Desperate Measures

by Linda Cajio

  Ellen’s Audi sat in solitary majesty in the lot. Joe gritted his teeth at the sight of the empty parking spaces and dim lighting surrounding the car. He hadn’t considered that the rink would be closed and the people gone. As he pulled his car next to the driver’s side of the Audi, he vowed he would not touch her. Just like when they had been trapped next to those two entwined teenagers by the lockers, or when their fingers had touched, he could feel the desire to take her in his arms climbing toward a frenzied peak. He had been afraid to touch her at the rink, afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. Now his need had had all evening to simmer.

  “It was a very nice dinner,” Ellen said, her voice low.

  He could sense her anxiety, and he knew he had to end this date companionably. If he wanted to see her again. And he did. He had promised her “slow,” and now he had to deliver. He deliberately relaxed and turned in the seat to face her. She was facing forward, and her hand was gripping the door latch. Her clear readiness to bolt brought a sudden surge of protectiveness for her.

  “It was a terrific dinner … once I found you,” he said, keeping his tone amused. “Next time you run away, please dress for it.”

  She chuckled a little, shaking her head. “I probably will, just in case you catch me again.”

  “No probably about it.” He smiled to himself, noting the tension in her fading. His own tension was slowly draining away too. No problem, he thought. He’d just remind her about the christening on Sunday, they’d say good night, she’d get out of the car, and that would be that, “Don’t forget the christening on Sunday. I’ll pick you up about one, okay?”

  She smiled. He watched with satisfaction as her hand let go of the door latch. “That’s fine.”

  “I’ll follow you home,” he said, not liking the idea of her going on alone.

  “Thank you, but no.” Her smile widened. “I’m Scotty, the sensible spy, remember? I can certainly drive myself home.”

  “Maybe I’m the one we ought to be worrying about.”

  “You’ll do just fine.”

  “So far,” he muttered to himself, knowing she was capable of driving herself home but having a vague feeling Miss Manners wouldn’t quite approve. “One o’clock then on Sunday. And you’re sure you don’t need an escort?”

  She nodded. “I’m sure. Good night, Joe, and thanks for dinner.”

  “Good night, Ell, and you’re welcome.” Part two of his game plan was completed. Tough as it was, he admitted he was satisfied.

  She opened the passenger door, then turned around. “Oh! I’m almost forgetting my skates. They’re on the back seat.”

  “Right, right, right. The skates,” he said, and stretched around to retrieve them.

  He collided instead with soft shoulders and reaching, feminine arms intent on the same purpose. He scrambled back into his seat away from her, scorched by the sudden fire exploding within him. The breath left his body, and at the same moment his senses were filled with the scents of perfume and woman. His blood pounded beyond its limits.

  He stared at her, the space separating them almost nothing. Her eyes were wide and focused on his, and her full lips were parted. His earlier thoughts of her being unaffected by the attraction between them vanished. A sensual challenge filled the air. A primitive part of him dared him to respond. He told himself to ignore it, let it go, take a cold shower, move to the Arctic Circle … then he saw the tip of her tongue slip slowly along her lower lip, moistening it, and he was lost.

  Without thought, he pulled her to him, bringing her mouth to his. Her lips were softer than he’d remembered, and they molded to his under the onslaught of his kiss. He parted her lips, his tongue delving inside to claim hers. She met him eagerly, the clash and duel of the kiss consuming him. Her arms wound around his shoulders, her fingers digging into his suit jacket.

  He had never expected her to respond like this. She wasn’t fighting him at all, and he had no thought to fight himself. He pressed her closer until her breasts were against his chest. He slipped his hand around and under her sweater, gliding across the flawless silk of her skin. The front hooks of her bra were undone with a press of his fingers. One breast spilled free of the satin and into his waiting hand. The nipple, already tight, leaped against his palm as if his touch were giving it life. He tore his mouth from hers and dipped his head lower, determined to taste her in a way he never had before.

  Her hands were clinging and tugging as he nuzzled her breasts. The taste of her was smooth and fine, like a wine that had come into its full bouquet. Her flesh had a scent of its own, heady and intoxicating. He started with slow, light kisses everywhere he could reach, his hands charting a path before his lips, finding new curves and dips to explore. His kisses became more fierce as he drowned in the taste of her. He heard a low moan, when he finally curved his tongue around the diamond-hard nipple. The satisfaction was unlike anything he’d felt before, and yet his need was driven to the breaking point.

  Ellen felt as if years of repression had slid away with the kiss. The touch, she corrected herself dimly, as Joe’s mouth sent a kaleidoscope of sensations racing through her. She had lost all thought of resistance the moment their bodies had touched in the quest for the skates. She had tried her best to fight this. She had even run away from it tonight. But throughout dinner and the ride back to the rink, she had been tormented with the thought that the evening would end like this. Her in his arms, out of control. She had wanted it to happen, and when he had pulled away from her, she had willed it to happen.

  She was out of control now, she realized as her fingers found their way under his suit jacket. She could feel the muscles of his back working under his fine cotton shirt whenever he moved. His hands were touching her everywhere, seeking out every pleasure spot she possessed. His mouth was the center of her being, driving her to distraction. She was moaning shamelessly under his caresses, and she didn’t care. She used her hands to guide his lips over her flesh, and she thrust her breasts forward so he could taste all of her. He was taking her body and mind to places unimagined before. Something ageless inside her had been brought to life again. Now it was growing and calling out to him. It didn’t matter where they were, or who they were, or what consequences she would face afterwards. She could no more stop this than she could stop breathing.

  He lifted his head, and at the sudden shock of her nipple bereft of his mouth she really did stop breathing.

  “We can’t,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  She blinked, stunned by the words. He was kidding, joking with her. She could hear the need in his voice. His arms were still tight around her, and her bared breasts were against his chest, the fabric of his shirt teasing her wildly sensitive nipples.

  “Joe, please,” she whispered, struggling to push off his jacket.

  He captured her hands and held them between their bodies. “I won’t make love to you in a car, Ellen Kitteridge. Not the first time.”

  She blinked again, stilling her efforts to escape his grasp.

  He buried his face in her neck. “And I won’t make love to you too soon, Ell. Even if you’ve momentarily forgotten it, this is too soon.”

  Shaken, she closed her eyes, feeling her need swirling deep and heavy inside her. It was like being slammed against a wall of reality, she thought.

  “I wish you weren’t so smart,” she finally said, trying to bring herself under control.

  He collapsed, half on, half off her, his chest shaking with his amusement. “Either that, or you stop being so damn sexy.”

  She was torn between anger and relief. She opted instead for being pleased that he thought her sexy. And he had cared more for her emotional well-being than for his physical satisfaction. Most men wouldn’t. He must have known she wouldn’t have stopped him. He was keeping his promise to her. Something inside her broke at the thought.

  The armrest was pressing uncomfortably into her back, and to cover the sudden rush of tenderness from showing, she said, “My back is killing me. H
owever do the kids manage this?”

  “In my parking days, way back around the Middle Ages, I don’t remember the steering wheel getting in the way this much.” He kissed her lightly on the mouth in what should have been a brotherly fashion and almost wasn’t. He immediately straightened, then groaned loudly. “Either steering wheels are getting bigger, or I’m way out of shape.”

  “You’re way out of shape.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” She adjusted her clothes and sank back in the car seat. Her hands were shaking and heat was rushing to her cheeks. Her mind whirled with confusion. The more she tried to resist him, the more she ached to give in to him. She didn’t know what to think anymore, and yet all her thoughts were filled with Joe.

  His hand curved around her jaw, and he turned her toward him. His face reflected his concern. “Are you okay?”

  She smiled slightly and nodded. “I’m fine.”

  His fingers were warm and strong against her cheek. Her breathing quickened, and desire, barely suppressed, began to swirl through her again. He leaned forward and touched her lips lightly with his. Again … and again.

  “We’d better stop this now,” he said between kisses.

  “We should,” she agreed, not moving.

  “We could …” His voice trailed away as he kissed her thoroughly this time.

  When they finally resurfaced, they broke apart. Ellen was better prepared this time for the deprivation. She took a deep breath and brushed the hair back from her shoulders. “I’d better go.”

  He reached in the back and got her skates. She held the clunky objects on her lap for a second, then opened the car door.

  “Dinner, tomorrow?” he asked. “No parking, I promise.”

  She hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”

  “Good.” He started laughing. “What if a cop had stopped to check out the car and caught us?”

  She grinned. “You’d have some fancy explaining to do.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because I would have fainted dead away from humiliation.”

  Joe flopped back in the seat and laughed. “Do you realize that I essentially live with my parents and you live with your grandmother, We’re a couple of real sophisticates, Ell.”

  She started to chuckle, shedding the last remnants of embarrassment. Things definitely could have been worse.

  A few minutes later, she got into her car and shut the door. Something fundamental had changed inside her tonight. She could sense it, and it had to do with Joe. She was still afraid to get involved with anyone, and yet she was filled with hope that she would.

  With Joe.

  • • •

  The christening reception was in full swing, and Ellen gazed around the large drawing room from her spot in the buffet line. She had been afraid a christening would dredge up memories she might not be able to handle, but she had braced herself mentally. She knew she could be proud of herself for her composure.

  Joe’s parents’ gothic-style home was every bit as palatial as her grandmother’s, and the place was packed with Carlinis. Everyone smiled at her. Everyone was polite. Everyone acted pleased that she had come with Joe. And yet every so often she felt an underlying hostility. It was directed toward her.

  She told herself that people did display a certain caution on first meeting. That was only natural—especially since her background was known. Nobody excluded her from a conversation. In fact, this was her first moment alone, and she had taken the opportunity to get some food. But she sensed a definite hostility from somewhere. It reminded her of something, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

  Maybe it was she. There must be over a hundred people here, and the reception was as lavish as any she’d been to before, including ones in Europe. She admitted she had been expecting a more boisterous gathering, but these were sophisticated Americans, comfortable and knowledgeable in their wealth and power. She had wanted to make a good impression, but she wondered if she had blundered somewhere. She didn’t think so. She’d been trained too well to make a faux pas now.

  She looked over at Joe, who was momentarily trapped in a conversation with his father and two of his uncles. She forgot her anxiety as she gazed at him, memorizing the planes of his cheeks, his straight nose, his mobile lips. The intensity of his expression as he talked and gestured brought an unconscious smile to her. She knew she was gawking like a schoolgirl, but she couldn’t stop herself. She was beginning to trust again. Trust her body, trust herself, and trust Joe. The past few days had been wonderful. And too darn platonic, she admitted with a wry smile. She sighed and smoothed down her blue-gray cashmere skirt.

  She looked up in time to see Joe excuse himself and hurry over to her. He stood so close that she imagined she could feel every line and dip of his body. The people in the room seemed to slide into the distance.

  “You’d better not smile like that,” he said in a low voice. “Otherwise I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

  “You’d shock your family,” she pointed out, deciding he looked extremely handsome in his gray tweed suit.

  “That’s their problem,” he said, grinning. “Hungry?”

  “Starving.” That was another thing. She was eating like a horse.

  Joe’s grin widened intimately, as if he were taking credit for that. Maybe he should, she decided. His father called to him, and he made a face as he waved back in acknowledgment.

  “They’re going to drive me crazy today. I’m sorry, Ell, but I’ll only be a few more minutes, I promise.”

  She chuckled. “I’m fine.”

  He went off, muttering something about retirees who refused to retire. She watched him until he was in the center of the small knot of men, then reluctantly shifted her gaze from him.

  She found herself being stared at by Joe’s mother and two aunts whose names she couldn’t remember. All three were seated on a sofa, their backs straight, their eyes narrowed. Their disapproved of her was unmistakable, and Ellen was stunned by it. Today was the first time she had met any of the three, but she knew with certainty she had been judged and sentenced already.

  A similar scene rose from her past, and now she remembered why the underlying hostility seemed so familiar. Her former husband’s mother and aunts had sat in just the same way, looked her over in just the same way, and judged her lacking in just the same way. They had fed Florian’s whims with a vengeance against her, and interfered with the marriage at every turn.

  Clearly, she was unacceptable yet again to another man’s family. This time, though, she had headlines to precede her.

  Realizing her hands were shaking, she clenched them into tight fists. She refused to let any hurt show and gazed back at the three older women for a long moment, then tilted her chin and turned away in a rebuff she’d learned from her grandmother. Her stomach was churning, any pleasure in the day gone. The last thing she wanted to do was eat, and she slipped out of line and headed for the closest quiet corner. To her relief she managed to find an unoccupied wingback chair along a wall. But she had no sooner sat down when she spotted Joe’s sister Carol and Mario. Mario held two laden plates. As Ellen forced her composure into place, she realized she’d nearly forgotten about Mario and the recipe. She’d been too wrapped up in Joe.

  “Here,” Ellen offered, standing and stepping away from the chair. She nodded at Mario, then said to Carol, “I know it’s only one, but take it, please.”

  “Go ahead, Carol,” Mario said. “I can stand.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?” Carol asked, looking harried.

  Ellen smiled. “Not at all.”

  The other woman smiled back in gratitude and settled in the wing chair with a sigh. “The baby was up at dawn, the caterer forgot half the order, and my feet are killing me.”

  Ellen grinned. At least Joe’s sister was friendly. “You look lovely. No one would know.”

  “You’re so nice.” Carol accepted the plate Mario handed her. “Thank you, Mario. I
don’t know where that husband of mine got to. Probably snuck into the study to watch the Phillies, the stinker, while I got the baby down for a nap. You’ve been a big help. And thanks for checking on those orders for me at the office. I hadn’t realized how much I had let slip by me these past weeks.”

  Ellen could feel the hairs on her neck prickle. Carol held a quarter of the recipe. She was the one Joe trusted most. Mario glanced at her, then back at Carol.

  “It was my pleasure,” he said. “You know I’m glad to help you any way I can.”

  “I may just take you up on that,” Carol said, digging her fork into a sizable helping of lasagna.

  Mario smiled as he followed suit.

  The prickles grew stronger as Ellen understood the scenario unfolding before her. Busy new mother and fast-paced executive with too many pressures trying to juggle it all. She could easily succumb to a pair of helping hands, and it wouldn’t matter who they were attached to for the moment. Carol could make a misjudgment without realizing it at first. She could give away her part of the recipe by mistake. And Mario had to know that. Ellen’s presence was hardly a deterrent. Right here, right in front of her, he was actually making a maneuver for the recipe.

  Ellen forgot her previous hurt as her brain scrambled for a way to inject a warning. Joe must have told his sister about Mario. All she had to do was reinforce it.

  “It’s very nice to see you again, Mario,” she began. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted Carol’s gaze widen. She pressed on. “Thomas told me the other day at the plant about how much he enjoyed the Sinatra concert. He was so pleased that you had treated him.”

  Mario stared at her, his face devoid of all emotion. Somehow the lack of facial expression was frightening.

  Ellen resisted the urge to run. Smiling as innocently as possible, she added, “I hope your mother wasn’t too jealous.”

  He held her gaze for a moment longer, then said, “No.”

  Ellen nodded. Carol sat frozen in the chair now. her food forgotten. Mario, after one glance at her, turned on his heel and walked away.