Where There's Smoke...

by Barbara Mccauley

  When he reached for her, even before his hand touched hers, she shivered.

  “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” He brought her fingers to his mouth. “Sexy.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice was barely audible. “So do you.”

  Lifting one brow, he glanced down at her.

  “You look handsome, I mean,” she said. Then she added, “And sexy.”

  Smiling, he turned his attention back to her hand, lightly brushed his lips over each knuckle. “Thanks.”

  He closed the distance between them by maybe two inches, turned her hand over and pressed his mouth to her palm. A current of electric heat sizzled up her arm, then shot straight down to her toes.

  Her shoes slipped from her hand and landed with a thud.

  “You—” she had to catch her breath when the tip of his tongue touched the most sensitive spot on her palm “—you dance very well, too.”

  He chuckled at that, but did not look up. “I improvised.”

  “I think I made a few enemies tonight.” With Shane still stroking her palm with his tongue, Emily had to concentrate to string together enough words to form a coherent sentence. “There was an elderly woman with blue hair who nearly tackled me when I bid on you.”

  “That’s Fern Griffin, the captain’s mother. She’s got a thing for me.”

  Emily knew that Shane was teasing, but the truth was, what female between the ages of eight and eighty wouldn’t have a thing for him? Emily had watched the faces of the women who’d been bidding on Shane. He’d made every woman laugh when he’d grabbed Doris and danced with her, and every woman sigh when he’d kissed her cheek.

  And right now, Emily thought as Shane moved his lips up her hand to nibble on her wrist, he was turning her insides into liquid heat.

  Had anyone ever done this to her before? she wondered. Made her heart flutter and her stomach turn upside down? She couldn’t imagine that any other man could have made her feel this.

  But whatever her past had been, she knew it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was being here now, with Shane. To her, he would be her first, and the thought aroused her all the more.

  “The driver,” she whispered.

  Sliding a hand around her waist, he pulled her body against his. “I sent him home.”

  “Oh.”

  “If you don’t want me to stay,” he murmured as he lowered his head to her neck, “if you have any doubts, you need to tell me.”

  “I—” She drew in a breath when he nipped just below her ear. “I want you to stay.”

  “Good.” She felt his smile against her throat. “Because I have plans for you, Emily.”

  She slipped her hands up his chest and melted into him. “What plans?”

  “Everything I’ve fantasized since I’ve met you.”

  “Fantasies?” Her heart tripped. “About me?”

  “No, about Doris Finwater.” When she tilted her head back and lifted one brow, he grinned at her. “Of course about you.”

  The realization that he’d been thinking about her that way sent shimmering waves of heat through Emily’s veins.

  “Do you want me to tell you?” His mouth blazed kisses up her neck to her ear. “Or shall I show you?”

  Her breasts grew heavy, her nipples tightened and ached. Every nerve in her body vibrated with need. A burning ache grew between her legs.

  Tell me was her first thought, but she didn’t think she could stand much more. Indeed, she was certain she’d come apart if he kept talking to her in that deep, seductive voice.

  “Show me,” she breathed.

  He brought his mouth to hers, nibbled at the corner, then murmured, “You taste like chocolate.”

  “Godiva,” she managed to say between breaths.

  “Lady Godiva.” He traced her lower lip with the tip of his tongue as he slid his hands down, then he cupped her buttocks and pulled her intimately against him. “But you’re wearing too many clothes, I think.”

  You’re killing me, she wanted to say, but her mind was reeling and the words simply wouldn’t come. The press of his arousal at the junction of her thighs made it impossible to think, excited her beyond anything she could imagine. When he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, she heard the sound of her own moan, felt as if each cell in her body had come gloriously alive.

  Rising on her toes, she moved into him, into the kiss, and met the slow but steady thrust of his tongue with her own. His hands gently squeezed her behind, then moved up her back. Emily heard the quiet rasp of her zipper opening, felt the cool air on her bare skin as the fabric slowly parted. When his fingers touched the undergarment she wore, he stilled.

  “What’s this?” he said against her lips, then lifted his head to gaze down at her.

  “You want me to tell you?” she whispered. “Or show you?”

  One corner of his mouth curved. “Show me.”

  Though her legs were trembling, she stepped back, then slipped the straps of her dress from her shoulders. Silk slid down her body and pooled at her feet.

  Her knees might have given out right then if not for the fierce, raw look of desire that flared in Shane’s eyes and held her captive. At this moment, even if her life depended on it, Emily knew she wouldn’t be able to move.

  With all the blood drained from his head, Shane could only stare at Emily. A black lace teddy cupped her breasts and hugged her slender waist, while an arrow of satin shot straight down to a narrow V between her legs. If his throat hadn’t closed up, he swore he would have swallowed his tongue.

  He couldn’t count the times he’d imagined her like this, her dark eyes glazed with passion, her lips swollen and damp from his kisses. But his fantasies hadn’t even come close to the reality. He wasn’t prepared for the shattering devastation to his senses.

  He let his hungry gaze feast on her, watched the shallow rise and fall of her breasts, the strain of lace against her soft flesh. How trite it seemed to tell her she was beautiful when she was so much more, he thought.

  So he’d show her.

  He reached out, felt her quiver when he slipped a thin black strap off one shoulder, then the other. The heat of her smooth skin under his fingertips, the scent of her, aroused him all the more. He slid his hands down to her waist, kept his gaze locked with hers as he inched upward, then filled his palms with her breasts. Her eyes narrowed and darkened. When he rubbed his thumbs over her hardened nipples, she caught her lower lip between her teeth.

  He dipped his head.

  Her arms slid over his shoulders when his mouth closed over cool lace and hot skin. Her head fell back, and when he suckled the sweet pearled bud, she moaned.

  “Shane…I can’t…” She sucked in a breath when he moved to her other breast. “I have to…”

  He understood, knew exactly what she was trying to say. And he knew if he didn’t get her in a bed soon, he’d take her right here on her glossy hardwood floor.

  For the second time that night, he scooped her up in his arms. “Bedroom,” he rasped.

  “Through the hall, to the right.” Her arms slid around his neck. Her mouth found his neck, and she rained kisses up his jaw.

  Moonlight streamed through the window, shone like a beacon onto the four-poster bed. Even before he let her body slide down his, her hands were busy with the buttons of his shirt. He had to release her to get his tuxedo jacket off, and she took advantage by sliding her hands under his opened shirt, then dropping her mouth to his bare chest.

  “Emily, wait,” he ground out, struggling to catch his breath.

  I can’t wait, she thought, but was too busy, too enthralled with the hard planes and angles of his body to find her voice. I’ve already waited too long for you.

  A lifetime, she was certain.

  His muscles rippled under her fingers while he fought with the cuffs of his shirt and toed off his shoes. She nipped at his hot skin while she unbuttoned his trousers. He tasted like salt and man and desire. When she slid her tongue down
his belly at the same time she tugged down his zipper, he swore, then jerked his shirt off and wrapped his arms around her.

  They tumbled to the bed and rolled.

  His mouth swooped down on hers, his kiss demanding and urgent. She slid her arms over his strong shoulders, raked her nails over his skin, then up over his scalp. Heat coursed through her veins, raced through her body.

  She whimpered when his mouth left hers, then drew in a sharp breath when he made his way down her neck, then moved lower still. He kneaded her swollen flesh with his hands, kissed the hardened tip of each aching breast. When she was certain she could stand no more, he slid one hand down her belly and cupped her.

  “Shane…” Her hands tightened on his head. “Oh, my—”

  He opened the snap between her legs, pushed away the lace, then dipped into the wet heat of her body. She burst into flames.

  “Your pants,” she gasped.

  He stripped off the rest of his clothes, then rose over her, tugged lace and satin up her body, over her head, then tossed it aside as he moved between her legs. She reached for him and surged upward as he drove himself inside her.

  On a gasp, her eyes flew open in shock.

  Shane went very, very still.

  She was a virgin.

  He lifted his head and stared at her in disbelief.

  “Emily, wait, I— Dammit, I hurt you. Just don’t move, okay? Just stay—”

  “You didn’t hurt me.”

  He swore when she arched her hips upward.

  “Don’t do that. Just—”

  “I’m fine, Shane,” she whispered, and thrust her hips upward again, causing him to break out in a sweat. “I’m fine. I’m wonderful.”

  “Emily—”

  “Don’t stop.” She wrapped her arms and legs tightly around him and held him close. “Please, Shane, don’t stop. Not now.”

  Jaw clenched, he groped for even the tiniest bit of control, but then she reared upward again, forcing him to move with her, inside her, and it was impossible to think about anything but the hot, tight fit of her body and the desperate need to mate.

  “Shane, this is… Oh, my—”

  He watched her eyes open in shock as the first shudder rocked through her. Though his own body screamed for release, he held back, reveling in watching her pleasure. She arched upward on a moan, taking him more deeply as the flame burst to life, then swept through her like a firestorm. She writhed under him, completely lost to the pleasure. He felt every tremor, every sharp intake of breath, every wild, frantic beat of her heart.

  Muscles straining, breathing ragged, he stilled until she floated back to him, but then her eyes, still glazed with desire, met his and he began to move again, hard and fast. Arms clutching his shoulders, legs wrapped tightly around his, she moved with him, eagerly met every thrust, until he felt his own climax slam into him. He groaned, a ragged, primitive sound that tore through his senses and resonated in his blood and his brain.

  Spent, he rolled to his side and gathered her close.

  It took several minutes before Emily could find her voice, before she could even move. Eyes closed, she lay in Shane’s arms, her hand splayed on his broad chest. She felt as if she were on his sailboat again, gently gliding over the peaceful sea. She heard the steady, deep thud of his heart against her ear and the sound calmed her own racing heart.

  “Emily,” he said quietly, breaking the stillness. “I’m not sure what to say. I’ve never— I mean, that was the first time that I— Oh, hell.”

  She smiled when he dragged a hand through his hair and swore again. It helped to know that he’d been thrown off balance, too. But she was too happy, feeling too wonderful, to let her mood be dimmed. “Why, Shane,” she said, stroking his chest with her fingertips, “are you trying to tell me that was your first time, too?”

  “Emily, for crying out loud.” On a sigh, he rolled her to her back and gazed down at her. “You know what I mean.”

  She touched his cheek with her hand. “If it will ease your conscience any, I’m just as surprised as you are. Since there were birth control pills in my medicine cabinet, well, I’d sort of assumed that I’d…done this before.” Holding his gaze, she whispered, “Just don’t tell me you’re sorry, Shane. Please don’t tell me that.”

  He covered her hand with his, then turned his lips to her palm. “I’m not sorry. I would have been more careful if I’d known, but I’m definitely not sorry.”

  Relief poured through her. She felt gloriously content and suddenly very curious. “Is it always as wonderful as this?” she asked, still too exhilarated to be embarrassed by such an intimate question.

  He lifted a brow. “Are you looking for an evaluation?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She gasped when he suddenly rolled to his back, bringing her with him to rest on top of his chest. “Miss Barone, I can say unequivocally, without a doubt, that you have achieved a level as close to excellence as humanly possible. Any closer, you’d be calling the paramedics to revive me.”

  She knew he was teasing, but his answer still delighted her. Sliding her leg over his, she pressed her mouth to his chest and tasted the salty dampness still on his skin.

  “So you’re telling me that it doesn’t get any better than that?” she murmured. “That there’s no need to—” she moved one hand down his flat belly, felt his muscles jerk under her touch “—practice?”

  He moaned when her hand slid lower, then drew in a sharp breath when she stroked the hard length of him. His hips moved, then he reached for her shoulders and suddenly she was on her back again.

  “Do me a favor,” he said roughly as he stared down at her. “Just don’t call the paramedics from my station.”

  Emily woke a little while later in a tangle of sheets and man. One of Shane’s legs lay casually over hers and his arm was draped across her waist. After he’d made love to her the second time, she’d fallen asleep on her back, and he’d dozed off on his stomach.

  She’d had no idea making love was so…exerting.

  She glanced over at him, watched the play of moonlight on his handsome face, then slid her gaze down the length of his bare body. He looked like a statue of a Greek god. Muscled arms, chiseled face, powerful legs. And the similarities didn’t end there, she thought, dropping her gaze to a part of his anatomy she couldn’t see at the moment, but now knew quite well.

  Her cheeks actually burned as she wished he’d roll over.

  What a wonderful, incredible lover he’d been. Tender, passionate, spontaneous. The kind of lover women dreamed about, longed for. And tonight he’d been hers.

  She didn’t want to think about—or worry about—tomorrow, or any day after that. Hadn’t she already learned it was impossible to know what tomorrow held? She wanted only to think about this night. She would cherish every moment they’d shared.

  Carefully she slid out from under him, hesitating when he shifted on the bed, then crept out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. Flipping on the light, she moved to the mirror over her sink. Her new hairstyle was a bit askew, her face flushed, her lips still swollen from Shane’s kisses.

  “Emily.” She said her own name out loud, amazed at the familiar sound of her own voice.

  For the first time since her accident, she felt as if she knew the woman staring back at her from the mirror. This is who I am, she thought, touching her fingers to her lips and smiling. She no longer felt like a blank slate. It no longer even mattered that she couldn’t remember her past, or if she would ever remember.

  She felt like a babe who’d just been born, naked and trembling, freed from the confines of nothingness into bright colors and thunderous sounds. It was exciting. It was frightening. It was stimulating.

  She considered slipping back into bed with Shane—no, jumping back into bed with him—but instead she snatched her robe from the back of her bathroom door and headed for the kitchen. They’d missed their dinner reservations and she knew he’d be hungry when he woke. She could have ordere
d something in, but she had a sudden, overwhelming desire to cook. She had no idea what she would make, but instinct had guided her earlier this evening, she thought as she opened her pantry.

  Smiling, she pulled cans and boxes from their shelves and decided to trust instinct again.

  Eight

  Shane woke to the scent of garlic and herbs. He reached for Emily, but the rumpled sheets beside him were cold. Frowning, he raised his head from the pillow and glanced at the clock on the nightstand: 11:40 p.m. He’d only been out about thirty or forty minutes, he realized, then sat on the edge of the bed and dragged a hand through his hair.

  Whatever she was cooking, he hoped she had enough for two.

  He pulled on his trousers and found his way to the kitchen, then leaned against the doorjamb and watched her. Dressed in a short blue robe, she stood at the stove, stirring a bubbling pot of sauce.

  Witch’s brew, he thought, for surely she’d bewitched him tonight. Used her magic to turn him inside out and upside down. What else could possibly explain what had happened to him—to both of them—tonight?

  He thought he should feel some remorse, even a small bit of guilt, that he’d taken her virginity. But he didn’t. The fact was, he felt an almost primitive sense of pleasure that he had been her first lover. That no man before him had touched her the way he had. He’d wanted her, she’d wanted him. They were both adults. Simple enough.

  Only it wasn’t simple, he thought, studying her as she scooped up a spoonful of sauce and tasted. It definitely wasn’t simple.

  And that was what made him most uneasy of all.

  “Smells good.”

  At the sound of his voice she turned and gave him a smile, part shy, part coquette, that made his breath hitch.

  “It’s not exactly L’Espalier,” she said, turning back to the stove, “but I assumed you’d be hungry.”

  “Starving.”

  He pushed away from the doorjamb and moved behind her, then slid his arms around her waist and pulled her close. She leaned back against him and sighed when he pressed his lips to the side of her neck. “You okay?” he asked carefully.