Dirty Deeds, Page 21

  Nathan cocked his head, studying her confident strokes. “So if you don’t like Picasso, which artist do you admire?”

  Scratch scratch. “I guess Monet is my favorite.” Black blended into the leaves, creating a small twiglike base. “His paintings are simple, yet complex.” She reached for the eraser and said, “Malcolm used to make fun of my peasant tastes. Tried to steer me in a more sophisticated direction…until our client admitted he was tired of abstract art designs and favored realism.”

  Silence.

  No doubt if she’d had a free hand, she would’ve clapped it over her mouth for that admittance. Instead, she began sketching like mad.

  A ball of jealousy lodged in his throat. “Don’t think many art critics would refer to Monet’s works as only appealing to peasants.” He waited a beat. “So who is he?”

  “Monet?” she said with contrived innocence.

  “Ha-ha. Not who I meant.”

  Her shoulders tensed, but her tone stayed even. “Then who? Malcolm the Bastard?”

  “Wow,” Nathan said with false awe. “This Malcolm guy was titled? No wonder he had a bad attitude toward peasant art.”

  Tate snorted. Her strokes grew larger and bolder. “Malcolm was a royal pain in the…” She paused and sighed. “Let’s just say he was a frog I kissed, mistaking him for a prince.”

  “Remained an ugly toad, did he?”

  “Yeah. Unfortunately I didn’t realize it until he’d stormed the castle gates. By then it was too late. Hand me the white.”

  “Enough with the fairytale references. Tell me the truth about him, Tate.”

  She started on the trees. “The truth is the bastard stole my project design and tried to pass it off as his idea—not only to a big-time client—but to the partners in our firm.”

  Puzzled, he asked, “You didn’t put up with that, did you?”

  “No.” The lead on the pencil snapped, but she didn’t reach for a replacement, nor did she look at him when she muttered, “Look, it’s complicated.”

  “Did kissing him make the complication?”

  “In a way.” She furiously sharpened a gray pencil.

  He waited for her to elaborate. She didn’t. He couldn’t stand it. “Tate, what happened?”

  Without missing a pencil stroke she said, “Malcolm was my supervisor. We became involved, against company policy. Stupid mistake. So when I discovered he’d only been sneaking around with me to get me to create designs for his client…” She laughed bitterly. “He lied to me, and used me and my artwork to secure his position as department head. Of course he denied everything, including our relationship.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “I went before the board and spilled the whole sordid story. We both ended up temporarily suspended and the client walked. Luckily, my labor rep was a lot shrewder than his and blamed my behavior on grief. Hence the unpaid trip back here and the time to settle my aunt’s estate. I was damn lucky I didn’t get canned, but it still might happen at my reinstatement hearing.”

  Sickness washed over him as he considered the parallels. Wasn’t he doing the same thing? In keeping the Maxwell Competition a secret from her? Using her design to ensure a win? “So what now?” he prompted, curling his hands into fists.

  “I wait. The hearing is in a couple of weeks.” Another broken pencil rolled to the ground. “And I try not to make the same mistake ever again.”

  “Is that why you only wanted this to be a strictly sexual arrangement?”

  “That was the original deal, right?”

  Nathan took a chance. “Things can change.”

  The eraser stopped moving. “Why?” she demanded. “Do you plan on telling me that my bedroom skills need some work?”

  “God no. Why would I ever think that?”

  She glared at him. “You want to hear Malcolm’s parting shot? I should have suspected he was using me because I wasn’t exactly the type of woman men fantasized about.”

  Rage burned inside him. “He told you that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

  “I’m sure you haven’t told me everything that happened with Kathy. Frankly, I don’t want to know. I figured my sob story didn’t matter either.” She met his gaze again, but the defiance in the blue depths didn’t mask the pain.

  It ripped at him. Now wasn’t the time to delve into this distressing part of her past. Or to admit he knew exactly how she felt. “It does matter, but not in the way you imagine.” After he handed her another white pencil, she ducked her head from view and attacked the aspens with renewed vigor.

  Mired in his own guilty thoughts, Nathan let silence fill the uneasy void. No wonder she only wanted sex and scoffed at his ideas of romance. Her heart wasn’t the major organ involved in a purely physical relationship.

  Yet Nathan couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that Tate believed that she wasn’t enough, sexually speaking, to fulfill a lifetime’s worth of fantasies. As much as he loved the idea of never leaving her bed, he craved her fun, adventurous nature as much as her body. He liked her sweetness. Her honesty. He liked everything about her.

  Hold on. He mentally backtracked. Wanting more from her than the agreed upon sex was dangerous. Admitting using her house as his entry in the Maxwell Competition wouldn’t make her happy. Add in the fact she was completing his schematics for the fire station as an added incentive for the committee to pick his entry for the contest…

  No way could he confess now.

  He grabbed a handful of pebbles and tossed them toward the street. He wished he’d never entered that damn competition in such an underhanded way. For the first time he wondered if losing Tate was worse than losing the contest.

  “Ta-da!” she said proudly. “What do you think?”

  Nathan took the proffered clipboard, studying the transformation. Her artistic skill, combined with his initial vision, had changed the drawing from ho-hum to va-voom. Color exploded everywhere. From the shrubs and trees on the corners, to the new retaining wall. “I think you and I make a great team,” he said, playfully nudging her. “Maybe you should quit your job in Denver and come to work for me as my personal designer.”

  “I’d think about it…” She pointed to the Bobcat, “If I could ride that fun little thing?”

  “Drive, not ride. But yes, I’d show you how to drive it. Piece of cake.”

  “Actually that’s not a good idea. I’m inept when it comes to machinery.” She frowned. “And animals. The only area I’ve had complete confidence in was art. And even now that’s not a sure thing.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “What?” She started gathering the art supplies.

  “You know what.” Nathan tilted her face to meet his eyes. “The self-deprecating bit. You are a beautiful, capable, intelligent woman. Anyone who’s said differently to you is a moron.”

  A pause filled the void before her eyes snapped fire. “Don’t feel sorry for me.”

  “Feel sorry for you?” he repeated, taken aback. “That’s what you think I’m doing?”

  “Yes,” she said insolently. “Why do you think I didn’t tell you about Malcolm? Now you’re going all soft, sweet and romantic again, trying to change the parameters of our agreement. We both know that won’t work.”

  “Why not?”

  Tate’s gaze never wavered. “Because no matter how much I like you, no matter how unbelievable the sex is, no matter how spectacularly the landscaping turns out, I’m still leaving when it’s done.”

  The air seeped from his lungs until he felt he’d suffocate.

  “It’s important we stick to the original plan, that way neither of us gets hurt.”

  Nathan understood that he’d only scratched the surface with her today. Good thing he was an expert at digging. He swept a finger along her furrowed brow. “Last night was amazing, by the way.”

  A splotch of red colored her cheeks, but she didn’t break eye contact. “For me too.”


  If they didn’t have to worry about impressionable eyes and ears, he’d knock the clipboard from her hands, toss her on that luscious behind and kiss her until that sexy, keening moan bubbled up. Touch her until their pesky clothes were hanging from the tree branches, their naked bodies were covered in grass stains and their pleasure cries mingled with the summer breeze rustling through the treetops.

  Angry voices and a loud crash sounded from the baby monitor.

  He and Tate took off for the house. Their quiet time might be over, but this conversation wasn’t.

  Not by a long shot.

  Two nights later, Tate leaned against her car door and watched Nathan jog across the street. Even though the dappled sunlight bathed him in a golden glow, he exuded dark, sexy and dangerous.

  Definitely dangerous to her heart.

  The last two days had cast Nathan in a different light. His firm, yet loving demeanor when dealing with his nieces and nephews. The tireless way he pitched in with the endless household chores. Although she’d felt his burning gaze many times, he’d kept his word to Val. Tate respected him all the more for the fact that he hadn’t touched her.

  Something entirely too possessive rolled through her. She tried shrugging it off, chalking it up to the intensity of not acting on their animal impulses. Yet the nameless feeling lingered. The need for something more, something permanent with this man. Regret filled her soul. Under other circumstances things might have been different.

  He offered her an apologetic grin. “Sorry it took so long.”

  “What’s up?” she said, pretending indifference at his megawatt smile. Simply standing next to him made her heart beat with joy.

  “Richard is staying with the kids. Said he’d text us when they’re tucked in so we can come back and he can return to the hospital.” Nathan studied the ground, shuffled his feet and thrust his hands in his pockets.

  “What else?”

  He traced a short crack in the sidewalk with the heel of his boot, displacing a patch of weeds. “Want to ride up to Deadwood with me I’ve gotta drop off the Bobcat so Steve has it first thing in the morning and I hate making the trip alone.”

  Touched by his request, she casually set her hand on his chest. “We have time before our nightly duties begin?”

  “Shouldn’t take that long. Rich ought to call it a night right after the kids. Poor guy is dragging. He’s gotten less sleep than Val.”

  Speaking of tired… Tate stifled a yawn. The past forty-eight hours had taken a toll on her. Besides dealing with four demanding kids, her job at the Girls Club, a beast masquerading as a dog, the “no sex” rule, and tension surrounding said rule, she was wound more tightly than Nathan’s ponytail holder.

  “It’s all right if you don’t want to—”

  “I’ll go. I’m just tired. Can’t fathom how Val and Rich do this every day.”

  “Me either. Come on.” He grabbed her hand, kissing the inside of her wrist as they crossed the alley to the flatbed. “You can catch a nap in the truck.”

  “What about you?” She frowned at the dark circles beneath his tired eyes. Not only had he helped out with the kids, he’d spent hours laboring on her landscaping.

  “I’ll manage,” he said, giving her hand another peck.

  He was sweetness personified, Tate thought sleepily. She jumped into the passenger side and nestled her head into the headrest. Whiny licks of steel guitar drifted from the speakers, covering the squeaking groans of the flatbed trailer, lulling her into the first relaxed state in days. She yawned again and closed her eyes.

  A large, rough hand gliding up her bare thigh woke her. Every muscle that had been warm and pliant went hot and tight.

  “Come on, Sleeping Beauty,” he said. “Wake up.”

  Tate stretched slowly, aware of Nathan’s intent focus on her breasts spilling out of her sundress. “Seems I recall something in that fairy tale about the princess being kissed awake,” she challenged, pursing her lips in invitation.

  His grip on her knee increased. “No kissing, remember?”

  “Why? I don’t see any impressionable kids running around, do you?” Her fingers leisurely followed the coiled muscles in his forearm to the bend in his elbow where her thumb stopped to draw lazy swirls. “When it’s just us, Val’s rules don’t apply, remember?”

  “Damn. Must be more tired than I thought if I forgot that. Come here.” He tugged her sideways across the seat and against his hard body.

  She waited breathlessly for his lips to brush across hers, expecting a soft warmup kiss.

  Instead Nathan devoured her. Planting his lips firmly over hers, he plunged his tongue inside, manipulating her mouth to meet his assault. Before she caught her balance, he’d yanked her from the cab and wrapped her legs securely around his lower back. His shoulder swung the door shut, and he pressed her back against the sun-warmed metal.

  “Nathan—”

  “No talking.” He nipped the slope of her neck beneath her ear. “Let me touch you.” Fingers curled over her breast, puckering her nipple between his knuckles. His tongue traced the vein throbbing in her throat while hot breath seared a wet path over the dampness. “You feel so damn good, Tate.”

  Fingertips as gentle as raindrops grazed the soft tops of her breasts until she arched into him, silently begging for more. A rush of moisture soaked her panties when Nathan obliged and slipped his hand beneath her dress.

  She wanted skin on skin. His hardness to her softness. She longed to feel his sleek chest rubbing against the cushion of her breasts. To watch his face lost in passion and to hear his growl of approval as he pushed into her.

  Nathan swept his rough-skinned knuckles down the cleft of her sex.

  Her head fell back against the pickup window as he scraped his teeth up her throat, pausing to give little suctioning love bites everywhere his busy mouth landed.

  “Tate,” he said on a groan. His head dropped dejectedly onto her shoulder. “Dammit, I don’t have a condom.”

  “And I left my purse at Val’s.” A frustrated wail threatened to work loose. Instead she blurted, “Maybe if you pull out—”

  “I won’t take a chance on getting you pregnant, no matter how much I want you.” His forehead rubbed over her cheekbone in a sweetly consoling gesture that melted her heart. “You have no idea how much I want from you,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

  She blew out a resigned sigh. “It’s okay.”

  Nathan’s smile didn’t reach his eyes as he set her on the ground.

  Her gaze landed on the rise and fall of her naked breasts flapping in the evening breeze. She buttoned her dress, trying to regain her bearings. One kiss—okay, more than a simple kiss—and they’d both lost complete control. Okay, she’d lost complete control. Nathan had retained a cool head and put the brakes on.

  Loud cursing followed a rolling thump. Tate watched as Nathan kicked a large rock.

  Yeah, those brakes of his were definitely wearing thin.

  After she straightened her clothing, she said, “I guess that ride you promised me is out.”

  “Not the kind of ride we had in mind.” He angled his chin toward the machine a few feet away. “But would you like to drive the Bobcat?”

  “Seriously?” she asked with immediate skepticism. “You’d let me drive your cute little machine?”

  “You said you wanted to try it.”

  “You’d trust me with your two-thousand-horsepower precious baby?”

  “Women.” He gave a mock shudder. “Not two thousand HP, sixty HP.”

  She stepped closer and repeated, “But you’d trust me with it?”

  “I’d trust you with anything.” With infinite tenderness he traced her cheek, her throat, her shoulder and bare arm. Upon reaching her hand, he threaded their fingers together. “So is that a yes?”

  His simple touch sizzled. Coupled with his sweet words and soft eyes, Tate was completely bowled over. “Yes.”

  “Come on then. It’s almost dark.” />
  Tucking away the cozy feeling to savor later, she watched Nathan unhook chains and the snake’s nest of tie-downs that he’d so meticulously fastened earlier. He started the machine and backed it down the loading ramp. It belched a large cloud of black smoke,