“Yes, of course. But, considering the circumstances…” He trailed off, as if not quite knowing what to say. Clearing his throat, he continued, “You have to get out every once in a while. Have a decent meal now and then.”
It was hard to tell if he was just being friendly, or if his invitation contained an ulterior motive. A romantic motive.
Penelope wasn’t sure how to react. If he really was asking her out, then his attitude seemed a bit callous, considering that he still believed Simon to be in a coma.
But Simon wasn’t in a coma. He’d lied to Penelope right from the start, and sooner or later, she would have to find a way to get on with her life. Get back into the game, so to speak, if she wanted to meet someone else. Maybe Doug Fairchild was a good place to start.
Penelope drew a breath. “Dinner would be nice.”
“Well, great,” he said, as if he were a little surprised by her acceptance. “I’ll call you. We’ll set something up for next week. In the meantime…”
Penelope hadn’t realized that he still had her hand until he tugged her toward him, and before she could pull away, he bent and kissed her.
She resisted at first, and then she decided to just go with the moment. It wasn’t that hard, because Doug was a really good kisser, and that surprised her, too, although she didn’t know why. He was a handsome, successful doctor. He undoubtedly had his choice of female companionship, but Penelope had never thought of him as a player. He was too intense, for one thing. Too devoted to his career.
Obviously, she’d been wrong. About a lot of things concerning Dr. Doug Fairchild.
But in spite of his flawless technique, the kiss left Penelope completely unmoved. She found that curious, because Simon’s kisses had been tentative and restrained, even a bit awkward at times. But her knees had turned to jelly the moment his lips touched hers.
With Doug, all she felt was relief when he drew away.
“I’ll call you,” he said again, and then squeezing her shoulders, he turned and strode away.
Her fingertips on her lips, Penelope started up the stairs. Halfway up, she realized someone was standing on her balcony staring down at her.
Chapter Seventeen
Simon. He must have seen the kiss.
A tiny thrill of satisfaction raced up Penelope’s spine as she unlocked her front door and walked inside. She took her time putting away her purse and door key and turning on a lamp. By the time she walked into her bedroom, Simon was already through the French doors.
“I wish you’d stop doing that,” Penelope grumbled.
“Doing what?”
“Breaking into my apartment. And by the way, how do you keep doing that?”
“A five-year-old could get through that lock.” His gaze was scornful. “You should think about having a dead bolt and alarm system installed.”
She shrugged. “I never really needed them until now.” He took a step toward her, and Penelope instinctively backed up. “What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be at the museum?” Her gaze flickered over him in spite of herself.
He’d changed from the security-guard uniform he’d worn earlier to dark pants and a dark shirt. The better to sneak into her apartment without being seen, she supposed.
She couldn’t get over how different he seemed. Gone was the shy, geeky accountant who’d stolen her heart, and in his place stood a dangerous federal agent who’d broken it.
“My shift ended, so I decided to drop by and see how you’re doing,” he said. “But after that little scene I just witnessed, I guess I don’t have to ask. Good to know you wasted no time putting yourself back on the market.”
“And just what did you expect?” she cried indignantly. “That I’d pine away for you forever?”
“No, but I thought you might wait a little longer than twenty-four hours.”
She lifted her chin in defiance. “You forget. I’ve been waiting a good deal longer than twenty-four hours. It’s been over two months since you jilted me, Simon.”
“I didn’t jilt you. I had every intention of going through with the ceremony.”
“Oh, thanks a lot. I bet you consider it a lucky break that someone tried to kill you that night.”
“You know, I’m getting a little tired of you acting like I did all this for the hell of it. I did what I had to do, and I’m sorry you got hurt in the process.”
She folded her arms. “So you’ve said.”
He sighed. “Believe it or not, I do care about you, Penny—”
“Don’t call me that,” she warned.
“Come on,” he said impatiently. “Are you going to hate me forever? Can’t you even try to see my side of things?”
“Believe it or not,” she said, mimicking his words, “I’m quickly moving from hate into indifference.”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “Is that so?” He took a step toward her. “Is that why you were kissing Doug Fairchild? Because you’re already over me?”
She glared up at him. “What were you doing, Simon? Spying on me?”
He ignored her question and took another step toward her. “Since when did you and Fairchild become so friendly?”
Penelope took a step back. “We’re not. But since when is it any of your business?”
“You’re still wearing my ring,” he pointed out.
“I can remedy that.” But her fingers were swollen in the evening humidity, and she couldn’t twist the ring off no matter how hard she tried. She gave Simon a frustrated look, as if her puffiness was his fault entirely. “Don’t worry,” she said coldly. “I’ll return it even if I have to have it cut off my finger.”
His eyes glinted. “I don’t care about the damn ring. What I care about is…”
“What?” she challenged. “I’d love to know what it is that you really care about. Obviously, it’s not me, or you never could have hurt me the way you did.”
“You know something, Penelope? You can be pretty damn hurtful yourself,” he said bitterly. “I don’t think you even realize it.”
“Hurtful?” She stared at him in shock. “When did I ever hurt you?”
“How about last night?” he said. “And I quote, ‘I’ve had better.’ You think that didn’t hurt?”
“You all but admitted you were playing a role, both…in bed and out,” she said in astonishment. “How do you think that makes me feel?”
“I may have been playing a role, but I wasn’t the only one pretending, now was I?”
She gasped. “What are you talking about?”
He continued to move toward her until Penelope found herself backed all the way up against the wall. He stood in front of her, one hand planted on the wall above her. Their lips were so close she hardly dared breathe.
She tried to turn away, but he took her chin and gently pulled her back to him.
“Tell me the truth. Were you faking it in bed?”
Her first inclination was to lie, but then she shrugged. “What did you expect, Simon? You were always so restrained. So…I don’t know. In control. It was like you were never quite in the moment. So, yes, I faked it, but not because I wanted to deceive you. Because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
His eyes darkened, not with anger, but with something a lot more dangerous.
“Let me go, Simon,” she said a little desperately.
“I’m not holding you.” But when she tried to slip away, he caught her arm. “Aren’t you just the least bit curious what it would be like if we were both ‘in the moment’ at the same time?”
She wanted to push him away, but she couldn’t. Suddenly, her knees gave way, and when his hand slid up her bare arm…
Good Lord, she thought with a shudder. What was he trying to do to her?
“I’m not going to sleep with you just so you can prove a point,” she said angrily.
“I don’t have to sleep with you to prove a point.” His hand cupped the back of her neck. “All it’ll take is a kiss.” His voice lowered. “No more lies, no m
ore secrets, no more faking it. Just one, honest kiss.”
“What would that prove?” she whispered. She couldn’t think. He was standing too close. And his eyes were suddenly so hypnotic she felt frozen in place.
“It may not prove anything. Then again, it may prove everything. But what have you got to lose? It’s just a kiss, right?”
“Simon—”
He wove his hands in her hair and lifted her face to his. “Will you just be quiet for a moment?”
He kissed her then and everything inside her seemed to still with anticipation. And then her heart started to pound and her legs went all shaky. She felt as if she’d had the breath knocked out of her, but the sensation wasn’t painful. Far from it, Penelope thought in amazement. How had she ever thought Simon restrained and awkward? He was…devastating.
And he knew her too well. She’d spent weeks pouring out her heart and soul at his bedside, and now he used that intimate knowledge to fulfill her deepest desires, to explore her darkest secrets…
When his tongue slid between her lips, Penelope groaned and wrapped her arms around his neck. She clung to him because her legs had no strength.
He deepened the kiss, making her burn with excitement, and just when she thought she could stand it no longer, he pulled back.
He drew a ragged breath and closed his eyes. “Did you feel that? It wasn’t just me, right?”
She couldn’t say anything for a moment. Her heart was still racing, and she couldn’t gulp in air fast enough. She was still drowning in sensation.
“No,” she finally managed to whisper. “It wasn’t just you.”
He opened his eyes and looked down at her. “I want you to know something. That wasn’t an act. I wasn’t playing some kind of role. It was real—”
She placed her hands on either side of his face and drew him to her. “Will you just be quiet for a moment?”
She kissed him, and suddenly it was Simon who groaned when their tongues met and tangled. Simon who wrapped his arms around her and held her so close that Penelope could hardly tell where she ended and he began.
It was as if they were made for each other. Their bodies reacted instinctively. And when Simon reached for the buttons on her blouse, there was no fumbling. No awkward moment when Penelope wondered if she should stop him. It all seemed perfectly natural.
He slid the blouse down her arms, and then his shirt came next. Mouths still joined, he lifted her off the floor, and she wrapped her legs around him as he carried her a few steps to the dresser. With one swipe, he cleared a spot and settled her on the smooth wood veneer. She put her hands on the surface and arched her back as Simon bent to her breasts.
He teased her with his tongue until he had her gasping. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she tugged him up for another kiss, and then her hands moved to his belt.
“Penelope?” Her murmured name sounded like a question as he put his hands over hers as if to stop her.
“No, let me,” she whispered, and that was the only answer he needed. Quickly he undid his belt and zipper, and then he kissed her so hard that Penelope had to brace herself against the mirror. She’d never been so aroused in her life. By the time Simon shoved aside her underwear, she was almost ready to explode.
“Hurry,” she coaxed, her voice ragged, her heart pounding so hard she could feel the vibration in her chest. He was touching her, so intimately she wanted to scream in pleasure and frustration.
She wiggled closer, and he had no choice but to slide inside her. They both groaned. Penelope’s head fell back as she wrapped her legs tightly around him, drawing him deeper and deeper inside her. He didn’t move at first. The sensations spiraling through them both were too overpowering. Too fragile somehow.
He squeezed his eyes closed. “You have no idea how good this feels.”
He pulled her to the very edge of the dresser, where she was more accessible, more vulnerable, and then, with their arms around each other, he began to move. Slowly at first. But it was too late for a lingering seduction. They were too far gone for that.
Penelope half sobbed his name as she clung to him. His hands were on her hips now, moving her body against his. It was the kind of sex she’d always dreamed of. The kind of sex other people had. Hot. Desperate. Frenzied.
She’d never been expressive during lovemaking, but she couldn’t stay silent now. She could hardly believe the feverish moans and urgent cries that were coming from her own throat.
Maybe Simon wasn’t the one who had been restrained, she thought. Maybe she was the one who had held back. The one who had been afraid to lose control.
But she was losing it now. Rushing headlong toward a climax that, when it happened, made her feel as if she had shattered into a million tiny pieces.
She gasped, then cried out as her body convulsed in spasms. Simon shuddered and drew her to him, holding her so close that Penelope could feel his heart beating against her chest. He continued to hold her for long minutes afterward, and then, when it seemed as if something needed to be said, the doorbell rang.
Penelope jumped in shock, and then her body went rigid in Simon’s arms. “Oh, my God…”
“Ignore it,” he murmured. He was still inside her. Still impossibly hard. With a little encouragement…
Penelope pushed him away. “I can’t. It’s probably Ariadne bringing back my car. She has a key to the front door. If I don’t answer, she’ll let herself in.”
That got through to him. He turned quickly away and began to straighten his clothes. Penelope hopped off the dresser and grabbed her blouse.
Now that she had a moment to think about what had happened—what she had let happen—mortification quickly set in.
Keeping her eyes averted from Simon, she made a quick stop in the bathroom, then hurried to the door. Peeking through the peephole, she called, “Who is it?”
“Ariadne. I’ve brought your car back.”
Penelope didn’t open the door all the way, hoping that her sister would simply hand over the keys and leave. But instead, Ariadne brushed past her into the apartment. Penelope had no choice but to close the door behind her.
“What happened?” she said. “I didn’t expect you to come by so early?”
“We were bumped,” she said in disgust. “Can you believe it?”
“Sorry,” Penelope murmured, clutching her blouse around her.
Ariadne seemed to notice her disheveled appearance then and said doubtfully, “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
Penelope ran a hand through her mussed hair. “No, I was…just getting ready for bed.”
Ariadne gave her an odd look. “Are you okay?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Penelope winced at the defensive tone in her voice.
Her sister shrugged. “I thought you might be coming down with something. You’re all flushed and your eyes look a little feverish.”
“No, I’m fine. Just tired, and I have an early day tomorrow so…”
Ariadne didn’t take the hint. Instead she surveyed the apartment. “You know, I really love this place. It always seems so homey. I don’t know why I don’t come over here more often.”
“You’re welcome anytime,” Penelope said. “You know that.”
“I know…it’s just lately…” She shrugged. “You know how it is.”
It was obvious she had something on her mind, and Penelope was torn between wanting to help her and needing her gone.
“Can I talk to you about something?” Ariadne finally asked her.
Penelope cast a glance toward the bedroom. “Now? It’s kind of late—”
“It won’t take long, and I could really use your advice.”
She looked so dejected and miserable that Penelope didn’t have the heart to send her away. “Addie, what is it?”
Her sister bit her lip. “It’s about Simon.”
Penelope’s heart almost exploded inside her chest. It was all she could do not to look at the bedroom again, because she was almost ce
rtain that Simon was listening at the door. “What about him?”
Ariadne sighed. “How did you know you were in love with him?”
Penelope blinked. “What?”
“How did you know he was the one? I mean, it was obvious to me that you two were crazy about each other, but how did you know? Was it love at first sight?”
Penelope thought back to the very moment she’d spotted Simon in the museum. Love at first sight? No, of course not. But she’d felt something and she could have sworn he had, too. She supposed that only proved what a good actor he was.
And moments ago in her bedroom? Had that been an act? Which was the real Simon? The kind, considerate and restrained companion or the dark and dangerous lover?
It was beyond Penelope how she could feel anything for him now when she didn’t even know who he was.
“Penelope?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Was it love at first sight?”
“No, but we did have a connection,” she admitted.
“Because you’d been high-school sweethearts, right?”
Penelope frowned. “We weren’t high-school sweethearts. I had a crush on Simon, but he didn’t even know I existed.”
“That’s not true,” Ariadne said. “I was just a kid back then, but I saw the way he looked at you when he thought no one was around. He was just too shy to let you know, that’s all.”
Penelope stared at her in shock. Ariadne was mistaken. Simon hadn’t had feelings for her back then. He’d never had feelings for her.
She let out a breath. “What’s this all about, Addie? Why all the questions about Simon and me?”
Ariadne heaved a huge sigh. “It’s Ethan.”
Ethan Bryne was the lead guitarist in Ariadne’s band, and unlike Simon and Penelope, the two of them had been high-school sweethearts in the true sense of the word. They’d started going out in their freshmen year and until a few months ago, had remained inseparable. For some reason that Ariadne hadn’t seen fit to share, the two had decided to call it quits romantically, although they were both still active in the band. How they managed that, Penelope wasn’t quite sure. It hurt her just to be in the same room with Simon.
Unauthorised Passion/Intimate Knowledge Page 32