Turn Left at Sanity, page 19
“Oh, well. We all get by. And you can’t put a price on happiness.” She sent him a pointed glance. “Or health.”
“Is there any chance of adding dinners into the equation?”
“Tonight’s is already in the oven.”
He let out a breath. “Thanks.”
They entered the Shady Lady and he followed her into the kitchen. When she’d taken a seminar in Boise on running a B&B, there was an entire workshop session on how to keep the proper distance from guests while still making them feel at home. Somehow she’d botched things up completely with Joe. He had her cooking dinners for him as well as breakfast, he’d technically had sex with her, and he followed her into the kitchen without so much as asking permission.
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He picked up her kitchen phone as though he had every right, and she only stopped herself from snatching it away from him when she realized that his New York office would be closed on Saturday. He could phone, but he wouldn’t reach anyone.
He punched in numbers and she was startled when he said, “Here, would you take this?” and handed her the receiver.
“What—?”
“I called my cell phone. It’s ringing. I must have lost it here in the house somewhere.”
“Oh, but . . .” There was little point in continuing to speak when he’d left the kitchen. She could hang up, of course, but she’d practiced enough passive deception today.
She sank onto a stool at the breakfast bar and waited.
She didn’t have to wait long.
“Emmylou,” Joe said, when he came back into the kitchen. He thrust his hands in his pants pockets and leaned back against her countertop.
The position might have looked casual, but it was clear he was anything but. “Your great-grandmother appears to have swallowed my cell phone.”
“Ah.” Okay, “ah” wasn’t going to cut it, but she wasn’t sure how to handle this situation—
yet another one that had never cropped up during her weekend seminar on running a B&B.
Honestly, she was beginning to think she should ask for her money back from that useless seminar. After her brilliant “ah,” silence reigned for a few moments.
“Of course, it occurs to me that a painting couldn’t swallow a phone.”
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“No. I suppose not.”
“I’m guessing there’s a safe behind the picture.”
“Good guess.”
“Let me go one further. I’m guessing that you locked my phone in your safe.”
“Right again.”
“For safekeeping?”
“Oh, you can just shove your snotty sarcasm.
You want an explanation for why I locked your phone in my safe? I’ll give you one. I’m trying to save your life here, Joe.”
“By ruining my business?” he yelled.
“Joe, you’ve had a warning from your body. If you don’t slow down, the next pain in your chest will be a heart attack.”
He closed his eyes briefly. She distinctly hoped he was counting slowly to ten so he wouldn’t yell at her again. It was a weak hope at best, and clearly unfounded. “What did you tell Anna?”
“The truth. Mostly. I told her your doctor recommended rest and quiet and she shouldn’t contact you until next week.”
A menacing pause ensued. “And did you happen to pass on to Anna my instructions to get me out of here?”
She breathed in slowly. “No.”
“What is she going to tell the client who’s been breathing down my neck about getting this deal sewn up?”
“I think she’s going to tell them to chill.”
He stalked forward until his body was completely in her personal space. With the counter at her back, there was nowhere to go. She was literally backed into a corner.
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He seemed suddenly very fierce and strong.
Not a bit like a man who’d just been released from hospital. She had to admit to herself that she was in trouble here.
His eyes bored into hers, fierce and molten lead, the planes of his face sharp and unyield-ing. “Are you going to give me my phone back?”
She swallowed hard, glanced up into his im-placable countenance, and shook her head. Why was she doing this? She should give him the damn thing and let him kill himself with work if he wanted to so badly. Except that she cared about him. More than she wanted to admit.
They’d had the briefest affair in the history of sex, but he had been inside her body, and she didn’t let anyone in that she didn’t care about.
She had confiscated his phone out of the high-est regard for his health and well-being, and he’d better be smart enough to realize it.
“You’re not going to give me back my own property if I ask for it?”
“No. I’m not.”
“Then you leave me no alternative.” He was acting all huffy, but she sensed he wasn’t as angry as she’d assumed. In fact, he moved in on her until they were touching.
She felt the heat coming off him. “What are you going to do?” she asked.
“Punish you,” he said in a low voice that made her skin warm. He lowered his head until their lips almost touched.
“I thought punishing kisses were only doled out in old romance novels.”
He dropped a kiss on her lips that was anything but a punishment—more of a teasing
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promise. “My methods are much more subtle and cruel.”
“Really? We’re not talking leather whips and chain mail here, are we?”
He kissed her a few more times, light teasing kisses that landed and then took off before she had a chance to fully engage. “You don’t give me any credit at all, do you?” His fingers trailed up the front of her top to toy with the under-sides of her breasts. “I was thinking of making you so hot you’d beg me to send you over the edge.”
She felt the warmth of his body, smelled the scent of his skin, and was caught in the sexual promise glittering in his eyes. Already she was humming with anticipation and a wanting so strong it bordered on need.
After the amazing almost-sex in her office the night Greg was disabling his car, then the pseudo-heart-attack sex of the other night, she figured she was ready for something that would put an end to her ever-mounting frustration. She did not, however, have to make things easy for him.
“I will make you a bet,” she said, letting her own fingers sneak under his shirt to find taut, warm belly.
He dropped his head until their foreheads met. “This is supposed to be a punishment, not a wager.”
“That is a very severe punishment,” she agreed, giving his lower lip a tiny nip just to let him know she could hold her own if punishing was on the agenda. “But I’m thinking that getting me to the point of no return is going to put quite a strain on your own self-control.”
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“You let me worry about that,” he said.
“But that’s the whole point. Let’s both worry about it. You’re so sure I’ll be a slave to your will. I think you’ll be begging a lot sooner than I will.”
“What’s at stake? I want my phone back. What do you want?” When he spoke to her in just that tone, with his fingers toying with her breasts what she wanted was to stop talking and make love. But she also wanted to save Joe from himself, for reasons she didn’t entirely understand.
“If I win, then your laptop joins your cell phone in the safe.”
His head jerked up and the teasing left his voice. “Are you out of your mind?”
“No! Second to the cell phone, that laptop is your biggest problem. You’re addicted to technology like a junkie on heroin. Cold turkey, baby. It’s your only hope.”
“Fine,” he snapped. “I’m not worried.”
“Good. Neither am I.”
“Okay. Let’s do it then.”
She felt a sudden qualm. Sex with her had already hospitalized him once. “Physically, are you sure you’re up for it?”
“Em, I am more up for it than you can imagine.”
“But you’ve been in the hospital . . .”
“I haven’t forgotten where we were when my stomach interrupted us. Have you?”
“No.” And she never would.
“It’s been four days of coitus interruptus for me. After I stopped feeling like hell, all I did was lay in bed all day and think about making love to you.”
She felt absurdly flattered. “You did?”
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“Well, it’s not like I had anything else to do apart from eating lime Jell-O. No phone. No laptop . . .”
“And I hope you got used to it.”
“Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you?”
She kissed his nose. “I am going to win this bet.”
In lieu of a reply, he kissed her until her toes curled.
“I have to go lock the door,” she said when she came up for air.
“I’ll meet you in your room. I have to shave first.” When his eyes did that yummy crinkly thing at the corners, her heart sped up. “I don’t want any stubble getting in the way of your pleasure.”
She laughed—hah, hah, hah—like a bit of smooth skin was going to have her swooning with desire. But secretly, just the idea of him shaving, and thinking about all the places on her body he might be planning not to leave whisker burn, had her erogenous zones on high alert.
“See you in five,” he said, and leaned forward and kissed her once more, slowly and sweetly.
Sure enough, when he pulled her in tight and deepened the kiss, she could feel a hint of stubble. His chin brushed hers and she felt a slight scrape, but she curled into him anyway, putting everything she had into that kiss. He pulled away, sucked in a deep breath, and stared at her for a moment. Not feeling quite so sure of himself now, was he? He’d obviously forgotten her lineage.
Knowing that the aunts were having a post-production coffee party at Betsy Carmichael’s
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place, and would likely be there for several hours, she locked the door and put the rarely used “Please Call Again Later” sign up to deter any chance visitors.
As she climbed the stairs she felt excitement bubbling deep inside. Maybe they’d had a couple of false starts, but this time they’d get it right.
She heard the creaking of the old water pipes that told her her guest was taking a shower.
She smiled. When he emerged, she’d have a surprise for him.
Chapter 19
As warm water cascaded down his body, Joe wondered if he’d ever wanted anything as much as he wanted to make love to Em. As the anticipation built, he let it, knowing from experience that it sharpened desire.
His razor probably didn’t need a new blade, but he took the time to replace it. Then he shaved carefully, scraping the blade twice over any area that might touch a part of Emmylou. He pushed his tongue against the dent between his lips and his chin and took the blade down in a straight line.
Maybe it was the way he’d been stuck in bed for days thinking about her, but he was so eager he could barely take the time to prepare himself for her. He brushed his teeth, flossed, gargled with mouthwash, and all the while his body hummed with anticipation. He imagined her waiting for him in her bed, and that thought had him grabbing his robe and stuffing the pocket with as many condoms as it would hold.
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He was nothing if not an optimist.
Oh, how he was going to love the moment when she first went starry-eyed and helpless in his arms. When her passion overcame her competitive instinct and she climaxed gloriously.
He wasn’t even aware he was smiling until he strolled out of the bathroom toward the bedside table where he’d left the history of Romania and stopped dead in his tracks, all notions of Romania forgotten.
Emmylou was stretched out on his bed and the only thing she was wearing was a welcoming smile. She lay on her side facing him, her chin propped in her hand.
If he could have formed a word, he’d have told her how beautiful she looked stretched out, her languorous smile in perfect harmony with her lush body.
Since he couldn’t speak, he let his eyes wor-ship her as he moved closer. He’d seen her undressed before, but it had been a blur of rush and need and then intense pain, so the whole thing was more an impression than a memory.
But looking at her now, he knew he was forming a memory that would last forever.
Hair that blond and tumbled was designed to be spread out on a man’s pillow, as hers was this moment. Her neck was long and slender, her shoulders graceful. Her breasts were plump and full with cappuccino-colored nipples. His palms itched to touch them but he made himself wait.
He could see from the way those beautiful breasts rose and fell that she was becoming aroused under his gaze.
She was enjoying being on display, stoked by his evident pleasure in her body. Dragging his
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gaze lower, he saw that she had a very nice belly, with a hint of muscle and a curvy waist and hips.
He couldn’t hold his gaze there. Back up it went.
When he’d had her on his lap in her office, her bra had stretched across the top slope of her breasts. Now they were gorgeously open to him and he had to have another look. He was a breast man, and his reaction to hers was sharp and vis-ceral. He wanted to taste them, lick them, touch them. Fuck them.
Her nipples tightened beneath his gaze, the areolas puckering to thrust the tips at him.
He swallowed. Back to the belly. Oh, nice belly.
Hips, round like a woman’s should be. The tri-angle of hair glossy and deep gold. A tiny sound came from his throat. Like a plea from his body to quit looking and start touching.
No. No touching. Not yet. He didn’t care about his laptop, but he wanted to make sure of her pleasure.
“I want you so badly,” he said. Her skin was beginning to pinken in interesting places. He bet that flush darkened and spread when she came. No. Don’t think about coming. Not yet.
She stretched her toes and arched her back just enough to tilt her breasts toward him; it was like she already knew his weakness. Daylight streamed in from the window behind her so she was backlit, and for a moment he was mesmerized by the graceful curve of her throat, her shoulder, and the fluid line of her arm resting at her side. After only letting himself look, the impulse to touch was irresistible, and so he followed that gorgeous curve, gilded by the light.
He touched her throat, ran his fingertips down to her shoulder and then slowly down her
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arm. Her skin was soft and warm as a sigh. He leaned closer to her while she remained mo-tionless for him, like a painting or a statue. He kissed her shoulder, and her shudder of reaction proved her neither painting nor statue but wonderfully warm and alive beside him.
He traced his lips upward, to the meeting place of shoulder and neck, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his lips, smelling the scent of her skin, which reminded him of the roses in her garden. Maybe she’d tended them so often that she’d somehow absorbed their scent. He ran his hand down her arm again, feeling the soft down on her forearm and the smooth skin of her upper arm, resilient with muscle.
When he could stand it no longer, he pushed her to her back and curled his fingers around her breasts. He leaned into them, burying his face, kissing and licking, plumping them with his hands.
Not only were they spectacular, he discovered, but they were extraordinarily sensitive.
She thrashed helplessly as he pulled a nipple into his mouth and tongued it.
How could he do this? How could he excite and arouse this wonderful, responsive, giving woman and not stoke his own arousal to the danger point? It couldn’t be done.
He should leave her breasts alone to give him some breathing room, but at this moment nothing in the universe mattered more to him than feeling her nipple tight and hard under his tongue.
She reached for him. “I want to see you,” she said, “I need to touch you.” Right. He’d almost forgotten he still wore the robe. He rose as she
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reached out to pull the tie free, and he shrugged out of the thing and let it fall.
He was standing there naked looking down and she was looking up, so his eagerly jutting cock seemed to be the point at which their gazes met. A slow smile curved her lips and then she hoisted herself onto her elbow for a closer look. The seat of his pride swelled a little more, if that was possible, at her obvious approval.
This wasn’t their first time in bed but, damn, it sure felt like it.
She reached out to touch him, and as he felt her fingers close around his shaft he figured he could kiss his business good-bye. Odd how unimportant toppling mergers, spa locations, and cat litter factories seemed at this moment.
“Are you going for an unfair advantage here?”
he managed.
She bit her lip and then, with obvious reluctance, pulled her hand away. She rolled to her back and regarded him. “Perhaps we need some rules.”
“Rules?”
“Yes. You get five minutes to do whatever you like to me. I get five minutes to do whatever I like to you. We change over every time the buzzer goes. Should I get the kitchen timer?”
He looked down at her, so absolutely perfect, from her lithe body to her kind heart to her warped sense of fair play.
He picked up one of the condoms from the bedside table and sheathed himself. “I have a better idea,” he said, joining her on the bed and nuzzling the sweet spot where her shoulder met her neck. “Forget the timer. Forget the rules.
This is a free-for-all.” Then he scooped both
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wrists into one hand and held them above her head, which made her chest arch, and her breasts practically popped up toward where his mouth hovered.
He closed his lips around one nipple, knowing he couldn’t stay away.
He took his time, pulling with slow suction against the nipple until there was a tiny pop and his lips were free. “Oh, that feels so good,” she murmured.
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