Mother, Please! - By Brenda Novak & Jill Shalvis & Alison Kent Page 0,22
but the memory of her mother laughing skeptically and saying, “I’ll believe that when I see it,” wouldn’t let her. She could be bold and daring….
She just wished bold and daring didn’t make her feel as if she was about to faint.
Maybe she needed to do this by degrees. That concept was used for conquering all kinds of difficult challenges, right? Today she’d go topless. Tomorrow she’d take it all off.
Maybe.
But a compromise wasn’t easy to arrange because she didn’t have anything of her own she could wear into the tub. Her sarong wouldn’t work, and her panties were the kind that screamed, I have no love life. She’d rather go naked than wear those panties in front of Gunner.
So she opted for his boxer briefs. Boxer briefs were sexy. Women were wearing them on billboards all across America, advertising perfume.
“April?” he called again.
“I’m coming,” she said as she pulled on the boxers. They rode low on her hips, falling well below her navel, but a glance in the mirror told April that was a good effect. She almost didn’t recognize the woman peering back at her—but that could’ve been because she didn’t have her glasses on.
“What did you say?”
Somewhat reassured to be wearing at least one article of clothing, she headed to the bathroom.
“Here goes,” she said, and stepped into the open.
Gunner looked up at her, and she felt her stomach plummet to her knees. Her first instinct was to cover up. But she refused to chicken out so completely. She was what she was, she told herself. It didn’t matter that he’d seen better. She was breaking out of her humdrum life, tossing away routine, overcoming her fears….
“Say something,” she said, her heart thumping wildly when his gaze dropped immediately to her breasts and his mouth fell open.
“You—” He cleared his throat. “You did it.”
A sense of empowerment brought a victorious smile. She’d never dreamed she’d see that stunned expression on any man’s face—least of all Gunner Stevens’s. “I told you I can overcome my inhibitions,” she said, and stepped into the hot water.
WITH AN EFFORT, Gunner closed his mouth and lowered his lids so that he was watching her from under his lashes. Just when he felt he was getting the best of his innocent little opponent, she unwittingly pulled out a trump card like this one and changed everything—like his image of the “perfect” female body. He’d thought bigger breasts were sexier. He’d always preferred his women with more curves. But now that he’d seen April, he knew he liked his women slender, with breasts the size of his cupped hand and toffee-colored nipples that puckered to perfection whenever he looked at them.
“You’re making some real strides,” he said to encourage her.
She took a seat directly across from him, slightly flushed from the heat and the daring of what she’d done. “I know. Isn’t it great? The people at my work wouldn’t even know me. Last night I played poker. Today I’m skinny-dipping.”
“You’re wearing my boxers,” he pointed out. “That’s hardly skinny-dipping.”
“I’m doing this by degrees,” she said confidently.
That sounded hopeful. “You planning to go another degree today?” he asked.
She bit her lip thoughtfully, then shook her head. “No.”
SHE HADN’T EVEN let him touch her. She got into his Jacuzzi. She got out. That was it.
And now, three hours later, Gunner was still thinking about those few moments and aching for more.
Claire was golfing with the party ahead of them. He returned her wave and placed his ball on the tee of the eighth hole, feeling decidedly morose. He’d never played such a poor game of golf. April was hell on his concentration. Every time he heard her laughing or talking, which she seemed to be doing quite freely with the other two members of their group—her father and Keith Bodine—he pictured her half-naked and out of reach, and hacked his ball into the rough or overshot the put.
This hole he managed a little better. His ball dropped just inside the green instead of landing in the surrounding desert.
Walt took his turn and managed to get fairly close to the flag. Then Keith made them both look bad by putting himself in position to birdie.
“My turn already?” April said when her father called her to the tee.
Gunner pulled the bill of his hat a little lower as he watched her step up in her sleeveless golf shirt and formfitting white shorts. His mood darkened further when she tossed a grin at Keith Bodine simply because the