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

Yet his presence in her house had her on edge, his big body seeming to take up the entire hall as he scrutinized the unit and touched a tube here, a wire there. He seemed to fill the house, his male scent crowding the muggy rooms, his thoughtful hum soaking into empty corners, chasing away the loneliness that had pervaded the place since Jason’s departure. Gemma allowed her heart to lift faintly and moved into her bedroom to consult her dusty bookshelves.

“I’m going to check your breakers,” he called.

“Go ahead,” she called back, struck by how domestic they seemed. Pleasure infused her chest—this little exhibitionist fling was exactly what she needed to help her push through the pain of Jason’s rejection. She was suddenly very grateful for Chev’s presence—and hoped that he didn’t press her for … more.

CHEV WAS STRUCK by the domesticity of standing in Gemma’s hallway, doing something her husband would’ve done if he’d been around. Would her ex object to him being here? Probably. He wondered if the guy had had an affair, if Gemma had thrown him out or if he’d left voluntarily. Chev couldn’t imagine a woman more exciting than Gemma, but maybe the guy was a jerk … or gay. Or just a prude.

Chev flipped a breaker and glanced around to check that the section of power extinguished matched what was written on the switch’s label. He moved through the motions of the routine repair, feeling relatively sure he could get the unit running again with a few replacement parts.

He heard Gemma moving around in her bedroom. Setting his jaw against the hunger that surged in his chest, he walked to the doorway and rapped lightly. His gaze swept past the picture window where she had undressed for him and over her unmade bed before coming to rest on the sight of her standing in front of a bookshelf, thumbing through a hefty volume.

She looked up, then flushed and gestured vaguely toward the tangled sheets. “Excuse the mess. I slept in this morning until the peacock woke me up.”

He nodded, swallowing hard to control the reaction of his body to the image of Gemma undressed and lying beneath him on that bed. But his cock was having none of his stall tactics and began to swell against his zipper. She still looked tousled from sleep and he’d bet the sheets were still warm from her hot body. No wonder the air conditioner had blown. “The compressor is working. I think you need a new thermostat.”

“That sounds serious,” she murmured.

“Not really,” he assured her, shifting slightly in an effort to reposition himself more comfortably. “I’ll get everything you need on my next trip to the home center.”

“I appreciate your help.”

He nodded toward the book she held. “I appreciate yours.”

She smiled and held up the book. “What do you want to talk about first?”

“The fireplace,” he said randomly.

“Let’s walk over so I can take a look.”

“I’ll follow you,” he said, partly because he wanted to view her backside, and partly because he wanted to hide his growing erection. She picked up a sketch pad and swept by him in a cloud of feminine scent—fruity shampoo, heady womanliness and earthy sleep aromas. Downstairs he noticed blank spaces on walls and shelves where pictures had been removed and whatnots were missing. Containers of random men’s things sat on the floor—her husband’s leavings, no doubt. The rooms were clean, but appeared neglected and unused. She seemed eager to get outside, and he wondered if his presence made her nervous—more proof that she preferred distance between them.

They picked their way across her trashed yard. “I’ll help you put things back in order,” he offered.

“I’ll do it later,” she said with a wave. “I’m sure you have plenty of other things to keep you busy. Do you have a drop dead date for getting the house done?”

“Three weeks from now,” he said. “This week is demolition and getting supplies. The serious work starts next week.”

He led her inside the musty house and she went straight to the fireplace, all business. She touched the broken clay bricks as if they were old friends. She asked Chev what he was looking for in the restoration, but he was so distracted by her he could barely think. He loved the way her brow wrinkled when she concentrated, the way she angled her head as she sized up things. He fell back on what little he knew about the Mission style, describing the fireplaces in his grandparents’ home. She made notes in her sketchbook, then some simple line drawings. He leaned in close and added his comments, getting caught up in her enthusiasm.

“All of this doesn’t seem like much in return for fixing my air conditioner,” she said. “So I’d like to offer to replace the mural in the kitchen.”

He smiled. “You’re an artist, too?”

Suddenly she seemed shy. “Not accomplished by any means, but I think I could paint a passable landscape, if you’re willing to let me try.”

“I accept,” he said happily. A delivery truck pulled into the driveway, horn honking.

Gemma tucked a strand of shimmering blond hair behind her ear. “I guess I’d better get to my yard.”

“I’ll let you know when I get the thermostat for your HVAC unit,” he offered as they walked back to the entrance. “Will you be around tomorrow?”

“I have to work tomorrow.”

In yet another provocative outfit? He set his jaw against the images that exploded into his head. “I’ll let you know.”

She nodded, then turned and walked back to her own yard, seeming lost in thought. Chev spent the rest of the day finding excuses to look out the window or go outside to his truck so he could catch glimpses of her working in her yard, wearing her big hat and flowered gloves. It seemed incongruous that the woman was so … normal and yet so … titillating.

He had a feeling she wouldn’t appear at her window that night, but it didn’t stop him from looking. He gave up around midnight, lying on his cot with perspiration beading on his pent-up body as his mind played images of Gemma over and over. The woman confounded him, affected him like no other woman ever had. His body ached for her. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to be tentative around him, that he would take whatever she had to offer for the short time he would be there.

But what if her erotic nighttime shows were all that she had to offer? The woman was still suffering from the breakup of her marriage. Maybe the window performances were her way of safely acting out.

Or maybe her behavior had led to the end of her marriage. Lots of couples had bedroom secrets, but the state attorney general’s career probably would’ve been compromised if anyone knew that his wife was an exhibitionist.

On the other hand, Gemma didn’t seem the type to.

He groaned in frustration. The woman didn’t fit any “type” he’d ever known. Intelligent but unhappy, educated but badly employed, homey but sexy, bold but unsure of herself … complementary and contradictory.

Chev sighed, willing himself to put her out of his mind,to find sleep. He’d just begun to relax when a honking, plaintive noise sounded outside his window, again … and again … and again.

The peacock was back, calling for a mate.

Chev put his pillow over his ears. It was going to be a long night.

11

“HOW’S THE JOB?” Sue Asked.

Gemma held her cell phone between her ear and shoulder while she tied the belt on the lightweight black raincoat she wore over her costume. She unlocked her car door and swung inside, mulling her response. Her body was strung tight after a day of being on exhibit herself. She was looking forward to getting home and taking a long bubble bath. “Fine, I guess. I’m getting accustomed to the routine.”

Sue gave a little laugh. “I might have to drive down there and check out your show.”

Gemma hesitated, trying to adopt a casual tone. “Sue, do you remember the Sexual Psyche class in college?”

“Sex for Beginners? Sure, I remember. What about it?”

“Did you ever take it?”

“No. I thought I already knew everything—what a joke. But you took it, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“And what made you think about the class after all these years?”

“I … received something in the mail the other day that … dredged up old memories.”

“What?”

“An assignment that we had, to write down our fantasies. Dr. Alexander said she’d mail them to us ten years later.”

“Wow, that’s kind of cool … isn’t it?”

“I guess, but a bit weird. I wrote them before I met Jason.”

“Yeah, Gemma, you were an actual person before you met Jason. I was there, remember?”

Gemma blinked at her friend’s sarcasm. “What’s with the attitude? You introduced us.”

A hesitant hum sounded over the line, then Sue said, “I thought you’d go out, have some fun. Honestly, I never dreamed the two of you would get married.”

Gemma’s mouth opened and closed. “So … you didn’t … you don’t think that we were a good match?”

“That wasn’t for me to decide. But I admit I was surprised when you and Jason got serious.”

“You didn’t think I was good enough for him?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. The two of you just seemed so … different. You were so earthy with your art, and he was already so judicial.”

And judgmental, Gemma added silently. Jason had a way of making people feel they needed to be on their best behavior around him. He had been a lifesaver at the time, a reason to rein in her deviant sexual conduct and keep herself in check. She had needed him, and had worked so hard to be what he’d needed in return. “Well, since it didn’t last,” she said lightly, “I guess you get the prize.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, Gemma.” Sue sighed. “I’m just really happy for you that you’re moving on.”

Gemma leaned her head back on the headrest. “I don’t feel like I’m moving on.”

“You have a new job.”

“It’s temporary.”

“And how about that neighbor of yours?”

“He’s temporary, too. He’s flipping the house by the end of the month.”

“That old Spanish two-story? Isn’t it kind of a wreck?”

Gemma lifted her head. “Yeah, but it’s going to be spectacular. Chev is really paying attention to detail.”

“Sounds like you are, too.”

Gemma realized too late that her voice was elevated, her words rushed and excited. She backpedaled, adopting a casual tone. “He asked for my help on a couple of historical aspects of the house.”

“Oh? Well, you know your stuff, so this Chev guy is showing good sense by asking your advice.”

“I’m sure he wants to set as high an asking price as possible when it goes up for auction.”

“Uh-huh. What kinds of things are you helping him with?”

“Architectural details. And I’m replacing a mural for him.”

“You’re painting again? That’s wonderful! What’s he paying you?”

Gemma swallowed. “Actually, it’s a trade. He’s going to fix my air conditioner.”

“Is he now? Gotta love a man who’s good with his hands.”

“Sue, I’m not sleeping with the guy.”

“Are you at least thinking about it?”

Gemma started her car engine. “Oh, look at that—my phone battery is dying, and I need to get home.”

“Liar. At least tell me if he lives in Tampa.”

“No. Like I said, he’s temporary.”

“No strings can be a good thing.”

“Goodbye, Sue.”

Sue sighed. “Goodbye.”

Gemma disconnected the call and shook her head. Sue meant well by encouraging her to have a meaningless relationship to help move past Jason’s rejection. But her friend would be shocked if she knew what had already transpired between her and her neighbor.

Just like she would’ve been shocked if Gemma’s exhibitionism in college had been exposed. Shocked and ashamed.

On the drive home, Gemma reflected on Sue’s comment that she and Jason hadn’t been suited for each other. Had other people thought the same thing? Had people whispered that their marriage wouldn’t last even as they were standing before the altar taking their vows? Had her desperation to marry Jason been so apparent?

Had Jason sensed it, too? Even though she’d never uttered a word of her subversive urges to exhibit herself, had being her safety chute worn on him?

By the time she pulled onto her street, both the sun and her mood were on the downslide. Chev’s property was crowded with vehicles and equipment and workers, most of whom were loading up to leave. She saw him standing shoulders above them, looking like some kind of primitive chief in his bandanna, his torso bare and brown. He turned his head as she drove past and his dark gaze pierced her to the core, suffusing her chest with pleasure as she wheeled into her driveway.

But at the sight of the peacock in her yard, uprooting her newly replanted flowers, those warm, fuzzy feelings were obliterated, and high voltage anger whipped through her.

FROM HIS YARD, Chev saw the peacock and cringed. Considering the way Gemma had slammed her car into Park and come charging out, he wouldn’t be surprised if she were about to wring the poor thing’s neck.

The bird veered away, emitting its high-pitched mewling noise. Gemma chased it around the yard, windmilling her arms and stomping her feet. In her voluminous black coat, she looked ridiculous, but the peacock must have found her menacing. The bird lunged, flapping its wings and careening wildly to stay a few feet ahead of her.

The men standing around him laughed and made circular motions with their fingers indicating that Gemma was loco. Chev smiled and waved them on their way, then stood for a few minutes watching Gemma chase the squawking bird around her yard, laughing to himself.

It was therapeutic, he reasoned, for her to lash out at the bird. The woman had had her life torn apart and was clearly struggling to put the pieces back together. He couldn’t blame her for snapping over a few unearthed flowers. The colorful animal was a handy target for her pent-up frustrations.

For the bird’s sake, he decided to intervene.

As he walked up behind Gemma, she stopped and leaned over to grasp her knees. She narrowed her eyes at the cock, which had also stopped running and was eyeing her intently. “I wonder how you’d look on a platter,” she muttered.

“The meat is supposed to be an aphrodisiac,” Chev offered.

She turned and straightened, looking adorably sheepish, her cheeks pink from the exertion.

“Not that I can say firsthand,” he added. “Peacocks are protected in most parts of the world, but some cultures still consider the meat a delicacy.”

She glared at the bird. “We’d have to catch him first.”

As if the bird had heard her, he extended his wings and flew up into a nearby tree, then called down to them in triumph.

“I guess that’s the reason they’ve been around for centuries,” Chev said.

She stamped her foot clad in a chunky black high heel, then groaned when she realized what she’d stepped in.

Chev bent over laughing, then wiped his hand over his mouth. “Sorry.”

“I called animal control,” she said, indignant, “but they said they didn’t have a place to take the bird even if they could capture it. They told me not to feed it, and if it hasn’t left in two or three weeks, they would give me the name of a preserve to contact. They said that I was encroaching on the peacock’s habitat.”

“Unfortunately, that’s true. We all are.”

“But why did it pick my yard?”

He grinned. “I guess he just liked the look of your grass.”

Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. “Do you think he’ll ever leave?”

“Eventually his instincts to mate will drive him to move on if he doesn’t find what he’s looking for.”

The humidity in the air between them suddenly became sticky with mutual desire. His sex grew heavy as he imagined what lay beneath the belted raincoat. Considering the black mesh panty hose and high heels, he was sure it was something pretty damn fantastic. Her pale hair was tousled from the impromptu activity. Her mouth and eyes softened and her gaze traveled over his bare shoulders and arms. His chest expanded as he inhaled sharply. She wanted him … but enough to let him near her? He watched while she visibly struggled with her physical response to him. She looked away, and when she looked back, she had regained her composure.

“How’s the house coming along?” she asked in a breezy tone.

Chev exhaled. “We made a lot of progress today. I wanted to show you a couple of things if you have time.”

She glanced at her own house and he wondered if something had happened today to make her even more skittish of him.

Then she turned back to him and smiled. “Sure. I’m going to let this mess go for now.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Chev conceded. “Let it ride. You can clean up the yard once he’s gone for good.”

He said the words lightly, but as soon as they left his mouth he realized that Gemma might be drawing comparisons between him and the pesky peacock.

One delicate eyebrow arched, but otherwise Gemma didn’t reveal what was going through that pretty head of hers. “Let me put the car in the garage.”

Chev knew he should have offered to let her change clothes first, but honestly, he wanted to keep imagining what she was wearing under the coat. And he was hoping that when she undressed, she’d do it for him.

He bit back a smile as she dodged more bird deposits and sacrificial plants on her way back to the driveway. He glanced up at the peacock staring down from a tree branch and wondered if either one of them would have any luck finding female companionship at 131 Petal Lagoon Drive.

Not if Gemma’s subconscious actions were any indication, he noted. Instead of pulling into the middle of the two-car garage, she carefully maneuvered into the rightmost space, leaving room for a phantom car. He wondered if she even realized she was still holding a place in her life for her ex’s return.

They walked companionably to his house and she murmured appreciation at the obvious changes—the terra-cotta tiled walkway was newly restored and glistening with sealer. The arched entryway was repaired with the new columns in place and freshly painted. He stopped at an outside spigot to wash his gritty hands and face, then grabbed his work shirt from the handle of a wheelbarrow and shrugged into it, leaving it unbuttoned. He felt Gemma’s gaze upon him and welcomed it. If he could affect her senses a fraction of the amount that she affected his, maybe she’d invite him into her bed instead of relegating him to the role of spectator at her erotic shows.

Especially since even her performances had ceased.

Inside, he helped her pick her way across plastic-covered floors. The tile work and wood planks underfoot would be one of the last installations, lest they be marred by machinery and heavy boots. The newly applied plaster on the ceiling in the foyer emanated a pungent but satisfying aroma. At Gemma’s urging, Chev had sought out a metal salvage yard and purchased enough sections of wrought-iron railing to replace the crumbling wooden banisters.

“Gorgeous,” she breathed.

“I couldn’t be happier with the way it turned out,” he admitted. “I’m going to replace the wood window shutters with iron detail, too.”

At the mention of windows, he thought he detected a stiffening of her shoulders, but she didn’t say anything. In the great room, Chev was pleased to see Gemma’s face light up at the newly tiled fireplace.

“It’s stunning.”

“Thanks to you. I wouldn’t have chosen these colors or design without your encouragement.”

“I’m glad to help,” she murmured, and he thought he detected a wistful note in her voice.

“You’re good at this,” he observed. “Have you considered consulting for a living?”

“Maybe someday,” she said, nodding. “I hope I can put my degree to use for something more than being a tour guide.”

“How’s that going?”

“Um … fine.” But he was alerted to the way her hand went to the vee of her coat to absently caress the bare skin there.

“I thought you said this was a part-time job. Haven’t you been working almost every day?”

“The exhibit has been more popular than the museum anticipated.” Her voice had dropped an octave and suddenly she fanned herself. “It’s really warm in here.”

“You can take off your coat.”

“I … would rather leave it on.”

Then it hit him. Gemma’s job turned her on … allowed her to be an exhibitionist in plain sight, in the guise of a tour guide.

His cock jumped against his fly. Damn, the woman was killing him. But she seemed nervous, lifting her hair to fan her neck. He noticed that she had a tiny brown beauty mark on the nape of her neck that matched the one at the corner of her mouth. “I won’t keep you much longer. I just want to show you the kitchen.”

She followed him to the kitchen where a firebrick oven had been installed and mortared, next to shiny stainless steel appliances.

“It’s magnificent,” she said, clapping her hands like a child. Then her gaze landed on a long farmhouse wood table, the top of which was several inches thick. “Oh my—where did you get this?”

“Another find at the salvage yard. I don’t intend to furnish the place, but it seemed perfect for this spot.”

“It is,” she said, running her hands over the scarred but smooth surface. She lowered herself to one of the two long weathered benches that matched the table, giving him a nice view of her legs in the black mesh hose.

He swallowed a groan.

She smiled up at him. “You could certainly seat a large family around this table.”

“Funny you should say that,” he said. “My parents and younger sister are coming to Tampa next week. They’re visiting colleges. I have an aunt and an uncle who live nearby, and a young cousin. I thought I’d have them all come here for a little party since the kitchen is operational. It’ll give my family a chance to see what I’m working on.”

“That’s nice.” She gestured to the long empty wall behind the table. “I’ll do my best to have the mural done before then.”

“I wasn’t worried about that,” he said. “The house will still be a long way from being finished. Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to join us?”

Her eyes widened.

“It’ll be casual,” he assured her. “I’ll have food and a cake delivered. Since the part for your air conditioner hasn’t arrived, consider it a small thank-you to show my appreciation for all that you’ve done.”

Gemma pushed to her feet. “Fixing my air conditioner will be plenty of thanks.” His disappointment must have been evident because she added, “But … I’ll think about it and let you know. I should be going.”

He followed her to the front door and out onto the covered entryway, stricken by the overwhelming urge to drag her into his arms. “Gemma.”

She turned and looked up at him, her eyes questioning.

Chev stepped toward her and picked up a lock of her hair. “I’ve missed you at the window.”

Her throat worked and her chest rose and fell rapidly. “I … it felt awkward since we’ve gotten to know each other.”

“If I’d known that,” he said with a smile, “I would’ve stayed on this side of my property line.”

That made her smile and her tension was replaced with that matter-of-fact sexuality that made him wild for her. “Are you saying you don’t want to be friends?”

He stepped closer and lowered his mouth to her ear. “I prefer friends with benefits.”

A small sound of wanting came from her throat, but she pulled away. “Like I said, I prefer to keep things at a distance.”

“But it’s more fun up close.” He slowly untied the belt of her coat, revealing a red satin bustier and black pleated short skirt. He groaned and his cock stiffened painfully as he slid his hands inside to caress her waist with his thumbs. “Gemma, don’t you feel this … electricity between us?”

She bit her lip and nodded.

“Then why—”

“I can’t,” she cut in, looking away.

“But you want to.”