Hers By Request

by Karen Ann Dell

  The quiet finally penetrated the whirlwind of emotions spinning around in his head and he realized there had been several seconds of dead air. He’d made the worst rookie mistake in the broadcasting business, and one he constantly warned his employees against. He quickly grabbed a CD from the stack and scanned the play list as he dropped it into the player. The air left his lungs in a long, slow exhale as he dragged his hand through his hair. The music never lied. The first notes of “The Very Thought of You” floated over the airwaves toward Amanda while he got her request ready to go.

  If she wanted only to talk, they’d talk. If she wanted anything more, he wouldn’t hesitate and debate ethics with his better half. He knew there’d be no cottages and white picket fences in his future. No years full of good night kisses or mornings when he woke with Amanda’s warm body snugged up against him.

  So he’d take whatever she offered now and store the memories to warm the long, cold, lonely, rest of his life.

  Amanda gave up the idea of sleep around four a.m. and opted for a shower to clear her head. She’d tossed and turned all night after her phone call to Dev, alternately berating herself for being fickle and faithless to Danny’s memory then forgiving herself for succumbing to the lust that’d arced through her the moment Dev’s mouth took possession of hers. She was certainly no saint but hated to think of herself as a slut either.

  Standing under the hot spray, she took refuge in her normal problem-solving routine. Visualizing a white board on the tiles she began listing the pros and cons of having sex with Dev MacMurphy.

  The Pros:

  One. (The most important point first): It was, after all, just sex. It bore no relationship to the love she’d had—still had—always would have—for Danny.

  Two. She wasn’t going to give up sex for the rest of her life, just love. Her love had proved deadly to both recipients, so she wouldn’t risk it again.

  But she wasn’t about to enter a convent either.

  Three. Unrelieved sexual tension clouded one’s judgment, made sleeping difficult if not impossible, and caused a certain amount of bitchiness to spill over into other unrelated activities.

  Four. Dev was a smoking-hot combination of classic good looks, a body that wouldn’t quit, pheromones that sent her senses reeling and kisses that rated a thousand on a scale of one to ten.

  Five. He wasn’t married and had no significant other (of which she was aware, anyway).

  Six. He definitely wanted her.

  Seven. She definitely wanted him.

  Eight. See Number Six. Etc.

  She squirted shampoo into the palm of her hand and began to lather her hair, the faint scent of lilacs rising on the steam surrounding her.

  The Cons:

  One. She still missed Danny terribly.

  Two. She and Dev had a business relationship that could become awkward if they became lovers.

  Three. Dev had his own issues concerning his injuries.

  Four. Would he be unable to see this relationship as it really was? i.e. Two people taking what comfort they could find in each other’s bodies. (See Number One under Pros) Because she could not, would not, allow him to believe there might be something more.

  Five. Would he think she was too easy, leaping into bed with him so soon after her fiancé’s death?

  She rinsed her hair, and as she stepped out of the shower she realized this line of thought had made her wet in areas the shower spray didn’t reach. It also made some parts of her body particularly sensitive to the friction of her towel. She stepped over to the sink and wiped the steam off the mirror above it, then stared somberly at her reflection.

  All things considered, she would only give in to her lust if she could convince Dev there was no chance of anything more between them than a purely physical relationship. There was no possibility of love, and if he wasn’t okay with that, this attraction between them would go no further. She figured he’d be pretty happy with the no emotional involvement stipulation, though, because wasn’t that the fantasy all men dreamed of? A willing woman who offered sex with no strings, no commitments, just mutual pleasure with no recriminations if one—or both of them—wanted to call it quits?

  A decisive nod to the woman on the other side of the mirror ended her inner debate. She brushed her teeth, toweled her hair, and began to blow it dry.

  After much debate, Amanda went with a pair of gray yoga pants and a long-sleeved pink T-shirt. She didn’t want to appear to be enticing him until she was sure he would agree to her terms. She gathered her hair up in a casual French twist and secured it with a tortoiseshell clip, then put on a pair of thick socks and ballet flats. This was about as un-sexy as she could get.

  She put fresh sheets on the bed, not trying to kid herself about the way she hoped Dev’s decision would go.

  And then she picked up Danny’s picture off her dresser and took it into the living room, setting it next to the one of her and her dad on the end table. No way was that photo staying in her bedroom while Dev was here. With a little sigh, she went to the kitchen to inventory the fridge for breakfast.

  Great. She should have considered the state of her pantry before she offered Dev breakfast. She surveyed the meager provisions lined up on the counter. Five strips of bacon, two eggs, one container of frozen orange juice, and a bagel that was so old it might crack the tiles if she dropped it.

  Okay, not enough eggs to scramble, so pancakes would have to do. She had a stick of butter but no syrup. Ah, but powdered sugar from her Christmas cookie marathon would substitute. She mixed up the orange juice and put her frying pan on the stove, then got out her recipe for pancakes and started mixing. She barely had enough milk for the recipe so she was glad Dev didn’t take any in his coffee. While the bacon sizzled in the pan, she set the table for two and turned on the radio.

  Neal sounded more upbeat than she had heard him in a long while as he reported high school sports scores then the marine weather report with conditions on the bay. He commiserated with the local fishermen who would be out on the water with temperatures in the low forties this morning and Amanda shivered in sympathy just thinking about it. She turned on the oven and left the door ajar to help warm up her house. She’d make the pancakes ahead of time and keep them warm in the oven till Dev arrived.

  Her nerves were strung so tightly that when the phone rang she almost flipped a pancake into the sink. It had to be Dev. He was probably going to back out of breakfast after he had eight hours to think things over and come to his senses. She didn’t blame him. She moved the frying pan off the hot burner and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  “Ms. Adams? This is Tom. From the service station in town?”

  Relief spilled through her, leaving her legs weak. “Yes, Tom, good morning.”

  “I hope it wasn’t too early to call you, Ms. Adams, but you said you wanted us to come tow your car as early as possible today.”

  “Oh, yes, this is fine. I’ve been up for hours.”

  “Well then, I’ll have Ed come by and get your car in about fifteen minutes. That be okay?”

  “That would be wonderful, Tom. Thank you so much for getting started on it so early.”

  “No problem, Ma’am. Once I take a look at her, I’ll give you a call and let you know what the problem is.”

  “Okay, Tom. I’ll talk to you later today then.”

  She hung up and glanced at the clock. Eight-oh-five. Hopefully Ed would pick up her car and be gone before Dev arrived. If Dev got here first, Ed might think he had spent the night, finding his car here at such an early hour. That little tidbit of gossip would make the rounds in town before noon.

  She debated calling Dev and asking him to come a bit later, but that might give him an excuse to cancel. After that brain-melting kiss last night, they needed to talk, or working together in the future wou
ld be too awkward. Drat that man. Why did he have to go and kiss her like that? One little kiss, and he had wreaked havoc with her well-ordered life.

  She should never have called him last night. When he bolted out the door, leaving without a word of explanation, she should have decided to be angry and waited for him to apologize. Then she could have accepted that apology graciously and agreed to remain on friendly terms.

  But no, she had to listen to him on the radio, letting his velvet voice slide over her skin the way his hands had, making her heart pound and her nipples tighten in longing. By the time he’d played half a dozen songs, she was aching to feel the solid muscles of his chest crush her into the mattress, while his mouth licked and sucked its way down her body to where the firm length of his erection cradled itself between her thighs.

  So she’d called and made a bad situation worse. No way to back out now and pretend indifference.

  She finished the pancakes and closed the oven door. She certainly didn’t need the extra heat. Her temperature was already several degrees above normal. The sound of tires crunching on gravel brought her to the front window and, thank God, it was the tow truck to take her car away. She went out on the porch and gave her car key to Ed. A man of few words, he had the Civic on the flatbed of his truck in five minutes and, with a brisk nod, was on his way back to town in less than ten.

  Amanda stood on the porch for a few more minutes letting the chilly morning air cool her heated cheeks. Just as she turned to go in, Dev’s Land Rover pulled to a stop in the very spot her Civic had just vacated. He got out and climbed the steps, heat already in his eyes as they traveled down her body and back up again. He wore neatly pressed khakis and a chambray shirt under a navy CPO jacket. His thick hair curled damply over his collar and his strong jaw had no five a .m. shadow, a testimony to his trip home to shower and change before coming.

  “Good morning, Amanda.”

  His green eyes sparked a fire in her belly that had her pulse kicking up and heat coiling low.

  “Good morning, Dev,” she replied, suddenly sure that any kind of physical contact between them would be a terrible mistake. “Come on in.”

  CHAPTER 13

  “Coffee?” She took his jacket and laid it across the back of a chair, avoiding his eyes.

  “Sure, thanks.” He sat at the little table and watched her move about the kitchen. A few tendrils of hair had slipped from the clasp on the top of her head and curled over her shoulders drawing his attention to the graceful curve of her neck.

  Amanda glanced up from pouring the coffee and caught him staring. Color washed up her neck and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. She placed the cup in front of him and retreated to the kitchen to bring glasses of juice to the table.

  “It’s all ready, such as it is. Are you hungry?”

  He captured her eyes. “Ravenous.”

  She twisted her hands together, her shoulders up around her ears.

  He studied the table for a second and blew out a breath. “Sorry. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He took the napkin off his plate and dropped it in his lap. He could do this. He glanced up, keeping his smile cheerful and merely friendly. “It smells delicious. I haven’t had a home-cooked breakfast in years, so this is a real treat.”

  Her shoulders relaxed and she brought the warm platter out of the oven and set it between them. “Careful, the plate’s hot.”

  “Mmm,” he said, leaning over the platter and inhaling. “Wow, pancakes. Now you’re really taking me back.”

  “Oh? Did your mom make pancakes for you when you were a kid?”

  Don’t I wish. “Not my mother. She was a college professor so mornings were too hectic for her to cook. We had a maid when we lived in Virginia and she made me breakfast. She believed in those massive southern deals with six or seven courses. You know, eggs, pancakes or waffles, bacon or sausage, grits. Good thing I was a growing boy with a metabolism like a ditch-digger, otherwise I’d have weighed two hundred pounds by the time I hit high school.” He took a swallow of orange juice. “That stopped when we moved to New York, though. The cook my parents hired there was very health oriented, so no more pancakes or French toast, just granola, yogurt, and fruit for breakfast.” He wrinkled his nose. “I’m sure it was better for me, but I really missed those pancakes.”

  Amanda laughed. “Sorry I don’t have any syrup, but here’s some powdered sugar to sprinkle over them. That ought to make them sweet enough.”

  “Or you could just stick your finger in them, that would do it, too.”

  “Oh, stop, please.” She rolled her eyes.

  He put his knife and fork down. “You know, I can’t seem to stop when I’m around you, Amanda. I can’t stop thinking, I can’t stop looking, and for sure, I can’t stop wanting you.”

  She put the sugar down, a mix of anguish and longing in her eyes. Before she could form a response, he put his hand up to stop her.

  “I want to apologize about last night, running out on you without any explanation. That wasn’t my plan.” He huffed out a breath. “The fact is, I didn’t have a plan, but I couldn’t resist the temptation to steal a kiss, even if it got me slapped—or worse.” He looked down, unconsciously rubbing his left elbow, then back into her eyes. “After one taste of your lips, I was out of control, which doesn’t say much for a thirty-year-old man, does it? I wouldn’t have blamed you if you never wanted to see me again.” He reached over and took her hand, turning it palm up and bringing it to his mouth, his eyes never leaving hers. “Even though we both know there is a lot of mutual attraction between us.” He placed a soft kiss in the center of her palm.

  Admit it. Don’t tell me I imagined the way you responded to my kisses.

  “There is a certain amount of . . . chemistry, between us, Dev. I won’t deny it.” She bit her bottom lip. “But that’s all there is ever going to be.”

  Now it was her turn to gesture him to let her finish.

  “I think I know why you left so abruptly last night, Dev. You caught a glimpse of Danny’s picture on my dresser and it reminded you . . . of my recent . . . loss.” She cupped the palm he had just kissed against his cheek. “And because you’re such a decent man, you thought you were taking advantage of a woman grieving over her dead fiancé.” She gave him a sad little smile. “I know you’re the kind of man who would never exploit a woman’s loneliness and grief that way, so I do understand why you left before I did something I might regret.”

  Part of what she said was the truth, but the altruism she ascribed to him was so far off the mark as to be laughable.

  Decent?

  Hardly.

  Danny’s picture had sent him running for sure, by reminding him of what had gotten him there in the first place—his promise. The promise he made to a man whose bravery and selflessness haunted his days and kept him sleepless most nights. For the millionth time, Dev wished he was the one who had died over there. Now he was knee-deep in a situation that was becoming more complicated by the minute.

  She’d given him the perfect opening to tell her the truth.

  To confess his part in Danny’s death.

  To tell her who he really was.

  There would never be a better time, and he steeled himself for the pain he knew would follow his confession.

  “Amanda, I—”

  “Before you say anything, I want you to know where I’m coming from, Dev.” She glanced over at the shelf where Danny’s picture now resided. “I will always love Danny. I still miss him, and I’m sure this feeling of loss will stay with me forever.” She returned her level gaze to Dev. “But Danny is the last man I will ever love. I won’t allow that to happen again because I don’t think I could survive if another man I love . . . died.”

  Her dove gray eyes glistened but they were wide open and unapologetic.

 
“But I’m not dead. And . . . I like you, Dev. You’re charming and generous. I like the sound of your voice and the kindness in your eyes and the feel of your mouth on mine. And while my motives may be somewhat confused right now, I know I want to touch you, kiss you, and feel your hands on me. I want to make you laugh and make you groan my name when you’re inside me. I want all those things, Dev, but only with the understanding that I’m never going to fall in love with you. And you can’t fall in love with me, either. This is strictly a ‘friends with benefits’ offer.”

  Amanda sat back in her chair with a genuine smile on her face and, by God, a twinkle in her eye designed to take the pressure off him. “If you don’t think you can handle something purely physical between us, then we’ll keep what we have now. Friendship and a good working relationship. No questions asked, no apologies necessary.”