Beatrice and Douglas (7 page)

“Very funny.”

She pushed his hands away again. “I’m not laughing.”

“Neither am I.” He lifted her up by her hips and placed her
on the table.  “Because you should never joke about this subject . .
.”  He pushed his hips between her thighs.  “Ever.”

“Put me down.”  She laughed when she saw the way he was
wriggling his eyebrows.  “I really did call you in here to talk about the
job.”

“Really.  You did?  Huh.”  He pushed his hand
back through her hair on one side of her face.  “Weird.”  Then he
leaned forward and placed his lips on the side of her neck he had bared, just
over the collar of her shirt.  “Because all I have been thinking about
since you so rudely left the bed this morning is getting you back into it.”

She laughed before she could stop herself, and then smacked
him on the back of his head.  “Not going to happen here.  Let me
up.  We have serious work to do.” 

He pushed in closer and closed his teeth gently over her
skin, and nipped.  She tried to push his hand away again, but he dug his
fingers in the denim and held on.  “Not going to be able to do any work
until I get at least a little taste.”

“A little taste is it?”

“Exactly.”  He rumbled it out in his gruff voice, his
hands moving down her hips and then back up to the buttons on her flannel
top.  “Just a small quick insignificant taste.  I’ll be fast.” 
He smiled, sexy and slow.  He opened up her top slowly, so that creamy
breasts were exposed over pink lace.  “I love this underwear.”

“You should.  You picked it out.”  She leaned
back, stretching out across the table and leaning on her hands.  “Am I
going to get to see the ones I picked out for you?”

He reached for her pants button and zipper. 
“Later.  You can have your evil way with me when we get back to the
hotel.  For now, I want my mouth on you.”

Beatrice had to swallow against a suddenly dry throat. 
She scooted back away from his working hands.  “Forget it.  I was
willing to mess around for a few minutes, but no way am I having sex with the
guys right outside.”

“That didn’t stop us Friday.”

“Yes, but Friday they had no idea we were possibly having
sex.  Now they expect it and are probably listening for proof.  No
freakin’ way.”  She leaned back far enough to wedge her foot between them
and then pushed him a leg length away.

His eyes were still on her open shirt and gaping jeans where
more pink lace peaked. “You are so fucking beautiful…and mean. It’s sexy as
hell.”

She laughed, grabbed her shirt closed, and leaned forward to
kiss his chin.  “Behave yourself and I’ll make it worth your while
later.”  She jumped off the table, buttoning back up as she went. 

He watched her ass as she walked away and wanted to grab it,
badly.  “I need specifics here.”

“You want specifics?”  She turned back around and
sauntered with a sexy swing back to him.  Her shirt was still gaping
enough for pink lace to peak over the top, and in the few steps she took, he
lost all the breath in his body.  It was something to accomplish in the
limited confines of the trailer.  She leaned up and whispered in his ear,
“You’re not the only one who wants a taste.”  Then she licked him, and
turned and walked away.  Again.

“Evil, evil woman.”

She laughed and he adjusted his pants.  “There’s a
letter there for you that looks urgent.  Especially since you never did find
your phone to get those messages Jack called about before it was stolen.”

“Yes, because my missing phone is a huge concern right this
minute.”  He came up close to her back and nipped her neck before backing
up with the mail in his hands.  “And wondering what some lawyer wants to
get from me is what’s making me crazy.”  He stopped suddenly when he
noticed the return address.  Feeling the change in atmosphere, Beatrice
turned with the pen she just picked up still in hand. She studied his suddenly
taut face.

“What?  Do you know someone in Sacramento?”

He looked up at her then back down at the letter.  He
opened the letter while she watched, and if possible, he tensed even more,
until he looked carved of stone.

She dropped her pen and walked up to his side, one hand
going to his flat belly, the other to his back.  Her concerned eyes on his
face.  “Douglas?”

Without answering, he crumbled up the paper and shoved it in
his pocket.  “It’s nothing.  I have work.”  He kissed her hard
and brief on the lips, then walked away from her touch and out the door without
another look.

“Well . . .,” Beatrice looked around at the empty trailer
and buttoned her gaping top, “I guess the honeymoon is over.”

By the end of the day, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind
that Douglas was experiencing one of his rare junkyard dog moods.  If
anyone came near, he snapped and growled.  Beatrice gave him the space he
needed and just worked, but eventually they were going to have to talk. 
Clearly, whatever was in that letter was an issue that needed to be addressed
calmly and compassionately. 

Unfortunately, Douglas wasn’t the only one with a temper,
and Beatrice would be the first to admit she might be the tiniest bit impatient
where surly men were concerned.  She was aware that the smart thing to do
would be to give him some space and understanding.  They were at the
beginning of some kind of relationship.  It would behoove her to go easy
and let him deal with this at his own speed.  Of course, that’s not actually
what happened. 

They were upstairs in the soon to be library, going over the
plans for the wood shelving they were going to line the room with when Beatrice
lost the will to commiserate with another’s issues.

“Fuck Beatrice, do you always have to make everything harder. 
If you want decorative flourishes in the wood, it’s going to be both more
expensive and time consuming.”  Douglas’s voice had a bite to it that
added extra insult to the words.  He was also doing his utmost to stand at
a distance that emulated the emotional one he was creating.  It royally
pissed her off.

Beatrice narrowed her eyes, but reminded herself he was
dealing with something big, even if he didn’t want to share what that was.

“The flourishes are in keeping with the Queen Anne style. No
way are the bookshelves plain wood in this house, not with the way they
decorated every damn thing back then.  Plus, some lucky woman will take
one look at those bookshelves with the flourishes on them and fall madly in
love with the library and want the house.  They will add authentic charm
to this room and be worth the work in sale value.  It’s also just the
added touch most companies would not bother to add.  Trust me, it will be
worth the time and expense.”

“Yeah, well you aren’t the one who has to carve all those
bookcases, are you?”

Since that kind of statement and the whining behind it was
so out of character as to be ridiculous, Beatrice told herself it was the
emotional issue talking, and she should go easy.  That was the plan even
as she ground her teeth and snapped.

“I know whatever was in that letter was bad, Douglas Bruce,
but if you don’t take that stick out of your ass I’m going to do it for you,
and as painfully as possible.”

Douglas froze where he was stomping a trail up and down the
room and turned to look at her with eyes narrowed.  “What the fuck does
that mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like; you’re snapping at everyone
and complaining about everything.  You don’t want to do your job, we have
other carpenters on the payroll who don’t mind a little detail work.”

He stomped back across the room and halted only when he had
backed her up two full steps and was standing toe-to-toe with her. He glared
down at her, practically vibrating with his angst.  Beatrice glared right
back, holding her ground when he would have backed her up further.

“You aren’t getting rid of me that easy, Bumble Bee.”

“What was in that letter?”

She watched as his jaw tensed and his eyes went from heated
to cold in zero point six seconds.  “Nothing.  I told you, that
letter has nothing to do with this.”  Then he took a step back.

“Bullshit, it was nothing.  You have been acting like
an ass ever since you opened it and I want to know why.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“If this was last week, I would agree, but we started
something you and I and I’m pretty sure when you’re in a relationship you talk
about your problems.”

“Why do women always pull the relationship card when they
want to pry into a man’s business?”

Beatrice opened her mouth and all that came out was a growl
at first.  Then she breathed deep, counted to ten and tried reason. 
“So, you’re telling me if I got a letter and acted like a total ass, you would
just give me space and figure it was none of your business?”

“If that’s what you said you needed.”  He growled the
obviously false statement out with just a short pause.

“Fine.”  Beatrice stepped back, her voice going
glacial.  “How about this.  I’ll give you all the space you
need.  Frankly, I have no interest in being in a ‘relationship’. . .” she
did air quotes to show her sarcasm over the use of the word, “where we have sex
and joke around, but ignore anything remotely personal or hard to deal with.
Sounds like friends with benefits to me, no not even friends.  It sounds
like acquaintances that scratch an itch and have a few laughs before they go
back to their lives.  And that is not me.  So we’ll just leave this
experiment at a crazy weekend where we lost our minds briefly and forget about
it.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I thought it was pretty clear.  I’ll get my own room
and we’ll forget this ever happened.”  Even as she said it she felt her
throat close up, but she would be damned if she started something with a man
who pushed her away the second things got hard.

“That’s it?  The first time things don’t go your way
you bail?”

“Bail out of what?  If all we have is good times,
there’s nothing to hold onto anyway.”  She was trying to hold onto her
anger, but all she was getting was sad.  He was slowly losing his icy
edge, but the anger was still there in his stiff posture and jutting jaw. 
After such a short run, she was already hurting.
  This had been such a
bad idea.

Douglas studied her closed face and wondered how the hell he
had messed everything up so quickly.  He swallowed hard and shook his
head, his shoulders losing their stiffness.  He reached over and pulled a
curl that was escaping her ponytail.  He watched her eyes go sad and then
firm up again.  She really would end it. 
Fuck.

“My biological grandfather is dying.  He is demanding a
visit before he dies or he will cut me out of his inheritance.  I neither
want nor need his money.  So it is not important enough to discuss.”

“Your grandfather is dying?”

“My biological grandfather, who threw my mother out of her
home when she was pregnant with me.  And I know this because when I
tracked him down, thinking I wanted to know who my family was, he told me I
came from trash and he wanted nothing to do with the son of a druggy whore and
one of her myriad low class mistakes.  And oh yeah, I would never amount
to anything anyway.”

Beatrice pushed out all the breath she had been holding, and
swallowed the overwhelming relief in her throat.  Then she focused on
Douglas and not her own messed up reactions.  “Harsh.  Not exactly
grandfather
 
of
the year.   So when you saw the letter you were reminded of the past,
and that’s why you’re in such a bad mood?”

“In a word . . . yes.”

She took his hand. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Don’t break up with me.”  His words were stark with
simplicity.

She released another big breath and smiled at him, “I can do
that.”  She kissed his cheek, rubbing her cheek against his when she
withdrew. Then she turned back to the room, but she kept a hold of his
hand.  “So, what are we going to do about these shelves?”

Douglas breathed his own sigh of relief, amazed that she let
it go so easy.  He tightened his hand around hers and spoke gruffly
because his throat had tightened inexplicably, “I guess we’re going to take the
time to do it right.  You get your girly details.”

“Oh, I know I do.”  She looked back at him and
smiled.  “You sure you can handle it?”

“I think I can muddle through it . . . No need to get
another carpenter in here.” He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the
lips, his eyes on hers warming.  “Not that you could; we’ve all seen what
happened in the past when you tried to get rid of me.”

She stood up on tiptoe and kissed him back.  “I don’t
doubt Uncle Jack would talk some sense into one or both of us if I tried. 
Best to just skip it entirely.”

“A good plan.”  Then he kissed her again, this time he
didn’t let go until she had softened in his arms completely and her eyes were
dazed with desire.  “Whelp,” he said, “back to work.”  Then he turned
with obviously improved spirits and smacked her on the ass as he left.

Beatrice could have made an issue out of it, but it took her
a good ten minutes to get her mind back in gear after that kiss.  Plus,
she was just glad to have the regular obnoxious and cheerful Douglas Bruce
back.  Maybe things would get back to normal around here, and they could
get this house done sometime this year.

***

After the tension ended, they managed to get some good work
done on the porch structure and the staircase, and everyone was back to jovial
teasing by the time they loaded up their trucks and headed out.  When the
workday ended, Douglas went looking for Beatrice.  He found her locking up
the trailer and shrugging into her coat and messenger bag.  He helped her
by pulling her bag off her shoulder and then untucking her hair from her
collar.

“You ready?”  His voice was quiet in the twilight, his
eyes hot on hers.

“That depends.  What did you have in mind?”

He pulled the shoulder strap across his own shoulder and
stepped into her space.  “I thought dinner out, some wine.”  He pushed
her hair back and zipped up her coat for her.  “Then if we can make it
that far without you trying to break up with me again, we’ll end the night on
an up note.”

“What’s the likelihood of that actually happening?”

“I’m willing to be on my best behavior if you are?”

“You’ll be on your best behavior so you can get back into my
pants?”

He pulled her by her coat until she was pressed tight
against him.  “We don’t have to start right off with the pants.  I’m
willing to work up to that.”

That made her laugh and he kissed it from her lips. 
Then he leaned back smiling, “So what do you say?”

She raised a brow, “Are you actually asking?”

“Told you.  Best behavior.”

She smiled.  “All right, dinner.  Then you can
begin your working up to it, and we’ll see how it goes.”

Turns out Douglas Bruce’s best behavior was pretty darn
good, and his ability to multi-task phenomenal, as he proved when they returned
to their room.  As soon as the door clicked closed behind them, Douglas
turned and pressed her back against the door.  His hands were warm on her
hips; his fingers dug into the denim and he slid her up the wood until they
were face-to-face.

She grabbed his face and stopped him from kissing her. 
She studied his incredibly clear green eyes and chiseled jaw with the light
dusting of scratchy stubble. She would kill for eyelashes like his.  “I
think I had a little too much wine, because right now you seem absolutely
gorgeous.”

“It could just be I really am that good looking.”

She snorted. “Not possible.”  She ran her hands down
the side of his face to the top of his flannel shirt.  “No one is that
pretty.”

“You are.”  He slid her up higher, and ran his bristly
cheek down her soft one to the neck where he nuzzled.  “Your skin is the
softest thing I’ve ever felt, and you smell like sunshine.”

Beatrice smiled, her fingers working the buttons open at his
neck until she could get her hand all the way down the back of his shirt. 
She wrapped her legs around his waist and put her lips against his ear. 
“You smell like wood chips and flannel.”  She licked his ear.  “And
warm solid man.”  She bit him gently right below his ear, and kept
whispering.  “Even when you got on my last nerve, I loved the way you
smelled.  Always.”

She pulled back until she could look in his eyes
again.  They had heated to molten green and his face had hardened with
desire.  His jaw was practically granite under her hand.  “I wanted
you even when I also wanted to run you over with my car.”  She moved her
lips to his cheek and then rubbed them from there to his lips and spoke,
hovering right above them.  “Kiss me, Douglas, The Bruce.  King of
all things obnoxious.”

He pushed her harder up against the door and pressed her
there with his hips so that his hands could go to either side of her face and
hold her where he wanted her.  “I think I can do better than that,” he
growled, right before he took her mouth with lips and tongue.  

Douglas lost himself in her soft lips and the feel of her
body under his hands.  Being able to touch her like this was both heaven
and hell.  No matter how much he had of her, he wanted more, and where it
should be letting up, waning, winding down, instead with her it was becoming
more each time he had her.  He wanted to touch her all the time. 
Needed the taste of her on his lips the second she faded from his tongue.

He shoved her higher on the door so that he had to look up
to see her dazed eyes and reddened lips.  Her hair was mussed and falling
out of her ponytail.  She was still in her work flannel and Carhartt jeans. 
He had just had her that morning and most of the night before; yet, all he
could think about was that if he didn’t have her soon he was going to combust.

“I lied.”  He growled again, then turned her, tossed
her onto the bed, and proceeded to strip out of his clothes as fast as he
could. 

Beatrice blinked her dazed eyes and watched his sprint to
undress.  Before she could think to respond, he was naked and working hard
to get her that way. 

“I’m not working up to shit,” he finally muttered by way of explanation,
just as the last of her clothes went flying and he was coming down on top of
her.

Beatrice was trying to adjust to the sudden turn of mood,
but having all the warm naked heat that was Douglas Bruce come down on her had
every nerve in her body humming and purring.  Then he pulled her knees to
either side of his hips and thrust home.  She became a being of friction
and need.