The Bigger They Are… (Lovers on the Fringe, Book Two) (4 page)

Well, Stan Lee wasn’t infallible. Damn near but not totally.

Marvel had had more than a few flops on their hands. The unfortunate
Incredible Hulk
debacle was one. On paper, having Ang Lee direct a superhero movie must’ve seemed inspired.

But some visions just didn’t mix. Some relationships just weren’t meant to be.

Daredevil and Karen Page. Nurse Chappel and Spock.

Fringe dwellers and Normals.

Yeah, but look at Tim and Carrie. They’re making their relationship work.

Not that Andy was thinking relationship. That was a huge leap from having a drink with Jenna.

Just because they shared a love of
Star Trek
and he wanted to get his hands on the sweet curves covered by those tight jeans and that geeky t-shirt—

Which he loved, by the way.

A woman unafraid to let her geek flag fly. Now that was a woman worth getting to know.

As she led the way through the charmingly decorated front sitting room to the even more charming den, where the bar was located, Jenna was pretty sure Andy was eyeing her ass.

Which made her self-conscious.

And made her want to let her hips sway just the slightest bit more.

She was a girl, after all, and Andy… Well, Andy made her feel as if she’d swallowed a gallon of Pop Rocks. All tingly and fizzy low in her belly.

He was one big, gorgeous hunk of man flesh. And damn, but he was tall. And perfectly proportioned, not lanky and lean like some guys his height. No, he had broad shoulders and thick biceps and strong thighs. Oh my.

And that hair… A perfectly natural mix of platinum and gold and wheat and honey. She could tell, now that she’d been close to him, that the color didn’t come out of a bottle. No one could get that shading that perfectly abstract so that it blended that well.

Jenna had always had perfectly tame dark-brown hair. She’d never really wanted to be a blonde, except for that unfortunate period in middle school. Teenagers could be so cruel. She’d had to live with the nickname Jenna-Ghoul for a year, even after she’d dyed it black for her morose punk phase.

Not that her friends ever teased her. Sure, it’d been tough being one of the only girls in the school who played
Warcraft
and
The Legend of Zelda
. Or even knew that they were computer games.

Most of her friends had been guys with the same love of comic books and role-playing games. Her few girlfriends had explained away her love of
Star Trek
and her crush on an obscure makeup artist named Tom Savini, who created the makeup for George Romero’s zombie movies, as a fluke.

Of course, they’d loved her for introducing them to
Harry Potter
nearly six months before anyone in her school had even heard of it. Her mom had bought a book called
Harry Potter and Philosopher’s Stone
for Jenna as a gift when she’d gone to a conference in England. She’d forced the book on a few friends, who’d declared her brilliant. For a month anyway. Then she went back to being just Jenna.

She wondered what Andy saw when he looked at her.

An average-looking woman of average height wearing a ridiculous shirt that she loved that her brother had bought for her in Japan on a trip to make contact with the ghosts of Hiroshima.

The bar suddenly loomed ahead of her and she stopped short and turned. Right into Andy’s chest. She brought her hands up to brace herself and they landed flat against Andy’s abs.

My god, the man was solid as a rock. Her fingers flexed convulsively but his muscles held steady.

And damn, but he smelled good. Like the forest on a crisp, cool fall day. She wanted to rub her face against his chest like a cat. Preferably without the t-shirt in her way. Only her cheek against his warm flesh—

Oh wow. She needed to stop before she had to change her panties. Which might already be too late.

She told herself to take a step back but her feet refused. Or the message got hijacked somewhere between her brain and her feet.

She thought she might have to fight with herself to get her hands to release his chest.

Of course, he wasn’t moving away. No, he’d gone statue-still before her. Was he waiting for her to do something?

What would he do if she took another step forward until their toes touched? Would he wrap his arms around her and pick her up until their lips were aligned and her feet couldn’t touch the floor?

Her head tilted back and she looked up, and up, into his eyes.

Standing this close, she had a better impression of his size and… Holy Klingon Warrior. Give the man a few ridges on his forehead and a club and he’d win awards at cons across the country.

Then again, give the man a mighty hammer and a cloak and he could pound her—

She blinked and sank her teeth into her bottom lip, hoping to stave off any inadvertent moans she might make, because she now had an image in her head of Andy wearing nothing but a red silk cloak and a grin.

She wasn’t thinking Superman. Not clean-cut, wholesome, corn-fed Clark Kent.

No, Andy was much more exotic. His broad features and darker-toned skin and that blond hair contradicted each other every which way but it all worked to make him freaking gorgeous.

For some reason, the
Thundercats
popped into her head. Not that Andy had fur or looked like a cat. No, he was all man.

The exoticness of him reminded her of the crush she’d had on Lion-O, the leader of the
Thundercats
.

Ho! Indeed.

Okay, maybe she and her brother weren’t as opposite as she liked to think.

Then again, Joss actually believed the
Thundercats
existed, although he called them werecats and said they lived a solitary life somewhere in India.

“Jenna?”

Wow, that voice. It sneaked beneath her skin and stroked between her legs. It held an accent she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She wanted to tell him to just keep saying her name over and over again until she figured it out. Or came just from the sound of it stroking against her skin.

“Yes?”

Andy wished like hell that she was using that word in response to him asking if she wanted to go to his cabin where he would kiss her entire body before settling between her legs and licking her to orgasm.

Right now, he felt every one of her fingers through the thin cotton of his t-shirt, felt those fingers clench into his muscles and watched her gaze drop to stare at her hands.

She blinked then swallowed then bit her bottom lip.

With them standing this close, their size difference hit him. She was at least a foot and a half shorter and the top of her head didn’t reach his chin.

He was used to being taller than everyone else. Even in his family, he had at least an inch on everyone.

When he went out, he’d gotten used to the wide eyes and the whispers behind his back. To the pointing.

Yeah, he was a freak of nature. He’d accepted it long ago, embraced it even. Had fun with it.

He’d met women over the years who’d looked at him as if he were an all-you-can-eat buffet and they’d been living on lettuce leaves and water for years. Usually they looked like that was all they’d been eating. Tall, skinny. No tits, no ass.

Not a Victoria’s Secret model among them. Usually, they thought he was some basketball player they’d never heard of.

And mostly, he let them think that because otherwise they’d want to know what he did for a living and telling them the truth was out of the question.

Besides, if he told them he was a CPA or some other boring office drone, invariably they’d lose interest. He had a funky sense of humor that not every woman got and the ones who did… Well, those were the smart ones. The ones who wanted to know what
exactly
he did for a living. What job allowed him to fly around the world seemingly on a whim? Why did he have blond hair when biology would dictate he should have dark?

And why the hell did he have such an obsession for all things odd?

He couldn’t tell them the truth. Those smart women would think he was lying and blow him off and the other ones, the not so smart ones… Well, he didn’t really want anything to do with them anyway.

Jenna…

The way she looked at him right now… He wanted her to continue to look at him like that. For as long as possible. Hopefully at least until he’d gotten her into bed and showed her just how good a freak could be between the sheets.

Eventually, he’d say something idiotic because, yeah, he was mostly a geek. On top of being a seven-foot Yeti.

But for now, he wanted her to continue to look at him just like this.

After a few more seconds, Jenna drew in a deep breath then slowly withdrew her hands. He fought against the urge to grab her and put them back on his body, preferably lower. And under his clothing.

But he figured he should get to know her better first, possibly even before he tried to get into her pants.

“So,” he said, happy his voice hadn’t cracked like a teenager’s, “how about that drink?”

Her hands dropped to her sides and she tilted her head back, as if he’d startled her. She blinked up at him, her head tilting to the side and her eyes staring so deeply into his, he felt his body straining toward her even as he tried to rein himself in.

Don’t do it, you idiot. Don’t lean down and kiss her. Don’t scare her away.

Finally, she nodded. “Oh, yeah. Sure. Just…um, let me…”

She turned and went behind the bar, bending over to open the fridge.

Damn, he really liked her ass in those jeans.

While she couldn’t see him, he reached down to adjust his erection, currently trying to bust through his zipper, before she could come back up and catch him.

“Do you want a beer? Or wine? Or there’s soda.”

“I’ll take a root beer. Matt makes his own. An old Amish recipe he picked up years ago. There should be a few brown, unlabeled bottles in there somewhere.”

A half second later, Jenna said, “Aha,” and straightened with two brown bottles in her hand and a smile on her lips.

This woman definitely needed to end up in his bed.

He followed her to the overstuffed couch on the other side of the room, where there were more shadows than light. He saw her glance at the table lamp then look away without turning it on.

He hoped that meant she wanted to sit in the dark with him. And all that implied.

Not that she didn’t want to be able to see his face.

Damn, man. When did you become such a girl?

Ignoring the inner dialogue that bounced back and forth between,
You’re an idiot
and,
Damn, what if she doesn’t really like me?
, he took the bottle she held out to him and popped the top. Then he handed that one back to her and opened the other.

His mother would be proud. He wasn’t a complete beast. At least, not all the time.

“So what are you doing here, Jenna?”

Her gaze dropped for a second before she smiled up at him. “Oh, just a weekend away. My brother thought I could use a vacation, so he booked me the room. I’ve never been to this part of the state and I’ve lived in Pennsylvania my whole life. This area is beautiful.”

Now why did he get the feeling she wasn’t telling him the entire truth? “Yep, the view’s definitely gorgeous.”

She blushed and dropped his gaze at his obvious flirting. Sue him. It was second nature and it was totally true. He could sit here all night and stare at her.

“Where are you from, Andy?”

“The accent gave me away, huh?”

Her gaze had strayed to his lips as he spoke and he had to restrain the urge to bend down and kiss her.

Not yet, idiot. You’ll scare her away.

“It’s really beautiful but I have no idea what it is.” She blinked and her gaze shot to his. As if she hadn’t been staring at all. “Where are you from originally?”

“Nepal. But we only lived there for a few years when I was a child. Then my family moved around Europe for a few more years.” Spreading the legend with them. Good times. “We have relations in the states and I ended up here for high school and college.”

Her gaze flew to his hair but he didn’t see outright skepticism in her eyes. “Do you get home much?”

“Not as much as I’d like.” And he realized that was true. “I miss the mountains. And the snow. But there’s also the forests and the temples. It’s a different way of life. My parents moved back years ago and I visit when I can.”

“Have you climbed Mt. Everest?”

“Yeah, I have.” In a way she could never imagine. “So you grew up in Pennsylvania.”

Her lips twisted in a rueful smile and her gaze dropped to her root beer for a few seconds. “Yep. Never traveled farther than New York and Florida, though I have been to Las Vegas.”

And there was that intriguing blush again.