Real Men: Rugged Rebels: Watch and Learn / Under His Skin / Her Perfect Hero

Hastily refolding the letter, she returned it to the envelope. She paced, now restless, her mind racing. It was silly to rehash schoolgirl fantasies anyway. They had nothing to do with the current state of her life.

The phone rang, breaking into her erratic thoughts. She glanced at the caller ID screen, praying it wasn’t her mother. It was Sue.

The lesser of the two evils.

Gemma picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

“Hi, just thought I’d check in. How was your day?”

“I got the final divorce papers today.”

“I’m so sorry, Gemma.”

“As if it’s your fault.”

“Have you heard from Jason?”

She pushed her hand into her damp hair. “No. The doorbell rang this morning and, like a fool, I thought it was him.”

“Who was it?”

“Some guy who’s fixing up the house next door.”

“Some guy? Is he cute?”

Gemma thought of Chev Martinez’s sexy eyes and calendar body. “I really didn’t notice.”

“What did he want?”

“He was just delivering a piece of my mail that he found. Hey,” she said to change the subject, “I have an interview tomorrow with an employment agency.”

“That’s great! Are you excited?”

“Yeah, I’m actually looking forward to it. Oh, and I talked to my mom today.”

“How’d that go?”

“It was a disaster of monumental proportions. Basically, she assumes the divorce is my fault, that I didn’t keep Jason happy in bed.”

“Oh my God, your mother actually said that?”

“Yes. Hearing my mother talk about sex was like listening to a frequency not meant for humans. I think my eardrums might have burst.”

Sue laughed. “Well, at least you’re starting to sound like yourself again. Your mom will come around. They were just blindsided, that’s all.”

“Weren’t we all?” Gemma said. “I also had two phone messages from reporters asking me to comment on the divorce.”

“I’m not surprised. Did you call them back?”

“Of course not. One of them was that toad Lewis Wilcox who so blatantly opposed Jason’s election.”

“Nice of you to protect Jason, considering.”

Gemma pressed her lips together—old habits were hard to break. “It’s not just to protect Jason. I don’t want the attention, either. Besides, it’s not as if I have any sordid details to divulge.”

“But it’s just the kind of thing that Jason’s political opponents would love to turn into a scandal if they could.”

“The funny thing is, the truth is too boring for a headline: State Attorney General Tells Wife, ‘I’m Just Not That Into You.’”

Sue laughed. “At least now that the divorce is official—and public—it’ll be easier for you to move on.”

“As if I have a choice.”

“Things are going to be fine, I promise.”

Gemma sighed. “I know. I just want it to be sooner rather than later.”

“Call me tomorrow after your interview to let me know how it went.”

“Okay, bye.”

Gemma returned the phone to its cradle, feeling a surge of appreciation for Sue who had better things to do than make sure her newly divorced friend was treading water.

Sue was right … things were bound to get easier. A job would help Gemma find a center for her new life and leave her less time to dwell on her failed marriage. She glanced at her closet and frowned. She knew how to dress for a fund-raiser, for a luncheon and for a political rally, but what did one wear to a job interview these days? Some companies encouraged their employees to dress casually, while others policed toe cleavage.

When she opened the folding doors of the closet, she nursed a fleeting pang for the empty side Jason’s clothes and shoes had once occupied. A few odd hangers, a plastic collar stay, and a dry cleaner’s receipt were all that remained. How many times had she wished for more closet space? She had it now, she thought as she spread her clothes across the entire length of the rod.

Flipping through suits, jackets, pants and skirts, Gemma discarded one thing after another as being too staid, too dressy or too casual. Her fingers skimmed over an exquisite black beaded gown she’d worn to a state government function and she wondered wistfully if she’d ever have an opportunity to wear it again. Finally she withdrew a tailored shirtdress and turned toward the mirror, dropping her towel. Then she gasped.

She’d forgotten that she had a new neighbor and could no longer walk around nude in her bedroom.

But at the sight of the darkened window across from hers, she exhaled in relief. Considering the late hour, Chev Martinez had probably left to have dinner or perhaps had collapsed into whatever makeshift bed he’d set up in the house for himself.

Then Gemma pressed her lips together as a deliciously taboo thought, lubricated by the wine, slid into her mind. Just what would she have done if the hard-bodied carpenter had been standing at the window, watching?

CHEV STOOD frozen to the floor. He’d come back to the upstairs bedroom to close the window and collect a few tools. Then he’d glanced up in time to see Gemma Jacobs perfectly outlined in her bedroom window as she dropped her towel.

His throat contracted at the sight of her naked body, her breasts heavy, her waist narrow, her hips curved. Her skin was pale and translucent, her nipples pink and puffy. The triangle of hair at the juncture of her thighs was light brown. His cock began to throb, and he was afraid to move, afraid she would hear him or detect movement in the darkened room. He wasn’t a Peeping Tom, yet he couldn’t bring himself to look away. He’d fantasized about her too often … having the chance to observe her, unseen, was too much to resist. She was unaware he was watching. He was only hurting himself, he reasoned.

Gemma was looking into a mirror and holding up a blue dress, a nice color for her. She laid the dress on the bed and, from a drawer, withdrew bra and panties. When she leaned over to step into the panties, her breasts fell forward, sending blood rushing away from Chev’s brain and to his erection. She pulled the pale pink panties high on her thighs, then reached for the lacy bra. Putting her arms through the straps, she fastened the bra with a front closure, then arranged her breasts in the cups.

Chev swallowed hard. He’d never dreamed that watching a woman put clothes on could be so erotic.

She lifted the dress over her head, arching high. He could almost hear the rustle of the fabric as it shimmied down over her body. She buttoned the dress slowly, turning this way and that, then fetched a pair of high-heeled shoes to step into, rendering her long legs even longer, emphasizing the curve of her calves. He thought she looked beautiful, but she made a face, apparently dissatisfied, then proceeded to unbutton the dress with maddening slowness and lift it over her head.

He let out a small groan. Bra, panties, and high heels—God help him.

Next came a slim skirt and prim button-up blouse. “Nice,” he murmured, although she wasn’t showing enough leg for his taste.

She pirouetted in front of the mirror, then shook her head and, to his delight and despair, undressed again. Her breasts threatened to spill out of the bra as she moved her arms. He squirmed to adjust his erection that now bordered on painful. A bead of sweat trickled down his tense back.

Next came another dress, this one a floral number with a swingy skirt and snug bodice. She changed shoes to strappy high heels and as she turned in the mirror, he grunted in affirmation, then whispered, “Lady, you are gorgeous.”

He shifted and accidentally nudged the wet/dry vacuum, which hit a ladder, which fell and took down several boards leaning against the wall, all of it crashing to the floor next to the cot he’d set up to sleep on. If the racket alone wasn’t enough to alert his neighbor, a fat flashlight came on when it hit the floor, rolling and sending beams of light around the room like a strobe.

Chev dove on the flashlight, but the switch was broken and it wouldn’t turn off. As he scrambled to remove the batteries, he glanced up to find Gemma staring at his window—staring at him. Chev realized with dismay that he was shining a light on his own face.

Busted.

5

AT THE SIGHT of Chev Martinez’s face illuminated in the window across from hers, Gemma froze. From the guilty look on his face, it was clear he’d been there for a while, watching her. Watching her dress … and undress. The pale pink lace bra and bikini panties she wore left more skin uncovered than not. Several outfits were strewn over the bed.

A hot flush spread over her face and arms as she realized just how much of a show she’d inadvertently given him. And while her mind screamed for her to cry out in alarm, to cover herself and yank the curtain closed, her body seemed unable to comply. Slowly she realized that the inability to move was actually the unwillingness to move.

It was as if her wanton thoughts of him watching her had conjured up his image, had drawn him to the window. How could she shriek and flail about when she was the one who’d secretly wanted him to be there, and he was the one who looked stunned and … trapped?

It would be less embarrassing for both of them, she decided, if she pretended she didn’t see him. So, with her skin warm and tingling, she turned her back and unfastened her bra, then retrieved a nightgown to slide over her head.After the white filmy fabric fell into place, she turned back to the window and pretended to ignore him, although her nipples had hardened and warmth radiated from her sex. She gathered and rehung the clothes in the closet, all the while wondering if he was still there, and somehow knowing that he was. It occurred to her that even wearing the nightgown, silhouetted in the light and braless, she might as well be topless.

Did he like what he saw, she wondered. Feeling naughty, she turned sideways to give him a good view of her profile. Desire blazed through her body with an intensity that she hadn’t felt in years … since college. She yearned to touch herself, but she had to remember that she and Chev Martinez would likely be crossing paths again soon. Performing for strangers as she had in college had been risky enough, but performing for a man who knew where she lived …

With slow reluctance, Gemma reached for the light switch and flipped off the bedroom light. Then she crawled into bed and lay there in the still, warm air, her body covered in a sheen of perspiration, pulsing with need. What had come over her? Was this the person she was without Jason? Libidinous? Out of control? Did she need his steadfastness to keep herself morally in check? Was she bound to slip back into the wickedness of her deviant sexual fantasies?

Several minutes later, the sound of an engine starting next door came through the open window, followed by the clatter of his truck leaving the property. She wondered what the dark-haired, dark-eyed man thought of her. Did he think she was depraved, or had she given him a hard-on? If the facilities in his house weren’t yet functioning, he might be sleeping elsewhere. Was he fleeing to a girlfriend or wife nearby to share what had happened with a laugh before tumbling into bed? He hadn’t been wearing a wedding ring, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything, considering he worked with his hands all day.

Night sounds floated into the stillness of her room. Cicadas and other nocturnal insects emitted strident noises in rounds that swelled and ebbed. The perfume of fresh-cut grass and moon-blooming flowers rode the air. She felt utterly alone with her thoughts and nervous about this sense of restlessness her note to herself had reawakened. Knowing that sleep was long in coming, Gemma turned on the nightstand lamp and gingerly reached for the folded sheets of the abandoned letter.

With her heart pounding, she picked up reading where she’d left off, where the unknown boy at a party had watched her from across the room.

It made me feel like I was someone else. So I decided to become someone else. The next day I put on the sexiest pair of panties that I owned (pink with white lace), along with a short pleated plaid skirt and a white blouse. In the bathroom at the train station I put on a brown wig that my roommate had worn in a play, and large dark sunglasses. Then I got on a train going to a part of town where I knew no one. It was rush hour and the train was crowded, but I waited for just the right person. He got on a few stops later. He was cute and wore a gray pinstripe suit. He looked as if he was just out of college, probably working at his first job in an office somewhere. He sat a few feet away, facing me. He noticed my legs first. I was wearing white socks that came up to my knees, and black Mary Jane shoes. His gaze stopped again at my skirt, so I twisted in my seat to lift it a few more inches. And I parted my legs.

His eyes widened slightly and he glanced up to my face. But I kept my head slightly turned. With my dark glasses, he couldn’t tell that I was looking at him out of the corner of my eye. He wiped his hand across his mouth and looked around to see if anyone else had noticed the panty show, but no one had.

His face turned as pink as my panties, but he kept watching, kept staring at me, sending tremors through my body. I knew he wanted me. I felt myself grow warm, then wet as I wiggled my skirt higher, my knees wider. I knew I was staining my panties, and wondered if he could tell. Apparently so, because he moved his newspaper over his crotch, then slid his hand beneath it. Knowing that he was secretly jerking off while staring at my pink panties made me feel powerful. I let him get his fill for several minutes, until his eyes went glassy. At the next stop, I got off the train. As the train pulled away, he was craning to see me through the window. I gave him a little wave to let him know that I had been in on it all along.

I could hardly wait to get back to my room. Thank goodness my roommates were gone. I went into the bathroom and closed my eyes, remembering the way that man had looked at me, and I made myself come over and over again.

Gemma set aside the letter, her ears pounding with the thrum of longing coursing through her. She sighed and pushed her sweat-dampened hair away from her face. Her mother’s attempt at depicting sex as a necessary evil had backfired. By the time Gemma was finishing up college, she’d been burning up with a curiosity that Dr. Alexander’s class had unleashed with a fury. What had been taboo had suddenly seemed accessible, only she hadn’t been equipped to deal with the emotional and physical freedom. She’d been young and foolish, tempting fate with strangers in the pursuit of a sexual thrill. It had been liberating and exciting, but she had gone too far.

She was older now, wiser. She could control her fantasies, exercise restraint. She didn’t have to act on them like before. The performance at the window had been accidental. She hadn’t done anything that couldn’t be innocently explained away.

Thank goodness.

Feeling relieved, Gemma turned over her pillow to find a cool spot and willed herself to go to sleep. She needed to be rested for her interview in the morning. Hopefully everything would go well and she would find a job quickly. Then she and Chev Martinez might not have the occasion to even see each other again before he moved on to another job. The incident would be forgotten. Perhaps, it had already been forgotten by him.

But her body still hummed with memory of his dark eyes on her, and for the first time since Jason’s abrupt departure, Gemma fell asleep with the image of another man in her head.

CHEV PUSHED AWAY the remnants of a steak and baked potato and wrapped his hand around the fresh cold beer that the barkeep set in front of him. The any-town bar and grill was busy for a weeknight, with the jukebox blaring and the brews flowing freely between the men, some still garbed in work clothes, and the perpetually half-dressed coeds that populated every town in Florida he’d ever lived in, from Kissimmee to Miami.

“Lived in” was a stretch—more like visited. Moving from one commercial carpentry job to another, scouting for houses to flip in between. He couldn’t remember being anywhere for longer than six months in the past five years, since his engagement to Brooke had ended so disastrously. At least he’d learned that his fiancée slept around—and upside down—before they’d said their vows. For the first two years afterward, he’d worked eighteen hours a day to keep the pain at bay, and by then, the frantic work pace simply became a habit. Lingering in one place too long would simply lead to … complications. His mantra was to keep his relationships light … portable … temporary.

And tangle-free. He didn’t need to be arrested as a Peeping Tom for spying on the ex-wife of the state attorney general.

Chev shifted uncomfortably on the stool. He hadn’t maintained a hard-on this long since high school, but even after a cold shower and a hot meal, he simply couldn’t get the image of Gemma Jacobs out of his mind. He’d thought she caught him watching her, but then she had gone on as if nothing had happened, donning a nightgown that was as good as transparent, giving him a gut-clutching view of her full breasts tipping forward as she reached and leaned and stooped before finally turning off the bedroom light.

It was almost as if.

No. He scoffed. A woman like Gemma wouldn’t …

Would she?

He pulled his hand down his face, wondering if it were possible that she had caught him watching her but hadn’t minded. And, in fact, had extended the performance a little longer …

Then he expelled a harsh little laugh. Wishful thinking. Because the only thing hotter than watching her dress and undress in the window would be if she’d known he was watching her.

The moisture left his throat as his cock grew harder. He tipped up the beer and shifted again, troubled by the sudden thought that, after meeting Gemma and now having her nude body branded on his brain, there would be only one way to fully sate his appetite.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon. The woman was way out of his league.

He turned his head and saw two pretty young brunettes staring at him over the tops of their drinks. They smiled and waved, twisting their tanned, nubile bodies to best advantage. Arms draped around each other’s shoulders, they kissed full on the mouth for his benefit. He set his jaw at the lust that surged through him and considered the doubleheader diversion. A heartbeat later, he rejected the idea. Another time, he might have been interested, but tomorrow would be a long workday. It was best to call it a night. He gave the women a clipped nod, then tossed money on the bar and downed the rest of his beer before leaving.

He mentally kicked himself all the way back to Petal Lagoon Drive. Those two brunettes could’ve taken the edge off his libido and taken his mind off the blonde next door.

For a while.

The house next to his fixer-upper was dark when he pulled into the driveway, dimly illuminated by a dusk-to-dawn light on the street. His loud rumbling truck plowed through the quiet of the upscale neighborhood, reminding him that he didn’t belong. He cut off the engine and sat listening to the silence of the suburbs, wondering what it would’ve been like to grow up in such an insular, privileged environment. A yard … trees … a pool … good schools for him and his siblings … good jobs for his parents. A world away from el Barrio where he’d spent his youth in Miami.

He climbed out of the truck and closed the door as quietly as possible, glancing up at the darkened window of Gemma’s bedroom and feeling like a fool. The “performance” had been a fluke, and he’d have to put it out of his mind until the renovations on the Spanish house were done and he could sell it. Then, as far as Gemma Jacobs was concerned, out of sight was out of mind. In fact, starting tomorrow, he would do everything in his power to make sure that he and the blonde divorcée didn’t cross paths again.

Staying away from her bedroom window would require a tad more willpower, but he’d put up a drop cloth, shutter the window, blindfold himself if necessary. Just because he hadn’t been caught this time didn’t mean he’d be so lucky next time.

And just like that, he was already fantasizing about next time…

6

DESPITE AN UNEXPECTEDLY good night’s sleep, Gemma was jumpy as she sipped morning coffee standing at her kitchen window. She couldn’t decipher if she was most nervous about the interview with the employment agency, or the possibility of running into Chev Martinez again after her unwitting peep show the night before.

His silver pickup sat next door in the early morning light, but all was quiet around the property as far as she could tell. She checked her watch—it was still early, but if she left now, she might be able to get away without even having to make eye contact with her neighbor.

She swung her bag to her shoulder and exited to the garage that seemed bare with Jason’s car gone and his sports equipment missing from the walls. A black-and-gold monogrammed golf towel lay on the sealed concrete floor. Her heart squeezed as a fresh wave of loss swept over her. Gemma picked up the towel and ran her finger over the elegantly stitched letters, trying to remember who had gotten it for Jason. It didn’t matter, she decided, laying it on a shelf. It was just a reminder of all the details in his life that were no longer her concern. She inhaled deeply and turned toward her car, thinking that if she couldn’t rewind time to fix her marriage, she wished she could at least fast-forward to the day when things were okay again.

The pencil skirt she wore restricted her movement as she swung into the seat, but she told herself that she’d better get used to dressing up every day if she were going to rejoin the working world. Thank goodness that no one in Florida wore panty hose, but the rest of her outfit made her feel … proper. She was already eager to take it off. When the image of undressing with an audience of one flashed into her mind, she banished the thought. Squeezing the garage door opener on the visor, she started the car engine, poised for a quick escape. If she were lucky, she could postpone her next—undoubtedly awkward—conversation with Chev Martinez indefinitely.

Gemma put the car in Reverse and glanced in the rearview mirror, then slammed on the brakes.

Sitting behind her car, staring back at her was a large blue fowl, about three feet tall, with a sleek, pear-shaped body and elongated neck. He lifted his small, elegant head and emitted a loud, singsong call, then unfurled his tail plumage in an enormous, dazzling fan of iridescent greens, blues, aquas and golds, all sparkling in the morning sunshine.

She gasped in delight, having never seen a peacock at such close range. It was an extraordinary creature and rather intimidating in its full extension as it preened. It also appeared to be rooted to the spot.

Gemma backed the car out a few inches, hoping the movement would startle the bird into action, but he maintained his ground. She bit her lip and looked around. All was quiet. Nothing and no one around to distract the bird away from her driveway. She lightly tapped the car horn, but the cock merely bobbed his head, sending a plume of brilliantly colored feathers dancing. Gemma put the car into Park, and opened the door to step out.

“Shoo!” She waved her arms and walked toward it. “Go away!”

The creature seemed entirely unfazed.

“Move, birdie!” she shouted, flapping her arms. “I have to be somewhere important!”

The bird extended its neck and hissed at her. Gemma shrank back. She’d heard that peacocks could be aggressive and didn’t relish being flogged.

Now what?

A low, rolling laugh reached her ears. She turned her head to see Chev standing at the edge of her yard, hands on lean hips, surveying the situation, a grin on his handsome dark face. Her midsection tightened, both at the sight of him in clean worn jeans and T-shirt, and at the knowledge that he’d seen enough of her last night to play connect the freckles. How would he react to her having ignored him? Would he assume she hadn’t noticed she was being watched, or would he assume that she’d noticed and that she’d enjoyed it?