Read Online It Started with a House... by Helen R. Myers - Free Book Online Page B

her.
    For the entire drive home, she stressed. She’d let him take her as if she was the town tramp. How could sheever look him in the eyes again without turning as red as if she was sun-scorched?
    By the time she pulled into her driveway, her BlackBerry was going berserk. Her mother and Marshall were taking turns jamming up her connection. She was nowhere near ready to deal with either of them. She needed a shower. She was radiating Marshall’s scent and the insane thing was that it was arousing her again!
    Once parked in her garage, she collected her things and hurried inside. With the BlackBerry continuing to go strong, she felt hunted, so she turned it off.
    Before she could strip and step into the shower, her house phone began to ring. Of course, Marshall had this number, too. She always gave her best and favorite clients all three numbers. For the first time, she regretted that.
    No, you don’t, you’re just scared of yourself more than him.
    True. Stepping under the hot spray, she couldn’t touch her own body without trembling from the reminder of his touch, of how it felt to have him inside her. Turning the spray to its sharpest, she welcomed the liquid pummeling willing it to beat her numb.
    So wrong…so wrong.
    Her landline was ringing again when she turned off the water and wrapped herself in her white terry-cloth robe and her dripping hair in a towel. Knowing she would have him on her doorstep if she didn’t answer, Genevieve crossed the bedroom to reach for the phone beside the bed.
    She confirmed the number on the phone’s screen, and her first words were hardly an apology. “I needed to shower.”
    â€œI’d hoped that’s what you were doing, but considering the hour and you living alone—I was worried.”
    His tone was gruff as though he’d been verbally berating himself since she left, but his concern was sweet. Yet that just created all the more conflict for her. “That’s—Thank you.”
    â€œHow are you, Genevieve?”
    When he lowered his voice to that deep decibel, Genevieve remembered when he’d uttered, “Need me.” She had to bite back a moan because she felt it at her most sensitive parts. “Oh, that’s not a good question to ask at the moment. How long did Mother and Bart stay?”
    â€œAbout two minutes at the most. He pretty much tugged her out the door telling her that he would never let her drive home again. I like him.”
    â€œSo do I. But, Marshall, this won’t stop now. She senses something and she’s been ringing whatever number you’re not using since you started calling. I had to turn off my BlackBerry.”
    â€œI guessed as much when I would get a busy signal. About that wine stain—I hated that you felt the need to take blame for the carpet when you knew it was perfectly fine. And while staining your dress was brilliant—”
    â€œActually, I didn’t think about the carpet. I’m sorry. All I knew was walking out of your bedroom with your mouth imprint flagrantly on my chest would have been far worse.”
    â€œMy…?” Groaning, he said, “Genevieve…I didn’t think.”
    â€œNeither of us were doing much of that.”
    â€œI’m definitely replacing that lovely suit.”
    â€œThat’s the least of my worries.”
    A frown entered his voice. “Why are you worried? No, first go back to my first question—how are you? Did I hurt you?”
    â€œ No. Marshall, what I’m feeling isn’t about you.” Well, not entirely anyway.
    â€œThanks.”
    Genevieve winced at his dejection. “That’s not what I meant. You were wonderful.”
    He drew a long, relieved breath. “I so wanted to take you to my bed and show you that I’m not without finesse.”
    â€œI know what you are, what you’re capable of. If I didn’t, what happened couldn’t have happened in the