She reached past him, slipped her key in the lock and opened the door.
Chapter Four
Inside the room, Jamie abandoned her crutch, switched on the small desk lamp, and turned to face her guest. She didn’t know what the ground rules were for one night stands but there were a couple of things she needed to get out in the open.
“Before this goes any further… What about my…career?” she asked.
“What career?”
Right answer.
“And Virgil?”
“Let him get his own wine.”
Jamie clasped her shaking hands together, smiled, and looked at the bottle of wine. “Did you remember to bring a—”
“—condom,” he finished for her. “Right here.” He gave her a lopsided grin and padded the left pocket of his jeans.
Jamie’s eyes widened. “Actually, I was going to say corkscrew.”
His grin turned into a chuckle. “No problem, I have that too.” He reached into his right pocket and produced a corkscrew.
She shook her head, laughing. “I’ll get the glasses,” she said limping toward the bathroom.
Quint called after her. “See, we’re having fun already.”
Jamie came back with two plastic-covered glasses. Even without wine she was feeling lighthearted and reckless. It was a good feeling.
Quint uncorked the wine while she unwrapped the glasses. Then she held them while he poured.
“Anything else you have in those jeans that I should know about?” she asked.
He set the wine bottle down, took his glass from her, and gave her an impish heart-stopping grin. “Yeah, it’s about six inches long and two inches wide.”
“Oh, you are really bad,” she said, with a choked laugh.
“I’m talking about the receipt for the wine and the corkscrew.”
The snort that came out of her was anything but dignified.
Quint saluted her with his glass. “Gotcha.”
She touched her glass to his. “All right, I’ll give you that one.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a beautiful laugh?”
She took a sip of wine. It was red and rich, and warmed her instantly. “No, why would they? Beauty describes a tangible thing. You can’t see laughter.”
“Oh, but you can.” Quint set his half-empty glass down on the nightstand. “Here, I’ll show you.” He took a step toward her and put his hands on her face. With his thumbs he traced along the corners of her mouth. “See, right here. When this part lifts, I can see your laughter.”
Jamie suddenly had a hard time breathing. His face was so close to hers she could feel his heat. He continued to move his fingers, explaining about her smile, saying words she couldn’t hear over the tremulous beating of her heart. She didn’t even realize she’d put one hand on his forearm to balance herself.
“Shouldn’t you be getting off that leg?” he asked, finally saying something she could comprehend as answerable.
“Yes.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. She straightened up as though coming out of a spell. “I mean, yes,” she said more forcefully. “I—I’d like to go to the bathroom to—to get out of this costume. If—if I could.”
He searched her face for a scant moment, then bent down and placed a feather-light kiss on her lips. “Do you need any help?”
“No!” She flushed, realizing she’d practically shouted. “No, I can manage,” she said in a softer voice.” She waved her hand toward the room. “You can…ah…make yourself comfortable…or something. I won’t be long.”
Jamie made it into the bathroom, leaned on the sink, and wondered if it was time to start screaming. She hardly recognized the flushed face staring back at her in the mirror. When she fingered her mouth where he’d touched her, her hand shook. She was trembling all over.
She was hardly a virgin, but she’d dated Clay for a year before she’d had sex with him. She’d never been attracted to Clay or any other man the way she was to Quint. She needed more wine. Looking around for her glass, she discovered it in her hand.
She quickly drained it, gasping as it burned down her throat. She opened the bathroom door, limped over to the wine bottle, refilled the glass, and went back into the bathroom. She knew Quint was sitting on the king-size bed watching her but she didn’t chance a look at him.
Quint watched her in stunned silence. The woman was full of surprises. For all her brash talk he’d expected her to be a little less—tense? Certainly she couldn’t be shy?
Frankly, he was shocked she’d let him in the door. He would have laid twenty to one odds against it. Yet, here he was. She was in the bathroom trying to get drunk enough to have sex with him.
At least she hadn’t given him the I’ve-never-done-this-before routine. That would probably have annoyed him enough to think about leaving. Hell, who was he kidding? It all boiled down to one thing. He was thirty-two years old and he wanted Jamie Devon more than he’d ever wanted a woman in his life. He was shocked by the intensity of his feelings. He wouldn’t be human if he didn’t desire her, but it was more than desire. He enjoyed being with her, and he liked her feisty take-it-or-leave-it attitude; it was refreshing and intriguing at the same time. And after tonight he’d never see her again.
Quint took off his shoes, refilled his wineglass, and waited for her to come out of the bathroom. When she finally did, he got his next surprise. Relieved of the garland, her hair surrounded her cleanly scrubbed face in wispy natural curls, and she wore a threadbare, thigh-length, Mickey Mouse T-shirt.
She must have seen the shock on his face because she stopped halfway across the room and stumbled over herself apologizing.
“Sorry, this is all I brought. I didn’t expect to be…entertaining.”
Entertaining. Now that was an interesting choice of words. What really got his attention, though, was the way her perky little nipples made ruptures in Mickey’s faded ears. He tore his eyes away from the ears, smiled, and said the fourth thing that came to his mind.
“You look like you’re in pain. You’d better get off that leg.” He patted the bed beside him. “C’mon. I promise not to bite, but you’re lucky I’m not a cat.”
A cute little grin appeared on her face as she shuffled toward the bed. “Go ahead, make fun of my sexiest nightshirt. I’ve had this since I was twelve years old. Actually, it was much sexier when it was new.”
Quint laughed. He pulled her onto his lap before she could sit on the bed. He put one arm around her shoulders, his other hand settled on her hip. “Twelve, huh. What a coincidence; that’s how old I was when I made love to my first mousketeer.”
“Liar.”
He pulled her close and nuzzled her hair. “All right, so I was thirteen.” She smelled like roses. Roses and woman.
She pressed her hair into his face, rubbing like a kitten, turning slowly until her lips were in his neck. “You smell nice,” she whispered.
Her voice was soft and breathy, just the sound of it turned him to Jell-o. Extremely firm Jell-o. It didn’t even matter what she said. He turned, taking her with him, rolling her over until she was on her back and he was partially on top of her. She gasped and tensed.
“Am I going too fast for you?” he asked.
“Yes! No! You just surprised me.”
“You want me to warn you next time before I make a move?”
“Yes—I mean no.”
Her eyes were closed so tight they were pinched.
He chuckled. “You seem to be a little unsure about that. Why don’t you tell me what the next move should be?”
“How should I know? You’re the one who’s been doing this since you were twelve.”
Quint released her and rolled onto his back. When his body started to shake, she opened her eyes and sat up abruptly to see what was wrong. He had an arm slung over his face and he was—laughing!
She stifled her own laughter and tried to be serious. “Will you stop that? You’re giving me a complex.”
“I�
�m giving you a complex.” He lifted his arm to look up at her and made a fruitless attempt to match her demeanor. “I just didn’t expect this to be so hard.”
“What’s so hard about it?”
He reached out, grabbed her hand, and pressed it to his bulging crotch. “This.”
Jamie drew in a sharp breath of air and snapped her hand away, but not before she’d felt his hard heat pulsing in the palm of her hand. “Oh, now that was rude.”
His arm was back to covering his eyes and his body was shaking again. “Okay,” he said, “you’re the expert. You make the next move.”
She knew he was teasing her, but it also sounded like a challenge. Her fingers ached to feel the matt of hair above—and below—that top button on his shirt. She had passed cars going a hundred and eighty miles an hour, six inches from a solid wall, and she was too timid to touch a man’s chest.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she reached up and opened the top button. His laughter ceased immediately, and he brought his arm down to watch her face as she continued with the buttons until his chest was bared.
He sucked in his breath when she splayed her hands over him just below his throat. She moved slowly downward, enjoying the feel of his hair tickling her palms. His skin radiated heat into her fingertips. When her hands touched the firm nubs of his nipples, his chest rose and fell rapidly, but he made no move to stop her. Encouraged and excited by his reaction, she continued down over his taut rib muscles, and flat belly. She stopped when she reached the top of his jeans. Now she could either quit the race or go for the pole position. If she hadn’t been breathing so heavily she might have laughed at her choice of words.
She knew he was watching her but she carefully avoided looking up at him when she undid the button on his jeans. It was time to make the pass. She fixed her eyes above his waist and went for the zipper. All she found was another button. She didn’t know how many buttons there were, but before she touched the third one a yellow flag came up.
She lifted her head and saw in his eyes something she’d never seen in another human being. It was an intense, hungry, aching need, and she understood it because she felt it too. It touched the core of her womanhood, a secret internal place never touched before.
“Kiss me,” he whispered in a raspy voice that was neither a demand nor a plea.
She moved slowly, trancelike, upward until her mouth was level with his. That’s when his arms wrapped around her, and he took control. He rolled her to her back and fitted his mouth over hers, kissing her like he’d been waiting years instead of hours to drink of her honey. Her arms went around his neck; her fingers dug into his muscular shoulders, and into his hair. She made soft purring sounds that came from deep within her. His hand moved to her hip, bared by her earlier movements. From there he searched out the pliable mound of her breasts. She didn’t have large breasts, but they were softly contoured and fit his hand so perfectly. Her nipples budded instantly to his touch. He teased her lips with his tongue until she opened to him. When she did he assaulted her mouth with his tongue delving in and out, using quick teasing strokes.
Her purrs became louder, more desperate. He drew back and pulled her nightshirt over her head, stood up and quickly stripped off his shirt. His pants followed. When his thumbs slipped into the top of his underwear, her heart rate accelerated. All she had to do was close her eyes and not watch but that was the last thing she wanted to do.
Quint stopped, dumbfounded. She had wide-eyed panic on her face. The sight of him undressing clearly disturbed her, either that or she was a terrific actress. He couldn’t imagine someone with her background playing the cat and mouse games most women played. Rather than try to analyze her motives, he reached down and switched off the lamp. The lights from outside kept the room from total darkness but it was dark enough so Quint couldn’t see her face clearly. He finished undressing, slipped his condom in place and went back to take up where they’d left off.
When he took her in his arms, he could feel her body shaking. He gathered her close whispering, soft soothing words in her ear.
“It’s all right sweetheart… I’m not going to rush you… If I go too fast stop me. You are so beautiful.” Though it confused him, the fact that she was nervous made him feel strangely good. At least for a little while he could imagine that maybe in some way he was different than all the other men she’d known.
He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her slim throat. He captured the lips he knew would tempt him forever in his dreams. He knew the moment she relaxed and started responding to him again. Her arms slipped around his neck, fingers digging into his hair. She began to make those soft, sexy moaning sounds again.
When his mouth clamped over her breast her moan turned into a gasping cry. She arched her body against him, holding his head firm when he tried to pull away.
“No… Don’t stop. You make me feel so…tingly.” She spoke between gasps in a husky, sultry voice.
This time she didn’t stiffen when his hand moved slowly downward to her feminine core. A shudder convulsed through her entire body when he cupped her soft triangle with his hand, rubbing her slowly, gently. When his finger slipped inside her sleek heat, she gasped wildly and bucked against his hand. He cushioned her frantic sounds with his kiss and continued to stimulate her, giving her pleasure that seemed to surprise her. He waited until she gave her sweet cry of release before he spread her thighs and positioned himself between them.
He spoke to her in a ragged whisper. “Open up for me sweetheart. I need you. I need to be inside you.” She offered no resistance as she accepted him into her moist, shimmering heat. She closed around him like a tight hot glove. When he started to move, she arched up against him, hungrily drawing him deeper, crying out his name.
She spoke in breathy little whispers, urging him on with each thrust. “Oh, Quint, it feels so good… so wonderful… yes… oh… yes…”
Having a woman talk to him while he made love to her was something new to Quint. It sent him into deep sexual oblivion. For him the world consisted of only himself and the wild sensuous creature squirming beneath him. She made a sweet shattered sound, pulsed around him, and melted in his arms.
He gave several final thrusts. “Here it is, love. I’m coming.” With a feral, wolf-like howl, he found his own release. He clenched, shuddered violently and collapsed on top of her. Another shudder raged through his body as he lay gasping for breath. Visions of a black widow spider killing her mate after lovemaking flashed through his head. Now he understood what killed the unsuspecting male.
When he was finally able to catch his breath he said the dumbest thing that came to his mind. “God, that would have made a beautiful baby.”
Then he realized she was breathing almost as heavily as he was. He rose up on his elbows to give her some air and looked down at her. Her eyes were closed and she had the soft, enchanting smile of a cherub on her beautiful face, like Snow White awakening from a long sleep.
He pressed his lower body against her. “Did you fall asleep on me, honey?”
Her smile broadened. “That was incredibly—boring.”
Quint chuckled. He rolled to his side taking her with him, not ready to sever their connection. “Yeah, incredibly.” He cradled her in his arms, pulled the end of the spread over them, and buried his face in her sweet-smelling hair. He allowed himself only one thought before he fell asleep. Unfortunately it wasn’t a comforting one. All day long he’d imagined burying himself inside her. He had waited outside her door hoping to accomplish that goal and get her out of his system. Yet, even as he dozed off, his body was responding to her soft supple body. He wondered if he had brought enough condoms.
“Twins,” she said sleepily. “That was incredible enough to make twins.”
“You better get some rest, woman. In a few minutes we’re going to work on triplets.”
* * * *
The phone on the nightstand startled Jamie out of the first sound sleep she’d had in days.
B
efore she answered it she noticed two things—it was four o’clock in the morning and Quint was no longer lying beside her. Neither one put her in a good frame of mind.
She snapped the phone up, put it to her ear and remained silent.
“Jamie?”
Hearing her father’s voice didn’t help any. He never called just to say hello.
“Yeah, what’s so important you need to call me at four a.m., Buster.”
“It’s five.”
“Maybe in Tennessee… in Minnesota it’s four.”
“Jamie, I—”
For one insane heart stopping moment she thought he was going to say he missed her.
“Ray called. He wants you in Bristol tonight.”
That brought her to a rigid sitting position. “I have doctor’s orders—”
“No, not to race,” he said quickly. “Although we sure could use you. I imagine you know that in three races Markus hasn’t finished better than eighteenth. Christ, at Watkins Glen he came in twenty-ninth. You took second at Sears Point—in the same car. The road courses are your specialty.”
He wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t know, and he also wasn’t telling her why he’d called. Even his choice of words annoyed her, we could use you—not, we need you—we could use you. He wasn’t trying to compliment her; he was stalling. “There’s nothing I can do about it until next week. What does Bentler want?”
“He’d like you to make an appearance, in a little short outfit, to keep the fans interested.”
A thousand red dots flashed before Jamie’s eyes, along with an image of a sponsor calling a top male driver to ask him to pose in a Speedo while he was injured, to keep the fans interested. Then she imagined Ray Bentler’s genitals going around and around in an industrial-size blender.
She had to take several deep breaths before she could even answer. “You can inform mink-man Bentler that I’m not one of his performing poodles, and if he thinks he can find someone else to stick four million bucks a year in his jock strap, he’s welcome to start looking!”
Secret Sacrifices Page 4