Single, Sexy...And Sold!

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  That left the mystery of her special request unsolved, but that might have something to do with charity, too. She could be associated with some nonprofit group that planned a fund-raiser and she wanted him to be part of it. The idea of more time spent in the public eye made him wince, but if she asked, he might consider it.

  As he neared the living room, he heard laughter and happy little baby sounds, but he wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted him. Natalie sat on the couch with Matthew in her lap. She’d turned so that her knees almost touched Pete’s, who was holding Michael. With the help of the two adults, the kids were playing patty-cake. It required complete concentration on everybody’s part, and they all seemed oblivious to anything outside their little circle.

  Beth paused in the doorway, and he stood beside her, fascinated by the sight of Natalie playing with the two babies. He’d always been a sucker for a woman with a child, but watching Natalie with Matthew was like seeing the pieces of his world click firmly into place. She was a natural—someday she’d have her own babies and play with them exactly the same way.

  She’d said there were twins in her family. Jonah had no trouble imagining the scene with two girls, both towheads, and Jonah’s father sitting there instead of Pete. He felt a tug of desire combined with a possessive urge so strong it took his breath away.

  “See what I mean?” Beth murmured.

  Jonah swallowed. “Yeah.”

  Pete and Natalie sang out the final words of the nursery rhyme. And put it in the oven for baby and me.

  As Natalie patted Matthew’s hands together while he squealed in delight, she glanced up, a happy smile on her face.

  Jonah wanted to bottle that smile. He met her gaze and a zing of wild emotion arrowed straight to his solar plexus.

  “Did you fix the sink?” she asked.

  “Yep, all fixed. You seem to have made a couple of friends.”

  “We’ve had a good time,” she said, sounding surprised about it.

  “I can tell.” He knew he was staring at her like an idiot, but he was completely absorbed by the picture she made with a chortling baby in her lap. All sorts of images flashed through his mind—what she’d look like round and pregnant, the joy on her face as she held her newborn, the tenderness with which she’d bring the small mouth to her breast.

  “You know what, Beth,” Pete said. “I think we’ve taken up enough of these folks’ time. How about lettin’ them go home and I’ll help you put the Three Stooges to bed.”

  “Fine by me,” Beth said.

  Jonah snapped out of his trance. He was imagining Natalie giving birth to their child and he hadn’t even made love to her yet. But that was about to change. “If you’re sure everything’s okay here,” he said, trying not to sound too eager. He hadn’t been this excited about being alone with a woman since the days of back-seat makeout sessions.

  “We’re fine,” Beth said. “I appreciate you two coming by.”

  “I’m glad we did,” Natalie said. “Your babies are beautiful.”

  “I’m glad we did, too,” Jonah said as he handed John over to Beth.

  She winked at him. “Nice clean shoulder you have there.”

  “Thanks.”

  After giving each of the babies several more kisses, Jonah and Natalie left the Sullivans’ apartment.

  “What was that about a clean shoulder?” Natalie asked once the door closed behind them.

  “I’ll explain later.” Heart thudding in anticipation, Jonah took her hand in his and started down the hall. The time for talking was over.

  9

  BABIES.

  Natalie hadn’t given them much thought. Most of the women she knew married later and delayed motherhood until they had a good handle on their careers. At twenty-eight she’d always thought she had tons of time to worry about babies.

  But that was before she’d seen Jonah standing in the doorway with a four-month-old cherub in his arms.

  She’d never forget the image. With his shirtsleeves pushed back and his hair rumpled, he looked so much like a daddy that it brought a lump to her throat. But this was no ordinary daddy. His broad shoulders and powerful physique dwarfed the tiny boy he cradled against his chest. The contrast between heroic man and vulnerable child was so tender she couldn’t tear her gaze away. When John reached up and patted Jonah’s cheek, she melted.

  She’d stayed in that liquified state as they said their goodbyes and headed down the hall and up the stairs toward Jonah’s apartment. Her bones felt rubbery and her blood hot. She wasn’t in the best condition in which to explain her mother’s project, but she was helpless to change things. Jonah’s grasp on her hand was firm, and the connection kept heat flowing between them. She was simmering, and it would only take a gentle touch in just the right place to make her boil right over.

  That touch came after Jonah led her inside and locked the door. Without speaking, he slid his hand to the nape of her neck. When Bobo was smaller, she’d been able to pick him up that way and he’d immediately gone limp as a noodle. As Jonah massaged her skin and gazed deep into her eyes, she had no more resistance than a puppy.

  A hint of a smile curved his mouth and crinkled the corners of his eyes.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  The flame flickering in his eyes grew brighter. “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.” She was quivering so much she could barely stand.

  In a heartbeat she was scooped into the same strong arms that had saved her dog, carried Mrs. Sanchez and cradled a small baby. It was, she decided, a very special place to be.

  Jonah continued to hold her gaze as he carried her through the bedroom door and laid her gently on the bed. Still watching her as if she might vanish in a puff of smoke, he began unbuttoning his shirt.

  Her heart thudded with excitement as he took off the shirt, his chest muscles flexing with the motion.

  “I’m no different from any other guy you know.” He nudged off his shoes and pulled off his socks before reaching for the buckle of his belt.

  She quivered. “I doubt it.” A man built like a Greek statue with the heart of a saint didn’t come along every day.

  “I have three overdue library books and I squeeze the toothpaste tube in the middle.” He unbuckled the belt and pulled it from the loops in one smooth motion. “I never miss a Knicks game on TV and I’ll put ketchup on just about anything but ice cream.”

  “Sounds fun.” Her voice was thick and sultry, almost unrecognizable to her. She’d never been so hungry for a man in her life.

  He paused in the act of unfastening his pants, and his eyebrows lifted.

  She moistened her dry lips. “I’ve never tried it with ketchup.”

  There it was, that look he’d given her when he’d caught her wiping strawberry juice from her blouse. His hands trembled as he unzipped his pants and stepped out of them. His voice was strained. “Do you want me to go get the bottle?”

  “No,” she whispered. Gazing at his arousal straining against the cotton of his briefs, she knew this was a moment that needed no embellishment. She looked into his eyes. “All I need is you.”

  He put one knee on the bed and leaned over her. “I wonder if that will be enough.”

  She smiled, thinking of the sizable bulge of his manhood. She reached up and cradled his face in both hands. “Oh, I think you will be more than enough.” With a sigh she drew him down.

  IF HE HADN’T WANTED HER more than he wanted to take his next breath, Jonah might have been worried about making love to a woman who thought ketchup would make an interesting sex toy. He tried to keep his brain functioning, tried to keep from losing himself in the experience. But with the first touch of her velvet lips, he felt as if he’d dived into a vat of warm honey.

  Everything faded from his consciousness—the ever-present traffic outside the window, the slam of a door in the next apartment, the bark of a dog. The world constricted to the width and length of this bed and the presence of this woman. He was engulfed
by the sound of her breathing, the scent of her skin, the texture of her hair.

  Her kiss—open, moist, ready—was flavored with new meaning. She had said yes—yes to him, his touch, and his ultimate invasion. The promise of that heated his body like nothing had done before. Control disappeared as need drove him relentlessly. He understood the instinct for survival, had believed that was all that remained of a primitive genetic code.

  He’d been wrong.

  For the first time in his life, he bowed to the unmistakable instinct to mate. Like a salmon swimming upstream, he forged his way along a river of sensation, intent on joining with this woman. His heart, against all reason, had chosen her, and now his heart would not be denied. He fought the barrier of her clothes, and what refused to give way was wrenched and torn, sometimes with her own hands. Her mangled dress landed in a heap on the floor, closely followed by her underwear. They were both panting in anticipation as he removed the last scrap of material and encountered nothing but a glorious expanse of warm skin.

  He laid his hand over her pounding heart, imprinting himself there. She would never forget this joining, he vowed, and neither would he. Deepening his kiss, he drank her moan of satisfaction as he skimmed his hand over every inch of her he could reach.

  Now. Now he would begin the sweet journey. Round, firm breasts, silken thighs, a welcoming channel drenched with passion—he explored them all, revisited them all as she twisted and cried out beneath his caress.

  With the taste of her on his tongue, the scent of her filling his nostrils, the feel of her humming through his fingertips, he returned to look deep into those soft gray eyes. They sought his gaze with a fevered desperation. Her pupils were wide with desire, her cheeks flushed with passion.

  “Please,” she whispered through kiss-swollen lips.

  He pulled off his briefs and forced himself to take a condom from the bedside-table drawer. Putting it on was his last rational act before he eased between her warm thighs. She grasped his hips and arched upward in the most eloquent invitation he’d ever received. Arms braced on either side of her head, he watched her face as he sank slowly, smoothly into her heat. Her eyes widened and her breath came in tiny gasps from between her parted lips.

  Then the gasps took shape, and he realized she was saying his name in breathless little puffs of sound. It was a chant of total vulnerability, of complete surrender, of absolute trust. His chest tightened with joy.

  At last he was buried deep within her. “I’m here,” he murmured.

  “Yes.” Her eyes glowed with fulfillment.

  He leaned down and brushed her mouth with his. The tension coiled between them made that butterfly kiss flash like a rocket across his senses. He could be still no longer.

  “Move with me,” he said, drawing back and thrusting forward. “Dance with me, Natalie.”

  Her hips rose to meet his as she caught his rhythm, matching him thrust for thrust. He groaned with pleasure as each contact rippled through him, bringing his trembling body closer and closer to the edge. He sensed the quickening deep within her and watched with fierce satisfaction as a flush spread over her damp skin, tinging her the color of morning, the color of beginnings.

  Her gaze held his. He reveled in the climax building in the depths of her eyes, rejoiced that she didn’t close them and deprive him of his reward. He learned the movement that stoked the fire. There. And again. And again. She whimpered. Once more. Yes.

  With a wild cry she arched upward, and that graceful arch proved his own undoing. He exploded into pure energy. As wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over him, he looked into her luminous eyes and held himself deep inside her, letting her feel the intensity, the outpouring. Yet under all the glory ran a thread of disappointment. Despite the power and the mind-numbing delight, the rush of completion had smashed against a barrier. The mating, the soul-to-soul joining that he had pursued with such desperation was, in the end, incomplete.

  But they had begun. He could see it in her eyes. They had really, truly begun.

  NATALIE LAY LOOKING UP into the incredible beauty of Jonah’s face and knew she was no longer the same woman who had been carried into this bedroom. The depth of his lovemaking had changed her, creating new horizons, exotic dreams.

  “Be right back,” he whispered. In moments he’d returned and gathered her into his arms. He combed damp strands of hair from her forehead. “And what was it,” he began, his voice still husky in the aftermath of passion, “that you wanted to ask me?”

  So bathed in sensuality that she could scarcely think, it took her a minute to understand him. Oh, yes. Her mother’s book. “Not now,” she murmured, unwilling to risk spoiling the wondrous experience they’d just shared.

  His smile was slow and lazy. “Most women would think now was a perfect time. I probably couldn’t say no to anything you wanted.”

  She stroked his back, loving the sculpted contours of muscle and sinew. “I’m not most women.”

  “I’m figuring that out.” He nuzzled the base of her throat and took a deep breath. “Mmm. Sweet. Like the flowers I used to pick in the woods and bring to my mother.”

  She should have known he’d been that sort of little boy. She arched her neck, loving the way he nibbled and licked his way up to her chin. “I’m glad you like it,” she murmured.

  “I do.” He nipped gently at her earlobe. “I just wish I could afford to buy it for you.”

  A slight chill moved over her. She really hated having him think she was filthy rich when she wasn’t. “It’s not very expensive cologne.”

  He began to chuckle, his breath soft against her skin. “God, Natalie, I destroyed your dress. Your beautiful dress. Here I’m worried about buying you cologne and I’ve probably ruined some designer outfit worth hundreds of dollars. Damn. I’ve never ripped a woman’s clothes off in my life. You’d think I could have picked an outfit from a bargain basement.”

  “You did.”

  He lifted his head and gazed down at her. “You bought a bargain-basement dress to go to the Plaza?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  He smiled and shook his head. “I just didn’t think—well, never mind. Beth accused me of having an attitude about your money and I guess she’s right. That’s what she was talking about when we were leaving her apartment. She thought I’d finally shrugged the chip off my shoulder.”

  So he was beginning to accept the fact she was wealthy. She wondered what would happen if later on he found out she wasn’t wealthy, that she’d let him believe it because she couldn’t admit to spending her retirement money without feeling like a fool.

  She hadn’t thought any of that would matter, but then, she hadn’t thought she’d be lying next to a very naked and very sexy Jonah, either.

  “The dress wasn’t expensive, but even if it had been, I wouldn’t have cared,” she admitted. “You see, nobody’s ever ripped my clothes off, either. I didn’t know it could be so much…fun.”

  His gaze smoldered. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not apologizing.” He leaned down and kissed her slowly and thoroughly before reaching down and pulling up a quilt that was folded across the end of the bed. As he tucked it around her, he feathered a kiss against her cheek. “Stay warm. I’ll be back in no time.”

  He hadn’t been gone more than two seconds before her conscience began to prick her. If only she’d already told him about her mother’s project, then she could relax and fully enjoy this incredible experience. But she couldn’t shake the notion that he wasn’t the sort of man who appreciated a woman keeping secrets from him. And she was keeping more than one.

  She would tell him now, she decided, before things progressed any further between them. Leaving the bed, she wrapped the quilt around her and went in search of her hero. It was hard to concentrate on business while she was feeling so loose and well loved, but she had to do it.

  She tracked him to the kitchen, where he was getting them each a fresh beer. As she padded barefoot into the kitchen, trailing a part of the qu
ilt like a train, her entrance was so quiet he obviously didn’t hear her. For a brief moment she stood looking at him, gloriously naked, pouring the first beer into a tall glass. A quiver of need spiraled through her and settled deep in the spot he’d so recently awakened. The ache of longing began once again.

  He glanced up and smiled as he continued to pour. “The dress was dynamite, but you look pretty good in that quilt, too.” He finished the first bottle and twisted the cap off the second.

  Natalie tried not to be distracted from her mission. She had to start talking, and fast. But when he twisted off the bottle cap, his muscles flexed in a most inviting way. Her little speech about her mother hovered on her lips. But it seemed so inappropriate, considering how delicious Jonah looked at the moment.

  “I happen to like your outfit, too,” she said. She’d been so busy enjoying his inspired touch that she hadn’t taken the time to touch him in return. She wanted to do that. She wanted to do that now.

  She let the quilt slide to the floor.

  Apparently the swish it made when it landed caught his attention, because he looked in her direction…and promptly poured beer on the counter. Grabbing a dishrag, he started to mop up the spill.

  “Wait.” A living god like Jonah could put all sorts of sensuous ideas in a girl’s head. “Don’t waste it.” She walked over to the counter and leaned down to lick up a bit of liquid and foam. Then she glanced up at him and ran her tongue around her lips.

  A fire ignited in the depths of his eyes.

  Spurred to even greater lengths, she leaned down again and swirled her tongue over the small puddle of beer. This time when she looked up he’d become rigid as a statue, including the part of him that she had designs on. She reached out and encircled him with her fingers, loving the contrast of silky skin sheathing his powerful erection. The sight and feel of his body brought out a primitive yearning in her that she was helpless to deny.