But then, he doubted that Ana Ramsey did anything conventional. She seemed determined to pick the garments that would flatter her tall frame the least. Baggy slacks, loose shirts, shapeless skirts. Her attitude annoyed him because she could be a presentable package if she’d only try fixing herself up a little. Why didn’t she do something with her hair? He wanted to brush it away from her face so he’d have an unrestricted view of her face for once.
“My tea needs sweetening,” Ruby muttered, and left her seat on the sofa to make a trip into the kitchen.
Trent didn’t move, but stared broodingly at Rana as he slouched in the chair opposite hers. His eyes were hooded by glowering brows, but he could tell she knew he was staring at her. Occasionally, she would glance at him. He was glad she was uncomfortable. Served her right. Hadn’t he been uncomfortable all afternoon because of her?
Ruby returned, bringing the unmistakable bouquet of Tennessee sour mash with her. The pendulum clock on the mantel ticked rhythmically. The canned laughter of a banal comedy intruded on the thick silence blanketing the three viewers.
Trent barely noticed any of it. He was trying to understand how he could have been so turned on by Ana. The women he knew fell into one of two groups-those he wanted to go to bed with and those he’d been to bed with, because all those in the former group eventually graduated to the latter.
His attentions weren’t often spurned. If anyone called it quits, it was he. Tall or short, blond or brunette, rich or poor, no woman was spared rejection when he tired of her. Often she was left mystified as to the reason for the sudden breakup.
Ana Ramsey was unlike any other woman he’d ever met. And for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why he was stewing over her. Her caress that afternoon had been accidental. He was certain of that. But it had happened. So, okay, she was embarrassed by it. Why be so defensive? Why not just go with the flow?
If any woman ever needed a good, rowdy tumbling, it was Ana Ramsey. And from the top of his head to the tip of his toes, his body was telling him he’d been far too long without a female beneath him. To his way of thinking, they were prime candidates for hours of uninterrupted bedroom frolic.
At least now he knew something about himself that he’d always suspected. He couldn’t be friends with a woman. To hell with being a chum. That stank. He’d tried it, and it hadn’t worked. Because all he could think about tonight while he sat staring at the aloof Miss Ramsey was what she would look like naked.
“Do you think she’s all right?”
“What?” At the unexpected sound of Ana’s voice, he roused himself. Had his sulkiness been rewarded? Finally she had deigned to look directly at him and speak, something she had avoided doing all evening.
“Do you think Ruby’s all right?” she repeated, indicating the older woman with a nod of her head.
Trent looked at his aunt. How long had her head been bent over her chest like that? And why hadn’t he noticed her loud snoring before now? Because his mind had been too preoccupied with Ana, that’s why.
He smiled. “I think she had one too many cups of tea.” Rana smiled back. It was a pretty smile, despite her overlapping front teeth. He barely even noticed that flaw now.
“Should we waken her?” she asked him.
“That might embarrass her.”
“You’re right.” She stood up and switched off the television. The absence of the blue-white light made the room much darker. Through the heavy shadows, Rana moved toward the sofa where Ruby sat sleeping. Trent got to his feet.
“Do you think you could carry her to her room?” She tilted her head back to look up at him.
“I think I can manage that.”
For a moment neither moved. They just stood there, staring at each other through the darkness. Ruby’s soft snores kept time with the clacking pendulum of the clock. The room closed in around them. It was difficult to breathe.
They were hot all over.
Rana was the first to move and break the spell. “Can you lift her up?”
“Sure.”
Trent was glad for a chance to expend energy. If he didn’t find an outlet for it soon, he’d explode. He bent down and slid one arm beneath his aunt’s knees, the other behind her back. Seemingly without any effort, he lifted her up. He grimaced.
Rana laid her hand on his upper arm. “Does that hurt your shoulder?”
“It’s all right.” He glanced down at her hand.
She removed it. “I didn’t think about your shoulder, or I never would have suggested that you carry her.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and turn down her bed?”
Hurriedly Rana did as he asked. Ruby’s apartment was located down the central hail, past the staircase, at the back of the house. It was cluttered with a lifetime of memorabilia. The bedroom had a small bath adjoining it. Her living quarters were actually smaller than those of her tenants. Rana peeled back the crocheted bedspread and the sheets. Trent laid his aunt gently on her bed. She hadn’t awakened.
“Thank you. I’ll undress her,” Rana offered.
He was surprised. He couldn’t imagine any of the women he knew doing such a thankless task. He felt immediately ashamed of himself. All afternoon and evening he’d been harboring a grudge against this woman, mentally accusing her of being everything from a dried-up old prude to a heartlessly fickle tease.
If he had reacted so violently to her accidental touch this afternoon, what must she have felt? Mortification, to say the least. Now, here she was, offering to undress a tipsy old lady out of sheer kindness.
A strong new emotion welled inside him. It was so powerful he couldn’t allow himself to speak. He merely nodded and left the room.
When Rana followed him several minutes later, she was surprised to find him waiting in the hall. “Everything okay?”
“Yes. She didn’t miss a snore.”
They walked through the house. He switched off lights as they went. His footsteps fell close behind hers on the stairs. When they reached the doors of their respective rooms, they faced each other awkwardly. A faint light was cast by one small bulb at the end of the hall.
He wanted to touch her. God, he wanted to. He wanted to lay his palm against her cheek just to see if it was as soft as it looked. He wanted to thread his fingers through the thick mane of hair hanging down her back, to sweep it away from her face so he wouldn’t feel as though he was looking at her through a screen. He wanted to take off her eyeglasses and look into her eyes, to see their color, to solve the mystery of them. He wanted to explore beneath her bulky clothing with his hands, to find the breasts that haunted his imagination. He wanted to run his tongue along those beguiling front teeth.
And his body was informing him that he wanted to be much more intimate with her than he was allowing himself to contemplate.
“Good night, Ana,” he said thickly.
“Good night, Trent.”
In her room, Rana walked immediately to her bed and lay down. Her whole body was trembling. She had wanted so badly for him to touch her. Touch me, she had all but cried out.
But Ana Ramsey wasn’t beautiful, and Trent Gamblin was accustomed to making love to beautiful women.
Making love? She scolded herself. She was the one who had wanted friendship. Now that she had that, did she want something more?
Honestly she had to admit that she didn’t know. When he was around Trent she felt either miserable or wonderful. Why? Her knees went weak at the sight of him. The sound of his voice elicited almost uncontainable excitement within her.
The worst of it was, she spent far too many hours each day thinking about him. That was dangerous and just plain stupid. One day soon he’d be leaving for his summer training camp. Then what? Then he’d get caught up again in his celebrity lifestyle. He would forget about her.