by Nancy Fraser
“Ditto, Becca. I just hope my stubborn brother is wise enough to see what’s right in front of him.”
At half-past nine, Garrett pulled into the Winston driveway. Rebecca waited for him to open her door and help her out. This would likely be the last time Garrett walked her to the door, and despite being fine with their breakup, she wanted the evening to linger just a few minutes longer. Almost as if it were an ode to their long friendship.
“So, this is it,” Garrett said when they’d reached the front door.
She leaned forward to press a chaste goodbye kiss to his cheek, but he turned his head and met her mouth with his. He wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her close.
The kiss was warm, inviting, just like she remembered from ages ago. Just not heart stopping.
The sound of a revving car engine pulled her back to reality with a jolt. She pressed her hands to his chest and pushed. “What was that for?”
He laughed. “Just making sure the spark had fully died.”
“And?”
“Dead and buried.”
“Good. Now, get out of here before my mom realizes we’re outside.”
“You don’t want me to come in and help you break the news.”
She shook her head. “Not necessary. Take my word for it, our breakup will not come as that much of a surprise.”
****
Wyatt pulled his car into gear and squealed away from behind the tree across from the Winston front porch.
So much for Rebecca’s promise to end things with his brother.
If that kiss was anything to go by, they were making up, rather than breaking up. The unwelcome thought had him pounding his fist against the leather steering wheel in frustration.
A snapshot of all the short relationships in his life flashed before his eyes and of how easily he’d disposed of them once they’d run their course. He wasn’t a callous man. As a matter of fact, he’d always thought of himself as an honest, generous lover. Unfortunately, he’d never found the one woman who could hold his attention longer than a few months.
He needed to get back to LA, back to work. Perhaps the challenge of putting away felons would erase the memory of the one woman he thought he could actually love.
Chapter Seven
Rebecca parked her car in the hospital parking garage and rushed to cardiac unit on the second floor. She couldn’t wait to see Wyatt. She’d had to tamp down the urge to call him the night before, to tell him it was over between herself and Garrett. To beg him to come to see her so they could be together.
She’d flitted her way through her last work day for the week, doing anything and everything she could to keep busy so the time would pass. With the weekend upon them, she’d imagined spending two full days in Wyatt’s enticing company.
She’d even worked out a reasonable excuse to draw Wyatt from his father’s hospital room long enough for them to share a few quick kisses. She felt as if her life were truly about to begin…as soon as she could get to Wyatt.
She breached the door to Phillip’s room. He was alone. No Christina, no Garrett, no young Toby. No Wyatt.
“Hey there, Sprite,” Phillip called out. “I was beginning to think my entire family had deserted me.”
Rebecca glanced around the room, as if someone…anyone…could be hiding behind a privacy curtain or beneath a chair. “It’s usually a madhouse in here. Where is everyone?”
You mean, where is Wyatt, don’t you? Her conscience taunted her with its sarcastic tone.
Phillip smiled, his older, wiser, expression softening. “Garrett left for rounds but not until we’d had a long talk.”
“You did?”
“Yes, we did.” He motioned across the empty room with a sweep of his hand. “It seems my wife had a yoga class and her son didn’t want to ride the bus. So, here I am, alone.”
“What about…uh…Wyatt?”
“He checked in this morning for the doctor’s prognosis of a full recovery and then he left.”
“Left?” She paused. A momentary feeling of panic sent her pulse racing. “He’ll be back later though, right?”
Phillip shook his head. “Now that I’m out of danger, he’s decided to go back to Los Angeles. He said something about no longer trusting his instincts. I think he’s worried they’ll survive without him.”
“I’m sure that’s not the case,” she responded. “Obviously, his work is important to him. Probably the most important.”
“That’s the problem with my eldest son. He’s so focused on his career, he doesn’t take the time to enjoy the finer things in life. A good cigar, a fine bottle of whiskey. The right woman.”
“I have no doubt there are plenty of women in Los Angeles who could fill that bill.”
“There could be, I suppose. Assuming you’re up for the drive.”
“Me?”
“I might have had a bum ticker, but there’s nothing wrong with my eyes, or my brain, Sprite. Of course, given two-thirds of mine and Wyatt’s conversations over the past few days have been about you, I had a clue. Even before Garrett and I talked.”
“Was Wyatt here when Garrett told you about our breakup?”
“No, as a matter of fact, he’d already come and gone. I don’t even think he bothered to say goodbye to his brother.”
Rebecca pushed herself to her feet. “I’ve got to go.”
“Wait,” Phillip said, stopping her mid-step toward the door. “In my nightstand drawer. There’s a slip of paper with Wyatt’s address and phone number on it.”
“I can’t just arrive unannounced.”
“Of course you can. It’s the weekend. If you leave within the hour, you’ll be there before dark.”
“Butˮ
“You and Garrett wasted a lot of time dancing around the end of your relationship. Don’t do the same with Wyatt. If you think there’s something between the two of you, it’s best to get on with it.”
“It doesn’t bother you that I’ve chosen one son over another?”
“No. Not as long as I end up with you for a daughter-in-law. Let’s just hope Wyatt’s got half the smarts for love as he does for the law.”
Rebecca left the hospital in a rush, intent on taking Phillip Langley’s wise counsel and go after what she wanted…even if it meant embarrassing herself in the process.
It took her less time to pack an overnight bag than it did to explain to her parents why she was going, unaccompanied, to Los Angeles. Even her mother’s complaints, fraught with concerns of propriety, couldn’t hold her back. After all, she wasn’t a young innocent but, rather, a grown woman…a responsible teacher…who knew what, and who, she desired.
She shoved her bag in the trunk of her ’63 Biscayne and turned toward the interstate. With only one stop to make…for a conversation starter of sorts…she’d soon be on her way.
****
Wyatt moved from room to room in his ranch-style home. At the moment, he wished for a two or three story so he could pound up and down the stairs and wear himself out. Restlessness had swallowed him up and refused to spit him out. The only thing moving faster than his body, were his thoughts.
What had he been thinking? It wasn’t like him to just quit like this. He should have stayed and fought for what he wanted. More importantly, how had he let one woman get so far under his skin with no more than a few, albeit hot, kisses?
He needed to get out of the house. Go for a drive. Maybe if he pushed the pedal to the metal, he could work off some of his over-wrought energy. He grabbed a jacket, his car keys, and made a beeline for the front door. Jerking it open, he came face-to-face with the very last person he expected to see.
Rebecca stood on his doorstep, a small suitcase in one hand, and a carryout bag from Scully’s deli in the other. One free finger was poised above the doorbell.
“Rebecca? What are you doing here?”
“Hi, Wyatt.” She raised the brown paper bag in the air. “I’ve brought sandwiches.”
“Sandwiche
s,” he repeated.
She sat her suitcase down and balanced the deli bag on top before stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. When she pulled him close, he went willingly into her embrace. “Oh,” she said before claiming his mouth, “and dessert.”
He definitely like the sound of ‘dessert.’
He knew they needed to talk, to sort out exactly where things stood, to ask again why she was there when he was so certain she and Garrett were still together. Yet, first things first.
He drew her tightly to his chest and deepened the kiss she’d begun. When she offered no resistance, he swept her mouth with his tongue. She tasted of peppermint.
She returned his deep kiss with one of her own. His head spun, and his body tightened in all the right places. She definitely didn’t kiss like a woman who was in love with someone else.
When they finally came up for some much needed air, he pressed his forehead to hers and released a long sigh. “As delightful as this is, I think a conversation is in order.”
She ran her fingertips across his lips, caressing him slowly, softly. “You want to talk.”
“No, I don’t want to talk. What I want is to carry you off to my bedroom and make love to you.” At the very mention of intimacy, her cheeks flushed a beguiling shade of pink.
“That sounds nice.” Her mischievous smile was nearly his undoing.
“But first, I think there are a few things we need to make clear.” He raised his head and glanced behind her. “Plus, I think we’ve given the neighbors enough of a show.”
He handed her the sandwiches and then picked up her bag and carried it across the threshold, setting it down in the foyer. Once she’d followed him inside, he shut the door and secured the lock.
“Where should we start?” she asked, her tone innocent, the heat in her smoldering gaze anything but.
“Oh, hell.” He mumbled a soft curse before drawing her back into his arms and pressing his mouth firmly against hers. The moment their lips met, he knew he was lost. In the back of his passion-fogged brain, he registered the thud of something landing on the hard marble floor.
Hopefully, Scully’s had double-wrapped those sandwiches and coleslaw.
Chapter Eight
Rebecca let her arms fall to her sides as Wyatt pulled her lightweight jacket from her shoulders. He removed his own jacket as well and tossed them both on the entryway table. Then, in a move worthy of a Hollywood romance, he swept her up into his arms and carried her down the long, narrow hallway. Within moments, he was moving through the door and directly toward his bed. She tensed in his embrace.
He stopped dead in his tracks. While still balancing her against his body, he lifted her chin with the gentle touch of his fingertips until their eyes met. “If you’re not okay with this, now is the time to speak up.”
“I’m fine,” she said, her voice belying her claim with a soft quiver. “I’m nervous, that’s all.”
“You’re not the only one, sweetheart.”
Somehow she couldn’t picture the self-assured Wyatt on edge. “You? Nervous?”
He sat her gently on the bed and then took a seat beside her. Not exactly the ravenous toss into the middle of the mattress she’d envisioned.
“I’d be lying if I’d said there’d been no one else. Yet somehow, with you, it’s different. It’s not about the sex. With you, I want to make love.”
“That’s what I want too,” she admitted.
His hand trembled when he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her temple. He traced the side of her face with a stroke so soft she was certain she imagined more than she felt. When he slid his thumb across her lower lip, she nearly cried out from the sheer pleasure of his touch.
“We’ll go slowly, explore thoroughly.” His voice lowered, the thick tenor nearly her undoing. “We’ll touch and taste until we know each other as well as we know ourselves.”
Her throat tightened, stealing whatever words she’d intended to speak, until she could only nod her agreement.
Wyatt eased her fully onto the bed until she lay in the middle. He started at her feet where he removed her shoes, then ran his flattened palm up one leg until he’d reached the garter holding her nylon stockings in place. With a twist of his fingers, he set the first tab loose from its anchor.
When he slid his hand underneath her leg to release the back tab, a rush of warmth filled her insides. Her skin tingled beneath the slight pressure of his fingers. Slowly, seductively, he rolled the sheer stocking down her leg.
Once he’d removed the first nylon, he pressed a warm kiss to her instep and bit a gentle path up her leg until he’d reached the sensitive spot behind her knee. The heat in her belly intensified and made its way lower.
He repeated the same agonizing ritual with her other leg, his second string of kisses daring to go halfway up her thigh. Her moan drew his chuckle. “Don’t laugh,” she said, a girlish pout to her words.
“I’m sorry.”
Somehow she doubted his apology.
It took no more than another twist of his fingers to let loose the button holding her skirt in place and he slid it across her hips and down her legs, taking her half-slip at the same time and leaving her laying there in her satin undies. With one long finger, he traced the edge where satin and lace met the smooth curve of her hip. He skimmed her belly above the panty’s fancy trim.
Her stomach clenched. The heat that had gathered in the very center of her womanhood expanded, threatening to burst into flames.
Wyatt drew her into a sitting position and reached for the hem of her sweater. She raised her arms and he pulled the cashmere garment over her head and tossed it atop her discarded skirt.
Inside the satin and lace cups of her bra, her nipples tightened into rigid, aching points.
He stroked one crest and then the other through the thin material. Her body shook with anticipation.
She drew a breath and forced a measure of calm into her voice. “One of us is grossly overdressed.”
His deep-throated laugh ratcheted up her heartrate until she thought she might faint.
“I’m happy to remedy the problem.” He stripped out of his trousers and socks faster than she could blink. His white dress shirt disappeared just as quickly, and he dropped everything on the floor next to her clothes.
He hooked his fingertips in the waistband of his underwear and asked, “Shall I?”
She shook her head and gave her nose a quick scrunch. “Not yet.”
It wasn’t like he needed to remove them for her to see the extent of his arousal. His silk boxers tented quite impressively.
He caught her staring and graced her with another of his full-on laughs. “My god but you’re beautiful.” He feathered his hand across her midriff. “And, even sexier than I’d dreamed.”
“I’ve never thought of myself as sexy,” she admitted.
Wyatt lay down on the bed beside her and pressed a kiss to her brow. “Well, my darling, you are and, if it takes me all weekend, I’m going to make you believe it.”
This time, she was the one to laugh. “So, I take it we’re not going to talk.”
“Not yet. Right now we’ve got far more important things to do.”
****
Rebecca awoke just before dawn. Contentment filled her to the very brim. She’d never been loved so gently, so thoroughly. Her body thrummed with the memory of their lovemaking. They’d done things she’d only read about in those new risqué women’s magazines. And she’d enjoyed every decadent moment of it.
Wyatt was spooned against her back, his warm body reigniting a heat in her own. She shifted slightly, and he tightened his arm at her waist.
“Again, you vixen?” He nuzzled behind her ear. “I’m almost certain there’s a law against expecting a man to perform more than five times in one night.”
She rolled over until they were face-to-face and then snuggled into his embrace. Her breasts pressed firmly against his muscled chest. “I was just getting comfy.�
��
He shifted his weight, pressing another growing arousal against her thigh. “Comfy…like sleep…is for the weak.”
When she woke up the second time, she was alone in the bed. Noise came from a distance, the distinct smell of brewing coffee assaulted her senses. When she sat up the bedsheet pooled at her waist. A slight tingle drew her attention to her bare breasts, her skin was flushed pink and lightly scratched by Wyatt’s late-night beard.
She pushed herself from the bed and reached for her panties. Rather than dress, she donned Wyatt’s shirt, securing the two middle buttons to hold it in place.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Wyatt said in greeting as she entered the brightly lit kitchen.
She took a seat at the breakfast bar. “Good morning to you too.”
He’d dressed in a pair of pajama bottoms yet left his broad, well-toned chest bare. The tattoo of a blind lady justice shone prominently on his left side just below his ribs. She licked her lips, conjuring up the memory of how she’d tasted that same spot more than once the night before.
He set a cup of coffee on the counter in front of her. “Bacon and eggs, toast and coffee.”
“Hmm. That sounds good.” She took a sip of the coffee and let the hot liquid trickle slowly down her throat.
“I thought we might have that talk over breakfast.”
“Yes, I suppose we should,” she agreed.
Once he’d set their plates down, he took a seat at her side. “I have to admit, I’m a bit confused.”
She swallowed her first bite of egg. “About?”
“I saw you and Garrett when he brought you home from your dinner date. I saw him kiss you, and it didn’t look like the kiss of a couple who’d just broken up.”
“You were spying on us?”
He shook his head. “No, I was waiting. I figured once he’d dropped you off, I’d invite you out for coffee so you could tell me how it went.”
“Spying,” she repeated. “And, obviously, jumping to the wrong conclusions.”
“It was a helluva kiss.”
“No, it was your brother’s attempt at humor to defuse an uncomfortable situation. Or, as he called it, ‘making sure the spark was dead’.”