Only If You Dare

by Margo Hoornstra

  Arms tight around his neck when his lips joined hers at last, she gave into the shockwave of anticipation and desire.

  Chapter Six

  It had been a long time since Jonah woke up with a woman lying naked in his arms.

  Lids still closed, he appreciated the warmth and softness snug against him. Her hip turned into his. One satin smooth leg draped just so. The lingering scent of perfume—exotic, musky.

  All mingling with the unmistakable aroma of sex.

  His head settled more deeply into the down filled pillow as he entertained images of a few hours before. Of giving and receiving pleasure, with a touch of decadence thrown in.

  Squinting one eye open, he glanced down at the cheek nestled on his shoulder. More than ready for another go round, he so wanted to rouse this woman, roll her to her back and initiate a repeat of what they’d shared the night before. Taking in the delicate features set in the serenity of sleep, he found he was content instead to lie still beside her, relishing the way her slow even breaths fluttered across his chest.

  It shocked the hell out of him to realize pure sex for the sake of sex wasn’t enough for him any longer. Not at this stage in his life.

  More awake now, and with his morning after desires waning, he became aware of another early morning call. On more than a twinge of regret, he eased out of the intimate cocoon.

  When he walked in and flicked on a light, the bathroom was exactly as he remembered. Huge. Lined in granite, with the toilet and double sink in a separate room from the tub and shower. Each of those, he knew from personal experience, were sized to comfortably accommodate two adults—if not more.

  And made him wonder, briefly, what his hostess did in there when she was alone. If she was ever alone.

  A thought he swiftly chastised himself for having as he squared up in front of the commode. Just because he was the fortunate recipient of what could be termed a one night stand, didn’t necessarily mean she did this type of thing as a rule any more than he.

  Stopping to wash his hands, he splashed a couple of handfuls of water on his face then glanced in the mirror and drew his lips back to check out the condition of his teeth. Running his tongue over the residue of his last meal, he was reminded of road kill smeared on some highway. Then he spied a bottle of mouthwash on one side of the sink and took a swig. After a few quick swishes, he leaned forward to spit and finished up by wiping his face and hands on a light blue towel hung from a golden ring.

  At least he’d made himself relatively presentable and ready for whatever this morning would bring.

  Which was?

  Maybe from a desire to make a lasting impression, he contemplated the proper protocol for this particular situation. Climb back on top and go for another, well, another. Or slide in beside her and take her into his arms, just because?

  Stepping into the bedroom, he headed over toward the large four-poster and frowned. Not only were the covers thrown back from his side of the bed, but from hers too, leaving the once comfortable expanse of tossed and disheveled bedding empty. Far less inviting than when he’d left.

  He tried to remind himself he'd suffered worse disappointments in his life—though not many. When the shower started in the next room, her absence was explained.

  So now what?

  Relieved he’d at least had the foresight to bring his clothes with him when they moved the activities upstairs, he collected his boxers and rumpled slacks from a nearby chair then donned them as he glanced around her bedroom. If the furnishings were any indication, her favorite color was white, second favorite blue. White walls, white carpet sporting flecks of various shades of blue, a comforter no heavier than a speck of dust with its white background covered with swirls of blue. A pattern reflected in the mid length curtains covering the windows.

  Strange, the woman’s color preference was one of the few things he really knew about her.

  And the fact she was one helluva good lay.

  Smiling at the remembrance, he reached for his shirt just as the door to the bathing area opened.

  She stood in a cloud of incredibly sweet smelling steam and acted as if waking up with a man she hardly knew in her bed wasn’t all that rare—or unsettling—an occurrence. A notion he refused to take any further. Let alone accept. Especially when she immediately addressed him.

  “Good morning. How did you sleep?”

  A towel was wrapped, turban style, around her head. A short, pale blue robe covered the body he had come to know. And brought him dangerously close to a need to make love to her again.

  He took a moment to swallow. “Good morning. Great. How about you?”

  “Very well.” Her voice was stronger than her gaze which couldn’t quite hang on to his, though she managed a lingering sweep up and down his form.

  Giving him a much needed shot of courage.

  She’d removed the towel and was finger combing her hair when, tossing the shirt aside, he strode over to her and, grasping her by the lapels of her robe, yanked her up against him.

  He grew bolder when she didn’t even begin to resist, just looked up at him and began to speak. “Would you believe me if I told you I’ve never done anything like this before?”

  He paused as his mouth neared hers, oddly flattered she’d cared enough to bring up the subject. “Me either.”

  Their mutual confessions hung for a moment in the scant distance between them. A distance he made short work of closing.

  Making certain his kiss was deep and thorough; he didn’t let up until, on a sigh of sheer contentment, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed nearer. Incredibly soft curves blended seamlessly against him. Heat, comfort, contentment surged into him like a tidal wave. On its own, his body tempered to meld more flawlessly with hers.

  Arms enfolding her back, he flexed them slightly to hold her in place against him and keep her there. Delicate fingers grazed his chest just below his collar bone. Fingers that gave off a warmth that wove its way beneath skin and muscle to make a direct connection with his heart.

  Holding her on a sigh that was neither his nor hers but theirs, he ran his palm between her shoulder blades and down her back. Then splayed his hand across her backside to bring her even closer. She smelled of sleep and love and freshness. And he was content to stay with her like this, breathing in her scent, for as long as she’d allow it.

  As she began to pull back, he broke the kiss, but didn’t let her go. She braced her palms against his bare chest. “If we continue this, I’ll never get out of here.”

  His passion addled brain had to contemplate her words for a second before their meaning sank in. “Out of where? The bedroom? Why would we want to?”

  She eased from his arms and re-cinched the robe he’d pulled apart. “It’s not about want.”

  “So?” He reached for her again.

  She dodged away, then came right back to trail her finger along his cheek before kissing him there. “I have to go to work.”

  Any fantasies he had about a repeat performance evaporated. “You work on Sunday?”

  “Just a partial day. What would you like for breakfast? Something quick I hope.”

  Being a stranger to her kitchen, he had no idea what menu choices were available, quick or not. At the moment, he was reluctant to point that out. “I’m pretty easy to please.”

  She’d walked toward one of the sinks and stopped to glance over her shoulder. “You’re right there.”

  Her laughter reached out to him as she faced forward and continued on. When she failed to close the door behind her, he followed her into the small room. An amazing fragrance from the shower drifted over him.

  She said nothing at first, just reached across in front of him to grab her toothbrush then caught his gaze in the mirror. “If you need one of these.” She held up a purple one she began to coat with blue-green gel. “I have extra. A two pack I got last time I visited the dentist.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  Obviously proficient at multi-ta
sking, amid vigorous strokes, she reached into the vanity drawer and pulled out a red toothbrush still in the package she handed over. Lowering her face toward the far sink, she rinsed her mouth then stood up and eyed him for another moment before she spoke. “I also have an extra razor and some shave cream. If you don’t mind smelling like wildflowers.”

  “I’m pretty sure I can handle that.” On impulse, he turned to again take hold of her lapels. “The question is will you be able to stand me smelling that way?”

  The wickedness in her grin accelerated his heartbeat. “I’ll give it my best shot.”

  The rest of her response was muffled by his mouth covering hers. Yet he hoped it was similar to what entered his mind. I can stand anything as long as you’re near.

  A renewed sense of warmth and comfort filled him and he closed his eyes, willing it to last. When she pulled away completely, emptiness washed over him to take its place.

  “While you’re shaving, I need to get dressed and dry my hair.”

  Not waiting for his response, she went into a small adjacent dressing room. That door, she closed firmly behind her.

  On a shrug, Jonah began to shave then showered, only to have to put on what he’d worn the day before. Wishing he had some aftershave to splash on, he left the bedroom he was now alone in to find his way to the kitchen.

  As he pushed open one side of the swinging café doors, she sat on a backless stool at the counter waiting for something to pop out of the toaster.

  It was only polite of him to speak up. Let her know he was in the room. “What did you decide on for breakfast?”

  Turning, she gave him a smile of welcome. “Whole wheat bagels. I hope you like them.”

  He slid onto the stool beside her and leaned in close. “How about if I tell you they’re my favorite breakfast?”

  She couldn’t hide another smile as she passed a plate containing the first one his way. “I’d say you’re full of it.” Putting a second sliced bagel in the slots, she pressed down the handle. “No one’s favorite breakfast is a whole wheat bagel.”

  He shook his head at her offer of cream cheese then reached for the jar of blackberry jam on the counter. “So how long do you have to work today?”

  Gingerly setting the bagel halves that had just popped out of the toaster onto the plate in front of her, she looked as if the question surprised her. “Until three. I have a group session on PTSD.” She set down the knife she’d just picked up. “There are so many people affected. More than you’d expect.” When he made no comment, she went on. “It changes people. I’ve seen what it can do.”

  “This is a surprisingly good bagel.” To validate his words, he took a bite, chewed then swallowed.

  At the moment, he had no desire to get into a discussion with her about the notorious it.

  He’d started what would be his last mission for his country with the starry-eyed optimism of all the other veterans of so many successful operations. Then things—check that—then the precise and perfect plans they’d all made blew up—literally—right in their faces. By some odd twist of fate—or was it the devil working overtime—he was the only one who made it out alive.

  An inside job. Or so he was told at the debriefing. Nothing you could have done.

  Except maybe die with my comrades.

  “You could say I’ve become an authority on the disorder.”

  Bagel still in hand, he blinked then glanced her way. Discomfort or anger, maybe both, darkened her eyes for an instant. His hand covered hers before she had a chance to pick up the knife again.

  “Then you can take comfort in the fact you’re doing something to help.”

  Too soon, breakfast was over and it was time to leave. Jonah collected everything he’d arrived with the night before, and Cynthia had her suede jacket zipped and her purse hiked on her shoulder as they headed out.

  “Don’t forget this.” As they passed, she reached into the closet for the tux jacket she handed over.

  “Thanks.” Shrugging into it, he opened the door for her as they entered the garage. “And thanks, too, for breakfast.”

  Though he wanted to continue talking, he couldn’t think of what else to say.

  Maybe we can do this again sometime.

  It’s been fun.

  See ya around.

  All sorts of asinine one liners bounced around in his mind. None of which were fit to be spoken.

  To make things worse, she wasn’t filling the silence any better than he was. Until, she glanced down at the cement floor first then up at him. “Last night was nice. Thank you.”

  A nice? He got a God damned nice?

  She acted as if they would never see each other again. He didn’t care what it took, but he wouldn’t let that happen.

  “If you’re going to be done working by three, can I take you to dinner?”

  “Aren’t we getting the schedule of events a little backwards?”

  “Say sometime after five?”

  She couldn’t let it go. “Most guys take you out for dinner then expect you to sleep with them after.”

  “To be honest, I never expected either.”

  “Just took advantage of how events unfolded?”

  “I didn’t think either one of us was seeking an advantage here.”

  He’d be the first to admit he was trying to get close. Make more out of their connection than a one night stand. Maybe she wasn’t sure she wanted that.

  “I’ll be completely honest with you here, Jonah.”

  She continued to face him and he had to curl his hands into fists to keep from reaching out to touch her. Sweep her into his arms to haul them both into the house and behind closed doors.

  And risk scaring her off for good? Not his best option. “I’m listening.”

  “The last thing I want is for you to feel obligated to even see me again.”

  “So what do you say about dinner?”

  “My life is complicated, Jonah. I have—”

  “Everyone’s life is complicated.”

  “—obligations. My daughter’s wedding. My work.”

  His gaze remained leveled on hers. “I’m not asking to be a part of those obligations.”

  “It’s not that I don’t enjoy your company. It’s just that—”

  “Dinner. It’s dinner. Another hour or two of your time. Nothing more.”

  She gave out a sigh and he held his breath. “Are you familiar with Harvey’s Pub?”

  “The sports bar?”

  “Yes. On Hamilton at Eleventh.”

  “I’ve been there before.” The most God damned unromantic place on the planet.

  “I’ll meet you there if you like.”

  Do I have a choice? “You don’t want me to pick you up?”

  She shook her head. “I can get there on my own.”

  The kiss she brushed on his mouth was brief. She ducked into her car before he could respond in any properly physical way. Then she hit the garage door opener. When she started the engine and rolled down the driver side window, he moved forward and down. And decided getting his face close enough then hers turned and in position for another kiss would be beyond awkward.

  He placed a hand on her shoulder and cursed himself for not doing something before she got into the damned car. “It’s settled then. We’re going to dinner.”

  “We are. Good bye, Jonah. I’ll see you this evening.”

  “Yeah this evening.”

  Which can’t get here fast enough.

  Straightening, all he could do was walk down the driveway to his car.

  Chapter Seven

  Cynthia dropped the manila folder containing the records and notes from the session with her last patient into the open file drawer. It had been one heck of a day trying to convince victims of brutal and violent crimes what happened wasn’t their fault. More important, assure them that those gruesome memories would eventually fade.

  She ran her hand along the length of the tightly packed file folders. Similar stories of anger
and abuse. Fear and cowardice.

  And they said PTSD impacted only soldiers returned from war zones.

  Suddenly, she was grateful the extent of her personal life’s problems was the occasional glitch in Jen’s wedding plans and little else. Reaching up to massage the back of her neck, she immediately thought of Jonah, and the majority of her after work tensions eased.

  Now she got to go home and spoil herself, she decided, with a long hot bubble bath.

  The idea of that indulgence immediately brought images of Jonah in the tub enclosure with her, his hands stroking tender paths over her skin, while hot rushing water splashed down all around them. One particularly touching thing about his love making, he was careful to pay as much time and attention to kissing her face as he did to the rest of her anatomy.

  The remembrance made her smile.

  “All done for the day, doctor?”

  “What?”

  Her thumb wedged between one side of the opened file drawer and the track it rolled on. She yelped and yanked that part of her hand free then slid the drawer shut.

  Ward clerk Heidi Williams stared at her wide eyed. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” Alarm entered her voice as she came forward. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She prayed to God the bright pink she was certain had colored her cheeks would be attributed to the silly injury. “Just fine.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “All my records for today are notated and signed. Just waiting to be typed up and filed.” She swiped back drooping bangs. It would no doubt be best for all concerned if she got her head on straight.

  It was so unlike her to moon over any of the men who entered her life. Let alone one she’d known for only a very few days—and one spectacular night.

  In all the years of her marriage, she’d never experienced a night quite so...potent. Rarely did she lie in bed beside Phil with the wicked desire to remain under the covers doing over and over what they’d done a short time before.

  The way she did when lying beside Jonah.

  “I’ll get them finished before I leave today. I’m on until ten.”

  Cynthia snapped her mind shut. “Give me call if you have any questions. I’ll have on my cell.”