MICAH (A California Dreamy Novel Book 3) Page 5

  “Yes, she can,” the realtor agreed.

  Emme speared him with a pointed look. “You will fix this rodent problem and you will have it fixed before five o’clock tomorrow night.” She anchored her hands on her hips, hoping it made her look more aggressive, but, in fact, it only made her more aware of Micah’s growing problem. She glanced at the clock over the stove. “That gives you slightly less than twenty-four hours. Think you can do it?”

  The realtor pulled at the lapels of his jacket and smoothed its front panels, and refused to look Emme in the eye. “Well, I can certainly try.”

  “At five after five tomorrow I call my attorney. He’s a friend and won’t mind an after-hours call.”

  The color drained from his face and Emme heard Micah snickering. She felt the movement of his chest against her back and the husky whisper of his laughter in her ear. Her nipples tightened in response.

  The realtor headed for the door. “I’ll be back in the morning,” he promised. “And I’ll have a professional with me.”

  The door shut behind him and Emme stood in silence with Micah. She should move. Peel herself off his body and put some space between them. But even as the thought formed she felt his palms flatten against her stomach, anchoring her. He drew a breath, deep and fortifying, and she knew he was dredging up some self-control.

  “A professional what?” she wondered, surprising both of them with her ability to think about anything else except how they fit so perfectly together. And what could happen next, with only a small adjustment of clothing and position. . .

  “Taxidermist?” Micah posed.

  When his hold loosened she turned and took a step back and tried very hard to look at him and not at his crotch, though that was a challenge. Emme very much liked that she turned him on.

  She shuddered and tried to pretend that it had nothing to do with sexual tension. “I hope not. A live catch? Really?”

  “It’s the humane thing. Whatever it is—possum, raccoon, squirrel—it will be released into the wild.”

  She nodded and stalled. She had no words. No idea what to say next. She wished she was practiced in the intimate ways between men and women, but only experience would get her that. Micah, however, didn’t seem to have that problem.

  Even while she watched he cupped himself and adjusted his jeans.

  “I’m big, Emme, but I don’t want my erection be the elephant in the room.”

  That brought her eyebrows up. He was smiling, so big in fact that it qualified as a grin. He was teasing her, though they both recognized the truth in his words.

  “So much for modesty,” she said.

  “You know there’s no need for it.”

  No. Definitely not. She nodded toward his crotch. “That’s just a natural reaction?”

  “When a woman pushes her rear against my junk? Yes, very natural. Especially when the rear is as curvy as yours.”

  “You like my curves, Micah?”

  “Any breathing man would,” he assured her.

  “Fine.” Maybe. She would have liked a more personal response from him.

  “Definitely one of the finest I’ve seen.”

  “Well, you haven’t actually seen it.”

  “Those little run shorts you wear do nothing to hide your ass.”

  “You have no idea what I look like.”

  “Of course, I do. Pale skin—I doubt it’s ever seen the sunlight. Smooth, soft, pliable. You’re a handful, Emme Montgomery.”

  She felt her body temperature soar and her breath thin. “OK,” she said. “I surrender.”

  He stepped closer and Emme refused to give into the impulse to retreat so he stood in her personal space and they shared breath and when his chest expanded it brushed against her breasts and caused an exquisite tightening from her nipples to her womb. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks as she reveled in the pleasure.

  She felt him shift, chest and thighs brushing hers. “We could seal the deal right here, right now. Couldn’t we, Emme?”

  “Yes,” she breathed. Because it was the truth and she didn’t care if it left her exposed.

  She didn’t know how it was possible, but his erection grew more insistent, pressing against the zipper of his jeans so that he brushed against her abdomen.

  “Crazy, right? Intense. Mind-blowing. And crazy.”

  And she sensed some disgruntlement on his part. Intense and mind-blowing were OK. Crazy was not.

  She nodded. Because she got it. Finally. He’d been running from this all week. The attraction had been as instant and consuming for him as it had been for her. And he didn’t want it.

  Well, too bad for him, she thought. She hadn’t done anything to deliberately attract him. That had happened on its own. Now, what she did with that knowledge would become purposeful. Whether she ignored it—doubt it—or did what she could to make herself irresistible—oh, yeah—was her decision to make. How he responded was his.

  She took a deep breath and a big step sideways. Not exactly a retreat. More like pushing the pause button while she thought about what she really wanted and how she should go about getting it. Micah followed her cue. A deep breath. More adjustment of his jeans. A step backwards, and then two, until he was resting a hip against the counter top and regarding her out of heavy-lidded eyes.

  Neither of them spoke. The time on the microwave clock turned twice. Two minutes and then some. And Emme didn’t feel the pressure to fill the silence. After all, he’d delivered an eye-opening revelation. She had power. But how to use it? Damn responsibility. It had the unwanted ability to cloud desire.

  He nodded at the laptop, behind them on the table. “Get a lot done?”

  “Lots.” She smiled hugely. She couldn’t believe it was almost six o’clock in the evening. She must have written twenty-plus pages today.

  “So you followed my advice,” he continued. The hard planes of his face softened as his smile deepened.

  “What are you talking about?” Damn he was sexy, his smile breathtaking.

  “Sex.”

  “Sex?”

  “I can see the word ‘nipple’ from here,” he told her.

  Emme’s cheeks colored. She moved so that she blocked his view of the computer screen. “Maybe I’m writing about baby bottles.”

  His laughter was sudden and full of amusement.

  “No way. ‘He stroked and her nipple beaded. He suckled and her breath shuddered in her throat, and perhaps his name as well,’” he read from memory and Emme felt her whole body ignite. The heat of embarrassment, sure, because she’d written the words and spoken aloud they had life. They were intimate and entangling, words that exposed her need. And the heat of passion, because she’d lived the moment, through her imagination, with Micah as the bold and voracious lover.

  Thank God she hadn’t used his name in that passage. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t be smiling so hugely if he knew he had a starring role in her fantasies.

  “Do you practice at being an ass?”

  “Or does it come naturally?” he finished for her. But his amusement only grew. “I think I’m a natural. Good thing I have other, finer qualities.”

  “Yeah? Like what?” She bathed her words in doubt.

  He took a step toward her. “Kindness.” He spread open his palms. “You didn’t feel a thing this morning.”

  “True,” she admitted.

  “Despite my earlier failings, I was very neighborly tonight.”

  “Because you tackled my real estate agent?”

  “From my kitchen window he was a shadow, big and lurking,” he played it up. “I didn’t know how soft he was until I had him on the ground.”

  “So we’ll just add brave to your list of spectacular male qualities.”

  “What else would you add?”

  Hot. Sexy. An electric sense of humor. Charm. A body made for sin.

  “Nothing,” she assured him. “I think that about sums you up.”

  “Ouch.” He feigned a flinch. “But not too
bad since you’re just getting to know me. ‘Kind, neighborly, brave…was Alan any of those things?”

  Emme frowned. It was her own fault. She’d told him about her former fiancée.

  “He wasn’t brave,” Micah continued, “or he wouldn’t have left you at the front of the church by yourself. And there was no kindness in that, either.”

  “No,” Emme admitted. “And he didn’t know his neighbors.” That would have taken effort.

  “So what did you see in him, Emme?”

  “I didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about him. Not at first.”

  When she should have been getting to know him, asking all those first-date kind of questions and establishing a foundation on common values and differences, she’d been satisfied, relieved, that she’d found someone to call her own.

  She’d been wowed by Alan’s pursuit of her. It’d been head-long and heady. Emme had gotten caught up in the exhilaration of being wanted. Of being desirable. And it had taken far too long for her to realize that she needed to be wanted for who she was on the inside and maybe a little of who she was on the outside and not on her earning potential.

  “Nothing,” she admitted. “Because I never looked closely.”

  Chapter Five

  “That’s not good,” Micah said.

  Emme heard the tsk in his voice, though it was given lightly, and she watched Micah’s face as his smile lost a fraction of its amusement. “Sounds like a Disney tale I’ve seen about a thousand times.”

  Emme’s frown deepened and she let her annoyance show in her eyes.

  “’Frozen,” he prompted. “My nephews love the movie. The snowman, trolls, and especially the line about all men picking their nose—hooked them, to my sister’s dismay. They’ve stretched it a bit to all guys fart and burp without saying excuse me and share their food with the dog.”

  Emme felt her smile muscles kick in but she refused to comply. As cute as all that sounded, Micah’s observation was too close for comfort.

  “You’re comparing me to Anna?”

  “She did meet and fall in love with a man in a matter of minutes,” he pointed out. “She was all set to marry the guy who was only after her position in life. You don’t see the similarities to your own situation?”

  Of course she did, but she’d bite off her tongue before she admitted how needy she’d been.

  “There are a few important differences that you know nothing about.”

  He moved around her and took a seat at the table. Emme closed the laptop so he couldn’t pry further into her. . .story. Then she folded her arms over her stomach and stared at him pointedly.

  “Staying a while?”

  “Just getting comfortable.” He leaned back and cupped his hands at the back of his head. “In my experience, when a woman says there are important differences, the explanations are lengthy.”

  “I’m not going to tell you about them,” This time her outrage was real.

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s none of your business.”

  “You told me all the other stuff.”

  Emme’s breathe knotted. He was annoying, mostly because he was right. “That was none of your business either.”

  He nodded, looked over her kitchen table, at the empty wrappers and rapidly warming cola. His eyes came to rest on her laptop. “You’re not going to let me read anymore?”

  She shook her head.

  “I think I’d make a good editor,” he offered. “I’m really good with the periods and commas.”

  “That’s a strength for me as well.”

  “I could be your voice of reason, or reality.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  He nodded at the computer. “I think you hit on the heavy breathing a little too early.”

  “That sounds like a personal problem.”

  He laughed. “I won’t say it again.” But he left it alone and stood.

  “What? That you’ve never had any complaints?” She believed it.

  He nodded and stepped into her personal space. “Some things are definitely actions speak louder than words.”

  “But you’re not looking for a hook up,” she reminded him.

  He lifted his hand and she felt his fingertips in her hair, smoothing an errant strand behind her ear. “You’re right,” he said. “And that’s a shame. I think it would be explosive.”

  He stepped back and shook his head and there was real regret in it. “How about dinner?” he asked. “We could walk into town for something a little healthier than this—” he gestured toward the table and the remains of her convenience food. “And we can plan tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Yeah. Exercise. And a few tips on nutrition. A ripped body needs both.”

  Emme’s cheeks colored. She’d forgotten.

  But Micah couldn’t leave her alone at the house, not without him keeping close surveillance. Not until he’d checked out the realtor and checked in with Gardi. And he needed a few things at the grocery store—it looked like she had plowed through some of her supplies as well. Dinner seemed like the best way to get her to come along with him. But it wasn’t a date, he reminded himself. It was work. And he would approach it in a neighborly, friendly way that came with natural boundaries. He ignored the fact that he truly enjoyed her company. That she was funny and sexy and interesting. And that he’d just come onto her in a way neither of them could deny. But he could ignore it and he hoped she would as well. It was hard enough fighting his own growing attraction, keeping her in line would test him beyond his endurance.

  “We start tomorrow,” she said.

  “You forgot.” They’d decided this morning on an every other day kind of thing while her body adjusted to the demands of a new exercise program. In between she would do yoga—and he brought his imagination to a screeching halt before he could think about her and flexibility and all the moves required to get her there.

  He was a big fan of yoga.

  She stood before him, hands on hips and her lips pursed, perplexed. “Sorry,” she said. “I was lost in my writing.”

  “You still want to be Lara Croft?”

  “Definitely.”

  “So we’ll start as planned. Get a jacket,” he suggested. “It’s cool tonight.”

  “We’re walking into town and having dinner?” she clarified.

  He nodded. “It’s not a date,” he told her.

  “Well, that’s good,” she returned. “Because I’m focused on other things.”

  “Understood.”

  “And anyway, dating isn’t necessary. Not with us. We can take care of this—” she waved a hand between them “—without ever leaving home.”

  And damn if she didn’t smile full and seductively, with all the boldness that she’d been talking about cultivating, and his body responded in every way a healthy man reacted to heated promises. His breath grew thick and his erection strained against his jeans. And she noticed.

  Writing was definitely a source of confidence for her. There was a huge difference between the woman he’d caught in his arms that morning and the one who stood before him now. Kind of like the differences between a kitten and a full grown cat.

  “If I acted on every attraction I felt, I’d be a very busy man,” he returned.

  He hoped that would give her pause and he did notice a flicker of disappointment in her eyes before she plowed past that.

  “Your lips say no but your—” and here her courage flagged a little— “package, that’s a definite yes.”

  “Mind over matter,” he said and her smiled twisted into a challenging smirk.

  “You’re a control freak,” she said.

  “I’m disciplined,” he corrected.

  “What’s wrong with going after what you really want?”

  Plenty, when it was done with deception. He was a little old fashioned that way. When a man and woman came together it worked better when there was complete honesty.

  “Writer’s block totally ch
anges your personality.”

  “It’s not the block,” she corrected. “It’s when it flows. Kind of makes me feel invincible.”

  It gave her courage and that seeped into other areas of her life. Micah wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Sometimes a little fear was good. It sharpened a person’s desire for self-preservation. Much of his work kept him in Big Business and many of the crimes he encountered were brought on by the sense that the person felt he would never be caught.

  Emme didn’t give off the criminal vibe. She was, in fact, the very opposite—so damn honest and open about her feelings. Not just poking at the attraction between them, but revealing her weaknesses and strengths, her determination to do better, be better than she was. But it was still early days. Felicity hadn’t given him reason for suspicion either, not in the beginning. Not until the very end, in fact, when there was nothing left to believe in.

  He watched her face change in reaction to his frown.

  She took a step back but Micah knew better than to think of it as a retreat. Maybe she was regrouping. “So let’s get moving,” she said. “I’m starving.”

  Emme decided to be good. To let the attraction between them stew without turning up the heat and watching it boil. Micah had rebuffed her. And not because he was unaffected—he’d had the King Kong of boners and just thinking about that made her muscles cramp. So why, then? she wondered. Why turn her down flat?

  Mind over matter. He was determined to fight his attraction to her. Because he didn’t like her? Physically, she clearly pleased him. She had plenty of boob and booty and a tiny waist that emphasized both. Maybe she’d launched a few fantasy moments for him. But given the whole package, he decided to pass?

  Was he put off by her boldness? Was he the kind of man who wanted to do the chasing?

  Possible. She knew so little about him and even less about this new self that seemed to be emerging. Damn, talk about shaking the petals off the wall flower. Maybe she should get to know her new self a little better before sitting her in the driver’s seat. And getting to know Micah would only help her understand him better. So she decided to pull back. She would focus on her writing and enjoy the view when she was with him and see if, once she backed off, he took the lead.