One-Click Buy: September 2010 Silhouette Desire

by Brenda Jackson

  He pulled her close, so close she could hear the thunder of his heart and the rapid give and take of his breath. Or maybe she wasn’t hearing his, but her own. He covered her face with kisses, swift and hungry, before finding her mouth and sinking inward. Oh, yes. This. This was what she craved. What she needed as desperately as sweet, life-sustaining air. Where before he’d controlled the kiss, now she took charge, giving him everything she possessed.

  She heard his voice. Heard raw, guttural words. Words of want and need. And then her world tipped upside down as he swung her into his arms and carried her back to the couch. She hit the cushions with a soft bounce before he came down on top of her, his body pressing her deeper into the silken material.

  “We just met,” she managed to gasp.

  He shifted against her, fitting them one to the other like two pieces of a puzzle. “Sometimes it’s like that.”

  “When? With who?”

  “Now. With us.”

  None of this made any sense. Rafe was supposed to be the rational one. The one in control. And yet, whatever had ignited between them had swept him away as completely as it had her. She wanted him with a bone-deep need that grew with each passing moment.

  He made short work of the vest of her uniform, slipping buttons from their holes with a speed and efficiency that took her breath away. Parting the edges, he tackled her blouse next, button after button, before yanking the crisp black cotton from her slacks and shoving it half off her shoulders.

  Rafe paused then, his hand hovering over the delicate bones of her shoulder, his dark skin tones at odds with her pale complexion. “My God,” he whispered. “You’re breathtaking.”

  No one had ever described her that way before. But seeing his stunned expression—seeing herself through his eyes—she felt beautiful. He traced the edges of her bra, a simple, durable black cotton, sculpting the curves of her breasts. She could feel her nipples peaking through the material. An intense heat shot through her, echoed in the throbbing of her palm and sinking deep into her feminine core. “Rafe…”

  It was her turn to touch. Her turn to explore. She cupped his face and gave in to the irresistible compulsion to trail her fingertips over those amazing planes and angles. To revel in the sheer masculine beauty of him. When she’d first seen him in the reception area, he’d appeared so self-contained, so remote. Never in a million years would she have imagined herself in this position. Who knew if the opportunity would ever present itself again? When they regained their sanity she wouldn’t be the least surprised if he instituted a “no touching” rule, especially when touching was so incredibly, gloriously dangerous.

  Unable to resist, she wove her fingers into his hair to anchor his head and then rose to seal his mouth with hers. He tasted beyond delicious and she couldn’t get enough of him. Not his touch. Not his kisses. Not the press and drag of his body over hers.

  Her hands darted to his shirt and she tugged at his tie, managing after a small struggle to rip it free from its anchor. Next she tackled the buttons that blocked her access to the rich expanse of flesh and muscle she yearned to caress. He groaned against her mouth, levering himself upward to give her better access. Her hands hovered over his belt buckle and the bulge that lay beneath.

  And that’s when they heard it.

  “Rafaelo?” A deep, gruff voice came from the far side of the office door, accompanied by a brisk knock. “Where are you, boy?”

  Rafe swore beneath his breath. Vaulting off Larkin, he helped her to her feet. “Just a minute,” he called.

  She stood, swaying in place, dizzy from the swift transition from passion to normalcy. Or the attempt at normalcy. “Who’s there?” she whispered.

  “My grandfather Primo.”

  Her eyes widened in alarm and her hands shot to the buttons of her blouse at the same time his did. Fingers clashed and fumbled. She could hear the murmur of voices coming from the far side of the door. Not just his grandfather, she realized. A woman’s voice, too.

  “Nonna,” Rafe confirmed grimly. He let her finish working on straightening her clothing while he tackled the mess she’d made of his. “My grandmother.”

  “Do not be ridiculous” came Primo’s rumbling bass. “This is an office. It is not as though he is in a meeting, not this late. Why should I stand on the doorstep like a beggar?”

  “Because he has not invited you in.”

  “Then I will invite myself in” was the indignant retort.

  With that, he turned the knob and stepped into the room. Rafe must have anticipated his grandfather’s intent because he stepped in front of her, shielding her from his grandparents’ eyes while she finished buttoning her blouse and vest. Not that it really helped, considering that his shirt was open and hanging out of his trousers.

  “I have been looking for you, Rafaelo,” Primo announced. “I have someone I wish you to meet.”

  Rafe sighed as he finished making repairs to his clothes. “I don’t doubt it. But it’s no longer necessary.”

  Primo planted his fists on his waist. “Of course it is necessary. You must meet as many women as possible. How else will you find your Inferno soul mate?”

  Larkin peeked out from behind Rafe’s broad shoulders and saw Nonna’s eyes widen with a combination of surprise and dawning comprehension. “And who is this?” she asked.

  Snatching a deep breath, Larkin skirted Rafe and stepped into the light, wincing at their stunned expressions. She didn’t doubt for a single moment that she looked as if she’d been doing precisely what she had been doing. Guaranteed her mouth was bare of lipstick and swollen a telltale rosy-red from Rafe’s impassioned kisses. And Rafe didn’t look much better, not when she compared his businesslike appearance earlier to his current rough and rumpled manifestation. And guaranteed one or both of his grandparents had caught that…and more.

  Primo’s gaze swept to a point midway down the line of buttons holding her vest closed and his fierce golden eyes narrowed. Either she hadn’t buttoned them correctly or she’d skipped one. Maybe more than one.

  Nonna, on the other hand, hovered between shock and amusement at whatever hairstyle Rafe had left in his wake when he’d plowed his fingers through the tidy little knot Larkin had fashioned at the start of her evening. She could feel part of it dangling over her left ear, while stray wisps were plastered to the right side of her face and neck.

  “Hello.” She gave them a wide, brilliant smile. “I’m Larkin Thatcher.”

  “You are with the catering service?” Primo asked, giving her clothing another assessing look.

  “Not any longer. They fired me.”

  Apparently they didn’t know what to say to that, so she hurried to breach the silence. She couldn’t help it. It was another minor personality flaw. Leigh had always called it babbling, which was a fair if somewhat blunt assessment.

  “It was my own fault. I dropped a tray of drinks and that’s a big no-no. The good news is that if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have met Rafe and we wouldn’t have gotten to know each other. I don’t think we’ve finished discussing it yet. But we kind of got engaged.”

  Three

  “Engaged,” Primo and Nonna repeated in unison. Primo sounded outraged, Nonna shocked.

  “Sort of.” Larkin shot Rafe an apprehensive glance, as though aware that she’d jumped the gun a bit. “Or maybe not anymore. To be honest, I’m not quite sure what we are because we… Well, to be honest…” Her hands fluttered over her hair and the mismatched buttons of her vest. “That is to say, we got distracted.”

  Beside her, Rafe groaned. “Hell.”

  Her gaze darted from him back to his grandparents. They didn’t seem pleased with his response. “Actually, it was rather heavenly,” she hastened to reassure them.

  Rafe took charge of the situation. “Let’s just say that the minute we touched, things got out of hand. Or in hand, depending on your viewpoint.”

  “The Inferno?” Primo demanded. “It has finally happened?”

  Rafe hesi
tated. He couldn’t help the hint of resistance that undoubtedly shadowed his expression. He’d experienced something when he and Larkin had first touched. But The Inferno? A connection that would last a lifetime? Sorry. Still not buying it. “Time will tell,” he limited himself to saying.

  To his surprise, the reluctance implicit in his tone and attitude sold the idea with impressive ease, and he couldn’t help but suspect that a more overt declaration would have had the opposite effect, giving his grandparents pause in the face of such a dramatic turnaround from his previous attitude.

  He spared a swift glance in Larkin’s direction and winced. Hell. Primo and Nonna weren’t the only ones who’d picked up on his reluctance. So had Larkin. But wasn’t that what they’d agreed to? Wasn’t that why he’d hired her? To be his temporary fiancée? That’s all it was for both of them. A transient relationship that would be nice while it lasted and, when it ended, give them both what they wanted. He’d be left the hell alone and she’d receive a nice bump to her bank account.

  So why did she react as though she’d lost out on a special treat? Why that wistful look of longing, a deeply feminine look, one that spoke of childhood dreams and magical wishes? A look that caused him to respond on some visceral, wholly masculine level, that seemed to compel him to give her her heart’s desire. Not that he could, even if he wanted to. He’d been up front with her from the start. He could never fulfill her deepest desires because he was incapable of fulfilling any woman’s. The sooner Larkin accepted that, the better.

  “I need to take Larkin home,” he informed his grandparents. “We can discuss The Inferno once I’ve had time to explain it to my—” He broke off with a small smile. “My fiancée.”

  Primo instantly began to protest, but Nonna shushed him. “We will call tomorrow and arrange a proper meeting with Larkin,” she said. “I am sure your parents would also like to meet her, yes?”

  “I think we should take this slowly.” Rafe stalled. “Now, if you’ll excuse us?”

  “First you will promise to drop her off and then leave. No more of what we interrupted here,” Primo demanded. “Otherwise, you will find yourself with a wife instead of a fiancée, just like Luciano.”

  Rafe grimaced. Damn it. He knew that look, as well as the tone. And the reminder about his brother and Téa was a timely one. Hadn’t the two of them been forced to the altar within twenty-four hours of being caught in the act? “Yes, Primo. I promise. I’ll drop her off in the same condition in which I found her.”

  “Era troppo poco e troppo tardi. Too late for that, I suspect. But there will be no more…” He waved his hand to indicate Larkin’s uniform. “No more button mishaps until there is a ring on her finger.”

  “I understand.”

  “And agree?” Primo shot back.

  Rafe sighed. He was going to regret getting boxed in like this. “Yes. Accosento.”

  “Very well. Take her home. Your grandmother will call in the morning to arrange a convenient time for your Larkin to meet the family.”

  Larkin stepped forward and held out her hand to Primo. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

  “I do not shake hands with beautiful women,” Primo informed her. He enfolded her in a bear hug, swamping her diminutive form, and planted a smacking kiss on each of her cheeks.

  Larkin then turned to Nonna and the two women embraced. To Rafe’s concern, he caught the glint of tears in Larkin’s eyes and realized that she’d reached her breaking point. The events of the day must have caught up with her. First the stress of working a high-profile client, then losing her job, his proposition, followed by what had almost happened on the couch. It all added up to…too much, too fast.

  He didn’t waste any time. Sweeping up her belongs in one hand and Larkin in the other, he ushered everyone out of the office. Not giving his grandparents time for any further questions, he wished them good-night and urged Larkin toward the elevators. They made the ride to the subterranean parking garage in silence. But as soon as they were enclosed in his car, she swiveled in her seat to face him.

  “What did your grandparents mean about Luciano? About his ending up with a wife instead of a fiancée?”

  He winced at the memory. “They were caught in the act, if you know what I mean.”

  Larkin’s eyes widened in horror. “By Primo and Nonna?” she asked faintly.

  “By Téa’s grandmother and three sisters. Madam is Nonna’s closest friend,” he explained. “When Primo heard what had happened, he stepped in and insisted Luc do the right thing.”

  “Meaning…marriage?”

  Her voice had risen ever so slightly, and Rafe flashed her a look of concern. “It all worked out. They were in love. They even claim to have experienced The Inferno the first time they touched.” He hadn’t succeeded in reassuring her and gave it another try. “My marriage may not have been a shining example of happily-ever-after, but Luc and Téa seem genuinely in love. Hell, for all I know, their marriage might last as long as my grandparents’.”

  She fell silent for a moment, which he took as a bad sign. If there was one thing he’d learned about Larkin, she didn’t do silence. Sure enough, she leaped into speech. “I don’t think I can do this,” she announced in a rush. “I don’t like deceiving people, especially people as kind as your grandparents. They take marriage and this Inferno stuff seriously.”

  He started the car and pulled out of his assigned parking space before replying. “That’s what makes this so interesting. We’re not deceiving anyone.” He paused at the exit and waited for Larkin to relay her address before pulling onto the one-way street. “Admit it. We felt something when we touched.”

  The overhead streetlight filled the car with a flash of soft amber, giving him a glimpse of her unhappy profile. She stared down at her palm, rubbing at the center in a manner he’d seen countless times before by each and every one of his Inferno-bitten relatives.

  The sight filled him with foreboding. As far as he knew, no one outside the family was aware of that intimate little gesture, one that his relatives claimed to be a side effect of that first, burning touch between Inferno soul mates. God forbid he ever felt that tantalizing itch. His palm might throb. It might prickle. That didn’t mean it itched or that he’d find himself rubbing it.

  “Okay, so I felt something,” she murmured. “But that doesn’t mean it’s this family Inferno thing you have going, does it?”

  “Absolutely not,” Rafe stated adamantly. Though who he was so determined to convince, himself or Larkin, he couldn’t say. “The point is… We can’t rule out the possibility that it’s The Inferno. Not yet. Until we do, that’s what we’re going to assume it is and that’s what we’re going to tell my family.”

  “And they’ll believe it?” He could hear the doubt in her voice.

  “Yes. Implicitly.”

  “But you still don’t.”

  “I have no idea,” he lied without hesitation. “It could be The Inferno. Or it could have been static electricity. Or just a weird coincidence. But telling my family that we think it might be The Inferno won’t be a lie. And until we discover otherwise, we go forward with our plan.”

  “Your plan.”

  He drew to a stop at a red light and looked at her. She sat buried in shadow, her pale hair and skin cutting through the darkness while her eyes gleamed with some secret emotion. He didn’t know this woman, not really. Granted, he had a mound of facts and figures, courtesy of Juice. But he hadn’t yet uncovered the depth and scope of the person those dry facts and figures described. Just in the short time he’d spent with her, he’d gained an unassailable certainty that he’d find those depths to be deep and layered, the scope long-ranging and intriguing.

  And he couldn’t wait to start the process.

  The light changed and he pulled forward. “It started out as my plan. But as soon as you told my grandparents that you were my fiancée, it became our plan.”

  “But it’s a lie.”

  “First thing Monday I plan on
putting a ring on your finger. Will it still feel like a lie when that happens?”

  He heard her sharp inhalation. “A ring?”

  “Of course. It’s expected.” He spared her a flashing grin. “In case you weren’t aware, we Dantes specialize in rings, particularly engagement rings.”

  A hint of a smile overrode her apprehension. “I think I may have heard that about you.”

  “When our engagement ends, you can keep the ring as part of your compensation package.”

  “When,” she repeated.

  “It won’t last, Larkin,” he warned. “Whatever we felt tonight is simple desire. And simple desire disappears, given time.”

  “That’s a rather cynical viewpoint.” She made the comment in a neutral tone of voice, but he could hear the tart edge to it.

  “I’m a cynical sort of guy. Blame it on the fact that I’ve been there, done that.”

  “Maybe you were doing it with the wrong woman.”

  “No question about that.”

  “Maybe with the right woman—”

  “You, for instance?” He pulled to the curb in front of an aging apartment building and threw the car into Park. “Is that what you’re hoping, Larkin?”

  “No, of course not,” she instantly denied. “I just thought…”

  He wasn’t paying her to think. He almost said the bitter words aloud, biting them back at the last instant. He wasn’t normally an unkind person and she didn’t deserve having him dump the remnants of his marital history on her, even if the subject of Leigh brought out the worst in him.

  Nor would it pay to alienate her. Not now that he’d introduced her to his grandparents. If she chose to pack up and disappear into the night… He hesitated. Would it make any difference? Would his family believe he’d found his Inferno match and lost her, all in one night? Or would they think he’d concocted the story…or worse, that it hadn’t been The Inferno that he’d experienced, but a nasty case of lust?