It Might Be You

by Jennifer Gracen

  “Never know,” he admitted. “Anything’s possible.”

  She nodded. “I’m probably overstepping. Something tells me you can handle it.”

  “I appreciate your candor,” he said. “And this lunch. I needed it. Thank you.”

  “You ever have any questions about the clan, or want to talk? Call me. Okay?”

  “I might take you up on that.”

  * * *

  A week passed quickly. Myles was still in the hospital; his body hadn’t rejected Nick’s bone marrow, and he seemed to be holding steady. Charles texted updates every day, and Nick had even gotten to say hi to the kid via phone call. Nick was relieved beyond words. If this kept up, Myles would probably make it and, on the other side, be healthy again. If he stayed on this course, remission was a real possibility. Lying in bed, Nick prayed every morning for Myles’s full recovery.

  Amanda came every day. By the fourth day, Nick was feeling better and going stir-crazy. The two of them ventured outside and sat on a bench in the courtyard of the hotel, soaking up sunshine and fresh air for half an hour before he got tired and went back up to bed. Every day after that, he moved a little more, pushed himself. He took walks around the block, working through the occasional stabs of discomfort in his hip.

  The recovery time frustrated him, but the time with Amanda more than made up for that. They only had another week. After that, he’d be on his way back to Miami, and they’d go back to their separate lives.

  With each day, he knew he wanted more of her, from her, with her. Hell, they couldn’t even have sex because of his hip—he’d tried on the fourth day, not a smart move—and he was content to lie on his bed and make out with her like a frustrated, horny teenager, as long as he was holding her, touching her. He enjoyed talking to her, lying around and watching TV with her . . . anything. Anything, as long as she was there.

  This wasn’t just the emotion of the situation sweeping him away. He felt a real connection. He just wasn’t sure what she was feeling, because she kept it inside. When they kissed, she’d melt into him. When they whispered naughty, flirty things, her eyes lit up for him. When they talked about their families or their jobs or politics or anything, she was engaged and right there with him. But when he even hinted at the future, she would brusquely change the subject or even just get up and walk away, suddenly needing something in the other room.

  For a smart, strong, take-no-bullshit woman, Amanda was running scared. He knew that, but wasn’t sure exactly what she was scared of. For a man who was an investigator by profession, he was having a lot of trouble figuring her out.

  She drove him to his one-week checkup at the hospital. She waited for him during it, and after it, the two of them went to visit Myles for the first time. Seeing him hooked up to machines and still in bed, pale and bloated and weak, made Nick’s heart seize and plummet to his stomach. But he limped in and put on his best face for the kid, who lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw Nick and Amanda. His happiness was palpable; it touched Nick like few things had in his whole life. His nephew was so brave, and he loved him.

  As they headed down the main hallway toward the front exit, ready to leave and enjoy the rest of the day, Charles II walked into the hospital. Amanda gasped softly and looked up at Nick.

  “I see him,” Nick murmured. His jaw tightened.

  The older man was dressed in a navy suit and striped tie, looking polished and radiating power as always. But when he saw Nick, he stopped in his tracks. His gray eyes pinned Nick and held.

  “What do you want to do?” she whispered.

  “See what he wants,” Nick whispered back.

  They slowed to stop in front of him.

  Charles II nodded in greeting at Amanda, but said to Nick, “Got a minute?”

  “Sure.” He looked down to Amanda. “Why don’t I meet you outside?”

  “No problem.” She cast one concerned glance at him, but walked away.

  “What do you want?” Nick asked calmly, even as the muscles in his body tensed.

  Charles II paused, studying him for a long moment before saying, “I wanted to thank you for what you did. Coming here, the transplant . . . if it works, you’ll have saved Myles’s life. Thank you.”

  Nick swallowed hard. He hadn’t expected civility, much less anything resembling a heartfelt statement. “I just hope it works,” he said gruffly.

  “Of course. We all do.” He paused again before saying, “You and I . . . we’re not going to have a relationship, are we?”

  “I don’t think so,” Nick said.

  “We got off on the wrong foot.”

  “I’d say it’s a little more than that.”

  “You threatened me.”

  “You threatened me and my family first,” Nick countered. “Reminder, while we’re on the subject: stay away from them.”

  Charles merely inclined his head in acknowledgment.

  Nick felt his blood rush, his muscles coil, but kept his voice even. “Look . . . I have a family. You have a family. We don’t need each other. We don’t like each other.”

  “We don’t know each other,” Charles stressed.

  “We know enough.”

  “Perhaps. But perhaps, in another life, we could have known each other. We were denied that opportunity.”

  Nick’s heart started beating in heavy, thick thumps. He’d thought of that a few times. He’d mulled over a few ‘what-ifs’ that stung. But after meeting his biological father, and disliking him so intensely, he was fine with it. “I guess that’s how it goes.”

  “I guess it is.” Charles’s gray eyes still held him in place. “I respect that you haven’t come after a payoff, your siblings speak highly of you, and I’m grateful what you did for Myles. So . . . I’ll leave you be. That’s what you want, right?”

  His chest tightened. Was there a hook here? Was the old man actually being sincere, or was there a sucker punch coming? All he said was, “Right.”

  “All right, then. That will be my gesture of goodwill toward you,” Charles said. “I’m going to visit my grandson now.” He gave Nick a stiff nod and brushed past him, continuing on down the corridor.

  Nick turned and stared after him, watching until the old man disappeared.

  When he left the fluorescent grind of the hospital and emerged into the late May sunshine, he tipped his face to the sky to let it warm him and breathed deep lungfuls of fresh air. It felt good to be alive.

  Amanda was waiting right outside the doors. She gripped his arm and asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Fine. Honestly.” He dropped a quick kiss on her head. “We need to celebrate. Doc gave me a thumbs-up. I’m taking you out to dinner.”

  “Sounds good,” she said. “But you sure you’re up to it?”

  “Yep. And when we’re done and go back to my room? We have some catching up to do.” He gave her a deliberate look.

  “You sure you’re up to that?” Her eyes took on a new sparkle.

  “We’ll find out. I want to try.” He lowered his head to whisper in her ear, “I’ve missed being inside you.” Nipping her earlobe, he kissed her mouth. “I mean, really inside you. My fingers adore you, but . . .” He winked.

  Spots of color flushed her cheeks. “I’ve missed that too,” she said.

  And after I ravage you, he thought, we’re going to talk about what comes next for us.

  * * *

  Amanda watched Nick walk into the bedroom, gauging his pain level from his movements. He’d gotten through dinner, and even though his eyes were shadowed, a bit tired, he was definitely on the mend. The only thing affecting him now was his lower back and hip, still tender. The doctor said he might feel twinges for a few weeks. Nick claimed it wasn’t as bad as it’d been at first, and while she believed him, she knew it was still sore. Even now, she saw the quick wince as he bent over to pull off his socks.

  The other night, when their make-out and groping session had gotten heated, he’d rolled on top of her to take it further. Feeling t
he hard length of him against her belly, wanting him as much as he clearly wanted her, she’d forgotten herself and wrapped her legs around him to draw him closer—and he’d grunted in pain, a loud, low groan that made her freeze. His hip was still too tender. In spite of his protestations, she hadn’t allowed him to try again since then.

  Not that it had stopped Nick’s libido. They found plenty of other ways to please each other over the week. There was something about having limits, making it something of a challenge, that seemed to spur them on to different heights and make it even more sensual. She used her mouth on him without mercy, and he begged for more. When he cradled her into his good side, whispering naughty, dirty things into her ear as he held her close and worked her into a frenzy with his talented fingers, she’d had some of the most powerful orgasms she’d ever experienced.

  But tonight she really, really hoped he was better. She wanted to make love with him so badly it was ridiculous. She missed the feel of their bodies in full alignment, all of him around her and inside her, the way they moved together. . . . Need swamped her now as she watched him shed layers and reveal that incredible body to her once again. She couldn’t imagine she’d ever get tired of looking at him. Everything about his body made her blood heat, tantalizing her. The defined, cut muscles of his physique . . . the sharp angles and hard solidity of him, so very male . . . the trail of dark hair that led from his navel into his black boxer briefs.

  He was down to those when he glanced over at her. “You still dressed?”

  And that voice. Hearing his deep, sexy voice could get her wet even faster than looking at him. “Just making sure you’re up to this, Miami Vice.”

  “Take your clothes off and get in my bed, woman.” His eyes were hot and bright. “I’ll show you how up to this I am.”

  She reached for the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it up over her head, letting it drop to the floor. The capris came next, pooling around her ankles before she stepped out of them. Noting how intently he watched her undress, she stopped to bask in the heat and appreciation of his hungry gaze. As she stood there in her matching pink bra and panties, he clearly liked what he saw.

  He stepped to her, letting his fingertips skate over the straps on her shoulders, then down to the cups of her lacy bra. “You’re so beautiful.” His hands moved down her sides, reached around to her ass, and gave it a squeeze over her panties as his mouth took hers. “Get.” He kissed her. “In.” Kissed her again. “My.” He nipped at her bottom lip, bringing a tiny squeak from her. “Bed.” He kissed her hard and hot, edging her backward to the bed behind them.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” she said as he lowered himself on top of her. “How can we do this without hurting you?”

  “It’s the best kind of pain, baby,” he murmured against her lips. “I can take it.” He took her mouth in a searing, sumptuous kiss as one hand slid down her leg. His hand hooked under her knee and swung her leg over his hips, on his good side. “Maybe one leg around me, the other alongside but not over me. We’ll try it. . . .” The rest of his words were lost in his hungry kisses.

  They kissed and caressed slowly at first, testing the waters even as their mutual fire burned. “I missed holding you like this,” he whispered.

  “I missed it too,” she whispered back. Her hips undulated beneath him, rocking against his erection. “But if it’s too much, tell me and we’ll switch positions, find another way.”

  “Stop worrying about me,” he commanded as he trailed hot, openmouthed kisses along her throat. “If you can worry . . .” He licked her skin, nibbled on it. “If you can think clearly about anything other than what I’m doing . . .” More kisses, a little bite on her earlobe. “Then I’m not doing this right.”

  “You’re doing this amazingly right,” she assured him.

  She felt his smile against her skin. “Good to know,” he said as one of his hands fondled her breast while the other ran through her hair. “Didn’t want to think I’d lost my touch or anything.”

  “Impossible. Never happen.” She rolled her hips against his again, and they both moaned from the delicious friction. “No man has ever affected me in bed like you do.”

  His eyes flared with satisfaction. “Good. Because I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want you.” He stared into her eyes for a long beat, and she felt like he was staring into her mind and soul, seeing the affection and adoration for him she was fighting so hard to hide. She gripped his head and brought his mouth back to hers.

  Every kiss, every touch, felt infused with deeper meaning. They were communicating without words in a way only true lovers did. It moved her profoundly and made her edgy at the same time. She didn’t want to be in love with him. She didn’t ever want this moment to end. She didn’t know what the hell her brain was doing.

  He grasped her hands, bringing them over her head and interlacing their fingers, holding her as he entered her with a smooth thrust. Her breath hitched. He’d possessed her, body and soul. The way he looked at her as he moved inside her, right into her eyes, his breath mixing with hers and the lazy rhythm his hips set and the feel of him all around her . . . it was more intimate than anything she’d ever felt in her life. It made her shiver, and her eyes slipped closed as the power of it overwhelmed her.

  “Christ, I missed you.” He dropped kisses on her lips, her chin, her cheeks. His fingers squeezed hers as they rocked together and she squeezed his back.

  “Is your hip okay?” she asked.

  “Shhhh, it’s fine.”

  “Sorry, can’t help it.”

  He smiled down at her. “I know.” He kissed her, long and sweet, and released her hands to cup her face. “Because you’re beautiful, inside and out.”

  “Because I care,” she whispered, feeling both bold and vulnerable at the same time. Her hands skimmed over his shoulders and held. “I care about you, Nick.”

  “I care about you too,” he whispered back. “More than you know, mi reina.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. The way he said those words, the way he looked at her . . . there was so much more going on. She felt it. She knew it. But as much as she wanted to hear more, to say more, she just couldn’t. She pressed her lips to his and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close and savoring every second.

  * * *

  Afterwards, Nick fell asleep quickly, his breathing going slow and heavy in under two minutes. His body still was recovering. Exhaustion had won out over any conversation, and she was grateful.

  She needed the silence. She needed to deal with the whirlwind in her head.

  When he’d made love to her, he’d truly made love to her, in every sense of the term. It had been insanely intense; what they’d just shared went beyond sex. Feelings were there, deep, raw, and real. She recalled the look in his eyes as he’d moved inside her and shuddered. He hadn’t said he was in love with her, but she’d felt it. That look had touched a place deep in her heart that no man ever had, not ever.

  She wanted him too much. She had to leave.

  She needed to process all this, and she couldn’t do it wrapped in his embrace. He was like a drug she couldn’t get enough of. She was drunk on him, stupid with it, and she needed to sober up. The emotions rolling through her now felt dangerous. If she wasn’t careful, she could be swallowed whole by this fantasy as he’d been, could make herself believe it was real. She just didn’t trust it. Being with him was too easy, felt too right. Too risky.

  They’d only known each other less than two months. She shouldn’t be having forever thoughts. That would lead to crushing disappointment . . . maybe even disaster. She had to go home and regroup.

  She carefully slipped out of his arms, out of his bed, and out of the room.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Amanda didn’t sleep well, her overloaded heart and brain making her restless. Finally, she drifted into deeper sleep around 4 AM for a few hours straight; exhaustion had won out. She woke just after nine. The incredible sex last night was surely a factor
in the deeper sleep, along with knowing she had nowhere to be today. Nick was fine now. He didn’t need her to take care of him anymore, and Myles wouldn’t be out of the hospital for weeks. As Charles had said, for the next few weeks, her time was her own, and he’d insisted on paying her for two weeks of her time off as if she were a corporate salaried employee. She appreciated his generosity. She had enough in her savings that even if she didn’t go back to working with Myles for a whole month, she could lay low and afford it. Some time off would be great.

  The feeling of freedom, the idea of not adhering to a daily schedule, was so alien. She hadn’t had a real vacation in six months. When Myles had had a good streak, Charles had insisted she take two weeks off, fully paid. The first week, she’d stayed home and just lazed around, but the second week, she’d gone to a resort in Jamaica with Roni and Steph. It’d been Roni’s idea, of course, and they’d gotten the plans together in record time. The best trip of her life, it’d been the only time she’d ever gone away without family. She was thirty-two, for God’s sake—she needed to go places, do more. She needed more of a life.

  She lay in bed and started thinking about where she could go next week on such short notice, and not spend a bundle doing it. Maybe up to the Cape? Out east to a spa on the tip of Long Island? Just go to the beach every day? The first week of June was gorgeous weather-wise, holding infinite possibilities close to home. She wondered if her friends would be able to get away for a few days. She knew she’d need them.

  Because once Nick was back in Miami, only six days from now, she’d need to get away from here for a bit to shake him off. She wondered if that was even possible. She doubted it. She loved him, and holding that back had proved too much over the past few days. At least when they were back to their separate lives, she could pine in peace.