by Kara Lennox
“I have a hard time picturing you in suburbia.”
“I did, too, apparently. We had the ugliest lawn on the block, a field of weeds surrounded by the neighbors’ carpets of emerald-green velvet. Apparently, a suburban husband’s first priority is healthy grass. One of many ways I did not measure up.”
It made Robyn sad to think of some woman failing to appreciate Ford’s good points. She had a feeling he would protect and cherish any woman he claimed as his own. He would be honest and steadfast, and she doubted he would cheat like her husband had.
She couldn’t see Ford fertilizing lawns and firing up the grill on weekends. He seemed too serious for that mundane, domestic stuff. Then again, he’d made a collage in her art class, so obviously he made some room in his life for things other than work.
Did he make time for women? For sex?
She couldn’t help smiling.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said, schooling her face into a frown. Those pain pills sure did some strange things to her brain.
Once they were downtown, Ford pulled into an underground garage that required a passkey for entry. Robyn hadn’t realized they’d reached their destination; she craned her neck just in time to get a vague impression of his building. It was one of those funky old warehouses converted to apartments.
It was only when they were on the elevator that Robyn realized she had nothing but the clothes on her back—hospital scrubs, because she’d bled all over the clothes she’d been wearing. No telling what had become of those clothes; she’d been too out of it to ask.
She didn’t have pajamas or a toothbrush, or clean underwear for the next day. With her hand swollen and wrapped in an elastic bandage, she didn’t think she’d be up to hand-washing anything in the sink, even if she could stand up for that long.
Her concerns about personal hygiene faded to the background, however, when she got her first look at Ford’s apartment.
Roomy was a vast understatement. It was huge. A carved oak front door led from the hallway to a marbled entry flanked by fat Doric columns. A crystal chandelier hung from the tall ceiling. Two steps down, and she was in a sunken living room the size of an Olympic swimming pool. The white carpeting seemed wildly impractical, and the red-and-black leather furniture, startlingly chic, just didn’t look like Ford at all.
“Wow.”
“I had nothing to do with the decor. The place came like this. Since my ex kept all our furniture, I snapped up the opportunity to live here.”
“Who lived here before?”
“Some cousin of Daniel’s. A model, I think. She hooked up with some Hollywood guy. I’ll give you a tour tomorrow. Right now, it’s almost midnight and we’re both exhausted. Let’s try to get some sleep.”
Robyn allowed herself to be led down a hallway to the guest room. To her disappointment, the furnishings here were quite ordinary. Nice, but basic.
On the bed, made up with a striped comforter, she saw something that puzzled her—a small plastic bag of new toiletries, a set of blue cotton pajamas and some clean clothes, including under-things.
“What’s all this?”
“I see Jillian’s been here. She’s Daniel’s ever-efficient administrative assistant. I filled him in on our plans during the drive.”
“You mean just now?”
“You were asleep.”
She sighed. “I don’t even remember falling asleep. Are you sure?”
“Unless you snore when you’re awake.”
She opened her mouth in mock umbrage. “I do not snore.” But her mental state worried her.
“You’ve got a concussion,” he said, more serious now. “It’s normal to experience some confusion, even amnesia about the events just before the injury.”
“Oh, I remember those just fine.” If she closed her eyes, they came back to her in vivid detail—the sensation of the dark-clad form rushing toward her, getting knocked to the ground, the smells of fear and blood and coconut.
“Try to rest, okay? There’s Tylenol in the medicine cabinet in your bathroom, if you need it. I’ll wake you in an hour, but then you can go right back to sleep.”
She nodded. “Ford…”
He stopped and looked at her questioningly.
Though it wasn’t the wisest thing, she threw her arms around his neck for the second time that night. “Thank you. Thank you for coming to my rescue and taking care of me. Thank you for worrying about me. No one has worried about me in a long time.”
“Then it’s about time someone did.” His voice was husky, and when she pulled back to look into his eyes, she saw something there, the hint of a hunger that matched her own.
Their faces were close, and for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her again. She wouldn’t have minded.
In the end, though, he tipped her head down and kissed her on the forehead.
“You’re an amazing woman, Robyn. Good night.”
Robyn felt like helium balloons were attached to her as she brushed her teeth, washed her face, donned the soft pajamas and climbed into bed. Maybe it was the drugs, or maybe it was the way Ford had looked at her, like he wanted to cherish her and devour her all in one breath.
As she lay in bed with the soft, clean sheets cocooning her, she tried to hold on to that lovely memory. But she fell asleep almost instantly.
WHEN FORD’S PHONE BEEPED its alarm at him, he came immediately awake. It was time to wake Robyn. It seemed he’d just gotten into bed, but an hour must have passed.
He climbed out of bed and headed for his bedroom door, then realized he was naked. He found a pair of jeans and pulled them on.Her door was open a crack. He tapped softly on the door. “Robyn?”
No answer, so he pushed inside. Her sleeping form was barely visible in the half-light drifting in from the window. Blond hair surrounded her head like it was blowing in the wind.
She was breathing, that much he could see. He hated to wake her when she looked so peaceful, but he had to.
He grasped her shoulder and squeezed. “Robyn?”
No response.
He shook her slightly and spoke louder. “Robyn?”
Suddenly her eyes flew open, filled with fear and rage, and the next thing Ford knew, her right fist was speeding toward his face. He ducked out of the way, but she still managed a glancing blow to his chin.
“Robyn, wake up! It’s okay. You’re safe. It’s me, Ford.” He managed to trap her flailing arms before she hurt him or herself.
The light of reason gradually returned to her eyes, and she stopped struggling. “Oh, my God.”
“You okay? Bad dream?” He let go of her wrists.
“Wow. Very bad dream. They were executing Eldon, except then they decided to execute me, too. There was this prison guard and an evil doctor trying to grab me so they could put the needle in my arm—”
She looked so frightened, so vulnerable, and Ford couldn’t stand it. He gathered her up and held her against him. “It’s okay, Robyn. You’re safe. It was just a dream.”
“I don’t usually have nightmares. I certainly don’t wake up screaming.”
“You didn’t scream.”
She pulled back slightly to examine his face, running her uninjured hand along his stubbly chin. “I hit you. Ford, I’m so sorry.”
“Nothing…to apologize for.” Oh, hell. He had to get out of here. The way she was looking at him, the way she smelled, and they were practically in bed together.
Why couldn’t he let her go? And why hadn’t he taken the time to put on a shirt?
“I have to ask you some questions.” He tried to sound businesslike, but couldn’t pull it off. His voice was hoarse with desire, his mouth dry like that of a man stranded in the desert, and here was his drink of water.
“Questions?”
“Uh…” He couldn’t think. “What’s your name?”
“Oh, those questions. To be sure I haven’t gone out of my head.”
“Could you just answer, please?”
“Ernestine Grimdiddy.”
“Robyn, behave.”
She tucked her head against his neck. “If I answer the questions, will you stay with me?”
“I can’t.”
“I’d feel safer.”
“You…” His voice felt gravelly and he cleared his throat. “You definitely wouldn’t be.”
They both let that reality linger in the air a few moments.
“What’s your name?” he asked again.
She ran her hand down his bare chest and turned her head slightly, pressing her lips close to his neck. “Robyn Knotley.”
He was about to come unglued. “That’s your maiden name,” he pointed out.
“Because I don’t want to think about Eldon. Not anymore tonight, please. Tonight I need you, Ford.”
He was strong, but not that strong. He had Robyn warm and pliant in his arms, kissing his neck… “What’s your address?”
“The White House,” she murmured as her lips traced a trail of fire up his neck toward his ear.
“What’s today’s date?”
“May 24, 1997.”
“Do you want me to take you back to the hospital? Because I think you’ve lost your mind.”
“Insanity’s gotten a bad rap. It’s a nice place to be.” She nibbled his earlobe.
“Robyn.” He grasped her chin and forced her to stop kissing him and look him in the eye. “You are on pain meds. I can’t take advantage of that.” No matter how much he wanted to.
The look she gave him was utterly sane. “The codeine has worn off. My name is Robyn Knotley Jasperson. I live at 305 Oak Bend Way, Apartment 6D. Today is July 13th. And I want you to make love to me, Ford Hyatt. No promises, no commitments, just you and me in this bed, tonight. I’ll give you one chance to say no, and we won’t speak of it again.”
She dropped her hands and cast her eyes down.
“Liar,” he muttered. “I don’t have a chance in hell of walking away from this.” With that, he pushed her down onto the pillows and did what he’d been thinking about for hours—kissed her in a way that she would know he meant business. This was no soft, lingering, gentle kiss, but a kiss of possession.
Maybe tomorrow, this night would be relegated to an unwise decision, a temporary interlude or a moment of insanity. But tonight, she was his.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ROBYN’S HEAD HURT AND her wrist throbbed, a sure sign that the drugs really had worn off. But once Ford kissed her, new sensations washed the pain into the background of her consciousness.
He wasn’t taking advantage of her. If anything, her deliberate seduction was a clear case of her taking advantage of him—of his kindness, his concern, his hospitality, not to mention his half-naked body.For that, he had to accept some responsibility. She maybe could have resisted if he hadn’t walked in here wearing only a pair of jeans riding so low on his hips she knew he wasn’t wearing underwear.
She drank in the kiss, surrendered to it. Yes, yes, this is what she wanted, to lose herself in him, for just a few minutes or an hour or a night.
She moaned low when he shoved his hand under the hem of her pajama shirt. They were bland, sexless pajamas, but suddenly she felt like the most desirable siren in the world. His hand reached her breast and claimed it, surrounded it. He rubbed his callused palm against the sensitive nipple until she moaned again, sounding almost strangled.
“Want…naked,” she managed to whisper when he stopped kissing her long enough that she could gasp in a few breaths. She tried to work at one of the buttons on her top, but her left hand was useless in the bandage.
“I’ll take care of that.”
He did, kissing each inch of bare flesh that he exposed as he flicked the buttons open one by one, then spread open the edges, revealing her breasts to his hungry gaze.
He lowered his mouth to her left nipple, and she squirmed in delight as heat shot through her whole body and pooled between her legs.
She wasn’t exactly inexperienced. Before Eldon she’d had a few boyfriends, and her physical relationship with Eldon had been perfectly adequate, even satisfactory at the time. But nothing in her past had prepared her for what she felt right now.
She wanted to tear at her clothes, at his, but now that he’d fallen in with her wishes, he’d taken utter command. Their coupling would proceed according to his timetable, and in her injured state, she wasn’t in any shape to wrestle with him.
He didn’t waste a lot of time, though; apparently he was in something of a hurry, too. He shoved his hands inside the elastic waist and cupped her bottom, his fingers barely teasing the tender flesh between her legs.
The more she tried to wiggle, the more firmly he held her, until finally he whisked the pajamas off in one deft movement, over her hips, down her legs and off.
He moved his hands back to her hips, his fingers finding the patch she wore just below her bikini line.
“Is this what I think it is?”
“Yes.” She wore it to regulate her hormones. Fortunately, it worked as birth control, too. Ford might think she had lied about her nonexistent love life, but she would explain later, when she could string words together.
“Good,” was all he said as he shucked his jeans.
Her breath caught when she saw him for the first time completely naked. He was gorgeous, fully aroused. The sight of him made her bones melt.
Ford returned his attentions to her, covering her body with his, allowing their naked skin to touch from shoulder to foot. His erection pressed against her belly, pulsing with desire. His skin was hot, his muscles hard, his belly firm, and she reveled in every sensation his nearness brought.
His hands roamed everywhere, hot and demanding, tracing every contour of her body as if trying to memorize her.
She was almost afraid to touch him, she was still so shocked that he was here, naked in her bed. What if he was a dream? What if he disappeared like a puff of smoke, and she discovered he’d been a figment of her addled brain?
But touch him she did, and he felt more real than the bed beneath her. She smoothed her palms over the hard muscles of his back, down to his buttocks and back up again, gratified that he responded to her touch. He issued a feral growl whenever her hands strayed to those places daylight never touched.
“I can’t wait anymore,” he said. “I need to be—”
“Don’t…want to wait.” She parted her legs, inviting him to enter her.
The first touch of his erection against her body made her gasp with pure anticipation. He moved slowly, giving her body time to accommodate him. But though it had been a long time for her, she didn’t want or need slow. She raised her hips off the bed, sheathing him more deeply inside her.
With a groan he thrust himself the rest of the way in, and for the first time in a very long time, she felt full. Physically, emotionally so full of Ford that she couldn’t think of anything else.
They moved together in perfect harmony, as if they’d been making love for a decade. Though she wanted it all, now, he forced her to slow down and savor each sensation, drawing out each stroke deliciously. He might have been anxious to be inside her, but they lingered over their act of love.
This might be their only time together.
Robyn pushed that thought out of her mind. The past, the future had no place in this bed. There was only now, and she was determined to enjoy every last piece of Ford that he was willing to give her.
Ford’s strokes came faster, more insistent, until he was breathing hard with the exertion. A strange feeling came over Robyn, a delightful pressure building until she felt so filled with pleasure and joy she wanted to explode with it.
And then she did, the release so powerful she felt as if her pleasure filled the bed, the room, the whole universe.
Her climax reached a threshold and then remained there, giving her wave after wave of sensation, like nothing she’d imagined could exist in the world.
Ford gave one final thrust and his whole body tensed. Roby
n forced her eyes open because she wanted to watch him. She wanted to remember his face in the throes of his own peak.
To her surprise he opened his eyes and looked right at her. Their gazes locked, and for one long, beautiful moment they were one.
His body spent, Ford finally broke the gaze and all but collapsed against her.
She put her arms around him, stroking his short hair with the fingertips of her uninjured hand. She wanted to say something, to tell him how happy he’d made her, but she was afraid words would trivialize the experience, so she remained silent, breathing in concert with him.
Ford shifted his weight to the side and their bodies parted. But he slid his arm beneath her and pulled her against his chest. “Is it okay like this?” he asked. “Am I hurting you?”
“No, feels nice.”
“That was kind of rough. I should have been gentler, but I sort of forgot you were injured. I sort of forgot everything, including my name and what planet I was on.”
She smiled and reached up to caress his face. “I felt no pain.”
“This wasn’t the best decision I’ve ever made.”
“Shh. I don’t want to hear it. Not now. Tomorrow, you can tell me all about what a terrible mistake it was, and I promise not to argue. But tonight, Ford Hyatt, you are mine.”
He sighed, sounding relieved. “Deal.”
They both went silent for a while, but Robyn could tell he wasn’t sleeping.
“Hell,” he finally said.
“What?”
“I still have to wake you up every hour. My phone’s in the other room. It’s what I use for an alarm.”
Hell was right. If he got out of bed, he might not come back. Robyn made herself sit up and turn on the light. She’d seen…yes, there it was. An alarm clock on the nightstand. She set it to ring in an hour, then turned off the light and snuggled back against him.
“There.”
When the alarm went off, it woke Robyn from the midst of a sexy dream. As she reached over blindly to silence the annoying alarm, she realized it wasn’t a dream. Ford was lightly caressing the inside of her thigh.
