Heaven Can't Wait

by Pamela Clare

  Back toward the fifty-yard line, D’Angio was applauding and shouting. “Softest damned hands in the Big 12, boys, and feet with wings. If it hadn’t been for an interception and a linebacker with a grudge, he’d be shaking up the pros. Want to go for another one, Fraser?”

  Will let himself be talked into catching three more before he pleaded deadline and retrieved his jacket. “I still have a column to write.”

  Only then did he realize Merrill had taped the whole thing.

  “Please tell me you’re going to scrap that.” Will tossed his jacket over his shoulder.

  “Might be fun at the employee holiday party. I do take bribes, you know.”

  Lissy picked up Chinese on the way home and tucked Will’s supper in the fridge. Then she hunkered down before the television with her dinner plate and a pair of chopsticks. The station was just finishing weather, which meant sports was next. They’d probably recycle Will’s live broadcast—Denver was Broncos crazy—and she’d at least get a glimpse of him. She hated it when one or the other of them had to work late.

  No, it’s me. I’m just—

  —head-over-heels in love with a very sexy man who knows perfectly well how he affects you and is doing everything he can to make you lose the bet before he does.

  Lissy hadn’t been able to forget her conversation with Holly. She’d run Sunday through her mind again and again but could find no reason to believe Will was deliberately trying to seduce her. Holly had an overactive imagination.

  But why had none of his friends taken off their shirts? Hmmm?

  Lissy ignored the irritating voice in her head and turned up the volume.

  The latest Red Sox victory over St. Louis. A doping scandal in the world of cycling. A few surprising NFL draft picks.

  Thank God they were finally getting to football. No matter how much she loved Will, Lissy could only stand so much sports news. She stood and hurried to the kitchen to refill her glass of ice water, the sound of the television following her.

  “At Broncos team camp this afternoon, spectators might have assumed the team had inked a new draft pick. But look closely. The man catching the ball is none other than Channel Four commentator Will Fraser, who stepped out from behind the microphone and onto the field this afternoon to catch a few passes thrown by Receivers Coach Tony D’Angio.”

  Lissy nearly tripped in her crazed dash from the kitchen to the sofa. She watched, thrilled, as an image of Will leaping into the air and catching a football filled the screen.

  My man.

  The words popped into her head, uttered by some primitive female part of her, as she savored the replay, melting into the cushions. Then they segued from the footage of him catching passes to his prerecorded analysis of the team’s receivers.

  It was only later that it dawned on her.

  His knee, which had hurt so much last night, hadn’t seemed to bother him at all.

  Will drove home feeling ready to hit someone. He’d been halfway through his column when his phone had rung and he’d found himself on the line with Lissy’s mother. She obviously hadn’t expected to reach him in person, had planned to leave him a message. But once she recovered from the shock of speaking with him live, she told him that she was prepared to compensate him handsomely if he signed a prenuptial agreement, which she had just faxed to him at the paper.

  “You’ll receive a check for fifty thousand dollars as soon as the document is legally final,” she’d said, her voice all ice and clipped syllables. “Once Lissy sees you’ve signed it, she’ll quit being ridiculous and sign it herself. The money—”

  “You mean the bribe?”

  “—will remain our secret.”

  Anger and disbelief had tied Will’s tongue, but only for a moment. “I don’t know how a woman as warm and loving as Lissy came from you, but for her sake I’m going to keep this conversation to myself. It would crush her to know you’ve gone behind her back like this.”

  “I will not have my daughter lose her fortune to trailer trash! You don’t even know who your father was!” The ugly sharpness of her words rang between them like shattering glass.

  Will fought back profanity, chose his words carefully. “I know he was a wealthy married man, like your husband, and that the young waitress he took advantage of paid the rest of her life for his irresponsibility, raising a child alone on tip money. She had more courage in her heart than he had dollars in the bank. Lissy is like her—kind, courageous, caring.”

  “Don’t presume to tell me about my daughter!”

  “Good-bye, Mrs. Charteris.” He’d slammed the phone down, then retrieved the hateful document and fed it through the shredder.

  Will got home just before nine to find Lissy curled up on the sofa with a pile of fashion magazines and a glass of iced tea, Seal playing over the stereo. At the sight of her, he felt his anger drain away. God, he needed her tonight.

  She was wearing a skin-hugging black tank top—without a bra—and a pair of very short denim shorts. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail that hung halfway down her back. She stood when he neared the sofa, raised herself onto her toes and kissed him—on the cheek. “I missed you.”

  He pulled her close and kissed her long and slow—on the lips. “I missed you, too.”

  She stepped away, started toward the kitchen. “Your dinner’s in the fridge—Chinese.”

  “There’s nothin’ like my Lissy’s home cookin’.” He followed her, watching the feminine sway of her hips and the sexy curves of her ass, willing himself to forget the conversation he’d had with her mother.

  “I saw you on TV today.” She opened the refrigerator and bent over to reach inside, her shorts rising an inch to reveal the soft, rounded undersides of her ass cheeks.

  His mouth watered, but not for Chinese food. “I’m always on TV, sugar.”

  She turned around, two take-out containers in her hands. “The receivers coach was throwing passes, and you—”

  “What? Are you telling me they aired that?” Mortification followed astonishment.

  She poured the containers out onto a plate and popped the plate into the microwave. “You looked really good. And, hey, you caught it every time.”

  Cringing on the inside, he shook his head. “Christ, that’s embarrassing! I didn’t even know Merrill was taping. I think he was trying to get back at that dickhead Don, but I sure wish he’d asked me first.”

  She took a pair of lacquered chopsticks out of the silverware drawer. “Why would that be embarrassing? Most men would give anything to be on the six o’clock news tossing the ball around with a Broncos coach.”

  “Most men don’t have to see how much they’ve gone downhill or worry that everyone will think they’re trying to show off.” He hated the self-pity he heard in his own voice.

  She looked over at him, her green eyes going soft. Then she set the chopsticks aside, walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry, Will. I’d give anything to be able to change things, to see you live the life you want to live.”

  He stroked and kissed her hair. “You are the life I want to live, Lissy. You’re not someone I got stuck with because the rest of it didn’t work out.”

  He felt her body relax, an almost imperceptible shift. “It’s still hard, isn’t it? Every day it’s hard for you.”

  He pulled her closer. “Not every day.”

  What was hard was not reaching down to cup the lovely, firm breasts that pressed so temptingly against his ribs. He ran his knuckles up the warm, bare skin of her arms and cupped her silky shoulders instead. Then he ducked down and brushed his lips over hers, tasting first her upper lip, then her lower.

  He heard her quick intake of breath, saw her eyes go smoky. She lifted her chin, reaching for his kiss with her luscious red mouth.

  The microwave beeped.

  Will bit back a groan as she slipped out of his arms, pulled his steaming chicken and vegetables out of the microwave and carried it to the table.

&nb
sp; They shared the highlights of their day while he polished off his supper, then they snuggled on the couch to watch the ten o’clock news.

  Later Will would not be able to say how it started—an innocent brush of skin against skin, a glance, a shared breath. They’d made it through the day’s headlines, when he found himself brushing his lips slowly over her cheek, kissing her temple, nibbling at the whorl of her ear, sucking on her earlobe, the sound of the television a distant buzz.

  Her breath came in shudders. Her lips were parted, her eyes closed, her hands clenched into fists in her lap. When her head fell back onto his shoulder, he did what he’d wanted to do all night. He kissed her full on the mouth—and she kissed him back.

  It seemed like forever since they’d kissed like this with lips and tongues and teeth, and he found after the first taste that he wanted more. With a groan, he took her beneath him, pressed her back onto the cushions, kissed her harder, deeper.

  She arched against him, wrapped her legs around him, moaned into his mouth, a sweet feminine sound that made every muscle in his body tense and sent his mind reeling with urgent, throbbing lust. His cock strained eagerly against his fly, seeking a way out of his pants and into her. He reached down with one hand, grasped her ass, rubbed his clothed erection between her legs, searching for relief.

  She whimpered, slipped out from beneath him so that she sat on the floor, holding her hand out at arm’s length as if to ward him off. “W-we have to stop. We can’t!”

  The goddamned bet.

  Will wanted to point out that they didn’t have to stop, that the best possible thing they could do right now was fuck each other’s brains out, but that would mean wearing pink. He sat up, forced breath into his lungs, bit back a few choice words. “I’ll bet engaged couples kissed a hundred years ago.”

  She seemed to consider his words, hugging her arms around herself as if that would stop whatever she was feeling. “I don’t think they kissed like that.”

  He leaned toward her, almost touching her. “I bet they touched every way and everywhere they could—as often as they could.”

  She scooted backward. “But they stopped. They knew they had to stop.”

  “They didn’t all stop.” He dropped to the floor beside her, slipped an arm around her waist to halt her retreat and pressed his lips against the pulse at her throat. “Ever hear the expression ‘shotgun wedding’?”

  Her answer was something between a squeak and a moan.

  He pressed kisses along the silky skin of her throat. “Besides, we’re just kissing.”

  “Kissing…often…leads to…sex.”

  “Only if you want it to. I’ll prove it to you.” He licked the sensitive skin just beneath her ear, felt her shiver. Then he caught her hair with his fist, tilted her head back and plundered her mouth, thrusting his tongue deep, nipping and sucking her lips, taking from her mouth what he could not take from her body. He gave her no quarter.

  With a muffled cry, she melted against him and met the potency of his kiss with her own ferocious hunger. He knew he was pushing her to the edge because he was being pushed right along with her. He knew he had to stop to make his point, but his body wouldn’t let him. One more stroke of tongue against tongue. One more taste of her lips. One more gust of breath.

  His cock hard as stone, his blood raging through his veins, he broke the kiss. “I agreed not to have sex until after the wedding. But I didn’t agree not to touch you, Lissy. I intend to touch you every day. Get used to it.”

  She stared at him through wide green eyes, her pupils dilated, her lips swollen.

  He kissed her on the forehead. “Good night, sugar. Sweet dreams.”

  Lissy lay in the dark, burning. She crossed her legs, squeezed her thighs tightly together, tried to ease the ache.

  No, it’s me. I’m just—

  —head-over-heels in love with a very sexy man who knows perfectly well how he affects you and is doing everything he can to make you lose the bet before he does.

  Was Holly right after all?

  After tonight it certainly seemed like it. Lissy’d tried to keep their contact chaste, kissing him on the cheek, keeping her distance, trying not to add fuel to the fire. But Will had grabbed the gas can and emptied it over both of them. Whoosh!

  He’d been just as turned on as she, his cock a hard ridge inside his pants, his breathing unsteady, his blue eyes dark like the night sky.

  I agreed not to have sex until after the wedding. But I didn’t agree not to touch you, Lissy. I intend to touch you every day. Get used to it.

  But Lissy would never get used to it. Although she’d always enjoyed sex, nothing could compare to the way she felt when Will touched her. Will had more passion in his kisses than most men possessed in their entire bodies. His tongue alone was…

  She couldn’t think about that. She’d already found herself weighing the pros and cons of the Badgley Mischka. Swarovski crystals. Chapel-length train. Corset waist.

  But she’d set out to prove to herself they could go for two weeks without sex and still have a strong relationship. She wasn’t ready to give in yet.

  Get a grip on yourself, Lissy!

  She wanted to get a grip on Will. But that wasn’t going to happen, not for twelve long days and twelve longer nights—eleven if she didn’t count today. Which was almost over, so she really shouldn’t count it. Then again, tonight wasn’t over until she fell asleep. Twelve. Twelve long nights.

  She rolled onto her belly, slid her hand beneath the mattress, pulled out her vibrator and rolled over onto her back. Then she flipped the switch—and nothing happened.

  She shook it. Still nothing.

  She sat up, turned on the light, saw the switch was set at Off.

  “Well no wonder.”

  She flipped it the other way. Nothing.

  And then it occurred to her that the thing had been switched to On.

  The batteries were burned out.

  With an aggravated sigh, she got out of bed and padded down the hallway to get fresh ones. Had she left the darned thing on all night long? No, that was impossible. It was loud enough—and strong enough—that she’d have heard and felt it. Maybe her motions had accidentally turned it on when she’d gotten up in the morning and she’d been too busy to hear it buzzing away. Yet how could that be when the switch actually required a bit of effort?

  She entered the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, its light spilling across her bare legs and into the darkened room. She reached for the side shelf where they kept spare batteries—only to find it empty. She groaned.

  Will must have taken them for his—

  She stood bolt upright and slammed the fridge door, making glass jars and bottles clink.

  That bastard!

  He had turned her vibrator on and let the batteries run out. And he’d taken the rest of the pack so she’d have nothing to replace them with.

  For a moment she could do nothing but fume.

  He was trying to seduce her! He was trying to make her give in! He was trying to make her wear the slutty wedding gown!

  Well, he was a freaking idiot if he thought an act of vibrator sabotage and battery theft would be enough to force her to come crying for him. She was more resourceful than that.

  Lissy tiptoed into the living room, picked up the TV remote and opened it—only to find it took AAA batteries, not AAs.

  “Damn!”

  The same was true of the stereo, VCR and DVD remotes.

  She wracked her brain, tried to figure out what other appliances in the house took batteries. The alarm clocks? No. They were electric. Her iPod? No, it had its own battery. The smoke detectors!

  She hurried back to the kitchen, picked up a chair and carried it into the hallway. Then she climbed up and, standing on her tiptoes, tried to remove the casing. It was on tight, and as she twisted and tugged, her hand bumped the glowing red Test button.

  It let out a blaring beep, making Lissy grab her ears and look toward the bedroom. The las
t thing she wanted was for Will to catch her scavenging for batteries. She watched for a moment, waited. All was quiet.

  She reached back up and removed the cover with a quiet click.

  Nine volt.

  Nine volt! The damned thing took nine-volt batteries!

  “Lissy, what in hell are you doing?”

  She gasped, found Will standing stark naked beside the chair. “I-it’s been a while since we changed these. I was just checking to make sure it still worked.”

  “At one in the morning?”

  “We don’t want to get caught with our pants down.”

  “Uh, no. I guess not.” He glanced down at his naked body. “Why don’t you let me do that? I’m taller. Hand me the spare.”

  Her face flushed red. She didn’t have the spare. “I-I think I forgot to grab it.”

  “I’ll get it.” He walked off, his ass muscles shifting as he moved. “You get to sleep.”

  Lissy swore she heard him chuckle.

  Laugh all you want, Mr. Tricky Man. Two can play at this game.

  On Tuesday, Lissy got up early, showered, then took her time dressing in the bedroom, being just loud enough to wake Will, but not so loud that it was obvious she was trying to wake him. As he watched from beneath sleepy lids, she slathered scented cream up the length of her newly shaved legs, across her belly and breasts, and down her arms, and over the naked mounds of her butt. She took her time doing it, massaging the cream into her skin as if she were caressing a lover, cupping her breasts, bending to give him a glimpse of her from behind.

  Then she pulled a pair of garters and stockings out of her drawer of naughty lingerie and—with Will more fully awake—rolled the stockings up her legs and fastened them to the garters. Next, she put on a silk push-up bra, lifting her breasts with her hands so they filled the cups just so. Then she put on a slinky black wrap dress—but no panties.

  “Where do you think you’re going dressed like that?” He sounded grumpy.

  “Oh!” Lissy pretended she hadn’t realized he was awake. She slipped into a pair of black Manolo Blahniks. “To the paper, of course. Will you be working late again tonight?”