Illegal Use of Hands Page 9

  He turned on the shower, stripped off his clothes and tossed them in the laundry basket, then stepped under the hot stream of water. Tilting his head back, he let the hot water pound against his body. Too bad it didn’t pound away the painful erection Miss Next Door had caused.

  Almost as a reflex, he closed the fingers of one big, soapy hand over his throbbing cock and began rubbing it. With his eyes closed, he conjured up a vision of his neighbor. He itched to touch those full breasts hinted at by the T-shirt or cup her nice round ass and squeeze. To taste her mouth with its plump lips and thrust his tongue inside. To feel how wet she was between her thighs, how hot she was. He visualized her naked, straddling him, his mouth closed over one ripe nipple.

  The release exploded before he even realized it, thick semen spilling over his fingers while he stroked and stroked and stroked. At last he leaned against the shower wall, gasping, out of breath. But stunned to realize he had hardly taken the edge off his need.

  Holy fucking shit. He was in deep, deep trouble.

  *****

  Kaitlyn pulled a bottle of water from the fridge, uncapped it, and leaned against the counter to take a long swallow. With the bottle half empty, she dribbled a little onto her palm and splashed it onto her heated cheeks. She wondered for a moment if she should pour the rest over her entire body, which seemed to be carrying the temperature of a well-stoked furnace.

  Holy mother!

  The last thing she ever expected to see when she took her trash out this morning was to see Mr. Sex on a Stick jogging down the sidewalk and pausing to catch his breath in front of her cottage. He certainly was a mouthwatering bit of masculinity. Broad shoulders framed a lean muscled body with narrow hips and long legs. Every muscle was toned and well-defined. Shaggy dark brown hair framed a face with a square jaw, high cheekbones, and dark-chocolate eyes that looked out at the world from beneath lush, thick lashes. And damn! Right at one corner of his mouth, a dimple that winked when he smiled. He was most definitely the quintessential model for hero of the year. Maybe of the century.

  For a brief moment, she’d thought he looked familiar but then she brushed that thought out of her mind. She’d remember if she’d ever met anyone like him. And, if he was some kind of celebrity, he wouldn’t be staying here. He’d be in a high rent district like Naples or one of the elite island conclaves.

  Oh, well. No business of hers. She just needed to tell her body that. She swore the air around them had crackled with sexual electricity but maybe that was her overactive imagination.

  Still, she wondered what the hell a sexy popsicle like him was doing in Ft. Myers Beach by himself? Didn’t men like him always have some female or other hooked up to them? Maybe he was planning on a variety and was between arm candy at the moment. Or he night actually have some naked female waiting for him inside his cottage.

  Geez, Kaitlyn. Wild imagination much?

  He hadn’t made any effort to introduce himself. Of course, neither had she, hiding out here in the place of sun and sand and Jimmy Buffet songs. The reason for it made her stomach suddenly tie itself in knots. Her future didn’t seem to be getting any brighter. She’d been here a week and spent the first few days walking the beach or sitting in the park, trying to sort out her future. The sick feeling about the whole episode was fading at last. Now, she wavered between being depressed and out and out mad.

  How dare those assholes fire her for having integrity? Because that was what happened, when you got right down to it. She wondered how Ed managed to deal with it, this whole new slimy direction of Today. During the three years she’d worked for him, he’d always impressed her as dedicated to producing a quality publication. How much money had Renzulli paid him to soften this lapse in morals?

  The first few days after she arrived at Ft. Myers Beach, she was still consumed with rage at what happened and the fear of what the future might hold for her. When her brain settled down enough that she could use it productively, she took time to polish up her resume. She also did research on publications that might be marginally interested in her. After that, the drudgework began—sending out query letters along with her resume. Only three days had passed since she emailed the first ones, but the results weren’t very encouraging. Two maybes with a note to contact them again in a few weeks. The others were a flat no.

  Today, she’d send out some more, but she had a feeling she’d get the same response. She certainly didn’t have time for a strange man in her life, when she had no idea what her life was going to be next. She’d be better off concentrating on where her next paycheck would be coming from. She was sitting at her laptop with a mug of coffee, contemplating the screen, when her cell rang. Liz’s smiling face came up

  “Hey, kiddo,” she answered it. “How’s it going?”

  “How’s it going with you?” Liz replied. “I called to see how you are doing?”

  Kaitlyn gave a little laugh. “About the same as yesterday and the day before and every other day you’ve called since I’ve been here. Same old same old.” She paused. “So what’s new with you? What’s the latest gossip?”

  Liz knew exactly what she meant. She had a friend who worked for a magazine that competed with Today so she’d been after her for information.

  “Well.” Big sigh. “Not what you want to hear.”

  Kaitlyn swallowed back the nausea surging in her throat. “Go ahead, let me have it.”

  “Oh, honey.” Liz sighed again. “That bastard has blackballed your name all over the industry. Everyone at the magazine here is talking about it. Oh, but of course they clam up when I walk into a room. Bitches.”

  Kaitlyn’s eyes widened. “Ed? Ed is smearing my name?”

  “No, no, no, no. What did you call him? Rat-zulli. He seems to be making it his business that you never get another job in the industry. At least any kind of job you might want. It seems he has an overflowing abundance of money, power, and influence.”

  “Shit.” Now she really did want to throw up. “Yeah, his empire is that big and powerful. Slimy, but powerful.”

  “Honey. I am so sorry.”

  “Not your fault.” Only what did she do now? A headache began to gather behind her eyes.

  “Listen. Why don’t you look around where you are? New York isn’t the only place on earth with quality publications. You’ve got Tampa north of you and Miami south of you. Check and see what kinds of things come out of those cities. I’m sure there have to be some really good opportunities there.”

  “Oh, yeah. Sure. Maybe.” And maybe she could shoot herself and put herself out of her misery.

  “Promise me you’ll at least check things out,” Liz prompted. “Pretty please with sprinkles on it.”

  Kaitlyn found herself laughing. “Did you really start saying that when you were a kid?”

  “Uh huh. And you know what they say about old habits, right? They die hard.”

  “Well, for the chocolate sprinkles, I’ll give it some thought.”

  “Good. I have to get back to work but I’ll pester you later.”

  “Pester is right,” Kaitlyn agreed. “But since you got me this great cottage for practically nothing, I guess I have to listen to you.”

  “See there? You’ve got it right. So get going, girl.”

  But Kaitlyn couldn’t seem to make her mind behave. Her brain barely registered that she was drinking coffee and it certainly paid no attention to the laptop open in front of her. All she could seem to think of was the very hot body of her neighbor.

  Who was he, anyway? The sense of familiarity she’d felt when she looked at him niggled at her mind.

  Quit daydreaming. You probably don’t even know him. Your brain is short-circuiting.

  But she couldn’t get him out of her mind. She wasn’t someone who behaved impulsively with men. She tried to be careful in her relationships, well aware of the disasters many of her friends had experienced. So what was it about this guy that made her itch to run her palms over those very well-defined muscles? To sift the
chocolate-brown strands of his hair through her fingers. To rub her cheeks against the scruff on his chin.

  I’ve been in social hibernation for too long.

  Yeah, that had to be it. Otherwise why would she be wondering what he looked like with his clothes off? Were all the muscles of his body so well-defined?

  Giving herself a mental slap, she made herself focus on the screen of her laptop. She couldn’t afford to sit around daydreaming about some sexy stranger. She had a nice cushion in the bank, so she wasn’t about to be destitute, but she needed to be careful. And it wasn’t only about the money. She had her reputation to rebuild or she’d be worse than yesterday’s news. The competition in her industry was so fierce it took very little for someone to fall off the radar.

  Remembering what Liz said, she did a search for publications similar to Today in Florida. She also decided with some reluctance to go to the JournalismJobs.com web site. Just to see what might be available, she told herself. She was surprised to see the number of ads seeking human interest or breaking news reporters. With a fresh cup of coffee in hand, she began to search through them one by one. Of course, none of them mentioned salary, but she had experience behind her so she knew what she was worth.

  But am I still worth it after Renzulli’s hatchet job?

  And would she even want to relocate to Florida?

  She wondered if that would be a viable alternative. Stay away from New York. Build a new career for herself in Florida and branch out from there. Realizing her options were limited, she decided to at least cast her net in the job pool and see what came back. She certainly couldn’t be any worse off than she was now. She took a fortifying sip of coffee, set her mug down, and began to read about the jobs one by one.

  Maybe fortune would smile on her for a change.

  If only every time she looked at her laptop screen she saw the text and not the face of her very hot neighbor.

  Chapter Three

  Ryan finished his morning run and dropped onto one of the benches in the little park bordering the beach at the end of his street. He rubbed his hand over his face, gathering the beads of sweat, and wiped them on his shorts.

  I have to start wearing a T-shirt or bringing a towel.

  He’d finally remembered to hook a water bottle in the loop on his shorts. Now, as he sat catching his breath, he opened it and drained half of it before stopping. Slowing his breathing, he looked around the little park. It was a beautiful area, with lots of trees and shrubbery, benches for sitting, and places to set up a grill. He was sure people came here on the weekends or even late in the day to picnic. Only by then he was shut up again in his cottage.

  He sighed.

  Four days.

  Ryan looked at his watch, the one with all the bells and whistles, to make sure he was right. Yup, four days since Walt dumped his disgraced self here in Margaritaville and he was already getting bored. He could only spend so much time jogging. He’d finished the one book he’d brought with him to read. He could only watch so much television and he didn’t have any real hobbies.

  Bummer!

  Maybe he could go exploring along Estero Boulevard. From what he’d seen when he arrived, it was what everyone expected a beach community’s main street to be—funky shops and bars and restaurants mixed in among the high rises and hotels. He was pretty sure no one would recognize him in board shorts, a T-shirt, and flip-flops. And he’d keep his sunglasses on.

  Yeah, that would be good. He’d check out the shops and hit the grocery store to replenish some of his supplies and pick up the things Walt hadn’t included on the list.

  He wondered what his neighbor was doing right now. He hadn’t run into her since that first day, even though he’d kept an eye out for her. And she was never out there when he came home from his morning run. He’d thought about knocking on her door and asking her if she wanted to join him, but he didn’t know if she was into running or if she got up that early. Again, he could hear Walt’s voice in his head, as if he were standing right there.

  “Stay away from goddamn women. Can you just do that or do I need to tie your cock in a knot?”

  Oh, yeah. His agent would not be pleased. But he couldn’t get her sweet ass, her very appealing freckles, and her nicely rounded breasts the T-shirt hinted at out of his head.

  Forget breasts. Forget ass. Forget everything. No women. No women!

  Fuck. Hadn’t he learned his lesson? For the most part, he thought he chose wisely where women were concerned. So he sampled a lot of them. So what? He was a red-blooded male. But a smart man would look at what happened with Marlo and become celibate for a good long time.

  Please tell that to my dick.

  Because he could not get this woman and the sexual pull he felt out of his mind.

  After draining the rest of the water, he headed back to his cottage, walking at a slow pace. Cooling down, he told himself. Nothing more. Not hoping to see anyone. Right. The street had no sidewalks so he strolled along the edge of the road, past the colorful cottages on stilts, all with carefully tended Florida shrubbery. It could be a scene from a picture postcard, he thought. Certainly a good place to air out his mind, hide from the world, and settle his nerves.

  As long as he kept his mind off a certain neighbor.

  Which was going to be very difficult because here she came, bringing out her trash again. Today, her T-shirt was knotted at her waist, accentuating her breasts. She had on another ;pair of those sexy cutoff shorts that showed off her toned, tanned legs as she jogged down the stairs to the trash cans. And there went his misbehaving dick with its automatic response. Shit. He could head back the other way and wait until she was back inside. Or walk past and pretend he didn’t see her. Or…

  Or what, dipshit?

  But at that moment she turned to start back up the stairs, she spotted him and gave him a tentative wave

  “Hey.” Her voice had such a nice musical sound to it.

  “Hey yourself.” He leaned against the outside railing, positioning his body so his hard-on wasn’t visible.

  “You must be big into physical fitness.” She waved at the beach. “I see you out there every morning.”

  She did? Was she watching for him? Crap, Calhoun. Get your shit together.

  “It keeps me in shape.” He smiled. “You wanna join me tomorrow morning?”

  She tilted her head. “Hmm. Maybe. But we probably should introduce ourselves first.” She held out a hand. “Kaitlyn.”

  Okay. No last name. Good.

  “Nice to meet you, Kaitlyn. I’m Ryan.”

  Her hand was soft but her handshake was firm.

  “I need to use that hand today.” She grinned.

  He was mortified to realize he was still holding onto it and let it go reluctantly.

  “So what brings you to Ft. Myers Beach?” she asked. “Surfing? Boating? Fishing?”

  He lifted his shoulders in what he hoped was a nonchalant shrug. “Just chilling out. Take some time off from my, uh, business.”

  He luscious mouth kicked up in a grin. “Is your business shady? Is that why you don’t want to say what it is?”

  “Nah.” Another shrug. “I get enough of it most of the time. While I’m here I want to forget it.”

  At least the part of that blowing up in his face.

  “Oh.” Now it was her turn to shrug. “Okay. I guess.”

  “Now it’s your turn. What are you doing here hanging out at the beach?”

  A shadow passed over her face, but so swiftly he almost didn’t catch it. “I’m taking some time off, too.”

  Okayyyy. So they each had something to hide.

  “Well. I guess I’ll get showered. So tomorrow morning?”

  She nodded. “What time?”

  “I head out about eight o’clock. Before the real heat of the day. That work for you?”

  She nodded. “I’ll be ready.”

  She smiled then hurried up the stairs to her front door. Ryan stood there staring at her mouthwatering ass
until she was inside. Then he climbed the stairs to his own cottage and headed for the shower. A cold shower.

  *****

  I’m crazy. That’s what it is. Certifiable.

  Kaitlyn had debated with herself all day after Ryan’s invitation to join him on his run. Who was this guy? She knew nothing about him. Not only that, he hadn’t had one visitor since he’d arrived. Of course, neither had she so what did that say about her? Still, she’d had second, third, and fourth thoughts about this.

  She’d almost gone next door to tell him she’d changed her mind, except she didn’t want to. And that was even crazier. She was out of work, with very slim job prospects. She’d sent her resume out to a few places she’d found on the website but either jobs got filled super fast or Renzulli the rat had a wider sphere of influence than she thought. Nobody was interested in her credentials, her resume, or even talking to her.

  What does an out of work reporter do when she can’t get a job, anyway?

  Go running with the very hot guy next door, apparently. A man she had to admit she lusted after. Damn! So now, the next morning, she took a quick look at herself in the mirror. Her running shorts weren’t too badly faded. She hadn’t come here expecting to socialize with anyone so she’d just thrown whatever in her suitcases. Today she made sure to put on a sports bra under her tank top. No way could she let the boobs flop as she was pounding along the beach. No lipstick, a swipe of protective gloss. Hair up in a ponytail.

  Water bottle.

  And she was ready.

  As she stepped out onto her porch Ryan came striding over from his place. She noticed that although he usually was bare-chested, today he wore a T-shirt. Damn! She sure liked the little glimpses she’d gotten of his six-pack abs and sculpted muscles. Oh, well, it would help to keep her from drooling.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d make it,” he said as he waited for her to descend to the sidewalk.