“Yeah, me, too,” he said, taking the high road even though he sorely wanted to point out this should’ve been her call. “I’ll talk to you some other time.”
“Okay.”
He was about to disconnect when he heard her.
“Tony, wait.”
He brought the phone back to his ear. “I’m here.”
“You’re right. I am tired and not very productive. Want to meet at Samuel’s Deli? It’s after eight. Most of the dinner crowd should be gone.”
“Fine.” He knew the place, on a corner halfway between him and her flat. “An hour?”
She paused. “You say you still have Chinese?”
Tony smiled. The evening was looking up.
15
GOD, SHE WAS WEAK. Horribly, disgustingly weak. Yes, she was tired and leaving the office would make her more productive tomorrow morning. But only if she were going home. To bed. Alone. Not running to Tony.
They had to have a talk. She had to make him understand that time was her greatest ally and, yet, also her worst enemy. She had so damn little of it these days. In the end it would be worth it, but right now she had to pay her dues.
She’d knocked twice and when he hadn’t answered, she’d started to think that maybe she’d gotten confused over where to meet. But then he opened the door, dressed in snug well-worn jeans, his hair damp, and looking as if he’d recently shaved. Looking as if he might be ready for the horizontal Olympics. Damn him.
He smiled, the warmth reaching his eyes, and stealing a piece of her heart. “Come in. It’s freezing out there.” Stepping aside, he rubbed his hands together and then quickly closed the door.
“Wow, you’ve really done a lot since I was here last.” She looked around while he hung up her coat. “The living room floor is new and you’ve done something to the mantle.”
He nodded. “The upstairs guest bathroom has new tile and new countertops, too.”
“How did you find the time?”
“First things first.” He slid his arms around her from behind and pulled her against his chest. He kissed the back and side of her neck, soft leisurely kisses that gave her goose bumps, and then he slowly turned her around so that their lips met.
With his arms around her and her breasts pressed against his chest, the tension seemed to melt out of her. Disappear just like that. A dangerous illusion. Nothing changed. Tony couldn’t change it.
She broke the kiss and reluctantly moved back. “I’m very jealous that you just had a shower.”
“We can fix that. I’ll even scrub your back.”
“Oh, no.” Laughing, she backed farther away. “We so can’t go there.”
“Okay, okay.” He threw his hands up. “To the kitchen then.”
She followed him, her gaze on his very fine backside, her pulse picking up speed. Why did she keep doing this to herself? She forced her gaze away and noticed the windows. “When did you put the blinds up?”
“About five minutes ago.” He grinned, and she rolled her eyes at him. Nothing was going to happen tonight, if that’s what he was thinking. She hoped. “I had to order custom because of the size. They were delivered this morning and I put them up while I was waiting for the bathroom grout to dry. Better than curtains, huh?”
“Definitely. The kitchen is modern and that plantation-style blind is perfect,” she said, envy surprising her. As much as she’d love to have her own place to decorate, she doubted that would happen for a long while. She didn’t have time or money. Certainly not for high-priced Manhattan real estate.
He got the cartons of Chinese food out of the fridge, taunting her with that perfect backside again. “I think I’ll replace the living room drapes with the same thing.”
She went for the plates, opening one wrong cabinet, then finding them on the second try. “I don’t understand how you have time to do all this and still work.” She turned and caught him checking out her legs. Fair was fair, she supposed.
He smiled. “This is my work.”
“No, I was talking about your full-time job.”
“This is it.”
She didn’t understand. “But you work for Capshaw Construction.”
“Not anymore.”
“When did you leave?”
“Right after Dallas quit.”
“I didn’t know….”
He chuckled. “Apparently not. You use chopsticks?”
She nodded numbly. No wonder he didn’t understand how crunched she was for time. “I assumed you had a regular job.”
He deposited the food in the microwave and started it. “I thought attorneys never assumed anything?”
She gave him a wry smile. “I’m curious. How do you sustain yourself?”
“When I’m done renovating, I sell.”
“This one?” Disappointment welled up inside her. What did it matter? Probably better that he moved away. Back to Queens. Or Brooklyn. Or even the other side of Manhattan.
He studied her closely, close enough to make her uncomfortable and she turned away, busily gathering utensils and napkins.
“Why?”
She looked up and smiled. “It’s really nice. You’ve done a wonderful job. I would think you’d hate to part with it.”
“That’s business,” he said, shrugging. “I was hoping you were disappointed that I wouldn’t be living so close.”
The microwave buzzer went off, signaling the food was ready, but he stayed where he was, his gaze searching her face.
“Like we have a lot of time to see each other.” She arched her brows in the direction of the microwave. “Are you going to get that?”
He blinked and looked away, but not before she saw the disappointment in his eyes. “Yeah.”
She took a deep breath, getting ready for the plunge. “For me it’s not going to get better, either. When Cody was trying to make partner he practically lived at the office. My father, too. When I was a kid, there were some weeks when the only time we saw him was at Sunday dinner.”
“What about now?” he asked, totally expressionless as he carried the food to the table. “Does Cody have a life outside of the office? Does your dad?”
That stopped her. “Well, yes, of course,” she said tentatively.
He didn’t say anything, just pulled out their chairs.
“I mean, they attend all kinds of social events.” She sat down, scooted her chair closer to the oak table and placed the napkin on her lap. “Dad’s on several committees with the bar association—”
“You don’t have to try and convince me.” He swooped down and briefly kissed her before taking his seat.
“I’m not.” Admittedly it sounded as if she were. “It’s difficult to explain but when you love your work—”
“Hey, I guarantee you no one loves their work more than I do, but I still have a life.”
She sighed, knowing this conversation would go nowhere. “Pass me the chow mein, please.”
“Let’s change the subject.”
“Great idea.”
“How about dinner Saturday night? Not here. I know this terrific restaurant in Soho—” He leaned back and frowned. “What?”
“I can’t.”
“You’re working Saturday night?”
“I have a bar association dinner to go to. It’s an annual thing that’s not exactly mandatory, but absences are usually noticed.” She’d had some trouble keeping the noodles on her chopsticks but she finally got them anchored. “Kind of a boring evening, especially since everyone takes their spouse or significant other.”
At the expectant look on his face, she nearly dropped the chow mein, chopsticks and all. Did she have the biggest mouth on the planet, or what? She couldn’t take him. He’d be bored silly. Most of the talk was legalese. It wouldn’t be at all like chatting with the guys at Sargenttis. Prominent judges would be there. Hot-button legal issues discussed.
Chicken that she was, she shoved the noodles in her mouth so she wouldn’t have to say anything more. She stared d
own at her food, hoping he hadn’t seen in her eyes the ugliness that had gone through her head. That he might not fit in. That she would be uncomfortable.
“So even when you have a social life, it revolves around work?”
She kept chewing. The thought hadn’t occurred to her, but yeah, pretty much. When she did go to a party, a colleague normally threw it. Her two friends from college both had busy careers and it seemed like every time they made dinner plans, one of them ended up canceling at the last minute.
“But that’s pretty typical, really,” she finally said after she thought about it. “Once we’re out of school most of our social contacts evolve from work. If you go for a beer, I bet it’s usually with the guys you used to work with.”
He gave a small conciliatory nod. “Point taken. But at least it’s my choice and I enjoy going.”
She sighed. “Point taken.”
He chuckled, and then sobered. “Don’t go.”
“To the association dinner? I have to.”
“Why? You said it’ll be boring.”
“I also said that absences are noted.”
“So what? You’re a good lawyer. You have to be if you’ve been handed a high-profile case. Don’t be bullied into rubbing elbows if you don’t want to.”
Sighing, she laid down her chopsticks. “It’s not that simple, Tony.”
She had to tell him. That’s what she’d come here for. It should have been said already. Before too many other issues got in the way. But she’d kept her mouth shut for the same reason she was in trouble. He distracted her. With that sexy smile and those broad shoulders and strong arms of his, she got lost. Forgot that she didn’t have the time to give to a relationship. Forgot that she had a goal, and frankly, he didn’t fit into the plan.
She hadn’t made the rules, but if she wanted to get ahead she had to damn well follow them. That part was very simple. And she’d known the drawbacks going in. She couldn’t cry foul now.
And neither could he. All they’d ever shared was sex. No promises had been made. Not even implied. One day at a time. He’d said it himself.
“I forgot to get us something to drink.” He got up. “Orange juice, water, wine or beer. Take your pick.”
“Water is good.” She watched him walk to the kitchen, his long legs taking slow, easy strides, and she thought about how she never walked slowly anymore. At work, she could be going to get a cup of coffee and she’d practically speed-walk to the lounge.
It seemed as if she was always running to a meeting or running to catch a cab or running to catch the elevator even, because God forbid she should wait five seconds for another one.
Only when she was with Tony did she slow down, savor every moment, every touch. Did she not think about work. Therein lay the problem.
“Here you go.” He set a bottle of water beside her right hand and then leaned down for a kiss. His hand cupped her nape and he gently massaged her neck while he performed magic on her lips.
Her traitorous body immediately responded. Her nipples tightened and the flutter that started in her chest went down to her stomach and then settled between her thighs.
“You seriously need to relax,” he said, continuing the seductive massage. “And I have just the thing.”
“I can’t have anything to drink. I have to get to the office early.”
“What I have in mind won’t give you a hangover. That’s a promise.”
He withdrew his hand from her neck and her entire body protested. She twisted around to look at him just as he reached for her hand. He pulled her to her feet and led her into the living room. She pretty much knew what he intended. What she didn’t know was whether she had the willpower to stop him.
Did she want to? Would it be so bad to have this one more time with him? If this was a last time. It wasn’t as if she could never see him again. It would just be a while before she had the time. And if all they wanted from each other was sex then…
She couldn’t bear to finish the thought. To think their sole connection was based on sex stung. It simply wasn’t true. In the beginning, yes, sex was all she wanted from him. But not now. Which made their relationship all the more difficult.
The thought shook her to her very core. When had it happened? When had she started caring? Wanting? Needing? Damn her. Damn Tony.
He sat her on the sofa, and then knelt down in front of her and slipped off one of her high heels.
“What are you doing?”
He slipped off the second heel, his chocolate-brown eyes sparkling when he looked up at her. “Reflexology.”
“Right.”
“You doubt me?”
She chuckled. “With all my heart.”
“Smart woman.”
He stared at her knees for a moment, looking confused, and then he inched up her hem.
“May I help you?” she asked, trying to sound indignant, and trying not to laugh.
“No, I think I got it.” He found her garters and started to roll down her stocking.
“Hey.” She clamped her knees together. “What are you doing?”
“Trust me.”
She made a face. He hadn’t tried to take her clothes off, which would have made more sense. “Is this the other fetish you were talking about?”
“No,” he said, frowning thoughtfully. “But this is right up there on the happy scale.”
“Come on,” she said sternly, “what are you doing?”
“This.” He reached up her skirt, between her legs and found his target.
She gasped, stiffening, trying to squeeze her legs together. “Tony, we can’t.”
“We aren’t doing anything. You just relax.” He pushed the hem of her skirt up as far as he could, which ended up at midthigh, and then he smiled wryly, murmuring, “Plan B.”
“Tony.” She put a restraining hand on his shoulder.
“Please.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Can you trust me?”
She moistened her dry lips and nodded.
He kissed her while sliding his hands around her waist and finding the zipper to her skirt. She held her breath while he unhooked and unzipped and then pulled down her waistband as far as it would go. He tapped the side of her hip and she raised her bottom a little. Enough that he easily slid her skirt off, and then carefully folded it in two and laid it beside her on the sofa.
She sat there in bikini panties, one stocking, a lone black garter and her conservative white blouse. The panties Dallas had packed for her that fateful day, and only because Dakota hadn’t done laundry in nearly two weeks.
Tony noticed and smiled. But didn’t say anything, only got rid of her other stocking, again carefully, setting it atop her skirt. That he was going so damn slow did not help her to relax. Tension mounted with each careful movement even though she pretty much knew what he was going to do.
The anticipation, of course, was killing her. So was the fact that she couldn’t touch him. Really touch him, not just clutch his shoulder or push her fingers through his hair when he got close enough.
He ran his palms down the outside of her thighs and she shivered in the warm house in front of the crackling fire. “By the way, honey, I know you weren’t drunk.”
Her sleepy eyes suddenly widened. “What do you mean?”
“The night of Dallas’s wedding. When we flew to Bermuda. You weren’t drunk. A little tipsy, I grant you.” He kissed the inside of her knee. “You were pretending.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you didn’t know how to ask for what you want, or how to just take it.”
“That’s absurd.” She tried to bring her knees together but he stopped her with a kiss higher up her thigh, inside, on the fleshy sensitive side. And she realized she might have made another faulty assumption about his intentions.
“And now?” He looked up into her eyes, his dark and glassy with a desire she knew well. He wasn’t trying to humiliate her. Only trying to make a point. “All y
ou have to do is ask.”
She swallowed hard. Briefly closed her eyes. Heat tunneling through her, her entire body alive and waiting, down to the last strand of her hair. “Tony,” she whispered, pleaded.
That was enough. He pulled off her panties, spread her thighs farther apart and kissed his way to a spot that made her squirm. Reaching his hands behind her, he pulled her hips toward him, and then his mouth was on her, his tongue delving, tasting, exploring. Plundering.
Reflexively, she tried to wriggle away, even though she didn’t want him to stop. He used his fingers to spread her farther and with his persistent tongue found the little nub that made her scream. She put a hand over her mouth, her teeth biting into her palm as he brought her to the brink, and then slowly let her slip away.
Before she could protest, the assault resumed, fiercer, more relentless until she came so hard, so completely her entire body trembled violently. Her hand slipped from her mouth to fist his hair and her cry filled the room.
She started to retreat and Tony slowed his pace, finally bringing his head up to look at her, his eyes glazed and his lips damp. From her.
“I made a lot of noise,” she said, her breathing so ragged she barely recognized her own voice.
He smiled and nodded.
“I hope your neighbors don’t call the police.”
“Let them.” He kissed one thigh and then the other. “My attorney is present.”
She laughed nervously, taking several deep breaths, trying to restore order, and arranging her blouse so she didn’t feel so exposed. “Oh, yeah, that would be great.”
He got up from his crouched position, and joined her on the couch, sliding an arm around her shoulders. He drew her close and kissed the top of her head. “Wasn’t hard, was it? All you had to do was ask.”
She moved her hand to his lap, and he stopped her from reaching his bulging fly. “Tony?”
He squeezed her hand. “Not this time.”
She yawned. “I thought all I had to do was ask?”
Chuckling, he put his other arm around her so that she leaned against his chest, safe and warm, in the circle of his arms. “Rest,” he whispered against her hair.
She couldn’t. Not because she needed to go home, which she did, but because she hadn’t accomplished what she’d come here to do. And now it would be horribly awkward.
The Honeymoon That Wasn't Page 16