“Not this time, thanks,” she said, her heart hammering as she met his heated gaze. Wow. It was a wonder the room hadn’t burst into flames. She had to break this spell or Mrs. Sanchez would notice. She glanced away and began dabbing at the zabaglione on her dress. “But you must be getting tired of constantly having to save me.”
Mrs. Sanchez chuckled. “Jonah doesn’t get tired of saving people, do you, mihito?”
“What?” he murmured, still looking at Natalie.
“You’re born to rescue people,” Mrs. Sanchez said. “I get dizzy, you come right away to carry me to my bed.” She reached up and patted Jonah’s arm. “Just like they say on TV. A hero.”
Jonah sighed. “No, I’m not, Mrs. Sanchez. That’s just a lot of media hype. I thought at least the people in this building would—”
“The people in this building especially know it’s true,” Mrs. Sanchez said. “You fix things when the super can’t get to it, you run errands…well, you used to run errands until women started chasing you down the street.”
Natalie glanced up. “They did? When?”
Mrs. Sanchez laughed, a high, tinkling sound. “I saw him from my window with two big bags full of diapers for poor Mrs. Sullivan—she has triplets and her husband’s working overtime to make ends meet. They never have a chance to get everything done. Everybody tries to help. I’ve crocheted baby things, which is all I can do, but Jonah’s done the most.”
“Not really,” Jonah protested. “Just yesterday the Jansens—”
“Oh, mihito, you do the most, so just be quiet and let me tell the story. So he had two big bags stuffed, and I hear someone shout, ‘It’s him!’ I look out my window, and see two ladies chasing him like crazy. I cried out ‘Andale, andale!’ But he couldn’t hear me. He had to take quite a detour, but he outlasted them and didn’t lose any of those diapers, either. Good thing he’s in shape.”
“It’s ridiculous what’s happened since that puppy thing,” Jonah said, his face slightly red. “I just hope it’s over soon.”
Natalie wasn’t so much intrigued by the idea of women running after Jonah as she was by the thought of him going out to buy extra diapers for a frantic mother of triplets. She had a sudden picture of him buying diapers for his own children. The mental image was probably Mrs. Ruggerelo’s fault, what with all her harping on the subject of mating and babies. But even so, the concept of Jonah as a father was a riveting one.
Her chest tightened with unfamiliar longing as she pictured Jonah swinging a small child up on his broad shoulders to watch the Macy’s parade, or reaching out his large hand to a much smaller one as he walked with his son or daughter through the Central Park Zoo. Then she had another thought, one that bothered her more than she wanted to admit.
She wondered what lucky woman would be holding the child’s other hand.
7
JONAH WASN’T CRAZY about standing there while Mrs. Sanchez sang his praises, but he liked the way Natalie was looking at him as a result—so gentle and sweet, as if she had the urge to kiss him. When she gave him that sort of sentimental look, he had a hard time thinking of her as some jaded rich chick.
Maybe she’d had ulterior motives and kinky plans when she’d bid on him. Maybe before the night was over he’d find out that this woman was totally unbalanced and capable of all sorts of strange behavior. But damned if he could believe it right this minute. Then again, his mother had always told him he was gullible.
“Well, I’m sure you two young people want to get on with your evening,” Mrs. Sanchez said. “If you’d just carry me into my bedroom, Jonah, I’ll be out of your way.”
“Sure thing,” Jonah said, leaning down to slip his arms under the tiny woman.
“Wait,” Natalie said. “Why don’t we all share Mrs. Ruggerelo’s zabaglione before we go?”
Joy suffused the old woman’s face, and Jonah felt like a selfish heel for wishing Natalie hadn’t come up with the idea. He loved making his neighbors happy, but in this case making Mrs. Sanchez happy would delay being alone with Natalie.
“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Mrs. Sanchez said shyly.
“You wouldn’t be intruding.” Jonah settled her back into the chair. “Natalie and I will go dish some out for all three of us. How’s that?”
“Oh.” Her dark eyes sparkled. “That would be special.”
“Be right back.” Jonah grabbed Natalie’s hand and led her toward Mrs. Sanchez’s small kitchen.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she murmured after they were out of earshot. “But she seems so lonely, and—”
Jonah pulled her into the kitchen, keeping a firm grip on her hand. “Of course I don’t mind,” he said. “It’s the right thing to do.” He cradled her head in his other hand. “And so’s this.” He took her ripe mouth, flavored with zabaglione, and wondered if he’d made a mistake by kissing her. She was so luscious, so ready to kiss him back, that he might not have the will to let her go.
Apparently she was the one with the willpower. When he let go of her hand to draw her in tight against him, she wouldn’t budge. It didn’t make sense. She was kissing him as if she couldn’t get enough, yet she was struggling to keep distance between her body and his. He had the strength to overrule her, but that wasn’t his way.
He lifted his mouth a fraction from hers and gulped for air as he urged her closer. “Stop wiggling and come here.”
“No.” She was as breathless as he was.
“Why not?”
“My dress is all icky with zabaglione. You’ll get it on your clothes.”
His low laugh was filled with frustration. “To hell with that.” Once he put some muscle into it she was no match for him. He absorbed her gasp of surprise as he lowered his mouth to hers once again. If she’d been responsive before, she was wild for him now, digging her fingers into his shoulder muscles. He moaned with pleasure at how perfectly her body aligned with his, as if that had been the original plan for both of them.
He lost track of whether the rapid heartbeat belonged to him or to her, or if the frantic drumming was identical as they strained against each other. In no time he was hard and aching. Knowing he couldn’t take much of this torture, he forced himself to ease back, lifting his mouth so he could just barely nibble at her lips. His shirt pulled a little, sticking to the goo on her dress.
“See?” she whispered.
It was the huskiest, sexiest voice he’d ever had the pleasure of hearing at a moment like this. He wished he could see…everything. “I was hoping the stuff would glue us together permanently,” he murmured, looking into her eyes.
“No such luck.” Her expression was dreamy as she slowly withdrew from his arms. “We’d better get the dessert ready.”
“Guess so.” He released her with great regret. “The sooner we do that, the sooner we can make our excuses and leave.”
“Jonah…” Her cheeks became rosier than ever. “We need to talk.”
“About your request?”
She nodded.
“We will,” he said. But he didn’t think he wanted to hear it. He was afraid to burst this bubble by finding out about some elaborate scheme that might suck the romance right out of this night. He took a long, steadying breath and walked over to a cupboard. “I’ll get the bowls and dish the stuff out. Silverware’s in the drawer next to the stove.”
“You really do know your way around your neighbors’ apartments, don’t you?”
“I should.” He divided the zabaglione in three equal portions. “I’ve lived here almost five years.”
“I’ve lived in my apartment building almost all my life, and the only other apartment I know this well is my mother’s.”
He paused in the act of scraping the bowl. This was new information. “Your mother lives in that building, too?”
“Um, yes.” She rattled the silverware as she grabbed it from the drawer.
He wondered if it was his imagination or if mention of her mother had been a little slip on her part. He r
insed the zabaglione bowl and took a tray from a bottom cupboard before he asked the next question, not wanting her to think he was grilling her. Keeping his back to her, he set the bowls on the tray. “Does she know about this bachelor auction?” he asked as casually as possible.
“I think the entire city knows. There was that big article in the Times.”
Still he didn’t turn around. “So what did she say about it?”
In the silence Natalie cleared her throat. “Um…she understands,” she finally replied.
Well, that makes two of you, but I’m still in the dark. He imagined his own mother’s reaction if she’d picked up the Buffalo paper and found out he’d done something like that, or even remotely like that. Both she and his father would have gone ballistic. But apparently Natalie’s mother understood her daughter’s reasons for spending thirty-three thousand on a weekend with a guy. Maybe it was only pin money in the LeBlanc family. If so he was way out of his league, and he’d better remember it.
He picked up the tray and turned toward her. Judging from her expression, she was definitely hiding something from him. Just as Leo had said, Natalie didn’t have all her cards on the table.
He angled his head toward the living room. “Let’s go have dessert.”
THIS WHOLE SCHEME was getting more complicated by the minute, Natalie thought as she perched on the couch and ate her bowl of zabaglione. She hadn’t counted on this uncontrollable passion. When Jonah had kissed her moments ago, her brain had short-circuited. It was amazing that she’d even remembered the glop on her dress and tried to keep it off him.
And as if his kiss hadn’t been enough to turn her into mush, he’d thrown in that macho strong-arm stuff. Me, Tarzan, you, Jane. It still worked, even in this enlightened age, she thought in wonder. God, she’d loved the way he’d laughed and hauled her against him. She could still feel the sensation of his muscles bunching and the moment of contact with his aroused body. He’d set her on fire, and tendrils of heat continued to spread through her as she relived it.
She wanted him to drag her by the hair back to his apartment. She wanted him to push her to the floor and have his way with her without asking permission. Very primitive. Very satisfying. Very unwise. She hadn’t so much as hinted at her mother’s book idea.
She’d hoped that during the evening they’d become good enough friends that she could tell him her reason for bidding on him. They could treat the whole experience as something of a lark and even laugh together about her inventiveness. Then he’d agree to help, and her mission would be accomplished.
Unfortunately, now that she knew him better, she didn’t believe he’d react that way at all. If he was uncomfortable with Mrs. Sanchez’s tales about him, he would probably hate the idea of being the inspiration for a romance hero. He was operating on the assumption that she’d bid on him for her own reasons, reasons involving sexual attraction. Natalie knew that was part of what excited him and motivated his desire for her. What would happen to all that excitement if he learned she’d begun this venture as a business deal?
For one unworthy minute she considered not telling him about the book. If she allowed their relationship to develop naturally and introduced him to her mother in due time, Alice would get what she needed from him eventually.
Only two people in the world knew Natalie’s true motivation, herself and her friend Barb, and Barb would never give her away. But as Natalie watched Jonah talking and laughing with Mrs. Sanchez, as she remembered that he’d acted with honesty from the beginning, she realized she could do no less for him. He deserved the truth, and he deserved it quickly.
She’d tell him the minute they got back to his apartment, before he kissed her again and made her lose her resolve, not to mention all her clothes. Once she started kissing him, no matter where they happened to be, she wanted it to go on forever. She’d never enjoyed kissing a man this much. She’d like to make it her new hobby.
He glanced over at her, as if reading her thoughts. “I think it’s about time for us to go,” he said. There was an unmistakable light of anticipation in his eyes.
Her pulse quickened. If only this were a simpler evening and they could return to the apartment and pick up where they left off. But she couldn’t allow that. Not yet. “You’re right. We have some things to discuss.”
His answering smile indicated that he didn’t think they’d spend much time on discussion. “Right.” He stood. “I’ll rinse out these dishes and then—”
Mrs. Sanchez’s doorbell chimed.
The tiny woman clapped her hands together. “Bueno! More company! This night has been a busy one.”
“You could say that.” Jonah put down the tray and went to answer the door. “Hey, Pete,” he said to the person in the hallway. “What’s up?”
With Jonah filling most of the doorway, Natalie could barely see the short, stocky person standing there, but she figured out it had to be Pete Hornacek, the man with the cat.
“Hate to bother you, Jonah,” he said, “but the Sullivans’ sink is stopped up again. I can’t seem to find my plunger, and Beth doesn’t know where anything is in their apartment these days. Sully’s working the late shift, and she needs help.” He tried to peer around Jonah. “I went to see if the Ruggerelos had one, but they loaned theirs to their daughter, and they said to try you down here at Mrs. Sanchez’s place.”
Natalie was beginning to believe she’d stumbled into a commune. Jonah had encountered more of his neighbors in one night than she did in a month.
“No problem,” Jonah said. “Just get mine out of the broom closet.”
“I already looked before I came down here, and it ain’t there.”
“Oh. Maybe I put it somewhere else after the last time we used it. Listen, let me finish up here and I’ll meet you at the Sullivans’ in about ten minutes.”
“Sure. Okay.” Pete continued to jockey for a peek inside and finally stood on tiptoe. “Is…uh…the puppy lady here?”
So that was it, Natalie thought. Maybe some of these folks would have been able to find a plunger elsewhere if this hadn’t turned into such a good excuse to get a look at the crazy rich girl.
“She’s here,” Jonah said, resignation in his voice. “Would you like to meet her?”
“Oh, well, I didn’t mean to foul up your evening. Leo said you two ran out on the setup at the Plaza.”
“We did.” Jonah stepped back. “Come on in, Pete,” he said, turning toward Natalie. “Natalie LeBlanc, this is my neighbor Pete Hornacek.”
“Glad to meet you.” Natalie walked over to shake Pete’s hand. He had blue eyes, white hair and a firm grip.
“Likewise.” Pete’s glance skimmed over the matching splotches on Natalie’s dress and Jonah’s shirt and his eyes twinkled. “Saw you two on the TV, sailing on that yacht. Nice boat.”
“Wasn’t it romantic?” Mrs. Sanchez said.
“Sure was,” Pete said. “And how’re you doin’, señora? Leo says you been havin’ your dizzy spells again.”
Mrs. Sanchez smiled. “Got to expect that when you’re almost ninety, Pete.”
Natalie turned. “Almost ninety? Why, that’s wonderful.”
“It’s God’s will,” Mrs. Sanchez said with a deep sigh. “Outlasted all my family. If I didn’t have such good neighbors, I’d be in bad shape.”
“The truth is, we weren’t such good neighbors until this guy moved in,” Pete said.
“Sure you were,” Jonah said. “I—”
“He’s right, mihito,” Mrs. Sanchez interrupted. “We kept to ourselves.”
Pete nodded. “Then along comes this big fireman from Buffalo who’d never met a stranger. Had a smile as wide as the Brooklyn Bridge and was ready to do anything for you. Why, one time—”
“Mrs. Sullivan must be wondering if she’s ever going to get her sink unclogged.” Jonah grabbed the dessert dishes. “How about if I rinse these and we get right on it, Pete?”
“I’ll rinse the dishes.” Natalie took them from h
im. “You get Mrs. Sanchez all tucked in for the night.”
“Okay. Good idea.” He smiled at her.
Pete was right about the charm of Jonah’s smile, she thought. If she lived in this building, she’d feel extremely neighborly toward a man like Jonah.
“Oh, just leave the dishes,” Mrs. Sanchez said with a wave of her hand. “You shouldn’t be doing chores on your special night.”
“It’s my pleasure. I’m having a wonderful time.” Which she was, she realized. Playing Tonto to Jonah’s Lone Ranger was more satisfying than anything she’d done in a long time. Besides, eventually the neighbors would leave them alone, and the prospect of eventually having Jonah all to herself shimmered on the horizon, all the more tantalizing for being slightly out of reach.
Jonah leaned down and scooped Mrs. Sanchez into his arms. “Come on, then, Scarlett O’Hara. Up the staircase with you.”
Mrs. Sanchez giggled. “You’re such a charmer, Rhett Butler.”
“And you’re such a beauty, Scarlett.”
Natalie was bewitched by the sight of Jonah carrying the tiny woman into the bedroom. The image tugged at Natalie’s heart, reminding her of when he’d cradled a cold and wet Bobo against his chest. If her mother could capture that tenderness on paper, she’d have a bestseller.
“He’s quite a guy, isn’t he?” Pete asked.
Natalie snapped out of her daze. “Uh, yes, he is. Well, I’d better get these rinsed.” She started toward the kitchen.
“I’ll keep you company.” Pete followed her into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. “He hates it when I brag about him.”
“I noticed.” She turned on the kitchen faucet.
“But he just can’t help doin’ for others.” He sent her a look that could be interpreted as a warning. “We think a lot of him around here.”
“I can understand why.”
“We wouldn’t take kindly to anybody hurtin’ him.”
Natalie paused in the act of rinsing the bowls and looked at Pete. “I don’t plan to hurt him.” Shoot, if he refused to help her mother with the book, then she’d be the one on the short end of the stick. Of course, Pete had just said that Jonah was ready to help anybody with anything. That was encouraging.
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