normal clothes. Jeans, T-shirts, sweaters, pretty dresses. Even a long, beautifully beaded dress. She wondered where she’d worn it.
The aroma of fresh coffee, with its sweet siren call, drifted into the bedroom.
Tensley grabbed a pair of skinny jeans and pulled them on. Then she selected a sleeveless print top, in a flowy fabric that both hugged her body and shimmered away from it. A pair of long earrings and a swipe of pearly pink lip gloss and she was ready.
For what, she wasn’t sure exactly, but whatever it was, it would be on her terms.
“Do I look okay?” she asked Gemini, losing the battle to not let her anxiety show.
The cat stared at her for a second and then padded to the door.
“I’ll take that as a maybe,” Tensley said as she followed.
She walked through the apartment, in bare feet this time, until she reached the kitchen. The cat had better not be steering her wrong. Maybe she shouldn’t have rushed through her cleanup. Or maybe she should have found something else to wear. Something less clingy.
“One blueberry muffin, coming up — ” Max spun around, extending a plate. Then his mouth opened and his jaw dropped. So did the plate, crashing to the floor in a frenzy of china and crumbs.
Great. She’d either really screwed this up.
Or she hadn’t.
CHAPTER FIVE
Max’s best-laid plans shattered like the plate as it hit the floor.
This was going to be a whole hell of a lot harder than he’d thought.
He’d told himself he could deal with Stripper Tensley. And that he could shove aside the memories of Teenage Tensley.
But this woman, the one who stood before him now, was someone different. Someone who brought to life every “Playmate-meets-wholesome-beauty-queen-next-door” fantasy he’d ever had. She’d caught him so off guard, he’d lost control of the fingers that had earned him a coveted sharpshooter trophy five years running.
“Sorry,” he said to the plate, because he couldn’t let the woman see the confusion raging through his brain. The last thing he needed was for her to see she could mess with him even more than she had years ago.
The cat sauntered over to lick up the crumbs.
“Max, are you okay?”
The concern in her voice pissed him off. “I’m fine,” he shot back at her. “Where’s your broom?”
When she didn’t answer, he started moving through the kitchen until he found a broom and dustpan stashed in a corner. Never let it be said he didn’t clean up his messes. Except — shit . When it came to Tensley. Must be some kind of karmic payback that she had to be working at one of the clubs he’d been assigned to investigate.
He swept the broken plate and muffin into the dustpan with a vengeance, the pieces of china clanking together. The cat leaped onto a chair outside the danger zone.
“Hey!” Tensley was in front of him, her hand on his wrist. “Stop. Put it down.”
Even the way she moved through a room had changed. In high school hallways, she’d done her best to blend in with the background. Now she’d covered the distance between them in a few long strides that said she was here to be seen.
He put the dustpan down. Slowly. Get a grip, Hunter. You can do this.
She released her hold on him, but didn’t move away. The damn cat jumped off the chair to pad between the two of them, choosing Max’s calf to rub up against.
“She … or I mean, he … ” Tensley cleared her throat. “This cat likes to be in the middle of things.”
So she felt it, too. This electricity between them. It wasn’t just him. She was so close. The scent of just-washed cotton and flowers drifted to his nostrils and wrapped itself around him. He felt the warmth radiating from her body; watched the faintest jump of her pulse. The breasts he’d ached to touch in the strip club were only a couple of inches from his chest.
Centerfold Slash Miss Apple Pie, meet your willing victim.
Before he knew it, his hands were on her waist, his fingers sending jubilant distress
The aroma of fresh coffee, with its sweet siren call, drifted into the bedroom.
Tensley grabbed a pair of skinny jeans and pulled them on. Then she selected a sleeveless print top, in a flowy fabric that both hugged her body and shimmered away from it. A pair of long earrings and a swipe of pearly pink lip gloss and she was ready.
For what, she wasn’t sure exactly, but whatever it was, it would be on her terms.
“Do I look okay?” she asked Gemini, losing the battle to not let her anxiety show.
The cat stared at her for a second and then padded to the door.
“I’ll take that as a maybe,” Tensley said as she followed.
She walked through the apartment, in bare feet this time, until she reached the kitchen. The cat had better not be steering her wrong. Maybe she shouldn’t have rushed through her cleanup. Or maybe she should have found something else to wear. Something less clingy.
“One blueberry muffin, coming up — ” Max spun around, extending a plate. Then his mouth opened and his jaw dropped. So did the plate, crashing to the floor in a frenzy of china and crumbs.
Great. She’d either really screwed this up.
Or she hadn’t.
CHAPTER FIVE
Max’s best-laid plans shattered like the plate as it hit the floor.
This was going to be a whole hell of a lot harder than he’d thought.
He’d told himself he could deal with Stripper Tensley. And that he could shove aside the memories of Teenage Tensley.
But this woman, the one who stood before him now, was someone different. Someone who brought to life every “Playmate-meets-wholesome-beauty-queen-next-door” fantasy he’d ever had. She’d caught him so off guard, he’d lost control of the fingers that had earned him a coveted sharpshooter trophy five years running.
“Sorry,” he said to the plate, because he couldn’t let the woman see the confusion raging through his brain. The last thing he needed was for her to see she could mess with him even more than she had years ago.
The cat sauntered over to lick up the crumbs.
“Max, are you okay?”
The concern in her voice pissed him off. “I’m fine,” he shot back at her. “Where’s your broom?”
When she didn’t answer, he started moving through the kitchen until he found a broom and dustpan stashed in a corner. Never let it be said he didn’t clean up his messes. Except — shit . When it came to Tensley. Must be some kind of karmic payback that she had to be working at one of the clubs he’d been assigned to investigate.
He swept the broken plate and muffin into the dustpan with a vengeance, the pieces of china clanking together. The cat leaped onto a chair outside the danger zone.
“Hey!” Tensley was in front of him, her hand on his wrist. “Stop. Put it down.”
Even the way she moved through a room had changed. In high school hallways, she’d done her best to blend in with the background. Now she’d covered the distance between them in a few long strides that said she was here to be seen.
He put the dustpan down. Slowly. Get a grip, Hunter. You can do this.
She released her hold on him, but didn’t move away. The damn cat jumped off the chair to pad between the two of them, choosing Max’s calf to rub up against.
“She … or I mean, he … ” Tensley cleared her throat. “This cat likes to be in the middle of things.”
So she felt it, too. This electricity between them. It wasn’t just him. She was so close. The scent of just-washed cotton and flowers drifted to his nostrils and wrapped itself around him. He felt the warmth radiating from her body; watched the faintest jump of her pulse. The breasts he’d ached to touch in the strip club were only a couple of inches from his chest.
Centerfold Slash Miss Apple Pie, meet your willing victim.
Before he knew it, his hands were on her waist, his fingers sending jubilant distress
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