The Virgin's Revenge (12 page)

And waited.

He checked his phone, but nope, he was right on time, as usual. With the exception of the night with the flat, Amanda wasn’t big on making people wait, either. He looked to the driveway, but just as he remembered, the Mini was parked and gleaming just where it should be. The sedan she’d been ignoring was there on the street too, right in front of his bike. He turned back to the front of the building, checking the windows and noting they were open. Unlike Billy, he wasn’t going to just stick his face in one, though.

“Amanda, you in there?” He waited, keeping his gaze fixed on the porch floorboards. “Amanda?”

At first he thought the thin reply was his imagination, but then he heard it again. Definitely her, calling his name.

“Are you okay in there?”

“
No!
” That word came through loud and clear…and kind of exasperated.

He allowed himself a peer into the dim living room, looking around for anything obviously wrong. Lightning hadn’t hit the house. No fire or smoke anywhere. No flooding that he could see or hear, so she hadn’t blown a main. She definitely wasn’t in the living room though, so something drastic might have happened in one of the other rooms. Maybe the bathroom pipes had burst.

“Ope…oor!”

He hoped that last word was door. “How?”

More muffled words, but he thought he picked out the word “key”. Which probably meant she had a hide-a-key somewhere on the porch, like they had at the main Jackman house. He checked the flowerpots near the door first, but they held nothing but dirt. The top of the lintel only had a layer of dust. Well, not anymore. He wiped his hands on his butt and looked around a little more. The welcome mat was less than helpful, and all the rocks were actual rocks. Which brought him back to the four flowerpots. Since there was nothing else to check, he nudged them with his boot. The first barely moved. The second wasn’t much lighter, but the third scooted with almost no effort at all. Bingo!

He lifted the pot, and as expected, under the bottom was a foam space big enough to push a key into place. Proving it paid to be dexterous, he pulled the key out in triumph and replaced the plant. A couple of quick jostles in the locks and he was inside. He quickly tucked the key into his back pocket and closed the door again.

“Amanda?”

“Back here, in the bedroom!”

Cole froze. Call it animal instinct or maybe simple self-preservation, but he had a very strong feeling that he was about to walk into trouble. Lots and lots of trouble. Considering what he’d walked into last time, he had to ask, “Are you decent?”

She was quiet way too long.

“’Amanda?”

“How do you define decent, exactly?”

Can I see your nipples?

Please?

Cole shook off that last line of thought before the words got through to his mouth. He coughed into his fist instead. “Should I come in with my eyes covered?”

“How are you supposed to help me that way?”

By not seeing a thing and not forgetting that you’ll hate me if I give you what you want from me.

“Cole? Are you still there?”

He could have groaned at the nervous timbre to her voice. He was going to have to go in there. “Please, God, don’t let me do anything stupid.”

He walked down the hall, following where the light poured in from the open doors. The first room was a small guest bedroom. Simple bed, desk and chair, all decorated in lavender. The next was a bathroom, the mirror still foggy and the smell of something faintly floral permeating the air. He recognized it, his stomach tightening a little. Lilac. Just like that, last night’s kiss rammed to the front of his mind like a freight train.

Never before had he thought of miniature golf as a sensual torment, but damn if he could picture it any other way now. Amanda laughing, her hair pulled up at the top and flowing down her back in satiny streams, was already enough to give a man thoughts he shouldn’t have. Especially him, who’d had years of thoughts about her he had tucked away because he couldn’t possibly give her the family warmth and attention she was used to. Amanda purposely trying to get his attention, her eyes all smoky and filled with intentions he couldn’t allow himself to indulge in, had taken that misapprehension and blown it to kingdom come. By the end of the night, he was nothing but warmth for her.

He’d welcomed the torture of her pert ass sticking out ever so slightly as she tried to concentrate on hitting the neon blue ball hard enough to get past each obstacle. Savored her growing curiosity with every kiss she instigated. Soft little ones, when he felt her tiny gasps of excitement. Longer, fuller ones, when he’d get to forget all about everything but the taste of her and getting her to make that little moan of pleasure in the back of her throat. Completely enjoyed the opportunity to study exactly how long her legs were and guess how they might feel wrapped around his waist, if only because her cheeks would turn that special shade of pink, and he knew that meant she was loving every second of his admiration. Basking in it, soaking it up and getting more daring with each new discovery.

If he was going to die of a terminal erection, he couldn’t think of a better reason to go.

Leaving her at her front door was possibly the most excruciating thing he’d ever done to himself, but it had to be done. Otherwise, he’d have found himself in her bedroom—hell, to be honest, he probably wouldn’t have gotten all the way to her couch, much less her bed—finding out which tiny panties she’d decided to wear under that sinful little dress.

No, his role in this disaster was bad enough already. He couldn’t take advantage of her on top of it all. At least that’s what he thought before he turned the corner and walked into her bedroom.

Then it was a miracle he was capable of thinking at all.

Amanda sat on her bed, her hair piled up in some kind of bun held by a chopstick, of all things, holding a towel over her breasts with one hand. The other waved at him halfheartedly from within one side of a pair of pink fuzzy handcuffs.

Oh yeah, this was more than trouble. It might just be a new, complicated form of homicide. Murder by willfully rushing the blood from the victim’s brain to his cock at speeds unsafe for the human body.

All because the other loop connected her to her brass bedpost.

Dear God, I’ve just become a kink convert.

“Amanda?”

She smiled at his croak, her cheeks pink again, nervousness all over her like a cloak. Which was good, because that little towel was not at all interested in covering her. The side of her breast was spilling past the edge of the towel she was desperately trying to keep in place. Her legs were folded almost in front of her, her feet barely covering the shadowy space under the curve of her ass. And yes, that was definitely her ass—he looked twice, just to be sure. The towel had ridden up enough to keep her from total coverage, and his hormones were so grateful it was a wonder he hadn’t fallen to his knees in supplication. “Hi.”

You’ve been set up, Engstrom! Run. Run like your life depends on it.

He might have done it too, if he hadn’t looked into her eyes. Her miserable, blue-gray eyes. Then he noticed that her legs weren’t drawn up out of modesty. They were quivering ever so slightly, flexed tight. Almost as if they were holding something…
Uh-oh.

Not a set up.

At least, not anymore. That desperation on her face was real.

And yet…he was still horribly aroused by the sight of her.

I am a terrible human being.

“I’d ask how this happened—” he began, hoping like hell if he concentrated hard enough on her dilemma, he could stop thinking about her nudity.

“Please don’t,” she sighed, dropping her head forward.

“—but I have the feeling things are getting urgent.”

“You have no idea.” She turned even deeper shades of red at the admission.

Okay, that took a lot of the edge off. He couldn’t possibly think about sex while she was so uncomfortable. Of course, once he got her free, all bets were off and he was probably toast, but until then, Amanda was firmly back in the friend category. Friend-in-need category, even better. Friends in need trumped sex every time.

Now if he could just figure out how to help her.

The made bed was smooth beneath her, and the nightstand was clear of everything but a jewelry box and a framed picture of her with her brothers. “Where’s the key?”

“I dropped it,” she said into her chest, as if she couldn’t bear looking at him.

He frowned. “Under the bed?”

She shook her head. “Into the grate.” The hand inside the handcuff pointed down to the floor between her bed and the nightstand.

Cole stepped forward a little, stretching his neck to try to see what she was showing him. Just like she’d said, there was a small floor grate down there, no doubt part of a central heating system. The size of it was not encouraging. He’d been lucky to get the hide-a-key out. There was no way he’d be able to get his fingers in between those slim slats. Another step forward and he saw what he hoped would be their salvation—two small screws holding the grate in place.

“You sure it fell in there?”

Amanda lifted her head, her lashes decidedly moister and her eyes slightly red-rimmed. “What?”

The sight of what could only be threatening tears flipped his heart over and started something that felt a little like panic powering through him. Lust disappeared completely, which worked out because guilt immediately took its place. He could guess why she might have the cuffs. He’d worked them both up the night before, even if he hadn’t meant to. If she’d planned to lure him into her bedroom and make use of those cuffs, it could only be because she didn’t want a repeat of his gentlemanly retreat. “You’re
sure
it’s in the grate?”

She blinked a few times, from what he could tell, to pull herself together.

Good girl. No crying. I’m pretty sure if you cry, I’m going to have to hate myself.

“Yeah, I saw it go in after I bobbled it. God, Susie is going to have a field day with this one.”

He could imagine. Susie, mistress of all that was sexy and therefore sophisticated to the residents of Rancho del Cielo, had a hell of a sense of humor. A good laugh too, come to think of it. Like she enjoyed the act of laughing all by itself. But she’d fall down cackling if they told her Amanda had managed to accidentally cuff herself to her bed with no means of escape. “I don’t see why we have to tell her.”

Yeah, this whole thing could be their little secret. Just his and Amanda’s. No one else would ever have to know he’d driven a hometown sweetheart to such drastic measures. Especially no one who would tell the Jackman brothers that he’d seen their sister’s absolutely edible body. Then everyone would continue to live with all their limbs attached.

“No?” Amanda asked dryly, as if she could hear the reassurances playing in his head. “You don’t think the fire department bringing out the Jaws of Life to free me from my own bedpost might need some explanation?”

Cole did his best not to chuckle at that image, but he couldn’t help it. “Maybe I should get you your robe.”

“Why? It’s not like this day could get any more embarrassing.”

It will if you drop that towel and my dick goes off like the Fourth of July.

Short of someone blasting him with cold water from a fire hose, that would be exactly what might happen. Guilt or not, there was a beautiful naked woman in front of him, and his body had yet to accept that he had scruples.

He looked madly around the room before spotting a splash of color on the back of her bedroom door. Yes! He ran over and grabbed the silk body wrap, grateful the thing had some length to it. The more of those legs he covered, the better.

But when he got to her side, determined to preserve her modesty, he couldn’t help one last look.

He was already going to hell, right?

Riiiiiiiiiiight…

Sun-kissed golden skin, smooth and gleaming, all but called his name, daring him to touch her slim legs. Not a single tan line interrupted the perfection in front of him. Her belly was covered—he still wasn’t sure if that was a positive or a negative—but the towel’s precarious position over her left breast was testing his very thin moral fiber.

On the one hand, he could see the soft globe spilling free. Could almost imagine his palm catching it, supporting it, peeling the towel away so he could wrap his lips around her nipple and suck it until she whimpered.

On the other, doing that would be so wrong.
Wrong
. Like…prison-worthy wrong. He could see the headline on the front page of the Rancho del Cielo Reporter:
Local Man Accosts Hometown Girl; Loses Teeth and Testicles in Same Day!

Hands shaking, he unfurled the silk robe and laid it over her like a blanket. It fluttered down, finally covering all that temptation and giving him a chance to breathe.

Yup, definitely the right thing to do. Cover, not cop a feel.

Also the suckiest, which he decided then and there was the best morality gauge he’d ever heard of. If it sucks so hard your balls threaten to leave you to fend for yourself, it’s probably the choice of a good man.

Of course, being good was highly overrated. And kind of painful, he added, trying to shift his pants without her noticing. Definitely eye-opening. In less than five minutes he’d had the worst epiphany of his life: for those legs of hers, he could seriously consider becoming a total piece of shit.

“Thanks, Cole.” Her grateful whisper accompanied by a tiny grin of relief twisted what was left of his guts into knots. How could she look so damn cute and sexy and silly and adorable all at the same time? He couldn’t see an inch of her body under the chin and he still wanted so bad to kiss those damn pink lips until she made another one of those little moaning noises.

You’re so screwed, man.

And the worst part? He wasn’t sure he minded.

Chapter Seven

God bless you, Locke!

Amanda tried not to squirm under the robe while she waited for Cole to finish prying at the little grate near the floorboard. Thanks to Locke’s insistence, she had more tools than she knew what to do with under her kitchen sink, all neatly packed into a deep canvas bag. Cole had gotten it, scooted her nightstand out of the way and was undoing the small screws to fetch the key. The grate came up and Cole was explaining something about magnetized heads while he fished for the itty-bitty key in the dusty cavity.