She rolled her eyes so far back, she swore she saw future gray hairs growing. “Let me dispel some female myths for you.” She straightened in the chair. “Women, myself included, love sex. We love the physical release as much you guys do. We don’t picture a trip down the aisle and baby booties while we orgasm.”
She ripped off a piece of toast with her mouth. “Newsflash. Women of all ages are sensual beings. We enjoy it. We think about it. We talk about it. Most of us even indulge in it by ourselves.” She spread her lips into a slow smile. “Bet you like that visual, huh? Anyway, I’m talking about women everywhere. Your friends, neighbors, aunts, mothers—”
“Whoa.” He held his hand up. “Let’s leave blood relatives out of this.”
She shook her head, cut into a piece of bacon and shoved it into her mouth. She chased the food down with a long swallow of tangerine juice before continuing. “Okay, remember when you were a kid and played that game with the strings?”
“Cat’s cradle. Girl’s game, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“Work with me.”
He poured himself a glass of juice and chuckled. “This ought to be good. Go ahead.”
“One partner has all the strings to themselves, but the other one has to take the strings off their hands carefully without any attachments. See? You have fun, no strings attached. It’s a game, and everybody is happy.” She picked up a pancake and took a bite. “Make sense?”
He leaned back in his chair and locked his hands behind his neck. “Like I’ve said before, sometimes I can get inside your head. But this is not one of those times.”
She clutched the syrup bottle tightly to keep from pouring it over his stubborn head. “Okay, how about this? Think of our friendship like a book, with the action taking place between the covers.” She waggled her eyebrows.
Confusion? Guilt? Disappointment? She couldn’t decode his expression at all. What was his problem this morning? He didn’t even crack a freaking smile at her metaphor.
She glanced down at the pancake now lying in a pool of syrup. “Contrary to what you and your buddies think, we don’t size up every man we sleep with as husband material. Not all single women are looking for a committed relationship. Especially yours truly. I don’t know how many times you’ve heard me say that? Believe it. It’s true.”
There, that should calm his palpitating, commitment-phobic heart.
One thing she was sure of: for whatever reason, her sexually-liberated-feminist speech had ruined her hankering for chocolate.
Alex wondered how she would respond if he said; By the way, Maddie, I’m leaving for England— dynamite career move—in a few weeks. I’ll be gone for three years. In the meantime, we’ll keep having sex. No strings, like we said. I’ll e-mail and call you when I have some free time, which will probably be about once a month. Have a good life back in New York.”
He glanced down at his breakfast plate and for the life of him couldn’t remember what he’d eaten.
Maddie’s words replayed through his mind like an irritating tune.
Not all single women are looking for a committed relationship. Especially yours truly.
He stared at the way she dove into her bacon and eggs, smiling at him and teasing him. Her whole demeanor said: sun, fun, no promises and no commitment.
Hell, she not only knew the confirmed bachelor’s mantra, judging from the way she was enjoying her breakfast, without a care in the world, she could’ve been the one who wrote it. She hadn’t made one demand, or plagued him with a million “Where do we go from here?” questions.
Man, I should be celebrating. But all he could think was, why was she acting so damn casual about it?
He followed her hand as she dipped a strip of bacon into maple syrup and took tiny bites, darting her pink tongue out to catch the extra syrup on the tip of the meat.
He wanted to lick the dot of syrup that glistened on the edge of her kissable mouth. Instead, he shoveled a spoonful of yogurt inside his mouth to keep from groaning.
“Earth to Alex.” Maddie waved her hand in front of his face. “Do you want some bacon? You keep staring at it.”
He managed a smile. “Uh, no. Juice?”
“Uh-huh.” She held her empty glass out.
He filled her glass, replaced the jug and returned to the pretense of tasting his food. In a few weeks, their lives would literally be worlds and an ocean apart. That thought stung like lemon on a paper cut.
Making love to Maddie had given him a lot more than he’d bargained for. It had introduced him to a new and terrifying emotion that he couldn’t quite fathom.
How the hell had this happened?
There wasn’t enough blood supply in your system to run both your dick and brain at the same time, Donovan. That was how it had happened.
Okay, it was time to think about this rationally. He had to somehow ease out of this no-strings attached relationship without easing himself out of a friendship with Maddie.
His main concern was for Maddie of course. His feelings at the moment didn’t fit into the equation. He could handle this, but, Maddie—well, this was new for her.
She stared at him over the rim of her glass. “Are you all right? You look…I don’t know, wigged out.” She rolled her eyes. “Again.”
He gulped down some juice before attempting to answer. “I’m okay, you?”
Real deep, Donovan.
She stiffened and placed her fork on the table. She leaned back in her chair and eyed him with a hint of annoyance in her expression. “I told you earlier, don’t worry about it.”
“It?” Damn, did he have any brain cells left?
“You know, us. We’ll be fine. Once we get back home to our separate lives, everything will get back to normal. Let’s just enjoy this place for now.”
Shit. He was already feeling like a sap, thinking about who she might go out with. Dine with. Make love with. He’d be thousands of miles away, consumed with memories of her in his bed, possibly to the point where his writing and career would suffer. How the hell was he going to handle that?
Then again, Maddie might be spouting off what she thought he wanted to hear.
But that is what I want to hear. Right?
He drew in a deep breath and prepared his thoughts. If he had a decent bone left in his body he’d break off the sexual aspect of their relationship. But that might add tension to the rest of their assignment. Not a good idea.
Okay, he’d encourage her to express her true feelings regarding the step they’d taken last night. It was the least he could do for her. He’d also assure her that she was the one calling the shots and that he wouldn’t put any pressure on her to continue their no-strings-attached relationship if she didn’t want to.
He pushed his plate away and moved his chair closer to her. Taking her hand in his, he rubbed her knuckles. Her silky skin made his body tighten.
“Maddie, I think we should talk about—well I mean—specifically about how you feel.”
He knew exactly how he felt.
Terrified.
Damn, his mind was a storm of confusion with gusts of foreign-to-him thoughts strong enough to give him emotional whiplash.
And he was still horny as hell.
Cancel that last thought.
She clicked her tongue. “I can’t express every feeling I have every moment I have them. Get over it. Stop talking and let’s have fun.”
Most women wanted to talk about their feelings. But this was Maddie. He should’ve expected a response like that.
She picked up her chocolate éclair and took a large bite out of it. “Mmmm. This is so good. Sugar gives me an extra boost of energy.”
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Of course, not that you need an excuse to have sugar.” He rose from his chair and looked at the ocean.
In a few we
eks, he’d be on the other side of that ocean.
When I leave her.
But he hadn’t signed the contract, yet.
Could I leave her?
He wanted that job, craved it.
More than you want Maddie?
He closed his eyes and envisioned the challenge of heading up a news bureau, assisting in running a production company, and in a few months, hosting a magazine news show on the Documentary Channel.
But she won’t be there.
A travel section was not out of the question for the newspaper.
She could follow me and freelance in England.
But would she follow him?
His eyes snapped open as he put the brakes on his thoughts.
What the hell am I thinking?
He’d started to devise a plan to get her to move and work in England with him? After one night? Exhaustion?
Yes, exhaustion. He had traveled halfway around the world without a vacation for over two years. That, combined with the worrisome things he’d discovered about Hollister, had taken its toll.
Maddie finished her pastry and drained her juice. She twisted her head back, smiling up at him. He bent and ran his tongue over her upper lip, licking her juice moustache.
How he enjoyed her sexy, soft moans whenever his tongue or lips touched hers.
Christ, this is not the kind of thinking that will ease me out of this situation.
He withdrew and leaned against the railing.
She sighed and stood, facing him. “What’s wrong? What did Duncan want earlier?”
“Paperwork I didn’t get around to finishing.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist. He knew he was flying without a safety net, but he decided he might as well tell her now about England. Maybe together they could work something out. “Actually I think I should talk to you about—”
Her cell phone’s ringtone echoed from inside the suite.
“Ignore it,” she said. “They can leave a voice message.”
He cleared his throat and mentally rehearsed his next line. Can you break your contracts, pack your bags and come to England with me for a few weeks, months? Hell, I don’t know how long. And by the way, I’ll be too busy to pay any real attention to you.
The phone had stopped for a few beats, but started singing again.
He opened his mouth to talk, but he was too distracted by the damn music. He released his hold on her and ran his fingers through his hair. “Guess you should answer that.”
She picked up his wrist and glanced at his watch. “Actually, I should check it out.”
She stepped inside the suite, leaving him standing there with what he imagined was a dumbstruck look on his face.
He paced toward the table, and absently picked up Maddie’s tape recorder. He turned it over in his hand, as if keeping his hands busy would give him some answers.
He wondered if she felt as confused as he did? Probably not. Maddie had a unique way of looking at life. In spite of the anxiety gripping his gut, he couldn’t help but smile. She was pure and honest.
If he was totally honest with himself, he knew he did not regret making love to her. He regretted that she’d even thought that. He’d felt her joy in his kisses and embraces and that joy had brought him happiness.
A big smile crossed his face. Being able to give her such pleasure had been a gift to him.
He admired her vibrancy for life and wouldn’t want her to change. Although, it would have been nice to know that she, too, had been rethinking the casualness of their so-called arrangement this morning.
Whirrrrrr.
“Shit.” The whirring sound came from the recorder. He’d obviously pressed the rewind button. He knew Maddie used a recorder for notes. He hit the forward button, so that he could at least try to get it the point where it was at before he’d accidentally pushed rewind.
“. . . . saw it up close and personal, it was like a freaking work of art. I almost felt bad straddling him. I mean does one fricky fricky with an Adonis statue in a museum?”
“Damn.” He must have hit the play button instead of stop after it went forward.
“Fricky, fricky?” He threw the recorder back on the table, as if any minute it would burn his palm. A work of art? Was she talking about his dick? And straddling him?
This was about sex for her. Okay, he didn’t need a brick to fall on his head. Her reaction this morning and the taped conversation with herself had validated it.
Good. Sex with no commitment. Okay, that was precisely what he wanted, had always wanted. Not necessarily with one of his best friends, but, hey, it happened, and good thing he knew exactly what it was now. He wouldn’t have to stress over the fact that she may have wanted more after last night.
Glad that was settled.
But why the hell was she recording this stuff?
He dragged his hand down his face.
Maddie did tell him that she journaled her thoughts. As much as she loved to razz the hell out of him, he was confident she wasn’t about to incorporate their fricky fricky—where did she come up with that stuff?—into a travel article.
Jesus H., Maddie, you’re not going to write that in your piece?
He shook his head. He trusted her. No way Maddie was going to write an erotic travel article starring his Johnson. But now he felt like a heel for intruding on her private thoughts. Granted he was in those thoughts, or rather, his work of art was.
He threw his head back and exhaled, loud enough so that when the patio door opened and Maddie stepped out, she asked, “Something wrong?”
“Wrong? No, everything’s cool. So, the phone call? Anything important?” He was an investigative reporter, a damned good one at that, yet, here he stood thinking and talking like an inexperienced intern. The hard-hitting newshound had lost his capacity for rational thought.
This assignment was turning into a goatfuck.
That’d teach him to fiddle with someone’s tape recorder.
“Alex, you sure nothing is wrong? You have that wigged-out look again.”
He took a deep breath, and tried to forget that he’d intruded on a private conversation she’d had with herself. “Never mind me. What was that call about?” he asked. “You’re staring at your phone like you want to toss it into the ocean.”
“Felicia. She’s mad at Uncle George. She found out he put a wager on how long this marriage was going to last.” She sighed. “And she’s in a state about this wedding. Flowers, menu, should she have a receiving line? Eddy’s kids are giving her a hard time.”
“Hasn’t she done this before?” Christ, the woman was a professional bride.
A flash of vulnerability crossed her features. “I hear you. But she gets overwhelmed every time, though this time seems particularly bad. I’ll help her out by phone. I’ve done it many times before.” She looked away for a fraction of a second and laughed softly, but when it came to her family, the smiles and laughter never reached her eyes. “The last time she gave me attention like this was during my birth.”
He clasped his hands around her waist, and kissed the tip of her freckled nose. “You want to talk about it? I know it couldn’t have been easy growing up with her.”
“Felicia is like having an older sister,” she said. “A troubled, pain-in-the-ass older sister. Know what I mean?”
“Not really.” He drew his brows together and bit back a harsher opinion of Felicia Saunders. “She’s supposed to be your mother, not your sister.”
She shrugged. “It could’ve been worse.” She smoothed her hands over his shoulders. “Apparently, ball and chain number seven wants to move to Vancouver to take over a family business. I’d never do that.”
“What? Move to Canada?”
“Follow a man to another country or city. She’s moved from city to city for every marriage. He
ll, every new relationship. Changed her whole life each time. I swore by the time I could understand what was happening, I’d never do that.”
Her words hit him like a sucker punch in his gut.
And they shouldn’t have. He’d heard her clearly on her recorder. This thing between them was about sex. He had no right to be insulted at her comments about moving. But he could still ask if maybe she’d like to have an adventure in England for a few months, couldn’t he?
“You’re nothing like Felicia.”
“I know it sounds awful, because most daughters want to be like their mothers. But not me.” Shaking her head. “When other little girls were prancing around the yard, wearing white towels on their heads, pretending to be Princess Di on her big day, I had a different fantasy.”
“What was that?”
“To live in a place long enough so that the corner store owner knew when I walked in she’d have to bag some red licorice, grab a package of Milk Duds and pour me a super-sized grape slushie.” She stated this without any self-pity in her voice. “I wanted the neighbors to stick their heads out the window, asking me to run errands for them. And yeah, it would even have been okay if they’d scolded me for dropping the “F” bomb when I lost at hopscotch. Actually, I fantasized about living in a place long enough where I could join the hopscotch clique or run across the neighbor’s lawns through a sprinkler, getting chased.” She let out a giggle. “I wanted to earn the title Maddie the Menace.”
All things he had taken for granted growing up. He kissed her forehead. “You didn’t want to be the new kid on the block.” She nodded. He held her tighter. “But you do love to travel, experience new places?”
“Absolutely, and I love writing about them. But there’s nothing like coming back to a place that I call home. Fantasies do come true.” Winking, she smiled. “And not only last night. Mr. Antonucci knows exactly what I want when I pop into his store and Mrs. Dunn in 3B knows my name, my schedule and asks me to walk Casanova and Molly when I’m available.”
What a Girl Wants Page 18
