“I guess it does, and dinner and dessert.”
“I told you that I wasn’t hungry.”
“Neither am I—not for food. I want you, Anastasia Lanham, more than I’ve ever wanted a woman in my life. And I think you feel the same way.” He didn’t look at her. He didn’t move any closer. He didn’t take her in his arms. He simply made love to her with his voice.
“Why?” she asked curiously. “I’ve already learned enough about you to know that you could probably have any woman you choose. Why me?”
He turned so abruptly that she wasn’t prepared for the intensity of his gaze, which caught and held her. “I think you must have healing eyes,” he said quietly. “There’s something wonderfully warm and caring about them. Like fine brandy, like tiger eyes, they comfort and brand me when I look at you.”
“I don’t understand that kind of talk, Gavin. I never understood when I heard my father talk about abstract feelings and instincts. I only know what I can touch and see and feel. And I don’t understand this power that exists between us.”
“Neither do I, Stacy. The first time I saw you, I felt good, happy. You were peaches and cream, and I wanted to taste you.”
“You doing it again, Gavin, talking about something that can’t be touched, or described. Talk to me about reality, about my garage and how you came to be there. About Aunt Jane and why she sent you.”
“All right, but I can’t do that and look at you.” Gavin stood and switched off the television and turned the lamp on its lowest wattage. The room was bathed in soft shadows as he sat beside her and took off his boots.
“I’ve been working for an investment firm for years. I’ve done well, but I’m tired of playing games and hustling people—that’s what it is, essentially. I try to outcharm my competition, outmaneuver the investor. Times are hard now, and there is just so much money out there. I think that I need some of your reality.”
“So you want to buy a garage? Come on, Gatsby, get real.”
“No, several years ago I attended an antique car auction and saw perfectly sane men go crazy bidding astronomical amounts of money on the cars they’d always wanted in their youth and could never afford.”
“So you’re into ego gratification and recapturing youth?”
“That’s how it started. But then I had a client who had a huge dairy farm. He and his brother operated it for years. Then progress found them as the city spread out, and eventually the land became worth so much money that he couldn’t afford the taxes. When his brother died, he came to me to sell the land for him.”
There was something vital and alive about Gavin’s voice now. Stacy was glad that he hadn’t been able to harness this kind of power into his seduction of her. She would never have been able to resist.
“And?” she prompted.
“Through the years, as the dairy barns had been abandoned, he filled them with things.”
“Things?”
“Mostly old things that he cared about. Tractors, farm implements, and automobile parts.”
“You mean, he had a junkyard.”
Gavin laughed. “Stacy, one’s man’s junk is another man’s treasure. Jim—that’s my client—bought up all the old Stock in the parts department of every automobile dealership that had changed hands or moved into new buildings. He had two buildings of new old car parts. He was sitting on a fortune, and his land was being claimed for nonpayment of taxes.”
“And you want to buy my garage to store his car parts?”
“Not exactly. We’re going to open a complete center where we’ll buy old automobiles and completely restore them to be sold. That, and we’ll do private restoration for people who can afford it.”
Stacy shook her head. In the half darkness she knew that Gavin couldn’t see her. But the concept he envisioned was mind-boggling. And risky. And as grand a scheme as she’d ever heard her father promote in his heyday.
“And you’re going to make a million dollars.”
“Yes, and probably more. Stacy, I’ve already taken an option on all the land around yours. I need your garage to complete the project, or the whole dead is down the toilet. I should have come to you first. But I found out that you were practically out of business, and I thought you’d sell in a minute.”
She didn’t know what she’d expected, but his knowledge of her dire straits came as a surprise. “You had me investigated?”
“Not exactly. Well, yes, my backer did. But that was before I met you, Stacy. Now, well, I don’t want to cheat you, and I won’t. I simply have to have your land.”
“You mean, if you don’t get my garage, you lose the project?”
“Something like that. Don’t worry, I’ll pay you a fair price. You can even come to work for me—you and Lonnie. I’ve worked with plenty of gamblers in my life, but I don’t think I’ve ever worked with one who never lost.”
“You don’t have to sweet-talk me, Gavin. You and I both know that you can take my garage if you want to and not pay me a cent. Even your mother and Aunt Jane know that.”
Gavin heard the resignation in her voice. He was confused. What did she think he was, some kind of muscle man who would strong-arm her? He wasn’t sure where that thought had come from. His mother and Aunt Jane? Of course he was used to their nonsense, but he could see how that might appear to Stacy. Suddenly he understood what she thought.
“Uh-oh, I see. You think I intend to marry you and claim the garage as my wedding present.”
“What?” Stacy came to her feet. The dogs joined her instantly, ready to spring to her defense if needed. “Marry you? I never intend to marry, Gavin Magadan, and if I do, it will be to a mailman, or a hardware store owner, or a farmer. In case you don’t understand, that means a normal, ordinary man who probably doesn’t have a pot to … I mean, no money and no grand schemes to make a million dollars.”
Gavin stood lazily, took a slow step toward Stacy, and lifted her chin with his thumb, bringing her face into the light spilling from the kitchen beyond.
“Anastasia Lanham, I think we’re going to have to take a chance on each other. Grand schemes I may be guilty of, at least that’s what the banks said when they turned down my loan applications. But ordinary? If that means that I don’t have a pot to do anything in, I qualify. Every cent I have is tied up in this project, along with a hefty sum from a pretty unsavory character from out of town. I’m sorry I’m not a mailman or a farmer, and truthfully, even if I were, I would never feel ordinary when I’m with you.”
“Oh.” Her voice was breathless.
“And you, my earth child, are no ordinary woman. You pretend to live an ordinary life and yet you’re a horror-movie buff, a hobby in which you try to satisfy some wild, secret nature. And you watch baseball, bet on baseball, and live every play vicariously. There is a side of you that you keep hidden very nicely beneath a body that begs to be touched, and I think there is some part of you that wants to break out and live life to the fullest.”
Stacy told herself that Aunt Jane was somehow responsible for Gavin coming into her life. And she didn’t know why he was saying all these things. She didn’t know why she’d brought him home, or gone home with him. She liked her life just as it was. But now, because of Gatsby, nothing was the same.
The dogs whined, then as if on command, turned and left the room. She heard their tags hit the floor as they settled themselves beside the door. Gavin had won their trust, and now her guards were protecting not only her, but him as well. The world would be kept out. They wouldn’t move until morning.
Inside her safe haven—the log house where she’d never brought a lover—Gavin Magadan was tearing down every wall she’d ever built. And as she felt his arms curl around her shoulders, she knew that she’d been the one to bring him inside.
“Don’t do this, Gavin.”
“I think you know that we have to, Stacy.”
“But—but I have to tell you. I’m not terribly experienced. It’s been a long time since I let a man make love t
o me.”
“Stacy, you’re not letting me, and we’re not making love—not yet, but we will. And when we do, we’ll be loving each other.”
As though from a long distance she heard his words, but she was past questioning. A half moan escaped from her lips as she collapsed against him and turned her face to receive the kiss she was becoming dangerously addicted to.
His mouth covered hers in a long, slow kiss that touched off a coil of sensation that bubbled through her veins like hot moonshine in an illegal still. She tried to remind herself that he was out of her reach, that this was some kind of scam, that they were being used or using each other. But nothing could stop the exquisite feelings that had taken control of her practical body and changed her into a wanton woman.
She returned his kiss, delving with her tongue, pressing herself against him shamelessly, seductively. Tonight it wasn’t the white-trousered playboy who was wild and mean, tonight it was Stacy who’d turned into a white hot loving machine and who laced her fingers around his neck, holding him until their lungs were filled with fire.
Gavin groaned and pulled back long enough to look down at her. “I have never wanted anyone or anything as much in my life as I want you,” he said huskily as he lifted her in his arms and started up the stairs to the loft. At the top of the steps his mouth covered hers in a long, slow, heated assault. The raging fire sweeping through him erupted into a steady, escalating inferno that threatened to burn them both to ashes.
He’d been wrong. It wasn’t just warmth and goodness that she promised, it was fire and forever. Through the upstairs window the amber light fell like copper across her bed. He let her down, standing her in the pool of fiery luminance as he began to undress her slowly, being careful not to let his trembling hands betray his anxiety.
When she was standing before him wearing only her bra, he fought the urge to touch her. He expected confusion, reluctance in her eyes. What he saw was a reflection of the fire that must be in his own.
She watched as he pulled his shirt over his head and pitched it over the rail. His boots had already been discarded, now socks followed, and then the jeans, which fell down his legs with more ease than she’d imagined. He, too, stood nearly nude, wearing only his underwear, not a sinful bikini pair as she’d expected, but boxer shorts with—baseballs?
“Oh, Gavin, you crazy, wonderful man.” The last residue of doubt in her mind vanished as he flipped the shorts over the balcony and stood aroused and proud—man in his most primeval state, asking woman for her most precious gift.
Gavin was right. Since Lucky died she’d lived her safe, secure little life, refusing to take risks, refusing the possibility of more loss—until now.
Stacy unhooked her bra and let it fall, allowing her full, aching breasts to hang free. His mouth tightened as his eyes took in the dusky nipples now tightening into rosettes of desire.
She waited until he lifted her once more, knelt, and laid her on the mattress, which was resting directly on the floor. His lips caressed her body, her breasts, down her stomach, scorching the insides of her thigh as he moved slowly toward the coil of heat that seemed drawn into a knot. She felt as if she were about to explode.
“Please, Gavin,” she whispered, imploring him with her hands to leave the place he was nipping even as she was pressing herself against him. “Please.”
Gavin was drowning in this new emotion; the taste, the touch, the smell of her. He tried to pause, and consider the possible consequence of his action. Anastasia Lanham wasn’t some love-’em-and-leave-’em lady, and he wasn’t sure any longer that he was a kiss-confuse-and-conquer kind of guy.
Then she reached down and pulled his face up to hers. New waves of desire flared between them as he shivered and melted into the depths of her mouth. Whatever worry had made him pause was pushed aside as he moved his body between her legs. For a long time he simply supported himself on his arms and slid his arousal between her legs, caressing the spot that he’d so inflamed with need. Then he collapsed on top of her, catching his manhood between them, promising her what he was not yet willing to give.
Stacy knew that she must be dying. She felt every microcosmic particle of her body vibrate in charged readiness. Gavin’s face was pressed against her hair, each breath a deep, raspy gasp for air that sounded as if he were drowning. Yet still he waited.
Stacy spread her legs wider, curving them around him, sliding her ankles up and down his legs. And then he raised himself and moved slowly inside her, an inch at a time. If she’d thought she was dying before, she was certain of it now. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this oneness, this blending of one person into another.
Gavin fought for control, tried desperately to hold back the flood of release that was rocking his body even as he entered her. But there was no stopping his climax and as he let it go, he felt the woman beneath him shudder and cry out.
She was flying. She was torn into a million pieces and flying through a field of sensation that she couldn’t begin to capture. Then like feathers caught in a hot wind that suddenly died, everything seemed to drift down. Gavin was still inside her, but he was brushing her hair away from her face and kissing her. And for the first time in a long time, Stacy Lanham felt safe.
“Was it—all right?” she asked in a voice that sounded as if it belonged to someone else.
“It was all right. It was all good. It was spiritual.”
Limp and drained, she lay holding him, little sensations still erupting inside her like starbursts of distant summer lightning. Questions still had to be answered, but for now, Stacy felt as if she were soaring, and she was content to wait.
Then Gavin slipped his arm beneath her shoulders and turned over, holding her to him, settling her cheek against his chest. For a long time they simply held each other, allowing the wonder of their loving to settle over them.
Finally she chuckled. “I think, my very special, very ordinary man, that if you really want to make a million dollars, you’re in the wrong business. You ought to be a chef.”
“A chef? What on earth for?”
“Because if that’s your idea of dessert, we can patent it, and we’ll never have to worry about anything again.”
“Sorry, darling. That’s a one-of-a-kind creation. And it’s all yours, if you want to claim it.”
“Ummm!” Her eyelids were closing in spite of her best efforts to hold them open. She raised her head and found his neck with her lips. “I think I do. Consider yourself immortal, Magadan,” she whispered, and gently bit him.
Seven
“You know this doesn’t change anything, Gavin.”
“I think it changes everything. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll never bet with you on anything important unless the stakes are higher than ten dollars.”
She could smell the male scent of him. Every breath he took made the hair on his chest tickle her cheek. There was a relaxed, content air about him that seemed genuine. He wasn’t trying to rouse her to new heights of passion, rather he was wallowing in satisfaction. If she could have seen his face, she was certain he’d be wearing that silly, satisfied smile.
“That’s not what I mean, Gatsby. I mean you came, you saw, and you conquered. But it’s not going to get you my garage. Now you can pack up and go home.”
Conquered? Was that what she thought. He raised up on one elbow and looked down at her. “You think that all this was an attempt to change your mind about selling?” He was stunned, and he wasn’t sure whether it was because she was right or because she was wrong.
The garage had brought them together, and he couldn’t deny that it was important, but Stacy had touched him in a way he couldn’t even begin to describe. What he was feeling was too new and too special to put into words without sounding like the user she’d assumed him to be.
“Of course,” she answered honestly, without malice. “You’re not the first playboy I’ve known, nor the first one to use charm and sex to get something he wanted from a woman. You can’t help it.
I understand, I truly do.”
His arm tightened protectively about her. She was wrong, but denying it wouldn’t convince her. No, he had to overcome her past by bringing it out into the open so that he could fight whatever dragons she feared.
“Tell me about it, Princess. Who hurt you so badly that you’ve hidden yourself away from the world in coveralls and a garage?”
“Don’t call me that!”
“Princess? Why not? You have a very royal name, Anastasia. You should be wearing diamonds and ermine.”
“I’m not tall enough to be royal,” she protested, trying to turn the intensity of the moment into a joke.
She retreated into her quick wit, not yet ready to be honest with him. Gavin considered pushing, but decided that he would be better off waiting. Instead, he matched her jovial banter with his own.
“Neither is Queen Elizabeth, but she is. Belonging to royalty is something you’re born with, something inside, not how you look. And you, my darling, are positively noble, except maybe when you let out those little screams of pleasure when you’re loving me.”
“I wasn’t loving you. We were simply—I mean, I do not scream in pleasure.”
“Oh, yes you do, Princess, and I want to know why you’re so afraid to know it.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, kissing each eyelid, making hot little circles as he waited. “Tell me about him—the playboy. I want to know, Stacy. I want—no need to know all about you.”
And suddenly she wanted him to know. In a great wave of relief she told him the truth, knowing that her past would likely send him away and bring this miracle fantasy to an end. If she wasn’t noble enough for this man, she needed to know now, before she fell any further under his spell.
“Not him,” she said softly, “them. There was a time, just before my father died, when Lucky got very scared. Nothing was going right for him. He’d always left me behind with Lonnie and his wife, Grace. But suddenly Lucky decided that he needed a talisman. I was that charm. He dressed me up, took me with him, paraded me before all the men he was trying to impress. I never understood why.”
Lean Mean Loving Machine Page 8
