If Wishes Were...Daddies

by Jo Leigh

  He nodded, his gaze holding her captive. “It’s right up there with soccer as my favorite pastime.”

  “Really? Do you know what I do to people who make fun of me?”

  “I’m insulted that you include me with anyone else.”

  “Oh, I’ve been made fun of by the best.”

  “Nonsense. They can’t hold a candle to me.”

  “Arrogant bastard.”

  “Ah, there’s that language again. Call me something else. It makes me crazy for you.”

  “No.”

  “You sadist.”

  She nodded. “You have no idea.”

  He moved another inch closer, and she felt his warm breath on her mouth. “Show me,” he whispered. And then his lips were on hers.

  Chapter Twelve

  How had he waited so long to do this? Nick moved his arms around Jessica’s body and brought her closer as he deepened the kiss. Tasting her set off wildfires in his body, leaving him no choice but to seek relief. He felt her breasts against his chest and the intoxicating sweet curves of her hips and stomach.

  She teased his tongue, licked his lips, moaned softly, and that was all it took to make him hard and aching. Moving his hand to her breast, he cupped her, feeling her stiff nipple beneath her shirt.

  She pulled back with a little yelp and he froze.

  “I hurt you?”

  “It’s just that my breasts are tender.”

  “I won’t touch—”

  “No, it’s all right. As long as you’re gentle.”

  He met her gaze, searching for reassurance. She nodded, then took his hand and placed it once more on the soft mound of her breast. He sighed, then kissed her again.

  The teakettle burst into a whistle, and once more Nick stepped back. Jessica reached over and turned off the stove. When she faced him again, he could see his own hunger echoed in her eyes. “Come with me,” she said, taking his hand.

  She led him past the living room into her bedroom. He’d not been here before, he realized. He’d only seen the front of her apartment. The last time they’d made love, they were in his hotel room. He liked this better.

  Her bed looked inviting with the fluffy white comforter and pillows. But he paid little attention to his surroundings. The woman in front of him was too compelling, and his need for her too strong.

  God, she was beautiful. More beautiful than when he’d first met her. Was it their baby that made her skin so luminous? That made her eyes shine like that? He reached over and touched her hair, soft, silky, shining. he let his fingers linger for a moment, then slowly moved them down to her face.

  Jessica closed her eyes, and he touched her as if he could see through his fingertips. He wanted to memorize every nuance, every inch. Her cheeks, her lips, her brows. All of them felt impossibly perfect.

  Now he needed to see more. He moved his hands down to the hem of her top. She opened her eyes, and he hesitated. Was that doubt he saw there? “I can stop now,” he said, surprised at how gruff his voice sounded, and how hard it would be to keep his word.

  “No,” she said. “I want this. I want you.”

  Hearing her declaration made him feel strong, somehow. He wasn’t sure why, only that it was true. The need to protect her felt like a physical part of him, like his skin or a rib. He knew then that no matter what, he was going to do everything in his power to keep her safe.

  He lifted the hem slowly, his gaze breaking away from hers just as the material cleared her breasts. She raised her arms, and he pulled the top the rest of the way off. The bra she wore was lacy, pink, demure. He could make out the darker skin of her nipples, and he remembered seeing her naked for the first time. How he’d been amazed that her body was so lovely and soft. She didn’t have any sharp edges, which seemed a remarkable thing for a person. Every place he touched welcomed his hand or his lips. It wasn’t that Jessica was so different from other women, but his reaction to her was unlike anything he’d experienced before. Looking at her now, so sweetly vulnerable in that slip of material, he wondered if she felt it. If making love with him perplexed her. He didn’t dare ask. What if she said no?

  Instead, he moved his hand, very gently, to the top of her breast. He let his fingers trace the edge of the lace.

  “Nick?”

  He tore his gaze from her flesh to her face. “Yes?”

  “Tell me something?”

  “Anything.”

  “If I wasn’t... If I wasn’t pregnant, would you... No, never mind.”

  “What? Would I be here tonight?”

  She nodded.

  “It may not have been tonight, but I would have been hers.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She placed her hand above his, holding it firmly above her heart. He could feel the steady beat, the very life of her. “I mean, what made you come back here? What did you hope would happen?”

  He studied her eyes, humbled as always at the trust he saw there. She expected the truth from him, no fancy words, no embellishment. But what was the truth? “I hoped that we could start again,” he said finally. “That I could convince you somehow that my invitation was sincere.”

  “Then what?”

  “I can’t answer that. Can you?”

  She gave him a funny little smile. “Probably not. But I can tell you what I wish would have happened.”

  “What?”

  “This.”

  It was what he wanted to hear, but he had an idea it wasn’t all she wanted to say. He thought about pressing her, encouraging her to tell him all that was swimming in that fertile mind of hers, but his body...his need was so very real and her skin was so very soft.

  When she brought her hand behind his neck and pulled him down to her lips, any intention he might have had fled like smoke in a storm.

  Jessica let go. She let go of her worries, her questions, her doubts. What she was going to do with Nick didn’t need explanations. It was something she’d wanted for a long time. Since Rome. When she was in his arms, she was safe. And right now, she needed that haven. A mindless, endless fall into deep waters where she could happily drown.

  She let her hands have their way, exploring and touching without hesitance. His chest, so firm and hard, and then down to his flat stomach. She felt him take a breath as she went lower still. He moaned as her fingers played along the length of him, and felt again how firm and hard he was.

  He broke the kiss, but only so he could play delicate games with her earlobe, and then his lips were on the soft hollow of her neck. It was her turn to moan when he dipped lower, tasting and licking the skin just above the top of her bra.

  She felt the clasp of her bra open, and his fingers moved in tandem to her straps, pulling them down her shoulders. She let her hands fall to her sides, and the bra fluttered to the ground.

  He touched the very tips of her nipples with the palms of his hands. It wasn’t even a touch, but a whisper that teased her into twin erections. It was exquisite torture not to lean into those palms, but she held herself completely still. He moved his hands in slow circles, never really touching her, yet igniting her nerve endings to a nearly impossible pitch.

  Finally, she gave in and moved an inch forward. His hands, still gentle, cupped her fully and she sighed.

  “Is this okay?” he asked, his voice soft and concerned.

  She nodded, closing her eyes. “Oh, yes.”

  Then she felt his lips replace his right hand. Soft, warm, wet, she trembled at this new maneuver. She’d never been this sensitive, and the more he ministered to her, the more anxious she became to have him inside her.

  She touched the back of his head, then reached down to his shirt. He got the picture immediately and stood up to undress. Jessica watched his chest as it was bared, impressed again at the beauty of his body. Lightly muscled, firm and tan, his chest had a smattering of dark hair. She remembered the feel of his hair, and how she’d been content to lie in his arms and let her fingers play there. She also
remembered how his dark curls tapered off to a narrow V.

  Nick undid his pants, and that spurred her to remove her own. With a quick tug, she was undressed, stepping away from the last of her clothes.

  Nick looked at her, from her toes all the way up to her face, and he didn’t hurry. She was surprised that she wasn’t self-conscious, but it was clear he took pleasure in seeing her. Although she knew it wasn’t possible that she was showing already, she put her hand on her stomach. Nick smiled and put his hand next to hers. “It’s hard to believe.”

  “I know,” she said. “But in a few months it won’t be.”

  He rubbed her tummy and kissed her. “I want to see every change, cara. I want to watch our child grow in you.”

  She kissed him back, moving so her body and his touched from chest to knee. “You won’t mind when I’m all big and swollen?”

  His smile answered first. “I can’t imagine anything more beautiful than to see you heavy with child.”

  “Well, damn,” she said. “You keep saying things like that, and I’m going to be forced to do something drastic.”

  “Oh? Is that supposed to scare me?”

  She nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “Do your worst,” he said. “Just remember that my memory is long and revenge is sweet.”

  “Are you saying that whatever I do to you, you’ll do back to me?”

  He nodded, giving her a smile that was half devilment, half desire.

  She brought her hand down and encircled him. He took a sharp breath, and his eyes closed. Now that she had him where she wanted him, she wasn’t about to let him go. Slowly, with a patience she had to struggle for, she rubbed his length, feeling his heat and his need in the palm of her hand.

  Without opening his eyes, he followed through on his promise. She felt his hand on her stomach, sliding down, teasing her flesh with the lightness of his touch. When he reached the juncture of her thighs, it was her turn to close her eyes. She found herself shifting position, spreading her legs to give him access, but never letting go of him or changing her pace.

  When he moved his finger inside her, she felt him harden further. She wasn’t going to be able to take this for long. The torment was too sweet, and she was afraid her knees would buckle. But damn, it felt so wonderful. Nick was a magician, touching her in a way designed to drive her insane.

  “Oh, carissima. What you do to me.”

  “You’re not too shabby yourself.”

  “Come with me.”

  “Keep touching me there and I will.”

  He laughed, but then he moved his hand away. Taking her by the arm, he walked her to the bed. Not bothering to bring down the comforter, he climbed with her onto the bed until they were nestled together in the middle, facing each other. His hand wandered over her side, then to her back. As he reached her behind, he pulled her tighter to him, and she wallowed for a moment in the closeness. Then he was kissing her, and all the patient slow moves were gone, replaced by an urgency that arced between them like flames.

  No more thinking. Only feeling. Only being swept away in a tidal wave of heat and sweat and sensations and the utter acceptance that when he was inside her, she was whole.

  HE WOKE UP AT ONE in the morning. He tried to remember when they’d crawled under the covers, but he couldn’t. Everything after that second time was a blur.

  She was sleeping, curled up next to him with her hand flung over his chest. Nick turned until he could comfortably watch her, deciding his glass of water could wait. Her hair, wild from all that movement and sweat, was somehow more beautiful for its abandon. Normally, Jessica kept her hair combed, and it was good to see this side of her. He’d known from the first that she was a wild one, even in her proper suit with her proper pearl earrings. The duality of her intrigued him in a way he didn’t understand, but he thought it might have something to do with the fact that she fooled so many people. She even fooled herself. But not with him. Not in bed.

  He breathed deeply, filling himself with her scent. The sweetest perfume in the world. Unique, earthy, it couldn’t be bottled, nor would he want it to be.

  Sighing quietly, he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. What in the world had he gotten himself into? How was he going to make her happy for a lifetime? It was a job for a better man than he. She needed someone stable, someone with both feet on the ground. He could give her material comfort, at least he had that to offer. But happiness? Security?

  The phone call this evening from the airlines had set him thinking. If he continued with his international flights, it would mean spending a great deal of time away from Jessica and the baby. He’d not be able to take much time off, if he wanted to continue to work for a major company. He supposed he could find out about doing local runs from Los Angeles. That would keep him home a great deal more. But a milk run from L.A.? That wasn’t flying. That was taking off and landing, over and over again.

  He’d become a pilot for the adventure. For the opportunity to see the world and meet the women. But how fair was that to Jessica? She’d be unhappy with him, and he couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t a career for a married man. Not the way he liked to fly.

  Who was he trying to kid? He was nothing if not selfish. Everyone in his life had made sure he knew that. He hadn’t felt particularly badly about the fact before now. But looking down at that face of hers, he finally understood that being selfish was not a virtue.

  Nick got up as quietly as he could. Before he left the bedroom, he made sure Jessica was still asleep. Her even breathing told him he hadn’t awakened her. He slipped on his boxers and made his way out of her room.

  Once he was in the kitchen, he turned on the light. He grabbed a glass and poured himself some water, then he sat down at her table.

  Looking around her living room, he saw things he hadn’t noticed before. Plants, for one. Why hadn’t he known she liked plants so much? He counted four without getting out of his chair. And then there was that picture on the wall. A Rothko print. She liked modern art. He didn’t know the first thing about modern art.

  The truth was, he was about to marry a stranger. What he did know about her, he liked a great deal. Too much, perhaps. He had no desire to disappoint Jessica. Yet, it was inevitable. Modern art wasn’t the only thing he didn’t know the first thing about. Being a husband, a father. Both of those jobs felt helplessly out of his league. What he was good at was the short term. Wooing a woman. Moving on. Making a good first impression. None of those attributes would do him much good as a papa.

  An image of his own father came to him. Before he’d become ill. He’d idolized the man. Worshipped him. At least for his business sense.

  His father had been a tremendous success in business, a good father, but not a good husband. Mostly he hadn’t been there. When he was, he’d made Angelina unhappy. Why did his mother love him so much, when he’d been such a scoundrel? And Theresa, she also loved him. Why? Why?

  “What are you doing?”

  He jerked his head toward Jessica’s voice. She was standing in the hallway, dressed in a long silk kimono. Looking so delicious he could barely stand it. He held up his water glass. “Thirsty. Can I get you one?”

  “I think I’m up for that tea I never had.” She walked toward him, the kimono opening so that he got a glimpse of her thigh. Unbelievably, he felt himself harden again. He hadn’t been stimulated so much in one night since his early twenties.

  “It’s late. Won’t tea keep you up?”

  “Not this kind. It’s chamomile. No caffeine.”

  As she passed him, she ran her hand over his back. The light touch made his situation worse.

  “You don’t happen to have any food in that refrigerator, do you?”

  Jessica turned the stove on, then went to the fridge. “In the mood for something substantial, or something wicked?”

  “I don’t need wicked from the kitchen, when I’ve had so much in the bedroom.”

  She laughed. “Well, that’s where men and women are di
fferent. Because I always want something wicked in the kitchen.”

  “Is that an invitation?”

  “No, that’s carrot cake.” She pulled the dessert out and brought it to the table. “Can you stand it? It’s the only thing I’ve been able to eat without getting sick.”

  “Better that than pickles and ice cream.”

  “I suppose,” she said, sitting next to him. “But I really can’t understand why I couldn’t crave something good for me. Like salad or cottage cheese.”

  “What fun would that be? Isn’t having a baby all about eating for two?”

  “I suppose. Only I’m the one who’s going to have to live with my body after the baby is on its own.”

  He reached over and put his hand on hers. “I like a big woman,” he said. “None of this skeleton chic for me.”

  “Now I’m really depressed.”

  “Why? What did I say now?”

  She pushed the cake away. Stared at it with disgust. Then pulled it back. “Just get me a fork and shut up.”

  He laughed as he obliged her, glad he knew where she kept her silverware. He sat again, watching her eat. It fascinated him, the way she almost made love to the confection. No simple cut, bite and swallow for his girl. No, each piece had to have a perfect ratio of frosting to cake. Each and every bite was accompanied by a sound. He recognized that sound from about two hours ago. It signified great pleasure, although he wasn’t at all sure he shouldn’t be upset that she was enjoying carrot cake as much as she had making love to him. But he was from Rome, so he understood the great communion between food and people.

  She hardly looked at him while she ate, and when the teakettle whistled, he prepared her tea. Finally, she finished, and from the look on her face, he might have guessed that he’d witnessed another climax.

  “That was worth every ounce,” she said.

  “You certainly do have a healthy appetite,” he said, “and not just for food.”

  She smiled a little guiltily. “I’m just enthusiastic, that’s all.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “What were you thinking before?” she asked, her demeanor changing abruptly. “When I came in, you looked worried.”