Too Hot to Handle (Romancing the Clarksons #1)(24)

“No. No, no, no.” The toes of his boots met hers. Rita barely managed to contain a gasp at his sudden closeness, the excessive heat he threw off. “If you apologize I’m going to walk right out into that desert and dig a hole for myself.”

She sounded obnoxiously breathless when she said, “That’s pretty dramatic.”

“I’m feeling more than a little dramatic over you, Rita.” Those blue eyes were crystal-clear pools, but so much went on behind them. So much she couldn’t read or understand. “And you’re a Mary Ann, to be sure. She was always my favorite.”

“I guess I should thank you for not saying Mrs. Howell.” He was too much up close; she felt so much magnetism and energy she had to back up a few inches. “Does your local status make you one of the scary dudes with spears?”

“Nah, beautiful. I’m not the least bit scary.” He bit his lip and eased closer, flat-out ignoring the distance she’d put between them, even though Rita sensed the same leash around his neck from last night. “Even if I did think about stealing you from your bed last night to apologize.”

“Apologize.” God, there was a riot taking place in her stomach. “I-is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?”

His laugh yanked her down, down like quicksand, but he sobered almost immediately. “I was a genuine asshole, Rita. Give me the day to make it up to you.”

It was either the worst idea in history or the best. After one day of his acquaintance, she’d been certain no amount of time would dull him from her memory. Creating more of those mental images and moving pictures couldn’t be wise. Common sense, however, did nothing to change the fact that spending the day with him sounded—incredible.

Even after the debacle last night, she couldn’t deny that Jasper made her feel relevant. Not so awkward. Why would he have found her this morning otherwise? His apparent interest—God, it made her feel really good. She wanted to know more about the man who’d vacillated between supreme confidence and self-loathing. Wanted to know how such a thing were possible, and, crazily enough, she thought maybe there was a chance she could relate to him, this charming, sexual live wire of a man.

There was no denying that Jasper had started a bonfire of attraction below her belly button, and that heat was so new. She imagined him slipping through the darkness of her motel room to steal her from the bed, thought of him cupping a hand over her mouth and angling his heavy body over hers, muffling her moans as he gave her a preview of what was to come. A sharp thrust of rough denim over cotton panties—and the image caused warmth to spread between her thighs. Her neck was bright red; she could feel it. Knew the tinge of color was visible. She’d never been aroused in public before, and he’d barely done anything to warrant it besides standing there.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Jasper said, voice scratching like the rough side of a sponge. “Being that I aim to take you to lunch at my grandmother’s house, though, I think I should save the better half of my apology for later.”

His perceptiveness over her condition turned Rita on even more. When had she turned so shameless? She’d seen the evidence last night of how women threw themselves at him. Apparently she was no different than any of them. Rita the Lemming. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Jasper winked at her, then indicated his bike with a jerk of his chin. “We’ll find out later, won’t we?”

Rita sputtered a little, aware that she was being railroaded but also confused by the unwanted thrill of getting back on the bike. Behind Jasper. Feeling him between her thighs. But that meant meeting someone new, more opportunities for social faux pas. More cringe-bank deposits. “I-I…no way. I’m not having lunch with your grandmother.”

He only smiled and crooked a finger.





Chapter Twelve



All right. Phase One achieved. She was on the bike.

Jasper wasn’t proud of fibbing to a visibly wary Rita to achieve just that. Painting a picture of a little old granny pining away for company with three place settings arranged just so? The reality couldn’t be farther from the truth, but with one phone call he’d started playing dirty pool last night and once the cue ball got rolling, it smacked into cushions and knocked other balls into new patterns. Nature of the beast, wasn’t it?

He wouldn’t dwell, however, and waste the extra day he’d carved out with Rita. Borrowed time was today’s theme, and he best get down to figuring out a few pressing details. Why did he get the feeling she was running from something? And why was he determined to be a roadblock she couldn’t get past? Someone she took seriously. More importantly, what if the impossible happened and Rita found him worthy of more than a roll in the hay? Tomorrow would bring her departure. It was one thing for a woman to enjoy an actual conversation with him, quite another for—what?

Jasper didn’t know what was itching inside his belly where Rita was concerned, but if the universe had any regard for his sanity, an answer would be forthcoming by sunset. It had better be. Or he’d be setting up a different kind of roadblock. The kind that stopped the correct Suburban replacement part from entering Hurley.

“How did you know when to show up at the garage?” Rita asked in his ear.

Jasper kept his eyes on the road. “It’s a close-knit place, Hurley. Four strangers hiking across the main road like a Beatles album cover tends to create buzz.”