Page 8 of Mr. Dangerous

4

Rob

The next morning,I woke up in the same bedroom where I’d slept as a teenager, with the exact same damn problem I’d had all the time as a teenager: I dreamed of Naomi, and I wokeuphard.

I checked the clock to make sure she wouldn’t possibly walk in on me, pushing a vacuum cleaner, and then fell back down in the white sheets, trying to remember all the wispy, beautiful details. My palms caressing Naomi’s breasts, the warmth of her skin against my rough touch, the pertness of her nipples between myfingers…

Naomi and I had never done anything more than kiss when we were teenagers. Barely that. I knew quite a bit more about how to please a woman now than I had then. I wanted toshowher.

For now, I had to settle for relieving my stress one way and then another, heading out for a long run that followed the twists and turns of the shoreline. Whenever the road split, I chose the fork that led back towards the ocean. I ran under the new green vibrancy of summer trees; the air here smelled fresher, cleaner than anywhere else in the world. And I’d seen a lot of theworld.

But I’d been reluctant to come back to Rhode Island. After we moved away, my father Mitch moved permanently into Boston. The big gabled house on the waterfront had been abandoned. It was supposed to have a second life as the family vacation home, but my brothers didn’t seem to feel any more nostalgic than I did. Mitch never leftBoston.

Mitch. Mitch would expect avisit.

If I went to Boston, the only person I really wanted to see was Joe, Mitch’s old bodyguard and the hero of my childhood. But at least Boston was an excuse to steal a night away withNaomi.

My feet slapped the pavement in quick rhythm as I turned back down the long country road that led to the family home. The sprawling house that I glimpsed between the trees stood between the country and a rocky white beach; the long green lawns around it were brightened by half-wild pink roses. There was an enormous tiered deck for entertaining, complete with a hot tub and pool, and a sand volleyball court and smooth tennis court where I’d misspent much of my youth. Suddenly I missed rolling a tennis ball between my fingers, bouncing it against the springy, rough court, the jolt of the racket meeting ball. I hadn’t played inyears.

Too bad I couldn’t serve with a broken wrist. Too bad I had no one toplaywith.

I stopped at the circle in front of the house. As I stood gripping the sneaker of one foot in one hand, feeling a warm stretch through my hamstrings, I saw an old blue Jeep park in front of one of the empty garagestalls.

Naomi swung down out of the car–god, she was tiny–with her long hair swinging around her shoulders. The early morning sun caught her subtle auburn highlights. She waved at me as she crossed the driveway, calling out a cheerfulhello.

I decided not to point out that she was so petite that getting out of the car was an event. “Hey. I’m glad you’re here. I’mstarving.”

She quirked her eyebrow at me as we met on the porch. “I’ll bet you could pour cereal withonehand.”

I unlocked the front door of the house and swung it open for her, keying in the code to the alarm panel. She passed by me, close enough for me to catch the citrus-and-sugar scent of her freshly showered body. Her sneakers squeaked on the inlaid wooden floor as she crossed theentryway.

She glanced at the twin wrought-iron-and-wood staircases that twisted up towards the second floor. “Which room areyouin?”

“Mine,” I said. The question made me wonder if she wanted to join me one night; I wouldn’t mind her slipping beneath my covers. I would love to see her smirk part into one of those rare, true smiles, right before I kissed her. “Same one I had asakid.”

Her lips turned up slightly. “I wondered which one would need newsheets.”

“I don’t need new sheets every day,” I said. “But youarewelcome to make mebreakfast.”

“You’re such agentleman.”

In the kitchen, she chopped mushrooms, spinach and ham for an omelet. I found a glass container of fresh cherries in the fridge and set them on the island before sliding onto a stool towatchher.

"I hadn't realized I'd be bored here." I offered her a cherry. She shook her head, her braid swinging over her shoulder. "I convinced one of my brothers to fly in for a weekend, at least. You remember anyofthem?"

"Are you asking me if you're the only one who made an impression?" she asked, brushing chopped spinach off the blade of herknife.

Naomi made my heart beat too fast, and apparently, I just made Naomi feel snarky. But I had a funny feeling that she wouldn’t be so prickly if she didn’t wantmetoo.

"I remember them a little bit. Josh was right behind us in school. Liam. And then the little one?" Naomi expertly crackedtheeggs.

I pulled the trash can out beneath the island, and one by one she tossed the shells into the trash. "Nicky. He's the biggest of usallnow."

"Your brothers are even bigger than you?" She glanced up at me, her hazel eyes alight under those long dark lashes. For a long second, our eyes met, and then she dropped her gaze back to theglassbowl.

"Yeah.” And didn’t they just love that? “We Delaneys have to be big. We can't all be as fearsome as you, all that roar in a tinypackage."

Naomi smiled at that, stepped to the stove and poured olive oil in a cast iron skillet, clicking on the gas burner. "Fearsome. Sure. How are you bored after one night,anyway?"

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