Finish What We Started Page 7

  She paused. “Hungry for what?” Oh, the options were endless.

  “Dinner. Ice cream. Me.” He found that same sensitive spot on her other side.

  She rolled her neck backward and he took the invitation to kiss her. He held her head in one large hand and took her mouth. Lee was always especially good at hello. Eventually he let her up for air. “Seems maybe you got those in the wrong order.”

  He leaned his perfect rump on her desk and gave her a stern look. “Did you eat today?”

  She had to think about it, hence the stern look. “I ate breakfast.”

  “Because I made it for you. What did you have for lunch?”

  Ah, lunch. Not so much. “I had some peanut butter pretzels.” She flashed him a coy grin to distract him. Hopefully the two day old ponytail and the sweat pants wouldn’t spoil the effect.

  He placed both hands on the arms of her desk chair and pushed her back until he could step between her and the desk. He leaned over her until she could only see his freshly shaved face. She tilted her face to invite another kiss.

  “Oh, no. You’re not plying me with your tricks, witchy woman.” But he still gave her a brief kiss before straightening again. “You’ve been here all day and you haven’t eaten. Don’t tell me you had protein in the peanut butter either. How much time do you need to finish this paper?”

  She closed her eyes and sighed. Bacteriophages were not the most scintillating topic but she’d powered through and she wasn’t that far off from finishing the first draft. “About an hour, I guess.”

  “You finish. I’ll go get stuff for dinner.”

  She slid her hands beneath his shirt, toyed with the ridges on his abdomen and ran her thumb along the vee shaped by his abdominal muscles. “If my paper is good, can I have dessert?”

  “If your paper is very good, then we’ll see.”

  She’d been at the desk all day, and she was due a little distraction. Slipping her fingers from both hands inside his waistband, she tugged him toward her again. His skin was warm, and the intoxicating aroma of clean male made her want to press her nose to his middle and inhale deeply. Instead she nipped the flesh on his hip, just above his jeans.

  “Candy, I won’t be the reason you didn’t finish,” he warned her. But his tone suggested he could be swayed. Swaying him would be the most fun she’d had all week. He grasped her hands in his and pulled them away. “I’ll bring back dinner. You’ll be finished by then.” He stepped farther way from her, then bent and touched his lips to hers. “Are you hungry for anything in particular?”

  She gave him a look that told him it was very obvious what she was hungry for.

  He laughed. “God, you’re sexy. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I’m leaving to get dinner. You get to work, because there’s no way I’m going to be this strong when I get back.”

  She watched his ass as he left. She’d never been this into a guy before. Candace prided herself on her dedication and focus. That’s how she’d gotten scholarships and maintained a 4.0 grade point average all through pre-med and her first year of veterinary college. It was those grades and the prize money from the bar contest that she hoped would take her even further. This year was harder yet, and staying focused required a herculean effort.

  To his credit, Lee did his best not to interrupt or interfere with her studies, but he didn’t even need to be present for her thoughts to drift in his direction. She’d be reading about systemic pathology and out of nowhere she’d remember something funny he’d said and she’d be in la-la land for twenty minutes. On her clinical rounds the previous week she’d missed half a lecture on the results of an ultrasound for an Irish terrier whose case they’d been following. Her study partners had commented on it.

  As soon as the door clicked closed, she turned back to her laptop and wrote the conclusion of the paper. During a quick read through she moved around a couple of paragraphs, added an entirely new one, and corrected a few misspellings. She printed it out and left it on her desk.

  He’d only been gone forty minutes. She rushed into the bedroom to do something about her appearance and was horrified. When had she last showered? Yesterday? No, the day before. There was no way this was repairable with a quick brush of her hair. She tossed her clothes in the hamper—or near the hamper, she’d pick them up later—and hopped in the shower. She’d just finished shaving her legs when the shower curtain moved aside.

  Lee’s face appeared and gave her an assessing glance, clearly approving. Her nipples hardened in response. “Did you finish?”

  “Yep.” She let the water roll over her body and sluice down her breasts. She arched her back ever so slightly to entice him even more.

  “Good girl,” he said with a husky voice. He extended a hand and curled his fingers under her breast and ran his thumb over the hard bud.

  “You’re letting the cold air in.” She stepped closer, the warmth of the water only hitting her back now. His hand trailed down her body, following the contours of her waist, the flare of her hips, and came to rest on her butt. He gave a little squeeze, then a loud, wet smack.

  “You’re letting the water out.” His fingers traced the cleft of her ass. “Are you still hungry?” Those same questing fingers were now finding their way through the damp hair at the apex of her thighs.

  “Uh huh,” she said on an exhale.

  “Are you hungrier for spaghetti with clams or me?” Lee’s hands were huge and when he slipped one finger inside her she leaned her head back into the shower spray and moaned.

  “You now, clams later.” Oh Jesus, he felt good.

  “Lean back.”

  He hooked his free hand around her middle to secure her, and she placed her hands flat against the back wall of the shower stall to keep herself upright. When he withdrew and slid two fingers inside her she almost came right then. She opened her eyes and watched him concentrate on her body, the strong planes of his face intense with focus. He took the hard tip of her breast in his mouth, sucking in rhythm with his hand until she couldn’t hold back and she came. Her moans echoed off the tile. She relaxed in that position, his strong arm holding her, back arched, head against the tile, and let the sensations roll through her. His tongue stroked from her navel to her clavicle, straight up through the valley of her breasts, lapping up the warm water that flowed down her body.

  She grasped his face and brought him to her lips, kissing him, pressing her wet body against his. Yanking on the back of his shirt, she untucked it from his jeans and pulled it over his head. Quick fingers loosed his belt and button fly until she could shove his jeans down with his boxer briefs. He kicked off his shoes and snagged a foil package from his pocket. With a giggle, she hauled him into the shower with her.

  Fitting her softer body against all his hard planes, she resumed the kiss. While she caressed the inside of his mouth with her tongue, she let her hands roam, pinching his nipple, then cupping his balls with one hand, playing with their weight until he groaned. She slid her other hand up and down his cock, slowly, using soapy water as lubrication until he couldn’t take it anymore.

  “You’re killing me, woman.” He turned her around and placed her hands on the wall over her head, then took her from behind. The empty condom wrapper was tossed over the shower curtain. He clutched her hips and she moved against him until they were both gasping. Already primed from her first orgasm, she came quickly.

  “Oh fuck.” He groaned deep in his chest. With his head against her shoulder, his body still jerking from the sensations, he held her close. She pulled away so she could turn around and take him in her arms. She loved these few moments of quiet afterward when they could just be still, basking in the afterglow. It was corny and she didn’t care.

  “Now I’m starving,” she told him while she stroked her fingers down the length of his spine.

  “Mmm-hmm.” He was still b
reathing heavy. “And now I’m cold.”

  They switched position so he was under the shower spray. The water was decidedly less warm than when her shower had started. Stupid old building. They lathered each other quickly and rinsed as the water turned icy.

  He’d cooked dinner while dressed in a towel. His brother had taught him how to make spaghetti with clams. “Otherwise, it’s peanut butter and jelly or takeout,” he explained.

  “Tell your brother he’s an excellent teacher. What else has he taught you to make?”

  He slurped up a noodle. “You mean real food?”

  “Yeah.” She swabbed a baguette in white sauce and tucked it in her mouth. “Besides barbeque. Every guy can barbeque. It’s in your DNA.”

  He looked at the ceiling like he was cataloguing his many menu items. “Did I tell you I make a mean peanut butter and jelly? Sometimes I use Nutella. Or Almond butter. I’ll even cut off your crusts. I have mad skills.”

  She nudged him with her big toe. “How about peanut butter and banana?”

  His expression became very serious. “Fried or unfried? This is a very important lifestyle choice. Answer wisely.”

  She giggled. “Oh the pressure. Lightly fried so the peanut butter is a little melted.”

  “Hmm.” He narrowed his eyes. “Mashed banana or cut into discs?”

  “Who mashes the banana? That’s wrong on an elemental level. The bananas are cut long ways.”

  He launched himself across the table, sweeping the plastic plates to the floor. “Oh my God, I love you.”

  Laughing, she swatted him away and took off out of the kitchen in a run, dodging his hand as he grabbed at her towel.

  “Oh, I’m coming for you,” he called.

  She responded by throwing her towel over her shoulder once she reached the hall. It took him longer to arrive in the bedroom than she expected. She had taken a tactical position, standing on top of the head of the bed armed with a pillow. When he showed up, he had in his hand a bowl of strawberries, chocolate, a bottle of wine, and the printed version of her research paper.

  “Let’s see how well you did on your homework, little girl.”

  The pillow landed back on the bed. “I’m tired of homework.”

  “Then you’re doing it wrong.” He dropped his towel. Jeez, construction work was good on his body. The man was wide and narrow and huge in all the right places from his shoulders to his hips and...other things that wielding a hammer didn’t necessarily influence. “You read aloud and for each part I like you’ll get a treat.” His eyes twinkled and his killer grin promised the treats would be worth it.

  She lay down on the bed and he stretched out on his side next to her. He kissed her jaw line, behind her ear, nuzzled her neck.

  “Read,” he said against her skin.

  She read the title aloud. “Chromosonal Integration and Excision: a contrast of the subfamily of site specific serine recombinase.”

  “You’re so sexy, baby,” he cooed in her ear. A finger dipped in chocolate traced her bottom lip. “Keep going.”

  Ooooh. This could get very interesting indeed. “Peptidoglycan hydrolyzing proteins were recreated using a strategy of putative endolysin and tail hydrolase.”

  This time the chocolate was delivered via a strawberry dangled over her stomach and swirled with dripping chocolate. “Don’t stop, Dr. Claesson.”

  She tried to concentrate on the words but it was exceedingly more difficult with each creative chocolate delivery. “Used topically and—ooh—systemically, bacteriophages are—ah—an alternative therapy to halt the spread—oh my God—of antibiotic-resistant genes.”

  “How long is this paper?” he asked after he licked the chocolate from a breast.

  “Ten pages.”

  “Ten?” He looked up from what he was doing and focused on her with raised eyebrows. “Really?”

  She rattled the pages. “Uh-huh.”

  “Screw that.” He grabbed the pages and tossed them over the bed. “I’m never gonna make it.”

  Chapter Eight

  Present Day

  He merged off the freeway onto the exit that lead to the vet’s office. The cat was not happy to be in the carrier. Lee moved the plastic box as far away from him on the bench seat as humanly possible. Angry yellow eyes watched him through the grating.

  “Listen, cat,” he told the pissy feline. “I’m really, really sorry, but this is ultimately your own damn fault.”

  The noise came from deep in its throat and sounded more like it belonged to a demon in a horror movie than an outraged tabby named Jose. What the hell kind of name was Jose for a cat?

  Lee was not too big a man to admit, in the confines of his truck, that he was afraid of this cat. However, he was more afraid of his friend, Marisol. When she found out he had broken her cat—well, he hated to think of the tirade he’d have to listen to. Especially since most of it would be in Spanish and he wouldn’t be able to defend himself. She was out of town and had begged him to take care of Jose while she was gone. Apparently every other person on the planet was unable to help her.

  “Holly can’t do it?” he’d asked. He’d met Marisol through his sister-in-law. When he’d discovered Holly was best friends with the former beauty queen who was now the sports reporter at the Times, he’d begged loud and long for an introduction. A beautiful woman who loved sports? Yes, please. After a couple of dates, though, it had been obvious. Marisol wasn’t it. She wasn’t his dream girl and he wasn’t the guy for her. But, they could debate baseball statistics endlessly and she knew everything about hockey. What he got in Marisol instead was a great friend who didn’t meddle in his life, try to find him a wife, or want to poke around in his psyche.

  “No, Holly’s gone until the twelfth, remember?”

  Lee had grimaced. Marisol’s cousin was a reliable sort. “Why can’t Alejandro do it?”

  “I’ll buy you dinner. All you have to do is come over a couple of times this week and give him food and check his water and litter box. You don’t even have to touch him.”

  Oh, he wasn’t touching him. That was for fucking sure. “Your cat hates me.”

  “He doesn’t hate you.” It didn’t even sound like she’d convinced herself with that bullshit. “He’s just a little high strung.”

  There had never been a cat as highly strung as Jose. That cat was a tight rope walker over Niagara Falls. Still, Lee had agreed to feed the damn thing, so he went over to Marisol’s condo every morning before he headed out to check on his crews. For the first three days he never even saw the stupid cat, even though food kept disappearing from the bowl.

  The fourth day was when all the trouble started.

  Lee had stupidly left the kitchen door to the garage ajar and there was a straight shot to the great outdoors. The cat must have sensed the moment of vulnerability because he came out of nowhere. An orange blur darted for the door. Lee leaned back with his right leg and slammed the door. The yowl was magnificent and terrifying at the same time. He whirled back and yanked open the door just in time to see the cat—still yowling—dart underneath his truck. There was blood. Not a lot of it, but enough that he knew there was trouble.

  He cursed as he debated whether he wanted to put his face down to ground level to find the beast, but the noise coming from under the vehicle was full of distress. He squatted down and was met by narrowed yellow eyes, flattened ears and the scariest noise he’d ever heard coming from a domestic animal. He jerked back into a standing position but not before he also spied a seriously crooked tail attached to the back end of the demon feline.

  “Shit.”

  There were two things he wanted absolutely no part of. Number one was telling his friend he’d damaged her pet. The second was cornering that cat.

  He called Candace’s office and talked to the receptionist. He e
xplained the situation with the door and the tail. “What do you think? Is it broken?” Goddamn it. Marisol was going to kill him, but she’d take the news better if he’d taken the cat to a doctor.

  “I can’t possibly know, sir. You should probably bring in the animal as soon as possible so the doctor can take a look at it. Dr. Candace can fit you in at ten. Can you be here then?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

  He skirted the side of the truck, opened the back door and pulled out a flannel jacket from under the back seat. It was grungy but it was thick. He pulled it on over his T-shirt. There was a cat carrier on a shelf in the garage and he dragged it down, positioning it in front of the door back into the kitchen. He ducked his head under the front bumper again and got a fierce growl from near the back tires.

  “Cat, cat, cat,” he chanted, then switched it up to something softer. “Here kitty, kitty, kitty.” The sweeter voice had the opposite effect. The growl modified to a hiss and Lee could imagine the vampire teeth waiting to sink into his skin. He walked as quietly as possible around the vehicle and paused at the back. “Here kitty, kitty, kitty.”

  Again with the hissing.

  “Come on, Jose. I’m sorry about your tail, man.” He couldn’t believe he was negotiating with an animal. “We have an appointment with a hot vet. She’ll fix you right up so we’ll have a good story to tell your mom.”

  It had grown eerily quiet in the garage. He squatted by the back tire and peered underneath the truck. “Shit!” He scrambled out of the way just as the cat launched into the air, claws out. He swatted it away and it landed on its feet before running behind the truck in the opposite direction. Lee realized his error in leaving the kitchen door opened. He raced to the door and shut it before the cat could get into the house. He’d never find Jose if he got under a bed or God only knew where.

  He also wasn’t sticking anymore unprotected body parts near that cat.

  It took nearly forty minutes, a paint tarp and a broom handle, but he finally had Jose in the damn carrier. He considered it a triumph that he sustained only scratches on his hands and on his neck by his jaw line. He did finally get a good look at the tail in question and it looked bad. Poor Jose.