Janet Evanovich - Full House

The auditorium was brightly lit, and stuffed to capacity with screaming fans. Big John entered, dropped his floor-length fur coat, and paraded about.

"He's fat!" Billie said. "Why would you try to set me up with a fat man?"

"Honey, that's muscle," Deedee whispered.

It looked like flab to Billie. Big John turned to the crowd, grasped his meaty hands together and held them high in the air. The audience roared and whistled and stomped their feet. Big John paused and smiled briefly when he caught sight of Frankie and Deedee, and his gaze automatically slid to Billie as though he'd been expecting her. He opened his mouth and wiggled his tongue at her in a taunting gesture. He mouthed the word "Later."

Billie shrank back in horror. "Eeyeuuw!"

"He likes you," Deedee said. "And don't think he doesn't know how to use that tongue. I've heard rumors."

Big John's opponent, Snakeman, climbed between the ropes with a twenty-foot boa wrapped around his body, the snake's head resting in his hand. The man's arms were tattooed in snakes.

Billie closed her eyes. "It's a real snake, isn't it? Tell me when it's over."

"Billie, open your eyes!" Deedee said. "You're going to miss the best part, where Snakeman shoves the snake in Big John's face and the snake's tongue lashes out at him."

An earsplitting roar erupted from the crowd as the boa arched its massive head and its tongue whipped in and out of its odd-shaped mouth. Billie decided she would have preferred facing the boa's tongue than Big John's.

Big John squared his shoulders as if trying to quell the hint of fear on his face as Snakeman arrogantly taunted him with the boa. A referee ordered the wrestler to deposit his boa into an enormous canvas sack held by an animal handler. Billie sighed her relief. Still, it was too much for her — the noise, the impending violence, the thought of Big John so much as putting a finger on her. It was going to be a long night, considering she would probably sit there with her eyes closed for the most part.

She could only hope the snake didn't find its way free of the sack.

"It's okay," Nick whispered in her ear. "Don't be afraid."

His warm breath against her neck sent shivers down Billie's spine and raised goose bumps along her arms. He pulled her closer, enveloping her in his scent, warming her from the heat of his own body. Billie couldn't find the wherewithal to pull away.

"I'll protect you," he added.

Suddenly, Big John and the snake didn't seem so formidable.

By the time the show ended, Billie was thinking wrestling was sort of fun. Not the snake part, of course. Mostly she liked the fan enthusiasm and the flash of the extravaganza. And her mood heightened considerably when the limo driver pulled in front of a reputable steak house. She had been there before and knew they served the best beef in town. Her mouth watered, and her stomach growled, a Pavlovian response to the smells as they walked through the double glass doors leading inside.

She wasn't nearly so thrilled when Nick slid into the booth beside her, so close his thigh pressed against hers. The booth seemed to shrink to half its size. She tried scooting closer to the wall and discovered she was already as close to it as she could get without being on the other side.

"Could you move over a little?" she whispered.

He shifted in the booth but didn't so much as move a smidgeon. Instead, he slid his arms along the back of it, dropping his hand possessively on her shoulder. On the surface, it seemed casual enough, but there was nothing casual about the way Billie's body responded to his simple touch. Her stomach tightened, and she held her breath, afraid to release it in case it came out in a loud gush. He began drawing tiny imaginary circles along the base of her neck, his thumb rotating lazily. Billie's stomach did a tiny flip-flop. Once again, she caught the subtle hint of his cologne.

"What would you like?" he whispered.

Billie blinked several times. "Excuse me?" Her voice sounded like a croak.

"For dinner." His mouth curved into a half-smile, and there was a look of genuine amusement in his dark eyes.

He knew exactly what he was doing to her, she thought. The man oozed sensuality. He had flirting down to an art, and he was obviously enjoying making her squirm.

But why? she asked herself. She was hardly the sort of woman a man like Nicholas Kaharchek would desire. She did her own nails, had her hair trimmed by the next available operator at a no-frills salon, and purchased her clothes off half-price racks or sidewalk sales. She was an ordinary woman, an average housewife, probably nothing like the women Nick normally dated.

Perhaps Nick thought he was doing her a favor, she thought suddenly. Probably he thought she would get all starry-eyed and tongue-tied over a drop-dead gorgeous millionaire who only had to crook his finger at a woman to capture her heart. If Nick was interested, there was only one reason why, and the thought wasn't especially flattering.

If only her body were as determined to steer clear of him as her head.

Billie wondered if Nick knew what was going on inside of her, and the thought that he might indeed be attuned to her building attraction was unsettling. He only had to look at her a certain way, touch her lightly with those expert hands, to send her thoughts into a tailspin and create a heat wave low in her belly. In a very short time he'd managed to spin a web of intimacy around them, the likes of which she had never known. It was simultaneously provocative and completely nerve-wracking, and like a fool, she found herself waiting in anticipation for his next touch.

She reached for a cracker, tore open the cellophane, and took a bite. Anything to keep her mind off the man beside her, she told herself.

Nick noted Billie's discomfort and knew she was as aware of him sexually as he was of her. Instead of feeding his ego, as it would have in the past, he found himself utterly confused. The oh-so-proper mother of two who baked cookies and taught sixth-graders was the sexiest thing he'd ever come up against. What was this power she had over him that made him desire her?

She was adorable, with her fresh-scrubbed look and hair that made him think of spun silk. She had the prettiest legs he'd ever seen on a woman, and her curves enticed him. But he was accustomed to pretty women. What he wasn't accustomed to was her simple nature. The women he dated were sophisticated, traveled in the right circles, knew where to vacation, how to play the game, and how to please a man in every sense of the word. Like Sheridan. His smile faltered.

Billie Pearce didn't even seem to like him. She didn't put on airs, didn't try to be witty and charming; in fact, she didn't seem to care that she was getting cracker crumbs all over the white tablecloth. Perhaps that was it. She was unpretentious. She was just Billie.

"So what did you think of Big John?" Deedee finally asked, looking up from her menu. "Isn't he wonderful?"

Billie felt Nick's eyes on her, sensed his knowing smile. "Big John? Uh, he was … um, awesome."

"He definitely likes you," Deedee said, following the length of Nick's arm with her eyes. Some of the glitter had fallen to her cheek. It was clear she didn't appreciate her cousin putting his hands on Billie. "And wasn't it romantic the way he got thrown out of the ring, almost at your feet?"

Billie nodded solemnly. "Very romantic. I especially liked it when he did that thing with his tongue again, and the woman beside me fainted."

"I told you he was hot. And believe me, Big John knows how to treat a lady. Unlike some men who go through them quickly, and then toss them aside without a second thought."

Nick didn't miss the look Deedee shot him. She did not want Billie to become involved with him. He merely smiled. Deedee was still sore at him for hauling her out of her bed in her nightie and insisting she leave his home immediately. She'd had no idea he was trying to save her pretty neck. For now, she would just have to think the worst of him. And cad that he was, he would enjoy participating in the game.