His eyelids fluttered open. “Is that something I can help you with?”
“We should definitely explore that possibility.” Releasing him, she placed a hand flat against his chest and gave him a not-so-gentle nudge. “Bed. Now.”
Inching backward, he raised both eyebrows. “Who are you, and what have you done with my wife?”
“Keep moving.”
“What the hell happened while I was out there working my fingers to the bone every night?”
The backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress. She gave him another shove, and he sat down hard. She followed him, knelt astride him and took his face between her hands. He tilted his head and they studied each other by flickering candlelight. “Hey, there, handsome,” she said tenderly.
His hands settled on her bare rump, and his beautiful green eyes went all soft and melty. “Hey, there, my gorgeous, spectacular woman.”
“I missed you so much.”
He gave her one of those grins, the kind that melted her all the way to the marrow. “How much?” he said.
She moved her hips closer and, eyes locked with his, aligned their bodies precisely. “This much,” she said, and lowered herself onto his sleek, hot hardness.
He groaned, and she let out a raw, exultant cry. She’d needed this so bad. “Oh, Flash,” she breathed.
He thrust into her, slow and deliberate. “You like this?” he whispered.
“Oh, yes.”
“More?”
“Yes.” The word floated out of her like a prayer.
“Tell me what you want. Anything you want, it’s yours.”
“Everything,” she said. “I want everyth—ohmigod.”
Hoarsely, he said, “Babe?”
“What?”
“Wrap your legs around me.”
Still on her knees, she pondered the logistics. He solved her dilemma by withdrawing. “No!” she protested. “Come back!”
“It’s okay. Just hang on. Watch the shoes, they’re deadly.” Together, they managed the awkward rearrangement of limbs, until her feet, still in the four-inch heels, were planted on either side of his hips. He came back to her then, filled her slowly, exquisitely, deeply. Wrapped his hands around her ankles. “I could get used to this,” he said.
She let out a burst of laughter. “Oh,” he said. “You think it’s funny?”
“Not us. The shoes.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You mean you didn’t know it was the shoes that turned me on?”
“Are you saying that I might as well not be here, MacKenzie?”
“Well…I don’t think I’d go that far.”
She brushed a single curl away from his face. “My lunatic.”
He kissed her knuckles. “Better fasten your seatbelt, woman. Because—” He pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of her mouth. “—we are going for a ride. You, me—” He kissed her bare shoulder, sending a shudder through her. “—and those shoes.”
The playfulness fled as, arms locked around his neck, knees gripping his hips, she followed where he led her. Fluid and boneless, she rose and fell to his rhythm, worshiping that hot, slick, hard part of him that hammered relentlessly in and out of her. There was no world but him, nothing but his hot breath upon her face, nothing but those narrow hips driving her to a place beyond the boundaries of her mind. In some part of her, she was vaguely aware of the harsh, guttural sounds emanating from both of them, of her shock at the knowledge that those noises were coming from her own throat. Intensely aware that the sounds he was making excited her beyond belief. Shuddering, sobbing, gasping, beyond speech, beyond control, she closed her eyes, let her head fall back, and chased the rapture.
It didn’t take long. They exploded together in a hot, frantic, sticky, screaming conflagration. Held each other, breathless, through the aftershocks. He fell back against the bed, gasping and barely coherent. “Holy mother of God, woman,” he croaked. “Now that I’ve seen the kind of welcome home I get, I might have to leave more often.”
“Over my dead body.”
“And what a godawful shame that would be.” His hands roamed over her naked rump, found a comfortable spot, and stayed there. “We’ll be keeping this body alive and kicking for a long, long time.”
She wiggled around, rearranged her legs again, careful not to impale him with those four-inch stiletto heels. Finally found her sweet spot, and pressed her head against his shoulder. Brushing the hair back from her face, she said, “I’ll have you know that I bought the most beautiful red lace panties I’ve ever seen. Do you have any idea how far outside my comfort zone that is? I’ve never worn red lace in my life. But I wore them for you. And you stripped them off me in the kitchen, for God’s sake. In the dark! It was a complete waste of money.”
His fingers tickled her backside. “Ah, baby, I’m sorry. I’m an animal.”
“Yes, you are, MacKenzie. You’re a barbarian. A cave man. But you’re my cave man, so I suppose I’ll have to keep you.”
“Sixty years. That was the deal.”
“I really have to put up with fifty-nine more years of this?”
“You didn’t read the fine print on the contract?”
“Oh, I read it. I’m just having trouble believing I agreed to it. And the dress! I bought that for you, too, and now it’s just cast aside and forgotten.”
“Cast aside, but definitely not forgotten. Maybe you should rescue it. While you’re at it, you can model those red lace panties for me.”
“And get you all hot and bothered again?”
“Hey, we have six weeks of lost time to make up for. This was just round one.”
“Um, babe? We can’t make it all up in one night.”
And he grinned. “Oh, ye of little faith.”
She considered his words at length. Finally said, “Round one?”
“It’s been six weeks. We had to get the screaming out of the way. Round two will be a lot quieter. And a lot slower.”
“I have to admit that I’m intrigued. Tell me more.”
“Try those panties on, and I’ll show you.”
She leaned forward, gave him a long, slow kiss. Carefully disengaged and slithered down his body until her feet hit the floor. While he watched with hungry eyes, she bent and picked up the dress. Shook the wrinkles out of it and lay it across a chair. When she looked back at him, he was lying on one hip, elbow propped on the mattress, chin in hand, eyes focused on her.
Grinning like a fool.
She must have been prodded by some internal devil she wasn’t aware of, because what she did next was so out of character that the nice girl, the one she’d been all her life, was mildly scandalized by her actions. But there was a measure of wildness in him that called out to and connected with a corresponding wildness in her that she hadn’t even known existed until he found it buried somewhere inside her and dragged it out into the light of day.
Standing before him in those ridiculous heels, legs braced apart and as naked as the day she was born, she swept back the hair from her face, wrapped both arms around her head, and began a loose, shimmying dance.
“Lift your hair,” he said hoarsely. “Up over your head.”
She gathered it, twisted it, held it atop her head. “Like this?”
“Keep on dancing. Oh, yeah. Now just let it fall. Oh, baby.”
“Oh, baby, what?”
“Oh, baby, you are one hot, sexy bitch.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Did you just call me a bitch, MacKenzie?”
“I called you a sexy bitch, Fiore. Whole different ball game.”
“Good thing you clarified that, because I was really looking forward to round two.”
“Me, too. What about the panties?”
She gave him a wicked grin, came back to the bed and knelt, straddling his legs. Crawled on hands and knees until she reached the place where her hair fell in a dark curtain around his face. She lowered her head until her mouth was so close to his that their breaths mingled and became a single enti
ty.
And said, “Screw the panties.”
Rob
Illuminated by soft morning light, she slept face down, this stranger in his bed, this woman who looked like his wife but was almost certainly a doppelganger. Puzzled, he buried his nose in the dark cloud of hair and took a whiff. She smelled like his wife. Sweeping aside her hair, he pressed a damp kiss to the back of her slender neck, touched her warm skin with the tip of his tongue. She tasted like his wife. He studied the way the hair grew in a soft whorl at her nape, her skin pale beneath the dark hair because it never saw the light of day. Last night had been amazing. Stupendous. Phenomenal. Except that none of those words came close. He wasn’t sure the right word had yet been invented.
Who was this lush and lusty alien, and what had she done with the sweet and decorous woman he’d married? Last night, when she’d danced for him wearing nothing but a pair of red high-heel shoes and a smile, his heart had nearly stopped. The woman he’d known so well for two decades would never do that. She was far too repressed, far too shy, to ever flaunt her body that way.
After all, this was the same woman who, when they first got together, had been sleeping in a plain white cotton nightgown that looked like something his mother would wear. Because he hadn’t owned a pair of pajamas since he was twelve, he’d laughed at her when she said, “But what if the house catches fire in the middle of the night?”
“If the house catches fire in the middle of the night, Fiore,” he’d told her, “your local volunteer firemen seeing you in your birthday suit will be the least of your worries.”
That had been the end of the cotton nightgown.
He slowly drew the bedding down to give himself a better view of the body he knew so well he could have mapped it in his sleep. It was all here, just as it should be. Every bump and dip, every line and curve, every blemish, every scar, every tiny freckle and mole, were all in their rightful places. Either the doppelganger was identical in every way, or this truly was his wife.
What the hell had happened while he’d been away?
He pressed another kiss to the center of her spine, between her shoulder blades, and she made a soft sound that might have been approval, might have been protest. He worked his way slowly southward, one knobby little vertebra at a time. When he reached the base of her spine, he paused to admire her sweet little tush before placing a kiss on one rounded cheek.
She made the sound again. This time, he was pretty sure it signaled approval. He opened his mouth and took a gentle nibble. Brushed his whiskers across her tender flesh. She rolled up on one hip, giving him access to a plethora of goodies. He rained a trail of kisses across her silky hip, up her groin to her navel, bestowing special attention on her concave little belly. Her hands, those wonderful, magical hands, tangled themselves in his hair. He worked his way northward, tasted first one breast and then the other.
In a groggy voice, she said, “You need a shave, MacKenzie.”
“Good morning to you, too.”
One slender hand trailed fingertips down his cheek, across his shoulder, his collarbone, down the center of his chest. The hand settled there, fingers threaded in his chest hair, and he abandoned his doppelganger theory. This was definitely his wife. In the dim light, their eyes met, and they studied each other somberly. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
Something had changed between them, but the when and the how and the why escaped him. Her eyes gave nothing away, but she was sending out the weirdest vibes, and he couldn’t decipher them. Couldn’t figure out what was going on. But considering last night, this couldn’t be bad…could it?
With a single finger, she traced the outline of his lower lip. Leaned forward and kissed him.
It felt like relief running through him, but again, he couldn’t be sure. The sweet, tender kiss quickly turned heated. His heart racing, he moved his hand from her hip, slid it between her thighs, and moved it northward.
And there was a soft knock on the door.
They looked at each other, both of them startled. Timing, he thought. It was everything. Reluctantly, he removed his hand. Casey drew up the covers until they were both decent, and said, “Come in.”
The door opened, and his daughter stuck her head into the room. “I’m sorry if I woke you,” she said. “But I made breakfast. For all of us.”
Jesus Christ on a Popsicle stick. Who the hell was this kid? What had Casey done to her while he was gone? He must have woke up in the Twilight Zone.
“Aw, honey, that was sweet of you,” Casey said, and nudged him under the covers. “Babe? Wasn’t that sweet?”
“Yeah. Absolutely. Of course.”
Another surprise. He was really happy to see the kid. Her timing was abysmal, but after six weeks away, he was surprised by how glad he was to see her. “Hey,” his daughter greeted him.
“Hey.”
“Just give us five minutes,” Casey said, “and we’ll be down.”
Paige eyed him speculatively, then nodded at Casey. “Okay,” she said.
She shut the door, and his wife rolled away from him. Reaching out to stop her, he said, “Who was that kid? And where do you think you’re going?”
But it was too late. She was already out of bed, already in her robe, already pulling her hair free and tying her belt. “I told you she just needed the right kind of attention. And where do you think I’m going? You heard her. Breakfast is ready.”
“Just when things were getting interesting.”
“Oh, stop sulking. Didn’t you get enough ‘interesting’ last night?”
“I never get enough of you.”
She moved to the closet, opened the door, studied her options. Took out a pair of pants and a shirt. “I’m quite certain the opportunity will arise again.”
He threw back the covers and reached for his jeans, the ones he’d left on the floor last night. Yanking them on, he said, “Opportunity isn’t the only thing that’ll rise.”
He watched with great interest as she took the red lace panties from the dresser and pulled them on beneath the robe. “You’re relentless,” she said, dropping her robe on the chair. “Sex and food, food and sex. No imagination at all.”
“That’s me. One hundred percent cave man.” While he watched, she pulled on her jeans and slipped into a peach-colored silk brassiere.
“Maybe,” she said, fiddling with the clasp, “I should start putting saltpeter in your food.”
“Hah! That’s a myth. Doesn’t really work. Besides, it seems to me that—” He crossed to the bureau, opened a drawer, pulled out a clean tee shirt, and yanked it over his head. “—last night, you were the one who almost ripped my clothes off.” When he looked at his wife again, she was fully dressed, standing in front of the mirror over the dresser, brushing her hair with brisk strokes. “I could help you with that.”
“Not if we want to get to breakfast anytime soon.”
“Well, then, little lady—” He crossed the room, drew back a hand and gave her a hard swat on the rump. “Let’s get going. Breakfast awaits.”
She dropped the brush, turned and gave him the Death Stare, cold enough to freeze his manhood on the spot. Her eyes ablaze and her hands curled into fists, she said, “You are in so much trouble, MacKenzie.”
She advanced on him and he grinned, raised both hands, palms outward, and began backing away. “Mea culpa. I plead the Fifth! I don’t know what came over me.”
“I’ll be happy to give you a preview of what’s about to come over you.”
Still backing away, he said, “I couldn’t resist. You’re just so damn—” His back hit the wall. He was trapped, with nowhere left to go. “—adorable.”
She drew back an arm, and he prepared to be annihilated. The woman had a mean right hook. Then something changed in her eyes. With a sly smile, she relaxed the fist. Moved closer. Instead of hitting him, she slipped a hand between his thighs. Turned it, slid it northward, cupped and stroked him.
And he nearly swallowed his tongue
.
Her smile was evil. “Easy,” she said, removing her hand and shaking her head. “Men. You’re all just so damn easy.”
Pole-axed, he watched her walk to the door. Who the hell was this woman? His glance fell on the red shoes, carelessly discarded on the floor by the bed, then returned to her retreating back. She disappeared down the hall. A moment later, he heard the bathroom door shut.
He cast another suspicious glance at the shoes. Took in a hard, shuddering breath. And said weakly, “Well. Damn.”
***
The scrambled eggs weren’t bad, as long as he didn’t mind the occasional crunchy piece of egg shell mixed in. “Great breakfast, kiddo,” he said, setting his knife and fork on his empty plate. Paige shrugged, but if he wasn’t totally misinterpreting her expression, she seemed pleased.
“We’ve been cooking together,” Casey said. “Paige is a fast learner.”
“I can see that.”
His daughter rolled her eyes a little, but accepted the praise. “So,” he said, “I hear you made a visit to Casa MacKenzie. How’d that go?”
“I like your mother,” the kid said. “She’s nice.”
“She is nice, my mother. As long as you don’t cross her. Soft as a marshmallow on the outside. A steel rod in place of a spine on the inside. A lot like this one here.” He nodded in Casey’s direction. Paige glanced at her stepmother, shrugged again, but a soft smile played at the corners of her mouth. “Do me a favor,” he said.
Paige glanced up, saw him looking at her. “Me?”
“You. See those two guitar cases in the corner? Go get the black one.”
She glanced at him, at Casey, then shrugged. Got up from her chair, lifted the case, returned to the table. “Sit,” he said. “Open it. Check it out.”
Without speaking, she undid the latches, flipped open the lid, and stared at the polished black acoustic guitar inside. “Nice,” she said.
“Try it out. Listen to that rich timbre.”
His daughter carefully removed the guitar from its case, propped it on her lap, wrapped her fingers around the neck and played a couple of chords. Glanced at him, not even bothering to try to hide the delight on her face. “Sweet,” she said.
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