by Meier, Susan
He should stay away from her or they were going to end up in bed and, great as that sounded, she was still the enemy. Since she refused to sell McDermott’s to him, he had ramped up his efforts selling funeral packages, which would ultimately destroy her business.
When she’d left him in that parking lot this morning, he’d finally figured out that as fun as it was to tease her, as sweet as it was to think about sleeping with her, they weren’t getting out of this as friends. Acting on their red-hot attraction would only complicate things.
But, boy, would it be fun.
An hour later, he and his livery wheeled Margaret into the embalming room. Wanting to check in with his mom before getting to work, he climbed the stairs and walked past the ultramodern viewing areas, but when he reached the big window that allowed him to see the street, he stopped dead in his tracks.
There stood his dad, talking to Jeff Franklin, one of the town’s two attorneys. Bile rose in Finn’s throat. He told himself not to be paranoid that his dad was in front of his building. He and Jeff could have just run into each other and stopped to talk. But the way Jeff smiled at his dad sent disgust to Finn’s gut. His dad kept up such a wonderful charade, making everybody believe he was kind and compassionate, when the truth was so far from kind and compassionate that it sickened his stomach.
Jeff and his dad shook hands, then Jeff shuffled away, and to Finn’s horror, his dad turned and walked up the steps to his building. Before he could scramble to the front of the funeral home, his dad was already inside, sitting on the chair in front of his mother’s desk.
“Finn.”
“What are you doing here, Dad?”
Dressed in his trademark charcoal-gray suit, colored shirt, and tie that complemented it—in this case, a green shirt with green print tie—his father looked professional, yet approachable.
What a bunch of crap.
“I came to talk with you.” He rose and held out his hand to shake, as if there were nothing wrong. No years of beatings. No threats to his mother’s life. “See if the bank can’t help you through this rough time you’re having because of…” He paused to smile at Finn’s mom, who remained stony, silent. “Well, competition.”
Anger roared through Finn. Righteous indignation that heated his blood and punched his fury upward like hot lava. His father hadn’t come to help him. He’d made it look that way, so he could lure his wife into believing he’d changed. But he wasn’t here to help. He was never anywhere to help.
“Get out.”
“Finn.” His dad’s voice was tired but patient. “Can we all just stop here for a second and breathe? Your mother and I have been married a long time. You trying to break us up is wrong. I know we’ve had some issues in the past—”
“Issues? You beat the hell out of her.”
His dad smiled patiently and tugged on his earlobe. “I think your memories are a bit exaggerated.”
“Oh, really?” He caught his mom’s arm and rolled up her shirtsleeve, revealing a long, jagged scar. “Twenty-four stitches. How you got the ER to believe she slipped and fell through a sliding glass door, I’ll never know. But I saw you stab her.”
His mother’s face flushed as his dad ran his hand over his mouth. “That was years ago. Things have been better recently. Once you hellion boys moved out, we were fine.”
Just like his dad to always blame somebody else for his problems.
Still, at the moment, that wasn’t the issue. “Were things fine at home, Mom?”
She pressed her lips together. The reminder of the trip to the ER, after being stabbed, had clearly brought back a horrific memory. She shook her head and rose to stand beside Finn.
And that was all the confirmation he needed. His dad might be working to charm her, but she wasn’t buying it.
“Get out.”
Jeb marched to the door but stopped suddenly and pivoted around. “With that little McDermott girl stealing all your business, do you really want another enemy?”
“You say that as if you’re not already on my enemy list.”
With a growl, his dad walked out. When the front door of the funeral home opened and slammed shut, Finn’s mother collapsed against him.
“Thank you.”
He held her an arm’s distance away. “You don’t have to be nice to him. You don’t have to let him in here. If you tell him to leave and he won’t, you can call the police.”
Her breath hissed out. “It would ruin his reputation.”
“That’s actually the point, Mom. He’s gotten away with this because we’ve never gone public. Maybe it’s time we do?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want that. I just want to be left alone.”
He hugged her. “You’re going to have to face all this sometime.” Then, knowing he needed to change the mood and get her mind anywhere else but on his dad, he stepped out of her hold. “Hey, good news. Margaret Wojak died, and we got the funeral.”
Her eyes lit. “That is great.”
He felt a bit sleazy being glad someone had died, but Margaret had lived a long, happy life. As the Dinner Belles would say, she’d moved on to her reward.
Now it was time for him to make sure she looked good for her family and friends.
He turned to leave the room, but realized his hands were shaky fists. He stopped. He could always pretend his father didn’t affect him. That was the best way to deal with a bully. But his dad did affect him. Pinpricks of yearning danced along his skin, tightened his muscles, kept his hands tightly balled, reminding him that he might not have acted on his base instincts this time, but someday he was going to fight back. Probably with a punch.
And then he’d be no better than his father.
He ran his hand down his face. He couldn’t work on Margaret until he calmed down.
He sucked in a breath and faced his mom again. “Tell everybody I’ll be back in an hour.”
…
As Ellie pulled her little car in front of the funeral home, she saw Finn sitting on one of the two wide wicker rockers on the front porch.
Her face reddened, and she took her time shutting down her engine, collecting the thirty scraps of paper covered with notes from her Tidy Whitiez conversations, and getting out of her car.
What was it with this guy? Did he have radar? Did he somehow scoop her thoughts from the air and know that she’d been thinking about him?
About having sex with him?
She climbed up the porch steps. “What do you want?”
He sat forward on the big wicker chair. His short hair stuck up in all the right places, as if he’d combed his fingers through it in frustration, but that only gave it a sexy, bedroom look. He’d ditched his suit in favor of jeans and a gray T-shirt that showed off his broad shoulders and those gloriously sexy tattoos.
Her breath stumbled. Or maybe she sighed with disgust at her own weakness. Sure, he was great-looking. But did her artist’s eye have to notice every detail? Especially after her thoughts while talking to her Tidy Whitiez crew?
“Is that any way to treat a guest?”
The smart move would be to get away from him. Yes, an affair seemed logical, given how attracted she was to him and how much she needed a distraction right now. But there were other issues to consider. Particularly the fact that they were enemies, fighting for the same customers.
“You’re not a guest. You’re the competition. You stole the Wojak funeral.”
“I’d sold her a package months ago.” He glanced at the glob of sticky notes in her hands. “What’s all that?”
“The results of hours of conversation.”
“With?”
“Staffers for my adult diapers campaign.”
“You’re trying to get adult diapers elected to public office?”
Damn it. It was the struggle of a lifetime not to laugh. And maybe that was the biggest temptation of all. He didn’t just turn her on. He made her laugh.
“It’s an ad campaign.”
“So you�
�re hawking adult diapers?”
She grimaced. “Yes.”
“This is exactly why I came here.” He chuckled.
“To make fun of me?”
He shook his head. “No. To hear something that would make me laugh.”
It was one thing to joke around. It was another to insult her. “You’re laughing at my job?”
“No. I’m just laughing at the absurdity of life.”
“Great.”
No matter how he prettied it up, he was laughing at her. Despite her very rational arguments for having an affair with him, that brought her back to planet earth. She unlocked the door to McDermott’s and went inside.
He followed her. “Hey, come on. Don’t be mad.”
“Just shut up. Go home.” How had she ever thought sleeping with him would be a stress reliever, when he was the biggest producer of her stress? Especially when she’d told him to go home but he was still following her up to her apartment.
She tossed her purse on the old glass table, her gaze colliding with his broad shoulders beneath his gray shirt, and she almost groaned. He had the trimmed, toned body of a warrior. The sexily mussed hair of a man who liked to take life easy. The strong, chiseled face of a Greek god. And a voice that could melt butter. She had to forgive herself for being attracted to him. But that didn’t mean she would let him stay.
She raised her gaze to meet his. “I’m not mad. I just want you to go away.”
“After the way you just sized me up?” He grabbed her arm, spun her to him. “I think you lie.”
His lips were on hers before she could even form a reply. At first she stiffened, but the reality of her life closed in on her. It had finally sunk in that her dad wasn’t getting any better. And Finn was offering a way to forget, if only for a few minutes.
He rolled his tongue along her bottom lip and everything inside her went nuclear. Heat exploded low in her body and roared through her. This was what she wanted from him. The heat. The intensity. She didn’t just need to forget her troubles. She wanted him. And he wanted her.
And if only for a few minutes, she was taking what she could get. Even if that was only one long, delicious kiss. She caught the back of his neck and pulled him closer.
As if she’d taunted him or challenged him, he deepened the kiss. Gliding his tongue along her lips again, opening her mouth so he could dive inside. Sweet sensation exploded in her mouth. The scratch of his tongue. The taste of peppermint.
Desperate, needy, she pressed closer, feasting on his mouth, cruising her hands down his neck, shoulders, and arms, feeling the strength in the corded muscles, taking what she craved. Any minute now, he’d break away or she’d push away, and he’d leave in a huff…or maybe teasing her. She would be fine. They would be fine. She just wanted two minutes of pure pleasure.
His hands slid from her shoulders down her back, pressing in when they reached the swell of her bottom. Heat shot through her, scorching her, ramping up the needs swelling inside her.
His hands roamed up again, tracing her spine, filling her with liquid heat, but instead of stopping at her shoulders, they raced around and found her breasts. Her nipples pebbled to aching life, straining to get into his hands, but meeting the soft lace of her bra.
She groaned.
“I love this dress. Let’s take it off.”
That woke her up. Instead of stopping they were going further?
He stepped back, swiveled her around, and unzipped her dress. Before she had a chance to say stop, he turned her back to him and slid his hands under the shoulders of her simple black sheath. With one quick shove from him, it puddled to the floor.
In what felt like the blink of an eye, she stood before him in a black bra and panties, exposed, vulnerable.
He chuckled as he whipped off his T-shirt. “You’re a closet underwear junkie. I like that about you—you’re never what I expect. You’re always better.”
The word “stop” died on her tongue. “Every girl likes to be pretty.” She said the words slowly, finally understanding why he tempted her so much. He wasn’t just gorgeous. He had a way of making her feel beautiful. Even when they were arguing.
He put both hands on her waist and nudged her to him again. “You are the prettiest.”
“Oh, now you’re just lying.”
He skimmed his lips along her neck. “Never.”
That made her laugh out loud, then his lips nibbled behind her ear, and her laughter died. Heat flooded her and became an ache at the apex of her thighs.
Were they really going to do this?
His mouth moved from her neck to her collarbone, down the sensitive flesh above her breasts. She took one sharp breath, fully intending to push him away when his mouth closed over the lace of her bra.
Her back arched. He tugged once, then twice. Liquid warmth replaced the ache. Her knees weakened.
“I sort of like you in undies and high heels. In fact, I might start calling you High Heels just to keep the memory alive.”
Oh, Lord. Seriously. They had to stop. “There isn’t going to be a memory.”
“Oh, High Heels, that just sounds like a challenge.” With that he scooped her up and carried her down the hall. Before she could protest, he put his mouth on hers again. Deep, wet kisses took them to the door of her bedroom. He laid her on the satin bedspread she’d chosen in eleventh grade and crawled on top of her, bringing his mouth back to hers while his hands worked her bra.
Here was another point where she could say stop. She knew it. And she suspected he knew it. But she ran her hands down his bare back, and holy crap, did he feel good. Smooth skin. Corded muscles.
Nemesis or not, this felt right. Wonderful. It was the chance she’d always wanted for a do-over on their one and only time together. Instead of arguing with herself or waiting to find the perfect place to end it, maybe she should just take it?
With one quick push on his shoulder, she tumbled him to his back. Before he could react, she straddled him. With her bra gone and her panties saturated with her need, she felt bold, wanton. Perfect.
She started working the catch of his jeans.
He blinked. “What’s this?”
“This is just a little taste of grown-up Ellie.”
“Grown-up Ellie?”
“You think I stayed the same in nine years? That I didn’t get a little experience?”
She skimmed her fingers down his smooth, muscular chest, then bent down, kissed his mouth, and ran her hands from his pecs to his navel. She brought them back up again, luxuriating in the texture of his skin. When she reached his shoulders, she leaned down and brushed her breasts against the stubble on his chin.
She was right. It felt crazy good. Sinfully wonderful.
He caught her arms and flipped her, turning the tables again.
She blinked. “How am I going to show you what I’ve learned?”
“I don’t want to know what you’ve learned. This isn’t chemistry.” He frowned. “Maybe it is. But that’s actually my point. Forget about technique, and let’s just let the lust rule.”
A rush of sizzling tingles scurried through her. She had to swallow before she could say, “Then you’re going to have to get rid of those jeans.”
He nipped her lips. “And you’re going to have to get rid of those undies.” But he bent, rolled his tongue along the soft flesh of her breast and captured her nipple.
She groaned at the molten heat that ignited her blood. He put his hands behind her back, lifting her chest as if presenting her for his feasting pleasure. He nipped and sucked, rolling her nipple around his mouth until she thought she’d die from the pleasure, then he started on the other nipple.
She moaned and he pulled his hands from behind her back, though his mouth never left her straining nipple. She heard the soft swish of the zipper on his jeans. He released her breast, rolled to the side, and kicked them off. She did as he’d instructed and tossed her black panties across the room. When he rolled back to her, his erection pressed a
gainst her thigh.
Just when she might have had a second thought about what they were doing, he slid his hand to her stomach and down to her thighs. She didn’t for one second think he’d forgotten his way or miscalculated. He was soothing her, preparing her, because in the next second, his fingers were on her sensitive nub. The heat that had been ratcheting through her became a crackle of electricity that exploded in her middle.
From there, everything got crazy. He slid his fingers inside her and she reached for his erection. She’d have given every cent she had to be able to put her mouth on him, but the ache inside her knew there wasn’t time. He slipped away, pulled his wallet from his jeans pocket, and got a condom.
When he returned to her, she arched and he pinned her shoulders to the bed, rising above her, opening her thighs with a knee, and then plunging inside.
She nearly fell apart right then and there. The heat and strength of him filled every soft, wet inch of her. He pulled out and slid in again, creating a friction that took her so high her breath shivered. He kept the tempo slow and even, taking her to the brink and then pulling her back until she groaned and writhed beneath him.
“Now, High Heels, don’t you think you’re being a little impatient? I don’t know about you, but I waited nine years for this do-over.”
So had she. Sort of. She might not have put it into words, but now that she was getting a second chance, she should be enjoying it.
She shoved at his shoulder at the same time that she used her thigh to knock him off-balance. He tumbled to his side and she rolled on top of him. If he was only hers for tonight, she was doing all the things she should have done nine years ago. Before he could protest, she put her mouth on his, kissing him deeply, wantonly. He stilled beneath her, then his hands came up to her back, caressing, kneading.
She ran her lips along his jaw, enjoying the tickling sensation of his day-old stubble, then drew them down his neck, across his collarbone, to his chest. She intended to lick or taste every inch of him, but when she ran her tongue along his nipple, he sucked in a breath and reversed their positions again.
