Somebody's Ex Page 3

  “Sorry. I didn’t realize.”

  “Which means you’ve never even been in it.”

  He raised both hands in surrender. “My secret is out.”

  “Well, you don’t know what you’re missing. When I came back here after my divorce—” She stopped. Maybe she shouldn’t mention her defunct marriage. Well, the cat was out of the bag now, so she went on. “That was a year ago. Anyway, I set up a website for my parents and you wouldn’t believe how the Internet business has grown. It’s practically taken over.”

  “Impressive. There must be a lot of Scandinavians around.”

  “Yeah. They used to have a store down in L.A., but they moved up here when I went away to college. L.A. wasn’t their kind of town. You know, I think the mountains around here remind them of home a little bit.”

  “So you work for them?”

  She smiled. “I take care of all the Internet traffic, orders, shipping, site maintenance, all that stuff.” She rolled her eyes. “My dad freaks when he gets too close to a computer.”

  “And you like doing it?”

  She tipped her head. She had to think about that one. Did she like it? Or was it a place to run to after the divorce? A hideout. Finally, she said, “It’s fine. I don’t know what else I want to do with my life, so it works.”

  He gave a soft snort of laughter. “I know the feeling.”

  She put her chin on her hand and gazed at him. He hadn’t eaten very much.

  “So tell me about yourself.”

  Something flickered across his face, then his eyes seemed to shutter themselves. “Not much to tell. I’m a contractor. It’s good work.”

  Well, that was a lot of info. For some reason, he didn’t want to talk about himself. Maybe she’d get him to open up later. Randi set down her fork.

  “Well, I appreciate that you tried to eat my dinner. But the truth is, it sucks.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I did wrong, but whatever. You don’t have to force the slop down.”

  “It’s not slop. It’s very...interesting.” He wore the sweetest smile when he said it, but he wasn’t a very good liar. He couldn’t look her in the eye. And interesting wasn’t exactly a compliment.

  She laughed. In the midst of catastrophe, the best thing one could do was laugh. “It’s total crap, but thanks for being polite. I’m sure I’ve got something else in the refrigerator.” She’d actually stocked up on stuff when she went shopping for the meatball mess. No, no, she wasn’t beaten. Not yet. “Why don’t you take the wine into the living room,” the wreck room, meant literally, “and I’ll bring out some treats.”

  He raised a brow, and she tried to discern the suggestive nature in what she’d said. Treats, maybe?

  She heard him carrying plates to the sink as she rummaged in the refrigerator. She really needed to get out of this dress and into something more comfortable. The skirt underlining was scratchy, the bottom of the short sleeves were too tight, yet the shoulders kept threatening to slip down her arms. She’d bought it a couple of years ago for a fifties Halloween party. She’d wanted a poodle skirt, but found only this dress.

  “Need any help?”

  He was right next to her, gazing not into the cold depths, but at her. His breath played across her hair and tickled her ear. She suddenly wasn’t cold at all.

  “No, no, you sit down. It’s a surprise.”

  He blinked and his mouth quirked.

  “Better than the meatball surprise, I swear.”

  “Dessert?” He glanced at her lips as if they could pass for dessert.

  She was warm all over now. “This is something better”—she let her eyelashes fall seductively—“then dessert.” She hadn’t made dessert. Forgotten all about it. But she’d think of something really good when the time came. She pushed at his chest. “Now, go. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  The wineglasses chinked as he picked them up, then his footsteps faded into the living room. Ah, she could breathe again. Now where was the caviar? A-ha!

  Five minutes later, she carried a plate of cheese, crackers, and a tube of caviar into the living room. He’d sunk into the center of her couch. Oops, there was that missing spring. She should have warned him.

  “Here we are,” she said brightly, setting down the plate, and taking a spot on the edge of the sofa. “This is Jarlsberg cheese, and that’s caviar.”

  David eyed the tube with its foreign writing. “I’ve got to admit I’ve never had caviar before.”

  “A Scandinavian delight from my parents’ store. It’s not like the black beluga stuff. It’s a paste, and you squeeze it on crackers.”

  This time he eyed her as if she were one of the delights.

  “This is Norwegian caviar. I like it better than the Swedish stuff. And the cheese is Norwegian, too.”

  “I can definitely see the Norwegian in you. With all that blond hair.”

  Right. The man was definitely not thinking about Norwegian food.

  “Take your hair down,” he murmured, his voice suddenly huskier. He tugged lightly on the braid down her back. “Hair like yours should be loose.”

  Her cheeks warmed. His voice sent shivers down her arms despite the heat flooding her body. Unable to take her eyes off his gaze, she reached behind and undid the braid. He pulled the freed tresses forward, the backs of his fingers grazing her collarbone. Everything was getting warmer, hotter, and she suddenly felt the need to fan herself. He had a way of looking at a woman, his gaze scanning her face, lingering on her lips, then dipping down to the pearls nestled at her throat.

  She wasn’t a seductress by any stretch of the imagination. The men in her life, including and especially Mick, had swept her along with their magnetism, telling her what they wanted in rough, hot words. David was somehow gentler, sweeter, but he made her no less hot.

  She pointed at the plate. “Do you want to try?”

  “Oh yeah.” His words trickled along her nerve endings as if he were answering a question that didn’t apply to food.

  Picking up the tube, she squeezed a dollop on her index finger. “Here, taste.”

  His eyes glittered with that enticing black-sand sparkle. Then he took her hand and guided her finger to his lips. First he licked, then he sucked the caviar from the end of her finger. A sharp pang of need shot through her.

  She hadn’t been with anyone since the divorce. She suddenly realized how much she missed a man’s touch, the seduction of his tongue, his lips taking hers.

  “Do you like it?” she whispered, because she couldn’t manage more than that.

  “Yeah, I like it.” He took the tube from her other hand. She was surprised she hadn’t dropped it. “You should try it the same way. Hand-feeding adds something to the flavor, I think.”

  He squeezed a line across his palm, then held out his hand. “Lick if off and tell me what you think.”

  Randi bent her head to his hand. She’d never done anything like this. Sweet, seductive play. Mick didn’t—she shoved aside the thought. Mick wasn’t here. David was. And he held his hand out as if he were offering the world.

  The tang of his skin mingled with the flavor of caviar. She licked his palm, savored his taste, then licked again, harder, longer. As if she were devouring something completely different, completely male. His wrist in her hand, she could feel his pulse beat faster.

  Then she lifted her head to look at him. “You’re right. It’s much better that way.”

  “My turn again.” He moved aside her strand of pearls, squeezed a cool dab at the crook of her neck, then put his mouth to the spot. Her head fell back and her eyelids drifted closed at the heavenly caress. His clean male scent tantalized her. Beneath her fingertips, his hair was soft and beckoning. She couldn’t help sliding both hands into it, holding him close. His tongue and lips stroked and sucked much longer than it took to lick away the caviar.

  Then he raised his head, captured her with his hot gaze, and held out the caviar. “Your turn.”

  She thought about hi
s lips, licking caviar from his mouth, then kissing him until she couldn’t breathe. Or she could undo the buttons of his shirt and dab it on his nipples. Her hands trembled as her mind pondered possible scenarios.

  “Do you want me to show you where I want it?”

  Her eyes automatically dropped to the bulge in his jeans. Holy Moly.

  He tipped her chin up with his forefinger. “That’s rushing things. You don’t want it to end too quickly, do you?”

  “Where then?” She mouthed the word because her voice seemed to have deserted her.

  He unbuttoned his shirt to his abdomen, then grabbed both her wrists and fell back with her. She landed with her elbows on either side of his chest. The springs that still remained were probably poking his spine.

  Bronzed male skin gleamed at her. He didn’t have a hairy chest. She didn’t particularly like hairy chests. He plucked the tube from her fingers and squeezed a line down the center.

  Not his nipples. No private parts. But an erogenous zone, nonetheless. She wanted to lick caviar off his chest more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

  “Taste it,” he urged.

  Her lower body sprawled across his legs, she held his shirt open with her fingers and started at the bottom of the line of caviar. Right above his belly button. She licked and tasted and relished. He grew against her abdomen, his body pulsing at her stomach as if he were a part of her. She made it halfway, sucked his flesh into her mouth, then nipped lightly.

  He groaned and tunneled his fingers into her hair, kneading her scalp.

  She slid higher in quest of more caviar, more flesh, more man. David thrust up against her. When she reached the last delightful bite, licked his entire chest clean, she folded her hands, rested her chin on top of them, and looked at him.

  “Did it taste good?” he asked.

  “Did it feel good?” It had, she knew it had, but she wanted him to say it.

  “I can show you what it felt like.”

  Her throat went dry. She couldn’t simply unbutton the front of her dress, she’d have to take it off.

  As if he saw the glimmer of fear, he slid out from beneath her. Lying on her stomach, she was suddenly cold.

  Warm fingers skimmed her spine. “Close your eyes.”

  She did as he told her, resting her cheek on her hands. Something cool followed the line his fingers had traced, then the warm slide of his tongue. He took his time, tasting her flesh, nipping, sucking, devouring her along with the caviar. Her legs startled to tremble with need and moisture built inside her. This was total eroticism, the glide of his tongue, the suction of his lips. She quivered in response. Her legs moved restlessly. She was suddenly out of control, breathing hard and fast, arching up into his body where it rested against her buttocks. He licked the last of the caviar with a long delicious swipe along her spine, then stretched out his legs, flattened his lower body against her, and thrust. Her legs parted. He slid a hand between them and under her dress, skimming along her wet center on the outside of her panties. She moaned, rocked against his fingers, and squeezed her eyes shut until she saw stars.

  Then she couldn’t breathe at all as orgasm swept her away.

  When she came to herself, David was stroking the hair back from her face.

  “Can I assume that felt good?”

  She nodded because she didn’t seem capable of opening her mouth and certainly couldn’t open her eyes. Wow. Although it was a tad embarrassing to have come without him even putting his hand in her panties. Maybe he expected embarrassment. But gee, it had been too damn good for that.

  David dropped a kiss on her shoulder.

  “I’ll have to drop by your parents’ store for more caviar.” He nuzzled her hair. She smelled like an exotic flower, and her skin was as soft as a kitten’s tail. “You’re amazing.”

  “Amazing is right. I haven’t had an orgasm in a year,” she glanced up at him, then rolled her eyes. “Okay, it’s been longer than a year.” She covered her mouth. “I can’t believe I just told you that.”

  He laughed. He truly had never met anyone like her before in his life. She was completely uncensored. He wanted more.

  “I think we should take the caviar in the bedroom and use it with all your clothes off.” He rolled with her, pulling her on top of him. “Who the hell knows how good it could get?”

  One helluva lot better, he was sure. She fascinated him. He wondered how she’d make him laugh next. How she’d take him by surprise.

  “I know just where I want to squirt caviar next.” He smiled, very slow, very sexy, letting the curve of his lips tell her exactly what body part he’d smear with caviar. And how long he’d take licking it all off.

  Chapter Four

  Randi flipped on the light in her bedroom so David wouldn’t trip over the worn spots in the carpet. He set the caviar on her side table. It wasn’t exactly a side table, but a couple of wooden boxes stacked one atop the other and covered with a flowered cloth. The bed was hers. She couldn’t sleep in what her landlord had left behind. She’d set the box spring directly on the floor so Royal’s hair couldn’t drift underneath.

  “Do you want a refill?” He tipped the wine bottle at her.

  She held out her dime-store wineglasses for David to pour, wishing she didn’t live in such a dump. What must the man think of her? But Randi always tried to look on the bright side of things. He was in her bedroom, and he’d said she was amazing.

  She sipped the wine, planning a host of absolutely amazing things to do to him. Then Royal started a ballistic bark out in the backyard. And did not stop.

  “Mountain lion?” David asked, one eyebrow raised.

  “I’d prefer that over a skunk.” Please, not a skunk. Please, please, please.

  As soon as she opened the window to shout at the dog, she smelled it, the acrid odor stinging her nostrils. Oh man.

  David crushed close to her backside and leaned out beside her. “Is that mountain lion or skunk? I’m having a hard time telling the difference.”

  She elbowed him in the ribs. This was not funny. She’d ruined dinner, her house was a junk pile, her life a mess, and now this. “Royal, get your little miscreant butt over here.”

  The miscreant cantered into the window’s pool of light.

  “Ewwe.” The stench actually hurt, her nose stinging and her eyes watering. She slammed the window, but it was too late. The odor had permeated the room.

  Beside her, David plugged his nose, but his eyes glimmered with laughter. Could the night possibly get any worse?

  “I’m really sorry, but I have to take care of this now or I’ll never get it out of her fur.”

  “I’ll help you,” he said with a nasal twang, his nose still pinched between his fingers.

  He was going to stay? “This is very embarrassing.”

  He let go of his nose to hold her chin in his big, warm hand. “It’s amazing,” he whispered.

  “This is not amazing,” she whispered back, almost fiercely.

  “I’ve never given a dog a bath on a first date. That is definitely amazing.”

  A first date? As in not the last date? Randi wouldn’t ask. But she could hope. She could really, really hope.

  * * * * *

  Three outdoor hosings on the back porch and three cans of tomato juice later, Royal’s fur oozed skunk stink only when David stuck his nose against her head.

  “I’ll dunk her in the tub,” Randi said, “I think she’s still got tomato juice clots in her fur.”

  Randi truly was amazing. He’d never had so much fun. Not even with Lou’s or Mitch’s kids. He’d splashed her with the hose, she’d thrown a cup of tomato juice on him, then hosed him down again. They’d taken more of a bath than the dog.

  Randi’s nipples had burgeoned against the wet bodice of her dress. He wanted to strip her out of it. Now.

  A towel had fallen through one of the broken boards on the end of the porch, and Royal was pushing an empty tomato juice can all around the wooden deck.


  “Royal, komme.”

  “You know, I have the irrational need to hear you use that command on me.”

  She scooped the dog into her arms. “David, komme.”

  He would. Over and over. He opened the door for her and her burden. In the bathroom, she plopped the dog into the tub and ran the water, testing the temperature with her fingers. On her knees at the tub’s edge, she soothed the shivering animal.

  David almost moaned at the sight of Randi’s swaying backside. “What do you want me to do?”

  Man, the things he wanted to do. What was it about this woman? Her very liveliness made his cock stand at attention.

  “Can you hand me the shampoo? It’s in the cupboard over the toilet, and there’s a little jug in there, too.”

  The bathroom had the bare minimum—toilet, standing sink with a mirror over it, combination bath and shower. She must have added the cabinet to store her various personal items.

  That was another thing that intrigued him. She didn’t have a preponderance of stuff. He’d never known a woman that didn’t. There was very little closet space in the place, but she didn’t have stuff stacked knee-deep.

  “Douse her while I hold her head, would ya?”

  David knelt shoulder to shoulder with her, scooped water into the jug and wet down the dog. Randi squeezed shampoo. Her sleeves slipped down her shoulders as she worked in the lather. Christ, even that made him hot as he imagined her soaping him up. In the shower. A hot tub. Anywhere. She had long, beautiful fingers with short nails and no polish.

  Randi Andersen was a girl of bare minimums. He liked that.

  He slid two fingers down the back of her dress.

  She wriggled away. “Not in front of the child, dear.”

  “Sorry.” He wasn’t. Next he pulled on the shoulder of her dress, slipping it further down her arm. She wriggled again, but this time he already had his lips to the soft flesh between her neck and shoulder.

  She’d gotten wet and she smelled ever so slightly like tomatoes, which shouldn’t have been erotic in the least, yet it tantalized him.