“No! I didn’t say I wanted to do that.”
He meets her eyes, but doesn’t say anything more.
Natalie watches him, feeling both embarrassed and titillated, but then something occurs to her. “Wait a minute, did you just say you’re here because you had to stop next door? What were you doing there?”
He shrugs. “Paperwork.”
Natalie’s eye flicker to the brick wall between their bakery and the new clothing store. Resentment sinks its teeth into her. And she can’t help it—her temper flares. She lets out a deep breath as she tries to rein it in.
Unfortunately Anthony notices it, too. “Look, I can’t keep apologizing forever.”
But his attitude only fans the flames. “You could at least seem more apologetic.”
“Why? This is business for me, not personal.”
Natalie rolls her eyes. “Listen to yourself. Is this an Italian thing? You sound like you’re in the Mafia.”
Anthony bristles. “I hate that stereotype. So you can drop it right now.”
“It’s hard not to take getting stabbed in the back personally.” She cringes at the sharp tone in her voice, but he can’t expect her to forget all this so quickly.
“I didn’t stab you in the back. That’s ridiculous. Is that what you really think?”
Natalie doesn’t have time to respond because Blair has suddenly come over to them.
“Someone in the kitchen told me you were out here,” she says to Anthony, “but I had to see it with my own eyes. You’ve got some nerve showing up.”
Anthony considers Blair. “Maybe you’ve forgotten, but I do own this building. And besides, I’m here to see Natalie.”
Blair shakes her head and laughs. “You can forget it, pal. Natalie isn’t interested in you anymore. And she’s right. You did stab us in the back.”
“Seriously?” His eyes travel from Blair to Natalie. “You still haven’t told her yet?”
“Told me what?” Blair asks.
“I haven’t had a chance.” There’s a sinking feeling in Natalie’s gut. What a mess. She should have told Blair days ago.
Blair is staring at her, so Natalie braces herself and finally admits the truth. “Anthony and I have started . . . dating.”
“What?” Blair’s hazel eyes flash with anger. “You’re still going out with him after what he did?”
“It just . . . happened.”
Blair glares at her and Natalie can see she’s not only angry, but hurt, too. “Don’t you have any self-respect? He totally screwed us over!”
Natalie winces.
“I did not screw you two over,” Anthony says, obviously angry. “I saved you a ton of misery. The fact is you should both be grateful to me.”
“Grateful!” Blair and Natalie both say at the same time.
“Yes.” Anthony nods. “Grateful. If I’d leased you that space, it would have put your bakery out of business.”
“You’re delusional,” Blair tells him, and then turns to Natalie. “I don’t even know what to say to you. I’m going back to work.”
After she leaves, Anthony’s dark eyes glare at Natalie. “I thought you said you told her.”
“I told Lindsay, but I haven’t had a chance to talk to Blair yet.”
“I see.” His jaw is tight.
“So I’m the bad guy in all this now? That’s rich, coming from you.”
“I have to go. I have class in a short while.” He’s shaking his head. “And besides, I can’t listen to this shit anymore.”
Natalie doesn’t try to stop him. Once he’s gone, she lets out a shaky breath. And then she goes to find Blair in the back kitchen.
“Don’t even speak to me,” Blair says. She’s aggressively rolling out lilac fondant. “I have two cakes to make and a bride who keeps changing her mind, so I really don’t have time to deal with your betrayal.”
“Blair . . .” Natalie stands there, trying to decide how to handle this.
“I hope he’s worth it, because I think you’re making a big mistake.” Blair cuts the fondant, hitting the knife harder than necessary before putting it aside and starting on a fresh sheet. “I know he’s hot. But really?”
“Believe it or not, he’s a good guy,” Natalie finds herself saying.
Blair stares over at her in disbelief. “Is that what you call it when somebody lies to you?”
And then suddenly a very strange thought occurs to Natalie. What if Anthony is right? She hasn’t actually looked at Anthony’s program. Is it possible they missed something in their own calculations? She pushes the thought away for now. “What do you think of keeping the bakery open on weekends?”
“Weekends?” Blair glances over at her. “You’d have to handle it. Obviously, I have wedding cakes to deliver.”
“I’d take care of everything. I’m thinking we could focus on coffee and offer a limited bakery selection—mostly sweet breads and cookies.”
Blair slices off more lilac fondant, but doesn’t say anything.
“I went to Starbucks last weekend and it was packed.”
“You went to a Starbucks?” Her expression grows incredulous. “I don’t even know who you are anymore. What are you going to tell me next? That you’re baking with a mix?”
“I’m serious, Blair. There was a line out the door. I don’t see why we shouldn’t be getting some of that business.
Natalie can see the wheels in Blair’s head turning. She’s nothing if not pragmatic. “I suppose we could try it and see how it goes.”
Saturday morning rolls around and Natalie hasn’t heard anything from Anthony about her going over there. He’s obviously still angry. She wonders if she should do what he did and show up at his house unannounced. The problem is, she doesn’t even know where he lives. All she knows is his house is somewhere out in Carnation—a small town on the outskirts of Seattle, where it’s dark enough to avoid the city’s light pollution.
Forget it. I’m not chasing him. Women have been chasing him his whole life. If he wants me he’s going to have to make the first move.
By noon, Natalie still hasn’t heard anything. It’s like playing poker. Except who’s going to call the other’s bluff first? It won’t be me. When three o’clock rolls around and there’s still nothing, she figures he’s not giving in.
To heck with Anthony. I was doing just fine before he came along. I don’t need him. And I don’t care if I ever see him again.
If only she meant it.
At exactly three-twenty, her cell phone chirps and she dives for it. Pulse racing.
Are you still coming over tonight?
Natalie smiles and stares at his text for a long time, and then she puts her phone down. Decides to let him stew. She putters around the kitchen. Helps Chloe pack for the slumber party she’s going to at a friend’s house. Texts Lindsay, who’s working in her studio. She even does a load of laundry. Then finally at five-thirty, she can’t stand it any longer and texts him back.
Yes.
A few seconds later, he replies. You made me wait over two hours for that?
She responds. I was busy.
Doing what?
Laundry.
There’s nothing for five minutes and she can practically feel the heat billowing through the phone lines. Then finally, he texts his address, followed by the words.
Get over here right now.
Natalie’s eyes linger over his text. She should be annoyed, but instead, erotic sparks are dancing through her.
She takes her time packing an overnight bag, figuring Anthony can cool his heels some more. It’s like proofing dough—you want to get it just right, though she’s sure he wouldn’t appreciate the comparison.
Sifting through her clothes, Natalie wishes she had some kind of sexy nightie to bring along. After losing weight, she had to buy new bras and panties, but even those are mostly just cotton. She usually sleeps in a T-shirt.
I might have to go shopping.
All her life she’s hated clothes
shopping, but it’s starting to grow on her. It’s kind of fun to try on new clothes, and instead of cringing at her appearance, there’s a hesitant sense of pride.
When her bag is finally packed and she can’t think of a single reason not to leave, she glances at the clock. It’s almost seven. Anthony’s not going to be happy. Once she’s in her car she punches his address into her GPS and sees it’s about thirty minutes to get there.
She imagines him pacing around, waiting for her, getting angrier by the second. Or maybe she’s got it all wrong and he’s geeking out on his computer, totally unaware of the time.
Eventually, she leaves the city behind and is driving down a country road, the sun low in the sky. Those erotic sparks are still dancing and they’re growing stronger the closer she gets.
Her GPS guides her to turn off onto a private drive with tall trees in front that eventually clear away to reveal a two-story craftsman-style house sitting on a flat piece of land. It’s modest, but well-cared for. Anthony’s black SUV is parked in the driveway and she pulls up beside it, glad for the confirmation that she found the right place.
Walking up his driveway with her overnight bag, Natalie gets a jolt when she hears Anthony’s voice.
“Where the hell have you been?” he growls.
He’s standing at the front door leaning against the frame. Arms crossed. Face stern. All his usual good humor seems to have drained away.
Drawing closer, she sees he’s wearing a fitted white Star Wars T-shirt and jeans, his feet bare. Even with the scowl on his face he’s devastatingly handsome. It’s an effort to not let his appearance intimidate her.
Anthony steps aside to let her enter his house. She tries to look around, but can’t because he’s now looming directly in front of her. He takes her bag and puts it down.
“Answer me.”
Natalie doesn’t reply and his intelligent eyes are taking her in.
“You did it on purpose, didn’t you? Making me wait because you want to jerk my chain.”
“No, it’s not like that.” Though it occurs to her it’s a lot like that.
“I don’t believe you. I think you’re holding a grudge.” He steps closer and lowers his voice. “But you’re torn, aren’t you, Miss Natalie? Because no one’s ever made you feel like I do.”
Part of her is astonished at Anthony’s perceptiveness, but the other part is annoyed by it. “Considering you’re only the second man I’ve ever slept with, it’s not that impressive.”
There’s a smirk on his face. “It wouldn’t matter how many men you’d slept with.” He leans down and whispers in her ear. “We’d still be hot together.”
Her breath hitches.
She’s wearing a pearl blouse with a dark camisole underneath and his deft fingers make quick work of the buttons. Natalie doesn’t stop him. When he sees the camisole beneath her blouse, he studies it—his smile turns wicked.
“I approve,” Anthony says in low murmur, his hands traveling to her breasts.
Those erotic sparks are turning to a bonfire now. She’s already shaking with lust—embarrassed at her strong reaction. Everything he said was true.
No one has ever made me feel like this.
He leans close, but instead of kissing her, runs his mouth along her neck where he takes little bites, then licks them, blowing on her skin to cool the sting.
Natalie’s eyes fall shut as she gasps with pleasure.
I’m helpless. My desire has made me helpless. Her hands grip his shoulders and then travel up around his neck. He smells clean, like soap and mint, and when her hands run through his hair at the back of his neck she finds it damp. He must have just taken a shower.
Anthony draws back and the two of them gaze at each other. His eyes are feverish. She’s glad to see she isn’t the only one affected.
His warm hand envelops hers and he pulls her along toward the staircase. Natalie watches the way his muscles move beneath his T-shirt.
“Aren’t you going to show me your house?” she asks, just to annoy him.
“Later.”
Anthony leads her upstairs.
He’s still pissed off by the way she’s letting him swing in the wind. He didn’t even know whether she was going to show up tonight and he doesn’t like that kind of uncertainty.
She’s got this grudge and it only seems to be getting worse, but he also knows she wants him just as much as he wants her.
So to hell with everything else.
He pulls her into his bedroom and can see her glancing around. His bed is big with an elaborate wood headboard he picked up years ago in Kenya when he worked with the ISA. The sheets and duvet are white because they’re the easiest to wash. He’d made the bed hastily earlier, and now sits down on the edge.
“Get over here,” he says, reaching out and pulling her between his open thighs.
Anthony grasps Natalie’s hips through her jeans then slides his hands around to grip her ass. For a long moment he closes his eyes. There’s a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’s glad she’s here. Relieved, and it’s the depth of his relief that worries him.
Her cool hands are on his shoulders. They move to his face where her fingers trail over the stubble he left for her. She notices and smiles, but Anthony doesn’t smile back. He’s past that.
“I want you to take your top off,” he says.
Natalie pauses, her blue eyes studying him. She licks her lips nervously. He hasn’t kissed that sultry mouth yet, but he will soon. He knows Natalie doesn’t like his request. Can see it on her face. She doesn’t want to undress in front of him because the room isn’t dark enough to suit her. There’s a lamp burning in the corner and he’ll definitely be able to see everything, but maybe he doesn’t care, maybe he wants to punish her a little.
It’s my turn.
Natalie removes her hand from his cheek and he wonders if she’s going to turn skittish, but instead, she takes her long hair and gathers it so it’s falling at her back. The scent of vanilla drifts toward him. She slips her blouse off and hands it over. He tosses it onto the leather bench at the foot of his bed.
Her breasts look sexy in the camisole, but then he decides he wants it gone, along with the bra.
“All of it.”
She hesitates, but then reaches for the thin material at the bottom and pulls it over her head, tossing it with her blouse. His erection stiffens as he anticipates seeing her bare breasts.
“Keep going.” His voice is low with a note of urgency.
Natalie hears that note. “You do it,” she says in defiance.
They study each other for a few beats and then he snorts softly, reaches around and unfastens the clasp on her bra, slips it off, and throws it with the rest of the pile.
His eyes are on her face, but then he can’t help himself, looks down and takes in the sight of her—so luscious. Like whipped cream with two sweet cherries on top. He swallows and actually feels lightheaded before a wave of lust crashes over him.
Then he doesn’t want to play games anymore, doesn’t want to think, doesn’t want anything but Natalie wrapped around him while he’s buried inside her to the hilt.
Anthony grabs her wrists and pulls her down onto the sheets. She lets out a little shriek and he checks her face, but she’s grinning. He’s not surprised. Despite her overall stubbornness, he’s noticed Natalie likes to be dominated in bed.
Good.
Because I’m in a dominating kind of mood.
He unfastens her jeans and strips them off her, flinging them aside, along with her panties.
“I only want you to come to me in dresses from now on,” he says impatiently.
Then he pulls his shirt overhead and starts on his own jeans. He can see the way she’s watching him, laying back on her elbows, eyes hot with wanting. It isn’t the first time he’s seen that look on a woman’s face, but on Natalie he particularly likes it.
She tries to sit up, but he shakes his head.
“Don’t move. I want you r
ight there.”
Once he’s naked, he opens his bedside drawer and grabs a strip of condoms, pulls one off and tosses the rest onto his nightstand for later. He quickly slips it on.
The bed dips as he moves over her, caging her with his body. Natalie is squirming beneath him, grabbing his shoulders, then his face.
“Kiss me,” she says. “You haven’t kissed me.”
His breathing is harsh to his own ears and he shuts his eyes, trying to pull it together. Natalie is so soft beneath him everywhere—breasts, hips, and thighs, such a luxurious woman.
“Preghi,” he says to her. “Voglio che tu mi preghi.” Beg. I want you to beg me.
He’s speaking Italian, so she doesn’t understand, but he says it anyway. Christ. I don’t even know why I’m saying these crazy things.
Opening his eyes, he gazes down, their faces so close. His body shifts between her thighs and he positions himself right where he needs to be, but he doesn’t enter her.
“Please kiss me, Anthony.”
And it’s only because she’s pleading that he finally lowers his mouth. He intends to give her a small nip, but their kiss turns into something else, something deep. Natalie tastes like every desire he’s ever had. He swears he could kiss her forever, but he’s not done punishing her yet, so he pulls away. She complains and tries to draw him back, but he doesn’t let her. Instead, he thrusts his cock into her slick heat, but only briefly, before pulling out again.
Natalie gasps. Her eyes were closed, but they open when he withdraws. He likes to watch her like this. Hot and desperate.
He continues teasing her—pushing in, then pulling out—until she’s grabbing his ass.
This time he pulls out and lavishes attention on her breasts. Stroking and fondling them, playing with her nipples, using his mouth to suckle her. When her breathing gets thready, he stops and goes back to teasing her with his cock.
Natalie thrashes around. “Stop this,” she breathes. “Stop doing this!”
“Why?”
Her face is flushed and she looks at him like he’s crazy. “What do you want?”
And that’s the cosmic riddle, isn’t it? The puzzle he’s trying to solve. In a way he wants her acquiescence, but he knows he wouldn’t be happy if she was easy.
Year of Living Blonde (Sweet Life in Seattle, Book 1) Page 32