Real Women Don't Wear Size 2 (16 page)

“You made me drop my necklace! What’d you do that for?” She continued staring at the big hand against her heart. It looked vaguely familiar.

“Yeah, man,” one of her cohorts questioned, “what the hell are you doing?”

“She’s with me,” the lethal voice growled.

“I am?” She slid her gaze across the top of his hand, up his muscled arm, past a beautifully corded neck, and directly into the face of—Ethan Eubanks.

No,
her brain reasoned. It couldn’t be her friend, her boss, pressing one palm to her chest while the other pushed against the small of her back and purposefully guided her through the crowd. Could it? She shook her head to clear it, which was a monumental mistake, since it currently felt like a bowling ball on top of a golf tee, ready to roll right off.

“Ow,” she mumbled, but her captor showed no sign of sympathy, and growled something incoherent. Uncertain of where they were going, Clarise stumbled along beside him and tried to decipher what had just happened. She’d dropped her top, got her beads and had her chest slapped. Why did the last part seem more exciting than the first two?

“I was hoping you’d look like him,” she said honestly, as he hauled her into the lobby of her resort. “But talk about spittin’ image.”

“Your room number,” he demanded.

She had to really concentrate on that one. What was it again? Oh yeah, she remembered. “Three-twenty-one,” she said, proud of herself for accomplishing the difficult task. “Like a countdown, you know, three . . . two . . . one.” She snorted with laughter.

He didn’t. Instead, he paused at the front counter. “My room mix-up from earlier, remember?”

The attendant nodded, and it made his face blur. Clarise wanted to ask him to stop moving so quickly, so she could see if his eyes were blue, in case the guy at her side didn’t pan out, but she couldn’t get the words to move beyond her throat.

“Yes,” Blur-Face answered, “and we’re so sorry for the inconvenience. We’re trying to find you something—”

“Don’t bother. I’ll be staying in three-twenty-one with Ms. Robinson. Please have my bags brought to that room.”

“Yes, sir,” he answered obligingly.

“He’s—staying with me,” Clarise said. She’d meant it to sound like a question, but she lost track of the tone midway.

“That’s right,” growling-man-who-looked-like-Ethan affirmed, before hauling her butt across the lobby and into the elevator.

She eyed him suspiciously, wondering how many prayers of thanksgiving she’d need to offer for having a guy who could be Ethan Eubanks’s twin sharing her condominium. “Wait a minute. You’re not Jeff, are ya?” God knows she wanted someone who looked like Ethan, but she didn’t want to get hot and heated with his honest-to-goodness twin. Something about that image wasn’t right. At all.

“Definitely not,” he said.

“And you’re staying with me,” she said, trying her best to put it all together and having a rather difficult time of it.

“I am.”

That was it. Not a man of many words, her handsome stranger who looked like Ethan, but that was okay. There wasn’t a thing on her fantasy list that involved a whole heck of a lot of talking, but the way he said it, and the way his jaw clenched so tight, she’d have sworn he was angry. How could that be? They’d just met, sort of, which was still a bit muddled. She really hadn’t planned on doing “it” with a stranger, but here she was, headed to her room—correction,
their
room—with one. How did that happen again? Had she seen him in the crowd, realized how much he resembled her to-die-for friend and called him over? Granted, she was tipsy, but if she’d seen this tribute to the male society, surely she’d have remembered. Then again, blasted—what if he didn’t look like Ethan at all, and her mind was merely playing tricks on her, letting her have exactly what she wanted for a change? And did she really care, as long as she was fooled long enough to pretend?

She squinted, trying to focus enough to see if the image was confused. Nope, Ethan Eubanks to a tee. Drop-dead gorgeous and mega drool-worthy. Surely she noticed the resemblance and pursued this guy at some point during the parade. Unfortunately, their initial introduction must’ve slipped her mind, because the first thing she remembered was his hand grabbing her chest. Not a bad way to start their time together, in Clarise’s opinion, and she had several additional memories to make with her handsome stranger. Starting right now.

Chapter 10

E
than glared at the elevator doors and focused his attention on the mirrored finish, the crack in the center, the round glowing numbers, anything but the woman next to him, the one who’d gleefully yanked her top down while every male within viewing distance gleefully gawked. Dammit. And even though her breasts had remained covered, somewhat, with that flimsy red lace, it’d been such an incredible vision that he’d literally heard the entire crowd inhale. Salivate. Drool. Another low growl rumbled at the back of his throat. He wanted to put Clarise’s luscious backside over his knee and spank her, and damned if that thought didn’t turn him on. What did that say about his ability to maintain a relationship with a female without the aid of sex?

Female? Oh no, Clarise Robinson was more than merely any ol’ female. She was intriguing and sweet and bright and fun . . . and sexy as hell. Friendship with this particular female he could handle; however, mere friendship with Clarise, or with Clarise Robinson unplugged, well, he wasn’t going to make any promises.

He’d known what she planned to do, had known she practiced the technique in her apartment last night, but knowing what she planned was entirely different than watching her in action and seeing—what every other man saw—Clarise Robinson baring her soul, and everything else, to Tampa. His jaw tightened. Of course, she hadn’t gotten the chance to show more than her erotic bodice, since he’d ended her presentation before it started. But what had she wanted? What
had
she expected? Didn’t she know what that getup would do to a guy’s head? And not just the one located above the neck, because it didn’t matter that Ethan had seen his share of bare breasts in his trek through the crowd. It didn’t even matter that there were a few pairs equaling hers, nearly, in size. What mattered was . . . these belonged to Clarise.

Ethan shook his head. How Neanderthal could he get? Why didn’t he just grab her by the hair and drag her down the hall? Here she was, in Tampa, attempting to have a good time and crack her way out of her seemingly airtight shell, which was what he’d been trying to get her to do for the last three years, and he shows up and stops her progress. What he did wasn’t right, and he knew it; they were friends,
just
friends. Neither had ever expressed an attraction toward the other, so he shouldn’t want her now, not in any way that extended the boundaries of friendship. But he did want her, and unfortunately, it had taken him three years to realize it. And now that he’d come to his senses, she had decided to sow her oats at Gasparilla. He closed his eyes, thought of sweet, careful Clarise, his friend and confidante, the woman who was so gun-shy around men, so tenderhearted around everyone else. And the one who wore sexy lingerie beneath her clothing. Only at Gasparilla? Or were all of those proper garments she wore to work hiding . . . red lace? Flashing that impressive chest, she had looked like a woman going for it and ready for “it” to happen soon. Had she really wanted to get
that
wild and crazy in Tampa? To be with someone she didn’t know? Surely that wasn’t something Clarise Robinson, ever cautious and timid, would want. Certainly, she’d merely wanted to have a little fun, raise a few brows at a parade. Yeah, she’d performed a semiflash, but she’d obviously had too much to drink and wasn’t thinking clearly.

A surge of relief pulsed through him. Clarise wasn’t the type of woman who’d indulge in carefree sex with a stranger. She was simply getting into the Gasparilla madness in order to make the most of her trip. Hell, he should commend her for her willingness to go so far, although he’d have preferred it if she wouldn’t have gotten drunk in the process.

“Elevator sex.”

He turned toward the vixen who’d mumbled the two evocative words. She gave him a thorough once-over, slow and lazy, as though she wanted to lick every inch of him. Right here. Right now. His penis, thoroughly pleased with this assessment, pressed against his zipper to give her a more adequate view. “What?” he asked, and mentally reminded his anatomy that she was inebriated.

She licked her lips, her pink tongue trailing a slow path across their fullness. “I forgot to include elevator sex on my list. We’ll need to add it, okay?” Then, to Ethan’s complete shock, she reached out and cupped his balls. “Ooh, I can’t wait to see you. You’re better than I dreamed. Even bigger than I expected.”

His pulse throbbed in his ears, and several other places. “Clarise, what did you drink? And how much of it did you consume?”

She ignored his questions and focused on his manhood, still straining in the pants. Then she slid her eyes up his body while running her teeth over her bottom lip. At his face, she blinked. “You really do look like him.”

The elevator jerked as it stopped, and she inadvertently squeezed the surplus in her palm. Ethan sucked in a ragged breath while his cock continued beating a maddening rhythm, begging for the attention the remainder of his masculinity was getting.

“Um, excuse us, but we need to get on the elevator, if you two don’t mind.”

Ethan jerked his head toward the elderly couple perched outside the door. The man’s charcoal brows were drawn together in obvious disgust, while the woman’s mouth quirked into a sneaky, and quite curious, grin.

“Oh, my,” she gasped, staring at Clarise’s full hand.

Clarise giggled mischievously and released him. “Sorry,” she said. “And we do have a room. We’ll use it now.” She stepped off the elevator and stumbled into the hall, still giggling. “But we
will
have elevator sex before the trip ends, right?” She lifted her brows and tossed a wanton smile at Ethan.

He swallowed, stepped off the elevator and made no comment.

“Where is my room, again?” Clarise asked, trailing her fingertips down the front of his shirt in a steady path toward the bulge in his pants.

Ethan caught her wrist and swiftly turned her to head down the hall. “Clarise, you’re drunk.”

“Just tipsy, I think,” she corrected. “But I still know what I want. I just can’t remember where the room is.”

He steered her toward three-twenty-one, then realized he didn’t have a way to get inside. “Where’s your key?”

Another girlish giggle passed over her lips as she held up the tiny purse. “In here, with my list.”

Ethan unzipped the bag and withdrew a plastic keycard, slid it through the slot and guided her inside. As soon as the door closed, she turned on the lights and pushed him across the room with more strength than he’d believed existed in the curvy package. “Sit down,” she instructed. “If we’re going to do it all, we need to get busy.” Amazingly, not one of her words slurred while issuing the direct order.

“What do you—” he started, but halted when Clarise Robinson, his trusted friend and devoted employee, and consequently, the woman who’d been on his mind continually for the past twenty-four hours, began removing her clothes.

“You’re even better than I imagined,” she said, wiggling her hips to push the leather skirt down her legs. It dropped to the floor and she stepped out, revealing the lower half of the red lace number he’d seen earlier.

His mouth went dry. She had beautifully rounded hips, shaped like those of classic movie stars. With the skintight brown top hugging her breasts and an arrow of red lace accenting her womanhood, Clarise provided the sexiest picture he’d ever seen. Sure, he’d suspected she was hiding an extremely feminine body beneath her business clothes, but he hadn’t been prepared for such an incredibly seductive figure, with tantalizing curves. A strip of red garter belt centered each creamy thigh and connected to black fishnet stockings. Her legs were perfect, nothing skinny or bony about them, shapely and curvy, in all the right places. She fingered the bottom edge of her top then rolled it north, over her glorious chest. As a result, her breasts pushed out farther and brought Ethan near combustion. He should stop her. He knew he should, but for the life of him, he couldn’t make himself speak the words. Hell, his tongue was too busy roving his mouth in search of much-needed saliva. So he watched, with heavy anticipation and a hard-on that rivaled the Washington Monument. But before Clarise stripped completely, she encountered a problem, one that she hadn’t foreseen and, because he’d been so absorbed in the show, neither had Ethan.

“Umph,” she grunted, her head trapped in her top and the strap of her purse holding her arms heavenward.

Ethan blinked, watched her wiggle beneath the fabric, then smiled. Damn, she was cute. Although seeing her squirm wasn’t such a bad thing, he knew she really needed help. “Just a sec,” he said, crossing the room and trying to determine exactly how she’d managed to get into this predicament. He gently tugged her top down and attempted to ignore her magnificent breasts pushing against him. Which was damn near impossible. “Stay still,” he directed, trying to keep an authoritative, and unaroused, firmness to his voice. He needed her to remain calm so he could figure out the mess, plus he didn’t need her wiggling against him. It was all he could do to keep his dick in line as it was.

“Umm-k,” mumbled from the fabric, followed by, “Hair.”

He examined the thin leather strap through her brown locks. Sure enough, her hair had wrapped mercilessly around the obstruction. “Sit down and let me get a better look,” Ethan said, tenderly guiding her to the bed.

She slowly backed up until the back of her legs met the bed, then she plopped down. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said, and carefully unwound her hair. It was softer than he’d have thought, like silk between his fingers, and he envisioned Clarise running its bounty down his chest. God help him, he’d never had
that
image of Clarise before, but he sure had it now. His cock liked the thought and pushed against her side to let her know.