Completely Smitten

Chapter Two

She wouldn’t mind?

Kevin did his best to ignore the sexual desire that slammed into him the second she spoke the words. His unexpected attraction to Haley couldn’t begin to matter. Not with circumstances being what they were. She was drunk, alone, out of her element and, with his luck, a virgin. Thanks, but not tonight.

Lightning cut across the sky, as if warning him the Almighty was keeping tabs on the evening’s events. With that in mind, Kevin ignored the curves pressing against his body and the way those curves made him feel. She might be a little slimmer than he’d first realized, but she seemed to have everything in the right place under her ugly dress. Not that he was going to be checking her out.

“Did you say a pink motel?” he asked, looking around at the motor inns on both sides of the highway.

“Uh-huh. There’s flamingos.” She blinked at him. “I like birds.”

“Good to know.”

He spotted a low, two-story structure that matched her description. He mentally cringed at the plastic flamingos stuck into the cement. If the place looked this bad at night, what did it look like in the light of day? Of course, there was no accounting for taste.

At least they didn’t have to cross the highway to get there. The motel was only a couple hundred yards up the frontage road.

“Let’s start walking,” he said, still supporting most of her weight.

A second bolt of lightning illuminated the sky.

“Look!” Haley said, pointing at the heavens. “Don’t you love lightning? Don’t you wish it would rain?”

“Sure.”

Because a douse of cold water might cool him off. Drunk women begging to be taken advantage of were nothing but trouble. He had to keep reminding himself of that as Haley’s soft blond hair brushed against his cheek.

He got them moving in the direction of the motel. Haley was still upright and remotely mobile, but he had a feeling that was going to be changing in the next few minutes. At least she was still managing full sentences.

“Do you know your room number?”

Rather than answer, she sighed. He felt the soft puff of air on his cheek.

“You never answered my question,” she said instead.

“What question?”

He made the mistake of looking at her face—at her blue-hazel eyes and the curves at the corners of her mouth. At the knowing expression that heated his blood and made him consider possibilities.

“No way,” he muttered more to himself than to her. He was not going there with her.

She pushed away from him and tried to stand on her own. She was nearly successful. With her feet firmly planted, she swayed back and forth, stumbled a step, then regained her balance by holding her arms out a little on each side.

“What is it about me?” she demanded. “Why don’t men want to take advantage of me? Am I ugly? Is my body hideous?”

Did they really need to be having this conversation now? He eyed the night sky—thick with clouds and the promise of rain. More lightning flashed in the distance.

“We’re going to get soaked in about thirty seconds,” he said.

She glared at him. “I mean it. What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing’s wrong with you.”

“So why don’t you want to have—”

For a second he thought she was actually going to say “sex” but at the last minute she pressed her lips together and stared meaningfully. At least he assumed that’s what she was doing. That and tipping over.

He grabbed her around the waist and hauled her against him.

“Walk,” he commanded.

She started moving.

“Tell me,” she demanded. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Like I said—nothing. It’s not you.” Hell, why not just tell her the truth? “It’s the whole preacher’s daughter thing. No one wants to spit in the eye of God.”

She considered that while they crossed the rest of the bar’s parking lot and stepped onto the motel parking lot.

“What about forbidden flute?”

The flute thing threw him for a second. “Do you mean ‘fruit’?”

She nodded vigorously and nearly collapsed. “My head is spinning,” she said, sounding as thrilled as a kid at a carnival. “The sky’s spinning, too.”

“Great.”

“I can be fruit,” she insisted.

“If that’s what you want.”

“Don’t you think of me that way? Aren’t I a temptation?”

He was impressed she could manage a three-syllable word. Unfortunately, while her verbal skills remained intact, her motor skills were fading fast. He had to support more and more of her weight to keep them moving toward the motel.

“Room number,” he said.

“Look at what happened with Eve and the apple. That could be me. I could be an apple.”

“I’ll bet you could even be a plum. Keep moving.”

“Plum? Who wants to be that?”

They had reached the building. Kevin paused to lean against a column supporting the overhead walkway around the second story.

“I need your key,” he said. “I’m going to take it out of your purse.”

She smiled brightly. “Okay.”

He opened the clasp and dug around until he came up with a key attached to a plastic pink flamingo. The number three had been painted on the flamingo’s wing.

At least they weren’t going to have to negotiate the stairs.

She shifted her weight just as he closed her purse. The action caused her to slide against him, which pressed her right breast into his side. Instinctively he wrapped both his arms around her to hold her upright. She turned until they were facing each other. Pressed together. Close. Too close.

Her slightly unfocused eyes half closed. “You’re very strong,” she murmured.

“Don’t even go there,” he told her, trying to figure out where he was going to find room number three.

“Strong and sexy.”

Before he could stop her, she reached up and pulled off his cap and stuck it on her own head. Of course she looked completely adorable.

“I’ve never thought about a man being strong before,” she continued with a sigh. “It’s nice. As for the sexy part.” She covered her mouth with her fingers. “I’ve never thought about a man that way before, either.”

“All right, Haley. Let’s go.”

He got them moving toward the row of doors, each labeled with a number. There were seven on each floor.

“Do you think I’m sexy?” she asked.

They passed seven. He didn’t answer.

“Kevin?”

Six. Just three more doors and then they were home.

“Can I at least be an apple?”

Bingo. He stuck the key in the door and pushed it open.

“In we go,” he said, helping her over the threshold.

“Not even an apple,” she murmured, sounding tragically sad.

He told himself that speaking the truth would only get them both in trouble. In her current state there was no telling what she would do if she figured out that she was exactly like forbidden fruit and he was a man who had been starving for years.

He followed her into the room, which was typical for a cheap roadside motel. Full-size bed, small dresser, a couple of chairs and a door leading to a white-on-white bathroom. It looked clean enough, he supposed, a little surprised to find himself wanting Haley to have something nicer than this. What did he care where she stayed? As long as it wasn’t with him.

He pulled the key out of the lock and closed the door. Haley continued to hold on to him. He moved them both toward the bed so that when she finally did let go, she wouldn’t have very far to fall.

Speaking of which, once he really noticed the bed—wide, covered with a blue spread and very empty—he found it hard to notice anything else.

Sexy, willing women and beds just seemed made for each other.

He had to admit he liked the feel of her pressing against him. She was warm and seemed designed to fit him. He allowed himself a brief but meaningful fantasy, then put it firmly out of his mind. For one thing, he didn’t take advantage of anyone, ever. For another, his track record wasn’t exactly the greatest.

He dropped the key onto the small table between the chairs and put his hands on her shoulders.

“Why don’t you sit down?” he suggested. “The bed is right behind you. If you’re still, the room will stop spinning.”

She smiled. “I like it spinning.” She blinked and when she opened her eyes, her gaze lasered in on his mouth.

“Do you know that I’ve only ever been kissed by three men. Well, only one man, really. The other two were boys in high school.” She frowned. “Or were they young men? When do boys become men?”

When they finally make it with a woman, he thought but didn’t say. “Haley, you need to sit down.”

Her gaze didn’t waiver. “If I was fruit, you’d kiss me.”

It scared him that her comment almost made sense.

“In college I didn’t date much,” she continued, swaying slightly so that he was forced to release her shoulders and grab her around the waist to keep her from falling. “There weren’t that many boys around and the ones who were never seemed to notice me.”

Then they were idiots, he thought. “Haley—”

She interrupted with a soft sigh. “I like how you say my name.”

He swore silently. They were standing too close for comfort, at least for him.

“Maybe I was too good.”

He stared at her, taking a second to put the statement into a logical framework. “At college?” he asked.

She nodded vigorously, then blinked several times. “I never did anything wrong.”

“I’ll bet.”

“I don’t mind doing it now.” She tilted her head. “Something wrong, I mean.”

“Oh, I got that.” He reached up and pulled her arms from around his neck. “Sit,” he said firmly.

She sat.

Her eyes widened when she hit the bed. She was eye level with his waist, which he could handle, and she seemed delighted, which he could not.

She laughed. “Okay.”

Okay? Okay, what? Then he decided he didn’t want to know.

Kevin pulled out one of the straight-back chairs and set it in front of her. He sat and wondered if he had a prayer of reasoning with her while she was this drunk. Regardless, he had to try.

“Haley, I need you to listen to me.”

“I like listening to you talk.”

“Great. But pay attention to the words, too.”

She sighed and nodded.

He had a bad feeling he was screaming into the wind. “You can’t go around trusting people. You’re drunk and vulnerable right now. That’s dangerous. You can’t let strange men into your motel room.”

Dammit all to hell if she didn’t laugh at him. “I trust you,” she said.

“You shouldn’t.”

“Yes, I should. You’re a nice man.”

Nice? Perfect. Just perfect.

“Fine. I’m nice. But the next guy won’t be.”

“I don’t want the next guy. You’re my best shot at being bad.”

“What?”

She shrugged and nearly toppled onto her back. He shot out a hand to steady her.

“You’re nice but you’re bad, too.” She lowered her voice. “I can tell. I want to be bad.” She leaned in close to him. “Don’t you want to help me?”

What he wanted was to know what he’d done to deserve this.

She shifted on the bed, suddenly moving closer. Too close. Her gaze settled on his mouth again.

“Don’t you want to kiss me?” she asked, sounding mournful. “I’d like you to, but I don’t know if I’m very good at it. I’ve always wondered. But how do you ask? I mean, is anyone going to tell the truth? Would you tell me?”

He had no idea what they were talking about. Despite the ugly dress and her crazy, trusting personality and the fact that if he even thought about touching her he would be zapped by lightning, he suddenly wanted to kiss her.

He wanted to know what she would taste like and how she would respond. He wanted—

She suddenly turned from him. Her legs bumped against his as she struggled to get away. He stood, pushing the chair back, and she bolted for the bathroom. The door slammed behind her, the toilet seat went up with a clatter and two seconds later came the sounds of her being violently sick.

Kevin winced in sympathy. He was guessing this was the first time she’d been drunk, so it was probably the first time she’d been sick with alcohol. Not a fun way to end the day.

He glanced at the door, then hesitated as the need to do the right thing warred with his desire to bolt for freedom.

He compromised by deciding to stay until he knew that she was all right. At least he no longer had to worry about his virtue. There was nothing like barfing one’s guts out to break the romantic mood.

Twenty minutes later it was all over but the moaning. Kevin walked to the bathroom door and knocked softly.

“Tell me you’re still alive,” he said.

A groan came in response.

He pushed the door open and found Haley curled up on the bathroom floor. Her eyes were closed, her skin the color of fog. The soft strands of blond hair now lay plastered against her forehead.

“I’m dying,” she gasped.

“It only feels that way.”

She shook her head, then groaned again.

“Come on,” he said, crouching next to her. “Get up and take a shower. You’ll feel better.”

She opened one eye. “I’m never going to feel better.”

“Hot water works wonders.”

Her eyelids fluttered shut.

“Come on, little one,” he said, slipping his arm around her and pulling her into a sitting position.

She kept her eyes closed until she was upright, then opened them slowly.

“Is the world still spinning?” he asked.

“A little. It’s not as fun as it was before.”

“I’ll bet.” He shifted so he could unbuckle her ugly shoes. “You’re probably done throwing up.”

“So now I can pass away in peace?”

“Not on my watch.” He pulled her up until she was sitting on the edge of the tub. “How about a change of clothes for after your shower? Do you have a robe or something?”

“I have a nightgown in the top drawer.”

“Stay here. I’ll go get it.”

Kevin walked into the bedroom. He wasn’t sure what he expected when he slid open the drawer, but any visions of lace and satin were quickly squelched when he saw the high-necked, long-sleeved, cotton granny gown.

He returned to find her sitting right where he’d left her.

“Can you stand?” he asked.

“Why would I want to?” He chuckled.

She glared. “You should have a little more respect for the dying.”

“Death is a long way off, Haley. You only wish it wasn’t.”

He pulled her to her feet. She swayed a little. He shifted so she had a clear line to the toilet, but she didn’t bolt, so he figured they were both safe.

After pulling the plastic curtain halfway closed, he turned on the water until it was steaming hot, then adjusted the temperature to just below scalding and pulled the knob to start the spray.

He stepped back. Haley didn’t budge. He gave her a little push toward the water.

“You can get in dressed or undressed,” he said. “Your choice.”

One hand fluttered behind her before falling back to her side. He sighed heavily, then pulled down the zipper of her dress. As he did so, he was careful not to look at anything more interesting than the sink he could see over her shoulder. He stepped back and headed for the door.

“Holler if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

He heard her dress hit the floor. His imagination supplied a perfect picture of everything he hadn’t seen. He had a feeling the real thing would be even better. “Kevin?”

He made the mistake of turning around before he realized the potential for disaster. Haley stood facing him, now clutching her dress to herself, but behind her was the small mirror. It reflected a slender back, narrow waist and gentle curving hips. Cream-colored perfection.

He made himself look only at her eyes. “What?”

She swallowed. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

He retreated to the bedroom where he was tortured by the sounds of her in the shower. Reminding himself that she had just been sick, and probably felt less appealing than a fur ball, didn’t help.

He paced restlessly for ten minutes, then forced himself to sit on the edge of the bed and click channels until he found the ball game. It was tied in the eighth inning and damned if he didn’t care at all.

The shower finally went off. There were more sounds he couldn’t identify, then the bathroom door opened.

Haley stood dwarfed by her cotton nightgown. The fabric hung to the floor and concealed every single curve and womanly feature. She was pale, but she no longer looked quite so desperate. Her wet hair stood up in spikes. She’d said she was twenty-five, but right now she could pass for twelve.

“I still feel pretty awful,” she said.

“That’ll teach you to suck down margaritas at the speed of sound. The good news is you got most of the alcohol out of your system tonight. You’ll be fine in the morning.”

“I hope you’re right.”

He stood and pulled back the covers. She slid into bed, sitting up against the pillows instead of lying down.

“You need plenty of water,” he told her, filling a glass from a bottle she had on the small table. “You want to stay hydrated.”

She nodded as he put the glass on the nightstand. “Are you leaving?”

Her eyes seemed bigger than before. Her mouth trembled slightly and her voice shook as she spoke. She looked like a drowned kitten.

Good sense insisted that he head out now that he knew she was all right. There was no point in staying. In the morning she could get back to whatever it was she’d been doing, and he would catch a flight back to D.C. where he was expected for a two o’clock meeting.

He stared at her, then the door. Her fingers twisted the sheet. “I’ll be fine,” she whispered. “You’ve been really nice and I don’t want to take advantage of that.”

He called himself eight different names, none of them fit for her ears, kicked off his shoes and sat on the bed.

“I’ll stay for a little while,” he said, shifting close and putting an arm around her.

She snuggled against him, resting her head on his chest where her damp hair quickly soaked his shirt. Oddly, he didn’t mind.

He told himself looking after her was like caring for a child. Except she didn’t feel very childlike in his arms. Nor was his reaction to her even close to paternal.

“You know all about me,” she said after a few minutes. “What about you? Where are you from?”

“A place you’ve never heard of. Possum Landing, Texas.”

She glanced up and smiled. “Possum Landing?”

He nodded. “Lived there all my life. My brother and I were born in the Dallas area.”

“You have a brother?”

“Fraternal twin. Nash works for the FBI.”

She sighed. “I always wanted a sister, although a brother would have been nice. Sometimes it got quiet, what with there only being me.”

“Your father never remarried?”

“No. He and my mom were really in love. He used to tell me that no one could ever take her place. When I was little I thought that was really romantic, but as I got older, I thought it sounded lonely.”

Kevin agreed. His mother and stepfather had a good, strong marriage, but if something happened to one of them, he would hate to think the other was destined to a solitary life. Not that he was in a position to talk. After all, he’d managed to avoid matrimonial bliss for all of his thirty-one years.

“You’re a pretty young woman,” he said. “How come you’ve only kissed three guys?”

She raised her head and looked at him. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Fishing for compliments?”

She smiled. “If you knew how seldom they came along, you wouldn’t be asking the question.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. Why weren’t people complimenting her? Then he remembered the ugly dress and even worse-looking shoes. Maybe it wasn’t such a stretch to think she’d been overlooked.

“Yes, I think you’re pretty,” he said. “Tell me about dating.”

“You mean, not dating.” She dropped her head back onto his shoulder. “I can’t really explain it. Some of the reason I never went out much was because I was busy with school activities and different things at church. Some of it was my dad. He used to lecture me on the importance of setting an example and doing the right thing. Plus everywhere I went in town, I knew people. They reported back any hint of unacceptable behavior.”

She shifted slightly, as if getting more comfortable. The covers slipped, and instead of touching layers of sheet and blanket, he suddenly found his hand resting on her hip. Only the voluminous cotton nightgown kept his fingers from touching bare skin.

He could feel the heat of her body and the arc of the curve. Ugly clothes or not, she was a woman, down to her toes. An attractive woman who, for reasons he couldn’t explain, appealed to him.

Touching her hip made him think about touching other parts of her body…such as her breasts. Need flared inside, bringing his own male heat to life.

Down boy, he told himself. Not this night, not with this woman. Still, a man could dream.

“Sometimes it seemed easier not to go out,” she continued, apparently unaware of the change in circumstances. “Not that there are all that many guys beating down my front door.” She glanced up at him again. “I’m sure you dated a lot.”

“Some.”

Color flared on her cheeks. “You’ve probably even…you know.”

Uh-oh. He deliberately moved his hand away from her body and rested it on the mattress.

She cleared her throat. “You’ve probably been with a woman before.”

He stared at her. “Are you talking about sex?”

She blushed fiercely and nodded.

Hell. Why were they talking about this? “I’ve had my way with a woman or two,” he said.

“What’s it like?”

Now it was his turn to groan. “We are not having this conversation.”

“I know it’s not appropriate, but just once I would like someone to give me some details.”

She wouldn’t be getting them from him, that’s for sure.