by Foster, Lori
She just wished she was one of those sophisticated women who could have an affair, enjoy the physical aspect of the relationship and carnal, erotic pleasures, and leave her heart out of the matter.
Obviously, she was not.
“No regrets,” she muttered to herself as she placed her coffee mug into her small packing box. She’d chanted those words a hundred times since she’d crawled into her own bed last night, battling an onslaught of emotions and tears. Regrets were good for nothing, and she’d never been one to wallow in self-pity. She wouldn’t do so now.
A brisk knock sounded at her office door—or what had temporarily been her office at Massey and Associates—and she glanced up, locking gazes with the man who’d consumed her thoughts for the past twelve hours. He strolled into her office, looking sexy and gorgeous in a neatly pressed button-down shirt and creased khakis, and his hair tousled around his head. She was grateful to see that there wasn’t so much as a glimmer of accusation in his eyes for the way she’d left him last night.
“I have something for you,” he said, stopping on the other side of her desk.
Her heart picked up its beat, much too hopeful for her liking, until she realized he was holding a window envelope out to her and she could see her name imprinted on a company check. Her bonus money. Of course.
“Thank you.” Reaching out, she retrieved her check, which represented financial breathing room for her own agency, along with the end of her freelance job with Massey, and her relationship with Eric.
Pushing his hands into the front pockets of his pants, he tipped his head, his grin charming and boyish. “Are you sure I can’t change your mind about staying?”
His double meaning was shrewd and unmistakable, combining the offer from Massey to remain with the firm, and his own desires to extend their affair. While she recognized his dual question for what it was, he didn’t cross any of those boundaries they’d agreed upon about not bringing their affair up at work. To keep business and pleasure separate. Not unless she chose to do so.
She glanced away from his compelling eyes that could weaken her resolve if she let them, and tucked the envelope into her purse. “I’m sure,” she said, her answer encompassing both requests. She wasn’t changing her mind about either.
Disappointment passed over his features, but he gave a short nod of understanding and turned to go. Halfway to the door, he stopped and turned back around. “Would you like to go out sometime?”
Startled by his question, she stammered, “On . . . on a date?”
“There seems to be a certain chemistry between us,” he said, speaking as though they’d never discovered just how combustible the two of them were together. That the last two weeks of incredible pleasure hadn’t existed. “So, I thought a date would be a good place to start. We could go out to dinner and get to know one another better.”
A casual date. His way of making it clear that he wanted to pursue their relationship—out of the bedroom. She shook her head, and tried to speak around the knot of fear tightening her throat. “I’m sorry, but no.” She’d learned more about him, his life and family, than she’d ever intended to. Any more, and she might not be able to walk away.
He accepted her reply gracefully, and without further prompting. “I guess I’ll see you at the celebratory party for the Enchanted Cruise Line next Saturday, then?”
She’d debated about declining the invitation from Massey to welcome their new client into the firm’s fold, but in the end couldn’t bring herself to say no. She wanted to leave the company in good standing, and since she’d been such a big part of the campaign and she’d pitched the presentation, she also knew that Enchanted would expect her to be at the celebratory bash.
“Yes, I’ll be there,” she told him, even knowing it would be sheer torture being in the same room with him for those few hours, watching him mingle and flash that sexy grin of his, and make small talk with her.
“Great. I’ll see you there.”
And then he was gone, leaving her to finish packing up her things, along with her aching heart.
“What has you so down in the dumps, little brother?” Steve asked, scrutinizing Eric’s mood from across the patio table at their parents’ house, where the family was gathered for a Sunday afternoon barbecue. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen our happy-go-lucky brother so distracted before.”
Adrian eyed Eric speculatively, as well, as he popped the top off his second bottle of beer. “I have to agree. Even Mom mentioned that you’re unusually quiet today, and she’s worried about you.”
Eric resisted the urge to tell his brothers to back off and stop with the third degree, but knew that would just make them more determined to discover the cause of his mood. Steve, being a private detective, loved analyzing the slightest enigma until he finally figured out the source of the problem. And Adrian was just plain nosy and didn’t need much of an excuse to give their youngest sibling a hard time.
“There’s nothing for anyone to worry about.” He scooped up a handful of the pretzels his mother had put on the table for them to snack on while their father barbecued the steaks on the grill. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
A sly grin lifted the corners of Adrian’s mouth. “It’s that same woman that had you so on edge the night we played racquetball, isn’t it?” Knowing he’d guessed accurately, he shook his head in disgust. “No woman is worth all this grief and misery you’re putting yourself through.”
Yes, she was. And Eric proved it. “Her name is Jill Richardson.”
Steve’s brows rose in surprise. “Wow, we actually get a name?”
Adrian sputtered on the drink of beer he was swallowing and coughed a few times to clear his throat. “Holy shit,” he exclaimed once he recovered. “We never get a name! This must be serious.”
“Watch your mouth over there, Adrian,” their father, Paul, piped up from his position at the grill a few yards away. “You know how your mother feels about you boys cussing.”
Adrian winced at being caught, but appeared grateful that their mother was in the house preparing the side dishes. “Sorry,” he muttered.
Steve snickered, and Eric hid a grin, too.
Even though they were all grown men, a “potty mouth” was something their mother still didn’t tolerate from her sons. At least not in her presence. Adrian was fortunate that only their father had heard him, or else Angela Wilde would be serving them all a lecture along with dinner about how no respectable woman liked a man who cursed all the time. Not that Adrian, or even Steve, were in the market for a respectable woman.
As for Eric, he’d finally found a woman he respected, intellectually and physically, only to find himself on the receiving end of a brush-off. When he’d given Jill her check Friday afternoon, he’d attempted to pursue their relationship, only to have his invitation for a real date turned down. He figured that Jill was still in denial, still clinging to fears and insecurities, and hoped that it was just a matter of time before she trusted in what they’d shared together.
Then again, time was his biggest enemy, he knew. The more days that passed, the easier it would be for the emotional distance between them to grow, until their affair was nothing more than a distant memory. Unfortunately, he didn’t know what else he could do to change Jill’s mind.
Adrian leaned across the table and lowered his voice. “Jesus, Eric, if you’re not careful, the next thing you know you’ll be bringing her home to meet Mom and Dad and the family.” Adrian shuddered at the thought.
He would have enjoyed bringing Jill to his parents and sharing his big family with her. “You all would’ve liked her.”
“Would’ve?” Steve asked pointedly. “As in past tense?”
Eric tried for a casual shrug, and knew he failed. “Her choice, not mine.”
“She dumped you?” Adrian asked incredulously. “And now you’re mourning the loss?”
Eric frowned at his brother’s cynical tone. “The split was amicable, and I’m not mourning anything.
I just would’ve liked to have seen where the relationship could have gone.”
“Man, the sex must have been really hot to have you so whipped.” Adrian tipped his beer at Eric in a masculine salute before taking a drink.
Eric wasn’t about to share the details of the private, erotic fantasies he and Jill had enacted. Besides, their affair had traversed past the physical, and it was the intimacy that they’d established in the aftermath of their encounters that remained so vivid in his mind.
“Believe it or not, it’s more than the great sex that has me hooked,” he admitted, deciding to lay his feelings bare. “She’s smart and amusing and beautiful, and I genuinely enjoy being with her. For the first time, I feel as though I’ve met a woman who’s my equal.”
Adrian rocked back on the hind legs of his chair and placed a dramatic hand over the left side of his chest. “Oh, be still my heart.”
Steve’s expression turned big-brother stern. “Knock it off, doofus.” Beneath the glass-topped table, Steve shoved the edge of Adrian’s seat with his foot, knocking his brother off balance and nearly sending him flipping backward to the wooden deck, which earned him a glare from Adrian. “I’d like to think at least one of us can be lucky at love and happy with a woman. Just because the two of us were burned and have no interest in a permanent relationship doesn’t mean that Eric can’t make things work with a woman he cares about.”
“Yeah, well, it takes two to make a relationship work,” Eric said, wiping the condensation off his bottle with his fingers.
“That it does,” Steve agreed. “And I’ve never known you to not go after something you wanted.”
And that’s exactly what he’d done two weeks ago when he’d issued Jill the mutually satisfying proposition. He’d wanted her, and he’d gone after her. Little did he know he’d crave more than a brief tryst.
Exhaling a deep breath, he absently pushed his fingers through his hair, watching as his mother exited the house and walked over to his father to give him a clean platter for the steaks. The two of them talked, and his mother smiled at something he said. There was no mistaking the affection in her gaze, or the love and respect between the two of them. His brothers’ relationships might have failed for whatever reasons, but his parents were a perfect example of everything that was good and right in a relationship.
Commitment. Trust. Honesty. Being equal partners in all things and the willingness to compromise through good times, and bad. He wanted that with Jill, but how could he expect her to put her heart and emotions on the line when he hadn’t done that for her?
He owed it to Jill, and himself, to tell her how he felt about her. To let her know she was special and unique, a woman who complemented him in all ways, and he needed her in his life.
He’d been aggressive in his initial pursuit of Jill and had gotten exactly what he wanted. This time would be no different.
The following Saturday, Eric stood in the midst of the celebratory party for the Enchanted Cruise Line, watching Jill mingle with the president of the company and other important guests. Feeling anxious to be alone with her, and knowing it might be hours before that happened, he took a sip of his Jack and coke to bide his time.
She’d arrived minutes before the party started, giving them only enough time to exchange polite hellos before her presence was demanded elsewhere and she was whisked away to the other side of the banquet room. During the cocktail hour she kept herself in the thick of things, deliberately keeping her distance, though that didn’t stop her gaze from seeking him out when she thought he wouldn’t notice. More than a few times he’d caught her looking his way, had even seen glimpses of longing and desire in her eyes before she realized he’d witnessed those emotions and quickly glanced away again.
Knowing she still harbored some kind of feelings for him kept him optimistic, but it was what she’d worn to tonight’s party that snagged his attention. Accenting her powder blue skirt suit and cream-colored silk blouse was the double strand of pearls he’d given her, and her long, slender legs were encased in familiar pale stockings that made his groin tighten with vivid memories of how she looked wearing nothing but the provocative lingerie he’d purchased for her. Her choice of undergarments spoke louder than words ever could—that he was still on her mind.
The opportunity to finally seek out Jill presented itself after dinner, when most of the guests flocked out to the dance floor to enjoy the rock music the DJ played. He started toward her, but she saw his approach and managed to exit the room before he reached her and disappeared down the long corridor leading to the ladies’ room. Undeterred by her attempt to avoid him, and determined to reach her emotionally this time, he waited a few minutes to make sure no one else headed in the same direction. Then he discreetly slipped inside the women’s rest room.
He was surprised to find himself in a huge, lavishly decorated lounge with a couch, chairs, and a fancy gold-framed vanity. That’s where Jill stood, and seeing his reflection behind her in the mirror, she whirled around, her eyes wide in incredulity and her mouth gaped open in astonishment. He’d obviously rendered her speechless by his bold, shameless intrusion.
Taking advantage of her shock, he twisted the lock on the main entrance door and strolled into the adjoining room, doing a quick check of the stalls to make sure they didn’t have company. Satisfied that they were alone, he returned to the lounge area and slowly, purposely, approached her.
Jill stared at the confident, sexual man heading her way, his eyes dark and hot with intent, and forcibly shook herself from her stunned state of disbelief. A heady, undeniable excitement quickened her pulse, her stomach fluttered in acute awareness, and a liquid heat pooled between her legs.
And he hadn’t even touched her yet . . .
She’d escaped to the rest room when she’d seen him coming her way in the banquet room, because she couldn’t bear to make small talk with him when she still wanted him so badly. But what made her think she’d be safe from him here in the women’s lounge? He was a rebel, a bad boy who made up his own rules to suit himself, consequences be damned. He didn’t seem concerned about getting caught, and at the moment, she was too overwhelmed by his presence to worry about that, either.
He stopped inches away, and her entire body responded to the familiar, masculine scent of him. “Just in case you didn’t notice, this is the ladies’ room,” she managed to say in a normal tone of voice, even while her insides trembled. “I think you made a wrong turn somewhere.”
One of those devastating smiles of his made an appearance. “Sweetheart, I’m right where I want to be,” he drawled in a low, husky timbre.
His softly spoken declaration made her knees buckle, and she curled her fingers around the edge of the counter by her hips for support. “Eric . . . what are you doing in here?”
Leisurely, he stroked the shorter strand of pearls where they rested on the full swells of her breasts. “I’m fulfilling one last fantasy.” His finger caught on the top button securing her silk blouse, and he unfastened the first one, then the second, his gaze never leaving hers. “I’m going to make love to you.”
Make love. In all their shared fantasies, neither of them had ever used those profound words, and she was both entranced and terrified by what was happening between them. “You can’t . . . we can’t do that in here.”
“Sure we can.” His expression turned gentle, reassuring, that aggression and dominance she was so used to tempered by a softness she didn’t fully understand yet. “And I promise it’ll be an experience you’ll never forget.”
When he pushed open the sides of her blouse and touched her, she couldn’t bring herself to object, not when her heart ached for him and her body was already his. Dipping his fingers into her stretch lace bra, he lifted and cupped both of her breasts in his big hands, then bent his head, his warm, damp breath wafting across her nipples before he suckled one tight crest deep into his mouth, and then did the same to the other.
A soft, purring sound rose from the back of h
er throat, and she pushed her fingers through his hair to hold him close and gave herself over to the sweetest sensations she’d ever known.
His movements were slow and unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world. Slowly, he bunched the hem of her skirt to her waist, then lifted her up so she was sitting on the vanity counter. Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of the white panties she wore, he dragged them down her legs, and tucked them into his suit jacket pocket. Pushing her knees apart, he skimmed his fingers along the creamy flesh just above the lacy band of her stockings, then grazed his knuckles through the thatch of curls between her thighs. He delved deeper, stroked along the swollen folds of her sex, and found her already wet and ready for him.
With unsteady hands, he unbuckled his belt, unzipped his fly, and sheathed his straining shaft with a condom. Moving back between her spread thighs and lifting her legs high around his waist, he slid into her in one long, sleek, heavy glide. His big body shuddered against hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as she struggled to catch her own breath.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he groaned against her cheek, and she heard the honest need in his voice.
She’d missed him, too.
All thought ceased as he buried a hand in her hair, brought her lips to his, and kissed her long and slow and deep. His hips picked up the same seductive rhythm, and there was no denying that this time between them was different. Their lovemaking was erotic yet tender, and there was no struggle for Eric to maintain control of the act or her response. He was giving all of the control to her, like a man who trusted her with his heart. Like a man who wanted everything a relationship between a man and a woman offered.
In that moment, his generosity and selflessness outdistanced all her misgivings and uncertainties. All she felt was this man and the emotions he evoked in her. Need and desire. Tenderness and hope. And yes, the sweet beginnings of love.
