“I commend you on your self-protective efforts,” Michelle inserted with a saccharine smile. “But—”
“But you have more advice?” Steve interrupted, sounding aggrieved. “Why do women always feel free to take potshots at single men? It’s perennially open season on us.” “Maybe it’s because women don’t like to feel that we’re merely one among many. Fungible. As interchangeable as pennies in a jar. And men like you make us feel that way. Not unique, not special. Just a body and from your point of view, preferably an accommodating one.”
“I guess it would be in poor taste to tell you that your body is definitely special? TThat I could make you feel things you’ve never felt before—unique could apply—if you’d care to be, uh, accommodating?”
He flashed a charming, coaxing smile. Michelle was neither charmed nor coaxed out of her increasing irritation. It didn’t help that she knew he was teasing. For some inexplicable reason his refusal to take her seriously angered her. Far more than it should.
She knew that, too, and it made her even angrier. “I can see we’ve used up the sixty seconds you allot for any kind of serious conversation. Now it’s back to the innuendoes and, the flirting and the smooth little jokes. If you don’t mind— and even if you do—I’m opting out of this round.”
She flung open the car door. A strong gust of wind blew an icy blast of snow into the car, half blinding her. Michelle pushed herself out of the car, gasping as her feet plunged into several inches of cold, wet snow. A moment later, Steve was beside her.
He hooked one arm around her waist and together the two of them trudged toward the building. It was too cold and too windy to try to talk. All their energy was directed to battling the ferocious wind. By the time Steve pulled open the thick glass door and they entered the vestibule of the building, Michelle was gasping for breath. She’d been leaning on Steve to keep her balance along the icy walk. His strength had kept her upright and afoot during the hazardous trek.
“So much for your shoes,” Steve said, staring at her soaked velvet pumps. Not that he could’ve carried her from the car; the force of the wind and depth of the snow would have prevented him from repeating his earlier chivalrous deed. And in the mood Michelle was in, she might’ve slugged him if he’d tried.
Michelle stamped her feet to shake the excess snow from them and Steve stared, riveted by the long, sleek length of her legs, so shapely and seductive in the sheer, smoky hose. He had to forcibly drag his gaze away.
“It’s so much worse since we left the restaurant,” Michelle murmured as she looked out the glass door at the awesome fury of the blizzard.
Steve followed her gaze. The storm showed no signs of abating. The winds were increasing to gale force and the snowfall was thicker and heavier than any he’d ever seen. “Damn, I really am stuck here for the night.” It would be a first for him—spending the night with a sexy, desirable woman who found him as appealing as infectious waste. He stifled a groan.
“Did you think you’d be able to charm Mother Nature into winding down the storm for you?” It was supposed to be a joke, but Michelle’s tone was more acerbic than she’d intended. The reality of the situation had just fully impacted on her. Steve Saraceni was going to spend the night in her apartment.
Steve frowned. “Can we call a truce in the hostilities?” He watched Michelle brush the snow from her coat. Her cheeks were cherry red, which had the effect of making her eyes an even deeper, brighter blue. Snowflakes glistened on her silky thick blond tresses. She was lovely, so fresh and classy. So elegantly sexy. Desire pierced him, and his body tightened. Impulsively he reached out and caught one golden lock between his fingers.
Michelle shot him a look and quickly moved away, out of his reach.
“There’s snow in your hair,” he said lamely. “I was only trying to brush it off.”
“It will melt, thank you,” Michelle said coolly. She started up the stairs.
Steve followed her. Why did she have to be so attractive? he silently lamented. Worse, why did he have to be so attracted to her? Her personality was certainly off-putting enough. She was prickly, cool, guarded and disapproving. Certainly nothing like the bouncy, cheerful, giggling girls he normally enjoyed in his leisure hours. They wouldn’t even know what the Communicable Disease Center was!
Michelle and Steve climbed to the second floor and walked past an elevator on the way to her door. “You prefer cold, drafty stairwells with steep steps to the convenience of an elevator?” he asked. “It figures!”
“That elevator is notoriously slow and it’s unreliable, too,” Michelle explained crisply. “Everybody who lives in the building avoids it whenever possible.”
She removed her key from her small purse.
“May I?” Steve askal smoothly, reaching for the key. He had long ago choreographed a sexy routine of unlocking the door with one hand while caressing his date with the other. The symbolism of the act heightened the anticipation and...
“I can do it,” Michelle said dampeningly. She opened the door, no assistance required.
The apartment was dark and chilly, and Michelle scurried about the living room, turning up the heat and switching on every lamp. “You can sleep on the sofa,” she told him, indicating the well-worn, rust-colored, U-shaped sofa. The cat was sprawled full-length in the middle of it.
“Terrific. A sectional sofa. Should be comfortable, particularly when the sections slide apart—which they invariably do when anyone lies down on them. But, hey, I’m not complaining. I’ll have the cat to keep me warm.”
Michelle fought to suppress a grin. Instinct warned her that laughing with him could be dangerous. Laughter dissolved barriers. It was far safer for her defenses to remain intact around him. “As you can see, I’m not really set up for overnight guests.” Her voice was as rigid as her stance. “Well, believe me, honey, I never intended on being one.” “Should I be insulted or flattered by that radical departure from your usual modus operandi?”
“Neither. I was, uh, shading the truth a bit.” Smiling, Steve caught both her hands in his. “In all honesty, my modus operandi was right on track. From the moment I saw you in that dress, I had high hopes of being invited to stay over—but not on the sofa. In your bedroom.” He lifted her palm to his mouth and pressed his lips against the warm center. “Care to rethink the sleeping arrangements, sweetie?”
Sweetie! Grimacing, Michelle pulled her hand away. “No.”
Steve shrugged and flopped down next to the cat. “Oh well, it was worth a try. And admit it, you really would’ve been insulted if I’d hadn’t made a single play for you.” Michelle stared at him, off balance once more. “That’s all? You’re giving up?” Could it possibly be this easy? She’d been feeling increasingly anxious and vulnerable since they’d entered the apartment... and rightfully so. A woman alone in her apartment with a man she really didn’t know at all that well, and with date rape on the rise...
She eyed him warily. “You aren’t going to... to make a serious pass at me?”
“I’ll be glad to, if you give me the signal. Otherwise, consider my token attempt the pass of the night. I don’t believe in forcing myself on a woman, Michelle. If she says no, I respect that.”
Inordinately relieved, Michelle sank down onto the sofa beside him. “I’m glad to hear that. I wasn’t looking forward to having to fight you off tonight.”
“That would be a first for me,” Steve said dryly. “I’ve never experienced having a woman fight me off.”
Michelle gazed at him, unable to tear her eyes away. He really was a marvelous-looking man with those dark good looks and solidly masculine build. Her pulses fluttered oddly. “I suppose for you, the reverse applies,” she said thoughtfully. “All those panting, eager dates of yours—you probably have to fight them off.”
“To keep them from having their wicked way with me?” Steve laughed. “Let’s not go into that. Suffice to say, that I understand no means no. And on the brighter side—yes means yes.”
; “So if a woman says yes, you’ll take her to bed, but it doesn’t really matter either way to you, does it?” Michelle frowned quizzically. “You’re awfully nonchalant about all of this. I thought making conquests was serious business to men like you.”
Steve leaned back against the sofa cushions and stretched his legs, resting his feet on the low, wide coffee table. “You’re thinking of those neurotic types whose self-worth depends on whether or not they can lure women into bed with them. They usually do everything in their power to make the women fall in love with them, too—it’s all part of their sick little ego-boosting game. Women make a big mistake by lumping all single men into the same category. There are major differences between those needy, insecure jerks and us confident, happy, independent guys. Those creeps give the rest of us a bad name.”
He leaned toward her, his dark eyes intense. “I don’t need a woman’s capitulation to affirm my masculinity or to build my self-esteem. I’m very satisfied with myself and my life. I have my work and lots of interests, I have friends and family and I relish my freedom. I’m not looking for love and I’ve never pretended otherwise. I like women, I enjoy being with them, and I just want to have a good time.”
Michelle regarded him archly. “Are you always this honest with the women you, uh, date? Are you always so upfront about your intentions—or the lack of them?”
Steve shrugged, grinning. “I don’t usually talk this much with the women I, uh, date. ” He mimicked her inflection perfectly. “We’re usually doing something, like dancing or watching a movie or a ball game.” He paused. “Or other things.”
Other things. One could only imagine what that might include. Michelle tried to will away the flush of color that stained her cheeks. Unsuccessfully. “You don’t have to elaborate,” she said sternly.
“Before you condemn me out of hand, try to understand. I talk all day, all week long, remember? All lobbyists do is talk; it’s the chief tool of the trade. I get so sick of talking. The last thing I want is to have to talk to my dates. In my spare time, I need a break from talking.”
“So you date idiots whose conversation is limited to exclamations like ‘oh, wow’ and ‘cool’?” guessed Michelle.
“Well, idiots is a bit harsh, but essentially, you’ve got the picture.”
“I suppose it’s never crossed your mind that there’s a difference between lobbying and meaningful conversation. Or that you might actually enjoy talking with your dates if you chose women capable of intelligent conversation?”
His dark eyes gleamed. “Mmm, now there’s a radical notion.”
“Wait a minute, it just occurred to me. When you asked me out, did you assume that I was a bubblebrain who wouldn’t mentally tax you?” Michelle was indignant. “You did, didn’t you?”
“No, no! I knew you were different!”
“You’re right on cue with that self-serving line.” She gave him a speaking glance. “I hope you don’t think I’m stupid enough to believe you.”
“But it’s true, Michelle. I really did enjoy talking to you on the phone that day. I wanted to get to know you better. You’re smart and sharp and good at your job. You—interest me, Michelle.”
“Oh, and most women don’t?” she asked snidely.
“Only physically. With you—it’s more.”
“Yes, of course. You admire my brains and my body,” Michelle said, scoffing. “Come on, Steve. Reel it in. I’m not biting.”
“It’s not a line, Michelle.” He sounded hurt. So genuinely wounded that she reflexively turned to him to see if he really was.
With one deft but leisurely move, Steve closed the small gap between them, slipping one arm around her shoulders and tilting her chin upward with his other hand. “Not even a little nibble?” He smiled at her, his eyes warm and filled with humor.
To her dismay, Michelle found herself responding to his roguishly teasing smile with a hesitant smile of her own. What she ought to be was annoyed with him, she reminded herself. He’d been toying with her. Hadn’t he? Perhaps she should be furious with him.
But she couldn’t seem to work up the righteous anger required. And now he was so very close, his arm around her, his sensual smiling mouth heart-stoppingly near to hers. His long fingers slipped from her chin to her neck to caress the sensitive skin which tingled under his fingertips, sending ripples of fire deep to the very core of her.
“How do you do it?” she asked shakily. She could feel the heat emanating from his body. The musky male odor of soap and after-shave and something indefinably him sent her senses swimming.
“Do what?” The husky timbre of his voice was as powerfully seductive as his eyes that had turned heavy and hungry and slumberous with desire.
With his one arm around her and the other stroking her neck, Michelle felt surrounded by the warm, male strength of him. She was vaguely aware that she ought to push him away but she pushed the thought away instead and sat still, gazing into his eyes like one mesmerized. “You know,” she murmured tremulously. “Turn things around this way. We were arguing and then suddenly—”
Her voice trailed off as he touched his lips to hers, so lightly and gently she almost thought she’d imagined it. “We were arguing to keep ourselves from doing this,” he said in a voice so smoky and intimate and sexually stimulating that a tremor of longing rocked her. Her eyelids dropped closed.
Steve’s movements were slow and assured as he drew her back against the cushions. He cupped her cheek with his palm, his fingers moving rhythmically, erotically, as he brushed her lips with his once more. “Sitting there in that restaurant tonight,” he breathed the words softly, seductively, as his mouth continued its languid, confident caresses of her lips, her cheeks, the curve of her jaw. “I wanted to touch you so much.”
His hand, which had been resting on her shoulder, slid down her back and began to knead the hollow of her waist. He spread his fingers to span the flatness of her belly to the underside of her breast. Michelle felt a dizzying heat erupt within her. The tips of his fingers seemed to be sending sparks of electricity to her every nerve ending. Reflexively she crossed her legs and leaned closer to him, mindlessly seeking the source of that heady male warmth.
With amazing dexterity, Steve’s hands moved and shifted so that one was stroking the silky length of her thigh, exposed as her short skirt skimmed higher, while his other hand captured her nape, holding her to receive the full, firm descent of his mouth.
Michelle waited achingly as shudders of desire chased along her spine. She had never been aroused so swiftly, so hotly. Dazed and yearning, she did not think to credit his expert technique for the wild sensations leaping to life within her. She believed them to be a result of her own emotions, her feelings for him, feelings she’d been fighting all evening. Now, in his arms, every ardent, expectant part of her gave up the fight.
“I’ve been wanting to taste you,” Steve murmured huskily as he finally, masterfully, took possession of her mouth.
Her lips opened under his as her arms slid slowly around his neck. His tongue slipped into her mouth to explore the inner softness and Michelle clung to him, drowning in the kiss that grew deeper and hungrier. Still, she ached for an even deeper closeness. There was a rightness in the way he held her, a rightness in the way they were kissing. It was as if she had been waiting her whole life for him and for this sweet, burgeoning passion that flared between them.
Her body arched into his hands and she whispered his name. A deep, primal growl rumbled in Steve’s throat, a mating sound, one that he could not control. It shook him, that sudden explosive loss of control. His breathing was fast and shallow and his entire body ached and throbbed with intense sexual need. He’d never gotten so excited so fast— and simply from kissing, too.
What had started as a light, playful experimental kiss, begun more to satisfy a certain curiosity than compelled by a driving force, had swiftly, irrevocably turned into something else entirely. Something beyond his ken, beyond his control.
; He felt like a match striking tinder, his body igniting into flames as Michelle first yielded to his kiss, then became an active participant, kissing him back with an ardor that sent wildfire ripping through him. When she clung to him and moved sinuously, sensuously against him, her sweet mouth open and hungry under his, a hot fierce pressure built and grew explosively inside him.
Unable to hold back, he slid one big hand down the wide neckline of her dress. He encountered the silk and lace of her bra but did not let that impede him. His fingers slipped inside to cup her bare breast beneath the material. He caressed the rounded softness, drawing breathless little gasps from her.
Michelle’s eyes were tightly closed and she moaned softly as he rubbed her nipples into taut buds of fire. She twisted restlessly, trembling at the wild sensations his touch aroused. It felt so good; she didn’t want him to stop. When he withdrew his hand, she whimpered in protest.
“Easy, baby,” Steve soothed, his voice deep and rasping. “Let’s get you out of this.” He smoothed his hands over her back, looking for a zipper or buttons and finding neither. Frustration seared him. “How do you get this thing off?”
He tugged at the stretchy fabric of the dress. She must’ve pulled it on over her head—or stepped into it, working it up and over her torso. Steve groaned. Either way, removing it was not going to be easy.
That same revelation jarred Michelle out of the sensual mists that had enveloped her. This was an enticing, sexy dress, but it was one that required privacy to take on and off. The contortions, tugging and wiggling involved in doing so were neither enticing nor sexy for a lover to observe.
Lover! The word bounced around her head like a ricocheting bullet. As she emerged from under the spell of his powerful virility, full awareness of what she’d done—and what she’d been about to do!—assailed Michelle with devastating force. Her body turned from pliant to rigid as she tried to wrench away from his grasp.
“Let me go!” She took great gulping breaths of air while her shocked eyes locked into combat with the velvety depths of his.
License to Love Page 6
