Never, ever, in his lifetime had he wished he were another man. Just now he found himself wishing very hard he could be in Clive Henderson’s shoes for the night.
Allison pushed away her empty coffee cup with a sigh of relief. She and Clive had talked all they could about their success with the Hong Kong bankers. At last she could start turning her thoughts homeward. Though that was the trouble. Her thoughts had been straying homeward all evening. To Joe.
This was an odd date.
Clive had been her mentor and friend since she’d started at the bank, and she’d always been able to speak easily and freely with him. He’d made no secret of his attraction to her but she’d always dismissed it with a joke, refusing to take him seriously.
She’d had dinner with him before but tonight was different. This was a proper date. Her first date with a man other than Peter since she’d met Peter six years ago.
She hadn’t consciously set out to become a born-again virgin since the split with Peter. The reality was more mundane. The sheer effort of being a full-time working mother of a very young child hadn’t left her with enough energy to bother with dating.
Mitchell still didn’t sleep through every night. She figured she hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep since he was born.
What she’d longed for, desired and craved had been sleep—not sex.
Until Joe had come into her life.
Being around him was awakening feelings she’d thought were dead and buried. In fact, she didn’t think she’d ever before felt those quivery, shivery tremors of excitement he aroused in her.
Her plans for the evening had gone totally haywire when Joe had told her that he, not his sister Wendy, would be minding Mitchell for the evening.
Joe had somehow butted in on her date.
She had gone out with Clive to test whether she could cross the border from friendship into something else. Why then, as she’d slid on her silky pantyhose, as she’d slithered into her dress, had she been thinking—again—of how she wanted to impress Joe?
She had bought her dress in a sale months before but had never had a chance to wear it. It wasn’t the kind of thing she usually wore, but she’d hoped being black it would be flattering. And it was—minimizing her tummy while emphasizing her bust. She felt good in it, desirable for the first time in years, confident she looked her best.
Her mouth had been dry with anticipation of Joe’s reaction as she’d come slowly down the stairs. When he’d said she looked beautiful, her heart had sung with the stars.
She glanced at her watch.
“Bored?” Clive asked, with a cynical twist to his mouth.
“No! Not at all, I’m having a marvelous time. I...uh...I was just thinking about Mitchell.”
“Worrying?”
“No. He’s in good hands.”
“Good hands! With that biker? I didn’t want to say anything, but are you out of your mind—leaving your child with a person like that?”
Clive always felt he should be looking out for her. But this wasn’t about work.
“I’m very happy with the way Joe cares for Mitchell. In fact...in fact he’s the best nanny I’ve ever had.”
As she said the words, she realized how true they were.
“He’s taken a real interest in Mitchell and Mitchell adores him. I hadn’t realized how much he needs a man’s presence in his life.”
Clive reached across the table and took her hand. She resisted the urge to snatch it away but left it lying lifeless in his. He let it go.
“I’d hoped you were beginning to realize that, and that’s why you agreed to come out with me.”
His words startled her. She hadn’t expected Clive to state his case so bluntly.
“Allison, it isn’t only Mitchell who needs a man in his life. What about you?”
“I’m managing fine without a man thank you,” she protested.
“Having no one is better than having Peter, I suppose. How do you think it was for the people who care about you to watch the way he treated you?”
“He...he just couldn’t handle the thought of a child.” Allison felt uncomfortable discussing her marriage with Clive. With anyone.
“It wasn’t just that. It was before then, too. The put-downs, the way he pushed you around—”
“I don’t want to talk about this.” She put up her hand to halt his flow of words. “It’s irrelevant.”
“No, it’s not. Not to someone who...who had feelings for you, but couldn’t do anything about them.”
“You were married, too. Remember?”
“Only because I couldn’t have—”
“Don’t say it. Don’t say it, Clive, because it isn’t true.”
“You mean because you don’t want to hear it.”
“Perhaps,” she conceded.
Clive looked at her through narrowed eyes. “It’s that biker babysitter, isn’t it?”
Allison felt herself flushing. “The babysitter?” Her voice sounded strained to her ears.
“Yes. I thought he was going to punch my lights out when I picked you up tonight.”
She tried to laugh. “Oh don’t be ridiculous. Joe isn’t interested in me.”
“Are you blind? The lust in his eyes was enough to burn your dress off.”
“Clive!”
Allison affected indignation, but something deep inside her was beginning to stir with a slow, pulsing excitement that Joe’s attraction to her was so obvious to another man.
“I could be a lot more vulgar than that, my dear. That guy wants to get into your pant—”
“Clive!”
“And I’m wondering if he’s been given any encouragement.”
Clive had shown jealousy before, when one of the guys at work had tried to hit on her. She’d laughed it off at the time but now it was making her feel uncomfortable.
“Don’t be crazy. For one thing Joe is five years younger than me, he’s a cool, musician kind of guy, he—”
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
Allison let out a strangled cry of annoyance. Clive laughed at her reaction. But then he sobered into deadly seriousness.
“I don’t want to see you going after the wrong kind of man again. Tangle with this guy and you’ll only get hurt. He’s not for you. A man like me is what you need, though it might take you time to realize it.”
“Clive, I—”
He took her hand again. His eyes bored into her face so intently she shifted in her seat. “I can look after you, Allison. Give you the kind of life you deserve. And Mitchell, too, he needs a father. I’ve got daughters—I’d welcome a son. And you know I’ve learned from my marital mistakes—the next time I marry it will be until death do us part.”
This was getting worse by the second. She didn’t want to be looked after by him. That kind of a relationship was a no-no. She wanted a relationship of equals. And she feared that, although Clive respected her professionalism at work, as soon as she married him he’d expect her to revert to the “little woman”. Just like Peter.
Yet she knew Clive’s heart was in the right place.
She looked back at him and was surprised to see a nerve flicker at the corner of his mouth. Despite his self-assurance, Clive was nervous and she resolved to be kind to him.
Because nice as he was, familiar as he was, thoughtful as he was, she didn’t feel one flicker of physical attraction for him. His hand on hers felt clammy, and it was with an inward shudder of revulsion she imagined him touching her intimately.
Allison didn’t trust physical attraction as a sole reason for a relationship, but it had to be part of it. And she would need a general anesthetic to go to bed with Clive. She knew that now.
But she didn’t have the courage to say it. Instead she looked at her watch again. “Clive, it’s late. I…I can’t think about this right now.”
He squeezed her hand before letting it go. “I want you to think about it. I’m the man for you—not your biker babysitter.”
Clive signal
ed the waiter for the check.
Allison’s thoughts raced as Clive drove her home. This date had not been a good idea. Clive was not for her and now she knew it. Trouble was, he didn’t know it. She couldn’t just blurt out, “Clive, you don’t turn me on.” That would hurt his feelings. And he was still her boss. They still had to work together and she didn’t want any awkwardness. She’d have to think about the best way to let him down.
He saw her safely to her door. “Don’t see me in, Clive,” she said, dreading the thought he might expect to be asked in for coffee. She tried not to cringe away from the light brush of his lips across her cheek.
She was grateful Clive hadn’t tried to prolong the evening. She knew now that a working relationship was all she would ever want.
She wasn’t sure what she wanted from Joe.
After Clive left, she stood outside for a moment, breathing in the cool evening air scented by the wisteria blooms that hung from the veranda’s iron scrollwork.
She took a deep, calming breath, but nothing could stop the tripping and fluttering of her heart.
Yet what was the point of yearning for Joe? Clive was right—her boss probably was the man for her: he was secure in his job; he was from her world; and she wouldn’t have to worry about money. As well, he was looking for commitment. All those things were important to her.
Joe, compellingly attractive as he was, was at a different stage of life—where his sole ambition was to play in his band. A wife and a ready-made family were hardly what he’d be planning for. And she wasn’t looking for a meaningless fling.
Joe Martin was not for her. While the thought of a fling with no future was heart-stoppingly appealing, she knew she couldn’t live with herself if she indulged in a sex-without-strings affair. Casual sex went against everything she believed in—her religious upbringing, her family beliefs. And, underlying everything, the knowledge of what had happened to her mother. If her mother had been married to her father, Allison’s life would have been very different.
So why spend so much time fantasizing about Joe? Why feel so pleased that Joe’s feelings had been so obvious to Clive?
She pushed open the door. The lights were dimmed, and she could hear the low murmur of the television in the living room. She slipped off her high-heeled shoes, always conscious of waking Mitchell even in his bedroom above, and went in.
Joe lay asleep on the sofa, illuminated by the flickering light from the television. The baby monitor stood nearby on the coffee table, its green “on” light glowing.
Joe’s face in repose was even more handsome. A thick fan of dark lashes rested on his cheek. His chin was shadowed by a day’s growth and his firm lips were slightly parted. He looked both vulnerable and strong at the same time.
His long, hard body was sprawled across the sofa in total relaxation, one arm flung above his head. The powerful muscles of his chest moved up and down against the tight fabric of his T-shirt as he breathed. His boots and socks lay where he’d kicked them off. An empty can of Coke and three crumpled, empty potato chip packs were scattered on the coffee table near the monitor.
Her heart gave a painful twist inside her and a tremor of desire ran through her. He was so handsome. And sexy. The sexiest man she’d ever known. She wondered what it would be like to wake each morning to see that face just kissing distance away. To watch his eyes open and focus on her, to have him pull her to his naked body...
But it wasn’t only his physical perfection that had her heart turning so painfully. She liked Joe Martin. Really liked him. There was a strong, decent core to him she was beginning to admire and to appreciate. He was the kind of man you wanted on your side.
She switched off the television then padded softly toward the stairs. She could stand and feast her eyes on Joe all night, but she had to check on Mitchell.
She went upstairs. Mitchell, too, lay sprawled on his back in peaceful sleep.
A wave of love swept over her at the sight of her son’s innocent, sleeping face. He’d kicked off his covers. She pulled them back over him, gently tucking them around him.
A wonderful feeling of contentment filled her at the thought of the tiny man sleeping here, and the grown man sleeping downstairs on her sofa.
Somehow it seemed so right to have them both with her.
But it was a contentment that was fleeting, an indulgence she allowed herself to hug to her heart for just seconds. Mitchell was hers. Joe Martin was not.
She went downstairs again.
She perched on the edge of the sofa and allowed herself the delicious luxury of watching Joe sleep.
No matter how many times she reminded herself that sex-without-strings wasn’t a good idea, she forgot it as soon as she came within kissing distance of Joe Martin.
That now familiar tremor of excitement seized her as she admired his long denim-clad legs, the breadth of his powerful shoulders. She looked at his mouth and remembered with a shudder of pleasure what it felt like to kiss it.
She wondered what he would do if she lay down beside him and pressed her body against his, slid her hands under his T-shirt and caressed his body, undid the heavy buckle of his belt... Her nipples tingled at the thought.
She knew if she were to behave sensibly, she would wake him so he could go home. But sensible was not what she wanted to be, past midnight, and alone with Joe Martin.
CHAPTER SIX
Joe was dreaming. It was a warm, fuzzy dream, the edges blurred by a swirling kind of mist.
He was walking along a beach with Allison; their bare feet gently washed by curling, teasing little waves. He was holding her hand and, as he squeezed it, he looked down at her and was almost blinded by the look of passionate promise that shone from her eyes.
He caught his breath from the wonder of it, the exhilarating, joyous wonder of it and squeezed her hand harder…
He woke up to find himself gripping the arm of a sofa. For a bewildering moment he didn’t know where he was.
But then he saw her sitting at the other end of the sofa, her gorgeous legs elegantly crossed. Her wonderful perfume wafted across to him. A smile curved her lovely mouth, and her eyes were warm with an emotion that echoed his dream.
He must still be dreaming. He hadn’t woken up at all.
But the sofa was hard and uncomfortable. He was definitely awake.
And the woman he’d been dreaming of making love to on a beach was just an arm’s length away. He wanted to pull her to him and make the dream a reality.
But he’d promised himself he wouldn’t touch her.
He pushed himself up into a seated position.
“You’re home,” he said.
“Yes,” she murmured.
He stood up. She got up too.
“You’ve caught me sleeping on the job,” he said.
“No matter. It’s very late.”
A spasm of jealousy racked him. He searched over her shoulder. “Clive’s not with you?”
“No,” she said.
“Good,” he said. Then again. “Good.”
He could see the delicate blue veins that pulsed under the creamy skin of her throat. For the first time he noticed her dainty ears and the dusting of tiny freckles across the bridge of her small, straight nose.
He noticed her glossy, red lipstick seemed very intact. She hadn’t been kissed tonight.
Yet.
Her lips parted under his gaze and he saw them tremble. The tip of her pink tongue darted out to moisten them.
His self-control was bursting at the seams.
“Do you want coffee?” he managed to get out. He could not look at that sweet mouth, smell that alluring perfume, be as close to that curvaceous body for a second longer or he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.
“Hey, after midnight I’m boss of my own kitchen,” she said. “I’ll fix you coffee. How do you take it?”
“Black. Please.” He needed the caffeine to keep him alert, so he wouldn’t be dazed into insensibility by her closeness.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she sashayed into the kitchen. Was she deliberately swinging those shapely hips to entice him? She turned her head back over her shoulder and smiled at him, a sensuous curving of her lips.
There was something different about her tonight. A sassiness, a confidence. He couldn’t put his finger on it. It perturbed him.
Had Clive caused it? Jealousy cut through him again. He couldn’t bear to think of her with another man.
He followed her into the kitchen. She was reaching above her to get coffee from a cupboard. Her dress was pulled up to just below the curves of her luscious bottom, revealing every inch of those long, long legs.
So she wasn’t wearing stockings and garters. But her legs looked sensational in shimmering, silky pantyhose.
He was right behind her when she turned.
A startled “Oh,” was all she said, her eyes widening. He was so near he could feel her breath on his face; so near he could see a pulse beating erratically at the base of her throat. He inhaled the heady smell of her: rich perfume, a hint of shampoo, and a musky, womanly scent that was pure Allison.
She didn’t try to move away.
He took the coffee jar from her unresisting fingers and put it on the countertop.
He ignored the clamoring of the alarm bells that sounded urgently in his head. The alarm that warned this woman was forbidden territory.
He pulled her to him and claimed again that sweet, lovely mouth. Her lips were soft and yielded under his and she tasted as delicious as she smelled—honey with a hint of spice, sugar with a tang of salt.
He tightened his arms around her so her breasts were crushed against his chest. Her warm body fit perfectly in his arms, as if she belonged there. Had always belonged there. He groaned as he pulled her even closer. Exulted as he felt her respond. That sassiness had been for him.
A shiver of desire ran through Allison as Joe kissed her. His mouth was firm and warm and insistent and he tasted deliciously salty.
She couldn’t recall any reason she shouldn’t be kissing him back. Not one.
She wound her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. Met the tip of his questing tongue with her own in an exquisite duel of sensations. Gave herself up to him with a shudder of utter pleasure. Desire throbbed through every vein and a wonderful weakness suffused her limbs. Her knees felt rubbery and she had to cling to him for support.
Something About Joe Page 8
