Authors: Debbi Rawlins
She drew in her lower lip and stared at her glass, “I don’t know. “It’s just that—I don’t know.”
“I’m the closest person to a coworker you have, right?” He gave her some space, let her think for a few moments before voicing his suspicion. “She said something else, didn’t she? Something you don’t want to tell me.”
She hesitated. “It didn’t make sense. I barely remember what she said.”
“Tell me.”
“She said something about me embarking on a great adventure.” She laughed. “Me, a girl who’s never been west of the Hudson River.”
The prophetic words chilled him to the bone. Tore a hole right out of him. God, he hoped Madam Zora was right. But now wasn’t the time to get into it with Madison. It took him a few seconds to trust his voice. “Hungry?”
“Always.” If she thought it odd he’d dropped the subject so quickly, she didn’t show it.
“After we finish our drinks how about we go upstairs, order some dinner—or appetizers for now if you’re not ready for dinner yet. We do have all night.”
A sultry smile curved her lips. “I’m counting on it.”
He couldn’t finish his scotch fast enough while signaling for the bartender so he could pay the check and they could get out of there. The guy saw him and nodded, but before he presented the bill, the blonde who’d approached Jack earlier came and squeezed in between Jack and the long-haired man wearing a Stetson on his left. The cowboy didn’t seem to mind. Jack did.
He angled more toward Madison, giving the blonde
his back, but she touched his arm, her red-tipped fingers lingering too long. As tempted as he was to ignore her, he knew his best course of action was to see what she wanted, and then politely refuse.
Without a word or even a smile, he glanced over his shoulder at her.
She leaned in close, her hand was back on his arm, and he had to really hold on to his temper. “I didn’t realize this was a business meeting.”
“Who said it was?”
The woman’s gaze flickered to Madison. She briefly wrinkled her nose as if confused, and then smiled. “Anyway, I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just wanted to give you this.”
Before he could stop her, she slipped a piece of paper into the breast pocket of his sport coat. He looked at Madison, but couldn’t tell if she’d seen it.
“Call me, okay?” The blonde slipped away, but not before rubbing her large half-exposed breasts against his arm.
Normally, that kind of crap annoyed him. But for the woman to have done it in front of Madison really made his blood pressure soar. Not that she was the kind of woman who cared. She’d probably find it funny, knowing her. But it was the principle, damn it.
The bartender delivered the check and Jack pulled out some cash. He finally had the guts to look over at Madison, who was taking her last sip, appearing to be oblivious to what had just happened. Breathing a sigh of relief, he laid down a large bill and got to his feet.
“Ready?”
“You don’t need change?”
He shook his head and picked up her briefcase. It wasn’t heavy. She clearly hadn’t packed many clothes. Heat blazed in his chest. Down lower in his groin.
Man, how he’d thought about her all day. All week. And now she was right next to him, leaving her stool, her mouth a breath away from his as she rose. He wanted to kiss her. Really kiss her. Thoroughly. Right in front of everyone. The hell with them. Let them talk. Let them take all the photographs they wanted.
But he wouldn’t do that to her. Madison would be hounded and photographed for a week. She’d hate it. She might hate him.
He ushered her ahead of him, letting her take the briefcase when she insisted. Just in the half hour he’d been there, the bar had grown obscenely crowded. Good. People paid him less attention. Which made more sense when he caught sight of Piper Devon at the entrance, surveying the room.
He stopped briefly to say hi and to introduce Madison, and then they continued toward the elevator. Just as the doors opened, he fished out the piece of paper with the blonde’s phone number and dropped it into a trash receptacle.
M
ADISON SAW HIM DROP
the piece of paper in the trash can and her heart leaped. If he hadn’t, it would have been okay. He was a free agent, and the woman was drop-dead gorgeous even if she did have fake boobs.
But he had done it, and he was here with her, Madison, who’d always been the tallest, skinniest girl in class all through high school, who’d waited for a prom date who never showed up, and who was about to spend the night with Jack Logan.
Again.
Once had been faboo enough. But twice? And he’d done the asking. She was sorely tempted to do the happy dance. Right here. Right now. Outside the Carnaby Suite. But he’d think she was a nut, and why blow things now.
She swallowed hard and turned to him with a smile as he slid the key card in and then pushed open the door.
“Does this meet with your approval?” He swept a hand for her to follow into the suite. The drapes were open, and fading sunlight bathed the room in a surreal pinkish-golden glow.
“Oh, I think it’ll do,” she said imperially, but couldn’t hold back a laugh at the last moment.
“May I take this now?” He took the briefcase from her.
“No peeking.”
He didn’t go far. He set the briefcase on the floor, wrapped his arms around her and hauled her up against him. Taken by surprise her breath caught in her throat when he covered her lips with his, sending her head back with the fierceness of his kiss.
She stumbled a little and he held her tight, slowly releasing her mouth. He tipped her chin up and ran the pad of his thumb across her cheek, across her lower lip. Kissed her again, softly this time.
“Sorry, but I waited a week to do that.”
“Me, too,” she admitted, while fisting two handfuls of his shirt and forcing him back to her mouth.
He readily complied, and there was no sound in the room, in the entire hotel but the low guttural moan that came from his throat as he parted her lips with his tongue and darted inside, taking her on a wild ride that she wished would go on forever.
But his cock was hard and insistent against her belly, and she had other plans for him. She pushed his sport coat off his shoulders, and he quickly got rid of it. Beneath he wore a white cotton shirt woven so fine it felt like silk as she ran her palms up the front, over his hardened nipples.
“I thought you were hungry,” he whispered.
“I am.”
He smiled and yanked her shirt from her waistband. It was one of her nicest blouses, silk and expensive, a gift she’d received from Karrie last Christmas. The thought occurred to her when her attempt to unfasten the top button sent it flying across the room.
They both tracked the motion, and then she saw
them. A basket of bright spring flowers sat on the table. They didn’t look quite right, though.
She squinted at them. “Are those—?”
“For you,” he said, the amusement in his voice stirring her curiosity.
She abandoned him and moved closer.
“Hey, where are you going?” He laughed, knowingly, and followed her across the room.
As soon as she got closer she started laughing, too. “They’re cookies.”
“My trainer would be appalled.”
“Hmm, my kind of cookie.” She lightly touched the orange-glazed petal of what was supposed to be a mum. Incredible workmanship.
“I figured you might enjoy these more than flowers.” He came from behind and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder.
The gesture was so warm and familiar, as if they’d been lovers for years, that she shuddered with pure contentment.
He drew back. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” She aligned her arms over his, squeezing lightly, urging him to stay where he was. “They’re just too pretty to eat.”
“Take one bite and tell me that.”
“That good, huh?”
He murmured something, but his mouth was pressed against the side of her neck and she didn’t get it. Didn’t care, either.
She closed her eyes and let him, with his lips and tongue, minister to her skin, her earlobe, the curve of her neck. All her senses rose to a fever pitch. Thrummed to an awareness she didn’t know she possessed.
Maybe Madam Z. was one of those people who saw things others didn’t. Maybe she had been warning Madison about Jack. Maybe he was the one who’d take her to the apex. The one who would irreparably break her heart.
Why had she been so stubborn? Why hadn’t she let Madam Z. finish the reading?
“You’re tensing,” he whispered against her skin. “What’s wrong?”
It didn’t matter. None of what the psychic said did. Madison had been right to begin with. The whole prediction thing was schlock. She had to forget it. Enjoy the moment. Enjoy tonight. Because this was all she was gonna have.
“Nothing,” she said, turning around to bury her face against his chest and breathe in his unique and mysterious scent. His top two buttons were unfastened, and the hair on his chest tickled her nose. She giggled.
“What?” He lifted her chin, and he was smiling and that was all she needed.
And then someone knocked at the door.
J
ACK FROWNED
when he heard the room service waiter identify himself. He looked questioningly at Madison but she shook her head and shrugged.
He hesitated a moment, willing his arousal to go down, not be so blatant, and then opened the door to a guy bent over a silver ice bucket, rearranging a bottle of Perrier Jouet that sat on a white linen tablecloth. Beside it were a tray of chocolate-covered strawberries, both white and dark and a dozen pink roses.
The man smiled and straightened. His nametag identified him as Tyler. “Compliments of Piper Devon.”
Jack stood aside while Tyler pushed the cart into the suite, fishing in his pocket for a suitable tip.
“Anywhere in particular you’d like me to set this up?” the waiter asked.
Jack looked at Madison. Her untucked blouse and wild hair was a pretty damn good indication as to what they’d been doing.
She shrugged. “Right there is good.”
This was Hush. Tyler was obviously unfazed by what went on behind closed doors. “Would you like the champagne opened now?”
“No.” Madison spoke up quickly. “Thank you.” She gave him a hint by moving toward the door, her arms crossed over her chest, a trace of cream-colored lace showing where the blouse parted slightly over her breasts.
Tyler looked questioningly at Jack. He smiled and opened the door. He really liked that she didn’t defer to him. She had a preference and acted on it. He liked that a lot. Of course, so far, he liked pretty much everything about her.
“Have a good one, sir, ma’am.” As the waiter left, Jack handed him a twenty, and then double bolted the door.
“I don’t care who knocks,” he said, walking toward her. “No more interruptions.”
She met him halfway. “I totally agree.”
“Except when we order dinner.”
She nodded and slid her arms around his neck.
He felt the weight of her breasts pressed against his chest. “
If
we order dinner.”
“If,” she agreed, and nibbled at his chin.
He ran his palms down the slender curve of her back
to where her backside rounded, and he filled his hands with her offering. His cock responded, pressing hard against his fly. She undoubtedly felt it, too, and he silently berated himself for going so quickly. For forgetting that he had a plan for tonight.
With regret he pulled back, missing her heat, the way her fingers lightly clawed his back. But he knew once he started running his palms over bare skin, once he tasted the honey between her thighs, there’d be no more talking. No more rational thinking.
Or at least not how he’d planned.
He smiled into her confused face. “I didn’t have lunch.”
She blinked. “Oh.”
“That scotch is getting to me.”
“Have a strawberry.”
“I think I’ll need something a little more substantial than that.”
“Okay.” She seemed disappointed as she moved back. “Order something from room service while I have a strawberry.”
“Madison.” He caught her wrist as she turned toward the room service cart. “You forgot something.”
“What?”
He tugged at her arm until she was up against him again, their lips melting together, their tongues mating, their bodies pulsing to the same beat. It was harder this time to release her, but he did, while he was still capable of seeing the bigger picture.
She smiled, looking more reassured, as they both moved apart. He went to the desk and picked up the room service menu, and she headed for the cart. After
deciding on a couple of appetizers, he punched in the right number.
Madison strolled leisurely toward him, nibbling the chocolate off a strawberry. She bit into the fruit and then put it to his lips. He had time for one small taste before someone answered.
But she didn’t back off. Instead she played dirty while he tried to give their order, licking the corner of his mouth, running her palm down his chest, tucking her fingers into his waistband.
The woman on the other end of the line must have thought he was insane. Or drunk. The way he could barely get out each word. She already knew who he was and, thanks to Hush’s sophisticated phone system, had greeted him by name.
Ordinarily the distraction would have aggravated him. That is if any other woman had engaged in this behavior that resulted in him sounding like a fool. But not Madison. She only made him want to get off the phone and carry her into the bedroom. Lay her across the bed. Strip her naked. Maybe even see how the infamous fur handcuffs in the armoire worked.
He finally got the order in and hung up. “You are in so much trouble.”
“Yeah? Oh, my. I’m scared.” She laughingly pushed the last bite of strawberry between his lips.
“You licked off the chocolate,” he complained with a mock frown.
“Poor baby.”
He touched her breast, quickly found the hardened nipple with his swirling forefinger. She gasped with pleasure. “You’re going to be sorry you started this,” he
said, taking satisfaction in the way her eyes drooped closed.
“I truly doubt it.”
“Even when room service knocks again?”
Her eyes opened. “Oh, that.”
He chuckled, and with no small effort, lowered his hand. He was anxious to see her work. Although he doubted there would be any surprises. “How about we go explore your briefcase while we wait?”
“Really?”
“We have to sometime.”
She gave him a sultry smile “Says who?”
“You’re bad.”
“I try my best.”
“Come on.” He took her hand, grabbed the briefcase where they’d left it near the door and then led her to the couch.
The coffee table was more for show than anything else adorned with attractive art objects, which he cleared away before setting her briefcase on top.
“Wait a minute. It’s locked.” Sitting beside him, she leaned forward to release the combination, her fragrant almond-scented hair teasing his nostrils, distracting him, frustrating him.
He drew in a deep breath, reminded himself they had all night. The thought alone sent his mind spinning in the wrong direction. He forced his attention back to her flipping open the top. The first thing he saw was a red lace teddy. And groaned.
She looked at him. “You don’t like it?”
His laugh sounded strangled. “I like.”
“Oh.” She took it out and laid it on the black lacquer
table. Next came a pair of skimpy bikini panties. “For tomorrow,” she said, before removing them and the white T-shirt beneath.
A small black bag, probably makeup, and a leather portfolio was left. His gaze stayed on the folder, and he took the liberty of reaching for it while she set aside the small bag.
“Hey. Those aren’t your pictures,” she said, relieving him of the portfolio. “There they are.”
“I didn’t think they were.” He stared down at the manila envelope that had been hidden under the portfolio. Did he want to see them? No matter how they turned out, he wouldn’t stop her from submitting them.
“Don’t you want to see them?” She picked up the envelope when he made no move to do so.
“Maybe I should wait until they’re in
Today’s Man.
”
Her eyebrows rose and her lips parted in surprise. “You still have veto power. Although I don’t think you’ll find any of them objectionable.”
“I trust you,” he said, and glanced at the leather portfolio. “I’d like to see those.”
She didn’t move, only stared at him as if she wasn’t sure what to do. Finally she unclasped the folder and drew out several eight-by-ten photographs. “I just brought a few from my private collection,” she said, not meeting his eyes and looking uncharacteristically shy. “They’re ones I just shot on a whim. No big deal.”
He reached for them, but she held back the stack, removing several and keeping them hidden before turning the remainder over to him. If she thought he was going to forget about them, she was out of her mind. She’d really piqued his curiosity now. “Am I allowed to see those?”
“Later.” She smiled tentatively. “I promise.”
He nodded, sat back and started with the first one. He immediately recognized Central Park. Sitting on a bench, an older woman, either a nanny or a grandmother, was being fed a bite of hot dog by her young ward. The expressions on their faces were priceless, the affection between the woman and child nearly a tangible thing.
“This is terrific,” he said, carefully setting the photo aside and going to the next one. Again, taken in Central Park, this one black-and-white, showed what appeared to be a homeless woman, frail and battered, feeding the birds part of her sandwich.
The tender expression on the woman’s face stirred a fierce emotion in him that words could never have done. He looked at Madison. Her hands were clasped together, tightly enough to make her knuckles white, her eyes wary, almost frightened.
“Madison.”
“What?”
“These are fantastic.”
She smiled, halfheartedly, as if she thought he was voicing only what was expected.
“Do you have any idea how good these are? Have you shown them to anyone else?”
She shrugged sheepishly. “My friend Karrie.”