The Perfect Fit

by Cait London

  “I told you that Mamie doesn’t have anything to do with us,”

  She tilted her head again and placed her hands on his tense shoulders, massaging them gently. “You need to relax. I know you weren’t expecting last night...with me. I should have been more gentle with you. I have no idea, but you could be hurting now—from our intimacy. You seemed to walk rather painfully, and you have groaned. I’ve failed to be sensitive to your needs, to cuddle you and give you that morning-after confidence that men like you require. I’ve read articles. I know that men of your species—delicate and gentle—need pampering and care. If you’d stop scowling, you’d feel better.”

  “I’ve got a headache,” Nick managed to say, nettled by her attempt to placate him. “You’re it.”

  She smiled gently and ran her fingers over the line between his brows, then across his lashes. “You’re a survivor, Nick. Just like me. I respect your predatory instincts. We’re alike. Tell me what you need, what you need to be told to comfort you, and I’ll try.”

  She tilted her head to peer at him curiously. “I didn’t know that you could be so—delicate.”

  “Delicate?” The word lifted the hair on Nick’s nape. He had the quick image of Joel and Rafe, who were seasoned fighters, sneering at their baby brother—be wasn’t up to the brawl. He stared at the object of his discomfort, the woman peering at him curiously, her lashes long and matching the blue-black sheen of her cropped hair. Her fingers fluttered along his neck and taut shoulders and Nick forced himself not to wince. Wincing wouldn’t do. “You need a massage, Nick. Your muscles are like stone. Let me get my oil.”

  He needed to hold her, to be inside the one woman he had ever wanted to claim, to give her what she needed. His gaze locked to her backside, the jeans taut against her curves as she pilfered through her saddlebags. Moments later, Nick groaned as she lowered his suspenders, stripped away his shirt and began massaging the aromatic oil into his neck and shoulders.

  “You’re so tense. You really need a nice long soak in a chamomile bath. This is only an almond oil base with bergamot, juniper, rosemary and a few other essential oils.” She moved to sit behind him and her kiss on his nape caused electricity to jolt through Nick’s body. “There. Feeling better?”

  He wasn’t relaxed; Silver’s light kiss and delicate touch had shaken him. The aromatic oil reminded him of the fragrance of their lovemakmg....

  “You’re still tense, and brooding.” Silver hesitated, then slid her arms around his chest and massaged oil onto the tense muscles on his chest, and her legs around his hips. She rocked him gently, making him very aware of her breasts pressed to his back. She pressed her cheek to his back, and Nick held very still while she attempted to comfort him. “I know you’re worried about being like your father, but you aren’t. Oh, you may yell and act like a bear sometimes, but you’re just being honest. I prefer that honesty.”

  “Is this a normal conversation that you might be having with Joe or Jack or Billy Bob?” Nick asked unevenly. “That is, if you had made love with them last night?”

  “But I didn’t. I made love with you, because you’re sweet.”

  “I was on your land and you felt the need to rise to your Sioux and Scots blood—”

  She kissed his ear and Nick shivered. “Absolutely true. Can’t deny that. The moment was at hand and I seized it.”

  “Don’t tell me that you decided to dispense with your virginity and—”

  “Of course not. I like you, Nick. We might even be friends...maybe. You’re real and raw.”

  “Raw... thanks.”

  She kissed his shoulder again, nuzzled it with her cheek, as her hands smoothed his bare chest, the aromatic scents rising to him. Her fingers toyed with his nipples and Nick’s entire body tightened painfully. “My friends enjoy the same pleasures—Nick, you just tensed again. They don’t need soothing and comforting. You do. You’ve got all those prickly edges, but you’re sensitive and sweet, a romantic at heart. I should have done more this morning to make you feel better. I’m just not that experienced with delicate, sensitive men.”

  “Is this supposed to be therapy?” Nick asked cautiously, placing his hand over hers on his stomach, too aware that his body had hardened at her first touch.

  Her hands slid upward, massaging his nipples delicately, and Nick’s body reacted painfully as Silver said, “I’m trying. You shouted last night and shuddered so long and hard and wilted that I know the exercise caused you pain.”

  “Exercise? Like a rowing machine? Is that what you think happened?” Nick forced himself to speak quietly, to fight his rising temper. The tug of her inquiring fingers upon his nipples had sent white-hot cords contracting in his lower body. “There was that one little delighted cry from you and those purrs.”

  The slender hand wandering across his chest, toying with his nipples, stopped. “I’m trying to comfort you, Nick. It’s obvious to me that you’re in a bad mood—”

  He sensed her preparing to leave him alone and desperately launched a capture technique. Silver wasn’t escaping, waltzing easily from him. “Why don’t you sit on my lap? That would help. Just a perfect little therapy touch.”

  Silver hesitated, then moved around beside him. Her hands cradled his jaw. “You’re so tense. Warm. I hope you don’t—after—that doesn’t cause a fever, does it? You’re bristling, sparks jumping off you. You do need cuddling, don’t you?”

  He eased her thigh across his, eased her curved bottom upon him, straddling his legs. “It would help.”

  Nick Palladian was really sweet beneath all his hard exterior. And tastable. Silver couldn’t resist placing just one small kiss in the center of his chin, just where that enticing little cleft nestled in his tanned and slightly rough skin. She rubbed her cheek against his, enticed by the stubble there and slid her hands behind his neck, to pull herself closer.

  With oiled hands, she rubbed the curling, crisp hair on his chest, studying the rich gleam between her pilfering fingers.

  “Let me get this straight,” he said slowly as though wading through his thoughts. “You’re feeling sony for me—”

  “I’m sympathetic. I know what last night cost you and that you’ve needed time to recover.”

  “‘Time to recover,’” he repeated slowly, darkly. “So this has nothing to do with my past That you might be afraid of me.”

  “Heavens, no. Why would I be? You offer no threat at all.” She spoke carefully, not wanting to wound him more. “Nick, you’ve overcome tremendous problems. Mamie, while she was doing her sell of you, told me the whole heartbreaking story...poor little Nick.... Your brothers love you, your grandmother cares enough to advertise your nomnanied state and that she wants grandchildren from you. Plus you’re the pet of the entire Tallchief family. I’ve seen you cuddle their babies, and you’ll make a wonderful father for those children you want.” She patted his chest and traced the intriguing muscles beneath his dark skin. “Someday, you’ll find a nice sweet girl and you’ll get married and everyone will be happy.”

  “I don’t offer a threat?” he repeated slowly, thoughtfully. “Not a serious threat? You see me as a kindly, brotherly type?”

  “You’re not that bad. After our business is complete, we may even be friends. I’ll make you that love potion. I’ve made it for other guys.” She wiggled a bit on his lap, adjusting to the thrusting hardness and Nick’s big hands clamped down on her hips.

  “Hold still. ‘A guy.’ You see me as a guy...someone to jog with. to share that friendly cup of cappuccino at a sidewalk café, to share an umbrella with in a rainstorm, a ‘let’s do lunch’ sort of guy?” A small pulse began pounding beneath the tanned skin on his temple.

  She patted his cheek and smoothed that thick wave of hair back from his lined and scowling forehead. She kissed his throbbing temple, the muscle clenching in his jaw. She smiled and traced his tightly pressed lips, the grim lines bracketing them. He’d told her he’d missed her and to be fair—“I missed you, too. Why don’t you g
et some rest, and everything will be better in the morning. Now that our...basic attraction has been settled, we can develop an easier relationship—one in which you are more relaxed and you go about your business, and I can focus on what I came for—”

  “‘Basic attraction,”’ he repeated darkly, scowling at her.

  She ran her finger down the line between his eyebrows. “You’re repeating what I say. You’re under stress. You don’t want to disappoint your grandmother, and your biological clock is ticking. You’ve been influenced by all the scents of the Tallchiefs, all that baby powder and love and—”

  “Any more featherbrained theories about me and why I might want a relationship—a very intimate relationship with you?” he asked, the sound grating ominously in the night air.

  “I’ve built a business from scratch. I have a small, but good reputation as a perfumer. I am not featherbrained, and you know it. Now you’re angry...I can smell a regular hot froth pouring off you.” She sniffed delicately in the area of his tense jaw. “Bergamot, ambergris, clary sage, cedar and a mulling, dark scent that is definitely unique to you. I’d like to bottle that—tempering it, of course. The essence is too raw and primitive, too bold and almost quivering with tropical heat.... I was only trying to help. You’re clearly under pressure to perform.”

  “‘Perform’?” The word sounded like a rottweiler crunching a bone.

  “Don’t get upset. You’re delicate now. Sensitive. You’ve never had to commit to a relationship and you’re afraid. The playboy types always are. You’ve been footloose and fancy-free, and now you feel tike running away from what your grandmother and your brothers and the Tallchiefs want. The weight is too much, the strain is showing. Once you find a nice girl to settle down with, to marry, the tension will ease.”

  “Are you quite finished with your ‘let’s keep this light and easy,’ analytical, screwball kiss-off, sweetheart?” Nick asked too quietly, his hands easing up to her shoulders.

  The next afternoon, while she gathered larkspur, daisies and sunflowers, Silver studied Nick, who was standing by the stream, watering the horses. He stood, legs braced apart, shoulders wide and taut beneath those magnificent red suspenders. Looking at him now, she almost forgave him for mashing her to the ground last night and kissing her until she couldn’t breathe, until she ached, until—There was a certain intriguing violence, tempered with control, as Nick fed upon her mouth, her skin, her breasts. She could have pushed him away at any time, but he’d placed the choice in her hands, and her hands wanted him. His touch was far too knowing, sliding along the elastic trim of her panties and one touch in a very intimate part of her body had sent her over the perfect, shattering edge. Then he had retreated with a dark, satisfied look, eyes glittering as she tried to find her melted bones and stuff them back into her. She had managed one hand flop.

  “Let’s go make that sweat lodge now, Miss Tallchief,” he’d said in a satisfied, low growl before pushing himself to his feet and stalking off toward the moonlit lake.

  She tore a sunflower from its stalk as Nick turned to study her. Lying in her sleeping bag just inches from the man who had pushed her away, who had torn off his clothes and dived into a tiny icy lake, hadn’t been easy. His naked body running through the moonlit meadow was enough to keep her awake. She’d never thought about stark male beauty, strong bulky lines, flowing toward her. Intriguing glimpses of his thrusting arousal reminded her that Nick hadn’t been satisfied. That he had merely acted to point out her need of him. If she could have moved, she would have run him down and made him pay. Instead, she fell into a beautiful, deep sleep and dreamed of Nick curled close to her, the friendly, safe, brotherly Nick—the tastable, sweet Nick.

  The last week of June, Nick had picked his battleground, his office at Palladin, Inc.’s Denver skyscraper. Silver had not yet entered the serious bridal chitchat mode, and he sensed that she prepared to treat him like a friend, a brother, an appliance, another cappuccino guy. She’d avoided any personal conversations with him, while spending hours in her laboratory or with the Tallchiefs.

  Nick wanted the woman he was about to acquire to realize that he was checking out of the friendly-guy-buddy business with her and entering a new and committed relationship. He was stepping out of the guy chorus line to lead position. Nick tapped his fingers on his desk at Palladin, Inc. headquarters, and studied the woman across the gleaming walnut expanse. Dressed in a smart black sheath that showed her long legs to perfection, and suited the dinner meeting with Mamie, Silver had been shown the offices that wouid deal with marketing the signature fragrance she created. Silver looked crisp and ready to present her ideas to Mamie, all business and ice. Nick wondered how she would look, a few moments later, after he’d presented to her the real mission of their flight to Denver. He sucked back that tiny tinge of guilt. Prices had to be paid for moving out of the ranks of the doo-wop boys and into the featured-player role.

  “Very impressive,” Silver murmured as Nick finished scrawling his signature on necessary papers, dictating orders to the company secretary and arranging flight plans back to Amen Flats in the morning.

  Nick moved around the desk, wanting nothing to clutter his advance on Silver Tallchief, negotiating her into the marriage he wanted. He leaned his hips on the desk and offered her a glass of champagne from the bottle chilling in ice. “I want to get a matter cleared between us, before we dine with my grandmother. She’s elderly and I don’t want a scene in front of her.”

  Silver sipped the champagne and lifted a sleek black eyebrow. Nick noted again the beautiful slant of her cheekbones, the glossy raven cropped haircut that spoke of her Sioux heritage and the smoky gray eyes of her Scots great-great-grandmother. She was perfect for him, fitting his hands, his body and his heart; in his lifetime, no other woman had attracted him like Silver. Nick had never felt the tenderness he had discovered with her. With the sheer joy of acquiring Silver as his wife went a few difficulties, and he had prepared to take action. He eagerly anticipated her reaction to his next move. He reached into an ornate box and withdrew a smaller velvet one. “I want you to wear this to dinner. It’s an engagement ring,” he said, defining the unusual Celtic design.

  A standard solitaire diamond wouldn’t have suited Silver’s carefully disguised passions. But Nick had stepped inside her boundaries, and tasted the woman beneath the puzzle. On one level, he knew her very well. She was predatory, feminine, delightful, tender, and she was his.

  He opened the box and waited for the explosion as Silver stared at the huge bloodred ruby engagement ring, smaller rubies clustering around the huge center stone. The bold, almost primitive new setting made the statement Nick wanted. To have the woman he wanted wear the mark of his possession was a primitive instinct, a claiming. With Silver, he was very possessive.

  She choked on her last swallow of champagne, and Nick patted her on the back. She recovered and glared at him. Nick reached to tip her glass up to her lips, satisfied when she took another sip. After effectively completing his opening attack, placing his offer on the bargaining table, Nick placed the open box aside. He sipped his champagne and studied the woman he intended to marry.

  “I won’t do this to Mamie,” Silver managed to say shakily, paling beneath her light tan.

  “What do you think you’d be doing to my grandmother?” Nick asked, prepared to spend as much time at crafting this bargain, as much patience as he needed to secure Silver Tallchief as his wife, his lover, the mother of his children.

  The light of his dreams scowled at him and rose to stalk back and forth across the lush carpeting of his office. Denver’s evening lights twinkled in the background, outlining her taut and very feminine body. Nick could feel his body harden, her silky skin moving beneath his hands. He pushed down his desire and waited.

  Silver stood in front of him and the deep breath she took allowed Nick to appreciate the crevice between her breasts. “You want to fake an engagement for your grandmother’s benefit, and I will not be a part of decei
ving her.”

  Nick launched his second attack. “There’s a wedding ring that goes with the engagement ring. I thought you would appreciate the Celtic design, a tribute to Una. The rings can easily be exchanged to something you’d like better.”

  The wide ornate ring glittered richly against the black velvet of the box. Ntck pictured it on her slender finger, the only item she would wear in his bed. He’d given women presents before—but it was very important to him that Silver like what he had chosen. He shifted restlessly as he realized exactly how fragile he was where she was concerned.

  His sweet bnde-to-be had paled, staring blankly at him and then at the ring, as though it were a stake, ready to drive through her heart. “You’re on overload. We’ve known each other just one month.”

  “We’ve made love. You trusted me. You gave me something you’ve never shared before. It’s clear that I’m not just one of the guys, someone to share that umbrella and that cup of cappuccino,” he returned easily, offering her a smile. The past week of aching to have Silver, of planning this moment, was almost worth it. While waiting for bridal chitchat, Nick had been on edge, a first in his business dealings He regretted snapping at Rawlins in bookkeeping, and the manager of a Palladin-owned sporting goods store. He must have said something too sharp and impatient to several women who had called him on insignificant matters, who stopped him, chatting away about daughters and homecooked meals and batting their lashes at him. He’d been a bit kinder in his single days, looking for the right woman beneath all that eye-batting and crooning, but now he hoped they took care of their eye problems and left him alone to pursue Silver.

  No other woman could make him come alive as Silver could, every moment explosive and packed with curiosity at how she would react next. He smiled as he remembered how she had absently taken the strip of bacon he’d fed her this morning, how her teeth had closed over the meat, sending a sensual jolt into him. How she’d walked to his laundry room, pilfered through his ironed stacks of shorts and T-shirts, selected what she wanted and dressed in them. He liked taking care of Silver, of her feeling comfortable with him.