the one that got away was her father.
"Jesus! Tea!" Johnny dropped to a crouch beside her and grabbed one of her hands in both of his. He drew it toward him and pried open her fingers.
In surprise, Tea noted the blood dripping between her knuckles. It splattered against his pants and crimson drops joined the orange dots on her skirt as he flicked away the piece of broken glass she'd inadvertently clutched. With one of his hands cradling her injured one, he pressed his handkerchief against the shallow cut on her palm and pressed hard.
She winced.
He glanced over, then frowned. "You're pale again." Without letting up the pressure on her wound, he slipped an arm around her shoulders and drew her back so they both could sit on the curb of the small planter box lining the short front walk to her office door.
"I'm okay," she protested.
He hitched her closer to him, and the brush of his hard, warm body against hers made her shudder.
"Yeah, right," he said. "You feel cold and you're shivering. You're just peachy."
What was she supposed to do, tell him it was the sensation of his body aligned with hers and not the blood loss that was causing her quivering skin? That wouldn't be businesslike now, would it?
Looking down at the stains on their clothes and the broken mess on the pavement, she groaned and dropped her fore-head to her free hand. "Though I'm fighting a losing battle with that good impression anyway, aren't I?"
"What?"
"I've not exactly been a model of poise the past couple of days." From the splash in the pond to the splashes of blood on his slacks, it had been one departure after another from her usual it's-all-under-control and appearances-are-everything self.
"You don't have to pretend with me."
She lifted her head to look at him. "You don't get it. I don't have to pretend to present an unruffled image. Usually, anyway. That's who I am, what I am. A calm, unruffled professional."
A smile entered Johnny's eyes like sunlight glinting on sea-blue waves. Heat sizzled through her again. He really had no right to be so beautiful - particularly her personal-hot-button beautiful that had always sent her scurrying for Pop-Tarts or peanut butter cups to subjugate her unrequited cravings.
She frowned at him, because she wasn't going to melt, by God. "You don't bring out the best in me, that's what I think."
Now his mouth smiled too. His fingers lifted from the handkerchief to run once again along her warm cheek. "I might beg to differ."
So she melted. So sue her. Because the living embodiment of her every teenage fantasy was looking at her like she used to look at packages of Entenmann's coffee cake.
"I like this you," Johnny said.
"You do?" It came out breathless, girly. Good Lord. But who would blame her when he was leaning closer and wrapping her in that scent of his that smelled like clean wind and letterman jackets?
"Yeah, I do." His sexy voice hoarsened, darkened, was that by-the-fire seductive whisper that told the story of naked gypsy girls and wild, passionate dances. His fingertips slid against her cheek again. "And you're not so cold anymore."
More breathlessness. "I'm burning."
His palm cupped her face, his fingertips grazing the ticklish skin behind her ear. "I was going to resist this," he said, with a little frown. "I was going to resist you."
She gulped a breath and the top button of her blouse popped open. There was a tug on the barrette at her nape, and then he gripped the freed mass of her hair with his fist and tilted her face to his.
There it was, his mouth, his lips, waiting for her like the last donut in the box or the final French fry on the plate. And willpower, apparently, evaporated in this kind of heat.
He leaned closer and she met him halfway.
It started smooth and warm. Gentle and civilized. Then he touched her bottom lip with his tongue, a polite request for permission, and she responded by opening her mouth. She had to taste him, didn't she?
Except that meant he tasted her.
His tongue moved inside her mouth, as strong and sure as he was, and desire cracked like a whip through her body. His fingers tightened in her hair and she arched closer to him, wanting more of everything and anything he had to offer. His mouth moved over hers, his tongue played with hers. She pressed against his chest and had the sudden impulse, no need, to get naked.
Only then