They were definitely dealing with issues from her past, Harry decided, issues connected to trust problems. None of which boded well for future discussions—especially considering all he’d kept from her. Hell. He should have been honest from the start. He would have been, too, if not for Sunny and his father. He thrust a hand through his hair. It was a little late to explain everything now, but with luck he’d have an opportunity to redress those errors in judgment as they arose. In the meantime, he’d do what he could to reassure her about the hours they’d spent together on the elevator. And then he’d try his damnedest to uncover the truth about her past and help heal the wounds that made her so vulnerable.
“Think about it, Madison. It’s literally impossible for two people to be alone together for hours on end and not have them react to each other through at least one of the senses. We talked to each other. That’s one right there.”
“We touched.”
He couldn’t help grinning. “I remember.”
“This isn’t funny.” She sat on the blanket, facing him, and folded her arms across her chest in a defensive posture. The sunlight caught in her hair and spilled across her shoulders in a stream of liquid gold. If it weren’t for the alarm and anger blazing in her eyes, he’d have tugged her into his arms and given her a hands-on reminder of all they’d experienced on the elevator. “Tell me whether you were deliberately pulling some sort of principle stuff on me.”
“I admit there was some serious masculine chemistry going on.”
“I knew it!”
“If it makes you feel any better, your female chemistry was in full flower, too.” Her mouth compressed at the suggestion, warning that any discussion regarding her flowering chemistry wouldn’t make her feel any better. But he refused to let her off the hook. Whether she liked it or not, her hormones had been in as much of an uproar as his, and he wasn’t about to pretend otherwise. “Was our interaction on the elevator a setup? No way. Was I sneaking you through the principles? Not a chance.”
“How can I be sure?”
She’d tossed more kindling on his temper and it promptly ignited. Shoving plastic ware out of his way, he leaned closer. “If I start using principles on you, there won’t be any doubt in your mind about what I’m doing.”
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“It seems to me that you’re not going to be satisfied until you get a sample to use for comparison. Maybe if I give you a personal demonstration of all the principles you’ll know what Sunny can expect.”
“No, I—”
He didn’t give her time to say another word. Tipping her back onto the blanket, he came down on top of her and thrust his hands deep into her curls. “Look at me, Madison. What do you see?”
She swallowed. “A very determined man. Maybe even an annoyed one.”
“Wrong. You see a hungry man. And I see the perfect woman to satisfy that hunger.” He whispered a heated proposition in her ear. “And what do you hear?”
She shuddered in his arms. “A suggestion. I hear a most interesting suggestion.”
“That’s right. Only it’s more than a suggestion. It’s a promise I intend to keep at our earliest convenience.”
He bent his head to nuzzle the joining of her shoulder and neck, thrusting the strap of her sundress out of his way. A slight movement on the other side of the bushes caught his attention. Sunny peered through the branches and waved gaily. Next to her Bartholomew regarded his son with a broad, amused grin. Harry choked.
“Is something wrong?” Madison asked.
He motioned frantically for their audience to get lost. Fortunately, they took the hint and trotted off in the direction of the parking lot. “Not a thing, sweetheart. Now where was I?”
“Explaining the principles to me,” she replied a little too fast. She must have thought so, as well, since she immediately infused a note of righteous indignation into her voice. “Explaining them against my will, I might add.”
He buried a smile. “Sorry, my sweet. But you’re getting a lesson in the principles, whether you want one or not.”
“Just so you know I’m opposed to the entire experiment.” She trotted out the lie without a hint of shame. “Totally opposed.”
“Objection noted. Where were we?”
“We’d just finished sight and hearing. You’d made a most improper suggestion involving the two of us, a scandalous lack of clothing, a bed, some champagne and strawberries and topping various parts of my anatomy with scoops of ice cream,” she reminded with alacrity. “And I was shocked speechless. Now, what’s next?”
Oh, yeah. The ice cream. How could that have slipped his mind? He fought for coherent thought, finally seizing on one of the three senses that he’d somehow forgotten. Who’d have imagined one over-controlling, obsessive, practical-minded woman could have such an affect on him? “Did you know that when we were on the elevator it was your voice and your scent that helped form my first impressions of you? Every so often I caught the faintest hint of your perfume, and something else. Something that’s unique to you.”
Her eyes fluttered closed and she inhaled deeply, smiling in pleasure. “So is yours. It reminds me of a cleansing rainstorm.”
She wasn’t far wrong. He shifted so she wouldn’t detect the first warning spattering of raindrops and pressed her hands tight against his chest. “Sight, hearing, scent…and now touch. What do you feel, Madison?”
“Your heart.”
“Beating in rhythm with yours.” He brushed a kiss across her mouth, their lips barely touching. Then another, slightly deeper. Then a third that warned of a passion held barely in check. Her mouth blossomed beneath his, welcoming him. He swept inward, sparking something hot and primitive and desperate. “And last, but far from least, what do you taste, Madison? Tell me.”
Her response came as a slow sigh of want. “You.”
“Isn’t this how it should be? Doesn’t this feel right? Now do you understand how the principles are supposed to work?”
Her eyes slowly flickered open, like someone waking from a deep, delicious dream. “Oh, yes! It feels—” Her brows drew together. “Harry? Why…why is your hair wet?”
“There’s an excellent explanation for that.”
“Oh, good heavens. It’s raining. Harry!” She shoved at his shoulders. “Get up. You’re getting soaked. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Reluctantly, he rolled off her. So much for giving her a firsthand demonstration of the principles of love. With swift efficiency, he dumped the remains of their picnic into the basket. The light rain intensified, within seconds becoming a downpour. Tossing the blanket over Madison’s head, he snatched up the picnic basket with one hand and grabbed her with the other. They ran for the car. Unfortunately, Madison’s sandals weren’t made with a Seattle rainstorm in mind. They hadn’t gone more than ten feet before they tripped her up.
“Screw it.” Harry tossed down the basket, ripped the blanket off her head and pulled her into his arms.
Rain pounded down on top of them, but in that moment he didn’t give a damn. Lifting her against him, he kissed her. There was something intensely primitive about kissing a woman in the pouring rain, their bodies locked together, their skin slick, the heat of their want a striking counterpoint to the chill of the air. All he could think about was peeling away her clothes and laying her down in the wet, fragrant grass and making her his. His desire drove him beyond rational consideration, his need the most desperate he’d ever felt. The rain washed away all civilized thought, the unrelenting rhythm echoing the raw passion throbbing through his veins.
She clung to him, her soaked sundress sealed to his cotton shirt, her skirt twining around his legs in a loving embrace. It was as though every part of her had become joined to him. He swept his hands down her back, unable to resist exploring. She was round where a woman should be rounded—full, generous breasts, hips that curved into a lush bottom that filled his hands, well-formed thighs made to wrap around a man and cradle him close. With each strok
ing caress, she shivered with unmistakable urgency, pulling back only long enough to utter two delicious words.
“Don’t stop.”
He wasn’t a man who took orders well. But he made an exception this once, losing all sense of time and place. He wanted the woman in his arms, was driven by the compulsion to brand her in the most elemental of ways. He’d spent years fighting to control the baser side of his nature. But not here. Not now. Resistance proved impossible. He dragged the straps of her sundress downward at the same instant a faint, outraged squawk sounded nearby. At first Harry thought Madison had changed her mind and was voicing a reluctant protest. Then he realized it came from her purse. He swore beneath his breath.
“It’s my phone,” she murmured apologetically.
“It sounds like someone’s torturing it.” Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on his part.
She took a step backward, clutching her gaping dress to her chest. “I think the rain killed it.”
“What a shame.”
“There’s no need for sarcasm.” It would seem that sanity had returned with a vengeance, the rain dousing any hint of flame or fire. Judging by her expression all that remained was a heap of soggy ashes. She glanced over her shoulder at the picnic area. “Everyone’s left.”
Reluctantly he adjusted the straps of her sundress. Not that it helped much. The rain had drenched the shape from the garment, the weight of the water dragging it downward in the most interesting places. Her breasts glistened beneath the cleansing rinse and he gave in to temptation, sweeping the moisture from the rounded slopes. She didn’t protest his actions—nor did she encourage them. Reluctantly he released her. There would be other opportunities, Harry reminded himself. No point in forcing the issue.
“Yes, everyone’s left,” he confirmed. “Apparently the other picnickers don’t like kissing in the rain as much as we do.”
She looked around, shivering. “Sunny and Bartholomew? Where are they?”
He shrugged. “Long gone, I would imagine. I doubt they lingered once it began to rain.”
He’d said the wrong thing. Alarm flickered across her face. “Oh, no. This is terrible. Do you think they saw us?”
“Terrible?” Not even the chill of the rain could cool his flash of anger. “You mind telling me what’s so terrible about it?”
She avoided his gaze. “If they saw us, it’ll give them the wrong idea.”
“Funny. I thought it might give them the right idea.”
“We were just trying out a few of the rules.” She backed another step away from him, her actions speaking far louder than her words. “That’s all. It was nothing personal.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” He swept the blanket from the grass. “If you’re into self-delusion, you might even be able to sound convincing.”
“You can’t believe it was more than that.”
He didn’t bother arguing. Crouching, he stripped away the shreds of her sandals and tossed them aside. He considered snatching her into his arms and carrying her across the grass to the parking lot. One glimpse of the tense set of her mouth and the wariness building in her eyes changed his mind. He limited himself to catching her hand in his and resuming the trek to the car. The rain didn’t feel primitive and seductive anymore. It felt cold and wet and uncomfortable. He unlocked the car and held the door for her. Her dress clung, showing off a figure her business suit had only hinted at. Even the gold dress hadn’t done her full justice. There was something about wet red cotton pasted to a near-naked body that appealed beyond belief.
His annoyance dissipated. Patience, he reminded himself. He couldn’t expect to overcome twenty-five years’ worth of carefully forged barriers in just a few days. “Let’s get you home so you can change.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m freezing.”
“I’ll turn the heater on. It should warm you up in no time.”
The instant they were belted into their seats, she gave him directions to Magnolia, a residential area on the outskirts of the city. Her home sat on a bluff with an impressive view of the Sound, and was a sprawling two-story affair that looked like it had belonged to the same family for generations. She hesitated before exiting the car.
“Would you like to come in and dry off?”
“Yes.” He smiled at the conflicting emotions that slipped across her face—anticipation, wariness, nervous hesitation combined with a hint of renewed passion. “But I’m not going to.”
“Why?” The question was a mere whisper, part query, part complaint.
“Because I’d want to pick up where we left off in the park.”
She turned abruptly, staring through the front wind-shield. “Would that be so bad?”
“No. I think it would be very good.” Incredible, if he was any judge. “But there are still a lot of issues standing between us. Issues that need to be resolved before we take this any further.”
“You mean the book, and Sunny and Bartholomew.”
“It’s more than that, I’m afraid.”
Her jaw tightened. “If you’re referring to my job—”
“That’s part of it. There’s also my job.”
Comprehension dawned along with a hint of guilt. “I remember you mentioned that this was a working vacation. I’ve kept you from work, haven’t I?”
“Yes.” But not the way she meant. “And until I’ve completed this latest assignment it wouldn’t be appropriate to begin an affair with you.”
Her lashes flickered in reaction and she slanted him a quick glance. “An affair seems a bit…precipitous. We haven’t known each other for very long.”
“I agree.” His mouth twisted. “That doesn’t seem to stop us, does it?”
He saw the denial building in her expressive eyes. Then her breath released on a sigh of surrender and she shook her head. “It doesn’t make any sense, does it?”
His laugh held a hint of irony. “I think it makes perfect sense. We’re attracted to each other. I just don’t understand why you’re so determined to fight the idea.” He took a wild guess. “Are you worried about commitment?”
She didn’t duck the question as he’d expected. “That’s part of it.”
Now they were getting somewhere. He’d try taking it one step further and see what happened. “Are you afraid to commit? Or afraid I won’t?”
“Both.” She fumbled for her purse and reached for the car door handle, distancing herself from him physically as well as emotionally. “I have to go.”
He reached out to stop her. “Madison—”
She threw him a quick, wary look over her shoulder. “I’m afraid of how vulnerable it would make me. Does that answer your question?”
“Yes. It also raises a number of others. Why do you think commitment makes you vulnerable?”
“Because I watched what committing to a man did to my mother.”
She opened the door and escaped the car. Her hair had begun to dry, springing about her face in a dark halo of ringlets, but the rain remained unrelenting, dragging the spontaneity from the carefree curls. He thrust open the driver’s door and went after her. He was soaked again in seconds. Not that he gave a damn.
“What happened to your mother?” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the unceasing thrum of the rain. “Why does a commitment make you vulnerable?”
She turned and ran barefoot toward her front porch. She’d only ascended the first two risers before facing him. She was as drenched as he was, her once-perky dress the only splash of color in a world washed gray and dismal. The brilliant red had faded to a pale imitation of its former glory and clung in shapeless folds. Worse, her expression reflected the vulnerability she feared so much. More than anything he wanted to gather her close and offer the sort of comfort she’d no doubt reject.
“Madison, answer my question. What happened to your mother?”
He sensed it was sheer pride that kept her standing on the steps, a stubborn refusal to give
in to the temptation of either tears or flight. “She loved my father.” Madison’s hands clenched at her sides as she fought for control. “She committed herself to him, every bit of herself.”
“And their marriage fell apart?” It couldn’t be that simple.
“It did more than fall apart. It was taken apart piece by piece until there was nothing left of my mother.”
He pushed harder, sensing he wouldn’t be given another opportunity to learn about her past anytime soon. “What happened, sweetheart? Who took the marriage apart?”
“My father!” she shouted, her anger punching a hole in her protective barriers. “My practical, logical, accountant father. He promised to take care of my mother. And instead he destroyed her. I don’t want that to happen to me. I don’t want a practical, logical man in my life. I don’t want a man who can take apart my life with such deliberate precision.”
“I’d never do that!”
Heaven continued to unleash its torrent of rain, a gray curtain of water dropping between them, separating them, covering them, parting them. It was nature at its most elemental, pelting with unrelenting force onto their heads and shoulders. Madison crept backward up the steps toward the porch.
“You won’t hurt me because I won’t let you,” she called over the pounding of the rain.
“Sweetheart—”
“I have to go. One of the Sunflowers phoned while we were at the park. Someone needs me.”
I need you, he almost said. “Okay, fine. I’ll see you tomorrow at your office. We’ll continue our discussion then.”
His gamble paid off and she nodded, though her eyes remained filled with darkness. “Nine o’clock, Jones. And we’ll finish our discussion then.”
He wouldn’t let her get away with that one. “We’re a long way from finishing anything. We’ll continue our discussion then, not finish it.”
Her mouth twisted into a parody of a smile. “We’ll see.”
She disappeared into the house and Harry stood on the walkway staring at the tightly closed door. “You’re not going to stay closed for long, sweetheart. I intend to see to that, personally. And that’s a promise.”
The Marriage Project Page 8
