Love in the Morning (14 page)

“These are raisin bran. All the other muffins got eaten at breakfast.” She finished loading the muffins and stood back to check the arrangement.

Behind her, Christine sighed. “No zucchini? The bran ones are good, don't get me wrong, but those zucchini muffins are out of this world.”

Lizzy allowed herself a small grin. “Thanks. I'll tell Desi you like them. Maybe we'll make extra next time.”

“Yeah, even the guys from the risk assessment seminar love them.”

“Risk Assessment Seminar?” Lizzy cocked an eyebrow. “That sounds…boring.”

Christine grinned. “Those guys look as if boring is their native element. Who the hell wears khakis and button-downs in Salt Box?”

Lizzy lowered the tray slowly to her hip. “Khakis and button-downs. Those guys were here for a seminar?”

Christine nodded. “Yeah, but they're gone now. I think it was just for a couple of days.” She picked up a bran muffin. “Oh well, I guess I'll have to settle for healthy.”

Lizzy nodded, barely listening, then turned back to the dining room. So the judges weren't actually the judges. She should have known. Who the hell wanted poached eggs on hash anyway? Fried eggs were the standard. She couldn't decide if this was good news or bad news or just—news.

She opened the refrigerator door, peering at the few containers of leftovers. If worse came to worst, she could always make herself a sandwich.

She'd just picked up a box with a couple of servings of hash when the kitchen door swung open again. She turned to see Clark striding into the room he hadn't visited for the past week.

Not since her other recent debacle—the date where she'd basically lost it over food safety. Lizzy closed her eyes for a moment.
Good times, good times.

She managed to manufacture a more or less sincere smile as she turned to him. “Hi, what's up?”

He folded his arms, leaning back against the counter. “Are you free for dinner?”

She managed not to stare at him.
Dinner? You actually want to go out with me again?
Her stomach promptly filled with fanged butterflies. “Sure, I guess.” She pushed the hash back into the refrigerator. She'd have it for breakfast tomorrow. “Let me get cleaned up and changed.”

He shook his head. “You don't need to do that.”

She glanced down at her scuffed sneakers and aged jeans. She really did need to do some shopping. “This isn't exactly a going-out outfit.”

He shrugged. “I wasn't planning on going out.”

Lizzy frowned. “Okay. So where are we going?”

“My place.” He pushed himself up from the counter, extending a hand in her direction.

His place. She wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but it sounded interesting. Of course it didn't do much to calm the butterflies. She put her hand in his. “Are you cooking?”

He shrugged. “We've got a lot to celebrate.”

Celebrate?
She bit her lip, as her pulse sped up. She was almost afraid to ask. “We did it?”

He nodded. “We did. You did, that is.”

She threw her arms around his neck, almost without thinking. Of course, she began to think as soon as she'd done it.
Holy crap.
And of course now she couldn't jump back without seeming really weird.
Just a friendly hug here, nothing to get excited about.

He patted her back a little awkwardly, then drew away slightly so that he could smile down at her. “Congratulations, Lizzy. You deserve it.”

“We deserve it,” she said firmly. “It was your idea.”

“It was.” He nodded. “Which is why you're coming to dinner at my place. I may not be able to cook like you do, but I can give you dinner. And champagne.”

And afterward?
But asking questions like that would just create problems. “Champagne sounds great. Lead on.”

Chapter Fourteen

Clark's apartment was actually on the same floor as Lizzy's, although at the opposite end of the hotel. It looked like he'd taken a couple of rooms that had been off by themselves and knocked them together into a single space. The room had an open floor plan—living room straight ahead, with the dining area near the windows at the side. The kitchen was set in an alcove across a tiled hall.

The furniture looked like the same stuff they had in the lobby, the same large overstuffed chairs and sofa, with rustic wood trim. The coffee table was beetle-kill pine. It was what was sitting on the table that caught her attention, however—a bottle of champagne in a silver ice bucket. And…a pizza box.

He shrugged a little apologetically. “I didn't have time to order something from one of the fancy places up at the ski area so I went with Crostini's pizza. At least it's close.”

She grinned. “It's fine. I love pizza.”

“Toasts first.”

He pulled the foil off the champagne and began working the cork loose. Lizzy felt like ducking. “You might want to do that with a towel.”

“Do what?”

“Take off the cork. Those things can come off with a bang.” She pulled a dishtowel off the rack near his kitchen sink, handing it to him.

He frowned. “So how am I supposed to do this?”

Hell, she'd probably bruised his masculine ego.
Way to go, Lizzy. Great start for the evening.
But now that she'd started there was no way to pull back. “Just put the towel over the cork and work it loose. That way the towel helps you catch it if the cork pops. And the champagne probably won't go bubbling up if it does.”

After a moment he gave her a slow grin that made her toes curl slightly. “Nice. Wouldn't want to lose any of this.”

“No, it looks like good stuff.” She gave him a small answering grin.
Saved. Maybe.

He wrapped the towel around the cork and worked it carefully from side to side. After a moment, she heard a muted
pop.

“Grab those glasses, will you?” He nodded toward a pair of champagne flutes on the coffee table. She picked them up, then leaned forward so that he could pour.

He put down the bottle, then took one full glass from her fingers, raising it slightly. “Here's to the Best of the Box. Which is us.”

She nodded, clinking her glass against his before taking a sip. “You said we finaled. Does that mean we won?”

He shrugged. “Sort of. We're in the top three. They don't have a single winner—fewer bruised feelings that way. We all get bragging rights. They'll have a big Gala at the resort this year where all the restaurants get to strut their stuff.”

“Oh. Should I work up something special to cook for that?” Visions of scones danced before her eyes. Possibly maple nut for a nice fall flavor.

He grinned again. “Haven't a clue. Just drink your champagne, Lizzy. Enjoy the moment. You earned it.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly as she took another sip. She
had
earned it. For once, the combination of hard work and luck had paid off for her. As opposed to giving everybody food poisoning.
Right.
She'd worked hard then too, and the only payoff had been disaster.

“Why isn't this woman smiling?” Clark raised an eyebrow as he watched her.

She blew out a quick breath. “Just thinking about cooking for the Gala. Whether we should try something new or go with a recipe from the menu that would make people want to drop in and try the breakfast.”

His smile turned dry. “Lizzy, what part of
enjoy the moment
don't you understand?”

She nodded. “Sure, right, I know. I guess I just have a hard time turning my cooking sense off.”
Or believing that good luck lasts.
She took another quick sip of champagne. At least she could savor it right now.
Enjoy the moment. Absolutely.
She, of all people, needed to learn to do that.

“Which is one of the reasons you're an awesome cook and I'm one lucky bastard.” He was grinning again. “What were the odds you'd walk in here just when I needed somebody to take over for Clarice? The gods were definitely smiling that day.”

She shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. “Your place was the first one I tried. I was just lucky that you needed somebody.”

“To luck.” He clinked his glass against hers again and took another swallow of champagne.

She did the same, draining her glass.
Let's hear it for luck—and hope it holds.

He picked up the bottle again, topping them both off. “Are you hungry?”

She considered the question for a moment. She'd been hungry when she'd been in the kitchen, but now that she was in Clark's apartment she didn't exactly feel the same way. Maybe it was the champagne. Maybe it was the fact that she was in his apartment. Where there was presumably a bedroom…close by.

She shrugged. “I can eat if you want to. But I'm okay for now.”

He nodded slowly. “Good.”

Lizzy licked her lips. She wasn't sure what to say next. She wasn't even sure what she wanted to say—or do.
Liar, liar, Lizzy.
Well, okay, she knew what she wanted to do. But she sure as hell wasn't going to bring it up. He was the one who'd left her alone for a week, after all. Maybe he'd decided they were better off not having sex.

In which case, he was clearly an idiot.

He stared at her for a long silent moment, then set his glass down on the coffee table. “Want to take this celebration elsewhere?”

Lizzy stood very still, staring back. Then she nodded slowly.
Oh my, yes.

He stepped across the space that separated them, brushing his fingertips against her cheek, a quick touch of warmth against her skin.

Her chest felt tight suddenly, an ache that began somewhere deep inside. She bent down to place her glass on the table beside his.

He cupped her face in his hands as he leaned toward her—slowly, so slowly. She stared up into those hazel eyes, now close to the color of aspen leaves.

And then his lips touched hers, and she decided thinking was overrated.

*****

He hadn't really planned this. Clark kept repeating it to himself. That was, of course, a total crock. He'd been thinking about making love to Lizzy ever since he'd grabbed the bottle of champagne at the corner liquor store and called Crostini's pizza for delivery.

Actually, he'd been thinking about making love to Lizzy Apodaca since the last time he'd taken her to bed. He'd just been too dumb to act on it. Now he'd wised up. And figured out how to go for what he wanted—what he needed.

He slid his hands beneath the edge of her T-shirt, running his palms along the smooth satin of her skin. He should probably try to move the proceedings to the bedroom, but right now he was enjoying her too much—her taste, the feel of his hands on her body, the press of her breasts against his chest. He raised his head, running the tip of his tongue along the side of her throat until he could nip the skin at the top of her shoulder. She still smelled of cinnamon and cloves with touches of honey. Delectable.

He hooked his fingers in the catch of her bra, slipping the fastenings apart, then moved his hands to her breasts, balancing the soft weight in his palms.

She dropped her hands to his chest, pushing the buttons apart and then pulling his shirt open so that she could rest her cool palms against the heat of his skin. Heat which suddenly seemed to increase by a factor of five or so.

His breath rasped in his throat, but he managed to inhale enough to talk. “We should move.”

She stared up with slightly dazed dark eyes. “I'm not sure I can.”

He bent forward, gathering her up into his arms, and turned toward the bedroom door. He wasn't entirely sure he could make it to the bed in his current condition, but he was willing to give it a try. Lizzy wrapped her arms around his neck, dropping her head to his chest.

Of course, once he got to the bedroom he had to decide what to do with her next. Dropping her on the bed and pouncing on her seemed like a bad idea. He set her gently back on her feet.

She reached down, pulling off her shirt and bra and dropping them to the floor.
Excellent start!

He stared at her, trying to catch his breath again. The moonlight seeping around the shade on his window made her skin shimmer. He reached for her again, pulling the elastic from her hair so that it fell loose upon her shoulders, dark against silver.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, running his hands down her arms as he watched her nipples peak.

And she
was
beautiful. More beautiful than Lauren, who was polished and sophisticated and about as authentic as a department store mannequin. Lizzy was real, and real was driving him slowly crazy. Actually, not so slowly now that he thought about it.

She leaned forward, running her tongue along his breastbone and then down, her lips leaving a line of whispering kisses along the center of his body that he felt all the way to his knees. “Ah, Lizzy,” he moaned.

Her fingers were working at the button of his jeans and he heard the sound of his zipper opening. This wasn't exactly the way he'd planned things, but he wasn't opposed to it. Planning was overrated when it came to this. Her fingers slid under the elastic on his underwear, and then she was pulling his jeans down as she knelt before him, cool air caressing his sides.

The feel of her warm mouth on his cock, the slide of her tongue along his length, was almost enough to make him lose control completely.
Holy crap.
He tried running through the multiplication tables but lost focus before he reached five. She was sucking harder now, her head moving up and down, rhythmically. Her hands moved to cup his sac, and he closed his eyes, praying for control. He could feel the climax gathering at the base of his spine.

Three more minutes. Maybe two. Maybe…

He took hold of her shoulders, pulling until she sat back on her heels looking up at him. “I want to be inside you. Now,” he rasped. He leaned over, grabbing a condom from the bedside table, then pulled her to her feet as she kicked free of her jeans.

He turned toward the bed, lifting her so that she was beneath him when he came down. She seemed to understand that speed was definitely involved at this point, at least on his part. She wrapped her legs around him, tucking her heels beneath his buttocks to push him deep inside the warmth of her body as he moved into her.

A wave of something like satisfaction swept across him. Like coming around the final bend in a long hike. Like coming home. Somewhere at the back of his mind a couple of alarm bells began to clang, but he ignored them. He'd worry about all the “coming home” implications later.

He moved against her, his hips rising and falling as he leaned down to take her nipple in his mouth. She moaned softly, her body rising to meet his.
So good, so good, so good.
He felt like he could go on like this for a couple of hours, riding the high until they were both sated.

But that wasn't going to do much for her, was it? He dropped his hand to their joining and touched her, then rubbed his thumb across her clit.

She stiffened beneath him, her back arching to bring their hips together more sharply. “Clark,” she murmured, “Lord above.”

He dropped his lips to her breast, pulling the nipple into his mouth and sucking hard, rubbing his teeth against the areola as he circled her clit again with his thumb. And then she was breaking apart with a stifled cry, pulling him deep within her as she moved against him.

His own climax spread through his body, flooding his synapses with sensation. He groaned her name, then drove inside her again, pushing them both up and over into a series of aftershocks that left both of them panting, while she shuddered in his arms.

When his body finally stopped moving, he managed to roll slightly to the side, pulling her with him, his face pressed against her throat. “Ah, Lizzy,” he sighed.

She rested her forehead against his, her breath warm against his cheek. “That was…pretty terrific.” She ran her hand along his arm, cool fingers against his super-heated skin.

“Definitely.” He ran his own hand down her back, feeling the bumps of her spine against his palm. “We need to do that again. And again. And maybe again.”

She snuggled closer. “But not immediately, I'm guessing.” He had a feeling she was grinning.

He shook his head. “No, not immediately. You're a major aphrodisiac, but after an experience like that, it's going to take me a while.”

She rubbed her hand across his chest, scratching lightly at his nipples. He wondered if it really would take that long after all.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

He thought about it. Eating would mean moving from his current position, which wasn't something he was anxious to do. On the other hand, if they ate now, they'd be free for other activities later. “I could eat. How about you?”

She nodded. “Me too.”

“Let's do it then.” He pushed himself up, reluctantly. He probably needed to find his jeans at least. Running around buck naked might not be a great idea, although it would certainly speed things up if they decided to give the living room couch a try.

Lizzy started to reach for her bra, but he caught her hand. “We're not going formal. Here.” He grabbed a T-shirt out of the bottom drawer of his dresser and tossed it to her. She gave him a dry grin and then pulled it on. The bottom reached the upper part of her thighs.

Ah yes. Much better.

*****

Fortunately, Lizzy liked cold pizza. After all, it had gotten cold for a good cause. A very good cause, in fact.

Her cheeks warmed and she hoped Clark would think it was a reaction to the pizza. However, judging from his satisfied grin, he wasn't entirely buying that.

“So when does the news get out about our finaling?” she asked hastily. “Am I supposed to keep it a secret or can I tell Desi?”