"Guess the lesson's over," Brad said, relief obvious in his voice. "What do you mean the lesson's over? It's not over." Brad pointed to the now-limp doll. "Suzie deflated. Didn't you notice?" He smiled as he lifted Suzie's hand then let it drop to her side. "No way. You're not getting out of this that easily." "This is easily?" She jammed her fists on her hips and squared off against him. "I promised to teach you how to give a massage and I'm going to do just that." "You're only making this harder on both of us. Why are you being so bullheaded about this?" "It's—" she hesitated. For an instant, she considered spilling her guts, but she didn't want to reveal she'd been pining for him all these years. "It's my duty." He stiffened. "Is that how you see me? As some sort of charity project?" "Isn't that how you see me?" she sighed, shaking her head slowly. "Look, if either of us is going to make any progress, we need to trust each other. We have to stop trying to outmaneuver one a
"Where do you want me?" she asked, looking up at him through her lashes. Pretty damn far, it seemed. Where did he want her? Anywhere. Everywhere. She blinked innocently. "Do you want me sitting on the chair? Or lying down on the sofa? Or right here on the floor in front of the fireplace?" Images flashed through his mind. Images of Mattie naked and willing shot through his head. Mattie poised on the edge of a chair, back arched, beckoning him to her. Matte lounging on the sofa, hair spread out across the pillow, breast proudly thrust upward, one leg bent at the knee. And of her spread out before him on the floor, propped up on her elbows, smiling up at him, welcoming him beside her. "On the floor." He barely choked out the words. "Good choice." Her lips curved into a seductive smile. She moved to the table and picked up the massage oil. For a moment, he stared in the silence at the bottle. Then it hit him. They were talking about the massage. Of course, they were still talking ab
Awkwardly, trying to his growing erection, Brad lowered himself to the bed beside her. His hip close to hers, he hitched his knee onto the bed, being careful not to let his jeans brush against her bare flesh. "See there. That wasn't hard," she teased. "Now pour a little of the oil on your hand—" She paused, watching him carefully as he followed her directions. "There. That's enough. Now rub your hands together to warm the oil. Then just rub it into my skin." Following her instructions, he brusquely rubbed his hands together. The minty scent of the oil wafted up to him and flooded his senses. Her fresh floral scent mixed with the peppermint and the simple combination seemed more erotic than any of Ginger's expensive perfumes. Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep breath and gave himself free rein to do what his body had been urging him to do ever since he saw Mattie wrapped in the lemon-yellow towel. He touched her. Trailing his hands across her naked flesh, he explored the velvety sk
"Miss Mattie?" Mattie cringed at the sound of Lucy's voice, then looked up to see the girl peeking sheepishly through the cracked door. "Just Mattie would be fine," she reminded her. Jeez, it had been bad enough when she'd been Lucy's teacher. Now it just made her feel like a castoff from Gone with the Wind. "Mi—Mattie, can I talk to you?" "Sure." She shoved aside the shipping manifest she'd been pretending to read and leaned back in her chair. "What's up?" Lucy slipped through the door, cast a nervous glance back down the hall, then pulled the door closed behind her. "It's about Mr. Sumners." "Yes." Mattie prodded. "I just...I mean...It—he makes me nervous. You're in here doing—" she waved her hand through the air "—whatever, instead of being out there where you'd normally be. And he'd out there watching everything everyone does. But he keeps looking back here. Waiting for you to come out." Lucy's hands fluttered in front of her face as if she was swatting away gnats. Or tears.
"Have you ever been alone, Mattie?" His gaze skittered away from hers and he rounded the coffee table and lowered himself to the sofa. He sagged against it, like a wounded man shifting his weight from a crutch. "Well, sure." "I mean really alone. Cut off from everyone you know. Powerless." As he assessed her, she could only shake her head. "No. I suppose not." He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and focusing on a spot on the floor between his shoes. "When I was a kid--maybe fifteen or sixteen--and my parents went out of town, they'd leave me alone. Jessica would always stay at your house--with you and your dad and your grandparents--but they'd leave me alone. In that crypt of a house." He laughed, but it was a bitter sound. "They thought it was a privilege." "Brad, you could have stayed with--" He held up a hand, effectively silencing her. "No, I couldn't. Not after my dad made such a deal out of letting me stay alone. He thought it was an honor. A sign I was a m
She didn't mean to kiss him. It just sort of happened. An accident. Like the time in college, she'd tripped, fallen partway down a flight of stairs and broken her foot. One minute the world was right-side up and her feet were firmly on the ground, the next she was tumbling, free-falling, helplessly headed for disaster. One minute she was gently stroking his arm, murmuring something reassuring. The next, he'd twisted to face her, and the temptation of having him so close was simply too much to resist. Her mind cut off and she leaned forward to press her lips to his. Instantly she pulled back, surprised by the warmth of his mouth. But one taste simply wasn't enough. She had to have more. Leaning forward for another kiss, she pulled her feet up under her, angling closer to him. His lips were warm and soft beneath her. Pliant. As if he hadn't yet decided whether or not to kiss her back. But he tasted wonderful, spicy and sweet. Like cinnamon sugar. And she simply couldn't get enough o
Brad never slept late. In fact he hadn't slept past nine in the morning since he'd gotten drunk his freshman year of college, slept till noon the next day, and missed his economics exam. So he was more than a little surprised to roll over, crack open his eyes, and see a tepid ray of late morning sun creeping through the gap in Mattie's curtains. He blinked sleepily before rubbing the grit from his eyes with the back of his hand. He knew without looking that Mattie no longer lay beside him in bed. She'd slept curled against him for most of the night, and he missed the warmth of having her near. Missed waking up beside her and making slow, sleepy love to her first thing in the morning. But the solitude did give him a chance to think. All this time, he'd been saying he didn't want another wife. Mattie hadn't believed him. Well, it turned out, she was right. He did want another wife. He wanted her. Why hadn’t he seen it before?All his life, he’d wanted a family like the one she’d gr
He’d never met a business he couldn’t fix. Sure, some places had more problems than others did. That was just the way of the world. The good news was, for him at least, solving A Stitch in Time’s problems was going to be relatively easy. And brief.That was the good news. The bad news was, when Mattie heard the changes he was suggesting, she wouldn’t like them. But she was a businesswoman. Surely she would be able to distance herself emotionally from the problems with the shop.And yet, as he settled into the chair facing her desk, he hesitated a moment. He realized that he wanted to be able to fix her problems. Not because to her owed it to her—though he did—but because he wanted to be the one who rescued her. He wanted her to once again look at him and see her hero. Maybe if he saved her business, she would.The tiny room, dimly lit by a single overhead fixture, radiated with the warmth of Mattie’s personality. the ancient wood, the kitschy, Depression-era wall clock, and the inviti