Heat of the Moment Page 8

  But what meaning could the half-forgotten song have for Peter now, almost a quarter of a century later? What, if anything, did it have to do with Josie? Was he reading far too much into the way his mind kept unraveling the lyrics?

  Probably. Eileen might be right—he was too analytical. This was crazy. He ought to go make himself a good, stiff Irish coffee and forget the whole thing!

  4

  AFTER SHOWERING and changing at her condo, Josie began to throw some clothes into her overnight bag. She believed Peter was right when he’d argued that she’d be safer on his security-surrounded property. Martin Lansdowne knew where she lived, and she didn’t dare assume anything was beyond his capability.

  Also, when she got home, she’d found a long phone message from Ronnie, who had wanted to let her know that Martin had somehow found out Josie was working for Peter. How he’d found out, Ronnie had no idea, leaving Josie to wonder exactly how he’d come upon the information. And now that he knew, what did he intend to do, if anything?

  Josie sat down on the bed to button up a blouse before folding it into the suitcase. Yes, there were compelling safety reasons to stay at the cottage. But she had to admit that security wasn’t the only reason. Or even the main reason. Last night, and even more so this morning, her libido had come back to life with a vengeance. Why not face that and deal with it? She’d felt so reawakened to her own sexuality since meeting Peter, she simply couldn’t—and shouldn’t—ignore what was happening to her. It was frightening, but exciting, too. She could run away from it—was still tempted to. But what would that accomplish?

  After too many years of being shut down, she actually felt alive again inside. Peter had an effect on her that no other man had ever had. Even though he’d tried to kiss her, she had no fear that he could overpower her. In fact, she was annoyed with herself now for not letting him kiss her. After being erotically aroused wearing his pajama top all night, her senses had been so heightened sitting on his lap, absorbing his body heat, inhaling his clean, male scent, feeling his hands near her breasts, that it was more than her system could take. As if to protect herself from going over the edge of sanity, she’d backed away at the last second. Feeling his sensual mouth fasten on hers was more than her pounding heart could have withstood at that moment. Now she wished she hadn’t been such a coward, so she could have experienced what his kiss was really like, instead of wondering and imagining it. Next time…next time, she vowed, she’d be more brave.

  If there was a next time. She hoped she hadn’t put him off with her shyness.

  Her fingers wobbled a bit as she tried to work the buttons of the blouse. She remembered Peter’s eyes as he’d held her hand, asking if she would come back. Yes, she felt fairly certain he would try to kiss her again. But what she’d seen in those soulful eyes had worked on her heart, too. Peter needed her. When she’d seen that imploring look as he’d gazed up at her, she’d instinctively wanted to reassure him that she wasn’t about to leave him—even though a few minutes before, on his lap, she’d had an impulse to get the hell out of there.

  Peter had seemed to understand her reaction, too, which struck Josie as quite incredible. The whole experience was so different from the last time she’d been in a man’s clutches. And when she’d resisted, he’d let her go.

  Josie smiled to herself. Maybe she didn’t disdain men physically as much as she thought she did. The absence of fear made male-female contact feel exciting to her again. And wasn’t it high time she finally got over her habitual fear of men and sex? She was a competent, strong woman in every other aspect of her life. She needed to learn to feel comfortable with men, too. Sex shouldn’t be the one missing facet of her life. Though she didn’t necessarily want Ronnie’s freewheeling lifestyle, she envied her friend her ease and sexual confidence with men.

  With Peter she could gain some of the experience she needed to begin to feel okay being physically close to a man. Maybe she could learn to be a normal, natural woman, instead of the uptight, repressed workaholic she was now. She could continue to experiment with and test her own sexuality, without fearing that things might get out of hand. With a man who couldn’t walk, she clearly would have full control over whatever happened. And since Peter apparently couldn’t have sex anymore, she didn’t have to worry about intercourse at all just yet. She could learn to feel secure within herself, get some sorely needed preliminary experience with a live male, and then one day maybe she’d have the wherewithal to find a man who could fulfill her in every way.

  But already that thought made her sad. If she ever got brave enough to try having intercourse again, she wished it could be with Peter. She couldn’t help but sense that, before his accident, he must have been a dream lover.

  WHEN SHE WALKED into his house with her overnight bag, Peter gave her the biggest, warmest smile she’d ever seen on anyone. Closing the front door behind her, he wheeled himself alongside her as they made their way through the house to the cottage.

  “Nice to see a suitcase!” he said with approval.

  “Martin found out I’m working for you, so I think it’s safer for me to stay here.” She decided this made a plausible reason for her decision. She felt awkward telling Peter the real reason she wanted to stay on his property was so there would be more opportunities for physical encounters with him. “But I don’t want to intrude on your hospitality. If I’m in the way, then just say so, okay?”

  “I don’t see that happening. How did Martin find out?”

  “I don’t know. A former co-worker left the message on my machine, thinking I should know, I guess.”

  “Hope he didn’t hack into our computers again,” Peter said, looking concerned.

  They went into the cottage and she walked to the bedroom to set her suitcase down. She came back out, pushing up the sleeves of her long yellow sweater to get to work. “All set. I’ll continue where I left off yesterday, unless you want me to do something else.”

  He looked up at her, lifting one eyebrow into a subtly roguish arch. “Something else? Like what?”

  She smiled, but was puzzled. “Well, whatever you want me to do. You’re the boss.”

  He glanced downward, his white teeth showing in a wide grin. “Yeah, I’m the boss. But I guess I can’t ask you to fall into my lap again. That’s a little outside your job description.”

  Josie turned her head to one side, but also found herself grinning. “Yes, that is outside my job description.”

  “It was kinda fun, though.” He looked up at her, eyes alight with mock innocence.

  She met his gaze, then looked away again, her heart rate accelerating. Be brave, she thought, and made herself look him in the eye. Racking her brain for a comeback, she finally quipped, “Lab work isn’t supposed to be fun, Mr. Brennan.”

  Though he made his expression grow serious, he let his twinkling eyes betray him. “I don’t see why it can’t be, Miss Gray.”

  She pushed back her long hair with her hands, but kept up eye contact with him. It was difficult. He was so unbelievably attractive as he made eyes at her.

  “Are you…? Why are you flirting with me?” There, she’d said it!

  His eyes took on a sweet yearning. “I’m only human.”

  It was his humanity that she liked best about him. Gosh, it was going to be difficult to deal with him and work, too! “Peter, I’m flattered. But if we’re going to get anything done…”

  “I’d better behave myself.”

  “Well, you keep reassuring me that you can’t chase me around the room,” she told him, finding herself growing flirtatious. She hadn’t known she could be. “When you look at me that way, sometimes I’m not so sure.”

  Peter’s expression changed. He seemed chastened, more so than she would have expected. She’d thought her tone had been playful, in the same spirit as he’d displayed. She hoped she hadn’t inadvertently hurt his feelings by obliquely referring to his being wheelchair-bound.

  “I’ll pursue you with words, since I can’t d
o it with my feet.” His smile wasn’t quite so bright now.

  “I didn’t expect to be pursued at all.”

  “You ought to be wooed like the Beast courted Beauty. Like the Phantom chased after Christine.”

  Josie felt flattered, as when he’d told her she had the makings of a fairy. Clearly, he didn’t need the use of his legs to sweep a woman off her feet! It would take a while to get used to a man making her feel so special. “Peter, this is a lab, not a fairy tale. I think you must have kissed the Blarney stone!”

  He shook his head. “Never been to Ireland.”

  “Then why are you saying these things?”

  Peter seemed to search for an answer, but finally he simply smiled. “Just glad you came back, that’s all.”

  Josie couldn’t help but be gratified by his heartfelt statement. She walked up to his wheelchair and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad to be here. I think this is the beginning of a good friendship. And you’re paying me very well, so there’s no need for flattery, too.”

  He took her hand from his shoulder and brought it to his mouth, lightly kissing her knuckles before letting go. “Back to the grindstone, then. I’m cracking the whip!”

  Josie laughed, knowing he was not at all the sort of person who would crack a whip over anybody. She found herself thinking, if God could have created the perfect man to put in her life, Peter would fill the bill—wheelchair included.

  PETER SAT at his kitchen table in the late afternoon, chopping onions. After working hard in the lab together all afternoon, Josie had taken a notion to make them lasagna for dinner. She’d run out to the grocery store to get the ingredients she wanted and to stock up on other items he needed. Peter happily diced the onions, vapors from them making his eyes tear. He couldn’t remember enjoying a day so much as this one, beginning with those tantalizing moments of having Josie, half-dressed, in his lap. And though she’d seemed anxious to get away, she’d nevertheless come back again—to stay.

  Things were looking up, moving along more quickly than he’d anticipated. He wondered how long it would take before he could coax her into a sexual relationship. A week? A month? Should he make a bet with himself?

  Peter reminded himself this wasn’t a game. He really liked Josie and wanted to gain her trust. God, he enjoyed having her around! She might be a mystery woman, but she wasn’t neurotic like Cory. She seemed authentic, if a trifle shy, and Peter was beginning to trust his judgment. As for his initial concern, he felt certain now that Josie was no spy. She exuded a quiet integrity that made him respect and trust her.

  Unfortunately, he was the one who was being a bit underhanded, allowing her to go on the assumption that he couldn’t walk. Staying in his wheelchair to make everyone think he was incapacitated was his safeguard, his strategy. Even his sisters and parents still didn’t know that he was healing and almost well. He couldn’t risk telling Josie the truth any more than he could risk telling his family, or his partner, Al. He hoped that when everyone finally learned he could walk, they would understand why he’d concealed the truth and would forgive him.

  Peter wondered when that would be. So far, his would-be assassin had not shown himself. Maybe the ploy of staying in his wheelchair wasn’t accomplishing what he’d hoped. Then again, his assailant might just be lying low for a while before trying again. The fact that Frameworks Systems was still on track—if they could get the testing done in time—might prompt Earthwaves to attempt sabotage again, or murder.

  The bell rang, and Peter rolled his wheelchair into the living room to press the buzzer so Josie could pass through the outer gate. Then he opened the front door. She walked in, carrying two large paper shopping bags by their handles.

  “The store was busy!” she said. “Took longer than I thought.” She walked into the kitchen. Peter closed and bolted the door, then followed her.

  “Those bags look heavy. Wish I could help you.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “You know, Josie,” he said as she placed the bags on the island counter in the middle of the large kitchen, “I should give you a key and the security code. That way, you won’t have to wait for me to let you in.”

  Josie blinked, pausing as she lifted a box of lasagna out of one brown bag. “I don’t think I’d feel right about having your house key. Much less your security code.”

  He lifted his shoulders, puzzled. “Why? I gave Al my key and code for the same reason.”

  She set the box down and turned to face him. “I’m not actually living here…with you. I mean, I’m a temporary guest in your cottage. If I had the key to your house, people—your family, for instance, or Al—might think that, you know, we were living together.”

  Peter made the effort not to smile at her reasoning. “Don’t you think that’s a little old-fashioned? And who would know if you have my key or not?”

  “What if Al or one of your sisters came over for a visit, and saw me come back from the store using my own key? They’d think, oh, so that’s what’s really going on—she’s living with him.”

  “If they know you’re staying in my cottage, they can make all the same assumptions, whether you have my key or not.”

  Josie seemed troubled as she methodically took the rest of the items out of the bag. “I suppose so,” she reluctantly agreed.

  “And with me being in this wheelchair, people seem to assume I can’t do much of anything anyway. Can’t chase you around, as I’ve often said.” He’d thought that was Josie’s assumption, that he was incapable of having sex. Had he been wrong?

  She nodded and seemed to relax a bit. “That’s true.” With a sigh, she said, “Well, maybe I am being old-fashioned. It’s just that Al hinted that there was something between us and—”

  Peter waved his hand. “Don’t pay any attention to Al. He enjoys needling people.”

  “I didn’t like him assuming you hired me because I was a ‘dish.’”

  “We can’t do much about Al and his jokes, Josie.” Peter reached up to stroke her arm above her elbow. “He lives in his lab and hardly talks to anybody. Whatever conclusions he might draw, he’s not the type to go around spreading gossip. The bottom line is, I trust you with my key, and it’s simply more convenient for you to have it.”

  Josie folded up one of the paper shopping bags. She rolled her eyes and then said, “Okay, okay. I just hope I don’t set off the alarm system.”

  Peter smiled. “I’ll show you how it works later. So… I got the onions chopped for you. See how red my eyes are?”

  She turned and bent forward to look at his eyes. “You poor thing!” she said with a chuckle. “Do they still sting?”

  “A little.” Peter didn’t see why he shouldn’t milk this for all the feminine attention he could get.

  “Do you have some eyedrops?”

  “In the bathroom medicine cabinet. But since I can’t stand in front of a mirror, I’d have trouble getting the drops in my eyes,” he improvised.

  “Well, I can put them in for you.”

  Her solicitous tone made Peter feel high, like the way he felt when he drank good Irish whiskey. “Okay.”

  She left the room and came back a minute later with the small bottle of eyedrops. Walking up beside him, she bent over him again. “Tilt your head back.” She placed her hand on his forehead and a finger under his chin to angle his head into the position she wanted. Her slim fingers were so gentle, the swell of her breasts so close to his cheek, Peter felt mischievous stirrings in his groin.

  He didn’t particularly like getting drops in his eyes. But as she bent close over his face, her fingers trembling just slightly as she carefully pulled at his lower lid, her beautiful face so earnest in performing her task, he wished he could invent an eye infection so she’d have to do this several times a day.

  When she’d applied drops in each eye, she reached for a tissue from a box near the sink, and blotted his eyes and a drop running down his cheek. “There. Is that better?” Her high voice had grown breathless.
Touching him seemed to have an effect on her, too.

  Peter was in heaven, could barely get his mouth to mumble, “Perfect. Thanks.”

  As she straightened and twisted the cap back on the little bottle, she quietly cleared her throat, as if to cover her reaction to being so close to him. “So, how do you shave, since you can’t stand before a mirror?”

  Oops. He paused to remember what he used to do when he actually couldn’t stand. “I had to start using an electric shaver. I have a small mirror I can prop up, but it would be too awkward to try to apply eyedrops that way.” He held his breath as he waited for her reaction.

  She nodded thoughtfully. “I can see how it would be. Well, if you want more drops later, I can apply them again.”

  Peter smiled. “Okay.” He felt his arousal surging back again at the thought. If Josie only knew the effect she had on him, mentally and physically…. He felt energized just being near her, and uncomfortably swollen beneath his zipper. How long would this do-si-do-ing have to go on?

  He did what he could to help her put together the lasagna. But the tiled kitchen counters were too high for him to work at. He’d had a special low stainless-steel table put in the lab when he’d first had the equipment installed. But he wasn’t about to redo his kitchen to support his invalid ruse.

  While the lasagna was in the oven, he showed her how to use the alarm system, told her the code and gave her an extra key, which she accepted. Glad to have that accomplished, he helped her make the salad by chopping mushrooms and green peppers at the table. As he tossed the salad with dressing, she brought the baked lasagna to the table, set out plates and poured the coffee she’d made.

  “There,” she said as she sat down.

  “Smells great!”

  They dug in and began eating, talking about the lab work they still hoped to get done after dinner.

  “Are you willing to work tomorrow?” he asked, thinking ahead. “It’s Saturday.”

  “Sure.”

  “You have plans for tomorrow night? Can you work late?”

  She chuckled. “No plans.”