“Huh.” Jake guessed so. He took the quiche out of the cart, set it back on the shelf, and got a new one he placed carefully on the pizza.
Back on the seat, Boris scowled. “There is no Cat food in the basket.”
“And there isn’t going to be, either,” Jake said, tooling the cart to the deli. Probably better if he got some store-made guac instead of frozen.
Boris’s yowl went straight through Jake’s head. He winced.
“You haven’t fed me at all. I am starving.”
“You can’t starve. You’re dead.”
A pitiful cat face lifted to Jake. He shrugged.
“I need food,” whined Boris.
“They should have fed you in, uh, well, before.”
“I did not need food there. I only need food here.”
Jake wondered what had happened to his nice, steady, logical life. Nothing had been the same—since the bullet. He didn’t want to take a leave of absence, not with the new job coming up.
“Okay, okay. I’ll get cat food.”
“Tuna fish would be all right. Fresh shrimp. Even sardines,” Boris said.
“Sure they would. You get cat food, the store brand.”
Jake glanced at the clock. The food was in his fridge, he’d changed the sheets, and dusted the TV and entertainment center. The rug had hardly any lint, so he didn’t need to vacuum. Plenty of time to do a little home workout—no, cancel that, he might need all his energy later.
“I’m hungry and want food.” Boris sat on the kitchen counter.
That looked unsanitary, too. Good thing he hardly ever used the counter. Jake considered Boris.
Boris smiled in a way Jake didn’t like. The cat could screw up Jake’s plans with Shauna. She could walk in, take one look at Boris, and shower him with all the affection Jake wanted.
Jake tapped a fork on a can of chicken and beef. Disgruntled, he opened it and spread it on a plate for Boris. The cat stuck his muzzle in the food and inhaled.
Jake waited. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but shouldn’t have been surprised when the food simply stayed on the plate. After a minute or two, Boris sat back on his haunches and grinned at Jake, then burped.
Waving the fork at the dish, Jake scowled. “The food is still there.”
Boris lifted his nose. “I have absorbed its essence.”
Jake wondered what sort of essence the bad parts of chicken and cow could give an angel cat. “It doesn’t look any different.”
“It’s still good food. If you put it outside on your patio the feral Cat who lives under the bushes near the Dumpster will eat it.”
That didn’t sound like a good idea to Jake, but it irked him to wash the food down the garbage disposal.
“The Cat needs food,” Boris pressed on. “Shauna feeds the feral Cats in her neighborhood. That’s how she got Me.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Jake muttered.
His doorbell rang and Jake’s insides tightened. The stove buzzed that the quiche was done. He pushed aside the curtain of the sliding-glass door to the patio, opened the door, and stuck out the plate. “Beat it,” he said to Boris.
“I will tell the Cat he has good food, and that you might be an acceptable human friend. We will both watch you in the future.”
“I don’t care if I fail probation,” Jake said. Not with Boris. The doors were another matter. How much would he have to change? He thought he was well on the way.
His doorbell rang again. “Get out of here.”
Boris zoomed through the glass.
Jake felt awkward as he opened the door. Usually he just had guys over, or women who’d spend the night and leave before dawn. “Hey,” he said to Shauna.
“Hi.” She smiled and nothing else mattered except that she was here.
Shauna walked in and her eyes went to the only greenery.
“That’s my plant,” Jake said unnecessarily. It was the only thing in the living room besides two leather recliners, a coffee table, a lamp, and a huge entertainment center.
“I can see that.” Shauna walked around the rubber plant.
Jake was sure it looked okay. Its stalks were straight and strong, the leaves large and glossy.
“You take good care of this plant.”
Simple pride flooded him. She made him feel good.
“You know, Jake, this plant has some bark, making it almost a tree.” She slanted him a look. “I bet I could hug it.”
“Aw, geeze,” he said.
“You’re cute. And you take care of your plant very well.” She beamed, crossed to him, and stroked his cheek. “Does it have a name?”
“Of course not!” He was offended. He marched into the kitchen and got out the guacamole and chips, thought a little and dumped the chips into a big bowl and put the supermarket container and the bowl on a tray he’d gotten when he’d bought some Christmas cookies last year.
It looked fine to him.
After consuming the guacamole, they went into the kitchen and ate quiche and talked and laughed. It amazed Jake how good a time he had, especially when he tried to explain the rules of football to Shauna. She followed his gestures and explanations with a twinkle in her eye that told him she was humoring him. But he figured it was his turn, after spending an hour with the Friends of the Forest.
He lost track of time and it took the click of his recording equipment as it came on to alert him that it was game time.
They hadn’t reached dessert and he grinned. Half-time, if he was unlucky, but he didn’t think he would be.
Shauna eyed the far recliner, but he had other ideas.
“Com’ere,” he said, and brought her down on his lap. He liked the weight of her, a lot. He even liked the idea of watching the game with her. He’d give her a little time to get used to him, settle in, and then . . .
The first quarter elapsed with undistinguished playing. Shauna couldn’t get excited about the game. But getting excited about Jake was another matter. As each minute went by, the atmosphere in the room thickened. She was aware of Jake as she’d never been aware of anyone else. The air around her body seemed to crackle, and she thought she could feel every inch of her skin and wondered where he’d touch her first.
Five
Shauna sat sideways across Jake’s legs, her own dropping over the arm of the lounger.
Jake turned her toward him, widening her legs so the most needy part of her pressed against the hard length of him. Shauna bit her lip to keep a moan of delight from escaping. At the point of contact she could feel the throbbing beat of both their hearts. Her hands curled over his shoulders to anchor her—to keep her upright, though winding anticipation sizzled through her blood.
She met his eyes and fell into the deep blue. Connected. Though they hadn’t physically joined yet, she knew they were connected. By the past. By dreams. By hopes for the future.
Jake wasn’t watching the game, he was watching her. His face was tight, his eyes dilated; he radiated intensity.
He slipped his hands under her bottom and lifted. She rose obediently. Locking his gaze with hers, he stripped her shorts and panties off. She adjusted her position so she knelt with her thighs on either side of his hips.
Vaguely Shauna could hear the wild cheers of the crowd on TV, the excitement in the announcers’ voices. Jake unzipped his jeans and it was louder than anything in the room, even her panting breath, even the blood roaring in her ears.
He reached to the side table, a rip and a crackle, as he protected them. Then his hands curved around her waist, lowered her slowly down on him.
She gasped at the sensation of his hard erection penetrating her, slowly, totally. So good. Her eyes closed and her head fell back. Inch by inch he sheathed himself in her until the most important thing in her life was feeling him inside her, completing her. She didn’t know how long she could bear the delicious passion rising in her without moving, without screaming her desire.
Shauna opened her eyelids and was caught again by his
gaze. Blue eyes, boy-next-door features, blond hair. The leather recliner was one that could be bought in any outlet store. His condo walls were white, the room barely furnished, sports noise from the TV. Everything ordinary.
Jake was inside her. Pulsing. Watching her with shadowed blue eyes.
It was the most extraordinary event of her life.
He moved his hands under her loose T-shirt, unsnapped the front of her bra, and cupped her breasts. Instinctively she arched and he went deeper. A strangled whimper of pleasure escaped her. He filled her, caressing her inside. She rocked and neared the ultimate edge of passion.
“Don’t,” he said, and his jaw clenched. His nostrils flared and he inhaled. “Don’t move. Let’s just sit here. Enjoy ourselves. I want this to last.”
His hands were on her breasts; her thighs and bottom rested on denim. His sex was inside her and nothing was casual. His forefingers and thumbs held the nubs of her nipples, pulled gently, exquisitely, sending a spear of passion clear through her.
“Don’t move,” he whispered.
She knew he was tempting her, goading her, pushing her limits to see how long she could just sit there with him inside her and not go mad with wild passion. She’d burn up from spontaneous combustion soon.
He tugged at her nipples. “Kiss me.”
She leaned into him and slid along him and her inner muscles squeezed him and she thought she’d expire from the pure rapture of it. Somehow her lips found his and opened.
He plunged his tongue into her mouth.
Too much.
She clamped her thighs against him, rose until his arousal slid nearly out of her, pressed against the sensitive nerves of her entrance, then impaled herself on him with a cry of delight.
Up and down she pumped. He kept to her rhythm, his eyes going dark and glazed.
Faster.
Harder.
Now!
Shauna flung back her head and screamed her release.
Jake clamped his hands around her waist, raised her, lowered her, rocked his hips, and twisted.
She came again with a keening sob.
He pulled her bottom tight against himself, rotated, thrust upward until she thought she’d splinter from the pleasure of him, and pulsed into her.
Shauna fell against him, smelled the scent of man beneath his shirt, gloried at the pounding of his heart under her ear. Before she was ready to move, he lifted her from him, set her on the recliner.
“Jake?”
He stripped off her shirt, then shucked his own clothes. Never looking away from her, he picked up the remote, punched a button, and the TV died. He threw the remote on the chair and swung her up into his arms. His eyes blazed blue.
“Too restrictive, the chair,” he growled.
“You—you didn’t want to move. Wanted—”
“—it to last.” He shut his eyes and she could swear he shuddered. When he opened his eyes his gaze was fiery with masculine need, male possession. “Slow first. Wild now. In bed.”
She couldn’t manage a reply.
He looked at her sprawled on his bed, ready for loving again. The dappled light accented different portions of her body—the top and nipple of one breast, one rounded thigh. He sensed her unease. He couldn’t do anything but stare. Jake was accustomed to picking up hard-bodied lovers from a gym, or the tennis courts along the park. This woman, with all her lush curves, made him feel more of a man than any one of the muscle-toned ladies he’d had in bed.
She looked so . . . soft. Soft round breasts that fit in his hands, a slightly curved belly that had molded around his cock when they’d petted in the recliner. She was the epitome of woman for him.
“I’m not buff,” she whispered. “I’ll be doing hard physical labor soon and will tone up. But now . . .”
He couldn’t get a coherent word out of his mouth. A growl emerged. He’d go mad if he couldn’t feel her under him, all that comforting roundness telling him intimately, body to body, that she was woman and his. He swallowed, tried again. “Mine.” And he pounced.
She felt better than he’d expected, better than he ever dreamed a woman could, soft and luscious, letting him sink into her.
He grasped her wrists in one of his hands and lifted her arms above her head so he could see how her breasts plumped. Tipped with tight rose nipples, her breasts were the most beautiful he’d seen in a long, long time.
Arching against him, her soft belly caressed him, and he lost all reason, consumed by hard, demanding desire. He slid into her and inside she was as lush and as welcoming as out. He flung his head back as a moan tore from his throat. He couldn’t get enough of the sensation of sheathing and withdrawing; the warm, wet friction made him wild. He plunged and twisted and emptied himself in her, hearing her cry of release matching the ragged rasp of his breathing.
And was grateful for that female sound of pleasure. It told him that while he’d completely lost control of himself, he had still brought her pleasure. He rolled to his back and took her with him.
Her limp body atop his felt incredible, womanly, right. Even the thought that sex had never been so unbelievably great before didn’t bring a hint of wariness into his mind. Her charms were bountiful and he planned on sating himself with them—no matter how long it took.
The next two weeks were the busiest and the best of Shauna’s life.
With her starting a new business and Jake beginning a new job, they spent more hours at work than together, and consequently she thought their affair was so much more intense.
They managed to spend some time out of bed, too. She took him to a play and went to a football game. Jake even attended two meditation sessions. They talked and laughed and ate and found they both had a passion for trying new restaurants.
Since his condo was close to her first job, they spent most of their time there and always made love there.
Jake dominated her thoughts and made her more physically aware of her body than she’d ever been—in a good way. As for her, she couldn’t keep her hands off him, was total in her exploration of him.
She’d remembered the entire scene in the Atrium and had written it down. Jake was for her. But he had to decide and accept that, too. So right now she was enjoying the moment—a lesson that the angel hadn’t told her she needed to learn, but a benefit nonetheless.
Finally it was time for the next step—time for her to invite him for dinner and overnight loving. When she’d confessed that she had two cats, Jake’s face went odd and he said he fed two.
Shauna decided to keep the meal simple with salad, pot roast, and brownies for dessert.
She wondered what he’d think of her home.
Jake drove up to her house and sat outside a moment. The more he looked at the place, the more it looked just like it must belong to Shauna. From the landscaping she was putting in near Skyline Park and the plans he’d glimpsed on her laptop, she had a unique style that he’d always recognize.
Her own short front yard was a riot of late-blooming flowers. The casual-looking plantings were very deliberate—and they worked. Just looking at the flowers, he felt better. They reminded him that beauty lived in the world and could be seen in just one wild rose. He grimaced. Definitely hanging out with Shauna too much to be thinking that way, but he didn’t have to tell anyone he had such thoughts. Jake stared at the flowers a moment longer and let the sight lift his spirits and bring him a measure of calm. Then he opened the door of his SUV and got out.
When he reached the steps, the scents of the flowers and plants came on a slight breeze that brought a hint of fall’s chill and the contrast stopped him. In a couple of months the pretty blooms would be dead, the plants leafless and brown. The change of seasons was upon them, and it seemed as if his life was changing, too—but becoming more fulfilling rather than dying.
He snorted. The last thing he wanted to think about was dying. Been there, done that, returned—just as Shauna had. He’d acknowledged the event, analyzed it a bit, but figured he was on his
way to putting those checkmarks in the boxes. He’d changed and was upfront with everyone, now. But didn’t want to talk about the experience.
Jake reached the front porch and rang the bell. No Boris “greeted” him this time. Jake grinned; the cat was an angel now and probably zooming around with those wings of his.
Shauna came to the door, and the sight of her took his breath away. She wore a loose-fitting dress of some filmy material and was barefoot. Definitely more summer than autumn. It suited her and started him thinking again about what her bed was like. And where it was. He hoped to find out soon.
She crossed to the front porch door and opened it to him. “Hi, Jake.”
He smiled slowly, enjoying looking at her. She flushed a little and stepped back. He joined her and stared down. Here were more scents—flowers again, and woman. He liked woman better.
Her dress dipped into a V and he saw the upper curve of her breasts. Heated desire rose as he recalled how her breasts felt in his hands, the ripest and tastiest of fruits.
Since he felt like jumping her, he looked around the neighborhood again. “The last time I was here was after the plane crash.”
Shauna paled. “The plane crash. I was on the street at the time.”
“What!” His heart lurched. That was too damn close.
“I got off the bus early and bought some cat food at the store and was walking home. If I’d gone up a block to walk . . .”
“Geeze.” He glanced in the direction where one of the planes crashed, cleared his throat. “It took out three houses.”
Her smile was tipped. “There’s no security even in your own home. I haven’t spoken about it much, but I heard the crash. I didn’t know what it was, just felt this powerful, irrational fear and I hurried home. By the time I reached the back gate, there was this awful smell.”
“I knocked on your door. Boris was guarding your place.”
“I was next door. Chuck and Pete were solid as rocks. I’m so grateful. When I realized a lot of my friends would be calling, I went back home. Boris was on the front step.”
What Dreams May Come (Berkley Sensation) Page 19
