**0h!" Turning, she nearly walked straight into the man who'd been standing behind her. **Neill."
**That wasn't your brother," he said, his eyes on the patrol car.
*'No. That was Frank Miller. He and I have...um...we've gone out a few times." She wasn't sure why she felt the necessity of offering an explanation.
*'Should I be jealous?" His eyes, a sharp, questioning blue, cut to hers.
**Would you be?" she asked, and then caught her breatib at the lightning-edged expression that
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flashed in his eyes. It was gone in an instant, and he was smiling, but, for a moment, there had been something dangerous there, something that, God help her, sent a shivery little thrill down her spine.
'Trank and I are just friends," she said breathlessly. Later she would allow herself time to consider the idea that she could make a man like this feel jealous. No doubt it was completely shameless of her, but it was a thought she had every intention of savoring.
*'Friends are a good thing," Neill said. He brushed a loose tendril of hair back from her forehead. He lingered to let his fingers trail over her cheek. **I came by to see how you were feeling."
'Tine. Fm just fine." Unless you counted the fact that her knees were melting and her pulse was beating double time.
"Good." His thumb stroked across her lips, and Anne barely restrained the urge to open her mouth and draw it inside. "Come to Chicago with me."
It took a moment for the words to register. When they did, her eyes widened. "What?"
"Come to Chicago with me for the weekend. This weekend. We'll have dinner, maybe take in a show. My brother has a restaurant there. I can probably con him into feeding us at least once. If you
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can get off early on Friday, we can drive up Friday afternoon, come back Sunday afternoon. Fll get—''
"Yes/' Anne didn't have to think about it. It was probably crazy to agree to spend the weekend with a man she'd known less than two weeks.
A cautious woman would take a little more time, not make any hasty decisions. But she knew from experience that cautious women led very dull Uves. This one time, she was going to take a chance, ignore common sense and listen to her heart
Chapter Ten
Anne estimated that the hotel lobby must have contained at least an acre of plush blue carpeting. The expanse was broken up by cozy seating areas and potted plants. Over the murmur of hotel guests—^arriving, leaving or just people-watching—^was the muted ^lash of a fountain, complete with palm trees and pond. It was like walking into a movie set, and she found herself gawking shamelessly, wanting to see everything at once.
Seeing her wide-eyed pleasure, Neill chuckled, but he was aware of a slow-burning anger at the thought that she'd lived her whole Ufe just a few hours away, yet this was the first time she'd made
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the trip into the city. If she'd had no interest, that would have been one thing. But the open delight she took in everything she saw, her fascination with things that should have been commonplace, left him torn between anger that her life had been so restricted and a guilty pleasure that he was the one to show her what she'd been missing.
He'd brought her here because he'd been sure she would enjoy it, but also because he thought it might be a good idea to be on neutral ground when he told her that he knew about Brooke and explained that his career was not exactly what she thought it was.
He'd spent the last two days convincing himself that there was nothing to worry about. Anne might be annoyed, maybe a little hurt—and he would much rather face the former than deal with the latter—^but it wasn't as if he'd lied to her. Exactly. And what had happened to her sister was public information, so he hadn't pried into any secrets. Exactly.
So he'd brought her to the big city to dazzle her with the sights, take her to a fine restaurant, maybe ply her with a glass or two of wine, before making his confession. It was a little depressing to realize that he'd become such a manipulative bastard, he
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thought with a faint sigh for ethics churned to dust by need.
When she'd seen the quality of the hotel Neill had chosen, Anne had thought it was sweet that he was going to so much trouble to make the weekend special. She assumed he'd gotten one of the least expensive rooms and hoped he wasn't straining his finances too far. As they rode up in the elevator, she worried her lower lip with her teeth and wondered if she dared offer to split the expenses with him, but, even with her limited experience, something told her he wouldn't be open to that particular suggestion.
When the elevator doors opened and they stepped into a small lobby to be greeted by a smiling middle-aged man, she was mildly surprised, but she'd never stayed in a hotel and thought that perhaps, in a place like this, someone was assigned to greet guests on every floor. Even if she'd noticed the discreet brass plaque that said Concierge Level, it wouldn't have meant anything to her.
But it didn't take a seasoned traveler to recognize the luxury of the room Neill was ushering her into. Thick, pearl gray carpeting, royal blue drapes, two sofas, one upholstered in a rich floral, the other
in a two-tone blue stripe. A wet bar, tasteful prints on the wall, an exquisite mixed bouquet on the table next to one of the sofas, and a second open door across the room, through which she could glimpse the comer of a bed. Not a room but a suite.
"I made reservations for an early dinner," Neill said, crossing the room to pull open the drapes and reveal a spectacular view of Lake Michigan.
Feeling as if she were caught in a dream, Anne walked to the window and looked out. Spread out below them, the city was painted in twilight shades of gray and gold. She'd never been so high before, and, for an instant, she felt a little dizzy. Or maybe it was the shock of finding herself here.
Turning slowly, she surveyed the room again. She couldn't even begin to guess what a suite like this must cost, but she knew it had to be a lot. When he'd asked her to come away with him for the weekend, she'd thought she knew what to expect. That they would become lovers was a given. If she'd given any thought to the setting, she would have guessed that Neill would choose it carefully. But this... She'd never pictured anything like this.
Watching her, Neill recognized her hesitation but mistook the cause.
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*'lf you don't like the room, we can get something else—or go to another hotel, for that matter.*'
**Of course I like it. It's gorgeous." She waved one hand to encompass the luxurious setting. *'It's like something out of one of Dorothy's old movies. How could I not like it? It's just that—" She stared at him helplessly for a moment and then decided that there was simply no tactful way to say it '*It must be costing a fortune and I don't...can you afford this?"
She was worried that he was spending more than he could afford The realization brought a mixture of pleasure and guilt that was rapidly becoming familiar. Pleasure that she was concerned for his financial state and guilt that he'd left her with the impression that there was reason to be concemed
Tell her, his conscience whispered. But he wanted to have at least this one evening with her. There was always the chance that she would be so angered by his tacit deception that she would walk out without giving him a chance to explain, which might be just as well, he thought ruefully, since he wasn't sure he had a good explanation to offer.
'*I didn't think you'd mind washing a few dishes to pay for our room and board," he said Ughtly. She smiled, but the worry remained in her eyes.
and Neill reached out to catch her hand, tugging her closer. "A couple of nights in a fancy hotel isn't going to bankrapt me, honey. I don't exactly lead an extravagant lifestyle."
That was trae enough, he consoled himself as he saw her worried look ease.
''If you're sure." She looked up. "You don't have to do this for me," she said shyly.
Had he thought he was sliding into love
? Neill wondered. He was all the way there. Looking into Anne's big gray eyes, he thought maybe he'd fallen that first day when she'd stood there, next to that ridiculous little car of hers, and looked at him like she half expected him to pounce at any moment. He'd wanted to pounce. He'd wanted it then, and he wanted it now.
Taking a tight hold on his self-control, he lowered his head, taking her mouth in a long, drugging kiss that left her weak and clinging to his shoulders. For a moment he considered consigning their dinner reservations to hell and taking her to bed. But that wasn't the way he wanted to do things. Slow and easy, he reminded himself. This was more than a weekend fling. So much more that it scared him to think about it.
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It was a magical evening. The restaurant, with its white tablecloths, heavy flatware and delicate glasses, was a masterpiece of elegant understatement. At Neill's insistence, she ordered lobster. It was wonderful. And the wine was wonderful, and looking out over the waters of Lake Michigan was wonderful. Even the waiter was wonderful. But she knew the evening would have been just as wonderful if he'd taken her out for a burger and fries. It wasn't the food or the setting that made everything special. It was NeiU.
She'd been lying to herself when she said she was halfway in love with him, she admitted as she sipped the delicate white wine. She was head over heels, all the way gone, heart on her sleeve in love with him. There were even moments—^when he smiled at her, or kissed her with such melting ten-demess—^when she could almost believe he might feel the same.
And if he didn't...well, she would worry about that when the time came. She'd spent her whole Ufe being cautious. For once—^for this single weekend—she was going to Uve without counting the possible cost.
After dinner he took her to the Hancock Observatory, informing her as they reached the viewing
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platform that she was now some ninety-four stories and over one thousand feet above the ground. His pedantic, bored-tour-guide tone made her laugh, but the spectacular view of the city stretching away on every side took her breath away.
"It's beautiful," she murmured, her eyes dazzled.
**Not half as beautiful as you are." And pulling her into his arms, he kissed her until the city's twinkling lights seemed to dip and sway around her.
It was late when they returned to their hotel. Riding up in the elevator with Neill, Aime had the same delicious, floaty sensation she remembered from the one time she'd had too much to drink. But it wasn't the single glass of wine she'd had with dinner that made her feel that way, it was the man standing next to her, the man who was about to become her lover. And wasn't that a wonderful, powerful word?
By the time Neill was pushing open the door, shepherding her inside, he was aching with the need to touch her. Taste her. The kisses they'd shared, the casual little touches throughout the evening, had left him edgy with a lust that couldn't
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quite block out the jitter of nerves. This mattered. What happened here, tonight, with this woman was important. Important enough that he could wait.
He watched her walk into the middle of the room, then turn to look at him questioningly, and thought he'd never seen anything more beautiful than the way she looked in that simple black dress, those long legs encased in sheer black stockings, her dark gold hair caught up on top of her head in a soft twist that made his fingers twitch with the urge to pull the pins loose and watch it tumble around her face. He drew a deep breath.
**There's no obligation here, Anne. If this isn't what you want, you only have to say so."
She tilted her head curiously, attentively. *'And you won't mind sleeping on the sofa?"
"I won't mind," he lied steadily.
She brushed her fingers absently along the dress's neckline, and Neill's mouth went dry as he followed the movement. "You mean I can sleep in there alone and you'll sleep out here alone?"
Was she trying to kill him? Her fingers slid over the soft upper swell of her breast.
*'Yes. Alone." God, she'd reduced him to speaking in one-syllable sentences. Another few
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minutes and he would be down to inarticulate whimpers.
She let her hand fall to her side and watched him silently for a moment, then slowly—deliberately, danm her—^ran her tongue over her upper lip. ''Do you know what I have on under this dress?"
**W-what?" His voice stumbled, nearly cracked in a way it hadn't done in twenty years.
She pouted. "I bought some fancy lingerie out of a catalog last year. It promised to make me irresistible."
''Did...did it?"
"They guaranteed it." She slanted him a look that was pure invitation, then turned toward the bedroom. "Maybe I should return it and get my money back?"
He would not pant. Not yet. He wasn't going to drag her to the floor and ravish her, either. Not this first time. He had enough control to follow her into the bedroom without howling with pure lust. He was nearly sure of it.
Anne stopped next to the bed and linked her hands together. The courage that had been so easy to find a moment ago was suddenly shaky. She couldn't believe she'd offered such a bold invitation, didn't know where the words had come from.
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She'd never played the part of a seductress. But something in the way Neill had stood there, his eyes all but burning with hunger even as he offered to let her sleep alone, had made something fierce and feminine well up inside her.
But now, here she stood, next to the bed, and she was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he was very large and very male, and, while she wasn't afraid of him—could never be afraid of him—she was just a little nervous about what was going to happen next. Not afraid, because she knew how it worked. You didn't have to have actual experience to know what went where, but there was, she admitted reluctantly, a bit of a gap between knowing and knowing. She wanted Neill to help her close that gap but still...now that the moment had arrived, she was just a little uneasy.
And then she looked over her shoulder at him, saw not just hunger but a need that bumed right through to her soul, and an answering need surged up inside her, swallowing the fear and nerves and giving her a slightly shaky courage.
*'If you could help me with the zipper," she murmured, turning her back.
The zipper slid slowly down her spine, and she felt the brush of Neill's fingers every inch of the
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way. When it stopped, she could only stand there, breathing a Uttle too quickly, wondering what she should do now. He had to know she wanted this. Wanted him. She couldn't have made it any plainer. Maybe she should lower the hand she had pressed to her chest, let the dress fall, but her courage was sUpping away again.
And then she felt his breath on her skin, warm and moist. She closed her eyes on a shiver as he pressed slow, Ungering kisses across her shoulders, then began working his way down her spine. Shuddering, she barely noticed when he eased the dress over her shoulders, tugging at the slim skirt until it fell away from her body, dropping to the floor. She turned blindly, obediently, in response to his hands, holding her arms stiff at her sides as she faced him.
*'Jesus." The word was half prayer, half plea for mercy. '*Are you trying to kill me?'* he asked on a pained laugh.
"What?" Surprised by his laughter, her eyes flicked open.
**rhis is the kind of stuff that should be a registered weapon," he muttered as all the blood left his head and went straight to his loins. The black lace bra barely covered her nipples, and he'd seen
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postage stamps that covered more than the matching panties. But with them... God, with them, she was wearing a lacy garter belt to hold up cobweb-fine black stockings. And then she stood there looking at him, her pretty gray eyes full of nerves and need, and he was fairly sure that his heart was going to slam its way right out of his chest.
He
flicked open the front clasp on the bra and watched the cups slide over her pale skin, stopping at the last minute, caught on the taut peaks of her nipples.
**Neill...Neill?" Her voice cracked when he traced the tip of one finger over the fine tracery of blue veins on the inside curve of her breast. '*Fve never done this before," she blurted.
His hand stilled, and he lifted his eyes to her face. She looked half-guilty, as if she were confessing to a crime. And half-scared, as if she wasn't quite sure how she'd come to be where she was.
**I know you haven't." He thought he'd known from the first time he kissed her, or maybe it was the innocence shining in her eyes. Whatever it was, he'd known all along, and, God help him, it only made him want her more. *'We can stop if you want"
**I don't." She drew a shaky breath, and his
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mouth went dry when the movement shifted the bra another half inch to the side, baring the delicate rosy circle of her aureole.
*1 won*t hurt you."
*1 know/' Her eyes still on his face, she reached up to slide the bra straps from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor behind her. Her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes remained steady. *1 want this."
She reached for the buttons on his shirt, but he caught her hands and pulled them away. If she touched him, he thought he just might explode,
**I want to see you," she said.
**There's tune. All the time in the world."
**But I..." Anne's protest died on a whimper as he filled his hands with her breasts, stroking his thumbs over her nipples. She shuddered at this first touch of a man's hands on her body, felt her knees weaken as he bent to catch one taut peak in his mouth, laving, stroking, then suckling strongly. The pull of his mouth on her breast set off shock waves deep inside, making her press her thighs together in a vain attempt to ease the sudden ache there.
Neill told himself to go slow. He was the first. If he had his way, he would be the only. There was
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time, he'd told her. But he'd never wanted hke this, never had to have. Had to have. She was so warm. So responsive. And his. Only his.
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