“I’ll record it for you.”
“How? I don’t see a set, let alone a VCR.”
“I keep them in the bedroom.”
He really didn’t need to know that. Now he was picturing the two of them cuddled nak*d in bed watching an erotic flick.
“While I’m gone, be thinking about the silk versus lace question, okay? And the one after that has to do with your favorite color of negligee, so you can think of that, too. We’ll be done before you know it.” She took off down the hall.
Oh, sure, he was going to spend the time she was gone thinking about silk and lace, and she’d be the one wearing it in his sexually charged imagination. He’d bet a chunk of his portfolio that she wore cotton sleep shirts to bed, and even that image got his juices flowing. A cotton sleep shirt was uncomplicated. No elastic, no ties, no panties. Just up and over the head, and you were in business.
He had to set his coffee on the low table in front of him because his hands were shaking. All of him was shaking. He’d had no idea how erotic these questions would be. Many more of them and he’d have to do something drastic, such as kiss her. Kiss her or leave. Those seemed to be his only viable options.
JAMIE KNEW she was boring Dev to tears while she was getting all hot and bothered. She didn’t know what to do about either problem. Her questions had sounded okay this afternoon in the office, fun and suggestive, the perfect icebreaker. But while she was squirming in her chair at the discussion they were having, he wasn’t paying any attention at all.
She’d had to remind him to answer the necklace one, and he’d been thinking of a basketball game while she’d been trying to find out about lingerie. Maybe if he sat at the computer and worked through the questionnaire on his own, he’d find it a little more interesting.
Jamie grabbed her remote from the bedside table and popped a tape into the VCR. Then she started the recording process for the Bulls game. She didn’t follow basketball, but her brothers did, and she knew how important it could be to a guy. At least she could make sure Dev didn’t miss his game because of a questionnaire he had no interest in.
As she’d feared from the beginning, his answers weren’t matching up with her reality at all. He’d admitted to being a breast man and she’d never been a real contender in that department. Hers were on the small side, nothing to make guys stare and drool.
And the thought of wearing cold metal jewelry to bed was ridiculous, especially the dangling kind. Supposing the woman got on top and leaned over? She could bloody his nose or knock out a tooth with a swinging ruby pendant. Oh, well, no surprise. She and Dev weren’t meant for each other, no matter what Faith seemed to think about it.
Once she had the Bulls game under control, she hurried back to the living room, only to find Dev on his feet. Maybe he’d had enough boredom for one evening. “Did you decide to go home and watch the game, after all?” she asked.
“No, of course not. I just thought I’d get more coffee,” he said. “If that’s okay.”
“I’ll be glad to get you some.” As she walked over to take his cup, she wondered if she wanted him to stay or not. Apparently he had to pump himself full of more caffeine so he wouldn’t fall asleep out of sheer boredom.
“I can get the coffee, Jamie.”
She thought he looked stressed. “You know, I probably have enough answers for now, if you’d like to get home. That way you’d only miss a part of the game, and I could give you the tape in the morning.” She took hold of the cup, expecting him to let go, grab his jacket and take off.
Instead he held on to the cup. “We’ve made it this far. Might as well do the job right. And I really will get my own coffee. You can type in the answer to the silk or lace question. It’s lace. I like lace the best because…” His voice trailed off and he stood there looking at her.
“Because?” She shouldn’t stand this close to him, especially not when they were talking about negligees. It might not bother him, but she kept thinking of sex. Specifically, sex with Dev.
“Because it’s not, um, solid…so you can see…” His blue eyes darkened, becoming almost black.
“Uh, yeah.” Her heart thundered. If she hadn’t known better, she’d swear he was getting turned on. Was it possible? Maybe he wasn’t as bored as she’d thought. “I—I know what you mean.”
“Do you…wear lace?” His question had a funny squeak at the end, as if his vocal cords had refused to cooperate.
“No.” She couldn’t seem to break eye contact. Shivers started coursing through her.
“Why not?”
“Too, um, scratchy.”
He cleared his throat. “Silk, then?”
“Too…slippery.” She couldn’t believe the reaction she was seeing in his eyes. Maybe, instead of disinterested, he’d been so interested that he hadn’t been able to concentrate on the questions.
“Then…what do you like?” Unbelievably, his head began to lower. He was going to kiss her.
And she was going to let him. “C-cotton. Or…nothing.” She closed her eyes, her whole body straining upward.
“Nothing?” His voice had become husky.
She sighed. “Nothing.”
He groaned as his mouth came down on hers.
CHAPTER FOUR
JAMIE HAD FANTASIZED about Dev’s kiss for twelve years, and it was every bit as wonderful as she’d imagined. Wonderful squared, in fact. His lips were soft, but the pressure was firm. She and Dev might have stumbled into this moment, but he was kissing her as though he meant business.
Probably he was imagining she was somebody else. Because they were pressed as tightly together as books on her shelf, he’d have trouble pretending she was Jennifer Lopez, but Jodi Foster was a possibility. If so, Jodi must really work for him, because he was packing iron under those cords.
She didn’t care what was going through his head, though. She’d just reached one of her life goals and that was worth celebrating. Snuggling closer in what she hoped was a Jodi Foster-type move, she invited him to expand on what he was offering. At the moment when his tongue slipped inside her eager mouth, the cup landed on her wooden floor with a loud crack.
They both jumped back and stared at the blue cup, which had broken neatly in two, except for the handle, which lay a few inches away.
“Damn, I’m sorry,” Dev muttered. “I thought you had it.”
She’d been oblivious to everything but their full body contact. “It’s only a cup.” Heart racing, she crouched to pick it up at the same moment he did, and they knocked heads. She saw stars and lost her balance, sitting hard on the floor.
“Oh, God!” Kneeling, he reached for her, holding her by the shoulders. “Talk about clumsy—now I’ve hurt you!”
“It’s okay.” She rubbed her forehead and glanced up at him. “What about you?”
“I have a really hard head.”
“So I just found out.”
He winced. “Jamie, I feel terrible about this. Do you think I should take you to the E.R.?”
Although she felt wobbly and disoriented, she managed a smile. “It’s only a little bump on the head, Dev. Even a head as hard as yours wouldn’t give me a concussion.” But the moment was gone, and she had sense enough to know it. “Maybe something’s telling us we aren’t supposed to be doing this.”
He cradled her face in both hands and looked into her eyes. “Do you think?”
She gazed into those laser-blue eyes. His mouth was still moist from their enthusiastic exchange. She could reach up, cup his head and bring his lips back down to hers for more of the same. But she might find out that the first time had been an impulse created by the questionnaire and thoughts of women who ranked way higher on the sex-o-meter than she did. Now that the mood had shifted, he might not be into it.
He cleared his throat. “The questions were… I guess I got a little carried away.”
Well, there it was, just as she’d feared. Luckily she hadn’t tried to kiss him again. “Me, too.”
“Yeah.” His thumbs brushed her jawline and his gaze was tender. “I’m sure I’m not your type.”
She had to admit that was gallant of him, when she was the one who wasn’t his type. Dev was every woman’s type. But if he wanted to back away from their encounter, she’d help him. “I suppose we can call this the Questionnaire Effect.”
“Yeah.” He looked into her eyes for a moment longer. “You’re sure your head’s okay?”
“I’m sure.”
“Well, I owe you a new cup.”
“You most certainly do not.”
“I most certainly do.” He got to his feet and held out his hand to help her up.
She decided to avoid his gaze as she put her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She was still feeling the Questionnaire Effect, and now that she’d blown her chance to continue what they’d started, she was already having regrets. She didn’t want him to look into her eyes and figure that out.
Instead, she had to find a graceful way out of this situation. “Tell you what.” Releasing his hand, she walked over to the computer. “Why don’t I e-mail you the rest of the questions, and you can fill them out and e-mail them back to me?”