Why Not Tonight?

by Jacquie D’Alessandro

  “Not the way I wanted to.”

  The ghost of a smile flirted with the corners of her mouth. “I have to admit, I came here with the hope that you’d possibly be willing to give my wilted self-esteem a boost.”

  “Sweetheart, there is no possibly about how very willing I am.” Shadows still lingered in her big brown eyes-shadows he wanted erased. His gaze dipped to her mouth and he barely squelched a groan of pure want. The need to kiss her was unbearable. Yet he wanted to do a hell of a lot more than kiss her. But for now…

  Just one more kiss, he promised himself. Just to reassure her of how incredibly desirable she is.

  His hands slipped from her face to draw her slowly into his arms. His heart pounded as if he’d run around the entire island of Manhattan. Lowering his head, he brushed his lips softly against hers. And instantly realized his mistake. Just one kiss would not be possible.

  He feathered his lips over hers again, a whisper of reacquaintance that only begged for more. She responded by parting her lips and gliding the tip of her tongue over his bottom lip. And in a flash of fire he knew that one hundred kisses wouldn’t be enough.

  With a groan, he pulled her closer, tighter against him and slipped his tongue into the silky heat of her mouth. In a heartbeat he was lost, all sense of time and place overwhelmed by the need to touch. And taste. Her delicious feminine scent invaded his head and his rapidly vanishing control slipped another notch. One of his hands smoothed up her back to tangle in her soft hair, while the other hand skimmed lower to cup the luscious curve of her buttocks. And suddenly the years faded away and he was flooded with that same wild, reckless feeling she’d once inspired in him. When they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Couldn’t get enough of each other.

  Her arms tightened around his neck and she shifted against him. His erection jerked, and if his eyes had been opened, he knew they’d have glazed over. As it was, she had bells ringing in his head.

  Breaking off their kiss, she gasped, “Phone.”

  Phone? A loud ringing permeated the haze of arousal surrounding him.

  “Do you need to answer it?” she asked, nipping little kisses against his jaw.

  He wanted to say no, but damn it, it might be Nick. “Yeah, I should,” he said, reluctantly releasing her. He was so hard he couldn’t walk without wincing. When he made it to the desk, he shot the phone a baleful glare at the interruption and snatched up the receiver.

  “Picture This,” he said, his voice coming out in a husky rasp.

  “Adam, is that you?” asked Nick through the phone.

  “It’s me. What’s up?” He looked down at the bulge behind his fly and hoped Nick wouldn’t ask him the same question.

  “You sound funny. You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Except for the strangulation occurring in the front of my jeans. “How ’bout you?”

  “Good. Listen, my neighbor just called asking if there was any free studio time next week, and since the schedule’s on my desk there, I thought I’d take a chance and see if you were still around. Can you check it for me?”

  “Sure.” Adam opened the appointment book and flipped the pages. After rattling off the trio of openings, Nick picked one and asked that Adam write in his neighbor Audrey Shay’s name. “Taken care of,” Adam said, closing the book.

  “Thanks, dude. See you tomorrow afternooon.”

  “Bye.” Adam hung up the phone, then tunneled his hands through his hair. His gaze shifted to Mallory, who stood exactly where he’d left her in front of the sofa. His heart thumped at the arousal that still lurked in her eyes, and the way her mouth looked plump and delicious and well kissed.

  The sound of muffled laughter reached him, and his gaze shifted toward the door. Two couples walked by, each arm in arm. Probably going to the movie theater two blocks down. Their presence reminded him that a lot of people walked by the glass storefront. A private spot this definitely was not. And privacy was definitely going to be necessary.

  Walking back to Mallory, he lightly clasped her hands. “You okay?”

  “Yes.” A wry grin curved her lips. “Just suffering from a bad case of kissus interruptus.”

  He couldn’t help but laugh. “Me, too. Still, we were most likely literally saved by the bell. If that kiss had continued…” He raised their joined hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “Well, given our goldfish-bowl location, better that the kiss was interrupted by the phone than having what would have happened next interrupted by an arresting officer.”

  He released her hands then drew her closer. When their bodies touched from chest to knee, when the hard ridge of his erection pressed between them, he said, “Still harboring any doubts that you’re incredibly sexy?”

  “I’m definitely feeling less troll-like.”

  “Good-but still in need of further reassurance-I hope.”

  “A girl can never get too much reassurance.”

  “I can’t understand how you could ever see yourself as anything other than beautiful and desirable.”

  Her blush deepened. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. You want me to punch what’s his-name?”

  Her lips twitched. “Would you?”

  “Gladly.”

  “What if I told you he was six foot five and weighed two-forty?”

  “I’d say that would make things more difficult, but at the end of the day, I’d make damn sure he looked worse and hurt worse than me.”

  “As much as I appreciate the offer, he isn’t worth the time or effort.”

  “All right. But the offer stands.” Leaning forward, he touched his lips to the soft bit of fragrant skin just below her ear. “You, on the other hand,” he whispered against her neck, “are very much worth my time and effort. As I recall, I promised to treat you to another bacon cheeseburger if things didn’t work out with what’s-his-name. Since two of those artery-cloggers in one day would probably land us in the hospital, could I interest you in dinner somewhere a little nicer than the diner?”

  “Actually, I came here to invite you to dinner. As I recall you like seafood and I make a mean pasta with shrimp.”

  “You’re offering to cook for me?”

  “I am. Interested?”

  “Absolutely.” He straightened and looked into her eyes. Just to make sure there was no misunderstanding of his intentions, he laid his cards on the table. “But in a hell of a lot more than just pasta. Interested?”

  Her eyes darkened and she didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”

  That single word sizzled a bolt of wild lust through him. “When did you have in mind?”

  “Why not tonight? Or do you have other plans?”

  He smiled. “It seems I do-with a beautiful woman and a bowl of pasta and shrimp.”

  A layer of the shadows lurking in her eyes vanished and she smiled. “Great.” Her gaze cut to the stack of papers on the desk where he’d been working when she’d arrived. “Do you have things you still need to finish up here?”

  “A few. Shouldn’t take me much more than an hour.”

  “Actually that’s perfect since I need to stop at the supermarket.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s six-thirty now. Why don’t we say around eight o’clock, and if you can get there earlier, fine.”

  “Sounds great. I’ll bring the wine.” He released her, reluctantly, but consoled himself with the fact that they had the entire night ahead of them.

  She slipped a card from her purse and handed it to him. “Here’s my address. It’s only about six miles from here.” She gave him directions, then added, “My cell and home numbers are listed on the card. Call if you get lost.”

  “Not to worry, Mallory. Believe me, I’ll find you.”

  6

  Saturday, 8:00 p.m.

  WHEN MALLORY HEARD A CAR pull into the driveway, her heart beat so hard she could feel the pulsing in her stomach. Hear it in her ears. Good grief, she was reacting like a teenager going on her first date.

  She blin
ked. Actually, this was exactly the way she’d felt as a teenager when she’d gone on her first date with Adam. They’d gone to the movies. The latest James Bond flick. And hadn’t watched a minute of the film. The instant the lights went down, the mother of all make-out sessions had started. To this day she blushed any time that particular film was mentioned.

  Her common sense firmly told both her heart and hormones that this evening with Adam was nothing more than a bandage for her scraped-up ego and that to think of it as anything more would be foolish and fall into the category of “rebounditis.” Certainly it wasn’t smart to get involved with another man literally within minutes after breaking up with the last guy. Especially a guy like Adam, whose life and future were so up in the air and who was heading to Europe for three months in less than forty-eight hours. Him coming over was simply about healing her battered self-esteem and rein-flating her squashed ego.

  It wasn’t as if she were embarking on another relationship. Heck, no. Nothing beyond this dinner would happen between her and Adam. Nothing deeper than a night of no-strings sex. A one-night stand with a stranger had never been her style, but Adam was certainly no stranger. And the way he’d reacted to her, looked at her with that same naked raw heat that had always lit her on fire, was exactly what she needed to pick herself up, dust herself off and restore her feminine confidence.

  That kiss they’d shared at Picture This had imbued her with the same wild abandon he’d inspired in her years ago. A feeling she hadn’t ever quite recaptured since. Yet the thought of being with him again, however briefly, brought all those delicious feelings screaming back. She’d be a fool not to revel in them while she had the chance.

  Hearing the car door slam, she took a quick mental and visual inventory to make sure everything was as she wanted it. Norah Jones’s latest ballad floated from the living-room speakers where the stereo was tuned to her favorite evening radio program, Sensuous Songs and Decadent Dedications. Lamps strategically lit to cast the rooms with soft light. Salad, peeled shrimp and a tray of antipasto in the fridge, loaf of French bread ready to pop in the oven, skillet and pasta pot set on the stove. Her best crystal wine goblets on the snack bar next to a grouping of cream-colored pillar candles waiting to be lit. Air conditioner unit humming in the den-and her bedroom. Where she’d stashed a trio of condoms in her bedside table.

  Romantic music, food, candles, condoms-yup, she was ready for anything.

  The doorbell rang and her heart jangled in response. She drew a calming breath, then smoothed her nervous hands over her silvery gray satin tank top and full turquoise skirt that skimmed a few inches above her knees. Walking to the door, she discovered her legs weren’t quite steady and she suddenly wished she’d worn flats instead of her high-heeled strappy silver sandals. Too late now. After sucking in a final calming breath, she opened the door. And all sense of calm instantly evaporated.

  In spite of the fact that she’d known Adam would be standing there, the sight of him, at her home, looking good enough to eat, sizzled a bolt of heat and lust right down her unsteady legs to her toes. Like it wasn’t already hot enough, here he was, causing his own Adam-induced heat wave. And by just standing there.

  In one hand he held a brown shopping bag bearing the local liquor store’s logo. In the other hand he held a single lavender rose, an offering that tightened her throat. Their last night together that long-ago summer, the night before she’d left for college, he’d brought her a single rose. A yellow one. Told her it stood for friendship. Then told her he thought they were too young to be so involved. That they should cool things off, see other people. She couldn’t help but wonder what lavender stood for.

  As if nature needed to get in on the act of announcing his arrival, a flash of lightning lit the distant sky, followed by a low rumble of thunder.

  “Hi,” he said with a smile.

  Good thing he’d said something, otherwise she most likely would have just stood there and gawked. “Hi.” She opened the door wider and stepped back. “C’mon in.”

  After he entered, she closed and locked the door then turned to face him. Since her knees weren’t as solid as she’d have liked, she leaned her shoulders against the door for support.

  He set the shopping bag on the hardwood floor and slowly twirled the rose between his fingers-a mesmerizing motion-but not nearly as hypnotic as the unmistakable heat and admiration in his eyes.

  “For you,” he said, holding out the flower.

  Mallory took the bud, noting her hands suffered from the same less-than-steady affliction as her knees. Closing her eyes, she buried her nose in the velvety petals and breathed in the heady scent. Then she looked at him and smiled.

  “Thank you. It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen a rose this color before.”

  “The florist said it’s called ‘silver lilac.’ It reminded me of you.”

  “Oh? How’s that?”

  He stepped forward, until less than two feet separated them. Reaching out, he snagged her hand that held the rose, then guided the flower slowly along her jaw.

  “It’s soft,” he said, raising his other hand to skim a single fingertip over her collarbone. “Just like you. And beautiful. Just like you.”

  Leaning down, he touched his lips to the spot where her neck and shoulder met, then breathed in. Tingles of pleasure vibrated along her skin and she was grateful for the solid door behind her.

  “It smells incredible,” he whispered, his warm breath against her skin initiating another round of tingles. “Just like you.” He straightened and looked at her through serious dark blue eyes. “The florist said the color stands for rarity. Which describes you perfectly. It’s unique. Rare. Different. Extraordinary. Just like you.”

  Whew. She needed to turn up the AC because it felt like her pores were emitting steam. And she needed a dictionary. Stat. ’Cause it appeared she’d forgotten how to speak English. The fact that his gaze was roaming over her in a way that suggested he’d like to melt off her clothing with his eyes-and hey, wouldn’t that be a handy talent-did nothing to help her regain her ability to speak.

  “You look gorgeous,” he said softly. Moving her hand lower, he brushed the rose over her breasts. Her nipples tightened at the mere whisper of a touch and her breath caught in her throat. “I like this shirt. This material. A lot. I see you in it and all I can think is, ‘Wow-she comes with her own satin sheets.’”

  Releasing her hand, he reached out and planted his palms on the door next to her shoulders, bracketing her in. The warm, clean scent of him filled her head, and even though he wasn’t touching her, she felt his heat, his strength, surrounding her. Enveloping her in a sensual haze. No doubt about it-she’d gone to the right guy to make her feel desirable and attractive. But then, everything about him-the way he’d touched her, looked at her-had always made her feel so much a woman.

  Before she could even exhale a sigh of pleasure at being imprisoned in such a delightful way, he leaned in and kissed her.

  Her heart rate tripled the instant his lips touched hers. He kept the contact light, teasing her with feathery kisses and light nibbles. On her lips. Across her jaw. Down her neck. Not touching her with anything other than his mouth. God help her, she couldn’t recall ever being so utterly aroused-and he hadn’t even touched her.

  He dipped his tongue into the sensitive hollow at the base of her throat, the spot where she knew he would feel her rapid, erratic pulse. Her eyes drifted closed and the back of her head thunked lightly against the door. Quivers raced through her as he kissed his way up the side of her neck until his teeth lightly grazed her ear-lobe.

  Want rocketed through her, igniting a demand for more that shook her with its intensity. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d wanted a man’s hands on her this badly. This desperately. It flashed through her mind that the last time had been with this man, but stark need was melting her ability to think clearly. With a moan, she blindly tossed her rose toward the small rectangular oak table in the entryway where she dep
osited her keys and mail and hoped the flower landed safely. Then she ran her hands up Adam’s chest, over his shoulders, and buried her fingers in his thick hair. Raising up on her toes, she dragged his mouth to hers and pressed herself against him.

  He groaned-although in all fairness, that ragged sound might have come from her-and in the blink of an eye he was touching her with a hell of a lot more than just his mouth. His arms went around her, one large hand sliding up into her hair and cupping her head while his other hand skimmed down her spine to settle, fingers splayed, on the small of her back. Her body, her senses, recognized him. His taste. His scent. The strong, solid feel of him pressed against her from chest to knee. The hard ridge of his erection pressing low and insistent against her belly. The delicious friction of his tongue mating intimately with hers. Saturated in sensation, their kiss sparked an almost excruciating desperation to claw off his clothes so he could put out this damn fire he’d started.

  Skin…she wanted to feel his skin. She jerked his shirt from the waistband of his jeans, then plunged her hands beneath the soft material to run her palms up his smooth back. Warm. He was so warm. And solid. And he felt so good. And she wanted more.

  Grabbing the ends of his shirt, she tugged upward. “Off,” she demanded in a ragged whisper against his lips. “Off now.”

  He helped and seconds later his shirt landed on the floor, leaving nothing to impede her impatient hands from roaming over his lovely flesh. He was broader, more muscular, more well defined than he’d been nine years ago. Her avid gaze and eager fingers ran over him, tracing the whorls of dark hair that spread across his chest then funneled down into a silky strand that bisected his ridged abdomen before disappearing into the waistband of his jeans.

  He weakened her knees further with another one of those deep, lush kisses while his fingers slipped under the thin straps of her satin tank top and lowered them down her arms, tugging gently downward until her aching breasts were free.

  He cupped her flesh, his fingers teasing her nipples, dragging a low moan from her throat. His lips left hers to trail a hot path down her throat, then lower until she felt his tongue circling her nipple. Pleasure shuddered through her and she rifled her fingers through his dark hair, watching him lave her hard nipple, then draw the tight bud into the delicious heat of his mouth. Each erotic pull of his lips set up an answering pull deep in her womb and she arched her back in a silent plea for more.