The Last Single Maverick

by Christine Rimmer

  Jace thought so, too. He told the waiter.

  The waiter said they had a new chef.

  “Give him our compliments.”

  “I’ll be more than happy to.”

  The waiter left, and the new chef came out to chat with them briefly. His name was Shane Roarke. He was ruggedly handsome, with black hair and piercing blue eyes. Joss had the feeling she’d met him somewhere before.

  When he left them, Jace gazed after him, narrow-eyed. “I could swear I’ve met him somewhere before.”

  Joss nodded. “You know, I was just thinking the same thing….”

  He looked at her then, his dark eyes so soft and warm, his mouth hinting at a smile. “Did I tell you that you look beautiful?”

  Her chest felt a little tight and a delicious shiver whispered across the surface of her skin. “You did tell me. Twice—three times, counting just now.”

  “I like that dress.”

  It was snug, black, short and strapless. “You mentioned that, too.”

  He scowled. “I hate that you’re leaving.”

  “I know. Me, too.”

  “But we can’t go on like this forever.”

  She grinned. “You’re so right. We’ve been having way too much fun.”

  He grunted. “It’s got to stop.”

  She laughed. “Yep.” She picked up her glass of wine. “Here’s to a new life and a great job—for both of us.”

  He tapped his glass to hers. “To all your dreams coming true.”

  * * *

  After dinner, he suggested, “We could go into town. I think there’s another dance at the town hall tonight.”

  She shook her head and took his hand. “Let’s go up to the suite.”

  He must have had a sense of what she was up to because something hot and hungry flashed in his eyes. “Maybe that’s not such a good idea, Joss.”

  She knew exactly what he was doing—or trying to do: the right thing. As usual. “Jace…”

  “What?” His voice was rough and low.

  “It’s our last night. I’m leaving in the morning. We may never see each other again.”

  “Rub it in, why don’t you?”

  “Come up to the suite with me.” She held his gaze. She refused to glance away, to pretend to be shy about this. She wasn’t shy. Not with him. With him, she’d always been able to say exactly what was on her mind.

  He muttered something under his breath. She thought it was a swear word, but she wasn’t sure.

  She kept hold of his hand. “Come upstairs with me. Please.”

  He touched her cheek, smoothed a few strands of hair out of her eyes. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to regret anything about the time you’ve spent with me.”

  “I’m sure.” She searched his face. “But maybe you’re not?”

  A strangled sound escaped him. “Of course I’m sure. That’s not the point.”

  “I disagree. I think if you’re sure and I’m sure, well, what else is there? And don’t start in about regrets again. I will never regret spending tonight with you.” She whispered, “Could you stand it if I left without making love to you? I know I couldn’t.”

  He actually groaned. And then he lifted her hand and pressed his warm lips to it. “That does it.” He breathed the words onto her skin. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  In the bedroom of her suite, they stood by her bed, facing each other.

  She felt nervous. Apprehensive.

  And yet, at the same time, absolutely sure.

  The covers were already turned back. There were chocolates on the pillow.

  “Your favorite kind,” he said. “Dark and bittersweet.”

  She grabbed up the candy and set it on the nightstand. “I’ll never eat them. I’ll save them. To remember tonight…”

  He grinned at that. Her heart ached. How would she live without seeing that grin of his? “Uh-uh. You should eat them. I’ll feed them to you personally.”

  She turned her head away a little and gave him an oblique glance. “Now?”

  “Later.” He growled the word.

  She swallowed. Hard. “I’m…on the pill, but I should have bought condoms.”

  He reached in his pocket and brought out four of them. “Okay,” he said roughly. “It’s like this. I never planned to put a move on you, I promise you…”

  She teased, “But you wanted to be ready, just in case I dragged you up here and wouldn’t let you go until you made mad, passionate love to me.”

  “Right.” His dark eyes were bright with humor—and heat. “You being such a total animal and all.”

  She took the condoms from him and set them on the nightstand next to the chocolates. “So, all right, we have chocolate and condoms. We’re ready for anything.”

  He was watching her so steadily. “Joss.”

  Her heart stopped still inside her chest—and then started in again, swift and hard. “Hmm?”

  He took her by the shoulders, his big hands so warm and firm. And then he turned her around, smoothed her hair to the side and over her shoulder out of his way, and took down her zipper in one slow, seamless glide. Her strapless black dress dropped to the floor.

  She looked down at it, in a silky black puddle around her ankles. Now, she wore her strapless bra, satin tap shorts, black high-heeled shoes. And nothing else.

  He whispered her name again. “I never had a best friend like you before…” And he traced the bumps of her spine, so slowly, with one teasing finger, from the nape of her neck all the way down to where her tap pants rode low on her hips. “Beautiful.” The single word was more breath than sound.

  She stepped out of the dress and bent to retrieve it. There was a slipper chair a few feet from the nightstand. She tossed the dress on that chair and turned to him.

  His eyes were dark fire, burning her in the most arousing way.

  She said, “I’m so glad you’re here. In this bedroom. With me.” And she reached behind her, undid her bra and let it fall away.

  He gasped. She found that ragged sound supremely satisfying, not to mention exciting.

  “Your turn,” she instructed.

  He started undressing. He did it really fast, with a ruthless efficiency, dropping first to the side of the bed to tug off his boots and socks, and then rising again to face her as he stripped away everything else, tossing each article away from him as he removed it.

  Within seconds, he was naked. He stood before her, so lean and tall and beautiful—yes. Beautiful. Beautiful in the way only a man can be, a beauty of power, of muscle. Of strength.

  He reached for her, gathered her to him. She went with a soft, hungry cry.

  His mouth came down to settle on hers and his chest was so hot and hard against her bare breasts, his arms so tight around her.

  She kissed him. She opened to him. Her heartbeat, so rapid and frantic a moment ago, settled into a lazier, hungrier rhythm.

  He took her face between his two hands, kissing her so deeply, so thoroughly, and then he threaded his fingers into her hair, combing the long strands, following them all the way down in one long stroke. He clasped her waist.

  And then lower, grasping the twin curves of her bottom and drawing her up and into him—so tight. He kissed her some more. A dizzying, magical kiss. At the same time, he was turning her, guiding her to the bed, still kissing her as he eased her down. She sat on the edge and he bent to her, his mouth and her mouth, fused in a hot tangle of warm breath, of questing tongues….

  He came down to her. She opened her thighs so he could kneel between them.

  His strong hands caressed her breasts so gently, at first. He learned the shape of them, cradling them tenderly. He teased her nipples into aching hardness.

  She swayed toward him, her mouth fused with his, wanting to be closer, aware of the thousand ways he thrilled her, excited her, made her burn. Awash in sheer wonder, she counted those ways: his touch, the taste of his mouth, the rough rasp of his beard shadow against her palms when she
caressed the side of his face.

  His dear face…

  How had that happened? In the space of a week, he had become so very dear to her. She could no longer imagine her life without him in it.

  No. She couldn’t.

  Not now. Not tonight.

  Facing the loss of him would be for tomorrow. In the harsh light of day.

  Tonight was for magic. For beauty. For pleasure. For the impossible—her and Jace. Together.

  This one time…

  For tonight, she could almost be grateful that her world had come crashing down. That her groom had betrayed her. That her dream for her future was shattered. Gone.

  She’d lost the life she’d longed for. She was going to have to start over.

  But in the middle of her own personal disaster, she’d met Jason. He’d taken her bitterness and transformed it somehow. Made it something so perfect and good and sweet. He’d given her a week she would always remember.

  And now, at the end, he presented her with one final gift: tonight.

  He broke the kiss, settled back on his knees.

  She gave a lost, hungry cry and tried to catch his mouth again.

  But he clasped her shoulders, steadying her. She opened her eyes to find his dark gaze waiting. He almost smiled, but he didn’t. Not quite.

  He let his hands trail down the outsides of her arms, rousing goose bumps of desire, making her sigh.

  “Oh, Jace…”

  “I dreamed about you…”

  She laughed, low, a secret, woman’s laugh. “No…”

  “Yeah.”

  “Tell me.”

  “You were the Shady Lady. It was you in that painting over the bar at the Hitching Post. Remember, we saw a picture of that painting, that day we went to the museum?”

  She nodded. “The Shady Lady, lying on her side, draped in nothing but a few scarves…”

  His caresses strayed downward. He clasped her waist, molded the outer curves of her hips, and lower. He laid his warm palms on her thighs. “You do remember, then…”

  “I do.” She moaned a little. “You’re driving me crazy.”

  “Good. In my dream, you were the Shady Lady and you came out of the picture and down into my arms. The wind was blowing out of nowhere, lifting your hair around your face, and lifting the scarves, too, so they kind of floated in the air around you.”

  “Wait a minute.”

  He frowned. “You want me to stop?”

  “Don’t you dare.” She let out a shaky breath. “But…the wind was blowing in the Hitching Post?”

  “It was a dream after all.”

  “Ah.”

  He cradled her calves, one in either hand, rubbing them a little. “And the wind was warm….”

  She was on fire by then, yearning. “Ah. Warm. What happened next?”

  He took her left ankle, raised it and slipped off her high-heeled shoe. “I woke up.”

  She sighed. “Oh, no.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sad…”

  “Yeah.” He lifted her other foot, removed the other shoe, set it aside with its mate. And then he was stroking her legs again, but this time moving upward, over her shins, her knees, her trembling thighs.

  Breath held, she watched him as he eased his clever fingers under the loose, lace-edged hems of her tap pants. He touched her, both hands meeting at the place where her thighs joined, delving in, parting her.

  She gasped as he caressed her, his fingers moving beneath the black satin. He found her, found her sweetest spot without even half trying. And he worked it, making her burn, making her so wet and ready….

  Oh, it was heaven. Jace’s touch.

  She lay back across the bed and let him torment her so perfectly. She moaned out loud; it felt so right. And she lifted her hips to him, sighing, whispering his name, tossing her head, reaching down to clasp his corded forearms, holding on to him as he stroked her, bringing her higher.

  Higher and higher…

  “Lift up,” he muttered low, pulling on the tap pants, guiding them down.

  By then, she was wild with desire, lost in her own building excitement. She moaned and she raised her hips and he slipped the tap pants down and away.

  And then he leaned closer. And his fingers were touching her, opening her. She knew she was bare to his gaze and somehow, that only fired her need, made her burn hotter.

  “Jace. Oh, Jace…”

  And then he leaned closer still. She felt his breath, stirring the dark hair that covered her sex.

  His breath.

  And then…oh, and then…he kissed her. There. Right there, where she was burning for him. He kissed her and he parted her and his tongue slid in to find that sweet spot all over again. His tongue…

  How did he do that? He created sensations that were delicious beyond bearing.

  She reached down, threaded her fingers in his dark, thick hair, pulled him even closer. She called out his name, wildly, as he held her in his endless, wet, perfect kiss.

  Oh, she was rising, reaching…

  And he went on kissing her, his big hands under her hips, tipping her up to him. She didn’t want it to end. Not ever.

  But of course, the end came. And it was glorious.

  With a cry, she hit the crest and went over.

  Her body trembled. He held on, drinking from her, doing something impossibly fine with his tongue so that the pleasure expanded, moving out in waves from the core of her, filling her, overflowing, spreading out and out…until it halted, hung suspended on a thread for a world-stopping moment.

  And then at last, receding, drawing back, like a shining, perfect wave, retreating to the center of her, where it continued to pulse so sweetly in delicious afterglow.

  She lay there, dazed. Wondering.

  He eased his hands out from under her hips. He broke that incredible intimate kiss.

  And he rose to his feet.

  She asked, softly, “Jace?”

  He said nothing. She gazed up at him, over his muscled thighs, over the proof of his desire for her, jutting so hard and proud. Over his hard belly and powerful chest.

  Beautiful, she thought again. A beautiful man…

  Strange. She’d always thought of him as kind. An easygoing, easy-to-know sort of guy.

  But he didn’t look all that kind right then. And not in the least easygoing.

  She saw a roughness, now. A depth of need and emotion she hadn’t known in him before. Something that called to the woman in her.

  Something undeniably, excitingly, possessively male.

  She wanted to reach for him, to beg him to come back to her, but her arms felt so wonderfully heavy, her body limp with satisfaction. Pliant. Slow.

  So she simply lay there, watching him, yearning for him, as he turned to the nightstand and took one of the condoms. He had it out of the foil pouch and rolled into place in an instant.

  Only then did he come down to her again. She welcomed him, lifting her arms eagerly then, to wrap around his hard, broad shoulders, pulling him close to her, loving the weight of him as he settled on top of her.

  He buried his head in the curve of her neck. And he kissed her there, using his tongue, sucking the skin against his teeth. Not hard enough to leave a love bite.

  Just hard enough to make her moan.

  “Now,” she commanded in a ragged, needful whisper. “Please, Jace. Now…”

  His hands swept down, along the outer swells of her hips. He guided her legs up to encircle his waist. She hooked her ankles together at the small of his back, and she felt him there, thick and hard and smooth, right exactly where she wanted him.

  In one long, sure stroke, he filled her.

  She moaned at the wonder of it, and sank her teeth into his shoulder, but gently. Oh, he did feel so good inside her.

  He felt exactly right. He filled her so deep.

  She wrapped herself closer around him, tightening her grip with her arms and her legs. She rocked against him.

  And he a
nswered her, rocking back, finding first a long, sure rhythm, teasing her with it, bringing her fully out of the soft fade of her own satisfaction.

  Into renewed pleasure. Into rising again, this time with him, better even than the time before.

  Slow and deep and steady…and then faster, harder, faster still.

  And she held on, she went where he took her.

  Into the heart of the heat and the wonder. Over the moon, into a velvet black night scattered with bursting stars.

  Chapter Nine

  Later, as they soaked in the suite’s jetted bathtub, he fed her the chocolates the maid had left on her pillow.

  Leaning back against his broad chest, trapped between his bare, muscular thighs, feeling loose and easy and totally decadent, she let the lovely bittersweet treat melt on her tongue. “I could get used to this.”

  “Me, too.” His voice was a fine, dark rumble in her ear. And along her spine, she could feel the rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took.

  She turned her head to him.

  He leaned to the side to reach her mouth. And he kissed her. “Um. Chocolate.” He offered her a sip of the champagne he’d ordered from room service. She took it, laughing when some of it spilled, those lovely, fizzy bubbles straying down her chin. He said, “I think I’m getting…ideas.”

  She laughed again. “I feel you.” She wiggled back against him. “Oh, my…”

  He groaned. “You’ll kill me.”

  “With pleasure…” She rolled, floating up, settling against him again, but this time facing him. “What have we here?” she teased, as she found him under the water and wrapped her eager fingers around him.

  He made a rough, wordless sound.

  She kissed him as she stroked him.

  That didn’t last long. A few minutes later, he was gathering her to him, getting his legs under him, rising from the tub, heedless of the water splashing over the sides. He carried her into the bedroom, where he turned so she could reach the nightstand.

  She knew what he wanted her to do. Laughing, she grabbed one of the condoms. “We’re dripping water everywhere.”

  So he carried her back into the bathroom, where he boosted her up onto the long counter between the double sinks.