Harlequin Superromance August 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2: What Happens Between FriendsStaying at Joe'sHer Road Home

by Beth Andrews

  You know it is.

  A blank place in her chest ached like a sore tooth. It was dangerous, this wanting. Sam knew from experience that driving a flag in the ground at the top of a hill and saying out loud, “I want this,” was asking fate to drop a bomb.

  She searched inside to see how she felt about that.

  Nick waited, the moon lighting the blatant hope on his face.

  I don’t care.

  The rain would come. But until then, she decided to make the most of this respite from the wind. She brushed the backs of her fingers over his cheek, noting the unexpected softness of his skin against the slight beard stubble. His unique scent, mingling with the cloying smell of jasmine should have clashed. Hmm. She inhaled and held it, storing it in her memory.

  His breath hitched. His face hovered, so close that the skin of her cheek tingled. When he slid his hands through her hair, bobby pins pinged off wood, and the whole heavy mess fell to her shoulders. He made a sound, a cross between a purr and a growl, deep in his chest. His fingers ran along her scalp, combing through her hair, over and over.

  The intimacy of it shot a bolt of lust to her crotch. She hadn’t known that in a man’s hands, hair could be an erogenous zone. She became suddenly aware of the frilly scrap of material between her legs when her moisture touched it.

  Restless, she put her hands on his shoulders, to anchor her to the porch. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back and pushed away cautious thoughts. They’d be there, waiting, later. For now, feeling was enough.

  He touched his lips to the curve of her jaw, and trailed whisper kisses down her throat. His hands moved over her back, brushing the naked flesh exposed by her peasant blouse. A delicious shiver slid down her spine. His mouth moved lower, dancing along her collarbone. Then lower, to the top of her breasts, edged by her scoop-neck blouse. A bowstring of want tightened her nipples. Me. Touch me.

  She leaned into him, hoping he couldn’t feel her blazing heat through their clothes, aware of the muscles of his thighs and the thrust of his erection. His hands slid lower, cupping her buttocks. He lifted her, slow and close. Her damp crotch felt every inch of him on the way up, and she squirmed in a spasm of pleasure. He sat her on the porch rail, and stepped into the open space between her legs.

  She cupped his face in her hands, raising it until her lips barely touched his. “I don’t care what happens later, Nick. I want you now.”

  The bass vibrations of his moan touched the skin of her lips. Nick kissed her with a focus she’d never experienced, as if his body was only a conduit for the force of his spirit. She recognized that spirit from their late-night phone calls, now given physical form. He greeted her with his mouth, as if she were from his past—an old love. As if he knew her.

  As he made tender love to her mouth, her mind tipped, falling into him. She clutched the lapels of his shirt in her fists and clung, his hard body her only anchor in a sea of feeling.

  Voices—discussing cupcakes? Sound and light burst into her consciousness, waking her like a splash of cold water. She realized that a light had come on, the screen door had opened and people were stepping onto the porch.

  She jerked away. Nick’s slow hands gentled her, smoothing her hair. She hopped from the rail, face blazing.

  The mayor and his wife didn’t seem aware of them. They waved their goodbyes to the Jurgens. But Jesse’s sly glance missed nothing.

  Sam said, “I’d better be getting home, too.” She smoothed her skirt, tucked her hair behind her ear then faced Jesse’s smirk. “I had a wonderful time. You two really know how to throw a party.”

  “It looks like we weren’t the only ones throwing a party.” Jesse smiled. “Okay, hon, I’ll let you go. But if you don’t stop by the café tomorrow, I’ll hunt you down like a cur dog.”

  Sam knew the threat wasn’t idle. Jesse would have her spilling her guts sooner rather than later. “Okay, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. And Jesse?” She tucked her hand in the crook of Nick’s elbow. “Thanks.”

  “You’re very welcome, sweetie. That’s what friends are for.”

  A small thrill fluttered through her when Nick took her hand. They walked across the lawn to the door of the Jeep, where he turned her to face him. “We have a deal, right? You’re done running for the next couple of months.”

  “Sealed deal, Pinelli.” She held up her hand, with last finger out. “Do you want to pinkie swear?”

  “Nah, I trust you.” He leaned down and brushed a featherlight kiss on her lips. It had none of the earlier heat, but its sweetness touched her in another way entirely. It brought to center the big step she’d taken tonight. And at this moment , at least, she was glad.

  “Besides, after that kiss on the porch, I don’t think you could chase me away with a claw hammer.”

  “You’re the one with the hammers, Sam. A mechanic uses different tools.” He waggled his eyebrows and winked at her, then headed off down the hill, whistling.

  “Hey, Pinelli.” She tossed after him, “Did I mention tools are my favorite thing, ever?”

  * * *

  “BINGO!” NICK CLICKED ON the photo ad for full chrome turn-signal lenses on bikeboneyard.com. His fingers flew over the keyboard, entering his credit card and shipping info, then clicked Buy, holding his breath until the site acknowledged his purchase. “Score!” He punched one fist in the air. The phone on the counter rang. “Pinelli’s, this is Nick.”

  “Well, you sound happy.” Sam’s sexy alto voice came over the line. “Did the Dodgers win a double-header?”

  “No. Better. I just bought the prettiest Vulcan turn signal lenses you ever saw. I was about to call you.”

  “Good job!”

  “Now if I could just find a gas tank. I could make do with your tank, but it’s sacrilege to Bondo a classic bike. That, and decent rims are proving to be the hardest. And your rims are cracked. There’s no fixing that.”

  “You are a mighty hunter, Pinelli. You’ll find them eventually, I have no doubt. But in the meantime, let’s celebrate you bagging the lenses. You want to come to dinner tonight?”

  “Well, I don’t know. I have standards. What are you cooking?”

  “I thought I’d just—oh, shut up, Nick. Are you saying that if I cook Spam, you won’t come?”

  “Spam?” He gulped. “I’m sure the way you fix it, it’s really good.”

  Her chuckle let him know he’d been had. “Gotcha. Come on over around six, okay?”

  “Even Spam couldn’t keep me away.”

  He hung up, more elated with the call than the turn signal lenses. He knew this was more than dinner. This was Sam, letting him in. He didn’t know if she was aware of it, but he sure was. He’d worried that after last week on Jesse’s porch, Sam would be shoring up her walls.

  Tonight, he hoped to explore the unchartered territory behind them. And he couldn’t wait.

  * * *

  AFTER WORK, SHE took a quick shower, threw on stonewashed jeans, a light blue oversize T-shirt with a slouch belt and ran downstairs to clean up the kitchen.

  Maybe tonight Nick would trust her enough to talk about his past.

  She kicked off her shoes, tied a large dish towel around her waist and tuned the radio to an oldies station out of Santa Maria. The radio blared out “Walkin’ in the Sand” by The Shangri-Las, and she sang along while she washed dishes, hips swaying to the beat.

  A featherlight touch fell on the back of her neck. She let out a squeal and whipped around, holding a wooden spoon out as a weapon.

  Nick put his hands up and stepped back, smiling.

  “Christ in a sidecar—you scared the crap out of me!” She put her hand over her racing heart.

  “I tried knocking but you couldn’t hear me for the music. A woman living alone shouldn’t leave her front door unlocked, you know.”
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  “And what could I have to fear when I have a ferocious watchdog?” Bugs sat on the porch, nose against the screen door, stumpy tail ticking. She walked over and let him in.

  Toenails scrabbling, Bugs tore over to Nick and threw himself on his side for a good belly scratch.

  Squatting, Nick obliged. “His hair is growing in nicely, I see.”

  Nick looked good. An ivory dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up on his tanned forearms, slim cut jeans stretched tight over his thighs and butt. He looked better than good. A warm spot heated her chest, spreading outward. She wanted to walk over, to trace the line of his long, workman’s bicep. She wanted to smell the vulnerable hollow at his throat. To lick it, to see what he would taste like.

  Yeah, Crozier, and then what? A cold sheet of reality doused the warm spot.

  He stood. “You looked so cute when I came in. Bare feet, dish towel and all, singing into that slotted spoon.”

  Tucking her hair behind her ear, she stepped into her loafers. “Hey, when I hit the road on my next concert tour, you’ll eat your words, Bucko.” She turned and wiped the sink, for something to do.

  Nick’s arms came around her waist, and pulled her snug against his chest. “I got no work done today, thinking about spending the evening with you.”

  She felt the rumble through her back, and his breath tickled her ear. She inhaled the becoming-wonderfully-familiar smell of Nick. “I had a pretty interesting day, myself.” She slipped out of his arms and pulled off her dish-towel apron. “Hey, I’ve got iced tea in the fridge.” She opened the refrigerator door and retrieved the pitcher and a plate of fruit and cheese she’d cut up earlier. “Do you want to have this on the porch?”

  “Sounds good. Remind me later, I’ve got dessert in the truck.” He lifted the pitcher of tea and two glasses and sidestepped Bugs, who danced a jig around his feet.

  They sat on the front steps, watching the dog chase grasshoppers in the front yard and talking about their day. Nick told of the latest scandal—a member of the city council had been caught in a compromising position in council chambers with a married constituent. “He told everyone that she’d come to him for zoning advice.”

  “Advice she obviously took!” Sam chuckled. “Hey, I understand. Easements and setbacks always make me hot.”

  Nick raised a grape to her mouth, holding it an inch away, his attention riveted on her lips. “I can’t wait to find out what else makes you hot.”

  At his breathy whisper, her smile melted in a flush of heat. She leaned in to take the fruit, watching him watch her. When her teeth grazed his fingers, his clipped groan had desire braided in it. He tilted his head and captured her mouth.

  His lips held the sweetness of the fruit. When he deepened the kiss, something flowed between them—electric, but not electricity—more a jolt of molten power. Startled, she sat back and raised her fingers to her tingling lips. “Did you feel that?”

  Nick appeared a bit startled himself. “Better try it again to see if it’s a fluke.” He slid his hands under her hair, tilted her head and kissed her. The power began again, a flow coursing between them. By the time he lightened the kiss, they were both breathing heavy. He nibbled her bottom lip, then reluctantly released her.

  Her guts felt like heated candle wax: warm, soft, pliable. “That has to be you—it sure isn’t me.”

  His green eyes had darkened to a deep jade. He cocked his head and studied her face. “I think it’s us, babe.”

  The endearment shot through her like a sparkler, white-hot bits of fire falling on her tight heart. She’d never been anyone’s “babe.”

  When Nick held out his hand, hers settled into it, pulled by the need for touch. She twined her fingers in his, feeling the roughness of working man’s hands. She wondered what they’d feel like touching the tender skin under her breasts. The sparkler’s white-hot bits of desire fell to the floor of her pelvis, starting a fire. She wanted to know. Soon.

  She whistled for Bugs and when she stood, Nick followed. Her limbs weighed heavy, as if she’d drunk wine rather than tea. She let the dog in, then led Nick into the parlor, to the edge of her bed. But once there, she hesitated. She hadn’t planned this; only followed her body’s strident demand—Nick, in her bed. When had her body ever taken control of her mind? Never, that’s when.

  He must have sensed her reserve, because he took both her hands in his. “Are you okay?” At her nod, he said, “Sam. I need you to know. Nothing will happen between us, if you’re not all-in. Ever.”

  His jaw and lips were set tight, but the softness in his eyes drew her. This was Nick, the savior of her nights, the keeper of her secrets. “Oh, you’re wrong. This bothers me, but not the way you think. I’m not afraid, Nick. I’ve never been afraid. Well, not since—” She untangled her fingers and allowed her hands free rein. Her thumbs slid up, tracing the shallow depression along the pale skin on the inside edge of his bicep. “Do we need to talk about that now? I’d rather just...” She went up on her toes to kiss him.

  The surge of power hit again, coursing through her, firing her nerve endings, leaving her hyperaware of every touch. His arms came around her to rest at the hollow of her back. Her nipples sliding against his chest hardened, sending a bolt to her crotch so strong she moaned.

  She ached to explore his skin. Would it be as smooth as she’d imagined, lying in her bed, listening to his voice on the phone? She reached up and unbuttoned his shirt, exposing a muscular chest with a light line of hair between his nipples, trailing to the waist of his jeans. Hmm, nice. She closed her eyes to concentrate on the feel of him under her hands.

  His hands were busy. She felt a tug and heard her belt hit the floor. Then his roughened hands were on her at last, awakening the sensitive skin of her stomach. Yes. This is what she’d imagined. Whorls of sensation spread, like ripples on water, to the vortex between her legs. She leaned into him, hearing their breath laboring. Her mind, now only a conduit for sensation, threw out random thoughts. Maybe Nick is the key to the lock.

  His strong hands cupped her breasts through her bra, and she shuddered as his long fingers found their tips. “Sam.”

  He touched her as if she were ancient porcelain. Something about his gentleness brought out the opposite in her—making her want to tear at him, to scratch his back with her nails, and pull him into the center of the fire he’d ignited. “We’re wearing way too many clothes, Pinelli.”

  “I wanted to go slow, but...”

  She bit his neck.

  His fingers dug into the skin at her waist. “Maybe later.” He groaned.

  They fumbled at each other’s zipper, but soon realized it was much faster to strip their own. Shoes and jeans flew into a crumpled heap.

  They stood, finally naked, breathing heavy, taking each other in. God, he was gorgeous. His muscles weren’t a bulging weight lifter’s. They were long, work-made muscles. Sleek. She followed the line of hair to the sexy indentation of his hips that drew her eye down. Evidence that his need matched hers bounced against his stomach.

  “Wow.” Oh, God, had she said that out loud?

  One side of his mouth lifted in that killer grin. He growled and reached for her. They tumbled onto the bed, laughing.

  But when their skin touched, laughter died. Sam lay on her side, eyes closed, feeling the hair of his chest against her nipples, his hand, sliding down the skin over her ribs, the arch of his foot, sliding over the muscles of her calf.

  He kissed along the underside of her jaw. “God, Sam, you’re perfect.” His hands cupped her breasts, his fingers moved as if imprinting the feel, the heft of them.

  When he rolled her stiff nipples between his fingers, her hips spasmed and she moaned. Her need was a wild animal, ripping and tearing. She pulled his hips to her, grinding into him.

  “Jesus,” he breathed. “Sam, I want you so badly—hav
e wanted you so badly—”

  She took his lips—she tasted the wildness in him. She guided him to the beginning of her, just touching. He didn’t move—except for the trembling. He stroked the hair at her temples and looked down at her, his eyes dark, his jaw tight.

  She realized he’d left this to her—it would be her choice. She took him into her quickly and deeply, not wanting him to have any doubt. He moaned then, and began to move slowly. So slowly.

  Sam stared up at the silly ornate cornice on the ceiling. Separate. Alone. Please, God, not now. One moment she’d been enmeshed in Nick, body and mind. The next, the slap of a cold wave of reality brought her back. Nick moved in her, and she struggled to get back to that warm, wild place, but the wave had passed, leaving only a stark feeling of clinical detachment. She tucked her chin over his shoulder and moved with him, so he wouldn’t know.

  * * *

  NICK KNEW. ONE minute they were wrapped together, bodies and minds. Then she was gone. Not physically, but every other way that mattered. He pushed himself up on his elbows, holding her head cradled in his hands, to look into her face. What he saw there made him frown, and he held himself still. “Am I hurting you?”

  Her features collapsed. She covered her face with her hands.

  He slid out of her but didn’t go far, settling beside her, holding her. Given what he knew of her past, he shouldn’t be surprised. But the lightning shift from lusty to broken woman left him flat-footed.

  “I’m s-sorry, Nick. I th-thought it would be different this time.” Her breath hitched.

  “Shh, it’s okay, babe. Really, it is.” He brushed a damp curl from her cheek.

  “It’s not. I know it’s hard for you to stop. I’m not afraid. We can—”

  “No. We can’t. You think that I’d just go there, without you?” Ignoring his aching gonads, he reached for a tissue on the milk-crate nightstand and handed it to her. “Who would do that?”