Even if he hadn’t fallen in love with Angela, he would have truly adored her child. He found himself so wrapped up in Dani, he hardly noticed the length of the trip, the layover in Dallas, the turbulence over Nevada. By the time they reached the airport and rented a car, Jack knew he wanted to give marriage and fatherhood a try. Lily had denied him that chance. Would Angela?
As they waited to exit the parking lot, Jack glanced at Dani sitting beside him, chattering about Muir Woods, their first destination on their way to Napa. She looked so much like Chryssie. He couldn’t help wondering what Angela’s children would look like—especially if fathered by him. Would they have his height? His hair? Her large hazel eyes and generous lips?
His stomach roiled, more from expectation than fear. How many hours would pass before he could get Angela alone, even for a minute, to soothe his yearning to touch her? He pulled up to a stop sign, frowning. So far, Angela had managed to use Dani and Davenport’s offer as shields to keep him at a safe distance.
Jack pulled into traffic, his determination renewed. By night’s end, he’d break through every barrier Angela set around her heart—even if he had to let down his own barriers to do it.
WITH A WEEKEND to enjoy before her Monday meeting with Davenport, Angela strolled Muir Woods, following the peaceful pathways she and Dani enjoyed every year. Jack pulled out his camera, snapping Dani posing next to a redwood, enticing a squirrel, balancing on the fence by the brook. Angela tried not to be jealous of their newfound bond, but it wasn’t easy.
She’d never had to share Dani before, at least never with a man. If Jack did turn out to be Dani’s biological father, the ramifications would be more gut-wrenching than she’d imagined. Especially if he didn’t want the job.
The weekend accommodations Allistair Davenport arranged at a winery impressed her and filled her with dread. The sprawling Victorian-style bed-and-breakfast with guest cottages situated down a private drive from the public wine-tasting and welcome center afforded solitude. Beauty. Romance.
Behind them, grapevines snaked up carefully tended trellises, stopping only when blocked by a limestone hill. An English-style garden wrapped around the house, replete with miniature rose blossoms, fragrant lilac and vivid mums. In such a setting, how could she fight her desire for Jack?
“This is better than the hotel!” Dani exclaimed, skipping down a stone path. “Can I pick flowers for Mom’s memorial?”
The words were forthright and innocent, so like Dani, and yet they stung Angela’s heart. When had Dani become so used to the idea of her mother being dead? When would she?
“We’ll ask the manager, sweetie.”
Dani continued toward their cottage, allowing privacy enough for Jack to wrap his arm tentatively around her waist, creating a rebellious thrill in her belly. “You’re going there tonight?”
Angela indulged herself, shifting her weight so her cheek brushed against his jacket. She’d explained the ritual on the plane, saving him the surprise. “We usually go in the morning, when it’s prettiest. I let Dani make the plans, you know?”
He didn’t, but he saw the wisdom in allowing Dani to take the lead. Even though he didn’t have a particularly good relationship with either of his parents, they were both alive and well. He’d never known his grandparents. Losing someone to death was an event he hadn’t experienced. Dani’s resilience impressed him. Humbled him.
“Do you think she wants me along?”
A strange emotion flashed across Angela’s face, something akin to fear but not fear itself. More like dread, yet more resigned. Inevitable.
“She hasn’t said she didn’t.”
“Should I ask?”
Angela watched her feet as they walked. “I’m sure it’ll be all right. As far as she knows, you were Chryssie’s friend.”
Jack let the topic drop with the same swiftness as his hand from her waist. Hypocrisy wasn’t his forte, and now wasn’t the time to reopen wounds. Yet he respected Chryssie for never telling Angela about their mistake—for never surrendering to cleansing her guilt at Angela’s expense.
Dani led the way to the guest house, a tall-roofed, gingerbread cottage just behind the garden. She flung open the front door, revealing a warm, oak-paneled room decorated in sepia tones of gold and brown, with touches of scarlet in pillows and throw rugs to add vivacity. Two bedrooms, connected by a huge bathroom with a garden tub, lay to the right. A small but cozy eat-in kitchen inhabited the left corner of the house. A circular staircase led to an open loft containing a walnut sleigh bed, a dresser and a closet-size half bath.
Despite the time change and the lengthy flight, Dani still had the energy to bound up the stairs and claim the loft as hers.
“Wouldn’t you rather share a bedroom down here with me?” Angela asked, ignoring how cowardly the question sounded in Jack’s presence.
One exasperated glance from Dani over the railing gave her her answer.
“Nice try.” Jack’s whisper mocked her as much as his attendant wink.
They settled in quickly, surprised when the public relations manager for the winery appeared with an impressive dinner for three—courtesy of Allistair Davenport. They feasted on roasted venison, fresh garden vegetables, a wine-sauced crème brûlée and a hamburger, crispy fries and a chocolate sundae for Dani. The man knew how to sweeten a deal.
They stacked the dishes together, like a family. Jack needed a lesson or two in the proper way to scrape food from a dish, but otherwise, he slipped into domesticity with an ease that warmed Angela’s heart. How could she have been so wrong?
He’d make a great husband and he’d be a good father for Dani. His craving for parenthood shone like a beacon in his eyes, though she wondered if he knew.
He wasn’t his father—he was Jack. He’d sworn since the reunion he’d changed, that he wouldn’t hurt her. And he hadn’t. Not as she would hurt him when he learned the truth.
After Angela sent Dani in for a bath, Jack poured her another glass of dessert wine and pulled her onto the couch beside him. Fingers entwined, they spoke about nothing important, though Jack’s touch said volumes.
Her entire body ached to climb into his lap and feel his muscled heat thrust against her. The tilt of his head, the curve of his smile, all told her he wanted to make love with her tonight. And yet, the vibes jetting from his fingertips were sweet and warm and comforting.
Which she found even more sexy.
Dani’s eyes were heavy-lidded when she emerged from the bathroom, so Angela tucked her into bed. Jack said good-night from downstairs, then disappeared into his room.
Angela wanted a bath, but didn’t dare enter the bathroom as long as Jack’s light shone from under the adjoining door. The house was too quiet, the atmosphere too romantic, her libido too aroused, for her to take a chance.
Her mind swirled with regrets over her secret and Davenport’s offer. She knew she wouldn’t take the job. Increased pay and prestige weren’t worth the high price.
From the start, the trip had been a ruse. She couldn’t let Davenport think she hadn’t considered his generous proposition. She wanted to keep his business. She just didn’t want to move away from her family and friends.
Away from Jack.
She would tell him about Dani. He had a right to know of her suspicions, to try to discover if they were true. Every instinct told her she’d been wrong to keep this from him. Now, she had to find the words.
How he reacted would be up to him. His anger would be understandable, justified and unbearable. But if he loved her the way she loved him, he’d find a way to forgive.
The realization of her feelings didn’t shock her in the least. Deep in her heart, she knew she’d loved him all along, probably since high school and definitely since the reunion. He’d stuck in her system not because she hadn’t slept with him, but because he’d ingrained himself into her soul—the soul he’d wanted her to surrender before she knew how.
She tossed a light sweater over her shoulders and to
ok the last of her wine onto the porch. The night, still and quiet, glittered with the glow of gas lamps in the garden. The heady scent of grapes and jasmine hung heavy in the air, kissing her skin with sweetness and allowing her to relax.
She didn’t see Jack on the porch until she heard the familiar click and whir of his camera.
“I love night shots.”
His voice was wistful, full of delight and serenity. What would it sound like after he knew what she’d kept from him? A shiver shook her from head to toe.
“Cold?” He removed his camera from around his neck and stepped closer. His body warmth and masculine scent enticed her like a toasty blanket on a winter day.
She backed away until her shoulder met with the rough doorway arch. “It’s chilly tonight.”
He placed the camera on a chair. “Want me to warm you?”
“I’ll be fine.” She stared into his green gaze with all the insistence she could muster, though her declaration faltered under the power of his presence. Whenever she managed to forget the secret between them, she could think of nothing but being with him, alone. When their hands had touched on the luggage carousel, she’d drawn back as if burned. When he had brushed an errant curl out of her face at the redwood forest, her skin had tingled with delight.
How long could she last until her body betrayed her? Again.
Amusement lit his eyes like opals. “You’re shivering.”
“Let’s go inside, then.”
“Not just yet.” He trapped her against the wall, then smoothed his hands over her hips. “Out here, I have a good reason to touch you, to kiss you, to heat you up the way you like.” His touch slid over her buttocks. “Tell me you want me. Tell me, and I will.”
She closed her eyes and tried to think. Sadness gripped her, forcing her to acknowledge that now was the time to tell him about his possible paternity.
But the admiration in his eyes stopped her. Despite their shared past and romantic liaisons, their relationship was still new and vulnerable. When all was said and done, would they have anything left? They might find themselves pitted against each other for Dani’s custody. Nothing could annihilate their desire more quickly.
He placed a light kiss on the corner of her mouth, then explored the length of her arms with his hands. Stealthily, he wedged his knee between her unsteady legs and pressed her against the cold wood.
Only three words came to her mind.
“I want you.”
Slipping her arms under his, she pulled herself into his embrace and buried her face in his chest. He crowned her with a light kiss, then smoothed her hair sweetly. Yet the gesture didn’t last long. It couldn’t. Not for them. Not ever.
He bent, slid his arms beneath her knees and cradled her into his chest.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Jack carried her inside and set her on the bed.
“Wait here,” he said.
Angela kicked off her shoes and removed her sweater. Jack locked the door, lit several candles and took them into the bathroom. She slid onto the bed, letting her weight sink into the goose down comforter.
One more night of secrets wouldn’t hurt. One more night of loving might hold her over through the anger, the resentment, the fury he was sure to unleash. Then again, if she imparted the news in the light of morning, with the glow of lovemaking still fresh, maybe he’d be more inclined to understand.
The sound of running water brought her attention to Jack. Golden candlelight outlined his lean frame, inclined confidently against the doorjamb. He’d unbuttoned and untucked his shirt, looking rumpled and sexy and male.
“Have you noticed the fixtures in here?” A note of lusty mischief lilted in his voice.
She slipped off the bed, allowing her gaze to dip below the waistband of his jeans.
“Those aren’t the fixtures I’m interested in.”
His tilted grin mirrored his pleasure at her tease.
“Oh, but you really should see them.”
He moved sideways when she walked by, allowing her to enter in front of him. When she stopped just past the paper-thin freestanding screen, he slid his hands around her waist and buried his lips in her neck.
The fixtures were gold, or at least they appeared to be under the sparkle of the candles Jack had placed around the room. Two bottles of wine chilled in a sinkful of ice, and a Jacuzzi steamed with running hot water.
Slowly, Jack unzipped her dress and drew the straps over her arms until the light cotton material fluffed around her ankles. Covering her neck, shoulders and back with alternately languid and intense kisses, he undid her bra and tossed it aside.
“You are so delicious,” he murmured. When gooseflesh prickled her skin, he rubbed her arms rhythmically, stoking her skin like smoldering embers. “I’m going to taste every inch of you, angel. Every inch.”
She slipped his shirt off, placing deep kisses on his chest. “Promise?”
“Wait.” He punctuated the command with his mouth over hers. His lips, moist and steamy like the air, molded to hers as if created solely for the purpose of kissing her. The joining, brief but powerful, left her dizzy as he stepped to the sink and retrieved a bottle of wine and a corkscrew.
“I think you’d be best with a red wine, don’t you?”
She smiled and joined him, unbuckling his belt. He slid the cork from the bottle as his pants dropped to the floor.
“Glasses?” she asked, delighted by the look in his eyes when she slipped out of her panties and tugged down his boxers. She wanted him desperately. And she knew why.
She couldn’t say the words aloud, but undeniable love swelled in her heart. He excited her, thrilled her in every fiber of her body and soul.
“No glasses.” Jack led her to the tub. She sat on the edge and made a sizzling sound when her bare feet met the heated water.
He stepped around her, easing her legs apart as he knelt. Candlelight, hazy from the rising steam, flickered around him. The emerald depths of his irises caught the flames and reflected them with an intensity that made her hungry for his kiss.
Slipping one hand around her back, he steadied her, then poured, letting the icy wine flow from the top of her shoulder to her breast. She flinched, then gasped when he bent forward and licked the wine away. His warm tongue traced a zigzag path downward, lightly sipping the last drop clinging to her nipple.
“I was right,” he said huskily, lifting his head slowly and kissing her from chin to mouth. “You are delicious.”
The wine lingering on his lips, robust and fruity, awakened every dormant nerve. Then he took another sip of wine from the bottle but didn’t swallow until after he had her other nipple between his lips. The contrasting feel of the hot water, the cold wine and the gentle tug on her breast made her gasp.
Only his hand bracing her thigh kept her seated when he doused her again, this time letting the wine splash down her chest, past her stomach, trickling like tiny drops of ice into her curled mound, touching her intimately. The sensations fired her, and she nearly shook with rapture as he licked the crimson liquid away, inebriating her with his powerful intoxicant.
As he dipped his head to find the last few drops, she ran her fingers through his hair. Spreading her knees wide, she clutched him, vaguely aware he’d set the wine bottle beside her. His hand, chilled from the ice, traced her inner thigh while his tongue found her budded center.
“Oh, Jack, stop, please, stop.” She knew his simple ministrations would take her to the edge too soon. She wanted him to go with her, inside her, sharing the explosion of light she could already see just beyond the insides of her eyelids.
With one last lick, he kissed a trail up her neck, easing his hands down her back to cup her buttocks. As he stood her in the rising water of the tub, she took the wine bottle and poured the Cabernet over his shoulders and down his chest.
His eyes flashed wide. The liquid, warmer as the temperature around them rose with the billowing steam, flowed down his body.
; She looked at him wickedly. “I could get very drunk doing this.” She kissed away the clear red streaks on his shoulders.
“Then I might have to take advantage of you,” he answered, his voice as thick and rich as the wine.
She licked the drops clinging to his nipples. “Wasn’t that the plan from the start?”
His reply was a groan as she drank the wine trailing down his abdomen. A few errant drops on his hips made her stray, but then she resumed moving downward until she found the last of the wine clinging to his erection.
“Yes, yes,” he groaned.
Knowing this pleased him urged her on. He’d brought her to the brink of delight and beyond. He’d forced her to acknowledge the power and ecstasy of surrender. Now she could do the same for him. She cupped and caressed him, loved and adored him with her hands, her fingers, her mouth, her tongue.
“Enough.” His words entreated and promised. “For now.”
Green irises, darkly intense, held her still when he dipped his head and took her lips with his. More potent than the wine around them, his kiss drugged her. She couldn’t move away, protest or even breathe. She took her sustenance from him, deeply and with all her might.
He knelt with her. The water, still steaming hot and tinted red and amber with wine and candlelight, swirled around their thighs. When he moved, little waves lapped at her like his tongue had, and the sensation made her weak.
“Jack.” She snaked her hands over him, kneading her fingers into the blondish-brown hair on his chest.
He took a soft cloth from the corner of the tub, immersed it in the water and then bathed her in the wet warmth.
“It won’t be long now, angel.” He cupped her breasts with the cloth, then swirled the moisture around them with a loving appreciation she could see in his eyes and feel in his touch. He hadn’t said the words, but then, neither had she. There’d be time enough for words. In the morning. During the next week. For the rest of their lives.
She lifted her arms for him, turning and moving so he could cleanse her. The soft roughness of the terry cloth smoothed by his attentive hands kept her skin alive, her desire primed.
Seducing Sullivan Page 16