The Hope Chest

by Jacquie D'Alessandro

  Bless the man, he didn’t even hesitate. He eased off her and gently urged her legs apart. With one hand, he cupped her sex, the pad of his thumb teasing and exploring. He stroked her smoothly and with a certainty that made her tremble. “Please,” she whispered. “Please…”

  Again, he didn’t disappoint. With a surety that aroused her almost as much as his touch, he slipped on a condom, then thrust inside her. She gasped as her body took him in, closing around the hard length of him. She pressed against him, wanting more, her body and consciousness dissolving into nothing more than need and desire as he filled her, thrusting slowly at first and then building to a frenzy.

  Colors seemed to fill her head, dancing in her imagination, their hues becoming more and more vivid as her passion crescendoed. Suddenly, she was lost in sensations. His mouth on hers, his body slick against hers. Her fingers dug into his back and she had the vague thought that perhaps she was hurting him with her nails, but there was nothing she could do about it. He was thrusting harder, desperate to take her to the edge, and she was desperate to go with him. She’d passed the point of rational thought. She could only feel, and right then, all she wanted was to feel him.

  Their bodies met, again and again, and she could feel every atom inside her building up pressure, waiting for an explosion that was close…so very, very close…

  And then.

  Oh, dear Lord, yes!

  Tremors ripped through her, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful. She gasped, pulling him closer and closer until he was firm against her, his weight too much for her frame, but she wanted and needed the contact.

  “That was fabulous,” she whispered once words returned to her.

  He nuzzled her ear in response. “You’re fabulous.”

  “Mmm.”

  “And I’m probably squishing you.” He rolled over, then pulled her into his embrace, a position that seemed almost more intimate than the wild sex they’d just shared.

  “So,” he murmured, his lips so close to her ear that his breath tickled her as he talked, “do you know what I’m thinking?”

  “After that? I’m so limp, it’s a wonder I can think all.”

  “Too bad,” he said, then trailed his fingers up her bare arm. She felt the hairs rise one by one until her whole body seemed to tingle from a mild electrical shock. “I was just thinking that I know exactly what we need to do now.”

  “Yeah?” Her voice was low and lazy, but inside, her heart picked up tempo. Men always left. That was standard operating procedure. If they didn’t leave the night before, they left in the morning, racing for the door with some lame excuse. Not only was this man not leaving, he was actually suggesting another activity. “Let me guess. It involves you and me, and clothing is so not necessary.”

  He laughed. “Actually, I think clothes might be a good idea. Not that I don’t enjoy the view, mind you.” He let his eyes drift over her, and from the heat she saw, she could tell that he did, in fact, enjoy the view very much. Her nipples peaked, and she longed for his hands to cup the soft flesh.

  “What is it?” she whispered as she gave in and eased herself closer, pressing her breasts against his chest. Sweet contact. It tamped one fire, but completely stoked another now burning at the apex of her thighs. She pressed her legs tighter together and repeated her question. “What is it you want us to do?”

  His hand stroked her back and he leaned in close to murmur, “Actually, I was thinking breakfast sounded good. Maybe we could go out somewhere and grab a bite, then come back here. I mean, if you’re game.”

  A bubble of laughter rose in her throat, and she realized that right then she really did want food. Even more, something about the two of them sharing breakfast, in public no less, made their wild night seem a little less wild. Not that she was looking for permanence or anything, she reminded herself, but she wasn’t the hedonistic type. Not usually.

  She hooked her arm around his neck. “Yeah,” she said, “I’m game. But if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to work up more of an appetite.”

  And with that, she moved in closer, claiming his mouth with hers, and then claiming his entire body with touches and kisses.

  Breakfast, it turned out, became lunch. But neither of them really seemed to mind.

  MARTY CHAMBERLAIN.

  It had been over two weeks and she was as fresh in Ryan’s mind as the moment they’d met, and he still couldn’t get enough of her.

  They’d seen each other every day, talked on the phone more times than he could count. They’d made love, watched movies and eaten fabulous food at scary-looking local dives.

  Everything about her turned him on. Her sense of humor. Her self-assurance, despite that it was tempered by her fear of never doing anything to change the world. He knew better though. She’d already changed his world.

  Damned if the woman hadn’t gotten under his skin. And the truth? He liked the way that felt. She’d become his lover, his late-night liaison. And, honestly, she’d become his friend. An unexpected benefit that he now cherished.

  The sex was great, of course. But what Ryan had discovered was that he enjoyed simply hanging out with her just as much. Lately, in fact, they were as likely to share a bucket of popcorn and camp in front of the television as they were to share a bottle of wine and spend time between the sheets. They usually saw each other late in the evening because of work, but she didn’t seem to mind his erratic schedule. Or when he fell asleep exhausted during Letterman.

  They’d settled into a wonderful, delicious pattern, but the truth was, he wanted even more. He’d even subscribed to the Houston Chronicle just so that he could search the Lifestyle section for her byline. Lately, he’d been trying to think of a story for her. She occasionally covered the science and technology beat, and he knew she wanted something juicy. As a matter of fact, just that morning, she’d asked him if Kinsey Applied had anything in the pipe that was newsworthy, but at the moment, they really didn’t. About the most he could offer her was a fluff piece on…what?

  He couldn’t think of a thing, which probably explained why he was the scientist and she was the journalist.

  Still, he wanted to help. He felt full when he was around her, which was a completely unfamiliar feeling to him. But he wanted to give to her. His thoughts. His help. Anything and everything. Sappy romantic bullshit, probably, but true.

  He wanted to try to forge something permanent between them, but so far, he’d gotten no indication from Marty that she wanted anything more substantial than their current arrangement. In fact, she’d hinted at exactly the opposite, telling him over breakfast one morning that after her bad breakup and then the death of her mother, she’d decided “not to make any major life changes” for a full year. By his count, that meant she had just shy of nine months to go.

  He didn’t want to wait that long. And he hoped to hell that Marty felt the same—and that she’d decide to break her promise to herself in order to be with him. Until then, though, he needed to keep the relationship on track and give her time. No problem. He was willing to freely give her his time, at least what little time he had after trying to keep the company on track.

  At the moment, Ryan was at the office behind his desk. He was holding the phone in his hand and thinking about dialing. He’d seen some new releases advertised at the video store near Marty’s house, and that was as good an excuse as any for an early dinner with her.

  It was only five, but he deserved a break. He’d been working his tail off trying to bring three new projects in, at or below budget. He’d found solutions for two, but the third had him stymied, and the best answer he could come up with at the moment was to sleep on it. Or at least, to forget about it for a while and let his brain have a rest by watching some sort of action-packed spy thriller.

  That was another thing he liked about Marty. She genuinely preferred action films over chick flicks. Not that he had anything against angst and love. He’d just rather see guns and fast cars. He was a guy. So sue him.
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br />   He was just starting to dial her cell phone when Edward burst into his office waving an envelope and shouting joyfully, “You’re not going to believe this!”

  Ryan looked up, reluctantly abandoning his plans to call Marty for his brother’s unbridled enthusiasm.

  “You are so not going to believe this.”

  “I’m getting the impression something exciting and unusual has happened,” Ryan said drolly.

  “Picked up on that, huh, big brother?” Edward slapped the envelope down on Ryan’s desk, the NASA return address glowing like a beacon. “Read it.”

  Ryan realized his heart had started pounding double time as he reached for the envelope.

  Edward snatched it away. “No, don’t read it. I’ll just tell you. We’re in, brother! We. Are. In.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m not,” Edward said.

  But the news was too big and Ryan wasn’t about to rely on hearsay. He stood up, leaned over the desk and snagged the letter. He had it open in no time and was scanning the contents.

  Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! It was true! NASA had preliminarily accepted his proposal to bid on a new propulsion system. Kinsey Applied was one of three companies given the opportunity to submit specs for approval. The job was high-priority, recently funded, and specs were due in the ridiculously short time of two weeks.

  “Didn’t I tell you?” Edward said. “Can you believe it?”

  Ryan shook his head, his legs suddenly weak. He couldn’t believe it. An opportunity like this…it was unthinkable.

  And, frankly, it was also completely unprofessional. Ryan should never have submitted the proposal in the first place. He’d done it under the table, without going through the proper channels, never expecting that NASA would accept a proposal from a company with no practical credits in the space travel arena, though Ryan himself had published numerous papers on various related topics. It had been hubris that had caused him to submit the proposal and hubris that had caused him to draft the proposal in such a way that NASA might reasonably think the proposed propulsion system was further along in development than it was (as in, a prototype rather than a gleam in Ryan’s eye).

  “Uh-oh,” Edward said, finally calming down enough to sit in one of Ryan’s chairs. “I know that look.”

  Ryan scowled. “We can’t submit a bid.”

  Edward rolled his eyes, then leaned back and kicked his feet up on Ryan’s desk. “The hell we can’t.”

  “Come up with a workable, new propulsion system in just two weeks? It’s insane. What was I thinking?”

  “You were thinking that you’ve already got the makings in here,” Edward said, tapping his temple. “You’ve been doing theoretical work on antimatter and plasma-based propulsion systems since you were in diapers.”

  “Not quite that long,” Ryan said, but he couldn’t help but smile at his brother’s enthusiasm.

  “My point is that you’ve already got the framework. We just need to fill in the gaps.”

  “Unfortunately, those gaps are wide. It’s going to be a lot of work.”

  Edward spread his arms. “Oh, come on. You know we can do it. Dad may be a character, but he filled this place with the best minds.”

  “That he did.” Ryan drummed his fingers on his desk. “And Dad’s the other problem.”

  At first, Edward’s expression was blank, then his eyes widened and he nodded slowly. “You didn’t tell him about the proposal….”

  “What’s this you business? You were right there with me when I typed the thing up and shipped it off to NASA. We both avoided the Albert issue because neither one of us really expected the proposal to get selected.” Ryan rubbed his hands over his face. “And that’s the kicker, too. We haven’t been selected. Not officially. Not yet. If we already had the project and the guaranteed income, I could go to Dad and flash my fabulous success. But this way…” He trailed off with a shake of his head.

  “This way you might lose the bid, and you’ll never hear the end of it from Dad.”

  “It’s worse than that, little brother. If we’re going to get the bid and full proposal in on time, I’m going to need to reorganize the workgroups and shift everyone’s projects and priorities. Except for the most pressing deadlines, current work will get shoved aside, and we can’t take on new projects.”

  Edward nodded slowly, finally seeing the big picture.

  Ryan spelled it out, just in case. “If we put in the work, submit the bid and don’t get the contract, then my ass is grass. Dad will never let me hear the end of it. I’ll have damaged the company, and even though we’ll recover, in Dad’s eyes, it’ll be a total failure.”

  “True. But you’re in charge now, and the upside is substantial. If we do get the contract, then Kinsey Applied Sciences is thrust into the heart of the space program. Not only are you golden with Dad, but you’re golden in the industry. Plus, you’re working on a project you’re passionate about.” He held up a hand, forestalling Ryan’s objection. “Don’t even say it. I know the party line. You’re passionate about every project, blah blah blah. But I’m your brother and I know the truth.”

  Ryan hid his smile. “You’re very perceptive.”

  “So go for it.”

  “You understand what’s involved, right? Long hours. Tons of overtime. It’s going to be a financial drain on the company, but it’s going to be a drain on us, too.”

  “I understand,” Edward said. “Do you?”

  Ryan didn’t have to ask what Edward meant. Marty. Already, he was barely able to squeeze her into his life. Now, though, he’d need to work literally around the clock. To make it worse, the project was confidential, so he couldn’t even tell her what he was up to. Just that he was “busy.”

  “You guys aren’t engaged, you know. Tell the girl you’ve got work to do, see her when you can, and chalk it all up to kickstarting your career.” Edward presented Ryan with a wry grin. “It’s either that or forget the project altogether. Because if you can’t give this thing your all, then it’s not worth it. Not only will we lose the bid, but Dad will have your ass in stirrups faster than you can say ‘corporate integrity.’”

  “You’re just a bundle of encouragement,” Ryan said.

  “There’s more,” his brother said. “It’s not just a question of time, it’s a question of talk.”

  Ryan shook his head, not following.

  “Here,” Edward said, passing him another sheet of paper. This one included the other bidders on the project. And there, at the top of the list, was Allied International. “She can’t know,” Edward said. “If she told her dad…”

  “She wouldn’t,” Ryan said.

  “Probably not. But even if she said something in passing. It could—”

  “Ruin everything,” Ryan finished. “Don’t worry. I know the stakes.” And he did. The situation was a career maker, and if this leaked, he’d be up a creek.

  He trusted Marty to keep a secret—he did—but this was just too touchy. Not only was she a journalist and this a potentially hot story, but her father was his competition. And Ryan wouldn’t put it past Harold Chamberlain to pump his daughter for even the tiniest bit of information.

  No, he simply needed to back off and buckle down. He’d see her when he could, but he wouldn’t talk about his work. She would understand; she had to, because Ryan didn’t want to lose her. But he didn’t want to lose this opportunity, either. For the first time, he was faced with a true make-it-or-break-it scenario.

  Ryan, of course, intended to make it.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “YOUR PROBLEM,” Ben said, “is that you’re stubborn.”

  Marty took a bite of hot dog and settled herself on a bench in front of the Children’s Museum. She was doing a piece on the museum’s anniversary celebration, and she’d invited Allison and Ben and, of course, Toby, to join her at the invitation-only celebration. At the moment, Allison and Toby were inside playing on the various kid-friendly exhibits. Marty had toured the cent
er, interviewed the director and perused the press kit. Now her blood sugar had nose-dived, and she’d escaped outside to grab a bite. Ben had followed her, claiming starvation as well.

  Now, though, Marty knew the truth: he simply wanted to harass her.

  She swallowed, then took another bite, determined not to answer her cousin.

  “Did you hear me?” he said.

  “I heard you.” She looked down her nose at him. “I’m not answering you. It’s part of my stubborn trait.”

  He shook his head in frustration and took a bite of his own dog. “Seriously, Marty. This guy is perfect for you. Just drop the defenses and go for it.”

  She took a sip of her Diet Coke and turned away, fighting to keep her expression calm. Part of her really did want to go for it. She wanted to throw caution to the wind and tell Ryan that she’d fallen for him.

  But somehow she just couldn’t take that step.

  Ryan had already moved to the top of the food chain of people she wanted to spend time with. And not just for sex, either, though the sex was utterly fabulous. There was just something comfortable about the man, and she enjoyed hanging out with him as much as she enjoyed more, well, active pursuits.

  The truth was, Ryan had become the best thing in her life. Certainly better than her work. Lately, all she’d had was fluff pieces. Little nothing bits of writing that couldn’t even be called journalism. She’d been searching for a hard news story, but so far she’d found nothing. Maybe she just didn’t have a journalist’s nose, and if that was the case, she could live with it. But if she wasn’t covering hard news, then she’d like to write opinion pieces. So far, though, all her ideas for columns had been soundly shot down, and her op-eds had yet to make it into print.

  At least with a column or an editorial she could tell herself that her mom was right—she was making a difference in the world. But Marty was pretty sure that her most recent stories—a restaurant review and an information piece on various types of food processors—weren’t exactly sparking the kind of change that her mom had contemplated.