Next to You (11 page)

J
ared was faster
than she was. No surprise there. So when Phlox slid into the master bathroom, pulling her shirt over her head, she caught an eyeful of naked masculine buttocks as Jared stepped into the tub. She watched as he leaned forward to turn on the faucet, adjusting the flow of hot and cold water. Yup, it was going to be tight.

“What are you waiting for?”

He sat back and aimed a big gorgeous grin her way. Phlox stripped off her shorts and underwear and slid into the tub with him. He pulled her back against his chest as the water filled the tub, splashing between their ankles.

“Guess I’m the rotten egg,” she said.

“Yeah. You are.” He nibbled on her earlobe. “That means I get to do whatever I want to you.”

“Oh, is that what that means?”

“Hmm-mm.”

He traced the soft curve of her ear with his tongue. She knew what
she
would like him to do, and it involved his tongue and both his hands. And maybe a certain other appendage.

Jared grabbed her perfumed body wash from the shelf next to the tub and poured some into his hands, then proceeded to wash her shoulders and back. She lifted her hair up so he could get to her neck.

“I’ve never done this before,” she murmured.

“Taken a bath?” Jared chuckled behind her.

She jabbed her elbow into him. “Taken a bath with a man before.”

She waited for him to say more, but he remained silent. She tried to imagine taking a bath with David and found she couldn’t. She couldn’t imagine herself doing something so sensual, so intimate, with him. Yet here she was, doing it with a man she barely knew. Jared often wasn’t that comfortable around her, but she felt strangely at ease around him. She wasn’t sure why. He sure wasn’t an easy man to be at ease around.

“Keep your arms up like that.”

The faint touch of his breath at her ear sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine. That turned out to be nothing compared to the touch of his soapy hands as he reached around and began washing her breasts. All she could do was moan and lay her head back on his chest.

“No implants,” he said. “Please.” He rolled her nipples until they were almost painfully hard.

Phlox moaned in reply, the only sound she was capable of making. She wondered what her mother would think when she met Jared. Doubtful it would go over well.
The caretaker?
She could almost hear her mother now.

She moaned again when his hands left her breasts. He chuckled soft and low in her ear; the sound rumbled against her back.

“There’s more of you to wash,” he said. “I’m going to get you nice and clean.” His hands slid over her flat stomach, his thumb dipping briefly into her belly button, sending a rush of heat through her body. “Then I’m going to get dirty with you. Very, very dirty.”

She smiled as she looked at his large hands splayed over her ribs, gently washing. “You’re talking dirty in a bathtub?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Don’t I get to wash you?”

“Next time. If you’re faster. But tonight, you’re the rotten egg. So we’re doing what I want.”

She gasped when his wet hands slipped between her legs and began stroking her. His ankles hooked over hers and drew her legs as wide apart as the tub would allow. She wanted to take him to the bedroom. Now.

“I think I’m clean, Jared.”

“Yes, you are. We’ve moved onto the dirty portion of the evening’s entertainment.” He pushed a finger inside her, caressing her inner wall. “Open the drain.”

She started to ask why, then stopped herself. Jared was taking charge here, and she wanted to let him, wanted to see where he would go tonight. Her fingers found the lever for the drain and opened it. Jared continued to caress her, inside and out, bringing her to the brink again and again but not letting her fall over it. She watched as the water receded and revealed his muscled legs against hers and the hand that disappeared between her legs. It wasn’t until the tub was completely empty that she realized his other hand was on her stomach, holding her tight against him.

“Sit on the edge of the tub,” he said, his hand stopping its ministrations.

She did as he asked. He pushed himself away from the wall of the tub and knelt on his knees before her. He reached around her and scooted her hips forward, before placing his palms on the inside of her thighs and spreading her legs. He sat back on his heels, as if considering her pose, then leaned forward and gently lifted her right leg, setting it down on the outside of the tub. He rubbed the top of her thigh.

“Is this comfortable?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered. It was physically comfortable. But psychically, she felt vulnerable, too open, too exposed. He was staring darkly at the space between her legs. She’d had sex with other men, of course. But always in a bed, always in the dark, and never with a man who was as keenly interested in her body as Jared Connor seemed to be right now.

Maybe this was what it was like, having sex just for sex’s sake. Sex for fun with no emotional commitment, no expectations. She was still turning that thought around in her mind when Jared put his head between her legs and proceeded to get dirty with his tongue. Very, very dirty.

One tub-clutching, thigh-quivering, mind-erasing orgasm later, he wrapped her in a soft towel and carried her to bed.

W
hen Phlox awoke
, it was light outside and Jared was propped up on his elbows, staring at her face.

“God, you’re so lovely.” He traced a finger along her cheekbone. “What are you doing, allowing me in your bed?”

“I like you, Jared.”

“You could have any man you wanted.”

“That hasn’t been my experience.” The instant the words were out of her mouth, she realized how they sounded. “Shit. That didn’t come out the way I meant it …” She wasn’t slumming with Jared.

He leaned over and kissed her, forgivingly. “It will be your experience as soon as you get comfortable in this face.”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be comfortable in it.”

“Men will be lined up around the block waiting to get into your bed.”

The regret in his voice and the weary acceptance of what he saw as his life threatened to break her heart.

She didn’t want men lined up around the block. She wouldn’t know what to do with them. All she wanted was one man. One good man.

She ran her hand down Jared’s stomach, her finger lightly tracing the narrow line of hair below his navel. He sucked in his breath sharply. She wrapped her fingers around him. So hard, already.

Jared Connor probably wasn’t that one man. He was
a
man, a lonely man it seemed, and one who had stumbled into the great fortune—or misfortune—of having a strange woman suddenly appear in his life, a woman who was just as lonely and horny as he was. Of course, he was taking advantage of the opportunity. Maybe he even felt obligated to accommodate her since she was his employer. Maybe he even expected a raise. She could arrange for that.

But right now, right this morning, she pushed all that out of her mind because she wanted exactly what he wanted. She slid down his body and replaced her hand with her mouth.

“Well, looks like you’re first in line then.”

P
hlox spent the afternoon antiquing
. She had invited Jared to come with her but he had begged off, as she knew he would.

“If you want a hot tub installed before the end of summer, I’d best get going on it.” She didn’t argue with that. He was the caretaker, and he wanted to do his job. Plus, the sooner the hot tub was installed, the sooner she could invite him to sit in it with her.

Still, she was in a funky mood as she laid a pile of newly-purchased vintage quilts onto the back seat of the Spyder, and then walked across the street to the Litchfield Café. She really
had
wanted to spend the afternoon with Jared. It was weird being naked and in a tub with someone one day, and then just polite acquaintances the next.

Fuck me, Phlox, please,
he had begged her. No one had ever begged her before. And she had. It had been hard and fast and a little rough around the edges. Those orgasms in books? The ones where people shatter and see stars? Yup. She’d had one of those that morning. And she was pretty certain he had, too.

Deep down, though, she didn’t think she was really cut out for casual sex. If she was, she wouldn’t be sitting in a café poking at an artisan greens salad and thinking about her casual sex partner. Would she? She wouldn’t be feeling guilty about the fact that he was back at her house, working. Her fingers wouldn’t be itching to pull her phone out of her purse and call him to see if he needed any help.

Of course, he didn’t need any help. He was the fucking caretaker.

She smiled to herself. Yeah, he was the fucking caretaker all right.

She sipped at her pomegranate iced tea and forced herself to people watch. There was that actress, the impossibly skinny one who’d had the nude photo scandal last year, sitting in the corner with a man who was way too old for her. Phlox was in summer home territory here, and everyone in the café looked well-heeled and well-tended. Probably most of them were New Yorkers like herself. Not that Phlox had to worry about anyone recognizing
her
. Not anymore.

A man who looked vaguely familiar was obviously checking her out from his seat at the bar. She stared down into her tea and hoped he wouldn’t do what men always did with Zee—send drinks over. Or dessert. Or sometimes they just paid the entire damn check. Phlox had always been a little jealous of Zee’s powers in that regard. In college, Phlox had always been the wingman, always wondered what it would be like to be on the other side of that equation.

Now she was on that other side, had the ability to attract strangers in a bar—and strangers in her employ. All it took was thirty-two operations. Was it going to be worth it? She wasn’t sure. But she also wasn’t going to kid herself. She wouldn’t be fucking the caretaker if it weren’t for the pretty face.

S
he saw
the note on the front door right away. She lugged her new quilts inside, then came back and tore it off

Dinner at 8.

No signature, just a tiny sketch of a bowtie. She smiled. At eight o’clock sharp, she knocked on the door to the cottage, holding a six-pack of beer. She had changed out of the shorts and blouse she’d worn shopping and into a pale blue strapless dress with a tight ruched bodice. Her hair was pulled up into a loose topknot. She’d even touched up her lashes with mascara, something she hadn’t bothered doing since coming to the Connecticut house.

“Come on in,” Jared’s voice sounded from inside.

She turned the knob and pushed open the door. She glanced quickly to her right, into the tiny living room.
My god, the place was small.
You couldn’t get lost in here if you tried.
The equally tiny kitchen was at the back of the cottage and it was there that she found Jared. He stood at the stove, a black wok sizzling on a burner. Her entire body began to sizzle, too, for Jared was wearing an apron—had she noticed before just how fine his ass was?—and nothing else.

She stood there a moment, trying to calm her racing heart, and took in the view. Broad shoulders and back, striated with corded muscles that tapered in a vee to his waist. Hard, firm ass atop a pair of legs that could have come straight out of an anatomy textbook. Jared continue to toss whatever was in the wok. He had to know she was standing there. She suspected he was letting her look her fill.

When he turned around at last, there was a huge grin plastered across his face. He tugged at the black bow tie around his neck. An apron and a bowtie. Phlox thought she might faint.

He looked her up and down. “I thought my invitation specified black tie.” His grin was borderline evil now.

“I guess I misunderstood that little drawing.” She set the sixpack down on the small table. “I’m a little underdressed, I suppose.” She bit back a laugh.

Jared turned off the burner and walked over to her. “I’d say you’re a little overdressed, actually. He tugged gently at the top of her dress. “Though I like this dress. No unnecessary lingerie underneath, I’m guessing,” he said huskily as he ran his thumb just beneath the elastic holding it up. “Not that I don’t also like unnecessary lingerie. Especially those tiny little thongs you wear.” His hands slid around to her backside and pulled her body against his.

She reciprocated by grabbing his bare ass. “Are you dinner?” she asked.

“No. I’m dessert.”

“Can we have dessert first?”

He tilted back her head and kissed her. “No ma’am. You have to wait.”

She ground her hips against his. “Is it okay if I have an orgasm while I wait?”

Jared struggled to keep a straight face. “I’d rather you save that for dessert. If you have one, then I might have one and … uh, the health department might not be happy with this fine dining establishment.”

“What happened to the customer always being right? I might call and lodge a complaint with management.”

Jared sucked her earlobe into his mouth. She moaned, feeling the gentle suction in other parts of her body. The bathtub came to mind.

“If you don’t, I’ll let you have dessert any way you like.”

She felt the nip of his teeth against her ear. “Hmm … an enticing proposition.” She reached beneath the apron and cupped his balls. “
Any
way I like?” His tortured groan was appetizing all by itself.

“Any way.” He pulled himself away from her. “But I need to eat first if I’m going to turn myself over to you later. I did work all day on a certain person’s hot tub project.”

Phlox set the table while Jared scooped fluffy white rice onto two plates. The kitchen was your basic bachelor setup. A tiny wooden table—to call it distressed would be generous—and three mismatched chairs, one of which was a white plastic chair meant for outdoor use. There was an obviously much-used coffeemaker and an assortment of potato chips, corn chips, barbeque chips, tortilla chips, tequila-lime tortilla chips—pretty much every type of chip—on the counter. She uncapped two bottles of beer and filled two glasses.

“Was this place furnished when you moved in?” she asked. “I never really looked around in here much. I was planning to turn it into a pool house.”

“More or less. Your assistant did ask if there was anything else I needed.” He topped the rice with beef and vegetables. “But I said no. I’m a simple guy.”

Words of protest were forming on her lips—Jared Connor was anything if simple, she was coming to believe—but the smell of ginger and garlic washed them from her mouth

“That smells amazing,” she said as he carried two plates past her and set them on the table.

He pulled out a chair for her—not the white plastic one—and then scooted her in.

“Well, you’ve seen pretty much my entire cooking repertoire now. Burgers and stir fry. And sandwiches. I make a mean ham sandwich.”

As Jared untied his apron and tossed it onto the counter, leaving him utterly and
deliciously
naked except for the bowtie, Phlox was thinking she’d love for him to make her a ham sandwich. Or anything, really. Soup from a can. Spaghettios. Nachos. KFC. Taco Bell. She’d eat anything while seated across from this man’s bare chested glory.

“Although I had a salad of wild Italian grass in a restaurant once that I could probably replicate,” he added. “I ordered it just to see what wild Italian grass was.”

“And what was it?”

“Blades of grass in a light vinaigrette.”

Phlox snorted beer through her nose.

“Do you go to lots of fancy functions in the city?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Just trying to imagine you in a ball gown with beer coming out of your nose.” His brown eyes twinkled with amusement. “What did you do all day while I slaved away on your hot tub project?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. How much “slaving” could he have done already? She hadn’t noticed any bobcats or backhoes on the property.

“I went quilt shopping, then had lunch in Litchfield.”

“By yourself?”

Phlox nodded. “I don’t really know anyone up here. Other than you.” She smiled.

“You’d get along with my sister-in-law. She collects quilts.”

“Where does she live?”

“Boston. She and my brother live there with their two kids.”

“That's not far. Do you ever visit them?”

He shrugged. “Not often enough.”

“If you want a day off to go, Jared, you can have it. You don’t have to even ask. Just go.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

They ate dinner in a silent awkwardness. In a heartbeat they had gone from lovers back to employer and employee. She didn’t want to discuss days off with Jared or whether he needed more furniture in the cottage. He didn’t feel like an employee to her.
Because you’re screwing him, possibly?

Yeah, possibly.

Phlox wracked her brain for things to talk about and tried not to stare at Jared’s bare chest. She looked around the tiny kitchen. The cabinets were painted metal, with plenty of dents and dings, and the countertops looked suspiciously like original Formica.

“I’ll redo this place for you,” she said.

Jared looked at her in surprise. “Where would I live while that was being done?”

“You can stay in the main house when I go back to the city.”

“I don’t mind it the way it is.”

“I do though. I didn’t realize it was so outdated.”

“Well, it’s your property. Let me know what you want done and I’ll pull some estimates together.”

The thought of returning to New York depressed her a little. This thing with Jared—this fun little fling—would be over when she returned. It would be awkward when she came to Connecticut afterward. There was no doubt in her mind about that. They couldn’t just bang each other on weekends or national holidays. It would be too weird. And Jared would get a girlfriend eventually. He would meet a woman who was able to see the fine man beneath his scars.

“Were you able to do some estimates for the hot tub?” she asked.

He nodded. “I spoke to several suppliers in the area to get a general feel for costs. I’ll need you to go with me to look at things, though.”

“I can do that.”

“Maybe tomorrow. If you have time,” he suggested. “That way you could have one to use before the end of the summer.”

She hated this awkward employee-employer conversation they had fallen into again. Even more awkward since he was naked—no way to ignore that fact. And the fact that her body was positively humming with lust over it. She stood to clear their plates. He stood too. They rinsed the plates and glasses, and set them in the sink. No dishwasher in the cottage, she discovered.

Maybe they had nothing else to talk about. What did she have in common with a caretaker? They had scars in common—and plenty of physical chemistry. That added up to a fling. Nothing more. Why were they even trying to talk to each other, have dinner together, go to the movies? They should just spend the nights together and leave it at that.

She didn’t want to leave it at that, though.

“When do you go back to the city?” Jared asked the question she didn’t want to think about.

“Next week, probably.” She had told Zee she’d be up here two weeks. She could maybe extend her stay by a few days, but not much more. What would be the point anyway? As much as she liked Jared Connor, this wasn’t going anywhere. She couldn’t fall for her caretaker. For an employee.

She was going to have to leave it at that.