by Julia London
He whirled her around and pushed her up against the door. Her warm, wet mouth was as tormenting to him as it was pleasurable. Her body curved into his, rattling him in every bone, in every nerve. He thrust his hands into her hair, moved his mouth to her neck.
He’d never felt anything as strongly as he was feeling the need to be with Kate—beside her, around her, in her. He caressed her sides, her torso, her breasts, and Kate made a little groaning sigh into his mouth that sent him careening down a slope of yearning.
He whirled her around again, crashing into the rack that passed as a closet.
“Not the dress!” she whispered frantically against his cheek, and Joe whirled again, bumping into the mirror tacked to the wall. The thing came off and crashed behind Kate.
Joe suddenly threw his arms around her waist and lifted her up off her feet, falling onto the bed with her. He dipped down to the hollow of her throat, to the vee in her shirt, tasting her skin, feeling the faint beat of her heart, racing in time with his.
A pounding at the door made them both freeze. Kate stared wide-eyed at him.
“Burger,” he muttered to her deliciously creamy breasts.
Kate gasped. “Burger,” she repeated lustfully, and abruptly pushed him off her. She jumped up, buttoning her blouse as she hurried to the door. Joe groaned and fell face forward onto the bed. He heard her thanking whoever had brought it, assuring that person she had the tray under control. The door shut, and a moment later, Kate reappeared with the room service tray, her hair charmingly messed, her blouse only crookedly rebuttoned, and a french fry sticking out of the side of her mouth. She slid the tray onto the desk.
Joe grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back down onto the bed. “But I’m starving,” Kate laughingly implored him.
“So am I,” he growled, and began to kiss her neck as he unbuttoned her blouse again.
She sighed softly. Her hands were moving on him again, sweeping over his arms and hips. She dropped her head back with a gasp of pleasure as Joe sought more of her bare skin with his mouth. He felt like he had a rattlesnake under his skin, his body one mess of quivering, jangled nerves.
Kate pressed against the hard ridge of his erection and inhaled a ragged, ravenous breath. White-hot shivers of anticipation ran up Joe’s spine. He rolled over, pulling her to straddle his lap. Kate cupped his face. Her gaze moved over his eyes, his nose, and his mouth. “Joe Firretti,” she said softly, “where the hell did you come from?”
“I was wondering the same thing about you,” he said, and pushed a golden lock back from her face. He kissed her softly, slid his hands to her shoulders, then her rib cage, and down, to her hips. He dipped a hand beneath the hem of her skirt and slid it up her thigh.
Kate’s sigh was long and sweet. It reminded Joe of contentment, the sort of sound one might make when returning home, to the place they were meant to be. Her arms encircled his neck, and she kissed him back, slowly now, savoring it.
Joe found the zipper in her skirt and pulled it down, and somehow, between the two of them, she shimmied out of it. Her blouse had come completely undone, and underneath it she wore a lacy red bra that made his blood boil. He rolled again, putting Kate on her back, and moved his hand higher, touching the soft flesh of her inner thigh.
When his fingers brushed the apex of her legs, Kate reached for his lounge pants, her fingers finding the tie and undoing it, then pushing them down his hips, wrapping her fingers around him. Joe stroked her and Kate moved against his hand. She made a small cry of pleasure and Joe couldn’t tolerate it another moment. He slid into her.
He began to move inside her, teetering on the edge of his own powerful climax, moving faster as Kate moved with him, her breath coming quicker and harder. Her fingers curled into his arms, and she suddenly lifted up, gasping with the sensation of her climax.
Joe couldn’t contain himself; he flew apart and rained down in tiny bits of himself onto that bed.
Moments passed—blissful, satiated moments—before Kate cupped his face and smiled.
He smiled, too, could feel the satisfaction of that smile reaching deep into him. He gathered her in his arms and kissed her cheek, her hair, and her mouth once more before settling down with her tucked into his side. He could feel her lips curve into a smile against his chest, her fingers tracing a long and lazy line down his side.
“I am so glad you missed your flight,” he said, still a little breathless.
“Me too,” she agreed and giggled.
Chapter 8
Sitting on the bed, nude but for the sheet wrapped loosely about her, eating half of a man’s burger and washing it down with his beer was the best post-coital experience Kate had ever had in her life.
She couldn’t stop grinning. She’d never had sex like that, and it was a revelation to her. So many thoughts and feelings were fighting for recognition in her, bits and pieces of them scattering about in euphoria.
This, Kate thought, was what she wanted. This, right here, with this guy, Joe Firretti.
She grinned at him again. Joe didn’t notice—he was too engrossed in the manuscript she was editing. He was propped up against a stack of pillows, the sheet covering him from the waist down. His brow was furrowed in concentration. Kate slipped her hand across his rock-hard abdomen, but Joe caught her wrist and squeezed lightly. “Stop that, you vixen,” he said without looking up from the pages. “I have never used the word ‘vixen’ in my life until this moment. But I have to find out if she’s going to let him in her house or not.”
“Of course she does.”
“Hey!” Joe protested, putting down the pages and casting a playfully stern frown at her. “Don’t tell me. That ruins it.”
Kate laughed. “If she doesn’t let him in, there’s no love story.”
“Oh. I get it.” He grinned and tossed the pages to the foot of the bed. “You’re an expert, I take it,” he said as he gathered her up in his arms. He kissed her, then snagged another fry. “Tell me what you like,” he said.
“What I like?”
“Yes.” He ate another fry. “What makes you happy? Puppies and ribbons? Rugby and scuba diving?”
Kate thought about that. “Shoes,” she said with a definitive nod.
“I should have guessed that based on the weight of your suitcase alone. What else?”
This was what Kate was discovering she particularly liked about Joe. Yes, the sex was amazing, but better still, he was willing to talk. About everything. She tried to remember the last time she’d lounged on a bed—naked—and talked about sports and books and popular TV shows. She wondered if she’d ever known someone who would laugh with her about politics, or know the best sushi places in New York, or agree with her that Justin Bieber actually had put out a few catchy tunes.
Kate was not one for clichés. In the books she edited, she weeded them out and struck them from the pages. But at present she was wallowing in a cliché, because she truly, deeply felt as if she’d been waiting all her life for a guy like Joe Firretti to come around.
It sucked, it totally sucked that he was moving to Seattle. Fate—if such a thing existed—was playing the cruelest joke imaginable on her.
They watched Jimmy Kimmel, then took a shower together and made love again. Only slower. They took their time, learning each other, trying different things. And then they lay in the dark, Kate’s head on his shoulder, their fingers laced together.
“Hey,” Kate said. “Want to come to a wedding with me?”
Joe stroked her hair. “Do you promise to wear the mysterious pink-raft dress?”
She smiled in the dark. “If I haven’t destroyed it.”
“Then yes,” Joe said, and kissed the top of her head. “I would like to go to a wedding with you.”
“Assuming we make it,” Kate said.
“Oh, we’ll make it, baby,” Joe said. “We haven’t even touched the boat industry yet.”
Kate laughed. “We really did have quite an adventure, didn’t we?”
“That’s an understatement.”
“So… do you believe in fate yet?” she teased him.
She could hear Joe’s soft chuckle. “You have to admit, it’s wild that we met like we did and ended up here, just to say good-bye in a day or so.”
“‘Wild’ is not the word that comes to my mind.”
Hers either, really. She could see his blue eyes in the light from the window, shining into hers. “We make a good team, Joe Firretti.”
“We make an excellent team,” he agreed. “Minus the navigation.”
“And the armrest issue,” she reminded him.
He grinned.
“If you were still in New York, do you think we’d… I mean, would it be presumptuous to think that maybe—”
“Baby,” he said, “we’d definitely be checking out some sushi bars and the Giants games, are you kidding?”
She smiled, kissed his chest. That made her a little sad, really. “When you come to visit, we can do that, right?”
“Right. And when you’re in Seattle,” he added.
Right. She didn’t let the thought that she only made it to Seattle twice this year—this being the second time—linger. Maybe she’d come back more often. Maybe she’d make editor and get a raise and come back at least once a month. She refused to allow the reality of her situation to ruin the moment.
Maybe Joe was hearing the tinny voice of reality, too, because neither of them spoke after that.
Kate couldn’t say when she drifted off to sleep, but she was awakened by an alarm that brought her off the bed. She pushed her hair from her eyes and looked around. Joe was standing at the foot of the bed, grinning at her. He had on a pair of jeans, a white collared shirt, and a blue blazer. “Rise and shine, kid. We don’t want to miss that plane. Weather says a big storm is headed for Pacific coast.”
As much as Kate wanted to extend her stay with Joe, the thought of being stuck in Phoenix did not appeal. She dug a pair of yoga pants from her bag, as well as a tank top and hoodie.
Against all odds, when Joe and Kate arrived at the airport, the pink raft in tow, their flight to Seattle showed an on-time departure. At the gate, Kate stood at the window, staring at the plane that had somehow managed to fly in from Los Angeles, and called Lisa, waking her to tell her she’d make it to the wedding.
“Oh thank God!” Lisa said with relief. “Mom!” she shouted. “MOM! Kate’s going to make it!”
“So is everything okay?” Kate asked, as Joe appeared, two lattes in hand.
“Yes,” Lisa said. “Why? What do you mean? Do you mean something?”
“No! But yesterday you were a little freaked out—”
“Pre-wedding jitters,” Lisa said dismissively. Kate could hear her moving around, could hear water running. “Everyone says that’s all it is.”
Joe handed Kate a latte. She smiled at him. “So you’re okay?” she asked again.
“Yes, I am okay,” Lisa said, sounding like her normal self. “I mean, sure, Kiefer could have been slightly more supportive and all that, but I know that a guy like him only comes around once in a lifetime.”
Kate lifted her gaze to Joe. He winked at her. “Tell me about it,” she said. “By the way, I’m bringing someone to the wedding.”
“Who?”
“The guy on my flight who helped me get across the country,” Kate said. “His name is Joe Firretti.”
“Yeah, bring him, bring him!” Lisa said excitedly. “Do you know that everything is shut down from Colorado east? It’s a miracle you got as far as you did. We want to hug him!”
“No, please—”
“When are you getting in?”
“Ten this morning,” Kate said.
She made arrangements with Lisa for someone to pick her up, then hung up and smiled a little tentatively at Joe. “They can’t wait to meet you,” she said.
“I can’t wait to meet them,” he said.
Yes, well, he might change his mind after the full force of the Prestons had been visited upon him.
Chapter 9
They were lucky to be on the same flight, Joe figured, even if they couldn’t sit together. He could see just the top of Kate’s head above a middle seat a few rows ahead of him and wondered if she’d begun her attack on the armrest yet. Every once in a while, she would sit up, turn around, and smile at him. She had happy eyes, he thought. Big, green, happy eyes. He wouldn’t mind starting every day with big, green, happy eyes.
It seemed ridiculously unfair that Joe would meet a girl like Kate just as he was about to take the biggest step in his career. If he believed in fate, he would be calling it a few choice names right now.
They landed without a hitch in Seattle, but Joe could hear the guy behind him on the phone as they taxied to the gate. He was irate that the next leg of his flight had been canceled. Weather or air traffic, Joe didn’t know. He was thankful he was at last where he needed to be. Disaster had been averted; he would meet the boss from Switzerland and begin his new job.
He didn’t feel quite as excited about it as he had forty-eight hours ago.
Kate was waiting for him in the passenger ramp, the pink raft propped up beside her. She smiled brightly at him when she saw him and caught his hand. “Wait,” she said as he tried to move forward, and pulled him to the side.
“What’s wrong?”
“Okay,” she said, “Listen. My family is tight. Really tight. So tight they can be a little overbearing,” she said with a charming wince. “And I don’t bring guys home a lot. Maybe never. So…” She shrugged.
Joe smiled at her angst. “Kate, it’s okay,” he said. “I can handle them.” He picked up her garment bag, tossed it over his shoulder, and took her hand in his.
“So here we go,” Kate said, looking down at their clasped hands as they made their way up the passenger ramp.
“Here we go, two people who have been brought together by an epic travel meltdown.”
Kate smiled. But her smile didn’t seem quite as bright as it had earlier this morning, when she’d been so deliciously naked in his bed. Families had a way of doing that to a person.
At the baggage claim area, the little scream of happiness Joe heard turned out to be for Kate. He turned just in time to see an older woman who looked like Kate barreling right toward them, a couple of guys and another woman with her.
“Oh thank God, you made it!” the woman shouted, and threw her arms around Kate, squeezing her tightly, weaving back and forth. Then she suddenly put Kate at arm’s length. “Where’s the dress?”
“Right there,” Kate said, pointing at Joe. Joe wondered how anyone in Seattle could have missed the arrival of the dress. “Mom,” Kate said, “this is Joe Firretti.”
“And the dress,” Joe added, holding up the pink raft.
“Oh, thank God again,” the woman said, her shoulders dropping with relief.
“This is my mom, Sandra,” Kate said. “And my dad, James. And my brother Colton and my sister Cassidy.”
“With a C,” the young woman said.
“Pleasure,” he said to them all, and he was still smiling when Kate’s mother moved. Joe thought she meant to take the dress from him. But instead, she threw her arms around him. “Thank you so much for bringing my baby home,” she said, sounding almost tearful.
“He didn’t bring me home,” Kate said. “We were on the same flight, and we were both coming to Seattle.”
“Don’t try and downplay it, Katie-Kate,” her mother said, beaming up at Joe. “We owe this young man a debt of gratitude.”
“We’ll pay him later, Sandra,” Mr. Preston said, and clapped Joe on the shoulder as if they were old friends. “You didn’t take any liberties with my little girl, did you, son?”
“Dad!” Kate cried, clearly mortified.
Mr. Preston squeezed Joe’s shoulder and laughed. “Kidding! Come on, let’s go. I told Glen I’d help him get the bar set up.”
“And we have hair and makeup this afternoon,” Mrs. Preston a
dded. “Come on, Joe, we’ve made up a cot for you in the library.”
“That’s not necessary,” he said quickly, holding up a hand. “I’ve got a reservation—”
“Nonsense!” Mrs. Preston said firmly. “You will come with us. We have plenty of room, and after what you did for Kate, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Just call the hotel and tell them you’ll be there tomorrow.”
“What makes you think he did it all?” Kate asked. “It’s not like we mushed across the country.”
“Don’t be a sourpuss,” Mr. Preston said cheerfully, and grabbed her tote bag, handing it to Colton.
Kate looked helplessly at Joe. “See?”
He winked at her. He liked the Prestons. He liked them a lot.
***
The Prestons lived in the Queen Anne district of Seattle, an area of old and well-loved homes. The Preston house was a rambling turn-of-the-century, five-bedroom, three-bath home with wood floors and dark window casings and a view of Lake Union. It was charming and a little quirky, just like Kate.
As they pulled into the drive, people rushed from the house, shouting for Kate, embracing her as she emerged. One would think she’d spent forty days in the desert instead of two days traveling across country.
She glanced back at him more than once, her expression apologetic. “They’re nuts!” she insisted.
“They love you,” he said as they were swept along on a wave into the house.
“Here, dude, a beer,” someone said, shoving a bottle into his hand. It wasn’t even noon. But Joe wasn’t turning down a beer. He’d just taken a sip when he heard a woman shout from the top of the stairs. Everyone paused and looked up. “Kaaaaate!” the woman cried as she flew down the stairs.
The bride, Joe realized, had appeared.
She grabbed Kate, hopping up and down, babbling about backup maids of honor. “The dress,” she said.
“In the car,” Kate said quickly.
Why that should make the bride cry, Joe had no idea, but she burst into tears, and as he stood, dumbfounded, he watched Kate, Lisa, and little sister Cassidy with a C race upstairs.
