by Rita Herron
"To dream on."
Seth ran his knuckles over her cheek, his smile oddly tender. "Good for you. You can do better than him."
Mimi hesitated, studying him. "You really think so?"
Seth released her and turned his gaze back to his drink. Odd how cold she suddenly felt, as if losing that touch was important. Must be the chill from her damp dress.
"Sure," Seth said in a throaty voice. "He was a criminal. You're hardworking and honest and…"
"And what?"
"And beautiful."
Mimi almost choked on her drink. "You don't make that sound like a compliment."
"Beauty's great." Seth angled his head toward her. "As long as you have goals to go along with the looks."
"I have goals," Mimi said. "I told you I want to be an actress."
"Right."
Mimi's temper rose. "Okay, so I'm not a brain surgeon or a lawyer and I don't have a degree in anything, but I do have ambition. And I'm not settling for some two-bit loser like Joey again." Mimi glanced around the cozy bar. "I realize now that our relationship was just … physical."
A muscle ticked in Seth's jaw as if talking about physical intimacy made him uncomfortable. He obviously didn't specialize in sex therapy. "So, you know what you want in a guy next time?" he asked.
Mimi stewed over that question. "Maybe. Sort of."
"You don't sound sure."
"I'm sure of the qualities I don't want." Suddenly suspicious he might be using one of his psychiatrist tricks to lure her into spilling her secrets, she turned the tables on him. "What about you? What do you want in a relationship?"
"Someone to complement my lifestyle." His hand tightened around his drink. Mimi watched his throat muscles work as he finished the drink, tension humming through the air. Boy, he had a nice neck, tanned and muscular.
She had to forget about his neck. "Let me guess. That would be someone steady, settled, a homemaker or another doctor, someone who'll fit into your routine?"
"You make me sound dull."
"I didn't mean it like that."
He narrowed his eyes.
"I meant you're dependable, steady, stable."
"You don't make those sound like compliments."
"No, they're great qualities. Just predictable."
He cleared his throat. "I'm not always predictable."
"Oh, yeah." Mimi let her gaze travel the length of him. "I bet you eat the same thing for breakfast every day. Get up at the exact same time every morning, even on weekends. Never go anywhere without your pocket calendar. Have sex once a week, Saturday night, 11:00 p.m., right after the news. You wear those old-fashioned white briefs, and you wouldn't be caught dead without an undershirt."
"Is that what Hannah told you?"
"Hannah never talked about your love life or underwear. She was always pretty private."
"Thank goodness for that."
"I'm right though, aren't I?"
"I refuse to talk about my love life with you." He squared his shoulders, his cheeks slightly red. "And as far as my underwear is concerned, you looked when that hope chest tore my pats."
"I didn't have to look," Mimi said softly. She patted his arm, surprised at the rock-hard muscles bunching beneath his suit. "It's all right to have a routine as long as you don't forget how to have fun, too."
"And you're a connoisseur of a good time?"
Mimi shrugged. "No date has ever accused me of being boring."
"And there have been lots of dates, I suppose."
"Enough."
Seth ran his gaze over her. "You're right, Mimi, I doubt you'd ever be accused of being boring."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just that you seem to enjoy stirring up things."
Mimi bristled. "Things?"
"Men."
"Excuse me?"
"You know…" He gestured at her hips. "The way you walk."
"What about the way I walk?"
"That little twitch thing you do with your hips. You kind of sway from side to side. And your legs…"
Mimi felt a smile coming on. The poor man was flustered. "You don't like my legs, Seth?"
Seth chuckled sardonically. "My God, your legs could be considered lethal weapons. Especially when you wear those miniskirts at the coffee shop."
"So you've noticed my skirts?"
"It's hard not to. Every man in the place is staring at you. Why do you think the café does such successful business?"
Mimi laughed mischievously. She should save Seth from himself, but she was having too much fun. "I thought it was my 'hot brownie delight.'"
* * *
Seth undid the top button of his shirt. Hot brownie delight—jeez. It was her hot little body every man in the place wanted. Didn't she have any idea how appealing she was? He'd seen men order desserts just to finagle the chance to talk to her.
And how had their conversation turned to underwear and Mimi's dynamite legs?
He was supposed to be comforting her, not making a fool of himself by acting like the other lust-struck men in the place. And there were plenty.
Mimi was Hannah's little sister, and he felt compelled to protect her.
"Hey, Seth, they're playing a great dance number."
Her green eyes sparkled in challenge, a snappy Ricky Martin tune drifting through the speakers. "Wanna dance? No, let me guess, you don't."
He didn't, but he'd be damned if he'd admit it. He reached for her had and dragged her to the dance floor. "I told you I'm not always predictable."
Mimi's laughter was infectious and so were her moves. He tried to copy the sexy swaying of her hips and body, and found himself transfixed by the heat in her eyes. One button, then two, came undone on his jacket as he strove for air on the crowded dance floor. When the fast song ended, Faith Hill's sexy voice purred out the slow tune "Breathe." He took Mimi in his arms and they swayed together, her body pressed intimately into the hard planes of his, her breath whispering against his neck. His heart pounded as her breasts pressed against him.
Seth tried to stifle his body's reaction, but that damned perfume of hers invaded his senses, turning his brain into a fuzzy mess, his body into a hard, aching ball of need.
They danced until the lights dimmed, until the music stopped, as if both of them were prolonging the evening, avoiding going to the room.
"I'm hungry," Mimi said, her slender hand curled on his chest. "Let's take some dessert and coffee to the room."
He cupped the back of her neck with his hand, gently massaging the area. "Sounds good to me."
She ordered a hot fudge sundae, along with strawberries and whipped cream, and he led her toward the elevator, the sounds of the staff's voices echoing from the deserted bar behind them. Tension hummed through the dark hotel room as they entered. Rich oak furniture filled the space, plush carpeting blanketed the floors, a Jacuzzi in the corner drew his eye, and a single king-size bed draped in gold velvet loomed in the middle.
It would be a mistake to share that bed. Sleeping with Mimi was never in the plans. Not an option.
So why did he suddenly feel obsessed with the idea?
He drank his coffee, instead. He'd never thought eating especially sexual, just a routine necessary for life functions—until he watched Mimi devour the hot fudge sundae, licking the sauce from her luscious lips, making him itch to lick her mouth, too. Mimi's eyes darkened with a raw hunger, the sort he'd never seen in Hannah's eyes. Or in any woman's eyes—not when they were looking at him.
"You don't want your strawberries?" Mimi asked with a teasing smile.
He shrugged, the urge to tease her overriding his common sense. He didn't want to be dull, predictable Seth anymore. "I want the whipped cream."
She laughed, dipped her finger into the dessert and held it up. He saw the challenge in her eyes again. And something else.
Passion.
The excitement of a woman wanting a man. The realization they were stranded together in a romantic hotel in a bliz
zard, alone for the very first time. A man and woman who had just felt the contours of each other's bodies, who had just shared a few comforting moments and a dance that had stirred wicked fantasies, who had an unexpected heat simmering between them.
Mimi was right—he was boring. Dull. Predictable.
He had never done anything impetuous. Or exciting.
But he wanted to now.
He wanted to do something wicked, naughty. Maybe shocking.
He flicked out his tongue, licked the whipped cream from her finger and saw her dress stretch taut across her breasts. The touch of her finger on his mouth taunted him, made him realize he wanted Mimi, wanted her so badly he could barely breathe. Wanted just once to taste her passion, to know what it felt like to delve into that sweet, tantalizing body and hold her through the night, to feel alive.
Disgusted with his white underwear and his pocket calendar and undershirts, he reached out and, for the first time in his life, took something off-limits, something for himself, something only for the moment.
He drew Mimi into his arms and kissed her.
* * *
Chapter 4
« ^ »
Mimi closed her eyes and threw caution to the wind as she sank into Seth's strong arms. The taste of whipped cream, scotch and coffee mingled with the heady scent of passion, driving her into sweet oblivion. Why had she ever thought this man dull? Or predictable?
She'd certainly never imagined Seth would seduce her, especially with such hunger. He had a great ear for listening and it was even better for kissing, she thought, nibbling at his earlobe. And his hands… They found all the secret erogenous areas of her body—her neck, the sensitive spot behind her ear, the curve of her shoulder blade, the tips of her breasts—and he tormented her with gentle strokes that were so sensual she found herself groping for the buttons on his shirt. A small smattering of dark blond hair peeked from the opening, and his muscular arms enveloped her as he backed her toward the bed.
Seth was smart and handsome, a man to be admired, and he wanted her—Mimi Hartwell, the misfit kid who always seemed to screw up things, the girl without a degree or a fancy job title. Delicious sensations skated through her as she remembered his hard body swaying against hers when they'd danced. He'd held her as if she were a piece of fine china that might break, something to treasure and care for. So unlike the way Joey had held her or the way any other man had ever treated her.
With a groan that sent a shiver up her spine, he threaded his hand through her hair, drawing her closer so she could feel his arousal, so she could hear his harsh breathing, so she could sense the loneliness in his soul. She met his hunger with her tongue and her heart, determined to erase any sadness lingering from the past.
There was some reason she shouldn't be doing this, she thought vaguely, hesitating for a second as he deepened the kiss. It was something to do with Hannah… No, Hannah was married now, on her honeymoon. She was here in this dimly lit romantic haven, snow falling outside, the whisper of winter swirling around them, and Seth was hot … so hot. And so tender.
They fell to the bed in a tangle of arms and legs and heated moans. Mimi had never felt such a pull to be close to someone. Seth cupped her face and gazed into her eyes. "We shouldn't do this."
"I know."
His hands pulled her closer, stroked her inner thigh. "It's probably not a good idea."
"But it feels so good, Seth, so right." She traced a finger along his jaw, mesmerized by the moonlight spilling onto his face, shading his broad jaw with sharp angles and planes, darkening his eyes to black. Eyes that whispered their yearning in the quiet of the night. She slid the gown down and dropped it to the floor. A smile curved her mouth when she saw the appreciation in his gaze. His skin, translucent and glowing with the faint hint of excitement, felt warm to her fingertips as he stripped his shirt off.
He held her face between his hands. "You are beautiful, Mimi. God, I can't believe I'm here like this with you."
"And I take back what I said. You're not dull at all." She lifted her hand and swept it through his hair, her heart pounding as he lowered his head and dropped kisses along her neck, then lower. His breath bathed her body, his whispered words of desire stoked the fire between them, and his hands drove her over the edge. The flames sizzled, chasing away the earlier chill from the snowstorm, the lingering embers of hesitation dying with each breath and kiss. And when he joined his body with hers, they rode the crest of the wave together and found ecstasy in each other's arms.
* * *
Sometime after his internal clock would have woken him in the morning, Seth awoke from the most satisfying dream he'd ever had to find a delicious, tantalizing body draped across him. Long, wild, curly auburn hair lay across his chest, and a pair of long, sexy legs were wedged between his own. Although his muscles were sore from his fall, his body stirred to life again and he sighed with bliss, unable to believe he still had the energy to want this woman. After all, they'd already made love countless times.
Countless?
He mentally ticked off the different places they'd found pleasure—the bed, the shower, the bed, the Jacuzzi, the bed again.
His heart thundered in his chest as he took another mental count of the number of condoms he'd had in his wallet—the ones he'd carried for two years just to be prepared in case he and Hannah ever…
No, he couldn't think about Hannah while lying in bed with her sister.
Dear God. The math didn't add up. He'd had four condoms. They'd made love five times. And sometime during the night, he remembered Mimi saying she wasn't on the pill.
He slapped his forehead, pride for his male prowess and foreboding for the possible consequences warring within his chest. One eye darted toward the vixen who'd stirred his blood and passion to life. Her long eyelashes fluttered, and a sweet little smile curved her lips. Beautiful was too blasé a word for Mimi.
Other words came to mind—ravenous, sensational, creative, exciting, impulsive … off-limits.
He groaned and tried to lift her from his body, gritting his teeth when his body swelled, aching for her again. Ethics, common sense and his friendship with Hannah aside, it had been a cataclysmic night. But a huge mistake.
Sure, they'd had great sex, but that could have been the liquor talking. Except he'd only had one drink. And if he remembered correctly, so had Mimi.
What had possessed them? The wedding, getting stranded, the heat in the car, all that damn dancing?
He'd never go dancing again. How would he face Hannah at the hospital? Worse, what would Mimi expect now? One night with her was great, but a relationship… No, they were too different.
Their career paths were on very different courses. They didn't associate with the same type of people. He was practical, conservative; she was impractical, showy. He owned a traditional home, worked with scholarly types, had to live up to his family's expectations and their place in society. Mimi was anything but traditional, cavorted with a wild crowd, often appeared on her father's wacky commercials. Good God, they'd only wound up together because of Hannah. And if Hannah found out he'd slept with her sister, she might think he'd used Mimi to get over her.
No, he and Mimi were disastrous together. Their earlier conversation rose to haunt him. The only thing they had in common was that neither wanted marriage or kids. At least not now.
But what if she was pregnant?
* * *
Mimi squeezed her eyes shut, pretending sleep as she wrestled with the awkward morning after. She knew Seth was awake, had felt his heart start pounding double time and his muscles tense, as if he, too, didn't know quite how to handle things. His lower body didn't seem to be listening to his brain, though. If she moved an inch to either side, they would have a repeat of the night before—only now, in the light of day, it didn't seem like such a great idea.
When would she learn not to be so impetuous?
Seth gently pulled her arms from around his neck, and she allowed him to roll her to the side
. She emitted a little moan as if she might be stirring from slumber to make the act seem more real—after all, she was an actress. She could pretend nothing had happened and blow the whole night off with a shrug if he really weirded out on her.
She curled on her side, dragging the satin sheets over her as he padded barefoot to the bathroom. But she couldn't resist peeking through a slitted eye to admire his firm, muscular backside. Good grief, the man had great buns and a broad back, and corded muscles she hadn't expected. Why did he hide them under those boring gray suits?
Because he was a psychiatrist, she reminded herself, crashing back to reality. The very reason the two of them did not belong together. She was the impulsive, middle-class, college-dropout child of wacky Wiley Hartwell; he was the genius-doctor son of the upper-class Broadhursts.
She heard the shower kick on, remembered the two of them and all the naughty things they'd done beneath the water, the look on Seth's face when she'd gotten inventive with strawberries—they'd tasted sinful wedged in his navel with a dash of lime juice—and felt an odd kind of loneliness. The night had been spectacular. He had held her and loved her more tenderly than any man ever had. Did it really have to end? Maybe she'd shortchanged herself into thinking she didn't deserve someone as sophisticated as Seth.
Then she noticed the rumpled bridesmaid dress, and desire drained from her faster than dishwater drained from a sink. She'd stooped lower than ever—she had broken the unspoken rule about not dating a sister's former boyfriend. Disgust filled her. She'd always walked in Hannah's shadow, and she'd never really minded. Hadn't minded wearing her hand-me-down clothes or shoes or even sharing a room with her when she was growing up.
But she absolutely drew the line at taking her leftover men.
* * *
Seth emerged from the steamy bathroom and hissed in frustration at his torn pants. Then he saw Mimi.
Gut-wrenchingly beautiful, Mimi jumped from the bed, twisting the sheet around her naked body. The satin fabric molded to every curve and peak, accentuating her lush figure so he could almost see her skin through the thin layer of cloth. Her wild hair spiraled around her bare shoulders in a tangle, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes heavy-lidded with sleep, her makeup faded. But tousled and freshly loved, she looked more appealing than ever.
