned her around and soaped her breasts and nipples and, taking even longer after she turned back, between her legs, apparently not noticing her clear need as she circled her arms around his neck, offering him a desperate kiss. He accepted this without undue loss of control, though his body had certainly taken note.

  Although she didn’t know if she could play his games and win, she leaned back and, shaking, she tipped a handful of shower gel into her palms. Keeping her expression bland, she slicked the liquid over his neck and shoulders, massaging down his arms until she twined her fingers with his, easing between, and letting her palms slide against his. He seemed relaxed but his breathing sped up. And then he cheated. He lifted the backs of her hands to the tiled wall, held them there, and pressed his hard body against hers.

  “I’m not as good at this as you are,” he said, his mouth inches from hers. “Any touch, and I’ll give in.”

  “You didn’t before when I wanted you to. Take your punishment like a man.”

  Breathing out, he eased off. “I am. Men aren’t sporting about being teased.”

  His expression changing to one of pure determination, he kissed her until she hooked one of her legs onto his hip, silently begging for more. With a palm against the tiles to keep his balance, he slowly entered her while she clutched onto him, laughing while the water sprayed all over her face.

  Naturally, by the time she emerged from the shower, happily sated, her hair dripped in tails over her shoulders. “I wish you had a hair dryer.” She rubbed at her hair, watching while he combed his back from his face. His strong features fascinated her.

  “I suppose you wish I had a lot of things.”

  She glanced lower. “Somehow I seem to be able to settle for what you have.”

  His mouth moved into a satisfied smirk, which so appealed to her that she grabbed him and kissed him. The kisses lasted a long, long time. Kissing Jay was a totally erotic experience. He
liked to tease and he liked her to tease back. He kissed like a man who loved women and who had all the time in the world to experience whatever titillation she offered.

  Later, after they’d eaten and had a rudimentary conversation about the upholstery for his art deco chairs, and inspected the finish on the floorboards in the garage he had cut and polished for the cupboard doors, she realized she shared every facet of his life. She worked with him, she played with him, she slept with him, and she agreed with him about food, drink, colors, and designs. Sex couldn’t have been more wonderful than with Jay. The relationship she had with him was the one she should have had with her husband but she’d been too young or too immature to choose a grown-up man.

  But Jay would never be her husband. He would never fit into her world and she would never fit into his. She’d been there, done that, and had failed to fit. Now she was older and wiser.

  She fell asleep with her face in his shoulder and her leg over his.

  * * * *

  Although Vix stayed over most nights, she hadn’t moved in with Jay. Other than with Ilona, he’d never lived with a woman. Living with Lonny had been like living with his little brothers. He’d cooked for her, cleaned up after her, and waited up for her. She’d been a mess when she had broken up with Tim. Regardless of what she said, she had expected to marry Tim. She hadn’t revealed all to Jay, but he deduced from her various comments that having once married for money, Tim meant to continue on that course and keep Lonny on the side. Jay was pleased that Lonny wouldn’t accept that.

  He sanded his art deco chairs, which he had stripped and planned to finish with a layer or two of French polishing since he had seen satinwood underneath the paint as Vix had guessed. Tonight, Vix was attending a class reunion, which would do her good. In the past weeks, she’d only socialized with the team and him, and although at this stage of their relationship he could happily keep her to himself, he knew he also had to just as happily share. He wouldn’t be seeing her until tomorrow and he wanted the chairs finished by then so that she could work on the upholstery.