by Jo Leigh
At least he wasn’t worried about his hard-on anymore.
She looked up, turned to face him. “This is what Shawn was talking about.”
He nodded. “It’s no big deal.”
“Pardon me? Getting published is a big deal. And from the copyright date, you must have been very young.”
“I was, and it shows.” He took it from her hand and put it back on the shelf. “Come on. I need your help.”
She glanced back once, then followed him into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and pulled out his reserve bottle of champagne. Dom Pérignon. “You like?”
“I have no idea.”
“You’ve never had champagne?”
“Yes, I have. But not good champagne.”
“Okay, then. We’ll take care of that omission. You hungry?”
She shook her head. “What, exactly, are we doing?”
“You’ll see.”
“You’ve got a thing for secrets, don’t you.”
He grinned. “Yeah. I do.”
“It’s the drama, I think. The showmanship.”
He cocked his head. “It’s the least of my quirks, trust me.”
“Quirks?”
“Let’s just say, the longer you know me, the more you’ll discover.”
“Oh God. You’re not wearing your sister’s panties, are you?”
His grin faded, and he opened his eyes as wide as he could, as if his terrible secret had been found out.
Her hands flew to her mouth and her eyes got bigger than his. “Oh, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… There are lots and lots of men who like that kind of thing. There’s nothing wrong with it, I’m sure.”
He couldn’t keep it together. Not when she was so earnest. “I’m joking.”
“What?”
“I’m not a cross-dresser. You can relax.”
She closed her eyes as she exhaled. When she opened them again, he saw she wasn’t amused. “You think that’s funny?”
He nodded.
“Really?”
He nodded again, but took a prudent step back.
“You have a warped sense of humor, Mister Wagner.”
“Quirks. I warned you.”
“One of my quirks is that I don’t like men with a warped sense of humor.”
He put the bottle on the counter and headed straight for her, his head lowered, trying like hell to look mad. “Now, you know that’s not true, don’t you, Amelia?”
“It’s absolutely true.” She crossed her arms over her chest, then she stepped back. Her eyes were alight with humor, with pleasure. He wanted to make her look that way often. At least once a night.
He sighed dramatically. “Amelia, Amelia. Don’t you know what happens to beautiful girls who fib?”
“I wouldn’t know, because I haven’t lied.”
He took another step, which backed her up against the counter. He had her now. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He moved closer, invading her space. Her hands dropped and grasped the counter. Her breath quickened; she wasn’t quite panting, but was excited.
He had to admit, he was pretty damn excited himself. She was something else.
At the sound of her giggle, his problem rose again. That was a first. He’d gotten hard over lots of things, but never a giggle.
“I can tell you lied,” he said, touching her nose with his index finger. “I think your nose got longer.”
She looked down at his jeans, at the obvious erection. “Something got longer, but it wasn’t my nose.” Then her cheeks blushed bright pink and she blinked at her own audacity.
He was a little shocked himself. “That’s pretty sassy for a girl who hasn’t ever had good champagne.”
“Sassy?” She giggled again.
He closed the space between them so that his body, with his still growing erection, pressed against hers. “Yeah. Sassy.”
“I’ve never been called that before.”
“That’s because they don’t know you.”
“Who’s they?”
“Everyone else.”
“But you do.”
He nodded slowly, his humor ebbing as his hunger flared. Their gazes met, as he saw his own desire mirrored in her eyes. The air fairly crackled with unspent energy.
Unwilling to play any longer, he kissed her gently. The cool, impossibly soft lips opened with a tiny sigh that sent her sweet breath into his mouth. The sensation was ridiculously erotic. Intimate. And when she shifted her hips, rubbing his hard length, he used every ounce of willpower not to carry her to the kitchen table and ravish her.
There was a decision to be made here, and with most of his blood busy down south, it wasn’t easy. One kiss, the same kiss, only harder now, tongue thrusting in a pale imitation of what would come later, and he pulled back. “Come on,” he said, taking her hand.
She moaned, letting him know she wasn’t happy about the change in direction, but she didn’t fight him. He grabbed the champagne, then got two glasses out of the cupboard and handed the whole kit to her.
He grabbed the duffel and nodded toward the window. “There.”
She looked at him, startled. “You want to jump out the window? That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?”
He chuckled. “Fire escape.”
“Oh. Okay.”
He showed her, still chuckling, where to step out the window, and he followed her up the metal stairs, four floors, until they reached the roof.
He held her steady as she stepped over the ledge. He didn’t want to let her go, but he had to, or else he’d fall, and that couldn’t be good for his sex life.
He hoisted himself over. She was busy checking out the large, flat roof. There wasn’t much up there. An antenna, some electric fuse boxes, two beach chairs and an empty plastic wading pool, all illuminated by two weak bulbs hung on either side of the fuses. But that wasn’t why he had brought her here.
“Wait,” he said, as he made his way to the center of the roof and opened up the duffel. He took out the blanket and spread it out, then the pillows. His CD came next, and he popped in the Jobim.
The Latin jazz was perfect. And so was his companion. He took the bottle and the glasses from her hand. “Look up,” he whispered.
She did, and her mouth fell open. It wasn’t like being in Manhattan. The stars sparkled in the dark October sky, putting on a dazzling show. The crisp air stirred her hair, made her nose pink, and he wanted her so badly he ached.
“Sit,” he said.
She obeyed, curling her legs under her. He popped the cork, poured her a glass, then one for himself before he joined her on the blanket.
She raised her glass. “To the beauty of the night.”
He clicked her glass with his as he held her gaze. “My thoughts, exactly.”
They each sipped some champagne. “Oh, my. This is good.”
He nodded. “It makes a difference.”
“They shouldn’t be able to call that other stuff champagne.”
He chuckled as he lay on his side, propped up by one hand, his glass in the other. “How come you were at that party?”
She shrugged, but her gaze moved from his.
“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay.”
One quick glance, then away again. “No, I don’t mind. It’s just a little embarrassing.”
“Oh?”
She took in a deep breath and let it out. He could see the vapor around her, despite her recent sip of cold bubbly. “I went because I didn’t want to.”
He blinked. “Run that by me one more time.”
“I went because I’m tired of being scared.”
“Ah. That makes more sense.”
“But I was right to be scared, wasn’t I? What if you hadn’t come along?”
“Hmm. I’m glad I was able to help, but you would have been able to handle him by yourself.”
“That’s not true. If I could have, I would have.”
“That could have happened to anyone, Amelia. It wasn’t just you. He wa
s drunk and an asshole. They’re everywhere, like mosquitoes in summer.”
She held her glass with the tips of her fingers and stared at the liquid inside. “I was scared.”
“Which was appropriate.”
“You don’t get it.”
He sat up, moved next to her on the blanket. “Explain it to me.”
She didn’t say anything for so long that he thought she wasn’t going to. Then, in a voice almost too soft to hear, she said, “I’ve always been this way. Well, at least since my parents died.”
“When was that?”
“My mother, when I was eight. My father, when I was twelve.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. I just got scared, I suppose.”
“Who wouldn’t?”
“You.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I see who you are, and scared isn’t part of that.”
“Not in the way you mean, but believe me, I’ve got my fears.”
“Are they anything like your quirks?”
“Ha-ha.”
“I thought it was funny.”
He brushed some hair off her cheek. “Go on.”
“My mother died of cancer, and my father died of cirrhosis of the liver. Actually, he died of alcoholism. I went to live with my aunt Grace right after my mother died. I told you before, she’s a very strict woman who has enough quirks for all of us. But she loves me, and she gave me a good, stable home.”
“But?”
“But I couldn’t talk to her about much. Religion. Housework. Nothing personal, though. And because I was so shy, I didn’t have a lot of friends to confide in.”
“It must have been tough.”
She gave him an ironic smile. “You have no idea. I was so ignorant about everything, but especially about, you know, boys and girls.”
“You were. But you’re not now.”
“It’s not as bad. I know what goes where, at least.”
“Thank God.”
She poked him in the ribs. “It’s not funny.”
“No, it’s not. I’m sorry. I can imagine how difficult it was.”
“Probably not, although you do have a vivid imagination.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Look where we are.”
“Point taken.”
“You don’t see the dingy roof or the sea of antennas. You see the stars, the romance.”
He nodded. “I suppose.”
“I have a vivid imagination, too, but it wasn’t up to the task of sex. Of course, when I finally did learn a thing or two, I made up for lost time.”
His brows went up, and she clapped her hand over her mouth. “No, that’s not what I meant. Not really. My imagination went into overdrive, not my…you know.”
“I have a good idea.”
“I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Actually, he was surprised. He had been thinking just that. But she clearly thought it was important that she wasn’t. “I think it’s great that you’re not a virgin.”
“You do?”
He pushed back his hair with frustration. “I don’t know. Should I be? I’m not on very solid ground here, Amelia.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, never mind. It’s not important, and it’s certainly not your problem.”
“What if I told you I want it to be my problem?”
“Jay, it’s pretty clear you haven’t been a virgin for a long, long time.”
God, she cracked him up. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. I’m talking about getting to know you. Getting to know each other.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded.
“Okay, then, it’s your turn.”
“What?”
“Confess something.”
“Why?”
“Because I did. Now you have to.”
“That wasn’t a confession.”
“No?”
“All right. So it was. But I don’t have anything to confess.”
It was her turn to laugh. “Right.”
He felt his cheeks heat. It must be catching. “Let me think.”
“I’m sure it’s a stretch.”
He poked her in the ribs this time. She just laughed.
“I lost my virginity at fourteen. With my piano teacher.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You did not.”
He nodded.
“Your piano teacher? Oh my God. My piano teacher was sixty-two!”
“Mine was twenty.”
“Better. But still. What a perv.”
“I didn’t mind.”
“You were too young and full of hormones to mind.”
“Some things don’t change.”
“Did you just switch the subject?”
He nodded.
Her eyes narrowed as she studied him in the diffuse light. “Are we going to kiss?”
He nodded again.
“Are you going to seduce me?”
He leaned over and nipped her earlobe. “I’m going to give it my best shot.”
“Cool.”
He laughed, but only until his lips touched hers. Then it wasn’t funny.
It was magic.
14
AMELIA’S EYES fluttered closed as Jay teased her mouth open. The pressure stayed featherlight as their breath mingled. Slowly, he moved his lips back and forth, rubbing hers…not a kiss so much as a moment of transition from the ordinary world to a place outside time and space where every sense was magnified.
He radiated warmth in contrast to the chilly air, and she wanted him closer. Her hand slipped behind his neck. He responded to the message and laid her down on the blanket, her head on a pillow, then curled up next to her so close their bodies touched from lips to toes.
His kiss deepened, and the need to feel him, as much of him as she could, made her want to take off her jacket…and everything else. But for now, it was enough to feel the jolt of his tongue touching hers, the softness of his hair.
Perhaps the most wonderful thing of all was how easy this was. Somewhere between her first sip of champagne and his kiss, she’d given up the fight. This was her life. Her moment. Her man.
His tongue delved deep and slow, and a memory slipped through her sigh. She’d been twelve, and she’d dreamed about kissing. Perfect kissing. She’d awakened in her bed and yearned to kiss a boy—one particular boy named Ethan from her class, who had flaxen hair and startling blue eyes. And then she’d thought how nice it would be to kiss her own mouth, to know what it would feel like when Ethan kissed her.
In a vague, almost guilty way, Jay’s kiss was like that. So perfect, it was as if she’d designed his lips, worked with him forever so that he could pleasure her just so.
Was it like that for him?
She pulled back, looked at his eyes, so dark and intense with desire. She could look at him forever. He had a different idea, however, and he pulled her into another kiss. Or maybe it was the same kiss, and all the kisses for the rest of her life would be this one kiss. This perfect kiss.
His leg slipped over hers and she felt the pressure of his erection on her leg. So hot and insistent. All for her. Because of her. She thrust her hips, not a lot but enough to make him groan.
“Amelia,” he whispered. “God, I thought we’d be safe up here.”
“Safe?”
His head rested on his arm, inches away from her own. “I thought it would be too cold. That I wouldn’t want to take off your clothes. I was wrong.”
She hesitated. With two fingers she stroked his cheek, his strong jaw. “We can go downstairs.”
His brow furrowed. “Are you sure?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure about anything except that I want to be with you. I want to know everything about you.”
“You will. God, I want to make love with you.”
She sighed and curled into him, letting her head rest on the crook of his neck. “I’ve never felt this way before. It’
s…perfect. I’m not sure—” She closed her eyes, not quite believing she had the nerve to say the next few words. “I’m not sure, but I think I’m falling in love with you.”
His body stiffened. Not much, but enough. Oh God. She’d done it now. Said too much. He’d never said anything about love. Why did she have to open her big mouth? She shifted, wanting to leave, but his arm slipped behind her neck, and he held her close.
“Hey, where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay. It took me by surprise, is all.”
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“I’m not. I just think that maybe we’re getting ahead of ourselves.”
“We?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I think we both want things to happen too quickly. We’re just getting to know each other. We can afford to take it slow.”
She tried to relax again, but everything had shifted. The perfect moment had gone. The night seemed colder, the ground harder. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“I don’t know. For saying that.”
“It’s okay. I’m flattered.”
She groaned and rolled away, escaping from his hold on her. “That’s two seconds away from ‘We can still be friends.’” She got to her knees, then moved the champagne so she could stand.
“Amelia, don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
He sat up, took her hand. “Don’t worry so much. It is what it is. We’re here, together. There’s no place on earth I’d rather be. You’re beautiful, and funny and smart, and this is great right now. Tomorrow will be here soon enough.”
She put her hands in her pockets. She’d been so warm in his arms, and she felt so cold now. “I don’t know how to do this,” she said quietly.
“You don’t know how to do what?”
“This. Between us. Whatever it is. I’ve never done it before.”
“I haven’t, either.”
She laughed. “Come on, Jay.”
“It’s true. I’ve never been right here before. Not with you. This is all new. Uncharted territory. I just want to walk through it, not run.”
She sighed. “Yes. Of course, you’re right.”
“It’s not a question of right or wrong.”
He leaned over and took her face in his hands. How could he be so warm? “You aren’t wrong. I never want you to think that. This has been incredible. Everything. Including the fact that I’ve been more frustrated with you than I can ever remember.”
