It Takes a Hero

by Gina Wilkins

  He covered her entire right breast with his left hand, the warmth of his palm penetrating her skin until she could feel an answering heat building inside her. “I guess we’ll just have to find something else to do, instead,” he murmured.

  She had his shirt unbuttoned by then. Admiring the perfection she had revealed, she ran a hand slowly over his chest. The light dusting of hair tickled her skin, tempted her to brush her face against it. She’d forgotten what they’d been talking about.

  She wasn’t in the mood to tease any longer. She drew back far enough to look at him again. His eyes were dark, his cheeks flushed. The emotion she saw in his face wasn’t feigned or calculated. He wanted her. And she found that simple fact more seductive than any of the charming little gifts he had sent her.

  She rested her hand against the side of his handsome face. He caught her fingers and placed a kiss in her palm. “You are beautiful, Kristin,” he murmured.

  Shaking her head, she slid her hand around to cover his mouth. “Don’t start giving me lines now,” she ordered him. “It really isn’t necessary.”

  She knew she wasn’t beautiful. Not the way the women in Perry’s world were beautiful. Jim had called her “cute.” And “attractive.” His ex-wife, he’d mentioned a time or two, was beautiful.

  Perry pulled her hand away from his mouth, then kissed it again. “It wasn’t a line. I do think you’re beautiful. I’ve thought so ever since I turned and first saw you at the fund-raiser ball.”

  He sounded so sincere. It would be so easy to believe he meant every word he said. A politician’s skill? Or was it possible that he was being honest with her? Did he really think she was...?

  “Beautiful,” Perry repeated, and kissed her again.

  By the time they were full length on the couch, Perry stretched over her, their open shirts allowing flesh-to-flesh contact, Kristin couldn’t even think coherently, much less argue. If he wanted to call her beautiful, why should she try to correct him?

  She certainly found him beautiful—and no amount of denial on his part would have changed her mind.

  He had her face cupped between his hands. She felt the fine tremors in his fingers, and she thrilled in the knowledge that she had caused them.

  Against her thigh was the evidence of how very badly he wanted her—and that, too, delighted her.

  Perry Goodman, she mused, was very good for her ego, even if he was a serious threat to her heart.

  “Maybe we had better go out for dinner now,” Perry said, his voice little more than a rough growl.

  She smiled and shook her head, appreciating the offer even as she rejected it. “I have a better idea. Let’s go to my bedroom.”

  His eyes glinted. “You’re sure? Because if you aren’t, there isn’t any hurry. As much as I want to make love with you, I don’t want you to have any regrets. We have plenty of time to...”

  “Perry.” She interrupted him with a smile, seduced all over again by the hint of uncertainty in his voice. “Thank you for your concern, but I’m a big girl. I know what I’m doing.”

  He didn’t need any further persuasion. “In that case,” he said, “show me the bedroom.”

  She smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Kristin had given serious consideration to the decoration of her bedroom. She’d spent hours selecting the perfect furnishings and accessories, fabrics and colors. If Perry noticed one detail of her decor, she would have been surprised. He never looked away from her face as they tumbled to the bed.

  It was almost unnerving how intensely he focused on her. She doubted that he missed the slightest nuance of her expressions as he watched her face for reactions to the delightful things he did to her. He seemed intent on memorizing every inch of her as he slowly but efficiently stripped away her clothing. She couldn’t imagine that there could be anyone else in his mind as he made love to her, murmuring her name, concentrating on pleasing her.

  Within minutes he had her writhing beneath him, panting for air, aching for more. His name escaped her on a startled cry when he slipped his hand between them to take her even higher. There was certainly no other man in her mind by the time he finally gave in to her broken pleas and thrust inside her, after swiftly donning the protection she had provided from her nightstand.

  She wrapped her arms and legs around him, wishing she would never have to let go, but knowing that was only a fantasy. And yet; she thought, kissing him deeply, what better time for fantasy than when Perry was in her arms?

  The end was hot and fast and frantic, drawing broken cries from both of them. Before the echoes faded completely away, Perry was moving again, rolling so that she was draped on top of him. His hands on her hips guided her, giving her support until she’d regained enough strength to take over. And then she was the one in charge, making him arch and groan until he gasped in release. Only then did Kristin allow herself to climax again, giving in to the deep contractions that rocked through her. She collapsed onto Perry’s chest, surprised to find that her cheeks were wet with tears of joy and pleasure.

  No man had ever made her cry during lovemaking. No man had ever made love to her so thoroughly. So spectacularly. So perfectly.

  Somewhere deep inside her, a worried little voice asked if any other man would ever make her feel this way again. She silenced that voice quickly, not wanting to spoil this moment.

  She wanted to enjoy the fantasy just a little longer.

  Perry snuggled her into his shoulder and stroked her damp hair away from her face. “Rest for now, sweetheart,” he murmured. “We’ll talk later.”

  Rest. That sounded like a wonderful idea. Kristin closed her eyes and nestled more deeply against him, soaking in his warmth like a lazy cat lying in the sun. She fell asleep with a purr of pleasure and a smile that felt distinctly feline even to her.

  9

  WHEN KRISTIN woke, she was in the bed alone. The house seemed quiet and empty. Deep shadows in the room indicated that she’d slept for at least a couple of hours. She stretched, mildly surprised when long-unused muscles protested the movement. Something felt different about her right wrist. She held it up, then laughed ruefully when she saw the gold bracelet there. The diamonds that decorated the tiny horseshoe glinted in the low light coming through the lace curtains.

  Perry, she thought, was incorrigible. But, oh, was he good, she mused with a sultry smile.

  She wondered where he had gone. If he was in the house, he was certainly being quiet. She reached for the short, red satin robe she had left lying on the vanity chair near the bed and tied it around her. Combing her hair with her fingers until it lay fairly smoothly around her shoulders, she left the bedroom in search of Perry.

  She came to a sudden stop in the doorway to her dining room, wondering for a moment if she was still sleeping. Still dreaming.

  A centerpiece of fresh-cut flowers and tall, creamy tapers sat in the middle of her table. The table was set for two with china, silver and crystal from her china cabinet. The smell of something wonderfully appetizing wafted from the kitchen.

  “Perry?” she said uncertainly.

  He appeared in the doorway, his hair tumbled, shirtsleeves rolled up on his forearms, a smudge of something white on the right leg of his dark slacks. “Did you have a nice nap?” he asked, as if there was nothing at all unusual about his having set her table while she slept.

  “Yes...um, what are you doing?”

  “I’ve made dinner. I hope you don’t mind that I’ve been puttering around in your kitchen.”

  “You made dinner?” she repeated, her mind still a bit slow from sex, sleep and surprise.

  He grinned and nodded. “I hope it’s edible.”

  She looked at the table again, at the flowers and candles waiting for a romantic meal for two. “I can’t believe you did this.”

  His left eyebrow rose. “You don’t like it?”

  “I love it,” she answered simply.

  His smile returned. “Then sit down and let me serve you.”
He leaned over to light the tapers, then dimmed the chandelier to leave the room bathed in candlelight.

  Kristin looked down at the short robe that was all she wore, aware of her bare legs and pillow-tousled hair. “Maybe I should get dressed.”

  “Don’t go to all that trouble for my sake,” he replied, holding a chair for her, his gaze lingering for a flattering length of time on her legs.

  Smiling almost shyly at him, she sat down, arranging her robe around her thighs. After Perry made sure she was comfortably settled, he stepped toward the door of the kitchen. “I’ll be right back.”

  He returned carrying the bottle of wine she’d had chilling in her refrigerator. With a flourish, he presented it to her and poured it into their glasses when she giggled and nodded approval. He then returned to the kitchen, reappearing with bowls of crisp green salads sprinkled with grated carrots and glistening with a light coating of vinegar and oil. He set her salad in front of her, then took his seat.

  “This is very good,” Kristin assured him after taking her first bite.

  He chuckled. “Even I can’t mess up a salad. At least I hope not. I haven’t tasted it yet.”

  The salad, it turned out, was fine. Delicious, in fact. Of course, Kristin was so touched by all the trouble he’d gone to that she would have liked whatever he offered her.

  He looked a bit more nervous when he brought in the main course. “I’ve practiced cooking a couple of times since our lesson, but I’m still pretty new at this. Don’t feel you have to be polite if you don’t care for it.”

  She smiled when she looked at the plate. “Linguini with pesto sauce? Perry, this looks wonderfull.”

  “I brought fresh basil and pine nuts with me,” he admitted. “I wasn’t sure you’d have any.”

  She’d had both on hand, but she thought it was sweet that he’d planned ahead to do this for her. She deftly twirled a forkful of linguini and lifted it to her mouth. Perry watched anxiously as she tasted. “Well?” he asked.

  “Delicious,” she assured him with total honesty. “Where did you find the recipe?”

  “My oldest sister gave it to me. She said it was easy enough for even a chump like me to pull off. And, by the way, she can’t wait to meet you. She said any woman who could entice me into the kitchen had to be someone special.”

  Kristin nearly choked on the pasta she’d just swallowed. Perry had been discussing her with his family? His sister wanted to meet her?

  She wasn’t ready for this at all.

  He seemed to read her thoughts in her expression. For a moment, his face darkened, then he deliberately lightened it with a smile. “More wine?”

  She nodded, deciding not to respond to the comment about his sister.

  They lingered a long time over the meal, talking quietly, laughing softly, enjoying the food and the company. Kristin still couldn’t believe Perry had gone to so much trouble on her behalf. No man had ever prepared a meal for her, if she didn’t count an occasional steak or burger cooked on a grill. The flowers and candles were a particularly sweet touch—a gesture that was so typical of Perry. She wondered how he had managed to get everything here without her knowledge. Had he even brought the flowers with him? If so, she was impressed that he had managed to keep everything so fresh and pretty.

  During the meal, Kristin put his unsettling comment about his sister out of her mind, telling herself he’d only been making conversation. Perry was surely no more prepared for a serious, meet-the-families relationship than she was. The step they had taken that day was dramatic enough. Every once in a while, the intimacy they had shared simmered between them, causing them to stop speaking in midsentence, their gazes locking across the table, forks suspended in midair. And then one of them would look away, breaking the moment, and everything would be comfortable again.

  When their plates were empty, Perry suggested that they move to the living room. He’d brought dessert, but they agreed to wait a little while before eating it. They carried their refilled wineglasses into the other room, where Perry again dimmed the lights and then touched a button on her CD player. Apparently, he’d preloaded it with blatantly seductive music. Kristin almost groaned when Ella Fitzgerald began to croon, “Isn’t it romantic.”

  If Perry was trying to guarantee that she would never forget a moment of this magical evening, he was certainly succeeding. When he drew her into his arms and began to sway in time to the music, she wondered if she would forever compare every other interlude with this one.

  He placed her hands on his shoulders and slid his own lingeringly down the sides of her satin robe, shaping her curves through the thin, slick fabric. She might as well have been wearing nothing at all from the way she reacted to him.

  Perry rested his cheek against her hair, leading her into a slow turn. “I love dancing with you,” he murmured. “You feel so good in my arms.”

  She smiled and stroked her hand over his broad shoulder. “I would accuse you of trying to seduce me, but you already have.”

  “I’m not trying to seduce you. I’m simply enjoying you.”

  She sighed. “You’re seducing me, anyway.”

  He chuckled a bit gruffly. “I would have said it was the other way around.”

  Kristin rather liked hearing that. She pressed a bit closer to him, letting her unbound breasts brush against his chest. His eyes darkened. His voice was half an octave deeper when he spoke again. “You’re a wicked woman, Kristin Cole.”

  “I’m not, really,” she admitted. “But it feels good to be wicked every once in a while.”

  “Does it?”

  She pressed a kiss to his throat. “Yes.”

  He lifted her face to look up at him. “Feel free to be as wicked with me as you like,” he offered gravely.

  She laughed and snapped her teeth in a mock bite. “You might be sorry you said that.”

  “I’m a big boy,” he said, paraphrasing her earlier words. “I know what I’m doing.”

  Pressing closer, she felt him harden against her. “Yes,” she murmured. “You certainly are a big boy.”

  His laugh was choked. “Definitely wicked,” he muttered, sliding his hands to her hips.

  Their feet were barely moving now, their bodies swaying slowly in rhythm with the sultry music. Perry lowered his head to brush his lips across her nose. “The cutest nose I’ve ever seen.”

  His compliments on her nose amused her. She might have expected him to try to woo her with flowery words about her eyes or her skin. Her lips, maybe. But her very ordinary nose?

  “I like your dimples,” she confessed. “I noticed them while you were on stage in New York.”

  “These dimples were the bane of my youth. You wouldn’t believe how much teasing I endured because of them.”

  “Mmm.” Tongue in cheek, she studied his handsome face. “I’ll bet they haven’t been such a handicap since you passed puberty.”

  The endearing slashes deepened. “There have been times when they came in handy.”

  “I’ll just bet they have.” For some reason, she found herself thinking of Jennifer, the beautiful woman she’d met at the fund-raiser ball—the one she’d sensed had been intimately involved with Perry in the past. But how intimately involved? And how far in the past? Two questions she didn’t even want to ponder just now.

  He lowered his head to kiss her again. “If my dimples were what made you bid on me during that bachelor auction, then I’ll always be grateful for them.”

  Putting all thoughts of anyone else out of her mind, Kristin wrapped her arms around Perry’s neck and pressed fully against him, removing whatever minute distance that might have remained between them. A detached part of her mind noted that a new song was playing—Linda Rondstadt’s version of “What’ll I Do?”

  “What will I do when you’re gone?” the song lyrics inquired. And that was something else Kristin didn’t want to think about.

  She drew back and took his hand. “I’m ready for dessert now,” she said huskily.
>
  “I brought chocolate cake.”

  She shook her head and allowed the sash of her robe to loosen, revealing more than a glimpse of the skin beneath. “That wasn’t what I had in mind.”

  Before she knew quite how it happened, Kristin found herself swept off her feet, held high in Perry’s arms. “Then allow me to make an alternate suggestion,” he said, already moving toward the bedroom.

  Laughing and clutching his shoulders, she was quite certain that whatever he suggested would be more than satisfactory.

  “OPEN YOUR MOUTH.”

  In response to Perry’s instruction, Kristin parted her lips. She closed her eyes with a moan of appreciation when he slid a piece of sinfully rich chocolate cake into her mouth. They sat cross-legged on her bed, a plate of cake between them, the only light in the room coming from the candles flickering on the twin nightstands. Kristin wore nothing but a sheet and the horseshoe bracelet. Perry had on a pair of dark blue boxer shorts—and looked spectacular in them.

  Kristin had no idea what time it was. She knew only that it was sometime after midnight. She had no interest in looking at a clock. The hours that had passed since Perry arrived on her doorstep had been the most blatantly sensual interlude Kristin had ever experienced, and she wanted nothing, including time, to intrude on them.

  “You have chocolate on your face,” he informed her, leaning closer.

  She started to reach up to wipe it away, but he caught her hand. “I’ll get it,” he murmured.

  He touched his tongue to the corner of her mouth. And that quickly, as incredible as it was, she wanted him again.

  She shook her head slowly. “Why do I feel as though you’ve waged a very careful campaign to get me here, like this?” Completely unable to resist him.

  He chuckled, amused by her wording. “Maybe I have. I’m very good at campaigning.”

  “So I’ve heard. It seems to be a special talent of yours.” And one that worried her a great deal, she could have added.

  He lifted one sleek, bare shoulder, the sinuous movement only making her want him more. “I like a challenge,” he murmured. “And I don’t like to lose. And I’m especially tenacious when the outcome is of personal importance to me. You,” he added with a smile that was so endearingly sweet her heart melted, “are important to me.”