“Reporters?” she asked.
“Goddamn everywhere. Not a single day goes by where I don’t get hassled by these morons. Not a single day.”
“You’re the hottest new hero,” she said, rambling off a headline she’d read recently, then blushed, realizing what she’d said.
“I did what anyone else would have done.”
“Take a bullet for someone? I don’t think so.” She stepped closer to him, knowing that of all the things he was, Lance Turner was a man who always did the right thing. He’d done it the night of her mother’s suicide attempt, he’d done it for his niece and he’d done it for that student he’d saved.
He was a guardian angel. “Anyone would have done it.”
She shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “They wouldn’t have.”
“A student comes running at you with a crazy guy holding a gun and you wouldn’t try to protect her?”
“I’d want to protect her,” she said, considering the scenario, “but I’d think of myself first. It’s a basic human instinct to want to survive.”
He seemed to be reliving that moment, with his face contorted like that. “I saw the fear in her eyes,” he said, looking up at her, and she saw the anguish in his. “It was one of the most wretched things I’ve ever seen.” His face turned ashen. “It was raw, animal fear. She looked to me like a hunted animal, as if she knew that this was it, that she was going to die, and I knew I couldn’t let her.” He ran his hand through his hair, the color draining from his face fast. Then he closed his eyes. “Each time I close my eyes I see her face, and I feel her collapsing into my arms. I heard the gun fire and all I could think of was that she couldn’t die. She was so young.” It was as if he were lost in thought and from the way he spoke, she wondered if he was thinking about Anna.
“Lance,” she said, taking his hand and running her fingers gently over the back of it. “You saved her life. You should be proud of yourself.” He grabbed her hand in his and pulled her close. There was a moment of quiet during which she had the chance to back away, but she chose not to. Her heart beat quickened as they stared at one another, locking into the moment for a long time. It was the way his eyes settled over her lips, making heat snake around her body, and the way his hands felt around hers, making her wish he would move them and hold her the way he’d held her that night ten years ago. He licked his lips, and she felt the pull, in her stomach, between her legs, across her arms and stomach, a spidery, sensual, invisible pull that only he was able to exercise.
“We shouldn’t,” she said, even though her body said otherwise.
“No, we shouldn’t.” But he slipped his arms around her all the same. She felt the heat from his body as their chests pressed together and she stared up at him. In the next moment, their lips touched and in that briefest of moments after—when they could have pulled apart, when time stood still and clear-headed decisions could be made—in that suspended moment, their lips joined together, sealing a kiss, deep and long in a moment that was timeless.
It could almost have been like that last kiss all those years ago, the memory of him, his touch, his smell, it all came back.
“Meg,” he said softly, but this time she was the one who pulled away, withdrawing her hands from his waist, not remembering how they’d ended up there in the first place.
What was that? Her heart hammered away in her chest. Her knees half-jellylike, her breasts tingling. Everything about her youth, everything forbidden and off limits, suddenly showed up in front of her. Looking at Lance Turner now, in front of her, looking the way he did, that lost connection reignited, the longing from her youth resurfacing.
“I’ve got your pen,” she said, the sentence sounding misplaced in the moment.
“I don’t care about the pen right now,” he rasped. “I’ve often regretted walking away from you that night,” he said. “But even if I could change things, I don’t think I would do things differently.”
“I know,” she said, raising her finger to his scar and feeling its bumpy outline against her fingertips. “That’s because you always do the right thing.”
“But kissing you now,” he said, taking her fingers in his hand and kissing them, “this feels right.”
She didn’t disagree. The insides of her body were in serious upheaval and she wasn’t sure if it was because the past had come alive again in the present, or because Lance’s searing gaze could melt her panties off at a glance. Or whether it was both of these things but something possessed her to lift her face towards him again. And this time his mouth came down hard, as if he was done with pussy-footing around, as if it were impossible to keep things at that level. It wasn’t the only thing hard thing about him. He could kiss. Hot damn, the man could kiss. He claimed her lips as if they belonged to him and she gave herself willingly.
He broke contact and looked at her with dark eyes. Their bodies pressed together had their own secret rhythm, and she didn’t want to move away.
“What do you want me to do, Meg?”
“Take me to bed.”
It was here and now and nothing else mattered. She fumbled with his shirt, opening his buttons quickly then sliding her hands over his hard-as-diamond stomach. Her fleeting fingers skimmed over his ridges and curves until he grabbed her hands and stopped her exploration. “We don’t have to rush.”
“I know,” she breathed, and kissed him again, possessed by that need inside her. His lips, full and lush teased her mouth all over again. It was scintillating and seductive and she was swollen with need, soaking wet with desire.
“Do you remember that night, Meg?” he asked, his breath sweet and hot against her cheek. “I’ve never forgotten,” she murmured, breathless and lost in his embrace, helping him to undo the fiddly small buttons of her blouse.
Chapter 16
“I was supposed to finish off a few things,” he said, bolting up in bed.
“Now?” She sat up behind him, the sheet slipping from her chest and giving him a glimpse of her naked. He groaned, kissing her on the lips again, not wanting to get out of bed.
“Yes, now.” But the twitch in his boxers had other ideas. “It won’t take long,” he promised, slipping on his boxers and thinking about what had just happened. Staring down at her, he was half-tempted to climb back in again. Nothing had felt as good as this, not even those years with Vivian. For the first time in a long time, things were going to turn around and get better for him.
“Did we really do that?” she asked, purring like a cat, as she arched her back and laid her head back on the pillow. Wicked thoughts gyrated around in his head and other body parts. “I have to send my students’ dissertations to the other professors. There’s a deadline, and you interrupted me.”
“Sorry.”
“I’m not,” he said, unable to resist and falling back onto the bed again. She curled her hand around the back of his neck, sunk into his kiss, a long, wet, sensuous one that set the blood rushing through his body again. He hardened at the touch and smell of her and pulled away, otherwise he’d want to take her again. The urge to sink inside her was too great, but he also wanted to take it easy. He wanted to take it slow, to get to know her again. No more rushing into something blindly. He’d already paid that price before. He pulled away and asked her, “No regrets?”
She shook her head.
He kissed her again, then, “Me neither. I’d better send these off otherwise I’ve had it. Don’t go anywhere.”
“I won’t.”
She’d told him that the past was behind them now and this was a new start, but she’d been naked when she’d said it, and he’d been inside her, hot and sweaty; he didn’t consider that to be a good foundation for making a decision. He wanted saner, somber, sober words and she was drunk with lust, as was he. The strength of their connection, the depth of what he felt for her, surprised him. He hadn’t expected this to happen, and yet he was happy that it had but he was also wary of their past, and of taking things slowly, and of making mistakes
. He’d already made plenty in the past with Vivian. Cassie was the best thing to happen to him but if he could play his life over he’d do it differently. This was why whatever this was, or whatever it had the potential to become, he wanted Meghan to be sure, and he wanted it to happen for the right reasons; not because her schoolgirl crush played a big part in it.
He returned to the study. A pile of dissertations lay on the desk. He’d gone through them all but needed to release them to other professors for them to grade. He glanced at the digital clock on his PC. It was early evening and this wouldn’t take long. They could go out to dinner later. Do things properly. He didn’t do one-night stands. He wasn’t that type of person. Starting off in the bedroom wasn’t his usual way of winning women, though plenty of them were eager to lead him there.
A man his age didn’t have anything to prove. He knew himself, and knew what he wanted, and sex wasn’t the number one item on his list. He wanted to start this off the right way, by having dinner and conversation, by getting to know one another properly. He was a free agent, and so, he assumed, was she. And then he would tell her about Vivian and Cassie.
Was there a chance that something could come out of this? It was new, and yet it wasn’t. A decade separated their lives and experiences but they’d come together for a reason, he liked to believe.
He’d been working away for a short while and had managed to get mostly caught up when she walked into his study with the bedsheet wrapped around her. A smile spread across his lips at the prospect of what this could lead to. He was down to the last two dissertations but they could wait. Right now, he wanted to pull that bedsheet off her.
“Your niece is cute,” she murmured, holding up his cell phone.
“My what?”
“Your niece,” she said, handing him the phone. “It rang but you probably didn’t hear it.” He was about to tell her that it was his daughter, when the landline rang. He answered it immediately, his instinct telling him that something was wrong because someone was desperately trying to get a hold of him.
Meghan disappeared out of sight just as he said, “Hello?”
“You have to come quickly!” Vivian sounded distraught.
“Why, what’s happened?”
“Cassie had an accident.”
“What?” he cried, feeling the pinch in his chest.
“She bounced off the trampoline and went headfirst into the wooden bench. She’s got a gash on her head. There’s blood everywhere.”
Fuck.
“I’m on my way.”
“I’m taking her to the hospital.”
The pinch in his chest became a vise, clamping on to his heart and not letting go. “I’m coming now.” He rushed into the bedroom, to find Meghan fully dressed. “I have to go,” he said, rushing to get his own clothes on. “Something’s come up.” As much as he wanted to, now didn’t seem the right time to tell her about Cassie.
“Hey,” she said, “You seem kind of busy, what with those dissertations and all that. I don’t want you to get into any trouble.”
“It’s not that.”
She walked up to him and traced a finger along his scar. “I’m glad what happened between us,” she said. Her words eased away any concerns he might have had. He grabbed her fingers and kissed them. “We’ll talk later. I have to go.”
“So go,” she said. “And we’ll talk when I get back.”
“Get back?” He asked, climbing into his jeans.
“I’m going away tomorrow for the whole week.”
“When you get back,” he said, cupping her cheek with his hand. “Call me. I don’t even have your number.”
“I’ll text you, but it’s going to be difficult for me to talk when I’m at a client site.”
“Text me your number, anyway.”
He knew nothing about what was going on in her life. They’d started backwards, jumping to bed, and he wanted the whole thing. She stood on tiptoes and dropped a soft kiss on his lips. “I will.”
Chapter 17
It had happened so quickly. Spontaneously. Just like that. She hadn’t meant to end up in bed with Lance Turner. She was only supposed to have returned his pen.
Arla was going to have a field day.
Yet it felt so right, and she had no regrets. Something warm and comforting wrapped around her. Like love and understanding, like being wanted, like coming home. Now, as she drove to Arla’s place, she was a jumble of nerves; excited, uncontained, like a volcano getting ready to burst. She had to tell her.
“Damn,” said Meghan, her face dropping when Arla opened the door. She was in her bright orange Spandex top and black yoga pants which looked as if someone had thrown up on them. “You’re going to your class?”
“Nah, it’s okay,” said Arla, pulling her in. “I didn’t really feel like going anyway.”
“No,” said Meghan, hating the idea of interrupting her friend’s plans. The secret she was dying to tell her friend, could wait. “You carry on. I can’t have you missing a class on account of me. Look at you, Miss Fitness Addict!” Arla smiled proudly, as if loving the accolade. Her friend’s interest in working out surprised her. Throughout their lives, Meghan had become used to her friend’s numerous diets in her bid to lose weight. Sometimes, Meghan feared Arla’s quests for getting in shape, weren’t so much to do with her body size and shape and more to do with her self-esteem. The diets always came and went with Arla jumping on the latest fad, but this exercise phase—something which had lasted more than a few months—seemed to be becoming a big part of her life. She was secretly envious of her friend’s commitment to an active lifestyle.
“Nah, Scott isn’t there tonight.”
“Scott?”
“The spin instructor. He’s hot!” Arla squealed, her eyes round with excitement. “You should see him. He looks so damn good in his shorts. You should see his legs, soooo firm, like steel. I swear he could crush walnuts between his butt cheeks.” She sighed contentedly while Meghan made a face. “That turns you on?” In her mind’s eye she saw Lance’s naked body, his slim hips and flat stomach…
“When he sweats, the back of his vest drips with sweat,” revealed Arla, fanning herself with her hand, “I can’t keep my eyes off him.”
“And that’s the reason you’re so excited about the class?”
“I could have an orgasm just sitting on the cycle.”
Meghan chortled.
“I’m serious! Cycling away, with that hard saddle between my legs—“
“Stop it!”
“And a ripped, sweaty guy in front of me. Hell, yeah! Don’t laugh at me,” she shrieked, when Meghan fell about in hysterics. “I’m in danger of falling off my bike if I’m not careful.”
“That would be dangerous.”
“You could come, Meg. It’s a hotbed of hot men!”
Meghan shook her head and laughed. “I’m not going to your gym to scout for men.”
“You’re making a mistake,” said Arla. She threw her knapsack to the floor. “Come on,” she said. “I’m definitely missing today’s class.” They both fell onto the couch. “But if you ever change your mind, let me know. I get a discount on my membership for introducing new members.”
Meghan dismissed the idea. “I don’t have time to go to the gym. You know how busy I am.”
“Hot men…” Arla raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re not tempted?”
“I might have a hot man of my own,” she said, in a mysterious voice. Arla tilted her face towards her and her eyes widened. It was unusual for Meghan to brag about her relationships, especially when they were in the early, fragile stages, but she was itching to share her news.
“Vincent?” Arla shrieked.
“Ugh, NO!” She clutched her chest in disgust. Vincent had been trying to make moves on her for a long time and, so far, she’d managed to keep him successfully at bay. She should never have opened up to him like that at the Christmas party, but she’d recently split up from her boyfriend and things were still
raw. Even though the split had been mutual, the hurt still lingered. Vincent had been a good listener and as the party died down in the early hours of the morning, they shared a cab home. Just before the cab pulled up outside her place, a misjudged drunken kiss had taken place, a kiss she regretted to this day. She’d only kissed him to shut him up when he’d confessed that he had always liked her. Obviously, she hadn’t been thinking straight but had had the foresight to tell him that in her opinion an office romance wasn’t a good idea. He told her that he was willing to wait.
“Not Vincent?” Arla’s eyebrow lifted. “But he’s been hovering around you like a sniffer dog at a drug bust.”
Meghan chewed her lip then smiled. “Not him, no.”
“Holy shitfire!” Arla peered at her closely. She sniffed. Then cocked her head. Then narrowed her eyes. “Have you…?” she leaned forward. “Have you had sex?”
The color rushed to her cheeks. “What?” Was it that obvious? She squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment.
“You have had sex!” Arla clapped her hands in delight while Meghan looked even more mortified.
“Can you really smell it on me?”
“Relax,” Arla roared. “I can’t smell a thing, but I know that look on your face, Meg, when you’ve done something you’re not sure about.”
“Lance Turner,” said Meghan and watched as her friend’s eyes grew large, like white saucers. “Getouttahere,” she poked Meghan’s arm with her short, stubby fingers. Meghan’s smile blossomed. “It just happened.” Even now when she thought about it, it kept her smiling.
“It. Just. Happened?” Arla asked slowly, as if she were trying to remember the phrase in a foreign language. “You had sex with Mr. Turner and it just happened? You only ran into him a week ago.”
“Two weeks ago.” Meghan corrected her.
“Vincent-at-work’s been trying to get into your panties for the past year and the poor guy only managed to get a kiss off you and superhero Lance turns up and bam! He got the whole deal!” Arla smacked her hands together, “you got into bed with him in record time.”
Hot Silver Nights: Silver Fox Romance Collection Page 56
