Unfortunately for her cool powers of observation, her heart hammered like a son of a gun as Jonah put down the overnight cases and fit the key in the lock. Inside that apartment they’d be more alone than ever before in their short acquaintance. If they could end up locked in a passionate embrace in the yacht’s cabin with the crew likely to interrupt at any minute, they were in far more danger of that here.
Jonah opened the door and flipped a wall switch before gesturing for her to go in ahead of him. She stepped into a tiny hall while he picked up the overnight cases and followed her. Beyond lay his living room, and she registered a view of well-used furniture in neutral tones, a basketball balanced against a pile of books on the coffee table and a stack of magazines on the floor. Then the sound of the door closing and the lock clicking eliminated all thoughts of furniture. Except, of course, for what two people could do on that furniture. She wondered if she was the only one having those thoughts. Probably not.
“Can I take your coat?” His voice was very close and very husky, as if they were of a similar mind at the moment.
“Okay.” As she started to take off her coat, he slipped it from her shoulders in one easy movement. Can I take your dress? Okay.
“This coat looks valuable.” He opened the hall closet and rattled the hangers taking one out.
“Fake ermine.” She hugged herself to still her trembling and walked into the living room where a single lamp cast an intimate glow. The cushions on the couch were faded but quite wide enough for…no, she mustn’t think about that.
“I thought the fur was real.” He closed the closet door. “But then, I wouldn’t know. I’ve never touched real ermine, but that coat sure is soft.”
She turned to face him, her pulse racing. “I…that’s why I bought it.”
He took off his sport coat, tossed it over the back of an easy chair and loosened his tie. She thought his fingers trembled a little, but she couldn’t be sure. At any rate he looked so darned sexy that he made her dizzy.
“Want something to drink?” he asked.
“I guess.” Holding a glass would give her something to do with her hands.
“Come into the kitchen and I’ll see what I can offer you.” Unbuttoning his cuffs, he rolled his sleeves back as he went through a doorway on his right and turned on another light.
Whatever he was offering, she was interested. There was nothing deliberately erotic about his behavior, nothing most men wouldn’t do when they arrived home from a formal event. But watching Jonah get casual as he moved around his apartment was giving her way too many ideas. They hadn’t planned this evening beyond their escape and finding something to eat.
Yet technically, he was hers for the weekend. If he honored that arrangement, she’d be here all night.
He opened the door of an aging refrigerator and peered inside. “I’m out of O.J.” He cleared his throat. “Looks like water, cola and a fine domestic beer are the selections of the evening.” He closed the refrigerator door and his gaze traveled over her red dress. When he looked into her eyes, his were filled with longing, just as they had been when she’d first appeared in the outfit. “Unfortunately you’re dressed for French wine,” he said, his tone gentle. “I wish I had something more exciting to offer you.”
Oh, you do. But she didn’t have the courage to say that. “I don’t care about fancy food and drink.”
“You seemed to enjoy it today on the yacht.”
She shrugged. “If gourmet food’s around, I figure I might as well enjoy it. But I don’t eat that way all the time.”
He studied her, as if he wanted to unravel the mystery of why she was so different from the way he’d pictured a woman like her to be. And he might never know, she thought, because she’d have to trust him a whole hell of a lot before she’d tell him she’d spent her retirement fund on him.
She glanced down at the cocktail dress. “I could change back into my sweatshirt and slacks, come to think of it. My shoes look dumb with the dress, and now that we’re not going to eat at the Plaza, maybe I should wear something more casual.”
“Don’t change,” he said softly.
“Why not?”
“It’s like you and gourmet food. Normally I don’t care about fancy clothes, but when I’m presented with something special, I can enjoy it. That’s a great dress, and as for the shoes…” He grinned. “They look kind of cute.”
“Oh.” She met his gaze. Gradually the humor faded from his eyes as a familiar heat returned. The silence lengthened between them, and her heartbeat quickened. “Are you…that is, do you think I…were you planning on me staying…until morning?”
He leaned a shoulder against the refrigerator door. A muscle tensed in his jaw. “Are you planning to stay?”
“I…don’t know.” She swallowed the nervous lump in her throat. “The hotel arrangements were less personal. It wasn’t like I was paying for the privilege of spending the night with you, but now that’s exactly what it feels like.”
“Are you telling me I have the right to say no to your advances and put you in a cab after dinner?”
She wasn’t sure what she was saying. She needed a certain amount of time to gracefully lead up to her mother’s book idea, but the more hours she spent with him the more trouble she’d have sticking to her original plan. There were some occasions in a girl’s life when she didn’t want to be reminded of her mother. Being alone with Jonah in this apartment certainly qualified.
“If I sent you home early tonight, it wouldn’t seem that you’d gotten your money’s worth,” he said. It sounded suave, but a little hitch in his voice gave away his own nervousness.
Her insides felt all quivery with anticipation. She couldn’t even take offense at his passing reference to the money she’d paid. “I guess not.”
“Don’t worry. I’m way too curious about this request of yours to send you home until after I’ve heard it.”
“Oh.” Okay, so he’d take care of reminding her of her mother. That lifted some of the responsibility off her shoulders. “That’s good. Then let’s have a beer.”
“And discuss your request?” he asked casually, opening the refrigerator again.
“Maybe. Do you have peanuts?”
He peered around the edge of the door, frowning. “What on God’s green earth would you do with peanuts?”
She stared at him in total confusion. “I thought—now, this is just a suggestion, so feel free to veto it—but I thought we could eat them.”
“Oh.”
“What did you think I meant?”
He shook his head. “Never mind. And yes, I have peanuts. Unfortunately there isn’t much else around here, though.” He took two bottles of beer out of the refrigerator and closed it. “Mrs. Ruggerelo didn’t come over today with lasagna.”
“We had a big lunch. I don’t need much to eat tonight, anyway.”
“Good thing.” Carrying the bottles by the neck in one hand, he walked over to a small pantry and took out a can of peanuts. “Glasses are in the cupboard next to the sink, if you wouldn’t mind getting them down.”
“Sure.” She opened the cupboard and took out two glasses. There were no dirty dishes in the sink, she noticed. Her mother would like hearing about that. Dirty dishes probably wouldn’t fit her image of a hero.
In fact, Jonah would get all sorts of approval ratings from her mother, Natalie thought as they settled on the couch. He was close enough to increase her pulse rate considerably. She watched the flex of his forearm as he twisted the cap off the first bottle and she stared at him pouring beer into the glass as if she’d never seen anyone do it before. He had such competent hands, such nice fingers. She noticed a light patch of skin about the size of a silver dollar on his wrist.
He handed her the foaming glass of beer. “Did you think I’d spill it?”
“No!” She was blushing again. “I just…wondered where you got that scar on your wrist.”
He looked at it as if he’d forgotten all about having it.
Then he started pouring the second beer. “My glove pulled away during a fire, about…let’s see, I guess it was about four years ago.”
She didn’t like hearing that. It made her shudder to think of all the hundreds of times he’d chopped his way into burning buildings. “Have you been hurt often?”
“Nope, fortunately.”
“How many times?” His aftershave teased her, making her want to snuggle closer, but she restrained herself. They probably should talk about her mother’s book. This was the perfect time, relaxing with a drink on his couch, side by side…. She’d just have to ignore that little ache growing deep within her.
He finished pouring the beer and tapped his glass to hers. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” She took a sip. “And you didn’t answer my question. How many times have you been hurt?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t kept count.” He took a drink of beer. “Most of it was little stuff, like this burn on my wrist. It’s nothing.”
She was a glutton for punishment. She didn’t want to hear it, but she desperately wanted to know. “Most?”
“I’ve only been in the hospital once, and that was for smoke inhalation when my mask came off. I guess there’s some scarring in my lungs. Want some peanuts?”
Her heart squeezed at his offhand attitude about his injuries. She hated the idea that he pulled a mask over that wonderful face and plunged into hell several times a week. She wanted to demand he stop putting himself in jeopardy. But that was stupid and she didn’t have any right to, anyway. She took a handful of the shelled nuts from the can. “What do your parents think of the danger you’re in all the time?”
“Oh, they pretty much hate it. But this is what I’ve wanted to do ever since I was six years old.” He tossed a peanut into his mouth.
She watched him chew and enjoyed the way it made his dimples flash in his cheeks. She also thought about what his mouth had felt like on hers, and how much she wanted to have that experience again. It would be wonderful, and also reassuring after all this discussion of peril. “Do you like your job because of the excitement?”
“Some of it’s that.” He gazed at her, his dark eyes taking on the same sort of heat they had when they’d been alone in the yacht’s cabin. “But mostly because it’s so morally simple. When you fight fire, you have no doubt who the enemy is. You can fight it…with everything you’ve got.”
He framed her face with both hands. “Let’s stop talking about fires and superheroes.”
His touch made her vibrate, and her voice became breathy with excitement. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I don’t want to talk at all.”
As he took possession of her mouth and urged her down against the cushions of the worn couch, the wonder of having him kiss her again pushed everything from her mind but the mastery of his lips, the eloquent suggestion of his tongue and the heavenly weight of his body on hers. She responded with absolute surrender. As he trailed kisses down her throat to the low-cut bodice of her dress, the peanuts she’d been holding dribbled slowly out of her open hand onto the carpet.
A key rattled in the front-door lock.
“Damn, I forgot the chain.” Jonah leaped from the couch and started for the door.
Natalie sat up quickly and adjusted her dress. Shoot, how had she allowed herself to get horizontal so fast? And wasn’t Jonah supposed to be reminding her of her request instead of kissing her senseless?
“Jonah, you’re here!” cried a woman as the door opened.
“Hello, Mrs. Ruggerelo.”
I’ve been saved by the lasagna lady, Natalie thought.
HE SHOULD HAVE PUT the chain on, Jonah thought, deeply regretting the interruption. He never did use the chain, but considering what had been developing on the couch just now, the chain would have been a very good idea.
“I thought you’d be at the Plaza tonight living it up with that crazy rich woman, my little bambino,” said Mrs. Ruggerelo as she balanced a covered dish in both hands. At four foot eleven she had to crane her neck to look up at Jonah. “So what happened?”
Jonah winced and hoped Natalie hadn’t heard that description of her. He also hoped the dimness of the hall disguised the bulge in his pants, and that he’d wiped all Natalie’s lipstick off his mouth.
“We changed our plans,” he said, blocking the hallway. “Do I smell lasagna?”
“Now what else would I have in here, old gym socks? Of course you smell lasagna. What do you mean, we?”
“The crazy rich woman decided the Plaza was no fun,” Natalie said from behind him.
Jonah turned and tried to think how he could smooth over the awkwardness of Mrs. Ruggerelo’s remark.
Natalie took the opportunity to duck around him. She smiled at Jonah’s neighbor. “You couldn’t have better timing, Mrs. Ruggerelo. We’re starved.”
Mrs. Ruggerelo, who was nearly as round as she was tall, almost dropped the covered dish she was carrying. “It’s you! Bobo’s mother!”
Jonah groaned.
Natalie, however, seemed delighted with being called Bobo’s mother. “He is sort of like my little kid. Puppies get under your skin, you know.”
“I know they do. I loved our little Tootsie, but after she died, Leo said no more dogs. Still, when I saw Jonah with that puppy, I started wishing for one again. And you know what? There are no more little black puppies of any kind at the animal shelters!”
“Really? Why that’s wonderful!”
Jonah stared at the two women in disbelief. He’d never seen such an instant bond in his life. He hoped the chitchat would be over soon. He wanted to do some bonding of his own with Natalie on the couch.
“Jonah’s told me so much about your lasagna,” Natalie said. “I can hardly wait.”
“Me, neither,” Jonah said without enthusiasm. Natalie was being a good sport, though. If he was any judge, she’d been ready to rip his clothes off a few minutes ago, and now she was acting as if Mrs. Ruggerelo was the very person she wanted to see. She was probably just being considerate after the way he’d raved about his neighbors. Which was sweet, but he’d had enough of the chumminess.
Time to take command of the situation, he decided. “Why don’t I take that dish, Mrs. Ruggerelo, so you can be on your way? I’m sure Mr. Ruggerelo is expecting you to come right back.” He reached for the lasagna.
Mrs. Ruggerelo pulled it out of reach. Meanwhile, she was very busy inspecting Natalie from top to toe. “Interesting choice of shoes.”
“We had to run,” Natalie said.
“I’ll tell you all about it next time I see you.” Jonah reached for the dish again.
Mrs. Ruggerelo drew back. “It’s not hot enough to eat. I was planning to pop it in your refrigerator for you to have tomorrow night.”
“So we’ll warm it up.” Jonah made another grab for the dish.
Mrs. Ruggerelo stepped into the hall, taking the lasagna with her. “I have a better idea.” She gave Natalie one more glance and nodded, as if coming to a conclusion. “I’ll bet you don’t eat proper food. You’re like all young girls nowadays, thin as a fettuccine noodle. Come with me.” She started down the hall carrying her lasagna. “I’ll feed you both a fine Italian dinner. I have bread, antipasto, wine.”
“That sounds terrific,” Natalie said, walking after her.
Jonah caught her arm and drew her back. Natalie was carrying this neighborly attitude a little too far. “It does sound terrific, for another night. Wednesday. Wednesday’s good for me. Natalie?”
“I think tonight sounds fine.”
“But…” He paused. He couldn’t very well tell her why he wanted to postpone the invitation, not when Mrs. R. was all ears.
Mrs. Ruggerelo turned back to them. “You have to eat, and I know there’s nothing in your refrigerator. What were you planning to feed this girl, peanuts?”
Natalie glanced up at Jonah, an unreadable smile on her face.
“We’ll manage,” he said, trying to decipher the look in
Natalie’s eyes. “We had a big lunch, right, Natalie?”
“I know.” Mrs. Ruggerelo smiled, revealing one gold tooth. “I saw you on the news tonight squeezing her around the middle, doing that rescue thing when somebody’s choking to death.”
“Aw, jeez.” Jonah passed a hand over his face and looked at his neighbor. “It was really on the news?”
“If you ran away from the Plaza, that will probably be on the ten o’clock news.” Mrs. Ruggerelo winked. “You might have to go to work wearing my old hat and Leo’s raggedy coat, like you did after you saved Bobo.”
Natalie grinned as she glanced at him. “You failed to mention that.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not a picture I like to dwell on.” Jonah had gone to the station that day looking like a tall bag lady or a seedy transvestite. The guys had used both descriptions. In any city other than New York, he never would have gotten away with it.
“It worked,” Mrs. Ruggerelo said. “Nobody’s traced you to this apartment house yet. So, are you coming for dinner or what?”
“Sure,” Natalie said.
Jonah was extremely confused. He hadn’t imagined that moan of delight when he’d kissed her, so why wasn’t she as eager to get rid of this unwelcome visitor as he was? “Look, Mrs. Ruggerelo, if you’d be willing to just order us a pizza, I’ll pick it up from your place. I don’t want you going to all this trouble, considering you like to turn in early, and—”
“Are you kidding?” the plump little woman said. “I wouldn’t miss the ten o’clock news tonight for anything. I want to see how you two made a break for it. Come on down to my apartment for a decent meal. You can have pizza anytime.”
“Not with the toppings I had in mind,” Jonah muttered low enough that only Natalie heard him. He gave her a significant glance, but she merely looked innocent, as if she had no idea what he was talking about.
“Besides,” Mrs. Ruggerelo continued, “Leo spilled tomato soup at lunch today and it spread under the recliner. I can’t budge it to clean the rug, and if somebody doesn’t move it soon, Leo will try. You know how long he was laid up the last time. I was going to write you a note about it when I left the lasagna. I was afraid I wouldn’t get the stain out if it sat overnight, but I thought I didn’t have a choice. However, now that you—”
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