Cameron’s jaw locked, but he kept quiet, letting her talk.
She drew another breath to fortify herself. “But that’s all it is, all it was meant to be. You didn’t intend for me to spend the night and intrude on your life.”
“Are you done?”
He sounded angry, confusing her more. “Yes.”
He went to the kitchen windowsill and lifted a small package wrapped in silver foil paper and tied with a bright red ribbon. “Everything you just said is bullshit and you know it. I’ve wanted you since the day I met you. And yes, it started out purely sexual, and it’ll always be partly sexual. You turn me on, Asia, no way to deny that when I get a boner just hearing your name. But I like you a lot, too. Hell,” he said, rubbing his neck the way he always did when he was annoyed, “I’m damn near obsessed with you.”
Asia bit her lip, doing her best to keep her eyes off that gaily wrapped gift.
“I want you. It makes me nuts to think about any other guy with you.” He paced away, then back again. “I want you to spend the weekend with me.”
“But… it’s Christmas.”
“That’s right. And if you stay with me, it’ll be the nicest Christmas I’ve ever had.”
“You don’t have any other plans?”
“If I did, I’d change them.” He handed her the gift. “I bought you this. Before we slept together, because even if things hadn’t gotten intimate so soon, I still wanted you to have it.”
She held the gift with fascination. “Why?”
“Because you’re special to me. The way you affect me is special, and the way I feel around you is special. I wanted you to know it.”
“Oh.”
“Well,” he said, once again smiling, although now his smile looked a bit strained. “Open it.”
Sitting back down in the chair, Asia pulled aside the crisp paper. She felt like a child again, filled with anticipation. When she opened the velvet box and saw the bracelet, tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, Cameron.”
“You like it?” he asked anxiously.
“I love it.” She looked up at him, seeing him through a sheen of tears. “It’s absolutely perfect.”
Cameron knelt down in front of her, lifted the bracelet from the box and clasped it around her slender wrist. “You’re perfect. The bracelet is just decoration.”
“Cameron?”
He lifted his gaze to hers, still holding her hand.
“May I spend Christmas with you?”
He sucked in a breath, then let it out with an enormous grin. “You may. You may even spend the entire week with me.”
Giggling with pure happiness, Asia threw her arms around him. “You’re so wonderful.”
He squeezed her tight. “I know you want to take things slow and easy, honey. So I’m not rushing you.” As he spoke, he lifted her in his arms and started back down the hall. “Your ex pulled a number on you, and I’d like to demolish the bastard. But I want you to know I’ll be patient. We can do whatever you want, however you want. You just tell me.
Asia felt ready to burst. “I really do care about you, Cameron.”
He froze, shuddered, then squeezed her tight and hurried the rest of the way to the bed. “That’s a start,” he said, lowering them both to the mattress. “Do you think by New Year’s you might be telling me you love me? Because Asia, I…” He stopped and frowned. “I’m rushing you, aren’t I?”
“You think you love me?” she asked in lieu of giving him an answer. “Is that what you were going to say?”
“I know how I feel.” He untied the belt of the robe and parted it, looking down at her body. “And yes, I love you.” He bent and lazily kissed her breasts. “Hell, I’m crazy nuts about you.” He started kissing his way down her belly, and Asia wasn’t able to say another thing. All she could do was gasp.
* * *
Epilogue
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“A Valentine’s Day engagement.” Becky sighed. “How romantic. ”
Asia smiled in contentment. “I’m so happy. I didn’t know a man like Cameron existed, and now I’ve not only discovered him, I have him for my own.”
Erica gave her a smug grin. “You see how well my plans turn out.”
“What I see,” Asia said, leaning over the lounge table to wag a finger at her two friends, “is that neither of you have fulfilled your end of the bargain.”
Erica laughed. “We were too amused watching things unfold for you. You and Cameron have stolen the show.”
“Uh-huh. I think you both just chickened out.”
Erica said, “No way,” but Becky just looked around, as if seeking escape.
Erica and Asia both caught her hands. “C’mon, Becky,” Asia teased, “you know it’s well past your turn!”
Looking tortured, Becky said, “I don’t know if I can.”
“Trust me.” Erica patted her shoulder. “You can.”
“And you should,” Asia added. “I mean, look how it turned out for me.”
Becky folded her arms on the table and dropped her head. She gave a small groan.
Asia and Erica shared a look. “‘Fess up, Becky,” Asia urged. “You’ve had two months instead of two days to think about it. So let’s hear the big fantasy.”
“I know I’m going to regret this,” came her muffled voice. “But if you both insist…”
“We do!”
She lifted her head, looked around the lounge and leaned forward to whisper into two ears.
“Wow,” Asia said when she’d finished.
“All right!” Erica exclaimed, and lifted a fist in the air.
Cameron showed up just then, forcing the women to stifle their humor. He bent down and planted a kiss on Asia’s mouth. “You want to leave right after work to pick out the ring?”
Erica shook her head. “In a hurry, big boy?”
“Damn right.”
To everyone’s relief, Cameron got along fabulously with both Becky’s timid personality, and Erica’s outrageous boldness.
Asia couldn’t imagine being any happier. Now, if only her two friends could find the same happiness. She eyed Becky, who still blushed with her confessed fantasy. Maybe, she thought, doing some silent plotting, she could give Becky a helping hand. She tugged Cameron to his feet and said good-bye to her friends.
Once they were in the hallway, she said, “How well do you know George Westin?”
“Well enough to know he’s got a reputation with the ladies. Why?”
“I think he may just be perfect.”
Cameron narrowed his eyes. “For what?”
“No, for who.”
“Erica?”
“Ha! They’re both too cocky. They’d kill each other within a minute.” She smoothed her hand over his shoulder, then patted him. “No, I was thinking of Becky.”
Cameron shook his head. “I don’t know, sweetheart. She’s so shy, he’d probably have her for lunch.”
Asia just grinned. There was no one else in the hall, so she put her arms around him, loving him so much it hurt and said, “You, Cameron O’Reilly, haven’t heard Becky’s fantasy. I’m thinking George might get a big surprise.”
Cameron kissed her. “If it’s half as nice as the surprise I got, then he’s one lucky cuss.”
“I love you, Cameron.”
He patted her bottom in fond memory. “I love you, too, Asia. Now and forever.”
~•~
It is Becky’s turn to visit Wild Honey. What is her fantasy?
To find out what happens read
Indulge Me
published in
I Love Bad Boys
by Brava August 2002
* * *
* * *
Something Wild
Shannon McKenna
Chapter One
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There he was again. The Motorcycle Man sped past her for the third time in the last half-hour, shooting her a huge, dazzling grin. Annie Simon’s heart gave a startled
little leap in her chest, and she forced herself not to smile back at him. It took real effort.
He roared down the highway ahead of her like a bullet, drawing her gaze helplessly after him. His dazzling red motorcycle glittered with chrome, his helmet gleamed, his black leather jacket flapped wildly behind him. He was larger than life, bursting with brilliant energy against the leafless winter backdrop of dull browns and grays.
This was the third day in a row that he had followed her. She noticed him for the first time around Charlottesville, Virginia. At first she had figured that he must be going her way by sheer coincidence and was just flirting with her to amuse himself on the road, but she’d been stopping every day for hours to hike in almost every state and national park that she passed, and he never seemed to outdistance her. She didn’t really mind. In fact, the few times she thought she’d shaken him off for good, she’d been surprised at how disappointed she felt—almost angry at him for not trying harder. Then poof, up he popped, flashing her a wild grin so full of rollicking good humor that she couldn’t help laughing back.
She knew she should be alarmed at his persistence, young woman traveling alone, yada yada, but the game was actually giving her a tingle of pleased excitement, and it had been so long since she had felt anything remotely like a pleasant tingle. Lately, her feelings had run more along the lines of dread, exhausted anger, or a crushing sense of impending doom. The little buzz that the Motorcycle Man gave her was a refreshing distraction—as long as he stayed strictly in his place.
Annie had whiled away what would have been many long, depressing hours on the road speculating about him, studying the fascinating details of his bike and his wardrobe—not to mention his powerful, gorgeous body. Three years as a fashion buyer had trained her eye to read the silent language of his wardrobe. She had a feeling that the jacket on his back retailed for over $2,000, depending on the season, and how well things were moving on the floor. And her foster brothers had taught her enough about motorcycles to spot the sleek, sensual lines of an exquisitely preserved vintage Indian. The guy was speeding down the highway on a jewel of a collector’s item that had to be worth at least fifty grand, if not more. Whoever he was, and whatever he did, her Motorcycle Man didn’t spare any expense in outfitting himself. He looked great.
Not that it made any difference what he wore, or what he rode, of course, she reminded herself. From that wild, wicked grin and those broad shoulders right down to the tight, excellent ass and long, muscular legs, the man had trouble written all over him. More trouble Annie did not need. She’d had a lifetime of it. That was why she was running in the first place. But she shouldn’t dwell on the past. She stuck her hand into her beautiful black Prada bag, beloved relic of her days in the world of the gainfully employed, and rummaged until she found the velvet sack of silver dollars. She clutched them hard, trying to ward off the sad, sinking feeling in her belly. “Think lucky thoughts,” she whispered to herself. That bag represented the future. Another chance.
Five years ago, at the callow age of twenty-two, she’d taken a road trip with her friends to the Black Cat Casino in St. Honore, Louisiana, where she hit the jackpot at a dollar machine and won almost two thousand bucks. She’d seized her chance and bolted from her dreary cashier’s job in Payton, Mississippi, straight to New York, the city of adventure. It was scary, in hindsight, to think of how naive she’d been. She should be grateful it hadn’t gone any worse.
Maybe it was superstitious and silly, but the Black Cat was as good a place as any she could think of to petition the gods of chance for one more shot. She wasn’t beaten yet, in spite of the mess with Philip. That little sack was the last drop of her lucky money. She’d kept it safe and secret, a good luck talisman. It might not have brought her much luck lately, but then again, she’d actually managed to get away from Philip in one piece, although without most of her stuff. And Mildred, her rusty, trusty Toyota pickup, by some miracle of duct tape, spit and baling wire, was still roadworthy, bless her faithful mechanical soul.
New York wasn’t the only place in the world to make a life for herself. She would miss the bright lights and the fresh bagels, but on the plus side, she would never have to apologize to anyone for loving country music ever again. She cranked up the volume on her radio and sang lustily along with Pam Tillis, her eyes still helplessly fixed on the sparkling, wind-whipped figure on the road ahead of her.
The Motorcycle Man hung back, letting her pull up alongside him. He gave her a thumbs-up, and made extravagant gestures toward the Food-Gas-Lodging sign ahead of them, just as he’d been doing all day. He was getting bolder. She supposed she should be worried, but her worry supply was all used up. She stared at his bold, laughing grin, savoring the tingling pull of curiosity he gave her; a pull that had nothing to do with his designer clothes or his costly bike. His smile caught her off guard, like a blaze of sunshine piercing unexpectedly through thick clouds. He radiated light and color in all directions. It was incredibly sexy.
Almost tempting enough to make her stop and flirt with him in person, just to see if the gooey, melting feeling that his smile had provoked had any basis in reality.
But going gooey was the last thing she should do, after everything that had happened with Philip. She had to toughen up, fast. She shook her head with a regretful smile, blew him a kiss and mouthed “in your dreams, buddy,” as she accelerated smoothly past him.
The wind whipped Jacob’s shout of frustration into nothing as he pulled onto the exit ramp. He’d decided that today was the day to make direct contact; enough road tag, but the touseled honey-blonde was not complying with his timetable. It was driving him nuts. He was ravenous. Didn’t she ever eat?
He parked his bike and stalked into the restaurant, grumbling as he yanked off the helmet. He was restless and jazzed, and that taunting kiss she’d blown him from the pickup had given him a raging hard-on. Something about the way that luscious pink mouth puckered up just got to him. She seemed to like yanking his chain.
He ordered steak, salad and a baked potato, and pulled the crumpled Kentucky road map out of his pocket to gauge how far out of his way he’d gone in his wild pursuit. Not that he’d really had any destination to begin with. He’d kept his vacation plans deliberately vague, figuring that it would do him good to practice spontaneity. Well, he was practicing it now, with a vengeance.
It had started at a restaurant off I-95, right after Philadelphia. The sight of her walking out of the ladies’ room had hit him like a fist. He found himself staring helplessly at the fit of her jeans, deliciously snug over her round, lush rear. And those cute little nipples, poking out of the tight T-shirt, bouncing and quivering as she moved.
She hadn’t seen him. In fact, she’d noticed barely anything. She’d walked like a woman in a dream. Something about the way she swept those heavy waves of honey-blonde hair out of her pale face was eloquent in its unspoken weariness. She looked tired, rumpled, her big gray eyes haunted and vulnerable. Like she needed someone to cheer her up, make her laugh. Chase those shadows away from her eyes.
He’d left his uneaten food on the table and followed her like a man under a spell. She hadn’t even noticed him until Charlottesville, Virginia. That had been his first victory. Goofing and clowning at sixty miles an hour alongside her truck until a smile budded on that lush, kissable mouth— and then widened to a big, delighted grin. She laughed at him, and he was ecstatic. That was how bad it was.
He knew where she hiked, where she camped, where she stopped to pee, where she got gas. He hadn’t approached her yet, sensing that the moment wasn’t right, but no one else had gotten close to her without him knowing about it, and he was cheerfully prepared to tear any guy who bothered her to pieces. He’d reflected at great length upon the irony of the situation while keeping her pickup in full view. He was acting like the guy her mother had probably warned her about; the guy who couldn’t stop dreaming about how her nipples would taste when he finally peeled off that little shirt and got her settled o
n his lap. How he would ravenously suckle her lush, perfect breasts while she wrapped her arms around his neck and squirmed with pleasure. How that gorgeous honey hair would cascade all around them, tickling his face. How her smoke-colored eyes would glow with excitement when he tumbled her into the bed of the first motel he could find.
All things considered, he couldn’t really blame her for not stopping. But it still drove him nuts.
This compulsion to follow her was unnerving. He stared idly at the list of dessert specials, telling himself to stop worrying, to just go with the flow. Worry was a waste of energy. He was just following his instincts, like he always had. Following his instincts was what had made him a successful man. They’d just never been this strong, that was all. In the past, his instincts had served him dutifully whenever he’d called upon them. He wasn’t used to thrashing helplessly in their grip.
He supposed the situation was funny, in a way. Jacob Kerr, successful architect and entrepreneur, accustomed to calling all the shots, driven out of his mind by one beautiful, mysterious girl who wouldn’t stop and talk to him. It was wild, irrational, but he wasn’t giving up the chase. He just couldn’t.
Thunder rolled, and rain started pouring as the waitress set his steak before him. He scowled out the window, hating the thought of his honey-blonde out there in that rattletrap piece of junk. He’d checked out her vehicle at the campground last night while she was taking her shower. All of her tires were bald.
Worry robbed him of his appetite. He got up and paid for the uneaten food, and stared out at the slashing rain, cursing under his breath. His rain gear was stowed inside the hardcase saddlebags on the back of his bike. And it was insanely stupid to go out into that weather in any vehicle, let alone a motorcycle, the cool, rational part of his brain observed. He hadn’t gotten this far in life by being insanely stupid.
All Through the Night Page 24
