by Cari Quinn
“Really naughty boy.” Rachel chewed and swallowed the grape, then tested a few notes and started the opening chords.
Incredible. He’d yet to find any songs they had in common that she couldn’t play.
Just as he was about to proclaim her a genius, she slid closer and hooked her leg around his. And kept playing, even while he slid his hand into the slit in her gown. “See why we needed to be alone?” he said against her neck as his fingers drifted closer to the heat radiating between her thighs.
“You already broke your rule once.”
“Did not. One measly little finger…”
“Oh, it was more than one. And you sucked them.”
“That I did.” Shawn caught her lower lip between his teeth, amazed her hands had yet to falter on the keys. “I’m curious. Can you keep playing no matter what?”
Her eyebrows winged up. “Depends what you have in mind.”
“A few more licks. Directly from the source this time.” When color bloomed high on her cheeks, he laughed. “Maybe we’ll save that for dessert.” He plucked a succulent raspberry from the bowl and fed it to her, murmuring, “Do you know what these remind me of?”
Her flush deepened, creeping down her neck. “Not sure I want to know.”
“Sure you do. They remind me of your lips, before you put on all that lipstick.”
She visibly relaxed. “I thought you were going to say --”
“And your nipples,” his voice turned low and soft, “after I’ve sucked them as hard as I sucked your juice off my fingers earlier.”
That did it. She stumbled on the keys just as the doors of the private elevator whooshed open, revealing several waiters and three loaded carts of food.
Rising, Shawn directed where to leave the covered dishes, indicating a corner table that offered a dazzling view of New York from twenty stories up. A moment later, they were alone again.
“You didn’t need to do all this,” she began as he lifted lids to make sure everything was to his specifications. “I’m a burger-and-fries kind of girl.”
Choosing a fork, he sampled a spear of asparagus. Perfect. “You think I don’t know that?”
“Then why did you go to all this trouble?”
“Has anyone ever swept you off your feet, Rachel?” He turned his head, narrowing his eyes as two more waiters exited the elevator to light the candles tucked into every nook and cranny. Rachel’s audible intake of breath as the house lights went down made his mouth curve.
No amount of money could be measured against her happiness, even the little glimpses she gave him before she put up her protective walls. And that, he considered with amusement as he sipped his wine, could only be the thought of a man thoroughly in love.
Big surprise there.
“You like?”
“I love.” She stood, her lips pursing as she hesitated with one hand on the piano. “I know I haven’t reacted the way you want. But I’m trying. I’m trying to not think about the implications of any of this when we get back home. If we never left New York, it’d be one thing.”
“So let’s stay here.”
She laughed. “Yeah right.”
“I’m serious.” Shawn walked over to her and cupped her face in his hands, as moved by the vulnerability in her eyes as by her hitching breath. She was affected by him, even if she couldn’t quite accept why. “Home’s where you are, Rach.”
She pressed a hand against her stomach. “Where’d you learn this stuff? It’s potent.”
“Trade secret, babe.” He smiled and kissed her forehead. “Let’s eat.”
She followed him to their table, her hand clasping his. “What did you --” She stopped as she took in the display of food: arugula and field green salads, more strawberries with a side of whipped chocolate sauce, scallops, oysters. In the center of the white lacy tablecloth, a bucket contained a bottle of chilled Dom. Her wary gaze shot to his. “Don’t see any burgers here.”
“No. Obviously, each course should be served one at a time, but I wanted privacy.”
She cleared her throat. “Makes sense, since this table is loaded down with aphrodisiacs.”
“Trust you to glean the hidden meaning.” Grinning, Shawn pulled out her chair. “Sit. Have a glass of champagne.” While he spoke, the beginning swells of Beethoven’s Fifth filtered through the recessed speakers.
He’d just taken the seat across from her when he heard her breath catch once more. “Shawn, that’s my CD. Again.”
“Thought we’d established it’s mine.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “Your ear is unerring as always. I figured you’d have to take a break to eat, so why not play my favorite CD?”
Her lips trembled, but her fingers gripped his. “It’s beautiful. Everything’s been beautiful. Absolutely perfect. I’m just so afraid I’ll let you down.”
“Not possible,” he said, though it was very possible. If he couldn’t get her to fall in love with him -- or, more importantly, if he couldn’t get her to realize being in love with him wasn’t the curse she believed it to be -- before they returned to Calvin Bay, the chances of it ever happening were nil.
Somehow, some way, he had to do in days what he hadn’t managed to accomplish in ten years. No biggie.
To lighten the suddenly somber mood, Shawn snagged a strawberry and swiped it through the frothy chocolate sauce. Holding the berry out to her, he murmured, “You know what this reminds me of?”
Her sexy peal of laughter dissolved the coil of tension in his gut. For now, he’d let things lie.
Until the time came he couldn’t.
Chapter Twelve
Since Shawn had rented out the space until midnight -- on such short notice, she couldn’t bear to contemplate the cost, even if the owner was a friend of a friend as he’d claimed -- Rachel gave him his full money’s worth by returning to the piano after their very lengthy meal.
They’d spent hours laughing, drinking champagne, and feeding each other. In between rating which delicacies generated the most buzz on the lust scale, there’d been a lot of kissing too. Long, slow kisses, teasing nibbles, even a few of the lip-suck, eye-stare variety.
Shawn happened to be good at all three.
On a typical first date, the awkwardness of getting to know someone in a forced romantic atmosphere was to be expected. But even knowing how Shawn supposedly felt about her, she hadn’t experienced that pressure to connect. Or at least she hadn’t when she hadn’t been overthinking the situation so her all-too-eager libido didn’t get free rein.
Maybe her mind still had concerns, but her body sure didn’t. It wanted to get down to business. Fast.
After dinner, she chose the musical selections, ranging from Chopin to Rachmaninoff to Bach. The music soothed her jangled thoughts as surely as a sedative, leaving her more relaxed than she’d been in a damned long time. She even taught Shawn the opening chords of “London Bridge,” proof positive she had a gift for teaching since he wasn’t exactly the most malleable of students.
Especially when he insisted on interrupting his lesson with lots and lots of examples of his multiple days of foreplay.
The limo ride back to the hotel was more of the same. More laughter, more champagne. Definitely more kissing. By the time they’d made it back up to the suite, she couldn’t seem to walk straight. Another good thing about being with Shawn? She could get drunk off her ass if she wanted, and she could trust him not to take advantage.
Not that she would’ve minded if he had. No, sir.
“Why don’t you undress me?” she offered with something horrifyingly close to a giggle, tossing her bag aside the minute he shut the door behind them.
He looped an arm around her waist, steadying her. Always. “My shy, retiring Rachel.”
“Are you drunk too? Or is it just me?”
“Why are you whispering?” he whispered back. “We’re alone.”
“Sorry.” She giggled again and held a hand to her head. “I feel so…” She spun away from him, twirli
ng in a dizzy circle before falling back on the bed. “Happy. Ridiculously, drunkenly happy.” She craned her head to look at him, still standing on the threshold. His grin held such affection, her tingling toes had a whole new reason to curl. “C’mere.” She patted the bed.
He stretched out beside her, his smile spreading as he swept her wayward curls away from her cheeks. “I love seeing you like this.”
“Me too. Though, you know, I can’t see myself.” Laughing, she pulled his face down and took his mouth. He responded at once, his hunger evident in each stroke of his tongue. Frissons of warmth lanced through her breasts, setting off a trail of heat that shot right into her core.
But all too soon, he eased back.
Narrowly, Rachel resisted a snarl. “I hate your rules.”
“Me too.” He kissed her nose. “But I will undress you.”
“What’s the point?”
“Because I want to sleep with you. Skin on skin.”
As images of just that sprung into her hazy mind, she leaned up to undo the buttons on his shirt. She couldn’t keep from touching each golden inch of his torso she uncovered, but when her wandering fingers dipped under his waistband, he caught her wrist. “Just undressing you,” she said innocently. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”
“Uh-huh. I’ll handle this part.”
“Wuss.” Determined to make the process as hellish as possible on him, she raised herself on her elbow to watch as he loosened his belt and lifted his hips. The motion sent a twist of desire knifing through her belly. “Sure I can’t…give you a hand?”
“Jesus, Rach.” With a strangled laugh, he pushed his pants and briefs down, finally kicking them free.
She flicked her tongue over her lips as she smoothed her hand down his thigh. When his muscles flexed under her touch, her gaze slid coyly to his erect cock, lying flush against his centerfold-quality abs. “You owe me a lick.”
“Honey, I don’t owe you a damn thing.” His hand fisted in the back of her dress as her mouth again found his. Wetly. “You want something, take it.”
Longing bubbled up inside her, intensifying the pressure of her kiss. She used her nails to trail up the broad length of his engorged flesh. One of them groaned, she wasn’t sure which, while she traced the vein throbbing just under the skin. His tongue thrust deeper into her mouth, and his grip on her dress turned brutal.
She almost grinned. The way things were going, his days of foreplay would end a lot sooner than he’d planned.
Then the phone rang.
“Christ.” He yanked his mouth from hers with a little sucking noise, then threw his arm over his eyes. Tension seeped from every pore of his body. His chest rose and fell like a locomotive, air pumping through his parted lips in a wheezy hiss. “Get the damn phone. You know you want to.”
Great time to have her compulsion to stay on top of her phone calls and e-mails thrown back in her face. It wasn’t want to so much as she felt compelled to answer. Just in case. What if she missed something important?
“I hate being a Scout,” she muttered, leaning up to snatch the receiver in midring. Having to always answer the phone, workout first thing, and never hit the Snooze button really cut down on a girl’s fun. “Yes?”
“Rachel?” The feminine voice on the other end of the line screamed Southern belle, though the woman in question hadn’t lived in Georgia since she was a teenager. “That you, honey?”
And so extinguished the thrum of arousal heating her blood. She nearly flushed at once again getting caught naked with Shawn, then remembered her sister’s proclamation that their “little fling” had already been thoroughly dissected.
Besides, she was twenty-eight years old. Long past the age of acceptability for blushing over someone knowing she’d enjoyed pleasures of the flesh. Despite whose flesh it was she’d enjoyed.
Rachel took a calming breath. “Hi, Mrs. Griffin. How’re you?”
From beside her -- or underneath her, really, since she was using Shawn as a rather long, hard throw pillow -- came a low curse.
“I’m fine, sweetheart. I’ve been expecting a call from you. Have you been having a fabulous time?”
Out with the passion, in with the guilt. She might as well be home after all. “It’s been…an experience.” A grin crossed her lips as she glanced at Shawn. “I’ve seen things I’ve never seen before, that’s for sure.”
Even peeved, he smiled. As she’d intended.
“That’s wonderful, sweet pea. I do hope the reason you haven’t called isn’t the same reason Shawn has refused to answer his father’s calls.”
She supposed she could deal with knowing everyone who counted knew she and Shawn had done the horizontal tango. But being the cause of a family rift? Nope, that she wasn’t having. “I’ve just been busy. I wasn’t aware he wasn’t answering calls,” she added, soundly elbowing the subject of their conversation.
Shawn pushed her elbow off his chest. “I don’t want to talk to her.”
“Is that him? I called you because his hotel confirmed he was no longer a guest, so we wondered if he’d cut his vacation short.”
“He’s, uh,” -- be brave, Rachel -- “staying here now. In my hotel.”
“Oh, is that so?” Elaina Griffin couldn’t have sounded more delighted. “So that’s why you’re been so…busy.”
She didn’t blush this time. Mainly because she was too involved in her push-and-shove contest with Shawn. “We’ve been seeing the sights, actually.” Her breath left her in a rush as he angled lower to slide his tongue up her bare thigh. “Stop that,” she commanded, earning a laugh from both him and his mother.
If she hadn’t been halfway drunk, she’d probably be stammering by now. As it was, she knew she’d be mortified in the morning.
“Sorry. Anyway, he’s right here,” -- she ignored Shawn’s vehement head shaking -- “if you’d like to talk to him.”
“That would be lovely, dear. I’m sorry to interrupt your evening, especially so late. But when we didn’t hear from him, we worried.”
“I understand.”
“Rachel? One more thing.”
“Yes.”
“You know we love you like a daughter.”
Sensing trouble, Shawn made a grab for her wrist. “Rachel, give me the phone.”
“I know. I feel the same.” She laughed feebly, climbing off the bed before Shawn injured himself with his crazed lunges. “Well, you know what I mean.”
“Yes. We’re thrilled, honey. That’s all. We’ve just wanted this for so long that perhaps Dillon got ahead of himself. No one’s expecting a wedding right away. Besides, we’d need until at least spring to book the club.”
Without another word, Rachel handed the phone to Shawn.
He found her in the hot tub still clad in her black gown, her knees up against her chest, and her head in her hands.
Man, it just got better and better. First his father had kamikazed his early efforts, now his mother had zoomed in for the kill shot. For two people who claimed they wanted him with Rachel, they sure as hell had no clue how useless their “help” was.
“I have more bubbly.” Shawn shook the bottle he’d just ordered from room service.
Not that getting her liquored up was his preferred method of dealing with pesky, interfering relatives, but at the moment, he’d do just about anything to put the dusky glow back in her cheeks.
“Not thirsty.”
He set the bottle on the vanity and dropped down on the wide lip of the hot tub. But when he touched her hair, she didn’t even lift her head.
“We’re fooling ourselves, Shawn. This whole trip’s been an exercise in self-delusion.”
Fuck it. “I was wrong. Let’s have sex. Now.”
Her head rose. With relief, he saw her eyes were clear and dry. “Huh?”
“We communicate pretty well naked, so I’m thinking that’s what we should stick to.” He extended his hand to her, wondering if she understood how much effort such a seemingly l
ighthearted gesture required. Especially when the possibility of getting slapped away was very real. “Nothing else matters right now.”
“It does matter.” She curled her fingers around his in a fist she brought to her cheek. “Every time I think I can handle this, something happens. Sure, we can keep deflecting and dodging, but we have to go home soon.” Her expelled breath rippled over his skin. “I love you. You know that.”
His heart clenched until he put her words in perspective. As a friend, Griffin. As a goddamned friend. “I do.”
“I also know you’ve convinced yourself that the love you feel for me is --”
“Stop right there. Just stop. There’s no convincing involved. Do you honestly believe I like feeling laid open like this? But it doesn’t matter, because every time I look at you, it grows. Every damn time.” He tipped her face up with his free hand, holding her chin steady so he could gaze directly into her eyes. “You feel something for me. I know it scares you to death. I get that. But I’m not going to pretend to be on the fence about this. We belong together.” When she sputtered, he released her and motioned for her to give him enough room to get in the tub behind her.
“Sorry, not in the mood anymore,” she said, making him laugh.
“Another illusion crushed.” He tugged her back against his chest once he’d settled behind her, stroking his hands down her bare arms as if to warm them. “I meant what I said about leaving town. If that’s what it will take for you to give us a fair shot, then I’ll start making the arrangements.”
She bristled under his touch, but she didn’t bolt to her feet. Amazing, considering. “I’m a grown woman. If I want to leave town, I can make my own damn arrangements.”
“You say you want to live your own life, without anyone’s interference. Well, here’s your opportunity. Aren’t you always saying you’re tired of California? We can go anywhere. Miami. San Antonio. Paris. Rome. Pick your poison.”