Janice arched her back, raising her hips up to him in heated surrender.
Instincts had always guided Philippe. He inherently knew just how to pleasure awoman. And that was important to him because pleasure was best mutually shared. But this, this was different. She was different. Janice wasn’t one of those highsociety women he was so accustomed to: beautiful women, all planes and anglesand no substance. Those were women who felt that making love was just anotherpart of life, no different than eating and sleeping, laughing and crying.
Janice’s hesitant eagerness, her unabashed enthusiastic response, stirred thingswithin him, things he was unfamiliar with. Things he was almost afraid toexamine.
A tenderness emerged along with a myriad of desires and passions and it gentlyelbowed its way forward. Stunning him.
He wanted her. Not wanted to make love, but wanted her. Wanted her within hisdays and in his nights.
This definitely put a different kind of light on everything. He’d always been afraid of emulating his mother, of diving into a relationshipand damning the consequences, stipulating that if a union didn’t work, it couldbe easily dissolved. You didn’t enter a relationship with both hands wrappedaround a safety clause, holding on for dear life. You entered into it withdreams of forever.
Forever. A word that had come to mean nothing to so many people. But it meant everythingto him. The fear of not knowing how to get there was hard to shake. He had noexample to follow.
He had only his heart. Philippe held himself physically in check for as long as he could, then, assweet agony ricocheted through his body when he drew it slowly along hers, hepaused for a moment to look into her eyes. And then he entered her. Joining withher.
And stepping into something that had heretofore eluded him.
A feeling of belonging. They were in-tune with one another from the moment he began the dance. With hipsfitted together as if they’d been created that way, Philippe slowly increasedthe tempo. Increased it until he thought for sure he was going to explode.
Not a single cell within his body was unaffected when he achieved the final peakwith her. Clasping the euphoria to him, he enveloped Janice in his arms and heldher even closer.
Feeling her heart pounding against his was empowering yet humbling at the sametime. And all the while, he felt a part of something. A part of her.
That had never happened before.
As the mists slowly parted and he found himself returning to earth, Philipperealized that he hadn’t shifted his weight. He was probably crushing her. Very gently, he moved from her. But rather than just claim his own section ofher bed, he continued to hold her, united in spirit if not in body. All he heardwas the sound of their breathing. And then he felt Janice shrinking from him,even though she hadn’t actually moved.
Oh God, what have you done, Janice? What have you gone and done? She stared atthe ceiling.“I guess you’ll be wanting to go.” Philippe turned his head toward her. Go? He honestly hadn’t thought that farahead, but instead basked in the incredible feeling of contentment that hadfound him.
“Why?”
“Because…”She licked her lips. It didn’t help. They remained drier than lastyear’s paint chips.“Because you got what you came for.” The simple statement stunned him. Philippe rose up on his elbow and looked ather.“Is that what you think? That I‘came for’this? Like I was‘borrowing’ahammer or a cup of sugar?”
Pulling the edge of the comforter to her, covering up her nakedness, Janice satup. She kept her face averted. If she didn’t see him, maybe she wouldn’t burstinto tears. Where was all this emotion coming from?
She sighed, tamping down the urge to pull the comforter over her head as well.
“Look, I don’t do this kind of thing.”
She heard his soft laugh behind her.“Well, for a novice, you were incredible.” She stiffened, not taking the words as a compliment. She was too scared of whatshe was feeling and frantically tried to shut down. Completely.“I don’t sleeparound.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
She felt his breath zipping along her bare back and struggled to turn herselfinto stone.“But you had to think it.”
“Why?”
Why, why. Was he trying to bait her? Frustration surfaced.“Because you’re here.
Because we made love.”
“And it was great,”he agreed,“but why would that automatically mean that youslept around?”
Janice dropped her head against her knees.“You’re confusing me.” “That makes two of us.”She felt him tugging lightly at the comforter. Herfingers instantly clamped down on it.“I’ve just discovered this fantastic wayto make your mind go blank.”
She felt his fingertips playing along her spine, causing sensations she had nodefenses against. Born moving, they zipped up and down her back. She took in adeep breath, struggling for the strength to resist.“Don’t.”
He leaned in against her, his cheek a fraction away from her spine. She bothfelt and heard the words.“Do you really mean that?” Pulse points began to throb throughout her body. Janice turned around to facehim, suddenly ravenous for him. How was that even remotely possible, given howexhausted she’d felt just two minutes ago?
“No,”she whispered, her body aching for his.“No.”
“Good answer,”he said, pulling her to him.
Philippe captured her mouth, kissing her as if he hadn’t just spent the betterpart of an hour making love with her. As if he were insatiable.
Because, he realized just before oblivion came for him, when it came to Janice,he was.
Janice stirred, her eyes fluttering against the infusion of light.
Daylight.
Morning!
She jerked up in bed, simultaneously realizing that she’d fallen asleep andtrying to pull her thoughts together. She looked around frantically. What timewas it?
Time to be alone. The place beside her in the bed was empty.
The clothes that she’d all but ripped off his body, were gone.
Philippe had vanished.
He’d left, she thought, feeling a sharp pang in her gut.
Damn it, why was she feeling like this? She’d known he’d leave, that their nightwas a one-time thing. Why then—
Her train of thought stopped abruptly.
What was that smell? Janice moved her head around, sniffing. Searching for the source. Her windowswere closed, so the smell couldn’t be coming from outside. That meant it wasinside. She took another breath, a longer one this time. The smell was comingfrom downstairs.
Was something burning? Kicking aside the comforter, she hit the floor moving. Janice grabbed a pair ofjeans and a sweater, pulling them on as she ran down the hall. She needed to getto Kelli and to rouse Gordon—if he’d ever made it back home.
Her heart pounded, her brain processed a hundred different things at once untilshe realized she was smelling coffee and bacon.
The house wasn’t on fire. Sighing, momentarily drained, Janice leaned against the wall and dragged herhand through her hair. Was she still dreaming? No one made breakfast around herebut her. That’s the way it had always been, ever since her mother had taken off.
Gordon was completely culinarily challenged and her father had only known how tomake coffee and burn steaks.
What the hell was going on here? Barefoot, she decided to go downstairs to investigate. But not without firstarming herself. Gordon’s door was standing open. He obviously hadn’t come homefor the night. His bed was still made and Gordon could no more make a bed thanhe could boil water.
Her brother still played softball on occasion and his bat was leaning againstthe wall next to the closet. Getting it, Janice went downstairs, her heart inher throat.
With both hands wrapped around the Louisville Slugger, she made her way to thekitchen, holding her breath and not knowing what to expect.
But it certainly wasn’t what she saw: Philippe, his formal dress shirt hangingopen, standing barefoot beside the stove, making breakfast.
&
nbsp; The bat slid from her fingers. Hearing the clatter, Philippe turned toward the doorway. His expression softenedinto amusement and he nodded at the fallen weapon.“You usually bring a bat tobreakfast?”
Feeling foolish, she picked up the bat and retired it in the corner against thepantry.“I thought you were a burglar.”
His amusement heightened. He went back to cracking eggs and watching over thebacon.“People often break into your house to make you breakfast?”
Very funny. Feeling somewhat self-conscious after last night, Janice did herbest to brazen out the situation.
“Nobody makes me breakfast.”She joined him at the stove.“Ever.”
She reached for the frying pan, but he pushed her hand away. When she eyed himquizzically, he said,“You don’t have to do everything, Janice.”
She frowned, reluctantly taking a step back.“I’m not used to being served.” He nodded toward the stool at the counter, indicating that she should take aseat.“And I’m not used to having a woman wield a hammer, but they tell me it’sa brave new world out there. No clear-cut roles, no black-and-white rules tofollow.”Finished, he transferred the scrambled eggs to a waiting plate andframed it with two strips of bacon. He placed the finished product in front ofher.“Enjoy. I didn’t poison it, I promise.”
She took a breath and drew the plate in a little closer.“When did you learn howto cook?” “When the nanny kept burning the oatmeal.”He paused for a second, collectingvarious scattered fragments together.“Allison was her name, I think.”Hepictured the woman in his mind’s eye. She’d been a great deal more formidablelooking than his mother. The last one anyone would suspect of shirking herduties.“She kept a small bottle of scotch in her purse. Kept that purse prettyclose to her as I remember. Go on,”he urged again.“Try it.”
Having no other recourse, feeling incredibly awkward about being served, Janicesank her fork into the eggs and then raised it to her lips. When she drew thefork out again, she forced a smile to her face.
“Good.”
The forced smile had nothing to do with what she had just sampled and everythingto do with what she was feeling. She was so confused she could hardly stand it.
Janice stared down at her fork for a second before moving it again.“I thoughtyou’d gone,”she said softly as she took another bite.
Nursing a cup of coffee he’d poured earlier, Philippe looked at her. The pinchof hurt he felt surprised him.“Did you think I’d leave without saying goodbye?”
Janice shrugged, still avoiding his eyes.“My mother did. It’s easier that way.” “I don’t usually take the easy way.”He placed his hand over hers. When shestill didn’t look up, he crooked his finger beneath her chin and physicallyraised her head until her eyes met his.“Look, Janice, I don’t exactly knowwhat’s going on here,”he told her honestly.“But I’m willing to find out.”Hepaused, searching her face.“How about you?”
The inside of her mouth went dry. Mercifully, she was spared having to give himan answer because Kelli, bless her, picked that exact moment to come runninginto the kitchen. The expression on her small heart-shaped face was one ofsurprise and pleasure at seeing Philippe standing there.
Within a moment, she was next to him, looking up as if he were the eighth wonderof the world—and all hers.
“What are you doing here?”Kelli asked, her voice sounding so grown-up hecouldn’t help laughing.
“Well, I was in the neighborhood,”he told her,“and I thought I’d stop by andmake you and your mommy breakfast.”
Her eyes were huge.“Really?”
“Really,”he told her solemnly.
She cocked her head, her eyes narrowing.“Why are you still wearing what you hadon last night?” Janice’s heart sank, but Philippe never wavered.“I was in a hurry to make youbreakfast. Take a look.”Picking the little girl up with one arm, he brought herover to the stove. Besides the eggs he’d made for Janice and the bacon thatstill remained, there were waffles beginning to turn a golden color on thegriddle.
Kelli seemed duly impressed.“Wow.”She turned her head toward Philippe, herhair brushed against his cheek.“I thought only Mommy could make waffles.” “They’re probably not as good,”Philippe allowed gallantly as he brought herover to the counter, placing her on the stool beside Janice.“But you can tellme what you think.”Taking them off the griddle, he slid the waffles onto aplate and then placed that before Kelli. A fork and napkin were beside the platea second later.“Jam or syrup?”he asked formally, as if he were a food serverwaiting on her.
Was it her imagination or had Kelli sat up a little straighter just then?“Syrup, please.”
Janice watched Philippe cross to the cupboard and reach in.“Syrup it is.” He moved around her kitchen as if he was more familiar with it than she was, shethought grudgingly. Worse, Philippe moved around her daughter as if he was morefamiliar with her than she was.
With no effort at all, he was making a niche for himself in her life. And withno effort at all, he could be gone just as quickly, she reminded herself darkly.
In the blink of an eye. That was how her life always changed. Quickly. In the blink of an eye. Oneminute, she was standing in her yet unoccupied nursery, picking out curtains forthe windows, and the next minute, there were two polite marines in dressuniforms, telling her the man whose child she was carrying wasn’t coming homeunder his own power, but in a box.
She couldn’t do that again. Couldn’t just stand around, waiting to bedevastated, waiting for her world to be blown apart.
She had to get away before that happened. Had to flee. The first chance she had.
To save herself and Kelli.
Chapter 15
Janicedidn ’t show up. Not at seven. Not at eight. And not at nine. After turning up like clockwork at his house every weekday for the last sixweeks, neither Janice nor Gordon made an appearance at his door the followingMonday morning.
He felt like his day couldn’t start until he saw her face.
His deadline was drawing uncomfortably closer, but Philippe couldn’t focus,couldn’t pull his brain together long enough to make any sort of headway withthe program additions he was creating. Every five, seven, ten minutes histhought process would break up and reform to include Janice and only Janice. Arestlessness pervaded through him that grew more intense with every minute.
By nine-fifteen, Philippe had abandoned all attempts at concentration and calledher twice. Twice and only gotten her voice mail, both on her landline and hercell phone. Each time he was urged to leave a message.
“If you’re there, Janice, pick up,”he instructed, then ordered, thensupplicated. None of the approaches obtained him any sort of a response.
Annoyed, he’d hung up.
Where the hell was she?
Why wasn’t she here? Had something happened? And if it had, why hadn’t she called to say she’d belate or unavoidably detained or there tomorrow? At the very least, if she werecaught up in something and unable for some reason to call, why hadn’t Gordoncalled in her place?
Something was wrong. He wasn’t the type to let his imagination run away with him, never had been, butit was going the distance right now. He couldn’t help it. The woman was nothingif not punctual and diligent. He’d never seen a work ethic like hers before.
Everyone he’d ever known who’d had work done on his or her house, even those whohad been supremely satisfied at the end, said that the crew was never there dayafter day, working. The norm was that, excellent or not, they would disappearfor days at a time. Maybe even for a week or more.
But not Janice. Janice was always there, determined to see the job through toits completion. That was the first thing he’d liked about her.
Well, maybe not the first thing, Philippe amended, his pacing bringing him up tothe front door again, but it had certainly been among the first.
He paused to look at the easel tucked away in the alcove. Paused to look at thesmall painting resting there. Intended, he knew, for him. Maybe something had happened to Ke
lli, maybe that was why Janice hadn’t calledhim, hadn’t left any messages. He felt a chill pass over his spine. Somethinghad happened to Kelli.
No, that couldn’t be it. If something had happened to the little girl, Janiceknew he’d be there for both of them. In a heartbeat. They’d gotten too close forhim to be excluded.
Too close.
Yes, damn it, he’d gotten too close. Too close when before he’d kept life, keptwomen, even the ones he slept with, at a comfortable distance.
But before was when he hadn’t found a woman he felt he wanted to spend the restof his life with.
The thought, the realization, hit him right between the eyes. Philippe slid onto the sofa without being completely conscious of what he wasdoing.
He did feel that way about her. Oh God, when had that happened? When had foreversnuck in?
That was his mistake. That was why he felt like some wild, disoriented creature.
Because he’d let down his walls and however unintentionally, allowed Janice tocome through. Allowed himself to believe that forever was attainable. He knew better than that. Why should he have better luck than his mother? Hismother had always been in love with love, in love with the idea of being inlove. She was more than willing to risk it all and what had it gotten her? Astring of exspouses and broken relationships.
Did that mean that he was doomed to the same?
Philippe sprang to his feet as if someone had just shoved a hot poker into thecushion beneath him. He wasn’t doomed to the same fate, not if he could help it.
Not by a long shot. Filled with new determination, pushing down any thoughts that didn’t have to dowith advertising pitches, Philippe strode back into his office and forcedhimself to focus on his work.
That lasted all of forty minutes. A new record for the day.
Why the hell was he even pretending? Philippe flipped open his cell phone andhit the button for Janice’s cell.
Ten minutes, four attempts and twenty rings later, he flipped it closed again. It was time to take matters into his own hands. It was time to get some answers. Two minutes later, he’d locked up his house and was in his car. Had hefrightened her? he wondered as he drove to Janice’s house. Had making lovefollowed up by making breakfast somehow been too much for her? Cut into herspace?
[The Sons of Lily Moreau 01] - Remodeling the Bachelor Page 15