The hat flew across the room, ripping a delighted laugh from her. The suit jacket followed. Before it hit the floor, he reached for his tie. She’d never seen a man move so quickly. In less than ten seconds, he dropped to the edge of the bed to pull off his boots, then peeled off dark socks and rose to his bare feet. The socks, along with his dress slacks, joined the heap of clothes on the floor. Tight, dark blue briefs failed to hide his interest in the game.
He stepped close. “Better?”
Oh, yeah. And oh my!
She dropped her arms to her sides and stared. Gabe Sutton was drool worthy in a thousand-dollar suit or in those ranch duds he sported in his bio picture, but the body the clothes covered belonged on a canvas. Trim, without an ounce of fat, his limbs were cleanly muscled with understated strength. As for the core of his body…marketing teams would kill to use his wide shoulders, broad chest, tapered waist and rippled abs to sell their products.
“Uh-huh,” was the best she could manage.
He grinned and palmed her neck, massaging the tightened tendons until she wanted to purr. “This is me slowing down. Shall we have a drink?”
The purr rumbled up and out of her throat. Her eyes slid shut on a rush of pleasure, and she rolled her head against the pressure of his magical fingers.
“No drink.” Roughened by desire, his words barely registered in her fevered mind.
Pleasure burst into flame as his mouth returned to hers and flesh met flesh. She wasn’t conscious of movement, wasn’t conscious of anything but the press of his muscled body, of his talented mouth sipping at hers. The cool sheets at her back were her first indication she’d left her feet.
When he broke the kiss, she sighed at the loss and opened her eyes. Her dazed mind wasn’t the least bit curious why he was padding across the room to disappear into the bathroom. She simply wanted him to come back. Reality intruded a moment later when he returned from the bathroom with a small box of condoms clutched in his hand.
“I always practice safe sex. Without exception.”
Well, hell. She was glad to see his promise wasn’t just a line, and one of them still had the presence of mind to think of safety.
The shadow of reality faded, blocked out like the light of the bedside lamp by his wide shoulders as he lowered his body over hers. She shivered at the contrast of all that heated skin meeting her bare belly and chest. His hair-roughened thigh slid between hers and his fingers, after peeling away her bra, brought a pleasured gasp when the pad of his thumb brushed the puckered tip of one breast. He repeated the caress, and she arched in greedy response.
Capturing her with his mouth, his low growl of encouragement vibrated against the tightened bud. Tongue swirling and shaping her, he nibbled and tasted, then sucked, hard. She cried out in nearly painful pleasure, squirming beneath him, seared by the current of fire racing through her body in a direct route from breast to groin.
Her fingers skimmed over the smooth planes of his muscled back, tracing the bumped ridge of his spine to the taut mounds of his ass. Diving beneath the waistband of his briefs, her fingers flexed. His warm flesh tightened further in response, and her soft groan matched his deeper one.
The slippery coils of impending climax gathered at her core, and she fought against those first telltale ripples of completion. She sped toward implosion like a roman candle, but wanted him inside her when the first sparks flew.
She whimpered, and he ripped his mouth from hers to brace above her on his forearms. The muscled expanse of his chest rose and fell on ragged breaths. Tension hardened the line of his jaw, and his eyes sizzled with male restraint.
He growled gutturally. “I can’t go slow.”
She grasped at his rock-hard biceps, attempting to drag him back to her. “I don’t want you to. Hurry!”
He rolled away from her, shedding his briefs and tearing into the box of condoms while she shimmied out of her thong. Covered, he returned to her, settled between her thighs, and guided himself home in a single motion. She imploded on a high-pitched cry before he finished the first stroke.
Eyes squeezed shut to keep them from rolling back in her head, a bright kaleidoscope of pleasure broke over her, shattering reality and rocketing her into the heavens. Like the bold flare of fireworks, sharp colors swirled on the backs of her tightly closed lids. The breath caught in her throat while she rode the dizzying spiral until the colors receded, and she floated back to herself on a sigh.
Her eyelids fluttered open to find Gabe’s face inches from hers. Sweat glistened on his forehead. His eyes burned. The muscles of his arms and shoulders bulged with restraint. He held himself still above her, and she realized she’d left him behind to explore paradise while he awaited her return.
Her eyes slid shut and she groaned. “Well, that’s embarrassing.”
“Not from my perspective.” He spoke slowly, his gravel drawl deeper than normal. “Watching you go off so fast, knowing I’m responsible, is about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
She opened her eyes to see the truth in his.
He pressed a kiss to her nose. “Again,” he murmured, and began to move.
With mouth, hands, and body, he rekindled the fire. His kisses sipped, filling her with his taste. His hands stroked and petted, molding her to his will, and his body, rocking against hers, tempted her to follow him back to ecstasy. When the colors spun for a second time, he pumped his hips once, twice, a third time, bucking and throwing back his head on a barked shout as he flew with her.
The muscles of Gabe’s arms, wrecked from the strength of his orgasm, quivered, and he collapsed on top of her. Bellowing with exertion, his lungs drew in breath, puffing out again to flutter the long, blonde strands of hair spread out on the pillow. Her scent, subtle spice and sex, filled his nostrils and sent a renewed rush of blood to his softening erection still sheathed within her. She groaned, and he pushed up onto his elbows.
Long lashes, shades darker than the honey-blonde hair on her head and mound, fluttered open, and her drowsy eyes met his. “I guess we aren’t done?” She yawned and her eyes slid closed once more.
He grinned, dropping a kiss on her nose. “Not by a long shot.”
Sliding out of her, he suppressed a shiver when she hummed at the pull on her sensitive inner muscles. He knew the feeling, wanting nothing more than to plunge back inside her and send them both flying again. Promising himself he would do just that, as soon as they both recovered, he climbed from the bed and headed to the bathroom.
Two minutes later, a towel wrapped around his waist, he padded across the room and stopped beside the bed. Curled on her side with a slender hand resting on his pillow, she dozed. He shook his head. Shae Austin was nothing like the spoiled debutante he’d expected.
Justifiably suspicious of Michael’s last-minute call offering his daughter’s assistance as interpreter, Gabe had little choice but to accept, since Austin had tossed him the Fougere lead in the first place. In truth, he’d been curious why the supposedly attractive daughter of such a successful man would need assistance meeting men. The down-to-earth California girl needed no help along those lines. With her sunny smile and quick laugh, she must draw men like flies.
Shae Austin wasn’t just a pretty face with a man-killer body. Her ability to think on her feet probably saved him from blowing a very lucrative deal. Josette Fougere might believe differently, but in Gabe’s experience, business and pleasure never mixed well. The irony of the situation didn’t escape him. Michael Austin’s daughter naked in his bed wasn’t a good idea either.
That didn’t stop him from dropping the towel and climbing back in beside her.
The Condom King.
He shook his head, unsure how he kept a straight face at the smart-ass excuse Shae had offered to head off the aggressive designer.
His schedule was clear for the next thirty-six hours. An anticipatory smile tugged at his lips as he considered several ways to convince her to change her travel plans and spend tomorrow with him, exploring
the city she loved.
Chapter Four
As the cab pulled from the curb, Jane frowned at the crush of cars lining both the driveway and street in front of her childhood home. Her mother hadn’t mentioned a party when she insisted Jane stop by during her call from the airport to let her parents know she was back in the States. She groaned, too tired and grimy to face one of her mother’s famous gatherings.
In the last twenty-four hours, she’d experienced her first one-night stand, faced the sly looks of the early morning staff in the lobby of Gabe’s hotel while blushing at her commando state beneath her wrinkled skirt, and traveled thirty-six hundred miles.
On top of all that, she’d fallen in love.
A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled in her chest. She’d done some dumb things before, but this… She recalled Gabe’s sleeping face as she slipped from his hotel. Dumb or not, she couldn’t regret this. The heart was a fickle and mysterious thing. She could no more control its instant, powerful recognition of Gabe than she could her parents’ inability to love her for who she was. Besides, last night scored right up there with the time she and Shae tried bungee jumping.
She’d done some screaming then, too.
Her suitcase grew heavier with each step up the walkway, then caught on the threshold when she pushed open her parents’ door and stepped inside. Turning around and using both hands, she yanked at the bag’s handle. It came free more easily than expected. Thrown off balance, she staggered back several steps and slammed into a table not normally there. Her startled squeak cut off abruptly when she landed on her ass.
She cringed, covering her head with her arms as, all around her, metal pinged off the tiled floor and clashed with the tinkle of shattering glass. Sprawled amongst the wreckage, she spotted her brother, Keith, through the living room archway. His blond head whipped around and sympathy flooded his blue eyes, so like her own. He stalked toward her while several other faces filled the space beyond his wide shoulders. Their expressions ranged from her mother’s shocked horror to Todd’s cold displeasure.
Todd? What the hell was he doing here?
Keith squatted at her side. “Sorry, kid. I just got here myself or I would have called to warn you.”
“Warn me of what?”
“You’ll see.”
“Jane. What in the world?” Caroline Whitmore stood over them. Disapproval puckered her mother’s perfectly made-up face.
Keith winced and leaned in close enough to whisper in Jane’s ear. “Don’t let them push you around.”
Oh, crap. That didn’t sound good.
He winked and offered his hand. “Nice panties.”
She slapped her thighs together. Thank God she’d replaced the pair she left behind in Gabe’s room this morning.
Keith chuckled, grabbed her hand, and assisted her to her feet.
She tugged her skirt back into place. “My bag tripped me up, and I didn’t see the table. It was an accident, Mother.”
“It always is.” Censure stretched her mother’s thin lips as her gaze roamed Jane from head to foot. “Are you hurt?”
“Only my pride,” she grumbled beneath her breath as she eyed the growing crowd filing out of the living room into the foyer. “What’s going on?”
“Your father and I wanted to surprise you. Everyone’s here.”
“Surprise me how? Why?”
Her mother’s smile flashed over-bright. “To celebrate your wedding, of course.”
“My what?” Her gaze flew to Keith’s. He shook his head. The stiff line of his mouth proved his disgust with the situation.
Jane dropped her gaze to the broken rectangles littering the floor and a chill raced down her spine. The small, silver frames held a photo of Todd and her, taken months earlier on an outing with some of his business friends. Disbelief brought her gaze up to find her father joining her mother. His smile was easy. Happy even.
“We’re thrilled for you, Jane. Your aunt Prudence flew all the way from West Palm to be here, and Father Martin is here to bless the union.”
Jane’s jaw went slack until her gaze met Todd’s. She ground her teeth, not fooled for a minute by his innocent smile. He’d done an end run around her, hooking up with her mother, no doubt, to plan their supposed wedding with the hope Jane would be too embarrassed to scream her head off.
Shae was right. Todd was a phony and a dick.
He must have read the error of his thinking on her face, because he stepped forward to take her elbow. “You must be exhausted after your long flight, darling.”
She jerked away, avoiding his hand.
His smile grew brittle. “Why don’t we go upstairs so you can freshen up? I’ve missed you, and you can tell me all about your trip while you change.”
They needed to talk all right, and not about her trip. Jane fought the urge to land a fist to his deceitful nose. “What a great idea. I have a few things to tell you that might be better said in private.” She headed for the staircase, pausing when he hesitated, and jerking her hand in a get-over-here motion. In silence, he climbed the stairs behind her.
She rounded on him the moment the door to her childhood bedroom closed. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
His mouth thinned in annoyance. “I wish you wouldn’t use that type of language. It’s beneath a woman of your social standing.”
His hair would curl if she used the kind of language this situation warranted. On second thought, screw it, and screw him. “My social standing is none of your damned concern.”
“When we’re married—”
She jabbed him in the chest with a stiffened finger. “I’m not ever going to be your wife. I told you before, I’m not marrying you.”
Color flooded his cheeks. “You’re upset, and too highstrung for this type of thing. I told Caroline surprising you with a wedding wasn’t a good idea.”
She sputtered with indignation, unsure which of his ridiculous and insulting comments to address first. “I’m not your darling, and I’m not your fiancée. I can’t believe you had the balls to tell my mother I was.” His lips flattened further, and she laughed. “You’re something else. Perpetrating a gargantuan lie with my family doesn’t bother you, but mildly salty language makes you pucker up?”
“I didn’t lie to your family.” He tugged at the stark white cuffs of his perfectly cut dress shirt. “I may have been a bit premature in my announcement, but you would have eventually accepted, if your friend hadn’t insisted on dragging you to Paris.”
“Don’t kid yourself. Whether I went to Paris with Shae or not, I said no and I meant it.” She spun to toss her purse to the bed and groaned. Ignoring the long, white dress hanging on the back of her closet door, she turned back. “You were the one who insisted I needed time to think things over, despite knowing I don’t love you.”
He spoke softly, as if dealing with a simpleton. “Love will come in time. In the meantime, I asked you to marry me because we make a good team.”
“Wrong!” She crossed her arms to keep from scratching his eyes out. “I won’t ever love you, and we don’t make a good team. We don’t make a team at all. You think I’ll make an acceptable wife because I was born into that circle represented downstairs, a circle you’d like to move in.” Her arm flashed out, and she pointed at the door. “But even if I were willing to marry a liar, I don’t fit in that circle and never will.”
He shoved a hand through his perfectly cut blond hair. “Calm down, Jane. Let’s discuss this rationally.”
“I don’t want to calm down. I’m pissed and find nothing rational in lying about a wedding to a woman’s parents. We obviously don’t share the same moral code, and after this stunt I can’t even claim to like you as a friend.” She shook her head. “What I can’t figure out is why you want to marry me in the first place. If we suffered from a case of hot and heavy physical chemistry, maybe I could see the appeal, but we don’t even have that.”
“Wrong. You’re the only woman I want in my bed. I know it�
�s been a while since we made love—”
“Oh, shut up.” His stunned look pleased her immensely. “We’ve never made love. Four months ago, we had sex. Bad sex.” Crossing to the closet, she welcomed the heat of anger leaping into his light eyes. At least the emotion was an honest one. “I agreed, when you insisted we continue to go out, because I considered you a friend.” She ripped down the dress her mother had no doubt paid a fortune for, stomped to the bedroom door and jerked it open. “But you aren’t the friend I thought you were. I’ve given you my answer. I don’t need any more time to think, and I’m not interested in any more of your bullshit. I want you out of my life. I don’t want you contacting my family. I don’t ever want to see you again. Is that clear enough?”
He stepped forward. She slapped the dress to his chest. Lifting her chin, she dared him to continue the conversation. She’d scream the house down.
Without a word, he brushed by her into the hall. She slammed the door with a resounding crash.
Dropping her forehead to the door, she followed the din of heated conversation drifting up from the hall downstairs until the raised voices ended in condemning silence. She rubbed at her temples. Though the chaos on the first floor was not of her making, the result was the same.
Calamity Jane strikes again.
****
Gabe spotted the scrap of black lace sticking out from beneath the bed. He crossed the room, scooped up the bit of cloth, and grinned. “Forgot something in your race to leave, didn’t you, little cat?” He rubbed the silky material between fingers and thumb, his grin broadening at the thought of Shae fleeing back to her hotel bare-assed beneath her sleek skirt.
He dropped to the edge of the bed and picked up the phone. When he’d awakened to find her gone, he called Michael and got the name of her hotel. The satisfaction in the older man’s voice be damned. This thing between them was too powerful to let her walk away without a word.
If she’d taken a cab instead of walking the streets of her beloved Paris, she would have reached her room by now, but she didn’t answer. Disappointed at not hearing her voice, he left a message. “Shae, it’s Gabe. You should have taken a cab. Now I’ll worry. I’d hoped to convince you to extend your stay, but perhaps I’ll see you back in the States.” He brought the panties to his nose. Her subtle scent wafted through his nostrils, just as memories of the night they’d shared drifted through his mind. “I can’t thank you enough for leaving behind your little memento, especially since you slipped away before I had the chance to say”—he dropped his voice to an intimate croon—“good morning, beautiful.”
A Case for Calamity (Twelve Brides of Christmas Book 8) Page 3