by Leanne Banks
His mother widened her eyes. “Oh, I've always loved a garden. Reginald could tell you that.”
“Did Michael ever help you in the garden?” Katie asked.
She chuckled. “He would rather build things, but he liked to play in the sprinklers when the groundskeeper turned them on. It didn't matter what clothes he was wearing. Do you remember that, Michael?”
She'd called him by his name. It took him by such surprise that he didn't say anything for a second. He nodded. “I remember your rosebushes. Didn't you win a lot of ribbons for them with the garden club?”
His mother nodded. “Every year it seemed.” Her brow knitted with a frown. “Until I came here.” Her gaze grew hazy. “I miss gardening.” She looked at Michael. “I've missed you so much, Reginald.”
He tensed. In and out. Lucid and not. Hide and seek. He could barely remember a time when she hadn't confused him with his father. He could never remember a time when he hadn't hated it. He felt Katie take his hand and he looked at her. There wasn't pity in her eyes, instead an affirmation that she knew who he was. For the first time in years, something inside him eased.
“I'm sure you're proud of how hard your son works,” Katie said.
His mother nodded. “He's always been industrious. He liked computer games. His father—” She broke off as if confused. “His father didn't.” She sighed. “I wish I didn't feel so tired. Will you come to see me again soon?”
“I will,” he said, then leaned toward her and kissed her forehead.
“It's so good to see you, Reginald.”
Michael sighed. “Good night, Mother.”
“Good night, Mrs. Wingate. It was nice to meet you.”
“Come again.”
Katie held his hand as they left the room. She held it while they rode the elevator down to the main floor, and she didn't let go until they reached his car. He got in and was ready to turn on Aerosmith at one hundred decibels, but she stopped him.
“You know why she calls you by your father's name, don't you?” Katie asked.
“She wishes he were still alive.”
“Yeah, but it's more than that. You are the man she wishes your father could have been.”
“She is delusional.”
“But she remembered what you were like as a child. She remembered the difference between you and your father. She looks at you and wishes.”
After all the years of dealing with his mother's instability, it shouldn't have made sense, but it resonated inside him. “How do you know I'm not like my father?”
“Was he charming?” she asked, taking him off guard.
“Yeah,” he admitted.
“You're not,” she said with a smile. He could have been insulted, but the smile prevented it. “You don't have time to be charming. You're too busy being responsible and strong.”
At that moment, he wanted her so bad he could howl with the need. She had no idea how significant it was that she had come with him to visit his mother and taken the situation in stride in her compassionate way. “I wish you'd brought that damn condom you swiped from my stash.”
Her eyes darkened with the same need he felt and the air in the car thickened in an instant. “I wish I had too. I left it in my purse at the house.”
His heart cranked into overdrive. She was ready for him. He was always ready for her. And he didn't have a damn condom. And he'd promised her he wouldn't take her again without protection. He wouldn't die from it, he told himself. He just felt like he would.
“Would you let me kiss you?” she asked, her voice husky and her eyes full of something that made him feel hot and bothered.
Her kiss would only make it worse.
“The more forbidden the candy, the more you want to eat it.”
—SUNNY COLLINS'S WISDOM
Chapter 20
“Yeah,” Michael said, leaning toward her, and she lifted her mouth to his. Her lips were warm, but her breath was cool from the peppermint she'd chewed just moments ago. Lifting her fingers to cradle the sides of his cheeks, she slid her tongue over his. He liked the way she held his face, as if he were important to her. He liked the way her breasts pressed against his chest, as if she wanted to be closer. She tasted like everything he'd ever wanted and needed, but had spent his life not knowing it. He felt the slow beat of his need pounding through his blood. It was arousal and something more.
Her tongue tangled and teased, her mouth tugged at his lower lip. He plunged his fingers into her silky hair and wanted to sink inside her skin, into her lungs and heart. But skin was as close as he could get, and even that was difficult in the car.
“Damn console,” he muttered, pushing his seat back as far as it would go, and pulling her over him so that she straddled him.
Her breasts rubbed his chest while she undulated over the part of him that she had already made rock hard. The air in the car turned hot. He slid his hands beneath her shirt to cup her breasts and she moaned, pressing into him.
There was something tender yet primal about the way she kissed him, and the strange, growing connection he felt with her wrapped around him like a silken cord. He rubbed his thumbs over her tight nipples and she shifted restlessly over him, driving him farther and farther from sanity with each little movement. He slid one of his hands down to touch her thigh, then inside her panties to where she was wet for him. She suckled his tongue deep into her mouth.
She made him so hot he felt as if his brains were sizzling inside his head. Before he could tell her they needed to slow down, she slipped one of her hands inside his slacks.
Michael thought he might explode.
He pulled his mouth from hers and opened his mouth to tell her something that he completely forgot when she wrapped her hand around him and began to stroke.
Her breath whispered over his cheek. “Why isn't anything close enough?” she whispered, with the same gnawing desperation he fell. “Why?” She gave him a French kiss that belied her lack of experience and he felt her tug at the buttons on his shirt. Her open mouth slid over his throat tasting his pulse, cranking up the drumbeat of need pounding in his head. She made him forget everything but her.
She flowed down him like a warm breeze and suddenly her mouth was suspended mere inches from him.
Michael's heart stopped.
Her eyes dark with passion and a desperate need to give, she looked into his eyes, then her gaze skittered down his torso. “I don't-really-know-how,” she said in a husky voice that tied him in knots as she moved millimeters closer.
In an instant, her mouth replaced her hand. She kissed him intimately. Her lips were untutored, but eager, and the erotic sight and sensation of her mouth made him sweat. When she took more of him deeper into her mouth, Michael nearly lost it.
Three long wet strokes from her tongue and lips and he pulled away from her.
She looked up at him in sexy confusion, her hair in disarray, her lips swollen. “I didn't do it right?”
He shook his head, still close to the edge. “Too right.”
Skimming up his body, she took him in her hand again and French-kissed him and sent him over the top. Still shuddering from the intensity of his climax, he sank his fingers into her hair and pulled her mouth against his. He wanted to drink her, consume her, get inside her, and claim her. The power of his need made him shudder again.
He pulled back and sucked in a long draft of air. Looking into her eyes, he felt himself sinking and swore. He swore, rubbing his hand through his hair. He didn't feel embarrassed, but he sure as hell felt naked. It didn't make a damn bit of sense because although his fly and shirt were only loosened, he felt as if she could see straight through to the core of him. And he wasn't sure if he liked it.
Reaching past her to the glove compartment, he grabbed a few napkins he kept inside and handed them to her. “Okay, I have intimate knowledge of your lack of experience, so I know this isn't something you've done before. You said you wanted to be a friend to me. Why in hell did you—”
; “Was I that bad?”
Michael rolled his eyes. “I think the result speaks for itself.” He lowered his head so that they were eyeball to eyeball. “Why?”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “Isn't this one of those instances where if you liked it, you can just say thank-you-very-much?”
The woman was going to send him back into Liberty Mental Health Facility seeking his own treatment. “I want to know why?”
She lifted one of her shoulders. “I wanted to?”
Michael waited, knowing there was more.
“I was…curious.”
He nodded, but still said nothing.
“I just really thought you might need it,” she said bluntly.
He blinked. “Pardon? I needed it.”
“Since I've met you, you've seemed very tense. And tonight after we visited your mother, you held my hand so tightly.” She paused a half beat, then lifted her chin. “I didn't force you to accept my…attention.”
He couldn't hold back a burst of laughter. “No. You didn't force me. What am I going to do with you?” He tucked her head against his chest and kissed the top of it. “I want you in my bed.”
She sighed. “The walls in that house have ears and I don't want Ivan to know. He would find some way to hold it over me or you.”
Michael didn't like it, but he agreed. “I won't be sleeping at the Rasmussen house much longer. Neither will you.”
“It could get complicated.”
His heart twisted at her measured retreat. “Are you saying I'm only good for a quickie or a good time in the car?”
She glanced up at him in surprise. “Are you joking?”
“Yes,” he said, but something inside him felt tight and uncomfortable. “And no.”
The color of her eyes changed colors like a sea of emotions. “You have a goal. You have a mission,” she said with a wry smile. “I would get in your way.”
His gut twisted. “I'll be the judge of that.”
“Your judgment is impaired.”
“Why?”
“Because you just got a blow job,” she said with a sexy smile intended to distract.
He allowed it, for now. “That I did,” he said and kissed the wonderfully wicked mouth that had brought him such pleasure.
“Chantal is sick.”
Katie took a long look at Wilhemina and noted the drawn look on her face and her pale skin. “How are you feeling?”
Wilhemina gave a halfhearted shrug. “For the first time in my life, I'm not interested in pie. Is that what romance does to a woman? Makes her not care about pie?”
Katie smiled and put her hand around Wilhemina's shoulders. “I'm sure it depends on the woman. Why do you think Chantal is sick?”
“Well, look at her. She looks so puny.”
Michael strode into the parlor and Katie's heart skipped a beat. He looked at her as if they shared a secret. He looked at her a little too long in her estimation, since she suddenly had difficulty breathing. She cleared her throat.
“Wilhemina says Chantal is sick. She says she looks puny.”
He glanced at the cat and then lifted a brow. Katie covered a smile. She knew exactly what he was thinking.
“Chantal always looks puny,” he said.
“But she really does look worse than usual.”
“Hard to imagine,” he muttered under his breath. “Do you think you should take her to the vet?”
“Daddy would,” Wilhemina said. “To him, she's an investment, not a pet.”
“Okay, let me know when you get an appointment and Katie and I will take you.” He glanced at Katie. “Have you two discussed the invitations that came in during Wilhemina's absence?”
Katie gave a quick shake of her head. “Wilhemina is still recovering from the trip. I don't think she's ready for social appearances.”
“I'll never be ready for social appearances in this town,” Wilhemina said flatly. “I've found out that not everyone in this world is as nasty as the people here are, and I refuse to waste my time on the dregs of Philadelphia's elite society.” She left the room in a huff.
“I think it's safe to say I won't be getting the matchmaker bonus for Wilhemina.”
Michael touched her arm. “Sorry.”
She shrugged. “It was a long shot. Not because of Wilhemina,” she said quickly. “But because they don't appreciate her. I hate it that she's hurting, but she's definitely different.”
“No more hats.”
“It's more than that. She's more okay with who she is. I think she's more confident.” She looked at Michael and smiled. “That's not bad.”
“No. But it doesn't pay for Jeremy's school.”
“No. It doesn't, but things could be worse. As long as I keep my job, I can stay one half step in front of the bill collector.”
Wilhemina peeked around the corner with Chantal in her carrier. “The vet says he'll see Chantal right away.”
“Let's go,” Michael said and led the way to his car. He ushered Wilhemina into the backseat and paused before he opened the passenger door for Katie. “You think this is just too funny, don't you?” he asked with a dangerous glint in his eyes.
“You mean because the big, tough security expert has to be concerned about an ugly cat?” She snickered. “Why in the world would I find that amusing?”
“Keep it up, Katie Priss, and I'm going to have to kiss you.”
Katie's heart bumped against her rib cage. What a delicious threat. Except she didn't want anyone at the Rasmussen house knowing there was something between her and Michael, whatever that something was. “In a different circumstance, I would take you up on your offer,” she said and opened her own door and slid inside. When Michael got inside, she avoided his gaze. When he turned on the air conditioner, however, she turned her vent on her cheeks. The man made her hot at the most inconvenient moments.
At the veterinarian, Wilhemina insisted on going into the examination room with Chantal. Katie and Michael sat in the waiting room. The vet decided to do blood work. Finally Wilhemina left the examination room with Chantal cradled in her arms. Katie rose when she saw tears in Wilhemina's eyes. “Uh-oh.”
Michael rose beside her.
“What is it?” Katie asked, feeling a twist of concern at the expression on Wilhemina's face. “Is she going to be okay?”
Wilhemina nodded and beamed with pleasure. “Chantal is pregnant! And the father is Flash.”
Michael made a strangled noise. “Something tells me Flash isn't a purebred Canadian hairless.”
Wilhemina shook her head. “Flash was Douglas's barn cat. Isn't this exciting?”
Katie imagined Ivan's reaction and exchanged glances with Michael. He looked slightly ill. “Exciting,” Katie echoed. “Yes, it's definitely exciting. We should talk about this on the way home, shouldn't we, Michael?”
He nodded and raked his hand through his hair. “Yeah, we definitely should talk about this.”
In the car, Katie cast a worried glance at Michael. A muscle was twitching beneath his right eye. “I think it might be best if we don't mention Chantal's condition to your father for a while,” she said to Wilhemina.
“Why not? The kittens will be so cute.”
“I wonder if they'll have hair,” Michael muttered.
“I think your father was hoping to breed Chantal with another Canadian hairless. He might not be pleased that Chantal has been impregnated by—”
“A fucking barn cat,” Michael finished for her.
“But it's Douglas's cat,” Wilhemina said.
Visions of the gun rack on Douglas's truck swam in Katie's head. “I'm not sure that would make a difference to your father.
“But even Daddy would like kittens,” Wilhemina protested.
“It's about money and status,” Katie said impatiently. “Even with the damn cat.”
Wilhemina turned quiet. “He's that way about me too, isn't he?”
Katie's heart twisted and she turned to look at Wilhemina. “Not with you,” sh
e said, even though Wilhemina's suspicions were at least partly true. Ivan Rasmussen's ego transcended even her imagination.
“You don't think he would do anything to hurt Chantal, do you?”
“I don't think so.”
“But it would be unpleasant.”
“Well, I don't want Chantal put under any extra stress during her pregnancy,” Wilhemina said firmly.
Michael rolled his eyes.
“I wonder if there's another place you could keep her when she gets further along,” Katie mused.
“A home for unwed cats,” Michael said dryly.
Katie threw him a quelling glance. “Do you have any suggestions? Aren't you concerned about how this might affect your contract with Ivan?”
“There's no pregnancy clause. He tried, but I threatened to walk if he was going to put me in charge of birth control for the cat.”
Michael turned onto the street where the Rasmussen house stood proudly at the top of the hill.
“I'm glad we've got a little time before Ivan returns,” Katie said, foreseeing a giant explosion in the making.
“Me too,” Wilhemina said.
Michael swore.
“What is it?” Katie asked, but she saw the reason for Michael's displeasure before he voiced it.
“Ivan's home early.”
Michael managed to hustle them into the back entrance of the house. Eager to avoid answering any questions, Wilhemina took Chantal up the back stairs and secluded herself in her room and Michael retreated to his room. That left Katie to face the lion. Swallowing her nerves, she fixed on her face what she hoped was an expression of surprise, without hysteria.
“Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Rasmussen,” she said as she approached the foyer. “What a lovely surprise. I hope you enjoyed your trip.”
Patricia scowled. “Ivan had an urgent business matter to handle. We left before I got a second day of shopping in Paris.”
“But I'll make it up to you,” Ivan said in an oily placating tone. Katie suspected there was already trouble in paradise. She wondered how long Patricia would last. Ivan turned to Katie and studied her. “Something's different,” he said. “Your hair. You're wearing it down. It looks nice.”
Patricia's nostrils flared as if she were sniffing out a competitor. She narrowed her eyes while her frozen botoxtreated forehead remained smooth. “Yes, you have lovely hair.”