“What ramifications?”
“That you’d caught a lion by the tail and didn’t quite know what to do with him.”
“Well, I do now,” she retorted. “I’m setting him free.”
“Too late, sweetheart.” He released his belt and ripped the leather through the loops. It cracked like a whip, the sound splitting the heaviness of the air around them. “You’re stuck with him, teeth, claws, hungry roar and all.”
Her breathing kicked up a notch. “Why are you doing this? Why can’t you accept that it’s not working out between us and let it go?”
“Let you go, you mean.”
“Yes!”
“Not a chance.” He tore the shirt from his shoulders and dropped it to the floor. With a single stride he ate up the final few feet separating them. Everything about him felt intensely male, overwhelmingly male. His partial nudity, his distinctive scent, the endless ripple of muscle that eclipsed all else within sight, the tough, ravenous timbre of his voice. Even the earthy glitter in his eyes held a masculine threat. “Admit it, Madison, you want me as much as I want you.”
“Do you need to hear me admit it? Fine. I want you. I’d like to have you in my bed for a night or two of mindless sex. And then I’d like to say thank you very much and wave a fond farewell.”
“That’s all this is? Lust?”
She didn’t have a single qualm about admitting it. “That’s all,” she confirmed.
“And a few nights of mindless sex will suffice. Appetite satisfied?”
“No question.”
“So what are you waiting for?” He touched her, a single sweep of his finger that scorched her skin from jawline to collarbone. “There’s a bedroom a few feet away. Rosy’s naughty-but-safe tree has dozens of leaves to choose from. All you have to do is pick one. That is what you asked for, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
It was the truth. She’d wanted him from the first minute his voice had filled her ears. Maybe she’d been affected by those stupid love principles of Bartholomew’s, after all. But somehow she questioned that it was that simple. She and Harry had connected on the elevator. And no matter how much she tried to deny it, they were more alike than not. But that didn’t mean they were destined to share forever together. Her future didn’t offer such a dream. Still… They had tonight, didn’t they?
“Harry,” she whispered. “You asked if we could have an affair.”
He tried to read her expression, to analyze precisely where she was going with her declaration. “Are you agreeing?”
“Yes.”
He took an educated guess. “But it’ll be a temporary relationship, right?”
“No commitment. No promises. Just two people who crave each other,” she confirmed.
Why didn’t that surprise him? “Are you sure that’s all there is to it?”
“I’m positive.” His hesitation must have bothered her because an urgency gathered in her voice. “Please, Harry. Make love to me.”
Love? “I thought you said sex.”
She stared in confusion. “I did.”
He inclined his head. “Then that’s what I’ll give you.”
His mouth came down on hers, ending any further discussion. His touch was hard and driven and purposeful, and she surrendered to him without hesitation or doubt. He removed her suit jacket in a few swift movements, before making short work of the buttons anchoring both her skirt and blouse. Within seconds he’d stripped her of those, as well. And in between the loss of each garment he continued to take her mouth in short, biting kisses.
“Is this what you want?” he demanded.
“Yes. Oh, yes.”
His hands sank deep into her hair, releasing the pent-up curls as easily as he’d released her desire. Streams of dark ringlets poured over her shoulders to rest against the upper curves of her breasts. “No strings,” he told her. “No emotional attachment. Just raw sex.”
She stirred at that and he stole any objections in a searing kiss that mated mouth and tongue and breath. If he only had a single night with her, he wanted to know all of her. And he wanted Madison to know all of him, as well. But not quite yet. She wasn’t ready for that. She’d asked for something far different and he’d give it to her right up until she discovered her mistake.
Reaching behind her, he released her bra. It fell away and he cupped her breasts. They were full and sweet and richly crested and they tempted him beyond restraint. Slowly he lowered his head and kissed each tip, deliberately driving the peaks into tightly furled buds of sensation. A shudder raced through her and her breath quickened, but she didn’t protest.
“More?” he asked.
She didn’t appear capable of uttering a single word. Instead, she nodded with unmistakable urgency.
Dropping to one knee, he removed the last of her clothing, drawing her panties from her hips. He followed the scrap of silk and lace down the length of her legs with slow, deliberate strokes designed to arouse. She shuddered at each caress, quivering as his touch grew bolder, his exploration more intimate. He swept his hands up the inside of her thighs, finding the hot, moist core of her, feeling her flower to full ripeness against his fingers.
She tugged at him, pulling him upward. “Please, Harry. I can’t wait any longer.”
“Not yet. Touch me first, Madison,” he demanded. “Show me that I’m the one you need tonight. The only one. Or will any man do?”
She shuddered at the order, reaching for him with notable hesitation. Her fingers slid across his chest, making shallow furrows in his hair as she explored each ridge and hollow. With a barely audible sigh she leaned into him, her softness a stark counterpoint to his harder form. She pressed her lips against the base of his throat in a damp, openmouthed kiss and reached for the opening of his trousers. The zip parted beneath her fingers. And then she was inside.
“It’s you I want, Harry. Only you.”
His breath rushed from his lungs in a silent groan. He’d always prided himself on his control, but with that simple, tentative touch, she nearly unmanned him. He’d planned to give her what she’d requested until she stopped him. No emotion, no fairy-tale romance. Just a man and a woman and the elemental desire that drove them to seek each other out. But he couldn’t keep going. He was too close to the edge, too close to taking her with the heartless disregard she’d requested. If that happened, they’d both regret it afterward. They’d end up feeling cheated, the memories uncomfortable rather than unforgettable. He knew that, even if she didn’t. Gathering the remaining shreds of his willpower, he decided to end this before it went too far.
“Go pick a leaf, Madison.” His words escaped in a guttural demand. “Let’s get down to business.”
“Business?” Her eyes opened, a momentary confusion shadowing the passion. “What are you talking about, Harry?”
“I’m talking about getting on with it.” He dropped a hard kiss on her mouth. “Should I find Rosy’s instructions? Would that help? There are a few things on there that might be new to you. And how about the honey? Or do you prefer chocolate and whipped cream?”
“No. No, of course not.” Her brow wrinkled. “I don’t understand. What are you doing?”
“I’m giving you what you asked for, remember? Sex. Hot, mindless, can’t-remember-your-name-in-the-morning sex.” He infused a hint of impatience in his voice. “Come on, sweetheart. What’s the holdup? There’s a bed waiting. Leaves to pluck. And dinner to eat off each other. What more could you want?”
She shook her head, her confusion growing, eclipsing all other emotion. “Stop it, Harry. I don’t like this. You’re making it sound so…so—”
“Sordid?”
She shivered and glanced around as though suddenly aware of where they were and what they were doing. Her arms folded around herself like a flower closing against the uncomfortable chill of nightfall. “This has been a mistake. I think I should go home.”
“You’re right. This is a mistake.” Ever so carefully, he drew her int
o his arms, holding her with a tenderness she couldn’t mistake. “Let me show you why.”
Harry didn’t give her a chance to protest, but kissed her once more. Only this time, he gave her all she’d rejected before. He made love to her mouth with slow, deep, hungry kisses. She felt stiff in his arms at first. But with each kiss, she relaxed a little more, opening to him, encouraging him with disjointed pleas and urgent hands. And this time when he touched her it was with more than the desire to arouse. He made their pairing a benediction.
He worshiped her body, telling her without words what he felt and how it should be between them. With each stroke and kiss and caress, he showed her the difference between what she’d requested and what she truly wanted. And he gave to her with unstinting generosity. Her response was all he hoped for and more. She said the words he couldn’t, gifting him with whispered secrets he’d always treasure. Where before her lovemaking was hesitant and unsure, now it was certain and tender, her surrender one of total abandon.
“Is this what you want?” he asked again.
“Yes. Oh, yes.”
“Sex?”
“No.” She cupped his face, smoothing his jaw with her thumbs, her eyes filled with apology. “I’m sorry, Harry. I was wrong before. I didn’t understand. Make love to me. Please.”
He didn’t need to hear any more. Sweeping her into his arms he headed for the bedroom, sidetracking only long enough for Madison to pluck one of the colorful leaves from the tree in the dining room. Once in the bedroom, he settled her onto the mattress. The scent of flowers and crushed herbs wrapping around them in lush welcome, the effect more stimulating than he’d have thought possible.
“Remind me to thank Rosy,” he muttered, following her onto the bed.
“Thank her? I thought you planned to kill her.”
“First I’ll thank her, after that I’ll kill her.”
She wrapped herself around him and her hands chased a nerve-racking path from his chest to his abdomen before drifting lower. “Oh, dear.” Her hands stilled. “Harry?”
He stifled a groan. “What’s wrong now?” he managed to ask.
“I’ll have to tell Rosy to forget about the oak leaves next time.”
“Don’t tell me we need pine needles, after all?”
She tugged him down on top of her. “Not pine needles. We’re going to need palm fronds. Great big palm fronds.”
And then there was no more talking, other than the murmured words that fully expressed their moment of joining. They were soft words, like the gentlest of caresses. They were demanding, like the driving need that thrust them together. They were pleading, like the slow, urgent climb toward completion. And they were exultant, like the fierce tumble into ecstasy.
Harry swept the curls from Madison’s face, holding her in the aftermath of a moment unlike any he’d ever known before. Where once she’d demanded an emotionless mating, now she wept from a pleasure that could have only come from a joining that transcended the physical act itself. Instead of the temporary link she’d planned to fashion, an unbreakable bond had been forged. Whether she realized it or not, she’d committed herself to him.
And he wasn’t about to let her go.
Madison wasn’t sure how long she slept. But it was the most peaceful night she’d ever known. Harry’s generosity had been beyond belief. She’d asked for an evening of passion and he’d offered so much more. The passion, yes. But he’d given it depth and validity by making love to her.
Her breath caught. Making love. The words had the unmistakable ring of truth to them. How could she have been such a fool? What they’d shared hadn’t been a one-night stand or a casual affair. There’d been a permanence in their joining. When he’d taken her it had been with love, a love that had its core deep inside, their feelings for each other inexorably joined whether she’d been willing to admit it or not. But Harry had known. And he’d forced her to lower her guard and allow him close enough to recognize the truth of what they’d experienced.
She glanced over at him. He sprawled across the mattress with all the indolent grace of a sated lion and she turned to him for reassurance, the physical bond that united them every bit as powerful and unbreakable as the emotional. She froze at the last moment, alarmed by her instinctive actions. Had their connection really grown so strong in just one night?
Silently, she escaped the bed and crossed to the window. Far below, Seattle slept. At least, it slept as much as any large city could. Lights flickered and cars moved along streets laid out in tidy grids. But there was a languid, sleepy quality about the scene, as though time had slowed. She leaned her forehead against the cool glass and faced the unavoidable truth. She’d fallen in love with Harry. What the devil was she going to do now?
“Sweetheart?” Harry came up behind and wrapped a sheet around her, securing it with his arms. “What’s wrong?”
She sank into his embrace, reveling in everything about him—his strength, his solidness, his caring. His love. “I’m a fool.”
He smiled tenderly. “Why? Because you didn’t recognize what we shared as soon as I did?”
“Yes. I thought I could keep it casual. That we could get through this without anyone getting hurt.”
“Get through it?” He shook his head in exasperation. “You act like this is a sickness or an accident to be endured and then thrown off. Don’t you get it? I don’t just want your body. I want you. All of you. Your heart and soul, as well as your body.”
“Harry—”
“No, Madison. Don’t interrupt.” He cupped her close, locking her into perfect alignment against him. “I’m talking marriage here, honey. Permanence. I mean ring on the finger, a horde of kids overrunning the homestead, growing old together, rocking chairs on the porch sort of permanence. The whole enchilada. I want to start at once-upon-a-time with you and go straight through until we reach happily-ever-after.”
They were the sort of words a woman waited her entire life to hear. And they hurt more than she’d thought possible. “No, you don’t. I’m not the woman you think I am.”
He pressed his mouth to the top of her head and she leaned into him, her cheek resting close to the steady, dependable beat of his heart. “You’re everything I imagined and more,” he assured her.
“Harry—” she tried again.
“My turn first, Madison. Before we discuss the future, there’s something I have to tell you. Something I’ve kept from you.”
“That makes two of us,” she murmured.
He didn’t seem to hear. “I’d have told you right up front, but Sunny asked me to hold off.”
“It’s clear I need to have a talk with that woman.”
“Actually, I would have told you at lunch that very first day, but lunch never happened because Dad’s signing ran long. Then there was the incident on the elevator and you said all those things about the book. When Sunny and my father found out how you felt, they asked me to wait until you’d read the damn thing and realized it wasn’t some sort of love manual like you thought.”
She pulled back slightly. “What in the world are you talking about?”
He took a deep breath. “Screw it. Next time I’m listening to my instincts and the hell with tact.” He cupped her face, tilting her chin so she could see his expression in the soft glow of the city lights. She’d witnessed that fierce determination before. It had gleamed in his eyes right before he’d ripped into her cousin. “The truth is, I wrote The Principles of Love, not my father.”
CHAPTER TEN
Principle 10: Trust your instincts
and take a chance…
If you think the person might be right for you,
go for it. Don’t let fear or hesitation
come between you and true love.
IT TOOK a full minute for Harry’s words to sink in. The instant they had, Madison fought free of his arms. “You wrote the book,” she echoed.
“Yes.”
She retreated, the distancing part physical and part emotional.
Hugging the sheet close, she regarded him warily. “Then why is your father taking credit for it?”
“I asked him to.”
“I don’t understand.”
He crossed the room and grabbed a pair of jeans from the dresser. “I’m an economist, Madison. I deal with facts and figures. Who the hell is going to give credence to a book about romantic rules written by a financial analyst?” He thrust his legs into the jeans and yanked them over his hips. “Nor am I a salesman. I can’t sit around a bookstore and spend my day smiling and shaking hands. Aside from the fact that I’d go insane, I have a business to run. A business I spent years building.”
“But your father can sit around in your place, is that it?”
“He loves meeting people. He’s a born socializer. And he believes in my book.”
“Don’t you?”
He shrugged. “Sure. I just don’t think it deserves all the attention it’s gotten. To be honest, it started as something to take my mind off work. Thoughts I’d jot down when I was flying from one part of the country to the other. When I finally ran out of ideas, I e-mailed the whole mess to Dad. I thought he’d get a chuckle out of his sensible son writing a book about the principles of love. Instead he organized what I’d written into manuscript form and sent it off to an agent. I didn’t even find out what he’d done until he slapped the contract on my desk. So I guess you could say he co-authored the book. He certainly expended more time and effort on it than I did.”
“Why didn’t you tell me the truth right away?”
“And when would that have been?” He snapped his fingers. “Oh, I remember. I should have said something when you first got on the elevator and were in the middle of trashing my book. That would have been the perfect opportunity to confess the truth, right?”
His sarcasm stung. “I can’t help it if I didn’t like what you’d written.”
The Marriage Project Page 14