by Robyn Grady
She inspected the puddle forming around her feet. “I think I’ll change before anything else.”
He thumbed a switch on a wall panel—the internal heating, she suspected—and downed half his single malt.
His shirt was plastered against the musculature of his deeply tanned chest and arms. Every knockout ridge and bulge was on display, presented in glorious prime-time relief. As he moved forward, more than the line between his brows told her he was uncomfortable. At being caught in the rain, ending up sopping wet? Or something, perhaps, not quite as obvious.
When they’d taken shelter beneath his jacket, he’d almost kissed her. Worse, she’d almost let him.
And he knew it.
Closer now, he lifted his chin to unravel his bow tie and flick open a button.
“It’s getting late.” He stopped before her. “Guess you’re tired.”
He took another quick sip and swallowed, waiting for her reply. Waiting for a sign. A look.
A touch.
She should go and change, yet she stood immobile, thinking of the heartache she’d lived through when she’d known Gage Cameron last. His life wasn’t one she could ever share. And yet…had she changed her mind about becoming intimately involved? Down by the pier, she’d been tempted. Heck, she was tempted now.
Guess you’re tired.
She gave a cryptic reply. “That sprint seems to have woken me up.”
His eyes searched hers. “Me, too.”
Behind him, the facsimile machine beeped. His gaze flicked over her face before he moved to retrieve a sheet from the tray. After scanning the message, he set down his drink and ran a hand through his glossy wet hair.
She inched closer. “Is it the Dubai problem again?”
Jaw clenched, he nodded at the page. “Sorry. You get changed. I need a moment here.” He sank into a chair, found a pen on the desk and started making notes.
Jenna let out a sigh.
Perhaps she should take his reaction to this fax as a sign. He gave a good impression of a dedicated fiancé, but Gage would always be devoted to business.
He’d go for the plane, not the anchor, every time.
It should be enough that he’d offered to help her with Meg, and that he still found her desirable, although not at the moment. Head down, concentrating on the fax, he looked set for the duration.
Raising her dripping hem, Jenna padded a barefoot trail over the cold tiles into her carpeted room. She stripped off the dress and inspected it for damage; into the dry cleaners tomorrow, first thing.
After changing into the men’s shirt she preferred to a negligee, the laptop caught her eye. She sat down and found her email inbox full. Proposals for overseas work, a free offer from a shoe store, a message from Leeann…
Her heart jackknifed into her throat and her shaky finger slipped over the mouse to click the message open straight away.
Letting you know, I’ve had to step up my plans to visit San Fran. My poor mother is ailing and begging to see our Meg. Back after Christmas—all going well.
That crippling, hopeless feeling gripped as if it had never been away.
All going well, be damned! Leeann had no intention of returning after Christmas.
It was happening, just as she’d feared. Leeann was leaving the country with Meg, for how long, she couldn’t hope to guess. And what the hell could she do about it? Nothing. A big fat zero. As far as the law was concerned, Leeann was Meg’s rightful guardian.
A light appeared in the darkness and she pushed to her feet.
Gage would know what to do.
She flew out the door. He hadn’t moved.
“She’s taking Meg away,” she shot out. “I don’t know when exactly, but she won’t be in a hurry to bring her back. Maybe we should go see her. Petition for a special hearing or something.”
Anything. Just as long as it was soon.
Gage pushed to his feet and braced her shoulders. “Slow down. What do you mean, taking Meg?”
Unshed tears stung her nose. Yes, she should stay calm—not exactly easy given the bloody great pit gaping before her.
Grabbing his hand, Jenna headed for her room. “Read for yourself.”
In her room, Gage concentrated on the screen while Jenna paced back and forth.
“She has no intention of coming back,” she said, pressing her throbbing temple. “Not until she’s good and ready anyway. It’s no use me flying over there to see Meg. Why would she let me through the door? I doubt the American police would be too eager to get involved in this kind of custody issue. She’d be in total control.”
The way Leeann always liked it.
Jenna thought of Amy’s gift to her on their fifteenth birthday. Leeann had fallen in love with the beautiful lovebird too—everyone had. One day Jenna returned home from school to find Tulip’s birdcage not in her bedroom but the family room. A week later, the cage had migrated to Leeann’s sitting room. Their father had intervened—the first of only two occasions. The following month, Leeann had taken it upon herself to clean the cage and Tulip had “accidentally” escaped. Over time, Jenna had replaced her hurt with a vengeful wish: soon she would fly away too. And never ever come back.
Gage straightened from where he leant on the back of her chair and rapped his knuckles several times against his outer thigh. Jenna’s gaze scanned up from the movement. Her pulse rate tripled and mouth went dry. Some segment of her consciousness must have noticed, yet it hadn’t registered until now. He’d discarded his wet dress shirt. From the hips up, he was naked—bronzed. Unbelievably built.
“Don’t panic,” he said. “It’s more likely she’s being manipulative and trying to call our bluff. Give me what I want or you might not see your niece again.”
Jenna wet her lips. “You mean she’s threatening us?” Well, that made sense.
In the muted lamplight, she watched him grin. “But her threat carries no weight. She won’t find another buyer for Darley Realty in the state it’s in. She’d have more than enough to get her to the States, but if she wants real money, she needs to listen, not talk.”
His drying hair was disheveled as if, while they’d been in separate rooms, his fingers had thrust through its thick crop several times. The unruly look suited him as much as it had in his youth, if not more.
Jenna shook herself and connected her runaway thoughts to Meg’s situation.
“So, if Leeann takes the deal—Meg in exchange for an easy, generous sale—we don’t need to get married.”
Despite the silly pang of disappointment, that had to be a good thing.
Right?
Expression earnest, he took her hands and squeezed. “Jenna, we not only need to get married, we need to do it quickly and get that petition in and fast-tracked for the earliest possible hearing. If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s wherever possible, don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”
In other words, despite his assurances, he wasn’t certain what Leeann would do.
“So if she decides having Meg means more to her than the money…then if a judge decides to abide by the will’s directives…”
She thought of Meg…of her little bird…
He brought her hands to his chest and pressed them close. “That won’t happen.”
His words, and steady strumming of his heart, brooked no argument.
But she couldn’t be a Pollyanna now. If she kept thinking about it, rehashing all the options, making alternate plans…maybe if she prayed hard enough, long enough, God wouldn’t let this happen.
Hot tears welled in her eyes. “But what if it does happen?”
What if this were punishment for her willfulness? If she’d put her family first and pride last, she would have stayed in Australia. She would be settled, Amy and Brad would’ve put her name in their wills and Meg wouldn’t be stuck with a guardian who’d turned into the worst kind of witch.
Gage thumbed aside her tear as it trickled down her cheek. “It won’t happen. We’ll find a way.”
Her mind jumped again.
“And how long do we try? A month, a year, two, ten?” How long before Meg began to see Leeann as her parent? At some point it would be unfair to take her from the person she’d come to see as her mother, no matter how unworthy.
When a small sob escaped, Gage wrapped his arms around her, and Jenna remembered a time when he had been all that she’d needed. She inhaled his clean musky scent, and her hands slid up to the broad flat rocks that defined his chest.
He felt so good. Made her feel so safe.
His hand smoothed over her hair then he murmured against her head. “One day at a time. I’ll fix it. Trust me.”
She scrunched her burning eyes shut.
Can I trust you, Gage? Can I trust myself?
His mouth grazed her temple, then again and again.
After a long moment, he held her even tighter and said, “I’m here. We’ll sort this out tomorrow.”
She lifted her face and, yes, his supportive smile was there. But along with that look came awareness—the same intense knowledge that had always pulsed and steamed between them. His expression changed and the heat of his body, pressed against hers, built until she could barely breathe.
His head lowered slightly, hers tipped up, then his mouth was closing over hers…taking her…kissing her…thank God, finally.
She was already melting when he broke from their embrace.
He stepped back, the cords in his neck strained. “You’re upset. You need to rest.”
She shook her head. “Right now what I need is you.”
Ready to be kissed again and forget her problems, if only for a moment, she offered up her lips.
He held her back and groaned as he’d done beneath the jacket in the rain. “Damn it, Jenna, right now what you want is a friend, not a lover.”
It was easy to read between the lines: He was telling her he wouldn’t take advantage of her when she was emotionally vulnerable. Just as he wouldn’t think of taking advantage of a woman who’d had too much to drink.
Or was under age, as she’d once been.
In the pool house that night, she’d begged him to go all the way. She’d felt his body lock and tremble above her, his physical need doing hellish battle with his scruples. She’d cursed him when he’d left Sydney without a word, and yet there was a noble deed to acknowledge too: Now she could admit that he’d respected her enough not to take what he wanted and screw the consequences.
But she was no longer a teen. She was an adult facing the biggest challenge of her life. She knew what she was doing here, tonight, and now nothing stopped them from finally enjoying it.
If she did lose Meg…
No! She couldn’t bear to even think it, and she had the perfect diversion—making love to the only man she’d ever wanted…would ever want. Arms looping around his neck, she pulled herself up and set the tip of her nose to his.
“Forget what I said this afternoon. I want this. And I get it, Gage. I get you. You don’t want to grow roots, and you don’t want to take advantage of me. Thank you, but believe me when I say, no regrets, I promise. Like you said, let’s finally just find out.”
She angled her head and this time she kissed him.
The tension left his jaw. With a soft inner smile, she shimmied nearer and welcomed his full surrender. But he’d already taken the lead, deepening the kiss as his hands slid a sensuous path from where he cupped her face to the curve of her neck, then lower, sculpting the tingling slope of her shoulders.
When his hot palms skimmed down the full length of her arms, her shirt—and total submission—came, too.
Eight
Any reservations Gage had evaporated like a blast of high-powered steam.
Jenna had a change of heart and now everything seemed perfectly clear…the wonderful way she felt in his arms, the wild berry scent of her filling his lungs, filling him with life. He could go on kissing her till doomsday, but for one tiny problem.
Other delights should be shared aside from kissing, and tonight he intended for them to enjoy every one.
As he carefully turned her to face away from him, the oversized shirt, which he’d already slipped from her shoulders, fell completely from her body. He scooped his arms up under hers and crossed them over her ribs. Then he closed his eyes, created an image in his mind, and lovingly molded his palms over her breasts as a dedicated artist might test and shape his work. They were fuller than he remembered—heavier, but just as beautiful…and even more arousing.
With a sigh—a sound of pure pleasure—she reached up and back to coax his head down. As he kissed her neck, her fingers wound through his hair. “I’ve dreamt about you so often, but this is a hundred times better.”
He smiled at her admission. “Only a hundred times?” He rolled her nipples.
She quivered and sighed again. “Make that a thousand. A million.”
“Now we’re getting close.”
His palms grazed a wide circle across each peak before slowly riding down over her ribs, his fingers forming arrows tracking toward the juncture of her thighs. As his chest grazed down her back, his lips trailed the scented curve between ear and shoulder, and his hands discovered her inner thighs; his pulse rate spiraled as his thumbs delved between to gently edge them apart. He pressed her firmly against his pelvis then rode his touch higher, between her slick soft folds.
She was so ready. And he was way beyond ready for her.
Finding that hypersensitive spot, he began to work some heartfelt magic and her lower half tipped forward. When he increased the pressure, varied the motion, she started to move, a sensual, barely perceptible roll of her hips.
The heat between them rose and her movements grew bolder until she stilled then trembled, her energy and concentration obviously strung piano-wire tight. Time to pull back. He wanted this to last. Although she was close, ultimately she would appreciate that kind of delay, too.
They had all night.
As he eased her back around to face him, an appetizing thought struck. He cupped her bottom and nipped her lower lip. “So, you don’t wear panties to bed.”
Her eyes were dark and drowsy with desire. “I didn’t know that was a crime.”
“Not if I’d been around to enjoy the benefits.”
Her grin was mischievous. “That sentiment works both ways.”
He felt a tug and looked down.
She’d helped herself to his zipper.
The fly came down, her hand went in and the testosterone explosion almost took off his head.
This woman was bold, as she’d been all those years ago, but now there was no hint of fumbling or blushing. Jenna seemed to know precisely what she was doing and how she would do it.
A vision came to mind but he stomped on it quickly. He couldn’t think of her with anyone else. He would only think of now—not the past, or the future—because this very minute that big empty space was finally filling with light.
Tonight he felt reborn.
He swept her off her feet at the same moment his unzipped trousers fell. He stepped from the pooled legs and carried his fiancée to bed.
As he walked, he kissed her, long and slow and deep, with every ounce of feeling he’d ever boxed in. Then he laid her on the sheets and watched her glow in the lamplight, dark-blond hair arced over white satin pillows, her lips slightly parted, wet and inviting.
When he was completely naked, he lay beside her and finally pulled her close. As one long shapely leg eased up to hook over his hip, he took her mouth again and her arched foot on his behind urged him on. Not that he needed persuading. His blood was on fire, every cell in his body ablaze with a desire that would devour every inch of her before coming even halfway close to containment.
Their kiss broke down into desperate snatches, his mouth tracking over her jaw, down her rain-scented neck and lower, until he dotted airy kisses over one perfect breast then the other.
She fisted her fingers in his hair as she writhed beneath him. “You n
eed to know…you’re driving me insane.”
He didn’t stop, or slow, or even think. He merely smiled as the tip of his tongue tickled her nipple. When the peak was hard and distended, his teeth grazed and gently tugged. Then, at long last, he drew the cherry into his mouth, burning the memory of sublime pleasure into his heart and mind forever.
Arching toward him, she whispered something half decipherable and incredibly sexy. His pounding erection hardened to stone. When her knee edged higher on his hip, he clutched her leg and ran his tongue all the way down her middle, lowering himself over her body and the bed until he landed smack-dab in heaven.
She tasted exactly as he’d imagined…fresh and provocatively feminine. He fanned her thighs wider, settled in and focused on making her happy.
He smiled at her reaction.
Yes, he was definitely making her happy.
All too soon, the pressure in his groin pulled mercilessly tight. Given the way her fingers dug into his shoulders, Jenna was teetering on a crumpling edge, too.
Summoning control, he pushed up and leaned over to rummage in the bedside drawer. She moved beneath him, her body inching lower as she trailed moist lips across his ribs, down around his navel, lower still until she hit solid rock.
Sweat broke out beneath his shoulder blades and at the backs of his knees. Swallowing a curse, he bit his lip and with a single arm dragged her all the way back up. The tit-for-tat she had in mind would be a wonderful encore, but right now he was too close to the finale.
In the drawer, he found a small square wrapper. Hovering on top, an elbow either side of her head, he captured her mouth again and blindly tore the foil. Her arms wound up, she took the condom, rolled him over and proceeded to fit it while he could only stare.
“You need a hand with anything?”
All done, she slid a python grip down his shaft. “Isn’t instinct a marvelous thing?”
Instinct? Did she mean practice?
He wished he’d been the first. But he’d given up the chance, and the better part of him didn’t regret it. Once she’d been forbidden fruit. Not now. Now nothing was out of bounds.
