Chapter 27 #2
“Great.” Fran beamed at her, like they had reached a female understanding.
Josie smiled back for a different reason. If Houston protested her popping up on his doorstep, she’d just tell him his mother had sent her.
The next day Josie rang Houston’s doorbell wearing denim shorts and a loose T-shirt, carrying crab legs from Barnacle Bill’s in a big bag.
Houston didn’t answer the door. But then, she figured he probably didn’t want to limp to the door when he wasn’t expecting anyone, and his mother would have a key. She tried the knob. It was unlocked and she was in luck. Which was good, because she couldn’t eat this much crab in a week.
“Hello?” she called as she entered his foyer. “It’s me, I brought you dinner.”
There was no response and Josie wandered past his empty living room to the kitchen. Houston was sitting at the glass table, a news magazine propped in front of him, eating strawberries. He glanced up at her then bit another berry, taking the whole thing in his mouth to the green stem.
“Is that your dinner?”
“Yes.” He tossed the stem down and pointedly looked down at his phone as he chewed.
Like that was going to stop her. “Well, hello. How was your day? It’s nice to see you, too.” She plunked the bag down on the table.
“Josie.” He looked at her, his expression pained. “No offense, but I’m not in the mood for company.”
“Which is exactly why you need company.”
“There’s no logic in that statement,” he said, eyeing the bag on the table.
Despite his recent ordeal, Josie had to admit that Houston looked good enough to eat.
He was unshaven, scruffier than she’d ever seen him, and bare-chested.
His olive-colored shorts hung loose on his waist and enhanced the surfer-bum image, which she found really sexy.
Of course, he could be dressed like Santa and she’d find him sexy.
And a beard could tickle in some really interesting places. .. Knock it off, Josie.
He kept his injured hand in his lap, and his leg was still wrapped, but he didn’t look like he was in any major discomfort today.
“It makes perfect sense to me,” she said, opening the bag and pulling out a plastic box, setting it in front of Houston, and popping the top open. The pungent aroma of fresh seafood filled the air.
“You’re not going to leave, are you?” he asked, fingers reaching for the crab before he caught himself and stopped.
“Nope. Not a chance. We’re going to eat dinner and talk and you’re going to tell me all about the mysterious things you said while you were on the diamorphine.”
That got his attention. Houston’s eyes locked with hers. “Why? What did I say?”
“You mean you don’t remember?” She shook out a paper napkin and plastic cutlery and set them in front of him. “And here it was such a life-altering moment for me.”
Josie took a crab leg, snapped it, and sat down in the chair next to him, feeling her mouth water. It had been a long day at the hospital and she’d skipped lunch. She took a healthy bite.
“Cute,” he said, pushing his bowl of strawberries away. “But I didn’t say anything.”
“You said lots of things.” Josie wiped her chin with a napkin. “Like suggesting I call Tim Sheinberg to take over for me since I’m not qualified.”
If she had expected him to deny it or be embarrassed, she was disappointed.
He just shrugged. “Is that all? That’s true.”
Tempted to shove a strawberry up his nose, she snorted. “I am so qualified to give stitches. I’m qualified to do an entire range of orthopedic procedures a million times more complicated than pulling a shark tooth out of your leg.”
So much for staying cheerful and friendly.
Houston stared at the table, his lip twitching, and she realized he was trying not to laugh.
She could fix that. “But after that uncomplimentary statement you went and told me how pretty you think I am.” That got a better reaction.
The bronze muscles in Houston’s bare shoulders tensed, his arm flexed. The vein running down to his elbow bulged as he shot her a wary glance. “Oh, really?”
“Really.” If he denied it, she’d skip the berry and go right to her fist in his nose.
Houston had brought out an unknown violent streak in her.
But the man just shrugged again, eyes dropping to her chest. “That’s true, too.”
It made her feel like she had been fishing for a compliment.
“Just eat your crab.” She grabbed a paper plate out of the bag and slapped a crab leg in front of Houston. “I hope you’re hungry, there’s a ton here. I didn’t judge very well.”
Houston’s hand landed on her waist as she leaned over the table and fussed with the food, cutting crab on his plate with the plastic knife and fork. She ignored him and sawed urgent little pieces, sending the crab leg sliding around in its buttery juices.
“You’re very pretty.” The cool air of the kitchen hit her skin as he lifted her T-shirt. His breath drizzled across her waist and she stiffened, holding the plastic fork so tight she snapped a tine off in the crab. “Sexy, really. Edible.”
“Shoot.” Josie reached forward, fishing around for the lost piece of plastic as Houston’s lips landed on her flesh.
The fork went skittering right out of her hand, crab still attached to it, and crashed to a halt on the screen of Houston’s phone.
She stepped away from the kiss that was rapidly turning into nuzzling. “Stop that.”
“Why?” He tugged on the edge of her shirt, trying to pull her back.
“Because you said one night, remember? We’re trying to be just friends, remember?” This wasn’t working. How could she resist him when every time she looked at him there was sexual promise hovering in his blue eyes?
“That was your idea. When you suggested we have a string of one-nighters, I agreed. I just asked for a week to recover.”
“But I changed my mind and decided that you were right. Now I’m trying to be a friend, to help you like your mother asked me to until you feel better, so be good.”
“You want to know what would make me feel better?”
Since it probably involved a laundry list of sexual positions a man with a leg injury could do, she didn’t want to hear it. “No.”
He laughed and popped a piece of crab into his mouth. “But then you’re not fulfilling your promise to my mother. She asked you to help me. And I have some requests.”
That sounded dangerous. And it looked even worse, given the glint in his eye and the unmistakable smirk crossing his face.
Sitting down so she wouldn’t singe him from the heat radiating off her shorts like a space heater, she chewed her lip. “Why? What do you want?”
“Josie, I’m disappointed in your bedside manner. That’s usually your strength.”
“We’re not at the hospital, Houston, and you’re not a sweet little old lady.”
He went for another bite of the crab, the fingers of his left hand rolling the piece around the plate first before pinching it. “No, not exactly.”
She sighed, feeling like she was going to really regret coming to his condo in the first place. Her determination was no match for the complex and alluring Houston Hayes. “So what do you want?”
“No enthusiasm there, Josie. Now I feel like I have to beg for it.” He was enjoying this altogether too much.
“Of course you don’t have to beg.”
“Okay.” He rolled his shoulders. “After we’re done eating, could you give me a massage? Because of my leg. I’m sleeping on my back, which I never do, and now my neck and shoulders are killing me.”
Josie swallowed hard. Oh, sure, she could slather her hands all over his bare skin, no problem. She wouldn’t even need to use lotion because her drool would be puddling down his back.
“Sure thing,” she said in a squeaky voice normally only used by animated mice.