The 14th... And Forever
Page 20
Holding her mouth with his, he set her on her feet and went to work on her clothes. She tugged at his with the same eager hands.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, shaping her breasts with his palms. “All creamy and soft and sweet, like a rich, chewy praline.”
She speared her fingers through the pelt of dark hair on his chest. “You’re not so bad yourself. For a number-crunching VP, you strip down pretty good.”
She was aching and on fire when they tumbled to the bed in a whirl of greedy kisses and tangled limbs. Angela wrapped her legs around his, desperate for the feel of his strength surging into her.
“Easy, sweetheart,” Jack murmured against the fevered skin of her neck. “We’ll take it slow and sweet. We’ve got all night, and a king-size bed. I want to remember every minute of this.”
“You’ll remember every minute,” she promised, sliding her palm down his belly. “You will.”
Angela didn’t want easy. She didn’t want slow. She wanted to leave her scent all over Jack, and his in every crevice of her body.
He filled her hand. Hot. Satiny. As sleek and as hard as a smooth-bore piston.
She stroked him with the exquisite care she’d give a high-performance engine. Deliberately, she primed him. Fiercely, she exulted as his breath grew more ragged in her ear.
Then he reversed positions and his fingers found the tight center of sensation between her legs. His touch set off small spirals of pleasure. When he bent his body and brought his mouth down to her breast, the spirals spun into searing, liquid delight.
“Now, Jack.” She arched her back, groaning. “I choose now. Here! Ooooh!”
With a growl of pleasure, he surged into her. Almost instantly, her body spasmed around him. Her long, drawn-out moan escalated into a wild cry that drove him straight over the edge.
Angela awoke the next morning the same way she always did. Reluctantly. Grudgingly.
Wincing at the sunlight that streamed through the fanlights above the tall bedroom windows, she tugged the tangled covers over her head. Instantly, warmth and the lingering scent of love surrounded her. More slowly, the realization that she was alone in the warm, dark cocoon penetrated her consciousness.
Frowning, she pushed her head out of the covers. There were no signs of Jack in the bedroom, and no sound coming from any of the other rooms. A heavy stillness hung over the apartment, disturbed only by the faint rumble of early rush-hour traffic outside.
Her frown deepening, Angela shoved the covers aside and swung out of bed. Grabbing the maroon-and-gold Washington Redskins T-shirt she used as a sleepshirt from the chair beside the bed, she slipped it on and padded barefoot into the living room.
Showered, shaved and fully dressed, Jack was ensconced in the apartment’s only comfortable armchair, perusing the newspaper. Ruefully Angela realized that she’d slept right through his morning ritual...and that he’d let her. They’d have to work on their morning routines, she decided. The next time she shared a bed with Jack Merritt, she wanted to wake up in his arms.
He glanced up at her entrance, and her heart thumped painfully at the smile that formed in his eyes. It was the one he’d given her at the airport the first time they met, a potent combination of admiration and masculine appreciation that made her forget her unbrushed hair and unwashed face.
Her bare toes curling with pleasure, she returned the smile. “Morning.”
“Good morning.”
The newspaper rustled as he dropped it and rose to greet her with more than words. Angela crossed one foot over the other as he brushed the tangled strands from her forehead. Just the touch of his hand on her skin brought back instant, erotic memories of the night before.
“I poked around in the kitchen,” he told her. “I was going to serve you breakfast in bed before I left, but all I could find was a box of stale crackers and some mineral water.”
Angela’s dreamy pleasure faded abruptly at the reminder of his imminent departure. Hiding her dismay, she dismissed her empty cupboards with an airy wave. “I usually eat out. What time is your flight?”
He glanced at his watch. “In an hour. It was the only flight to Atlanta today available on this short notice.”
“I’d better get dressed, then.”
He caught her arm, his fingers warm on her bare skin. “You’ve got the senator to take care of. I’ll call a cab.”
Angela summoned a -grin. “No way, Merritt. The senator said his staff would take care of all your needs when you’re here, remember? I’ll get you to the airport, and I guarantee we won’t get stuck on the bridge this time.”
Driving against the rush-hour traffic streaming into the city, Angela made excellent time to the airport.
Tires screeching, she pulled into the same spot in front of the Delta terminal where she’d parked illegally and waited for Jack just a few days ago. Ignoring the yellow stripe on the curb and the No Parking signs posted every ten feet, she switched off the ignition.
A chill February wind knifed through her purple suede jacket as she joined Jack on the sidewalk. The matching knee-length suede skirt swirled in the breeze. Shivering, she burrowed into Jack’s arms.
His kiss promised everything he’d whispered to her last night. When he raised his head, his gray eyes confirmed that promise.
“I don’t want any goodbyes between us. Ever. I’ll be back, Angela. Soon.”
She smiled. “I’ll be waiting.”
Chapter 16
Jack took exactly two steps into the terminal, then stopped abruptly.
Passengers shot him disgruntled looks as they sidestepped around his unmoving form. Jack ignored their mumbled comments. He ignored the flashing notice on the huge arrival-and-departure board that indicated that his flight was in the process of boarding. He ignored everything but the single thought that drummed through his head.
What was he doing?
What the hell was he doing?
He’d walked away from his cold, uncaring grandfather and never looked back. Against his ex-wife’s wishes, he’d accepted the position at Children’s and watched her walk away from their marriage. Now, like a fool, he was walking away from Angela.
He was only leaving for a few weeks, his logical, rational mind asserted. He’d be back. He’d promised her that he’d be back, and he would. Within a week or two, three at most.
Jack stood stock-still for another moment or two, thinking about those weeks. Then he spun on one heel and raced for the door. Driven by a need that had no anchor in logic or rational thought, he ran outside. He hit the curb just as Gus’s Chevy pulled out of the drop-off area and cut into the heavy stream of traffic.
“Dammit!”
With utter ruthlessness, he commandeered a cab that was emptying its passengers curbside.
“I need to catch the dark green Chevy that just pulled away. Let’s go.”
“No, no, mister,” the swarthy driver protested, gesturing to the long line of waiting cabs at the far end of the terminal. “I must go to the line’s end. It is the rule.”
“We’re breaking the rules—” Jack skimmed the badge pinned to the man’s shirt “—Mustafa.”
Emptying his wallet, he thrust a wad of bills into the cabbie’s hand. Without so much as a blink, the driver pocketed the bills and opened the passenger door.
“A dark green Chevy, you say. It is done.”
The cab left the pickup area with a squeal of its tires that would have done Angela proud. Jack leaned forward, his gaze narrowed on the six lanes clogged with bumper-to-bumper rush-hour traffic. The slow pace both aided and frustrated the pursuit. To his intense relief, he caught a glimpse of the Chevy a half mile or so ahead. As much as Mustafa tried, though, he couldn’t maneuver his cab any closer to the quarry.
Angela, on the other hand, weaved through miniscule openings in the traffic with seemingly effortless skill. It was that damned lug-nut school of driving she’d attended, Jack thought savagely as the dark green sedan pulled farther and farther away
.
The short stretch of Memorial Parkway between National Airport and the turnoff for the Fourteenth Street Bridge seemed endless. Traffic slowed to a crawl as it approached the exit, then stopped completely.
Relief spiked through Jack when he caught sight of the Chevy in the lines of vehicles trying to feed onto the bridge ramp. His relief plummeted into chagrin, however, when the sedan slipped through impossible openings and inched its way up the ramp ahead of the other vehicles.
Leaving Mustafa shaking his head at the foibles of his passenger, Jack thrust open the door and dodged through the stalled traffic. The grassy verge beside the parkway allowed him more freedom of movement. In mere moments, he was up the ramp.
A chill wind off the Potomac knifed into his lungs. Exhaust fumes from the idling vehicles stung his eyes. Drivers’ heads turned. Ignoring everything but the dark green sedan now only a few yards ahead, Jack twisted through a narrow passage of protruding side mirrors and extended bumpers. His only thought was to catch up with Angela.
He might have known she couldn’t be caught.
As she’d informed him during his brief stint as a driver-in-training, a good driver always knows what’s behind, beside and ahead. She’d shoved the Chevy into park, threw open the door, and jumped out of the vehicle before Jack was within twenty yards of the Chevy. The wind tossed her hair into a dark cloud as she ran to meet him.
“Jack! What’s the matter? Oh, God, there hasn’t been another disaster, has there?”
She threw herself into his arms, her frantic hands clutching at his suit sleeves. Head back, she searched his face for signs of injury.
“Your plane didn’t blow up, did it? Terrorists didn’t take over the terminal?”
“No,” he panted, more winded than he wanted to admit from his headlong run. “No terrorists.”
“Then what?” she demanded. “What?”
“I love you.”
“What?”
At the look in her astounded eyes, Jack regained his breath and lost it again in the same instant.
“I love you,” he repeated. “I love you here. Now. Forever. I’m not leaving Washington without you. I’m not leaving at all, if that’s what you want.”
“But... But...”
A hom sounded an impatient tattoo somewhere behind them. Jack didn’t pay it any attention. Neither did the motorists who’d climbed out of their cars to gawk at the scene taking place in the middle of the bridge.
“No buts, sweetheart. No maybes. Please, Angela, make your mother and me happy. Marry me. Today. Tomorrow.”
“I...I can’t!”
His heart dropped clear through the bridge into the cold gray waters of the Potomac. Then Angela rose up on the tips of her sneakered toes and locked her arms around his neck.
“I can’t marry you...not until we arrange to rent Gus’s longest limo and Aunt Helen bakes the cannolis for the reception and Uncle Guido prints the fliers for the ceremony at Saint Ignacio’s and...Michael agrees to sing at the ceremony.”
Grinning, Jack tightened his arms and lifted her to his heart. “How long will all that take?”
“Not long,” she answered, joyous laughter filling her voice. “Not with my mother orchestrating events.”
Then she pulled his mouth down to hers.
Epilogue
“Lucy!”
At the high-pitched, excited squeal, Lucy Falco’s head shot up. Shoving away from her desk, she hurried into Gulliver’s Travels’ front office.
“What’s the matter?”
The silver-haired Tiffany Tarrington Toulouse jumped up, waving a reservation form excitedly.
“Wait until you hear about the call I just got!”
Relieved that the building wasn’t on fire or the office being burgled by another trio of bumbling thieves, Lucy dragged in a calming breath.
“It was Dr. Merritt,” Tiffany exclaimed. “Do you remember that deluxe package I put together for his trip to Washington? The one he made me cancel?”
“Yes.”
“He’s just requested that we arrange another package with Top Hat Limousine Service at full, undiscounted rates.”
“You’re kidding!”
“No, look!”
The other travel agents crowded as Tiffany read the list of requirements in a bubbling, delighted voice.
“He wants their longest presidential stretch limo. Not number 286, because it’s a slug.”
“What?”
“That’s what he said. Dom Pérignon ’86, not ’83. A single red rose in a silver vase. And—” she squinted at her scribbled notes “—a tape that includes every song ever recorded by Enrico Caruso, Mario Lanza and Placido Pavarotti.”
“I think that’s Luciano Pavarotti,” one of the other agents put in.
Tiffany flapped a beringed hand. “Whoever.”
“Do you have any idea what this is all about?” Lucy asked, reaching for the pink sheet.
“You’re not going to believe this,” the older woman predicted, a wide grin lighting her face. “He’s taking his bride on a moonlight tour of Washington before they leave for their honeymoon.”
“His bride!”
“He’s getting married tomorrow. He said he was giving himself a delayed Valentine’s Day present.”
A stunned silence descended, broken only by Tiffany’s merry, tinkling laughter.
“Can you believe it? Five holidays in five months, followed by five honeymoon packages. Gulliver’s Travels has a perfect string going!”
“It certainly seems so,” Lucy agreed faintly.
“Well, I’m not going to break the streak,” Tiffany declared with a grin. “As soon as I make this reservation, I’m going to call Humphrey. He’s only a child, of course, a mere fifty-one, but the man does possess the cutest buns I’ve seen in many a year. Besides which, he worships me. He positively worships me.”
She snatched up a calendar filled with vivid pictures of European cities and flipped the page.
“Let’s see, what’s next? Aha! Saint Patrick’s Day! That will do. That will do nicely.”
Shooing her co-workers aside, she marched to her computer terminal. The other agents gaped at her, then turned thunderstruck faces to their office manager. Her dark eyes dancing, Lucy smiled.
“Tiffany Tarrington Toulouse and Humphrey Huffmeister on an Irish holiday honeymoon. It’s perfect. Perfect.”
ISBN : 978-1-4592-7210-1
THE 14TH...AND FOREVER
Copyright © 1997 by Merline Lovelace
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office. Silhouette Books. 300 East 42nd Street. New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Praise
Letter to Reader
Also by
About the Author
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
>
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Copyright