Penthouse Suite

by Sandra Chastain

  Kate opened the door, slipped the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the knob, and went inside. The pounding had started up again, punctuated with expletives as Max worked at whatever it was he was doing.

  Kate crept silently into the bathroom and covered her mouth to hold back a gasp. Half the shower head was gone, and water was steadily dripping from the pipe. The tile around the shower head was being systematically destroyed. Max, dressed in a maintenance uniform, was standing in the tub, his shoes submerged in water. He was not a happy camper.

  “All right, Max,” he was saying, “where do you go from here?”

  Kate arranged herself dramatically in the doorway, the rod and reel resting against her leg, one knee bent seductively. She moistened her lips and parted them in as sensual a look as she could manage.

  “Why don’t you come up and see me when you’re finished, big boy?”

  Max raised his eyes, caught sight of Kate in the mirror, and blanched. He tried to whirl around, slipped in the water, and went down.

  “Kate? Is that you, Kate?”

  “Who else were you expecting?” She dropped the rod to the floor beside her. Next she flipped the fur and satin mules away, one at a time.

  Max’s eyes were like saucers as he watched her from a sitting position in the tub. Kate took one slinky step, then a second, until she was at the edge of the tub, looking down at the man who’d changed her life.

  “What … what are you doing, Kate?” Max’s voice was so hoarse that he could barely speak.

  “We’re making a movie, Max. But this time, I’m the director and I’m writing the script.” She shook her upper body and allowed the filmy robe to fall to the floor around her feet.

  “I don’t understand,” he began, swallowing hard.

  “What do you know about lemons, Max?” She stepped into the tub. She was trembling so badly that she could barely speak.

  “What do I need to know?” He’d lost his confused expression as she came face to face with him.

  “Lemons are a bright, happy color. See?” She held out the lemon with one hand and dropped the strap of her nightgown off one shoulder with the other.

  He took the lemon and glanced at it, never really taking his eyes from her as she dropped the other strap and allowed her gown to slide from her body. It floated into the water. She stood proudly, like a water nymph on a satin lily pad.

  “But lemons are sour, Max, sour without something to add sweetness. Take a bite.”

  “You want me to bite into this lemon?”

  “Yes, I want you to experience the bitterness of something that seems bright and warm and beautiful.”

  Bite the lemon? He’d have walked on coals if she’d asked him to. He parted his lips and took the lemon into his mouth, sinking his teeth deeply into the fruit.

  “How does it taste, Max?”

  “It’s sour. But then we both knew that, didn’t we?”

  Kate thought he was beginning to understand her point. She reached out, took the lemon, and dropped it into the water. She took his hand and helped him to stand.

  Kate felt his breath quicken as she raised her face and touched her lips to his. She tasted the bitter lemon as she used her tongue to wash away the acrid flavor until the kiss was sweet.

  Kate unzipped his uniform and touched him, caressed him first with her fingertips, and then with her lips.

  “Now, do you understand, bossman? I’m going to sweeten up your life. And you’re going to sweeten up mine.”

  A huge weight was lifted off his chest. The pain he’d been holding back seemed to rip away, and Max felt an incredible release as she reached for him. He no longer tried to hold back the spasms of ecstasy that sent tears of joy down his cheeks.

  “Oh, Max,” Kate said, folding her arms around him, pulling his face against her breast, “don’t. I love you. Everything will work out for us because we belong together. Dorothea was right, you know.”

  She drew back, took his face in her hands, and studied him lovingly. “We both had to grow up, break out of our prisons. Your mother left you, and you were afraid to let yourself care about anybody else. You surrounded yourself with machines and committees.” Max felt the tears stop.

  “But you, Kate. You managed to break away. After your mother died, you left. You’ve lived exactly the kind of life you wanted, a grand adventure. Why did it take me so long to see what I was doing?”

  “Max, you’re wrong. I didn’t make my walls until after my mother died and I learned that my father had deserted us both. She loved him, but she wasn’t good enough to be his wife. I never wanted that to happen to me, so I set limits.”

  “I don’t understand.” His hands tightened around Kate’s waist. He didn’t want to talk anymore. He wanted to bury himself inside her.

  “I never stayed with one project long enough to complete the course—even my how-to classes. That implied commitment, and that’s what I didn’t want—until I met you.”

  The depth of her honesty touched him. The one time she’d dropped her walls and allowed someone inside, she’d been betrayed. Caught up in his own insecurity, he’d railed at Kate. Once he’d seen her with Houston he’d gone cold with fear, fear that he’d already lost the woman he loved.

  “Kate, I know that you didn’t betray me to Houston. Even before I went to the Showboat to tell you, I knew. I just didn’t know how to handle opening myself up to love.”

  Kate laid her cheek against his chest. “I should have taken the job you offered me, Max. I could have worked for you, but I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to give you up, and I knew that someday I’d have to go.”

  “But you stayed on the Carnival Strip.”

  “Yes. I couldn’t leave.”

  “Can you live in the penthouse suite of La Casa del Sol, Kate?”

  “My place in the sun? I’m not sure, Max. If that’s what you want, I’ll try. But I don’t know that I’ll ever be a sophisticated woman.”

  “That’s fine. Because I don’t think you really want me to be a good old boy. I’ve tried, Kate. Joe’s tried to teach me. But I’m afraid that I’m totally inept.”

  “Darling, Max. I promise you that there are some areas in which you are wonderfully talented.”

  Kate pressed her lips to his throat. He gave out a low groan and pulled her to him, claiming her mouth with his lips. Their bodies came together, flesh pressing hungrily against flesh, creating a kaleidoscope of sensation. He cupped her bottom in his hands and lifted her, pulling his lips from her mouth and kissing her breasts with the passion of a man who’d lost all restraint.

  As he captured her nipple with his lips, she felt as if she were melting. Her lower body shifted, taking the swollen evidence of his passion between her thighs. He didn’t enter her, and her maddening need was driving her into such a state that she let herself say what she’d never said before.

  “Max, please. Love me, Max. I want you. I love you, Max Sorrenson. I love you …”

  When he lifted her and took her words into his mouth, he caught her legs and fastened them around his thighs. She was on fire as his hardness pulsated between their bodies.

  She didn’t want him against her. She wanted him inside her. Still he held back, sliding up and down, seeking, probing. And then Max stepped over the side of the tub. As he shifted her body, she guided him into her, and he gasped.

  His hands were holding her so that he plunged inside her with every step he took. She squeezed herself tight, trying to hold back the tide threatening to wash over her.

  “Hold on, Kate. Not yet. I can’t walk and do this at the same time.”

  “Too late, bossman.” Kate felt the first intense wave of pleasure rip through her as Max knelt on the bed. He held her against him, never allowing her to slide away as he lowered her.

  Max watched her fling her head back and bite her lower lip in pure ecstasy. He’d never felt such intense joy. He’d never felt such exquisite pleasure in giving. And then the wave of heat that had taken hold of her body
suddenly transferred itself to him, and all thought of prolonging the moment was swept away in a quivering release that seemed to meld their bodies together.

  “Oh, Kate. I love you.”

  Kate sighed deeply as she felt her body climax once again.

  “Did you hear me?” Max repeated as he lay across her possessively.

  “I’m afraid I was too busy hearing me,” Kate said softly. She’d heard him. But she didn’t know how to respond. Had he just been caught up in the splendor of the moment?

  “Ah, Kate. You’ve bewitched me. You’ve turned me into a weak-kneed, bald-headed Samson, and I’m caught up in your spell. What are we going to do?”

  “Max, as long as the rest of you works, we’ll buy a wig.”

  “I think we’re safe then,” he said with a grin. “If not, I have the best maintenance worker in the world right here in my arms. Do you think you can take care of my problem?”

  She did, and he did—two more times.

  It was late afternoon when the phone beside the bed rang.

  “Damn,” Max said.

  “I agree. I told Helen Stevens that we were not to be disturbed.” Kate was lying with her head on Max’s chest, her leg thrown across his lower body.

  “You mean you knew when you came up here what was going to happen?”

  “Yep.” She put her lips on his nipple and tugged gently.

  “What would you have done if I hadn’t agreed?” He tightened his arms around her.

  “Oh, you didn’t have a choice. You’d already taken my bait. I just had to reel you in.”

  “You definitely do know the right kind of bait,” he agreed.

  The phone rang again.

  “Damn! That has to be my dear aunt. Nobody else would dare to intrude. I’d better answer it, or we’ll never …” Max gasped.

  The phone rang again.

  “Hello!”

  Kate circled his nipple with her tongue.

  Max moaned.

  “Well, well, nephew. Am I interrupting anything? You sound a little strange.”

  “Yes! You’re interrupting. What do you want?”

  “Max, is everything all right, between you and Kate?”

  “Kate? Ummmmmmmmm!”

  “Ummmmmmmmm? That’s all I wanted to know.”

  Later that evening he found Kate in the hot tub wearing the expression of a cherub.

  “What are you doing in there?” he asked.

  “Thinking naughty thoughts.”

  “Need any help?” He stepped down into the churning water.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “A grand adventure, Kate Weston. Will you marry me?”

  “You really want to marry me?”

  “Yes. Tonight, tomorrow. I want to be your husband. I want to father your children. I want to help you repair your car, paint a pole, install a—”

  “Marriage is enough, Max.”

  “You were right about me. I’ve been stuck up in my ivory tower, and I’ve missed out on so much of life. Maybe we’ll do what Dorothea did and go to sea. Do you think you could live on a shrimp boat, Kate?”

  “Max, I’d live anywhere with you. I’ve packed my sophisticated dress and my coveralls. I’m ready to move into the penthouse suite. How many children did you have in mind?”

  “Let’s have two or three. In fact, I’d love to have a freckle-faced, smart-talking little girl. Maybe we could get started with taking chances right now.” Max caught Kate in his arms. He leaned back against the faucet, turning the handle so that the water came on full force. “This is one how-to class I’m going to enjoy.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather move the class to the bedroom?” Kate reached behind Max, turned the knob, and watched in horror as it came off in her hand. “The handle, Max.”

  Max kissed her. “Forget the handle, Kate.”

  “But Max, we’re going to have a flood. Water is going everywhere. Aren’t you concerned?”

  “Nope.” He kissed her again. “I love the stuff, every drop of it. Let it pour. After all, I have my own handy man—eh, woman—don’t I?”

  “Indeed,” she whispered, “you do.”

  “And I promise, I’ll let her get around to the job—in a week or two.”

  THE EDITOR’S CORNER

  Welcome to Loveswept!

  We’re celebrating May Day with two exciting e-originals! Spring and romance come to Star Harbor for one sexy sheriff and the town’s beautiful doctor in Elisabeth Barrett’s scorching third Star Harbor book LONG SIMMERING SPRING. We also have Toni Aleo’s exhilarating debut TAKING SHOTS – the first in a red-hot new series featuring the hockey hunks of the Nashville Assassins. These books will definitely turn up the heat.

  We’re also pleased to offer LADY AND THE UNICORN, a scintillating story from bestselling author Iris Johansen; RUN WILD WITH ME and SCARLET BUTTERFLY, two scorching stories of love and passion from beloved author Sandra Chastain, and HOT AND BOTHERED and DANCING IN THE DARK, celebrated author Linda Cajio’s seductive and tantalizing novels.

  We also have a special treat from bestselling author Virna DePaul – the three novellas of her contemporary Red-Hot Cops series are available together in this eBook anthology: ARRESTED BY LOVE.

  If you love romance … then you’re ready to be Loveswept!

  Gina Wachtel

  Associate Publisher

  P.S. Watch for these terrific Loveswept titles coming soon: In June, we’re excited about Ruthie Knox’s utterly fantastic FLIRTING WITH DISASTER, Toni Aleo’s blazing TRYING TO SCORE, Linda Cajio’s superb DOUBLE DEALING, Iris Johansen’s magnificent FOREVER DREAM and three more red-hot books from Sandra Chastain SINNER AND SAINT, SHOWDOWN AT LIZARD ROCK, and SCARLET LADY. Don’t miss any of these extraordinary reads. July brings Samantha Kane’s sensual new e-original, TEMPTING A DEVIL, Toni Aleo’s third captivating book featuring hockey hunks, EMPTY NET, Ruth Owen’s dazzling AND BABIES MAKE FOUR, Jean Stone’s enthralling SINS OF INNOCENCE, Katie Rose’s utterly irresistible A HINT OF MISCHIEF, Iris Johansen’s seductive TIL THE END OF TIME, and Sandra Chastain’s enticing stories, DANNY’S GIRL and SILVER BRACELETS. I promise that you’ll fall in love and treasure these stories for years to come.…

  Read on for excerpts from more Loveswept titles …

  Read on for an excerpt from Ruthie Knox’s

  Along Came Trouble

  Chapter One

  “Get out of my yard!” Ellen shouted.

  The weasel-faced photographer ignored her, too busy snapping photos of the house next door to pay her any mind.

  No surprise there. This was the fifth time in as many days that a man with a camera had violated her property lines. By now, she knew the drill.

  They trespassed. She yelled. They pretended she didn’t exist. She called the police.

  Ellen was thoroughly sick of it. She couldn’t carry on this way, watching from the safety of the side porch and clutching her glass of iced tea like an outraged southern belle.

  It was all very well for Jamie to tell her to stay put and let the professionals deal with it. Her pop-star brother was safe at home in California, nursing his wounds. And anyway, this kind of attention was the lot he’d chosen in life. He’d decided to be a celebrity, and then he’d made the choice to get involved with Ellen’s neighbor, Carly. The consequences ought to be his to deal with.

  Ellen hadn’t invited the paparazzi to descend. She’d made different choices, and they’d led her to college, law school, marriage, divorce, motherhood. They’d led her to this quiet cul-de-sac in Camelot, Ohio, surrounded by woods.

  Her choices had also made her the kind of woman who couldn’t easily stand by as some skeevy guy crushed her plants and invaded Carly’s privacy for the umpteenth time since last Friday.

  Enough, she thought. Enough.

  But until Weasel Face crushed the life out of her favorite hosta—her mascot hosta—with his giant brown boot, she didn’t actually intend to act on the thought.

  Raised in Chicago,
Ellen had grown up ignorant of perennials. When she first moved to Camelot, a new wife in a strange land, she did her best to adapt to the local ways of lawn-mowing and shade-garden cultivation, but during the three years her marriage lasted, she’d killed every plant she put in the ground.

  It was only after her divorce that things started to grow. In the winter after she kicked Richard out for being a philandering dickhead, their son had sprouted from a pea-sized nothing to a solid presence inside her womb, breathing and alive. That spring, the first furled shoots of the hosta poked through the mulch, proving that Ellen was not incompetent, as Richard had so often implied. She and the baby were, in fact, perfectly capable of surviving, even thriving, without anyone’s help.

  Two more springs had come and gone, and the hosta kept returning, bigger every year. It became her horticultural buddy. Triumph in plant form.

  So Ellen took it personally when Weasel Face stepped on it. Possibly a bit too personally. Swept up in a delicious tide of righteousness, she crossed the lawn and upended her glass of iced tea over the back of his head.

  It felt good. It felt great, actually—the coiled-spring snap of temper, the clean confidence that came with striking a blow for justice. For the few seconds it lasted, she basked in it. It was such an improvement over standing around.

  One more confirmation that powerlessness was for suckers.

  But then it was over, and she wondered why she’d wasted the tea, because Weasel Face didn’t so much as flinch. Seemingly unbothered by the dunking, the ice cubes, or the sludgy sugar on the back of his neck, he aimed his camera at Carly’s house and held down the shutter release, capturing photo after photo as an SUV rolled to a stop in the neighboring driveway.

  “Get out of my yard,” Ellen insisted, shoving the man’s shoulder for emphasis. His only response was to reach up, adjust his lens, and carry on.

  Now what? Assault-by-beverage was unfamiliar territory for her. Usually, she stuck with verbal attack. Always, the people she engaged in battle acknowledged her presence on the field. How infuriating to be ignored by the enemy.