Liked everything about her.
Just like old times.
Being with her felt so damn good. But then, it always had. And not just in a sexual way-although he couldn’t name another woman who’d ever aroused him so completely. And so damn fast. Hell, it seemed that all she had to do was look at him and he was hard. And God help him, now whenever he heard “Brown Eyed Girl,” he’d have a whole new set of Mallory-induced memories to think about.
But even taking the amazing sex out of the mix, he just liked being with her. He remembered how she’d make him happy just with a smile. Just by standing in the same room with him. She made him laugh, and he enjoyed talking to her. He even enjoyed not talking to her-like now-when they just walked along in silence. An image popped into his mind, of his upcoming European vacation, of the two of them walking like this along the Seine in Paris, or through the cobblestone streets of Rome. Too bad she couldn’t come with him-
His footsteps faltered and he sliced that thought right off. What the hell was he thinking? He was only the rebound guy. Besides, talk about a bachelor style-cramper-bringing a woman with him on his vacation.
“Watch your step so you don’t fall,” she said softly, rematching her steps to his. “The sidewalks aren’t always even.”
Watch your step so you don’t fall. Good advice. Only problem was that he was starting to suspect it was coming a bit too late-and had nothing to do with uneven sidewalks.
Her hip bumped his and she splayed her free hand against his stomach, gently rubbing his abdomen. An oddly contradictory sense of contented peace and undeniable lust coiled through him, and he was inundated with the unsettling notion that maybe his plan to date a string of different women wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. That it wouldn’t provide him with this same sense of “rightness” being with Mallory gave him. And damn it, try as he might to picture his arm wrapped around another woman, walking with another woman, hell, making love to another woman, all he could see was Mallory. It was as if she were branded on his retinas.
She lifted her head from his shoulder and skimmed her hand over his belly again. “Have you given any thought as to what sort of new career you’d like to try?”
He latched onto the conversational gambit like a lifeline thrown to a drowning man. “Given it a lot of thought, but haven’t reached any definite decisions yet. It’s come down more to knowing what I don’t want to do, so I figure I’ll get there eventually by process of elimination.”
“What are some of the things you don’t want to do?”
“Sumo wrestling.”
She laughed. “What else?”
“Chef.”
“Don’t like kitchens?”
“I like them-as long as my being in one doesn’t actually involve any cooking.”
“You can’t cook?”
“I can make coffee. Does that count?”
“What do you eat?”
“I live in Manhattan. No one cooks in Manhattan. Why cook when there’re two dozen take-out places within two blocks?”
“So you can’t even slap together a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich?”
“Well, yeah, I can do that. I can also pour milk on cereal, pop a bagel in the toaster, open a jar of salsa and a bag of chips, and mix a perfect martini.”
“And you say you can’t cook?” she asked, her voice and expression filled with exaggerated shock. “What other career options have you decided against?”
“Well, I considered being a congressman-but there’s all that politics and stuff.”
“Hmm. Definitely a drawback. How about a rocket scientist?”
“Nah. All that math and stuff.”
“Brain surgeon?”
“All that blood and stuff.”
“Farmer?”
“All those cows and stuff.”
“I’m beginning to see a pattern here. So opening the tiki bar in Hawaii is really a possibility?”
“Can’t say I’ve ruled it out. The doctor said low stress and it doesn’t get more low stress than hanging at the beach, mixing piña coladas. And you can’t beat the weather.”
“What about photography? You do very well with lingerie-wearing customers.”
“I don’t think I can top the photos I took of you, so I’m going to rest on my laurels.”
“If you get tired of mixing cocktails, what about using your Wall Street experience and being a financial planner?”
“I’ve thought about it, but after being away from all that for the past few months, I’m just not missing it. I like keeping on top of my own portfolio, but I think I’d rather go for a swim in a completely different type of pool.” They turned the corner onto Mallory’s quiet street. “Actually, an idea’s been tugging at me for the past month or so.”
“Besides the Hawaiian tiki bar?”
“Yes. Remember how I told you that I’d finished Nick’s basement for him?”
“Yes.”
“I really enjoyed doing that, and not just because it was for a friend. It gave me a sense of accomplishment and calm that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Sort of got me thinking about starting my own contracting business. Home repairs, adding dormers, finishing basements, updating kitchens and baths-that sort of thing. Not only do I like that type of work, but it’s something I could do wherever I decide to live.”
She nodded slowly, and he could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind. “I can only speak for here, but with so many older homes on Long Island, there’s a great demand for that sort of work. If you decide that’s what you want to do in this area, let me know. Buyers and sellers constantly ask me to recommend contractors and I’d be happy to pass your name to them. You wouldn’t lack for customers, and word of mouth spreads quickly. I recommended a friend’s husband who’s a roofer to one person in my mother’s neighborhood, and from that job he’s gotten half a dozen more.”
He looked at her and smiled. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You’re welcome.” She removed her hand from his stomach and he immediately missed the feel of her touching him. The easy intimacy of her caress. Reaching out, he snagged her wrist and set her hand right back where it had been. Ah. Much better.
Her expression turned serious, and she said, “I just thought of something else you might want to consider.”
“Like speeding up this walk so I can get you naked again?”
She laughed. “I think if I looked up insatiable in the dictionary I’d see your smiling face. What the heck kind of vitamins do you take?”
“It has nothing to do with vitamins and everything to do with you.” He pulled her to a stop and kissed her. He’d meant it to be a quick, playful kiss, but it instantly turned into a deep, lush, tongue-mating exchange that made even his lungs feels hot-like he was breathing in steam.
When he lifted his head, he looked into her eyes that resembled glazed chocolate and for the second time in minutes felt like a drowning man.
“Whew,” she said, resting her forehead against his chin. “If I’d had any idea stockbrokers could kiss like that, I definitely would have considered investing in the market. And I sure as heck wouldn’t have been wasting my time with lawyers.”
He knew she was kidding, but the thought of her kissing some other stockbroker cramped his insides with an unpleasant sensation he recognized all too well as jealousy. And as for her dirtbag lawyer ex, the thought of that cheating creep so much as touching her made him want to break something-like the cheating creep’s face. Damn, if someone like Mallory was his, he’d never touch another woman-
He squeezed his eyes shut to sever the thought.
Oh, boy.
Let’s be totally honest here, dude, his inner voice piped up. This isn’t about not touching another woman if “someone like Mallory” was yours. And he couldn’t deny it. No, the unvarnished truth was that if Mallorywas his, he’d never touch another woman. He’d never want to.
Yet the confusing thing was that the thought of Mallory being his didn’t
even remotely fill him with the sort of this-could-royally-screw-up-my-plans panic it should. No, instead it suffused him with a sort of warm, tingly glow. A deep yearning unlike anything he could ever recall feeling before. And the fact that that warm, tingly, glowy yearning didn’t fill him with panic…
A low groan escaped him.
“You okay?” she asked, and he felt her lean back.
He opened his eyes. One look at her irrevocably confirmed that he had one foot dangling over the edge and the other precariously balanced on a banana peel. Now he just needed to decide what the hell he planned to do about that.
“I’m great,” he said. He dropped a quick kiss on her nose, then started walking again, keeping his arm around her. “But I’ll be better once I have you naked again.” Oh, yeah, good plan. ’Cause having her naked really helped his decision-making processes.
“You know, before you whiplashed my brain cells into next week with that kiss,” she said, “I’d mentioned that I’d thought of another career option you might want to consider.”
“What’s that?”
“Buying and reselling fixer-uppers. Houses that need substantial repairs, not just new carpeting and a coat of paint. Or in some cases, houses whose interiors-mostly the kitchens and bathrooms-are just way outdated. I’ve sold many a house that would have gone for tens of thousands of dollars more if they’d been in good condition or updated. Someone who could do those sorts of repairs could buy the house, fix it up for a fraction of the cost of hiring contractors, then resell it at a profit.”
He mulled over the idea as they walked along. “Interesting. What sort of profit margin are you talking about?”
“On Long Island-just off the top of my head, I’d say that a twenty-to twenty-five-thousand-dollar investment in a new kitchen and bathrooms would translate into a minimum forty-thousand-dollar increase in the resale value of the home.”
His brows raised. “Not a bad return. Have you ever considered buying one of these properties yourself and reselling it?”
“I’d love to, but at this point, it’s just not feasible. For one thing, the profit margin would be less for me because I’d have to hire out the work, although it would still be attractive enough to make me consider it. But the big stumbling block is that I don’t have the capital. A few years down the road, once I’ve built up more equity in my house that I can borrow against, I’ll reassess the situation. But since you have the three necessary ingredients, you might want to think about it.”
“Three necessary ingredients?”
“Yes. You have the time, the talent, and although it might be presumptuous of me, I’m guessing the money.”
“How do you know I’m not bankrupt?”
Her shoulders raised in a shrug. “Because I’ve never known you to be irresponsible. I can’t imagine you leaving your job, taking extended trips abroad, unless you’d carefully planned your finances to afford doing so.”
He hugged her closer, his hand grazing the soft outer curve of her breast. “Now that’s what I like about you-your brain.”
“Uh-huh. Are you aware that brain is not a secret code word for breasts?”
He laughed and brushed his hand over her breast again, deliberately this time. “I guess I know now.”
A grin curved her lips. “Besides, I read the business section of the newspaper. I have a clue as to how much a seat on the stock exchange sells for.”
He grinned back. “Maybe I owe all that money to my bookie.”
“Maybe.” Mischief danced in her eyes. “Have you thought about maybe being a bookie?”
“Nah. All those odds and stuff.”
“Ah. Well, think about what I said. Let me know if you’re interested.”
“Okay.” He would. But right now, what he was interested in was getting her back to her house. And getting her naked. Thankfully her house was just ahead.
After closing and locking the front door behind them, Adam led her directly into the bathroom where he turned on the shower.
“I think I have grass stains on my ass,” he said, pulling his shirt over his head.
She grinned and stripped off her wrinkled top. “I did offer to be on the bottom, you know.”
His avid gaze traveled over her full breasts, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning down to playfully swipe his tongue over one velvety nipple. When he straightened, he started on his jeans and said, “A gentleman always allows the lady to be on top when either grass or sand are involved.”
“Ah. Good to know.” She kicked off her flip-flops then slipped off her skirt. “If it makes you feel any better, I have grass stains on my knees.”
“I can’t say it makes me feel any better now, but it sure as hell did at the time.” He held up his discarded jeans and pointed. “You’ll note I have grass stains on my knees, too.”
She shot him a wicked grin over her bare shoulder as she stepped into the shower. “And I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” Her words were followed by a sharp intake of breath and a yelp. “Yikes! This water is cold.”
He stepped in behind her and sucked in a hissing breath as the chilly spray hit him in the chest.
“I vote we make this quick,” she said slapping a bar of soap against his stomach and reaching for the shampoo.
“Then get something to eat,” he added. “I’m starving.”
Much as he loved being wet with her, he had to agree. Ten minutes later they headed toward the kitchen, Mallory dressed in a pink tank top and white shorts, while Adam wore his boxer briefs. She held the radio, which she set on the counter. She turned the knob and music drifted from the speaker, the song advising listeners to “Love the One You’re With.”
“Whew, it’s hot in here,” she said, waving her hand in front of her face. “The AC’s loooong gone.”
“First the water’s cold, now the house is hot,” he teased. “I think I sense a bit of the complainer in you.”
She turned toward him and gave him an exaggerated ogle that stirred up considerable interest in his underwear. “My complaint with the cold water was that it cut our shower shorter than I’d have liked. My complaint with the house being hot is…well, I guess that’s just a complaint. Help me open some windows?”
“Sure. Not that there’s any cool air outside, but if a breeze happens by, maybe we’ll catch it.”
After they’d opened the windows, she snagged two bottles of water from the dark fridge and tossed him one. After taking a long, cool drink, he sat on one of the oak chairs at the kitchen table and tugged her onto his lap.
“I thought you were hungry,” she said.
He nuzzled her fragrant neck. “I am.”
“I have something that will cool you off.” She ruffled her fingers through his hair and shifted her bottom.
“That’s not going to cool me off, sweetheart.”
With a laugh she rose and walked into the kitchen. When she returned she handed him a spoon and set a carton on the table.
“Ice cream,” she said, pulling up a chair next to him.
He looked at the label. “Rocky Road. One of my favorites.”
“Figured we should eat it. Not only is it cold, but it’d be a shame to let it melt if the power stays out a long time.”
“Absolutely. Glad you thought of it. Besides, I suspect we could use the calcium boost.” He smiled and grabbed her hand before she could sit on the other chair and tugged her toward him. “Did you know ice cream tastes better when eaten while sitting on someone’s lap?” He waggled his brows. “C’mere, cutie, and bring your spoon.”
With a devilish sparkle in her eyes, she faced him then straddled his legs, settling herself on his thighs. He clasped her hips and shifted her closer, so that his erection nestled right where she’d feel it best.
He ran his hands in slow circles around her buttocks and smiled. “Care to feed me a spoonful? My hands are busy.”
Holding the carton between them, she scooped out a generous spoonful. But instead of offering him the morse
l, she slowly drew the spoon into, then out of, her mouth. He felt his eyes glaze over.
“Delicious,” she said.
“Do that again.”
“Don’t you want some?”
“Are we still talking about ice cream?”
“We are,” she said in a prim voice that in no way matched the seductive curve of her lips.
“Later. Right now I’m much more interested in watching you.”
She scooped up a bit more and obliged him. The sight of her lips wrapped around that spoon pulsed heat straight to his groin.
“That look you’re giving me is melting my ice cream,” she said.
“Your fault. You’re making me hotter than hell.”
“Then let me cool you off.” She ate another spoonful of ice cream, then leaned forward and brushed her chilled tongue over his lips. “Cooler?” she whispered.
“Not exactly.” He licked his lips. “But you taste delicious.”
Without a word, she took another mouthful of ice cream. This time when she leaned forward, he cupped the back of her head and brought her closer, kissing her deeply. The cold, sweet, chocolaty silk of her mouth was a stunning contrast to the inferno raging through him.
Damn, how many more jolts could his system take? This woman could arouse him with nothing more than a look. The slightest touch. He sure as hell didn’t stand much of a chance against a hot ice-cream kiss.
Breaking off their kiss, he took the carton and spoon from her. “My turn,” he said. His gaze wandered down to her chest and he pointed to her tank top with the spoon. “Pretty as it is, that’s got to go.”
“Oh? And what would my cooperation be worth to you?”
“Take off your top and I’ll show you.”
Crossing her arms, she grabbed the ends of her shirt and slowly lifted the stretchy material over her head, sinuously moving her body as if performing a striptease. After dropping the top to the floor, her eyes gleamed with sensual challenge. “So show me.”
Adam reached out and slowly traced the convex curve of the spoon around her breasts. Her nipples tightened, beckoning him, and she shifted restlessly against his erection.
Why Not Tonight? Page 15