She had a signing that day and would be out and about anyway. “It won’t.”
“Okay, thanks. That’s a load off.” He handed over a platinum Visa, and when the shop owner walked away, Sebastian added, “If I could kiss you, I would.”
She turned and held up her hand as if she were a queen. Instead of kissing her knuckles, he turned her hand over, pushed back the sleeve of her coat, and placed his mouth on the inside of her wrist. “Thank you, Clare.”
Her skin actually tingled all the way up her arm, and she pulled her hand away. “You’re welcome.”
The hour he’d promised turned into three with a stop at P.F. Chang’s in the old warehouse district. They were given a table near the back of the Chinese restaurant, and Clare couldn’t help but notice the female attention that tracked them across the room. It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed it that day, the furtive glances and blatant stares as they walked down the street or through the gallery. She wondered if Sebastian noticed the way women looked at him. He didn’t seem to, but perhaps he was just used to it.
They started off the meal with chicken lettuce wraps, and if Clare had been with her friends, she would have ordered the appetizer as an entrée and considered that lunch. Not Sebastian. He also ordered orange peel chicken, moo goo gai pan, pork fried rice, and Sichuan asparagus.
“Are we meeting someone else?” she asked after the entrées arrived.
“I’m so hungry, I could eat a horse.” He shook his head and put orange chicken on his plate. “I take that back. Horse is too tough.”
Clare spooned a portion of rice on her plate, then they traded entrées across the table. “And you know this because you’ve eaten a horse?”
“Eaten?” He looked up from the rice. “More like I’ve chewed on horse.”
She felt her nose crinkle. “Where?”
He served himself moo goo gai pan, then handed it to Clare. “I was in Manchuria.”
She held up her hand and declined any more food. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. In northern China you can buy packages of dog and monkey meat in the markets.”
Clare looked at the orange peel chicken on her plate. “You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not. I saw it when I was there in ’96. It’s the honest to God’s truth.” He picked up his fork and stabbed some asparagus. “There are quite a few cultures that consider dog a delicacy. I try not to judge.”
Clare didn’t like to judge either, but she couldn’t help but think of poor Cindy. She looked up as far as the hollow of his throat, visible between the collar of his shirt. “Did you eat dog?”
He glanced up, then returned his attention to his lunch. “Nah, but the guys and I did eat the monkey.”
“You ate a monkey?” She took a drink of her cabernet sauvignon.
“Yeah. It tasted just like chicken,” he said through a laugh. “Believe me, after a diet of mostly congee, the monkey was damn good.”
Clare had never heard of congee and was too afraid he’d tell her if she asked. She watched him dig into his meal and set her glass back on the table. “Where’s your next assignment?” she inquired, purposely moving the subject away from canines and primates.
He shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not sure. I decided not to sign a new contract with Newsweek. Or with anyone. I think I’ll take some time off.”
“To do what?” She took a bite of rice.
“I haven’t figured that out yet.”
She knew if she wasn’t under contract, she’d be freaking out. “Doesn’t that scare you?”
He looked across the table and his green eyes met hers. “Not as much as it did a few months ago. I’ve worked really long and hard to get where I am in my job, and at first it was scary as hell to think I might be losing my drive for it. But I had to accept the fact that I don’t enjoy the travel as much as I used to. Plain and simple. So, I’m backing off a little before I burn out completely. I’m sure I’ll always freelance, but I want a new challenge. Something different.”
She suspected that’s how he was with women too. Once the challenge was over, he’d be ready to move on to the next different and exciting thing. But whether or not she was right didn’t matter. There was no way she’d ever get involved with Sebastian. Not only had she sworn off men until she sorted out her own life, he’d said himself he had problems with relationships, and his love life was not her concern.
“How about you?” he asked, and took a drink of his wine.
“No. There are no men in my life.”
His brows lowered. “I thought we were talking about our work. At least I was.”
“Oh.” She pushed a little smile on her lips to cover her embarrassment. “What about me?”
“When is your next book out?” He set his wine back on the table and picked up his fork.
“It’s out. I have a signing next Saturday at Walden’s in the mall.”
“What’s it about?”
“It’s a romance.”
“Yes. I know. What is it about?” He sat back in his chair and waited for her to answer.
Surely he didn’t care. “It’s the second book in my governess series. The heroine is, obviously, a governess-to a reclusive duke and his three small daughters. It’s kind of a Jane Eyre meets Mary Poppins.”
“Interesting. So, it’s not a pirate book?”
Pirate? She shook her head.
“Is the book you’re working on now a pirate book?”
“No. It’s the third and final book in my series about governesses.”
“Good-looking governesses?”
“Of course.” And why was he asking?
The waiter interrupted and asked if everything was all right, and when he went away again, Clare got her answer. “I saw your books at my dad’s.”
Ahh . “Yes. Bless him. He buys every one, although he won’t read them because he says they make him blush.”
“They must be really hot.”
“I imagine that would depend on what you’re used to reading.”
He looked at her and one corner of his mouth slid up into an easy smile. “I can’t believe little Clare Wingate grew up to write steamy romance novels.”
“And I can’t believe you grew up and ate a monkey. Worse, I can’t believe I let a guy who ate a monkey kiss my mouth.”
He reached across the table and placed his hand on her forearm. “Honey,” he said, and looked deep into her eyes, “I kissed more than your mouth.”
Fifteen
On the twenty-fourth of December the Boise Towne Square Mall was packed with last-minute shoppers. Christmas Muzak kept time with the ringing of cash registers. Groups of teenagers hung over the second-floor railings, calling to friends below, while mothers maneuvered strollers through the melee.
At the entrance of Walden’s Books, Clare sat surrounded by a stack of her latest, Surrender to Love, and was partially hidden by a big easel-backed poster of a busty heroine and her shirtless hero. For the signing, she had dressed in her black double-breasted suit and emerald silk blouse. She wore black hose and four-inch pumps, and her hair was curled about her shoulders. She looked successful and sophisticated, and in one hand she held her gold Tiffany signing pen. There were ten minutes left of her two-hour signing, and she’d sold fifteen of her books. Not bad for December. It was time to sit back, relax. A slight smile tilted her red lips as she gazed down at the open book hidden in her lap: Redneck Haiku, Double-Wide Edition.
“Hey there, Cinderella.”
Clare glanced up from a haiku about Bubba’s wedding and her gaze landed on the faded button fly of a pair of well-worn Levi’s. She recognized those jeans and that voice and knew who both belonged to even before she looked up past an open fleece jacket and blue shirt, past that familiar smile and dark green eyes.
“What are you doing here?” She’d heard Sebastian was back in town for Christmas. He was expected with Leo at her mother’s house for dinner tomorrow night, but it was a shock to see him standing across
her small table. His answer was a bigger shock.
“Buying your book for my dad for Christmas.”
Seeing him, a familiar little sensation lifted her stomach. She didn’t love Sebastian, but she did like him. How could she not like a man who braved holiday shopping to buy a romance novel for his father? “You could have called and I would have brought you one.”
Inside his black fleece, he shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”
Which was a blatant lie. No sane person was at the mall unless they absolutely had to be. “I picked up Leo’s lithograph this morning.” Just as much as she liked him, she was physically attracted to him. Much in the same way she was attracted to Godiva truffles. They weren’t good for her and had an addictive quality. If she reached for one, she’d have to have the whole box. Afterward she’d regret it, but there was no denying how much she wanted to dive in and pig out.
His smile creased the corners of his eyes. “Did you get crazy with ribbon?”
She chuckled and sat back. “Not this time.” And there was no denying to herself how much she wanted to binge on Sebastian. “I haven’t wrapped it yet.” Perhaps start at the top of his golden head and work her way south past the hard abs she knew were hiding beneath that flannel.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Are you going to invite me to your house to see it? Or do I have to invite myself again?”
She closed the book in her lap and looked at her watch. It was almost six. “Do you have Christmas Eve plans?”
“No.”
She reached for a copy of Surrender to Love and opened it to the title page. “I’m done here, so why don’t you come over and see it before I wrap it up.” She wrote Leo a nice Merry Christmas message and signed her name. “Or you can wrap it.” She handed him the book, and the tips of her fingers touched his over the busty heroine on the cover.
“Uh, I suck at wrapping. You can go ahead and handle that.”
She placed the book of haiku on the table and stood. “I knew you were going to say that.”
He chuckled, pointed at the bright yellow and red book and raised a dubious brow. “Japanese poetry?”
“Well, redneck Japanese poetry, at any rate.” She stuck her pen in her small black purse. “A girl can never have too much culture,” she said.
“Ah.” He reached for the book and thumbed through it. “I did hear somewhere that the pursuit of intellectual and artistic endeavors are necessary for a healthy mind.”
“And a sign of an enlightened society. Even a redneck society,” she added as they moved deeper into Walden’s.
Clare said a quick good-bye to the bookstore manager and left Sebastian standing in the long line at the registers. In one hand he held the book she’d signed for Leo, and in the other he skimmed Redneck Haiku.
Getting out of the mall parking lot was a nightmare. The drive across town, which normally took her twenty minutes, stretched over an hour. By the time she walked in the door, she was more than ready to be home. She kicked off her shoes and nylons and hung her blazer in her closet. As she unbuttoned her sleeves, the doorbell rang and she moved out of her bedroom to the front of the house. She opened the front door, and Sebastian was standing there, a tall, wide-shouldered outline in the darkness. She felt his gaze on her even before she flipped on the porch light and his green eyes met hers.
“How did you get here so fast?” she asked, and opened the door wider for him to enter.
Instead, he looked at her for several more heartbeats before lowering his attention to her mouth, the front of her blouse and skirt, and all the way to her bare feet. White puffs of his breath hung on the cold air in front of his face.
She shivered and folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Would you like to come in?” she said, finding it odd that he just stood as if his feet were frozen to her porch.
He glanced back up into her face, seemed to hesitate a moment, then stepped inside. He shut the door behind him and leaned back against it. The chandelier overhead showered his blond hair and shoulders in golden light.
“Are you hungry? Would you like me to order a pizza?”
“Yes,” he said, finally speaking. “And no, I don’t want a pizza.” He leaned forward, slid his hand around her waist and pulled her against his chest. “You know what I want.”
Her hands slid up the soft fleece of his jacket. The way he looked at her, his meaning was clear. He explained it anyway.
“Ever since that night when I saw you strip down to your little thong, I’ve thought of making love to you a dozen or so different ways. When I went to your signing tonight, I told myself I was there just to get your book for Leo. That’s thirty percent true. Seventy percent a lie. On the way over here I thought of all the ways I could try and get you out of your clothes, but when you opened the door just now, I realized I don’t want to try and get you out of anything. We’re no longer kids. Playing games. I want your full participation while I strip you naked.”
A part of her wanted that too. Really wanted it. The way he looked at her twisted a heated knot deep in the pit of her stomach. They were both fully clothed and Sebastian still wore his jacket, yet he turned her on with nothing more than the press of his body and the sound of desire in his voice.
“Just in case you’re confused about what I mean,” he added, “if you don’t kick me out right now, we’re going to have sex.”
What about tomorrow? her inner voice asked. The twisting knot, deep in the pit of her belly, answered, Who cares! Her rational voice slightly edged out the desire spreading warm tingles across her flesh. “I’m obviously attracted to you, but I can’t help but think we’ll both regret it. Is a few hours of sex worth it?”
“I’m not going to regret it, and I’m going to make damn sure you don’t either. And it doesn’t matter now, we’re beyond that particular bullet point.” He lowered his face and kissed her throat just beneath her ear. “We need to have crazy hot sex and get it out of our systems. I’ve thought about it, and there’s no other way.”
His breath warmed the side of her neck, and she closed her eyes. She’d never made love with someone with whom she didn’t have a romantic relationship. At least none that she could recall. “Has that worked for you in the past?”
“For me?” He kissed the shell of her ear. “Yes.”
Maybe he was right. Maybe she needed to do it and get it out of her system. Falling in love first had clearly not worked for her. She was in the mood for sex. Not love.
“When was the last time you got laid, Clare?” he whispered.
When? Jeez…ahh…“April?”
“Nine months? Before your breakup with Lonny, then.”
“Yes. When was the last time for you?”
“I’m assuming you mean with someone else in the room.” His quiet laughter brushed her cheek.
“Of course.”
“I’ve had sex twice since I was tested in August for anything and everything from malaria to HIV. Both those times I used a condom.” He brushed his mouth across hers and said, “Does getting off in my shower, thinking of you, count?”
“No.” She might have fantasized about him once or twice. “Was I good?”
“Not as good as you’re going to be.”
Her hands slid up the front of his jacket and she grasped both sides of the open zipper in her fists. Her lips parted and he fed her a slick, wet, devouring kiss that slammed into her and raised her to the balls of her feet.
Within the chandelier’s soft glow, his tongue touched and teased. His hand moved through her hair and down her back, drawing her close, until the hard bulge of his erection pressed into her stomach.
Somewhere in the house the furnace clicked on and forced air through the vents. She wanted Sebastian. All of him. She wanted the way he touched her and kissed her and made her feel, like he couldn’t get enough, and she would worry about the repercussions and regret later. An acquiescent moan came from her throat as she kissed him back and surrendered to the
desire bigger than her ability to hold it back. Not that she wanted to even try.
The sound of her moan triggered a sudden response, as if he’d been waiting for it. Within seconds his hands were everywhere, touching her anywhere within reach. Somehow she ended up with her back against the door and her blouse on the floor. She pushed Sebastian’s jacket from his shoulders, and he shook it from his arms. Their lips parted long enough for her to pull his shirt over his head. Then he was against the door once again with his hand on her breasts and his fingers brushing her nipples through the satin of her bra. It was crazy and hot, like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Two people giving in to a purely physical and consuming need. A carnal drive for sex, and she didn’t have to worry about what he’d think of her the morning after. There would be no morning after, and she could give in to it completely for the first time in her life.
He groaned deep in his throat and pulled back. His breathing was heavy when he said, “Clare.” The desire burning in his green eyes told her exactly what he was thinking. His hands slid to her behind and he ground his incredibly hard penis against her. “One time might not be enough.”
Her body ached with response and she swayed into him. Her breasts brushed against his chest. “Two times?”
He shook his head as he slid his hand down her left thigh and lifted her leg to his waist. “All night.”
She leaned forward and kissed his throat as her hands slid up and down his bare sides. “Mmm, well, I should probably tell you that I don’t really have a kinky sex room.”
“That works out because I prefer sex in a bedroom.” He moved his other hand to her thigh and lifted. Her skirt bunched around her waist and she wrapped her legs around his waist. “I’m hoping to get there eventually.” Through the soft fabric of his jeans his erection pressed into the crotch of her black lace panties. He kissed her as they moved into the living room. Light from the entry hall cut a white rectangular pattern into the darkness. His hands held her behind as he carried her to the medallion-back sofa, covered with her great-grandmother’s doilies. Within the dim light of the room she lowered her feet to the floor and slid her mouth to the side of his throat.
I’m In No Mood For Love Page 18