Jennifer Crusie Bundle

by Jennifer Crusie

  Her breathing slowed as she thought about it. “Yes. Yes. Actually, I feel better.”

  “Good.” His voice was preternaturally calm. “Now listen to me.” He stopped for a moment, and she heard him draw a breath. “This is not a problem. Where are you?”

  “I’m in my bedroom,” she squeaked.

  “First door at the top of the stairs, right?”

  She felt her breath go and fought to get the word out. “Right.”

  “Good. Stay there. Don’t move.”

  He hung up, and she heard the dial tone in her ear, and it gradually dawned on her that he was coming over.

  She had promised him more than she had ever even thought of with any other man, and he was coming over. She sank slowly onto the bed, terrified and exhilarated and more aroused than she’d ever been in her whole life.

  She was going to make love with Mitch.

  “Oh, my God,” she said and collapsed back onto the bed.

  Eight

  Mitch hung up the phone, smacked his head once into the wall to get some blood back to it and headed for the door.

  No, wait, he needed keys. Where were his car keys? Pants pocket. He reached for his pants on the floor and realized he was naked.

  Okay, clothes first. He sat down on the bed, and it sagged under his weight, and he heard Mae’s voice again in the back of his brain, reciting all the things she wanted, and he closed his eyes to keep from passing out. Breathe, he told himself, and he breathed in deep. Now get dressed.

  He stood and zipped up his pants, jammed his feet into his loafers and then felt in his pocket for his keys on his way to the door. Good, they were there. He grabbed his jacket from the table and threw the door open.

  Newton was standing there, one hand raised to knock. “Oh, good, you’re home.”

  “No, I’m not.” Mitch pulled on his jacket as he tried to move past him, but Newton blocked his way.

  “You have to hear this.” Newton’s face gleamed with pride. “I’ve found out some astonishing things.”

  “Good. Good for you.” Mitch tried to dodge around him.

  Newton blinked at him. “What are you wearing? You look like Eurotrash. Where’s your shirt?”

  “Not now, Newton.” Mitch pushed past him into the hall and ran toward the stairs.

  “Wait!” Newton followed him at a more aloof shamble, losing in ground what he was gaining in dignity. “I’ve found out something—”

  Mitch ignored him and pounded down the stairs. Exercise was good. It kept him from exploding from the thought of Mae, naked in his arms.

  Then he burst through the street door and saw his car in the lights of the neon signs from the bars.

  All four tires were in ribbons.

  The seats were slashed down to the springs.

  And every piece of glass on the car was smashed to powder. Windshields, head-and taillights, even the glass on the dash.

  After an adult lifetime of firmly believing that other people can only annoy you if you let them, Mitch lost it.

  His scream was still echoing down the street when Newton pushed through the apartment-house door. “You know, somebody doesn’t like you,” he observed, blinking at the car.

  Mitch grabbed him by the jacket. “Where’s your car?”

  “In the garage at the end of—”

  “Come on.” Mitch gripped his sleeve and hauled him down the street.

  “I’ll drive,” Newton said firmly, trying to keep up without breaking a sweat.

  “The hell you will,” Mitch said.

  A FEW MINUTES LATER, Mae realized she was still clutching the phone and stood to hang it up. She turned and caught sight of herself in the mirror.

  Her hair was in damp curls, and her face was naked. For that matter, so was she, under her robe.

  Oh, great, what now? Makeup? Hair dryer? Sexy nightgown?

  What sexy nightgown? She didn’t own any sexy nightgowns.

  Oh, great.

  Mae started to pace. There was nothing to worry about. It wasn’t as if this was her first time. It was just Mitch, after all.

  Mitch.

  She ran to the vanity and pulled a comb through her hair. Now she had damp straight hair. With a scream of frustration, she messed up her hair by scrambling her hands through it and then started to pace again, remembering all the things she’d said to him, and how she’d meant every one of them.

  If he’d just get here, she could stop having a nervous breakdown from anticipation and lose her mind making love with him.

  The thought made her stop pacing and close her eyes.

  Hurry up, Mitch, she thought, and then she started pacing again to keep from screaming.

  INTERSTATE 75 WAS still a mass of orange barrels and single-lane traffic. Of course, it would be. Summer was construction season in Ohio, and all the barrels were in bloom. Mitch was so mad he hit one on purpose.

  “Try not to do that,” Newton said from the passenger seat.

  “It was in my way.”

  “Where is it exactly that we’re going?”

  At another time with a clearer mind, Mitch might have told him. This time, he thought about where he was going and pressed harder on the pedal. The speedometer moved from eighty to ninety.

  “This is one-lane,” Newton observed.

  A car loomed up ahead, growing larger instantaneously. Newton moaned, and Mitch hit the brake, screaming down to thirty before they came up behind it, bumper to bumper.

  “The hell with this.” Mitch swung out onto the berm to pass him.

  Behind them, a siren wailed.

  FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Mae was climbing the walls.

  Where was he? A plethora of ideas crowded her mind: he’d met somebody else, he’d stopped for a sandwich, he’d had a new idea about where to look for the money, he’d changed his mind about making love to her, he’d stopped for condoms—

  She stopped pacing. Condoms. What if he didn’t have any? She didn’t have any. Oh, great. Maybe Harold and June—no. Birth control was no longer a problem for Harold and June. She thought about making an emergency call to Stormy, and then it hit her.

  There had been condoms in the box from Armand’s town house.

  She flew down the hall to his room and rummaged in the box to grab a handful of the red foil packages. Then she ran back to her room and yanked open the worktable drawer and threw them inside.

  Then she sat down on the bed again and tried to stop breathing like a draft horse.

  Now all she needed was Mitch.

  Where was he?

  MITCH PUT THE TICKET in the breast pocket of his jacket and noticed for the first time that he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

  He was out of control.

  “I’m sorry, Newton.”

  “I’m sure you have your reasons.”

  “I do.” Mitch took a deep breath. “But I can’t act like this.” He thought about Mae again, and his head swam a little. It would not be good for him to go screaming into her bedroom. Think Cary Grant.

  “I know where some of the money went,” Newton said.

  Mitch came back from Mae’s bedroom. “What?”

  “The money. I know what happened to one and a half million of it.”

  Mitch focused on Newton completely for the first time since Mae’s phone call. “What?”

  “He gave it to Stormy.”

  “What?”

  Newton nodded. “He bought her a condo—”

  “That I knew.”

  “For five hundred thousand.”

  Mitch turned the key and eased the car back onto the highway. “So where’s the other million?”

  “Swiss bank account. His idea.”

  Mitch turned to him, startled. “How the hell did you find that out?”

  “She told me.”

  “She…” Words failed him.

  “At lunch. Today.” Newton checked his watch. “I’m picking her up for dinner in a half hour. Where are we going? I don’t want to be late.”

&
nbsp; “Mae’s.” Mitch’s voice was faint because he was stunned. “You’re dating Stormy?”

  “Yes. Why are we going to Mae’s?”

  “She called me.” Mitch felt the heat rise again. No. He was going to be calm. Just like Cary Grant.

  He thought of Mae’s smile, and Mae’s laugh, and then he thought of Mae’s body and gripped the wheel tighter.

  “Is she in trouble?” Newton asked, alarmed.

  “No. She just wanted me to come over.”

  “Then why are we rushing like this?”

  Mitch met his eyes. “Because she wanted me. To come over. Now.” He looked back at the road.

  Newton frowned at him for a moment. “I don’t…Oh.” His forehead cleared and he turned to look out the back window. “Step on it. I’ll watch for the police.”

  MAE WAS LYING crosswise on her bed staring at the ceiling when she heard a car pull up in front. It didn’t sound like the Catalina. For one thing, it had a working muffler. Great, she was getting company, and it wasn’t Mitch.

  It was so unfair. Other women got great love scenes. She got the Keystone Kops.

  Then she heard someone pounding up the stairs, and there was a quick rap on the door, and then Mitch was in the room with her.

  She sat up as if she’d been catapulted and slid to her feet, stunned to see him there in the flesh. She blinked. Really in the flesh. He didn’t have a shirt on under his jacket.

  He closed the door behind him and stood looking at her. “Hi.”

  Mae blinked at him again. “Hi.”

  His eyes traveled down her body, and she smoothed her satin robe nervously. “You look really nice,” he said.

  She swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

  He closed his eyes. “Mae, if you’ve changed your mind, just tell me now so I can go kill myself.”

  Relief washed over her and she laughed, the sound bubbling up from inside her, and she felt her whole body soften with her laughter, and all her need for him came back. “If you don’t make love to me, I’ll die,” she said, and he came toward her, shaking his head and laughing at himself as he stripped off his jacket and dropped it on the floor.

  “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you,” he said as he slid his arms around her, and she shuddered as his body touched her.

  “Kiss me,” she said, and he did, and every fear and doubt she had evaporated as his mouth touched hers, supple and hot and intoxicating. She opened her lips to taste him, and he touched her tongue with his as she slumped against him, her hands gripping the corded muscles in his back while the heat in her rose and made her dizzy. Then he was pulling her toward the bed, and she undid the belt to her robe and let it fall open. He closed his eyes when he saw her, sliding his hands under her robe, up her sides to cup her breasts, and she dug her fingernails into his shoulders to stop herself from moaning. He pulled her onto the bed on top of him, rolling until she was under him, and moved his mouth to her breast, and then she did moan, lacing her fingers in his hair to pull him closer. His lips moved up to the pulse of her throat, and then to her mouth, and she swelled under him like a wave, stroking her hands up his back, tasting every inch of him with her fingertips.

  “Oh, God, Mae, I have wanted you,” he murmured to her, and she opened her eyes to see him gazing down on her, his eyes black with desire. And when he bent to kiss her again, she stopped him, her hands cupping his face.

  “Let me look at you,” she whispered. “I can’t believe it’s you. I can’t believe it’s us.”

  “I wanted you from the first moment I saw you. From the first minute you came in my door.” He smiled at her. “In that damn pink suit.” He closed his eyes and put his forehead on hers. “I can’t believe it’s us, either.”

  “Make love to me,” Mae whispered. “Make love to me all night.”

  “Whatever you want,” Mitch whispered back. “Whatever you want, Mae. I swear.”

  He kissed her then, a long deep kiss that went into her spine and made her body curve around his, fitting against him, and his hands moved, too, molding her to him. “What do you want?” he whispered in her ear, and his breath made her body tighten and arch. “Whatever you want, you can have.”

  She ran her fingers through his hair and pushed his head down to her breast, gasping a little when his tongue caressed and teased her nipple and then moaning when he took her breast in his mouth and sucked hard. She felt the pull in her groin and arched up under him, and outside, the thunder rolled in the distance, and the wind blew the curtains back away from the window she’d forgotten to close. He moved to her other breast, dropping kisses into her cleavage, and then she felt his tongue on her again as his hand came up to stroke the dampened breast he’d abandoned. Mae gave up any pretense of sanity and just lost herself in his touch and the heat that was everywhere. She arched up again, and then she wrapped her fingers in his hair and pushed his head lower.

  She felt the weight of his head on her stomach, his hands stroking down her sides to her hips, and then he licked inside her. Her hips spasmed, and he trapped her there, his hands imprisoning her against his mouth. Outside, the storm began in earnest, blowing the cold storm breeze through the open window and across her burning body, and her skin tightened under the double onslaught of the wind and his mouth. She grabbed blindly behind her to clutch at the pine headboard as he slowly, rhythmically, inexorably stroked his tongue inside her, probing and sucking and driving her out of her mind. Her moans were drowned in the thunder, and all she knew was the heat of his mouth pressed against her and the chill, rain-thick air tightening her body. Then she lost even that in the pressure that welled up inside her, making her twist against him, and then it all exploded, and her body jerked over and over again as she sobbed in her release.

  Then he was kissing his way back up to her, nibbling and biting her sweat-dampened flesh, and she wrapped her legs around him, feeling his muscled thighs between her soft ones. “I want you inside me,” she said through her clenched teeth, still shuddering with the aftershocks of her climax. “I want you inside me now!” and he said, “Wait. I want you, too. Wait.” He kissed her, his mouth hot on hers, and she thought that she could spend the rest of her life in that kiss if she had to. Then he finished fumbling with the condom and pulled her to him, and then he was inside her. She writhed at the intoxicating shock of him filling her, and outside, the thunder crashed again, and the lights went out.

  The lightning flashed into the room like a strobe light. She looked up into his craggy face, and her blood boiled with the fact that it was him, that it was them together, part of the storm. He rocked into her once and moaned into her neck, and then he rolled so that she was on top, and he was hard against her, and she lost her place in reality for a moment because he felt so good. The roll brought them too close to the edge, and they slid off the bed, still joined, on the thick comforter. The impact of their landing thrust them closer together, and Mae gasped, and Mitch held her tighter and said, “Are you all right?” and she breathed, “Don’t ever stop.”

  She flexed her hips to roll them away from the tangle of the comforter and found herself on top of him again, on the rug, and Mitch started when he saw the open jaws of the bear next to his head. “It’s polyester,” she said, laughing softly in his ear, drunk with lust and love and the storm. Then she pushed herself up, straddling him, and he stroked his hands roughly across her breasts. The rain lashed at them both, cold rain on hot skin, and she rocked against him until he closed his eyes and drew in a deep ragged breath. She felt it start again deep inside her, the tightening and fire and the crackle in her veins, and she stopped, clenching herself down on him. His hands gripped her hips and pulled her tight against him, and she gave herself over to him and felt everything in her body rise and explode and crash with the thunder as the spasms came again and again until she fell sated against his chest.

  They lay there on the rug, trying to breathe, clutching each other as rain fell on them through the open window, and then Mitch kissed her fo
rehead, and whispered, “Mabel, it’s raining,” and she smiled, and let him roll and pull her to her feet and lead her back to the bed. And when they were wrapped in the comforter and in each other’s arms again, listening to the pounding of the storm, Mitch gently smoothed back her wet hair and said, “Thank you for calling me. I damn near killed myself to get here, but you were worth it.”

  Mae laughed into his neck. “Thank you for coming.”

  Mitch laughed, too. “Anytime.”

  She tightened her arms around him. “I never knew anything could feel as good as holding you.” When he didn’t answer, she pulled back to look up at him from the dim light of the window. “Mitch?”

  “I’m here.” He traced the line of her face with his fingers, smoothing them across her lips, and then bent to kiss her before he whispered, “I’m amazed at us, but I’m here.” He held her tighter. “This is so good it’s scary.”

  “Then don’t think about it.” Mae snuggled back against him.

  “I don’t want to think about anything else,” he said into her hair.

  She held him, listening to the beat of his heart and the patter of the fading storm, and they were both almost asleep when the lights came back on.

  Mitch jerked awake, and Mae patted his chest. “I’ll get it.” She rolled away only to feel his hand move down her back, his fingers playing over the bumps of her vertebrae. “Don’t.” He pulled her back against him, his breath warm against the back of her neck. “I like looking at you naked.”

  Mae snuggled back against him, her rear end curving into his hips. “I don’t know. You know what this sort of thing leads to.” She captured his hand and brought it to her breast.

  “Your problem is you’re shy.” Mitch nibbled on her neck and made her shudder with pleasure. “Good thing I’m an optimist and brought spare condoms.”

  “Hey, I’m prepared, too,” Mae said, pulling away in mock indignation only to fall back against him when his hand recaptured her breast. She stretched and yanked open the drawer and handed him one of Armand’s foil-wrapped packages. “So there.”