"Then I'll believe it when I see it."
And ignore it in the meantime, evidently. She'd probably hate him for it when he had to show her the truth, he mused. The thought made him want to strangle Harrison. Would the man ever lose the power he had to destroy people? The thought that he might not annoyed him. Abby seemed to have made a conscious decision to put the grim afternoon behind her. She was actively tugging on his hand. "Come on. We've got more than a thousand cookies to make before Monday."
Ethan didn't say another word about Harrison, MDS, or their conversation on the yacht that morning. Apparently he'd shifted his focus from Abby to the intricate and detailed process of baking. She wished she had his willpower. Her mind spun a mad dance from topic to topic, leaving her feeling distracted and dizzy.
As if he sensed Abby's need to retreat, Ethan maintained a lively conversation with LuAnne and Rachel. He asked Rachel enough questions to write his own cookbook. Rachel interacted with him in an easy banter, while Ethan seemed content to hand her ingredients and let her have command.
By noon they had twenty different batches of cookie dough waiting to be shaped and baked. Ethan suggested dinner. Abby dropped into a chair with a weary groan and shook her head. "There's stuff in the refrigerator. There's no way I'm going out. I think I have enough flour in my hair to look like I survived a grain-elevator explosion."
Ethan was watching her closely. Too closely. So closely, she could feel her heart racing. When they'd returned from Carlton's party, he'd donned a pair of glasses to go over the reports with her. He still wore them. Though they should have made him look slightly bookish, they seemed to accentuate the carved lines of his face and the intensity of his silver eyes.
LuAnne reached for her purse. "I'm not for cooking, even if it's just the microwave. Why don't I go pick us up something?" She glanced at Rachel. "Chinese okay?"
"Bobby Chan's is pretty good," Rachel conceded. The popular take-out place specialized in lighter cuisine.
LuAnne nodded. "I could go for that." She gave Rachel a gentle shove toward the door. "You can come with me and help me carry it."
Rachel threw a glance at Ethan. "Oh, but—"
LuAnne gave her a not-so-subtle shove. "You need to get some daylight, girlfriend. You're coming with me."
Rachel's gaze passed from Ethan to Abby and back again. She untied her apron without further comment. "All right. Would you guys watch the timers while we're gone?"
"Gladly," Ethan said.
The kitchen door swung shut behind them. Abby looked at Ethan with a slight shake of her head. "I can always count on LuAnne to be so subtle."
"I don't have much patience for subtlety."
"I hadn't noticed," she quipped. The front door clicked shut.
With a slight smile, he spun a chair around so he could straddle it. He propped his muscular forearms on the back and gave her a beatific smile. "I think that's the first compliment you've paid me."
"Don't let it go to your head," she grumbled.
With a slight chuckle, he took off his glasses and placed them on the table. "I've been wanting to know what you've been thinking since this morning," he said.
Abby shook her head as awareness crowded in and told her that the next few seconds would be potentially life-changing. With his face close to hers, and the clean scent of his soap mingling with the smells of baking cookies, he looked as tempting as the fruit of a forbidden tree. Over and over, his challenge from that morning kept running through her mind. When they were the only ones standing, would she still be on his side? There was something inexpressibly sad about that remark, as if he'd spent too many days alone and fought too many battles by himself. He couldn't have known how irrevocably that realization would bind her to him. He couldn't possibly be aware that nothing could wrap itself tighter around her heart than the sure knowledge that he'd been too long without someone to trust.
She'd sat in that same dark place for too many nights. She'd wondered too many times how God could have left her alone. She could no more turn her back on Ethan than she could rip her own heart out.
In the end, she knew, she was probably going to get burned by this. The day she'd seen him in San Francisco, she'd set them on an unalterable path. If he hadn't known it too, he wouldn't have given her that speech about trust and choosing sides. She could ignore it for a little while, but sooner or later she'd fall prey.
That alone should have scared her. Abby had spent a lot of time trying not to get hurt. Her parents' death, she'd decided ages ago, had been a big enough emotional hit for one lifetime. But sometime between last night and this morning, another, even more depressing reality had overcome her. She'd spent so much time protecting her life and her heart that she'd never really felt the intoxicating rush of adrenaline that came with risk. She'd managed to avoid disappointment and pain, but in doing so, she'd also managed to deprive herself of the keen knife-edge of pleasure that bordered on being too much to bear.
This newfound awareness had awakened a sharp craving, unlike any she'd ever experienced. The craving was strong enough to drown out the loud voice in her head that insisted she should know better. It beat into submission the feeling that Ethan Maddux was out of her league. It made her blood flow a little faster and her heart beat a little quicker. And it had all but demolished her usually reliable voice of reason.
Belatedly, she realized he was still awaiting an answer. "You're going to kiss me," she said, "aren't you?"
Ethan reached for her hand. "I'm seriously considering it."
"I'm pretty sure it's a bad idea," she told him. "All day I've been trying to figure out why."
"Come to any conclusions?"
"No, but I can't shake the feeling."
He smoothed his thumb over her knuckles. "Me either."
That made her smile. "Different feeling."
"You think so?"
"Definitely." Her head dropped back slightly. "You're making my ears ring," she said.
He lifted his other hand and cupped her face. "You might have to trust me on this."
"Why should I?"
"Because I keep having visions of what it'll be like when I have you next to me in bed. And I can't shake the feeling that the reality is going to beat the hell out of the fantasy."
The shiver that raced through her was more like a shudder. It started at the base of her spine and spread to her scalp and toes. "Ethan—"
"And you'll say my name," he said softly, dipping his head slightly. "Just like that."
He released her fingers so he could cradle her face in both of his hands. "Aren't you dying to know what it's going to feel like?"
She shut her eyes. "Ethan…"
He trailed his fingers along the curve of her jaw and slid them into her hair. "I've been wanting to touch your hair since that day in my office."
"It's out of control." She thought her voice was remarkably calm, considering that the blood was ringing in her ears.
"It's incredible." He twined a curl around his index finger. "Unique. Like you."
"Why are you doing this?" She curled her fingers around his hand.
"To get that breathless reaction out of you," he confessed. "I'm starting to get addicted to the way you say my name when you're a little off balance."
"Ethan—"
"Like that." He leaned closer to her.
"I don't think we should—"
He didn't let her finish. "Ah, Abby," he said softly. "Stop fighting me."
Her hands curled tensely onto his forearms. "Please…"
''Please, yes," he said, and put his hands on her shoulders to ease her toward him. "Or please, no?"
She met his gaze squarely, her hazel eyes clear and undaunted. Her lips parted. Ethan slid one hand onto her nape to cradle the back of her head. "Just say yes, Abby," he urged.
She could feel the incredible heat of his fingers against her flesh. "I…"
"Just say yes," he prompted again.
There was something a little vulnerable a
bout him, something that touched her and crumbled what was left of her resistance. So she wished for luck, resigned herself to the consequences of the fall, and took the plunge. She placed both hands on his shoulders and leaned forward in her chair. "Are you ever going to kiss me? I've been waiting forev—"
He didn't let her finish. With a slight growl, he covered her mouth with his and guided her arms around his neck.
Positively worth the wait, he decided as he claimed her lips. He trailed one hand along the underside of her bare arm, down her rib cage, and around her waist. She froze for an instant, then made that intoxicating little noise again. He smiled against her lips and pressed his hands to the small of her back. The stiffness flowed out of her as she leaned into him. Ethan savored the kiss, and soon grew annoyed with the hindrance the chairback presented. He stood, bringing Abby with him.
She tilted her head back and threaded her fingers through his hair. "Oh, God, Ethan."
This time there was nothing hesitant in the way she said his name. It was more of a demand, and he gladly kicked the chair out of the way and pulled her firmly against him.
The contact was electrifying. He shifted one hand to her hips and aligned her body with his, then inched his lips down her throat.
Abby made an enticing little sound in the back of her throat. "I never—"
He kissed her again before she could finish the statement. He wanted to leave it at that so he could fill in the rest with his imagination. She'd never had it like this? He hoped so, he thought as he drank from her mouth again, because he hadn't either. She'd never burned quite this hot? He skimmed his hands down her body. He felt caught in a conflagration. She'd never wanted a person this much? He couldn't remember the last time he'd craved something until he hurt from it.
He maneuvered her two steps backward until she bumped into the kitchen table. His fingers found the hem of her tank top and he pulled it up so he could slide his hand over the bare skin of her midriff. Rose-petal soft, he thought. He felt her shiver as his fingertips danced over her spine. One of her hands glided into his hair as she rocked against him.
He lifted her onto the table, pushed her knees apart, and stepped between them. Abby sighed and draped her arms over his shoulders. He tore his mouth from hers to plant a line of kisses down her throat to her butter-soft neck. She tasted like cookies, he decided. Brown sugar, cinnamon, and cocoa blended on her skin and intoxicated him. "Ah, baby…"
Abby gasped when he gently bit her collarbone. "What are you doing?"
He trailed his mouth up her neck. "Tasting you. It's incredible."
"I can't—"
"Don't fight me." He slid his hand over her rib cage. "Enjoy me." He kissed the corner of her mouth. "Let me enjoy you."
"You're—"
He kissed her hard to keep her from finishing. Abby moaned against his lips and tipped her head back so he could plunder the depths of her mouth. He drank so deeply he could feel heaviness gathering in his lower body. Abby whispered something to him, then pushed him away. "Please. Please stop."
He blinked. "Abby—"
"Please," she whispered again and pressed her flushed face to his chest. "A minute. Just a minute."
Ethan gathered her to him and took long, calming breaths. He had to mentally remind himself that he wouldn't die if he couldn't have her right then, and the thought shocked him. He wasn't used to this fierce wanting; it felt dangerously close to that place in his soul where passion could control him.
Abby finally broke the embrace and moved a step backward, then another. Her lips were swollen and red from the kiss. She held one hand to her chest and closed her eyes. "Rachel," she said softly. "They'll be back soon."
She was right. Self-recrimination flooded Ethan as he realized he'd broken his own promise to himself by starting something he couldn't finish. If Abby hadn't taken control… His gaze flicked to the table. He had to shake his head to clear it. Her skin was flushed, and he could see the rapid beat of her heart where the pulse pounded in her throat. He scrubbed a hand over his face. "You're right."
Abby's fingers twisted into the fabric of his shirt. "This is moving so fast."
Not fast enough to suit him. "I have tomorrow and Tuesday," he said. "Then I've got to go back to California."
"It'll give us some time."
The last thing he wanted was time. "I want you to come with me." He pressed his lips to her temple.
She laughed. "Are you kidding?"
"Not at all."
Abby shook her head. "I can't possibly go running off to California with you!"
"Because of Rachel?"
"Because it's idiotic. I've got a fund-raiser to plan, three major events coming up, and a life to run." She covered her eyes with her palms. "Not to mention the fact that I barely know you."
Frustrated, Ethan stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I could try to make it back before the end of next week, but it's doubtful."
"You don't have to. I'm sure you can do most of the work for MDS from your California office."
He wanted her to feel as crazy as he did, he realized. He wanted her to be going nuts trying to figure out how much longer she'd have to wait before she could have him. He shouldn't be the only one in that boat. "Sure I can," he concurred, "but I can't try to seduce you from California."
"Make a bet," she muttered.
He grinned at her. "Okay, not as effectively I can't."
Abby pressed her fingers to her temples. "This is crazy."
Ethan shrugged. "Maybe, but I think I have a right to know just how long you want me to wait."
"It's not like I can check my PDA and tell you I have an opening for sex a week from tomorrow," she quipped.
A search of her clear hazel eyes showed nothing but lingering desire and honest intent. "Don't get me wrong. I'll wait. Anticipation can be—nice."
"This from the man who said he doesn't believe in delayed gratification?"
"I said it was nice. I didn't say it was nicer than other things."
"Lord, Ethan."
"I'm not trying to railroad you."
Her eyes widened. "You're kidding."
"All right," he conceded, and stroked his thumb over the corner of her mouth. "Maybe a little."
"Or completely."
He shrugged. "I'm not going to promise that I won't do everything in my power to accelerate the, ah, timetable. I happen to be a strategic genius."
"There's more?" she said incredulously.
"Baby, I'm just getting started." He cupped her face in his hand. "I want you. Sooner rather than later. I've been nothing but honest about that."
"Brutally," she acknowledged.
"And you're overwhelmed?" he asked, cautious.
"No," She tipped her head and pursed her lips. "No," she said again. "At least, not in a bad way."
"There's a good way to be overwhelmed?"
"Well, yes. I"—she hesitated—"I can't say I've ever inspired a person to do something really reckless before."
A warning bell went off in his head. There was that word—that slight accusation which could so easily turn to condemnation. "Reckless?"
Her eyes sparkled with mirth. "I mean, would you really have tried to ravish me on a table full of sugar and flour if you'd had time to think about it first?"
If he hadn't known better, he'd have sworn she sounded flattered, and not the least bit intimidated. "Depends," he replied.
Abby was brushing flour dust off his shirt. "Oh?"
"Yes." He caught a strand of her hair between his fingers and brought it to his face so he could inhale the scent of her shampoo mixed with the baking ingredients. "You can do a lot of really interesting things with flour and sugar."
Abby's color heightened, and her hands stilled on his shirt. "You're impossible."
He rubbed the curl over his lips, then laid it back on her shoulder. "So I've heard."
She was saved a reply by the buzz of the oven timer.
Ethan frowned as he listened to the voice
on the other end of the phone. "What are you saying, Charlie?"
The private investigator Ethan had hired to look into Abby's relationship with Harrison had called him in his Chicago hotel room to deliver an update. "It's weird, Ethan. It's like she didn't exist before her father was killed."
"That's not possible. You have to be missing something."
"I'm looking. I've called everyone I know, and pulled a hell of a lot of strings. I'm getting nothing."
Ethan stared at his reflection in the rain-streaked window. It was late Sunday evening. Rachel had finally finished the baking, and Ethan had left Abby's house feeling a little off balance and unaccountably agitated. The call from Charlie didn't help.
"All right. Here's what I want you to do." He issued several instructions to Charlie, then hung up and immediately dialed his CFO.
Jack answered his cell phone on the second ring. "Hey, Ethan. How's things in Chicago?"
"Edna told you?"
"Gleefully."
"That woman is way too interested in my personal life."
Jack laughed. "Who are you kidding? Edna practically is your social life."
Ethan let the comment pass. "Jack, listen. I don't want to impinge on your weekend, I just want you to do something for me if you have time."
"Sure."
"Do you remember that deal we struck with Maddigan and Cullen a couple of years ago?"
"The defense contractors? Sure, I remember."
"There was a key player in that negotiation. A guy by the name of Hansen Wells."
"Yeah, you tried to hire him."
"That's the one. Can you run down a current phone number for me? I have something I want to talk to him about."
"Do we have an opening?" Jack quipped.
Ethan laughed. "Don't worry, Jack. Your job's secure. I just need to ask Hansen a couple of questions."
"I'll see what I can do."
"Thanks. Oh, and leave Edna out of the loop, if you don't mind."
"Ethan—"
"Don't sound so worried," his boss assured him. "It's not a big deal. Edna would just take unnecessary interest in this, and it's a personal matter. I'd like to keep it that way."
"All right. Whatever you want."
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