by Karen Foley
Maggie wanted to hug him, he was so sincere in his outrage. Was he right about her being gun-shy? Oh, yeah, but not for the reasons he believed. Which was why she’d call all the shots in whatever developed between them. If she went into this thing with her eyes wide open and her emotions under strict control, she’d be okay—whatever happened. Now she looked at Jack and smiled.
“Well, you know what they say...fool me once, shame on you—fool me twice, shame on me.”
To her surprise, Jack reached across the table and caught her hand, pressing her fingers between the warm strength of his own.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Maggie.”
His voice was so low and compelling that for an instant, Maggie found herself believing him, before she determinedly pulled her hand away and pushed it down onto her lap.
* * *
JACK DIDN’T KNOW what to make of Maggie Copeland. She was a mass of contradictions. He hadn’t been kidding when he said she looked amazing, but despite the fact she’d obviously dressed up for him, her wary manner told him to tread softly. He tried, but failed, to keep from staring at her. The candlelight made her skin more luminous, and the neckline of her dress teased him with tantalizing glimpses of her breasts where the fabric gaped away a bit. Whereas she’d appeared outwardly tough and capable the day he’d found her performing plumbing work on his kitchen sink, even swearing like a sailor, tonight she seemed impossibly feminine and fragile. He wanted to forego dinner and devour her instead.
He felt honored that she’d trusted him enough to share the details of her birth with him, although the facts seriously pissed him off. There was a part of him that wanted to hunt down her deadbeat father and beat the crap out of him for the damage he’d done to his daughter. He’d known guys in the service who’d knocked up their girlfriends, but he didn’t know any who had completely washed their hands of their parental responsibilities, even if they’d chosen not to marry the mother. And if they had tried to shirk their duties in that regard, the military usually ensured they provided at least the minimum financial support. He couldn’t imagine what kind of man would abandon a girl who was pregnant with his child, or in the case of Maggie’s mother, his children. At least now he understood why Maggie was so reticent about military men. His own father had been career air force. Although his parents had remained married for most of his childhood, his father had been gone more than he’d been home. Had he and his mother felt abandoned? Oh, yeah.
Sensing her unease with the direction of the conversation, he concentrated on his food and strove for a casual tone. “My parents got divorced when I was ten. I wanted to live with my dad, but he was in the air force and moved around a lot, so I mostly lived with my mom.”
“In Florida?”
“No, that was just where my last assignment was. I was born and raised in Boulder, Colorado.”
“Really?” Her voice registered surprise. “I pictured you on a surfboard somewhere.”
Jack liked the fact that she’d been picturing him anywhere, although his preference would be for her to picture him in her bed, doing hedonistic things to her.
“I’ve done some surfing,” he acknowledged, “but rock climbing is more my speed.”
Maggie laughed softly. “Of course it is. I remember the night we met, when I was stuck on that rock and you asked me if I was experienced with bouldering. Is that the same as rock climbing?”
“Similar, but it’s done without any climbing equipment.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Like anything, you have to use common sense. Bouldering is done with a crash pad on the ground, which provides some cushion if you do fall. And most bouldering is done on rocks that are less than forty feet high. Any higher than that, and you risk serious injury if you do fall.”
Maggie made a sound that was half laugh and half groan. “Forty feet? You must have thought I was so pathetic the night I was stuck on that baby rock. How high was that? Ten feet?”
“More like fifteen, but still too high for you to jump down from. And I didn’t think you were pathetic. I’m just glad I was there.”
He recalled those moments when he’d stood at the far end of the rocky beach, and she had emerged from the trailhead with her camera slung over her body. She’d been so intent on the orca that she hadn’t even noticed him.
But he had noticed her.
She’d scrambled to the top of the boulder without any problem, and he’d enjoyed watching her work, snapping pictures in quick succession. She’d been so engrossed in what she’d been doing that she hadn’t been aware of her surroundings. But as the few other tourists began drifting away from the beach and making their way back to the parking lot, he’d stayed behind. He’d been reluctant to leave her alone on the dark shoreline, and when she’d had trouble negotiating her way down from the boulder, he’d been glad that he’d stayed.
“I’m glad, too,” she murmured softly.
As she gazed at him, Jack saw the awareness in her eyes. If he’d had any doubts about her attraction to him, they were completely dispelled by that one look, and Jack felt his body tighten in anticipation. As if realizing how much she’d revealed, she tried to hide her reaction by hastily downing her entire glass of wine.
“Easy,” he said with a soft laugh. Reaching across the table, he took the empty wineglass from her and set it aside. “It’s deceptively strong.”
“I see,” she said in mock indignation as she swiped a finger over her mouth. “So now you’re trying to get me drunk?”
“Oh, no, sweetheart,” he said, letting his voice drop to a seductive drawl. “I prefer my women coherent and responsive.”
For a moment she just stared at him, and then her mouth opened on a soft “oh” of realization. She swallowed once, and then looked helplessly at her nearly untouched plate, before directing her gaze back at him. “Do you want dessert?”
He wanted her. Badly. Right now, she looked like the sweetest thing on the menu.
“Sure. Why not?” He indicated her plate. “Are you finished? You’ve barely touched your meal.”
She had a lock of hair that refused to stay confined in her ponytail, and instead bounced enticingly against the curve of her cheek. Now she tucked it behind her ear in a self-conscious gesture.
“I’m not hungry.”
But when she looked at him, her gaze was so greedy that for just an instant, Jack found himself unable to breathe. She broke the spell by springing to her feet and snatching her own plate from the table.
“I’ll get the dishes,” she said quickly, and before he could protest, she filled her arms with plates and bowls and hurried into the kitchen.
Jack took a moment to compose himself and then followed her at slower pace, carrying the bottle of wine and their glasses. From the refrigerator, Maggie had pulled out two fluted glass dishes filled with what looked like chocolate pudding, and was spraying whipped cream onto them in a haphazard manner that betrayed her agitation. She was getting more on herself and the counter than she did on the dessert.
Placing the wine and the glasses on a nearby surface, he moved until he stood directly behind her. He could smell the fragrance of her hair and skin, see the tiny pulse that beat frantically at the side of her neck and hear her shallow breathing.
“Maggie.”
She turned her head, but didn’t meet his eyes. “I came back to Whidbey Island expecting a lot of things,” she confessed softly. Turning fully around, she leaned against the counter and looked at him. “But I never expected you.”
Jack raised a hand and gently wound the loose tendril of hair around his finger before tucking it behind her ear. He used his thumb to wipe away several flecks of whipped cream from her cheek. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t expecting you, either.”
She searched his eyes for a long moment, and then exhaled on a shaky breath. �
�I know this is crazy, but I really want—”
Leaning forward, Jack covered her mouth with his.
6
THIS WAS WHAT she’d been craving. This man.
Kissing her. Touching her.
Making her feel things that she hadn’t felt in over ten years.
Maggie leaned into him, giving herself up to his kiss. His mouth moved over hers, warm and firm, and when she felt the first, hesitant touch of his tongue, she deepened the kiss. Immediately, he cupped her jaw in his big hands and angled her face for better access, fusing his mouth to hers. The sheer sensuality of the contact made her go weak, and she clutched mindlessly at his shirt as he explored her mouth. His tongue slid sensuously against hers, and she felt an answering rush of desire at her center. Beneath the soft cotton, his body was firm and hot, and Maggie knew exactly where she wanted all that heat and strength.
Breaking the kiss, she leaned back in his arms. A flush of arousal rode high on his cheekbones, and his expression was taut. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, Maggie tentatively smoothed a hand over his chest, before unfastening the top button of his shirt. When he didn’t object, she moved to the next button, spreading the soft fabric and exposing his skin. Leaning forward, she pressed a soft, moist kiss just below his collarbone. He sucked in a breath, and one big hand moved to the back of her head to massage the nape of her neck. Emboldened, Maggie tasted him, touching her tongue to his heated skin and tracing a delicate circle over the shallow groove between his pecs. Jack made a hissing sound of pleasure, and beneath her fingers, she could feel the heavy thump of his heart.
“You taste good,” she murmured against his skin.
Wrapping her ponytail around his fist, Jack gently tugged her head back so that her face was tilted upward. “You’re driving me nuts,” he rasped.
His husky admission thrilled Maggie. She’d never been the kind of woman who deliberately set out to entice men, or lead them on. In fact, those who knew her well would probably say she went out of her way to avoid attracting attention from the opposite sex. She didn’t consider herself unattractive, but she definitely wasn’t the type who garnered wolf whistles or even second looks when she went out.
She rarely wore makeup, and since her hair pretty much defied any style, she found it easier to just pull it back in a clip or a ponytail. She preferred jeans to dresses, and she had a bad habit of swearing that she knew could be disconcerting. The fact that this man found her attractive blew her mind. She didn’t even care what his motives might be; she no longer believed in fairy tales, and had no illusions that his interest in her extended beyond one or two interludes of shared pleasure. Right now, that sounded perfect to her. She neither wanted nor needed an emotional entanglement, and with her mom and brother away, nobody even needed to know that she had hooked up with the tenant. She felt certain he wouldn’t say anything.
“I want to drive you nuts,” she said, spreading his shirt open even more and punctuating her words with another damp kiss, this time directly above his nipple. She glanced up at him as she swirled her tongue over the small bud. “I want to push you right over the edge.”
* * *
JACK DRAGGED AIR into his lungs and tried to control his rampant lust. Her words, combined with the soft, hot slide of her tongue against his skin, were an aphrodisiac he couldn’t resist. She said she wanted to push him over the edge, but he was already there, just barely hanging on.
He’d been surprised by the invitation to have dinner with her, but even knowing she was attracted to him, he hadn’t planned on doing anything about it, at least not tonight. He wanted to ensure she had at least a little bit of emotional investment in their relationship before they slept together. Now he found himself reassessing his strategy.
Maggie leaned back in his arms and looked up at him. Her pupils were dilated, making her dark blue eyes appear almost black, and her pale cheeks were slightly flushed. When his gaze dropped to her mouth, she moistened her lips, sending a jolt of lust straight to his groin. Her mouth was lush and pink, and his imagination ran rampant with erotic images. Her breath came in warm pants against his neck, and her breasts rose and fell in an agitated fashion. He wanted to devour her. He wanted to peel the dress away from her body, lift her onto the nearby table and thrust himself into her. He wanted to hear her cry out in pleasure, watch her expression as she reached her orgasm and then start all over again.
“Sweetheart,” he growled softly, “I’m so close to the edge now that in another second I’ll be free-falling.” He bent his head to her exposed throat and kissed the spot where her pulse beat, sucking gently on her soft flesh before soothing the area with his tongue. She made a small noise, half groan and half sigh, and tipped her head to give him better access.
“You taste good, too,” he muttered against her skin, before he dragged his mouth along her jaw and captured her lips again. This time, he kissed her hard and deep, entwining his tongue with hers. Her arms wound around his neck and she pressed closer, opening herself to him.
Jack didn’t think she was even aware of how she rubbed herself sensuously against him, like a small cat, but he was all too mindful, and he couldn’t prevent his body’s immediate response. He had a boner for her, big-time, and in another second, she’d be aware of it, too.
He slid his arms around her, stroking his hands down her back to her rear. The woman definitely had curves in all the right places, and he ached to explore every one of them. He could have her right now, he knew. The soft, needy sounds she made in her throat were a huge turn-on, but he needed to slow this down or he’d end up taking her right here in the kitchen. Breaking the kiss, he bent his forehead to hers. They were both breathing heavily, and her fingers caressed the nape of his neck.
“How about that dessert?” His voice was roughened with desire, but he was gratified when she gave a soft giggle.
“I thought that was dessert.”
“That was just the appetizer,” he assured her, and reluctantly released her.
She drew in a deep breath and swayed slightly before she grasped the edge of the counter for support. When she looked at him, he noted with satisfaction that her eyes were still a little hazy with pleasure. He’d left a mark at the base of her throat, no more than a reddened patch where he’d sucked on her soft skin, but he felt a deep satisfaction in that, as well.
Reaching out, she scooped up a finger of whipped cream and offered it to him. Jack’s libido leaped at the implicit promise in her eyes, and he brought her hand to his mouth and sucked the cream from her finger. Her lips parted in a soft “oh” of pleasure, and he knew she’d felt it all the way to her toes.
“My turn,” he said, and dipped his thumb into the chocolate pudding. But when she drew his finger into her mouth and sucked on it, lust jackknifed through his gut and he nearly groaned aloud at the erotic sensation. Her tongue was hot and slick, and he could almost feel the suction on his dick.
When she finally released his finger, Jack’s imagination was running wild with images of her mouth wrapped around other parts of his anatomy.
“If I suggest moving this somewhere more...comfortable,” she ventured carefully, “are you going to get all honorable on me and insist on leaving?”
“Do you want me to stay?”
In answer, she slid her arms around his neck and moved closer, until her breasts were all but flattened against his chest. “I do. I want you to stay the night.”
Her voice wavered the slightest bit, and Jack knew how much it had cost her to admit that to him. Her body fit perfectly against his own, and as his hands moved over her back to the curve of her ass, he knew he wouldn’t refuse her. He couldn’t.
“Yeah,” he rasped. “I’ll stay.”
With her arms around his neck, Jack bent and slid an arm beneath her knees, lifting her high against his chest before she had a chance to protest. She
gasped and clutched him tighter, and Jack was reminded of the night when they had first met, when he’d pulled her down off the boulder.
“Where are we going?” he asked, turning toward the staircase that led to the second floor.
“Upstairs, second door on the left.”
Jack practically sprinted up the stairs, and shouldered his way into the room she’d indicated. Inside, he had a vague impression of a canopy bed, and made a beeline for it, depositing Maggie on the mattress, before stretching out beside her. Almost immediately, he rose up on his elbow, and reached beneath him to pull out a stuffed animal.
“What is this?” he asked, studying it in the dark.
“Sorry,” Maggie said, and taking the toy from him, she chucked it across the room. “Now come here.”
Her hands went to his shoulders, and as Jack moved toward her, something hard dug into his hip. Pulling away, he sat up and withdrew a doll from beneath his body. “Okay, what’s this?”
Maggie groaned, and took the doll from him and dropped it onto the floor beside the bed. “This is the room I used as a kid,” she said ruefully. “I guess it could use some updating.”
Stretching his arm out, Jack flipped on the bedside lamp and looked around the room, appalled. There was pink everywhere. Even the ruffled canopy over their heads was pink, matched by the bedspread and flowered carpet. There were stuffed animals and dolls on nearly every surface, and the walls were plastered with posters of young male pop stars from at least a decade earlier. The room was more suited to a ten-year-old child than a twenty-something woman.
Climbing off the bed, Jack grabbed Maggie by the hands and pulled her to her feet. “No offense, sweetheart, but there’s no way I can make love to you in this room. I’m not sure I could even take my shirt off in this room without feeling like a pervert.”
“Okay, I understand,” Maggie said quickly. “This isn’t the only bedroom. We can use one of the others.”
Jack gave a snort of laughter. “Like your brother’s room? Thanks, but no thanks.” Heading for the door, he tugged Maggie along in his wake. “C’mon.”
