Everything I Hoped For

by Ann Christopher

  “Fine,” she said warily.

  Anthony squared off with her, nostrils flaring. “You’re on this dating website in the hopes of finding someone to connect and have fun with. Perhaps build a relationship—”

  “I’m not trying to build a relationship,” she said in a knee-jerk reaction to the R-word, which always made her squirmy. “My career is—”

  “Yes, yes, your career is the most important thing. You’re a nun for your career. Your career is your one great love. But if you accidentally ran into someone you could enjoy spending time with, you wouldn’t run screaming in the other direction. Correct?”

  She folded her arms and glared at him for putting her on the hot seat like this. “Anthony…”

  “Humor me.”

  She thought it over but couldn’t detect any fatal traps. “Correct.”

  The light in his eyes intensified with unmistakable satisfaction. “You and I get along very well, have a lot in common and have tremendous chemistry. Not a little chemistry.”

  “It’s…pretty good chemistry. I’ll give you that.”

  “In fact, we like each other quite well, don’t we?”

  Melody hesitated. Fiddled with an earring. “I don’t hate you, if that’s what you mean.”

  He stared at her, as compromising as the razor wire-topped brick wall surrounding a maximum-security prison. “Quite. Well.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” she said, unable to meet his gaze head-on. There was too much to see in his expression, and she had far too much to hide in hers. “We like each other. Somewhat. What’s your point?”

  “My point is that the logical response to all that, according to you, is for you to spend your limited free time meeting men off some dating website who may or may not be your type and with whom you may or may not even want to have dinner. Am I getting this right? You applied your formidable Harvard-trained brain to our situation and decided that your best course of action is to play the field?”

  “Don’t you stand there with your posh accent looking down your aristocratic nose at me like I’m crazy,” she snapped.

  He recoiled.

  “You can’t expect me to sit around in suspended animation waiting for you to appear when we’ve never discussed anything beyond your coming back next week. How am I supposed to know what you’re thinking? Do I look psychic to you? Do you see a crystal ball anywhere on me? If we’re going to be anything to each other, you can’t freeze me out and walk off in a snit—”

  He got in her face. “A snit?”

  “—because I can’t read all your hidden thoughts or see behind those owl eyes. And, by the way? I was very glad to see you tonight. Now I just really want to hit you.”

  A glimmer of amusement lit his expression.

  “Are you always this direct?”

  “Samira complains that I am. I believe in being open with my feelings, yes.”

  “You seem to be open enough with your feelings for both you and me.”

  “If you’re not good with being open with your feelings, you know what you should do? Practice.”

  His lips twisted. “Silly me. And here I’d thought that my actions in flying several thousand miles to see you again spoke loud and clear.”

  Melody’s pulse went haywire.

  A tense stare-off followed, during which she felt fairly certain that they’d stumbled onto another thing they had in common: an overwhelming mutual desire to hit—or maybe fuck—each other. But after a beat or two, he blinked and locked away some of that intensity.

  “Now that I think about it, you make a fair point,” he said. “Why don’t I start practicing right now?”

  His voice resonated with a silky undercurrent that made the fine hairs all up and down her arms and across her scalp stand at attention.

  “Why don’t you?” she said breathlessly.

  “I’d thought it was all perfectly obvious, but I’ve left some gray areas.” He paused. “Won’t happen again. I don’t want us to have any misunderstandings.”

  “Neither do I.”

  The air shifted between them until it seemed to sizzle with possibilities, all of them thrilling. Melody felt her thumping heartbeat all the way up in her throat.

  He opened his mouth, but quickly seemed to hit a snag. A rush of color flooded his cheeks. He closed his mouth, looking away. Ran a hand across the top of his head, making his hair stand up in spikes.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He glanced back at her, trying for a rueful smile that never quite appeared.

  “Funny how you talk about the way I can be intimidating when I look at you.” He swallowed hard. “When you look at me? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I can’t think straight.”

  He what?

  “That can’t be true,” she said.

  Those eyes crinkled at the corners, heating her up as quickly as he’d frozen her out a minute ago.

  “Dr. Harrison. You know it’s true.”

  Yeah, she kinda did know.

  Deep in her heart? When he looked at her with that rapt attention?

  She absolutely did know.

  Much as she didn’t want to simper or lapse into foolish behavior, she couldn’t turn down the flame on her overheated face, which had to be glowing like a stoplight in the dead of night.

  “This practice session is off to a pretty good start,” she said lightly. “Is there anything else you want to tell me about your feelings? I want you to get really good at sharing them.”

  “Oh, you do?”

  “I do.”

  He nodded. Took a deep breath.

  “The thing is…I spend a lot of time feeling unsure about things. I’m not sure whether I’m mostly British or mostly American. Whether I belong with my father’s family or my mother’s. Whether I’m doing a good job with any of my charitable work or if it would make more sense for me to move in another direction. My grandmother called me Hamlet the other day.” Shaky laugh. “I have a million questions and no answers.”

  She held her breath.

  “But…” He hesitated, cheeks flushing. “The second I saw you? I just…You’re amazing. In every possible way. There’s no one else like you. So I’m willing to rearrange my life to make room for you. See where this can go. There’s nothing halfway here. I’m at a hundred percent. There are no questions. Just one loud answer. Yes.”

  Relief and happiness soared straight through her, making her lightheaded. Her feet walked her toward him with no real thought beyond the overwhelming desire to touch him again.

  She opened her arms. “Anthony—”

  He stiffened and held up a hand, stopping her before she came any closer.

  “What now?” she said, backing up a step.

  “I’ve already told you.” That edge reappeared in his voice and eyes. “I can’t take any mixed messages from you. Don’t kiss me or touch me unless you want me to fall crazy in love with you. I’m not dabbling in this. The stakes feel too high. We can build something here, but it’s never going to work if we can’t trust each other while we’re apart. It’s bad enough being thousands of miles away from you. I discovered that this week. You can’t expect me to go back to London and lie awake because of missing you and also wonder who you might be with when I’m gone.” He paused. “How will we work out the distance thing? No idea. What I do know is that we can work out any details if we’re committed to being together. So if you don’t feel the same way, best we say our good-byes now.”

  Melody stared at him, absolutely incapable of speech.

  He frowned. “What?”

  “Didn’t you just claim you’re not good at expressing your feelings? You made my heart ache.” She laughed shakily and rubbed her chest. “You’re like Shakespeare.”

  “No, I’m not,” he said flatly. “I’m just a man who wants what he wants. No compromising this time. So this is your warning. Think about what I said.”

  He was right. This was a big deal, not a snap decision.

  She slowed down,
thoughts swirling around her like winter’s first snowflakes caught in a stiff wind, and tried to give his feelings the consideration they deserved.

  Were there areas of concern here? Sure. This thing between them was brand new. They didn’t know each other well, and their relationship would probably strain the term long distance to the breaking point. It wasn’t like he lived a couple hours away in Manhattan. Wasn’t like she created her own schedule and could hop a plane to see him whenever the urge hit.

  Would loneliness play a part here? Yes. Uncertainty? You betcha.

  Trust would be crucial, and it probably wasn’t the greatest idea in the world to put a huge amount of faith in a guy she’d just met.

  Plus…

  Her scar throbbed, reminding her of its presence. She rubbed it, trying to find a little comfort. But there was no comfort, and there never would be. Because she still stuck out like a broken and bloodied thumb. Still drew second glances for all the wrong reasons. Still caused small children to huddle closer to their parents whenever she showed up in the room.

  And she was no psychiatric genius, but she was pretty sure that an insecure woman in an ultra-long-distance relationship with the sexiest man in the world was a recipe for a disaster of Titanic-sized proportions. Did they have a fighting chance here? Probably not. Would her wounded and vulnerable heart go down in flames? Most likely.

  On the other hand…

  She met his gaze, so steady and patient, while her heart stuttered on every other beat.

  On the other hand, this man fascinated her. Excited her. Challenged her.

  Thrilled her.

  Would she trade a champagne-filled steak dinner with Jerry for ten minutes on the phone with Anthony?

  Every day and twice on Sundays.

  Where could a relationship between her and Anthony possibly go?

  Nowhere, probably.

  But they didn’t need to figure it out right now. They just had to agree to give it a shot.

  Besides. A woman could only ever have one great love in her life, and hers was her career.

  So how much could Anthony really hurt her if she only ever gave him a tiny corner of her heart and her life?

  Not that much. She wouldn’t let him.

  She thought of her mantra.

  He can’t hurt you, Mel. Nothing can hurt you if you don’t let it.

  And wasn’t she entitled to a little fun where she could find it? She hadn’t had sex in six months.

  He remained utterly still, a shadow slowly crossing his face as he watched her.

  “It’s okay.” He sounded hoarse. “You don’t have to—”

  “I’m in.”

  “—let me down gently. I’m a big boy—what did you say?”

  “You heard me.”

  A light clicked on in his expression, making his blue eyes glow with sudden intensity as he reached for her. “Come here.”

  Joyous laughter bubbled up as she—

  “No, wait.” He held out a hand to stop her before she came any closer. She froze, her smile sliding away as she watched him slump onto the sofa, rest his elbows on his knees and rub the top of his head with enough vigor to scalp himself. “Let’s give it a minute.”

  “What, Anthony?” she cried, frustration pitching her voice higher. “What is it?”

  He raised his head and, unsmiling, ran that scorching gaze up and down her body. When his attention settled on her face, there was no mistaking his X-rated intentions.

  The heat of her responsive desire threatened to melt the clothes off her body. Hell, he wouldn’t even have to undress her tonight—she was that hot for him.

  She waited to see what he would do, her chest heaving with breathless anticipation.

  “I want you” he said, his voice rough. “I know we talked about taking things slowly, but slow isn’t on the menu for tonight. Just so you understand.”

  Well, thank God for that. She needed a lot of things from him right now, but slow wasn’t on the list.

  “Good.”

  He blinked. “So no regrets tomorrow.”

  “Okay…?”

  “Just so we’re clear. Because I don’t want—”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” she said, kicking off her heels because he showed every sign of launching into another set of rules and concerns. “And to think I encouraged you to talk more.”

  “What’re you…” He cleared his throat and tracked her every movement as she swept her sweater over her head, tossed it aside and went to work on her jeans. “What’re you doing?”

  She used a lot of hip action to wriggle her way out of her jeans. The upshot? A muttered curse from Anthony as he turned away so he didn’t have to look at her, rested his elbow on the back of the sofa and used his shaky hand to rub a forehead that was beginning to look a little sweaty.

  Naked now except for her black bra and bikinis, both of which were sheer scraps of air decorated with pretty little satin bows, she walked the rest of the way and came to a stop right in front of him.

  “We’ve done enough talking for tonight,” she said.

  “Yes, but I still need to tell you more about my family,” he said, staring at the far wall.

  “I think that can wait till tomorrow,” she said, brushing her hair back so he could see all of her breasts. “Don’t you?”

  His breath hissed as he turned back and drank his fill of her from bottom to top, his eyes purest blue flame now. Her calves and thighs. The little ribbons where they sat on the widest points of her hips. The bare cleft between her legs, easily visible to his view. Her flat belly and torso. Her full breasts, with special attention given to jutting nipples that needed his mouth.

  And then, finally, that bright gaze flicked up to her face.

  She had to wonder, with a wild thrill of excitement, what kind of animal she’d just invited out to play. Because this Anthony right here? He wasn’t shy or awkward at all. She’d stake her life on it.

  “Is this regulation pediatric surgeon lingerie you’re wearing?” he asked, his voice thick.

  She couldn’t quite smile. Not with him looking at her like that. “Not technically, no.”

  He narrowed his eyes. Skimmed her up and down again. Rubbed his lips.

  “You wore it for a date with some other man.” Taking all the time in the world, he reached out and stroked his long fingers across her belly, right where her bikinis ended, making her flesh leap. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  It took her a second to catch her breath enough to say anything.

  “I wore it for myself,” she told him. “But I thought about you when I put it on.”

  There was a long pause.

  “Good answer,” he said, eyes flashing.

  Without another word, he surged, caught her around the waist and tumbled her, squealing with surprise and delight, to the sofa beneath him.

  17

  Melody had thought she’d learned a few things about Anthony in the last several days. How deep and resonant his voice could get, for example, or how intensely he could focus on her. She’d thought she’d had some idea of what she might be getting herself into after their interlude on the last sofa they’d shared together.

  She’d thought wrong.

  She had a single breathless moment to get her mind right while she wrapped her arms around his neck and ran her fingers through the warm strands of his hair. He settled his sinewy body against hers (even with most of his weight settled on his flexing arms, he was heavy) and the insistent bulge of his erection against her sweet spot as she opened her legs for him. And there was one suspended moment out of time where she looked up into his face and saw it all. Those heavy brows, silky to her touch and so much darker than the hair on his head. The ruddy flush of his tan skin, the sharp slope of his nose and unyielding planes of his cheekbones, prickly now with five o’clock shadow. The tender and velvety curves of his lush mouth as she ran her thumb over his lips.

  His eyes…his eyes…his eyes.

  They’d tu
rned a fiery indigo now, shot through with shifting white striations and dark flecks, rimmed in a startling black and showcased with the kind of thick mahogany lashes for which women booked expensive salon appointments.

  Her smile faded.

  If only she had a thousand years or so to lose herself in these eyes.

  She didn’t think he’d mind. Not with the way he stared back at her.

  His gaze flicked down to her mouth.

  Back up again.

  “Last chance,” he warned softly.

  Was he serious?

  “I don’t want any chances.”

  She wrapped her legs around his waist, savoring the downy brush of his velour robe against her inner thighs, and tightened her hold on his face to bring him in for her kiss.

  His entire body tensed.

  There was a final millisecond of clarity when she thought, oh God, we’re really going to do this, and the moment to prepare herself ended.

  With a low growl, he cupped her face in his hands and lowered his head.

  And she quickly discovered she wasn’t ready at all.

  Anthony started out with deceptive politeness, working his way across her lips in maddening little exploratory kisses while they got the feel of each other again. But those nibbles heated her blood to boiling. It wasn’t long before her hips began to thrust involuntarily against him and she mewled for more like a starving kitten.

  He took that as his cue.

  His mouth slanted over hers, settling into place and demanding entry with a relentlessness that stole her breath. And suddenly his voluptuous tongue was deep inside her, possessing her with slick and skilled sweeps that left no corner of her mouth unexplored. There was nothing for her to do and nowhere for her to go; his strong and possessive hands on either side of her face, gripping her hair, saw to that. Her only job in life was to receive and to feel. For a strong and powerful woman like her, who marched through her day trying to control every aspect of her life—career, finances, home, weight, romance—the surrender he demanded was an unspeakable relief.

  He broke away, giving her the chance to try to catch her breath and to murmur his name. Sliding lower, he found every delicious nerve ending on both sides of her neck (including the scarred area!) and nuzzled them. Bit the sensitive tendons where neck met shoulder until she cried out with the exquisite pain. Stroked her skin until she was fooled into thinking it was over and she’d survived, only to shift to another, more tender spot and start the onslaught all over again. She squirmed and pleaded incoherently, trying to get away one second and surging to get closer the next.