Strong and Sexy (Sky High Air #2)(42)

“No buts necessary.”

“But,” he said again, softly. “I have a feeling this is different. You’re different.”

She stared at him. “Is that good or bad?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet.” He glanced back at the ice cream. “So this whole ice cream and movie thing. Is it a party for one?”

“A pity party, you mean. And yeah. It’s for one.”

Holding her gaze with his for a beat, his mouth quirked, a dimple flashed. Then he broke the eye contact and leaned in so that his mouth brushed her ear. “How about one plus one?”

Oh, yes, her body said. Great idea. “I don’t have enough facial mask for you.”

He laughed low in his throat, a sound that was just as damn sexy as the rest of him. Setting his hands on her hips, he backed her into the living room, back to the couch, and as she walked, his big, bad body nudged into hers on purpose, letting her feel that she was not alone in this uncontrollable surge of need and desire.

“I’m not sharing my ice cream.”

“Are you sure? Because…” Again he put his mouth to her ear, taking a second to nibble. “I’ve got a much better use for it than you could possibly have had…”

Oh, God. She’d just let in the big, bad wolf. “Well.” She swallowed hard. “That’s a very intriguing thought.” She felt the couch at the back of her thighs, and just as he smiled again, she found herself falling back onto the cushions.

He followed her down, stretching his long body over hers, and there, towering above hers, with his wonderfully warm, hard length pressed to her, he still didn’t kiss her.

And that’s when she remembered. “The mask.”

“I’m sure it tastes very yummy, but maybe it’s best if you…”

“Yes. God.” Shoving free, she leapt up and ran down the hallway to her bedroom and into her bathroom, where she stared, breathless, at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were bright, but it was hard to tell about the rest of her face beneath the cracked green mask. The one that made her look like a seasick smurf.

He’d looked at her looking like this. Nearly kissed her like this.

She scrubbed clean. Vanity had her adding some lip gloss. Great. Now her lips looked fabulous, but the rest of her? Not exactly at her best. She ran into her room and into her closet, ripping off all her clothes. Naked, she scrambled for something to replace the sweats with, but she hadn’t done her laundry. “Damn it.”

“Everything okay?” Shayne asked from the other side of her bedroom door.

God! She shoved the closet door closed and stood inside it, naked. “Don’t come in here!”

“Why, because you might be wearing sweats and a mask?”

“You’re a funny guy, Shayne.” Crap. He’d come into her bedroom. In the dark closet, she fumbled through the pile of clothes on the closet floor for a new pair of panties. What was it with her and losing her panties lately? She didn’t find any, but did locate the brush she’d lost weeks ago.

“Dani? You okay?”

She tossed the brush aside. “Peachy.”

He nudged the door and she held it shut. “Don’t you dare come in here.”

“That’s not what you said the last time you got into a closet.”

“I mean it!”

“You sound out of breath. What are you doing in there?”

She found a hoodie zip-up sweater. Because she couldn’t find a bra, she zipped it up to her chin. “I’m out of breath because—Never mind!” She groped for a pair of jeans and came up with a gauzy skirt she’d worn to a Renaissance Fair last summer. It was loose, with a drawstring waist, and she’d just managed to pull it up and tie it when the door was nudged again.

“Damn it, Shayne Mahoney.” Why was she always commando around him? “You don’t listen very well.”

Completely unaware of her dilemma, he spoke with a grin in his voice. “That’s what my mother always says. ‘Shayne Mahoney, you don’t listen.’”

She gripped the door, holding him out while she desperately straightened her clothes and tried to regain her breath. “So what did she do about your listening skills?”

“I was the last of six boys. As a litigation attorney, she was far too tired by the time she came home from work to deal with me.”

Still in the dark, Dani lifted her head. That didn’t fit into the mold in which she’d placed him, the one of a pampered, spoiled kid, the absolute apple of his mother’s eye. “So your brothers raised you?”

“More like beat the shit out of me, regularly.”

“No way. You’re too big for that.”

“I was a puny kid, trust me.”

She pictured that, him a helpless little kid, no one to really protect him, and without her permission, her heart squeezed and engaged. “Your mom allowed that?”

“Like I said, she was tired. Of us. Literally.”

“What about your father? Surely he—”

“A very busy brain surgeon. Not around much either, but when he was, he usually only encouraged my brothers to toughen me up.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I was a classic underachiever.”

She turned to face the door of the closet, even putting her hand to the wood as if she could touch him. “But you’re a pilot. You run a private airport. You fly all kinds of planes and people, all over the world.”