Memories Of Love

by Jenny Schwartz

  “Kiss me. Kiss me.” She was frantic for his mouth which was tantalising her with nips and licks along the line of her jaw. She framed his face and held him steady so she could greedily claim his mouth.

  He growled approval and pushed his hands inside her bra. The straps cut into her shoulders and the pain was spice to the heated pleasure of his calloused palms playing over her nipples.

  It was good, so good.

  “Hold tight.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck as he stepped back from the door. He carried her inside, his body shifting between her thighs with every step.

  “Freakin’ torture.” He kissed her hard.

  Whether punishment or incitement, she didn’t care. She responded recklessly.

  “I could take you on the kitchen bench.”

  She wouldn’t stop him.

  They made it through the kitchen, but he halted shockingly just opposite the open door to the guest room.

  “Ivan.” She kissed him, pleading, not wanting to recognise the stillness in him.

  His mouth set stern and he looked at her.

  She took a shaky breath, not knowing how or why the mood had changed; not wanting to believe it had.

  “You bought a suitcase.”

  “For my new clothes.”

  “Hell damn.” He set her on the floor, a full arms length from him, holding her till she was steady.

  “Ivan?” Her voice was small and broken. It shamed her.

  “I can’t take advantage of you, Rita. You’re here because you lost everything yesterday. You’re vulnerable.” He reached out to touch her face, but she flinched away.

  His hand dropped. “I’m sorry.”

  She slipped by him, into the room, and hugged her arms around herself. “Me, too.”

  Emotion flickered across his face, and was banished. “You need a safe place. Not me being a Neanderthal.”

  “You know what I need, Ivan? My own place.” She shut the door on him.

  Chapter 4

  “I am not vulnerable.” Rita finished smoothing on the all-in-one tinted moisturiser and sunscreen, and whispered her rebellion to the guest room mirror. She refused to accept the accuracy of Ivan’s rejection last night.

  Yes, the trauma of the fire may have broken through the emotional barriers that usually guarded her heart, the ones that kept her from connecting closely with anyone, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t chosen to make love with Ivan. She’d been willing to risk the consequences.

  And now she had all the embarrassment and awkwardness, with no memory of joy.

  Worse, she knew it wasn’t her vulnerability that had stopped Ivan. When he’d said ‘You’re vulnerable’, he’d meant ‘You’re ordinary’. She knew the code. Vulnerable could be accepted. A person could and did grow out of being vulnerable, but the gulf between the elite and the ordinary never vanished.

  Ivan was elite. It wasn’t the extrinsic stuff, that he’d been in the Special Forces or started a successful security business. It was in his nature. He was a leader. Physically, he had power and his reflexes were lethally fast. The elite kept to their own.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” She looped her handbag over her shoulder and took a deep breath. Now she was paying for playing out of her league. She intended to skip breakfast. She’d deal with Ivan in the office, where she had all the props and busy work to hide in. If it proved unbearable, she’d have to resign.

  She really didn’t want to. Most of Tamerlane Security personnel were elite, like Ivan. But they’d become friends. Even if she existed on the fringes of their lives, she felt as if she belonged.

  If she wanted to keep all that, then she had to lock last night away, never to be remembered. Ivan would agree with her.

  “Coffee?” He was waiting for her in the kitchen.

  “I’ll grab a cup at the office.”

  His mouth thinned.

  She placed the security access card for the apartment on the bench.

  He frowned at it, then at her.

  “Thanks for giving me a place to stay.”

  But he cut into her prepared speech. “What, you organised a rental between last night and now?”

  “I have a place to stay.” She’d book a room in a hotel. She returned to the guest room and picked up her suitcase. Facing him for the first time had been hard, but she’d done it.

  He took the case from her, his expression grim. “I’ll carry it to your car.”

  The lift descended in awful silence.

  “About last night,” he began.

  She prayed the lift would travel faster, then cursed its slow-opening doors.

  “It won’t affect your job,” he said.

  She burst out of the doors, her high heels clicking against the cement floor of the car park. “I believe you. You have a rule against fraternisation in the workplace.” Rule a number of people broke, but discreetly. She reckoned Ivan knew that the relationships happened, but turned a blind eye. It was sufficient for him if no one made a song and dance when the relationships crashed and burned. Security was a high intensity, high risk field. It created intense, fleeting relationships. The sort of relationships that would kill her.

  Yeah, she’d been playing out of her league in so many ways. She ought to be glad Ivan had stopped.

  He stowed the case in the boot of her car and walked around to the driver’s door. She’d hurried to the car and was just tucking her legs into the foot well and reaching to close the door. He put a hand on it, holding it open. “The apartment card. Keep it.” He dropped it in her lap. “Sometimes accommodation doesn’t work out. You’re welcome to return. No need to ask.”

  In an awkward, masculine way, he was respecting her pride. Still, she’d sooner eat dirt than re-enter his flat. “Thanks, but it’s probably better if we keep it employer and employee. You were right. Last night I wasn’t thinking clearly and I made a mistake. It’s just lucky we don’t have more to regret.” She tugged at the door and he released it. She slammed it shut.

  He stood and watched as she reversed out of the parking bay.

  She kept her gaze off the rear view mirror as she drove out. The strange interlude was over.

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Ssshh.” Rita attempted the impossible; silencing Sonya. She should never have confided in the other woman. If Sonya hadn’t made that one pithy observation about her and Ivan looking like someone had stunned them both, the truth wouldn’t have tumbled out.

  The problem was that as soon as she spoke to Ivan or went to pass him papers or even looked at him, the memory of how he’d held and kissed her flooded over her and she froze, half aroused, half afraid. She needed time to bury the memory and get her treacherous body under control. Thank goodness Ivan had left for a meeting. But with Sonya perched on the edge of the desk, there was no chance of quiet reflection.

  Now that Sonya had the story, she was relentless. “Rita, Ivan has been panting after you for a year.”

  “Wha-at?” Rita’s chair wobbled as she jerked upright.

  “She’s right.”

  “Caleb.” It was a relief to find an outlet for her uncertain temper. “Could you stop suddenly appearing like a vampire? And shouldn’t you be sorting out Aaron Kai?”

  “Uh huh. Nice try, but no avoiding the issue,” he said.

  When she’d first joined the firm, the former military and police personnel had intimidated her, especially Caleb. Since then, she’d learned to stand her ground. “You shouldn’t eavesdrop.”

  Sonya snorted. Caleb’s specialty was surveillance.

  “Well, not on me.” Rita defended her corner valiantly.

  “Chickie, we’d leave you alone if you weren’t so dumb,” Sonya said.

  Rita’s jaw dropped.

  Sonya was on a roll. “Didn’t you hear me? Ivan is hot for you. He’s been hot for you forever.”

  “No.”

  Sonya silently appealed to Caleb.

  “It’s true,” he said. “Why do you think no
ne of the guys have asked you out?”

  “Because I’m not in your league. You all date models and athletes and—”

  “Oh man.” Caleb slapped a hand down on her desk. “Rita, you’re cute and caring, you make a guy feel good about himself. Any one of the single guys would be proud to date you, me included.”

  She stared.

  “But we all saw that you’re Ivan’s.”

  Sonya’s annoyance switched targets. “Caleb, that is so Neanderthal. A woman is her own being. You could have asked her out. Maybe that would have stirred Ivan into doing something.”

  Caleb scowled at her. “None of us thought he’d take this long. Besides, would you get between Ivan and something he wanted?”

  “Uh. Probably not.”

  They both turned back to Rita.

  She stared blankly from one to the other, trying to process a revolutionary concept. She was who Ivan wanted?

  Caleb’s scowl faded. “Second point, Sonya, we could all see that Rita only had eyes for Ivan.”

  Oh boy. She’d been that obvious?

  “Okay. I’ll give you that. In fact, Rita, you should have done something. A girl doesn’t have to wait for the guy to approach her. You should have given Ivan the green light.”

  “Me?” Rita’s voice squeaked. “I wouldn’t know how.”

  “When a man’s into you, it’s easy,” Sonya said confidently. “I read a magazine article that said men are always interpreting women’s actions as come-ons.”

  “That’s true,” Caleb contributed.

  “But I couldn’t. I mean, what if you were wrong?” Her stomach tied itself in knots.

  “What if we’re right?” Sonya grinned. “And we are. Go for it.”

  “How? What would I do? Aaargh.” She pulled at her hair, reverting to her teenage self. “I’m so not a risk taker.”

  “You look cute when you’re panicked,” Caleb said.

  “Caleb, have you spoken with Gordon Kai?” Ivan’s cold voice broke into the conversation.

  Rita fell off her chair. She hadn’t meant to, but somehow she’d shifted closer and closer to the edge in her agitation, and Ivan’s unexpected appearance literally jolted her.

  He rounded the desk in a flash and picked her up.

  “I’m okay. Only my pride’s hurt.” She struggled to fit her foot back in the shoe that had fallen off, tug down her skirt and get herself out of Ivan’s hold. She managed to get the shoe back on.

  Ivan tugged down her skirt and glared at Caleb.

  “Yeah, I’ve spoken with Kai.” Caleb grinned. “It’s sorted.”

  “Um, Ivan.” But Rita didn’t know how to ask how much of their conversation he’d heard.

  His gaze came back to her face and it was like standing in front of a heat lamp. If she’d been Sonya and Caleb, she’d have faded away. But they weren’t her. Instead, they held their ground, evidently wanting to observe the drama.

  Were they right? Was Ivan ‘hot’ for her?

  Rita touched her tongue to dry lips. “Ivan, Sonya didn’t mean anything by what she said.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What did she say?”

  Her stomach went whoosh. He hadn’t heard.

  “What did you say?” He turned the question on Sonya.

  Sonya shrugged and grinned wider, like the Cheshire Cat. “Girl talk.”

  Ivan’s gaze travelled to Caleb.

  “Don’t look at me,” the other man said. “I don’t listen to girl talk.”

  Rita snorted.

  Sonya choked on a laugh and grabbed Caleb’s arm. “We’re just going. Like I said, go for it,” she added meaningly to Rita.

  Rita blushed.

  Suddenly the outer office was empty.

  “I thought you had a meeting at the Square,” she said inanely.

  “It finished early. The chairman had bad prawns at lunch.”

  “Eww.” Rita avoided Ivan’s gaze while being acutely aware that he still held her arms. Sonya had sounded convincing, so had Caleb, but could Ivan truly be interested in her? Her heart was beating madly in hope and in sheer reaction to his proximity. He smelled good.

  He released her slowly, stepped back and shoved his hands in his pockets. He looked devastating in the well-tailored suit. He also looked broodingly unhappy. Their gazes locked for a long moment, then he turned on his heel and strode into his office.

  Rita remembered to breathe.

  She sunk back into the chair that had so treacherously dumped her minutes before and stared at the door to Ivan’s office. What if she couldn’t trust her own judgement? Sonya and Caleb were paid to evaluate people and their motivations. They thought Ivan was into her. They’d certainly hit bulls-eye with regard to her interest in him.

  What if he had truly wanted her last night?

  It would be just like Ivan to be noble.

  A scary, scary hope bubbled up in her. He hadn’t liked Caleb calling her cute and he hadn’t wanted to let her go when he’d picked her up from the floor.

  He was unhappy. She was unhappy. A hundred butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Two unhappy people could equal a happiness explosion, if the right catalyst was added.

  It was up to her to make things right.

  “Go for it,” she whispered.

  Ivan kicked his chair around, swivelling away from the view he’d been studying so morosely. He was as bad as a hurt dog, hiding away and licking his wounds. It didn’t help to know Rita was just outside the door, as impossibly distant as ever.

  Last night—he clenched his fists. Last night he’d finally let her see some of the darkness in him and instead of running, she’d embraced him. No wonder he’d lost his head and tried to rush her off to bed. If he hadn’t seen her suitcase, that mute reminder that she was planning to leave, he would have taken her—and no nobility about her vulnerability.

  But he didn’t think he could take her to bed, make her his in the most fundamental of ways, and then let her go. It would tear the heart out of him.

  So he’d left her in the guest room, but too late. She was awkward with him now, uneasy. And she had every right to be. He was her boss. He shouldn’t be putting the moves on her.

  He swore, got up and paced out to her desk.

  She wasn’t there. The computer was off, the chair tidily tucked in. He checked the clock. She’d left early without telling him.

  Early he didn’t mind. She worked countless hours of overtime without complaint and she needed to deal with whatever her burned out house threw up for complications. But leaving without telling him…

  Dread clutched his guts and twisted. She could be looking for a new job.

  Screw it. He wasn’t going to do any good, here. He’d go home, change and hit the gym. He had a lot of frustration to work out.

  Chapter 5

  “Don’t hyperventilate.” Rita thought it was good advice, if she could only heed it. She was freshly showered, sweetly smelling of vanilla body lotion and wore the lingerie she’d made herself stop and buy on the dash back to Ivan’s flat.

  If he really wasn’t interested in her, she’d die of embarrassment.

  The heavy wine red satin clung to her breasts, swooped in along her waist and flared over her hips to swirl to the ground in a skirt that had four thigh high slits in it. When she walked, the skirt shifted and bared her thighs; reveal, conceal. It was the most provocative outfit Rita had ever worn. Her nipples were tight under the satin, excited by the thought of her own daring.

  For someone who hated risks, this was the biggest of her life. She walked slowly around Ivan’s living room, trailing her hand along the cool leather of the sofa back and feeling the sleek, smooth wooden flooring under her bare feet.

  The apartment door opened suddenly, catching her unawares. She whirled around, the split skirt of her gown swirling around her.

  Ivan’s gaze cut to her. His head went back, as if from a blow.

  Agonised regret stabbed her, but no guts no glory. She’d absorbed the ethos of Tamerlane S
ecurity. Now she had to live it. ‘Go for it,’ echoed in her mind. She forced herself away from the sofa and walked forward.

  Ivan swung the door shut behind him and watched her come.

  The panels of the satin skirt stroked along her thighs. They were a statement of intent all by themselves, but she also had to give him the words. He needed to know that this was right. It was her choice. “I’m not as vulnerable as you think, Ivan. I shouldn’t have let you stop last night. I want to make love with you.”

  “Yes.” That was all he said, but the intensity in his eyes made up for everything else. He stopped her just shy of his body and ran his hands slowly up her arms.

  She shivered because it felt like the prelude to an erotic claiming, and yet, there was nothing indecent about arms.

  He bent and kissed the pulse beating fast at the base of her throat.

  “I’m hyperventilating.”

  He pulled back just enough to study her face, then he zeroed in on her mouth. “I have a solution.”

  And then she was breathing Ivan. Her panic, her doubts, fell away and there was just the rightness of being with him. He was seriously over-dressed, so she helped him with that. He helped her retrace her steps all the way to the guest room and beyond, into his room. He sat on the bed and positioned her between his thighs. His shirt was long gone.

  He started at her knees and drew his hands up, the satin skirt parting for him. Up and up.

  “No knickers.” He sounded huskily gratified at the discovery.

  She had both hands on his shoulders, trying to keep her legs steady. Otherwise, she’d melt all over him.

  He released her hips and slid his hands up to massage her breasts. “And I know you’re not wearing a bra.” Her nipples were hard points beneath the satin, pressing into his palms. “But let’s check.”

  Her gown vanished and she found herself naked, on her back, in Ivan’s bed.

  Colour darkened over his cheekbones as he studied her. “I’ve imagined you here.” He touched her breasts in a light caress, then moved suddenly, stripping off the last of his clothes.

  He was so stunningly masculine that just looking at him commanded a response. Her back arched fractionally, pushing up her breasts, and her legs moved restlessly, caught between the instinct to welcome him and her innate shyness. She’d fought her shyness to get this far, she wouldn’t give in now. She caught his wrist and pulled him down over her.