The Baby Agenda

by Janice Kay Johnson

  She let out little gasps as he eased her dress down and peeled it off her arms then over her hips. His blood surged at the sight of her deep purple satin bra and a skimpy pair of matching panties.

  “Beautiful. So beautiful,” he managed to say, although the words came out sounding raw. Her dress fell to her feet and he scooped her in his arms and moved her a few feet closer to the bed.

  She wore no stockings, only strappy high heels and the bra and panties that were… His hands explored. Not a thong, but there wasn’t much there except the generous curve of butt that had him so hard he hurt.

  Damn. He kissed her again, both his hands gripping her ass to hold her tight to his hips. They rocked where they stood, as if they couldn’t help themselves, and a groan tore its way from his throat.

  He eased back and started yanking at his own clothes, flinging his suit coat to the floor, his tie after it the moment he got the damn knot undone. Moira was wrestling with the buttons of his shirt at the same time, and it fell to the floor, too.

  Somehow he got the covers pulled down and laid her across the wide bed, her sprawl so wanton he couldn’t do anything but follow her even though he wanted to finish stripping. He had to cradle his erection between her thighs or he thought he might die right now.

  They kissed and rolled, his hands everywhere on her body, hers on his. Not until she rose above him, sitting atop him, did he manage to undo the catch on her bra and free the most beautiful breasts he’d ever seen. Her chest was freckled, and a scattering of paler freckles danced down over the creamy skin traced with faint blue lines, as though her skin was more transparent than normal. Her nipples were pink, the aureoles larger and just a little deeper in color.

  Will heard himself making sounds that weren’t even words as he tugged her near so that he could lave her nipples with his tongue, first one then the other. Kiss them softly, blow on the damp skin until she shivered, then suckle her, pulling the hard nubbin deep into his mouth as his cheeks flexed.

  She clutched his shoulders and whimpered. Her hips rose and fell on his as if she couldn’t help herself, but he was afraid he’d come right now, in his pants, if she kept riding him that way. He rolled her onto her back so that he was on top, able to savor her breasts for another few minutes before he rose to his knees and tugged her panties off. There were the curls as bright as the ones on her head, nestled between a smooth, freckled stomach and perfect legs that were freckled, too. He wanted to kiss every single freckle, but he knew he wouldn’t last that long.

  Her stomach. He’d start there. He loved the give of it; she had a tiny waist, but not the washboard abs of a woman who worked out every day. She felt intensely feminine, the ripples of reaction under his mouth amazingly erotic.

  He finally had the strength of will to retreat enough to remove her shoes and, with clumsy hands, unbuckle his belt and shed his pants and socks. Then he kissed and licked his way up her legs, from the quivering arch of her feet to the sensitive back of her knees and the velvet softness of her inner thighs. He nuzzled her curls and inhaled her scent, his head swimming. A few strokes of his finger told him she was hot and wet and ready. Her cries had become something closer to mewls, and her head was flung back, her hair a halo against the white sheet.

  He moved up between her thighs and got as far as pressing against her opening when his brain finally kicked in.

  A condom! What in the hell had he been thinking?

  He all but sprang from her. “Your purse?” he asked.

  For a moment he could tell she didn’t comprehend, but then her eyes widened in shock that matched his. They’d come so close. Too damn close.

  “Yes.” She swallowed. “Yes. I don’t know where…”

  “I put it…” He turned his head and spotted the glittery bag. He leaped out of bed. When he got his hands on the bag, he dumped the contents on the dresser top, not caring that some fell to the floor. Between folded bills was one small packet, and that was it.

  He wished she’d brought more than one.

  Will ripped it open and put on the condom. Two long steps and he was at the bed, where her legs were still splayed wide. He ran his hands up them, caressing, squeezing, until his fingers reached her damp center and he stroked as he knelt there. Not until her hips rocked again did he lower himself, taking her mouth in a deep, hungry kiss even as he pushed inside her.

  She was tight. So tight he had a brief, horrified moment of wondering whether she might be a virgin. But he met no barrier, although he had to quit kissing her to grit his teeth at the exquisite pressure her body put on him. He was a big man, but he’d never felt anything like this.

  “Am I hurting you?” he asked roughly.

  She was panting for breath and her eyes were dilated.

  “No,” she whispered. “Oh, no.”

  Will moved. Out, in, slowly this time. He was near to exploding, but he had to give her pleasure first. Had to.

  “Never felt…anything…this good,” he groaned against her throat.

  “Please.” She wrapped her legs around his hips and rose to meet his next thrust. “Oh, please.”

  He knew what she needed. He just wasn’t sure he could hold out long enough. He tried to blank his mind as he plunged, again and again, clasped so tight by her. He’d been holding his weight from her on his elbows, but now he reached down with one hand and gripped her hips, lifting her higher, changing the angle at which their bodies met.

  “Will?” She sounded…almost frightened. Stunned, certainly. And then she cried out, and her body spasmed. He drove himself in her as deep as he could go and let the climax roll through him, the pleasure so powerful he couldn’t have formed a coherent thought if his life had depended on it.

  He collapsed on top of her and couldn’t move.

  Through a haze, it occurred to him that he’d never felt this amazing in his life. That sex had never approached being this powerful. He didn’t know how or why it had been this time. Maybe something about the night, about having watched her for so long through the glass. And they didn’t know each other.

  That was it: anticipation, and mystery.

  Eventually he made himself roll to one side and tuck her against him, her head on his shoulder, her hair tickling his chin. Eyes closed, he smiled, imagining those tendrils reaching for some kind of toehold, like ivy scaling a brick wall.

  “You’re amazing,” he murmured, his voice thick.

  She snuggled closer and said nothing.

  Will let himself drift, aware of the change in her breathing as she fell asleep. And, in drifting, he slept himself.

  It was probably the unfamiliar weight of her head on his shoulder that awakened him. Will was disoriented only for a moment. He reached up with his free hand and brushed curls from his mouth, then tilted his head enough to be able to see her face. Her lips were parted, and a faint snore came to his ears.

  His body stirred, and Will wished again that they had more than one condom. He supposed he could call down to the front desk… But she was sound asleep. She didn’t surface when he gently disentangled himself. Wishing for another condom had reminded him that he hadn’t removed the last one, or cleaned up.

  What he should do was get dressed and go. Staying longer wouldn’t bring anything but frustration and, come morning, an awkward conversation he’d as soon not have. She’d asked for one night; he’d told her it couldn’t be any more than that. What else was there to say?

  Will eased away, used the bathroom, then quietly got dressed. He found a pen on the desk and wrote quickly on the back of one of his business cards:

  You are beautiful. I wish more than one night had been possible.

  Will.

  He underlined the are with a dark slash.

  He picked up her clothes and laid them over a chair, then tucked the covers under her chin. She sighed and shifted before sinking back into deep slumber.

  Will took one last look at her face and the vivid hair spread across the pillow, turned off the lamp and quietly let
himself out of the room.

  MOIRA WOKE WITH A START. Her mouth felt disgusting and she tried to work up some saliva. When she moved, a headache blossomed. Ugh. Was she coming down with something…?

  She opened her eyes and remembered. Oh, Lord, she thought in shock. Had she really…? She squeezed her eyes shut. Yes. Yes, she had.

  Behind closed eyelids, she pictured him, broad and tall in the darkness, the way she saw him first, then his rough-hewn face above her here in this bed, his short dark hair and the deep brown eyes looking so intensely into hers. She saw him so vividly, she expected to see him in reality when she opened her eyes, even though she knew better.

  When she rolled enough to check out the other side of the bed and the room, it was to find herself alone. He was gone. They’d had sex, and he’d left her sleeping.

  After, Moira noticed, picking up her clothes so they weren’t left wadded on the floor.

  With a groan, she got out of bed, snatched up her clothes and rushed into the bathroom. Her stomach felt queasy but not too bad. She couldn’t exactly say she was hungover, although she wished she hadn’t had the last drink or two. Maybe, with a clearer head, she’d have had more sense than to take a hotel room and invite a perfect stranger into bed with her.

  Shame crawled over her skin like goose bumps. What on earth had made her do something like that? She’d had only one lover in her whole life, and that was a college boyfriend. All these years since, she’d never even been tempted to have a one-night stand.

  Until last night. When she’d not only been tempted, she’d done it.

  The shower was blessedly hot, and she stayed in it for a long time. Getting dressed afterward wasn’t fun, given that she didn’t have clean underwear and had to put on an evening gown and high heels. She’d have killed for coffee and breakfast to settle her stomach, but no way was she going in a restaurant dressed like this, advertising that she’d had a hard night. She could order from room service… But that seemed silly. She’d be home in forty-five minutes.

  With no brush, either, all she could do was loosely braid her wet hair. Her evening bag…she spotted it lying atop the dresser, next to a TV schedule and some local promotional brochures. Her keys had fallen to the floor for some reason, and as she bent to pick them up she saw her lipstick, too. She grabbed the purse and straightened, stuffing the lipstick inside as she turned for the door. Moira had no idea where the room key was and didn’t care. At last, gingerly, she picked up the business card with the short note written on the back. A painful lump seemed to form in her chest.

  Why can’t we have more than one night? But she wouldn’t call him. He’d made clear his limitations. If he wanted to, he could find her.

  Moira dropped the business card in her purse and let herself out of the room. All she wanted was to get to her car, preferably unseen, and go home.

  Then she would try to understand why she’d so foolishly gotten naked with a stranger, however kind and sexy he was.

  But she knew, of course: her feelings had been hurt and she’d needed consolation. Foolish was the word for it, Moira thought, blushing as she crossed the hotel foyer under the gaze of a woman behind the front desk. And risky. That was another word for having sex with a stranger.

  Except, he hadn’t hurt her, and she knew he’d used the condom. Because he’d remembered, not because she had. She’d been lucky. Done something dumb, and escaped any of the myriad possible consequences. She should be old enough not to have to learn a lesson this way, but apparently she wasn’t.

  Moira got into her car and momentarily laid her forehead against the steering wheel.

  I learned. I did.

  Time to go home and… No, she wouldn’t wish Will Becker would call. Instead, she’d do her best to forget last night ever happened.

  THE SECURITY LINE at the airport lay just ahead. This early in the morning, it was short. He’d have plenty of time for breakfast and coffee once he got through it.

  Will had intended to take an airporter to SeaTac, but Sophie insisted on driving him. During the past week, he’d signed over the title to his pickup to Jack and piled a few plastic tubs filled with his possessions in the basement of the family home. This morning, he had taken one last look at his bedroom, stripped of personality, and felt something unexpected: grief. He was saying goodbye to his entire life to this point. He had grown up in this house, played with plastic dinosaurs on the floor of this same bedroom, fought later with his stepmother over how clean he had to keep it. Sneaked a high school girlfriend in here and had sex with her after his parents were in bed and asleep. Returned the one summer after his freshman year in college, swearing that it would be the last time he’d work for his father, the last time he’d swing a hammer.

  Then he’d come home to stay after his parents died. He’d never considered moving into the master bedroom, which was still empty. It was stupid, really, with Jack, Sophie, Clay and him all here, all in small bedrooms designed for children. He hoped, if and when Clay got married, that he’d have the sense to overcome the past and make the house his. Really his.

  Something Will hadn’t done, in part because he hadn’t wanted the house, or the company, and he sure hadn’t wanted to be a twenty-year-old stand-in father of three, responsible for the financial and emotional well-being of his young sister and brothers.

  And now, he thought, standing in SeaTac airport at the crack of dawn, he was done with all of it.

  He turned to face his sister. “Thanks for bringing me.”

  Sophie was the shrimp of the family, and still stood five foot ten. “Somebody had to see you off,” she insisted.

  “Yeah.” He grinned at her. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t approve of, okay?”

  Her brown eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Will!” she wailed. “I’m going to miss you!”

  His arms closed fiercely around her. “Damn it, Soph. I thought we had this goodbye crap out of the way.”

  She shook her head hard. “I know it doesn’t make sense, when I’ve been away at college the last four years, but…you were always here. And now you won’t be.”

  “I’m sorry,” he heard himself say. “Do I still need to be?”

  She shook her head again, then pulled back to give him a watery smile. “Of course you don’t. I’m being silly. It’s just…I’ll miss you, Will. I’m glad you’re going. I know how much you need this. How much you gave up for us.”

  He scowled. “Don’t start with that. I did what I had to do. I have no regrets.”

  Her smile became more genuine. “Yeah, sure you don’t. Just, um, have a fabulous time, okay? And email.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He kissed her wet cheek. “I love you, Soph. I won’t disappear, I promise.”

  “Okay.” She sniffed and swiped at damp eyes. “I’m going. You don’t need this. Just…take care.” She gave him one more fervent hug, then hurried away.

  He watched her go, not looking back, and remembered taking each of his siblings to college to start their freshman years. Helping them haul their stuff into dorm rooms, wishing he was the one there to stay, then driving away with the feeling that a big hole had opened in his chest. Except for the envy he hadn’t been able to help, he’d been all parent, a little shocked to find out how much he was going to miss first Clay, then Jack, then Sophie.

  By the time Sophie started her freshman year, Clay was home again and working with Will. Unlike Will, he had loved the summers he’d worked construction. It seemed to be in his blood. He’d learned the business eagerly and had a natural air of authority.

  Will shook himself now, surprised again at how alone he felt. Glad he was, but a little sorry all the same. Maybe he should have expected these mixed emotions, but hadn’t. He’d expected to be celebrating this morning.

  He went through security, taking out his laptop, putting his shoes on the conveyor belt, having to go back and empty the change out of the pockets of his pants. Then he put himself back together and headed for the closest place to have breakfast.
/>
  Although he’d brought the morning Times to read while he was eating, Will found himself thinking instead about his redhead. He kept thinking he should have tracked her down and called her. Maybe she felt fine about making love with him, but maybe she didn’t. He hated to think she was embarrassed.

  He wished…oh, damn, he wished he’d met her at another time and place. That he’d been able to call her the next day and ask her out to dinner. Let her know that she could be special to him, not merely a chance to get his rocks off.

  Face it, he thought harshly; that’s all she’d been. And she deserved more.

  He’d feel worse if he was sure saying “Thanks, but no thanks,” would have been the right thing to do. Will was still afraid that would have hurt her, that she’d been emotionally fragile enough to need a man to want her.

  And maybe he was trying to excuse himself for taking what she offered because he wanted to, whether it was a crappy thing for him to have done or not.

  He hoped she didn’t give the jackass another chance if he came begging.

  Forget it, he told himself, frowning as he rose to walk to the gate. There was nothing he could do now. This was his new beginning. He should be rejoicing.

  Too bad he wasn’t already in Harare, instead of facing thirty-six hours on airplanes and airport layovers in Frankfurt and Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. He hoped like hell the promised aisle seats materialized; he was way too big a man to spend that many hours cramped between other passengers or at the window.

  Half an hour later, his flight was called. Thinking, Here goes nothing, he took out his boarding pass and joined the line. But he was still picturing an apple-cheeked, freckled face with pretty lips and green eyes when he wedged himself into his airline seat and buckled the belt.

  CHAPTER THREE

  STANDING ATOP THE ROUGH concrete foundation, Moira studied the completed framing of the building that would house doctors’ offices and an outpatient surgical center.