Tame An Older Man

she meant for someone your age and, er, maturity level to set her sights on, well, someone like this Richie.'

'What's wrong with Richie?' she couldn't resist asking.

'He's too young for you!' Wyatt exploded. 'Does he have a job? Hell, he probably lives with his parents, or in a dorm!'

'He has an apartment, I think, and he's an engineering major, which means he'll have a high-paying job the moment he graduates. But what does that matter? I would never marry a guy just because he has a good job.'

'Then what do you see in him?'

Phoebe knew she should tell Wyatt the truth. Richie was a study buddy. Actually, she tutored him. Instead of paying her, he brought her lunch every day, giving her a few extra precious minutes to decompress from work. But again, it was easier if she let Wyatt assume what he wanted to.

'Richie is very sweet,' she said.

'I'm sure he is, but Lord, Phoebe, you can do better. Are you sleeping with him?'

'You know, Wyatt,' she said, finding this conversation less and less humorous, 'you're sounding an awful lot like you're jealous.'

The stunned look on his face was almost comical. 'No! I just don't want to see you ruin your life by jumping into marriage with… with…' He sagged a bit. 'Hell, yes, I'm jealous,' he muttered. 'If you want a husband so bad, why was I never even in the running?'

Phoebe's heart just about stopped beating. She'd only been trying to get a rise out of him. She hadn't imagined he really was jealous. His honesty, his willingness to make himself vulnerable, touched her as nothing else could. It was time to stop playing games.

'You were in the running,' she said. 'A top candidate for a while.'

He looked at her, surprised. 'And you ruled me out because…'

'Because Daisy said you weren't right for her.'

* * *

Wyatt just stared at her as the puzzle pieces clicked into place-in the right order, this time. She was helping Daisy find a husband. Duh. Hadn't she been trying to set him up with Daisy the night of Elise's engagement party?

Now, because he'd misunderstood, because he was so damn competitive, and because he'd had a bruised ego the size of Arizona, he'd all but asked Phoebe to marry him. Their hands almost touched where they rested near each other on the balcony railing, and she looked at him with those luminous blue eyes, as if she expected something.

What had he done? How was he going to escape the trap he'd set and thrown himself into?

But suddenly he didn't want to escape. He wanted to be enfolded in Phoebe's slender arms. He wanted to kiss her incredible mouth and drink in the taste of her, the scent of her that he could never quite get out of his mind. He wanted her long blond hair to spill over him the way it had the other night, like spun white-gold silk.

'So you're not marrying Richie?' he asked in a hoarse voice, just to be sure he really understood.

'I'm not marrying anybody, including you.' It sounded like a promise, a solemn vow, the way she said it. Her eyes held a certain sadness. But they also held invitation.

He could think of a million reasons why he shouldn't kiss her, and only one reason he should. He wanted her like he'd never wanted a woman in his life. All the reasons he should send her home melted away in the face of his growing passion. With great deliberation he reached for her. With a little gasp of surprise she took a step back-into one of the cactus plants. She yelped and sprang forward right into his arms.

Right where he wanted her.

'Are you okay?' he asked, holding her gently so she could get away if she wanted to.

Apparently she didn't, because she tolerated his light embrace.

'Darn cactus.'

'Good cactus,' he crooned, sifting a handful of her incredible hair through his fingers. Then he bent down to claim what was his. His for the moment, anyway.

She didn't resist. If he'd felt even a tiny hesitation he'd have stopped, refusing to be just another Taylor Shad in her life. But she moved eagerly into his embrace, winding her arms around his neck, burying her fingers in his hair. He could feel her warm breath on his cheek and taste the coffee she'd just drunk. It was enough to make him want to start drinking the stuff.

'Wyatt,' she whispered, breaking the kiss and breathing heavily.

He felt her soft breasts rising and falling against his chest. It would be so easy to slide one hand inside the loose overalls.

'Please…' she almost moaned.

He stopped his gentle assault on her neck, falling completely still. He must be crazy to come on so strong. He was acting like an animal.

'I'll stop,' he said, though it cost him. He focused his mind on brussels sprouts and visualized burying himself in ice cubes.

'No. I mean, don't stop.' She kissed him again, desperately, greedily.

He buried his face in her hair. 'I hope you're not relying on my self-control to stop this, because I just used up the last of it.'

'Make love to me, Wyatt.'

He was a little surprised by the directness of the request but not stupid enough to turn her down. 'You're sure? This has nothing to do with the fact that I sign your paycheck?'

'Are you trying to talk me out of it?'

Her eyes had gone all heavy-lidded and dreamy. She licked her lips, which just about did him in, then started to kiss him again.

'Not out here.' He took her hand-it felt small and sweet and helpless-and led her inside. The moment he closed the door and the curtain, she was kissing him again. He could hardly believe what a bundle of passion she'd become, once unleashed. Especially after a week's worth of her tightly reserved demeanor at work. But he wasn't going to question it.

'Are you protected?' he asked, amazed he had that much presence of mind.

She gave a little gasp. 'No. Please tell me you have something here.'

'Somewhere.' He hoped. He hadn't entertained any overnight guests since moving to Phoenix. 'We'll work it out.' Impatient now, he scooped her into his arms and kissed her while he walked her into the guest bedroom where he'd set up camp.

He didn't turn on any lights, feeling his way blindly through the room. When his shin hit the double bed, he stopped and put her down.

'This isn't your grandparents' room, is it?' she asked apprehensively.

He chuckled. 'No. I don't think I'd be able to make whoopee in Grammy and Grandpa's bed. Too weird. Don't go anywhere.'

He searched through his chest of drawers, going by feel. He'd seen some condoms around here somewhere. Sock drawer, maybe? Or in that drawer where he'd stashed all those suspenders and cuff links he never wore?

'Why don't you turn on a light?' Phoebe suggested, sounding anxious.

'Because I like the dark.' He tried to be mysterious. The truth was, he didn't want to chance destroying the mood. His body was primed to make love with Phoebe Lane, and if she came to her senses now, he would have to jump off his balcony and end it all.

Besides, he didn't want her to see what a mess his bedroom was. He wasn't the world's best housekeeper. If he'd had any idea what the evening might have led to, he'd have straightened up a little.

'Any luck?' she asked.

'Yes, I think-no, damn it, it's a sample packet of aspirin. Do you have any…?'

'No.' Pure despair. 'Maybe Elise has some. Oh, my God, what am I thinking? I can't ask Elise for that. We'll just have to go to the store. Or maybe…'