by Peggy Jaeger
I slipped my hand into his.
Who was I to argue with his mother?
Chapter Eight
“There’s something so decadent about riding in the back of a limousine,” I said a few minutes later when we were both settled in the back of his.
“I don’t know if I’d call it decadent, but it serves a dual purpose for me. Not only does it get me where I need to go, but since I don’t have to drive myself to business meetings, I have more time to return calls and connect with my clients than if I didn’t have a driver. Plus, I like having the added space back here when I need to work.”
“My father once told me he got more business conducted during the drive from our home to his office than he did during most days at work because it was uninterrupted time. At the office he was busy from the moment he walked in until he walked out again.”
“I understand that more than you can imagine.”
The privacy screen was up so we were, for all intents and purposes, quite alone. The silky smooth and butter-soft leather seats felt like heaven. The dimmed, seductive track lighting running along the interior provided enough light so we could see one another.
“You said you have a driver.”
“Yes, but not a limo. My mother sold it when my father died and replaced it with a luxury SUV. Murphy’s been our driver since before I was born. He’s family.”
I thought I imagined a subtle sigh blow from him, but when I glanced over he seemed fine.
“Tell me about your family,” I said. “You mentioned your mother. Who else is there?”
“Just her. I’m an only like you. My dad died two years ago. Cancer.”
I reached out my hand and slipped it into his. He pulled it into his lap and covered both with his free hand.
“I’m so sorry. Cancer…is ridiculous. Were you close?”
“Yeah. He died pretty quick. Just eight months from diagnosis. It was…awful. What about yours?”
I hesitated a bit, measuring my words. Since my father had passed away while I was in the coma, I didn’t have many details. I gave him the basics.
“He had a cerebral aneurism burst seven years ago and died instantly. No history of any problems, so it was a shock.”
“I don’t know what’s worse,” Cade said, shaking his head. “Losing someone in a flash like that where you don’t get a chance to say goodbye, or watching them suffer through an illness you know is killing them.”
“I think both are pretty awful.”
He nodded.
We sat for a few moments, the silence between us comfortable and companionable.
I didn’t realize my eyes had closed until Cade’s voice drifted over me. “I’m glad we didn’t stay for the entire show.”
I blinked a few times, pulling him into focus. “Me, too. I’d forgotten that Sleeping Beauty is four hours long.” Grinning, I added, “That’s a lot to ask a ballet neophyte to sit through.”
He returned my grin and brought my hand up to his lips again.
“I had a much better time just being with you,” he said.
Our gazes locked as he placed a sweet kiss across the back of my hand. He shifted, as did I, so we were facing one another, our knees bumping on the seat.
I may not have had sex in practically a millennia, but I hadn’t forgotten the tingly feeling of anticipation that rushes through your body when desire makes itself known, or the expression of expectation in a man’s eyes when they’re focused directly on you.
Like Cade’s were right now.
“I’ve been wanting to do this since the auction,” he said, leaning in to me.
“What? Drive in the back seat of a limo?” Flirty Rory asked.
He shook his head and grinned, then set my hand free.
“No. This.”
I had a pretty good idea of what this was, and a second later, when he cupped my face in both his hands, his eyes going half-closed but still zeroed in on me, I knew I was right.
I hadn’t been kissed in fifteen years and from the instant Cade’s warm, powerful lips met mine, I had the notion that I’d never truly been kissed by a real man until right this moment.
Tenderly, his lips pressed against mine in a sweet, almost chaste buss before pulling back just a hair. We both had our eyes open and he was gauging my reaction, I’m sure. Would I let this go further? Was this something I wanted? His move floored me because it told me I was in total control of the situation.
Control is such an aphrodisiac, isn’t it?
When I drew my tongue out and over my bottom lip, air hissed through him and his eyes widened. Even in the dim interior I could see his pupils dilate.
On a whisper he said my name. To my ears it sounded like a question and I answered him the only way I could; the only way I wanted to.
I slid my hands up the front of his tuxedo jacket, fisted the lapels and tugged myself closer, so close his soft breaths warmed over my cheeks.
With his hands still holding me face, Cade ran a thumb across the lip I’d just wet, coaxing my mouth open. I pressed my lips over it instead and scraped the tip of his thumb with my teeth, then circled it with my tongue.
His eyes never left mine as I gently bit down.
In the bar I’d told him his intention was obvious. I could only hope mine was, as well.
Thankfully, Cade got the hint.
In spades.
In a rush of movement his arms went around me and he hauled me sideways onto his lap while his mouth took possession of mine. There’s no other way to describe it, because in that moment, he owned it.
When his tongue boldly spread my lips apart and dove in, wrapping around mine, taking it prisoner, I grew dizzy with the onslaught of heady sensations shooting through me. Tiny pulses beat at my core, the space between my thighs throbbing with each sip and nip and swipe of my mouth. He lifted my chin and deepened the kiss, cradling my head in the crook of his arm.
My hands slid up and around his broad, hard, shoulders to thread into his hair. It felt as luxurious and silky as it looked.
When his lips left mine to trail across my jaw I whimpered from the loss. His breath fanned across my throat as he whispered, “Shh. I’m right here.”
Yeah, I got that.
I almost shot off his lap when he nuzzled the fleshy part of my ear, then sucked it between his lips. I’d thought discovering knuckles were an erogenous zone was fascinating. Earlobes kicked them right out of the competition for body parts I wanted fondled.
He slid his mouth down the column of my neck and I arched, the move giving him freer access to go where ever he wanted. With my hands fisted in his hair, I tugged the tufts between my fingers when his teeth scraped against my skin.
I let out a very un-A.J.-like gasp. Cade grinned against my neck, then went back to…savoring me.
I have to say, I didn’t mind being feasted upon at all.
“Your skin is the softest thing I’ve ever felt.” He fanned his fingers along the side of my neck, his fingertips kneading the area he’d just kissed. “I could spend all day touching you.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to say have at it, but I was struck mute when he bit down on my collarbone, blew on the area he’d just tasted, and then, once again, skimmed his wet lips over it.
The exquisite feel of his mouth on my neck had my knees clamping together as my ass squirmed in his lap. That throbbing at the top of my thighs was pounding in a fever pitch, seeking relief.
I freed Cade’s hair from my grip, grabbed his face with my now free hands and shifted his head so our lips came together again.
My mouth absorbed his smile as I set out to make him squirm and fidget, too.
It didn’t take long before his back arched, pushing his lap up against me. I wasn’t the only one with throbbing body parts. In a move Flirty Rory would have approved wholeheartedly, I wiggled my lower body and pressed down on his pulsing erection. Cade tightened his grip around my waist while he groaned into the kiss.
Who knows how muc
h further we’d have gone if the driver’s voice hadn’t startled us apart.
“We’ve arrived, Mr. Enright.”
“Thanks, Kip. Give us a moment,” Cade told him. A little part of me was thrilled his voice was just a bit shaky and a whole bunch of excited.
I slid back onto the seat from his lap, tugging the hem of my dress back down along the way. I hadn’t realized it had ridden up so high, and was dangerously close to exposing a few of the scars on my thigh. A quick tug had it covering me again.
Cade’s hair was a tussled mess from all my tugging and his lips were swollen and kiss-slick wet. His tux was as rumpled as my dress.
If anyone had seen us at that moment they would have guessed what we’d been doing in the back of the limo. And they wouldn’t have been wrong.
With a quick, self-conscious grin that was as endearing as it was sexy, Cade readjusted his jacket then ran his fingers through his hair to smooth it back down.
“You okay?” he asked while I finger combed my own back into some semblance of organization.
I nodded. When I was done, Cade took one of my hands.
“That was…” He shook his head.
“It was.”
“I really don’t want this evening to end,” he admitted.
Neither did I. Grinning, I asked, “Not feeling like you missed out because you didn’t see the entire ballet?”
“Not even a little bit. The ballet was just a useful ruse to get you to go out with me.”
I squinted across at him. “Why do I suddenly feel like I was played?”
He kissed my hand, shrugged, one side of his mouth quirking up. “It worked, so who am I to argue? Listen, I don’t know if I can wait until Sunday before I see you again. Spend tomorrow with me. We can do…something,” He flipped his free hand in the air. “Something fun and New York-y. The weather’s supposed to be great.”
“Oh, I wish I could, Cade, but I’ve got a full day tomorrow. Stuff I can’t get out of. I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “How about dinner than? We can eat in at my place. Carb up for our long run on Sunday.”
I laughed and cupped his cheek. “As much as I love carbs, I can’t, I’m sorry. I’m not being coy or anything,” I added just in case he thought I was. “I’d love to spend the day with you, but I have...obligations, that need to be fulfilled. Please understand?”
He nuzzled into my palm, kissed it, and sighed.
“I do. I’m disappointed, but I do understand.”
“Thank you.”
He dragged in another breath, kissed my hand one last time then pressed a button on the door rest.
“Okay, Kip.”
Instantly, the door opened. Cade alighted then reached in to help me out.
“Goodnight,” I said to the driver. He touched his cap and smiled.
“I’ll walk you up,” Cade said, staring up at the front of the townhouse.
“You don’t have to.” I stretched up and kissed his cheek. “Goodnight.”
At the top of the steps I turned around to find both men still standing at the curb. Cade’s hands were slung in his pants pockets, his gaze trained on me.
I tossed him a grin, my fingers fluttering over my shoulder.
Once I closed the door behind me, I leaned back against it and sighed. The house was quiet and dark as I made my way to my suite. I’d told my mother and Maeve not to wait up because I knew the ballet would end late.
As I was snuggling down for the night, my cell pinged with an incoming text.
~Still awake?
I typed back, barely.
My phone rang instantly.
“Sorry.” Cade sighed. “I just wanted to say goodnight one more time.”
I glanced over at my bedside clock. “Officially, it’s good morning now.”
He laughed, and that deep, masculine note ringing in his voice had me pressing my knees together again.
“I wouldn’t mind saying good morning to you.”
I closed my eyes and sighed.
“That’s sweet.”
“Not too fast?”
Flirty Rory popped through and said, “I hope it wouldn’t be fast.”
Even though I was alone, I felt the heat rush up my neck.
His voice lowered even more. “You can’t know how much hope hearing you say that gives me.”
I had a pretty good idea. Before I could tell him, a yawn broke through that I couldn’t stifle. “Sorry.”
“Okay, I can take a hint. Get some rest, Sleeping Beauty and I’ll see you Sunday.”
Was it any wonder my dreams were filled with just how…slow he’d be?
Chapter Nine
I wasn’t kidding when I’d told Cade my Saturday was booked.
From the moment I left the house for my first appointment until Murphy brought me back home ten hours later, I’d been on the go.
At breakfast my mother asked about the ballet. I’d told both her and Maeve that I was going with Cade and my mother’s only reaction had been to ask, “That nice man who bought the Ainsworth painting?”
I didn’t mention how we’d only stayed for half of the performance. I did tell her, though, that I’d seen Sharon Milton.
“She’s still as passive/aggressive rude as ever,” I said, while eating the oatmeal Maeve made me and another green smoothie my mother concocted. I didn’t ask what this one consisted of, knowing I was better off ignorant.
“I saw her the other day when Mimsey and I had lunch.” She shuddered as she sipped her tea.
“She mentioned that.” I related the one-sided conversation I’d been accosted by.
“I swear her husband died because he wanted some peace and solace,” she said, shaking her head. “She’s one of the most narcissistic people I’ve ever had the displeasure to be around. And that’s saying something considering all the different personalities I know.”
The topic changed to my filled day and when breakfast was done, I dressed in the clothes Maeve laid out for me.
And yes, I know how spoiled I sound, not even picking out my own outfits to wear. But despite telling Maeve time and again I could choose my own clothes, she still took it upon herself to get everything ready for me every day, saying it was her job to look after me.
I couldn’t – and wouldn’t – argue about it with her.
Dressed and with a bag of clean workout clothes with me, I called Murphy to bring the car around.
First, a post-auction meeting and status report at the women’s center took up all my time until late morning. Then, my usual training session with Sam brought me through lunch and into early afternoon. After I’d showered and changed at The Till, Murphy drove me to my mandatory monthly meeting with the therapist my mother hired to help me – in her words – transition back to my normal life.
In all honesty I could have quit the sessions years ago. I kept them up, though, to appease my mother. Like having Murphy drive me everywhere, it was just another way to help ease her mind. I’d lost ten years of my life, and truthfully, so had she, so spending an hour and a half once a month to have a therapist report that I was well and sound went a long way in helping her move through what had happened to me and her powerlessness to do anything about it.
By the time I got back in the car and we were heading home to dinner, all I wanted to do was change into comfy clothes, wash my face, and snuggle in with a good movie.
Twenty-year-old, club hopping Rory Brightwell would have just been waking up around this time to get ready for a night of partying and hedonistic cavorting.
All A.J. Callahan wanted to do was slip into sweatpants and watch a chick flick.
Talk about personality changes. Sometimes I wonder if the coma had never happened, if my life would have gone on the way it was. I can wince now, with maturity, at how useless it would have been to endlessly drift along, seeking out fleeting pleasures and not doing anything substantial with the life and opportunities given to me. At the time I’d been just another spoiled, rich, society gi
rl with the world at her feet and no obligations or worries. I was ignorant to the way the real world was and naïve enough not to go looking for something…more.
If I can ever say anything positive about being asleep for ten years, it’s that once I woke up I was truly awake for the first time in my life.
As I was pondering all this, I received a call from Detective Ramon.
“Am I getting you at a bad time?”
“Nope. What’s up?” I didn’t say his name. The less people who knew I’d sought him out, the better. So far Murphy was the only one who did know I’d met with the ex-detective and I wanted to keep it that way for the time being. I flicked a glance in the rearview mirror to see if he was listening, but he was concentrating on moving us through the heavy mid-town traffic.
“I found all my old notes and files on your case that I’d stashed away. I forgot how many boxes I saved of everything. Your case was active for an entire year. That’s a lot of paperwork. Anyway, I’ve gone through some of it, but I still have a lot more. If I keep at it, I should be done by tomorrow night, so can we set up a meeting sometime next week to go over everything?”
I ran a quick mental check on my upcoming calendar. The sooner I got some info from him, the better, in my mind.
“How does Monday work for you? I’ve got the afternoon after one, free.”
“You certainly don’t want to waste any time.”
“I think I’ve wasted enough, don’t you?”
I could picture him shaking his head as he said, “I hear ya. Monday sounds good. You wanna come back to my apartment or meet somewhere else?”
“You place sounds find. How about two o’clock?”
We agreed and we signed off.
~ ~ ~ ~
“Is this pace good for you? Not too fast?” I asked.
“It’s fine,” Cade answered.
We’d been running for over an hour and according to my FitBit we were almost six miles in, a little more than a ten and a half minute pace. Sam had challenged me with shooting for ten-minute miles for the next month just to build up my speed and endurance. He said if I could manage two hours at six miles an hour for consecutive runs he’d pull me back and let me go for longer runs at less speed.
