Going All the Way (Mills & Boon Temptation)

by Tanya Michaels

  “That’s a much more popular misconception than I realized,” he mumbled. “No, she isn’t. She apparently thought she was. Until she left me earlier this week.”

  “You were ditched by someone you weren’t even dating?” Serena chuckled. “And I thought my getting dumped was pathetic.”

  “Dumped? You’re kidding. I assumed you finally called things off because you were tired of carrying on an exciting affair with postcards.”

  He made a good point. Why hadn’t she ended the going-nowhere relationship?

  Patrick possessed a fair amount of charisma, but that had been wearing thin even before he’d left town. She’d been philosophical about her lack of enthusiasm, though. None of the men she’d spent time with in the last nine months had caused much zing inside her. Without meaning to, without even realizing it until after the fact, she’d fallen into the dating equivalent of, “Why change the channel? Nothing else good is on.”

  David leaned back as the waiter set down their plates, then asked as soon as the man walked away, “What did happen, exactly? With you and the Wanderer?”

  “He was searching for inspiration. Apparently, it’s in Yuma.” She twirled pasta around her fork. “He’s staying.”

  “I thought this whole roving-the-country thing was a chance to—help me out here?”

  “‘Soak up myriad experiences and settings and return triumphant, synthesizing them into his work,’” she recited.

  “Uh-huh. So, no synthesizing?”

  Was it too late to tell the waiter she’d changed her mind about having a drink? “Yes. He’ll just be synthesizing in Yuma. He told me I was welcome to visit him, but Atlanta was ‘asphyxiating his art.’”

  David’s lips twitched. “It can breathe in Arizona?”

  “I hear they have good air there.”

  He focused intently on his plate while he cut his steak into tiny pieces, all the while biting hard on his lower lip.

  “Oh, just get it over with,” she ordered, fighting a giggle herself. “Go ahead and laugh.”

  He did.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure he’s a gifted artist,” David said, more magnanimous than he’d ever been when she was actually dating Patrick. “Lousy boyfriend, though. I never could figure out why you stayed with him.”

  That was par for the course—David hadn’t exactly been drinking buddies with anyone she’d dated. The reverse was also true, though. From the preppie ex-prom queen Student Housing had placed Serena with to the string of cool blondes from family money she’d watched David date, most of his romantic choices made her cringe. Did he really have fun with those women? Come to think of it, he was probably asking himself the same thing about her and Patrick.

  How could she explain that in some selfish way, the absentee relationship had been ideal? She’d been able to combat loneliness by being “involved,” yet she’d never had to give up her side of the bed. She hadn’t even shaved her legs unless she felt like it.

  She shrugged. “My line of work, I’m pretty busy during the prime weekend dating hours, so I didn’t mind his being gone that much. I could call him if I needed to talk and still got gifts on my birthday and major holidays. Few of the hassles of a normal relationship, all the benefits. Except fantastic sex.”

  David set down his fork and studied her for a long, electric moment. The humor they’d shared evaporated beneath the heat in his gaze. “You know, Serena, there are guys who could give you the friendly ear, birthday cards and space to do your job…and the fantastic sex.”

  Her willpower whimpered.

  DAVID’S provocative words were still fresh in Serena’s mind when she woke up bright and early Saturday morning. Well, not “woke up,” exactly, since that implied she’d actually fallen asleep sometime during the steamy night. Steamy partly because of her own thoughts, and also because when she’d tried to turn on the air-conditioner for the first time this season, she’d discovered it didn’t work. Good thing she’d turned down David’s request to see her home—what heat that would have generated!

  After he’d taken her to pick up her car, he’d asked if she was sure she didn’t want him to follow her home. His gesture, though sweet, was totally unnecessary. She might not live in the most upscale part of town, but it wasn’t dangerous. Not nearly as dangerous as risking his being near her apartment or her ever-weakening willpower.

  Which begged the question—why had she agreed to his picking her up here this morning?

  Light spilled through the arched window at the other end of the loft’s railing, and she blinked, wondering how he’d talked her into helping him apartment hunt.

  He’d lulled her into a false sense of security, she told herself as she stood under the revitalizing spray of the shower. During dinner, his sexually charged comments had tapered off just enough so that when he’d announced that he’d naturally want her input as an Atlanta resident while he shopped for apartments, she’d agreed.

  Did he really catch you so off guard, or were you just happy for the excuse to spend more time with him?

  Ignoring the skeptical inner voice, Serena worked her blue cypress bar into a lather and ran it over her skin. The natural soap was supposed to be soothing to body and spirit, but after a sleepless night of rebellious fantasies and aching memories, she too easily imagined David’s hands running over her slick body instead of her own. His wet fingers slipping along the curve of her hip, the smooth slide of her thigh…With a tight groan, she flipped the faucet control to Cold and rinsed quickly before pulling back the shower curtain.

  If he could resume their friendship with no signs of awkward unease, so could she. In fact, keeping their relationship platonic was her idea. She couldn’t risk the possibility of ruining their friendship, no matter how badly she’d wanted him last night and still did this morning.

  Sure, opposites attracted. Notice how there was no equally famous saying about opposites settling down and living happily ever after. James and Tricia had demonstrated vividly what happened when two very different people moved beyond the attraction and into the bitter divorce stage. Although there had been painful times when Serena’s parents had used their daughter as a weapon to hurt each other, at least she could take comfort in knowing she’d learned from their mistakes. The mere possibility that her friendship with David could one day end with the same sort of spiteful contempt as her parents’ marriage made her stomach clench in dread.

  But she knew he was interested in being more than buddies.

  When she’d first e-mailed him to say their making love had been a one-time fluke, he hadn’t seemed thrilled with her decision. Given his history of persevering until he got what he wanted—whether it was a class schedule with every course he’d desired to the most sought-after girl on campus to his number-one job pick—Serena wouldn’t have been surprised last night if he’d pushed her to change her mind. Instead, he’d made comments, such as the remark about her finding a man who could take care of her sexual needs as well as her emotional ones, but then he’d moved to safer topics.

  By the time he’d driven her back to her car, she was almost wishing he’d just address their single night together directly so she had reason to reiterate her never-gonna-happen-again stance. But he hadn’t broached it, and she wasn’t about to bring it up first. Not when it was taking everything in her to keep it from happening again.

  She ran a towel over her hair in a cursory gesture that wouldn’t really do anything to keep it from drying in whatever wild curls it chose. Serena actually liked it that way. She couldn’t imagine the time and care Alyson took plaiting her long red hair in all those elaborately braided styles. Besides, when your hair was already messy, you never let the threat of disarray keep you from enjoying something like the breeze off a lake or an afternoon jaunt in a convertible with the top rolled down.

  Dressed in a pair of pink capris, an oversized T-shirt covered in sketched portraits by a local artist and a pair of vintage sandals, Serena headed downstairs, her heart rate acc
elerating as she realized David would be here soon. She’d told him that management offices for most places wouldn’t open until nine, but he’d insisted on buying her breakfast first to thank her for giving up her Saturday.

  Certainly helps save on groceries. The free meals came at a fortuitous time. With the recent lull in business, it was nice to have dinner out without worrying about funds, but it was a forcible reminder that she and David lived different realities. It wasn’t just the finances, though, or their upbringings; they moved in opposing cultural circles. He went to the opera, she went to local bars to hear her struggling guitarist friend. David had gone for his MBA with the determination to make even more of himself than his birthright gave him, and Serena had studied business to get a good idea of what the rules were before she broke them.

  When he’d kissed her last summer, she’d been stunned. There’d always been the occasional flirtatious undercurrent to their conversations, but until that day and the surprising sparks that had combusted between them, she hadn’t truly thought he was attracted to her. Romantically, they didn’t make sense. As friends, he could tease her good-naturedly about the artistic way she’d decorated her various apartments because he didn’t have to live in any of them, and she could cluck her tongue over the hellacious hours he worked because she wasn’t one of the girlfriends he cancelled on to do so—she’d had enough of that on the weekends her father was supposed to take her, thank you very much.

  Even without the excruciating ordeal of her parents’ divorce, Serena had enough sense to know she wasn’t David’s type. That Tiffany he’d started mentioning a few months ago sounded perfect for him. Yes, but she’s in Boston, and they broke up. You are here with David.

  The knock at the door was a merciful interruption. She might be spending the day with David, but only because she was doing a favor for a friend. No different than spending a day with Alyson.

  Except she didn’t fantasize about Aly.

  She crossed the hardwood floor, away from the windows and toward the door that opened into what had once been a junior-high hallway. In the part of the building where they’d housed the management offices, there were still some of the original lockers.

  “Morning.” David greeted her with a smile and a white paper sack that emanated delicious aromas. He looked even more delicious.

  “You brought breakfast.”

  “I told you I was going to,” he answered, shifting his weight from foot to foot, as though wondering why he was still standing in the hall.

  “Yes, but I thought…” Crowds, onlookers, public ordinances against her ripping off his long-sleeved red T-shirt and Dockers. She really, really needed to talk to the super about fixing her air-conditioning. “I’m sorry, come in.”

  He entered, but didn’t head for the green-and-rose kitchen that sat below her loft-style bedroom at the other end of the apartment. Instead, he paused, glancing at her with those unbelievable sky-blue eyes. “I hope you don’t mind my making a unilateral decision, but I saw that breakfast burrito vendor you liked so much was still in business and figured it would be a fun surprise.”

  “You are just full of those,” she muttered.

  His gaze held hers. “You aren’t exactly predictable yourself, Serena.”

  Was he referring to the fact that they’d made love, or the fact that she was adamantly opposed to it happening again? Less adamantly every second that passed, she admitted to herself. Her body had remained in a ripe, sensitized half-aroused state ever since he’d set foot in her office yesterday, and now she wondered if she would have made things easier on herself if she’d tried to alleviate some of this building pressure when she’d been in the shower. Too late now.

  Unless she asked him to help alleviate it.

  She swallowed, then jerked her thumb over her shoulder toward the forest-green countertop of the breakfast bar that served as a room divider. “I—I have juice in the fridge. I might even have some coffee.”

  He grimaced, but his gaze was still affectionate. Heatedly so. “No offense, but your coffee’s horrible. I grabbed some on the way over.”

  Pivoting on the blocky high heel of one sandal, she told herself she’d scarf down her food and get them out of here.

  David followed at a slower pace, taking in the surroundings. “You’ve changed some stuff.”

  “Here and there. I wanted some new decorative touches, but the major furniture’s all the same.” Good thing she was skilled at creatively redecorating on a budget. And the orange-framed acrylic pieces she had on display not only livened up the high white walls, they allowed her to help her friend Craig without it seeming too much like charity.

  “Glad to see you still have the couch,” David told her, his voice husky with remembrance.

  She froze reaching for juice, caught between the heat of her own memories and the welcoming blast of cold air that came from the fridge. Even now, every moment she and David had spent together that night was as vivid as her favorite Matisse painting—they’d barely shut the front door behind them when David had pulled her into that first startling, sizzling kiss. Then, when they’d managed to shimmy out of the majority of their sodden clothes, they’d made it as far as the bright purple velour sofa.

  She struggled for a light tone, not daring to look out in his direction. “Oh, come on. You always made fun of that couch.”

  When he spoke again, his voice was so close, she jumped. “I’ve developed a new appreciation for it.”

  Straightening fast enough to give herself a head rush, she clutched the gallon of orange juice to her and leveled a reproachful glance in his direction. “You startled me.”

  “Sorry.” He grinned. “I didn’t exactly tiptoe in here, so you must’ve really been lost in thought.”

  The tiny room that she’d decorated to be evocative of a garden was nowhere near big enough for her, David and her peace of mind.

  “If you want to have a seat,” she suggested, “I can bring the juice out.”

  He took a step—in the wrong direction—and shrugged. “I like being in here.”

  Leaning past her, bringing his body so close it almost brushed hers, he stretched up to open the cabinet over her shoulder and pulled down two glasses. Serena held her breath, paralyzed in front of the refrigerator, mesmerized by how easy it would be to touch him. To live out the fantasy she’d been craving for the past nine months.

  He set the glasses on the counter and lowered his voice. “I like being with you.”

  His words warmed her more than they should have, and she closed her eyes for a second as she stole a guilty moment to savor the sentiment. When he’d last been here, she’d not only liked being with him, she hadn’t been able to get enough of him. She’d never been so insatiable with any lover, before or since. Would it still be that way between them?

  Almost as if she’d asked the question aloud, he groaned in response. Serena felt him take the juice out of her hand and heard it land on the counter with a dull thud.

  “Serena.” The warmth of his breath was soft on her face, and he ran his thumb along the curve of her lower lip, skin so sensitive the caress almost tickled. It was all she could do not to catch the pad of his thumb with her teeth. “Look at me, honey.”

  Forgetting to breathe, she did as he asked, knowing he was about to kiss her. Wanting him to kiss her. She’d spent hours thinking about this very thing—not just during her hot sleepless night, but ever since he’d flown back to Boston last summer.

  His gaze melted with hers, and he sucked in his own breath, his expression almost one of agony. Maybe he was afraid she’d push him away. As if that were even possible. Her entire body was starving for him.

  She laced her fingers behind his neck and pulled him to her. His lips met hers eagerly, and the moment his tongue slid into her mouth, she felt dizzy with joy. This was what she’d longed for. This was what she’d remembered, what had kept her awake on nights she should’ve been missing Patrick but hadn’t.

  A small voice trying
to be heard over the rush of desire warned, this was what was going to break her heart.

  4

  DAVID’S FINGERS were tangled in the damp softness of Serena’s hair, and his thoughts were tangled in the overpowering desire that had snared him as soon as she’d opened the front door.

  As sexually frustrated as he’d been when he got back to his hotel room last night, he’d known he’d handled dinner the right way, always retreating before his flirting went too far. Changing Serena’s mind about this platonic nonsense required finesse, which had clearly been shot to hell the moment he’d set foot in this apartment. There’d been no misinterpreting the way she’d looked at him with those hot brown eyes. He’d been overwhelmed by the need in her expression, the fresh, exotic scent of her, the memories of the last time he’d been here.

  Winning her over slowly was overrated. New plan: kissing her passionately.

  Her hands skimmed up and down his back, bunching the material of his shirt and raking over his tensed muscles. He slid his own hands along the curve of her spine past her waist, kneading her round hips with his fingers as he pulled her against him. Her tongue met his, and hunger reverberated through him with the force of a tsunami.

  There was no way to deepen the already carnal kiss, but he could bring them closer together, eliminate the barriers between them. Gripping the hem, he shoved her pale purple shirt upward. He brushed over the delicate gold navel ring that had shimmered in his memories, and his erection swelled to almost painful proportions. Unlike in his memories, she was wearing a bra today, but the frothy scrap of lace could hardly be described as an obstacle. He ran his palm over her, and she moaned her approval, arching into his hand. He wanted to fill his hands with her, wanted to fill her, period.

  He lifted her shirt, and she raised her arms so he could remove it. But with their kiss broken, she blinked up at him like someone waking from a trance. When he settled his arms back around her, she sighed his name.

  “David.” It wasn’t so much rapturous desire as wistful regret.