Call Me Wild by Robin Kaye Page A

having to listen to someone run off at the mouth. Yeah, Jessica was not your typical female.
    He checked his watch and was surprised to find they’d been soaking for about twenty minutes. “How’s the leg?”
    “Good. Do you want to feel it?”
    Did she just say what he thought she said? “Feel it?”
    “It wouldn’t be the first time. It isn’t as if you didn’t have your hands over every inch of my leg from ass to ankle less than an hour ago. What’s the big deal?”
    She stood, the water cascading off her body, dribbling between her breasts and over her rectus abdominis, sliding down her transverse abdominis and external obliques. Unfortunately, thinking in Latin just made his problem worse. Did she really expect him to answer when all he wanted to do was catch the droplets of water running down her torso with his tongue?
    She rested her foot between his legs. Thank God he’d turned up the jets. There was no way she could see how hard all the talk of feeling her up had made him. As if they had a mind of their own, Fisher’s hands wrapped around her slim ankle and slid to her calf, supple skin over tight, smooth muscle. No spasms there. His hands crept higher. There was no sign of swelling or bruising to indicate rupture, no apparent myofascial pain, or even tenderness. He ran his hand up the back of her right hamstring to compare the two and check for swelling. He found none. The only change he could detect was in her respiration. “Am I hurting you?”
    “Um… no. You’re fine. I mean… I’m fine. I mean… no, it doesn’t hurt.”
    He did his best not to smile, but damn if he didn’t feel a tic in his cheek.
    Jessica backed away so quickly she slipped on the edge of a built-in lounge and landed in the seat with a splash. Her face flamed.
    Something about her just tugged at him, making him leave his gentlemanly tendencies at the door. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s human physiology. It’s sexual chemistry—you’re just experiencing a normal reaction to physical stimuli. Don’t worry, it works both ways.”
    “B… both ways?”
    “I’m just as affected as you are.” He stood and almost laughed as her eyes just about bulged out of her head. There was no use trying to hide it, not that he could if he’d wanted to. “If you don’t want to miss your ten o’clock date,” he said as he handed her a towel, “you’d better dry off while we talk about what we’re going to do about it.”
    She stood and wrapped the towel around her like a shield. If he didn’t pay close attention to the straps running up behind her neck, he could almost pretend she was naked. He never thought he’d admit it even to himself, but maybe his brothers were right. It had been way too long since he’d dated a woman. And the thought of this woman going on a date—even just for a game of tennis—didn’t set well with him.
    Fisher was getting used to Jessica’s lack of conversation skills. Still, it didn’t keep him from wanting to give her a push. “So, what do you think we should do?”
    “Nothing.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m going home, and you’re going to do whatever it is that you do.”
    Fisher stepped closer, and her eyes widened. Still, she didn’t step back. He liked that about her. She was cautious, but not afraid. “Ignoring it isn’t going to make it disappear.”
    “No, it won’t make it disappear, but ignoring you might do the trick.” Jessica smiled, but not the kind of smile he’d hoped to see—he wished he could trade the determined grin for a compliant one. Somehow he figured the word “compliant” was never used to describe Jessica. Willful, headstrong, and truculent, certainly—compliant, never.
    She shook out her T-shirt and pulled it over her head before sliding the towel down and looking him in the eye. “It’s nothing personal, Fisher. You seem like a really nice guy, but I’m just not interested in dating, no matter how much