“Hey, wait a minute. I said I was sorry. And I really want to hear about what you do. You’ve got to admit it’s just…unusual.”
He could see Darcy losing the tension. “If you must know, I’m so tired of the damn size jokes, and besides, it’s been a bitch of a day.”
“So tell me about the prima donnas,” he encouraged, making his voice as warm as possible. He couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around the fact that someone who could probably fit in his pocket could manhandle one of those big studio cameras. He’d seen them before. He knew how huge they were. But he wasn’t going to spend what was left of his birthday having a pixie pissed off at him.
She began to tell him about the political ads the studio she worked for did.
“We’re pretty neutral about politics,” she told him then tossed back a swallow of her drink. “The only party we’re interested in is the green one.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “You mean like an environmental party?” He took a healthy slug of his own drink.
Darcy laughed, a tinkling sound like crystal. “I mean like in the colour of money. We work for whoever pays us. And let me tell you, the bigger the bankroll, the more obnoxious they are.”
She went on to describe a session with a particularly difficult candidate they’d had in that day, waving her hands to emphasise her words. Jack leaned on the bar, watching her, fascinated by the movement of her small but sensuous lips, the dainty flex of her throat muscles when she took another sip of her drink. His eyes dropped by habit to the swell of her breasts beneath her sweater and the obvious hardening of her nipples. He wondered if she was equally proportioned everywhere, if her cunt was as petite as the rest of her. If she—
Wait! He didn’t do pixies, or women as outrageous as this one. The women he went out with were slick, smart, put together.
Boring!
Jack gave himself a mental shake. What the fuck was happening to him? Was he verging on a midlife crisis? He’d barely lived his early life, so he was far from ready for the middle years.
Forty, Jack,
his inner voice laughed.
Forty and fucked. Or not, as it seems.
When he signalled Hank to pour another drink for him, the bartender shook his head.
“How about a sandwich instead.” He pointed at his watch.
Jack was stunned to realise two more hours had passed since Darcy had bounced her way up to the bar. He’d been sparring with her, downing drinks and not even giving a thought to dinner. But he wasn’t the least bit hungry. Food held no appeal for him.
“No sandwich. Just one more drink and I’ll clear out of here.”
“One more drink and they’ll be carrying you out of here,” Darcy observed, lifting her own freshly filled glass.
“Oh? And what about you, Miss Pixie? Seems to me you’ve been lapping up the sauce with barely enough body mass to tolerate one drink.”
She actually winked at him. “Takes practice. Something I’ve had a lot of.”
“I’ll give you one more, Jack,” Hank said, “on one condition.”
“Yeah?” He glared at the man. “What’s that?”
“You give me your keys and catch a ride home.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m good to go.” Jack shook his head and dizziness suddenly swamped him.
“There he goes,” he heard a little fairy voice laugh as he folded neatly on to the floor.
Chapter Two
Someone was tugging at his arm. He swatted at whoever it was, wishing they’d leave him alone to finish his nap.
“Come on,” a musical voice said. “I can’t carry your drunken ass into the house myself. You gotta give me some help here.”
Help? Whose voice was that? And what was jingling in his ear?
Jack forced his eyes open and looked into a pair of startling blue ones. He blinked and images came back to him, ones he’d rather not remember. Now the damn pixie was bending over him in the car, pulling at him with her small hands. Small, but strong. And just like that a hint of sobriety kicked him into fast forward.
“You drove me home,” he said accusingly.
“Well, Hank couldn’t leave the bar, we couldn’t get a cab for an hour, and leaving you on the floor seemed to bother the other customers. Can’t figure out why.”
He stared at her with curiosity. “How’d you get me in the car?”
“Hank obliged, while he was telling me where to take the body.” She stood up and put her hands on her hips, indignation written all over her face. “And it was a damn pain in the ass.” She raked her eyes over his SUV. “Why do you drive a truck like this? Why don’t you have a normal car?”
“Normal car?” He was trying to focus, trying to keep up with the conversation.
“Never mind. Now you have to do your part. Or should I just roll you on to the sidewalk and leave you there for the night?”
With an immense effort Jack managed to heave himself out of the car and on to his feet, only a little unsteady and bracing himself against the car frame for support. Finding Darcy Whateverhernameis as his rescuer was enough to cut through the alcoholic fog. How the fuck had this happened? While he was still trying to sort that out, very matter-of-factly she draped his arm over her shoulders and slowly began walking him to his porch. It occurred to him she was damn strong for someone her size.
Two things sliced into his brain at once—the soft feel of her petite body next to his was far from unpleasant, and he had the mother of all boners. Well, fuck, wasn’t that just great. He angled his body a little so it wouldn’t be obvious to her, but the little minx just laughed as she guided him up the steps.
“If you think I didn’t notice that your cock decided to stand up and salute, you must think I’m blind.” She pulled a key ring from the pocket of her jeans, jingled the keys around until she found the one she wanted and opened the door. “In case you’re wondering, Hank fished your keys out of your pocket and we figured out which one was for the house. Now, come on. I definitely think a cold shower could handle your little problem.”
Unbelievably he heard himself say, “You could handle it a lot better, little pixie. I’ll bet that mouth of yours would feel real sweet right there.”
Jesus, was that him? Someone else’s personality must have evolved in his body.
Darcy dug a sharp elbow into him. “I’ll ignore that but watch your remarks. You only get so much of a pass for being drunk.”
They were in the house now and a sharp
meow
cut through the air. Darcy jerked around. “What the hell is that?”
“That’s Mr Big,” he mumbled. The large grey and white cat strolled out from the kitchen and wound his way around their legs.
“You have a
cat
?”
“Yeah. What’s wrong with that?” he asked defensively. “You got something against cats?”
“You’re forty years old and you live with a
cat
? How much of a cliché can you be?”
“Mr Big and I are very happy together.”
She laughed, a tinkling sound. “Mr Big. Why am I not surprised at the name. Does it have Freudian implications?”
Without waiting for him to answer she urged him down the hall until she found his bedroom.
“I should just dump your ass on the floor,” she said, “but I guess the humanitarian in me is coming out. It’s your birthday so I don’t want to leave you half out of it, stinking of booze and probably throwing up all over yourself.”
She tugged on him some more, guiding him to the master bath where she pushed him down on the closed lid of the toilet.
“I’m good from here,” he said.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Efficiently she stripped off his shirt and jacket. For a moment her small hands stilled on his bare chest and he heard a soft sigh whisper from her mouth.
Her touch seared him instantly, sending heat straight to his groin. He caught her wrists, closing his fingers around them. The more she touched him, the more he became aware of her. “Are you sure you want to do this, little girl?”
She yanked her hands free. “I’m just getting you in the shower and into bed. The rest is up to you.”
Oh, yeah, if she touched him any more it would definitely be up to him.
With a grin he sat there while she removed his shoes and socks then let her urge him to his feet. Her nimble fingers undid button and zipper and the next thing he knew his slacks and boxers had been shoved down to his ankles.
“Up, up, up,” she urged.
He was twice her weight and towered over her, but he was willingly allowing her to handle him like a rag doll. If he’d been in his right mind he would have shoved her away, told her to get the hell out and thrown himself on the bed. Instead he was standing in his bathroom, naked, grinning like a damn fool. But suddenly he didn’t want to spend the rest of his birthday alone and this idiotic female was looking better and better. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to pull his shit together.
Okay, it’s all that bourbon. What else could it be? I don’t even have coffee with weird women like this.
Impulsively he grabbed one of her hands and plastered it to his cock.
Big mistake.
If he was hard before he was like well-set concrete now. Darcy’s soft hand against his throbbing erection sent shards of electricity zapping through him. There was so much electrical tension in the room Jack was amazed it didn’t fry them both. He kept waiting for Darcy to finally remove her hand, slap his face, something, anything, since he didn’t seem capable of reacting sensibly himself. Despite the drinks, despite passing out, despite his still somewhat shaky condition, he was so aroused his balls hurt.
Reaching out a hand that shook just slightly, he cupped her chin and tilted up her heart-shaped face. Heat flared like a bonfire in her eyes as she tried to pull her hand away.
“You are so not my type, Jack Manning.” Her voice was barely audible.
“Yeah?” He cleared his throat. “Well, you’re not exactly mine, either.”
“So what are we doing here?” She was almost whispering now.
“I’m going to take a shower and you’re going to share it with me.”
“Share?” she squeaked. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, I
do
think so. Besides, I might fall down in the shower, hit my head and get a concussion. It would be all your fault.”
“Mine?” Now she was irritated. “I’m not the one who got drunk and made a jackass out of himself.”
“But you’re the Good Samaritan who brought me home. Your work’s not done yet.”
Teetering a little, he bent his head and placed a kiss at the tender spot where her neck and shoulder joined. He clutched her shoulders then slid his hands down her arms and as he moved the heat of his mouth against her skin he could feel her soften. Feel the resistance seeping from her.
Before she had time to think about what he was doing he steadied himself as best he could and grabbed the hem of her sweater with his fingers. He waited only for the length of one heartbeat for her to stop him. When she didn’t he pulled the garment up and over her head. He nearly swallowed his tongue when he got his first look at her high, round breasts in the flimsy satin bra she wore. Creamy swells rose above the insubstantial fabric just begging for him to touch them. He reached out a finger and traced the line of them, the contact jolting them. Someone sucked in their breath and he couldn’t tell which of them it was.
As if they had a mind of their own, his thumb and forefinger captured one nipple and pinched and rolled it, tugging it through the satin covering. The pulse at the hollow of Darcy’s throat hammered against the delicate skin.
“I want to see all of you.” His voice was deep and gravelly. “I’m naked here. Fair’s fair.”
With her eyes still glued to his and a volatile mixture of emotions chancing across her face, Darcy kicked off her ridiculous boots. Shaking slightly she shimmied out of her jeans, leaving her in only a tiny thong and that bra that cradled her breasts.
“All of it,” he said, clenching his hands into fists to keep from doing it himself. “And slowly.”
She reached behind herself to unclasp the bra then let the straps slide down her arms until the garment fell to the floor. Hooking her thumbs in the material of the thong at her hips, she dragged it slowly down her body. One at a time she lifted each foot to free it and kicked the thong to the side. She stood there with her feet slightly apart, almost daring him to make the next move.
The curls at her pussy, as glossy and black as the hair on her head, were trimmed to a thin line that barely covered her slit. Jack touched them, tracing them, before probing between pink lips to find her wet heat And oh, god, was she wet. He was barely touching her inner lips, barely grazing the flesh, and his fingers were coated with her juices.
“I’m not the only one turned on here,” he pointed out.
She didn’t answer him, just stood there almost defiantly, waiting for whatever he did next. He slid open the shower door, turned on the spray and when it reached the right temperature stepped inside, holding out a hand to her. For a moment she just stared at him while his eyes ate up the sight of her. Then she stepped daintily into the enclosure and slid the glass door in place behind her.
The water was warm, not hot, enough to steam out his pores without burning them. Jack wished he had some kind of scented soap to use, but then he decided it didn’t matter. He lathered up his hands and began to stroke them over her body, tracing the line of her collarbone then down the slope of her breasts to the rosy nipples that were peaked and pointing at him so temptingly. When he squeezed them with his fingers he was rewarded with the sound of her indrawn breath and the widening of her eyes. He rubbed their pebbled surface, feeling them swell even more beneath his touch.