Heat rushed straight through Zane’s body, starting by setting his ears on fire and permanently lodging much,muchlower than that. Logically he was quite sure Victoria wasn’t making any kind of invitation by mentioning the mattress. Emotionallyand physically, though, it was as if his world flipped over and dragged him off into illicitly hopeful thoughts without his permission. He was still overheated by the time they’d walked up to her third floor apartment and she unlocked the door, totally unaware that she’d thrown him for a loop.
The apartment was nice in a generic, semi-lived-in kind of way: a living/dining room that the door opened into, with a kitchen to the left; a hallway beyond that, presumably leading to a bathroom and some number of bedrooms. The walls, carpets, countertops and cabinets were all what Zane thought of as ‘Modern Living Grey,’ which meant Victoria was probably right about the age of the place. He thought it could use a more colorful updating, although really, a great deal of the grey was covered by brightly colored, childish paintings, drawings, toys, and a truly astonishing number of coffee cups.
“Here we are,” Victoria said cheerfully. “Welcome to my humble abode, interior decoration compliments of the apartment industrial complex and first graders all over the northeast.” She shrugged her boxy coat off and threw it over the back of a kitchen chair to drip, and he took a heartbeat to smile at the dress she wore beneath it. It was polyester, which made it mostly wrinkle-free, easy to clean, and very practical for a first grade teacher. It was a little bit librarian-ish, with a faux vest in a plaid over a white blouse and an ankle-length grey skirt. She was even wearing Victorian-style ‘granny’ boots, and he bet if she swept her hair up, she would have a full-on 1890s schoolmarm vibe going on.
The skirt was also dripping wet on three out of four sides, and clung to her legs in a way that would be distractingly pleasant if it didn’t look socold.
Vicki, as if reading his mind, only backward, said, “You must befreezing.” She glanced up at him with concern in her sky-blue eyes.
The last thing in the world Zane felt right then was cold. He could fall into that gaze forever, swimming in its warmth. It took him a moment to remember hisownclothes were soaked through. Then a sudden shiver rushed over him. “Now that you mention it…”
“Tell you what. Why don’t you go take a shower and I’ll try to find something that’ll fit you while your clothes—wash? Can they be washed in a washing machine, or is this a hand-wash-only situation?” Her hands twitched like she wanted to push his jacket off his shoulders but recognized that he wasn’t six and could probably undress himself.
He wouldwelcomeher undressing him, of course, but there didn’t seem to be any way to suggest that without sounding incredibly crass. “Uh. Wash. Yes. Machine good. Fine! Yes!” He dragged a breath in, trying to sound like someone who knew how to talk to another adult, and mumbled, “They can be put in the washing machine, yes. Gentle cycle, though? And not dried.”
“Right. You, go to the bathroom. Hand the clothes out and I’ll put them in the machine and find you clothes while you shower. I make no promises about what kind of clothes.” She eyed him, her expression somewhere between critical and apologetic. “Icanpromise they won’t fit as well as your suit does.”
“I’d be surprised if they did,” Zane said, sounding apologetic himself. “This was hand-made for me.”
“By you, I assume.” A wistful expression crossed Victoria’s face before she tilted her head toward the hall. “First door on the left. Go undress.”
The order joltedstraightthrough the most arousable parts of Zane’s body, and he fled to the bathroom before his interest became visibly and mortifyingly obvious.
CHAPTER 5
Two minutes later, putting a silver-streaked suit and the softest silk shirt she’d ever touched into the washing machine, Vicki wondered what the hell she’d been thinking. She muttered, “Come back to my house and get undressed,supersubtle, Vic,suuuupersubtle. Lemon-wrapped gold bricks have nothing on you.”
The clothes went in the washerwithouther burying her nose in them to catch Zane’s rich, masculine scent. She put it on gentle wash, then sank to the floor, leaned against the washer, and thunked her head against it as it began to swish.
She’d gotten a glimpse of Zane’s strongly muscled forearm as he handed his clothes out the cracked-open bathroom door and thought her life might never be the same. She’d never considered herself to be much of a forearm girl, but evidently she just hadn’t seen the right forearms. He had such long elegant fingers, and she bet he was incredibly deft with them.
She could think ofsomany excellent ways to find out.
Someone actually whimpered, and after a startled moment Vicki realized it had been her. Still more or less under her breath, she said, “Pull yourself together, Vic, and…”
There was no ‘and.’ Everything after ‘and’ involved finding clothes for Zane Bellamy, andnotthinking about him being wet and naked in her shower. Vicki got to her feet, determined to keep her mind on the prize, which was definitely not Zane or even the dress he was supposed to design. No, it was…
…maybe it was wondering, again, what she’d beenthinkingby inviting a strange man back to her home roughly ten seconds after meeting him. Her libido had plenty of answers, some of them supplied in deliciously vivid detail, but her good sense had no answers at all, except he seemed nice.
More than nice. He seemed safe, charming, gorgeous, delightful,safe—she’d listed that once before, but it deserved repeating—and also rather desperately in need of a refuge.
Vicki would besohappy to provide refuge. In all kinds of ways. If Zane felt the need to curl up in someone’s arms and be protected from the world, Vicki was the woman to do the job.
Not that a guy who navigated the world of the rich, famous, and beautiful—and threw himself under women to keep them from breaking their necks when they fell—needed a random elementary school teacher to stand between him and the world, but man, Vicki would be happy to. Even if it was just for the evening, it sounded wonderful.
She had a soft fluffy robe that was ankle-length on her, and a set of what her brother referred to as ‘floppy clothes’ from the last time he’d visited her. He was bigger than Zane, but probably offering him extra-floppy clothes was better than handing over a pair of her own yoga pants and a belly shirt, which was mostly what Vicki flopped around the house in, given her druthers.
She hesitated with her hand over Chris’s sweatpants and t-shirt, entirely distracted by the idea of Zane in snug yoga pants and a belly shirt. She bet he hadgreatabs. She bet his ass would look way finer in her yoga pants than her own did. Maybe lending him her clothes was a better idea after all.
“Vicki,no.” She recognized that tone of voice: it was the one she used when she was especially exasperated with one of her first-graders, and trying not to be. Having essentially scolded herself, she got Chris’s clothes and the robe and went to tap nervously on the bathroom door before opening it a crack. “Vicki’s Emergency Clothes Delivery Service. I’ll just leave them on the bathroom counter?”
Zane’s voice rolled out on a billow of steam. “Thank you, although I’m never getting out of the shower. The water pressure is incredible.”
“Oh, I know, right?” Vicki brightened as she stepped in to drop the clothes off. “It’s the best thing about this apartment! I get up fifteen minutes early because I finally realized I’m always going to stand there in the hot waterjust a little bit longerand otherwise I run late.” Oh, God, she was standing in the steamy bathroom yammering at an incredibly attractive naked man who was only a semi-transparent shower curtain away. That was not cool. “Sorry, I’m letting all the heat out. Enjoy the shower. Oh, towels are in the cabinet right above the toilet there.”
“Thank you.” Zane sounded hazily happy as Vicki retreated, carefullynotlooking toward the shower curtain, an item she had never wanted so badly to look at in her entire life.
As soon as the door was closed, she almost opened it again to ask if he’d like a cup of coffee when he got out, never mind that it was too late for coffee by any sensible person’s standards. Maybe tea. Maybe orange juice. Maybe water. Maybeanythingthat would let her stand in the hot humid bathroom three feet away from the gorgeous naked man.
