by Donna Hill
Olivia rolled her eyes and shook her head. “No.”
“Humph. Well, whatever you put on that man you sure put it on good.”
“Desiree, you make him out to be… I don’t even know what.”
“Look, when I said that he doesn’t date, I meant it. He may do a dinner-out thing but that’s about it. The single women in this little town have been after him from day one. Nonstop. He barely gives them the time of day. You are special. Period.”
“It’s only dinner.”
“At his house!”
Olivia laughed. “Okay, okay, at his house.”
“And I want all the details tomorrow. Unless of course you’re too tired,” she teased.
“Very funny. Bye, Desi.”
“Seriously, though. Have a good time.”
“Thanks.”
Olivia put the phone down and mused over Desiree’s comments. Was she special? Guess she would find out later. In the meantime, she had some notes to transcribe and then had to get ready for her evening with Connor.
* * *
Olivia took extra care with her preparations for her date, making sure that everything above and below the waist was coiffed and neat. She spent nearly an hour soaking in the tub filled with her favorite bath oil. When she finally got out her skin felt like pure silk. She stood naked in front of the full-length mirror that hung on the back of the door.
For a thirty-four-year-old woman, she still had it. Gravity hadn’t taken over as of yet, and between the running around with her job and her weekly workout, she stayed in fairly good shape. Her tummy could use a bit of toning up, but she hadn’t reached the Spanx threshold yet. Her favorite feature of her body was her legs. They were long and shapely. With her line of work she’d didn’t get to show them off as often as she would like. But tonight, like the other evening, was her opportunity.
By the time she finished selecting the perfect set of undies, and putting on her new dress, it was almost six. What if she stayed the night? Should she be so bold as to toss a toothbrush in her purse and a change of clothes? Who was she kidding? She knew she was staying. She was looking forward to it with a giddy anticipation that she hadn’t felt in far too long.
It had been many months since she’d been intimate with anyone. She chalked it up to work. The truth was that she had no interest in anyone. There wasn’t a man who made sparks go off inside her, or turned her on with a simple look, a smile or a touch. Until she met Connor.
She ran her hands across the rise of her breasts and down the valley of her stomach. She could barely contain her need to be touched… to be touched by him. But if she could wait this long, a few more hours was nothing. She turned away from her reflection and started to get ready.
Promptly at seven her front doorbell rang. As she shut the door and followed Connor to his car, she reminded herself one last time that whatever transpired between them was only temporary.
When they pulled up in front of his place, Olivia’s heart was racing so rapidly that it was hard for her to breathe.
* * *
“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, and extended his hand toward the couch.
Olivia took a look around. Totally male. Totally Connor. The rich dark tones and minimal furnishings spoke to the rugged side of him, the transient side. There was no permanence here. Two of his paintings hung on the wall. One was of the docks; the other was an oil of a woman with her back to the viewer as she looked out across the horizon. His name was etched across the bottom. They were good, really good.
Olivia crossed the room to where a stack of paintings rested against the wall. She went through the half dozen of them. They were mostly images of the town and surrounding area. Others where framed sepia photographs of what appeared to be early settlers.
“I’m working on getting those restored,” he said, coming up behind her and offering a glass of wine.
She took the glass. “Thank you. Where did you find these? They have to be more than a hundred years old.”
“In one of the buildings at the edge of the property. Most of them have been damaged by the weather and age, but—” he shrugged slightly “—something can be done with them.”
“I agree. I’d like to study them, as well.” She turned to him. He was so close. She could see the light reflected in the darkness of his eyes. She raised the glass to her lips. “Your work is equally as impressive. You have real talent.”
“Thanks. Uh, dinner’s about ready,” he said.
She sensed a nervous tension in him that was unfamiliar. It was in the way he wouldn’t look directly at her, the way he held himself just out of reach. The notion that Connor Lawson was actually uncertain around her bolstered her confidence, made her bold. She took a step closer.
“Everything smells delicious.”
He half smiled and took a swallow of his wine. “I take you for a jazz kind of girl.” He turned away and walked over to the stereo system on the other side of the living room. “Instrumental cool?”
“Sure.”
He sifted through the CD stand, selected several and put them on. The baleful horn of Coltrane floated through the space.
Olivia took a seat on the couch and set her drink down on the table. “How did things go at the site today?”
“I left everything in the hands of my foreman, Jake. No calls, no problems.” Connor came and sat next to her.
“So are you trying to say that you slaved over a hot stove all day?” She angled her body toward him.
“Definitely.” His eyes drifted slowly across her face. “You look beautiful. Did I tell you that?”
“Not today,” she said softly.
“You do.” He draped his arm along the back of the couch and let his fingertips dangle along her shoulder.
Olivia contained the shiver that latched on to her spine.
“More wine?” His index finger stroked the side of her neck.
Her lids fluttered. What did he just say?
He leaned forward, took the bottle from the table and topped off her glass. “Ready to eat?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
He stood up from his seat, plucked her drink from her hand and extended his to help her to her feet. Olivia placed her hand in his and his long fingers wrapped around her palm. Gently he pulled her to stand flush against him. Whatever nervous tension she’d thought she’d witnessed in him earlier was gone.
Before she could think or react, his mouth covered hers. The sweet taste of the wine burst in her mouth as his tongue refused to wait for permission to tango with hers.
Her sigh flowed through him like water rushing through open faucets. He cupped her cheeks and drew her farther into his kiss. The sweet heat of her wrapped around him; her scent short-circuited his senses. She made him crazy. There was no other way to explain it. And getting crazy over a woman was trouble and dangerous. He wanted neither, even as much as he wanted Olivia.
Connor broke away and took a step back. Without a word he turned away and walked into the adjoining kitchen. He had to clear his head. Some distance between them was what he needed.
“Thought we could eat in here. Keep it casual,” he added, with his back still to her.
Olivia stood in the entryway of the kitchen, staring at his rock-solid outline.
“Have a seat.” He lifted the lid of the slow cooker and the mouthwatering aroma of the jambalaya permeated the air. He brought the pot to the table and set it on the warming tray in the center, then he spooned the rice from a second pot into a large bowl and brought that to the table, as well. “I don’t want to presume how much you want. One thing I can guarantee is that you will want more.” He grinned but didn’t look directly at her. “Help yourself.”
Olivia hopped up on the high seat, thankful that it had arms that she could hold on to. He
r entire body was still vibrating. Connor sat on the opposite side of the table.
They filled their plates in relative silence; instead of drawing them closer, the kiss had erected an invisible barrier. Olivia kept her focus on her plate, but she couldn’t hold back the hum of pleasure with each mouthful.
Finally, Connor dared to look at her. He smiled with pleasure. His right brow arched in question. “Like it?”
“That would be an understatement. This is some good eating.”
Connor tossed his head back and laughed and the tight line of tension between them snapped.
“Family recipe?”
“Yep, and a few things I’ve learned along the way… to kind of give it my own twist.”
“If you ever give up restoration work, you definitely have a second career.” She forked more food and chewed slowly, studying his profile. “So was it Mom or Dad’s recipe?” She watched his jaw tighten and knew she’d inadvertently stepped on another land mine.
“My father wouldn’t know a kitchen if you drew him a map. And my mother… Well, she wasn’t around much.”
“Oh… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s cool. Part of who I am.” He looked up at her. “Used to it by now.” He settled into his seat and leaned slightly to the side. “Grandma Sylvia — God rest her soul — taught me everything I know about cooking.” He reached across the table for the unopened bottle of wine, uncorked it and filled their glasses. “Spent most of my summers at Grandma’s house in Nawlins,” he said with a twang.
“Must have been nice,” she said, working hard to keep the wistfulness out of her voice. She wanted to know more about him, his family, his life, but what she didn’t want was for the conversation to shift in her direction. “Where did you go to school?”
“MIT.”
Olivia’s eyes widened with admiration. “I’m impressed. Not easy to get into MIT.”
“Hmm.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I suppose.”
“Education in general is getting more and more difficult to achieve. I really feel for the young people now. They will either be broken by student loan debt or not attend at all — at least those that don’t have a college fund or parents that can afford to help.”
Connor nodded in agreement. “The educational crisis is sad and all too true. I was lucky.” He shifted in his seat, a bit uncomfortable with the idea of the deep pockets of his family that had afforded all of them the best education that money could provide. That was why it was so important for him to be his own man. His family had a legacy, there was no getting around that, but that was what he wanted for so many other African-Americans whose history was buried in the relics that they worked to restore. “At least this new initiative of free tuition for community colleges will help thousands of young people to get a start.”
“Yes, there’s that. What was your major?”
“Design and construction. But I went into the navy after graduation. I wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted to do. My father wanted me in the family business so I hightailed it out of there.” He chuckled.
Olivia giggled. “Why? What kind of shady business is he in?” she teased.
“Global marketing.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
Connor lifted his glass to his lips and took a thoughtful swallow. “Let’s just say that my father’s and my sensibilities are on opposite ends. I want to restore. His goal in life is to buy up whatever is available — land, businesses, people — and recreate them. My sister, Sydni, is his protégée. Fortunately she has a mind of her own and doesn’t mind butting heads with him. But that’s their thing. I do mine. Then there’s my brother, Devon. He’s the youngest, still wild, and loving the playboy life. You would never know just how brilliant he is by the asinine things he does. He was inducted into Mensa when he was sixteen. Called himself following in my footsteps.”
“You’re part of Mensa?”
“Yeah. Don’t talk about it much, though.”
“Why in the world not? I only wish.”
Mensa International was an organization founded in 1946 for those whose IQs were in the top 2 percent of the country. To be a member was certainly to be included in an elite if not eclectic community of individuals. Olivia was duly impressed.
He grinned. “Most folks get the wrong idea, that because you have this crazy high IQ you’re supposed to be ending world hunger or creating cures for incurable diseases.” He shrugged. “Me, it makes me overthink things. And Devon just acts out, stays in one kind of trouble or the other. Drives my father crazy.” He laughed at that. “My uncle Branford wanted me to go into policy analysis and work in some kind of think tank in DC.”
Olivia put down her fork and leaned forward on her elbows. “I can’t see you doing that at all,” she said thoughtfully. “You have too much energy and you need to use your hands as much as your mind.”
His gaze narrowed and moved slowly over her face as if he was looking at her clearly for the very first time. “The only person that has ever said that to me was my sister, Sydni.”
Olivia lowered her head, then looked across at him. “I’d like to meet her sometime.”
The corner of his mouth curved upward. “I think she’d like you.”
* * *
They each had another helping of food before returning to the living room.
“I. Am. Stuffed,” Olivia said, and flopped down on the couch. “Dinner was excellent.”
Connor took a mock bow before sitting next to her. “Glad you enjoyed it. I usually go for a walk after dinner but we can skip that if you want.”
Olivia angled her head toward him. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m as much for physical activity as the next one, but not tonight. I am going to sit right here, relax and listen to this great music.”
“Sounds like a plan.” He settled back on the couch. “So… did you think about what I said?”
Her brow knitted. “Said about what?”
“Breakfast.”
Her heart jumped. “Oh… breakfast.” She ran her tongue along her bottom lip. This had to come out the right way. She looked straight into his eyes. “I take my coffee light and sweet, scrambled egg whites and whole wheat toast… ” She swallowed.
His eyes darkened. “I think I can manage that.”
“Something else Grandma taught you?”
“There were two things my grandmother insisted that I knew.” He turned his body toward Olivia and stroked her bottom lip with his thumb. “How to cook and how to keep a lady happy.”
“You have cooking down to an art form… the rest is still to be decided.”
A lustful smile curved his mouth and he hummed deep in his throat. “A new challenge always excites me.”
Her clit twitched. She shifted slightly in her seat. “Do I fall into the challenge category?”
Connor watched the column of her throat work and the tiny pulse flutter like a sparrow’s wings. “Definitely.” He leaned in and kissed her. Lightly at first and slowly demanding more until she was fully in his arms, totally engaged in the melding of their mouths and the mating of their tongues.
All he needed was to see her naked, touch her, push himself into her and expel this maddening desire he had. Then he could see clearly, think rationally and move on with his life. It took every bit of self-control not to take her right then and there on the couch as he’d done with others. But not Olivia. Not the first time.
Connor eased away and stood in one smooth movement. He extended his hand to her. Her skin glowed as if lit from beneath. He watched the rise and fall of her chest and the way her eyes caught the shimmer of light. His clenched his jaw. He needed her. Now.
“Come,” he managed to say.
Olivia placed her hand in his and followed his lead into his bedroom.
Chapt
er 8
The moment they crossed the threshold, Connor wrapped Olivia in his arms and held her against him. He inhaled her scent, memorized the way her body shifted to merge with his. He had to taste her again and he did, with sweet nibbles along her neck, across her collarbone, behind her ear, her cheek, until he met her lips. The simmering heat that smoldered in his belly erupted and rose upward into a groan that flowed into her. With her encircled in his arms he slowly backed up toward his bed.
“This is what you want,” he declared, his tone ragged with raw need.
“Yes,” she whispered against his lips an instant before his tongue delved into her mouth.
Facing her on the king-size bed, Connor began his quest to conquer her body. Inch by inch he explored, ceremoniously removing her clothing to reveal by degrees the satiny coffee-brown skin that heated and fluttered beneath his mouth and his fingertips. When she was down to her lace bra and panties Connor took a moment to assess the treasure in front of him.
“You’re beautiful.” He kissed the rise of her breasts that overflowed the cups of her bra. Tenderly he caressed the fullness of her, then slipped the straps off her shoulders and the cups beneath the swell of her breasts, pushed them higher. A groan rumbled in his throat when he took one turgid nipple between his lips and laved it with his tongue.
Olivia’s body tensed and arched as if stunned by an electric current. She gripped the sheet in her fists and let the thrilling sensation of his mouth on her body flow through her. Her soft moans only served to heighten Connor’s desire.
Connor moved from one side to the other, then down to her stomach, where he toyed with her navel, then across to the line of her hip bones. That elicited a shiver from her. He secured her hips with his hands and moved lower, holding her in place. His tongue drew a fine hot line along her inner thighs until she was weak and whimpering. Her pelvis instinctively rose and fell but it wasn’t time yet. He needed her to want him beyond reason. He wanted her body to commit to his before he entered her, so that every inch of her would respond to him. He wanted to erase from her mind and body any other man she’d been with, and make her his own.