“I went to baseball games when you played. I didn’t have much interest in the sport, but I watched you do all that stuff with the hand signals and the different batters. That part fascinated me.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me? I thought you wanted to know baseball because it helped you help me. So much of what you explained to me about how to understand my academics was based in the way things worked on the field.”
“Absolutely. I learned baseball because I needed a language to teach you science. But if you’d known I did more than learn how it all worked, if you’d known I actually watched you play, what difference would it have made? You were you. I was me. You were . . . Another premed once came to a game with me, and he called you a ‘splendid physical specimen.’ I was the weird smart kid who was younger than everyone else.”
“I never thought of you that way.”
“Eric, I’m not stupid. You never thought of me at all. Don’t even try to say you did. But it didn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt. I didn’t want a boyfriend—that would only get in the way of my studies—and I was frankly too immature to understand the appeal of a ‘splendid physical specimen.’ But I’m not now.”
“Jesus, Janie.” He dropped his head so that his forehead rested against hers, and every word he spoke filled the air between them with the peppermint scent of the gum he chewed. “We’re back to this again?”
“Tomorrow after the press conference you’ll drop me back at home, and then you’ll disappear.” She kept all the emotion out of her voice. If he believed for even a minute that she’d become attached to him, he’d rabbit. “You’ll get assigned to a job out of the country. Or not. But I won’t see you again.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Because you haven’t explained.” And she hoped he didn’t ask her to defend her desire as she wanted him to defend his refusal. It was greedy, selfish, this hunger. She couldn’t explain it, had nothing to compare it to. There was nothing reasonable, intellectual, or sensible about it. For once, she wanted something for herself, for no other reason than that it felt good.
He reached up and pried her hands from his neck, then led her to the couch. “I told you, I’m past the age of one-night stands.”
“So it won’t be one night.” Oh, please, let it not be one night. She wasn’t sure how he’d snuck past all her usual guards, but he had, and if he left—when he left—her life behind those walls would be infinitely lesser for it.
“It can’t be anything but. As you said, after this, I’ll be assigned elsewhere. But it’s not just that.” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, and Jane tensed. Now they were getting to the truth.
“I don’t have anything to offer. The kind of life I lead . . . I told you, my specialty is kidnap and ransom. That means I’m out of the country more than I am in it. No, it’s not as bad as the Army, and any time I need a break—like if my mother needs me or when my sister gets married—I just tell Nash I’m unavailable for a while. But it’s not relationship friendly, either. And then there’s the fact that any mission I go on could be my last. I saw what my dad put my mom through. When I was ten, he got drunk and wrapped his car around a lamppost. He lost the use of one arm, but what put him on disability was the brain injury. He had seizures, and the meds that he took to control them, combined with the injury itself, caused memory and cognitive-function problems.
“Any time I leave on a job, I could be injured just as badly. No way would I put a woman through that.”
“Your mother divorced him because of his injury?”
“Not according to either of them. They both agree it was mutual. All the usual excuses: they married too young, they grew apart, all the reasons parents tell their children.”
She almost asked him why he didn’t believe them, but that would lead to a discussion she didn’t want to have. No, she wanted to stay solidly where they were. Talking about sex.
“So, we won’t have a relationship. Not the kind where I rely on you. You of all people should know what my life looks like. It’s complete. I don’t need you; I just want you. So why can’t we have the kind of relationship where when you’re available and I’m available, we sleep together?” She studied him, then went with the most logical argument she could muster. “I don’t see how you have much choice.”
“No?”
“Well, if you don’t want one-nighters, but you can’t have a relationship, you either have to have an arrangement like I’m describing, or you have to be celibate. And that would be a crying shame.” God, she loved when he got that dazed, surprised look on his face.
But this time he recovered quickly, his blue eyes narrowing on her face. “Are you sure, Jane? Because you need to be absolutely certain.”
She leaned in. “Oh, I am very, very sure,” she whispered against his lips.
• • •
AND THAT WAS it. No way could he deny her—or himself—any longer. He’d done the right thing. He’d held off and explained and let her make every single move. Now he was going to take her at her word.
At first, he let her keep control. Her mouth against his was light but persistent, her tongue flicking at his lips until he opened them for her. Her fingers explored him, running over his shoulders, down his chest to his waist, then sliding up beneath his shirt. But when she tried to push him back against the arm of the sofa, he stopped her.
“Bed,” he said against her lips. “At least the first time, this is going to be in a bed.”
She hopped off the couch with gratifying speed, grabbing his hand on the way up to tug him along. Christ, what a woman. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d expected her to balk at the less-than-romantic shift of scene. But no. Instead, she hurried to the bedroom and threw herself down on her back on the bed, arms and legs outstretched. The invitation was as irresistible as it was unmistakable, and he followed her down, settling his legs between hers, his elbows on either side of her small breasts.
“Hi,” she said, grinning up at him.
“Hi, yourself,” he replied.
She curled her arms around him and slipped her hands beneath his shirt. “Can you take this off? I’m tired of it.”
“Oh-ho? Is that how it’s going to be? Well, I’m tired of your outfits, too. Couldn’t you wear something just once that doesn’t cup that fine butt of yours when you walk? If we’re getting rid of clothes, those jeans are number one on my list.”
She grinned up at him. “Can we trade? I’ll take off whatever you take off.”
“Yeah?” He sat up and pulled his T-shirt over his head. She did the same, leaving her in a lacy white bra that made his already hard cock throb with an almost painful pleasure.
“I don’t have one of these to take off,” he teased, running a finger around the dark areola visible through the lace.
Her breathing sped up. “Oh, well, we can consider it part of the shirt. . . .”
He shook his head, never taking his eyes from hers. “Nope. A deal’s a deal. That stays on. Or at least, you don’t take it off.”
A whimper slipped from her throat. Good God, she was so fucking hot. How had no one snatched her up and tied her down? He bent his head and took one of her fabric-covered breasts into his mouth, and she grabbed the back of his head and arched off the bed with a little cry. He moved to her other breast, and her whole body quivered.
“Jeans,” she said. Then, stronger, “Jeans.”
“I dunno. I may have decided to keep them on for a while.”
“A deal’s a deal,” she said, pushing him off and climbing off the bed. He watched as she unbuttoned and unzipped the pants. Then she turned her back on him and hooked her thumbs in the sides. Slowly, wiggling that incredible ass the whole time, she began to pull them down. Three inches, four, and he realized she’d caught her panties at the same time. Bare skin was revealed with agonizing slowness as she shimmied out of the jean
s, bending over when they reached her knees to hold them down while she stepped out of them entirely.
He couldn’t breathe.
She turned her head and grinned at him over her shoulder. “Your turn.”
He’d never stripped so fast in his life. He couldn’t give her the same kind of show she’d given him—he simply wouldn’t last if he tried. Maybe next time. Naked, he faced her across about two feet of space. She turned around, stripping off her bra as she did so, all the fun gone from her expression, and the first thought through his head eased a little of his tension. So he spoke it aloud, hoping to help ease hers.
“I see you haven’t changed quite as much as you’d have people believe.” He waggled his eyebrows.
It took a second for her to follow his gaze, and then she laughed. “Nope. Very expensive color treatments. It was hard enough to get taken seriously at my age without having traffic-cone orange hair as well. The highlights and lowlights free me from the whole Raggedy Ann look.”
He crawled onto the bed and she joined him, pressing herself against him as if she wanted to absorb him right into her body. Her desperation drove him over the edge, and he flipped her to her back, sliding a finger inside her at the same time he invaded her mouth with his tongue. She squirmed against his hand, hot and wet and frantic. He lifted his head and reached across her with his other arm, tried to grab the knob on the bedside table drawer. And almost fell off the bed.
“Fuck.”
She giggled. “Smooth, Romeo.” But her face was rosy and her breathing harsh and fast.
He grabbed a condom out of the drawer. “Watch out, Juliet. I’m coming for you.” He got on all fours, the condom in one fist, and moved toward her.
Her lips twisted as she tried to restrain a smile. “Oh, I hope so.”
He pounced, knocking her flat while keeping his weight mostly on his own hands and knees so as not to hurt her. “You first.”
And then he was inside her and all the humor was gone and it was just heat and passion and the clawing, questing climb to the top. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, her arms around his shoulders, one hand tangled in his hair. Every thrust forced a sob from her throat, and the pitch wound higher as her body tightened around him.
“You first, baby,” he said, fingers finding one tight nipple and rolling it.
And she went, sobbing his name, the most incredible thing he’d ever seen, the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, and he couldn’t even appreciate it because her contractions sent him flying over the edge into a blinding orgasm.
• • •
BY THE TIME Jane caught her breath, Eric was already striding to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. Dusk’s light gleamed on his damp skin, setting the smooth muscles rippling beneath his skin into stark relief. Holy hell, the man was hot.
And the sex . . . She’d never had sex like that before, or she might have changed her mind about the risk/reward ratio. It wasn’t just his body, though there was no denying the appeal of all that muscle. No, her first lover, a doctor who swam, ran, and lifted weights to relieve stress, had had plenty of muscle but had never generated the same kind of havoc in her system. He’d been considerate, too, always making sure she was satisfied, so it wasn’t that she’d never had an orgasm in the past.
Maybe it was the humor. She’d never actually laughed in bed with a man in her life. She tried to imagine laughing with the doctor and failed. But then, she couldn’t imagine watching Lake Placid 3 with him, either.
No, Eric was special, though he’d disappear the minute she said so.
When he slid back into the bed, however, reaching for her and pulling her up against his solid strength, she could not resist asking the question dominating her mind.
“Is it always like that for you?”
“Is it for you?”
Against his chest, she shook her head. Fearing what he might find in her eyes, she pressed a kiss to his clavicle and watched her own fingers toying with the sprinkle of rough hair spread across his chest.
But of course it didn’t fool him. “Janie, look at me.” She did. “It’s never like that. Never. Think about it like baseball. Or chemistry. If you taught me anything, it was that seeing a chemical in one state in no way predicts how that chemical will change when exposed to others.”
“So we are chemicals?”
“Or baseball players. A guy can play for Florida for five years and bat a solid .385, then be traded to Colorado and drop to .270. What just happened wasn’t you or me; it was us.”
“Scientists don’t believe the results of a single experiment, you know,” she said, lowering her lids so she could peek up at him through her lashes.
His lips twitched. “No?”
“No. You have to repeat it several times.”
“Well,” he said, a devilish grin in his sparkling eyes, “I wouldn’t want to be accused of being unscientific.”
Chapter 6
JANE WOKE BEFORE the alarm, which came as a surprise, given how thoroughly Eric had exhausted her the night before. At one point, he’d insisted they break for dinner. He broiled steak and baked potatoes because he swore Jane would need her energy for what he had planned, and he’d been right. She had no idea what time she’d dozed off, only that he’d lost the battle first, allowing her to study him for at least a few minutes before curling up next to the heat and strength of his body and falling asleep.
While she slept, her legs had twined with his and his arms had wrapped around her so that she couldn’t imagine how she would get loose without disturbing him.
“You worried about the press conference?” His voice rumbled in his chest beneath her ear.
“I should have known you were already up.”
“I wasn’t. But you’re thinking so loud, you disturbed my perfect slumber.”
She scooted away. “Yeah, right. And no, wasn’t thinking about the press conference. I was thinking that I needed to pee. And shower. And get ready. And go over my notes.” He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, okay, I was sort of thinking about the press conference. And other stuff.”
She ran for the bathroom and locked the door behind her just in case he got any ideas. He’d mentioned showering together the night before, but they hadn’t gotten around to it. And this was definitely not the right time. She allowed herself the luxury of a long shower. After all, there would be at least one photographer, so she had to shave her legs. She had to stand up for her colleagues—no allowing any comments about how a scientist couldn’t be both intelligent and fashionable.
“Your turn,” she said, unlocking the door and walking out into the bedroom wrapped in one of Eric’s giant bath sheets. He still lay in bed, but his arms were folded beneath his head, emphasizing the bulge of his biceps and the sheet lay crumpled at his waist, showing off his six-pack. “You’re just trying to get me to come back to bed,” she grumbled.
“Is it working?” He wiggled his eyebrows and she laughed.
“Afraid not.”
He huffed. “Fine.”
She watched him saunter into the bathroom, all those muscles gliding gracefully beneath the skin. Only after he closed the door did she turn to her bag and dig out her underwear and a T-shirt. She’d wait until her hair was dry before putting on her clothes for the day, but despite the previous night’s intimacies, she didn’t feel right walking around the apartment undressed.
“What happens at these things, anyway?” Eric asked as he came out of the bathroom a few minutes later. He rummaged through his drawers and pulled on one of his typical outfits of olive cargo pants and a black T-shirt.
“Well, Sundeman called this one. They’re big enough to attract attention, so at least a few reporters will show up to hear their news. Their representative will announce that they’ve bought the drug from AHI, which will only be of interest because they had a spectacular failure about five years ago with a
similar drug that had to be taken off the market. Clive will talk a little bit about the development while a publicity person hands out data sheets and press releases, and then we’ll open it up for questions. Since I was lead on the research team, I’ll answer whatever research-related questions arise.”
“Wouldn’t most of the questions be about research?”
“Not really. Under normal circumstances, companies don’t even bother with an actual press conference. This kind of deal shows up in the financial papers because of how it’s apt to affect investment in Sundeman’s stock. But because of Alophil—that was the drug that had to be taken off the market because it caused aneurisms after long-term use—they’re doing a big promotional push for this one. They’re going to invite scrutiny at every step so that no one accuses them of malfeasance or not doing their due diligence if anything goes wrong.”
“You don’t expect a big crowd?”
“Not really. Sundeman will have told them enough to bring the right reporters, the psych folks rather than the sports-medicine folks, for example, and schizophrenia isn’t a huge draw. It’s not as if they were announcing an Alzheimer’s breakthrough.”
“Gotcha.”
• • •
THEY LEFT FOR the press conference at eight fifteen, having agreed to meet early at Sundeman in case any last-minute issues cropped up. Eric parked in a garage a couple of blocks away, and as they walked to the office, he took her hand in his. Was that how he treated all the women he slept with? Did none of them ever get attached to him? How did they avoid it? He let go only when they were close enough to attract attention.
Two news vans were setting up on the corner in front of the Sundeman building, and a few reporters had gathered already when they arrived. Clive and his contact, John, were waiting for them in the lobby.
“Welcome to Sundeman Pharmaceuticals, Dr. Evans,” John said. “We’re very impressed with your work.”
“Thank you. This is my friend, Eric Sorenson.”
Eric and John shook hands.
Mind Games Page 10