Jill Shalvis - Get a Clue

The doors were still locked.

She banged on the glass, and Cooper, at home in a large easy chair, reading the historical romance, lifted his head and smiled at her.

Waved.

"I'm locked out!" she yelled, banging on the door. "Let me in."

"Sorry." He shook his head regretfully. "Can't do that."

She would have sworn she felt the spider crawling in her hair and shuddered. "Why not?"

"You wanted to be alone, remember?"

Cooper waved again at a furious-looking Breanne standing out there in the snow. She was glowering at him through the glass in that outfit which made him extremely hot. Surprised to find himself aroused at just the sight of her, he set down the book and came to a slow stand.

She banged on the glass yet again, her extremely kissable lips wide open in an O of vexation. Earlier he'd had them soft and wet and open to his, and it had been shockingly good, but now they were turning a lovely shade of blue. He felt bad about that, but playing with her had proven to be more fun than he'd had in far too long, and he couldn't seem to resist.

"Open up!" she yelled. "Can't you hear me?"

"Oh, I hear you. In fact, I think the people in China hear you." He had no idea where she'd gotten that siren-red top that glittered, or the tight, tight black skirt that hugged her hips and showed off her legs, or those fuck-me boots, but he was betting it was Lariana.

God bless Lariana.

"Open the door," she said through her chattering teeth, craning her head upward, searching the roof uneasily. "Please."

He moved to the glass. "What's the sudden rush?"

"There's a spider the size of my fist hanging over my head, and it's going to get me. Just let me in before I start screaming and never stop." She looked up and let out a horrified squeak. "Ohmigod, it's gone!" Frenzied, she danced around in a circle, lifting her hands to her head, running her fingers through her hair. "It's on me, I just know it! Omigod, get it! Get it!"

Opening the door, he brushed her hands away and patted her down himself, enjoying the process immensely.

"Don't kill it," she cried. "Just get it off me."

"Hang on. I'm looking." He shifted his fingers through her hair, over her arms, her waist, brushing her breasts before streaking down her legs and back up again, briefly cupping between. "Spider-free," he promised.

"Are you sure?"

"Well…" Tongue in cheek, he searched her again, taking longer this time, noticing that when he stroked over her arms and neck, her breathing changed and her nipples went hard. So did he. But when he brought his hands up her legs and then between, she stopped dancing around and shoved at him, blowing a strand of hair from her face, looking furious and quite adorable with it. "You're just using this as an excuse to feel me up."

"And down," he said agreeably.

She growled, but he lifted his hands. "You really are spider-free."

"Thank you," she said through her teeth.

He cocked his head. "That didn't sound quite sincere."

Her jaw was so tight it looked as if it could shatter. "Look, it's freezing, all right? I don't suppose you could move your big, damn, hulking frame out of the way. I want inside."

"Maybe." He waited until she looked at him. "The truth is, I want something, too, Breanne."

She crossed her hands over her chest in an attempt to warm her body up, something he'd be happy to help her with. "Let me get this straight," she said. "In order to let me into the house, you want something."

"That's right."

A gust of wind blew in, topping her off with a layer of white powdery snow. Not him, though, because she'd been his wind harrier.

She shook the snow off. "Damn it, what?"

He didn't suppose she'd let him lick the snow off her body one flake at a time, which was a shame because he knew how good she would taste. Playing it safe-for now-he went for his second choice. "You have to smile."

She stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. If she only knew. "Are you insane?" she asked. "Just let me in."

"Smile first."

"I have nothing to smile about."

"This morning."

"Huh?"

"This morning," he repeated. "It was pretty damn fine. You could smile about that."

"Cooper-"

"Look, if smiling is too difficult, you can kiss me."

She practically had an aneurism on the spot. "Kiss you?"

"As a thank-you."

"For what?"

"For rescuing you."

"You are insane," she decided, tossing up her hands. "I'm trapped inside a house with an insane man."

"Actually, you're trapped outside," he pointed out helpfully.

"Forget it! I opt to freeze to death." Turning her back on him, she hunched her shoulders against the chill.

Ah, hell. He reached for her and put his hands on her arms, rubbing them up and down her chilled skin. "All right, Custer, you win. Come on, come inside." Stepping backward over the threshold, he pulled her with him, then reached around her to shut the door. Because she had goose bumps-his fault for playing with her the way he had-he put his hands back on her arms. He didn't know what it was, but he loved having his hands on her.

Lifting her head, she looked deep into his eyes, her own filled with a sadness that tugged at him. "You ever think that life just plain sucks?"

"Yeah." He cupped her cold face in his warm hands. "But right now isn't one of those times."

A shuddery sigh escaped her, but he took it as a good sign when she let him slowly pull her against him. Tucking her frozen nose up into the crook of his neck, she sighed again as he ran his hands up and down her back. And then, because he was a very weak man, he let his hand fall lower with each stroke.

She didn't object. In fact, she let out another breath, a hum of pleasure this time, and just like that, the embrace changed. Shifted. He was still holding her, touching her, but no longer for comfort. "Breanne," he said very softly.

"I know." Her lips moved against his throat. "God, this is crazy. I'm crazy."

"No." Another stroke of his hand down her back, slowly, curving his palm over the curve of her ass. Ah, man.

"Cooper?"

Don't say stop. Please don't. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry you have to keep saving the stupid chick."

"You're not stupid." He let his fingers curl over the edge of her skirt, his knuckles brushing the back of her thigh now. Christ, she had soft skin. Her hair was damp against his cheek. The scent of the shampoo she'd used made him want to bury his face in it, or better yet, have the long strands teasing his bare chest as she rode him. Yeah, that would work-

"I went outside to get my messages."

He wondered if she knew that her entire heart was in her voice, defeated and sad, and with a breath of regret, he hugged her tight. "You heard from the missing groom?"

Still pressing her face to his throat, she nodded.

Something about the sudden tension in her body told him that whatever she'd learned had reinforced her no-more-men thing.

"He's in jail," she said. "For identity theft and fraud, and God knows what else."

"You were going to marry a helluva guy."

She let out a laugh that might have been half sob, and buried her face closer to him. "I didn't know he was a thief." She lifted her head, her eyes full of things, with anger and humiliation leading the way. "I would never have been with him if I'd known."

He stroked her cheek. "I know."

"How?" she asked, seeming surprised. "You don't even know me."

"I know you wouldn't kill a spider, even though it terrified you. I know you rushed to help Shelly feel better last night when she couldn't cook for us. I know that despite the whole kick-ass attitude, you're afraid of the dark."

"Those things don't have anything to do with dating a thief."

"You wouldn't," he said again.

She just stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. "I don't suppose you could call everyone I know and tell them that."

"Sure."

She laughed again, with a little more true humor this time. "You would, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah."

She shook her head, dropping her forehead to his chest. "It's my greatest fantasy to wake up and find myself in my own bed at home, this whole thing just a bad dream."

"Want to hear my fantasy?"

"No!"

He stroked her hair. "I'm sorry your week has sucked so badly."

"Thanks." Her fists had a death grip on his shirt. Slowly she loosened her fingers, and wound her arms around his neck. "That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Don't take this the wrong way, Princess, but if that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you, I don't think I like the people in your life."

"No, I don't think you would," she said solemnly. "And chances are, they wouldn't like you, either." Her fingers tunneled into his hair. "Cooper?"

She was looking at him with those whiskey eyes, and they'd filled with heat and desire. It took his breath. She took his breath. "Yeah?"

"Hang on for this one." She tugged his head down and captured his mouth with hers. It was his dream all over again, this morning all over again, and with a low groan, he hauled her up against him and dug in. She was right. On paper they didn't know each other from Adam and Eve, but in the flesh, their bodies knew enough. They stood there, straining together, dark sounds of neediness escaping each of them, and when she tangled her tongue with his, sucking him into her mouth, he nearly lost it. Her heart was slamming against her ribs, or maybe that was his, he didn't know and it didn't matter.