by Tricia Jones
Mia wasn’t entirely convinced that was all there was to it, but knew she’d get little more by pumping him for information. She watched Saul pace the floor of the living room listening intently to his colleague on the other end of the phone.
She’d been looking forward to spending the rest of the day with him and not just the usual few hours after work. It wasn’t something she made a habit of. In her life she’d only had a couple of lovers and she remained friends with both of them. Which was why she’d wracked her brains from here to the moon but couldn’t for the life of her remember anyone she’d ever rejected.
Saul finished his call and came to join her on the sofa. She shifted to make room for him on the two-seater. “Progress?”
“No more leads as such,” he said referring to the story he’d come to London to investigate. “But the source of the original tip-off is willing to meet me face-to-face on the guarantee of complete anonymity.”
“Do you think his accusations are true?”
“No reason to think otherwise at this point. Something about Colcannon doesn’t smell right.” He hesitated as if about to say something, then smiled and ran a fingertip down her arm. “So, have you come armed with soccer—sorry, football—paraphernalia?”
She wanted to talk more, but also welcomed the break from it all to just enjoy being with him for a while. “I don’t much go in for banner waving.”
“Yet you’re keen enough to hold a season ticket.”
“I don’t actually. Dad is often given complimentary tickets, but he has a seminar in Oxford today, so I thought we could use them.”
“Not sure your old man would approve of that. I don’t think he’s my number one fan.”
Which gave her the perfect entrée into the question she’d been itching to ask him. “Why were you and my father acting as if you were mortal enemies when you met last night?”
He shrugged. “Natural enough he’d be sizing me up, being that I’m dating his daughter.”
“Maybe. But it’s out of character for him and it doesn’t explain your behavior.”
“It was late. Not the best time to introduce myself. I guess I wasn’t at my best.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “And I’m supposed to believe that explanation?”
His gaze was steady for several seconds and then he patted her thigh and stood. “It’s the only one I’ve got. Let’s go. I’ve got a table booked at Patruccio’s for lunch.”
He went over to grab their coats from the stand in the corner by the front door, inadvertently knocking off some newspaper cuttings from the table he used for work.
Mia caught two of them as they fluttered to the floor. “They look really happy,” she said, perusing the black and white close-up of Colcannon and his late wife. “No matter how much I run all this through in my mind, I can’t see how what’s happening to me has anything to do with the story you came here to cover.”
“Coincidences aren’t that common.” Saul took the cuttings from her and piled them back on the table. “There’s a story that needs telling. If my enquiries fall flat, I’ll happily walk away.”
Mia perused the array of cuttings. It was sad when a person’s every action was examined and analyzed in full public view. But then she supposed that came with the territory of being a public figure. Her private nature couldn’t imagine anything more loathsome than being under the spotlight. She shivered at the thought as Saul helped her into her coat.
****
The self-contained and largely introverted Mia enjoying a sports game proved to be entertaining and eye-opening. Saul smiled as she tucked into a hot dog while they waited for the crowds to diminish after the game before making their way home.
She was a continuing enigma. Introvert bordering on prissy, yet a smoldering cauldron of excitement and anticipation as her team battled for the win, not to mention passionate as all get-out when she exploded in his arms. But dammit, she was also cute as hell, especially when he’d bought her a scarf in Chelsea’s colors as they’d entered the grounds. She smiled that impish smile while he’d wrapped it around her neck, then leaned up and planted a kiss more suited to dimmed lighting and soft, satin sheets. He’d be sure to resurrect the moment when they got home.
“So what did you think?” She used a finger to wipe away ketchup from the corner of her mouth. “Are you willing to concede that English football is the best game in the entire universe?”
Saul was momentarily distracted by the way she licked at the ketchup. “I’d be more willing to die an agonizing death than admit to that. No self-respecting baseball fan would ever allow such blasphemy to spill from his mouth.”
She laughed, her eyes sparkling, and her hair, peeking out from the pull-on woolen hat, reminded him of a pixie. Then there was that mouth. Full, ripe, and so damn responsive he wondered how he’d ever made it into his mid-thirties without sampling such a feast. Nothing much pixie-ish about that.
In the midst of the fans making their way past, Saul felt the inappropriate response to his erotic thoughts and, despite the fact he wore a long dark grey overcoat, he shifted toward Mia in case his predicament should make itself known to the population at large.
He finished his hot dog and when she handed her ketchup stained napkin to him, tossed their trash into the nearest bin.
“How about we head home.” Saul leaned down to whisper against her ear. “I have a yen to celebrate your team’s win.”
“A yen?” Her eyes danced, but also smoldered. “We can’t waste one of those, can we?”
He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close as they headed for the Underground.
****
Since Mia had shown yet another side to her and indulged in some surreptitious footsie play on the short tube ride home, Saul was about to explode by the time he closed the door to his apartment. He pulled her into his arms before they even got their coats off. “You’re about to pay for that little game of yours on the train.”
She grinned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. If it’s because my foot kept nudging yours, well the tube was crowded so I can’t be held responsible for what my feet were doing.”
He made sure to press his hard length against her so she’d have no doubt of her effect on him. “You’re a damn witch,” he growled, waltzing her backward toward the bedroom. “All sweetness and innocence on the outside, while on the inside…”
He tugged off her hat and threw it on the chair they passed, then did the same with her scarf. “Hey, be careful with that,” she laughed. “Seeing as they won today, that’s now my lucky mascot.”
He managed to get her out of her coat and shrug his off before they tumbled onto the bed. He couldn’t take it slow; he needed her too much. All afternoon she’d been teasing his senses, igniting his desire, until he was a hot cauldron of need that only she could dowse. Except he wasn’t sure the fire she lit was capable of being extinguished, and the thought of that pushed irritation into his fevered state.
He tugged off her sweater, pushed away her bra and feasted on her breast. She tried to divest him of his own sweater, but he batted her hand away. No time, he thought, frenzied from her kiss and the feel of warm, sumptuous flesh beneath his palm. He had to have her.
She shifted her hips, allowing him to pull off her jeans. He ripped off her panties, wanting to get to the core of her, to peel away all the layers that made her so fascinating. Reaching between them, Saul yanked at the button on his jeans and dealt with his zipper. When she made to help him shrug them off, he shoved her back.
He needed to take, to devour and it was all he could do to keep in check that part of him that wanted to savage. When she opened to him, trusting and inviting, he drove inside her. With each thrust everything else faded. It was only her. Only them, as they reached the shattering pinnacle together, dancing amongst the stars. before beginning the slow, yet exhilarating slide from the heights.
****
“I can’t believe I’m still hungry after all I’ve e
aten today.” Dressed only in Saul’s now-discarded shirt, Mia wandered the sitting room, checking out books and DVDs.
“We’ve burned a few calories since then,” Saul called from the kitchen. “Do you want mayonnaise with your tuna?”
“No, thanks. And I only want one sandwich. I’ve had my daily quote of carbs with all that pasta at lunch and then that hot dog roll.”
Holding a tumbler of water in one hand, Mia perused the DVD collection. “Your friend has a great selection here. Everything from action thrillers to romantic comedies. What do you fancy?”
“Besides you?”
“Ha. I think we’ve already taken care of that portion of the evening.”
Saul popped his head around the kitchen door. Like her, he was barefoot, and only wore his jeans with the waistband button unsnapped. How was it that he could almost stop her heart at the oddest moments?
“I hope you’re kidding.”
“About what?” she asked, all innocence.
He stalked toward her holding a tub of butter. She had the wickedest of thoughts about what he might do with that butter, apart from spreading it on their sandwiches. She smiled at the glint in his eye, which seemed even more devastating seeing that his hair was mussed. His bare chest, with a smattering of dark hair arrowing down beneath the waistband of his jeans, glistened slightly and the muscles rippled as he pulled her close.
“There are all kinds of hunger.”
Mia laughed and slid her arms around his neck. “Right now mine is of the nutritional sustenance kind.”
“And I’ll fulfill that requirement right after you tell me that we’ll be indulging in the make-Saul-very-happy kind again later.”
She pursed her lips in mock consideration. “Well, seeing as you’ve yet to put on a shirt and I’m not wearing any panties, I think we can be fairly sure that particular scenario has a good chance of playing out again.”
He slid his free hand down her back and squeezed her bottom. “You really aren’t wearing panties.”
“There seemed little point. Now be a good boy and get my sandwich. Then I might have a few suggestions as to what we can do with the remaining butter.”
He squeezed her flesh again, drawing her against his growing erection. The harsh feel of denim against her core weakened her knees, but she managed to ease him back.
“You don’t play fair,” Saul complained, but he kissed her long and hard, then winked before returning to the kitchen.
Mia selected a thriller that had won a few academy awards and popped it into the player. “Are you sure I can’t do anything?”
“Relax. Regain your strength.”
She laughed. It felt good to be with a man like this. To be with Saul. He made her feel…good, she realized. Really good. She looked forward to seeing him. Checked her phone more times than normal during the day. While she didn’t exactly count the hours until she could be with him, she found herself looking forward to it more than perhaps she should.
It wouldn’t pay to get that used to having him around. Come Christmas he would be gone. They lived in two different worlds. They really did. While it was fun being with a man who made her laugh, made her think about things other than work, and who offered the most amazing sex imaginable, it wasn’t her real world. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy it for what it was.
“Here you go.”
Saul came in carrying a tray containing two plates of tuna sandwiches, a huge bowl of crisps, some crackers and a selection of cheeses. She imagined the bunch of black grapes offered dessert.
“Oh my God. That’s my weekly intake right there on the plate.”
He took a seat beside her on the sofa and nudged her along as he placed the tray on the coffee table in front of them. “What’s this obsession with calories and carbs?” He ran his gaze over her, lingering where the edges of his shirt lay against her upper thighs. “You look damn good to me. Absolutely no room for improvement.”
“I’d say thank you…” She snatched a handful of crisps from the bowl. “…but I know you have an ulterior motive.”
“Can’t deny it. You’ve got great legs, by the way.”
She ran her finger lightly over his pectorals. “You have a great chest.”
Before he could respond, she reached for her plate and placed it on her lap. She bit into the sandwich and gave a murmur of approval. “This is good.”
“One of my specialties.” He took a bite of his own sandwich. “I have others.”
“I know.”
They ate in companionable silence until Saul leaned forward to grab his water and flinched slightly.
“Is your hip okay?” She’d noticed he’d jerked in discomfort a couple of times while they made love, not that it had stopped him from completely blowing her mind with his expertise.
“Yeah. It’s fine. Just catches me when I move sometimes.”
Instinctively, she reached her hand to his hip and gave it a little rub. “What sort of therapy do you still need for it?”
“Movement, mostly. Keep things supple.” He grinned at her. “I enjoy the massages the most.”
She continued to rub his jean-clad hip. “I noticed it’s been bothering you a little this afternoon. Did sitting for such a long time at the game make it worse?”
“Maybe, but then the workout you gave me did the trick.”
She drew in a breath. “Why do you always make light of it? You could have been killed.”
“I wasn’t.”
The tension in his body would have been evident even had he been wearing a shirt. She knew he didn’t like talking about his injury, but it was never healthy to bottle things up. “Did you ever see anyone? To talk it through, I mean?”
“I know what you mean. A freaking shrink.” He leaned back. “One of the docs out there warned me about PTSD, but let me tell you that what I went through was a walk in the park compared to what some of those guys experience on a daily basis.”
“I can’t imagine how awful it must be.”
“No.” He turned to look at her. “You can’t.”
There was no censure in his tone, just a straightforward relaying of fact. “And yet you want to go back?”
“I want to tell their stories. Make sure nobody ever forgets the sacrifices made, the waste of life, the sheer damn waste of life.”
She shifted, turning to face him and letting her hand rest on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
He picked up her hand, kissed her palm, and then held it in his. “So, what movie are we watching?”
The segue wasn’t especially adept, but Mia let it go. He’d shared a little with her, maybe in time he’d share some more. It wasn’t ever a good idea to push someone beyond their comfort zone until they were ready. “The latest Bruce Willis.”
“Now you’re talking.”
Chapter Twelve
They didn’t make it to the end of the movie. By the time the bad guys got their comeuppance they’d made love twice.
Saul shifted. Shit. He was going to pay for his physical excesses the next day. Would probably be looking at extra physio to make up for it. But damn, it was worth it. She was worth it.
“Lord above. I need more food.” Mia stood in front of Saul, who lounged still-naked on the sofa. She buttoned his shirt. “I’ve never had an appetite like this in my life.”
He crossed his feet at the ankles and pillowed his head on his folded arms. He wondered if he’d ever get tired of looking at her, especially when she was all mussed and rumpled from his ministrations. “Maybe you’ve never had sex like this in your life. I know I haven’t.”
She stopped as she fastened the last button, her eyes flashing pleasure while her cheeks turned pink. Then she pursed her lips and finished buttoning the shirt. “Yes, right. I’m supposed to believe that.”
He grabbed her hand, tumbling her into his arms. “Believe it, Professor.” He kissed her long and hard. “And don’t doubt it. Not for a second.”
When she started to scramble up
, he kissed her again. “Saul. Don’t.”
He held her wrists, unwilling to release her when the pleasure in her eyes had turned to uncertainty. “You always do that,” he complained. “Push me away.”
“I’m hungry. And if I don’t push you away we’ll be having sex again. Right now I want another sandwich.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Let me up.”
She struggled against his hands and he released her. Sitting up, he grabbed for his jeans. The notch of temper rippling through him was not something he’d expected and he shrugged into his jeans a little too forcefully. “Looks to me like you’ve got a problem with intimacy.”
“Really?” she snapped back as she stood. “How do you make that out, genius? Seeing as we’ve had sex twice in the space of as many hours.”
“I’m not talking about that kind of intimacy, sweetheart. Maybe you should think about doing some research into your own reactions, analyze yourself sometime rather than all those unsuspecting victims of yours.”
He wasn’t sure why the harsh words came out of his mouth, all he knew was that her barrier, which came up all too often in their relationship, was pissing him the hell off.
When she waltzed into the bedroom he had no doubt she planned to get dressed and hightail it out of there. For some reason that hiked his temper higher. He strode in after her, zipping his jeans as she gathered her clothes before heading toward the bathroom. He pushed his hand flat against the door as she made to slam it shut. “So this is where you run, right? The going gets tough and you look for the first available escape route.”
She pushed at the door, but there was no way he was letting her close it with him on the wrong side. Her face flushed red with her own temper, her eyes blazing fire. “You know nothing about me,” she hissed. “And who are you to talk about escape routes? You can’t even hold down a normal type of job without bitching and moaning about getting back into your very own danger zone. The only thing that interests you is putting yourself back into the firing line.”
