Have Bouquet, Need Boyfriend (19 page)

from those pink lips pressing around the rim of the glass and hurried

back to his bedroom. Maybe a cold shower would wipe out his reaction to her.

But what could they discuss that wouldn’t elicit images of him tearing

off that raincoat and making love to her?

Rebecca chastised herself for not just tearing off her coat and asking

him to make love to her. But she had frozen like rain in an ice storm.

Better to take it slow. Seduce him, not jump his bones and scare the

poor man to death.

Trying to calm herself, she studied the huge den with its neutral decor,

amazed at how perfectly everything matched. A cherry sofa table held a

crystal lamp behind plush off-white leather furniture with several

antique-looking books wedged between globe-shaped bookends. Throw

pillows in beige, dark blue and rust stripes accented the leather, and

the oil paintings on the wall and oriental vases and sculptures looked

very expensive. Window dressings that had to be custom

made draped Palladian floor-to-ceiling windows that let natural light

spill through the room. Now, at dusk, with the dark winter clouds

hovering above, a soft ebony glow filled the massive space.

Yet, except for Thomas’s laptop and a few medical books spread on a

corner rolltop desk, there were no personal touches of the man himself.

Did he bury himself in his work to the point of not having a life, like

her father had when she was growing up?

She heard the shower water running and groaned. Images of Thomas naked

and wet, his body covered with soapy water and bubbles taunted her. She

sipped the wine, the heat from the fireplace finally warming her chilled

body.

Or maybe it was the heat of wanting Thomas.

Nerves skidding to the surface, she stood and paced to release her

pent-up energy. By the time the water kicked off, she’d almost broken

into a sweat.

This was a mistake. She could not go through with the seduction.

She turned, contemplating how fast she could reach the door when his

voice stopped her. “What’s wrong, Rebecca? You seem nervous.”

She pivoted and saw him standing in the arched doorway wearing a pair of

jeans that hung low on his hips and a white shirt that he hadn’t yet

buttoned. Heavens alive, he was impressive.

No, she was not going to run.

“I…I just don’t want to impose.”

The scent of his soap-cleaned masculine body tortured her as he walked

closer. “You’re not. I’ve been holed up working all day. It’s nice to

take a break.”

“You were watching football.”

“The game’s over.”

He hit the off button on the TV, then led her back to the pillows. She

sat down on the plush mounds, hugging the glass of wine to her like a

lifeline. He poured himself a glass, flipped on the stereo to some soft

jazz music, then joined her, stretching out his long muscular legs, his

shirt falling open. “I figured I’d use the day to catch up on my medical

journals. I have to stay current.”

“You really love your work, don’t you?”

“I imagine the same way you feel about your painting. It’s my passion.”

The word hung between them, evoking images and desires that she couldn’t

deny any longer. As if he read her thoughts, his dark gaze skated over

her, the heat from his eyes blazing a trail of hunger through her. That

heat, coupled with the warmth from the fireplace, sparked a fiery need

to life.

“Are you getting warm?”

His husky voice felt like velvet. “Yes. Hot.”

“Can I take your coat now?”

A slow smile captured her mouth as she nodded. Then she untied the sash

and watched his eyes darken as she gently slid the garment down her

shoulders.

Thomas’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of the satiny expanse

of Rebecca’s shoulders. His hands clenched around his glass as she

lowered the coat even further and he realized she was wearing nothing

beneath.

Soft plump breasts jutted forward, her rosy nipples pert and begging for

his touch.

His stunned gaze swung back to her face, and he struggled to make his

mouth work, but his mind

couldn’t assimilate what was happening. What she might be offering.

Although she tilted her head up as if she had done this a million times,

he noticed the slight quiver of her lips as they parted, the painful

hitch of her breath as she waited for his response. He had never seen

anything so beautiful as her fake bravado.

Or the bare flesh before him and the purest of hearts that beat inside

that luscious, naked skin.

God help him but he couldn’t refuse her invitation.

Still, he tried…. “Rebecca-“

“Shh.” She raised a long, slender finger and pressed it to his lips.

“You s-” She hesitated and cleared her throat. “You said last night that

you wanted me but that you couldn’t make any promises.”

He closed his eyes to the sound of blood roaring in his ears. “I still

can’t.”

She traced her finger along his lips in the most exquisite erotic

gesture he’d ever felt. “I’m not asking for promises, Thomas. I’m just

asking for tonight.”

He opened his eyes, knowing he had the perfect reason to stop this

insanity now. “But I don’t have protection.”

A blush rose on her cheeks as she gestured at her pockets. “It’s taken

care of.”

He searched her face for hesitation, for anxiety. But just like the

Rebecca he’d come to know, to like, to trust, he saw only honesty. No

hidden agendas. No lies. No conniving or flirting.

Just simple, honest emotions and a hunger in her eyes that destroyed

every last bit of his crumbling resistance.

Rebecca closed her eyes and just felt….

Every touch, every moment his mouth devoured her

was an erotic journey she had never embarked on before. Once he

unleashed his passion, the storm of his need swept her up into a

tailspin of her own primitive want. He ravaged her mouth and stroked and

tortured her with his fingers and lips until she nearly cried out with

the sensations flooding her body. Finally he shucked off his shirt and

jeans and allowed her to touch and explore his body. Taut muscles.

Sinewy strength. Masculinity so raw and tough yet so gentle and sweet.

She had never imagined being so bold. But verses from that erotic poetry

book hummed through her mind, the touches, the loving gestures that

brought moans from deep within his throat and had her own body clenching

and pulsing with the desire to be complete.

With him.

She had no hesitation.

But she saw the shock on his face when he plunged himself inside her. He

froze, muscled arms shaking as he braced himself above her.

“Rebecca, oh…” The dark passion in his eyes turned tender, then he

started to pull away.

“No, please, Thomas.” She grasped his hips, felt the strength in his

body and wanted his possession. “I want you so much. Please.”

His gaze locked with hers, filled with heat and savage hunger. His

breath rattled, filled with turmoil. Then he swallowed hard. She cupped

his jaw in her hands, pulled his face toward her, then gently licked his

lips until he allowed her to explore his mouth. As

she played deeper and deeper into the hot darkness that fueled her own

needs, his resistance faded, and he finally claimed her in the most

elemental way a man could, forming an intimate connection that seared

her soul.

She kissed him fiercely, with all her love, then groaned his name as he

took her to heaven.

A few minutes later Thomas lay back with Rebecca curled into his arms,

his body still quaking with ecstasy from their lovemaking. But his mind

was a total mess.

He had never experienced anything so tender and emotional, yet primal at

the same time.

“What the hell happened?”

“New Year’s resolution. To be a different woman.”

“Really? And to think mine was to pay my taxes on time.” He brushed a

tendril of hair from her forehead, then twirled it in his finger, his

gaze raking over her. “And what prompted this resolution?”

Rebecca laughed softly against his chest and turned that

innocent-looking face up toward him. Baby-blue eyes blinked and sparkled

with pleasure. Pleasure he had given her. “The hope chest started it all.”

“What?”

Her dainty shoulders shrugged beneath him. “The things inside, the

letter from Grammy-“

“Your grandmother wrote you a letter telling you to come over here

wearing nothing but a raincoat?”

“No.” She laughed again, a soft musical sound full of womanly wickedness

that aroused him even more. “But she did give me a book of erotic poetry

that sparked some ideas.”

In spite of the little voice inside his head telling him to stop now,

not to ask about that erotic poetry, he nuzzled her neck, feeling

humbled and whole and completely enamored with her. The shy little

vixen. “Maybe you could read some of that poetry to me.”

She moved above him, her silky hair brushing his chest as she murmured,

“‘Go gentle over my body, your fingers trace a path, your flesh wanting mine

Moved by the sound of her seductive voice, he mimicked her words with

his touches, and loved her all over again. And this time when they rode

the crest together, he could have sworn he’d died and gone to heaven.

The next week was the happiest week of Rebecca’s life. She worked at the

bookstore all day, finished the paintings at the clinic in the evening

and spent heavenly nights with Thomas.

“Yo, Bee.”

Rebecca had just stepped outside to walk to work and couldn’t ignore

Jerry. Besides, Gertrude had been gushing about him all week, and

Rebecca wanted to see if the attraction was one-sided.

“How’s it going, Jerry?”

He kicked at a loose rock with the toe of his dirty boot. “I, uh, wanted

to tell you thanks.”

“For what?”

A half grin laced his face. “For turnin’ me down on New Year’s Eve.”

A gust of wind blew Rebecca’s hair into her face. “Really?”

He stuffed his hands in the backs of his pockets, big belly jiggling.

“See, the way I figure, if we’d got together, then me and Gertrude

wouldn’t of.” The smile on his face screamed male.

“So, you really like her?” Rebecca asked;

He nodded. “She’s somethin’ else.”

“Be good to her, then.” Rebecca grinned and headed down the sidewalk.

Love must be in the air. Hers had certainly grown for Thomas.

Although he hadn’t said he cared for her and she certainly hadn’t used

the L word, she sensed he had feelings for her. His touch, his look, his

lovemaking, all held so much tenderness and passion, and sometimes he

looked at her with such reverence, her insides quivered. Other times

she’d catch him watching her, staring, and she felt as if she were

living in a dream that might end any second….

At night, they listened to music, and sometimes she read the erotic

poetry to him by candlelight. And they always wound up making love, then

she’d curl into his arms and sleep with his breath feathering against

her neck and his big arms holding her tight.

Inspired by her new euphoria, she’d plunged into a new art project, a

completely different take on her usual landscapes. She was painting a

bed of lilies on the mountainside with two lovers intertwined, lying

amongst the white petals. Although the bodies were simple outlines, the

faces not visible, the man’s body was definitely Thomas’s.

Although, last night she’d woken in the middle of the night with an

awful premonition that things were about to end. She’d also dreamt about

a pair of clogs. According to the dream book, dreaming about wearing,

owning or buying a pair meant you were going to have a passionate but

short-lived love affair.

The passionate part she had.

Would it be short-lived?

No, she was just being paranoid.

Nothing could burst her bubble of happiness. She’d even stalled talking

to the people at the sperm donor clinic in hopes that things would work

out for her and Thomas. Then she could have a family the old-fashioned

way, with the man she wanted.