He was leaning against the sink, watching her, his arms folded in front of his chest. “James is a lot older than you are,” he said.
The remark was so out of left field that Amanda was momentarily stunned by it. “I know,” she finally managed, standing in the doorway that led to the living room.
“Where did you meet him?”
Amanda couldn’t think why she was answering, since they had agreed not to talk about James, but answer she did. “At the hotel,” she replied with a sigh. “He taught a management seminar there a year and a half ago.”
“And you went?”
She couldn’t read Jordan’s mood either in his eyes or his voice, and she was unsettled by the question. “Yes. He asked me out to dinner the first night, and after that I saw him whenever he was in Seattle on business.”
Jordan crossed the room and enfolded Amanda in his arms, and the relief she felt was totally out of proportion to the circumstances.
“I have to know one thing, Mandy. Do you love him?”
She shook her head. “No.” She tasted wine on Jordan’s lips when he kissed her. And she tasted wanting. Do you still love Becky? she longed to ask, but she was too afraid of the answer to voice the question.
Slipping his arm around her waist, Jordan ushered Amanda into the living room, where they sat on a hooked rug in front of the fireplace. He gripped her hand and stared into the flames in the silence for a long time, then he turned, looked into her fire-lit eyes and said, “I’m sorry, Mandy. I didn’t have any right to ask about James.”
She let her head rest against the place where his arm and shoulder met. “It’s okay. I made a fool of myself, and I can admit that now.”
Jordan caught her chin in his hand and wouldn’t let her look away. “Let’s get one thing straight here,” he said in gentle reproach. “The only mistake you made was trusting the bastard. He’s the fool.”
Amanda sighed. “That’s a refreshing opinion. Most people either say or imply that I should have known better.”
“Not this people,” Jordan answered, tasting her lips.
Although it seemed impossible, Amanda wanted Jordan more now than she had on the couch earlier when he’d brought her face to face with her own womanhood. She longed to take him by the hand and lead him to her bed, but the thought of a second rebuff stopped her. In fact, she supposed it was about time she started taking the advice her mother had given her in ninth grade and play hard to get.
She moved a little apart from Jordan, stiffened her shoulders and raised her chin. “Maybe you should go,” she said.
Jordan showed no signs of leaving. Instead he put his hands on Amanda’s shoulders and lowered her to the hooked rug, stretching out beside her and laying one hand brazenly on her breast. The nipple tightened obediently beneath his palm.
Amanda moved to rise, but Jordan pressed her back down again, this time with a consuming kiss. “Don’t you dare start anything you don’t intend to finish,” she ordered in a raspy whisper when at last he’d drawn away from her mouth. Having obtained the response he wanted from her right breast, he was now working on her left.
“I’ll finish it,” he vowed in a husky murmur, “when the time is right.”
He lowered his hand to her belly, covering it with splayed fingers, and Amanda’s heart pounded beneath her T-shirt. She pulled on his nape until his mouth again joined with hers, and the punishment for this audacious act was the unsnapping of her jeans.
“Damn it, Jordan, I don’t like being teased.”
He pulled at the zipper, and then his hand was in between her jeans and her panties, just resting there, soaking up her warmth, making her grow moist. That part of her body was like an exotic orchid flowering in a hothouse.
“Tough,” he replied with a cocky grin just before he bent and scraped one hidden nipple lightly with his teeth, causing it to leap to attention.
Amanda’s formidable pride was almost gone, and she had to grasp the rug and bite down on her lower lip to keep from begging him to make love to her.
“This night is just for you,” he told her, his hand making a fiery circle at the junction of her thighs. “Why can’t you accept that?’
“Because it isn’t normal, that’s why,” Amanda gasped, trying to hold her hips still but finding it impossible. “You’re a man. You’re supposed to have just one thing on your mind. You’re supposed to be trying to jump my bones.”
He laughed at that. “What a chauvinistic thing to say.”
Amanda groaned as he continued his sweet devilment. “I’ve never seen anything in Cosmopolitan that told what to d-do when this happens,” she complained.
Again Jordan laughed. “I can tell you what to do,” he said when he’d recovered himself a little. “Enjoy it.”
Amanda was beginning to breathe hard. “Damn you, Jordan—I’ll make you pay for this!”
“I’m counting on that,” he said against her mouth.
Moments later Amanda was soaring again. She dug her fingers into Jordan’s shoulders while she plunged her heels into the rug, and everyone in the apartment building would have known how well he’d loved her if he hadn’t clamped his mouth over hers and swallowed her cries.
“If this is some kind of power game,” Amanda sputtered five minutes later when she could manage to speak, fastening her jeans and sitting up again, “I don’t want to play.”
“You could have fooled me,” Jordan responded.
Amanda gave a strangled cry of frustration and anger. “I can’t imagine why I keep letting you get away with this.”
“I can,” he replied. “It feels good, and it’s been a long time. Right?”
Amanda let her forehead rest against his shoulder, embarrassed. “Yes,” she confessed.
He kissed the top of her head. “I should have dessert before dinner more often,” he teased.
Amanda groaned, unable to look at him, and he chuckled and lifted her chin for a light kiss. “You’re impossible,” she murmured.
“And I’m leaving,” he added with a glance at his watch. “It’s time you were in bed.”
Bleakness filled Amanda at the thought of climbing into bed alone, and she was just about to protest, when Jordan laid a finger to her nose and asked, “Will you go Christmas shopping with me tomorrow?”
Amanda would have gone to Zanzibar. “Yes,” she answered like a hypnotized person.
Jordan kissed her again, leaving her lips warm and slightly swollen. “Good night,” he said. And then, after a backward look and a wave, he was gone.
4
The telephone jangled just as Amanda finished with her makeup the next morning. She’d managed to camouflage the shadows under her eyes—the result of sleeping only a few hours—with a cover stick.
“Hello?” she blurted into the receiver of her bedside telephone, hoping Jordan wasn’t calling to back out of their shopping trip.
“If I remember correctly,” her mother began dryly without returning the customary greeting, “you were supposed to call last night and let us know whether you were coming over for supper.”
Amanda stretched the phone cord as far as her closet, where she took out black wool slacks. “Sorry, Mom,” she answered contritely. “I forgot, but you’ll be glad to know it was because of a man.” She went to the dresser for her pink cashmere sweater while waiting for her mother to digest her last remark.
“A man?” Marion echoed, unable to hide the pleasure in her voice.
“And James was here yesterday,” Amanda went on after pulling the sweater on over her head.
Marion drew in her breath. “Don’t tell me you’re seeing him again—”
“Of course not, Mom,” Amanda scolded, propping the receiver between her shoulder and her ear while she wriggled into the sleek black pants.
“You’re deliberately confusing me,” Marion accused.
Amanda sighed. “Listen, I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, okay? I’ll stop by after work and catch you up on all the latest developme
nts.”
“So there is somebody besides James?” Marion pressed, sounding pleased.
“Yep,” Amanda answered just as the door buzzer sounded. “Gotta go—he’s here.”
“’Bye,” Marion said cooperatively, and promptly hung up.
Amanda was brushing her hair as she hurried through the apartment to open the door. She was smiling, since she expected Jordan, but she found a delivery man from one of the more posh department stores in the hallway, instead. He was holding two silver gift boxes, one large and one fairly small. “Ms. A. Scott?” he asked.
Amanda nodded, mystified.
“These are for you—special express delivery,” the man said, holding on to the packages while he shoved a clipboard at Amanda. “Sign on line twenty-seven.”
She found the appropriate line and scrawled her name there, and the man gave her the packages in return for the clipboard.
After depositing the boxes on the couch and rummaging through her purse for a tip, she closed the door and lifted the lid off the smaller box. A skimpy aqua bikini lay inside, but there was no card or note to explain.
She opened the large box and gasped, faced with the rich, unmistakable splendor of sable. A small envelope lay on top, but Amanda didn’t need to read it to know the gifts were from James.
As a matter of curiosity, she looked at the card: “Honeymoon in Hawaii, then on to Copenhagen? Call me. James.”
With a sigh, Amanda tossed down the card. She was just about to call the store and ask to return the two boxes, when there was a knock at the door.
She rushed to open it and found Jordan standing in the hallway, looking spectacular in blue jeans, a lightweight yellow sweater and a tweed sport jacket.
“Hi,” he said, his bright hazel eyes registering approval as he looked at her.
“Come in,” Amanda replied, stepping back and holding the door open wide. “I’m just about finished with my hair. Pour yourself a cup of coffee and I’ll be right out.”
He stopped her when she would have turned away from him, and lightly entangled the fingers of one hand in her hair. “Don’t change it,” he said hoarsely. “It looks great.”
Amanda’s heart was beating a little faster just because he was close and because he was touching her. Since she didn’t know what to say, she didn’t speak.
Jordan kissed her lightly on the lips. “Good morning, Mandy,” he said, and his voice was still husky. Amanda had a vision of him carrying her off to bed, and heat flooded her entire body, a blush rising in her cheeks.
“Good morning,” she replied, her voice barely more than a squeak. “How about that coffee?”
His gaze had shifted to the boxes on the couch. “What’s this?” There was a teasing reproach in his eyes when they returned to her face. “Opening your presents before Christmas, Mandy? For shame.”
Amanda had completely forgotten the unwanted gifts, and the reminder deflated her spirits a little. “I’m sending them back,” she said, hoping Jordan wouldn’t pursue the subject.
His expression sobered. “James?”
Amanda licked her lips, then nodded nervously. She wasn’t entirely displeased to see a muscle in Jordan’s cheek grow taut, then relax again.
“Persistent, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Amanda admitted. “He is.” And after that there seemed to be nothing more to say—about James, anyway.
“Let’s go,” Jordan told her, kissing her forehead. “We’ll get some breakfast on the way.”
Amanda disappeared into the bedroom to put on her shoes, and when she came out, Jordan was studying the quilt over her couch again, his hands in his hip pockets.
“You know, you have a real talent for this,” he said.
Amanda smiled. James had always been impatient with her quilting, saying she ought to save the needlework for when she was old and had nothing better to do. “Thanks.”
Jordan followed her out of the apartment and waited patiently while she locked the door. He held her elbow lightly as they went down the stairs, once again giving her the wonderful sensation of being protected.
The sun was shining, which was cause for rejoicing in Seattle at that time of year, and Amanda felt happy as Jordan closed the car door after her.
When he slid behind the wheel, he just sat there for a few minutes and looked at her. Then he put a hand in her hair again. “Excuse me, lady,” he said, his voice low, “but has anybody told you this morning that you’re beautiful?”
Amanda flushed, but her eyes were sparkling. “No, sir,” she answered, playing the game. “They haven’t.”
He leaned toward her and gave her a lingering kiss that made a sweet languor blossom inside her.
“There’s an oversight that needs correcting,” he murmured afterward. “You’re beautiful.”
Amanda was trembling when he finally turned to start the ignition, fasten his seat belt and steer the car out into the light Sunday morning traffic. Something was terribly wrong in this relationship, she reflected. It was supposed to be the man who wanted to head straight for the bedroom, while the woman held out for knowing each other better.
And yet it was all Amanda could do not to drag Jordan out of the car and back up the stairs to her apartment.
“What’s the matter?” Jordan asked, tossing a mischievous glance her way that said he well knew the answer to that question.
Amanda folded her arms and looked straight ahead as they sped up a freeway ramp. The familiar green-and-white signs slipped by overhead. “Nothing,” she said.
He sighed. “I hate it when women do that. You ask them what’s wrong and they say ‘nothing,’ and all the while you know they’re ready to burst into tears or clout you with the nearest blunt object.”
Amanda turned in her seat and studied his profile for a few moments, one fingernail caught between her teeth. “I wasn’t about to do either of those things,” she finally said. She didn’t quite have the fortitude to go the rest of the way and admit she was wondering why he didn’t seem to want her.
Jordan reached out and laid a hand gently on her knee, once again sending all her vital organs into a state of alarm.
“What’s the problem, then?”
She drew in a deep breath for courage and let it out slowly. “If we sleep together, you’ll be the second man I’ve ever been with in my life, so it’s not like I’m hot to trot or anything. But I usually have to fight guys off, not wait for them to decide the time is right.”
He was clearly suppressing a smile, which didn’t help.
“’Hot to trot’? I didn’t think anybody said that anymore.”
“Jordan.”
He favored her with a high-potency grin. “Believe me, Mandy, I’m a normal man and I want you. But you’re going to have to wait, because I’ve got no intention of—forgive me—screwing this up.”
Amanda sighed and folded her arms. “Exactly what is it you’re waiting for?”
His wonderful eyes were crinkled with laughter, even though his mouth was unsmiling.
“Exactly what is it you want me to do?” he countered. “Pull the car over to the side of the freeway and, as you put it last night, ‘jump your bones’?”
Amanda blushed. “You make me sound like some kind of loose woman,” she accused.
He took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “I can’t even imagine that,” he said in a soothing voice. “Now what do you say we change the subject for a while?”
That seemed like the only solution. “Okay,” Amanda agreed. “Remember how you admired the quilt I made?”
Jordan nodded, switching lanes to be in position for an upcoming exit. “It’s great.”
“Well, I’ve been designing and making quilts for years. Someday I hope to open a bed and breakfast somewhere, with a little craft shop on the premises.”
He grinned as he took the exit. “I’m surprised. Given your job and the fact that you live in the city, I thought you were inclined toward more sophisticated dreams.”
; “I was,” Amanda said, recalling some of the glamorous, exciting adventures she had had with James. “But life changes a person. And I’ve always liked making quilts. I’ve been selling them at craft shows for a long time, and saving as much money as I could for the bed and breakfast.”
Jordan was undoubtedly thinking of her humble apartment when he said, “You must have a pretty solid nest egg.”
Amanda sighed, feeling discouraged all over again. “Not really. The real estate market is hot around here, what with so many people moving up from California, and the prices are high.”
They had left the freeway, and Jordan pulled the car into the parking lot of a family-style restaurant near the mall. “Working capital is one of my specialties, Mandy. Maybe I can help you.”
Amanda surprised even herself when she shook her head so fast. She guessed it was partly pride that made her do that, and partly disappointment that he wasn’t trying to talk her out of establishing a business in favor of something else. Like getting married and starting a family.
“Did we just hit another tricky subject?” Jordan asked good-naturedly, when he and Amanda were walking toward the restaurant.
She shrugged. “I want the bed and breakfast to be all my own.”
Jordan opened the door for her. “What if you decide to get married or something?”
Amanda felt a little thrill, even though she knew Jordan wasn’t on the verge of proposing. She would have refused even if he had. “I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”
A few minutes later they were seated at a small table and given menus. They made their selections and sipped the coffee the waitress had brought while they waited for the food.
“Who are we shopping for today?” Amanda asked, to get the conversation going again. Jordan was sitting across from her, systematically making love to her with his eyes, and she was desperate to distract him.
“Jessie and Lisa mostly, though I still need to get something for Karen and Paul.”
Something made Amanda ask, “What about your parents?”
Sadness flickered in the depths of Jordan’s eyes, but only for a moment. “They were killed in a car accident when I was in college,” he replied.
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