“Is the air conditioning okay now?”
“Yes,” he answered.
She wanted something from Cole she couldn’t define. A Leo replacement? Someone to shore up her self-esteem after getting fired? Or did she want a chance at something wild? “Cole?”
“Go to sleep, Jami.” The words were a little harsh, but it was still his smoky Kahlua-and-cream voice.
“I’m not sleepy anymore.”
Total and complete silence, not even the sound of his breath. Until he let it out in a great whoosh. “You’re going to make me nuts if you don’t shut up and go to sleep.” Yet his voice had a slow, lazy quality to it that drove her nuts.
They hadn’t talked about everything they needed to, such as her opening his daughter’s door and what that did to him, but hopefully they would have a later where they could. She needed the intimacy, craved it, and if he let her in, she knew she could help him.
Jami gulped in courage. “I think we should finish what we started the other night.”
He’d been so quick to answer yes and no before. This time, he didn’t say a word, didn’t move, didn’t breathe.
She threw back the covers. “Cole?”
“Shh.”
“But—”
“Don’t say anything.”
Oh God. He was turning her down. The cool brush of air conditioning chilled her.
Then he held his bedspread aloft and said, “Come here.”
She didn’t give either of them a chance to change their minds, snuggling next to his warm body as he brought the sheet and blanket down over them.
“We shouldn’t do this,” he whispered just before he swiped his tongue along the shell of her ear.
“I’m sure we’ll regret it later.” She went for the gusto and palmed him through his underwear. He was already hard.
“And we better not ask for seconds.” Tipping her chin up with his thumb, he licked the hollow of her throat, then sucked lightly on her neck.
“Seconds would be bad.” Firsts would be oh-so-good. She’d work on seconds later.
She pushed him onto his back, slanted her body over his and kissed him. After a long delicious melding of lips and tongues, he gently tugged on her hair, pulling her head back, and pushed the covers to her waist.
“We have to act like responsible adults.” He shoved his hands inside her pajamas, squeezed her butt, and hauled her flush up against his erection.
“Very responsible.” Sliding down his bare chest, she took a nipple in her mouth. He jerked slightly, moaned, and ground up against her. God, she loved teasing him this way. His sensitivity made her hot.
“Now that,” he muttered, “is totally irresponsible.” He rolled her beneath him, pushing his thigh up between hers.
“You’re right. That was a terrible thing to do.” She reached between their bodies and pinched the other nipple for good measure.
Hissing in a breath, he grabbed her hands and imprisoned them over her head. “Naughty, naughty girl.” Then he dropped his mouth to her throat and sucked on her flesh. “You need to be punished,” he whispered against her skin.
“Oh please, Master, don’t punish me.” Wriggling under him, she managed to raise her pajama top enough to savor flesh against hot flesh.
He switched to a one-handed hold on her. Dropping to her side, he slid a warm hand up beneath the cotton until he cupped her breast. “Your nipple is already hard. You definitely need to be punished for that.”
“How are you going to punish me?” She’d never been verbal during lovemaking. She’d never appreciated how much fun it could be. It took the edge off the fear of rejection, now or later.
“Only complete and total torture will work.”
His face hovering over hers, she relished the sparkle barely visible in his eyes. “Will I scream?”
“Oh yeah.” He undid her buttons slowly, trailing a finger along her breastbone, then down her abdomen. When he was done, he shoved the material aside and lunged at her breast, pinching her nipple hard, torturing her as she’d tortured him.
She arched, shoved her head back into the pillow, and moaned. “That is so good.”
He stopped. “It’s not supposed to be good.”
“I’m sorry. It was bad, really bad.”
“Liar,” he murmured, then he yanked on her pajama bottoms, rose over her, and pulled everything down and off, including all the bedclothes.
She almost squealed with the fast and complete exposure, Cole above her, her legs spread, his gaze on her. Then he leaned over and turned on the bedside lamp.
His face was smooth, freshly shaven, his mouth wet, his lips full from kissing her, his hair mussed. His white briefs hugged his magnificent bulge. Then he raised his eyes to hers, and there was fire in his gaze. “I want you.”
Usually there was kissing and hugging, and things just happened. Cole made it an experience. He made her hot, wet with desire, her stomach trembling with need. He made it seem like no other woman would do, no other moment would be as right.
He made her forget she was vulnerable.
Cupping him, she squeezed his erection, then dragged his briefs down far enough to reveal his crown to her touch. She never once dropped the eye contact. Sliding a finger over the tip, she found him slippery, perfect. He lowered his lashes, and a muscle twitched along his jaw.
Wrapping his fingers around hers, he stroked himself with her hand. “Do you want this?”
The question wasn’t about masculine power or games or one-upmanship. It was simply her chance to back out before she regretted it. “Yes, I do want this.”
He kissed her shoulder as he removed her top. He sucked her nipple, biting lightly as he delved between her legs with two fingers. Sliding to the side, he shoved off his underwear, losing them somewhere under the covers. He came down between her legs and rocked gently, not entering her, but resting along the join of her hip. Finally, palming her butt cheek in a big paw, he kissed her, first a stroke of his tongue along the seam of her lips, then inside, mouth, tongue, light, sweet, gentle. She moved against him, needing more.
Leaning over her, he reached for the side table. She watched as he shook a condom from his wallet, then ripped it open.
Jami didn’t ask. He’d thought ahead to protect her. When, she didn’t know and didn’t care. For all the light-hearted banter, she understood this might be the only time she had him, even as she hoped for more. She wouldn’t ruin it with stupid questions.
“Want me to put it on for you?”
“No.” He smiled. “Touching right now would be dangerous to the successful completion of my mission.”
He went back on his haunches between her legs and rolled on the condom, then glanced at her. It was the most amazing sight she’d ever beheld. He was big, not just his erection, but his body, wide shoulders, strong arms, and a tough face. A face with years on it. Some good, many bad. It was a gorgeous, lived-in face, a face a woman could love.
“Come here.” She held out her arms.
He came down on his elbows. She raised her knees to his hips.
“Do me,” she whispered. It was a bit crass, but she couldn’t ask him to make love to her. If she said it, she’d lose herself to him. It wasn’t something he could give back.
With one hand on her thigh, he held her open and slid inside.
“Oh God.” Pulling him down, she hugged him close, took him fully. Having felt empty for so long, Cole filled her up completely.
When he moved inside her, she arched into him. When he pulled her leg higher, she took him deeper. When he groaned against her ear and thrust harder, she scored his back with her fingers.
“God, baby, please, baby.” His words were inside her, sucking her down to where there was only the feel of him, his hot scent, his hard cock, deep penetration all the way to her soul. As she exploded around him, she was sure she saw stars.
And she was sure he cried out her name as he came.
Chapter Twenty-seven
He’d gotten
rid of the condom, then crawled back into the bed to gather her close. Now she lay across his chest, her skin soft, warm, her hair fragrant and tickling the underside of his chin. Heaven sent.
Cole closed his eyes and savored the moment. It couldn’t last. Not for him. Good things didn’t. Seven minutes, seven days, seven years, all good things came to an end. But until the morning light, she was his. He was so damn glad he’d closed the crack in the curtains, holding off dawn a little longer.
As long as she didn’t say anything. As long as he didn’t ask for anything.
She snuffled against him, laughed softly, then rolled over, her butt tucked against him, and pulled his arm around her waist. He didn’t know what was going through her mind, he didn’t care. He just wanted this.
“’Night, baby,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head.
* * * * *
You were supposed to feel awkward waking up in a strange bed with a strange man wrapped around you. Yet Jami had never felt more comfortable or at peace in her whole life. He smelled good and warmed her with his body heat. The drone of a TV morning show drifted lazily through the wall, shower pipes groaned like the distant rumble of jet engines, and a tiny sliver of morning sun sliced through the curtains.
Mmm, she could wake up this way every morning.
Until Cole made a soft noise, shuddered, rocked his body along the crease of her buttocks, then suddenly jumped from the bed as if her heated skin scorched him. His back hit the wall with a thud, and Jami rolled over.
“What?”
“Nothing. Gotta shower. Andrea. Better get ready.” His eyes were black holes in the dark room, and he was magnificently erect.
Guilt wrapped its arms around her just as his had been only moments before. How could she enjoy lovemaking with Cole when Andrea was out there alone?
He grabbed his paper bag of clothes and bathroom gear, then shut the door behind him. He didn’t mean for her to join him. Obviously the closeness of the night ended with daylight. Jami leaned over to the other side of the table and turned the clock. Half past seven. She couldn’t believe they’d slept that late; she usually woke at least once before the sun rose.
Sitting up and throwing her legs over the side, she rubbed her eyes. “Andrea, Andrea, where are you?” she whispered to the room.
Hopefully at home. Jami found her pajama bottoms beneath the covers along with Cole’s underwear. Her top lay on the floor. So now the whole awkward thing started. She wondered if she’d have staved it off if Cole hadn’t jumped from the bed like she had leprosy. She put on her pajamas, then grabbed her cell phone off the bedside table, and punched in Mrs. Bagotti’s number.
The poor woman sniffled when Jami confirmed they hadn’t caught even a glimpse of Andrea.
“Two nights out on her own.” Mrs. Bagotti choked off a sob.
Jami’s guilt and uselessness rose exponentially. “We’ll try again today. Have you thought of anywhere else she might have gone?” It was a stupid question because Mrs. Bagotti would have told the police immediately if she had.
“No.”
“Is your husband back home?”
“Yes. Last night. But he’s going to L.A. this morning.”
“L.A.? Why?”
“I found a picture book in her room. Some artist. He’s got a studio in L.A. I know it’s grasping at straws...” She trailed off, sniffling.
“That’s great thinking.” It was probably one of the artists Andrea had mentioned the first time they’d talked about Andrea’s artwork. “Were there any other art books in her room?”
“No. Just that one. I called the man’s studio yesterday, but no one answered. So Walter’s going down there.”
Walter. Andrea’s father. Jami had never asked his first name. Nor Mrs. Bagotti’s. She felt odd asking now, since the woman hadn’t already volunteered it. “Well, I’ll be in touch. We’ll keep looking.”
Yes, but where? She’d had only the one bright idea.
In the bathroom, Cole started the shower. Jami opened the curtains. They had a room facing the bay and San Francisco. There wasn’t a lick of fog to obscure the view.
Andrea had mentioned two other artists that day. What were they? Jami put her fingers to her temples and massaged as if they would get her brain cells working. Devil? Evil? Knievel? One of the names definitely had a religious ring to it.
Setting her computer on the desk, she booted up, and logged into the hotel’s wireless service directory. She’d try searching on different iterations of the name to see if anything came up. And the second name? Peter, Piper? No, she was mixing it up with a nursery rhyme. But it did start with P. Didn’t it?
God, she needed to start doing that Sudoku game, which was supposed to help improve memory. She went through the rigmarole to connect with the wireless network.
The shower stopped. Jami’s fingers tensed on the keyboard. Cole coughed. Something, a plastic bottle maybe, fell in the bathtub. He cursed. Jami closed her eyes. “Do not listen,” she whispered. If she listened, she’d start thinking. If she started thinking, she’d begin asking why he’d run away.
Dammit, she already knew. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t expected it. Cole had a guilt trip as wide as the Grand Canyon. It was painfully obvious he didn’t think he deserved to have a life after his daughter lost hers. Jami had made love last night, but for him, it was just a break in his daily guilt regimen.
“And when did you get so bitter?” she muttered. Duh, hello, since Leo and Leo’s pregnant girlfriend.
How could Leo do that? What was wrong with her? She wanted to forget about it, but she could still hear her mom saying she shouldn’t have given away her milk for free. Loser, loser. Like a little gremlin, her mind kept coming back to getting fired both from her job and by Leo. Cole’s guilt wasn’t her problem, her own lack of self-esteem was.
With the Internet ready, she typed in various renditions of Peter and Piter and artist, switching around the letters. Google didn’t even come up with suggestions to narrow the search down from one million sites.
The bathroom door opened. Steam and a sweet scent wafted out into the room. “I’m going out for some coffee, you want—”
She knew the moment he saw his briefs, which she’d left on the bottom of the bed as a tangible reminder. Now it just seemed bitchy. His paper bag rustled.
“Do you want me to get you something?” he finished.
She turned. He looked yummy in another T-shirt—this one red with Easy Cheesy emblazoned across it in yellow—black jeans, and wet hair.
“If you wait until I get dressed, we can go down for breakfast.”
He held up a hand. Universal Stop sign. “No, no, just do what you’re doing. I’ll be back.”
He didn’t want her with him, yet he said, “I’ll be back,” as if she might think he’d run out on her. It was her car, after all, so he couldn’t leave without her, yet she felt so depressed. “A mocha and a poppy seed muffin would be great, thanks.”
“Sure. Do you want the mocha orange or caramel or raspberry or white chocolate or...”
She was impressed he thought to ask. “Orange.” She always had white mochas. She was in a rut.
The door snicked shut behind him. Jami checked her e-mail. There were tearful ones from her mother asking why she hadn’t called or answered her messages for a couple of days, then her sisters admonishing her for not calling her mother. Jami replied nicely to all. A lot of spam, a couple of coworkers asking after her mental health, a friend from college she’d tried to find a few months ago just for the heck of it. And Leo.
Oh my God.
Leo. She read the subject line. “Checking on you.”
Her heart pounded. She felt like she’d been caught cheating. She couldn’t look at it. She could not open that e-mail. He’d try to explain. Or he’d blame. Or...she didn’t even want to contemplate another or. Yet instead of deleting it, she simply shut down her e-mail and hit the Google icon.
Her breath came harshly, her throat hur
t, and an odd lightheadedness wrapped her head in cotton wool. First Cole’s weird behavior or rejection or whatever it was, now this.
Leo had dumped her three weeks ago. It hadn’t even been a month, and she’d already slept with another man. It wasn’t that she thought she should be pining for a lying, cheating, no-good bastard...okay, she was getting carried away. She didn’t have to pine, but jumping into another man’s arms so quickly smacked of being on the rebound. Especially when just an e-mail from the lying, cheating, no-good...she could actually feel her blood pressure rising and stopped herself right there.
Besides, Cole wasn’t just some guy she’d met at a bar and hopped into bed with. She had a connection to him. There was his music and Easy Cheesy and Andrea, and she didn’t have to explain anything to Leo. Nothing.
She flexed her fingers and started typing again. Peter, Petre, Petur, and another million sites came up. A million sites were the tip of the iceberg. She didn’t even bother to type in Devil or Evil. She was sure her computer would implode with the number of sites those brought up. By the time Cole’s card key clicked in the lock, she had a massively huge headache.
She growled. He was just the person on whom to take out her frustration.
* * * * *
Cole set her mocha on the desk, the orange zest wafting from the hole in the lid. “I thought you’d be dressed by now.”
It was innocuous enough, yet it irked her. “I was busy,” she emphasized, “trying to find these artists that Andrea liked. Her father’s going to see one down in L.A., and I want to know if the other two are in California.”
He held up his hands in surrender, a white bag, presumably containing her muffin, slapping against his palm. “Sor-ree.”
She’d sounded harsh, and her forehead hurt from the deep frown scrunching it. But really, who did he think he was? “Afraid I’ll try to force you to make love to me again?”
“You didn’t force me.” His eyes darkened. Dropping the bag on the desk by the mocha, he backed up two steps. “We should go back to Masterson today. Andrea isn’t here.”
Baby, I'll Find You Page 24