Rick looked up from the TV as the Cowboys finally converted a drive and pulled ahead for the last time. "All right."
Jennifer's father, Tom, drained the last of his third beer and belched. "Cool." The two men slapped high-fives.
"Tom." Sally, Jennifer's mother, seemed to have rules about public belching. Rick figured he could remember that. Not too difficult, so far.
"You two staying for dinner?" Sally asked. "We've hardly had time to visit."
"What are you talking about?" Tom demanded. "They've been here for hours. We saw the entire second half."
"Honey." The warning was clear in Sally's voice.
"Not that I mind if my daughter and her, uh, friend want to stay for dinner," Tom recovered. "I mean, we don't get to see you much, Jenny."
"I've kept Rick away from his shop for a long time already," Jennifer murmured.
Rick looked at her sharply. She'd promised him a home-cooked meal. Did she mean to back off?
Reading minds was low on Rick's talent list. On the other hand, Jennifer had promised a home-cooked meal. Given his own distinctly limited culinary skills, one of Sally's dinners sounded painfully close to heaven. "I'm not in a hurry."
Jennifer threw a look of pure gratitude his direction. Following his stomach had paid off, for once. He didn't suppose he could count on it in the future of their relationship. There was that word again. They didn't have a relationship. Jennifer was just his houseguest.
"Jen, can you help me in the kitchen? Sally scooped up Tom's empties.
"I thought--"
"Please." Her mother interrupted before Jennifer could finish her objection.
"Call if you need anything," Jennifer said as she followed her mother from the living room.
Tom fumbled for the remote control, switched off the television, then leaned forward in his recliner and faced Rick. "I'm warning you, Mister, you'd better be careful where my daughter is concerned."
Irrationally, Rick felt relief. This was the Tom he knew.
"Look, Tom, I don't know what you think, but--" a knock on the door, accompanied by a female giggle, cut off his explanation.
"Sounds like somebody wants to put me to work." Tom sucked in his gut and pulled back his shoulders as he opened the door to his apartment. "Yes, Tiffany?"
Tiffany turned out to be a miracle of make-up, bleached blonde hair, spandex, and a body that put the spandex to shame. "There's something wrong with our shower, Mr. Hollman." She spoke with a throaty drawl.
"What sort of something?" Tom asked.
"You know." Tiffany shrugged her shoulders, wiggled her impressive chest, and gave another giggle that would have eliminated any interest Rick felt, if he had felt any. To his surprise, his body hadn't responded at all to the shapely female.
"It sort of sprays all over," Tiffany explained. "Look, it got me in the, ah, hips. I was just walking by."
She turned around and bent over to show a pert and water-sprayed rear. "It's so embarrassing."
"Uh, yes," Tom said. "Come on, Rick. Let's see if we can fix the problem."
The problem became instantly clear the minute Rick walked into the steaming shower room. One of the shower nozzles had been halfway yanked off the wall. Steaming water streamed everywhere.
"Can you fix it, Mr. Hollman. Or Mr. Rick." Tiffany batted her eyes at Rick.
He fought back the gag reflex. Tiffany might only be six or seven years younger than he was, but she was a typical air-headed rich-girl with nowhere near his experience in the world. Still, it wasn't her fault she was a complete ditz.
"We can fix it," he assured her. "But if you keep yanking on it, it'll break again."
Tiffany blinked at him. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."
Another blonde wandered into the shower room, this one with a towel slung over her shoulder and dressed only in a matching black lace bra and panty set.
"I'm taking care of things, Amber," Tiffany insisted.
"Oh. I didn't know there was a man in here." Amber made a protective gesture with her hands toward her chest and halfway turned away to show that she was wearing a thong. "Are you the man who fixed Mr. Hollman's old crate?"
Rick tightened the cut-off valve and stopped the flow of water. "Yeah. So?"
"I was wondering if you'd mind taking a look at my Jaguar."
Tom shrugged his shoulders. "I think they got you in their sights, Rick."
Rick glanced at his watch. "I'll see if I have time to look at your car after I finish this. You have plenty of time to, um, get dressed."
Tiffany managed to get herself soaking wet while Rick worked the shutoff valve. Her lycra outfit shimmered to near transparency. "Why don't you just take your Jaguar and drive it up you-know-what, Amber? If he's going to look at anything, I'd like him to look at mine." She paused to wink at Rick. "My beemer, that is, of course."
"We'll see what we can do," Tom told them. "Here's my pipe wrench," he added to Rick.
***
"Looks like that's about it," Jennifer's mother told her. "Tell the men to wash up for dinner? The roast will be done in five minutes."
Jennifer pulled the pie her mother had insisted that she bake out of the oven. "Right."
She had to find the men to tell them though. The television was stone-cold and neither her father nor Rick were anywhere to be seen.
She opened the door to her parents' apartment and looked out. Where could they have gone?
The distant sound of a male voice sent the increasingly familiar, if incomprehensible, quiver through her body. It was followed, instantly, by female laughter. That definitely didn't have a similar sensual effect. Quite the contrary.
Jennifer followed the voices out to the parking lot.
Rick had stripped down to his jeans and leaned over the open hood of a convertible BMW while two blondes practically draped their bodies over his.
"Give it a little gas, Tom," Rick called. The blondes giggled like he'd said something clever.
Jennifer hadn't even seen her father seated behind the steering wheel. He revved the engine. "Think you got it," her dad called.
Maybe Rick felt the burning daggers of her gaze at the back of his head. He turned slowly, then slammed the hood. "Hi, Jennifer. Do you know Amber and Tiffany?"
"No." It shouldn't have been possible to hiss the word no but she heard something suspiciously sibilant as she grated it out.
"Oh." He looked around for his shirt. It figured. He would take it off for beautiful college girls, then put it back on when Jennifer wanted to look.
No, she assured herself. I don't want to look. She didn't want to have anything to do with Rick. She supposed she should be grateful that she had a chance to see this side of him. She'd left him in an innocent conversation with her father, and the moment she turned her back, he flirted with anything in a skirt. Or out of a skirt, she mentally added.
One of the blondes, Jennifer didn't know whether it was Tiffany or Amber, and didn't much care, jiggled herself over to where Rick had left his shirt on the back of his truck, accidentally rubbed it against her cleavage, then handed it to him.
Rick pulled it on without seeming to notice the sexual invitation in the blonde's action. Or maybe he did notice and was just so used to women throwing themselves at him that he didn't bother reacting.
"We were going to have strawberries and champagne a little later," the other blonde told Rick. "Maybe you'd like to come."
He gave her a friendly smile. "Sorry. I've got plans."
He said no, but Jennifer didn't miss that smile, dripping with promise. And she'd heard the word sorry loud and clear.
Reality hit her like the frozen fish had hit Rick. Fixing Rick up with the right kind of woman would be a perfect step seven. Marrying the bank chairman's daughter would let Rick move up to vice president at a record pace.
She couldn't make herself buy the argument no matter how rational it was. She might know that she could never have Rick. That didn't mean she was willing to just let some rich snit walk up and take him over.
That could be step eleven, she promised herself. Rick wasn't ready yet.
It galled her that he could be sorry to miss champagne and strawberries with nubile blonde babes. After all, why wouldn't he prefer a couple of hours with her parents, letting her father tell him how worthless he was?
All right, so she was irrational.
"Dinner's ready," she announced. "You'd better wash up."
"Come by any time," the first blonde told Rick.
"Any time at all," the second added. She gave Jennifer a nasty frown, then dismissed her from any consideration. "I still owe you that ride, Rick." Innuendo dripped from her voice.
Jennifer spun on her heels and stomped back to her parents' apartment. If she stayed any longer, she would start emulating her kittens and try to tear one or both of the blondes to shreds.
"Are they coming?" her mother asked as Jennifer stomped into the apartment and slammed the door behind her.
"Not if I can help it."
"Pardon?"
Jennifer slapped her hand to her mouth. She hadn't meant to say that out loud. "I told them dinner was ready."
"Is something wrong, honey?"
Jennifer reached for a tissue and blew her nose. "He was out there with two blondes all over him."
"Let me guess. Tiffany and Amber?"
She nodded and dabbed at her eyes. Damned allergies.
"If you want him, fight for him." Her mother plunked down a big bowl of mashed potatoes. "You aren't the only woman smart enough to recognize a good thing when she sees one."
"Mother. I'm not interested in Rick that way. I'm just trying to help him--"
"Too bad you're not interested. He looks pretty interested in you."
"That's why he was down there pawing the T and A girls."
Her mother giggled. "T and A girls. Tiffany and Amber--that's a good one." She paused briefly. "Was he really pawing them?"
Jennifer forced down her anger for a moment. "They were pawing him, not the other way around. Still, he didn't have to go down and work on their cars, did he?"
"He didn't have to help you out, either, honey. You've got yourself a man who doesn't mind pitching in."
"Yeah, but--"
"Mmm, that smells fine." Her father's voice boomed into the conversation. "A woman who can cook, that's the ultimate fantasy."
Her mother smiled. "Flattery won't get you seconds. The doctor said to watch what you eat. Besides, Jennifer made the pie. You'll have to butter her up for dessert."
"Oh, heck. You can't blame a man for trying."
Rick gave Jennifer a quirked half-smile. "Feeling better?"
"I'm fine."
"Funny, you looked a little peeved earlier."
"Yeah. Well you looked--"
"Would you carve, Rick?" her mother interrupted.
***
"Do you want a beer?" Rick reached into his refrigerator and pulled out a brew. He figured he deserved it after spending three hours letting Jennifer send chill vibes his way.
He hadn't even been able to enjoy the home-cooked meal her mother had made. And that was a shame. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a roast.
"Do you have wine?"
He frowned. "Make a shopping list and I'll pick things up."
"It doesn't matter. I'm going to bed."
"At eight o'clock? Why don't you just tell me what put your shorts in a knot?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Rick put the beer back in the 'fridge and closed the distance between them. "I think you do. Did something happen while you were cooking dinner? I thought you wanted to stay."
"I did want to stay. I hardly ever get to see my parents anymore."
Jennifer turned away from him but Rick thought he caught a glitter in her eyes. Could she be crying?
He reached for her chin and gently tugged until she turned around and looked at him.
He'd been mistaken. She looked mad.
He knew he was taking his life into his hands, but it was worth it. He brushed his thumbs against her cheeks. Lord, this woman was beautiful.
"I'm sorry," Jennifer grated out. "I know I'm in the way. But I just--"
"What are you talking about?"
"You wanted to go with those two girls, didn't you? I mean, how could you not? They were so young and pretty and, well, bubbly and rich. Besides, I've always heard that every man in the world secretly wants to do two girls at--"
He put his hand over her mouth. Could she really be jealous? "Are you talking about Tiffany and Amber?"
"I don't know. Were there any other blondes in the sorority who were throwing themselves at you?"
"Hum. Well, Jackie seemed interested. Monique was a brunette, but she certainly--"
Jennifer tried to bite his hand.
"I was kidding," he said. "Tiffany and Amber are just kids. They wanted some help with their cars." And maybe, he admitted to himself, they got a little bit of a thrill flirting with someone a little dangerous, like him--someone they could fantasize about taking home to their daddies to give him a heart attack.
"Trust me, those so-called kids are all grown up."
"I wasn't talking about physically." Rick brushed his thumb across her lips. "I'm just not interested in a woman who hasn't lived enough to be able to carry on a conversation. I'm a lot more interested in a woman who's had to face the world on her own. Not to mention someone who's actually concerned about things other than just herself."
Jennifer jerked her face away from his touch. "You don't have to humor me. I mean, I guess I could stay in my room if you wanted to bring up Tiffany or Amber, or someone else, for that matter."
"Trust me, I'm not humoring you."
She looked torn between ripping his head off and believing him. To his surprise, she pressed her face into his chest. "You took off your shirt, showing off for them."
"Uh, sweetheart, it was over a hundred degrees out. I wasn't showing off, I was trying to keep from being a stinky mess when we went back for dinner."
She shook her head against his chest. "You never take off your shirt for me."
That didn't make a lot of sense, but then again this whole conversation wasn't making much sense. Not unless he was ready to assume that Jennifer's hormones were as crazy as his own. "You want me to take off my shirt?"
Jennifer nodded slowly, her face moving against his chest. "Uh huh."
Rick's heart accelerated to double-time. "That could be arranged." He reached for the top button but his hand collided with hers.
"I'll do it. I've been thinking about this since I saw you in Schilling's."
"You saw me with no shirt on when I was sparring."
"That wasn't for me, that was for Sensei or whatever his name was."
"And you saw me when you cut my hair and--"
"Shut up." Jennifer yanked down the shirt.
Eric had never seemed particularly interested in whether Rick wore a shirt or not. Jennifer did, though.
The air conditioning felt good against the muscles of his suddenly bare back. Jennifer nuzzled against him, then caught the tip of his nipple between her teeth creating a sudden increase in his internal temperature.
"This isn't very fair," he observed.
"What?"
He reached for the buttons of her blouse. "I've been dying to see you naked."
"Oh." She halfway pulled away. "I'm not as big as those blondes. I don't want you to be disappointed. I--"
"I'm a lot more interested in quality than quantity, honey."
"That's tacky and low-class."
"Tacky and low-class is the story of my life. So if you want me to shut up, you'd better stop talking and kiss me."
Rather than let her come up with a snappy answer, Rick bent and captured Jennifer's mouth with his own.
Her lips molded to his but, for an instant, he thought she would close her mouth against him. Could he have completely misread the situation?
Then Jennifer wrapped one arm around his neck, pulling him closer to her. She opened her mouth and sent her tongue exploring, tasting him.
"Umm," he growled. Things were getting out of hand.
"Oh, yes." Jennifer's free hand pressed against the front buttons of his jeans. For better or worse, there was no more hiding exactly who excited him.
Jennifer might have forgotten about unfastening her own clothing, but Rick labored under no such handicap. He slid his fingers down the front of her blouse, unfastening each button with a gentle tug.
There was definitely nothing the matter with Jennifer's breasts. Quite the contrary. Although they might not have the miraculous shape that owed its perfection to the art of plastic surgery, they were larger than he'd imagined they would be. He popped the front clasp of her white bra and spilled her breasts into his waiting hands.
"Maybe we should move to your bedroom," Jennifer suggested. "Things are about to get complicated. I hope."
Rick felt confident that he was up to dealing with that type of complication. Still, the bedroom sounded like a wonderful idea. Before she could change her mind, he bent and swung her up in his arms.
"I'm too heavy," she protested.
"No," he corrected, "you're just right."
He pressed his lips to hers, then carried her into his room.
***
Jennifer hadn't been in Rick's room before and wasn't sure what she expected. Probably a pile of beer bottles, mounds of mildewing laundry, and cheap pinups thumbtacked to the wall. She was close with the pinups. More of those tacky framed tattoo.com posters. Otherwise the room was immaculate. Even the bed was made.
"What's the deal with tattoos?" she murmured.
"My road to wealth," he said.
Well, if he didn't want to tell her about it, that was his prerogative. Right now she had a lot more important things in mind. Like getting the rest of Rick's clothes off. After she got his clothes off, and after she'd followed the urge that hadn't left her since high school, maybe she'd take the time to look for tattoos.
Rick placed her on his bed, then slowly peeled off her shorts. "You have a beautiful body."
"Keep talking, big guy."
"I'm afraid my mouth is going to be too busy." He followed his words with action capturing one of her nipples with his lip and teasing it with his tongue. He seized the other breast with a hand. With his other hand, he stroked the thin silk of her panties.
"Lose your pants, Rick," Jennifer ordered.
"I'm busy."
She made herself unwrap her hands from behind his neck and reached for his belt. Too far.
She hated pulling away from Rick's ministrations, especially when he slid his hand under the elastic of her waistband and brushed against her soft curls, his hand heading slowly southward. Still, she intended to be a full participant in their lovemaking. That meant more than just lying back and letting Rick take care of everything. Maybe later, after say a few hours of passionate sex, she'd let him take over for a while.
She got an elbow between herself and the bed, then angled herself up.
Rick gazed at her with an expression so full of desire that she almost cried. How could she be so lucky to be wanted by that this man that any woman would lust after? She fought back the momentary realization that this pleasure would be fleeting. Rick wasn't the kind of man who would settle down and raise kittens and babies. Still, better to have loved and lost.
Love? Surely her response was a lot simpler than that. It had to be simply lust.
"Is something wrong?" Rick looked concerned.
"I told you, you're not naked."
He grinned. "Want to make something of it?"
"You bet, sugarplum." She snatched at his belt, puzzled out the clasp, then yanked it off.
"Sugarplum?"
"So sue me."
Rick shook his head. "Call me anything you want. But things aren't even any more. What about your panties?"
"Anyone ever tell you you talk too much?"
He looked startled. "Uh, usually they tell me I don't talk enough."
"Well take a hint." She yanked at his jeans and managed to pull down both the denims and his boxers.
"Oh." She'd never seen, never even imagined that a man could be so excited. "It's very pretty."
"Maybe handsome?" he offered. He halfway gasped the words because she grasped his shaft firmly with both hands.
"You sure you want to argue about this?"
He shook his head. "Pretty is good."
"Actually it's very good." Slowly, daringly, she brought her lips to it, kissing the end, then sliding its length into her mouth.
"Darling." He stroked her hair as she caressed him.
She pulled her mouth away and looked up at him. "Now I lose my panties."
"Good." He yanked them down with desperate energy. "You're so beautiful."
She reached her lips toward him again, but he pulled her back. "I want you now."
"But--"
"Now." He slid a finger into her wetness and smiled.
So she was ready too. It had been a long time since she'd been with a man like Rick. In fact, she'd never been with a man like Rick.
She was going to make love with Rick. The thought made her shiver. Unfortunately, Rick probably assumed that every woman has already taken care of complications. "I'm afraid--"
Rick reached into his nightstand for an unopened box of condoms, opened it and pulled one of the packets out. "Is this what you had in mind?"
She nodded numbly. If he hadn't been prepared, she probably would have let him have his way with her anyway. What was wrong with her? Of all people in the world, the President of the Dallas Cat Rescue League should know the dangers of unprotected sex and unwanted pregnancy.
Rick's dark eyes burned with a passion she hadn't known she was missing, hadn't dreamed she needed. "Now, Rick. Hurry."
He slid into her, then kissed her as she nearly cried out. At first he felt like he would split her in two. Within seconds, her body accommodated his size.
Instinctively he found that rhythm that matched her heartbeat and the pulse of her desire. Jennifer let her hands trail down his back, then to the hard muscles of his rear.
Rick covered her face with kisses, then shifted his attention back to her breasts.
"Oh, my." The pressure built up within her, brought her to the edge, then pushed her over.
"You can stop now," Jennifer told him.
"Not quite yet."
Jennifer had always believed that female multiple orgasm was one of those urban myths, sort of like the guy with the hook at Lover’s Lane. It was always a friend of a friend who experienced them.
When it happened, it caught her completely by surprise.
She let out a scream.
Rick groaned, then exploded inside of her.
"That was, um, nice," she murmured into his dark hair.
"Only nice? I guess I'll have to do better this time."
"You mean next ti… oh."