by Lori Foster
His heart threatened to come through his chest. "Yes."
"I never have before, but then … I never knew you."
Undone by her words, her sincerity, he tensed. He felt her settle beside him, one hand still holding him, the other stretched over his belly. He had to touch her, even though he feared breaking the moment, and he reached down to tangle his right hand in her hair. "Shadow. If you feel uncomfortable, I wouldn't want … oh, God."
He couldn't think straight—all his concentration centered on maintaining control and enjoying the soft, moist warmth of her mouth for as long as he could. She tasted him, not tentatively—licking, then gently taking the head of his penis in her mouth and sucking.
His hips arched from the floor and he cursed, struggling for some faint measure of control. Rather than pull away when she felt his response, she drew him deeper, her tongue curling around him as her hand curled, tighter, holding him still, consuming him. A ragged groan broke past his clenched teeth and she made a responding sound of pleasure.
It was too much. He tugged her away, not giving her time to complain about his sudden actions. He drew her up and under him.
His fingers slid over her, once, twice. He hadn't taken the proper time to prepare her, but she was ready for him, wet and swollen, hot. He knew she'd enjoyed what she'd done to him and that only added to his urgency. He thrust into her, hard, deep, and knew it was all over for him.
It was unbelievable, undeniable and a bit frightening. Brent couldn't stop kissing her. Even as he thrust that final time, his whole body straining with his release, he felt he couldn't get enough of her, his hands wanting to be filled with her breasts, his nostrils hungry for the scent of her, needing her taste in his mouth. It was the gentle movements of Shadow's hands on his shoulders that finally brought him some measure of reason.
Releasing his hold on her slightly, he gained enough coherence to ask, "Are you okay?"
He could feel her smile. "After all that? After having my body explode into a million pieces? I think my head may have shot off somewhere. Is it still on my shoulders?"
He leaned up to smile at her. They were both sweaty, and Shadow's hair was a damp tangle. Her eyes were puffy from sleep, her lips puffy from his kisses. She was by far the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. "Are you telling me," he asked, touching her ear, her jaw, "that you enjoyed yourself?"
"Enjoyed is an inadequate word." Her eyes drifted over him lazily. "You're wonderful, Brent. It's rather obvious why I love you."
The first time she'd said it, she'd startled him. He hadn't remarked on it, taking it as one of those female things that got said at various moments. Now he wondered if it could be true. Either way, he liked the sound of it. He managed enough strength to raise one brow a good inch. "Oh? And why is it you love me?"
"Your body, of course. And your stamina. Do all men make love so voraciously?"
He closed his eyes on a wave of emotion. "You really must have had lousy taste in men." He sighed, looked at her and said, "I would think any man who touched you would be the same. They were obviously idiots."
She gave him a fat smile. "This is kind of neat, isn't it?"
"What?"
"Lying here, still a part of each other, making small talk. There's only one problem."
"You mean other than the fact we don't have any heat or electricity, and I'm starving and desperately in need of a hot shower, and we're most probably snowed in?"
"Yes. Other than all that."
Brent felt his eyes widen suddenly. "Oh, hell. I just realized the problem."
Shadow waited, her look one of keen interest.
"We didn't use anything."
"Use anything?"
"Protection. I don't suppose you're on the pill?"
She snorted at him. "Whatever for? I told you it had been seven years."
"I know, but…" But what? he wondered. Shadow wasn't the average modern woman. She wasn't average in any way. "Damn, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I've never, absolutely never done anything so irresponsible. You took me by surprise, showing up here yesterday. I just lost control." He groaned. "I don't believe I just said that. I never lose control."
She looked skeptical at that, but kept quiet.
"And then you gave me that sweet story about accidentally going into a ditch…"
Her hands on his shoulders tightened, her fingers biting into his flesh. "What," she asked with quiet menace, "is so sweet about me landing in a ditch?"
Brent didn't want to get into any of that; she was here and he was glad, however it had happened. He said again, "I'm sorry."
She raised one hand to touch his cheek. "It doesn't matter. I told you, I love you. Besides, that's not the problem I was talking about." She hesitated, then asked, "Do you love me?"
Brent stared at her, his guts cramping. "Shadow…" He didn't know what to say. Love? Hell, he didn't know. The practical side of him told him it was impossible. They hadn't known each other long enough to be in love.
Shadow moved restlessly. "Never mind."
"Honey, don't." He felt panicked by the look in her dark eyes, and he hated it. "Don't shy away from me."
"I didn't mean to put you on the spot. I guess I was being too forward again."
"No." He said it urgently, wanting her to understand. "You're being you. And I care a great deal about you, Shadow. But … love? I…"
The shrill ringing of the phone kept Brent from stammering around further and making a complete ass of himself. He rolled to Shadow's side, then reached for the phone on the small table set next to the chair.
"Hello?"
"She's there, isn't she!" The voice was male, anxious and angry. "She spent the night with you, didn't she?"
"Who is this?" Brent demanded, drawing into a sitting position, his muscles rigid.
Low and mean, almost sulky, the voice dropped in pitch. "She doesn't need you! Besides, I found her first and she's mine. You remember that!" And the line went dead.
* * *
Chapter 7
« ^ »
"What is it?"
Brent feigned a casual shrug, avoiding her eyes. "Nothing."
"Oh? Then why were you cursing a blue streak and why are you frowning and grinding your teeth?" As Shadow asked that, she stood, wrapping one blanket around herself. It was getting colder by the moment, and she needed to make a trip to Brent's bathroom. The thought of putting on her clothes, still rumpled on the floor from the night before and no doubt cold to boot, had her shivering in earnest
Brent had kept the fire going all night, getting up between lovemaking to add more wood. It took Shadow a minute to untangle her bra from her shirt; Brent had pulled them both off together, without unfastening anything. Then she hooked it across the brass handles on the fireplace screen to warm it.
Brent stared. "I wasn't grinding my teeth or… Shadow, what the hell are you doing?"
She now had each item of her clothing hanging from some part of the fireplace. "I'm warming them," she explained. "Have you ever put your chest into a cold bra? It isn't very pleasant."
"I can imagine." He tried to figure some way to get her out of the room for just a moment. He wanted to call the police. Actually, he wanted to get hold of the bastard hounding her and beat some sense into him. Since that option wasn't open to him, he would have to try the police. This was getting to be too damned much. Surely the police could do something.
Shadow saved him from finding a believable excuse for privacy when she asked where his bathroom could be found. Brent remembered with some satisfaction that they'd never made it beyond the family room. She hadn't seen the rest of his house.
The tour he gave her was necessarily short and quick. Shadow was shaking and her knees were locked together. Brent showed her into his bathroom, massive compared to her own, complete with an overhead skylight and Jacuzzi tub. He'd located a pair of his sweats for her to put on in lieu of her cold, wrinkled clothing, and showed her where to find a toothbrush and towels. There was probably e
nough hot water left in the water heater to supply a basic washing, so Brent assumed he'd have a few minutes to himself to make his call.
The cold was more of an inducement for speed than he had reckoned. He was in midconversation, with no way to terminate the call other than hanging up on the officer, when Shadow came back into the room, sat herself in front of the fire and began brushing the tangles from her hair.
There was nothing for it but to let her hear. He hadn't wanted to worry her. He wanted to protect her. Then he realized that, even though she listened, she didn't look particularly worried.
She even interjected at one point, "I got a call yesterday, also. He called the shop and described to me what I was wearing. He must have gotten close and looked in the window, since I had my coat buttoned anytime I went outside."
The officer was forgotten, the phone hanging from Brent's hand. "You what? Why the hell didn't you tell me that sooner?"
She glanced up at him and shrugged. "The same reason you didn't tell me who called a few minutes ago, I suppose. I didn't want to worry you." She went back to brushing her hair. "By the way, my caller ID said 'unknown.'"
Brent was furious. He finished his conversation with the officer, accepting the assurance that someone would get back to them soon. But he knew there was nothing that could be done.
He stalked around the family room attempting to get a handle on his temper. He'd pulled on sweats, too, but he knew his hair was in bad need of a comb and there was dark stubble shadowing his face. Shadow watched him. He imagined he looked pretty scruffy at the moment, which could explain the intensity of her interest.
Finally, he went to stand before her, staring down at her in reproach. "I can't believe you didn't say anything about that bastard calling you. Did he threaten you?"
She laid the brush aside. "Nope. He repeated what I was wearing and said I was cute. I hung up on him."
Brent went down on his knees before her, his hands on her thighs. He said with as much stern sobriety as he could muster, "You had no business driving in to work alone yesterday."
"He called me at work, not before."
Brent ignored her interruption. "And beyond that, you had no business putting your car in a ditch and allowing yourself to be alone—at night—where he could have grabbed you."
"Brent." Her sigh was long and impatient. "We don't know that he plans to 'grab' me. So far he's only been an aggravation. And I don't know what choice I had about coming here once my car was stuck. I couldn't very well sit in the damn thing and freeze, waiting to see if anyone came by. And going to my house would have taken much longer."
She leaned past Brent to pull on her shoes. Brent realized he was grinding his teeth again, stopped abruptly, then gave her a look of strained patience.
"You should never have put yourself in that situation in the first place."
"I did not," she said, "ditch my car on purpose just to have an excuse to see you. That would be lame and pathetic and dishonest."
Running an agitated hand through his hair, Brent replied reasonably, "You said your car is right in front of my house? Isn't that one hell of a coincidence, Shadow?"
She watched him a moment longer, then stood. "You're making me very angry again, Brent."
"I just want complete honesty between us. That's all… Now what do you think you're doing?"
"Going home." She shrugged into her coat. "You're totally unreasonable and I don't enjoy being accused of something I didn't do."
"Aw, damn it … wait a minute!" He stepped in front of her when she headed for the door. "You can't walk home in this weather."
"It's stopped snowing."
"But it must be a foot deep out there."
"That's an exaggeration. I'd say not more than half a foot." She poked him in the chest. "So get out of my way."
"No."
"No?"
Brent had never witnessed such an incredulous and outraged expression. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss the frown from her forehead. He said instead, "Be reasonable, sweetheart. There's no way I'm going to let you walk home alone in this weather. And don't forget about your secret admirer. He may be watching for you. It's stupid to even think of going out there."
"So now I'm stupid?"
He barely caught her arm as she started past again. Unable to help himself, he chuckled. "For such a small woman, you take incredibly long, stomping strides when you're angry." She tried to resist him, but he finally got her into the circle of his arms. "Give me a break, sweetheart. I'm only a man. And last night was enough to leave anyone fuddled. This morning I even forgot to wear a rubber. I've never forgotten myself like that before. Do you realize I could have gotten you pregnant?"
Shadow raised her chin. "I don't care. I told you, I want children before I get too old."
"Thirty-one is not old, Shadow. There's plenty of time yet to do things the right way."
"I disagree," she said mutinously, "because every time I'm around you, you manage to enrage me."
"But you love me?"
"Rather proves I'm not as intelligent as I claimed, doesn't it? Now, let me go. I'm leaving."
Brent readied himself for battle. His mouth was already open, loaded with convincing arguments, when the doorbell rang. His teeth clicked shut with a snap and he gripped her shoulders. "Stay right here. Don't move."
Shadow proceeded to ignore him, following him to the front door. "You might own a lot of businesses, and I guess you're used to being in charge. But you're not my boss, Brent. Nor will you ever be my boss. I wish you'd try to accept that."
Highly harassed, Brent opened the door.
It took him a moment to believe his eyes, and then he wanted to groan, or quite literally find a hole to sink into. He wasn't given a chance to do either. "Brent, sweetheart! Thank goodness you're home!" Joan flew through the door in a flurry of white fur. Her hat, coat, even her gloves were trimmed in white ermine. She was tall, slender, and at the moment wrapped firmly around him.
Doing his best to disengage himself and close the door at the same time, Brent looked to Shadow. "Ah, Shadow, this is Joan Howard."
"I'm not leaving," Shadow stated.
It was such an about-face, Brent grinned, and finally managed, thanks to the length of his arms, to set Joan a good distance away from his person.
Joan began explaining, a pitiful expression on her lovely face, "I had to spend the night in the most horrible little hotel. The roads were awful. They've only just now become passable. I would have called last night, but the storm disrupted the phone lines somehow, and it was impossible." She drew to a halt, a beautiful smile appearing. "Oh, Brent. It's so good to see you again."
Trying once more to lock herself in his arms, Joan seemed distressed by his quick maneuvering, which put him out of range. He said easily, reaching for Shadow, "I want you to meet my…"
His what? He turned to Shadow in a silent bid for assistance, but she only blinked slowly at him. Then, to his immense relief, she came to his side.
Sticking her hand out and smiling enigmatically, Shadow explained, "I'm Shadow Callahan. I spent the night."
Joan straightened, her nose a good two inches in the air as she stared down at Shadow's rumpled form. "Whatever for?"
"Whatever…?" Shadow laughed, turning to Brent to ask incredulously, "Is this the woman you were engaged to?"
"Uh … yeah."
"And she doesn't understand why I spent the night? Why, shame on you, Brent." Shadow smacked him playfully. "You weren't really putting your all into that engagement, now were you?"
Brent nearly choked. "I … we—"
Shadow waved him to silence. "Never mind." Turning back to Joan, she asked, "Won't you come in? It's dreadfully cold outside. Of course, it's not much warmer in here."
Joan walked, dumbfounded, at Shadow's side, her arm held securely. Shadow continued to chatter, obviously enjoying Brent's moment of distress. "Brent's electricity went out. We had to sleep on the floor in front of the fireplace. And
even then it was chilly. Of course, Brent is always so warm … but you'd know that, wouldn't you?"
Joan stopped abruptly, digging in her expensive leather boot heels. She jerked away from Shadow, confronted Brent with her hands on her hips and demanded, "Whoever is this woman and why would you have her here?"
Brent took a lesson from Shadow's book and answered, "She's here because I want her here. I can't seem to keep my hands off her."
Joan actually reeled. "That's disgustingly crude!"
"Actually," Shadow confided, "it wasn't. It was wonderful."
Nostrils flaring delicately, Joan ignored Shadow, and said, "You'd better explain yourself, Brent."
Brent rapidly became irritated. "You're welcome to stay and warm yourself, Joan, but you should understand up front that I won't hear any insults or slurs on Shadow. If you can't behave politely, you may as well leave."
Joan huffed. "When did you plan to tell me about her?"
"I didn't. My relationship with Shadow is none of your business. But you probably would have met her over Christmas. She's coming to Chicago for a visit then."
"You must be joking! Your parents would have a fit."
Shadow laughed. Loudly. It was actually quite rude, but Brent only smiled fondly at her. She said, "Martin and Debra were the ones who invited me."
"You're lying."
Brent was shocked into silence. Immediately he swiveled his gaze to Shadow, leery of how she might retaliate to such a blatant insult. To his surprise, she laughed all the more.
"Joan, you really are funny."
She huffed again. Staring down her nose at Shadow, she breathed in her haughtiest tone, "I beg your pardon?"
"Oh, that's okay. No harm done. Desperate words from a desperate woman. I didn't take offense."
Brent had to fight to hold in his laughter. Joan looked confused by Shadow, and Shadow appeared smug, if a little sympathetic. He asked her quietly, "To the victor goes the spoils?"
Shadow slanted him a look. "If the victor wants them. Which at this moment she's not at all certain she does."
"Of course you do. You love me, remember?"
Joan shook her head as if to clear it, then remarked, "This is absurd."