And he intended to do both tonight with the woman across from him.
He’d removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie, his shirtsleeves rolled up more to prevent spaghetti sauce from dropping onto them than a real need to be more casual.
Casual… Interesting that as dressed up as Leah was, she still looked at home in the family restaurant. Like she belonged. He hadn’t expected that. But he realized he should have. Even when they were teens she’d fit right in with the other teens who’d stayed in tents and trailers rather than the mammoth cabins rimming the lake.
They enjoyed an oval medium pepperoni and mushroom pizza with thin, crispy crust and small plates of pasta, their wine in a carafe rather than a bottle. Leah reached to top off his glass and he took it from her, filling both their glasses himself.
She smiled and crossed her arms on top of the table. “So what’s this about a show?” she asked.
J.T. grinned as he fished the two slips of paper from his jacket pocket hanging next to the booth. He handed them to her. Her laughter did something funny to his stomach.
“A comedy club?”
He nodded and glanced at his watch. “Do you want to go?”
She handed him the tickets back. “Do you?”
He shrugged as he put the tickets back into his jacket pocket. “I don’t know. I’m having a good time where we are.”
Her smile widened, making her look so much like that teenager he once knew she took his breath away. Although that self-confident teen wouldn’t have asked what he thought, she would have just told him she didn’t want to go. “Me, too.”
She sat back and allowed the waitress to take her spaghetti plate away and provide a clean pizza plate. J.T. guessed the restaurant was used to lingering diners.
“You know,” Leah said quietly. “I can’t count the number of times you’ve told me you wanted to talk to me….”
J.T. took a long sip of wine, considering her over the rim.
“Now that you have my undivided attention—” she shrugged lightly “—shoot.”
He didn’t think for a minute she felt the nonchalance she pretended. The trembling of her fingers as she toyed with her napkin betrayed her underlying hesitation. He wasn’t sure what she believed he wanted to discuss, but he did know that whatever it was scared her.
He silently bit off an oath for the man who had made Leah wary of life. Frightened to lay her emotions out on the table for all to see. Even as he admitted that man could be him.
He slowly shook his head. “The night is young. We can get around to that later.”
She crossed her arms under her breasts, emphasizing the creamy half globes of delectable flesh visible in the deep V of black material. He’d have liked to run his tongue along that smooth flesh just then. Which made it a good thing that they were in a public place.
Leah smiled. “Then you won’t mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“Shoot,” he said, using her word.
She toyed with her wineglass, her expression growing more serious. J.T. couldn’t help but tense. He knew what she was going to ask before she even asked it.
“What are you running from, J.T.?”
He pretended an interest in his callused hands, for a moment not recognizing them as his own.
Leah leaned slightly forward and lowered her voice, likely in case those around her could hear. “Every time you see a police car, you look like you’re ready to bolt. Are you in some kind of trouble?”
J.T. cleared his throat, meeting her eyes dead on. “Yes, Leah, I am in trouble.”
She blinked several times. Perhaps she had expected him to tell her it was her imagination. Come up with some kind of lame story to calm her fears. But that wasn’t J.T.’s style. The truth was what he was good at, no matter how ugly.
“Can you share what kind of trouble you’re in?”
Now answering that question was a little more difficult.
Her gaze skittered over his face and he wondered what his expression gave away. “It’s that serious?”
“Serious enough to put a damper on the evening.”
She glanced at her wineglass, her eyes growing dark and pensive. “But you will tell me? When you feel it’s time?”
He nodded. “I will.”
He only wondered how differently she would look at him when he did tell her.
LEAH’S SKIN TINGLED ALL OVER. She climbed from the back of the bike as carefully as she could, mindful of her dress, then looked in her purse for her keys. The house was dark and quiet, as was the neighborhood now that J.T. had turned off his bike. Her thighs still vibrated and she couldn’t seem to ease the smile from her face, no matter the run in her nylon, the tangled state of her hair, or the spot of spaghetti sauce on the front of her dress.
Tonight she and J.T. had talked about nearly everything and anything under the sun. She’d shared amusing and somber details about her daughter, probably ad nauseam, while he’d told her of the places he’d been and the jobs he’d held. They’d reminisced about the summer they’d met and what they had thought of each other then, curiously avoiding talking about a year and a half ago and any mention of Dan and where her plans with him stood. He told her of the work he was doing now at the house outside of town and she told him of her wish to open another Women Only shop. As she’d guessed, he hadn’t even lifted a brow. He’d merely grinned and said something about how he’d wondered where she’d gotten all that naughty underwear.
What had gone unsaid, however, was what trouble he was in and what he’d wanted to talk to her about, which she realized might be one and the same thing. The knowledge tied a small knot in her stomach, even though she knew J.T. could never do anything unforgivable. She felt it in her bone marrow.
It was well after midnight. They devoured the rest of the pizza, another carafe of wine and tiramisu for dessert, and then the restaurant manager practically had to boot them out so he could close up.
Now Leah’s appetite had turned to more wicked things.
She walked up the sidewalk, overly aware of J.T.’s presence behind her.
She’d spent the better part of the morning rearranging her bedroom. For nearly twelve years it had remained the same. The furniture in the same position, the color scheme unchanged. But today she’d taken great relish in changing everything around and buying new bed linens. When she was done she’d barely recognized the room. And that was definitely a good thing. Especially considering that she planned to spend the rest of the night in it with J.T.
She unlocked the door and began to enter when he stayed her with a hand on her arm.
“This is where I say goodnight.”
Leah blinked at him, incapable of registering his soft words. “Very funny.”
His gentle grip on her arm increased. “I’m not trying to be funny, Leah. I’m trying to take this, whatever it is that exists between us, to another level.”
She swallowed hard. He was serious.
“If I go inside with you, we both know I won’t leave until morning.” He cupped her chin and ran his thumb over her cheek and her bottom lip, turning her blood to warm honey.
“And the problem with that would be…?” she whispered, her heart skidding across her chest at his delicate touch.
He shook his head, his grin making her weak in the knees. “Do you have anywhere you need to be tomorrow?”
She didn’t answer, still too surprised that he wasn’t staying.
“Make a couple of sandwiches, grab a blanket and meet me out here at eleven in the morning. I want to take you for a ride.”
Leah shivered, remembering the last time they’d taken a ride.
“Okay,” she whispered. “But tonight…”
He leaned forward, trapping her words in her mouth with a gentle, hot kiss. “Good night, Leah.”
Leah stood dumbstruck as he walked back to his bike, climbed on and rode away into the darkness. She didn’t move for long minutes, trying to follow the breadcrumbs to figure out what J.T. was d
oing. It almost seemed like he was courting her.
Courting her.
She smiled faintly. That was a term her mother would have used.
She absently wrapped her arms around herself, it having been awhile since she’d thought of Patricia Dubois. Had it really been only about a year and a half since she’d died? What would she say about J.T. and her sketchy past with him?
She honestly couldn’t say that she knew.
And what of J.T. courting her?
A small thrill ran over her skin, mixed with more than a touch of fear.
“Sometimes you just have to hold on for the ride, Leah,” Patricia had once told her. “Because life sometimes doesn’t let you sit in the driver’s seat.”
The problem was Leah wasn’t sure if she was capable of holding on for the ride.
She turned and let herself into the large, empty house, the sound of glass crunching under her heels. She froze, realizing that the lights she’d left on had been shut off. She reached behind her and prevented the door from closing at the same time that she switched on the foyer light. The depression era glass vase that had sat on the side table holding daffodils was now scattered into pieces on the marble tile.
She strained her ears, listening for sounds inside the house as she fished her cell phone out of her purse and made her way back outside. J.T.’s line rang and rang. She disconnected and dialed another number. The 911 operator picked up immediately. “Please send the police. There’s been a break-in.”
13
J.T. STOOD IN THE SHADOWS of Leah’s bedroom, listening as she saw the police officers out. When he’d left after kissing her at her door, he’d ridden a few blocks up then circled back, his body too revved up to return to the house to try to sleep just yet. He’d parked up the street and shut off his engine, wondering why the front door was ajar. He found out when two patrol cars approached from the opposite direction and pulled up in front of the house.
Not stopping to think they might be there for him, he’d climbed off his bike and rushed toward the officers, his heart hammering against his rib cage, a fear unlike any he’d known before clutching his stomach. Then he saw Leah standing on the front steps, holding her purse to her chest. An overwhelming sense of relief had flooded through him.
Then alarm had taken over. He’d come way too close to throwing himself in the path of the very people who threatened his freedom.
He’d melted into the shadows of her neighbor’s hedge then backtracked to his Harley where he’d stayed, watching as the lights switched on in Leah’s house, one by one, then were turned off again as the officers made a sweep of the place. As soon as they’d finished with the second floor, J.T. had circled around to the back and climbed up to the upstairs balcony and then let himself in through an open window. He’d closed it and locked it after himself and then stolen into Leah’s bedroom, the scent of her flowery perfume filling his senses as he waited for the officers to leave. It sounded like they were doing that now.
He stepped to the window and watched through the sheers as the patrolmen conversed with each other on the street then got into their cars and drove away.
Minutes later Leah came into the room, backlit by the hall light, her blond hair a halo around her shadowy face.
“Don’t turn on the light.”
She gasped, her nerves apparently stretched to the limit as he watched her fight her desire to bolt.
J.T. stepped in front of her. She instantly leaned into him, her arms looking for comfort not passion. He held her tightly against him.
“Someone broke in,” she whispered as he absorbed the worst of her shudder. “I can’t tell if they took anything yet, but a few things were broken, drawers gone through.”
J.T. looked around the room they stood in, aided by the hall light. “What about up here?”
Leah pulled back. Though she had probably walked through the house with the police officers, she must not have registered the tour. “It doesn’t look like they made it up here. The police think maybe I interrupted them.”
J.T. merely stood holding her for a long moment, thoughts playing along the fringes of his mind but his primary concern right then Leah’s safety and his need to comfort her.
“Do you want to go back home with me tonight?” he asked, brushing her hair back from her face.
She gazed at him for what seemed like a long time. “I’ve never felt so scared to stay in my own house. I’m afraid if I leave I may not want to come back.”
J.T. nodded, trying to ignore the heat rolling from her body and sliding over his.
“Stay with me?” she whispered.
He swore he could feel the beat of her heart against his chest. He slid his hands down her back, wondering if he dared remain with her in a place that she’d shared with her ex-husband.
She pressed her lips against his neck, her breath feathery and warm, her body soft and hot. “Please.”
J.T. swept his hands up to her face, cupping her head in his fingers. He searched her wide, fear-filled eyes knowing he could deny her nothing. It had taken everything he had to walk away from her earlier. Considering what had transpired since, he couldn’t bring himself to leave this room, much less the house. Not when Leah needed him.
He lowered his mouth to hers, his intention a brief kiss. But when she melded against him, her breasts teasing him through the fabric of his shirt, her hips flush against his, he had neither the will nor the ability to pull away.
Her tongue curved into his mouth, exploring the recesses, offering up her own for discovery. J.T. moved his hands to her shoulders, holding her still as she began restlessly shifting against him, his want of her growing to uncomfortable proportions. He heard her low whimper as she spread her hands against his chest, then began unbuttoning his shirt. He stood completely still as she placed her wet mouth against his neck then slid down, kissing each inch of flesh she uncovered until she had undone his slacks and held his pulsing length in her palms.
The instant her mouth made contact with his erection, J.T. threw his head back and gritted his teeth against a groan. So sweet. So hot. She swirled her tongue around the knob of his arousal, wetting it, then lightly blowing before taking the tip into her mouth and applying suction.
Dear Lord, he was in danger of losing it right then and there.
She stroked her fingers down to the root of his erection, then dropped her right hand toward the crisp hair-covered sac, giving him a light squeeze that slightly slowed the flow of blood to his erection. Then she slid her mouth farther down his length, her tongue flicking against his sensitive skin, her lips closing so she might suck with each inch she took in. She wrapped her fingers around the base of his penis then began a slow, rhythmic stroke she followed with her mouth. Up and down, up and down. She hummed as if he was giving her this exquisite pleasure rather than the other way around.
J.T. threaded his fingers into her soft hair, torn between the desire to stop her and the need to press her even closer. It seemed as if every drop of blood in his body had rushed to his groin, feeding his arousal, robbing him of breath, of energy and his own will to move. Though she kept up the rhythm of her hand, she slid back her mouth to concentrate on the very tip, licking and sucking then licking again. He groaned at the sensation. When she moved to take in as much of him as she could, the world exploded into myriad reds and yellow behind his closed eyelids, his body shaking as he filled her mouth with proof of his desire for her.
Finally his muscles slowed their twitching, and his breathing began to even out. J.T. cracked open his eyes to watch Leah lick every last drop of his semen from his erection.
He covered her fingers where she still held him, and slowly lifted her hands until she was forced to follow. He kissed her deeply, tasting himself on her tongue, drinking in everything that was her.
“Please,” she whispered, dropping hungry kisses along the length of his jaw then back to his mouth. “Make love to me, Josh.”
Make love to her. Not have sex with her. Not
screw her until she couldn’t see straight.
No, she’d asked him to make love to her.
J.T.’s heart pounded unsteadily in his chest as he gazed down into her beautiful, shadowy face. His fingers found the V of her dress, then followed the fabric down over her full breasts, briefly cupping them before reaching behind to tug down her zipper. The sound of the metal teeth in the silence of the room was erotically enticing. He edged the fabric down over her shoulders, giving it a slow shove until it pooled around her ankles and she stepped out of it. Underneath she had on the most decadent of lacy black bras and a garter belt that held up her dusky nylons. Noticeably missing was any sign of panties.
He groaned and swept her up into his arms, carrying her to the bed a couple of feet away. The sweet scent of gardenias filled his senses as he laid her against the dozen or so pillows. Then he hovered above her to take his visual fill of her.
Her creamy skin emerged even paler against the black of her undergarments, her breasts heaving as she took a deep, ragged breath. Her waist was narrow and slender and trembling under his visual onslaught. Her thighs rested together but he knew it would only take one touch and she would open to him fully, inviting him in.
J.T. knew there had to be a time when he didn’t want this woman, but damned if he could remember when. From the moment he’d first met her she’d crawled under his skin and stolen in his heart. It had been love at first sight, although he hadn’t known it at the time. He had been too young to recognize the emotion for what it was. He’d assumed himself that it was strictly lust and that it would pass. But it never had. With every touch, every kiss, his want of her grew and grew until he accepted that she was the only one who could soothe the thunderous desire that roared through him.
And he knew with everything that he was that she felt the same even though she might not be near admitting it.
He gazed into her eyes at the same time he guided his hand to brush against the quivering flesh of her stomach. She caught her breath and swallowed hard, as she fought to hold his gaze. He trailed his fingers down lower until they rested against her springy blonde curls, then he tunneled into them, parting her slick folds so he might tease the tight bud hiding there.
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