Serving Up Trouble Read online

  “Inside,” came his hoarse whisper. “Now.” He skimmed the material of her dress down her legs while she quivered with the knowledge he’d nearly driven her to another orgasm while just dressing her.

  “Inside,” she agreed, and staggered against him when they got out.

  He simply swept her into his arms, making her heart sigh. She was strong. In de pen dent. But for right now, this was where she wanted to be, against him, with his arms tight around her.

  Then the front door whipped open, startling them.

  Luke took one good long look at both of them and grinned widely. “Well, look who the cat dragged in.”

  Angie, drugged in sensuality only a moment before, froze, her gaze on Sam’s above her. The two of them were obviously glowing. How would he react to someone seeing them like this?

  Embarrassed?

  Angry?

  Would he push her away?

  Luke leaned against the doorjamb and continued to grin.

  Sam scowled but didn’t let Angie down. “Excuse me.”

  “Certainly.” Luke shifted aside, and when Sam would have kicked the door closed on him, he neatly stepped inside first.

  “I meant for you to be on the other side of it when it closed,” Sam told him. “What happened to your date?”

  “Didn’t work out.”

  From the living room came the sounds of a ball game and the un mistakable scent of pizza. “I’m guessing you don’t want to watch the game.”

  Angie tried to get down, but Sam held firm. “No.” He looked slightly abashed but not ashamed, and definitely more than a little protective as he turned away so Luke could no longer see her.

  At the endearing gesture, such a small thing really, but that he would think of it…her heart took a stumble.

  But with her new angle of vision she could see into a mirror that hung above a small desk in the foyer. Sam stood there, towering and sexy. In his arms was this wild, mussed, erotic-looking woman—herself. Her mouth was still wet, her hair beyond rioted, and now that she could see up close and personal, she realized her buttons hadn’t been fastened in the correct order and that her right breast was in danger of presenting itself. With a little squeak, she lifted her hands to fix the problem.

  Sam didn’t look much more together. His hair was standing on end—from her fingers—and his eyes blazed with the heat they’d just shared.

  In the mirror, their gazes met for one long heartbeat, during which Angie’s pulse started to race again.

  They weren’t finished. Oh, thank God, they weren’t finished.

  “Sorry,” Sam said to Luke, still staring at Angie’s reflection, then he started down the hall with her.

  They were halfway to the bedroom before Luke called out. “I’ll just leave the pizza and pick up some thing else for myself, since no doubt you’re about to work up an appetite.”

  Sam just slammed his bedroom door, set Angie down on his huge, rumpled, unmade bed and followed her down.

  He surrounded her with his arms, his body, the look in his eyes. “I’ve already worked up the appetite,” he said, and bent his head to her body to prove it.

  The sun speared through the bedroom window and rudely woke Sam up. He might have grumbled and growled and shoved a pillow over his head, only there was a weight on his pillow.

  And on his body, too, he realized. Both his arms were numb and there was some thing sprawled over his body—

  Angie.

  He hadn’t for got ten, but it’d been so long since he’d let a woman stay all night—

  Wait. He’d never let a woman stay all night except his ex. And certainly not like this, all entwined like a pretzel, with no feeling left in any of his limbs.

  His ex hadn’t liked sleeping like that. She’d claimed he made her all hot and sticky. Couldn’t have that, apparently. She’d slept all curled in a ball on her side of the bed, and woe was him if he’d attempted to invade her space.

  There was some serious space invading going on here.

  He was on his side, the numbest arm beneath Angie, the other over her hip. He had a handful of her very sexy butt, holding her close to him as if he never planned on letting her go. He had one leg thrust high between her thighs, and even now he could feel the heat of her.

  She faced him, his little bed hog, completely relaxed in exhausted slumber since they’d finally fallen asleep only—he squinted at the clock—two hours ago. She had her nose pressed to his collarbone, one arm thrown over his neck and a leg tossed over his hip. Her breasts, bare and glorious and…damn it.

  Her other hand was open on his chest, right over his heart. He drew in a long, deep breath and braced for the panic.

  Angie opened her eyes. Slowly. Easily. No grogginess for this woman, as her dark gaze landed right on him. “Morning,” she said, her voice husky from sleep. Her hair tickled his nose, her body slid sensuously along his, making him want to purr in pleasure.

  Then she smiled. A stunner. His heart actually stopped, because in that gaze wasn’t simply lust. No, nothing as simple as lust. There were all sorts of terrifying things: arousal, relief, joy, affection.

  And love.

  He couldn’t miss it. It was blaring at him, waiting for him to acknowledge it.

  But he didn’t believe in a happy-ever-after. He didn’t believe in love. And wasn’t sure he ever would. “Angie—”

  She blinked, and the emotions that had so rocked his world vanished in that one flash of time, replaced by…

  Nothing.

  She pulled back from him, slid out of the bed and bent for her clothes. “Look at the time.” She turned to him, covering her lovely body by holding her dress in front of it. “Can I use your bathroom?” she asked politely.

  “Of course, but—damn it,” he said to no one when she disappeared into his bathroom. He got out of bed, swore again when his numb legs quivered like a newborn baby, and went to the bathroom door.

  Locked.

  He knocked. “Angie?”

  For an answer, the shower came on.

  “Angie…open up.” Nothing. “I guess you figured out I’m lousy at morning afters.”

  He imagined her soaping up, which did little for his very in sis tent morning hard-on. “Angie?” He knocked again. “I’m sorry, okay? Now let me in.”

  Steam began to come from under the door. He figured she was running her hands over her entire body now.

  Which should have been his pleasure this morning, thank you very much. But he was too stupid to have finagled that, wasn’t he. He put his forehead to the wood. “Look, I just had a moment of panic when I woke up and there you were, and—” And given the silence he wasn’t doing this right.

  The water turned off.

  The door opened. She stood there wearing nothing but his towel wrapped around her delectable body. Lush, wet curves plumped out of the top of the towel while her tanned, toned thighs showed out the bottom. The towel was a tad too big for him to see anything else.

  She put her hand to his chin and lifted his gaze so it met hers. “Is your moment of panic gone now?”

  He opened his mouth, but he’d never lied in his life and he sure as hell wasn’t about to start now.

  “I see,” she said quietly, and walked past him. Halfway to the bed, she dropped the towel.

  His tongue nearly fell out of his mouth as she bent for her panties. “It’s…somewhat gone,” he managed to croak out.

  “Somewhat isn’t good enough.” She stepped into her dress and pulled it up the length of her body, then started on the long row of buttons.

  “I know a way that would greatly help,” he said, and when she turned to look him over, he realized he was standing there bare-ass naked.

  She cocked her head and, while she smiled, it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Tempting, but…” She lifted a shoulder. “I don’t intend to push myself on you. Will you take me to work, please?”

  Push herself on him? Hell, he was willing to beg. “Work isn’t a good idea, not until we