by Nora Roberts
He hung up and, unsatisfied, dialed another number. The voice that answered was feminine-and real. "Hi, Jack. Cody."
"Cody. Did you get me the stuff I wanted on Monument Valley?"
"Nice to talk to you, too, Jack."
"Sorry." She laughed and changed her tone. "Cody, how the heck are you? It's great to hear from you."
"Thanks. By the way, I mailed off about ten pounds of pamphlets, pictures, souvenir books and assorted historical information on Arizona."
"My life for you. I'm halfway through the revisions on Lawless and I needed some more information. I do appreciate it."
"Any time. I like being tight with a famous novelist."
"I'm not famous yet. Give me a few more months. The historical isn't coming out until May. How's Arizona?"
"It's fine, but right now I'm in San Diego."
"San Diego?" He heard the sound of pots clattering and envisioned her in the kitchen creating some exotic meal. "Oh, that's right, I forgot. Cody…I wonder if you could pick me up some-"
"Give me a break, Jackie. Are you fat yet?"
He could almost see her running a hand over her growing belly. "Getting there. Nathan went with me last week for my exam and heard the baby's heartbeat." She chuckled again, warmly. "He hasn't been the same since."
"Is he there?"
"You just missed him. I wanted some fresh dill for dinner. He had the idea that my going out and buying it would tire the baby, so he went himself."
"Nathan wouldn't know dill from dandelions."
"I know." There was a wealth of love in those two words. "Isn't it wonderful? When are you coming back?"
"I don't know. I'm, ah… considering staying out here until the project's finished."
"Really?" She paused a moment. "Cody, do I detect a purpose other than creative control?"
He hesitated. Stupid, he thought. He hadn't called to discuss the medical complex or the resort or any other project. He'd called to talk to a friend. "There's a woman."
"No! Just one?"
He had to smile. "Just one."
"Sounds serious."
"Could be."
Because she knew him, Jackie saw through his casual air. "When am I going to meet her? You know, give her the third degree, look her over, pick her apart? Is she another architect? Wait, I know. She's a graduate student moonlighting as a cocktail waitress."
"She's an engineer."
It was several seconds before Jackie could speak. "Are you kidding? You hate them more than Nathan does. Good grief, it must be love."
"Either that or sunstroke. Listen, Jack, I wanted to let Nathan know I'd cleaned things up here and I'm heading back to Phoenix."
"I'd let him know. Cody, are you happy?"
He paused a moment, discovering there wasn't a yes-or-no answer to that. "That's going to depend on the engineer. I'll give it to you straight. I'm crazy about her, but she's dragging her heels."
"If she messes with you, I'm going to fly out and break her slide rule."
"Thanks. That ought to keep her in line. I'll keep in touch."
"You do that. And, Cody, good luck."
It was nearly nine before Abra got in. She'd had a nice, long, talky meal with her mother. That sort of thing always left her of two minds. The first was amusement, pure and simple. Jessie was great company, funny, absurd and easy to be with. No one made a better friend.
The other was worry. Those same qualities made Jessie what she was, a free spirit, a take-it-as-it-comes woman who danced from man to man without collecting any bruises. Her newest partner was W. W. Barlow-or, as her mother had taken to calling him, Willie.
Jessie had been full of him during dinner. How sweet he was, how cute, how attentive. Abra knew the signs. Jessie Wilson Milton Peters was in for another run.
Rubbing the back of her neck, Abra tossed her purse aside and stepped out of her shoes as she crossed the living room. How was she supposed to keep a professional outlook on the job if her mother was having an affair with the owner? With a laugh, she scanned the mail she'd brought in with her, then tossed that aside, as well. How was she supposed to keep that same outlook if she herself was having an affair with the architect of record?
Life had gotten very complicated in a very short time.
She would back out if she could. One of the things she was best at was untangling herself from uncomfortable situations. The trouble was, she was almost sure she was in love with him. That made it more than a situation-it made it a crisis. She'd thought she was in love once before, but…
There were no buts, Abra told herself. Just because this was more intense than anything she'd ever known, just because she couldn't seem to go more than five minutes without thinking of him, that didn't make this any different from what had happened to her years before.
Except that this time she was older and smarter and better prepared.
No one was ever going to do to her what Jamie Frye had done. She was never going to feel that small or that useless again. If love was a crisis, she could deal with it the same way she dealt with any crisis on the job. Calmly, thoroughly, efficiently. It would be different with Cody, because they were meeting on equal terms, with the rules set out clearly for both of them to read. And he was different. That much she was sure of. He wasn't shallow and insensitive, as Jamie had proved himself to be, Hardheaded, maybe. Infuriating, certainly. But there was no cruelty in him. And, she believed, no dishonesty.
When he hurt her, which she had already accepted he would do, it would happen suddenly and without intent. Hurts healed; she knew that well. She would have no reason to look back on whatever time they had together with regret or self-recrimination.
Abra shook herself. She had to stop thinking about him, or she would work herself into the blues because he wasn't there. What she needed was a nice strong cup of coffee and an hour at the drawing board.
She changed into a basketball jersey for comfort, then settled down with the hot coffee, her mind open to ideas. It was then that she noticed the message light blinking on her answering machine.
Pressing the button, Abra bit into one of the stale cookies she'd dug out of a cupboard. The first call was from a college friend she hadn't seen for weeks. Abra made a note to return the call in the morning. The second was from Tim's secretary, setting a meeting for Monday morning. Grumbling a bit, Abra scrawled a reminder on her calender. Then she heard Cody's voice and forgot everything else.
"… if you get in before seven…"
Abra looked at her watch and sighed. It was well past that. He probably had late meetings. Even if she called the hotel she wouldn't reach him. Cupping her chin, she listened to his voice.
"… I missed you. A lot."
Ridiculously pleased, she rewound the tape and listened to the entire message again. Even though she called herself a fool, she rewound it a second time, then a third.
She worked a little and dreamed a lot during the next hour. Her coffee grew cold. Abra ran figures, then planned out how she would welcome Cody home. She'd have to go out and buy something wonderful. Tomorrow was Saturday. Surely he'd be home by the next evening, or by Sunday morning at the latest. That meant hours, and perhaps even an entire day, without the pressure of work to interfere.
She would stop by one of those fancy little boutiques the first thing in the morning and buy some glorious concoction of silk and lace. Something sexy and soft and irresistible. She'd go have a facial. Wasn't Jessie always touting the wonders of her beauty salon? Not just a facial, Abra decided. She'd go for the works. Hair, nails-what there were of them-skin, everything. When Cody got back, she'd look fantastic. Definitely black silk, she decided. A skimpy teddy or a sheer, elegant chemise.
She'd need some wine. What the devil was that brand he'd told her about? She'd have to throw herself on the mercy of the clerk in the wine shop around the corner. And flowers. Rising, Abra looked at her bedroom for the first time in days. Good God, she was going to have to clean up. Candles. She probably had
candles somewhere. Caught up in her own fantasy, she began to gather up clothes and shoes. When a knock interrupted, she tossed an armful in the closet and slammed it closed.
"All right, I'm coming." Where in the hell was her robe? She found it crumpled under the bed and struggled one arm into it as she ran to the door. "Who is it?"
"Three guesses."
"Cody?"
"Right the first time," he told her as she pulled at the security chain. She yanked open the door and stared at him. Grinning, he took a long, lazy look.
Her hair was tied back with a broken shoestring. The makeup she'd applied for dinner with her mother had long since been scrubbed off. Her robe dangled open, revealing the oversize basketball jersey, which skimmed her thighs.
"Hiya, Red. Wanna shoot some hoops?"
Chapter Seven
Abra blinked, wondering if he was a mirage. "What are you doing here?"
"Standing in the hallway. Are you going to let me in?"
"Yes, but-" She stepped back, and he came in and dropped his flight bag on the floor. Mirages didn't look this good. Or smell this good. Confused, she glanced back toward the bedroom and the phone machine. "I just got your message. You didn't say you were back."
"I wasn't." Since she didn't seem to be in any hurry to do so, he shut the door himself. "Now I am."
She thought of the plans she had been making. Taking a quick look around her jumbled apartment, Abra ran a helpless hand through her hair. "You should have told me you were coming back tonight. I wasn't- I'm not ready."
"What's the matter, Wilson?" To please himself, he put his hands on her shoulders, then ran them slowly up and down her arms, gradually pushing her robe aside. She was definitely giving him a whole new perspective on athletic wear. "Got another man under the bed? In the closet?"
"Don't be stupid." Frustrated, she pulled back. She knew her face was scrubbed as clean as a baby's. And her hair-she didn't need a mirror to know that was hopeless. Then there was the green-and-white jersey. Hardly the sophisticated, seductive lingerie she'd envisioned. "Damn it, Cody, you should have let me know you were coming."
He checked an impulse to gather her up and shut her up. Maybe he'd let himself get carried away thinking she'd be as glad to see him as he was to see her. And maybe he shouldn't have assumed she'd be waiting patiently and alone for him to come back.
"I might have," he said slowly, "if I'd gotten you instead of a recording. Where were you?"
"When? Oh." Her mind still racing, she shook her head. "I was out to dinner."
"I see." He stuck his hand in his pocket, and it knocked against the jeweler's box. He didn't have any claims on her. The hell he didn't. "'Anyone I know?"
"My mother," she said absently. "What are you grinning at?"
"Nothing."
Her chin came up as she snatched at the sleeve of her robe. "I know how I look, Johnson. If you'd given me any warning at all I could have done something about it. The place is a wreck."
"It's always a wreck," he pointed out. It was all beginning to seep in. She'd wanted to set the stage, and he'd come in ahead of his cue.
"I could have cleaned up a little." Scowling, she kicked a shoe aside. "I only have lousy wine."
"Well, in that case, I'd better go." He turned away, then turned back as if he'd had a sudden thought. "Before I do, I have something to say about the way you look."
Abra folded her arms, and the glint was back in her eyes. "Watch your step."
"I guess there's only one way to handle this honestly." He stepped toward her and put a friendly hand on her shoulder. "You do want us to be honest with each other, don't you, Abra?"
"Maybe," she muttered. "Well, to a point."
"I've got to tell you something, and you should be tough enough to take it."
"I can take it." She started to shrug his hand away. "I wish you'd-"
Whatever she wished would have to wait. He jerked her forward and crushed her mouth with his. She tasted heat, waves of it that only increased when her lips parted on a half moan. In one quick movement he stripped the robe from her, then took his hands up and under the thin jersey to explore naked skin and subtle curves. Gasping, she strained against his rough hands. Then she was clinging, her knees buckling, as he sent her arrowing to the edge.
"Cody…"
"Shut up," he murmured before he pressed his lips to her throat.
'"Kay." She could manage no more than a moan as his fingers dug into her hips. Her head was spinning, but underneath the dazed pleasure was an urgency every bit as great as his. She tugged at his jacket as they began to work their way across the room. "I want you," she whispered, yanking his shirt up and over his head. In one quick, possessive stroke, she ran her hands up his chest. "Now."
Her desperate murmur triggered explosions inside him. He'd thought he'd be ready for them, but anticipation and reality were worlds apart. Desire became raw, impatient, primitive. For both, the bedroom was too far away. When they tumbled onto the couch he was still half dressed, with each of them fighting to free him. Her hands were wild, digging into him, dragging over him, while she reared up to keep her mouth fused with his. He could feel the heat radiating from her, driving him farther and farther from sanity.
With a sudden oath, he pulled the jersey down, yanking it to her waist so that he could bury his mouth at her breast. With an abandonment she'd never known before, she arched against him, pressing him closer, welcoming the dangerous scrape of teeth and tongue.
The lights burned around them. In the apartment overhead someone turned a stereo up loud, and the bass vibrated in a low, passionate rhythm. The delicate fragrance she'd splashed on an hour before mingled with the musky scent of desire.
She was going to drive him crazy. That was all Cody could think as he followed the trail of her jersey down, farther down the smooth, taut skin of her torso. Everywhere he touched, everywhere he tasted, she responded with a ripe, huge pleasure that astonished him. She pulled at his hair, and the shuddering breaths she drew in were nearly sobs.
They'd waited too long-a lifetime. Now they were together-no more evasions, no more excuses. Only impatience.
When clothing was finally stripped away, her long, graceful limbs twined around him. She could no longer think, nor did she wish to. She wanted only to feel. She wanted to murmur to him, something, anything that would tell him what was happening inside her. But the words wouldn't form. She had never wanted like this, never needed like this. Her body felt like a furnace that only he could stoke higher. There was a tremendous ache building. Instinctively she reached out, half in delight, half in defense. As if he understood, he drove her to a shuddering climax.
She gasped out his name and she felt herself falling, endlessly, weightlessly. Even as she spiraled down he caught her and sent her soaring again.
He could see her in the lamplight, her skin sheened with moisture, her eyes dazed and open. Her hair was spread out on the rug where they'd rolled. He tried to say her name, but the air in his lungs burned like fire, and the word flamed out like a curse when he crushed her lips one last time.
He watched her peak again, felt her fingers dig ruthlessly into his back. Driven to the limit, he plunged into her. She rose up to meet him with a speed that tore at his already-tattered control.
Fast, hard, hot, they raced together to a place neither of them had ever been.
Weakened, stunned, Cody collapsed onto her. He had neither the energy nor the clearheadedness to separate what had happened to him into individual actions, reactions, sensations. It was as though one huge bubble of emotion had enclosed him and then burst, leaving him drained.
She was as soft as water beneath him, her breathing slow and shallow. He felt her hand slide off his back and fall limply to the rug. Beneath his lips her heart beat quickly, and he closed his eyes and let himself drift with the sound and the rhythm.
They didn't speak. Even if words had been possible, he wouldn't have known which ones to use to tell her what she had done to
him. Done for him. He only knew that she belonged to him now and that he would do whatever was necessary to keep her. Was this what love did? she wondered. Did it fill you with wild energy, then leave you so fragile that you thought you would dissolve from your own breathing? Anything she had ever felt before paled to insignificance compared to what she had experienced with Cody.
Everything had been new and almost unbearably intense. She hadn't had to think or plan or decipher. She'd only had to act on her own needs-needs she had successfully ignored until the first time he'd touched her.
It seemed he understood and accepted that. Just as it seemed he understood and accepted her. No one else ever had-not like this.
Was it love, she asked herself, or just the most overpowering of desires? Did it matter? She felt his fingers tangle in her hair and closed her eyes. It mattered-too much. Just a touch and she was tempted to toss away everything she believed, everything she'd planned, if only he would touch her again.
There was no point in denying what she felt for him, and she didn't have the courage to think about what he might feel for her.
He pressed a kiss to her throat. "You okay?"
"I don't know." It was an honest answer, she thought as she dragged in a deep, greedy breath. "I think so." Clearing her throat, she opened her eyes again. They were on the floor, she realized, wondering how they'd managed it. "How about you?"
"Fine. As long as I don't have to move for the next week or two." He turned his head so that he could nuzzle lazily at her neck. "Still mad?"
"I wasn't mad." The trace of his tongue along her already-sensitized skin had her shifting beneath him. "I just wanted things to be set up."
"Set up?" He shifted lazily to her ear.
"Yes. I was planning…" She let her words trail off as he skimmed his fingertip over her nipple. She started to say his name, but the word ended on a sigh as his lips teased hers.
"Amazing," he murmured as her slow, sinuous movements had him hardening inside her. "Absolutely amazing."
