“I agree.”
Sloan’s low comment didn’t even surprise her. She’d expected…no wanted him to show up. She didn’t turn around.
“Thank you for the horse and…for sharing your dreams. Sometimes you don’t realize there’s anything missing from your life until your life changes.” That was the closest she could come to telling Sloan how she felt. She hoped it was enough.
“Sounds like you did some thinking last night.” He’d moved up behind her, and she could feel the scrape of his terry robe, the knot at his waist digging into her back.
“Heavy duty.” She reached behind her and undid the knot, felt his robe fall open.
“Me too.” She heard him shrug from his robe; then he molded his bare body to hers. “I realized all the shiny new things in the world can’t wipe out old memories, good or bad. And some memories are worth saving, worth building on.”
“Uh-huh.” That’s all the verbal response she could manage. What would he do? She shivered in anticipation.
“You know, this sorta reminds me of Godiva.” He ran his nails lightly up the back of her thighs, then bent to kiss the sensitive skin behind her ear. “The lady, not the chocolate.”
She grabbed the horse’s saddle to steady herself. “Sure. Lady Godiva.”
“She had a lot more hair though. Covered up a lot of great stuff.”
He slid his fingers across her bottom and she swallowed a gasp.
“Like these. Nothing should cover these.” He spread his palms over each cheek, then squeezed gently.
She clenched her thighs in response and took a firmer grip on that saddle.
“I just remembered something, Flame. Even ten years ago when I was pretending that we were just friends—”
She couldn’t let that pass. “We were just friends.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But even ten years ago I loved watching you leave a room. You’d wiggle that sweet behind—”
Outraged, she could feel her cheeks heating. Both sets. “I never wiggled my behind.”
“Sure you did. Men notice that kind of thing. You were a champion wiggler.”
“I…” What could you say to that kind of revelation?
“Shh.” He turned her to face him, then lowered his head and kissed her.
Kissed her hard and long, his tongue tasting every part of her mouth, forcing her to meet his thrust, to meet his desire with her own.
Wrapping her arms around him, she slid her hands over the tense muscles of his shoulders, down the smooth expanse of his back, then grasped his buttocks, pulling him firmly against her. The heavy ache grew in direct proportion to his pressure as he slowly rotated his hips, teasing, tempting.
Suddenly, he picked her up. Yes! Bed here we come.
But she should’ve known. Bed was conventional, and this was the man who’d dumped her in the mud last night. Instead, he lowered his head and flicked her nipple with his tongue. Then before she could get attached to the idea of his mouth on her breasts, he lifted her onto her horse.
“You know, I think I’m supposed to have one leg on each side of the horse, Sloan.” With her breaths coming in short pants, she was amazed she could string that many words together.
“Not for what I have in mind, Flame.”
He rolled each of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, then trailed kisses down over her stomach.
Grabbing the horse’s mane and the back of the saddle, she tried to steady herself, and wondered why she just didn’t slide off the other side like the glob of quivering Jell-O she was sure she’d become. Cherry Jell-O. She’d always liked cherries.
“Relax, Jenny, and enjoy the ride.”
His low murmur did not relax her, and when he ran his tongue along the inside of her thigh she allowed a moan to escape.
To think that she’d had Sloan’s mouth, Sloan’s body at her fingertips ten years ago, and all she’d done was sit like a lump in front of the TV watching The Man with the Golden Gun.
She’d had her very own golden man and hadn’t recognized him.
Suddenly, she realized that while she’d been busy with past regrets, her body was very much in the moment and taking care of its own needs.
She’d spread her legs to give him easier access to all of her. She wanted his mouth, his hands on every inch…
He pushed her legs further apart, then put his mouth on her.
His tongue touched her, stroked her, slid inside her, and she felt tears trailing down her face.
Abandoning her grasp on the horse, she clasped his shoulders, tried to pull him closer when closer wasn’t possible.
“No, no, no!” Yes, yes, yes! Her chant picked up the rhythm of the spasms shaking her, and when the explosion came she celebrated it with a final scream of “No!”
She collapsed from the horse like the boneless rag doll she’d had when she was four years old. Sloan held her tightly until she stopped shaking, until he stopped shaking.
“Sloan, what about you? You didn’t…”
“Shh.” He kissed her eyelids. “My time will come. But not here, not now.”
“Saving yourself for the right woman?” She’d meant the comment to be funny, but instead was shocked by a stab of pure jealousy. Jealous? Possessive? Her?
“Definitely.” He grinned. “What’s with the ‘No’ bit?”
Jealous. She frowned, considering this new unattractive facet of her personality. And beyond the jealousy, something even more sinister lurked. Violence. She wanted to blacken both eyes of Sloan Mitello’s “right woman.”
“Jenny?”
She blinked. “Sorry. Why’d I scream ‘no’?” She cast Sloan a wicked-vixen smile. “Guess I’m just a contrary woman.”
Sloan slipped into his robe, then headed for the door. “I like a contrary woman. Adds spice to a man’s life.” He threw her a lingering glance over his shoulder as he opened the door. “And I like my spices hot. Really hot.” He shut the door behind him.
Jenny turned back to her intrepid white steed. “Who was that masked man?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
She’d been so wrong. About Sloan, about herself. Christmas Eve. Such a short time to make a lifetime of discoveries.
Over the past week, Sloan had slowly opened up about his ten years away from Haddonfield. She’d put together the pieces of his moves to various jobs, each gaining him experience in an area he’d need when he started his own company. She saw behind his words to the research he’d done on the burgeoning internet and its possibilities for someone who used it wisely.
When had Sloan gained so much depth? Maybe he’d always had it, but she had never looked beneath his surface charm, her own prejudices.
When had she started to let go of her past, stopped thinking in terms of absolutes like all dreamers are losers, and wish fullfilment is a cruel hoax? She didn’t have to look past the moment Sloan Mitello walked back into her life.
The ultimate irony? Maybe her revelation had come too late. After the horse, he’d laughed and teased, but hadn’t touched her again. And dammit, she wanted, no needed him to touch—
“Madam hasn’t touched her oatmeal. It’s difficult cooking breakfast along with the many other duties Mr. Mitello requires.” Ridley managed to mold the sharp angles of his face into a expression of long-suffering, overworked servitude. “And when one’s cooking isn’t appreciated…” He shrugged, allowing her to guess at the depth of his disappointment.
“Uh-uh.” Jenny shook her head and grinned at him. “Won’t work this time.” Up early after a restless night of dreaming about Sloan, she was dressed and ready for Ridley.
“Tomorrow’s my last day here. Have any plans, Ridley?” I sure don’t. Somehow this week had managed to become her life’s entire time line. She couldn’t conceive of a before or after.
“One manages.” Ridley tried for pitiful and failed.
“You know, there’s a lonely widow down the street who’s looking for a strong man to organize her home. I bet she’d appreciate a ma
n like you.” Forgive me, Mary.
Ridley brightened. “Does she enjoy a hot bowl of oatmeal?”
“Yep. In fact, she said she really hated cold cereal.” God would get her for that one.
Ridley looked happy, or as happy as he would ever get. “It sounds like the perfect situation.”
Jenny handed him the address and phone number she’d written on a scrap of paper. “Here. I bet she’ll be so impressed she’ll want you to start immediately. It’ll be hard coping without you for my final day, but your future is more important than a few piddling hours of discomfort on my part.”
Ridley grinned. A sincere grin that surprised Jenny with its charm. “You’ll make a bloody good liar someday, Madam. I assume you’ll give me an excellent reference.”
Jenny grinned back. “Right.” Maybe she was actually doing Mary a favor. “How do you feel about playing Santa?”
Ridley frowned. “Santa?”
“Never mind.” She pointed to the oatmeal. “Why don’t you take that back to the kitchen? Give it to the kittens.”
“They won’t eat it.” He turned and left the room carrying the dreaded oatmeal.
“Smart cats.” Now to call Mary before Ridley did.
Jenny watched evening fall as snowflakes drifted past her window. Sighing, she returned her attention to her computer, but numbers seemed to have lost their charm for the moment.
Tomorrow. She’d pack her things, then go back to her off-white world. How could she walk away from Sloan?
Jenny stared at the numbers on her screen, then hit a few keys.
Better, but scarier. “Let us fulfill your desire. Sounds easy, doesn’t it, horse?” She’d have to give her horse a name, but she’d do that when she got back to her apartment. She smiled at the thought of the fanciful animal in her blah apartment. It wouldn’t be blah for long though. Changes were a-comin’.
Okay, she’d thought about her work, her horse, and her apartment. Anything else she could think of to put off the inevitable? Nope. She’d thought of everything.
She stared at the screen. What if he didn’t respond? What if he wasn’t interested? But he’d promised her a fling. Problem. She’d upped her expectations. A fling wouldn’t be nearly enough now.
But what if he took back his promise? She’d never faced rejection before. You never chanced anything before.
Jenny took a deep breath. Somehow she knew this would be the most important chance she’d ever take. She typed.
I want a bad man in the worst way. A bad man with a golden bow.
She’d done it. She wouldn’t worry about it anymore. He probably wouldn’t even check his messages until after Christmas. She’d just go back to her work on the Chandler account.
Several hours later, she gave up. She’d probably be hearing from Chandler’s lawyers if she didn’t fix this mess. Later. She couldn’t concentrate now.
He hadn’t come.
Well, what’re you going to do about it? Sit at your window and feel sorry for yourself like you did when you didn’t get a horse? “No way. Wishes come true for those who make them come true. Right, horse?” Horse had no opinion on the matter.
Damned if she’d cower in her room, then spend the rest of her life wondering what might’ve been. Time to give destiny a kick in the behind. Turning off the computer, she stood and headed for the door before she could think of consequences, things like embarrassment and humiliation. Heartbreak.
As she was about to fling open the door, she spotted the piece of paper stuck beneath it. Probably nothing but a good-bye note from Ridley along with his recipe for making the perfect oatmeal. Still, her fingers trembled as she picked it up.
A bad man is waiting for you.
For absolutely no good reason, a tear slid down her cheek. Okay, she could change into something sexy or she could just go as she was. As-she-was won. She didn’t want to waste one minute of her time with Sloan. Looking down at her bare feet, she shrugged. One less thing to take off.
Drawing in a deep breath of courage, she hurried down the hall. She paused outside Sloan’s room to peer at the note taped to his door. Bad man waits within. All desires fulfilled.
Smiling, she remembered. He’d be wearing the gold bow. She pictured the exact placement of that bow and how much fun it’d be to take off. Hey, have to cover up the gift part so it’ll be a surprise. She was still smiling as she opened the door.
Only a dim glow from the fireplace lit the room. The furniture was dark wood, dominated by a massive four-poster bed and the man stretched magnificently nude on it.
Sloan lay on his side, shadows thrown by the flickering flames playing over his long muscled back and strong buttocks as he gazed out the darkened window. “What do you want, Jenny?”
“I…I have a desire.” She focused on the tangle of midnight hair that spread across one bare shoulder, and like a dark curtain, hid his expression, his emotions from her.
“Not a dream?”
“No.” It was too deep, too strong. A hunger she felt she’d never satisfy. “This is a desire.”
“Tell me what you want.”
What she wanted? Didn’t he want a part of it? And why didn’t he turn over to speak with her? “I want to touch you, all of you, the way you touched me.” No, I want more, much more.
“And?”
“I want you deep inside me, filling me.” Completing me.
“Come here, Flame.”
As she walked toward him, she felt overwhelmed by the bed. Its rich wood gleaming in the firelight, it whispered of countless lovers who’d lain there, secrets it would never reveal. Ageless, it beckoned her.
The raw sexuality of the man lying atop the rumpled burgundy sheets made her catch her breath. Somehow, with the night, the bed, the man, everything had changed.
Sloan had reached out to her, drawn her into his life. Now he waited, silent, and she didn’t know what to do. Okay, so she did know what to do, but the strangeness intimidated her.
“Touch me.”
Well, that was pretty specific. “Turn over.”
“Uh-uh.” She could hear the laughter in his voice mixed with something darker. “It won’t be a surprise if I turn over.”
A surprise? She knew where the bow would be. “Too bad. I guess you won’t be able to undress me. But I’ll undress myself and tell you what’s happening. You won’t miss a thing.”
“You’ll pay, Flame.”
She certainly hoped so. “Unbuttoning my blouse now. First button, second button—”
“Faster.” He sounded as though his words were forced through gritted teeth.
“There, all done. Now I’m slipping the blouse off and dropping it on the floor.” Even though the room was warm, she shivered at the touch of air on her bare skin.
“Describe your bra.”
“My bra? It’s black, and it has lace across the top. It’s sort of cut low so it just covers…”
“Your nipples?”
“Yes.” Her voice had turned hoarse. His words were almost like a touch—warm, intimate.
“Take the bra off.”
“Like to give orders, don’t you?” Did it matter? Reaching behind her, she unhooked the bra and let it fall. “It’s gone.”
“Touch your breasts, Jenny. Hold them in your palms, feel the warmth of flesh against flesh, then slide your thumbs across your nipples.” His voice was low, urgent. “Imagine it’s my hands cupping you. What do you feel, Flame?”
She didn’t have to do this. He couldn’t see what she was doing. But she wanted to. Closing her eyes, she lifted the weight of her breasts, imagined offering them to him. When she touched her nipples, imagined his lips closing hot and moist around each one, she moaned softly.
“God, you’re killing me, Jenny.”
She gloried in his torture. Another unattractive trait to add to her growing number. “Why don’t you turn over, Sloan?”
“I can’t.” His voice was that of a man on the rack.
“Oh, well.” Her vo
ice might sound controlled, but she was glad he couldn’t see her shaking fingers as she undid the snap of her jeans and slid them off. She should describe this, but she was having difficulty breathing, let alone talking.
“Talk to me, Jenny. I know you’ve taken off your jeans. I could hear you. What color are your pan ties?”
“Why’re you so sure I’m wearing any?”
Once again, she sensed his amusement. “You’re a follow-the-rules kinda woman. And the rules say you wear panties. So what color are they?”
“Black.” She felt as mutinous as she sounded. He had her pegged as Ms. Predictable, but Sloan Mitello was about to get a surprise.
“Black. I like a woman in black.” His voice was husky, approving. “Take them off.”
She slid the pan ties off without comment. In a defiant gesture, she reached up and hung them on the top of the bedpost nearest her. She liked the effect. Sort of like raising the skull and crossbones flag on a pirate ship.
The excitement building in her was new, exhilarating, freeing. Jenny Saunders would take no prisoners to night.
CHAPTER NINE
Kneeling on the bed, she gazed down at Sloan. What more could a woman want under her tree, under her on Christmas morning? What more could a woman want for a lifetime?
The thought touched her and felt right. But whether it was for a lifetime or just one magic night, she’d take what she could of Sloan Mitello. “Roll onto your stomach, Sloan.”
“Someone else likes to give orders, but hey, it’s your desire.” He sounded intrigued. “This’ll crush the bow.”
“All in a good cause.” She straddled his hips, almost groaning at the pleasure of having his body between her legs.
More. She needed him touching the ache that had started the moment she’d seen him stretched out on the bed.
Scooting up until she was over his buttocks, she spread her thighs wide so that his flesh touched hers. Then closing her eyes, she slid back and forth, back and forth. The building heat had nothing to do with friction.