Still Into You

by Roni Loren

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Also by Roni Loren

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Special excerpt from Melt Into You

  About the Author

  Still Into You

  Roni Loren

  HEAT | NEW YORK

  Titles by Roni Loren

  Crash Into You

  eSpecials

  Still Into You

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This eSpecial is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  STILL INTO YOU

  A Heat Book, published by arrangement with the author.

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Heat eSpecial / June 2012

  Copyright © 2012 by Roni Loren.

  Excerpt from Melt Into You copyright © 2012 by Roni Loren.

  ISBN: 978-1-101-57580-2

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  HEAT and the HEAT design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  To my grandmother, Barbara, the first of the sassy women in our family.

  I miss your laugh and your lemon meringue pie.

  Chapter One

  They’d chosen Letterman.

  Seth shook his head, staring at their unmade bed. For the last few years of their marriage, he and Leila had a standing habit of making love on Wednesday nights. Not that it was a stated appointment or anything. But it was the only night he didn’t work late at the restaurant, so it had become their habit. A nice, enjoyable romp between two people who knew each other’s pleasure points as well as their own. Simple and to the point.

  But last night, even though the kids were already asleep and Leila had been well-rested from a day off, she hadn’t reached for him.

  And worse than that . . . he hadn’t reached for her either.

  They’d chosen to watch David Letterman instead of having sex. Top Ten lists and dancing animals had been more interesting to them than each other.

  With a heavy sigh, he stepped out of his cargo shorts and pulled on his work slacks. He’d wanted to bring it up with her this afternoon when he’d found her doing the dishes and staring out the window like she’d rather be anywhere but there. They needed to deal with whatever was going on—or not going on between them. But then Myra, their seven-year-old, had bounced into the kitchen asking him to check her spelling homework, and the moment had been lost.

  But now the unspoken words sat heavy on his chest. Through the ups and downs of their eight years of marriage, he and Leila had been through rough times. Being unexpected parents while they were still in college had almost killed their marriage before it got started. But never before had he felt this yawning space between them. He’d thought it was because he’d been so busy with the restaurant lately. But even when they had time, like last night, they’d only sat in companionable silence, occasionally chatting about something one of the kids did that day. Comfortable but just . . . there.

  He searched though his drawer looking for his general manager name tag, then remembered he’d taken it off in the bathroom. He headed to the closed bathroom door and eased it open, a cloud of steam hitting him as he entered. He started to call out to Leila to warn her he was in there. But the low moan that came from the other side of the shower curtain halted the words in his throat. He froze.

  The distinct sound of soap slicking over skin mixed in with the patter of the shower water. Then a throaty “yes” whispered through the humid air. His body snapped to attention even though Leila getting herself off right now had implications that were anything but sexy.

  He’d told her he was just running out for a few minutes to drop the kids off at his parents’ house. She knew he was going to be right back. Available. At least for a few minutes before both of them left for work.

  But she’d chosen her hand instead of her husband.

  She groaned again, and he tried to recall the last time he’d heard her sound that into it when she was with him. Who was she imagining on the other side of those touches? Clearly it wasn’t him because she could’ve had the real thing had she been willing to wait a few minutes. Maybe he was no longer as interesting as a fantasy.

  She cried out softly, and he could picture her head tilted back against the tile wall, fingers buried inside herself, her orgasm pulsing through her as the water streamed over the heavy swells of her breasts. No doubt a beautiful sight. One he could stroke off to just imagining, but one that didn’t include him.

  His cock pushed against the fly of his pants even as hurt coursed through him. On one hand, he was happy to know Leila’s sex drive was still there, because there had been times when he’d wondered if their lovemaking was simply an obligation she thought she needed to fulfill. But knowing that she’d chosen to get herself off instead of reaching for him stung deep.

  He wasn’t satisfying his wife.

  And if he was truly honest with himself, he hadn’t been satisfied for a long time either. Sex had turned into another item on their to-do list. He loved her with a depth he couldn’t describe, but the fire that used to sizzle between them was now a pile of dim embers.

  The water cut off, and he took a vaulting step backward, shutting the door behind him as quickly and as quietly as he could. He hurried over to the side of the bed and busied himself making it. Leila stepped out of the bathroom a few minutes later in a swirl of coconut-soap-scented air.

  “Oh, hey,” she said, her voice holding a hint of stiffness but the glow of her skin betraying the remnants of her orgasm. “I didn’t realize you’d made it back already.”

  He wanted to go to her, drag her against him, and show her how much more he could offer than some quick work in the shower, but the distracted look in her eye kept him at bay. He did
n’t think he could handle her pushing him away. “I just got back.”

  She nodded and fastened the last button on the top of her blouse. “The kids were okay staying at your mom’s tonight?”

  “Yeah, they were already negotiating for ice cream after dinner.” He tossed the throw pillows onto the bed in a haphazard way he knew probably drove his interior designer wife mad. “Is that a new outfit?”

  She glanced down and smoothed the skirt. “No, I wear this one all the time. I got it on clearance last year, but it’s a size too small. If I breathe too hard, the zipper will bust.”

  He frowned. She wore that all the time? How had he not noticed something that hugged her curves that well? Had it been that long since he’d really checked her out?

  “Nah, you look great. I’m sure Kade Van Whatever-his-name-is will hire you on the spot.”

  “Right, my ass squeezed into Spanx and a too-small skirt is a surefire plan.” She rolled her eyes as she pinned her dark auburn hair into a knot.

  He hated when she did that—talked like her curvy figure was a bad thing. Since she’d had their second child, she’d taken to making those offhanded comments about her weight. And she’d damn near yelled at him the last time he’d tried to leave the lights on during sex. He took a breath, trying to formulate his approach. “Leila, is everything okay?”

  What he really wanted to ask was, Are we okay? But he held back.

  She paused, her mouth thinning for a moment before smiling. “Everything’s fine. I’m just stressed about this appointment tonight. I want to get everything right.”

  Her tone was bright, but there was a clear please-don’t-push look in her eye.

  With a silent sigh of defeat, he stepped past her to get his name badge out of the bathroom. She may not want to talk about it, but something had to give. This was no way for either of them to live. “You have any late appointments tomorrow?”

  “No, but you’re working, right?”

  He tucked the name tag into his pants pocket, a plan taking shape in his head.

  Enough of this tiptoeing around each other bull. Like his mother used to say: Talk doesn’t cook rice. There was no way he was going to stand by and let this distance between them continue to grow. If making Leila talk about it was only going to cause her to shut down more, he needed a different tactic. Something more drastic. “I’m not sure. But don’t make any plans, all right?”

  He walked back into the bedroom to find her sitting on the edge of the bed. She glanced up from fastening the strap on her shoe, surprise flickering over her face before she covered the emotion. “Uh, okay.”

  He smiled, relieved that she wasn’t going to grill him with questions—one benefit of knowing she was distracted by the appointment she was headed to. Feeling a dash of hope for the first time that evening, he walked over and kissed the top of her head. “Good luck with your client. I have no doubt you’ll wow him.”

  “Are you going to be late tonight?” she asked, looking up at him, something akin to resignation underscoring her voice.

  He frowned. He wanted to tell her no, wanted to tell her to wait up for him. But if he was going to execute this new plan, he was going to have to go on an after-work field trip tonight. One that she didn’t need to know about yet. He shifted his gaze away, plucking a lie from the air. “Yeah, it’s going to be a really late night. I have to do inventory after we close. And Rory is looking at me hard for that promotion, so I need to make sure everything is to the letter.”

  She stood. “Well, I have to get up early for an appointment, so I guess I’ll see you some time tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Definitely.”

  Yep, they were going to see each other, all right. Hopefully in a whole new light.

  Chapter Two

  Leila sat in her SUV in the driveway of Kade Vandergriff’s estate, trying to center herself and get her brain into designing mode. This could be the biggest job of her career so far, and she needed to focus on the task at hand—not on the fact that she’d felt like a stranger standing there with Seth in their bedroom tonight.

  She leaned back in her seat, resisting the urge to tap her forehead against the steering wheel.

  It used to be that when her husband came home from work, her heart and body would light up to see him. Like a drug she couldn’t get enough of. But as he spent more and more time at the restaurant and the late nights grew more frequent, she realized that his presence in her day had become less and less . . . notable.

  Then tonight, the vibe between them had been downright awkward.

  She’d heard the bathroom door shut after she’d come in the shower. Her husband had known what she’d been doing. The old straight-shooting Seth would’ve asked her why she hadn’t waited for him. Would’ve asked her what she was thinking about and if he could help. But he hadn’t even brought it up. Like it didn’t matter that he’d caught his wife getting herself off.

  But in a way, she was glad he hadn’t asked about it.

  Because he wouldn’t like the answers.

  She didn’t like the answers. Didn’t like that when she closed her eyes, she pictured far dirtier things than she and Seth ever did. Pictured someone looking at her with heated need in his eyes instead of the vague interest she got from her husband. Imagined people other than Seth bringing her to that place of abandon.

  The porch light on the main house clicked on, and Leila realized she’d been sitting like a lame duck in the driveway—talk radio blabbing too loud in the background, her brain a million miles away. Great. Way to make a first impression. After hurriedly smoothing her hair, she grabbed the door handle and her bag and climbed out of her SUV.

  The main door opened before she could raise her hand to knock. She plastered on a smile, expecting to be greeted by a maid or something, but Texas’s answer to a Nordic god opened the door instead. The man’s mouth stretched into a warm, welcoming grin. “So do you have my garden fully redesigned by now?”

  Leila nearly choked on her tongue, overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of this man. She usually preferred men with dark features like Seth. But whoa. “Huh?”

  He nodded toward the driveway. “Thought you were writing up a landscaping plan out there or something.”

  Her cheeks heated. “Oh, right. Sorry about that. I, uh, had to take a call.”

  “No worries.” He stuck out his hand. “Kade Vandergriff. After all those phone conversations back and forth, it’s good to finally meet you in person, Ms. Carlo.”

  “Oh, Leila, please. So nice to meet you, too. I’m glad I could finally catch you in town.” She shifted her bag to her opposite shoulder and offered her hand. He enveloped her hand between his two palms and seemed to hold on a second too long. Not that she was counting or wondering if her hand was sweaty or anything. Not at all. “Your grounds are really beautiful. I love the fountain and all the garden lighting.”

  He pushed the door open wider and motioned her inside. “Thank you. I’m really happy with how it came out. Now I just need someone to make the inside look as put together because I’m about as good at decorating as I am at knitting.”

  She laughed, the sound echoing with the click of her heels on the tumbled marble floor of the foyer. “Hopefully I can assist with that part.”

  “Counting on it,” he said, his accent a melodic mix of Texas drawl and old money. She knew the sound well. Her own family had the same. “Would you like something to drink?”

  Well, he was a tall glass of water she wouldn’t mind sipping on, but she shoved the wicked thought from her brain. “No, thank you, I’m fine.”

  “Great, why don’t we get started then?” He led her through the entryway. “Now I know I’ve sent you some pictures, but why don’t I give you a quick tour, and afterward we can sit down and go over your ideas?”

  “Sounds good.” She dug a notepad and her digital camera out of her bag, trying to keep her focus when everything about this man was setting her off kilter. She’d talked to him numerous times on the phone.
Him being hot as hell shouldn’t have gotten her this discombobulated. Even if she was picturing him naked. “I can’t wait to see everything in the flesh.”

  The words were out before she could edit them, and a little choking sound escaped her.

  He chuckled, no doubt catching the color in her cheeks. “I’m more than happy to show it all to you, then.”

  She glanced up at that, meeting the deep-sea color of his eyes. A quiver went over her, his steady gaze like a branding iron on her skin, making her think the double entendre hadn’t been lost on him.

  Holy hell. He couldn’t possibly be looking at her like that. This was the kind of guy who went after supermodels, not moms who were praying their suck-in-the-belly underwear wouldn’t give out on them if they sat the wrong way.

  She broke the eye contact and fidgeted with her camera. She needed to get a grip. This guy wasn’t hitting on her. She was married. And a mom. And here on business. God, was she so hungry for male attention that now she was seeing things where they weren’t? She cleared her throat. “Uh, why don’t we start in the game room? I saw it on the blueprint you sent me, but I don’t think there were any photos of it in the files.”

  He crossed his arms, the move pulling his navy blue T-shirt taut around his biceps, and considered her. “Maybe we should start with downstairs first. We can work our way up to the game room.”

  She shrugged, not sure why it mattered either way, but getting the sense that he definitely thought it did. “No problem. You’re in charge.”

  “Right.” He seemed to be smiling at some private joke, but didn’t let her in on it. “This way.”

  She followed him around the expansive bottom floor of his home, listening to him describe what he hoped to accomplish with the remodel. He’d inherited the house from his father’s side of the family, but the décor—though expensive—was decidedly “old lady antique.” Not exactly what Kade was going for. He’d made some changes here and there to modernize things, but the house needed an overall plan and redesign. And though he had solid vision on the functionality he wanted for each space, he was leaving most of the décor part to whomever he chose as the designer.