Sexy in the City

by Alexia Adams, Galen Rose, Samantha Anne, Carolann Camillo, Nicole Flockton, Iris Leach, Olivia Logan, Nancy Loyan, Stephanie Cage (epub)

  “Serk, too?”

  “Well, maybe not him. But he’s only one vote.”

  “How about you?” He fingered the collar of her blouse. The pulse at the base of her throat began to throb even though he hadn’t made contact with her bare skin.

  “Me?” She tried for a laugh but instead gave a good impression of a woman being strangled.

  “Yeah, you.” He took his hand away and rested it on the seatback.

  It took a few moments for her heart rate to settle down. “Oh, no question.”

  “Okay, then. How does forty sound?”

  “Forty?”

  “Tell them I’m willing to go that high.”

  Molly frowned. “Haven’t we been through this before? You can tell them. If you think that’s a way to get your project built … ”

  “The project will happen, Molly. Believe it.”

  Oh, she did. Like she believed the heat that spread along her thigh had everything to do with its proximity to his.

  “I’ll be as fair as possible.” He glanced across the street. “If I’m going to catch someone monkeying around in there tonight, I have to face the other direction.”

  “I’m in the way. Maybe I should go.” The “maybe,” spoken halfheartedly, said she didn’t want to leave and hoped he didn’t want her to.

  “No, don’t go. At least not yet. We just have to change positions.”

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten so close and chummy in the backseat of a car. In spite of the rain, warmth and contentment spread through her body. Because of Nick. She gave a quiet, blissful sigh.

  “Molly?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are we going to flip-flop, or what?”

  She gave her head a mental shake. “Sorry.”

  “Okay, then. Are you ready?”

  Rain, heavier than before, pelted the car roof.

  “You’ll get wet out there when you come around to this side.”

  “Who’s talking about leaving the car?” He put one arm around her back and his free hand on her hip. “Here, climb over me.” He opened his legs.

  Chapter 20

  Molly’s eyes glommed onto his crotch as if he had a brand new car registration with her name on it stashed in there.

  “Climb … ?”

  “Put your left knee between my legs.” He started to lift her up out of the seat.

  He wore tight jeans, and even in the semi-gloom, she made out a telltale bulge. He was either the most trusting man in the world or he’d performed this maneuver many times.

  “Just stay between my knees, sweetie, and you’ll do fine.”

  Molly put her hands on his shoulders. Then, as he guided her, she lifted her rear end up off the seat and placed her left knee where it belonged. Her skirt rode up a few inches as he brought her around to face him. Her lips hovered inches from his. Any closer and her ability to function would drop to something akin to a blow-up doll. His breath warmed her cheek.

  Her right knee followed her left and she straddled his leg. Poised above him, she forgot how simple it was to breathe, so she didn’t. When he put his hand on the back of her leg, she figured she’d probably never draw a breath again.

  However he managed it, he rolled her across his lap. Then he changed places with her. Once again, he leaned against the rear passenger door, with her now in the middle of the seat. He placed his left arm around her and slid her toward him. They pretty much occupied one space. Cozy. Molly had no complaints.

  “Now that I can look over your shoulder, I’m in a better position to spy.” During all the maneuvering, he angled his left leg and shoulder against the seat back. His right leg, also bent at the knee, held her in the crook of his lower body. There were positions, and then there were positions. She snuggled closer and leaned back against his chest. He cupped her shoulder in his right hand. Why had he ever wondered if she could be flexible?

  Spy talk reminded Molly of “the mole.” She told Nick about the information Trudie passed on — that a good portion of the block across the street and at Nick’s end was earmarked for a multi-gazillion dollar property. “Are you familiar with the Blackthorn Group?”

  “Yeah, they’re into major projects. They built a couple of those new residential high-rises on the Embarcadero. They’d have the money and the clout to build something similar down here.”

  “Trudie, my aunt’s friend, seems to think everyone with a stake in this area will make a killing.” She turned her face and looked up at Nick. “That includes you.”

  He remained quiet. Molly wondered if his mental calculator had already racked up the kinds of figures that could entice a self-proclaimed fair-minded man to veer toward greed. A financial killing could prove a powerful incentive.

  His thumb moved lightly back and forth along her upper arm. “Do you remember I mentioned the guy who sold me the three parcels — the warehouse, apartment building, and vacant lot — I’m building on?”

  “You said he offered you a buy-back.”

  “He sold initially to raise cash to invest in a project in the Mission District. He was one of several partners. I understand they had everything in place — building permits, approval from the Board of Supervisors, neighborhood cooperation. It was a go. Now, it’s a no-go. It all fell through for some reason.”

  “So he wants back in on your site.”

  Nick shifted slightly. “He must have found out something about the buildings planned for across the street. That’s why he made me the offer. It didn’t make sense at the time. Now, with Blackthorn in the mix, I have my suspicions. I’d like to find out what he knows about Blackthorn’s plans for their project.”

  Molly followed his line of thinking. Along with Duncan Serk, there was now another man — the one who’d evict the tenants without so much as a good-bye — with good reason to delay work on Nick’s condos. Neither he nor Serk sounded like candidates for the Citizen of the Year award.

  Behind her, Nick stiffened and sat up straight.

  “Did you hear something?” He dropped his right foot to the floor and leaned forward. “It sounded like metal striking metal.”

  Except for the rain, which had slackened, an almost vacuum-like silence shrouded the area, odd for a city that usually throbbed with life. Molly listened for traffic. Maybe there had been a fender bender.

  She shook her head. “I don’t hear anything. Can you tell where the sound came from?”

  “My guess is from across the street.”

  The rain slid in narrow streaks down the car windows. Another light glowed inside the apartment house. The construction site remained dark.

  “I’d better take a look over there.” Nick slid his left leg around and over the front seat. He opened the glove compartment and fished out a flashlight. He flicked it on and then off. “Lock the door and don’t open it unless you know it’s me.” He slipped out of the car before she could suggest he arm himself with a tire iron or something equally lethal.

  By the time Molly scooted over to the far side window and cleared away some of the evaporation, Nick had crossed the street. He paused for several moments at the construction fence. The beam from the flashlight swung in an erratic arc. Then he rolled the gate aside and entered the site. She listened for any noise that might emanate from that area, but the only sounds were her quickened breath and the soft patter of rain on the car roof. Maybe he’d been mistaken about the scrape of metal. Molly clenched her teeth.

  A car cruised by. The whoosh of tires as they spun over the wet street cracked the silence. Then it passed and quiet returned. A beam of light swung from one end of the construction site to another. Nick’s flashlight? Or someone else’s? Stress poked at a spot between Molly’s shoulder blades. Nick had been gone way too long. She squinted at her watch. No luck. Not without a luminous d
ial, and she didn’t want to turn on the interior light.

  She couldn’t wait any longer. Her imagination pictured him knocked unconscious or worse. The hybrid became claustrophobic, as if somehow shrunk to the size of a Smart car. She needed air, needed to get outside, needed reassurance and to find Nick. Or to call the police. There was a station two blocks from the clinic. But her cell phone was in her purse, which was locked in her car.

  She disregarded Nick’s warning and slid out onto the slick sidewalk. She ran to her car, grabbed her purse, and fumbled inside for her phone. Other women kept theirs in a side pocket for easy access. She’d developed the bad habit of just tossing hers in. Now she had to wade past her wallet, a notepad, tissues, a comb, a mirror, a granola bar, and two loose lipsticks. Finally, she had her hands on the phone. She backed up and hit something solid. Her heart leaped and she swung around and almost stumbled over Nick.

  “Jeez, don’t you ever listen?” He reached in and unlocked the rear door, then grabbed Molly’s arm and pushed her onto the seat. After he secured the front, he climbed in after her. This time he didn’t have to bother with optimum positions. He pulled closed the rear door.

  “I thought you were in trouble. You were gone for an hour, at least.” She fluffed his wet shirt as if that would dry the rain spots.

  He shook his head. “It took five minutes, tops. I wasted half the time dealing with the gate lock. I had to hold the flashlight under my arm while I worked the combination. Good thing I kept it simple — two right, four left, two right. That way, none of the guys would have trouble remembering it.”

  He didn’t sound concerned. It was just about the longest five minutes of Molly’s life. Her heart still pumped out extra beats.

  “Did you find anyone?” She flipped closed her phone and slipped it into her skirt pocket.

  “No, but I caught a glimpse of someone. He climbed the rear fence and hopped over it. He’d slashed the windscreen on the street side to get a toehold in the chain link. No matter how secure a fence, a determined person will find a way onto a construction site. By the time I reached the spot, he was gone.”

  “I’ll bet it was Serk.”

  Nick shrugged. “Maybe. The guy looked about the same size. I didn’t catch a good enough look.”

  “I almost phoned the police.”

  His soft laugh filled the car. She guessed he wasn’t annoyed at her any more.

  “You should stay out of the rain. You got all wet.” He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and brushed damp hair off her face.

  “So did you.” She straightened his shirt collar.

  He rubbed her bare arm, the one that wasn’t pressed against his chest. “You must be cold.”

  Cold? Au contraire.

  “Let me warm you up. It’s the least I can do, considering you were ready to send for the rescue squad.”

  His hand moved off her shoulder. His fingers spread through her hair and he tipped her head close to his. The hand that had rubbed her arm now massaged her hip, then her thigh. She shivered when it touched her bare knee.

  “Are you still cold?” He slipped his hand beneath her skirt hem. Heat as intense as a solar flare scored the flesh beneath his fingers. He touched the hollow in her throat with the tip of his tongue.

  Molly swallowed a moan. Her body temperature shot into a zone elevated enough to further endanger the polar ice caps. His lips branded her cheek, then her throat again. A familiar tingle cramped her toes and fingers. She slid one arm around his back and the other onto his shoulder. If his shirt was still damp, she couldn’t feel it. She touched the side of his face. The heat that came off his body enveloped her.

  His kiss, when it came, was soft at first. Then it deepened as she parted her lips. She wrapped her other arm around his neck and draped a leg over his thigh. Another impulse. Each one harder to resist than the last. Should she have quashed it? Probably. She pushed his forty thousand dollar offer to the darkest corner of her mind. Tomorrow, she’d wonder if that was behind all this kanoodling. Right now, her body craved being close to his. Heat pooled in her abdomen. She sucked his tongue and a groan came from deep inside his throat. Then he broke the kiss.

  “It’s been a long time since I fooled around in the backseat of a car.” He kissed her ear.

  “Me, too.”

  “I sure as hell want to fool around with you, Miss Molly. Not here, though.”

  While his thoughts ran to just fooling around, hers had taken an entirely different route — love. That introduced just about the worst complication into an already very complicated relationship. She didn’t have to look across the street to where his tenants hunkered down in their little fortress for a reminder.

  “Come home with me.” He tipped her head back.

  He gazed at her with passion and desire, if not love. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. Could desire substitute for love? Not in her experience. In his, perhaps. Could she let Nick make love to her and then walk away with no expectations? How casual would sex be with him? After they “fooled around,” then what? She didn’t want a one-night stand. Not with any man and definitely not with Nick. There was no way to explain she wanted more than lust, not without total honesty. How could she tell him she wanted more than just casual sex, wanted something deeper that lasted beyond a few nights? She removed her arms from around his neck, pulled back her leg and sat up.

  “I think … ” She cleared her throat.

  “Don’t.” His finger glided across her cheek.

  “One of us has to.”

  “Okay. Then I’ll be the one. I think it’s about time you came home with me.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “No, wait, I take that back. I know it’s time.”

  “Are you always so sure of everything?”

  “No. But I am about you and me.”

  You and me. Since when was there a you and me? An us?

  It wouldn’t take too much more for her to weaken. Her body had already shot love darts into her brain. “I wish I was. Sure … I mean.”

  He rubbed his cheek against hers. His beard had grown in enough to feel bristly but not too rough. She touched his face and almost caved right then.

  “We both know it will happen eventually. We’re both ready.”

  Ready? For what? Just plain old lust? She fell back on her old argument. “Why make life any more complicated?”

  “Molly, any life without some complications would be damn boring.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I suppose.” She let out a sigh.

  “Look, I’m not going to push you. I won’t go home all hurt if you decide tonight isn’t right.”

  He’d given her an out, the kind designed to not make her come across like a pris. Why did he always have to be so damn … insightful?

  “It will always be your decision.”

  Her relationship with Nick was like a wild ride down a rapids-choked river. Either you expertly maneuvered around boulders or suffered the consequences. She was a grown woman and not sixteen anymore. So why cling to virtue? Back then, that was important. Now she clung to self-protection. Where did she head with him, other than bed? If she was this conflicted, what kind of sexual partner would she make? She beat down the strong impulse to find out.

  “I can’t go home with you tonight.”

  He grimaced and put his hand over his heart. “I’m wounded.”

  If he’d put his hand anywhere near her heart, this conversation would have ended two minutes ago.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He reached into his jeans pocket for his wallet.

  “Do you have a pen?”

  She leaned over the front seat and rummaged in her purse until she found one.

  He took out a business card and wrote on the back.

  �
�This is my home phone and address.” He put the card in her hand. “Just in case you change your mind.”

  “I won’t.” She tried to sound forceful, more to convince herself than him. Instead, dejection crept into her tone.

  “Okay. Just remember what Confucius said on the subject.”

  “Said about what subject?”

  He handed her the pen, opened the car door, and put one foot outside. “About what happens to a man who goes home without a desirable woman.”

  A couple of thoughts flashed through her mind, neither of which she could repeat to him.

  He bent to clear the roof of the car and backed out onto the sidewalk. “Good night, Molly.”

  “You’re not going to tell me?”

  “Tell you what?”

  “About what Confucius said.”

  He closed the door, crouched down, and mouthed something unintelligible through the side window. Then he blew her a kiss and walked to his car.

  Chapter 21

  The moment Nick entered his darkened apartment, a hollowness slammed into his chest. It hit him like a sucker punch that caught him on his blind side. He didn’t have to overwork his brain to figure it out. For the first time in his life, he’d become acquainted with loneliness. He realized now the long hours he usually worked had masked the emptiness in his life. Could he continue on like that? He didn’t think so. Not since he met Molly.

  He didn’t bother with the switch that controlled the living room lights. The dimness, except for the muted glow from the streetlamp, framed his mood. He walked down the short hallway toward the kitchen, opened his shirt, and pulled it off. The subtle scent of apricots clung to the collar. He clenched his teeth against the image of holding Molly in his arms. Then the hollowness spread, and he had no clue how to stop it. Maybe a beer might help. Didn’t lonely people drown their sorrow in alcohol?

  He went into the kitchen, dumped his shirt on the counter, and yanked open the refrigerator door. An assortment of fruit — apples, pears, peaches, and a couple of fuzzy brown things — cluttered the bottom shelf. A loaf of bread, encrusted in some kind of tiny, black pellets, rubbed up against a carton of eggs, a forest of celery, and a bag of sissy carrots. Three kinds of juice in half gallon-size bottles took up most of the top shelf. His mother had dropped by. Why must it be the wrong woman? He groaned.