by Lori Wilde
They made love in the back of the limo with the privacy window up.
In a hotel in Flagstaff they had an aphrodisiac picnic of oysters and champagne and Turkish delight. They supped on caviar and crackers, cucumbers and hot dogs. They fed each other from the room service menu. Whipped cream and strawberries. Gooey cheesy pizza that dripped off their chins.
And then they ravished each other for hours.
Luke’s technique not only improved but he quickly racked up A plus quality work. When she finished with this guy some lucky woman was going to have the lover of her dreams. Callie congratulated herself on a job well-done and tried not to feel jealous of some fictional woman.
She could hardly believe how far Luke had come in such a short amount of time, dropping his rigid standards, thoughtfully considering other points of view besides his own, relaxing into the ease of an uncommitted relationship. He told her that for the first time in his life he felt as if there were no expectations on him beyond making sure he kept her safe.
His confession was a huge compliment and pleased Callie inordinately.
And while they were exquisitely tender with each other, neither dared murmur words of love.
Good, Callie thought. Good.
This was how it should be. Perfect. In the moment. Now. No worries about tomorrow. No one getting hurt. Just fun.
Who could ask for more?
ON THE EIGHTEENTH DAY of the tour, having just arrived at the Barnes & Noble in Tucson for Callie’s 4 p.m. book signing, something happened that changed everything.
Callie was sitting behind a desk at the front of the store surrounded by her fans, Luke stood behind her, silent and watchful. He wore his ubiquitous black suit, black shades and had his hands clasped in front of him.
And he looked incredibly handsome.
She had just autographed a book, To Jessica, Keep it hot, and handed it to the shy accountant who’d told Callie her show had given her the courage to sign up for a dating service, when Molly Anne came bouncing over, grinning from ear to ear.
“Could you guys excuse us for a minute?” Molly asked the fans lined up for autographs. “The Midnight Ryder will be right back after a short break.”
“What is it?” Callie asked as Molly Anne dragged her off to an alcove, Luke diligently behind them.
“I just got a call from the coordinator of the Jazzy.”
“The what?”
“You know, the industry award for the best female personality in radio. Remember, you were nominated for it last month. It’s part of the reason we scheduled the West Coast tour when we did, so you could be in L.A. when they handed out the awards.”
“Oh yeah. They let you know ahead of time when you win?”
“They just started announcing the winner in advance this year because the nominees were getting so nervous. Last year, the woman from National Public Radio threw up all over the stage.”
“That’s nice.” She hadn’t heard Molly Anne. She’d been too busy admiring the way the silky material of Luke’s suit skimmed across his butt.
Molly Anne snapped her fingers in Callie’s face.
Callie blinked. “Huh.”
“You’ve won the Jazzy!”
She should have been over the moon with excitement. She was not. It was just like when she learned Buck Bryson had been fired and she’d gotten his job. She smiled because that’s what Molly Anne seemed to expect.
“We’ll be back in L.A. tomorrow. The ceremony is at seven.”
“Sounds good,” Callie mumbled.
Luke had bent down to pick something up off the floor and she was peering over Molly Anne’s shoulder to get a better view.
“Dammit, Callie, will you stop thinking about screwing that man for two seconds? You just won one of the top awards in the business. It’s like winning the freaking Golden Globe. Be excited about it for me if not for yourself.”
That got her attention. Molly Anne rarely spoke so frankly. Or so crudely. Shock talk was Callie’s bailiwick.
“I won the award, Molly Anne. Not you. Get over yourself.”
Molly Anne’s face shattered. She spun on her heel and fled around the next row of bookshelves.
The minute the words were out of her mouth, Callie felt horrible.
“That was harsh,” Luke said.
It was harsh. Unnecessarily so. Contrition and regret punched her hard in the chest.
“Molly Anne, wait.” Callie turned and hurried after her friend.
She found her in the children’s section, perched on a tiny chair, flipping through the pages of Goodnight Moon. She had her glasses pushed up on top of her head and tears were sliding slowly down her cheeks.
Callie pulled up a tot-size stool and plunked down beside her. She laid a hand on Molly Anne’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I’ve just been very…um, distracted lately.”
Molly Anne swiped at her eyes with the knuckles of her index fingers. “It’s Luke. You’ve replaced me with him. You used to tell me everything, Callie. Now you tell it to him instead.”
So Molly Anne was jealous of the attention she’d been giving to Luke. At least that explained her emotional outburst.
Callie slung an arm over her shoulder, drew her close to comfort her. “Don’t be jealous of Luke, Moll. You know he’s temporary. He’s just a guy. He’ll be gone when the tour is over.”
Molly Anne did not look appeased. “He’s different.”
“How so?”
“You really care for this one.”
Callie’s face curled into a no-way-Jose expression, but her heart sped up. Did she feel differently about Luke?
“No I don’t,” she denied, as much to herself as to Molly Anne.
“You do. I can tell by the way you look at him.” Molly Anne flipped another page of Goodnight Moon and did not meet Callie’s gaze.
“Hey, remember the pact we made when we were sixteen?”
Molly Anne shrugged.
Callie cupped her friend’s chin and forced her to stare her in the eye. “What was our pact?”
“Men will come and men will go but we’ll be friends forever.”
“Right.”
“Are you seriously telling me Luke doesn’t mean anything to you?” Molly Anne asked.
“Oh, honey,” Callie said, injecting her voice with the full affect of her Midnight Ryder Southern drawl, trying to cheer Molly Anne up and make her laugh. “That man means nothing more to me that a high-quality vibrator.”
Molly Anne smiled then and Callie plucked a clean tissue from her pocket and passed it over so she could dry her tears. Mission accomplished. All was forgiven between them.
“I guess we better get back to work.” Molly Anne laughed shakily and dabbed at her eyes. “You’ve got books to sign and I’ve got a victory party to plan. I’m thinking of giving Brooke Burnett a call, see if the Celebrity Insider would be willing to send a crew to film you accepting the Jazzy.”
“You do that.” Callie nodded and stood up to return to the book-signing table. That’s when she saw Luke standing at the end of the aisle and realized he must have heard every stupid word she’d just uttered.
14
THE TELEPHONE in Callie’s hotel room rang at ten-thirty-five that night, just a few minutes after Brooke Burnett announced on Celebrity Insider that the smokin’ hot Callie Ryder would be accepting her first Jazzy in L.A. on Saturday evening during a banquet at the Beverly Hills Grand Hotel.
Luke and Callie had never talked about what he might have overheard in the bookstore. She didn’t know how to broach the subject and he never brought it up. In fact, he acted no differently toward her and she began to think that maybe he hadn’t heard the vibrator comment.
He was in the shower and Callie was in a terry-cloth bathrobe blowing her hair dry in front of the dressing-table mirror after a particularly messy and very arousing game of Chocolate, chocolate, who’s got the chocolate, grew way out of hand.
She’d been admiring her hair colo
r and thinking she might stick with her natural shade. She’d been changing the color every few months since becoming the Midnight Ryder, but there was nothing wrong with basic honey brown for a while.
The phone rang again.
Callie switched off the blow-dryer and got up to walk across the room to answer it, figuring it was probably her mother calling to congratulate her on the Jazzy or Molly Anne with yet another endless to-do list to go over with Callie before tomorrow’s jam-packed schedule began.
“’Lo,” she said, tilting her head to tuck the receiver between her chin and shoulder.
She reached for the hand lotion beside the sink, squirted some into her palms while she cocked one leg in the chair she’d vacated. She started to slather the milky scented lotion on her shins when the voice on the other end of the line stopped her in midmotion.
“This time I won’t miss like I did outside the bar in Los Angeles,” came the whispered, gravelly sound of her stalker.
Fear slithered down Callie’s spine, but her anger was stronger than her fear. “You tried to run me down, you jerk.”
“No. It was a warning. Which you didn’t heed. If I had wanted to run you down, trust me, you would have been dead.”
“I’m not scared of you,” Callie said through gritted teeth, her fist wrapped tightly around the receiver.
“You better be scared of me because I’m deadly serious.”
Before she had time to tell the guy to stick his death threats, Luke shot from the bathroom like a bullet from a gun, a skimpy white towel wrapped around his waist, fury on his face.
“Is it him?” he asked, snatching the phone from her hand. “The stalker?”
Dumbfounded by his swift response, Callie nodded. Clearly, he’d been waiting for this moment ever since the guy had tried to run her down.
“Listen here,” Luke growled, but even from where she was standing, Callie could hear the dial tone as the creep hung up.
Luke turned to her. “Next time you get him on the line, call me immediately. You could have strung him along while I called the police on my cell and had them trace the call.”
“Sorry. I just got so mad, I didn’t think.”
He reached for her and in the process let go of his towel. She fell against that big strong chest, nestled her head there. His arms went tight around her. She felt so safe in his embrace.
Pressing his lips against her temple, he kissed her then murmured, “Word by word, Callie, tell me everything that bastard said.”
And so she told him. As he held her and kissed her and gently stroked her body.
Molly Anne was right. Luke was different from other men.
He was changing her. Sex with him was changing her. Their games, the role-playing stretched the boundaries of their identity, altering their perceptions of each other.
This man was taking her places she had never been before, carrying her into a safe harbor she’d only dreamed of. A calm, balmy place where she felt cocooned, protected and tenderly cared for.
And she was terrified she was getting too accustomed to it. This feeling of safety. What in the world would she do when it was gone?
When he was no longer in her life?
They only had three more days together. The realization made her sad. Callie gulped. Could she be falling in love with him?
Impossible.
Unbelievable.
She barely knew him and yet whenever he touched her or smiled at her, a poignancy so sharp and sweet shot through her that it made her heart ache.
It’s because he’s your fantasy man. He’s fulfilled your long-held secret and now you have nothing to replace it with. That’s the problem. That’s what’s wrong.
She wasn’t falling in love. Love was for fools. How many times had Momma told her that?
Okay, so she wasn’t in love with him. But she wanted him. Badly.
“Make love to me,” she whispered. And she meant make love, not have sex. “I need to feel you inside me.”
“You don’t have to ask twice, sweetheart.”
He lifted her in his arms and carried her to bed. He seemed to know exactly what she needed. He’d become that attuned to her. Nothing rushed, nothing desperate, not even anything playful. He made love to her slow, soft and tender.
His lips carried her away. His hands cherished her with caresses. Callie let herself drift, consumed by the sweet, sadness of it all.
Nothing mattered except the moment. Not the past. Not the future. Only now.
After a long while Luke shifted, going from long, tender thrusts to short, quicker ones.
“Yes,” she whimpered, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. “I like that. More. Deeper. Harder. I want you to fill me up. Please, more…give me more.”
She tightened around him with each thrust and parry. Her heart pounded in her chest, in her ears, in her head, swamping her body with a heat so intense she felt as if she were literally on fire with him. For him.
He stopped moving and stared into her face. “Callie,” he whispered.
“What’s wrong?”
“Look at me.”
She raised her lashes to peer up at him and she almost stopped breathing at the look of longing in his eyes.
With his gaze fastened on her, Luke began to move again.
He filled her, wholly, completely. She had never experienced anything like the perfect union she felt with him.
It wasn’t his masculine power—although he certainly was strong and manly. It wasn’t simply an estrogen dump. It wasn’t the inexperienced lover aspect, for he’d already far surpassed novice level. It wasn’t even that they didn’t have much time left.
Rather it was the yearning in his eyes. The solid link between them. The sensation that they were the only two people in the world.
It was all too much emotion. Too much to contemplate.
She broke her visual bond with him. Closing her eyes, shutting herself off, pulling away, shutting down these feelings.
Luke thrust harder, faster. Callie mewled her pleasure. She ran her nails down his back, scratching him lightly. She wrapped her legs around his waist and clung tight. She lifted her head off the pillow and nibbled on his bottom lip.
“Almost,” she cried. “Don’t stop.”
He pushed into her one last time, and Callie convulsed around him at the same time his masculine essence shot from his body filling the condom he’d put on during their foreplay.
And that’s when Callie realized her period was four days late.
“I WANT YOU TO DO something for me, Callie,” Luke said as they lay curled against each other, luxuriating in the afterglow of sex. She looked up at him; her sweet, petite body felt so solidly wonderful in his arms it literally hurt his heart. “Promise me you’ll give it some consideration.”
“What is it?”
“Don’t go to the banquet. Cancel the last couple of days of the tour. Go back home to New York.”
The expression on her face and the way she was slowly shaking her head told him that she wasn’t going to agree. Not even for him. But what else had he expected? One of the things he cherished most about Callie was her courage. Yet he couldn’t shake the mournful feeling deep inside him that something bad was going to happen.
“Luke, I can’t let this jackal terrorize me.”
“What if I can’t protect you?” he asked. “What if I can’t keep you safe?”
“I have complete faith in you.” She leaned against him, lightly running her tongue along his chin. “Besides, I have the mace you gave me.”
He knew what she was doing. She’d done it before. In fact, that was how he’d ended up breaking his code of ethics and taking her to bed in the first place.
“You’re using sex to block your feelings,” he said, sharing with her what he’d observed about her behavior. He doubted she was even aware of it herself.
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re scared as hell but too brave to show it. You want to quit but you’re too p
roud to admit it.”
“Rather a case of the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think.”
“No. I don’t use sex as a way to sublimate my fear,” he said.
“Neither do I.”
“Then prove it to me, just don’t go to the banquet.”
“I can’t do that.”
“I might not be able to save your life, Callie.” Luke’s voice cracked under the strain of trying to convince her to see things his way. “Can’t you understand? I’m just one man.”
“But a very potent one.” Her fingertips grazed his half-hard cock.
“Stop that, please. Sex isn’t going to solve this.”
“No, but it might make you less testy.”
“Good grief, woman, we just made love for an hour. Don’t you ever get enough?” He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, he’d simply wanted to get her attention and make her listen to his concerns.
She licked her lips. “Of you? Never.”
He pulled back. He was beginning to feel like a side of beef. “Don’t give me that. You could easily replace me with a high-quality vibrator.”
It had never been his intention to bring up that casual offhand comment he’d heard her make to Molly Anne. It had hurt but he’d never let on.
If he was falling in love with her, it was his own damn fault. But no matter how much he tried to steel himself against the vibrator remark, it still cut him. He was nothing more to her than a walking, talking sex toy. He’d known that from the beginning. She’d never deceived him about her intentions.
“Luke, I’m sorry about that crack. I was just trying to cheer Molly Anne up.”
“By putting me down?”
“No, I…” She reached for him but he shrugged her hand away. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”
“I can handle it. Hey, if the truth hurts, wear it, right? I don’t shy from the reality. You never said it would be different. The mistake was all mine.”
For some reason that remark cut her to the bone. Luke didn’t know why, but he saw it register in her face, caught the haunted vulnerability in her eyes. That flash of uncertainty said she was trying desperately to hide something important from herself.
Or from him.
“Come on,” she dared, rolling away from him and sitting up against the headboard. “Express your anger. Give me what for. Let me have it. I deserve the full brunt of your temper. Dammit, let go of control for once in your life, Cardasian.”