Part 4 (1/2)
Slowly reality sank in, and she remembered where she was. Why she was here.
Tucker wasn't all naked and wet and yummy because they'd spend a hot, pa.s.sionate night together. Nope. That so didn't happen. (At least not outside of her head).
Tucker was up and at 'em because- ”We tee off in an hour so you better get your b.u.t.t in gear.”
Wait. What?
”Tee off?” She sat up fully and accepted the cup of coffee, hoping the scowl she felt didn't show. If she had her choice, she'd bury herself beneath the covers and drift off into a world of Tucker Simon dreams.
She watched him warily. Guess that wasn't going to happen.
He leaned his hip against the table beside the bed, long wisps of gauzy material floating around him as a fresh breeze rolled in from outside. Any other guy would look like an idiot but he didn't. If anything, the soft white texture of the material that fell from the ceiling only helped to showcase just how hard and masculine Tucker was.
Dragging her eyes from his, she took a sip of coffee and nearly choked as she forced it down.
”You need to put some clothes on.”
s.h.i.+t. Did she really say that out loud? What the h.e.l.l is wrong with me?
”Sure thing, darlin'. Do I make you nervous?” His tone was light-teasing even-but Abby wasn't in the mood for it. About one second after she'd caught sight of his nearly naked a.s.s, she'd realized that this was a mistake. There was no way she should have come to Florida with Tucker, because she was going to make a fool out of herself.
She could feel it.
And that scared the c.r.a.p out of her.
”It's not you that makes me nervous,” she retorted, trying to get her s.h.i.+t together. ”It's that d.a.m.n towel. In case you're not aware, it's loose and I sure as h.e.l.l don't want to catch sight of your...”
His eyebrow shot up.
She swallowed hard. And then cleared her throat.
”Your...thingy.”
Oh. My. G.o.d.
If the floor opened up and she fell through all the way to h.e.l.l she wouldn't care. In fact, she wished it would open up and suck her into another realm, because she did not just say-- ”My thingy,” Tucker said, his grin huge, his eyes practically dancing.
Abby's scowl deepened as she slipped off the bed and moved past him, careful to make sure she wasn't anywhere near his- ”My thingy?” he repeated.
”Well, I don't know you well enough to call it Hank.”
He snorted.
Jesus! Where was all of this coming from? She'd known Tucker for nearly a year, and he'd never gotten under her skin like this.
He ran his hands through the wet hair that hung down into his eyes and when he pushed it back, his biceps tightened, his abs rippled-h.e.l.l everything rippled-and for one precarious second, the towel slipped so low that she held her breath.
But then he grabbed the edges, and she blew out a mess of hot air as he chuckled.
”Close call,” he said with a wink. ”Nearly had a peek at,” his voice lowered. ”I don't call him Hank. I call him-”
”I don't want to know.” She slammed the bathroom door shut behind her and leaned back against it, chest heaving, coffee slos.h.i.+ng up and over the mug in her hands.
Tucker Simon was insufferable. He was a smart-a.s.s, and trouble should be his middle name. For all she knew it was. Tucker Trouble Simon. TTS.
She bit her lip and groaned softly.
Oh G.o.d was he hot.
And gorgeous.
And totally lickable.
”An hour, Abby.” His voice was m.u.f.fled through the door.
She stuck out her tongue and then took a good, long swig of coffee before locking the door behind her and turning on the shower.
Tucker's toiletries were on the counter-a brown leather bag though his toothbrush was left beside it. Something about seeing his stuff next to hers made her insides go all funny again.
Give your head a shake, girl. It's not as if she'd never shared s.p.a.ce with a guy before. Once. In college. For about five minutes.
But the twenty year old Daniel, an aspiring Arts major, was nothing compared to a man like Tucker. Her current ex? He didn't even come close.
Abby slipped out of her pajamas and decided not to think about any of it. Twenty minutes later, she was blow-drying her hair, eyeing the door because she knew she had to go back out there, and worrying her bottom lip because of it.
Once she was done, she set the dryer onto the counter, careful not to touch any of Tucker's stuff, and put on some mascara and lip gloss. After studying herself for a moment, she grabbed some liner and applied it. Good. Now her eyes popped without being too overdone.
She unlocked the door and pushed it open an inch or so. Earlier, she'd rushed into the bathroom like an idiot and her bra and underwear were in the walk-in closet, along with a fluffy white robe the hotel provided and everything else she needed.
Widening the crack a bit more, she spoke hesitantly, ”Tucker?”
No answer.
”Tucker?” she repeated inching her way out, towel clutched to her chest.
But there was only silence, so Abby crept into the room and once she was past the bed, dashed into the walk-in closet. She slammed the door behind her, grabbed fresh underclothes and was about to reach for the robe when she paused.
Someone was outside.
”h.e.l.lo!”
The voice was female and Abby a.s.sumed it was the maid. She scooped the robe off its hanger and slipped into it.
”Coming.”
She stepped back into the room and froze when she caught sight of the brunette perched on the end of the bed. She'd never met the woman before-not personally-but she knew who she was. It was kind of hard not to; her face graced the gossip rags in the supermarket and was all over the internet and TV.