“So you haven’t changed your mind about what we talked about in Saint Augustine?”
“No, I haven’t.”
There was a slight pause. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”
“Lorren, lighten up. Clayton and I are two adults who can handle things. We’re having a weekend fling. Nothing more. I’ll be fine.”
Braxter Montgomery saw the woman across the parking lot as she raised the hood of her car. Being the only son of a single mother and the brother of two younger sisters, he believed in assisting women in distress and began walking toward her.
Only after he had gotten a few feet away from her did Braxton discover he’d suddenly forgotten how to breathe. The woman, whose age appeared to be around twenty-five or twenty-six, was gorgeous.
“Do you need any assistance?” He finally found his voice to ask. His eyes scanned her slender figure before glancing under the raised hood of her car. She glanced up from her close study of her car’s engine and smiled beautiful dark eyes at him.
“I think so. My car won’t start. Do you know anything about cars, Mr….?” She glanced at the identification badge he wore on his suit. “Mr. Montgomery?”
He smiled. “A little. Let me take a look.” Handing her his jacket and briefcase, he began rolling up his sleeves. “That is, if you don’t mind, Ms….?”
“Rogers,” she supplied, shaking his hand. “Celeste Rogers.”
“And Ms. Rogers, do you work around here?” Braxter asked. His tone was polite as he began fiddling with some of the equipment under her car’s hood. He couldn’t help noticing she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
“No, I don’t work around here, but a majority of my clientele do,” she said, glancing at the Capitol Building in the background. “I own a travel agency, and today is my day for deliveries.” She looked down at her car and frowned. “At least it was until my car decided to give out on me.”
Braxter nodded. “Now, Ms. Rogers, you can try the ignition.”
She smiled. “Please call me Celeste.”
“Celeste,” he said, liking the way the name sounded on his lips. “And I’m Braxter.”
“All right.” She walked around and slid into the car’s seat. She smiled broadly when the car’s engine roared to life. Getting out of the car she went back to where he stood, she smiled at him. “It’s working again. What did you do?”
“It was just your distributor cap. It wasn’t on tight enough.” The expression on her face told him that, like most women, she knew nothing about what went on under the hood of a car.
“Well, whatever it was, I really appreciate your taking the time to help. How much do I owe you, Braxter?”
He checked his watch. “Nothing, but how about lunch? There’s a great Chinese restaurant a few blocks from here. That is, if you like Chinese.”
She hesitated a moment before answering. “I love Chinese, and lunch sounds wonderful.”
“Great, we can drive over in my car.”
She shook her head. “I prefer if you lead in your car. I’ll follow in mine.”
“Okay.” Braxter said smiling. He wasn’t the least offended that she’d graciously refused his offer to ride to the restaurant with him. Evidently, she was a cautious woman by nature. He liked that.
Celeste watched the handsome man walk off, heading back toward his parked car. She then got into hers. As she followed him out of the parking lot, she picked up her cellular phone and punched in a few numbers. She waited patiently for the voice on the other end before saying, “Yes, this is Celeste.” Her lips formed in a faint, victorious grin. “I’ve made my connection.”
S
yneda glanced around her living room, nervously gnawing at her bottom lip. Clayton was to arrive any minute.
For the first time since her decision to have this weekend interlude with him, she was beginning to feel uncertain and apprehensive. Unnerved by those feelings, and unsettled by the novelty of the actions she was about to take, she uncomfortably ran a hand through her hair.
At the sound of the doorbell, she hesitated briefly before turning toward the door. Drawing in a deep breath, she made an effort to maintain her composure. Sharp needles of sexual excitement and anticipation pricked every nerve in her body. “Yes?”
“It’s Clayton.”
She slowly opened the door and smiled. “Hello.”
Clayton smiled back at her. “Hello, yourself. May I come in?”
“Sure.” Syneda couldn’t help noticing how his dark form was silhouetted by the dim lighting flowing through the entrance foyer. Although she couldn’t see his features clearly, she could tell he was dressed in a dark suit and white dress shirt. He must have left the office and gone directly to the airport, she thought, moving aside.
Clayton stepped inside the apartment. After placing his traveling bag down, he closed the door behind him. He stared at Syneda, suddenly realizing just how much he had missed her since she’d left him in Florida. He felt an overwhelming joy at seeing her again.
He was having a difficult time assimilating what he was feeling as he continued to stare at her. Air became trapped in his lungs, and his heart pounded in his chest. His mind tried reminding him, uncomfortably, that no woman had ever had this sort of effect on him. No woman had ever made him feel such joy, such desperation…and such panic.
A part of him—that part that had always been in full control where women were concerned—was wavering under the sea-green gaze that held him captive.
And that thought was frightening.
He suddenly felt a strong urge to protect himself by turning and walking back out of the door and doing an easy escape before he got himself into something too deep, something he wasn’t prepared for. But for the life of him he couldn’t make the move to retreat.
“Clayton? Are you okay?”
The sound of Syneda’s voice was soft, smooth, sexy and concerned. Reaching out, he gently pulled her into his arms. “Yes, I’m fine,” he said, lowering his mouth to hers.
Their contact was electric as Clayton ground his lips against hers with a hunger that could not be denied. Syneda opened her mouth to his immediately. Heat rose in her body and a tightening started in the pit of her stomach. She trembled all over, unable to believe what was happening between them. It had not just been Florida after all, because even here in smog-filled New York, the sexual chemistry between them was even greater than before. Breath rushed in and out of her lungs and she couldn’t help wondering why no man before Clayton had ever made this kind of passion rise so quickly within her. It made her become urgent, wanting to hold back nothing and lose control.
Clayton slowly raised his head and met dazed sea-green eyes. “You taste good,” he whispered hoarsely against her lips. “I enjoy kissing you.”
Syneda stared up into the dark eyes gazing down at her. The electric brown eyes were glowing like black fire. “You taste pretty good yourself. And I like kissing you, too.”
Clayton grinned and kissed her again, long, deep and hard. His hand lightly cupped her bottom. Syneda could feel the muscles in her body come alive with his intimate touch and she pressed herself closer to him. The powerful muscular build of his shoulders felt heavenly beneath her hands as he pulled her even closer.
He reluctantly broke off the kiss, his breathing unsteady. “What’s planned for this weekend?” he asked huskily, planting butterfly kisses against the corners of her mouth.
He felt her grin underneath his lips. “If you don’t know, I’m not telling.”
Clayton’s chuckle echoed deep in his chest where Syneda placed her head. He tightened his arms around her. “So, what’s first?” he asked.
Syneda lifted her head and looked up at him. “First, we talk.”
Clayton bent down and brushed his lips against hers. “Talk about what?”
“Rules.”
He raised his head and looked down at her. “Rules? What rules?”
She smiled at him. “Rules I’m sure you’ve followed countless times and won’t have any problems not breaking. In fact, I bet they’re similar to the ones you’ve probably used in your relationships.”
“What are they?”
Her eyes, he noticed, suddenly became set beneath a high, serious brow. However, she still managed to contain her smile. “The first and most important one being that we won’t expect anything beyond what we’ll share this weekend. And second, we must never, ever let ourselves think that what we’re sharing is in any way, shape, form or fashion associated with love.” She gave him a fierce hug. “See, there, I told you they were probably similar to yours.”
Clayton flinched. She was right, they were like some of his own rules. They were rules that had always governed his relationships with women, and for the first time the thought of those rules bothered him.
“That’s why,” she continued, “I’m so excited about this weekend. For once I can let myself go without worrying.”
He frowned. “Worrying about what?”
“About someone wanting more than I could possibly give, and trying to keep him at arm’s length. I know how you feel about love and commitment. You don’t want them any more than I do.”
A tender smile danced across Syneda’s lips. “And there’s something else I guess I should tell you…about me.”
“And just what could that be?” he asked. Taking her hand he led her toward the sofa. She only presented him with a surprisingly relaxed smile when he sat down and pulled her into his lap.
“It’s nothing that’s a big deal, but it’s something I think you should know.”
He lifted his brow. Despite her smile, he had a feeling there was something mysterious lurking deep in the sea-green eyes staring back at him. “What is it?”
“I’ve never made love with a man before.”
“What!”
If Syneda hadn’t caught hold of the sofa, she would have fallen on the floor when Clayton unexpectedly jumped out of his seat.
“What do you mean you’ve never slept with a man before? That’s stupid!”
Syneda stood then. The smile on her face was replaced with an angry frown. “What’s stupid?”
“The notion that you’re a virgin. That’s impossible.”
“And just why is it impossible?”
Clayton’s eyes swept over Syneda as he tried coming to grips with what she was telling him. She stood before him as he’d seen her many times, with her hands on her hips, facing him squarely, ready to do battle. He met her glare head-on. He could believe a lot of things, but the thought that she had never slept with a man before wasn’t one of them.
“I’m waiting for an answer, Madaris. Are you implying that all the time you’ve known me, you just assumed I’ve lived the life of some kind of slut?”
Clayton rolled his eyes heavenward. “I wasn’t insinuating anything. All I’m saying is that you of all people would be the least likely candidate for a virgin.” Clayton frowned, wondering if the words he’d just spoken to clear himself had done more damage than good.
“What I mean,” he said quickly, “is that you’re twenty-eight—for heaven’s sake, you live by yourself, you’re a career woman, a professional. You went to college, and I’m sure you dated while you were there. You date men now, and you’re a very sexy woman. Besides that, you have modern ideals.”
Syneda shook her head at the lack of logic in Clayton’s way of thinking. “Let’s get one thing straight. Having modern ideals doesn’t mean you automatically toss aside old values. I control my own destiny, and I’ve never depended on the smooth talk of some man to guide me. I make my own decisions when it concerns my body. I never felt compelled to give myself to a man to prove anything. And why do women have to prove anything anyway? Why can’t a man do the proving for a change?”
Clayton folded his arms across his chest and leaned against a wall. He knew Syneda was on a roll. He glanced around the room for signs of her soap box.
“And another thing,” she continued. “Most women have the good sense to know most lines men are feeding them are usually a bunch of bull. But unfortunately, others are too flattered or too naive to figure it out, and that mistake is many of their downfalls. I could provide you with statistics on the number of women having babies out of wedlock. And those smooth-talking, irresponsible men, who refuse to claim their role as fathers, have moved on to hit some other unsuspecting female with the same line.”
“Syneda—”
“No, Madaris, you started this so let me wrap it up.” She came to stand in front of him. “And age has nothing to do with it. Neither does occupation or status in life. So what if I’m a single, twenty-eight-year-old attorney living on my own. That doesn’t necessarily mean I have loose morals. What law says I have to sleep with any man I date? People shouldn’t get intimately involved with each other until they’re ready, both physically and mentally.”
Clayton grabbed Syneda’s hand. “I apologize if I offended you, I didn’t mean to. It’s just hard to believe.”
When her frown darkened he added, “However, I do believe you. But what about that guy you recently broke up with? The one you had been dating for the past six or seven months.”
Syneda yanked away from his grasp. “What about him?”
“Wasn’t he special to you? Didn’t the two of you ever want to…you know?”
“My relationship with Marcus is not open for discussion. All you need to know is that there has never been a special man in my life. And as far as me sleeping with him, I didn’t want to and he respected my decision.”
“The man was a fool. There’s no way in hell you would have been my woman and not shared my bed.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not your woman, Madaris. So you can take your sexist way of thinking right back to Texas.”
When she made a move to walk away, Clayton reached out and gently brought her against him. “Let me go, Clayton.”
“Not on your life.” He calmed her struggling and pulled her against him, holding her tight.
When he bent down and kissed her, she reluctantly returned it. “I want you to leave, Clayton,” she said unconvincingly between their kisses.
“I’m staying, Syneda.”
He picked her up in his arms and carried her back to the sofa. Sitting down, he again placed her in his lap and continued kissing her.
“Stay then,” she muttered against his moist lips. “Just as long as you know I’m mad.”
“Stay mad,” he responded, against the angry quiver he felt while tasting her bottom lip. He lifted his head and looked down at her. “Nothing brings out passion quicker than anger.”
“Then this weekend should be rather interesting since we argue most of the time, Madaris.”
He traced the line of her lips with his finger. “Not this weekend,” he replied easily. “For the next two days, we’re going to spend time doing something else. We’ll argue the next weekend we spend together.”
Syneda gazed up at him, wanting to remind him that this would be their only weekend together. Instead, she pulled his face down and kissed him long and deeply.
Clayton stood with her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. Once there he gently placed her on the bed. The colorful bedcover was pulled back invitingly. He stood back to look down at her.
“I’m not a very good hostess. I didn’t even offer you a drink,” Syneda said silkily.
“You offered me something a whole lot better and definitely more precious.”
“What?”
“Yourself.”
His words made what little control Syneda had slip even further. It was evident that he wanted her. His body was growing hard with desire. He reached down and drew her up slowly toward him. His lips touched hers lightly at first, nibbling at her mouth softly.
Syneda moaned as she opened her mouth fully to him and tightened her arms around his neck. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and met his, returning his kiss with an intensity and hunger that he absorbed.
Syneda, Clayton discovered, had an intensely passionate nature and it set him on fire. A tremor inside him heated his thighs and groin. Pulling her into his arms, he ran his hands over the slender curves of her body through her clothes, bestowing kisses on her that were more hot and demanding than any of his others had been.
Still holding her, he swept back the bedcovers with a one-handed motion, and placed her on the mauve-colored sheet, gently coming down on top of her. They kissed again. No words needed to be spoken.
Syneda clung to Clayton, kissing him with as much hunger as he was kissing her. Everything was swept from her mind except him and how he was making her feel.
Clayton was driven by a need to become a part of her. He undressed her quickly, removing every stitch of her clothing. When she lay unclothed before him, he let his hands glide over to the slender curves of her body.
Syneda’s breath caught. She closed her eyes. A flash of blazing heat roared within her. “Clayton.” She whispered his name in a yearning urgency.