by Nancy Warren
Sometimes, being single sucked.
Having decided that, she wandered into the kitchen. She wasn’t starving exactly, since she’d had a burger for lunch, but cooking always soothed her. There was a nice bottle of Pinot Gris in the fridge, which she opened. She put Sarah McLachlan on the CD player, took out salad greens and a free-range chicken breast and started cooking.
She was humming, her salad dressing half-made, when there was a knock at her door.
Odd. Everyone she knew would call before coming over. Maybe it was someone canvassing for some cause or a neighbor looking for a lost cat.
She opened the door and Patrick stood on her doorstep, apparently as surprised to be there as she was to see him. And she was far too happy to see him.
“Hi,” she said, noting that his eyes were almost navy in the dim evening light.
“Hi.” He didn’t make a move to come in and didn’t seem to have much to say for himself.
Wanting to help him out, she asked, “Did I forget something at Dylan’s party?”
“Yes.” It must have been her sweater. But he wasn’t carrying anything, and then she remembered she’d draped her sweater over a chair in the kitchen.
“Okay. What?”
“You forgot to say goodbye.”
“I said goodbye to Dylan. He’s the one who invited me.”
“Right. But I’m the one who missed you when you left.”
“Oh, Patrick. You mustn’t say things like that.” He was playing right into her uncle’s hands and she didn’t want him to.
“I know.” She opened the door wider and he leaned his shoulder against the jamb. “I don’t want to want you this much. I said I’d give you a month, and it hasn’t even been two weeks.”
She nodded. She could count the days as well as he could. And she had been.
“But I have a problem.” He glanced up at her, so solemn, his blue eyes frank and intense. “I’m crazy about you.”
Her heart did a perfect somersault. “Oh, Patrick.”
“Do you think I could come in for a minute?”
She nodded and let him in. Without bothering to ask if he wanted one, she poured him a glass of wine and led him into her tiny living area, where she took a seat and gestured him into the one opposite her.
He fiddled with the stem of his glass. Sipped. Put the glass down on the rattan coffee table. She was irrationally glad she’d bought some fresh red tulips today and put them in a vase, not that he appeared to notice them.
“We never should have made love,” he said almost savagely.
Her mouth opened, but he went on before she could speak.
“No. That’s not true. I never should have hired you. I saw your résumé and I knew you were overqualified for the job. If I hadn’t hired you, I’d have met you some other way. I’ve tried so hard to stay away, Briana, but after the night in the elevator, I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Her heart was pounding at a ridiculous rate. “I…Oh, Patrick.”
“Honey, I don’t think I can wait a month for you.”
“But you promised me-”
“I know I did. I’ve considered resigning as mayor.”
She blinked. He was handing her the answer to all her troubles on a silver platter. If he resigned, then her uncle would have achieved his goal. Maybe Uncle Cecil could have another shot at the job himself. Except that, family loyalty aside, she knew Patrick was doing the right thing for Courage Bay, and now was not the time for change.
“You can’t do that!” she cried.
“That’s the conclusion I came to also. Please, Briana, I’m asking you as a man in pain, please consider another job.”
“But we agreed to wait until after-”
“I know. But you could put in for a transfer and we could post your position. You wouldn’t have to leave the mayor’s office for a month or so.”
What could she do? She was only human, and she knew his need so well because it was the same as her own. Now that he was here, the temptation was too great. “I wish you hadn’t come.”
“I couldn’t stand being in that house all by myself when I knew damn well, just as you did, that Shannon pulled that stunt so we’d have some time together.”
“It was pretty high-handed of her. Not to mention inappropriate.”
He snorted. “Get used to it. That’s my sister.”
“Patrick, I…” She what? Didn’t want him? Thought her job as an admin assistant was more important than the most promising relationship she’d had in her life?
Maybe it was time for the truth. Part of the truth, anyway. “Until this crisis is resolved, I’m staying.” She rose and brought her copy of the grainy newspaper photo and handed it to him. After he’d looked at it, he put the paper down on the table with an expression of distaste.
“What are you doing with that?” he asked.
She wouldn’t lie. She’d keep her uncle’s role confidential but she wouldn’t lie. “I’ve been doing some research. I think this photo is one of the reasons Cecil Thomson is your enemy on council.”
Patrick stared up at her. “It’s got nothing to do with me.”
She chose her words carefully. “But the article did come out right at a crucial moment in the election campaign. Cecil Thomson was predicted to win easily, and then this article and the photo were published and you won by a landslide.”
Patrick was frowning at her. “Are you suggesting I sent that article to the Sentinel? What, you thought I had an old photo lying around of Thomson getting a blowjob from a hooker? How could-”
“No. No. Not you. But maybe someone who badly wanted you to win. You have to admit it was unfortunate timing.”
“I never liked Cecil Thomson much, but I wouldn’t have believed he’d act like that. I’ve lived in Courage Bay my whole life. You get to know things. There are a lot of things I don’t like about Thomson, but he’s never been a man you’d figure to have skeletons in his closet. I was as shocked as anyone.”
She picked up the photocopy and stared at it. “Are you sure it’s real?”
Patrick’s eyes widened. “You think someone faked this? Briana, this isn’t a race for the White House. It’s a city mayor’s job. Thomson’s bank job probably pays more. The only reason he wanted to be mayor was for the prestige and power. I was a reluctant candidate from the start. No. I don’t believe anyone faked the photo. Why are you so interested in Cecil Thomson’s dirty laundry, anyway?”
She put the photo back on the table so she could avoid looking at Patrick. “I was trying to find a way to end the antipathy between the two of you.”
“Well, your chances aren’t great.” He sighed and leaned back. “We talk about this stuff all day at work. Can we have a Saturday night off?”
“Yes. Of course. Sorry. Can I just say one more thing? On Monday, I’m going to put in for a transfer. If you want to put in a good word for me with Max Zirinsky, I know there are a few positions in the police department that I’d enjoy.”
Patrick grinned at her, relief and plain joy shining from his eyes. “I’ve got some positions you might enjoy, too.” He laughed when she rolled her eyes. “Come here.”
She was delighted to comply.
She rose slowly, irresistibly pulled toward him. How had they managed to hold off all the days and nights since the elevator escapade?
Since she didn’t think the arm of her upholstered wicker armchair would hold her weight-at least that’s the excuse she gave herself-she eased onto Patrick’s lap and kissed him.
It was an easy kiss, meant to be the prelude to something very different from what they’d experienced in the elevator. For one thing, they had her apartment to spread out in, and for another, they weren’t feeling their lives were in danger. But perhaps best of all, they had all night.
As though he’d read her mind, Patrick said, “You know what’s been driving me crazy?”
Wanting her, she hoped. “What?”
“I don’t know what you look like.”
His voice was already husky. “I know what you feel like, I know the scent of you, the taste of you.” He nibbled her ear to illustrate his point. “But I have no idea what you look like naked.”
She bent awkwardly as she tried to kiss him. They were going to either end up on her living room floor or make a move for the bed before it was too late.
Maybe later she’d go for the living room floor. This time, she wanted all the comforts.
So she took his hand and hauled him to his feet, then led him to her room.
Once more she congratulated herself on her housecleaning binge this morning. The sheets on the bed were fresh, the bathroom sparkled and all her junk was put away. She didn’t live like a slob by any means, but today her place was as neat as it ever got. Not that Patrick seemed bothered about her decor. She suspected that if she put her hands over his eyes and asked him to describe anything about her apartment, he’d be stumped.
And for all the right reasons. Since he’d entered her home, he’d had eyes only for her.
His gaze was so intense that she shivered as he stepped close to her and reached for her shirt.
They undressed each other slowly. Watching him watch her strip off her blouse was as erotic as the most exquisite foreplay. He traced the lacy cups of her bra with a fingertip, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake, then slid the shirt slowly off her shoulders so it slipped to the floor like a dropped handkerchief.
He seemed undecided whether to go for bra or skirt next. She thought about reaching down for his belt buckle while he was busy making up his mind, but she felt curiously lazy, and decided she’d wait her turn.
The same index finger traced the line where her breasts met, tracked down over the bra and then followed the center line of her ribs in an invisible path that crossed her belly button and ended at the waistband of her short denim skirt.
He unzipped the skirt and she wriggled it past her hips.
He kissed her again, rubbing against her, and she decided he had far too many clothes on, when she was wearing so few. With a tug and a yank, she had his T-shirt out of his shorts and halfway up his belly. He stepped back a little and raised his arms so she could finish the job.
Mmm. Oh, yes. Mmm-hmm. She loved a hairy chest, and he had a terrific one. Lots of dark curls from his collarbone spreading over his nicely developed pecs and tapering down to his ribs.
A gold medallion of some sort nestled against his sternum. “What’s this?” she asked, touching the medal.
“St. Christopher.”
“It’s nice.” And it was. Intricately detailed, and warm from his body.
While she admired the medallion, he unsnapped her bra and pulled it away before she realized he was going to.
“Apricot,” he mumbled with satisfaction.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Apricot. I had a bet with myself what color your nipples would be. They’re a little more on the brown side than I’d guessed, but I had the right general palette.”
“I can’t believe you’ve been thinking about the color of my nipples.”
He grinned at her. “They match the color of your cheeks when you blush.”
As she was doing now.
He flipped back the bedcover and laid her on her back, then he slid his thumbs into the waistband of her panties and eased them down.
A single shiver passed over her from crown to toe as the silky material slid down her legs. The sheets were cool and crisp to the touch, smelling faintly of lavender linen spray.
He kissed her slowly and thoroughly, beginning with her mouth and heading slowly south as though she were a long-denied treat and his diet was over.
“I think you even taste like apricots,” he said, as he toyed with her breasts before sucking one sensitive tip right into his mouth.
Oh, what that man could do with his lips and tongue. He kissed her skin everywhere, bringing it to tingling life. Slow and meticulous, he seemed intent on kissing every inch of her.
“Oh, Patrick,” she sighed.
“I didn’t take enough time with you in the elevator,” he murmured against her ribs. “I was in too much of a hurry, too eager.”
“I loved what happened in the elevator.”
He grinned up at her. “Me, too. But this time, we’ve got all night.”
And he was as good as his word. He kissed her everywhere, and what he wasn’t kissing, he was touching, stroking, learning with his hands.
She was close to begging him to take her, when he slipped her thighs apart and put his mouth just there. She felt zapped-shocked to the core-and tiny helpless cries escaped her.
He licked her until she couldn’t hold back, and every part of her exploded; fireworks burst behind her eyelids and she let out a sob of relief.
Only then did he sheath himself. As he positioned himself at the still-pulsing entrance to her body, he smiled down at her with great tenderness and held her gaze as he entered her slowly.
Even though they’d been intimate in the elevator, this was completely different. It was light, and they’d made this decision as consenting adults, not as adrenaline-pumped earthquake victims. He felt so right moving inside her, reaching all her lonely places, that she longed to close her eyes and savor every sensation. But somehow she knew how important it was for him to look into her eyes, so she kept them open for him, ignoring the quiver of fear that such intimacy caused.
When he started moving faster, she lost her grip on conscious thought and concentrated instead of hanging on to him. He was beautiful, decent and gorgeous. If only she could stop her feelings from going too deep.
If only it weren’t too late.
His eyes darkened, his breathing harshened, his movements became half-crazed. As climax rocked her, she set off his explosion and they seemed to melt together in one perfect moment.
“I love you,” he said as he poured himself into her body.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I LOVE YOU. The words echoed in the air along with their labored breathing and pounding hearts.
Briana wished Patrick hadn’t said those dangerous words, those dangerous, magic words, as she played her fingers through her lover’s hair, feeling warmth coming off him in waves.
It was a moment of such perfect contentment, she wished she could make it last. He loved her.
After a minute or two, he raised himself up on his forearms so he could look down into her face. Cupping her cheek in his palm, he kissed her softly on the lips. “I didn’t mean to blurt out my feelings so soon,” he said. “They’re true, though. I do love you.”
“Well, I’m glad it’s not an automatic reflex thing, every time you climax.”
He chuckled. “No. Usually I’m not so articulate. If I’d thought about it, I wouldn’t have said it, I guess, but I didn’t think.”
“Oh, Patrick. I love you, too.”
What a tangled web she’d woven, and hadn’t she become well ensnared in it? The man she was meant to entrap had trapped her, body and heart.
“You do?” He seemed almost as surprised as relieved.
She smiled up at him. “I love you. I love Dylan and Fiona, I even love poor disaster-plagued Courage Bay.”
“That’s good, but I haven’t even had a chance to date you properly yet. You may think you love me, but wait until you see my woman-getting arsenal. You’ll be under attack and won’t know what hit you.”
“Under attack, huh?” she said, feeling girlishly silly and delighted at the idea.
“That’s right. Morning.” He kissed her lips. “Noon.” He kissed the spot where her breasts met. “And night.” As though he couldn’t resist, he came back to her mouth and kissed her again, deeply.
“What form will this attack take?” she wondered aloud, loving this fun-loving, sweet, sweet man, so different from the suit-and-tie mayor.
“My arsenal is mostly secret. However, I think it’s fair to say there will be wining and dining.”
She considered. “Two fine weapons.”
“I don’t think flowers would be going too far.”
“A woman always likes to receive a bouquet now and then,” she agreed.
“That’s more the mental siege, to break down your resistance, before I step up the attack and move into the physical phase.”
“Oh, you’re planning to bully me?”
He shook his head. “Woo you.”
“I like the sound of wooing.”
“After the wining, dining and flowers, there will be some very physical wooing, don’t you worry.”
“You’re sounding awfully confident.”
He kissed her again, a nice loud smacker. “Actually, I’m not, but my heart’s gone now, and since I can’t get it back, I’ll just have to get you along with it.”
“Oh,” she said, feeling a prickle at her eyelids that surprised the heck out of her, “that is so sweet.”
“I know I’m pushing you, and rushing you and pressuring you and doing everything I shouldn’t, but I need you to realize that I’m also a package deal. You can’t have me in your life and not have Fiona and Dylan.”
She snuggled up to him and kissed his chin, then the tip of his nose, and then his lips, which still tasted a little of her. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m already in your life. And theirs.”
Even though she’d tried to resist him, Dylan was as up front about his own brand of wooing as his dad, and Fiona didn’t have to do a thing to steal her heart. She’d fallen for the little tyke the first minute she saw her.
Her happiness was slightly tarnished by a flickering thought for her uncle, but she pushed it aside.
She couldn’t have fallen in love with a man who wasn’t trustworthy, and she couldn’t go on loving him without admitting how she’d come to work for him.
Phew, it wasn’t going to be easy, admitting that she’d taken the job under false pretenses. But when she explained why, and shared the results of her investigation, she hoped he’d understand that although she’d joined his staff with an ulterior motive, she would never have done anything to hurt him or his family.
Suddenly, a sense of urgency gripped her. As soon as she saw Joe Carlton, she’d tell Patrick everything.
