“I could probably do a little better than that.”
I looked up at him. “I’m sure you like to show off for your dates, wine and dine them until they have no idea what hit them.”
“I like to make a lady feel like a lady.”
“And what if that’s not what she wants? What if she’s the kind of girl who prefers to go Dutch for dinner or to do things like strolling through a farmer’s market or hunting over a long weekend?”
“If that’s what makes her happy, I’m open to it.”
“And what about you? Don’t you want a girl to like the same things you like?”
“Not always. A little difference of opinion makes room for compromise and learning new things. Aurora and I didn’t always like the same things.”
“Really?”
“She wanted to spend her weekends reading scientific journals while I was more interested in exploring antique shops.”
I smiled. “I can’t imagine that.”
“Why?”
“You don’t seem like the kind of guy who’d be happy exploring dusty artifacts.”
“Oh, no. I love it. You should see some of the gems I’ve found decaying on old shelves.”
“I’d like to see them.” I picked up my water glass, the ice again rattling. “My uncle used to collect things. He particularly liked anything from the Civil War era.”
Conrad’s eyes brightened. “I have a sword that General William Hardee reportedly carried during the war.”
“Really?”
“It was discovered by one of his great-grandchildren years after the war. They couldn’t prove that he carried it in the war, but there are pictures that show he carried one that looks an awful lot like it. And tests on the sword itself show that it was forged in the 1850s, which makes it the right age.”
“That’s pretty awesome.”
“I’ll show it to you, if you’d like.”
“I would.”
Conrad reached over and touched my hand with just the tips of his fingers. “I knew we had to have something more in common that just having the dumb luck to show up in the same location twice in a lifetime.”
I pulled my hand back.
“Mellissa—”
“My life is kind of complicated right now, Conrad.” I set down my water glass and pressed my hands together in my lap. “I have my grandmother and the things that are happening down at Cepheus. I can’t really start a relationship right now. I mean, you were married to my boss.”
“The important part of that being ‘were’—past tense.”
“But don’t you think that complicates things?”
“I think everything that’s worth having is complicated.”
I tilted my head slightly, digging a nail into the ribs on my plate. “I don’t know where my life will be next month, next week, or even tomorrow. I can’t ask you to get involved with me only to have me disappear at the drop of a hat.”
“Do you plan on moving?” he asked, his eyebrows raised in a comical little bit of confusion.
“No. But…”
“Look, Mellissa,”—he reached across the table and pulled my hand between both of his—“I’m not asking for commitment. I’ve been there, done that. I don’t really want to go down that road again. But I like you and I’d like to spend some time with you. That’s all.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
I smiled, a little bit of a relieved sigh escaping my lips. “I can do that.”
“Good.” Conrad got up and moved to my side of the booth, dragging his plate with him. “Can we eat now?”
I laughed. But I had to admit that I was suddenly as ravenous as he appeared to be.
We ate side by side, Conrad making jokes about the failures of the Oregon people in trying to make Texas-style barbecue. But he seemed to enjoy the food, devouring it and stealing a few of my French fries. Every time he would take a fry from my plate, he would lean into me, his shoulder brushing mine, his hand slipping across my hip or my breast before his hand would snake up and take the fry. I knew it was coming every time, but I liked the way he thought he was sneaking it.
“You’re beautiful when you laugh,” he whispered into my ear after he told a joke, causing me to nearly fall over in gales of laughter. “But, again, you’re beautiful when you’re not laughing.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere with me.”
“Yeah? Then what if I said that the dimple in your cheek that comes out when you smile, or when you say certain words, drives me wild?”
“Does it?”
“I imagine it making an appearance when you feel pleasure.”
I bit my lips, fighting the blush that threatened to again appear on my face. “You shouldn’t talk like that.”
“Why not? I can’t help where my mind goes when I’m with you.”
“You should try.”
He moved closer to me, his lips brushing against my cheek. “What do I have to do to convince you that I want you?”
“You don’t have to convince me.”
“That good.” He brushed his lips against my cheek again. “Because I do. I’ve thought about you almost constantly since the moment I saw you across the room at the launch party.”
“Why me?”
“Why not you?” He kissed the corner of my lips. “You are beautiful and graceful and more charming than I can ever hope to be.”
“I doubt that.”
“Don’t doubt it. It’s true, darling.”
I pulled back a little, reaching up to touch his face. “Don’t call me that. You call everyone darling.”
“Do I?”
“You called one of the waitresses that on our way in. And two of the nurses the other night.”
“Then, what do I call you?”
He ran his lips along the bottom edge of my jaw as he waited for my response. It made it hard for me to think clearly.
“I don’t know.”
“How about, love?” he asked, his lips moving down to my throat, sending waves of pleasure down my spine to nest in the small of my back. “Or babe. Or honey.”
“What about my name?”
“Mellissa,” he whispered, drawing out the syllables until it sounded almost like a song. “Or Melli.”
I groaned because his lips had found that little spot behind my ear that had the power to send me over the edge. I ran my fingers through his hair, drawing his head closer to me. His breath on my skin increased the intensity of the shivers that were moving along my spine, making that tightness in the small of my back grow and spread around to my lower belly, again waking that ball of desire that I had finally managed to tame.
His hand moved over my thigh, sliding down toward my knee, searching for the lower edge of my skirt. He couldn’t find it; it was tucked under my calves a little too primly. His hand made its way back up, pressing roughly against my inner thigh even as his lips caressed the side of my neck with the gentlest of touches. And then his fingers were urging my legs apart, his hand forcing the material of my skirt back against my panties, his fingers seeking out the swollen button that had been standing at attention since his first touch days ago.
“Not here,” I said, pushing at his hand.
“Then where?”
My mind immediately went places it shouldn’t have. The ladies’ room, but the idea of fucking in a dirty stall didn’t really turn me on. We could go to my place, but my grandmother wasn’t as hard of hearing as might be necessary. There was Annie and Madison’s place. Annie called me yesterday and told me where the spare key was, asking that I go by and water her plants once or twice while she and Madison were gone for the holiday. But the idea of using their friendship for something this basic didn’t feel right.
There just wasn’t any place that was appropriate. Except his place, and I wasn’t about to ask if that was a place he would consider taking me.
That felt too much like a relationship.
“We shouldn’t,” I said, even as I turned
into him and pressed my lips to his.
It was only a moment before his hand snaked back up between my legs, his fingers pressing into me again. For a long moment, I lost myself in the pleasure of his touch, in the taste of his kiss. I’d never felt quite like this before. There had been a boy or two, a guy I met at a frat party years ago. But nothing like this, like him. Was it wrong of me to want it so deeply?
I told myself it was just a physical thing. And that should make it okay. Who in this day and age didn’t have physical needs that they had met outside of a relationship? What difference would it make if we slept together once? We both knew this wasn’t going anywhere. We were both adults.
And I so needed this.
That’s why when Conrad threw some money on the table and tugged me out of the booth, I followed. He pulled my hand across his body, pulling me in front of him as we made our way to the front door. The parking lot was in the back, tucked between the building and the alley. Conrad couldn’t wait even the few seconds it would take for us to make it all the way to the car. He pressed me up against the side of the building and stole my lips again, his hands sliding down over my hips in another attempt to pull my skirt up out of his way.
I slid my hands under his suit jacket, just as anxious to feel uncovered flesh. I tugged at his shirt, untucking it from his pants, slipping my hands underneath and sliding my fingertips under the waist of his pants, anxious to explore that tight ass. The more I tried to touch him, the closer he moved against me until he finally lifted me up and pressed his erection into that button, making me want to scream with a need to feel his flesh against my flesh.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he whispered against my ear as his hands slid under my skirt and tugged at the corners of my panties. “I want to take you right here, right now.”
“Please.” I ran my hands over the back of his head as I wrapped my legs tighter around his waist, drawing him closer. “I need you.”
He groaned, even as he pulled back and pressed my hair away from my face. He pushed his nose against mine, stealing another kiss. His other hand tugged at my panties again, the material just beginning to give when laughter floated to us from the corner of the building.
“Shit!” Conrad groaned.
He lowered me to my feet and took my hand, quickly leading the way to his little sports car. We climbed inside just as a group of women who’d been eating their lunch across from us came around the corner. They stole furtive glances at us, as they walked by the car, whispering to each other quite intently.
“You have horrible timing,” Conrad said to them, even though they couldn’t hear him with the windows all rolled up.
I started to laugh. I couldn’t help myself. And, after a moment, Conrad did too.
We laughed until my throat grew raw and I could hardly catch my breath. I leaned into Conrad, laying my head on his shoulder. And that was all it took to reignite the fire we’d lit inside the restaurant. He turned his head just enough and we were kissing, one of those soul-mingling, no-one-else-could-ever-make-you-feel-that-way-again kisses.
How could we go from zero to desperate with just one kiss?
The confines of the car made it nearly impossible for us to maneuver our bodies in a way that was productive. But, somehow, he found a way. My panties hit the floor, torn in two places, just before he pulled me into his lap. The steering wheel threatened to leave bruises in some pretty private places, but he managed to find the button that slid the seat backward. And then it was just a matter of getting his clothes out of the way.
The first time had never been so frantic. Or so perfect. There was always awkwardness with a new lover—that struggle to find the rhythm that works for both of you. But with Conrad…it was like our bodies just knew what to do.
He slid inside of me, and it was like the world just disappeared. There was nothing but the connection of our bodies and the pleasure rushing through me with every movement. He guided me with a hand on my hip, but only for a moment. And then his fingers were searching out tender spots I never knew I had, like the place just beneath my bra strap that sang when he ran his fingers across it, or the place just above the last knot of my spine that made me arch my neck at a ridiculously impossible angle.
I had never done anything like that. It felt so reckless, so insane. I’d had girlfriends, once upon a time, who talked about wild, spontaneous sex, and I had always scoffed at them behind their backs. No man would ever make me abandon my sense of self-respect, or cause me to bare my body in a public place. Yet, here I was, pressing my hand against the fogged up windows of his little car like some girl in a movie.
And I was loving every minute of it.
I almost regretted the moment he cried out, when I felt him swell inside of me. When the hard press of his final thrust set off a shockwave in my lower belly. I threw my head back and bit my lower lip hard enough to draw blood, as my orgasm washed through me, wiping away all ability to think or to reason. Then, I fell, like a puddle of water, into his arms, my breathing as rough as his, my heart pounding in time with his.
If that was what the first time was like, I knew I had to know what seconds, thirds, and fourths would be like, too.
Chapter Eight
The call I had been dreading came early the next morning. I nearly cried when I woke up, not to the bleating noise of my alarm, but to the quiet chimes of a preprogrammed call notification.
“We need to talk,” a familiar voice muttered into my ear when I answered. “Twenty minutes. The corner diner.”
I disliked being told what to do, but that was one command I had no intention of defying.
I showered quickly, a little reluctant to wash off the scent of Conrad that still lingered on my skin. I couldn’t help but think about him as I touched the places he’d touched and felt the lingering ache of soreness our acrobatics in the car had created. He’d left me at the front door with a chaste little kiss. He would have offered more, but I insisted I couldn’t leave my grandmother alone much longer. And I couldn’t invite him in. It felt almost like the end of a teenager’s elicit night of debauchery than a lunch date between consenting adults. But I kind of liked the feeling…I never did bring a boy home for my uncle to meet.
But now? That voice on the phone threatened exactly what I had been afraid of all along.
The end of our time in Portland.
I dressed quickly, sliding into jeans and a sweatshirt instead of the more professional outfit I’d set out for work the night before. Russell would just have to understand if I was a little late to work this morning. A quick peek to assure myself that my grandmother was still sleeping, and I slipped out the front door.
There was a twenty-four hour diner down the block from our house that served the best pancakes in town. I tried to eat there most mornings because Russell and Einstein often had me hopping so constantly during the day that I didn’t have time for lunch. But it was also a convenient place to meet people better not seen near my house.
He was in a booth next to the windows when I walked in.
“Hey, missy!” one of the waitresses called. “How’s it going?”
“Good, Deanna. How’s your son? Did he do well at his baseball game this weekend?”
“They won, five to four.”
“Great. Tell him I said congrats.”
I fell onto the empty bench across from him, noting the concern lines next to his eyes were already deeply apparent this morning.
“You heard,” I said in way of greeting.
“Someone gets kidnapped at your place of employment, that’s probably something I should be made aware of.”
“It didn’t have anything to do with me.”
“And you know that how?”
“I just do.”
His eyes narrowed a little, a dark cloud rushing over his face as he studied the dark circles under my eyes. “You’re not sleeping.”
“It brought up a lot of memories.”
His expression softened slightly. “We’
re going to have to move you. You know that.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but another waitress came with a coffee cup and a pot to fill it with. “What can I get for you?” she asked.
“Just the coffee,” I said.
“No pancakes today?”
I shook my head, wrapping both hands around the cup to allow the hot liquid to warm my body.
He watched her walk away before he focused on me again. I found myself wondering who the waitresses thought he was. We met here once every three weeks, a quiet meal together to discuss my grandmother’s deteriorating health and the few things that were going on in my life. He offered advice sometimes, but mostly just listened. They must have thought he was my father. He was old enough to be. At least, I thought so, from the graying hair at his temples and the wrinkles crisscrossing his sun-darkened skin.
Richard Collins. That’s what I’d been told his name was. It probably wasn’t his real name, but it felt real enough to me. He wasn’t my father, but he did things for me that a father might. He fought for me to attend college, not once, but twice. He made sure my grandmother and I stayed together. And he allowed us the dignity of keeping our real first names.
I was told that almost never happened in WITSEC.
Witness Security Program.
Richard Collins was an officer with the United States Marshals Service.
“Your cover has been compromised. We have to move you.”
I shook my head. “You promised after the last move—”
“I promised we would do our best. But, from what I understand, you were the intended target of this kidnapper, and it was just dumb luck that they confused you with that other woman.”
“Madison.”
“What?”
“The other woman. Her name is Madison and she’s my friend.”
“I’m sorry.” Richard reached across the table and touching my hand. “I know you’re tired of all this. But it’s the only way to protect you.”
I pulled my hand away, lifting my coffee cup to my lips, but not drinking. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but I didn’t want his compassion just now.
“The police seem to think this was just a case of corporate espionage, like the papers are saying, but they can’t be certain. And we can’t take a chance.”
The TROUBLE with BILLIONAIRES: Book 2 Page 7