Since she had decided against her let's-get-naked-plan, Glory shook her head. “Unfortunately, I don't."
He pressed his ear to the door. “I hear someone."
She pounded. “Help.” After a minute with no response, she listened again and pounded some more. “They're either ignoring us, or they can't hear us."
"They have to hear us.” Nick swore and pounded the door one last time.
"Maybe the judge warned people off. He's mean enough to do something like that.” Glory did not like the mean judge. Didn't like him at all.
"Glory, we might as well face it. We're here for the night.” Nick fell back onto the couch, slumped in defeat.
"If the fairies really are fairies, maybe they'll rescue us.” Or, maybe this was exactly what they wanted. Nick and Glory trapped together for the night. She was pretty sure that the idea would appeal to their matchmaking-itis.
"Are you kidding? They'll be delighted to have us stuck here together all night,” Nick said, echoing her thoughts.
"So now what?"
"I guess we get comfortable and wait."
Nick sat at the judge's desk and Glory curled up on his couch, glad to have as much space as possible separating them. He turned and looked out the window, creating further illusions of separation.
Glory's erratic thoughts were disturbing. She tried to analyze them, but got nowhere. Every thought about Nick led to thoughts about a Naked Nick, which led to thoughts about everything the fairies had said, which led to...
"Nick?"
He turned back toward her. “What?"
"Do you believe in fairies?” she asked, though that wasn't what she'd planned to say. She wasn't sure what she'd planned to say, but asking if Nick Aaronson believed in fairies wasn't it.
"I—"
"Because I am starting to,” she blurted out.
"You can't be serious."
"I am.” There she'd said it. She'd admitted that Glory Chambers, who until a few months ago was a corporate exec making decisions that affected thousand of people's lives, believed in fairies ... well, almost believed. Whenever she looked at Nick and her heart gave that funny little flutter, she could believe that almost anything was possible, even three meddling match-makers being fairy godmothers.
"How can a reasonable, rational woman believe in fairies?” he asked.
"Your sister and brother believe in fairies, and from what I can tell, they're reasonable and rational people."
He shook his head in disgust and raked a hand through his dark hair, messing it up some more. “I used to think so. But then they both fell head over heels in love and, obviously, as they fell they lost some of their rationality."
"Nick?"
"What?"
"I'm starting to believe the fairies were right for another reason, too.” She got off the couch and started toward the desk and him.
"What's the other reason?” he asked softly.
"When they said you were my own-true-love—"
"You're not in love with me.” It wasn't a question, but a statement.
"No,” Glory admitted. “I'm not. But I think the fairies were onto something."
"What?” He rose and backed away from her advance.
"I'm in lust with you.” She had lusted before. Once upon a time she'd lusted over Garth, but eventually the lust had died along with the marriage. A casualty of Cynthia's double D bra. What she'd had with Garth hadn't been love. It was just a case of lust, and that's all this was with Nick. She needed to believe that.
He continued backing up and appeared to be trying to process what she'd said.
"What did you say?” he finally asked.
"I'm very, very in lust with you."
"Glory.” There was a warning in his voice.
Whether he was warning her to stop this conversation, or warning her what might happen if they kept talking of lust, she wasn't sure. But she continued. “I want you. I don't want marriage, and I certainly don't believe in happily-ever-afters, but I do want you, Nick."
"Glory.” This time there was more of a groan in his voice, and maybe a hint of weakening.
"I gave up on happily-ever-afters when I walked away from my old life. A happily-ever-after can never depend on another person. It's up to each individual to find their happiness on their own. That's about the only thing Judge Bernie and I agree on. And I'm doing that. I have Glory's Chambers—I own it and run it my way. I don't answer to anyone. That makes me happy, and if that happiness dims, I'll simply move on.” She moved closer, and this time, Nick didn't counter her steps but stood still against the far wall, simply watching her.
"And I want you,” she said, her husky voice almost unrecognizable to her own ear. “I'm in lust with you. Satisfying that lust would make me happy. For now, at least, it would make me very happy."
"Do you know what you're saying?” he croaked.
"Yes. When I left my husband the divorce was ugly. I decided then and there I didn't like attorneys, but I was wrong. I like you a lot. And I want you.” She stood right in front of him, sandwiching him between her body and the wall.
"Glory, this doesn't make sense."
"It doesn't have to. I'm not asking for any promises. We're here, and it looks like we're not going anywhere tonight. Rather than sit here and worry, I'd like to put our night to better use.” Slowly she reached out, spanning the distance between them, and traced his jawline with her index finger.
The slight touch made Nick's body react. His head might be saying this was a mistake, but his body didn't appear to agree.
"I...” Nick paused. He should say no. Since he'd dreamed about the fairies, his life had been a nightmare. Fairy godmothers, redheads who haunted his days and nights. Representing fairies. And Glory, standing here gloriously offering him what he'd been wanting since he'd met her. “I'm not sure this is a good idea."
"I am,” she whispered. Just that one fingertip was touching him. It moved down his neck and softly traced the hollow of his collar bone.
"Glory."
Down his chest, she traced, slowly reaching his waist. She unbuckled his belt. “You're probably right. This isn't a good idea.” She unsnapped the pants and slowly drew the zipper down.
"If it's not a good idea, what are you doing?"
"I think sometimes we get so caught up in analyzing every little nuance of our lives that we miss out on living our lives. I'm tired of missing out.” Glory smiled. “Nick. What if the fairies are right? What if there is something happening between us?"
This might be wrong, but it felt so right. Nick didn't have any defenses against what he wanted ... he wanted Glory more than he'd ever wanted anything.
"Have I ever mentioned I have a thing for redheads?” he asked.
"Really?” Glory began unbuttoning his shirt. “And despite the fact I'm not overly fond of attorneys, I guess you've figured out that I have a thing for one attorney."
"And you think we should explore whatever it is between us?” Finally, as if admitting his desire had unlocked something, Nick allowed himself to touch her. He ran his hand through her unruly curls. Glory leaned into him, and he welcomed the feel of her.
"I think that makes sense, Counselor."
"Isn't it convenient that Judge Bernie has that great big overstuffed couch?” He pulled her toward it, shedding his jacket on the way, and lowered her onto it.
"Very convenient,” she murmured as she unbuttoned his shirt.
Nick ran a hand up her thigh beneath her dress, then paused. “Glory, if we do this, I don't want you to regret it in the morning."
"If we don't do this, I'll regret that in the morning.” She placed her hand on his and led it higher. She groaned.
"Do you know how much I've wanted to do this all day?” he asked even as his lips descended to meet hers.
"No, but show me how much,” she suggested. Touching Nick was explosive. Glory wanted to go on touching him. She wanted to meld into him until there was no Glory and no Nick, just a mixture of the tw
o of them. She wanted him.
Holding him, touching him, kissing him ... it felt right. It felt like coming home.
"You're sure?” he asked one last time.
Making love to Nick Aaronson might be a mistake, but Glory was sure that even if it was she was going to do this. She was going to spend this one night in Nick's arms. She was done analyzing, done playing it safe. This night—this one night—she was going to let her heart lead her.
And it was leading her to Nick Aaronson.
That was enough for now.
"Yes,” she finally answered. “I'm sure."
What clothing remained between them disappeared as if by magic.
Magic. The moment was magic, and the moments that followed as well.
The seconds lasted minutes, minutes stretched into hours. Time lost all meaning. They touched, they memorized. Glory was lost in a sensuous haze of her own making. No. Of their making. Nick made her feel truly beautiful and desirable, things she didn't think she'd ever feel again.
"Nick,” she whispered, unsure what else to say. Sure that there were no words to express everything she was feeling.
The emotions overwhelmed her, as much as the feel of Nick's body pressed to hers overwhelmed. She couldn't sort out all the emotions, and she didn't want to. She just wanted simply the release that was tantalizingly at hand.
"Nick,” she whispered again, pulling him closer with rising urgency.
"Tell me what you want,” came his hoarse reply.
"I want everything. I want you."
Glory's words were all the invitation Nick needed. He sampled her, tasting, touching. He was teasing her, driving her to the edge—driving himself there as well.
"Glory,” he moaned when the feelings grew to the point of no return. “I need you."
"Now,” she whispered.
That one word was all the invitation he needed. He buried himself within her, and at that moment of intimate connection Nick knew his entire world had shifted. How, he wasn't sure, but as they moved in a rhythm as old as the ages, he knew that nothing would ever be the same. Because of this woman. Because of Glory.
Her orgasm sent him spiraling into his own, and he lost himself in a thousand explosive pieces. For how long, he couldn't know, but as he drew back from the small piece of heaven, he immediately felt the loss.
"You're so quiet,” Glory whispered.
Nick searched for something to say. He wanted to tell her how deeply their moment together had affected him, but the words wouldn't come. How could he explain to Glory what he didn't understand himself?
But finally he asked, “No regrets?"
She snuggled against him. “No regrets."
"You're sure?"
Glory sensed he needed assurances as much as she did. She reached out and lightly ran a finger down his jawline. There were so many words she wanted to say, but none would come. So finally she settled on simply, “I'm sure."
Later, maybe she'd sort out these feelings and share them with him. But for now, she just lay back and basked in the feel of this man in this one magical, timeless moment.
Chapter Eight
"I'm sure,” Glory said again.
"But how could we have missed them?"
They were still cuddled on the couch, both staring at the tray sitting on the coffee table. The huge tray contained what appeared to be enough food to feed a small dinner party, not two adults.
The tray wasn't the problem.
The fact that neither of them had noticed anyone putting it there was.
The fact that if someone had indeed come into the room, they'd done so while Glory and Nick were engaged in the most glorious experience Glory had ever experienced.
The fact that someone had come and gone, and they had missed the opportunity to get word to the outside world that they were locked in a madman's office was. A second thought hit her. If someone had been in the office that person knew what she and Nick had done.
Despite the fact she was well beyond the age of consent, Glory felt heat rush to her cheeks.
"I swear, I didn't see anyone,” she said again. “Who do you suppose it was? Because as amazing as it was—"
"It was amazing,” Nick agreed with something that sounded like smugness.
"—I can't imagine I'd miss someone walking into the room carrying that huge tray and setting it down half a foot from where you and I were...” she paused.
She was inclined to say, having sex, but that didn't go nearly far enough. What she'd done with Nick wasn't merely sex. But to say making love, well, that was too scary. She didn't want to make love with him because that might imply she loved him, and Glory Chambers most certainly didn't want to love Nick Aaronson.
She liked him. When she'd gone to his office and asked him to take the fairy case, she'd never doubted, despite his blustering, that he'd refuse her. She trusted him. She liked and trusted Nick, and she'd liked to ... well whatever she'd called what they'd just done, she'd like to do it again. But she didn't want to love him.
Nick shook his head. “No one was in this room, Glory."
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
"So—"
"How did the tray get here?” he finished for her.
"Nick, before we ... well, you know. Before I said I thought they could be fairies. Do you think...” she let the question trail off.
"I don't know what to think anymore.” Slowly he traced her bare arm from shoulder to wrist. “I do know one thing, though."
"What?” she asked, the sparks of desire flaming into passion.
"Dinner can wait a while."
"How long a while?” She reached for him.
"As long as we need it to."
* * * *
Later, both of them wrapped in the judge's afghan, they ate their meal.
"It's still hot.” Glory said, around a mouthful of the best lasagne she'd ever eaten. “How can it still be hot?"
"I don't know.” Nick glared at his lasagne, as if it was the Italian dish's fault that it was still hot.
"Yes, you do. You just don't want to admit it."
Fairies. Nick Aaronson—a logical man who spent his life dealing with facts—had fairy godmothers. Three fairy godmothers. Three fairies who were being sued by another half-fairy, and the judge hearing the case was a half-fairy as well.
Glory was damned right. He didn't want to admit it.
"Oh, stop glaring at it and eat it,” she said. “The food's not to blame."
Nick shoved a bite of the delicious pasta into his mouth. Glory was right. It wasn't the lasagne's fault. But whose fault was it then? He glanced at the naked redhead next to him, and despite his annoyance, smiled. She looked as if she'd just spent the late afternoon and the better part of the early evening making love. The look was good on her.
It was a look Nick hoped she'd keep the remainder of the night. Making love to Glory was addictive. He wanted nothing more than to throw her back onto the couch and continue memorizing her body.
"Don't look at me like that,” she said.
"Like what?” he asked.
"You know like what. When you look at me that way, I..."
"You what?” he asked.
"I want you again. I mean, we've already ... well, you know, twice."
"You know?" he asked with a small laugh.
Her fork paused midway between the plate and her mouth. "You know is the best I can come up with. The term sex sounds just too crude, and though it's an accurate term, I don't want to use it. And I'm not ready to say we were making love."
"Why the hell not?” He slammed his plate onto the table.
"Why the hell not what?” she fired back.
"Why the hell can't you say we were making love?” He wanted to grab her and shake her. What they'd done together wasn't just sex. Hell, Nick knew all about just sex, and what he'd done with Glory didn't even come close.
"Because you don't love me, Nick,” she said softly. “And I don't love you."
"You're sure?"
"Aren't you?"
Was he? There was something between them, something Nick had never experienced before. Was he ready to call that something love?
"I don't know what to think,” he finally answered.
"That's what I'm saying. A few short weeks ago I thought I had my life mapped out. I had a new business that was all mine. I had a plan. And a man wasn't part of that plan. I'd had enough of men."
"But?” he prompted.
"But then three women showed up in my restaurant, and all those plans fell apart. Now, I'm sitting here naked, eating lasagne with a man—an attorney no less—and I don't have a clue what I feel or what I think. There's only one thing I know."
"What's that?"
"That whatever we want to call what we just did—"
"Twice,” he felt the need to point out.
"Twice,” she agreed with a smile. “Whatever you call it, I'd like to try for a third time, and then I'd like to spend the rest of my night wrapped in your arms. I don't want to try to analyze this, and I don't want to talk about fairies and happily-ever-afters."
"I think that's one wish I can make come true without any fairy-help."
And Nick found that sometimes wishes could come true without any fairy-magic.
* * * *
Eight o'clock the next morning they sat waiting on the couch dressed in clothes that had mysteriously replaced yesterday's wardrobe. They'd eaten a breakfast that had magically appeared and were savoring their second cups of coffee.
"So how are we going to handle today?” Glory asked.
"First off what happened here—"
"Is no one's business but ours,” she finished.
"Right."
"About the trial?"
"I don't have a clue. Part of me thinks I should just leave the fairies to their own devices. That's what they did to us yesterday."
"But oh, what devices they were.” She reached out and laid her hand on his arm, relishing that mere touch. Despite all the unanswered questions, despite the fact that she had no idea where whatever-they-called-it with Nick would lead, she was deliriously happy.
Happy.
Glory couldn't remember the last time she would have used that word to describe herself. When she worked for Michaelson's she was content, even satisfied. When she was married to Garth she was...
Miracles for Nick Page 12
