New and…Improved? & Andrew in Excess

by Jill Shalvis

“What the…?”

  She lowered her voice while waving across the room at the wife of a retired general she’d met earlier. “Do you respect me?”

  “What?”

  “I said, do you respect me?”

  “What kind of idiotic question is that to ask in the middle of our reception?”

  “Are you avoiding an answer?”

  “No. Of course, I respect you. I told your parents earlier I’m lucky you’d even consider me.”

  “Well, we don’t have an audience now.” Kat glanced around at the otherwise engaged couples.

  He trailed a finger down her cheek, setting parts farther south aquiver. “I’m very aware of that. I admire how you decide on something and then make it happen.” His grin wreaked havoc with her equilibrium. “Like marrying me.”

  She wanted to let out a whoosh of relief but opted for casual instead. “Okay. That’s good to know.” She started to slip away.

  Andrew blocked her retreat with his arm. “Now, why don’t you tell me what this is all about?”

  “Well, I know you have a tremendous amount of respect for Gloria…”

  “Of course I do. She’s-”

  “I know. Blond, beautiful, brainy and efficient.”

  “Now where did you pick that up? Never mind. Let me guess. Bitsy.”

  “She mentioned it. After I asked.”

  Andrew shook his head. “Kat, don’t you know you can hold your own against any woman?”

  Her knees threatened to buckle at his tender assertion. Her composure suffered more when he twined his fingers through hers, brushing his lips against the back of her hand. “Now, come on, honey. I’ve got a big surprise for you.”

  They’d almost reached the door leading to the kitchen when it opened and a short, stout woman with gray hair bustled through.

  “I was just coming to find you, Mr. Winthrop.” The singsong voice could have belonged to a much younger woman.

  “And we were intent on finding you. Gloria, this is my wife, Kat. Kat, meet Gloria Stuart, my right hand.”

  Kind brown eyes regarded her from wire-framed glasses. “Pleased to meet you Mrs. Winthrop.” Gloria Stuart pumped her hand.

  “Please, call me Kat. And it’s a pleasure to meet you. You did a lovely job on the party. I can see why Andrew thinks so highly of you.”

  Relief swamped her, dismayed her. She shouldn’t care so much that Gloria Stuart was Aunt Bea with a secretarial degree, instead of a Valkyrie. It shouldn’t matter.

  But it did.

  “KAT, I NEED YOUR HELP.”

  Anxiety deepened the blue of her eyes. “What’s the matter?”

  Andrew turned his head carefully, wincing at the white-hot pain the simple movement sent shooting up his neck. “It’s my neck. I turned wrong a minute ago and it feels the same as it did the other day, only worse.”

  Asking for help didn’t come easy to Andrew. He’d learned early on to make his own decisions, his own opportunities. But with Kat it felt different. It felt right.

  “Sure. Let me see if I can help. Why don’t we go over there?” She indicated the alcove with velveteen drapes obscuring the recessed area. Her glance swept the dancing couples, the conversation clusters scattered throughout the room. “Otherwise we’re likely to cause a stir if I give you a rubdown here.”

  Andrew also scanned the crowd, easing his entire body around without turning his neck. “Our fathers are competing to see who can outnetwork the other one, and our guests are flattered at having the heads of the best two law firms in the city vying for their attention. Probably no one would even notice, but let’s go over there just to be safe.”

  Right! As if sharing a small, darkened space with Kat, her magical fingers touching him, constituted safe.

  He slipped into the curtained recess behind Kat, his body tightening as he anticipated her small hands moving over him. The sound of their shallow breathing filled the tiny nook. Her womanly scent wove around him, enveloped him.

  Andrew pulled the curtain behind them while Kat unfolded a metal chair leaning against the wall. “Here. Have a seat.” The breathless tremor in her voice indicated she shared his awareness of the tension flowing between them.

  Andrew plopped into the chair. Probably the only damn thing wrong with his neck was the stress of not giving in to the craving for his wife that grew every day.

  Kat moved to stand behind him and tripped, grasping at the lectern crammed next to them to catch herself.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, reaching out to steady her with a hand at her waist.

  “I’m fine.” She wedged between the back of the chair and the wall. His head fit neatly in the valley of her silk-covered breasts. Exquisite torture.

  “Do you have enough room?” He rasped.

  “It’s sort of tight, but I can still use my hands.” Her touch burned through his clothing. She began to work on his muscle.

  “Mmm, can you move a little to the right?” Her fingers were truly magic. He groaned his relief. “Yeah, that’s better.”

  “I don’t know how much I can take care of here.”

  “Whatever you can do. Right now it’s so stiff it hurts, but it’s already feeling better. If you can just relieve it a little now.”

  Something niggled at Andrew, hovered on the periphery of his consciousness, but with his senses so befuddled by Kat, he brushed it away.

  “Oh, that’s it. That feels good.”

  “It’s not too hard? I don’t want to go too deep.” She eased off the muscle a little.

  “No, you could even go a little harder.”

  The problem was she was too darned short. Slipping off her shoes, she sought a foothold on the metal folding chair.

  “If I could just get on top of you a little more.”

  She grunted slightly as she hoisted herself up. She could really work those muscles in his neck now.

  “That feels better to me. What about you?”

  Her fingers pressed deeper into the muscle, her palm kneaded. “Mmm, that’s much better. I don’t think you’ll have to touch it when we get home. It’s not even stiff anymore.”

  “Andrew? Kat?” Bitsy’s disembodied voice called from the other side of the curtain.

  Kat’s hands stilled.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not sure, uh, exactly what you two are up to in there, but I thought you needed to know you’re on the PA system.”

  “The PA system?” Kat echoed.

  Jumping up, Andrew bent over the lectern, a microphone attached to it. A red light glowed on the underside, indicating the PA system was indeed turned on. It must have happened when Kat stumbled against it. He felt along the flexible stem of the microphone dangling over the front of the lectern and pressed the button. The red light clicked off.

  Dead silence reigned. No music. No muted conversation. No clink of silverware and glasses. Nothing.

  “Wireless remote microphone.”

  Snatches of remembered conversation floated between them…let me get on top…can I go deeper…it’s not stiff anymore.

  “This is bad. This is not good.” Kat croaked, still atop her chair, wedged between the wall and the lectern.

  Andrew rubbed his brow. “It could’ve been worse. We could’ve said something incriminating about our agreement. God knows what we could’ve said about our parents.”

  He mentally replayed the last few minutes of conversation.

  “Instead, three hundred people think they just heard us…”

  “Yes. I know what they think.”

  Reaching for a handful of velvet drapery, he checked with Kat. “Ready?”

  “I STILL SAY YOUR MOTHER falling down in a faint was overkill!” Kat kicked off her high-heeled pumps at the kitchen door and flexed her toes in relief.

  “Claudia offered smelling salts and condolences.” Andrew shrugged out of his jacket.

  “I personally thought that was uncalled-for.” Kat rummaged through the freezer until she snagged a virgin carton of Chu
nky Monkey. “So, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate this evening?”

  Andrew loosened the knot of his silk tie, his long fingers coaxing the folds of the pliant material. Kat quelled a wolf whistle and silently encouraged him to continue disrobing. Her hormones were on a feeding frenzy.

  “Definitely a ten for sheer entertainment value. I don’t think any of our guests were bored. God knows what they’ll expect at the Christmas party.”

  Christmas. Five months. By that time she should be pregnant and he should be a full partner. “When can you expect your partnership?” She rooted around for a walnut.

  “I’ve got a meeting scheduled next week to discuss it. Your eating habits really are deplorable.”

  Kat grinned at his insult. A week ago she would have been affronted. Tonight she was merely encouraged. Somewhere beneath his vanilla preference beat the heart of a Chunky Monkey man.

  She savored her bite before responding. “Dairy and fruit. Two of the four food groups.”

  “Kat, there are six food groups.”

  “Only four are essentials. Dairy-preferably ice cream. Fruit-preferably in ice cream. Protein-peanut M &M’s. And chocolate.”

  Andrew leaned across the tile-topped island, his warm breath belying his cool exterior. “Darling, I hate to break it to you, but chocolate does not qualify as a food group.”

  Even the faint sarcasm tinging his “darling” couldn’t quell her shiver of delight at his endearment. “It’s all a matter of perspective.”

  The click of doggie toenails on the tile floor heralded Toto’s arrival. Ignoring Kat, he pranced over to Andrew. Kat cast a baleful eye on the pair. “So, I guess I’m chopped liver now, eh, Toto?” Actually, she couldn’t much blame the little traitor. She’d had some powerful urges to fall at Andrew’s feet more than once in the past week.

  Toto whimpered at the back door. Andrew opened the door for Toto and turned to face her, lines of tension etched across his forehead.

  Kat scooped a bite of ice cream. “It’s good to be home.”

  His cool regard searched her face. “Is that how you feel? Like this is home?” Kat thought she detected a hint of longing in his smooth voice.

  “Yes.” She hadn’t realized it until that moment, and the truth surprised her. “It does feel like home here.”

  She had no idea whether her admission appalled or delighted him. If it delighted, he excelled at hiding it.

  “You don’t miss your condominium?”

  “Not really. It’s nice to mess around in the potting shed. And Toto and I both enjoy Anton’s and Mrs. Fitzwillie’s company.”

  A flash of loneliness in the depths of his gray eyes transformed him from a successful, confident man to a small boy no one had made time for. Then he thrust his hands into his pockets and turned to contemplate the night through the glass door.

  “Good, I’m glad.”

  Kat didn’t stop to consider the ramifications of her actions. Instead she responded to his bleak expression. She tossed the carton of ice cream onto the island. Nothing seemed as essential as her husband at that moment. Closing the distance between them, she wrapped her arms around him, hugging the solid wall of his back, inhaling his scent. She felt the loneliness cloaking him as surely as she felt his tight muscles beneath her cheek, echoing her own soul-deep loneliness. God knows the price of honesty, but she couldn’t run any longer from whatever simmered between them.

  “And you. Toto and I have grown accustomed to you. We enjoy your company. Late suppers at twilight. Back rubs in the dark.”

  His heartbeat thundered against her cheek; his harsh breathing, loud in the silence, broken only by the hum of the refrigerator. Slowly he turned to face her, her arms still wrapped around him, bringing them into intimate contact.

  Kat tilted back her head to search the gray morass of his eyes, but he’d effectively shuttered whatever he felt. His hand drifted along her jaw to tangle in her hair, leaving her trembling in the wake of his caress. He lowered his head until the hard line of his mouth hovered above hers.

  “And what happens when you leave, Kat? Because you will. We both know it.” The warm intoxication of his breath tickled against her skin as the harsh stubble of his beard scraped, mirroring the dichotomy within her. She felt like shouting for joy and crying from melancholy, all at the same time. Dammit to hell, she’d made the deal to leave, but she wasn’t so sure of that path now.

  “I don’t know anymore,” she whispered against his lips. “Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero.” She pushed past his cool, crisp shirt, not content until she contacted the warm flesh that was Andrew.

  “Seize the day, trust the least possible to the future,” he translated as his hand tightened in her curls and the other explored the frantic pulse at the base of her throat. “I don’t think either one of us can do that, since the future is why we’re here.” His eyes glittered with a hunger that defied further suppression. “But I fully intend to seize the moment, because if I don’t kiss you right now, I think I might die.”

  The rough want texturing cool, calculating Andrew’s voice excited her. She flicked at the corner of his mouth with her tongue, savoring the taste of his skin. “That won’t do at all-” she no longer knew where her breath ended and his began “-since you’ve yet to make partner.”

  “Contrary to your book, a good lawyer’s a terrible thing to waste,” he murmured before his lips spanned the millimeter separating them, effectively ending further coherent thought.

  ANDREW DRAGGED HIS MOUTH away from the luscious fullness of Kat’s as they cleared the bedroom door. “I have one request.”

  Kat ripped away the few remaining buttons she hadn’t conquered as they’d kissed their way from kitchen to bedroom. Pushing aside the starched fabric, her small hands feathered his bare skin, further intoxicating him. He felt drunk from the taste and feel of her.

  “Yes?” Her husky purr brought to mind any number of additional requests. Her fingernail scraped against the hardened nub of his male nipple, the sensation arrowing straight to his groin.

  “The green T-shirt. Put on that green T-shirt.”

  Her hand stilled its exploration. “The lime-green one?”

  “The one you’ve worn every night for the past week.”

  Despite her evident uncertainty, she walked to the bathroom. “The green?”

  He enjoyed the alien surge of reckless abandon invading him, compelling him to make love to his wife for no good reason except driving, mind-stupefying want. “The green.”

  She closed the door between them and he quelled his impatience. He knew he should seek out and don his customary detachment. Like a man tossing back one too many drinks, he knew he’d regret his glib indulgence in the morning.

  Kat emerged draped in the enormous, hideous T-shirt.

  What the hell. He was destined for a Kat Winthrop hangover.

  He rounded the bed in answer to the question in her eyes, advancing until her erect nipples brushed against his bare chest. Taking her hand in his, he moved slowly until her palm rested full measure against his straining erection. “I want you to know the effect your green T-shirt has on me.”

  Her eyes widened once again as she cupped his obviously undiminished arousal. Her curves arched into him in full appreciation. “Oh, my.”

  He slid his hands under the cotton shirt, impatient for the silk of her thighs and the rounded curve of her fanny that had kept him up so many nights-literally. He’d had any number of beautiful women and none had ever threatened his control like his wife.

  His entire life had been one ongoing exercise in emotional restraint. Intellectually, he knew Kat was a means to an end. Emotionally, he felt she might be the meaning to all ends. And physically, he planned to immerse himself in her silken warmth until he satisfied her beyond reason.

  KAT WRAPPED HER LEG around Andrew’s well-formed thigh and sighed from the pure bliss of sexual satisfaction. She reached into the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out a package of ch
ocolate-covered raisins.

  “Exquisite. Extraordinary,” she breathed, sinking back against the pillows, mired in a delicious languor.

  Andrew arched a lazy, relaxed brow as she tugged open the cellophane candy wrapper. “Good chocolate?”

  She curled her foot against the back of his knee, popping a raisin into her mouth. “The chocolate’s okay. The…that…us…just now.” She stumbled around her explanation. What they’d just experienced went beyond great sex. Andrew, with his tenderness and enthusiasm, had restored her feminine self-confidence that Nick had eroded throughout their marriage and finally stripped with his defection. And this time there’d been an emotional honesty between them. Unlike their previous lovemaking, there’d been no hiding behind ovulation and sperm counts.

  A queer jolt flip-flopped inside her at Andrew’s smug grin. “Don’t you know it’s considered bad form to comment on performance?”

  His relaxed teasing was heady stuff. She nibbled at the chocolate shell coating on the candy until it cracked. The sweet richness melted against her tongue. She and Andrew had been honest with each other from the beginning. Their truthfulness was one of the exhilarating components of their lovemaking.

  “I’d say it’s bad form to let such a spectacular performance pass without proper accolade.” The last word slipped out on a breathless note as Andrew traced a circle on the slight mound of her belly.

  “It was an honor to rise to the occasion.” A slight shifting of the sheet indicated a second occasion in the making. His hand traveled up to trek maddeningly against the soft underside of her breast. “Of course, I did have sublime inspiration.”

  The dusky tips of her breasts tightened in response to the swift, slick heat brought on by his words and his touch. Kat arched against his hand. “Sublime?”

  His tongue teased the corner of her mouth. “Absolutely sublime.”

  She tossed the empty candy wrapper over the side of the bed and laid claim to his mouth hovering above hers. If she’d just defined sublime, she was ready to redefine it.

  He withdrew his mouth and faced her with awe. “You ate all the candy, didn’t you?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She ever so gently commandeered him onto his back. With all his beautiful, male splendor stretched out before her, she kneeled over him, reveling in his visual caress. She tasted the sweat-slicked skin of his stomach as her hand explored his well-muscled thigh. Her voice thickened to a husky murmur as her hand drifted upward and her mouth moved to meet it. “I’m a woman given to indulging in excess.”