So he’d do what any smart guy would do. He’d avoid her the rest of today and most of tomorrow. They were scheduled to attend a dance at the club tomorrow night—he’d tell her then.
It had nothing to do with cravenness, he told himself firmly. This was merely doing the right thing. The setting would simply give him the chance to help her see reason and put things in perspective while being surrounded by her own people. It was strictly for her benefit.
He wasn’t cut out for this one-man/one-woman stuff. He’d known it for years, but for some reason he’d allowed himself to ignore the fact the past couple of weeks. Well, he was through fooling himself. And he sure as hell didn’t have to be kicked in the head to realize he was about as far from suitable father material as a man could get. His run-in with Jared had merely strengthened a truth he’d never even thought to question until recently: a man who harbored violent impulses had no business being around kids. It was time he moved on.
Hell, when it came right down to it, he would probably be doing everyone a huge favor by going back to Denver.
Of course, it didn’t negate the fact that breaking the news to Tori in a public place was still the wisest move. He had the same abhorrence for messy, emotional arguments as any other right-thinking guy, so why let this turn into an opera if he had another option? His buddies hadn’t raised no fool—he knew enough to take advantage of the fact that she was much too polite to make a scene in public. Because God knew neither of them needed any more drama in their lives.
Arriving at his car, he slapped a decisive palm down on its hot metal roof. Yeah. It was much better to keep things simple. It didn’t have a damn thing to do with cowardice.
And it sure as hell wasn’t as if he were afraid to see her disappointment in him or anything.
THE LAST THING VICTORIA expected the following evening as she and John were about to leave for the country club was to see DeeDee come tripping out to the circular drive in her skyscraper heels. But the curvaceous blonde yoohooed from the entryway and headed straight for them, legs flashing with the motion in the split-to-the-indecentzone skirt of her gown. Sashaying up to the driver’s side of the car, she gave John’s window a tap.
“Bum a ride?” she asked the minute the window glided down. “My car has a flat tire of all things and the service station can’t send anyone out to fix it until tomorrow.”
Victoria had barely caught more than an occasional glimpse of John in the past thirty-six hours and really wanted to talk to him. Her manners were too ingrained to protest, however, when he shrugged his wide shoulders and said, “Sure, why not?”
“Well, now, isn’t this cozy?” DeeDee said after John handed her into the backseat of his car. She waited until he shut the door before pulling together the two sides of her skirt.
Victoria had a feeling her face must have reflected some of what she was thinking, for the other woman shot her a malicious smile.
“Oh, don’t worry, dear. I’m not planning to horn in on your evening. God knows I don’t want to be stuck at a table with you any more than you do with me. I have…plans…for later, too, so I’ll catch a ride back with someone else.” Then in blatant dismissal, she pulled out a compact and inspected her makeup. She turned her head from side to side until, apparently satisfied, she snapped the compact shut again and tossed it into her tiny evening bag.
Unlike Tori, who avoided making eye contact with the news people outside the gates as they drove past, DeeDee sat up straight, pulled her shoulders back and thrust out her chest. But she adopted a sad expression as she met the newshounds’ avid gazes. Once they were no more than specks in the rearview mirror, however, she dropped the grieving widow expression and leaned forward.
“I have news that ought to brighten up your day,” she said to Victoria, who had swung around to watch her act in amazement. “I think it’s time I moved out. I plan to find somewhere else to live by the fifteenth.”
Tori swivelled back to face front and a tiny smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Well, well. The evening was definitely looking up.
DeeDee was as good as her word when they reached the country club. The moment John brought the car to a halt, she climbed out and headed inside without them, freeing Victoria to pursue her own agenda.
“We need to talk,” she said a few minutes later, putting a hand on John’s sleeve to stop him from escorting her into the main salon. Music and laughter poured out through its bank of open doors and men in summer tuxes and women in gowns that ran the fashion gamut from classic couture to up-to-the-minute trendy formed a kaleidoscope of constantly shifting colors. The annual Labor Day dance was kicking into high gear.
“I know.” John glanced into the salon, then looked down at her. “Let’s go find our table. We can talk there.”
A table surrounded by partygoers didn’t strike her as the ideal place for a serious talk and she glanced around the small reception area. “No,” she said decisively, spotting the club manager’s small office. “Come with me.” She headed across the lobby.
“Tori, wait!”
But she was a woman on a mission and she walked right over to the slightly opened door and poked her head inside. Perfect—it was empty. She stepped in and turned to wait for John.
He followed her but halted on the other side of the door. Shoving his hands into his slacks pockets, he hunched his shoulders and stared at her. “Come on, darlin’, let’s go into the salon. We can talk there.”
“It’s too public.”
A flash of what almost looked like panic flashed across his face. “Public’s not so bad,” he said. “We’ll talk low.” He glanced at the brass nameplate on the door. “This is someone’s office. We probably shouldn’t be in here.”
“Right.” A skeptical laugh escaped her. “You being a guy who spends so much time worrying about what other people think and all.” She reached out and grabbed his forearm, which was warm and hard beneath his tux sleeve, and tugged him over the threshold. “It’s here or nowhere, Miglionni.”
“Shit.” He stepped into the room but left the door open.
Reaching past him, she pushed it shut—then locked it for good measure. Starting to pick up a definite vibe, however, she looked up and met John’s hooded gaze. “Why don’t you want to be alone with me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But he squared his shoulders, slid his hands out of his pockets and slowly straightened until she had no choice but to tip her head back in order to retain eye contact. “Okay,” he admitted, “maybe I do. The truth is, I really hoped to have this talk somewhere you’d hesitate to make a scene.”
“Excuse me?” She couldn’t decide whether she was mortally insulted…or just plain scared. Given the grim determination on his face, it didn’t take long for scared to be the runaway favorite. Finding that unacceptable, she scrambled to disguise the emotion by raising her chin and utilizing her iciest tone. “Hamiltons don’t make scenes. So why don’t you just say whatever it is you have to say.”
“I’m going back to Denver.”
No! She backed up until her thighs bumped against the utilitarian desk. Gratefully she perched her rear upon it, and not a moment too soon, for her legs suddenly lost all strength. Gripping the edge on either side of her hips, she welcomed the slight sting of wood digging into her palms. “For a day or two?” she asked hopefully.
“For good.”
“For good,” she repeated without inflection. For a moment a red-hot sea of pain seemed to flood the vicinity of her heart. Then to her relief, icy anger settled over her, forming a numbing seal over the hurt. A host of possible reasons for his sudden defection raced through her mind and she narrowed her eyes at him when one thought abruptly screeched all the others to a dead halt. “My God,” she said. “You really played me for a fool, didn’t you?”
“What are you talking about?” He gave her the expressionless look she thought of as his military face. “I’ve never been anything but straight with you and that’s all I�
��m trying to be now.”
“Oh, baloney.” She shook her head in disgust. “And to think I honestly believed our relationship was somehow different from the week we had in Pensacola. The only thing that’s truly changed is my failure to understand how much you want to be the one to walk away this time.”
He took a hot step forward before he caught himself. But his cool lack of expression disappeared and he bent a fierce glare on her. “That’s bullshit and you know it!”
“Do I? Well, okay, I will hand it to you—this time lasted longer than a week. But the fact remains, you wanted me for a finite period of time that’s apparently over now. What’s the story with that, John? Do you have some internal clock or something that tells you when it’s time to move on?”
“No!” John stared at her in frustration. How had she managed to turn everything around? “Damn, where is this coming from? I’ve told you before and I meant it—I changed after meeting you. So it’s time I return the favor I owe you and get the hell out of your life.”
“How very noble of you.”
Her bitter skepticism flicked him on the raw. “Just what did you think was going to happen between us, Tori?” Anger wasn’t going to accomplish anything, though, so he reeled himself in. He forced his brows to unclench and managed to say with credible lightness, as if he didn’t give a good goddamn, “You’re champagne, baby; I’m beer. Not that I don’t do pretty well for myself, but I’m sure as hell nowhere in your league. So what did you think was going to happen in the end? Were you planning on giving up the mansion, the country club, the nice cars, to come live with me in my little apartment?”
She surged up off the desk and they were abruptly nose to nose. He jerked back from the fury blazing out of her moss-green eyes.
“You patronizing, arrogant jerk,” she said, underscoring each word with a poke to his chest. “Until Father died, I lived in a three-bedroom flat—and only had the third room because I needed to combine my home with a workspace! And who said I had a burning desire to live with you, anyway?” An unamused laugh escaped her. “My God. You can’t even commit to being Esme’s father—you think I’d trust any promise you made for the future?”
“Now wait just a damn minute!” His blood surging hot, fast and furiously through his veins, he got right in her face. No one impugned his honor and just boogied away scot-free.
“No, you wait!” She returned the favor, her high heels bringing her as close as she’d ever gotten to his greater height. “You and I, Rocket? We’re adults, and we can hash things out—or not—and if a heart gets broken, we’ll pick up the pieces like the supposedly mature people we are and deal with it. But damned if I’ll let you jerk around Esme.”
“I have no intention of doing that! But if I stick around, then what? Let’s say by some grace of God I manage not to knock the crap out of your brother. Can either of us ever trust me with Esme? With my family history? Everyone knows abusers were abused themselves as kids. And I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but I’m not about to take a chance with that sweet little girl. It’s better that I just leave.”
“Better for whom?”
“Everyone!”
“Then do it, by God. But if you do, don’t plan on ever coming back.”
His gut turned to ice. “What?”
“Make up your bloody mind and do what you have to do. But you can’t have it both ways, Rocket. You don’t get to waltz out of Esme’s life when you feel like it and then waltz back in again when it suits your mood.”
“I never said—”
“No, you’ve made a career out of never saying, haven’t you? You don’t talk about personal stuff, unless it’s someone else’s, and you certainly don’t share your feelings. Well, fine then, I’ll make this real easy and say it for you. Either you’re Esme’s father or you’re out of her life.” She thrust her nose up under his. “She doesn’t need the confusion, so decide, damn you, and live with the consequences.”
It was one thing, he discovered, to make the decision to walk away himself. It was something else again to be handed an ultimatum. Anger edged with an unfamiliar, humiliating panic he did his best to deny, washed over him. He slapped his hands down on the desktop next to her hips.
She abruptly sat back to keep their bodies from slamming together and blinked up at him, her elegant little jaw agape.
Taking advantage of her failure to close her knees from the militant, screw-you stance she’d assumed, he stepped between them. The voluminous skirt of her gown made way beneath the rough press of his thighs. He stared down at her. “You don’t wanna be offering me ultimatums, darlin’.”
Her mouth snapped closed and her chin thrust up. “Or what? You’ll try to convince me that you’re a woman abuser, too?”
“No!” His brows met over his nose. “But that doesn’t mean you can dismiss my fear of losing my temper and hurting one of the kids. It’s a legitimate concern.”
“It’s crazy, is what it is. You want to know what I think, John? I think you’d cut off your right hand before you’d ever harm a child. So what’s the real story here? You act like Esme and I are important to you one minute, then push us away the next. Is that because you have feelings you don’t know how to deal with? Are you clinging to this cockamamie I’m-turning-into-my-dad theory so you won’t have to explore those feelings?” She gave his shoulder a soft slap. “Tell me what’s going on!”
I think I’m falling in love with you. The unexpected words whispering through his mind scared the crap out of him. No! That wasn’t it at all. He was love-’em-and-leave-’em-Miglionni and falling in love wasn’t in his makeup. Hadn’t been six years ago—wasn’t now. Sure, he cared about her and Esme. Enough to know that this was the best thing for them. World-class sex could only carry a relationship so far. Victoria could deny it all she wanted, but she was a lady, born and bred, and sooner or later his low-class physicality would disgust her.
Not to mention that his fear of hurting Jared was legit. Ignoring his pounding heart, he pushed back with his hands from the desk and started to straighten up, prepared to bestow a cool smile and a flip rejoinder that would put her in her place once and for all. Something to keep her from poking into places she had no business poking.
But Victoria grabbed him by his bow tie and held him in place. “Did I hit a nerve, John?” she whispered. “Is that what this is all about? Do you have some feelings for me, or for Esme, that you’re too chicken-hearted to claim?”
Her words struck a little too close to the bone and in an instinctual bid to shut her up, he rocked his mouth over hers. He braced, waiting for her to shove him away. When instead her tongue rose up to return the thrust of his own, every bit of common sense he possessed dissipated like dew beneath the desert sun. His hands came up off the desk to grip her hips and he stepped in closer while jerking her to meet him halfway. They slapped together, hard thrusting sex to soft, accommodating cleft.
She sucked in a breath as her hands tore at the fly of his slacks and the next thing he knew, he was out of his pants and into her hands and he was wrestling yards of slithery gossamer fabric out of his way. He finally got the majority of it up above her waist and, thumbing aside the fragile scrap of lace that was her panties, he let her tug him into place. He sank into her and a low, heartfelt groan escaped him when her hot, wet, slick inner muscles pulled him deep and clamped tightly around him to hold him fast.
Oh, God, she felt so good—she felt like home—and he began to move, withdrawing and plunging, withdrawing and plunging, harder and faster as his hands slid beneath her butt to bring her closer. She crossed her ankles at the small of his back, wrapped her arms around his neck and clung, returning kiss for feverish, fervent kiss.
Then she suddenly ripped her mouth free and her head lolled back. A series of breathy moans stuttered from her throat, starting low and gaining in both volume and pitch.
John’s lips drew back from his teeth at the feel of the hard, tight, contractions as she began coming around him. It wa
s the nudge that pushed him over and his fingers sank into her butt as he plunged deep and held, groaning at the way her climax milked his own from his body.
They slumped simultaneously, their lax bodies propping each other up. For a moment John felt as if he were drifting in a pool of golden perfection and he closed his eyes to focus on the feeling. His arms tightened when Tori shifted against him, but she merely tipped her head to press a kiss on his shoulder, and the corners of his lips curved up.
Then he felt her stiffen, heard her whisper, “Oh, my God, what have we done?” and the golden moment popped. Reality returned with a crash and, flattening his palms on the desk, he straight-armed himself away from her.
“Now do you see what I’ve been saying?” he demanded. “Didn’t take you long to regret it, did it?”
“We didn’t use birth control, John!”
His heart slammed up against the wall of his chest and he jerked back, pulling out of her. Staring down to where they’d been joined he saw his seed begin to trickle out of her and whipped the faultlessly folded handkerchief from his breast pocket. He pressed it between her legs. “I’m sorry,” he said. “God, Tori, I’m sorry.”
The knob rattled on the door behind them and he broke off the rest of whatever he might have said. Watching Victoria carefully pull her panties back into place over the folded handkerchief, he tucked himself back into his slacks and zipped up. Knuckles rapped on the door.
“Who’s in there?” a male voice demanded. “Open up! This is the manager.”
“Give us a second!” John snapped without looking away from Victoria. “We had a little emergency here, and need a minute. We’ll be out as soon as we get it straightened out.” Whenever the hell that might be. They needed to talk.
But Tori, who five minutes ago had been raking him over the coals for never talking about his feelings, rose to her feet from the desk and shook her floaty purply blue skirt back into place. She smoothed her upswept hair, then reached past him for the lock on the door.
Hot & Bothered Page 26
