The game they were playing was dangerous. If she wasn’t careful, she could come out the loser. Thus far, her dating scorecard had been rather abysmal. None of the men had fit her Prince Charming qualifications.
Until now.
Adam fit them about as well as the Levi’s hugging his powerful thighs. She was pleased he’d taken her advice and purchased them. Though she hadn’t expected him to look so darned appealing.
Everything about the man was appealing. She adored the musky scent of his cologne, the way his forearm muscles corded whenever he lifted something heavy, the mesmerizing silver of his eyes when he gazed intently at her, making her toes curl heavenward.
Turning off the video player, Adam clicked on the stereo and scooted closer to Meredith. “You look lovely tonight. I like your dress.” Lifting the thin shoulder strap, his hand inching dangerously close to her breast, he leaned forward and inhaled deeply. “And you smell positively intoxicating.”
“Th-thank you.” She swallowed, wondering what she would do if his hand continued to venture downward. Not trusting herself enough to find out, she said, “Uh…I hate to be rude, but didn’t you mention something about dinner? I’m starving. I—”
Cupping the back of her neck, he drew her toward him. “We’ll eat later. I promise.”
What he was promising was reflected in his eyes, and it made gooseflesh erupt over her arms. “Later?” she croaked before his lips descended and all thought processes shut down.
He traced the soft fullness of her lower lip with his tongue before plunging inside to send shivers of desire rushing through her. It was a heart-pounding, blood-racing, whopper of a kiss. On a scale of one to ten, it rated fifteen! Her socks would have been knocked off had she been wearing any.
Lifting his head, Adam gazed into eyes filled with passion. “I’ve been thinking about doing that since we got interrupted Saturday night. I like kissing you.”
She licked her lips self-consciously. “I like kissing you, too. But I—”
“I want you.”
Well, that was certainly honest enough. Not knowing quite how to respond to such a blatant declaration, Meredith sought safety by changing the subject. “Megan tells me you have an indoor pool.” She eased out of his embrace, putting distance between them. “Do you use it much?”
Disappointment took a backseat to a newly hatched plan. “Every day. Would you like to see it? Perhaps we can take a swim. Cool things off a bit.”
Cooling things off seemed a very good idea. Bone meltdown was likely to occur if he kissed her again. “I’d like that.” It would give them time to think, time to realize that what they were contemplating was totally irrational, if not downright stupid.
A few minutes later they entered the pool house, which was located on the ground floor. The Olympic-size pool was partly indoors and partly out. A spa bubbled enticingly at the far end of the inside portion, like a potent witch’s brew promising untold delights. Dressing rooms occupied one side of the enclosure, and a small kitchen, complete with soda fountain, encompassed the other.
Meredith began to perspire. Actually she was sweating. But her mother always said that ladies didn’t sweat, they glistened like dewdrops on newly formed leaves. Dewdrops or not, she was dripping like a leaky faucet, and she wasn’t altogether certain that the humid condition inside the pool area had anything to do with it.
She felt nervous, excited and very apprehensive. She’d been the same way once before: the night she’d given her virginity to Jason Davis in the backseat of his 85 Mercury Cougar. Jason had been a huge mistake. Would Adam be one, too?
“I don’t have a bathing suit.”
“We have two choices then—we can both swim in the nude, which I prefer, or you can use one of the suits that are kept in the dressing rooms for the guests.”
How many “guests” had come before her? she wondered. And why wasn’t he marrying one of them? “I think I’ll wear one of the suits.”
“I suppose you’d like me to wear one, too?”
She nodded, trying hard not to look so relieved. She wasn’t a prude, but she wasn’t Lady Godiva, either. Who would’ve guessed Adam Morgan would be a candidate for a nudist colony? “Yes, please.” For a supposedly staid businessman, the man had some rather outlandish ideas. But then, she already knew he was different. He was advertising for a wife, after all.
With the sexiest grin, which displayed a dimple in his left cheek, he showed her where to change and entered the dressing room to the left of hers.
When had Daddy Warbucks turned into Mel Gibson?
It didn’t take Meredith long to slip out of her dress. But what she found to replace it left her staring openmouthed at her reflection in the mirror.
The black string bikini—the only suit that came close to fitting—was nothing short of indecent, leaving Meredith to conclude that all of the women who’d come before her had been anorexic.
To a woman used to wearing a modest one-piece swimsuit, the brief bikini was shocking. Her breasts overflowed the cups—what little there was of them—and the tiny piece of black triangle that was supposed to cover her lower area was next to nonexistent. To say she felt exposed was an understatement!
Well, she’d wanted to feel sexy tonight, and this little number certainly did the trick.
Thank heavens she had shaved her legs this morning!
“What’s taking so long? Do you need help?”
Was that hope or urgency she heard in Adam’s voice? Suddenly she felt like an insect who’d been lured into the spider’s web. “I’ll be out in a minute.” Just as soon as my skin color fades to normal.
He was in the pool when she exited the dressing room, and the look he flashed her could have heated the spa and ignited wet firewood all on its own.
“Judas Priest!” His mouth fell open.
“Exactly.” Though she was secretly glad he liked what he saw. It was a definite boost to her ego.
Submerged in the eighty-degree water, Adam’s member lengthened to the size of a barber pole. His heated gaze was fixed on Meredith’s bouncing breasts as she strolled self-consciously toward the pool, looking like some mythical water nymph. “I see you found something that fit.”
Without commenting on the debatable observation, she dove in, surfacing right beside him, white flesh glistening, tempting and too inviting to resist. He reached for her, but she laughed, slapping playfully at his hands before swimming away.
“We’re supposed to be cooling off, remember?”
He caught up with her quickly, grasping her foot as she tried to escape and pulling her toward him. “Not so fast, mermaid.” Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pressed those glorious breasts into his chest and captured her lips.
Resistance is futile, Meredith thought. Hadn’t the Borg said that on Star Trek? The phrase fit her situation to a tee.
Like English ivy, she draped her arms around his neck and gave as good as she got, plunging her tongue into his hot mouth and tasting the manliness that was Adam.
Chocolates paled in comparison.
By the time she opened her eyes her suit top was gone and Adam’s strong hands had replaced it. With tantalizing slowness he fondled her breasts, teased her nipples into erect peaks, then lifted her onto the step, replacing his hands with his mouth and tongue.
Meredith felt as if she was drowning, and she wasn’t even in the water!
The urge to abandon all common sense was overwhelming. She fought it, tried to ignore the way her bones were melting, her nipples rock hard and tingling, but when he lifted the lower edge of her suit and began to explore her femininity, she was lost.
Needing Adam inside her, she boldly reached out to cup his maleness and stroke the long length of him, tugging down his trunks to reveal every glorious inch of his body. Her suit soon followed his to float atop the water like sacrificial offerings to the love god Eros.
“We should probably go upstairs to my bed, but I can’t wait,” he admitted, his brow and upper lip
beaded with sweat, his eyes glittering with desire.
Wait! Was he kidding? She was ready to give water aerobics a whole new meaning. “Me, neither.” Taking the initiative, she wrapped her legs around his waist, held on to his broad shoulders with her hands and impaled herself.
Clasping her buttocks, he plunged in the rest of the way, thrusting into her with strong, swift strokes, taking her nipple between his lips and caressing it with his tongue, devouring her breasts like a starving man who had an insatiable appetite.
The tension building, she met him stroke for stroke, the buoyancy of the water lifting her, higher, ever higher. At last with one deep thrust, he took her over the top, and they climaxed together.
After their breathing had become somewhat normal, Adam continued to hug her gently, kissing her ear, her neck, whispering how beautiful she was, how absolutely wonderful, which was exactly how Meredith felt at the moment.
Perfect. Wonderful. Romantic. All those adjectives came to mind to describe her union with Adam.
“Are you all right?” he asked, concerned that she hadn’t said a word. He didn’t want her to regret what had happened. Something that felt so right, so good, shouldn’t be cause for regret. He certainly had none. Making love with Meredith had been one of, if not the most satisfying experiences of his life.
“Of course, I’m not all right. I’ve just been thoroughly ravished, as they say in those romance novels you so disdain, and I adored every minute of it.” Her grin was decidedly naughty.
“I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
A look of mock indignation crossed her face. “I should hope not! I’m a unique individual.”
“Shall we continue this upstairs? I’m starting to shrivel in the most unfortunate places.”
Her hand slid down the length of him, and he met the challenge admirably. “Yes. Let’s go upstairs and explore the wonders of that marvelous sunken bathtub I saw a few weeks back.”
His brow shot up. “You’re not tired of water yet?”
Green eyes twinkling, she replied, “Who said anything about water?”
THEY MADE LOVE in his huge king-size bed for what seemed like hours. Three hours to be exact. The brass clock on the mantel had just gonged midnight, the fire in the hearth long since fading to embers.
Adam leaned over and gently brushed the side of Meredith’s face with the back of his fingertips, marveling at her beauty and at how deeply she had affected him. He wasn’t sure, now that he’d had a taste of her, he would be able to let her go. The provocative thought disturbed him.
“I promised you dinner. Are you still game?”
Meredith turned her face into his hand and kissed his palm, wondering if she’d ever be the same again. Tonight had been a magical fairy tale. She was Cinderella to Adam’s Prince Charming. But would she live happily ever after? That was the question.
Pushing away thoughts better left unexplored, she replied with a teasing grin, “I don’t know about you, but I’ve worked up quite an appetite.”
His grin was achingly sexy. “Famished. Absolutely.”
They were out of bed and down the stairs in a matter of moments, giggling like a couple of schoolkids, and still buck naked when they entered the kitchen.
“I’ve never dined in the buff before,” Meredith confessed, perching herself on a stool at the counter, quite shocked at her own behavior. She’d done quite a few things tonight she’d never done before…or as well.
Opening the refrigerator, he stuck his head inside. “I can make a decent omelet. How’s that sound?” He hadn’t cooked in years, but he was pretty sure he could still do it. If not, there was always pizza delivery.
“Yummy. Do you need any help?”
He moved to the long, gray granite counter, basket of eggs in hand. “Though your luscious breasts are a bit of a distraction, I think I can manage.” He grinned when her cheeks turned bright pink and reached for a hunk of cheddar.
Eyeing the paper towels, she wondered how many she’d need to wrap herself up like a mummy. “Perhaps I should get dressed. I wouldn’t want you to injure yourself.”
“I cook naked all the time,” he lied. “Never had any problems. And I think you’re worth the risk, at any rate.”
“Flatterer,” she quipped, but her heart was beating double time. “Doesn’t Mrs. Fishburn mind you messing up her kitchen?” The gray-haired woman didn’t look like someone who would allow such flamboyant behavior. She’d never seen Helen Fishburn with a hair out of place. The taut bun she wore was always firmly anchored at the back of her neck, and there’d never been so much as a smudge on her pristine, white apron.
For someone used to wiping her hands on what was at hand, including whatever she was wearing at the moment, Meredith found the housekeeper’s restraint quite astonishing.
“The old gal would be totally mortified if she knew someone was parading about naked in her kitchen,” Adam replied, eyes twinkling. “I’d probably get spanked with a wooden spoon. Mrs. Fishburn is rather obsessive about germs. I’m sure the sight of naked skin would send her right over the edge.”
It was difficult to picture staid Mrs. Fishburn in such an outlandish situation, so Meredith changed the subject. “Remember that day we went to the park and I went upstairs to change?”
“I do. You wore that sexy jogging outfit, as I recall.” Ignoring her surprise that he’d remembered such a trivial detail, he shoved a blue Wedgwood plate and silver fork in front of her, then sat down on the stool next to her. “Why?”
Taking a bite of her omelet, then another, she murmured approvingly. “This is wonderful. How’d you know I loved mushrooms?”
“Just a guess. So what’s so interesting upstairs? Besides the bedroom, that is?” Like a dastardly villain in a melodrama, he wiggled his brows at her, twirling the ends of an imaginary mustache.
“Behave yourself,” she said with a laugh. “I noticed a room that contained a huge model train set and wondered if it was yours.” She knew it was, from what Andrew had previously told her, and wondered why Adam chose to keep it such a secret.
He was about to deny it, fearing she’d think his love of model trains childish, as his father had, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie. “Yes. The trains are mine. I’m sure you think it’s silly for a grown man to play with trains, but—”
She shook her head. “Not at all. I think it’s quite charming. I used to collect dolls when I was a kid. I still have most of my Barbie collection.”
“You don’t. I mean, you do?” Relief bubbled up inside of him. “Would you like to see my trains?” He smiled a rueful smile. “I guess most men would ask a woman to see their etchings, not their toy trains.”
But then Adam Morgan wasn’t most men, Meredith thought.
“If they’re as cute as the caboose I’ve already taken a gander at, I know I’m going to be quite the model train enthusiast.”
MEREDITH awoke the following morning with two thoughts in her head: she’d had unprotected sex in the pool for the first time in her life, which had been totally stupid, not to mention dangerous, and she was in love. Which was even dumber! And possibly more dangerous.
She couldn’t be in love with Adam Morgan. It was ridiculous to think a relationship between them could work. Sure, he’d let her wear his engineer’s hat, had even allowed her to run the trains around the track a few times. And even if she’d been the first to enter his inner sanctum, as he’d confessed, that didn’t mean there weren’t a multitude of problems to face.
They were just two different types of people. He was rich, for starters. Wealthy. Educated. Used to the finer things in life. His silverware and china even matched!
She was not in the same class. No way. Not even close. They weren’t social equals and never would be.
Her father had died as a result of working in the Morgan coal mines. And her mother would likely perish on the spot if she found out Meredith had fallen in love with her worst enemy.
Glancing at the sleeping man
beside her, Meredith felt tears well up behind her lids. She loved Adam, had been hired to find him a woman to wed—a suitable woman—and as much as she wished it were otherwise, it just wouldn’t be her.
Not that he was asking!
Chapter Ten
“Marry me.”
Eyes wide open, Adam was grinning at her like some comedian who’d just told the funniest joke in the world.
Only Meredith wasn’t laughing.
Pulling the covers up to her chin, she leaned back against the down pillows, trying her damnedest not to cry. “Very funny.” The man had a warped sense of humor, that was for certain.
He rolled toward her, taking her hand in his, kissing the inside of her wrist and eliciting an instantaneous heart-pounding, primal response that made her want to curse herself. And him.
“Don’t you see? It’s perfect. I need a wife, and you’re not engaged to anyone else that I know of. I mean—I assume you wouldn’t have slept with me if you were. And it would solve a great many problems.”
For whom? she wanted to ask.
Pulling her hand out of his, she eased herself out of bed, grabbing a blanket as she did, and wrapped it around herself. She wished she could cloak her heart as easily, but she knew it was too late for that. “I thought you were certifiable when I first met you, Adam, but now I’m sure of it. I have no intention of marrying you.”
Eyes rounding to silver dollars, he seemed astounded by her refusal. She doubted the man had been refused much in his lifetime. Hadn’t she acquiesced to every delicious thing he’d suggested last night? Just thinking about what they’d done in that big playground of a bed made heat rise to her cheeks.
Adam was a very inventive lover; she’d been a very willing and enthusiastic pupil. If Morgantown Senior High had had sex education with Adam Morgan as part of their curriculum, she would have earned an A+ for sure.
The Wedding Planner Page 10
