by Karen Anders
“Sounds good,” Mac replied.
When they hit the street they waved down a cabbie and were soon deposited in front of Molly’s Café.
The café had changed very little since Laurel had been there last. The same row of chrome-trimmed stools along the front counter, the same plate-glass showcase by the front door, the same high-back booths along the windows. The only thing that had changed was the décor. The gaudy geometric-patterned curtains had been replaced with vertical blinds. And the stools and seats in the booths were now upholstered in a subdued tan instead of the bright orange that Laurel remembered. Too bad. She liked the retro look of the place before it had been upgraded.
A waitress came over to their table and they each ordered apple pie à la mode with coffee.
“How did you know about this place?”
“Dylan and I used to come here a lot when we were in college.”
“Your brother?”
The waitress was back with their pie and poured them each a cup of coffee.
“Right. He’s married to the editor of SPICE magazine, Haley Lawton.”
“SPICE, that racy women’s magazine.”
“Hey, it has great articles.”
“Sure,” he said, chuckling. “How To Make Him Beg In Bed and Looking For Mr. Right. I bet.”
She laughed. “I didn’t know you read SPICE, although some of your moves in bed are very spice-worthy.”
“If you got your moves from SPICE, I’d say keep reading it.”
“I will because I love it. Speaking of SPICE. Are you still going to the party with me?”
“That’s this Friday?”
“Yes. Haley’s counting on us to be there.” The next words came out in a rush. “Next Tuesday night is the auction, the anniversary of my mother’s death. Do you think you could escort me?”
Mac shifted and looked away. When she was about to withdraw her invitation, sure he was uncomfortable, he responded.
“Do I have to wear a tux?”
“Is that okay?”
“Sure, I have one…uh…I can borrow.”
“Great. It’s settled.” She took a bite of her pie. “The place may have changed, but the pie is still scrumptious.” In a hesitant voice, she asked. “So Ted is your half brother?”
“We have the same mother and different fathers.”
“Are you close to your father?” She saw him hesitate and he clenched his jaw tight. She realized that he may not be interested in telling her anything about his past. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
His expression of disquiet remained for a moment, then he gave a noncommittal shrug. “You know how it is between fathers and sons.”
Laurel nodded. “Your brother Ted is sure doing well for himself. My father only hires the very best people. My friend Sherry really likes working for him. She says he’s funny and very fair.”
He met her eyes, a strange feeling unfolding in her stomach when she saw how solemnly he was watching her. He stared at her for a moment; then he glanced down, as if he saw something that disturbed him. Folding a paper napkin by his cup, he hesitated for a moment, then finally spoke. “Ted’s a good guy,” was all he said.
No talking about family. She couldn’t blame him. She wasn’t too keen on talking about hers.
“So, how long have you been working for Tyler?”
“Ever since he opened the place.”
“Have you ever thought about doing anything else?”
“What do you mean?”
“Go to college?”
“Why not just fix motorcycles?”
“Why not do more?” she countered. “You really know a lot about art deco and the Met. Ever thought about art?”
They stared at each other for a moment, not speaking, not looking away.
“No, I never did. I do love the Met, but never thought of it as a career.”
“I’m just wondering if there’s a hope or dream you’d ever considered pursuing.”
“I like my job.” He studied her for a moment and she looked out the window watching the occasional late-night cab whiz by. “Have you?” he asked, speculation thick in his eyes.
“Maybe.”
Feeling as though she had something heavy inside her chest, she forced herself to meet his gaze. Mac was watching her with a steely look in his eyes. “What are you getting at Laurel?”
Releasing a heavy sigh, she shook her head. “I feel very close to you, Mac. I want to show you something that is very important to me.” She hesitated a minute, picking at an imperfection on her mug, then looked out the window again. “This weekend. It’ll involve an overnight stay out of town. Are you busy?”
“No.”
“What about your job?”
“I can get the time off if you want me to.”
“I want you to.”
Mac’s gaze never wavered from hers and there was a softness in his eyes that did something warm and wonderful to her heart. He sat forward and took her hand in his, his warm fingers stroking her palm. She experienced a twist of apprehension, suspecting that he was going to push her to reveal where she wanted him to go and what she wanted him to see. And she didn’t want to explain it to him. She wanted him to see it.
There was a drawn-out silence; then he glanced up at her, his gaze intent. “What time do you want to leave?”
She smiled and squeezed his hand. “First thing Saturday morning if you don’t mind.”
“Nope.”
“Want to take the bike?”
“I would love to, but it would be better if we took my SUV.”
“All right. So I guess the question is, do you want to go to your place or mine?”
“To sleep?”
“Ah, I think we’re going to do more than sleep.”
She returned his infectious grin. The softness in his eyes intensified, causing a strong, rippling ache through her heart.
They left the diner and headed for his place to pick up his clothes, then it was on to her brownstone.
MAC HAD KNOWN that pushing her at the diner would be the wrong thing to do. She intended to show him something very special and a peculiar feeling filled up his chest. When they crossed the threshold of her room and got to the bed, she grabbed the material of his shirt in her hands and pulled him close. Her mouth softly brushed his, the warmth and moistness of the kiss making his pulse erratic. She licked his bottom lip slowly—very slowly.
Opening his mouth beneath hers, Mac deepened the kiss. She changed the angle of her head, perfecting the seal of her mouth against his; then she smoothed her hand down his chest, undoing the buttons of his shirt with little flicks of her thumb. Holding his head immobile with her other hand, she pulled his shirt out of the waistband of his jeans, then lightly dragged her thumb-nail across his nipple. Mac jerked, her touch sending a sharp current of sensation through him when she lightly rolled the hardened nub under her fingers.
He wanted to grab her and drag her beneath him, but her seduction was too sweet, too arousing, to let go. With a wild flurry of excitement building in him, Mac tightened his muscles against her tormenting touch, yielding his mouth to hers as she prolonged the kiss. Just as she stroked the inside of his bottom lip with her tongue, she trailed her fingernail down the hard ridge of flesh beneath his fly, and the dual sensations nearly put Mac through the roof. His breathing turned heavy, and it took every ounce of control he had to remain still and unmoving beneath her lightly exploring hands and mouth. She stroked the full length of his hard, thick arousal again, and Mac sucked in a ragged breath, releasing a guttural sound against her mouth while she trailed her nails between his legs and down the sensitive base.
Working her mouth slowly against his, she shifted slightly, then used both hands to undo his belt. She pulled the belt free of the loops and dropped it on the floor, then slid her long fingers beneath his waistband. Her intimate touch electrified him, and he lifted his head and drew her tongue deeply into his mouth, the pulsating hardness in his groin nearly ex
ploding as she carefully drew his zipper down. With the same slow care, she freed him, and Mac abruptly ceased to breathe. Unable to remain passive one second longer, he caught her and ground his mouth hungrily against hers, heat searing through him as she lightly smoothed her thumb over the moist slick tip of his arousal.
Grasping her face between his hands, Mac gazed at her, his breathing labored. Her eyes dark and heavy-lidded, her full, sensual mouth swollen from the urgency of his kiss, she was the temptress, the vixen, his ultimate fantasy. He stroked the line of her jaw with his thumbs, her pulse frantic beneath the heels of his hands. He wanted her naked on top of him, he wanted to be buried so deep inside her that he would become part of her, and he wanted to let go of the heat that had him hard and erect.
With quick and efficient movements, she removed her clothes and pushed him back onto the bed. He felt her take a deep, unsteady breath; then she kissed both his eyes closed. “Don’t move,” she whispered. She pulled free of his hold, and Mac clenched his teeth against the sharp sense of separation, the ache in him growing heavier. Resting one arm over his eyes, he tried not to think, not to feel. He was at the point where a single touch could set him off, and the thought of sinking deep inside her was enough to send him over the edge.
Mac sucked in a deep breath when she took his hard, pulsating flesh in her hand, stroking him with the lightest of touches. Her gaze locked with his, she stroked him again, and Mac’s face contorted at the sharp, intense pleasure that ricocheted through him. Laurel cupped him in both hands, her pulse quickening, and Mac rose up on one elbow and pulled her toward him. She resisted. Moistening her lips, she held his gaze for an instant longer, then looked down. His heart hammering like a wild thing in his chest, Mac watched her as she put the condom in place, then slowly began to roll it down, her touch soft and unsteady. Mac thought his heart was going to come right through his chest as he watched her carefully sheath him, and he gritted his teeth, need and want and a fever of desire reaching a flash point. The instant she had the protection in place, he rolled, carrying her beneath him. Urgently finding her mouth with his, he drew up her knees and roughly settled himself in the cradle of her thighs. Emitting a low groan, he entered her, his awareness shattering, a sunburst of sensation. Then he slipped into a space where there was nothing except him and Laurel—and a driving urgency.
It took Mac a long time to calm down after the earth-shaking climax. And it took him a long time before he could relax his hold on her. But finally he was able to collect enough strength to ease back a little. By then she was deeply asleep. He stirred enough to pull the covers over them. He closed his eyes and tightened his hold, a knot of raw emotion climbing up his throat.
He took a deep breath, but that persistent ache remained, right in the vicinity of his heart—a tenderness and yearning that seemed to grow with each encounter with Laurel. It was as if she gave a little part of herself to him each time they were together, each time they had sex.
Last night they’d definitely had hot, uninhibited sex. But now it felt like they’d made love in the purest sense. Stunned and shaken by the realization, and feeling overwhelmingly vulnerable, he struggled to contain the emotions rioting within him. Emotions he was helpless to deny.
He was playing with his future here. Laurel had become much too important to him to keep up his facade. But at this point, he felt he had to put off telling her until her life settled down a little.
The fear of losing her was almost as powerful as those unnamed emotions he refused to identify.
10
What form of flirty fun would you most like with your hottie?
a. wrap yourself in a flag and let him unravel you
b. play cops and robbers, so he’ll frisk you
c. get a tattoo in a sexy place to show him later
d. show him you know how to balance his spreadsheet.
—Excerpt from Who’s Your Hottie? quiz,
SPICE magazine
ON FRIDAY AT NOON, Laurel pushed open the doors to her father’s suite of offices. Walking up to Sherry’s desk, she smiled when her friend looked up.
“Hey there. Long time no see.”
Laurel set the café mocha in front of Sherry, taking a seat on the cushy chair near her desk.
“For me? A bribe?” Sherry’s gaze narrowed skeptically.
“A peace offering for being so distracted and not calling you.” She did feel guilty. She wasn’t one of those women who got a boyfriend and forgot about her friends.
“So what’s going on?”
“Work, the auction and Mac.”
“Mac? Oooh. Who’s Mac?”
Promise you won’t laugh.
“Would I do that?”
“Yes, you would.”
“I did one of those SPICE quizzes. Who’s Your Hottie?”
Sherry took a drink of the steaming liquid and sighed. Sherry turned her focus from the fragrant cup to Laurel’s face. “I did that quiz, too. Who was yours?”
“Remember last week when we went to Hayes Cycles to get Michael a bike?”
“Sure. He loved it by the way.”
“I sort of threw myself at the mechanic there.”
“Don’t tell me. Bad-boy biker.”
“Mac is the owner’s brother.”
Sherry sent a quick look over her shoulder toward her boss’s office, a speculative look on her face.
“What?”
“Nothing. I didn’t know that Tyler and Mr. Tolliver had another brother who worked at Hayes Cycles.”
“Guess so, anyway, he shows up at my brownstone and it’s been a whirlwind ever since.”
“Good for you. It’s about time you had yourself some fun, Laurel. Some of the stiff necks you date are so boring.”
“Stop it. You were lucky enough to find Michael. Some of us are not that lucky.”
“What about this Mac guy? It could turn into something.”
“No. He’s really not someone that I can see for the long term. One of those passionate burn out types of relationships.”
“Those are fine as long as you don’t engage your heart, Laurel.”
“That’s the trick, but there’s no problem in that area.”
“What are you doing tonight? Maybe you and Mac can meet us downtown for dancing?” Sherry suggested.
“I’m going to the Who’s Your Hottie? SPICE Party at POSH tonight. Haley got the brilliant idea from me. She put the invite on the SPICE Web site and the first one hundred couples to respond get in.”
“It’s impossible to get into that club. Tough door. I once saw those beefy security guys evict some guy from line because he didn’t have a couple of babes on each arm.”
“Hey, why don’t you and Michael come tonight? It’ll be fun and you can meet Mac.”
“I don’t want to crash Haley’s party.”
“Haley won’t care. I’ll leave word at the door.”
Sherry nodded. “So what are you doing here?”
“I came to see my father. I haven’t been able to get him on the phone. I’ve left three messages and he hasn’t returned my call. I wanted to talk to him about the auction. It’s Monday night and I’m not sure he’s even coming.”
“Oh sure. He’s coming. He wouldn’t miss your mother’s tribute.”
“I don’t know, Sherry. He’s been so distant lately and he won’t participate in anything to do with the auction.”
“He’s a busy person, Laurel. Maybe he’s leaving the details up to you and Dylan.”
“Maybe.”
“It’s too bad he’s not here. He and Mr. Tolliver had a lunch meeting with a client.”
“Oh, well, it was good to see you, Sherry.”
So she had lied to her friend. A little. Mac was more than a bad-boy biker. He was quickly becoming a close confidant and she wasn’t sure what she thought about that. Whether she wanted to get personal or not, it was happening. Except it didn’t seem to be a two-way street. The more she spilled about herself, the deeper she felt he
rself sink.
Was sinking good?
Only if you didn’t drown, Laurel thought.
MAC LOOKED OVER at Laurel as he drove his sleek sports car toward upscale Chelsea where POSH was near 26th Street, for the SPICE party. She looked pensive. “What’s up?”
She turned toward him. “Nothing. I just haven’t had a chance to get hold of my father to talk about the change of venue and him attending the auction on Tuesday.”
“Did you leave him a message?”
“Yes. All the details.”
“Maybe he doesn’t think he needs to call back. Guys are like that.”
That got him a small smile. “Yeah. I’m sure everything is fine.”
The auction was going to be a major problem. Laurel’s father would be attending which meant he would definitely recognize Mac. He was torn between being available to Laurel on a night that was sure to be emotional for her with the fact that he could so easily be exposed before he had the chance to tell her about who he really was.
He wasn’t quite sure how he was going to handle it.
Moments later they pulled up to the club and a valet took care of Mac’s car. When they reached the door, a burly man blocked their entrance.
“Private party tonight.”
“Yes, my name should be on the list. Laurel Malone and Mac Hayes.”
The man perused the clipboard in his hands. “Yes. Go right in.”
“I wanted to make sure that you have Sherry Black and Michael Vega on the list.”
Mac groaned inwardly suddenly feeling trapped. If Sherry saw him….
“Yes, they’re on the list.”
“Thanks,” Laurel said as she brushed past the guard and preceded Mac into the club.
“Hi there,” Haley yelled enthusiastically at them as they came through the door. She was clad in a silver-beaded dress and Laurel’s darkly handsome brother was impeccably dressed in a black turtleneck and designer trousers.
Mac felt underdressed next to the stylishly dressed couple, but Laurel insisted that his usual clothing was what Haley wanted him to wear. Standing next to her brother brought home the fact that Mac preferred to dress like Dylan in most social settings. Hell, with his parents, it was expected. Contrary to what Laurel believed, Mac didn’t have to borrow a tux for the auction because he already owned one. It was hanging in his closet along with all his other expensive suits.