by Sandra Owens
As he was leaving the restaurant, pizza box in hand, a woman approached the door, and he paused to hold it open for her. A blonde, blue-eyed little girl walked beside her. Rand’s breath caught in his throat, and grief sank its claws into his heart. Somehow he managed to nod at the woman when she thanked him instead of letting the door hit her in the face as he made his escape.
Kinsey showered, then slipped on a pair of shorts and a scooped-neck T-shirt. She was having second thoughts about inviting Rand over, but he’d sounded down, and she’d made the offer before thinking better of it. For one thing she was crazy attracted to him, but a biker bar owner wasn’t long-term boyfriend material.
All through college she’d concentrated on school, spending her free time working or studying. She’d had a boyfriend in high school, a really nice guy who’d been as clumsy as her the first time they’d made love the night of their senior prom.
After graduation they’d gone their separate ways, her to the University of Miami, and Rick to the University of Central Florida in Orlando. Up until eight months ago they’d still hooked up when their schedules permitted. Although she knew their relationship was slowly fizzling out, she hadn’t had the time or energy for dating. She liked Rick, and he was easy in that he wasn’t around to need constant attention from her. Seeing him when they could make it happen was convenient, but then he had fallen in love with a girl in one of his classes. She was happy for him, but she missed the intimacy of being with a man.
She was also ready for a relationship, one that had the potential to go somewhere. As an only child with a mother who frequently worked two jobs to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table, Kinsey had often been lonely. So many times she’d wished for a brother or sister to play with. Long ago she’d decided she wanted a big family when she grew up. A home filled with the love between wife and husband and the laughter of children—at least three, but four would be a nice round number.
The doorbell rang, and taking a deep breath, she opened the door to the man with whom she might or might not play tonight. “Ah, that smells so good,” she said, getting a whiff of the pizza.
“I aim to please,” Rand responded.
Oh, he pleased her all right, in ways he couldn’t begin to imagine. One sight of him in a shirt that did a beautiful job of accentuating what looked like a rock-hard chest and broad shoulders and she made her decision. Bring on the playtime.
“Come on in.” She led him to the kitchen, which took about six steps. Her apartment was small, the building old. It was well maintained, though, and she loved the high ceilings and crown molding.
“One pizza, no olives or anchovies, as promised,” he said, setting the box on the counter. “And I thought you might like a glass of wine to go with it.”
She eyed the bottle and almost choked. “Um, that’s a hundred-dollar bottle of wine.” She glanced at him to see a slight blush on his cheeks, which was darn cute.
“I didn’t expect you to know that.”
“I told you I belong to a wine club. Just so happens this was a featured wine a few months ago. Is it from your bar?” she asked as she took two wineglasses from the cabinet.
“No, from home. And you only need one glass. I don’t drink.”
She paused with the goblets in her hands and stared at him. “You’re giving me an expensive bottle of wine from your own collection and you don’t drink? And on top of that, you own a bar.”
He shrugged. “That about sums it up.”
“You get more interesting by the minute, Rand Stevens.” She grinned. “A real conundrum. So why don’t you drink? Are you an alcoholic?” Her friends said she was sometimes too blunt, but she figured that if someone didn’t want to answer any of her questions, all they had to do was say so.
“Not exactly.” He opened a drawer and peered into it. She liked that he made himself at home. “Where’s your bottle opener?”
She reached past him to open the next drawer over, brushing her arm over his. Touching him hadn’t been intentional, but the skin-to-skin contact sent a tingle up her arm. Oh yeah, he was definitely doing it for her. She glanced up at him as she handed him the opener to see him looking at her with eyes that seemed to be burning.
He took the corkscrew from her, letting his fingers slide over hers. “Thank you for saving me from a boring night of staring at my TV.” His eyes shifted away. “And some other things.”
“My good deed for the day.” Although she doubted that he spent his nights staring at his TV. All the man had to do was crook his finger at a woman and she’d come running to him. But he seemed off tonight. His last sentence had been said almost in a whisper, as if he were talking to himself. She had the passing thought that he could use a hug, but she let that go. For the moment, anyway.
After he opened the wine bottle, he poured a small amount into the glass, then handed it to her. “Taste.”
She brought the goblet to her nose and sniffed, then sipped a little into her mouth, rolling it around on her tongue. “Mmm.” She closed her eyes, savoring the taste. “Full-bodied but firm, a hint of oak and berry and notes of tea leaf, and a little on the earthy side. Extremely good.”
“I continue to be impressed.” He took the glass from her and filled it to the halfway point. “We probably need to heat up the pizza. It took a little longer to get here than I expected.”
She turned on the oven. “Does it bother you to be around alcohol?”
“It used to but not any longer.” He leaned against her kitchen counter. “To answer your earlier question, after my divorce I decided it would be a good idea to drown my sorrows in booze, dirty martinis being my favorite embalming fluid.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. Olives. Sorry, but I can’t be friends with an olive lover.”
“Then I’m heartbroken.” He put his hand to his chest, over his heart, and blinked puppy dog eyes at her.
Fighting a laugh, she said, “Since you brought pizza and a bottle of amazing wine, I might make an exception for you.”
His sad smile morphed into a grin. “I can manage to have an endless supply of pizzas and amazing wine if that would entice you to remove might from what you just said.”
“No way. If I make you work for my friendship, you’ll appreciate it more.”
They chatted for a few minutes until the pizza was hot, then took seats across from each other at her tiny pub table. As they talked, he seemed to come out of his funk, if that was what it was.
She picked up a slice, taking a bite off the end, and as she’d done with her first sip of the wine, she closed her eyes, savoring the taste. “My God, this is the best pizza I’ve ever had.”
“Did I mention an endless supply?”
“All I’ll admit to is that you’re making it easy to forget you’re an olive man.” He was smiling, but he still had sad eyes. Did he miss his wife, maybe? “How long have you been divorced?”
“A little over a year.”
“You must have taken your divorce hard if it caused you to drink too much.”
He set down his slice of pizza, stared at his plate for a moment, then lifted his gaze to hers. “No, that wasn’t the reason. Our daughter died.” His voice trembled, and he cleared his throat. “We didn’t handle it well.”
“God, Rand, who would handle losing a child well?” She’d known he carried some kind of pain in his heart, but she’d never thought of it being something so tragic. She reached over and put her hand over his. “I’m so sorry.” There were no words adequate to comfort anyone who’d lost someone they loved. She knew that for a fact. And a child? That had to be the hardest loss.
“Her name was Zoe. She died a month before her fourth birthday.” He stood, picked up his plate and took it to the sink, then turned, leaned against the counter, and shoved his fingers into the pockets of his pants. “Olivia, my wife, couldn’t deal with my grief. I wanted to talk about Zoe. She didn’t. She said living with me was too depressing, so she found a man who’d never known Zoe, one who
had no upsetting memories of her daughter.”
“I hope this doesn’t offend you, but your ex-wife was a cold bitch.”
He dipped his chin as a brief smile curved his lips. “I know it sounds like it, but not really. Her way of dealing with the pain was to lock it away, pretend Zoe had never existed. I think she was afraid if she didn’t that she’d fall in a black hole and never be able to climb out.”
“Okay, I get that. Everyone has their own way of dealing with grief.” She thought he was being generous toward his ex-wife, though. “But Rand”—she stood and went to him—“anytime you want to talk about Zoe, I’d love to listen to your memories of her.”
His eyes held hers for a beat, and then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace. She took it from his hand. It was delicate, a small silver heart with a sapphire stone on a thin silver chain.
“Hers?” she asked.
“I bought it to give to her on her birthday.” He shrugged. “Never had a chance.”
And now he carried it with him, a link to his daughter. Tears burned her eyes. She handed the necklace back to him and then pressed her face against his chest. “I hurt for you,” she whispered.
His arms came around her, pulling her close. He kissed the top of her head. “I don’t want you to hurt for me, Kinsey.”
“Someone needs to.” She pulled away, took his hand, and tugged. “Come with me.” She’d already decided she wanted to play, but her feelings for him had turned into something else, something deeper. He followed without a word as she led him to her bedroom.
5
Rand didn’t know why he’d cut open his heart, bleeding out his sad story. It might have been Kinsey’s tears when he told her about Zoe. Or maybe it had been her touch when she’d put her hand over his, or it could just be that he was ready to talk about Zoe, share his memories of her with someone who cared. Because he could see in her eyes that she did.
She led him to her bedroom, stopping at the edge of the mattress. Her gaze darted from him to the bed and then to his chest. She didn’t seem sure of her next step as they stood facing each other.
“Kinsey,” he said, his voice sounding rusty to his ears, and in this he was. He hadn’t been in a woman’s bedroom since his marriage had gone south. He was still raw from talking about his daughter, but he needed what Kinsey was offering. And it wasn’t just any woman he wanted, only her. That connection he’d felt the first time he saw her was growing stronger by the minute, and he wasn’t sure what to do with that.
“Yeah?”
“Are you sure you want this?”
She peered up at him with those smoky brown eyes of hers. “I do.”
He watched her fingers skim over his arm. “Why? Because if you’re offering a pity—”
She shook her head. “Don’t even say it. That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is it?” He didn’t want her pity, and he especially didn’t want a pity fuck.
“This is a man and a woman who are immensely attracted to each other…” She tilted her head, studying him. “At least I think you’re attracted to me.”
“‘Immensely’ is a good word.”
Her eyes softened, and she smiled. “We’re consenting adults, and we have every right to enjoy each other if that’s what we want. I don’t go around propositioning men, but I’ve never wanted a man the minute our eyes met across a room. Until you.”
“I’m not happily-ever-after material, Kins.”
“Not asking you to be.” She arched a brow. “Any other roadblocks you want me to obliterate?”
Rand smiled, something he seemed to want to do around her. And those eyes—he could happily drown in them. “Anyone tell you that you have beautiful eyes?”
“Yes. My mother.”
“And now me.” He put his hands on her hips. “I didn’t come over tonight with the intention of sleeping with you, so I’m not prepared.”
“Is that something you need to think about?”
“No, I only mean that I don’t have a condom.” He didn’t even own any, something he’d need to correct if they continued to see each other, and he sincerely hoped they would.
“Oh, not a problem. I have condoms covered. Be right back.”
She danced away, stopping at the door, glancing over her shoulder at him. “Don’t go away.”
“My feet are glued to this spot.”
She grinned at him, then disappeared. While she was out of the room, he took the opportunity to remove his gun and holster from a pocket of his cargo pants. Federal agents were required to be armed at all times outside of their home, but he didn’t want to have to explain why he was carrying. He slipped out of his shoes, pushed the gun and holster as far into one of them as possible, covered it with his socks, then slid shoes and gun under her bed.
She returned with a box in her hand that she held up for his perusal. “I hope extra-large works,” she said with a smirk before setting the box of condoms on her nightstand.
“You sound a little too hopeful,” he said on a laugh. “Come here.” He sat on the edge of the mattress and spread open his legs. When she came to stand between them without hesitation, he put his hands on her thighs just under the hem of her shorts. Her skin was warm and silky, soft under his fingers. He pulled her down onto his lap, curled his fingers around her neck, and lowered his mouth to hers.
For a time he was able to keep the kiss gentle, but it seemed she wanted more. She sighed into his mouth, and he answered with a groan when she swung her leg around and straddled him. He lifted his head and stared at her for a moment, and the desire in her eyes went straight to his groin. She splayed her hand over his chest, and he put his hand over hers, and then his mouth found hers again.
She tugged on his shirt. “Off.”
“Yours, too.”
They were a flurry of tangling arms and legs until their clothes were a messy pile on the floor. “You’re beautiful, Kinsey. You make my heart pound.”
“It’s only fair.” She took his hand and put it on her breast, showing him that hers was wildly beating, too.
He roamed his gaze over her, pausing on breasts that looked as if they’d be a perfect fit for his hands, and he couldn’t wait to have those pert nipples in his mouth. Her skin tone was a light brown, and he wondered if she was of Latin descent. Although her high cheekbones suggested American Indian. That was a possibility as Florida was the home of the Seminole tribe. Actually, as he studied her, he realized there was something familiar about her, but exactly what, he wasn’t sure.
“Stop staring at me and get busy,” she said, wrinkling her nose at him.
“Not my fault you’re a feast for a man’s eyes.” Especially one coming off a dry spell of over a year. He rolled them over onto the bed and smiled down at her when she giggled. Then her eyes locked on his, and he could swear that sparks of fire were dancing in the air between them. She sucked in a breath as she stared up at him, and he could tell that she felt the connection, too.
He skimmed his hand down the curve of her breast, then flicked his thumb across the nipple, watching in fascination as her eyes softened, then fluttered closed. He did it again, and then lowered his mouth to hers. She moaned when their tongues tangled, sending his blood racing south. If he lasted five minutes, it was going to be a miracle. Because he feared that was a distinct possibility considering how long it had been, he took his time giving her pleasure with his mouth and hands.
Her sweetness was intoxicating, and he could get addicted to her taste. He inhaled her scent deep into his lungs, memorizing it. By the time she was begging him to make love to her—because that was what was happening between them—he’d learned every inch of her body. He’d soaked up her sighs and moans when he’d made her come… twice.
“Please, Rand,” she said through heavy breaths.
“Yes.” He fumbled for the box of condoms with one hand while crashing his mouth down on hers, kissing her hard and deep. He pulled away long enough to rip the condom open
with his teeth and roll it on before picking up where he’d left off because kissing Kinsey was his new passion.
She wasn’t shy about touching him, and her hands left a trail of fire over his skin as she explored his body. “You have magic fingers, Kins, but I’m going to embarrass myself in a minute if you keep that up.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It was meant as one.” He moved between her legs and rested on his knees. The picture in front of him—Kinsey with her hair spread over the pillow, those smoky eyes, and the tongue she swept over her lush bottom lip as she stared back at him—was a fantasy he’d never thought to want, but now feared he was going to crave.
She crooked a finger at him, inviting him in, and it was the best invite he’d ever received. “It’s been a while, so I’m apologizing ahead of time,” he said as he slid into her. She felt too good, and he stilled, closing his eyes in an effort to gain control.
“Stop saying you’re sorry.” She wrapped her legs around his thighs and pushed, encouraging him to move.
He decided control was overrated. This time would happen fast, but they had all night and he’d make it up to her. She combed her fingers into his hair, and he buried his face against her neck, scraping his teeth along her skin. A shudder rippled through her, and when she moaned, he found her mouth, swallowing a second moan.
Her scent, her taste, the way she perfectly fit him was almost too much. A sensory overload after a year of not knowing the touch of a woman. He found his rhythm, and once she matched his movements, it was as if they’d made love many times before. It had never been like this, this feeling that he’d come home to a beloved place he hadn’t known to miss.