Seducing Sullivan

by Julie Elizabeth Leto

  His daughter.

  “What about your personal life, Angela? You haven’t said much about that.”

  “Neither have you.”

  “Oh, come on,” he said with a skeptical attempt at surprise. “Don’t tell me you didn’t pick up the tabloids when no one was looking. My face was plastered on them for two solid weeks.”

  “I didn’t need to,” she answered. “Tampa isn’t that big. Gossip gets around.”

  “I’m sure it does,” he muttered derisively before sitting back and hooking his hands behind his head. “Let’s see, my love life, in a nutshell. Relatively uneventful until recently. Beautiful women, beautiful places, one beautiful model, ugly results. Any questions?”

  She piled the empty plates on top of each other. “It wasn’t my question in the first place.”

  He saluted her with his orange juice. “True. But since you’ve chosen a life-style that keeps you out of the professional gossip trade, you’ll have to tell me on your own.”

  “There isn’t much to tell.”

  Standing, Angela picked up her coffee and moved onto the balcony. Though the July breeze had a cool hint of impending rain, she felt stifled and hot. She couldn’t discuss that aspect of her life with him, no matter how much her heart told her she should.

  “Touchy subject?” he asked as he joined her.

  She shrugged. “Not at all. I just think we’ve acted normal enough this morning. We’ve evaded the one topic that seemed uppermost to us last night.”

  With that, she caught sight of her reflection in the sliding glass door. She’d barely had time to finish her morning ritual before he came knocking. Though she’d showered, washed her face and brushed her teeth, she still hadn’t straightened her hair or put on makeup. She looked more like she did on an average day at home than in the middle of a carefully planned weekend of seduction.

  But she didn’t have time to go inside for a quick fix before Jack swooped and pulled her into a deep, lingering kiss. His hands circled her waist, demandingly molding her to him. Her breasts were crushed against his hard chest. Through the delicate material of her robe, she could feel every taut muscle.

  Her response was immediate and jolting—an electric shock of passion. Every nerve snapped to attention. Every inch of her skin tingled. His power sapped her breath, and when she tried to replenish her lungs, she inhaled the overwhelming scents of bay spice and gulf breeze.

  “Is this the topic you meant?” he whispered into the hollow of her neck. He looked into her eyes, and she lost herself in the ocean-green depths of his irises. With his finger, he traced the planes of her face, then crooked his knuckle under her chin, holding her steady while he bathed her face in downy kisses.

  She moaned.

  He grinned.

  Her mind swirled with conflicting signals. She knew she should be in control, but she couldn’t clear her head. She didn’t really want to. Thinking logically caused her to lose Jack the first time. Over and over, she’d told herself that to seduce Jack, she’d have to surrender to the storm of emotions and physical responses he would stir. She’d thought she could handle that. But now she felt as if she was in the eye of the very storm she’d steered toward. Fear scurried up her spine like a sailor up a mast.

  “You’re trembling,” he pointed out between kisses.

  “Congratulations,” she rasped.

  He stopped his assault. “I don’t want you to be afraid.”

  She couldn’t pass up the perfect chance for momentary escape. Slipping by him, she searched for the haphazard pins that still held her hair in a wild cascade of curls.

  “I’m not afraid of you.” She stepped to the bureau and rummaged through her handbag for a brush.

  He was behind her, rubbing his palms up her silky sleeves to massage her shoulders and neck.

  “I didn’t say it was me you were afraid of.”

  She pulled at her bangs with her brush. “Who then? Our classmates? I thought I proved last night that I didn’t give a damn for their opinions anymore.”

  With his thumbs, he traced her spine, marking every inch or so with a kiss to the back of her neck.

  “Not them, either.”

  She stiffened and stared into the mirror to await his attention. Yet for a tortuous minute, he continued his hands-on study of her waist and hips. Then he looked over her shoulder and met her gaze.

  “You, my dear, are afraid of you.”

  3

  SHE SWUNG AROUND, trapped with her backside pressed against the bureau. Jack leaned forward, diminishing all space between them. The sensation of his growing hardness against her stomach shot to her weakening knees. If he hadn’t been standing so close, she feared she’d fall.

  But his words rang clear.

  You, my dear, are afraid of you.

  “Care to explain?”

  He plied the brush from her tight grasp and led her to the edge of the bed. He sat, turned her so she faced the mirror, and pulled her into the triangle between his legs. He tossed the brush aside and smoothed his hands through her hair, flinging pins away as he found them, releasing her curls until they tumbled en masse to the lower ends of her shoulder blades. He reclaimed the brush and with practiced care freed her hair of tangles.

  The gentle tugs and soothing strokes lulled her to silence. He eased each pull with his fingers, working slowly.

  He lifted her hair from her nape.

  “So soft.”

  His breath stirred the tiny hairs along the base of her neck, sending her skin into a thrilling prickle that spread like wildfire. Never had a man performed such a personal task in such a tantalizing way. Every stroke fired her. She’d never considered the intimacy. She spent nearly every morning brushing Dani’s…

  “Jack,” she protested, trying to stand when her daughter’s name popped into her head.

  He didn’t let go, but tightened his thighs around hers.

  “Relax, angel.”

  Relax. Easier said than done. She couldn’t afford to think of Dani, not in the same room with the one man who could never learn of her child’s existence.

  She forced the name out of her mind and concentrated on the feel of the brush gliding through her hair, reviving the original wavy texture. Soon he discarded the brush and used his hands, kneading her scalp and massaging her temples.

  She forgot his comment regarding her fears—forgot all about Dani and the secrets she personified. No thoughts entered Angela’s mind. Only sensations. Jack’s gentle yet sinewy fingers traced her ears, caressed the base of her neck, lightly dug into the juncture at her shoulders.

  “Do you want me right now as much as I want you?” he murmured, burying his nose in her hair.

  “Now who’s asking the trick questions?”

  He moved his hands, fanning them over her lap as far to her knees as he could reach, then dragged them back, dipping into the space where her robe fell open. He stroked the sensitive skin of her inner thighs and trailed his thumbs up her pelvis to her hips. He designed a swirling pattern on her skin that matched the responses building inside her.

  He hardened against her backside. His skin grew feverish, and the heat seeped though his cotton tank top and her thin robe, searing her skin.

  “No tricks, angel. Just conditions.”

  The tips of his fingers lingered along the lacy edges of her panties. She ached for him to pass under the delicate barrier and soothe the escalating ache.

  Instead, he guided her across the bed, amid the rumpled sheets from her restless night, until she lay beside him. He drew her into a languid kiss, then awaited her answer.

  She swallowed and fought to remember the question.

  “What conditions?”

  He undid the already loosened tie on her robe and opened it. Except for high-cut panties, she wore nothing underneath. Involuntarily, she drew one leg up. He gently pressed it down. His gaze swept the length of her.

  “You are exquisite,” he said, his voice rich with need.

  He tr
aced a lazy pattern from the base of her neck to her left breast. He moistened his finger in his mouth, then grazed her nipple. The nubbin puckered instantly. She labored to breathe. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to think.

  “What conditions, Jack?”

  He continued his exploration around her belly button, across the outside of her right hip, then inward until his fingers disappeared beneath floral material and into the dark curls at the base of her thighs. She sucked in a breath. A quarter inch more, maybe less, and she’d explode.

  He stopped. “My conditions are simple. I’ve had many women in my bed. Too many, if hindsight proves correct. Every one of them gave me her body willingly. Some might have given me part of their hearts, which I summarily trampled on.”

  “I know that feeling.”

  He caught and held her gaze despite her sarcasm.

  “Maybe you do. But I still want something more from you.”

  Removing his hand from its intimate position, Jack allowed her a second to think.

  Her passion subsided, though her breasts still felt heavy when she pulled her robe closed. “So these women gave you their hearts. I did that once, too. I didn’t say I’d repeat the mistake. But I am curious. What more could you want from me that those women couldn’t or wouldn’t give you?”

  She didn’t move, and neither did he, though his irises seemed to darken, like the sky outside.

  “Your soul.”

  That was enough to send her scooting away. She tied her robe with a violent jerk, though she felt still naked. “I didn’t know what you meant by those words ten years ago. Or last night. I still don’t.”

  He laid back, pulled up a pillow and folded it under his head. “What makes you think I know what it means?”

  Even with the tinge of arrogance, his words seemed sincere. Her momentary anger was washed away as his expression returned to the one she’d noticed as he stared toward the distant horizon. He was searching. For something crucial. But what? Did she want to know?

  “Then you’re proposing we figure out the meaning together.”

  He nodded.

  She drew in a deep breath and caught the growing scent of the impending storm. How fitting.

  “That’s a pretty tall order for someone who had her heart set on a simple weekend fling.” She lay on her stomach, leaned on her elbows, then smiled when he finally stopped staring at the ceiling.

  “Sorry to ruin your plans,” he said.

  “You haven’t.” Not yet. “Who says we can’t give each other what we want and then go our separate ways?”

  “Because we each want something different.”

  She shrugged and fluffed up her pillow. “Who knows if we do or not? Seems to me neither one of us is so very sure about what we want. Except for one thing.”

  She leaned toward him, her lips acted like a magnet. The kiss was tentative at first, like their reunion kiss should have been—but wasn’t. The stakes had gone through the roof in the last few moments, but Angela couldn’t deny herself the chance to get Jack Sullivan out of her system. She’d just have to be careful—for her own sake—and Dani’s.

  Neither of them moved to deepen the kiss. For a long minute, the touching of their lips remained chaste and pure. Her body cooled, though not entirely. She found herself immersed in a tranquil warmth that surrounded her like the summer ocean. Thoughts of hot sex were washed away, replaced by a simple kiss.

  When Jack finally touched her, he only grazed her cheek, as if afraid to do more. The artlessness of his gesture reached every part of her, including her heart. She broke away, shocked.

  Jack’s eyes remained closed, as if he savored the moment. When he opened them, there was no hint of triumph, no indication of lust. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought she spied a bit of innocent wonder.

  “Jack, I…”

  He pressed his forefinger across her lips, forcing the silence to continue until he let out a long, pent-up breath.

  Suddenly, even with the balcony door open in the large suite, she felt claustrophobic. Jack had changed. He’d become more complicated. More intriguing. Or she was mature enough to recognize the complexity in someone she once believed had only one thing on his mind. She’d underestimated him—then and now. That realization made her ache with guilt.

  For the first time, she considered her role in the destruction of their friendship. That’s what it had been, after all. He’d acted like any teenage boy whose girlfriend wouldn’t put out. In fact, he’d acted better than most. She’d read about date rape. Instead, Jack had simply let her go and found someone who’d give him what he needed. Could she fault him for finding her best friend?

  She rolled off the bed, and Jack didn’t move to stop her. She didn’t speak. She didn’t yet have the words. She shut the door to the balcony and pulled the drapes closed, plunging the room into darkness.

  “I’m going to get dressed,” she announced quietly.

  “I’ll let myself out.”

  She wanted to tell him not to leave, to wait and they’d go to the beach together. But she didn’t. They both had a lot to think about, and they’d probably think more clearly alone.

  Crossing the room quickly, she grabbed the swimsuit and cover-up she’d laid out and retreated to the solitude of the bathroom. Then she just stood there, staring at herself blankly in the mirror until she heard the padding of his steps across the floor and the click of the closing door.

  Desperately, she reached for the light switch. As the blackness engulfed her, she slid down the door onto the cold tile. The momentary tenderness they’d shared overwhelmed her. The need in his eyes haunted her. As much as she’d tried to avoid the intimacy, she had caught a glimpse of the Jack Sullivan who’d once captured her heart—the Jack Sullivan who, though totally unaware of it, had made her love him so desperately she’d wanted to give him the gift of her innocence.

  But she hadn’t come here to rediscover love. She wanted sex only—that, and closure to an unresolved physical and emotional tie she and Dani couldn’t afford. Despite their lovemaking the night before, Jack remained an unanswered question in her mind. Would the sex get better? Could it? Why was he still attracted to her after all these years?

  Why did he touch her so sweetly?

  Until she discovered the answers, she would never be able to move on with her life and create a loving family for her adopted daughter—one that might someday include a husband and father.

  She’d never imagined that Jack might be a candidate for both roles. How could she have? Jack’s past, his lifestyle reeked of meaningless conquests and frivolous pursuits. He’d traveled the world in the company of fashion models and bohemian artists who changed residences with the seasons and changed tastes with the crowd. His childhood, with a fickle mother and an absent father, hadn’t been conducive to creating a man who cherished long-term bonds. He didn’t believe in love. He’d told her so once, and his words were impossible to forget. No way would Jack Sullivan want to be saddled with a wife and child.

  Would he?

  The answer had to be no. Otherwise, the lies she lived with would tumble like a ten-ton house of cards. It didn’t matter that Angela hadn’t started the lies or that she’d done everything she could to uncover the truth. The truth could hurt only one person—Dani.

  Angela buried her face in her hands, too exhausted to cry. She let out an extended breath and willed herself to snap out of it. Think logically. She was a successful businesswoman. Surely her experience in the corporate arena could help her.

  In business, she’d learned to finish what she started. To leave now, to throw her things into a suitcase and disappear from Jack’s life would only mean more uncertainty for her and Dani. Still, she couldn’t let Jack into Dani’s life. She’d dated selectively, careful to protect her child from thinking she might finally get a father only to be disappointed when the relationship didn’t work out. And none of them had.

  But Angela made a good single parent. Dani didn’t need
a father. Least of all a man like Jack.

  But Angela had to see this seduction through—for herself. Every frazzled nerve ending in her body swore to one truth—no power on earth could neutralize the fierce attraction she shared with Jack except the experience of making love to him again. The feel of his touch on her skin still burned. Her nipple still puckered from his teasing. Liquid heat pooled within her at that memory.

  Denying her lust for him was fruitless and unrealistic. She wanted him with an indomitable force she didn’t begin to understand. She had to forget that intimate moment they’d shared before she’d run into the bathroom like the frightened schoolgirl she’d once been. The innocent wonder she’d seen in his eyes had only been a flash to the past.

  He wanted to explore the depths of her soul. He wanted to touch the essence of her being. She figured there were two paths to that destination. One passed through her heart, the other through her body. She knew where to place the roadblocks.

  In two weeks, Dani returned from summer camp. Angela would give herself a deadline. By the time fourteen days were up, Angela Harris would have steered Jack Sullivan into and out of her bed. Her heart would stay off-limits.

  She’d end her fascination with the past forever, even if it meant denying herself the company of the sexiest man she’d ever known.

  AN HOUR AND A HALF later, Jack found Angela lounging on a beach chair, her eyes closed, her lips gently parted as if waiting for a kiss. Her shimmering blue swimsuit reflected the sunlight like a doubloon newly washed ashore. The pit of his stomach sizzled at the sight, leaving him feeling younger, freer—full of the lust for life he thought he’d lost forever.