by Tricia Jones
“It’s what I do.”
“Yes. And this is what I do.” She stepped back, easing the pressure on the door. “I don’t find it easy to let down my guard, and I won’t apologize for that.”
“I’m not planning to hurt you.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Then come on out and tell me about it.” When her eyes darted from side to side as if she were considering the possibility, Saul pushed the door open and reached for her hand. “I’ll feed you again.”
Her narrowed gaze met his. “You can’t bribe me with food.”
At the hint of a smile across her lips, he raised her hand and lightly kissed her knuckles. “At least let me try.”
Half an hour later, she reached for her wine. Saul wasn’t letting up. He’d allowed her to eat another sandwich without pressing her to talk, but now he waited, perhaps a little impatiently, while she obviously worked out what she would tell him. She needed to feel in control of her life, and he couldn’t blame her for that, seeing he felt the same way. He wasn’t sure where it came from, this need not to let anyone, outside her family, get too close. In truth, he wondered if she really knew herself. Maybe she was too busy figuring others out to spend time figuring out herself.
Leaning forward, she sipped her wine, then balanced the glass on her knee. “I suppose it all stems from losing my mother when I was so young. Maybe I feel this sense of abandonment, of loss. It’s hard to explain and God knows I really have analyzed myself enough over the years.”
Saul ran his hand along her thigh. It wasn’t intended to be a sexual gesture, more one of comfort. “Before, when I said… I didn’t mean…”
“No. You were right. Perhaps I should spend more time analyzing that part of myself. It’s hard to explain how much I miss my mother. Even as an adult, maybe even more so because I’m an adult. I don’t know. What I do know is there’s a part of me that doesn’t feel complete somehow. Like the dots never connected.” The loss in her eyes pinched at his heart. “Does that make any sense at all?”
He nodded, his hand remaining on her thigh.
“My aunt’s always been there for me for as long as I can remember, and she’s like a mother to me. But it’s not the same, you know?”
“I want to say I do, but I’ve always had my folks around. I can’t imagine how it would be without one of them, especially as a kid.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I had a wonderful childhood. Have never wanted for anything. My father’s always supportive and perhaps a little too protective. But he’s been there, loving me enough for two parents. I know he’ll always continue to do that. And I know I can trust him to never hurt me, never let me down.”
His insides twisted as he thought of Armstrong Freeman and the unanswered questions surrounding the man’s response to Saul’s inquiries about his relationship with Roger Colcannon. “People are fraught with human failings,” Saul said stiffly. “It doesn’t pay to put them too high on that pedestal.”
“I’m aware of that. But some things you just know and that’s one of them. Outside my family, I don’t feel I can let my guard down.”
“I understand,” Saul said. “But it pisses me off you can make love with me, then push me away as if I’m going to hurt you the first chance I get.”
“I don’t mean to make you feel bad. But I’m not sure how to just let go. If I let myself loosen my self-control I’m not sure what will happen.”
“None of us are sure what will happen, but you can’t go through life scared people are planning to screw you over. That way paranoia lies.”
He crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out to the side of his mouth, making a crazy face. She laughed, as he’d hoped she would. “You think I’m halfway toward being a nut job?”
He wrapped his arm around her, pleased when she didn’t stiffen or hold back. “I think you worry too much.”
She sighed and dropped her head to his shoulder. “Probably. Maybe I should make going with the flow more of a habit.”
“It’s a start.” When she tilted her chin to look at him, he leaned down and kissed her. He wanted to lift her in his arms, take her to bed, and make love to her, but after their conversation it didn’t seem entirely appropriate.
“I was going to ask you to come to Sunday lunch tomorrow. Aunt Sylvia makes the greatest roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. It’s something you should sample while you’re here. British cooking at it’s very best.”
“My mouth’s already watering. But you said ‘going to’. What? Did you change your mind?”
“No. But the way you and Dad were last night, I’m not sure I can handle all the silences and hard glares across the table.”
Saul wasn’t sure he could put on an act, wasn’t sure he’d be able to resist questioning Freeman further about the “you’ll put her in harm’s way” comment the man had made. That still rankled, because for the hell of it he couldn’t work out how his pressing to find out about the notes Mia had received would warrant putting her at risk. If he was to believe the story her father gave him, how did investigating a rejected admirer who was already under police radar put her in danger?
Then there was Colcannon’s ownership of the ring, and the meeting between the politician and Mia’s father. Not to mention that Colcannon just happened to be the subject of his original assignment. Shit. He’d have to be a moron to draw a line under the situation right now.
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do about the ring.”
Saul blinked. “Huh?”
“The ring,” she repeated. “I’m not sure what to do with it.”
“Don’t do anything right now.” Saul picked up strands of her hair and let them slip silkily through his fingers. “Wait and see what the police say.”
“Hmm.” Mia wrapped her arm around his waist. “I want to believe this admirer story of Dad’s, but I can’t. At least not entirely. He wouldn’t give me the man’s name, which is typical seeing he doesn’t think I can handle it.”
“I’d say he’s more likely protecting you.”
“Which exactly is the problem. I’m the one who received the notes and the ring, I have a right to know who’s been sending them.” She paused and worried her lip. “I think Dad’s lying.”
All he could do was shrug. If he agreed, then she’d want him to keep digging, and if she knew he was already doing that, he’d have to tell her everything he’d found out. As it was, he felt bad for keeping her father’s involvement with Colcannon from her. What if there were other things he found out and wouldn’t want her to know? It was safest to let her believe the “admirer” story.
“Do you think you can find out something for me?”
He stiffened. “Like what?”
“Well, the part of this I can’t get straight in my head is Colcannon’s link to the ring. If Dad’s story is true, how did this admirer get hold of the ring? I’d really like to know if the ring was stolen at some stage, or if Colcannon sold it to somebody else.”
“I’ll do what I can,” he finally said. “But my editor is breathing down my neck right now.”
“I understand.”
Now he felt like a damn heel. Not that there was anywhere else to go. He’d drawn a blank and didn’t know his next step. Until Dan came back with the answers to the questions Saul had posed that morning, there was nothing else to do.
“How about I make us some coffee and you wind that film back to where we lost track?”
She shifted forward as if to stand and do what he asked, but turned to look over her shoulder at him. “Will you come to Sunday dinner?”
He nodded. “Not sure I can resist the lure of Aunt Sylvia’s roast beef.”
“You might be joking now, but I can assure you that you’ll change your tune by tomorrow evening.” She stood and went over to the television. “Better make the coffee strong. Past experience tells me that watching this movie might take some time.”
Mia lost count of the times they had to replay the movie. It was
after eleven when the credits finally rolled and she gathered empty plates and glasses and took them into the small galley kitchen. Saul came behind her as she stacked the dishwasher.
He wrapped his arms around her from behind, drawing her back against his bare chest. “Stay the night,” he murmured in her ear, his breath causing yet more tremors to move down her spine and hit her right at the core of her femininity.
Instinctively, Mia tensed. She’d never stayed the night. It drifted into serious territory in her book, made the casual and enjoyable into something else entirely. But perhaps that was all part of her problem with intimacy and maybe it was time to deal with that. As his arms remained around her waist and his masculine scent crept into her system, she realized that staying the night with him was what she wanted, so why fight it?
She was feeling things that she didn’t want to feel, but at least she was aware of it. From what she’d gathered from talking to other women, it was the sneaky stuff you had to watch. That was the danger. Going out with a man, enjoying his company, having great sex…and suddenly you were in too deep. All because you hadn’t seen it coming.
That wouldn’t happen to her. It wouldn’t happen with Saul. He knew it was only temporary because he was driven to return to the Middle East. She knew it was only temporary because she didn’t want a serious relationship. Her work was the main focus of her life, just as Saul’s was his.
They were safe. She was safe. Which meant she could take a chance.
She shouldn’t feel guilty about telling her family she was spending the night with a friend. She’d done it before, only it had been with women friends. If she worded it right she wouldn’t have to lie, exactly. Except that both her father and aunt knew she was with Saul. Two and two, and all that.
Oh hell, she was a grown woman, for God’s sake. If they didn’t like it, it was too bloody bad.
“Okay.” She turned in Saul’s arms and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’ll stay.”
Chapter Thirteen
Thank heavens for disposable panties, Mia thought letting herself into Saul’s apartment early on Sunday morning. She’d made a quick dash to the local chemist for essential supplies and with any luck Saul would still be asleep, which meant she could carry out the necessary feminine repairs that came with spending the night with a man.
And what a night. It felt so good to let herself go, to enjoy being in a man’s arms, talking into the night while snuggled up against his heated skin, the scent of satisfied man drifting through her nostrils while he talked in satiated tones and ran his hands lazily over her own heated flesh. Oh yes, it felt good. Far better than she had ever anticipated.
Mia crept through the living room and the measly shaft of morning light breaking through the winter gloom. She’d considered what Saul had said about her pushing him away and she’d been determined not to let that part of her spoil what they could have while it lasted.
It wasn’t as if she didn’t have plenty of research to occupy her main thoughts, and in her downtime where was the harm in enjoying thoughts of a good looking man who seemed very much into her?
Smiling, she dropped the bag containing her purchases on the coffee table, and nearly jumped out of her skin when Saul appeared in the kitchen doorway. He was dressed, if you could call it dressed, in the same unfastened jeans he’d worn the previous day, but was shirtless and his feet were bare.
“Hey.” He dropped one shoulder against the doorframe. “I thought you’d run out on me.”
She lifted the bag and rattled it. “Supplies. Of the essential repair kind. By the way, good morning.”
He raised his eyebrows and folded his arms, still leaning against the frame. Why was it that such a casual and innocuous position should push her hormone levels into orbit? Something about the lazy grin? The muscled chest? The toned abs? The tousled hair?
Or was it the whole package?
“Why don’t you come on over here and say good morning in a more appropriate manner?”
“That’s how we usually say good morning,” she responded, enjoying the game. “I’m not entirely sure how much more appropriate I can be.”
His eyes narrowed. “Then come on over and let me show you.”
Biting her lip to stifle the smile, she walked slowly toward him. She was certainly up for what he had in mind and could already feel his mouth on hers, his arms circling around her. The hard planes of his chest as he drew her close, the feel of his strength surrounding her.
When she came up in front of him, he didn’t move from his position at the door. “Well?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.
“Kiss me.”
Bloody hell. Her lust levels shot into the stratosphere. “You were the one who wanted me to come over,” she challenged, stepping a little closer so she could feel the heat emanating from him and draw in his special scent.
“I made coffee. I’d say that necessitates a thank you of some kind.”
She pursed her lips. “You keep changing the rules. First it was all about me saying good morning appropriately, and now it’s about thanking you for making coffee.”
“My apartment. My rules.”
Stepping into him, she drew her tongue across her lips and unfolded his arms from his chest. “I’m your guest,” she said, placing his hands on her hips and covering them with her own. “As host, you shouldn’t be keeping score.”
The pressure on her hips increased as his fingers dug in. “As guest, you should be intent on pleasing me.”
“I thought I already had. Several times, in fact.”
She fluttered her eyelashes at him, enjoying their banter and loving the casual and easy flirtation. Most of all she loved how natural it felt with Saul. It shouldn’t have felt natural at all, not when you took in the sizzling sexual attraction that always played between them. Or the way they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other for the last twenty-four hours. But it did.
“No argument from me.” Saul pushed away from the door and slipped his arms around her. He kissed her, long and passionately, making her knees go weak. “Do you want your coffee before or after?”
She looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes. “Before or after what?”
“It’s too late for guile, my pretty one,” he said backing her in the general direction of the bedroom.
“So I suppose that means I won’t get my coffee until after. And I had a special surprise for you, too.”
Saul’s eyes twinkled. “Oh yeah?”
“Hmm.” She ran her hands up and down his arms, tilting her head to where her shopping bag still sat on the coffee table. “Cinnamon bagels.”
Saul froze on the spot. “Shit. You don’t play fair.”
She grinned. “I know.”
He’d told her cinnamon bagels were his favorite breakfast treat from the bakery around the corner, and she couldn’t resist stopping by on her morning trip.
But she wasn’t at all surprised when he continued their journey to the bedroom. “Coffee and bagels,” he said with a dangerous glint. “After.”
****
Saul knew he should get up and play host, but since Mia had insisted she get the coffee and bagels, he stretched lazily and placed his head on his folded arms as he stared up at the ceiling.
He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath hearing Mia in the kitchen. What the hell was it about her that made him happy to let her get all domesticated in his territory? It was normally one thing he hated about being with a woman. He hadn’t realized it, or at least hadn’t consciously realized it, before, but it made him wobbly when a woman took charge of things like breakfast after a night of wild, and extremely satisfying, sex.
Still, maybe there wasn’t too much to worry about, seeing Mia wasn’t exactly the domesticated sort. She didn’t even have her own apartment, for God’s sake. And from what he could gather, she was happy to let her aunt take charge of the domestic chores. Absolutely no need for him to worry that she’d get ideas.
They both knew the score. Both knew this for what it was: temporary. An enjoyable interlude in both their lives.
He wasn’t even going to question why that thought didn’t sit well with him. Things had been pretty intense the last few days, and the still-unanswered questions made the whole situation seem somewhat surreal and unsettling. It was no wonder he felt differently about being with Mia than he had with other women. He hadn’t the need to feel protective toward any of the others. Hadn’t needed to continually remind himself that they were but temporary fixtures in his life.
Mia nudged open the bedroom door with her butt and swiveled toward him carrying a loaded tray. His first instinct was to get up and help her, but she looked so damn sexy he was transfixed by the sight of her.
Her bee stung mouth courtesy of his fevered kisses; her perky breasts pushing out the fabric of his crumpled shirt; her long, firm legs bare from mid-thigh to her bare feet with the pretty pink painted toenails. His sexy professor was one hot and delicious package.
When she placed the tray on the bed, he got an eyeful of cleavage beneath the partially buttoned shirt and felt the stir of arousal. How the hell they could keep going all damn night and now the best part of the morning, he didn’t know. But he thanked the gods for it.
“You don’t have any jam, but there’s still plenty of butter.” Mia shifted onto the bed and sat crossed legged next to him. “And I found some orange juice, but we’ll have to share. You need to go shopping at some point. I think we’ve pretty much cleaned out your supplies.”
He ran his hand down her back. Shit. Who knew a woman’s spine could be one of his erogenous zones?
She handed him a mug of black coffee but caught sight of his current predicament tenting the sheet. “You really do have to be joking.”
He shrugged but made himself shift up to sitting and took the coffee from her hand. “Not my fault. If anything, it’s yours. You keep coming in here half-naked and what’s a man to do?”
“You’re totally naked, but I can control myself.”
“Brownie points for you. Hand me one of those.” He nodded to the bagels. “Help take my mind off it.”
