Jill Shalvis - New and…Improved? & Andrew in Excess

“What are you talking about?”

“I work for S.S.L. don’t I? Everyone there knows everything there is to know about everything, just ask any one of them.”

“And it’s common knowledge, apparently,” he said wryly, “that all I do with women is have sex.”

They’d reached the car now, and when he leaned on it for support, she backed away from him and turned toward the lake, which was only about fifty yards off. The moon had risen, tracing a silvery pattern across the black water.

“Becca?”

She wouldn’t look at him. “Lovely night.”

“Hello?”

She finally turned toward him, shooting him a smile void of her usual wattage. “Hello.”

“Are you going to answer my question?”

“Well you did mention red panties the other day.” She licked her lips. “And I know you love that show where the lifeguards bounce around in their little red bathing suits.”

“It’s an American institution. Doesn’t mean that I’m getting-”

“It’s really none of my business anyway. Even if everyone says you could have a date with a different woman every day of the week. That you’ve…you know, gotten lucky more times in the past month than they have in their lifetime. That-”

“Becca.” He had to laugh. “Can we establish here, for the record, that we’re talking about gossip, not fact?”

The pale light shimmered through her lovely hair, but it also cast her face in shadows, hiding her emotions from him. “By my calculations,” she said, “if you truly have gone out as much as everyone says, you’ve…”

“Had sex?” he asked tightly.

“Yes. That. Over a hundred times this year alone.”

He stared at her, torn between the need to laugh again and be insulted. “You can’t possibly believe that.”

“As for me, I haven’t…well, it’s been so long I’ve forgotten how, and even if I could remember, I don’t think there’s much that was all that great about it. Don’t get me wrong,” she said quickly as he stood there, rooted in shock, “I’ve read plenty of romances, I know how it’s supposed to go, I’m just saying I’ve never seen fireworks, never felt as if I was falling off a cliff, or sailing through the air in passion. I’ve never exploded with ecstasy.”

Kent opened his mouth, but nothing much came out. He couldn’t decide which was taking up the most brain space-ankle pain, frustration that she actually believed he was promiscuous, or arousal over the thought of showing her exactly what it felt like to explode with ecstasy.

“And truthfully, even in the adventurous spirit, I feel a little intimidated by the differences in our experiences.”

“Becca.” His voice was thick, husky. He couldn’t help it. “First of all, I have a fraction of the ‘experience’ you seem to think I do, and second-”

“Oh Kent…really?”

“Really.” Her eyes were wide and on his. Her body, so nicely showed off in those snug punk shorts and a T-shirt, had his fingers itching to touch, to skim over all that creamy skin and explore to his heart’s content.

Heart’s content.

When had that happened? When in the world had she sneaked beneath his defenses? The moment she’d fallen right out of the sky and into the water at his feet, he realized.

“What?”

She was blinking at him and he groaned. “Did I say that out loud?”

“What happened the moment I fell out of the sky?”

“Fresh air,” he decided. “I need fresh air.”

“We’re standing in it. Doesn’t get much fresher.”

“Humor me.”

“Okay.” She helped him into the car. “But I’ll have to drive.”

“No.”

She pointed to his bandaged ankle.

Damn. She wanted to drive his baby, his pride and joy. “I can handle it.”

“Don’t be silly. Hand over the keys. Come on,” she coaxed. “You can do it. Just drop them into my hand.”

He clutched them tighter. “You might get a ticket, most people do in a car like this.”

“Kent.” She wriggled her fingers for the keys.

“But-”

“Kent.”

In the end, she had to pry them from him and he sat in the passenger seat, agonizing over the two minute drive. “Be careful.”

“Yes, dear,” she mocked.

“Watch for cops.”

“I’m watching.” She went to turn the key and he slammed a hand over hers.

“The clutch,” he said through his teeth. “You have to put in the clutch first or-”

“Oh!” She laughed. “Of course.” She slipped in the clutch and sent him a sweet smile. “Got it.”

He had a very bad feeling about this. “How about we walk?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Slowly she eased out of the parking spot, Kent grinding his teeth all the way.

“Relax.” She revved the engine, going faster. Then faster. Up ahead, the light went from green to yellow.

She didn’t slow.

From yellow to red.

No slowing.

“Becca.”

“I see it.” She hit the brake but not the clutch.

They jerked forward until Kent was kissing the windshield.

“Sorry,” she muttered, catching the clutch just before they stalled.

He pried himself off the glass and glared at her. “Careful.”

“I am,” she said, insulted.

“You’re going to get a ticket.”

“I am not going to get a ticket.” She looked at him. “You know, you’re more concerned about your car than-”

“A stop sign,” he said quickly, bracing himself against the dash. “Don’t get a-”

“I told you, I’m not going to get a ticket!”

“Watch out. Don’t go through it-”

She did.

And that’s when she got a ticket.

“NICE NIGHT,” Becca said. They’d stopped at the lake after her ticket because Kent needed more fresh air.

He was considering sitting on the beach until he could drive, even though that conceivably could be days. He didn’t mind.

“I still want to take the deal,” she said suddenly. “That is, if you’re still offering.”

“The deal?”

“You know, the adventure. With you.”

Small, relentless waves hit the shore noisily, only feet from them, while Kent drew a deep, careful breath. “I think we just had our adventure,” he said.

She laughed. “Well, okay, if you consider getting a ticket the best adventure you’ve got in you.”

He narrowed his eyes and looked at her. “Don’t you dare twist that ticket around to be my fault.”

Again, her laughter floated around him, warming him even though he preferred to hold on to his irritation. If he was irritated, she couldn’t turn him on. Right?

Wrong.

“You know, you never talked about yourself,” she said, tipping her head back to look up at the incredible sky. “You grew up here.”

“At south shore.”

“Any brothers or sisters?”

“No.”

“Do you get home often?”

“No.” He tried not to tense, but it was impossible. He hated talking about his past.

She studied him thoughtfully. “So talkative.”

She was beautiful in the moonlight. Soft, sincere. And she wanted to know him. How many people in his life had really wanted to know him?

How many had he let know him?

He clasped his arms around his knees, ignored the shaft of pain in his ankle and stared into the most amazing night he’d seen in a while. “I grew up with my mother, she worked at one of the lower-class hotels. Cleaning, cooking, whatever kind of work she could find, when she could find it. I never knew my father, she said she didn’t, either.”

“It must have been rough,” she said quietly.

Rough about summed it up, but he shrugged. “We lived day to day, sometimes with her friends, sometimes out of her car. I hated it then, and I hate remembering it now.”