The Has-Been and the Hot Mess - Isabel Jordan Page 0,5
know anything about that.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re such an uncivilized straight guy. I’m going to turn you in to Queer Eye for a makeover.”
Jackson gave him the finger before slipping a hand around Kendall’s slender nape to lift her head and slide a pillow under it.
But just as he reached for the pillow, she grabbed the front of his T-shirt, using it to lever herself semi-upright.
Through the hair, he caught a glimpse of pale green eyes as they moved over his hair, then his face.
“Huh,” she said, her words slightly slurred. “Haven’t had this dream in a while.”
And with that, she dropped back to the mattress with a gentle, snuffling snore.
Ray snort-laughed. “She took one look at you and thought she was having a nightmare. Maybe it’s time to shave, Wolf Man.”
“You’re a real fucking funny guy, Ray,” Jackson said, rubbing his beard. “Real fucking funny.”
Chapter 4
Kendall woke up in a strange bed, head pounding, with the taste of four-day-old roadkill in her mouth. She sat up, groaning. Jesus, what the hell happened?
She tossed her hair back—where had all her hairpins gone, for crap’s sake?—and eased her feet down on a cool wood floor. Squinting, she glanced around, seeing nothing but a whole lot of natural light. Without her glasses, her eyesight was only marginally better than what would be categorized as legally blind.
When groping around on what seemed to be a nightstand failed to yield her much-needed glasses, she pushed herself out of bed and staggered toward what looked like might be a door.
“Ray,” she croaked. “Get your ass in here. You’re going to be tasting your own balls for a week. That’s how hard I’m going to knee you.”
“Well, I’m sure he’d come running if he was here, ma’am, but he headed out about ten minutes ago.”
Kendall lifted her head and squinted at the man-shaped blob standing in the open doorway. It was a big blob. Tall and broad. And he had an exceptionally nice voice—deep, a little raspy, and carrying a trace of a Southern accent.
She really hoped he wasn’t a serial killer waiting to turn her into a woman suit. “Are you Ray’s brother?”
“Yeah, I’m—”
She held up her hand. “No, please, don’t. I don’t want to meet you like this.”
“Kind of late for that, isn’t it?”
Kendall didn’t really appreciate the humor in his voice. It reminded her too much of Ray at the moment. “No, it’s not, because once I have my hair out of my face, my glasses on, and—God willing—a cup of really strong, black coffee in my hand, I’ll introduce myself properly. And then we’ll pretend this,” she gestured between them, “never happened.”
“Fair enough. Want your glasses now?”
Yes, but first… “How did I get here?”
“Ray carried you.”
Ugh. That couldn’t have been pretty. “Bridal carry?” she asked hopefully.
He sighed. “Fireman.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Of course, it was a fireman carry.” So much for dignity.
“I can run down and get your glasses. Or I can just help you downstairs? That’ll get you to the coffee faster.”
Now that was the best idea she’d heard in a while. “Help would be great, thanks.”
She held out her arm and he hooked his around it, tugging her gently to his side. And in that moment, maybe because she couldn’t see for shit, her other senses all came singing to life. Whoever this guy was, he smelled and felt fantastic. All soap and laundry detergent-scented male skin, maybe a little shaving cream, and hard, flannel-covered biceps. Her knees weakened a little in response.
“You okay?”
“Yep.” Just weak. Terribly weak. A few days out of a lousy relationship and she was practically drooling all over a stranger because he smelled good and felt like he’d spent a fair amount of time in the gym. Just further evidence of her lousy judgement where men were concerned. “Just ready to die of embarrassment.”
He snorted. “Why? Because you took a sedative that didn’t agree with you? That’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Step down carefully.”
His grip on her tightened as they started going down a flight of steps. “No, I’m embarrassed because a potential new client—my friend’s brother, no less—saw me unconscious, then had to help me down the steps like an old lady.”
“Well, if it makes you feel better, when it comes to being embarrassed by behavior, you’re an amateur. I was once arrested in Vegas for trying to buy drugs from an undercover narc.”
“That’s happened to half my clients.”
“I was without pants at the time. And my underwear was