by Leanne Banks
His mouth covered hers again and she was lost in the slide of his tongue on hers, the caress of his large warm hands on her breasts. He made her feel sexy. It was a heady, addicting sensation.
“Softer than a rose petal,” he murmured against her mouth as he stroked her nipples. “I’ve got to taste you.” Before she could take a breath, he lowered his head and took her into his mouth.
Andie cried out at the sweet, raw sensation that tightened from her breasts to her thighs. Craving the way he made her feel, she lifted her hands to his head and slipped her fingers through his hair. He aligned her intimately to him, branding her with the knowledge of his hardened masculinity.
He lifted his head, kissing her fingers as her hands cradled his face. His eyes nearly black with desire, he deliberately nudged his arousal between her thighs. “This is how you affect me, faithful friend.”
Instinctively, she clamped her thighs closed around him. “Ohhhh, Eli, you’re so—”
He thrust again, and she moaned. He gave her a swift, sensual French kiss. “So what?” he prodded, and slid his hand inside her panties.
“So good,” she whispered. “So hard.” One of his fingers found her most sensitive spot. “Oh, God.”
“You’re wet,” he said with rough, masculine approval. He slid his finger inside her. “And you’re tight.” Her moan mingled with his groan. “Touch me,” he told her and brought her hand to his erection.
Compelled by the appealing masculine need in his voice, she fumbled past his zipper and briefs and wrapped her fingers around his swollen shaft. He blew out his breath in a quick stream, then took her mouth again and stroked her with teasing, taunting strokes.
Inside her she could feel the beat of her heart, could practically hear it. Insistent and fast, the high-pitched sound didn’t distract. It only added to her sense of urgency. Andie felt herself spiraling toward a dangerously steep crest and something inside her snapped. “You’re still dressed,” she said, tugging at his tie, pulling at his shirt.
“Andie,” he murmured in a soothing voice, but his fingers still taunted her.
Wanting more, needing more, she ran her hands over his flat abdomen and pressed her open mouth to his throat. Eli made a rough yearning sound that tore at her. She glanced down at the sight of his jutting masculinity and a wicked, shocking image nearly had her kneeling before him.
She began to tremble. “Eli, I need—I need—” She still heard the high-pitched sound of her heart.
“I know,” he said, nuzzling her. “I do, too.” His chest swelled against hers. His hand stilled. “For God’s sake, where is that sound coming from?”
It’s my heart, she almost said, but frowned. She pressed her hand to her chest. The rhythm of her heart wasn’t the same as the sound she heard. Confused, she stumbled backward. “What—”
Eli steadied her.
Still unbearably aroused, she lifted her hand to her head and tried to focus, but his scent made her dizzy. She closed her eyes, listened, and gradually the realization dawned. She took a shallow unsteady breath. “It’s my beeper.” Muffling a sound that was half-sob and half-moan, she looked down for where she’d dropped her purse. “I’m on call.”
“Call,” Eli repeated.
At the same time that Andie spotted her purse and bent down to retrieve it, voices sounded in the hall. Her gaze locked with Eli’s as the voices came closer.
“Cut off the beeper,” he told her quietly and adjusted his clothing.
Apprehension racing through her, Andie fumbled with her bag and tried to pull up her dress at the same time. She nearly wailed when she couldn’t find the switch to stop it.
He stretched out his hand. “Let me.”
Andie found the damn switch and felt a trickle of relief. “Thank good—”
Eli lifted his finger to his lips and stepped in front of her. Footsteps stopped outside the closet door. Her heart rose to her throat. The voices could be clearly heard. With a sense of unreality, Andie listened and she looked at shelves and shelves of sheets, towels and blankets.
“Which one is the bathroom?”
“I can’t remember. Did she say it was on the left or the right?”
The doorknob turned, Andie held her breath and squished her eyes closed. An old habit from childhood; if she couldn’t see them, then they couldn’t see her.
The door cracked open.
She bit her lip.
“Looks like a closet.”
The door closed. Andie sagged with relief. She ruffled a hand through her hair and made sure the top of her dress was in place. “We have got to get out of here!” she whispered emphatically. “Now.” She stepped around Eli.
His hand reached out to stop her.
A thread of hysteria ran through her. Andie shook her head. “Eli, I can’t stay in here one minute longer.”
“Andie—”
“I would die if anyone found out what we were—” she swallowed hard, her face flaming with the knowledge of just how far they’d gone “—doing in here.”
“Andie,” he began again.
“I’ve got to go.”
Eli put his hands on her arms. “Less than one minute,” he corrected. Andie watched him pull the skirt of her dress down over her hips, past her bare thighs, back into place. At that point, she realized that if Eli hadn’t stopped her, she would have walked out in front of the cream of Raleigh’s academia with the top of her thigh-highs and her skimpy lace panties in full view.
She met his gaze. The gentle affection in his eyes warmed her. She took a deep breath and tried for a little smile. “Thanks,” she murmured, and smoothed his hair with her fingers.
He caught her hand and kissed it. “Any time, Andie,” he murmured, then opened the door and checked the doorway. Offering his arm, he looked at her and shook his head. “The only good thing I can say about your beeper is that it’s getting me away from this party. If it goes off again, don’t be surprised if I give it to Fletch.”
Within minutes, they made their excuses, thanked the host, and were riding home. In the silent darkness of the car, Andie was still trying to come to grips with her wanton behavior.
“You shouldn’t beat yourself up about it,” Eli said.
She sighed and looked out the window. “Eli, I have never ever done anything like that in my life.”
He chuckled and loosened his tie. “Then it was about time.”
She gaped at him. “I’m not the kind to—”
“You didn’t find it exciting,” he cut in in a neutral tone.
That brought her up short. She couldn’t lie. She’d never been that aroused in her life. “I—uh—it was exciting,” she admitted in a low voice.
“That’s putting it mildly,” he muttered, shifting gears. “Did I push you to do something you didn’t want—”
“Oh, no,” Andie said, shaking her head. “I wanted—to. I wanted you.”
“And I wanted you. I still want you.” He reached for her hand. “What’s behind the faithful friend story?”
She curled her fingers around his, relishing the warmth and strength of his hand. “You know, different women tend to have different images with men.” When he remained silent, she was thankful for the darkness inside the car. “For example, Madonna’s a sex symbol. Daphne’s—”
“A barracuda,” he supplied dryly.
She swallowed her amusement. “I was going to say a femme fatale.” She sighed. “And then there’s the woman who’s the girl next door, the one you call when you need a friend, the one you can depend on, but you just don’t think of her in a sexual way.”
Eli was quiet for a long moment. “Why do you keep saying you?“
“It wasn’t personal,” she said. “It was a generic comment about my history with men.”
Eli nodded. “You’ve been involved with idiots.” He kept her hand in his as he downshifted and exited the freeway.
She laughed softly. “You sound like Samantha.”
Eli didn’t laugh. T
hrough the lights of the oncoming traffic, Andie saw Eli’s face tight, his eyes narrowed. “You should know that I haven’t had many serious relationships with women,” Eli said. “Between my education and research there hasn’t been time. Fletch’s mother, Gail, and I met at a party. We saw each other a few times. When she got pregnant, I convinced her we should get married.”
He pulled to a stop and still held her hand. “It was a mistake. She said I was book-smart and people-stupid.” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “She said she hoped Fletch didn’t turn out like me.”
Andie sucked in a sharp breath. Even hearing Gail’s remarks secondhand, the words hurt. She shook her head. “That was incredibly cruel to both you and Fletch.”
“Yes. Cruel, but true.” When she protested, he gently squeezed her hand and shook his head. “I didn’t understand Gail, and she didn’t really understand me.” His mouth twisted grimly. “I have little patience and minimal tolerance for social conventions. I’ve been told I’m rude and insensitive, and before I got custody of Fletch, I’d gotten to the point where I didn’t give a damn about much.”
She remembered Eli had told her that he once went through a stage like Caleb, when he lived in the lab. He wasn’t painting a pretty picture, and if Andie went by his words, she would run in the opposite direction. If he wasn’t holding her hand, she would think he was trying to warn her off. Instead she was totally confused. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to know what you’ve gotten into.” He pulled into her driveway and stopped the car, then turned to her. “And you have gotten into something with me. Things are different for me now. There’s Fletch and there’s you.”
Andie met his gaze, helpless to look away, yet unable to pull her thoughts together. Her heart was beating too hard.
“I have two regrets about what happened in that closet tonight. One, that we didn’t finish what we started. Two, that what we did embarrassed you.”
She glanced away. “It wasn’t so much what we did as where we did it,” she said quickly. “Or maybe it wasn’t even where we were as much as the idea of how horrible I would have felt if someone had seen.” She was afraid of leaving something out. “It probably wouldn’t have been the end of the world if someone had seen. I just—”
Eli put his hands on her shoulders to halt her breathless explanation. “Next time, we won’t be in a closet,” he promised, then he kissed her.
* * *
After a busy emergency shift at the hospital and a lot of soul-searching, Andie wasn’t so sure next time was a good idea after all. Eli wasn’t really pleased when she conveyed her doubts to him. He’d been going through some old lab boxes in his garage when he’d spotted her taking Stud for a walk on the sidewalk. Wearing a T-shirt and worn jeans with old protective glasses hanging around his neck, he was in his element.
“What do you mean we might need to slow down?” he demanded, standing over her with a proprietary attitude.
Andie twisted Stud’s leash. “I just don’t think we need to rush into anything.”
“Rushing,” he said, clearly unhappy with her choice of words. “Rushing is getting together the first night you meet, the first week. We’re into the second month.”
“I’m talking more about emotional time,” Andie told him in a quiet voice. She self-consciously waved at the man across the street, who was staring at them as he trimmed his hedges. “A relationship doesn’t necessarily develop on schedule.”
“Fletch,” he called toward the garage, then trained his wary gaze on her. “Emotional time.” He muttered the words skeptically. “Is this one of those women things?”
Andie could tell her explanation wasn’t washing with Eli. She tried again. “Not really. Usually relationships are affected by people’s histories and—”
“Fletch! Come here!” Eli called again, then turned back to her. “Excuse me,” he muttered, looking as if he was struggling for patience. “You know my history and I know as much of yours as you’ve told me. You know I married someone I shouldn’t have. I know you were engaged to an idiot. I want you. You want me. What else is there?”
If only it were that simple. Andie gave a distracted wave in response to Mrs. Grandview’s greeting and sighed. “It’s not that easy. Even you said there’s more involved here. There’s Fletch.”
“Fletch is fine,” Eli told her. “We’ve discussed it, and we both like you better than Daphne. Fletch is fine,” he repeated emphatically.
At that moment, a loud boom sounded from the garage.
Eli’s face went rigid with alarm. Swearing, he ran toward his house. “Fletch!”
Her heart racing a mile a minute, Andie followed him. Distantly she heard the excited voices of her neighbors as they gathered at Eli’s gate.
“Dr. Frankenstein strikes again,” one man said.
“Maybe we should back off,” another muttered. “Next thing you know there’ll be a mushroom-shaped cloud coming from that house.”
Her feet automatically skimmed over the ground. She was so intent to see Fletch that she nearly ran into Eli’s broad back.
“Fletch,” Eli said, as he ran his hands over his son. “Are you okay? Is anything hurt?” Andie’s heart constricted at the way Eli checked Fletch’s face and counted the little boy’s fingers. “Good Lord, what happened?”
Backed into the corner, Fletch looked as if he were all wide green eyes and pale skin. He bounced his fingertips together and shook his head. “I just—I just—” He gulped. “I just put some of your Play-Doh in the sink.”
“Play-Doh,” Eli echoed, his brow wrinkling in confusion. “I don’t have any Play-Doh out here.”
Eli nodded vigorously and pointed toward the sink where a puff of smoke still hovered. “Yes, you do. It’s gray and it was in one of your little bottles. It had an N and an a on it.”
Comprehension dawned on Eli’s face. “Oh, my God.” Glancing at Andie, he wiped his hand over his forehead. “Sodium,” he told her, his face pale. “Mixing pure sodium and water is explosive....” He turned to Fletch and brought him close.
“It was a really loud ’splosion. Are you mad at me?” Fletch asked anxiously.
“No,” Eli said, shaking his head. “No. I’m just waiting for my heart rate to approach normal.” He eased slightly away from Fletch and looked down at him. “You could have been hurt, son. We’re going to have to talk about playing with chemicals. And I’m putting my lab materials under lock and key.”
Eli glanced at Andie and she saw the distress still drawing his features tight. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Not now. Not unless I have a coronary,” he added with a forced, rough chuckle. He met her gaze, turmoil darkening his eyes to forest green.
With no defense against the dichotomy of Eli’s strength and vulnerability, she reached out and touched his arm. “Are you sure you two are going to be okay?” she asked.
He slipped his hand through hers in a move that bonded her to him. She felt it past her skin and nerve endings, deeper than her blood, clear to her bones. Could one brief touch change her?
Reluctantly releasing her hand, he drew a breath. “Yeah, we’ll be okay.” Still holding her with his gaze, he took Fletch by the hand. “You and I will finish our discussion later,” he said in a low but firm voice, then led Fletch into the house.
Her hand at her throat, Andie stared after them. She had to resist the urge to gather Fletch in her arms to relieve his fear and her own. Explosive. She shuddered when she considered what could have happened.
“It’s dangerous having them in the neighborhood,” one of the men standing just inside the gate said.
Protective instincts nearly bursting from her, Andie wheeled around and walked toward them. Ed Kenworth, the father of twins, was shaking his head.
“It’s not dangerous,” she said. “This was an accident. You’ve had your share of accidents with Timmy and Jonathan.”
“My kids get into normal accidents.”
“Getting washed halfway down the river in a canoeing accident is normal?”
Ben Hammond crossed his arms over his chest. “Daphne doesn’t like him, either.”
Andie thought about pulling out Daphne’s long black hair the next time she saw her. “Which child,” she asked, “does Daphne really like?”
Ed looked uncomfortable. “Well, he’s not like all the other kids.”
Andie resisted the urge to chew him out. Instead she took a calming breath. “You’re right. He’s a gifted little boy who recently lost his mother and has been uprooted to a new neighborhood where he doesn’t know anyone. The question is, are you helping or hurting him with your attitude?”
Chastened, Ed ducked his head. “Hell, Andie, I’m not trying to hurt him. That explosion nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“Me, too,” she admitted. “And probably everyone else. But we all reacted the same way when Jennifer walked into that beehive last summer.”
“Yeah.” Ed nodded and looked toward the garage. “If he’s gonna keep this stuff in the garage, he’d better either lock it up or attach a shelf to the ceiling. And if his kid’s half as curious as Timmy or Jonathan, he might need to do both.”
“Damn chemicals are like having a gun in the house,” Ben said. “Mary is always nagging me to keep my hunting rifles locked up. I’ll give little Fletch the benefit of the doubt, here, but you better tell Eli there’s no way Mary’ll let the kids come over here if he doesn’t do something about that lab.”
“Eli already said he’s locking them up,” Andie insisted. “I’m sure you can imagine how alarmed he was.”
Ed nodded, his face etched with a trace of sympathy. “Yeah, well nobody ever said raising kids was easy on your nerves.” He eyed her curiously. “Something brewing between you and Masters?”
At a loss, Andie shrugged. “They’re my next-door neighbors. Fletch plays with Stud a lot, and Eli fixed my car once.” I care about them. Probably too much. Her throat tightened at the unspoken words.
Ben nodded. “Well, tell Eli we’re glad everybody’s okay.” They shuffled out the gate. Andie stared after them, torn between an overwhelming instinct to return to Eli and the sensible thought to go home. She took Stud for a short walk and led him home, then followed her nagging instinct back to Eli’s garage.
