“We better keep most of our clothes on,” she whispered.
He looked disappointed. “No one can see in these windows.”
“I know, I just…What if we get into an accident, and—”
He kissed her. “Shhh. It’s all right. You don’t need to explain. Whatever makes you more comfortable.”
He had golden blond hair on his chest and more muscles than she’d ever seen up close and personal. She touched him, lightly at first, then harder. His back was so smooth, the hair on his chest so soft. She could feel his hand, sliding up her leg, pushing her skirt up, nearly to her hips. The sensation was incredible, and she laughed aloud.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
He smiled at her, a hot, fierce smile. “I can’t believe it either. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up any minute.”
She reached for his belt buckle. “Do you have a condom? Please say yes.”
“Yes.” He pulled it out of his pocket and tossed it within easy reach on the carpeted floor.
“Gee whiz, and it’s so conveniently handy too.” She opened his belt and unfastened the button of his pants. “I must’ve been shooting out obvious pheromones all evening long. Talk about a sure thing.”
“No, I’m just an eternal optimist,” he told her with another long, searing kiss. His hands explored the edge of her silk and lace panties, his fingers slipping underneath to find her wet and ready for him. Man, was she ready for him.
Ellen heard herself moan as she lifted her hips toward him, pushing him more deeply inside of her.
Sam nearly lost it. She hadn’t even really touched him yet—her fingers were just fumbling gently with his zipper—and he’d nearly slipped over the edge. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so totally turned on.
It was strange—he would’ve thought making love this way, with their clothes only unfastened or pushed aside, wouldn’t have been as good. But as much as he was dying to see Ellen naked, the sight of her lying beneath him with her beautiful body half hidden by her disheveled clothes was making him crazy. One taut, dark pink nipple peeked out from the silk of her shirt. Her skirt was twisted around her waist, exposing her long, exquisitely shaped legs. He’d all but pushed aside the black silk and lace of her panties and the effect made his blood burn through his veins.
She worked his zipper down, then touched him, covering him with her hand through the cotton of his shorts.
The sensation lit him on fire.
He shifted his weight, pressing himself between her legs, only the fabric of their clothes keeping them from becoming one. Dear God, he’d died and gone to heaven.
Sam kissed her—or she kissed him—he didn’t know, it didn’t matter. He moved then, stroking her with the length of his arousal, and she moved, too, lifting her hips in rhythm with him.
The promise of ecstasy was too much to take, and Sam moved quickly, pulling himself off of her, slipping her panties down her legs.
She reached for him, trying to push his pants over his hips. He freed himself in one smooth motion, then reached across her for the condom. As his fingers closed around it her fingers closed around him.
“Gotcha,” she murmured, and Sam laughed out loud.
She did. She had him. Completely. She owned him. He was thoroughly infatuated. Of course, it was true that he became infatuated with a beautiful woman as quickly and as easily as most people bought a new pair of sneakers, but this was stronger than what he’d felt most of the time. He was willing to bet this crush he had would last for the entire summer. It was also true that a whole summer was about two months longer than his usual romantic fling, but Ellen wasn’t usual, in any way, shape, or form.
Sam had a feeling that this was going to be the best summer of his entire life.
He tore open the condom and she helped him cover himself. Actually, her help was debatable—she made both it and him harder, but Sam didn’t mind. He was in no hurry. He had the entire summer.
She surprised him by straddling him, by kissing him hungrily as she impaled herself upon him, surrounding him with her tight heat.
There was no doubt about it, he was the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet. She began to move, and he moved with her, gazing into her eyes as she held on to the seat back behind him.
She closed her eyes and her head went back as he shifted his hips, pushing himself more deeply inside of her. This was good. It was too good. There had to be some kind of catch.
Whatever it was, it was going to be well worth it for all he was feeling right now.
They were moving slowly, languorously, each thrust of his hips bringing dizzying, melting pleasure. But then the car jerked to a stop, and he reached for her, holding her tightly to keep them both from sliding onto the floor. His movement pushed him up inside of her, sharp and fast and heart-stoppingly deep. They both cried out, and Sam knew that she was as close to release as he was.
And then the phone rang.
They both froze. Ellen opened her eyes and stared directly at him. Then she put one finger to her lips, reached behind him, and pushed on the speakerphone.
“Yes, Ron?” she asked, her voice sounding remarkably normal.
“Everything okay back there?” Ron asked. “Sorry about stopping short like that.”
Sam wanted desperately to laugh, and he could see that Ellen did too. In fact, he realized that she could no longer speak. She buried her face in his neck.
“Not a problem, Ron.” He raised his voice to be picked up by the speakerphone. He looked out the window, trying to figure out where they were. “Hey, would you mind taking us past the public library?” That was way on the other side of town. “Ellen hasn’t had a chance to see the lions yet.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Harrison,” Ron said cheerfully.
As Ellen reached up and cut the connection, they both dissolved into laughter.
“I haven’t had a chance to see the lions,” Ellen repeated. “It sounds like some incredible euphemism. You know, like, ‘Was it good for you, honey? Did you…see the lions?’”
Sam laughed even harder. God, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this…happy. He caught Ellen’s face with both hands, kissing her hard on the mouth. “I’m having more fun tonight than I’ve ever had in my entire life,” he told her.
“I bet you say that to all the women who seduce you in the back of their uncle’s limousine.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “All one of them.”
Ellen felt herself melt as she gazed into Sam’s eyes. There was a softness there, a tenderness that made her feel warm inside. Cared for. Cherished.
He kissed her gently. “I’m serious, Ellen,” he whispered. “I swear, I’ve never felt anything like this before.” He kissed her again. Harder this time. Deeper. Longer. And their passion reignited instantly, scorching her to her very soul.
She knew his sweet words were just that—sweet words. Still, she knew it wouldn’t take much for her to fall in love with this sexy, gorgeous man.
But what a mistake that would be.
She closed her eyes, banishing all thought as she began to move, both with him and against him. Thinking was not allowed. Only feeling. And oh, the way he was making her feel.
He moved faster now, faster and harder and deeper, and Ellen matched his rhythm, losing herself in his kisses and caresses, letting herself spin out of control.
There was no past, no future. There was only this moment, and it was a very, very good moment, exploding with light and color and wave upon wave of wild sensation.
Her entire body seemed to shake with the strength of her release, and she felt Sam’s body answer. He pulled her mouth down to his for a deliciously ferocious kiss that muffled his groans of pleasure.
Still breathing hard, Ellen clung to him, refusing to acknowledge any of the questions that were trying to break into the aftermath of their passion.
What happens now? Try as she might, that was one question that she couldn’t easily ignore.
<
br /> Ellen peeked out from underneath her eyelashes. Sam’s head was back, his own eyes closed.
Without opening his eyes, he smiled slightly and pulled her even closer, holding her tightly but so gently, his hands moving soothingly up and down her back. He sighed with the deepest contentment.
Ellen watched him breathe. His nostrils flared slightly with each breath he took. He had remarkably handsome nostrils. In fact, his nose—and his entire profile—was worthy of an epic poem.
She’d noticed that the first time she’d glanced at him. In the airport newsstand. Only a few short hours ago.
Dear God, what had she done? She’d just made love to a stranger. Ellen felt a rush of tears fill her eyes, and she turned her head away, resting her cheek against his shoulder.
She’d used this man as completely as he’d used her, but her use went beyond mere sexual gratification. She’d used Sam to try to rid herself of Richard, once and for all.
Richard. Lord. She hadn’t thought of him, not even once, while she and Sam had been making love. After the differentness of Sam’s kisses, she had been so certain she would compare every touch, every caress, every sensation.
But Sam had succeeded in focusing her attention securely on him, keeping her thoughts far from Richard.
Richard who? she thought, smiling as she blinked away her tears.
She opened her eyes and found herself looking directly at the steps that led to the public library. She tilted her head slightly, and there they were. Lit from the streetlights. The stone lions.
Ellen snorted with laughter, and Sam lifted his head. “What?” he asked.
“Look.”
He leaned over and saw the lions.
What were they going to do next? Ellen knew precisely. They were going to laugh. Giddily. Breathlessly. Deliriously.
She pushed herself up and off of him as he began to laugh too. She laughed as she straightened her skirt and he cleaned himself up, efficiently, expertly, and zipped up his pants. She fastened her bra and buttoned her shirt, tucking it in, still laughing.
“Well, that was just about perfect timing,” she said, wriggling back into her panties.
She would have sat across from him, but he reached out and took her hand and pulled her down close to him, his arm around her shoulders. He tugged her chin toward him and covered her mouth with his in a deliciously sweet kiss.
When he pulled back, he searched her face rather intently. “You okay?” he asked softly.
Ellen couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’ve never even remotely done anything like this before,” she admitted.
“I assumed as much,” Sam told her, “considering I’m only boyfriend number three.”
She glanced at him. “I’m not sure one night, in the back of a limo, makes you eligible for the title of boyfriend.”
“How about two nights in a row, dinner at a real restaurant this time before we go to my place—or yours—and make love in a real bed?”
Ellen shook her head. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. I think I need some time to recover.”
For a brief moment he looked as if he were about to argue, but then he nodded. “Fair enough.”
She was definitely twisted—she absolutely didn’t want him to argue with her, but at the same time, she couldn’t help feeling a little bit hurt that he hadn’t even tried to change her mind.
She looked at her watch. “Wow. I had no idea it was so late.”
Sam could recognize a hint when he heard one. Despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than to ride around with Ellen in his arms until the sun came up, he knew that she was ready for him to go. He’d dropped many a similar hint himself in the past—Would you look at the time? I really should go….
That didn’t necessarily mean anything bad, he tried to reassure himself. It was late. Ellen was no doubt also thinking of the driver, who’d been in the limo as long as they had, but who had been having a whole hell of a lot less fun.
He pulled her close to him again and kissed her, his confidence restored at her immediate response. Despite the fact that she didn’t want to have dinner tomorrow night, he had to believe from the way she was kissing him that she would definitely want to see him again. Who was he kidding? Of course she’d want to see him again. Women almost always did.
He wasn’t conceited—he was simply able to acknowledge the truth. There were many things he wasn’t particularly good at, but seducing a woman—charming her and giving her pleasure throughout an entire evening—now, that was one of his strengths.
Sam sat forward slightly, looking out the window, catching the numbers of the cross streets as they went past. “We’re not far from my place.” They were even closer to where his car was parked in the precinct lot, but he’d had quite a bit of that champagne and he didn’t want to drive. Besides, he didn’t really want to go, and this would add another three minutes to this incredible, outrageously wonderful evening.
Ellen picked up the phone, buzzing the driver. “Hi, Ron,” she said. “We’re going to drop Sam off now.”
Except Ron would know the instant he pulled in front of Sam’s building that Sam wasn’t T. S. Harrison. Someone who pulled in a seven-figure advance the way T.S. did wouldn’t live where Sam lived. It didn’t seem fair to burst Ron’s bubble before being able to introduce him to the real T. S. Harrison. That would happen soon enough, but definitely not tonight.
Sam gave Ellen a much more upscale address a few blocks away from his place, and she relayed the information to Ron. The evening was warm and dry; Sam wouldn’t mind the walk.
They arrived there much too quickly, and he slipped on his jacket and sneakers, straightening his hair one last time as Ron opened the door for him.
“Ellen,” he started, but she touched his lips with one finger.
“You don’t have to say anything,” she told him, leaning forward to kiss him good-bye.
“Yes, I do,” he countered. “Because I still don’t have your phone number.”
Something flickered in her eyes. “If you really want my phone number, you can probably figure out how to get it.”
Sam laughed. “Are you serious? You’re not going to give it to me?”
She glanced away from him. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to call me.”
She didn’t think he was serious about wanting to see her again. Well, she was wrong. He was going to get her phone number from T.S. and call her.
But first he was going to give her the time and space she’d asked for.
If what she’d told him was true, he was the first man she’d let into her life after what had to have been a devastating end to her twelve-year marriage. He couldn’t relate—he’d never even had a twelve-week relationship—but he could understand how she might want a little time to sort her feelings out.
And he had plenty of time. She was going to be in town for the entire summer.
He kissed her again—a long, lingering kiss designed to keep her thinking about him in the days to come.
“Thanks for having dinner with me,” he said softly, pulling away, intending to climb out of the car.
But it wasn’t going to be that easy. He couldn’t keep himself from kissing her again as he felt the unmistakable tug of desire. He wanted her again. Already. It was not a surprise. She looked incredible, sitting there with her hair slightly mussed, the top buttons of her shirt undone just a little too far, a soft, dreamy, sleepy satisfaction in her gorgeous brown eyes. He wanted to wake up with her next to him in his bed.
“You better go,” she whispered, her fingers in his hair.
“I know.” Sam had to bite his tongue to keep himself from begging her to have dinner with him tomorrow night.
He backed out of the limo, holding her hand until the last possible second.
Ron was standing patiently near the car door, and he closed it, nodding to Sam. “Good night, sir.”
Sam extracted some money from his wallet. Ron had been driving all night, and he definitely d
eserved a hefty tip.
“Good night, Ron, and thanks,” he said, pressing the bills into the driver’s hand as the two men shook.
Ron glanced at the money. “Oh, no, sir, I couldn’t…”
“Yes, you could,” Sam insisted.
“Thank you, Mr. Harrison.”
As the driver climbed behind the steering wheel, Sam gazed at the limo’s window, knowing that even though he couldn’t see her through the privacy glass, Ellen could see him. And when Ron started the engine, the window slid down.
Ellen’s dancing brown eyes and sparkling smile seemed to light up the night. “Good night, Sam,” she called to him as the limo pulled away. “I loved seeing the lions.”
Sam laughed aloud as he watched the taillights of the limo disappear.
To hell with space and time. He was calling her tomorrow.
FIVE
Mom! Telephone!” Ellen’s thirteen-year-old son, Jamie, came sliding into her bedroom, skidding across the highly polished wood floor in his socks, posing like a surfer, holding out the cordless phone.
She took the phone from him, covering the mouthpiece with her hand. “Who is it?”
“Some guy wid a New Yawk accent,” Jamie imitated with comic perfection.
Sam didn’t have that much of an accent. But, she reminded herself, she wasn’t expecting him to call. She didn’t want him to call. “Hello?” she said.
It wasn’t Sam. It was Lydia’s agent, calling with information about a second audition for Monday afternoon. Ellen wrote it all down in an appointment notebook she kept on her desk next to her laptop computer, as Jamie attempted clumsily humorous figure-skating moves, still sliding with his socks in the center of the room.
“Audition?” he asked as she hung up the phone.
“Yep.”
“Who’s it for?”
“Lyd.” Between the three of them, they’d been kept pretty busy, going from one audition to the next. Both of Ellen’s kids had been acting and modeling since Lydia had pointed to the kids on Sesame Street and said that she wanted to do that. Jamie had tagged along to several of her early modeling sessions and had signed on soon after.
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