Blogger Bundle Volume I: Dear Author Selects Unusual Heroines

by Jo Leigh, Kathleen O'Reilly, Kay David

  He felt her muscles clench around her, saw her eyes go blank, her lashes drift downward. She began to gasp and shiver, and he smiled with satisfaction.

  At last.

  He thrust inside her one last time, as far as he could go. His body jerked, a charge of energy pulsing through him. Then his climax came, the undeniable pleasure, the undeniable truth.

  He loved her.

  THE SUN DIPPED low in the sky, the rays reaching through the blinds making long, even stripes on the satin sheets.

  Satin sheets. Even his dreams weren’t close enough.

  Amanda rose above him, her hair turning gold, her body pure silver.

  “You look so perfect, like something Michelangelo created and then hid from the world. I would have done that, too.”

  She didn’t answer, only smiled, her lips curving in a woman’s smile of pleasure. She splayed her hands on his chest, her fingers kneading him like a cat’s. Slowly her hips moved up and then down, embracing him with liquid fire. Her mouth trailed over him, silken flesh over hard, unforgiving muscle.

  This wasn’t right. It was her turn now. He rolled her beneath him, taking her mouth in a gentle kiss. He thrust into her with quiet passion, gently as he had longed to do, as she deserved.

  He kissed her neck, then her breasts, watching her chest rise as her breathing grew labored.

  She murmured his name, a single sound separated from the rest of the city noise. The air conditioner hummed, a plane flew overhead, but he heard little except the beat of her heart. Her head twisted, as if she was fighting, and Joe covered her mouth once more, thrust harder, deeper. He reached between them, found the place that brought her release.

  When she moaned, he found his release, and then pulled her close, watching her as her breathing slowed, as her eyes drifted shut in sleep. And even then he held tight. He wasn’t about to let her go. Not now.

  THE BUZZER RANG exactly at six-thirty. Amanda didn’t wake. Quietly, Joe slipped from the sheets, and went to the intercom and told the driver to go home. It wasn’t exactly what he planned, somehow his plans had always gotten off-track. He’d make it up to her. She deserved romance and candlelight.

  He checked his watch. There was a drugstore down the street. Maybe he could give her romance and candlelight after all.

  AMANDA ROLLED OVER in her bed, reaching out for Joe. Empty. Then she heard the music. Nina Simone. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. What was that about? She wrapped herself in the sheet and wandered to the living room.

  But she hadn’t wandered into her living room—she’d made her way to wonderland. Candles were everywhere, flickering, bathing the room in a magical glow.

  He was sitting on her couch, sipping a glass of wine, casually, as if he’d done nothing at all.

  The room dimmed with the blur of her tears.

  At the rustling sound of the sheet, he turned and lifted a brow. As one song came to a close, he stood, walked over, and then took her hand. “Dance?”

  She didn’t answer, just floated into his arms. They whirled around the room, with no sounds but the hiss of the candles and the soft slide of satin over marble.

  One song wafted into another, and before long the music stopped.

  She studied his face, so unbearably dear, so unbelievably handsome and let the sheet fall to the floor.

  At first he didn’t move, and instead let his gaze linger long and slow, making her blush. He lifted his hand and trailed a gentle finger from her mouth, down the line of her throat, between her breasts and lower.

  “I owe you an apology,” he said quietly.

  “For what?”

  He took the sheet and draped it over the couch, then lifted her in his arms. “I should have done this at the start. Sometimes I’m a little slow.”

  “I like it when you’re a little slow.”

  Gently, he lay her down, the satin cool as it slid against her skin. “Good,” he murmured, his mouth cruising over her throat, and then her breasts, heavy with intent. Her fingers lifted to the buttons on his shirt, but he grabbed her wrist and shook his head. “This is for you.”

  Helpless to do much more, Amanda closed her eyes. His rough palms grazed her breasts and she lifted up to meet his touch. For long torturous moments, he did nothing but lightly circle her nipples with wicked strokes of his fingers. She felt the moisture pool inside her, pulsing and throbbing.

  He lowered his head, his mouth replacing his fingers, and she shoved her fingers in his hair, pressing him close. His tongue flicked against her skin, at first gentle, sensual, and then with more purpose. His mouth pulled her nipples in deeper, almost painful, and she cried out.

  Amanda curled her toes, her thighs falling open, waiting for him to appease her. But he chose to ignore her pleadings and instead his mouth worked its way farther down, his tongue teasing against her belly.

  Oh, please.

  His fingers stroked the inside of her thigh. High, but not high enough. He cupped her heat and she curled her hips into his hand waiting to be filled.

  But he had other plans. He slid his hands beneath her legs, opening her even wider. His mouth pleasured the inside of her thighs, licking the moisture that coated them. With each flick of the tongue he moved closer, and she fisted her hands in the sheet.

  Sounds, more like incoherent pleas, broke from her lips as she felt herself flying higher and higher. She bucked against him, her muscles clenching and unclenching.

  Just a little bit more.

  While his mouth continued its torment, he put his fingers inside her, touching her there.

  And that was enough.

  The lights behind her eyes gleamed red and gold and she felt her muscles shake. She cried out just as her senses exploded.

  THEY DIDN’T LEAVE her apartment that weekend and on Sunday afternoon they’d just finished lunch when she got the phone call. It was a retired secretary from Clean-All returning Amanda’s call. When Amanda hung up the phone, she was flushed with her success.

  “Good news?” he asked, like he couldn’t tell.

  She sat down on the couch next to him, her hands automatically straightening the Sunday paper. “The best. She knows where the old files are. I knew we’d get him, and now there’s undisputable proof. We have to celebrate.”

  He bet she celebrated a lot. She worked so hard for her success. “And what would you like to do?”

  She pulled her hair back with one hand, her breasts lifting, reminding him that she wore no bra. “Dinner tonight at Chanterelle, champagne.”

  And orchids. Tonight he’d give her the orchids. “I’ll make reservations.” He started to rise from the couch, but she pushed him back.

  “Not yet.” Her cool blue eyes were awash with purpose. He was getting to recognize that look. Joe might never have been the brightest in school, but he knew how to pleasure a woman.

  Amanda pulled her T-shirt over her head and climbed into his lap. His hands found the places she wanted to be touched, his mouth kissed her in the exact right way. It wasn’t everything he wanted to give her, but right now it was all he had.

  MONDAY MORNING came way too soon. Joe had set the alarm for 3:00 a.m. He had to make it home, shower and get in to work. Amanda was still fast asleep. He watched her sleep, the city lights keeping the room from darkness, even at this hour.

  She loved him. He hadn’t brought it up again, he was too afraid she would change her mind. He gathered up his clothes and started to dress. He still didn’t understand it all. The one big question lurked out there. What now? She was going to win Vincent’s case for him, go out and conquer the world. And what was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he be proud? Why couldn’t he get past the fact that second place was really okay?

  After all, he’d done second place his entire life.

  He pulled on his boots with more force than necessary and started to walk out the door.

  Amanda rolled in the white satin sheets and his heart twisted.

  God, he loved her.

  He leane
d down over the bed, stroked the hair away from her face. He pressed a gentle kiss against her cheek and then walked out the door.

  AMANDA WANDERED into work at 9:45 a.m…9:45 a.m. One hour and forty-five minutes after Powers. It was going to be on the news, she just knew it. Nobody said anything, though, and she was somewhat disappointed that no one had noticed.

  She’d searched her apartment for a note from Joe, but couldn’t find anything. Oh, well. He’d call. By eleven o’clock, she’d heard nothing. It was still early. By 4:45, she was ready to cry. Thankfully, Grace was nearby, adorned with an Empire State Building monument hanging around her neck.

  “Grace, do you know a place to get a drink around here?”

  Grace looked up from her desk. “Well, Caruso’s is just around the corner, and there’s always O’Malleys. You looking for someplace sophisticated or a little boisterous?”

  “Boisterous.” She couldn’t handle sophisticated today.

  “O’Malley’s is the place. They have the best bartender. His name is Joaquin, and he’s trying to be an actor. Oh, my God. He is to die for.” Grace fanned herself. “Oh, but I bet you’re taking your new beau. Chef Joe. Probably wouldn’t be the best choice.”

  “No, I’m going alone. Unless you’d like to come?” she asked hopefully.

  Grace saw through her. “Oh, boss. He’s done it, hasn’t he? He broke your heart. Look at you, poor dear.”

  “He didn’t call today.” She felt pitiful and needy, but after the weekend they’d had, surely…

  “Oh, it’s the worst.” Grace clicked her tongue.

  “I thought he’d at least leave a note.”

  “They just get so wrapped up in themselves, they forget that we need a little reassurance.”

  “I told him I loved him.”

  Grace adjusted her hair. “Oh, honey. You’ve been betrayed, but you can’t let this get you down, you know what I mean? It’s the time of year. You got baseball, college ball starting up, and even preseason for the pros. And what woman can compete with sports? Some legends say Mae West had an off-season right after Labor Day. It’s a fundamental truth.”

  This insecurity was new to Amanda, and she felt tears in her eyes. “I don’t even know if he likes sports.”

  Grace took her by the arm. “Come on, honey. You’re just a babe to the wolves. Let Aunt Gracey tell you how it is.”

  O’MALLEY’S WAS PACKED. The air was heavy with smoke and the hum of laughter and conversation. Every thirty minutes, Amanda excused herself to go the ladies’ room. She didn’t think Grace was buying it, but she checked her answering machine faithfully.

  “You have no messages.”

  What had she done?

  She worked her way through the crowds back to their table. “I want to call him.”

  Grace slapped her hand over Amanda’s. “No. Give me your cell phone.”

  Amanda hesitated.

  “Now. It’s for your own good.”

  Grace picked up the cell phone, just as it started to ring.

  Amanda’s heart lifted. “It’s him.”

  Grace looked at the caller ID. “Dr. Barrington.” She pushed the green button. “Dr. Barrington, I presume? Yes, Amanda is right here. Would you like to speak with her? No, I’m her personal assistant, legal assistant, advice counselor and drinking confidant.”

  She covered the mouthpiece. “It’s for you honey. The doctor.”

  Amanda took the phone. “Avery?”

  “Amanda, have you seen Joe? I was supposed to meet him for an evening out on the town, but he seems to have been detained.”

  She had hoped he knew. Hoped he had some message for her. Pitiful. “No, I don’t know where he is.”

  “Are you all right? Your voice sounds rather faint.”

  “It’s the noise in the bar, Avery. I’ll try and speak up.”

  “Quite all right. If you see Joe, tell him that I’m waiting.”

  The phone clicked, and Amanda pushed the little red button. She was a lawyer; she tried to create logical reasons for his behavior. She did it all the time. “He was supposed to meet Avery tonight. Maybe that’s why he didn’t say anything. Maybe he knew he had plans and he couldn’t see me.”

  “Oh, boss. A girl has got to see the truth as it exists. It’s classic.”

  “I think I’m going to cry.”

  “Go ahead, boss. I’ll get you a Ricky Martini. It’ll make you feel better.”

  FOR THE FIRST TIME in his twenty-seven years, Joe was looking forward to spending time with his brother. But, they had three extra planes come in, and he was running late.

  Finally he hooked up with him, Avery looking completely out of place wearing a suit and tie at Blue Velvet. Joe slid into a chair, beer in hand. “Hey, bro.”

  “Hello. You’re late.”

  “Got tied up at work. Sorry. You’re more surly than usual.”

  “I’m sorry, I had a burn patient today. A little boy, but he’s going to be fine.”

  Oh. Joe clenched his hands, then slid his beer across the table. “Here. You need this more than I do. I really am sorry.”

  “I talked to Amanda.”

  Joe looked at Avery. What did that mean? “Oh? She called?”

  “No, I called. I was looking for you.”

  “I was working,” he answered casually, eager to know how she was.

  “I expected to find you together.”

  “No. She’s got a life. A busy one.”

  “What’s wrong with you, Joe?”

  “Hey, what could be wrong?”

  “You’re being more of an idiot than usual. You have a wonderful girl with an illustrious career who obviously cares for you. What could be wrong?”

  “Yeah, Amanda’s perfect, isn’t she?”

  Avery watched a girl across the bar. When she smiled at him, he smiled in return. Then he turned back to Joe. “What’s the real problem?”

  Avery would never understand. “You know, Avery, I thought I’d never meet someone more successful than you, but I think Amanda’s even got you whooped.” He tried to make a joke out of the whole thing.

  Avery quirked a brow, looking completely unfazed. “That’s a problem?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  “Why?” Avery assumed the doctor persona.

  “I think I should buy a car. Maybe a Japanese import. It’s not Mercedes, or BMW, but it’d be good to get around town.”

  “You don’t need a car, Joe.”

  “What? Everybody can have a car but me?”

  Avery sighed. “No. All I’m saying is that you don’t have need of a car. Is that why you’ve been working so much? You can’t finance it like the rest of the world, you have to pay cash?”

  “No, I’ve got my flying lessons scheduled to start next month. And I’ve been thinking of moving. Someplace uptown.”

  “Flying lessons? Hmm. I thought you liked your apartment. If I had known you weren’t happy there, I would have helped you move a long time ago.”

  “I can’t see you schlepping boxes, bro.”

  “Of course not. That’s what movers are for.” Avery took a sip of beer. “Why all this now? Is this because of Amanda?”

  “Some. I’d always figured that I’d get married some day. Live a simple, quiet life somewhere.”

  Avery rolled his eyes.

  “Well, you know what I’m saying here. Avery, you’re a tough act to follow, so I didn’t even try, because I can’t. If anything, it’s worse with Amanda. Now I want to try.”

  “Your machismo is so exaggerated that you cannot tolerate the idea of a woman being more successful?”

  It sounded incredibly pitiful. “Maybe.”

  “Joe, she loves you for who you are.”

  And who was that? Joe, the wrench-bender, or Joe the incredible lover, or Joe the wanna-be pilot? Somehow he doubted it was Joe the wrench-bender that was her Prince Charming. “You really think she loves me?”

  “You’re my brother, aren’t you? Why shouldn’t she?” Aft
er Joe’s silence, he leaned forward. “What? No pithy remark? No witty comeback?”

  What was that from? Joe thought for a minute. “Thunderball?”

  “Goldeneye. A classic.”

  A classic? Joe scoffed. “Sean Connery was the best.”

  “Of course he was. However, Pierce Brosnan has certainly given him a run for his money,” Avery explained.

  “Want to shoot some pool?”

  “You’re buying the beer this time, I hope?”

  Already Joe felt better. She loved him. That’s what was important. He smiled. “Yeah.”

  “I’d be delighted.”

  IT WAS MIDNIGHT and O’Malleys was still crowded. Amanda was on her fifth drink and she was going to be sick. Grace looked fine, all three of her.

  “You know, Oprah had a whole season on why guys run. Supposedly it’s some survival instinct, when they feel threatened. I myself have a theory.”

  “Waz that?” Amanda focused on the spinning Graces, but the world started to tilt.

  “I need to get you home.”

  SOMEWHERE IN the middle of the night Amanda became aware of another person in her apartment.

  “Amanda? It’s Joe.”

  “You rat. You stinkin’ rat. You’re nothing more than Draco Valdemort Dursey.” Her stomach started to heave. “I need…I’m going to be sick.” She lurched toward the bathroom.

  The toilet loomed in front of her. “Joe. Help.”

  A warm towel brushed against her forehead. “It’s all right, love.”

  “No, it’s not all right.” She emptied her stomach in the bowl, and felt a soft hand on her hair. “Don’t leave me.”

  “I’ll be right here. Promise.”

  THE NEXT MORNING, Amanda’s alarm blasted off at four-thirty, just like every day. Only today it hurt. She took a shower, and got dressed, cursing anything that contained alcohol, including her eye makeup remover. When she got to the living room she stopped. There was Joe, asleep on her couch.

  So it hadn’t been a dream. He had really shown up. Late, no call, no note, but still here. Then she realized all her anger had faded away.

  She smiled until her head started pounding again and then steadied herself against a chair. Mercifully she made it to the kitchen and got juice and crackers. It wasn’t Eggs Benedict, but then she didn’t think she could handle Eggs Benedict today. She sat down next to him, just watching him sleep for a bit.