Undressed

by Heather MacAllister

  “Ford?” Gina spoke into his ear. “Do you remember the way I kissed you?”

  “Best kiss ever.”

  “You think?” She let go of him and lay back on the bed. “Then you ought to try kissing me when you aren’t engaged to somebody else.”

  In an instant, he was beside her, scooping her into his arms and kissing her cheek, her temple, her nose—her nose?—her chin, and finally, when she was about to go crazy, he kissed her mouth. Ah. She settled in, parted her lips and deepened the kiss. She touched her tongue to his. And…And…

  She stopped. “Ford?” She traced his lower lip.

  “Hmm?” He nuzzled her jaw.

  Nuzzled. Nuzzling was nice but this wasn’t nuzzling time. This was long-suppressed-physical-desire time. This was an explosion-of-need time. This was Gina-getting-the-chance-she’d-never-thought-she’d-have time.

  “Ford.”

  He drew back.

  “This is not the best kiss ever.”

  Rolling to his back, he drew her to his side. “I don’t want to jump you like some sex-crazed maniac. I want you to know my emotions are involved.”

  “You know, I’d really like to get your penis involved. Do you mind if I jump you like a sex-crazed maniac?”

  He grinned. “A true sex-crazed maniac wouldn’t have asked.”

  Straddling him, Gina unhooked her bikini top and shimmied out of it. She tossed her head so her hair fell behind her shoulders and let him look at her. For months, his eyes had been friendly, amused, tired, serious. Now, she wanted to see them darken with desire.

  And they did.

  “So beautiful.” His voice was rough.

  When he reached to touch her, she intercepted his hand and brought it to her lips. Drawing his index finger into her mouth, she sucked on it, swirling her tongue around and around.

  Ford’s chest rose and fell.

  Gina squirmed against the hard length trapped in the shorts he wore.

  “Gina!”

  Slowly, she released his finger and used it to rub back and forth across her nipple until it peaked. “Mmm.” She squirmed some more.

  Ford was breathing through his mouth now, his eyes nearly black. Holding his gaze, Gina drew his finger down her abdomen until it reached the edge of her bikini bottom.

  He stopped breathing.

  She smiled.

  And then she pushed past the edge, through her curls until his finger was nestled against the very best spot. She rubbed her body against it, groaning softly and biting her lower lip. Her excitement built much faster than she’d expected and she had to back off. “Are you sure you don’t want to jump me like a sex-crazed maniac?” she asked in a breathy voice.

  He twisted his hand from beneath hers and ripped off her bikini bottoms. “I might have been too quick to judge.” He flipped her over with gratifying efficiency.

  So Mr. Sensitive didn’t mean Mr. Wuss. Gina ran her hands over his ribs and as far up his chest as she could reach.

  Sitting up on his knees, Ford pulled a condom from a pocket, put it in the palm of one of her wandering hands and got out of his shorts while she opened it.

  Moments later, he lay on top of her, kissing her as though he could draw her into him even as he slid into her.

  Gina gasped, and then, startling them both, she burst into tears. “I’m n-n-not a crier! I’m a moaner and-d-d occasionally a screamer. I promise.”

  Ford nuzzled her neck and this time it was the right thing to do. “It’s just your emotions. They must be really involved.”

  “Of course they are! I love you and I had to hide it for so l-long!”

  “Shh.” He kissed her cheek and licked at a tear.

  “It was horrible. What if you’d never—”

  “But I did.” Ford started thrusting in time with the rocking of the boat.

  Gina stopped crying. Funny how that worked.

  “Oh, Ford…”

  “Nobody here but us sex-crazed maniacs.”

  She giggled until he lifted her hips and moved faster and deeper.

  “Ford!” It was as though they’d gone from the slow lane to the autobahn and were zooming toward the Magical City of O.

  Gina clutched at his shoulders. In the background, she heard an outboard-motor boat roar past. Moments later, its wake reached the Sarah June and lapped at the hull.

  The extra movement set off a throbbing pleasure that rolled through Gina. She still felt the ripples as Ford tensed and gasped her name.

  As they lay, still breathing heavily, limbs entwined, Gina smiled. “That was a nice touch—saying my name like that.”

  “Mmm?” He traced lazy circles on her shoulder.

  “You said, ‘Gina.’”

  “That’s your name.”

  “I know, but…you could have forgotten and said ‘Monica.’”

  “No.” He nudged her until she was looking at him. “I know exactly who I’m with and exactly who I want to be with. Fortunately, it’s the same person. You.”

  “I don’t want to live in a cave.”

  He blinked. “Sometime, you’ll have to tell me how you got from me calling your name in a moment of deepest passion to cave dwelling.”

  “I want to be sure you know who I am.”

  Cuddling her, he asked, “Will you look at the mock-up of the house before you call it a cave?”

  “Of course.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I’m not a green activist.”

  “I know. You don’t have to be.”

  “But I will try to be more conscious of our effect on the environment.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Gina hesitated. “Is there something I need to know about you?”

  “Yes.” Ford pulled her on top of him. “I’m really intrigued by the idea of you as a screamer.”

  Gina laughed. “So give it your best shot, tree hugger.”

  Later that night, in the middle of a hushed and placid Lake Travis, a woman screamed.

  Twice.

  Epilogue

  “WILLIAM—”

  “Tonight we’re Beth Ann and Bill,” he reminded her. As he had done several times.

  The dinner was excellent, the wine was extraordinary and William—Bill—was a witty and amusing companion. A witty and amusing and devastatingly handsome companion.

  Not the Bill she remembered.

  Except for the good-looking part. She remembered that. It was the devastatingly handsome part that had crept up on her.

  The beautifully tailored suit he wore hadn’t come from Tuxedo Park’s inventory. He looked better, more successful and sophisticated. Julian Wainright himself had come by their table and greeted Bill as a friend. Julian defined Beth Ann’s idea of sophistication, and tonight, Bill was his peer.

  And the way he’d focused intently on her all evening had her running hot and cold.

  He found her attractive and he was making sure she knew it. That made her hot. Wondering what to do about it made her cold.

  He appeared casually relaxed, content to wait for…she wished she knew. Or was it she was afraid she knew?

  She shouldn’t have let Lia talk her into wearing this jacket. It sent the wrong signal.

  “We should probably discuss the men’s vests,” she said.

  Bill set his wineglass down. “We should not.”

  “Then what should we discuss?”

  “How about we talk about me waiting the last eight years for you?”

  Beth Ann was afraid she was going to cough up her sea bass because of the sudden knot in her throat.

  “I could tell that the timing was never right, but damn, woman, you’re worth the wait.”

  Beth Ann choked down her food. “I never led you on. I never implied we were anything more than business partners.”

  “But you knew how I felt.” He gazed steadily at her.

  Beth Ann felt her cheeks heat and went for her water glass.

  “I was happy at the Monkey Suit, but I sold up and foll
owed you here to Rocky Falls because this is what you wanted.”

  “You didn’t have to.” She should have seen this coming. He was right—she had guessed that he felt something for her.

  “If I wanted to be with you, I did.”

  “Don’t pretend that this hasn’t been a great partnership and that you haven’t benefited from my ideas.”

  “Never said it wasn’t.”

  “I’ve worked hard—”

  “Never said you hadn’t. And you just landed a wedding big enough to take you to the next level.”

  “To take us to the next level.”

  Bill picked up his wine and studied the liquid through the candlelight. “I don’t know if I want to go there with you or get out while the gettin’s good.”

  She felt frozen. “What are you saying?”

  He set the glass back down. Reaching across the table, he covered one of her cold hands with his. “I’m saying that I’ve been in love with you since your bad-perm days. One look at you all excited about opening your first shop and I fell so hard and so fast, I woke up in a different world. Since I met you, you’re my last thought at night and my first thought in the morning. Every. Single. Day.” His eyes were as intense as she’d ever seen them.

  “Bill,” she whispered.

  He squeezed her hand and withdrew his. “I’ve been waiting for the right time for you, and today I decided that it was the right time for me.”

  Beth Ann was sweating in the sample jacket. “What do you want me to say?”

  Hurt and disappointment flashed briefly across his face. “I want to know if you can ever feel that way about me.”

  Beth Ann’s heart was pounding so hard she could barely breathe. She wasn’t ready to think about this. She couldn’t think about this. There was too much going on. With the exposure from the Brantley wedding, she was going to be busier than ever. He was putting pressure on her. She—

  Her cell phone rang.

  “Don’t answer,” Bill said quietly.

  Beth Ann was already looking at the number. “It’s Lia.”

  “Beth Ann. Call her back in a few minutes.”

  “It’s…it’s got to be an emergency. She wouldn’t call me otherwise.” Beth Ann jabbed at the talk button. “Lia?”

  She turned away with her finger in her other ear even though she could hear perfectly well. But she didn’t want to look at Bill.

  It was bad enough meeting his eyes when she disconnected. “The computer crashed and Lia lost all the orders including the Brantleys’.” Beth Ann gathered her purse and stood.

  “Sit.”

  “Didn’t you hear what I said? This is a disaster.”

  Bill drank his wine.

  “We need to leave.”

  “Finish your dinner. The computer is going to stay crashed whether you eat or not, and there’s nothing you can do until tomorrow.”

  “I can help re-create the orders.”

  “You can do that tomorrow.”

  “Bill!”

  He set the empty glass down with such force, the stem snapped. Staring at it, he took a deep breath. “Here.” He reached into his pocket and tossed his keys onto the table. “Take my truck.”

  “But…”

  “I’m staying here tonight. In the Rocky Falls Suite. Send James or somebody to pick me up tomorrow.”

  “You…you reserved the Rocky Falls Suite? The one with the two-story waterfall?”

  He said nothing, his face stony.

  As though it was happening to somebody else, Beth Ann saw her hand reach for the ring of keys. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  Dazed, she drove his truck to the salon.

  She listened to what Lia was saying, but it was Bill and the expression on his face when she’d taken the keys that dominated her thoughts.

  She heard enough to know that what had happened was bad, but it wasn’t a disaster like having the building catch fire.

  The elegant salon was her dream. William—Bill’s partnership had given her that dream. His jokes and casual ways had balanced her pretentions. Had kept her focused. Kept her sane.

  And now he was going to leave. Knowing Bill, he’d walk away and let her have everything.

  Right at that moment, Beth Ann knew she didn’t want the bridal salon without Bill.

  She blinked as Lia said something about the Brantley pinks. “It’ll be fine,” she told her vaguely. “Just finish up here and go on home.”

  Beth Ann didn’t remember the details of the drive back to the Wainright in Bill’s truck. She remembered shaking with nerves. She remembered the elevator ride to the top floor and desperately trying to think of what she was going to say.

  She remembered walking down the hall to the end opposite the bridal suite, where she’d delivered so many dresses.

  And now she stood at the door with her hand poised to knock and noticed that there was a doorbell. That made sense. The famed Rocky Falls Suite with its outdoor balcony and hot tub that replicated the falls needed a doorbell because discreet knocks wouldn’t be heard outside.

  Beth Ann knocked anyway. And she rang the bell, too. And then she rang it again.

  It seemed as though an eternity passed before Bill opened the door. He barely wore a casually knotted terry robe. His chest and hair were wet. His face was blank.

  “Did monsieur ring for zee French maid?”

  He just stared at her and Beth Ann was terrified that she was too late.

  “That is the worst French accent I’ve ever heard. Get in here.” He pulled her into the suite and into his arms and into a kiss that threatened to devour her.

  Desire, passion and pure lust bloomed within her. Why had she been afraid? She slipped her hands beneath his robe as his fingers quickly unbuttoned the lace jacket.

  A benefit of being in their profession was that they were experts in dressing and undressing. Beth Ann shucked her skirt and heard Bill inhale sharply.

  “Beth Ann Grakowski, where are your panties?” Bill seemed genuinely shocked and not teasing at all.

  What was the matter with him? “I’m wearing panty hose.” Probably the last woman on earth to do so. She rolled them over her hips.

  Bill seemed to be breathing hard. Maybe he was a stocking man. Good to know.

  “Y-you mean to tell me that all those years I gave you foot rubs, you weren’t wearing any panties?”

  “Panty. Hose.” She finished pulling them off.

  Bill took them and held them up. “See. Through.”

  “So? No one is going to be looking.”

  He made a strangled sound, scooped her up in his arms and carried her out to the patio. Without pausing, he descended into the lush pool, designed to look like a forest grotto and waterfall. “Beth Ann, from now on, your foot rubs are going to be a little different.”

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-3420-2

  UNDRESSED

  Copyright © 2009 by Heather W. MacAllister.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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