“Maybe I wouldn’t have rejected you.” Maybe, if she had come into his life back then, things would have been different. For both of them.
Shawna shook her head. Along the way the shadow had gotten substance, but she didn’t fool herself about the impression she’d made back then.
“You wouldn’t have noticed.” She tucked her tongue into her cheek. “It was difficult getting close to you.” Not that she had tried. She prided herself on always knowing her limits.
He shifted, uncomfortable with the topic. “You’re exaggerating.”
She lifted a shoulder and then let it drop. “Not by much.”
He wanted to pursue something she’d alluded to earlier. “Was it very hard for you, growing up with your mother?”
This time the shrug was not so careless. “I suppose no harder than it would have been with anyone else.” Time had allowed her distance and the luxury of healing. “Worse than some, better than others.” She took another sip before adding, “I learned to shut out the loneliness by studying. By becoming the best I could be.”
Murphy leaned back in his chair and studied her. There was an unmistakable touch of class about her that went beyond the clothes she wore. It came from self-confidence. No doubt it was hard won. And was almost as appealing as her supple body. “You certainly accomplished that.”
She could read his thoughts and they warmed her. Somehow, he had unearthed a touch of vanity within her, too. Vanity, temper, passion. How many more emotions were there that had been hidden until he had come along?
Shawna couldn’t prevent the smile that rose to her lips. “I meant mentally.”
She was pleased, he thought. A simple matter of giving her her due and she was pleased. It was endearing. “That, too.” Murphy drew closer again, breathing in the light fragrance she wore. Breathing in the stirring scent that was hers alone. His eyes caressed her. “I like what you’ve done with your hair.”
Her brows drew together, highlighting her confusion. Without thinking, she raised her hand to her hair. “I didn’t do anything different.”
“I know.” He liked her hair, the way she laughed, the way she scowled and tried to bully him for his own good. He liked everything about her, and that made him uneasy, as uneasy as a man holding an open flame near a gas leak. An explosion was coming.
He pushed the foreshadowing away.
“You do know how to turn a phrase.” And a heart, she added silently.
He wasn’t giving her phrases, he thought with a sliver of anxiety. He was giving her his heart, purely against his will.
Keep it light, he urged himself. Keep it light. He had Janice in his history. Once burned...
Murphy nodded toward the small band. “They’re playing our song.”
Shawna leaned back in her chair, studying him. For a man with a wicked mouth, he looked utterly guileless. That was how he did it, she decided. That was how he had disarmed her, how he had made her trust him. With that innocent look. “We don’t have a song.”
He was behind her, moving back her chair and urging her to her feet. “Then how do you know that this isn’t it?”
Shawna shook her head, as if to clear it. She placed her hand in his, letting him lead her. “You have some very strange logic.”
The dance floor was small and crowded. Yet, like everything else within Harlow’s, it only enhanced the intimacy. As soon as they began to dance, as soon as he took her into his arms, it felt as if there was no one else there but the two of them.
“Don’t question it,” he advised softly. “Just enjoy it.” Swaying to the soft, pulsing beat, Murphy laid his cheek against her hair. This was where she belonged, he thought. Damn, this was getting bad. He couldn’t seem to make himself break free. Even his tongue was tripping him up. “Can I see you tomorrow night?”
She smiled against his chest. He was doing it again. But this time she meant to keep up. “Is that anything like ‘I’ll call you’?”
He remembered the promise he’d left in his wake Sunday morning and had the good grace to wince. “Ouch. I deserve that.”
She nodded, her hair making a soft wooshing noise against his jacket. “Also a kick in the shins, but lucky for you, I’m a lady.”
If anyone deserved that title, she did. Which was why her sudden appearance in his office intrigued him. A lady would have told him to rot in hell for his uncalled-for behavior. “What made you come after me?”
“Pride.” She looked up at him. “Hurt pride.” She let that sink in for a moment, then added, “And professional concern.” She was still his doctor, and she wasn’t about to let the matter drop. They weren’t working against a firm deadline, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a clock ticking somewhere. “We still have that small matter of your eye surgery to clear up.”
He didn’t want to spend tonight discussing his so-called condition. She was enough of a weakness for him without adding that to it. The thought of the pending surgery only compounded his feelings of vulnerability.
Murphy saw an opening on the floor and guided her toward it. Right above them a multisided ball sparkled, reflecting the thin shafts of light. It sprinkled them with moonbeams as they danced.
“Later.”
She had every intention of taking him up on that, whether he wanted to or not. But for the moment she let him feel he’d pushed the subject away. There was something else she had to know. It cost her to ask.
“Would you have stayed away if I hadn’t come to your office today?”
She had looked loaded for bear and utterly magnificent in her anger, standing in his doorway. Stronger men than he would have succumbed to desire.
“No.”
With all her heart she wanted to believe him. Shawna leaned back and looked into his eyes. They were partially hidden by the dusky atmosphere. Yet she thought she saw something, something she wasn’t sure he was aware of. Fear, just the slightest glimmer of fear. He was afraid of her, or of what she represented.
“Really?”
“Really.” He couldn’t admit this if she was looking at him. He pressed her to him, his hand at the center of her spine. He liked the way she shivered as she rested her cheek against his chest. His words glided along her hair. “I was just taking a little time out, trying to regain some of the control I’d lost.”
It sounded as if he were talking about boardroom dealings. “Regain control? Over what?”
“My emotions.” When she looked at him, he smiled at the surprised expression on her face. “You do have a way of churning them up.”
“It’s mutual.”
He could only stare at her, mystified. Outside of Kelly, he’d never known anyone quite like Shawna. “You’re the most honest woman I’ve ever met.”
It wasn’t a sensual observation, but she found it flattering. “I don’t know how to be coy.”
“Don’t learn.” Murphy threaded his fingers through hers, knowing he was sinking fast. “Don’t ever learn.”
He absorbed the feeling of having her nestled against him. Holding her this way, feeling her body sway into his, only made him want her in his bed that much more. She was like the proverbial potato chip. One sample was definitely not enough.
“So.” He looked down at her. “You didn’t answer me. Can I see you tomorrow night?”
She wanted him to. So much she could taste it. But there were responsibilities to see to. Responsibilities that defined who and what she was. “I have to be at the clinic tomorrow evening.”
Another song wove its way into the first one. The band was playing a medley, he thought absently. He wanted to be with her in the worst way. More warning signs went up, but he ignored them. “I’ve gotten really good at filing.”
He felt her smile as it grew against his chest. “Caro’s been asking about you.”
“There, it’s settled. I’ll come along.”
She shook her head. “Don’t you have a life?”
Murphy leaned toward her. “Yes,” he whispered against h
er ear. “And I’m living it.”
She struggled to keep her eyes from fluttering shut. But it wasn’t the hour that was doing it. It was Murphy. “I should be getting home.”
He nodded. She felt his hold on her hand tighten just a little. “My sentiments exactly.”
Propriety dictated that she make a stab at taking a stand, though her heart wasn’t in it. “My home, Murphy.”
He ran his other hand lightly along her back. Shawna felt as if her clothes were being burned away, as if he’d touched her naked flesh.
“Home is a relative term,” he told her. “You have a relative in yours. Mine is empty.”
“I shouldn’t...” There was a report she’d brought home that she wanted to look over again. And rounds to make in the morning. She had no business giving in to herself this way.
Murphy kissed her neck, a soft, small butterfly kiss that melted against her skin like a snowflake landing on her tongue. Her resolve melted just as easily. “Murphy, you’re not playing fair.”
“I know. I’m playing to win.” At least for tonight. Doubts nibbled at him, but he refused to acknowledge them. His desire for her, his need for her, was too great.
The music stopped, but Murphy remained standing where he was, oblivious to the couples who were passing them.
“Come home with me, Shawna,” he urged softly.
If she’d ever heard anything more sensual, more seductive, she wasn’t aware of it. Shawna said nothing. Instead, she placed her hand in his.
She was going with him. She’d wanted nothing else for days.
* * *
“Can I get you anything?” Murphy offered as he closed the front door behind them.
His hand was on her back, a light, possessive gesture that meant the world to her. She doubted that it meant anything to him.
But it would, she promised herself.
Shawna felt her nerves knitting themselves madly into a knot. Anticipation, anxiety and intrepidity were the skeins.
She thought of the drink she’d had at the restaurant. “White wine, if you have any.”
He nodded, walking toward the kitchen. “White wine it is.”
She followed him, curious. “You really have some?” It didn’t strike her as something a man would have in his refrigerator. Beer, yes, but not white wine.
“Sure.” Murphy took out the bottle and placed it on the counter as he opened the cupboard above it. “Kelly likes it.”
She watched as he poured the light amber liquid into a fluted goblet. “And all the other women you bring here, do they like it, too?”
He laughed and shook his head. “There haven’t been all that many.”
She arched a brow at his disclaimer. She wasn’t asking for details, just the truth.
She didn’t believe him, he thought. Why should she? He’d lived with a reputation for a long time now, grounded in truth but completely overblown.
“I’m not a monk, but to live up to the reputation I’ve somehow managed to acquire, I wouldn’t have time to breathe, much less be the successful lawyer that I am.” He winked at her. “And I am successful.” He wasn’t bragging, just stating a point with pride. Murphy handed her the glass.
She accepted it, then looked at him. “Aren’t you going to have any?”
Her question brought forth a languid smile that slipped over his face like a sunbeam dancing along a garden path. “I’m waiting for my favorite drink to warm to room temperature.”
She looked around, but there was no other bottle out. He’d placed the wine in the refrigerator after filling her glass. Perplexed, she took a single sip before asking, “What is your favorite drink?”
“White wine on your lips.” He saw the quizzical look on her face deepen. “You drank some at Kelly’s the other night. I could still taste it on your lips when we made love.” His eyes held hers. “I seem to have developed quite a thirst for it.”
Shawna could feel her pulse jumping. She was hardly aware of setting her glass down on the counter. Murphy framed her face in his hands. His breath caressed her skin, stirring her to incredible heights as he lowered his mouth to hers.
It was like the gate suddenly rising at the racetrack at Santa Anita. The horses took the field, pounding out of their stalls as if their very lives depended on running. On winning. As soon as his lips touched hers, a flood of emotions poured through her, surrounding her, seizing her. Drowning her.
It felt so wonderful she could have cried.
His mouth was hungrily on hers. A wildness struck. All the control, all the well-honed moves shattered as if they had never existed. He felt her hands splayed on his chest, tugging at his shirt, and something tore loose within him. He wanted to rip the very clothes off her body.
Murphy cursed the flash flood coursing through him even as he found himself being swept away by it.
He had to fight back his eagerness, afraid that he would hurt her, afraid that he would make her retreat. But the feel of her ardent hands gliding over him, pulling away his clothing, spurred Murphy on, annihilating common sense, destroying restraint. Making his desire almost uncontrollable. It was like a huge beast raging within his chest, demanding release.
Demanding her.
It was madness, sheer, compelling, mind-blotting madness. He didn’t know himself.
It was like nothing he’d ever felt before. Lovemaking had always been a pleasure, a delight, stirring and hot. This was something that dragged him into the center of an active volcano, something that took control of him rather than the other way around.
He never remembered it being like this, not with Janice, not with anyone. He had never felt this way before. As if he’d go insane if he couldn’t have her.
He had to stop her questing hands before he took her right here, on the floor.
Dragging air into his lungs, as if that could somehow restore his senses, he grabbed her hands and held them in his. “Whoa, Shawna, we have all night.”
“I know.”
Her eyes gleamed like blue diamonds before her mouth came down on his. Again and again her lips slanted over his, urging him on, driving him farther into a dark, dangerous region he’d only skirted before. His caution vanished, taking with it the last of his ability to rein himself in.
With hands that were skilled, yet trembling, he pulled her jacket from her arms. As it fell, he yanked her blouse free from her skirt’s waistband. His fingers felt thick as he worked at the neat row of pearl buttons that ran the length of her body.
A ping told him he’d torn off a button and sent it flying to the floor.
“Damn.”
The word vibrated against the sensitive hollow of her throat, burning into her skin. She felt the air sliding along her bare shoulders.
“I know how to sew,” she murmured thickly, desperate to be free of the cumbersome silk that separated her from him. Desperate to feel his hands on her. Desperate to feel him.
“So do I.” Pulling his head away, he had to take a breath before they both went up in flames. The only problem was, he had a feeling he was going to reap what he’d sewn.
But that was for later, not now. Fear of consequences was something that was new, even now, being quickly burned away in the heat of his desire. In the flames ignited by the sweet, tempting taste of her mouth.
He’d freed her of the last of her clothes and was quick to sample what he craved. Slowly, knowing that it drove her over the first of many peaks, he ran his tongue along her body. The taste of her skin varied, here dusky, here sweet.
He couldn’t get enough of her, would never get enough of her. She tasted of every single dream he’d ever had in the deepest recesses of his heart.
Shawna’s hands were steady and sure as they unnotched his belt and worked his trousers and briefs down along his hips. She wanted him.
Nothing else mattered.
Clothes were scattered, falling in tangled heaps on each other, unnoticed, unwanted. She was completely nude, completely his.
Murphy raised
her up and felt a surge pounding through his loins as she wrapped her long legs around him, binding him to her more than just physically.
“Bedroom?” he whispered.
The bedroom was a million miles away and she wanted him now. “Here,” she murmured against his throat. “Take me here.”
If he’d had a will, she completely unwound it with those words. Like a sweater that had gotten the smallest thread caught on a nail and unraveled, she pulled his will from him. And brought them both to heaven.
Leaning her against the table, Murphy rediscovered the secrets they’d found together an eternity ago. He stroked, he caressed, he cradled. His mouth was hot, teasing, suckling, branding. Reducing her to a mindless, simpering puddle.
And reducing himself, as well.
He had to feel this. The thought broke through the haze around her brain. She had to make him feel this. But all she could do was receive and receive.
And pray for more.
His mouth trailed along her silken skin, awakening dormant infernos in its wake. Shawna cried out as his tongue slid along her belly, making it quiver in frenzied anticipation. His mouth drew closer, closer, and then he lost himself in the core of her essence.
Explosions racked her body.
Shawna cried out his name, her hands spread out on his shoulders as if she were falling, falling, never reaching an end.
Her breath was ragged, scattering the air as she forced it from her lungs. Her heart was hammering so hard she thought it would crack in two. Shawna fell back, numbed and tingling. Wanting more, not daring for more.
When she opened her eyes all she could see, all there was, was Murphy. There was nothing more.
His body gleamed of sweat and wanting. His eyes, cloudy with desire, smiled into hers. “The kitchen table’s taken on a whole new meaning in my life.”
And so will other things, she thought.
Arching her body, she offered herself to him. But before he had a chance to press a kiss to her flesh, she twined her arms around his neck and brought his mouth down to hers. Her body moved against his, her nipples teasing his chest. Arousing him, hardening him, making him crazy.
He couldn’t hold back any longer.
Husband: Some Assembly Required Page 21
