“But you were.” And he’d let her be, long after he’d have set anyone else straight or stopped caring. “Mind telling me why?”
She hesitated. “As long as it was about Manny and Dillon, I had an excuse for pushing you away.” Her fingers curled into his shirt. She stretched onto her toes, her mouth just an inch from his. “Instead of pulling you closer the way I’ve wanted to for days.”
Stephen lost himself in her kiss, his fingers threading through her hair. He’d walked away from her yesterday, and ever since he’d felt the strangest sensation.
He’d felt alone.
But not now.
His hands smoothed down her spine. Her arms wound around his neck, then she snuggled closer, so trustingly she could have had anything she wanted.
Her bottom wiggled into his touch. Only then did he realize he was angling her hips against his. He shifted her higher, needing her…and he never let himself need anything but what he could make happen on his own. Just him.
But there was no just him with Kate in his arms.
He picked her up, turned and seated her on the hood of his car. Her legs hugged his hips, under his coat, applying sweet pressure while she deepened their kiss. This was the same woman who’d shied away just a few days ago. Now she was driving him crazy, as if she wanted to crawl inside his body.
He anchored his hands to the base of her head and tipped it back.
“Lissa,” Kate said on a gasp. “She’s—”
“Inside,” he muttered, trailing kisses across her jaw to her ear. “Clothes. Too many clothes.”
He tugged at her jacket’s zipper. Thumbed the top buttons of her sweater free and slid icy fingers beneath the wool and the silk shirt beneath, smiling at her gasp. Then he gasped himself, at the softness of her skin—softer than the silk. He ran his fingers across the lacy edge of her bra, then under, until he was palming her nipple.
“Stephen…” She arched into him, her eyes wide, their green a glittering fire.
She pushed him away but held onto his coat as she stood and found her balance. Then she took his hand and tugged, giggling as they stumbled toward the condo.
He stopped at the sound and pulled her back for another kiss. She giggled again. Grinning like a kid, she yanked him forward.
Inside, her houseguest thankfully nowhere in sight, the January cold no longer whipping around them, he made fast work of her zipper and slid the jacket off her shoulders. The sweater followed. Then he was pressing her against the entryway wall, trapping her arms to her side. The touch of her lips and tongue rocked him, as if he were feeling it all again for the very first time.
This wasn’t just sex. This wasn’t just about taking the edge off. He didn’t want to let Kate go when they were through, the way he’d walked away from every other woman in his life.
For the first time, he wanted more.
More of her…more of them…
“More,” he growled as her hands ran down his chest, gripped his waist, then skimmed lower.
Careful, controlled, hands-off Kate.
“More?” She cupped him, not quite hiding the flicker of vulnerability in her expression. “How much more?”
“You have a houseguest, or you’d already have your answer.”
“Lissa has her own room,” Kate countered. “Looks to me like she’s using it.”
His body tightened at her open invitation. But he had to be sure.
“You have a lot going on already with the Digarros and your brother’s situation,” he said, hesitating.
“And the hospital and my volunteering at the shelter.” She stiffened. “Look, if you’re having second thoughts—”
His hand covered her breast. He gazed down at the nipple pebbling through her bra and the softness of her shirt. His body tightened at her passionate response.
“I want you to be sure, Kate. I want this to be right for you.”
Right for both of them.
She smiled again. The mischievous sparkle in her eyes was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Her soft laugh reached out to him, along with the arms she wrapped around his neck once more.
“Then let’s find out how sure we are, together.”
KATE HAD BEEN TOO exhausted that morning, too distracted, to tidy her bedroom. Then she’d had Lissa and the lasagna to deal with, and worry over Martin’s reaction to their ambush. But as Stephen backed her into her room, and they tripped over the scrubs and shoes she’d climbed out of the night before, she couldn’t have cared less about the uncharacteristic clutter.
The only light was from the bedside lamp she’d left on. Stephen looked even more amazing in shadow than he did everywhere else. She kissed the dimple in his chin and closed her eyes. But the golden-tinged shadows were still there, in her mind. Swirling through her entire body at his touch. Warming her where she hadn’t even realized she was cold.
He wanted more.
And he made her want it, too, no matter how confusing and unsure things would feel in the morning. No matter what they still faced in their race to find Manny and Dillon before anyone else did.
She wanted this moment. She needed to believe she could handle the closeness he was offering.
They stumbled to the bed. When the back of her legs met the mattress, she pulled Stephen down with her, tightening her grip as his body covered hers.
“Gotcha,” she whispered.
He shook his head. Slipped his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt and peeled it up, trapping her arms over her head, holding both wrists with one hand.
“Wanna run that one by me again?” The wicked glint in his eyes made her heart skip. Then his attention dropped to the lace and silk covering her breasts, and her heart forgot to beat at all. “I’ve got you, Kate Rhodes, and it’s entirely possible that I might not let you out of this bed again.”
“What gave you the idea there was anywhere else I wanted to be?”
She curled her legs around his, the same way she had outside. Only this time she had gravity on her side. He fit perfectly against the part of her that was throbbing for attention. His hold on her hands released. He popped the clasp on her bra, slid it free and lowered his mouth to taste.
“Magic.” Stephen pushed away just far enough to drag his dress shirt over his head without unbuttoning it. “You taste like magic.”
Kate helped him with the cuffs that had caught at his wrists, until she could toss the warm cotton away. She ran her hands down his chest, around his sides and then back up the muscles rippling across his back. She nibbled her way to his neck.
“You taste like you have too many clothes on,” she challenged. “Last one naked makes breakfast?”
He shuddered, and not just because she’d whispered the last sentence in his ear. It hadn’t escaped her that he wasn’t the type of guy who typically stuck around long enough for the coffee to brew the next morning.
“Breakfast for two, huh?” He let his gaze roam downward, as if contemplating the pros and cons of her offer.
“Uh-uh.” She slid from beneath him until she was kneeling in the middle of the bed—topless, but still wearing her jeans and socks. “Breakfast for three. I have a houseguest who likes her eggs over easy. I’m scrambled, with a handful of shredded cheese thrown in.”
He rolled to his feet.
“Cheese is going to cost you extra.” His hands hooked in the waist of his pants, just above his belt buckle.
“Um…” Sidetracked by the amazing way he was filling out said pants, she had to shake her head to get her mind back on target. The man was a walking distraction! “Extra? Does that mean you’re conceding defeat?”
“Nope. Just raising the stakes. I’m greedy.”
Promises, promises.
“Breakfast and dinner, then?” she countered.
“Both homemade?”
“Or dinner at a five-star restaurant of the winner’s choosing.”
“Homemade, it is.” He winked. “I’ll bring the wine.”
“On your
mark.”
His stance remained comfortably relaxed.
“Get set.”
She tensed at his mocking grin.
“Go!”
She ripped the button loose on her jeans, and had them and her panties down in a flash. Stephen’s jaw dropped. He grabbed her by the knees and yanked her back to the mattress, pulling the last of his clothes off, their competition completely forgotten.
“I win,” she purred as he caressed her from her calves to her thighs.
He shook his head. Kissed the inside of her knee. She felt his slow, Southern smile all the way to her soul.
“We both win,” he said. “Tonight, we both win.”
“IS THE JUICE fresh-squeezed?” Kate asked as she floated into the kitchen the next morning.
She’d gotten very little sleep for the second night in a row, but she’d never felt better.
“The juice is from the carton you keep in the door of the fridge.” Stephen had pulled on his dress slacks but had left his oxford shirt unbuttoned.
He was using a wire whisk to give a mixing bowl of eggs what-for.
“Let me guess.” She sat and sipped her juice. “Busy, rich lawyers make their own breakfasts these days just to prove that they don’t take their status too seriously.”
He shrugged. “No sense having to get dressed and go out for anything more complicated than coffee. So, I took a few classes and learned the basics.”
Whatever he wanted, Stephen simply set his mind to and got. And last night, he’d set his mind on her. She smiled at the memory.
“Basic smells good.” She inhaled the delicious scent of her victory. Closed her eyes to savor it.
How long had it been since she’d felt this loose? This comfortable with a new day, let alone with a near-stranger making himself at home in her kitchen. Except Stephen hadn’t been a stranger since they’d first met at the hospital. Something deep inside them had connected. Something she hadn’t ever expected to find.
She didn’t want to leave the kitchen—or the moment, which a part of her wasn’t sure she’d be able to hold on to once they walked back into the real world.
“Eat.” He laid a plate in front of her. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”
He’d piled the plate high with eggs and bacon cooked to perfection. And there was plenty remaining for Lissa, who hadn’t made an appearance yet. Kate lifted a fluffy, buttery forkful and saluted her indentured servant before taking a bite.
“You’re as good as your word.” She’d scooped up another mouthful before she’d swallowed the first. “We’ll have to wager more often, at least until my waistline outgrows my wardrobe.”
“I’ll buy you a new wardrobe.” His naughty leer down the neck of her bathrobe, under which he’d insisted she wear nothing, made swallowing her next bite difficult. “Losing to you is a pleasure.”
She covered her snort by sipping her juice. He sat and dove into his own eggs.
“You loathe losing.” She crunched on a strip of bacon.
“Actually, I don’t lose.” He set his fork down and rested his forearms on either side of his plate.
“And that makes this morning…”
“About having you right where I wanted you, without having to ask if I could stay.”
“So, you let me win last night, so you didn’t have to admit to wanting to stick around?” She laid her fork aside. “That’s a shade manipulative, don’t you think?”
“I’m a lawyer.” Stephen’s expression turned distant for the first time since she’d walked up to his car last night. “Exactly what did you think I do for a living?”
She blinked.
“You help people who are being chewed up and spit out by the legal system,” she countered carefully.
“I help myself.” He sat back and folded his arms, demonstrating just how sexy a man in rumpled business attire could look. “Doing what I do for other people—”
“Is all about you?” She clenched the tablecloth.
The real world could have at least waited until after breakfast to make an appearance.
“I’m not some romantic hero,” Stephen warned.
During the night he’d been more generous, more patient, more involved than any man she’d ever been with. Before that, he’d waited for her to work through her confusion over the Digarro case and her brother. He’d given her time to trust him. To trust herself.
What exactly was a hero in his book?
“Do you always tell women that you’re a using son of a bitch over breakfast the morning after?”
“I’m never around for the morning after.”
“Maybe I’ve manipulated you, then.”
“Maybe you should listen to what I’m saying before you go another round with me tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“I want tonight.” He took her hand, held fast when she would have shied away, unsure of his mood. “I want tomorrow morning. Damn it, I want you, Kate, any way I can get you, and I never play to lose. But I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow or next week or next month—”
“Next month? Let me get this straight. You’re a bastard, but I’m going to let you stick around for a month?”
His low opinion of himself, hidden deep beneath the successful veneer of one of the top legal minds in town, translated at some level to a low opinion of her.
Didn’t he get that?
“No. I’m—” he let her go and ran his fingers through his sleep-rumpled hair “—I didn’t—”
“Think I was smart enough to figure out for myself whether I should trust you or not?”
“You’re smarter than I am, Kate, but—”
“But with men, I’m too inexperienced?”
“Not that I could tell last night, no.” There was that leering glance again, the one that made her want to shove reality back out of the kitchen door. “But—”
“Then what exactly is my problem. What makes you think you have to warn me off, so I don’t make the mistake of falling under your spell? I get it. You’re a real person with your own agenda. I mean, you even have selfish motives for the work you do, just like everybody else. What was I thinking!”
Stephen studied his cold plate of perfectly prepared food.
“I don’t do relationships well,” he explained. “My work keeps people at a distance, but I still get to do them some good. Which is a step up from my parents, who spent their trust funds on themselves and didn’t give a shit about anyone else. But, doing the caring, loving thing isn’t my strong suit. Never will be.”
And there it was—the connection she hadn’t been able to put her finger on. The unspoken understanding she’d felt in Stephen even before she’d let herself trust anything he said or did.
“Well, since my father beat the hell out of my mother, when he wasn’t belittling her so he could keep her thinking she was worthless without him,” Kate said, her voice rough, “and since my mother hid the signs of their dysfunctional home life from everyone in town but me, and since I hid the whole thing myself, I guess I have my own reasons for keeping people away.”
Stephen sat straighter in his chair.
“Kate—”
“I don’t have the first clue how to trust my feelings for anyone, either,” she continued. She wasn’t stopping until it was done. “Not even my brother, or the only man who pushed through my crap long enough to get me to marry him. So, I guess that makes me a closed-off, manipulative user, right along with you. Maybe you’re the one who should be careful. Breakfast the morning after, with a serial one-night stand like me?” She tsk-tsked as she stood and walked to the sink to scrape her food down the drain. “Not a wise move, counselor.”
Stephen stepped behind her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, braced the other on the edge of the sink and curled her into his warmth.
“I thought we already established that you’re smarter than I am,” he whispered against the spot on her neck, just below her ear, that he’d discovered was ticklish. “And I’d be
t money you can count on one hand the number of one-night stands you’ve had. Not that I wouldn’t take another night with you any way I could get it.”
He turned her until their bodies aligned. She was close enough to kiss the beard stubble lining his jaw.
“So.” She rubbed her palm across his chest—she’d discovered a few sensitive spots of her own. “You’re as bad a judge of playmates as I am, then?”
“I’m not playing.” His hand covered hers. “And neither are you. But…”
“You’re scared.”
Strong, independent, successful men who could bend anything in their worlds to their will didn’t get scared. But Stephen was.
“Of hurting you, yes.” He pulled her fingers to his lips, kissed them, then let her hand drop to her side.
She lifted it right back to his mouth and began tracing his lips. Her breath caught as he sucked the tip of one finger between his lips.
“Or maybe,” she offered, “you’re trying to scare me away, so you get to control how much this hurts you when it’s over?”
Stephen took a step back.
“Have some personal experience with that tactic?” he asked.
“My ex held out longer than I thought he would,” she admitted. “But the day Robert filed for divorce, I took my first easy breath in years.”
“Because you like getting hurt?”
“Because it was better than waiting around for him to prove me right.”
“About what?”
“That I’m not enough. That the people I’m trying to love will always get hurt, no matter what I do, because I’m just not enough.”
The shocked glimmer in Stephen’s expression softened to understanding. He pulled her head to his shoulder. “You couldn’t be expected to solve your parents’ problems. And it sounds like you did everything you could to protect your brother, no matter how much keeping quiet hurt you.”
“But it wasn’t enough.”
And Martin was still paying the price. They both were.
She melted into Stephen’s strength. Distracting herself, she trailed her lips across the strong column of his throat.
He lifted her chin.
Because of a Boy Page 11
