by Marie Force
“Shouldn’t you get that?” Olivia asked.
“I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll check it later. I’d shut it off, but I never want to be out of touch if my dad needs to reach me.” He grimaced when it vibrated again.
“Someone sure wants you for something.”
Cole’s stomach twisted with anxiety as they arrived at the hotel and parked in the garage. He kept his arm around her and carried their bags to the elevator. After a few minutes of power flirting by the star-struck desk clerk, they were back in the elevator with a key to a room on the fourth floor. Olivia’s shoulders, he noticed, seemed rigid with tension.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said. “I can’t believe she’d come on to me with you standing right there.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Is everything okay?” Did she not believe me when I said I didn’t expect anything?
“Of course,” she said.
He used the key card in the door and held it for her, ignoring the buzz of his cell phone yet again.
She went in ahead of him.
The small living room was decorated in navy blue and gold. French doors opened into a bedroom with a king-sized bed and a bathroom off the bedroom.
“What do you think?” Cole asked.
Pushing the heavy navy drapes aside, she checked the view of the street. “It’s beautiful.”
That wasn’t the word Cole would’ve used. He’d stayed in better places—and worse places. But when she turned to him, her eyes bright with excitement, he wished he had taken her to the Ritz. Next time, he decided, he would take her to the Ritz—or somewhere just as fancy.
She crossed the room to him. “Thank you for this.”
Resting his hands on her shoulders, he kissed her forehead. “Thank you for rearranging your schedule for me.”
“It was no problem.”
“Where does everyone think you are?”
“My dad and Jenny, my cousin, know I’m with you. We told my mom I was helping Jenny with her baby.”
They keep things from her mother, he thought. I wonder if she’ll eventually tell me why. “How old is Jenny’s baby?”
Olivia’s face softened. “Six months.”
“And you adore him.”
“I’m mad for him.” She looked up at him, shyly. “Jenny wants me to bring you over for dinner tomorrow night. If you want to…”
“That sounds like fun.”
“That’s because you haven’t met Jenny.”
He laughed. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to take that.”
“Let’s put it this way—she already has us married.”
Again he should have been undone by the mere mention of a word he had studiously avoided, but he wasn’t. “Is that so?”
Her cheeks went pink with embarrassment, and Cole decided she had never been lovelier.
“You can see why I’m not sure that taking you there would be such a good idea,” Olivia said.
“She’s important to you. I’d love to meet her.”
Olivia’s brown eyes turned up to gauge his sincerity.
He hated that she felt the need to question it. “What do you feel like doing?” he asked.
“Would you mind if I took a shower?”
“Of course not.” His hand on her chin, he tilted her face up so he could see her. “You’re not my guest here, honey. This is our room. If you want to take a shower, take a shower. I want you to relax and do exactly what you feel like doing.”
Apparently, what she felt like doing at that moment was wrapping her arms around his neck and sliding her lips over his.
Cole held back, letting her take the lead, curious to know where she would take him. But when her tongue skimmed over his bottom lip, he couldn’t keep a gasp from escaping. His hand found the small of her back, and he brought her closer to him. Still he fought the burning urge to plunder.
“I thought you were going to take a shower,” he whispered.
“I am,” she said but made no move to go.
“Is it your intention to kill me first?”
She laughed, a full laugh that engaged her eyes.
The impact hit him like a punch to the gut. He tilted his head, found her neck with his lips, and could have drowned in her scent.
Her head fell back. “Cole,” she sighed.
“Hmm?”
“I’m going to the shower now.”
“Okay,” he said, but he continued to drop hot, open-mouthed kisses on her neck.
She giggled and gently pushed him away. “I’ll be quick,” she promised.
“Please.”
Picking up her bag, she left him with a smile.
“Are you hungry?” he called through the closed door.
“Sort of.”
“What do you feel like?”
“Whatever you want is fine with me.”
She was easy to be with, undemanding, pleased with the little things another woman might have taken for granted. If he wasn’t careful, he would be halfway in love with her before the weekend ended.
If he wasn’t already.
That thought finally brought him up short, causing him to stand perfectly still in the middle of the living room. The only sound was that of the shower running in the bathroom. Was he already in love with her? Was that even possible so soon after meeting her? Had he loved her, maybe, from the instant he first looked up and saw her there, tending to him, waiting for him? Is that why none of the other women he’d dated recently held an ounce of appeal anymore?
A minute, maybe two, passed before his buzzing cell phone brought him back to reality. He realized he was still holding the room service menu, still standing in the middle of the room, frozen in place.
If I don’t already love her, I could, he acknowledged. I could very easily love her like I’ve never loved anyone else. I could very easily see myself rearranging my life and my priorities to make room for her, if that’s what it comes to.
He ran his life with single-minded focus, without regard to what anyone else wanted or needed, and he regularly took off on trips that kept him away from home for days at a time. Was there room in that life for someone as important as Olivia could be to him? And what kind of life would there be now if she wasn’t somehow a part of it? No one had ever been important enough for him to reorder his priorities, so he had no answers to his own questions.
Cole shook his head, took a deep breath, and forced himself to focus on the room service menu. He settled on two kinds of pasta they could share, two bottles of the white wine he knew she liked, and remembering his pledge to pamper her, he ordered chocolate cake for dessert. What woman didn’t love chocolate?
While he waited for her, he finally checked the caller ID on his phone and confirmed his worst fears. Natasha. Natasha. Natasha. His hand shaking ever so slightly, Cole called Tucker.
“Hey, man, what’s up? I thought you were away this weekend.”
“I am, but Nutty Natasha is stalking me. Sixteen calls in the last hour.”
Tuck groaned. “Are you shitting me?”
“I wish I was.” Cole glanced nervously at the bathroom door and lowered his voice even though the shower was still running. “Tuck, you gotta help me out. She can’t be calling me. Not this weekend.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
Since Cole still hadn’t told his friend about Olivia, he said, “It’s just really important that she give me a freaking break this weekend. Will you talk to her?”
“No way! If I go over there, she’ll grill me for an hour about every detail of your life. I can’t deal with her.”
“Tucker, please. I need your help.”
“Call her parents again. That worked last time.”
“They swore to me last week that I’d never hear from her again,” Cole said bitterly. In the bathroom, Olivia shut off the shower. “Tucker, please,” he said in a quiet but urgent tone. “Do something.”
“All right,” Tucker said begrudgingly. “I’ll talk to her, but when you ge
t home, you’re going to tell me what was so all-fired important about this weekend. You got me?”
“I will. I promise.”
“I’ll let you know what happens when I talk to her.”
“Text me.”
“You owe me for this one, Langston.”
“No question about that.”
As the hair dryer went on in the bathroom, Cole ended the call and tried to calm his rattled nerves. He couldn’t take much more of this crap from Natasha. More than once over the last few months he’d considered getting the police involved to finally expunge her from his life.
Wanting to avoid the humiliation of going public with a relationship that had gone very bad, he’d avoided that route. But it was getting to the point where he couldn’t avoid it for much longer. If that crazy woman messed things up with Olivia… Ugh. He couldn’t go there or he’d lose his mind.
Still trying to calm himself, he fished his iPod out of the duffle and stretched out on the bed, hoping to relax his racing mind before she rejoined him.
***
Emerging from the bathroom in soft pajama pants and a silky tank top, she found him on the bed, his eyes closed, his hand gripping the sleek silver iPod. She wished she could draw him just like that. The energy that usually vibrated from him had calmed, but he was every bit as appealing in this state as he was at full tilt. It was another layer, another aspect to add to a growing list of attractive qualities.
Watching him, her heart ached. She wanted him. Not just physically, but that was definitely part of it. No, she wanted him. She wanted to know him, wanted to know he was hers and that she could come home to him, depend on him, be there for him.
All her life she had kept a tight rein on what she allowed herself to hope for. As a child, her Christmas and birthday lists would consist of the one item she couldn’t live without, knowing her father would find a way to get it for her. By putting more on the list, she feared not getting the one thing she desired above all the others. She never risked asking for more than she felt she deserved.
So it was reckless of her to want this man the way she did, to place him first on the list without knowing anything more than his name, his passion for flying, and a few random facts about his family and his life. What she wanted most, though, was to always feel the way he made her feel just by lying there on the bed, humming softly to himself. Safe. Content. Alive. Finally, finally alive.
He opened his eyes and caught her studying him. Smiling, he reached out, closed his fingers around hers, and pulled.
With a squeal, she landed on top of him and was imprisoned by strong arms. Breathless with surprise and desire, she glanced down to find startling blue eyes looking up at her.
His full, sensuous lips curved into an amused expression. “How was the shower?”
Olivia kept her focus on those fabulous lips. “Great. I feel much better.”
“Mmm, you smell so good.” He cupped her cheek and brought her in for a soft kiss. “Dinner should be here soon.”
Realizing he had decided to let her set the pace, Olivia shifted slightly on top of him to gain better access to those lips of his. The new position also put her in direct contact with his erection. Her eyes flipped up to meet his.
He grinned sheepishly and shrugged. “Doesn’t mean anything more than you turn me on, but you know that by now.”
Full of her own power, Olivia brought her mouth down on his and put her heart and soul into the kiss.
His arm tightened around her, and his other hand tunneled into her hair as their tongues mated, caressed, danced.
She released a startled gasp when he suddenly reversed their positions while clinging to the kiss. The weight of him on top of her was among the most exciting things she’d ever experienced. Her hands slipped under his sweater to discover his warm, smooth back.
He trembled from her touch.
She tilted her hips and sent a groan rumbling through him.
A knock on the door startled them. They pulled apart but stared at each other, stunned by the ferocity of their passion.
Glancing down at the noticeable ridge under the soft denim of his jeans, he smiled. “You’d better get that.”
With a nervous giggle, Olivia reached for a sweater to cover nipples that stood at full attention, ran her fingers through her damp hair, and opened the door.
Chapter 8
“Do you think he knew exactly what we were doing?” she asked the minute the door closed behind the waiter.
Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen and deep red from kissing him. A rush of desire took his breath away. “I’m sure he suspects you were working me over, since I was flat out on the bed.”
“Cole!”
He found her outrage even more adorable than the sexy dishevelment. Sitting up slowly, he moved to the edge of the bed and gazed at her, wanting to take in every detail, every nuance.
“What?” she asked when the heat of his stare got to her.
“I know you’ll think this is another line, but you’re just so very beautiful. I find it hard to look away.”
She moved to him, wrapped her arms around him, and rested her cheek on the top of his head.
His hands found her waist, and he pressed his lips to her belly through the thin fabric of her tank top.
“Ready to eat?” she asked in a voice that was shakier than it should have been.
The sound of it sobered him, reminding him of his vow to take it slow and easy with her.
“Yep.” He stood up, kissed her, led her to the table by the window, and held the chair for her. When she was settled, he opened one of the bottles of wine and poured them each a glass. He started to sit down but stopped abruptly.
“Wait a sec. Something’s missing.”
Confused, she looked around. “What?”
He went to his duffel and returned with a shopping bag that contained two tapered candles and a pair of heavy plastic candlesticks that were still in the packaging from the store.
Speechless, Olivia watched him.
Cole unwrapped the candles, lit them, and arranged them on the small table.
“You brought candles,” she finally said.
“I liked looking at you in the candlelight the night we had dinner together,” he said with a shrug.
Sitting back in her chair, she stared at him.
“I don’t mean to freak you out… I just liked you in candlelight—”
“It’s just the sweetest thing. I didn’t realize you were such a romantic.”
He groaned. “Don’t stick me with that.”
“Why not if it’s true?”
“No one’s ever said that about me, so it must be your influence.”
She smiled and her brown eyes went soft with what looked an awful lot like love.
He cleared the emotion from his throat. “So what do you say we eat before it gets cold?”
Olivia nodded and he pulled his chair around so he could sit close to her. They fed each other and ate off each other’s plates like they’d been eating together for years rather than twice.
“Which one do you like better?” he asked.
“The shrimp.”
“Me, too.”
“Have the rest. I’m done.”
He refilled their wine glasses. “I hope you saved room for dessert.”
“Now you tell me.”
“It’ll keep until you’re ready for it.”
Standing up, she stretched her arms up over her head. “Maybe later.” She reached for the iPod he had left on the bed and glanced at him. “May I?”
“Sure.”
“Let’s see what you’ve got on here.” She brought it with her when she returned to the table. “AC/DC, Aerosmith, Alanis Morrisette—one we agree on—America, Bach, the Beatles, Boston, Bob Dylan, Bob Seger, BTO. Buffalo Springfield? Who the heck is that?”
He grinned. “Stop, children, what’s that sound…”
She raised a hand to cut him off. “Anything from this decade?”
“Alanis, Sheryl Crow, Green Day, Matchbox Twenty, among many others. My taste is eclectic.”
She laughed. “If that’s what you want to call it. What’s your all-time favorite song?”
He took the iPod from her, cycled through until he found what he was looking for, and handed it back to her.
As she positioned the ear buds, she kept her eyes trained on him until the song seemed to transport her right out of the room. When it was over, she turned off the iPod and set it on the table. “Does that describe you? Are you a desperado?”
“I guess I have been. In the past.”
It seemed to take courage for her to ask, “And now?”
He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “I’m tired of my feet being cold in the wintertime, and I’m starting to think the Queen of Hearts might’ve been on to something.”
She held his gaze for a long moment before she released his hand and got up to look out the window.
He followed her. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he kissed the top of her head. “What about you? What’s your favorite song?”
“‘Big Girls Don’t Cry.’”
“Don’t they?” he asked, turning her to face him.
Her chin tilted defiantly. “The foolish ones do.”
“Are you really so cynical, Olivia?”
She shrugged. “I’ve had reason to be.”
He raised his hand to caress her face. “I’d like to show you that you can be foolish and safe at the same time, but you’ll have to take a leap of faith. You’re going to have to trust me and believe just a little bit.”
“I don’t know if I can,” she said softly. “It’s not that I don’t want to because I do. I wish you knew just how badly I want to believe it’s possible.”
The yearning radiated from her. How could he not know?
“But things like this don’t happen to me.”
“Just because it hasn’t happened before doesn’t mean it can’t.” He brought his other hand up to her face. “Do you feel something when I touch you? Like this?”
She nodded—a small nod, but a nod just the same. “A jolt,” she whispered.
His hands froze on her face. “You do?”
“It goes right through me.”
“When I was on the floor in the airport with a concussion and a banged-up shoulder and you touched me… When you put your hands on my face, I felt it everywhere.” Taking advantage of her speechless state, he stole a kiss. “Do you think that happens to me every day?”
