He didn’t know why this woman affected him the way she did, but he was apparently helpless to stop it. He hadn’t wanted this, hadn’t been looking for it, but this was the hand he’d been dealt, and by God he was going to play it.
His palm settled on the small of her back, urging her closer, deepening their kiss, mating his tongue with hers. She tasted like sugar and cinnamon and smelled like flowers, a combination that made his head spin. He untangled his hand from her hair and cupped the soft fullness of her breast.
A tiny kernel of sense penetrated the steamy haze of passion engulfing him, reminding him they were in the parking lot. With an effort that damn near killed him, he ended the kiss. Leaned his forehead against hers. Fought to catch his breath. His heart pounded so hard he wondered if he really was having a heart attack. Thank God it was nearly dark and no one was around. He was in no condition to make apologies to his neighbors or give explanations to an arresting officer. He had to get off this bike, out of this parking lot, and into the privacy of his condo before he exploded. He was so hard he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to walk again.
When he lifted his head, he groaned at the sight of her. She looked dazed and aroused and sexy as hell. Her hair was a mess thanks to the combination of the helmet and his plundering hands. Her lips were moist and swollen from his kisses. A reddish abrasion marked her neck where his stubble had rubbed her.
The tip of her tongue peeked out to wet her lips. “Wow,” she whispered. She eased herself away from him and slid off the bike on legs that were clearly unsteady. Chris made no move to stop her. Indeed, he decided it was best that she move away from him before he simply let nature take its course right here in the parking lot.
Drawing a deep breath, he gripped the handlebars and forced himself to calm down. Whatever had just possessed him, he was pleading temporary insanity. At the moment he wasn’t sure if he wanted to drag her off somewhere private and make love to her until they both passed out, or run away from her and whatever potent spell she’d cast on him as fast as his shaky legs could carry him.
Havoc. That’s what this woman wreaked. Havoc. With his senses, his mind, his body. He’d only met her a week ago, and his life was turned upside down. A week ago he’d wanted nothing more than his bachelor freedom. Now he wanted Melanie. And nothing else.
She touched his arm. “You’re a million miles away. You okay?”
He tried to smile and failed. He wanted to say he was fine, but that would have been an outright lie.
“To be perfectly honest,” he said, plunging unsteady fingers through his hair, “I’m a bit shaken.”
“I know what you mean.” She wrapped her arms around herself. He knew she couldn’t be cold. It had to be two hundred degrees outside. “I’m glad you had the presence of mind to stop. Time and place and all that jazz.”
“Yeah, well, it damn near killed me. But I figured if the bike fell on us that would hurt more. And, as you said, time and place.”
She nodded. “Right. And speaking of place… ” Her words trailed off and she frowned. “Where are we?”
“My place.” Feeling once again in control, he locked the bike, set the kickstand then swung his leg over the leather seat. “I hope you’re hungry.” At her blank stare he added, “I’m making dinner.”
“You’re cooking me dinner?”
He snagged her hand and led her toward his front door. “That a problem?”
He actually heard her gulp. Good to know she wasn’t calm while he was like Elvis— all shook up.
“No problem,” she said. “I’m just surprised. What’s on the menu?”
“Steak, potatoes, salad. Real bachelor-guy stuff.”
“I thought bachelor-guy stuff was moldy bologna, stale potato chips, and beer.”
“That was last night. Tonight, we feast.” He unlocked his door and pushed it open with a flourish. “Welcome to my humble abode. I haven’t had much time or inclination to decorate, but all the essentials are covered.”
“Essentials?” she asked, craning her neck as she stepped into the foyer.
“Beer in the fridge, towels in the bathroom, gym equipment in the dining room, electronics and recliner in the den.” He led her into the den and indicated a tan leather sectional. “Make yourself at home. That’s the most comfortable sofa on earth. I’ll get us some drinks and fire up the grill. Be right back.” Before heading into the kitchen, he flicked on the stereo. The smooth sounds of Jason Mraz played softly through the speakers.
Melanie took advantage of his absence to look around. The room was spacious, with one wall dominated by a stone fireplace and another with a series of sliding doors that led onto a roomy deck. Soft track lighting highlighted the gleaming hardwood floors. She wandered past a whitewashed oak entertainment center chock full of sleek, complicated-looking stereo equipment and a huge flat screen TV. Built-in bookcases flanked the fireplace, and Melanie perused his selection of books. Lots of accounting texts. The latest Grisham novel alongside a pictorial history of New York City. Several volumes concerning cars and motorcycles, and, most surprising, a book of poetry.
Several framed photos of his family sat on the shelves. One photo in particular caught her attention. She picked it up and studied a teenage Chris standing next to a very handsome man who looked exactly like him. They grinned identical smiles into the camera.
“That’s my dad,” he said, entering the room. He set two drinks down on the glass coffee table. “It’s my favorite picture. My mom took it just a week before he died.”
Melanie’s heart squeezed at the sad look in his eyes as he gazed at the photo. “I’m sorry.”
His face cleared and a half smile touched his lips. “Yeah. Me, too. He was a great guy.”
After she set the photo back on the shelf, Chris led her to the sofa. Once they were seated he handed her a drink.
She sniffed it and her eyes fogged up. “Yikes. What is this?”
“It’s the best vodka martini you’ll ever have.”
“Martini?”
“I seem to recall you saying you wanted to have one before you died.”
“This may come as a shock to you, but I’m not planning to kick the bucket anytime soon.”
“No time like the present,” he said, clinking the edge of his skinny, triangular-shaped glass to hers. “Try it.”
She took a tentative sip. The alcohol was icy cold and powerfully potent.
“Well?” he asked.
“I like it. I imagine it’s what freezing-cold lighter fluid tastes like.”
He laughed. “You can no longer say you’ve never tried a martini.” He leaned back and stretched out his Levis-clad legs. “I thought we’d start on the other stuff tomorrow.”
“What other stuff?”
“Canoeing. Tennis. Cooking lessons. Baking.” He shot her an exaggerated leer. “Skinny-dipping.”
“Whoa,” she said, alarmed by the hormonal chaos his words started. Skinny-dipping meant Chris naked, and she’d already vowed not to say those two words in the same sentence. The mere thought of him naked made her toss back a hefty swig of her drink. “Those are lifetime goals. If I knock them all off in one weekend, what will I have to live for?”
He leaned forward and dropped a warm, teasing, heart-accelerating kiss on her lips. “I’m sure we can come up with something.”
Before Melanie could jolt her vocal chords into replying, he stood and said, “The steaks need to go on the grill. Wanna join me?”
“Sure.” She followed him into the kitchen, and raised her brows. This was definitely not the month-old-linguine-encrusted room she’d envisioned. Cherry wood cabinets complimented the maroon-veined, cream granite countertop and terracotta ceramic tile floor. A round, glass-top table took up the corner eating nook, and sliding doors led to the deck, where a gas grill gleamed in the moonlight.
“Very nice,” Melanie remarked, turning around in a circle. “Very manly. And clean, too. I like it.”
“Thanks. It’s a lot
cleaner since Mark moved out. He could wreck a room in ten seconds flat.”
Melanie nodded, imagining that living with a college-aged sibling hadn’t equaled Neatness All Around. “What can I do to help?”
“Table needs to be set.”
“I’m on it.”
“Dishes are in the upper left cabinet. I’ll get the steaks.”
Melanie gathered plates and cutlery, all the while sneaking peeks of Chris manning the grill. Good grief, the man looked all kinds of yummy wielding tongs and turning foil-wrapped potatoes. So good she completely lost track of what she was doing and missed the table when she set down a knife. It fell to the floor with a loud clatter.
“Everything okay in there?” Chris called through the screen door.
“Yup.” Except that you’re the Most Distracting Man on the Planet. Jeez— that knife could have amputated her toe. He was distracting and a foot hazard.
Twenty minutes later Melanie sat across from him in the breakfast nook. When she eyed her steak with trepidation, Chris laughed. “You’re not about to be poisoned,” he promised. “Steak is the only thing I know how to cook, and after lots of practice, I’m good at it.”
Melanie sampled a bite, then smiled. “This is excellent.”
“Coming from a gourmet cook, I’m flattered, but the note of surprise in your voice is a bit deflating.”
“I’m not surprised. Well, maybe a little,” she conceded. “I guess I had a stereotypical view of bachelors— can’t cook, live in green fungus-filled squalor, spray Lysol on dirty clothes rather than do the laundry.” She waved her fork around. “I must admit, I’m impressed.”
“Wait ‘til you taste dessert.”
Melanie looked at him and almost choked on her potato. She wasn’t sure what dessert was, but based on that I-wanna-gobble-you-up look in his eyes, she had a feeling it was going to involve more than a simple slice of pie. And that she would love it. She gulped down the rest of her drink and held out her glass for another.
After dinner they sat on the deck, sharing a cushiony blue-and-white striped patio loveseat. Melanie leaned her head back and sipped her third martini. By the time she was halfway finished with it she realized that those suckers tasted pretty damn good— in fact, they were the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted.
Of course, they were kinda strong, a fact that came to her attention when Chris asked her a question. She turned her head to look at him and noticed her vision arrived several seconds later.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “You okay?”
She fought a powerful urge to giggle. “Certainly.”
Leaning over, he peered at her in the darkness. “Uh-oh. That third martini was probably not a good idea.”
“Nonsense. I can hold my liquor as well as you.”
“I’ve only had one.”
She glared at him. “One?”
“I’m driving,” he said in a mild tone.
“You know, that’s one of the things I like about you,” she said, slapping her palm against his thigh. “You’re very responsible.”
He took her hand and slowly entwined their fingers. “I’m glad to hear there are things about me you like, ‘cause there’s a whole lot I like about you.”
The feel of his long, strong fingers wrapped around hers, combined with the heat in his eyes made her tingle all over. “Really? Like what?”
“Like… everything. Your smile, your laugh, your sense of humor. You’re smart, beautiful, funny, kind, good to your grandmother, and you make the best cookies I’ve ever eaten.” He lifted her hand to his beautiful mouth and traced his tongue down the center of her palm. Holy Spine Melter. She almost slithered bonelessly off the chair in response.
“Not to mention,” he continued in a husky voice, “that you’re sexy as hell.”
Wow, wow, holy cow. Melanie finished off her icy drink with a long, deep glug, hoping to cool the fire his words had lit. One more compliment like that and she was going to go up in a puff of smoke. And speaking of smoke… it was hot out here!
“Well, I’m glad you think so,” she said, enunciating her words carefully, because somehow her tongue suddenly felt sort of thick. “‘Cause as I said, there’s a whole big bunch of stuff I like about you.”
He brushed his mouth across her palm. “I’m listening.”
Melanie stared at him, her head swimming. Jeez, it was seriously hot. Didn’t he have air-conditioning? Oh, they were outside.
“I uh, like your smile,” she said. “The way you treat your family. The way you treat Nana.” He brushed his lips against the sensitive inside of her wrist, shooting tingles all the way up to her scalp. “And, ah, the way you treat me.”
He drew her index finger into the warm silk of his mouth and Melanie almost swooned. “I, umm, I like that, too.” She rested her head on the cushion. “Whew! Is it hot out here, or is it just me?”
He took her empty glass and set it on the deck, then leaned forward until his lips touched her ear. “It’s definitely not just you. Let’s go inside.”
Standing, he held out his hand and pulled her to her feet.
A giggle erupted from her. “Holy smokes. Who’s moving the floor?”
Chris wrapped a strong arm around her waist and led her through the sliding glass doors. Just as they entered the kitchen, Melanie stumbled. She clung to his shoulders and said, “Whoopsie-doo! Hey, I left something outside.”
“What’s that?”
“My knees.” Holding on to him, she shook one leg, then the other. “My knees are gone.” She touched her face. “My eyebrows, too.”
“Oh, boy. That third martini was definitely a mistake.”
“Nonsense. I feel swell. In a numb, tingly sort of way. I’m not sure about the numb, but the tingly is definitely all your fault.”
Feeling wonderfully free and uninhibited, and unable to remember why she shouldn’t, Melanie stood on tiptoe and kissed his neck. “Yum. You smell good.” She pressed herself against him, running a series of tiny kisses up his jaw. “Would you, by any chance, be dessert?”
A choking sound came from his throat. “Melanie… “
She gently bit his earlobe. “Hmmmm?”
“Let’s get you in the car. I think I’d better take you home.”
Home? No, she didn’t want to go home. She wanted to stay right here. Where they could get comfortable and he could put out the fire he’d started inside her.
But if he wanted to go to her place, that was okay. Nana would be out all night with Bernie.
Too languid to argue, Melanie gathered her purse and let Chris lead her to the Mercedes. She spent the fifteen-minute drive to her house in a hazy daydream, imagining making love to Chris.
She wanted him. There was no point in denying it any longer. It had been so long since she’d wanted a man… since a man had wanted her. She’d fought this attraction, but she was ready to admit defeat.
Without warning, an idea popped into her mind with such clarity, she imagined a light bulb bursting to life above her head. Since she didn’t want a relationship, she’d just use him for sex!
Her heart could stay in another room altogether. What a perfect plan! Why hadn’t she thought of that in the first place? He wasn’t interested in a long-term relationship, so as long as she remembered the rules— no strings, no commitments, no emotional attachments— she wouldn’t risk a broken heart. They’d just enjoy hot, feverish sex.
Was she a genius or what?
After parking in front of her house, he said, “C’mon, Miss Martini. We’re home.” He walked her to the porch, his arm wrapped firmly around her waist— good thing, too, because her legs were all kinds of wobbly. By the time they stood in front of the door, her heart was pounding in anticipation. If he didn’t kiss her in the next ten seconds, she was going to jump him.
“Do you have your key?” he asked in an amused tone.
“Key? Of course I have my key.” She stared at him, waiting for him to kiss her. Nothing.
A s
mile quirked his lips. “Do you need help finding it?”
“Finding what?”
“Your key.”
“Shertainly not.” Melanie dug around in her purse and came up with the key. “Ta-da!”
Chris took it and opened the door. The moment they stepped into the darkened foyer, Melanie turned, pushed the door closed, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Are you going to kiss me, or what?”
A strangled sound passed his lips. “I’m going home. Now. While I still can.”
She tried to pull his Polo shirt from his jeans and her fingers— which felt both huge and numb— only grabbed air. “Whoa, that shirt is a slippery sittle lucker— I mean little sucker!” She tried again and managed to wrangle one hand under his shirt. “I don’t want you to leave. I want your hands on me. Mine on you. I want to make love with you.”
Groaning, he tunneled his fingers through her hair and looked into her eyes. “Melanie. You’re killing me.” He dropped his head until their foreheads touched. “This is so ironic. You’ve finally said the words I’ve wanted to hear, and you probably won’t remember saying them in the morning.”
Melanie leaned back and glared at him. “Are you insinuating that I’m tipsy?”
“Does the expression ‘three sheets to the wind’ mean anything to you?”
“I am not three sheets to the wind.”
“You’re right. You’re four sheets to the wind. Completely snookered.”
Insulted, she drew herself up. “I’ve never been snookered in my life.” A sudden wave of dizziness washed over her. “Snockered, maybe. Snookered never.”
“Oh, yeah? How are your knees?”
She concentrated for a moment “Missing in action.”
“Eyebrows?”
“Gone.” She hiccuped. “But not forgotten.”
He sighed and cupped her face between his hands. “Listen to me, Melanie. When we make love, I want you to remember every single second. I want you completely aware every time I touch you. Everywhere I touch you. As much as I’m literally aching to stay here, I can’t. Tonight is not the night.”
Melanie stared at him— both of him— and frowned. “So… you’re leaving.”
Good Guy Heroes Boxed Set Page 110
