Everything I Hoped For

by Ann Christopher

  “Yeah,” she said, keeping her responsive smile on maximum security lockdown. “I did what I had to do.”

  He nodded, his amusement fading away.

  They stared at each other, the intimacy of their positions penetrating her consciousness in slow waves.

  They were sitting side-by-side on the floor. She had her right arm around his back and her entire torso pressed against him. Her left hand lay on top of his where it rested on his knee. Their fingers were laced. His face was right there, half a whisper away.

  If she wanted to, she could lean in a tiny bit more, angle her head and kiss those full lips.

  And she wanted to.

  She wanted to.

  This man was a complete stranger, she reminded herself. She’d sworn off men.

  Yet everything about what they were saying and doing in this elevator felt as right as brushing her teeth when she got up in the morning.

  “I’m very glad I met you tonight, Dr. Harrison,” he said quietly.

  She tried to work her lungs. Tried to smile. Reached for words that darted just outside her reach.

  “Don’t try to sweet-talk me now.”

  Wry smile from Anthony. “Have we met? I doubt I could manage sweet talk if I tried.”

  She had to laugh. “Well, that’s sadly true.”

  He suddenly sobered, his grip tightening on her hand.

  “You’re extraordinary.” The husky urgency in his voice perfectly matched the relentless focus of those eyes on her face. “I’ve never seen anything like you in my life—”

  “Great news, folks!” Roy’s cheery voice boomed through the quiet car like a marching band in a funeral home, startling them. But it was just the interruption she needed, right on time. Time to come to her senses. She and Anthony were experiencing a moment out of time following drinks at a party. Not the birth of some great love affair. A smart girl would remember that. So she quickly pulled her hand free and scooted sideways enough to put a little daylight between them, trying not to notice the way a light dimmed in Anthony’s expression, or the way his hand clung to hers, just a little, as she broke the contact between them. “The repairman’s just arrived. He got finished at the hospital sooner than he expected. He’s getting set up.”

  Sure enough, there was the clang of metal somewhere nearby.

  Something sank in the pit of her belly, greeting this good news the way she would if she’d just discovered, post family dinner, that her Thanksgiving turkey had been laced with botulism. The realization hit her that if they could slip a pizza and some Malbec into the elevator with her and Anthony, and maybe a bench to sit on, she’d be happy to stay there for several more hours.

  “Thanks for the update,” Anthony said sourly.

  The loss of Anthony’s touch and body heat suddenly made her aware of her bare shoulders. She shivered and rubbed her upper arms, feeling a little bereft.

  “Here.” He grabbed his jacket, shook it out and slung it around her shoulders before she could protest. “No need for you to catch your death.”

  “Thanks,” she said, although she was a lot more grateful to be able to touch something of his than she was to ward off the chill. His scent infused the jacket’s fine wool—something earthy and sophisticated, with maybe a little pepper thrown in—and she gratefully wrapped it closer. Appreciatively sniffed a sleeve. And the words zoomed up and out of her mouth before she could clip a leash on them and yank them back. “It smells like you.”

  Hang on.

  What the hell had she just said?

  She winced, briefly harboring the hope that maybe she’d been thinking loud thoughts again.

  The subtle hitch in his breath told her otherwise.

  She blushed hard enough to melt his poor jacket off her body. He stared at her all throughout a pregnant pause. The weight of his attention made her sizzling face burn even hotter, forcing her to duck her head as she issued her apology.

  “Sorry. I don’t know what made me—”

  “Take down your hair,” he said quietly.

  The command (there was no request in it), issued in that deep voice and proper accent, made illicit images seethe to life in her mind.

  Her head came up.

  She met his smoldering blue gaze, seeing all her sudden desires reflected back at her:

  Anthony’s naked body stretched out on the bed beneath her as she straddled him. His hands gripping fistfuls of her hair as she leaned down to lick one of his nipples. Her hair trailing over his belly, making his muscles leap as she eased lower…

  She cocked her head, stalling for time because she was fairly certain she’d do anything this man asked her to do in that voice and she wasn’t ready to cede control just yet.

  But did control really matter when you were only doing the thing you already wanted to do?

  “Excuse me?” She infused her tone with a challenge, half expecting shy and awkward Anthony to back away from his words and claim that he didn’t know what had come over him.

  But Anthony, whom she’d already discovered was full of surprises, was much more alpha male than she’d suspected. He didn’t blink and he damn sure didn’t waver.

  “You heard me.”

  The modern career woman in her was outraged.

  The only problem was that the primitive cave woman side of her wanted to be dominated. Wanted to find a man as strong and sure as she was. And Cave Woman was, let’s face it, much more powerful than manicured Modern Woman, who wouldn’t dream of getting into a street brawl and possibly breaking a heel.

  Still, she wasn’t quite ready to go quietly. “I thought you were shy and awkward.”

  He shrugged. “The ice seems to have been broken between us. And you did mention that you prefer direct communication.”

  Fair enough.

  With that, Cave Woman punched Career Woman in the nose, knocking her out cold, and dragged her limp body into the nearest closet, where she slammed the door.

  And Melody reached for the pins in her hair.

  Funny how a style that had required four viewings of a YouTube video, an hour of her time and a forty-dollar salon gel could be undone in three seconds, but she threw all her hard primping out the window without regret. Her hair slid back to its default position, which was exploding in spirals around her shoulders and lower. For good measure, she fluffed it up and tossed it a little, releasing its scent of fancy flowers and God knew what all.

  Her reward for her compliance?

  The way Anthony’s pupils dilated and his face flushed with unmistakable desire. The slight flare of his nostrils as he leaned toward her, tipping his chin up to catch her fragrance from the air. His rapt attention as he took a strand, studied it closely as he rubbed it between thumb and forefinger, then let it bounce free while he trailed his fingers down the side of her neck.

  And Mr. Shy and Awkward damn near made her come on the spot.

  She waited, breath held, to see what he would do next.

  5

  “Happy now?” Melody asked, surprised to hear how much sex kitten had snuck into her normally brisk voice in just those few seconds.

  Crooked smile from Anthony.

  “I am content.” Pointed pause. “For now.”

  “Is that so?” she asked, her heart pounding into overdrive as another illicit image—Anthony’s sweaty body levered over her and his hard dick inside her, thrusting deep—filled her mind.

  Funny how her voice got raspier the longer he looked at her like that.

  “Yes. Now you’re much more girl next door. Much less unapproachable goddess.”

  What? Her?

  “Anthony…”

  “Either way, I’d be all over you right now, but I’m guessing this elevator has video cameras. How do you feel about that?”

  Her first instinct was to suggest that he see what he could do to disable the cameras. But that probably wouldn’t be a smart girl move, and she prided herself on being smart if nothing else.

  “Video cameras? They keep publi
c places safe, don’t they?”

  That got him. He laughed.

  She damn near swooned. What else was a woman to do after receiving a dizzying compliment and glorious laughter from a man like this?

  “Consider this discussion bookmarked for later,” he said firmly.

  “If you insist.”

  “I definitely insist.” He adjusted his position until he sat cross-legged facing her. “Can I get your picture?”

  Her mind blanked out. “My picture?”

  He pulled out his phone and looked a little sheepish. “If you don’t mind.”

  “You want my picture but not my number?” She fluffed her hair and prayed her forehead wasn’t too glaringly shiny. “Not sure what to make of that.”

  “Oh, I want everything I can possibly get from you.” His voice turned to pure velvet as he tapped his phone. When he flicked his smoldering gaze back up to hers, she felt the same kind of thrilling shiver she’d expect if he trailed his lips down her torso and dipped his tongue into her belly button. “But this seems like a good place to start.”

  He aimed.

  She hiked up a shoulder and turned her head to look over it, favoring her good side. Since she was prone to taking shots that either featured her lids half closed mid-blink or her lips curled as she asked the photographer whether s/he planned to count to three or not, she had no idea where the Tyra Banks attitude came from. Other than the fact that she felt like the sexiest woman alive when Anthony looked at her with all that banked heat.

  “Shoulder or no shoulder?” she asked, her voice husky.

  “Oh, we definitely want that shoulder,” he murmured.

  She posed. He clicked. Checked the display.

  “You have to delete it if I don’t like it,” she warned.

  “I’ve never hurt a woman before, but you would be the first if you tried to delete this shot from my phone.”

  “What?” she said, laughing.

  He clicked again, then nodded with grim satisfaction. “That should do it.”

  “Let me see.”

  She scooted forward on her hands and knees, her hair shifting over her shoulders, well aware both that her dress gaped significantly in the front and that he was all sudden stillness, wide eyes and focused attention.

  “You’re not being rude, are you?” she asked softly as she looked down at the photo.

  His gentle fingers sifted through her hair, making shivery goose bumps erupt up and down her arms.

  “I’m being unspeakably rude.”

  She glanced up from his phone, where a miraculously radiant snap of her glowed up at them, and looked him in the eye.

  He leaned a little closer. Watching. Waiting. Clearly hoping.

  If she had any doubts about what he was hoping for, they dissipated when his attention dipped to her lips.

  As for his lips? They were ripe. Tender.

  And they were right there.

  Something came over her.

  “What would you do if I kissed you right now?” she asked quietly.

  His gaze met hers again, blazing and direct.

  “Die of happiness.”

  She would have smiled, but she was too busy taking a deep breath and licking her lips…easing forward that last little bit…tilting her head just enough…

  Ah, God.

  His lips were soft. Firm. Unspeakably tender and delicious.

  She lingered as long as she dared, wanting more, and her hot blood surged even harder in response to the gathering tension in his body. She broke it off just as a rough hum began to vibrate in his chest and her breath turned to a rasp.

  Slowly sitting back again, she raised her lids to discover him watching her with glazed eyes. He sat absolutely still, not moving or breathing for so long that she began to wonder if she’d made some terrible mistake.

  Until vivid color concentrated in his cheeks and he blinked.

  “Fair warning,” he said, unsmiling. “Never do that again unless you want me to fall in love with you.”

  Melody gasped.

  He seemed so sincere.

  And something about him tugged at her as though he’d found a giant S-hook and used it to bind them together at the waist.

  “I already told you. I’m married to my career. Why would I want to change my mind for a handsome Brit who may or may not be a complete arse?”

  That amazing mouth of his didn’t smile at her, but his eyes sure did.

  “Because he would adore you.” His voice grew hoarse. “Absolutely adore you.”

  Whoa.

  With that, they both seemed to realize that they’d inadvertently waded into deeper waters than either of them had intended.

  He quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.

  She quickly looked away, feeling scalded.

  This wasn’t normal, was it? Feeling this kind of connection to a guy you’d just met? She’d dated, yeah, but her skills were rusty, which was what happened when you lapsed into the lazy routine of hanging out with and having sex with someone who was primarily a buddy. In situations like that, your heart never came off the bench, much less bothered taking off its jacket to warm up and step onto the field.

  But here…

  Why did she have the terrifying feeling that the sky was the limit?

  “So, ah…” Anthony rubbed a hand over his head and blew out a breath. “You grew up in Journey’s End, I believe?”

  The segue caught her off guard. She tried to think.

  “Yep. Local girl, born and bred.”

  “College? Med school?”

  His open curiosity made it easy to mirror his posture and sit cross-legged, arranging her fluttery skirt around her and resting her wrists on her knees.

  And from there?

  It seemed the easiest thing in the world to loosely twine her fingers with his when he reached for her.

  “Stony Brook.” She kept her chin up rather than surrender to her unfortunate tendency to duck her head and hunch her shoulders when this particular topic came up. “And, ah, Harvard.”

  His brows shot up. “Why d’you say it as if you’re ashamed? As if you got a mail-order degree from someone printing diplomas in their cellar?”

  “Because I get a variety of reactions when people hear where I went to school. Everything from affirmative action comments—”

  Anthony’s expression flashed murder.

  “—to people assuming that I’m a trust fund baby, which I’m not—”

  Anthony’s expression turned speculative.

  “—to people assuming I’m a snob and being preemptively snotty to me about it.”

  He claimed her other hand, holding both. Their fingers slid together in different combinations, teaching them the feel of each other, and her skin tingled with the contact.

  “Yet you think I’m an arse.”

  “Well, what’s your reaction to hearing that I went to Harvard med?”

  He seemed offended. “I think it’s brilliant, obviously. You’re far too smart for me, which I find incredibly sexy. I could only ever marry a very smart woman.”

  She grinned. “Well played.”

  “I thought so. And you do seem to be developing a soft spot for me.”

  “Not at all. I’m just pleased that you have a valid reason for not liking stalled elevators. I was worried you were going to blame it on accidentally locking yourself in a dark closet for ten minutes when you were a little kid or something.”

  He burst into laughter, the most exuberant of the night, and something inside her contracted, hard.

  God. He was spectacular. Worse? The chemistry between them flared too big. Too bright. She wanted to run away from it almost as much as she wanted to lose herself in it.

  Meanwhile a crucial question had already popped into her mind:

  What if he wanted her to spend the night with him?

  Actually, that was a foregone conclusion, wasn’t it? Men always wanted women to have sex with them. Which meant that the real question was:r />
  Did she plan to sleep with this man tonight?

  And the answer was:

  No…?

  Yeah. She was pretty sure—well, a solid 51 percent sure, anyway—that the answer was…

  No.

  His laughter slowly faded. Reaching out, he filtered his fingers through her hair and made her flesh sing with pleasure. When he looked her in the eye again, he seemed a little troubled.

  “What’s going on here, Dr. Harrison?”

  “I wish I knew,” she said on a shaky laugh.

  There was a clatter just then. A scraping sound. The elevator shuddered, possibly deciding whether it wanted to go up or down.

  If she’d had a vote, Melody would have chosen for the elevator to stay put indefinitely.

  Anthony hesitated. “Maybe we could—”

  His phone buzzed.

  “That’s me. Sorry,” he said, pulling it out of his breast pocket and frowning at the display. “I’ve no idea who this could—yes, hello?”

  He listened, his expression clearing.

  “Granny! Wonder why my phone didn’t tell me it was you?”

  More listening.

  Sorry, he mouthed to Melody.

  She quickly shook her head, smiling and bemused by her luck in discovering a handsome and intriguing man who was also a war hero and close with his grandmother. Maybe she’d also discover a phoenix riding a unicorn before the night was over.

  “You cannot be serious,” he said, now practically levitating with delight. “They gave you a mobile? What on earth is the world coming to?” He listened, then laughed. “Yes, well, you’d better call me first for a heads-up before you send me a text. Otherwise, I’m likely to keel over in a dead faint. And the one thing I don’t ever want to see from you is a selfie.”

  He laughed. Melody also heard the braying of hearty female laughter from the other side of the line.

  He checked his watch. “And what are you doing up? This is an ungodly hour, even for you. Uh-huh. Well, that’ll teach you to have all those chocolate bourbons before bed, won’t it?”

  Granny said something Melody couldn’t quite hear.

  “So, listen, I’ll be in town by, ah…” Anthony held Melody’s gaze, his laughter dimming a little. “Let’s say Tuesday at the latest.” He listened. “Yes, well, something’s come up. It’s only a day. What do you mean? Nothing I’d like to get into with you right now, that’s what.” His face and ears turned red; he tugged on one lobe, his gaze slipping away from Melody’s. “No, I’m not getting into it, Granny. Forget it. You’re far too nosy.”