by Gina Wilkins
Joe’s hand covered hers before she could flip the switch. “We don’t really need that, do we?”
Her fingers curled within his grasp. “Would you like something to drink? I could make coffee...”
He drew her gently toward him. “I’m not thirsty.”
“Joe...”
“All you have to do,” he said, placing her hands on his shoulders, “is tell me to stop.”
Her fingers curled into his shirt. His mouth was so very close to hers. All she would have to do would be to rise on tiptoes and their lips would meet.
“Stop,” she whispered.
Joe surprised her by laughing softly. “Are you talking to me, or to yourself?”
He was coming to know her much too well. Brynn glared up at him. “We can’t do this.”
He traced her lower lip with the pad of his right thumb. “We aren’t doing anything. Yet.”
Her mouth quivered beneath his touch. “I don’t know what you want.”
“I want you, Brynn. I’ve wanted you as long as I’ve known you.”
She wished she could be happy to hear those words. But they only made her ache with old, pent-up longings. “It wouldn’t work. We couldn’t be more mismatched.”
He brushed his lips across the tip of her nose. “I think we’re very well matched. I grow more convinced of that every time we’re together.”
She shook her head. “I won’t deny that I wish you were right. But I know better.”
Joe deliberately traced her mouth with his thumb again. And, again, her lips quivered. “When I touch you, you tremble,” he said.
He pulled her close, sliding his arms around her, pressing her full-length against him. “When I hold you, your pulse races. And when I kiss you...”
He brushed his lips over hers, once, and then again. Her knees weakened, and she clung to his shoulders for support.
“When I kiss you, you melt,” he murmured against her lips. “I know these things, because I feel them, too. All I have to do is touch you, and I can’t think of anything but you. How can you say we’re mismatched?”
It was all she could do to say anything at that moment. But she managed to force her voice past the lump in her throat.
“I won’t deny that I’m attracted to you. Or that I want you, too. It would serve no purpose for me to deny it when we both know I’d be lying.”
Joe’s beautiful mouth curved into a smile. “Then there’s no problem, is there?”
“Not if all you want is tonight. No strings. No promises.”
A quick frown crossed his brow. “I never said that.”
“It’s all I can offer.”
Still holding her close, he studied her face for what seemed like a very long time. She met his gaze evenly, trying to look as if she knew what she was doing.
His frown eased, replaced by a slow, sexy smile that nearly stopped her heart. “Then we should make the most of it, shouldn’t we?”
There was something in his eyes, something in his voice, that she didn’t quite trust. It was almost as if he was saying one thing but meant something else entirely.
She might have questioned him about it, but he gave her no chance. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her until she was barely capable of thought, much less speech. And then he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom.
Brynn wrapped her arms around Joe’s neck and fervently hoped she knew what she was doing.
Chapter Twelve
Brynn quickly discovered one interesting fact about making love with a surgeon. He had very skillful hands.
Almost before she knew what was happening, her blouse and slacks were on the floor beside the bed. Joe wasn’t smiling when he looked down at her, sliding his hands very slowly up her sides to cup her breasts through the thin lace of her bra.
“I can’t think of anything to say that isn’t a cliché,” he murmured. “All I can think of is how beautiful you are. How much I want you.”
“You don’t have to say anything at all,” she whispered, lifting her arms to him. “Just kiss me, Joe.”
“My pleasure,” he murmured, gathering her against him.
But Brynn quickly decided the pleasure was most definitely hers.
It was impossible to be shy with Joe. He was so open and giving, so generous and encouraging, that Brynn responded instinctively, inhibitions forgotten. She didn’t have much experience with this sort of thing, but Joe didn’t seem to mind. Or even to notice.
Murmuring in English and Italian, Joe caressed every inch of her body, pleasuring her with his lips and his fingers until she squirmed and gasped beneath him. She would have liked to know what he was saying in the rumbly, sexy voice, but she was afraid to listen too closely. She was trying desperately to keep this strictly physical. To pretend it wasn’t permanently changing her life.
It wasn’t working. She was desperately in love with this man. And just for tonight, she allowed herself to show him, even though she would never tell him.
She pressed against his shoulders until he rolled onto his back, and then she explored him as thoroughly, as relentlessly, as he’d learned her body. She took her time, savoring the look and feel and taste of his near-perfect physique, taking personal satisfaction from each groan of appreciation she drew from him.
She knew full well that nothing would ever be the same for her after this, no matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise.
When neither of them could wait any longer, Joe groped impatiently for his slacks, shoved his hand in the pocket and pulled out a couple of small foil packets, which he dumped on the nightstand. Brynn waited eagerly for him to rip open one of the packets and don the contents.
He had come prepared, but she would not allow herself to dwell on what he’d been thinking when he’d slipped those condoms into his pocket that evening. She had been taking birth control pills for several years, but she saw no need to mention that now. When it came to pregnancy, Brynn took absolutely no risks. Tonight, she would allow herself to simply enjoy the pleasure she and Joe gave each other.
She clung to him when he slipped inside her and she rocketed almost immediately to the verge of release. Her fingertips dug into his bare, damp shoulders, and her legs wrapped tightly around his slim hips. His voice was husky in her ear when he whispered something that sounded like “Ti amo, Brynn.”
It didn’t mean what it sounded like, Brynn assured herself as rational thought slipped further away. He was only expressing enjoyment, nothing more.
But the words that echoed in her mind as waves of pleasure carried her into incoherence were much more basic.
I love you, Joe.
Joe slipped back into bed a while later and smiled when he saw that Brynn hadn’t moved a muscle during the short time he’d been gone. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, then pressed a kiss to her temple. He couldn’t seem to stop touching her. Kissing her.
Loving her.
She opened her eyes and smiled up at him, the shadows gone for once. “And I thought the fireworks at the football stadium were impressive,” she murmured.
He chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose. “Why, thank you, ma’am. I aim to please.”
She reached up to touch his cheek. “How can you sound so Italian one minute and so pure-dee-ol’ Texan the next?”
“Years of practice.”
“However you do it, I like it.”
“Grazie, darlin’.”
Brynn laughed, the sound so pleasantly musical that Joe’s throat tightened in response.
“Now, that might be carrying it a little too far,” she said.
“I love your laugh,” he murmured, running his fingertips over her kiss-darkened mouth as if to capture the sound. “And your smile. You should always look this happy.”
He wished he could take the words back when her smile immediately dimmed.
“I’m usually happy,” she said, sounding defensive.
He thought of all the times he’d seen painful mem
ories reflected in her eyes. “As long as you’re happy now,” he replied, his tone conciliatory.
He bent his head to kiss her before she could say anything more, lingering until he felt her soften beneath him again, her hands sliding up his arms to his shoulders.
Several long, spectacular kisses later, Brynn sighed and looked at the clock. “It’s getting late. After midnight. Do you have to work in the morning?”
“I’ll make rounds at the hospital. But I’m used to getting by without a lot of sleep. It’s a talent all doctors develop in med school.”
“Still, you need your rest.”
“I was sort of hoping you’d ask me to stay over,” he said, giving her what he hoped was a charmingly persuasive smile. “Tony and Michelle are out of town, so we have privacy. And I always keep an overnight bag in the trunk of my car, in case I have to shower and change at the hospital.”
He could almost see the automatic excuses already forming in Brynn’s mind. “I, uh—”
“I’ll even make breakfast. I cook a mean stack of pancakes.”
“I’m not sure it’s such a good idea for you to stay over,” Brynn said, not quite meeting his eyes. “I was serious when I said this was just for one night, Joe. We don’t want to risk turning it into anything more than it really was.”
He felt his eyes narrow. He tried to keep his voice neutral when he asked, “And what was it, really?”
“A, um, temporary aberration.”
Joe wondered almost idly how he could be so besotted with Brynn one moment and so annoyed with her the next. “You make it sound as though we just made a big mistake.”
“I hope we didn’t,” she whispered.
“Just what, exactly, do you expect us to do now? Pretend tonight never happened? Go back to being passing acquaintances?”
She was watching him warily now, probably sensing his mounting irritation. “I still consider us friends, of course. Good friends.”
Joe tossed off the sheet and reached for his pants. “I suppose I should feel honored.”
Brynn struggled to sit up while still holding the sheet to her throat. “You said you understood.”
“What is it I’m supposed to understand, Brynn?”
“I tried to tell you I’m not interested in a relationship. Especially not—”
She bit off the words, but it was too late. Joe’s temper flared.
Holding his shirt in one fist, he leaned into Brynn’s face and trapped her between his arms.
“Especially not with me? Is that what you were going to say?” Unlike most of his relatives, Joe didn’t get louder when he got angry. His voice always became very quiet.
She swallowed. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“How did you mean it?”
Clearing her throat, Brynn tried to scoot sideways on the bed. “I think I should get dressed.”
He didn’t budge, still holding her between his arms. “What’s wrong with me, Brynn? Why is it so impossible for you to imagine having a relationship with me?”
“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re practically perfect.”
Joe frowned. “Funny, the way you make that sound like an insult.”
“I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m only being honest. I told you earlier that you and I are mismatched. There’s obviously a physical element—after tonight, I can hardly deny that. But there can’t be anything more.”
“I don’t know which of us you’re lying to, Brynn, me or yourself. But you are lying. What’s between us is a hell of a lot more than physical attraction. It has always been more than that. No matter what you say, you’ll never convince me you’re the type to make love with someone on the basis of no more than physical attraction. I know you better than that.”
She looked determinedly at his shoulder. “I’ll admit I don’t have a lot of experience with lovemaking—as you could probably tell,” she added, her cheeks going scarlet. “But—”
“It scared you,” he cut in. “We were so damned good together you knew it was more than a fling. So now you’re trying to run me off. Well, it’s not going to work, Brynn. I’ll leave now, if that’s what you want. But I’ll be back. And I won’t pretend we’re nothing more than pals.”
He straightened and pulled his shirt over his head, smoothing it over his jeans with jerky motions. This was not the way he’d wanted the evening to end. He was handling it very badly.
But, damn it, she had hurt him.
Brynn reached for the short, blue satin robe that had been lying across the back of her vanity chair. She donned the garment quickly and tied the belt so tightly it would probably take scissors to loosen it.
Maybe she sensed some of the pain behind his anger. Her voice was softer when she spoke again. “I’m sorry, Joe. Please believe this isn’t about you. It’s me.”
He sighed and pushed a hand through his tousled hair. “What are we doing? How did we go so quickly from making love to quarreling?”
But he knew what had happened. He’d pushed too hard and too fast. Knowing Brynn’s fears—if not the reasons behind them—he had still expected too much from her.
He’d let his heart overrule his head.
“I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I know you want to go slowly. I guess I’m just not the patient type.”
She frowned and shook her head. “It isn’t a matter of patience. Nothing has changed between us. And nothing will.”
“Everything changed tonight, Brynn. I know you’re nervous about admitting it now, but we can’t go back to the way things were before we made love.”
She paled. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
She sounded so confused and forlorn that he couldn’t resist reaching out to touch her cheek, the gesture meant to both comfort and reassure her.
“I think you do know what I want,” he murmured. “And that’s why you’re so scared.”
He watched her swallow. Hard. And then he took a step back. “I’ll go now. But, Brynn I will be back.”
After tonight, he really had no other choice.
Brynn might have slept a total of three hours that night. She felt like a zombie on Sunday, too tired, stressed and confused to even think clearly. She knew she did a lousy job of hiding her jumbled emotions from Kelly during their long visit that afternoon at the hospital. She wasn’t sure she was much more successful at concealing them from Tony and Michelle when they returned home late that afternoon.
She hated feeling so moody and withdrawn. It reminded her entirely too much of her mother. And that thought only reminded her of all the reasons she and Joe were wrong for each other. Which only depressed her all over again.
She was beginning to think again that it had been a mistake for her to move to Dallas with Kelly. If Brynn hadn’t been driving on that fateful day, maybe there wouldn’t have been an accident. Kelly wouldn’t have spent over a month in a hospital room. They would never have met the Walkers or D’Alessandros. Brynn would never have known Joe.
She sighed and buried her face in her hands. It was getting late Sunday evening and she had to be up early for her duties with the children. After the little sleep she’d gotten the night before, she knew she needed her rest, but she was almost afraid to go back to the bed she’d shared so briefly with Joe.
What had she been thinking? Had she been so intoxicated by the lovely day she’d spent with him that she’d almost forgotten the vows she’d made to herself during the past few years?
The telephone rang, startling her so badly she jumped. Thinking maybe it would be Michelle or Kelly or Shane—but somehow knowing it was Joe—she lifted the receiver nervously. “Hello?”
“You weren’t asleep yet, I hope,” Joe said without bothering to identify himself.
She moistened her lips. “No, not yet.”
“How are you?”
The simple question seemed to encompass so many levels that Brynn didn’t quite know how to answer. She settled for the standard “I’m f
ine.”
“Did Tony and Michelle get home okay?”
“Yes, late this afternoon. The children had a nice time visiting their cousins.”
“Did they have any trouble traveling with the baby?”
“Michelle said he was an angel. The only problem they encountered all weekend was when Katie fell and hit her head on something. She has a colorful bruise, but she’s fine.”
“Tony and Michelle certainly have their hands full. But they seem to enjoy every minute of it.”
“They’re wonderful parents.”
“Tony had two great examples to follow—our mom and dad. I only hope I’m as good a father as Dad and Tony when the time comes. And Michelle was very close to her adoptive parents, though they were a bit smothering and overprotective.”
Brynn tried to respond evenly, though Joe’s reference to having his own children had made her heart ache. “After what happened to Michelle as a child, no one could blame her parents for being overprotective.”
“What was your mother like, Brynn? You don’t talk about her.”
Brynn bit her lip, her fingers tightening on the receiver. Maybe it was time to tell Joe about her mother. It would be easier over the telephone because she wouldn’t have to see his expression. And he would finally understand why she was so insistent that she was so wrong for a man who valued family above everything else. A man who spoke so easily and so eagerly about the time when he would have children of his own.
“My mother was a very troubled woman. Her own mother had several children, but they were all taken away because of her incompetence to care for them. My mother, Connie, was raised in a series of institutions until she was placed in a home for problem teenagers. It was there she met Danny Smith.”
“Your father?”
“That’s what she told me. She said Danny was a clown—always making jokes and playing tricks. He made her laugh...and she fell in love with him. By his eighteenth birthday, he was already an alcoholic,” she added flatly. “That’s why he’d been placed in that particular home. My mother said he was rarely sober the entire year she knew him. But she didn’t care. She planned to spend the rest of her life with him. And then he died in a car accident.”