Long, Slow Surrender

by Stephanie Morris

  Suddenly, now even wasn’t soon enough. She breathed again. Deeper this time. His jaw tightened. “Okay.”

  He followed her into the small kitchen, off-white with a modern breakfast table. “Do you think I should paint in here, too?”

  Connor looked startled, and then cleared his throat. “No. Leave it like it is.”

  She put two bowls on the table, but he pushed one aside and sat down. “I’m not hungry. Thanks.”

  He still looked a little pale. “Smells good.”

  “So, you’re playing hooky today?”

  She nodded. “Yup. It’s the new me.”

  “The old you wasn’t all that bad.”

  She paused. Checked to see if he was joking, but he looked sincere. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Well, that may be, but the times they are a-changing.”

  “Looks like they’re changing to yellow.” He tried to smother his grin, but his lips twitched suspiciously.

  Today it didn’t bother her at all. “You’re laughing at me.”

  Magically, his face transformed. All traces of humor were gone, but there was a telltale dimple in his left cheek that hadn’t been there before. “No, no.”

  She felt like laughing, herself. “Actually, it’s sunshine yellow.” She sat down at the table and began to eat. “I may change it.”

  * * * *

  Connor picked up his paintbrush and studied the wall in front of him. Not bad. He’d done lots of painting in his high school days. Now, Michelle, well, obviously she hadn’t put herself through college by painting. But for a first effort, it wasn’t awful.

  But yellow?

  Paint was everywhere. In her hair, on her feet, and on that sinful pink tank top. No, Connor, don’t want to think about that. He felt the familiar blood-draining reaction to even a hint of Michelle’s flesh and swore.

  “Everything okay?”

  He watched as she climbed down from the ladder she was on, completely unaware of the lurid thoughts running through his head.

  “Yes, it is,” he responded, trying not to look at her chest. She was wearing one of the slinky bras, the kind he didn’t understand why women bothered with it at all. She was either charged up or cold or… He closed his eyes. Damn, he needed to change the subject and quickly.

  Satin sheets.

  That was his new mantra. He had a beautiful scene for seduction all planned out and it didn’t include a drop cloth amid paint rollers and paint thinner. Thankfully, the phone rang. Michelle picked up the receiver.

  “Hello.”

  She listened for a minute and then turned to him, mouthing, “It’s Theodore.”

  Trouble.

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  He watched her talk, watched her expression change from calm to amused. “No, Connor didn’t break up with me. No, I didn’t break up with him either. Tell me about Vivien…Self-absorbed? No, not really…Well, yes, she enjoys talking about her job, but I mean, we all do that, Theodore.” She smiled. It was a nice smile. “Yes, even you. In the right environment, a man who listens can be quite appealing…Yes, Connor’s a good listener… Maybe you should. Listen, I need to go, Theodore.”

  She didn’t need to hand up on his account. He was content just to watch her. He sat down against the one remaining white wall and it felt good. He closed his eyes, letting Michelle’s voice wash over him.

  “No, you don’t need to come over. It’s just a little runny nose.” She sniffled into the phone. “Yes, he’s here… No, you’re not being a pest. I think you’re being sweet. I do wish you’d call to talk to Vivien, though. Maybe send her flowers…”

  Flowers, Connor thought sleepily. Maybe he should send her flowers before Saturday…

  * * * *

  When Michelle hung up the phone, she looked over at Connor. Asleep. He looked so exhausted. What the heck was he doing? And why? Not that it mattered right now; she definitely wasn’t going to wake him up. She grabbed a pillow and the put it behind his head. For a few minutes, she sat next to him, just watching him sleep.

  He didn’t stir at all. Well, she could wait. Michelle noticed the yellow paint that stained her shirt and feet. Yuck. No wonder he chose painting over making love to her. That was something she could fix, so she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and then went off and picked out her sexiest lingerie. Next up, a long shower. Let him sleep a little bit longer.

  By the time she emerged from the bedroom, Michelle was feeling pretty good. She’d gotten most of the paint off herself, and even painted her toenails.

  Hopefully, he was awake by now. She closed her eyes and leaned against the door frame, striking a seductive pose, all ready for him to awaken and take her in his arms. When she was greeted with nothing but silence, she shook her hair and sighed. Loudly. Nothing. Heck, she couldn’t even hear him breathe.

  Finally, she opened her eyes. The room was exactly the way she’d left it. Open paint cans, rollers and her toolbox. Everything was there.

  Except Connor.

  Chapter Thirteen

  He called on Wednesday afternoon and apologized. He had to work. Again. Michelle tried to sound nice and understanding, but inside, she was furious.

  “I’ll see you Saturday,” he said.

  “Are you off all day Saturday?” she asked, still struggling for an understanding tone. She really didn’t want to sound like she was being sarcastic.

  “Not just Saturday, the entire weekend.”

  “Good. Why don’t you pick me up about eleven in the morning? I have an idea.”

  He chuckled into the phone. Just the way it sounded, warm and intimate, gave her goose bumps in places she’d never had before.

  After he hung up, she smiled, determined. This time, there would be no question. Connor Sakuma was going to be seduced.

  Michelle called Julia into her office. She needed something one hundred percent guaranteed. She’d tried subtle, she’d tried sexy. Nothing had worked.

  Now it was time for the heavy ammunition.

  * * * *

  Saturday arrived warm, breezy, not a cloud in the sky. Connor took his time getting ready. Hot shower, close shave. He had no idea what Michelle had planned for the day, but everything was set up for tonight. He couldn’t wait to see her face.

  At last, she’d see him for what he could be.

  He stared at himself in the fogged-up mirror. What he could be. He wiped down the mirror, drawing a big L on the reflection of his forehead. He didn’t want to stop seeing her. Not ever. Why was he working double shifts now? Because of Michelle. Why was he even more motivated to get through culinary school? Because of Michelle. Why was he reading Business Weekly? Well, he actually enjoyed the magazine, but because of Michelle as well.

  Man, a guy’s ego would really take a beating with her. But wasn’t she worth it?

  Yeah.

  He had disappointed a lot of people in the past, but not anymore.

  He rubbed his hand over his chest. There was a new weight in there. Hope was a heavy thing. He erased the L on the glass and then threw the wet towel on the floor.

  Nope, not today. He picked it up, folding it, hanging it up carefully on the rack. If she could change, then so could he.

  * * * *

  Michelle wouldn’t let him see her until she was dressed, which was bad enough. He was wearing khakis and a button-down shirt. He looked very presentable.

  And then she came out of the bedroom.

  Connor tried to speak, but his tongue was hanging out far enough to lick the floor.

  Red skirt.

  Little red skirt.

  Heels.

  Killer, do-me heels.

  Her hair rolled over her shoulders in waves, and she was wearing red lipstick. It matched her skirt.

  A limo was picking them up at 7:00 p.m. Dinner was at 7:30, the hotel at 8:30. He was supposed to hold out for nine hours and twenty-five minutes?”

  He was a dead man.

  “Ready to go?” she asked, all cas
ual and cool.

  “I think I need to sit down for a minute.”

  And breathe.

  Damn, he couldn’t breathe. He collapsed into a chair.

  She pursed her lips and put on more lipstick. “Take all the time you need, honey. Get you some rest. You’re going to need it.”

  * * * *

  Well, it wasn’t tea and scones at Moorpark Hotel. Instead, she took him to Gilroy Gardens. Connor had never been there. But she knew right where she was going. They bypassed the paddleboats, the concession stands, the carousel, and the games. Michelle acted just like a woman on a mission and, apparently, that mission was the Quicksilver Express.

  Connor stared up at the roller coaster and smiled. “You want to ride this?”

  “More than you know,” she replied, her gaze traveling slowly over him from head to toe.

  Somehow, he didn’t think they were talking about the Quicksilver Express. His blood heated just a bit. Today, they were on his turf. No talk about careers, absolutely nothing but blue skies and red leather.

  “Remember, you asked for this.”

  They made it through the line, and he watched her climb into the car. The leather clung to curves he didn’t want to remember she had. He settled in next to her, still trying to figure out what she was up to.

  The attendant pulled down the bar and she shook out her hair. There was not one trace of Michelle Lewis in her. Somehow, she’d changed into a raging sex kitten. Michelle turned to him, not shy or the least bit demure. Instead, she was bold, confident, and more than a little scary.

  “Connor, it’s time you learned something about me. You see, under this skirt, I’m wearing a lacy thong from Victoria’s Secret in flaming red.”

  Connor gripped the bar a little tighter. “Okay.”

  “I have six more pairs just like this at home.”

  He cut her off. “I don’t think talking about your underwear is a good idea.”

  The car started to move away from the platform.

  “No, actually, it’s an excellent idea. You think of me as a fragile little princess.” She licked her lips.

  He looked up at the sky, down at the crowd below them, anywhere but at that succulent mouth. “I don’t think that.”

  “You don’t need to lie about it. It’s okay. You’re partially correct.” She reached her hands under her skirt and shimmied in her seat.

  Connor simply sat frozen.

  The roller coaster started to climb up the long hill, creaking all the way, the chain grating against the wooden track. And Michelle slid a pair of flaming red Victoria’s Secret thongs down her long legs.

  He whimpered.

  “But you see,” she continued, ignoring his heart attack in the making, “I can change. You can change. What we think we are”—she held up the panties like a battle flag and he realized why she’d chosen to ride in the last car—“isn’t always what we have to be.”

  A teenage boy clapped Connor on the back while the girl he was with giggled.

  “Dude!”

  The car stopped, poised in midair.

  Michelle stared over at him.

  Connor couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. One flaming red thong billowed in the breeze. And then the car dropped down the hill, gravity taking over, and the thong floated away.

  Oh, God. He was trapped on a roller coaster with Michelle in red leather, no panties and a “take-no-prisoners” gleam in her eyes. He felt so sorry for any company not compliant with OSHA standards that she went up against. They didn’t stand a chance.

  They raced up and down camelback hills, round curves, and Connor’s stomach was left somewhere back at that first hill.

  Michelle threw her arms in the air and screamed. Connor just gripped the bar in front of him, needing distance, needing to run. But on the Quicksilver Express, a man could go nowhere but down.

  Finally, mercifully, they made it back to the station. Connor scrambled out and watched warily as Michelle extended one leg, placing it carefully on the wooden planking. Next came another.

  Something else.

  All he needed to do was think of something else. Anything. He looked up at the sky and a pair of flaming red panties floated in the breeze, drifting away from them. He didn’t stand a chance.

  * * * *

  Michelle had done it. She walked throughout the park with a freedom, a flair, a confidence that she’d never felt before. Every inch of her felt alive, the salty sea air teasing her nose. Everywhere she looked there was color, bright Technicolor. Bright blues. Sparkling greens. Not an off white, beige, or mother-of-pearl to be found anywhere.

  She ate cotton candy, had their picture taken, bought an “I Love San Jose” T-shirt, and all in all, was having a great time.

  Connor looked wonderful in the picture. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, and there, in an 8x11, was positive proof that she could stare at anytime she felt like it. She bought two.

  “I think I should take up photography, don’t you?” she asked. She liked the idea of capturing them together on paper.

  “Hmm?” he said, dragging his eyes from her legs. She touched his chest with a scarlet-covered nail. “I think I’m going to take up photography.”

  “Photography? That’s nice?”

  Only one more thing could make this day absolutely perfect. “Connor?” She stopped walking, taking in the sight of the balloons and ribbons that adorned a carnival game. A father started shooting the targets for his little boy. “Have I proven my case yet?”

  He stood a careful twenty-four inches away from her. Not far, but not close enough. “What would that be?”

  “There is absolutely no reason in this world why we shouldn’t make love.”

  The dazed look disappeared and he glanced down at his watch. “No.”

  She placed a dollar down on the counter and the pot-bellied attendant picked it up. “I think it is past time.”

  The man winked at her and pressed the button on the water gun in front of her. Michelle bent over and lined up her sight with the target. Her thighs tingled from the warm air. The buzzer sounded, and she began to shoot.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to win a prize.”

  Connor moved to stand behind her, blocking the view. She wiggled for effect. Obligingly, he moved closer.

  “Damn it, Michelle.”

  Her aim misfired and the water shot into the air. “You could help me.”

  He wrapped himself around her, muttering something she couldn’t understand. The bulge that was pressing behind her, she understood quite well. If her smile was a little fundamental, who could blame her? Finally, the water stopped; the man rang the bell.

  “We have a winner!”

  Michelle picked a fuzzy-headed little teddy bear and shot Connor a grin. “What do you want to do now?”

  “Locate the nearest shower and take a cold one.”

  Success was almost hers. “How about the Panoramic Wheel instead?”

  * * * *

  Connor proclaimed the gondolas on the Panoramic Wheel to be two sizes too small. Michelle sat next to him, her legs stretched out, crossing her legs first one way then the other. He tried to keep his thoughts pure, but the little voice inside his head was starting to whisper very lewd suggestions. Determined to ignore them, he stuck his head out of the gondola and watched the people milling below.

  This was not what he had planned.

  A hand brushed his thigh.

  The world started to spin and he closed his eyes.

  “Connor?”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t you like me?”

  He feigned ignorance. “I think you’re nice.”

  She slid closer, the sound of leather rubbing against the warm metal. “I don’t want to be nice. I don’t want to be fragile. I don’t want to be Princess Tiana.”

  Princess Tiana? “What?”

  Her hand caressed his thigh. He swallowed. Hard.

  “I want t
o be desirable, sexy and, well, just a little bit bad.”

  “Bad?” His voice cracked.

  “Connor, I need you.” The hand rubbing continued. Her lips caressed his ear. “Make love to me, Connor.”

  * * * *

  Michelle held her breath. Connor didn’t move. The car continued to rock back and forth, and she wondered if she’d blown it.

  “Connor?”

  He turned to look at her and she saw such pure pain she wanted to cry. He didn’t love her; he didn’t want to make love to her. All she’d done was embarrass herself.

  And then he shifted. Moved his body closer to hers.

  “Michelle, I have to ask you a question first.”

  “Anything,” she whispered, mesmerized by the feverish frustration in his eyes. She covered his heart with her hand. Under her palm, the heavy beat thrilled her.

  “Why me? Out of all the guys, why did you choose me?”

  She bit her lip, not knowing whether she should tell him the truth, or even if he’d believe her. What was it about Connor that made her sacrifice her pride? Why Connor? Ham, tomato and Swiss cheese quiche, steamy romance novels, and the freedom to finally discover who she was. The answer was really simple.

  “I love you.”

  * * * *

  Connor had braced himself for a lot of answers, but the one Michelle gave wasn’t one of them. He couldn’t take it if this was a joke. He’d thought she’d been playing with him, wanting nothing more than a walk on the wild side. Now all of a sudden, the stakes were raised.

  “Michelle.”

  A thousand reasons sprang to his lips why they shouldn’t be together, but he couldn’t force himself to utter one. He thought he had set everything up perfectly. A romantic evening, candlelight, wine. Now he was going to mess that up, too.

  He took her face in his hands and kissed her. At first, he was hesitant. This was Michelle. Even with a leather mini skirt, and hooker lipstick, she was more precious than anyone he’d ever known. He brushed his lips across hers. Once, twice. He tugged gently at her bottom lip, trying not to rush her, trying to hold back.