Aphrodite's Secret (24 page)

Jason laughed. “
That
I can handle.”

As it turned out, he certainly could. Less than five minutes later, they were in Jason’s marina’s parking structure, and Lane was staring at his car, her mouth slightly open. “This is great,” she said. “It’s yours? You turned down the Ferrari?”

Jason nodded. “I turned down a Porsche, actually. Second-class Protectors are assigned a Porsche. First-class Protectors get the Ferrari.” He shrugged. “But I like older cars. I rebuilt it while I was on Olympus. I had my buddies bring me the parts. You like?” It was a 1950-something Bentley.

“Are you kidding?” Lane ran her hand over the hood. “It’s wonderful.”

“It’s totally cool,” Davy agreed. “Can I drive it?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “You’re smart, kid, but I think you’re a little young.”

Lane laughed. “I let him sit in my car and pretend to drive. So far we’ve been to New York, Chicago, and Boise.”

“Boise?”

She shrugged. “Ask your son. I don’t pick the destinations.”

Davy blinked. “I liked the name,” he said simply. “We’re gonna go to Paris one day, but I gotta figure a way to turn a car into a boat first.”

“Right,” said Jason. He opened the passenger doors. “Everybody in.”

Davy scrambled into the roomy backseat, and Lane settled in the front, the car’s leather seats warm and inviting. When Jason slid behind the wheel, Lane couldn’t quite meet his eye, so she ran her hand over the dashboard, enjoying the way her fingers slid along the fine leather.

Her emotions were all in a muddle; she knew that. She’d been broadsided by emotion. Pent-up and bubbling, she’d been on the verge of boiling over when Davy had suddenly appeared. But the fire under her hadn’t been completely extinguished. Instead, her emotional state was on simmer, and heat continued to come from the man sitting next to her.

She licked her lips, willing herself to get her thoughts back on track. She, Davy, and Jason were just going to pick up a ferret, for crying out loud. Her six-year-old son was in the backseat. This wasn’t a date. And she didn’t want it to be.

Jason pulled out the throttle, cranked the engine, and soon Lane was surrounded by a subtle thrum of power. She licked her lips, her thoughts drifting once again from his car to the man beside her.

“Ready?” he asked.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and then she shook her head, realizing what he meant. “Oh. Yes. Let’s get going.”

And fast. She wanted to get to her apartment, gather up the pets and the toys, and come right back to Jason’s houseboat. Then she wanted to make certain that Zoë and Taylor and Boreas planned to stay for the night. Or several nights. Because considering the way her thoughts kept going, the more distractions she had—the less time she had to think about Jason—the better.

He almost laughed out loud when he saw the expression on the ferret’s face. And then, when he saw Lane’s expression, Jason
did
laugh out loud.

“Oh, great. Thank you,” she said. “You’re a big help.” She tapped the plate with her toe. “Now he’s never going to eat.”

“I don’t know why not,” Jason said, barely able to keep a straight face. “It looks so yummy.”

The look she shot him was scathing on the surface, but he could see amusement underneath. “Can I help it if I’m not as culinarily inclined as his caterer? What’s a ferret need with special-delivery food anyway?” She bent down and plucked the ferret up, then plonked him back down in front of his plate. “It’s perfectly good lasagna,” she said.

“From a box,” Jason added.

“If it’s good enough for me and Davy, it’s good enough for Elmer.”

The ferret, apparently, didn’t agree. He took one last sniff, turned on his paw, and headed back to Davy’s room.

“Great,” Lane said.

“Want me to go retrieve him?”

She shook her head. “No. You’ll just wake Davy.” The boy had fallen asleep in the car about the time they hit the highway. Lane hadn’t acted too surprised. Davy’d had a rather stressful couple of days, and she’d suggested they let him nap for a bit before they returned to Jason’s boat.

“Let the ferret fret,” she said now. “I’ve had a hell of a night, and he’s being a grump about frozen lasagna.”

“Well, you know the ferret has specific tastes.”

With a not-so-subtle roll of her eyes, Lane twisted her hair around her finger, then fastened the pile in place with a chopstick that was lying on the kitchen counter. “Well, we have to hang out here while Davy sleeps, and we can let Dorothy enjoy the food I sprinkled in her water. As soon as Davy wakes up, we’ll pack up both the pets and head back. Maybe if Elmer’s really lucky we’ll pick him up some to-go from Spago’s.”

“Haute ferret cuisine,” Jason joked.

“Something like that.” Lane picked up a towel and started wiping down the countertop.

“What about
our
cuisine?” Jason asked, moving closer, his voice low. With his finger, he brushed a loose strand of hair that hadn’t been captured in Lane’s makeshift ‘do. “Shall we have lunch at Spago as well?”

She turned to face him, her eyes wide. “On my budget? I don’t think so.”

He caressed her cheek, his heart picking up tempo when he realized she hadn’t turned away. “I wasn’t suggesting we go dutch,” he said. “My treat. A celebration’s in order, don’t you think?”

“I...” Then she turned, and Jason silently mourned his defeat. “Definitely a celebration,” she said, from her new vantage point farther down the counter. “But I don’t want to stay out with Davy very long.”

“Or with me,” he added.

“No, no,” she said quickly. “It’s not that. It’s—”

“What?”

She sighed. “Okay, it
is
that.”

He took her admission as an invitation and moved closer. “We were good together, Lane. We could be good together again. I—”

She shook her head, and he could see the battle raging in her mind. “I can’t do this right now. I can’t think.”

“Then
don’t
think.” He brushed a kiss across her forehead, gratified by the little sigh that elicited. “Just trust your instincts.”

She pushed away from him, and he kicked himself for saying the wrong thing. “I trusted my instincts before and got burned. By you.” She licked her lips. “I don’t suppose you want to explain further why you left that day, what was so important that you couldn’t stay with the woman you supposedly loved the night she told you you were going to be a daddy.”

It was his turn to move away, and he clutched the edge of the counter as he gathered his thoughts. He wanted to tell her. But her trust was so fragile now, and even though she was backing away from his caresses, still, her eyes held desire. If she knew who he was, would that light dim?

He had to tell her, he knew that. She had a right to know who her child’s grandfather was. But for just a little bit longer he wanted Lane to see only him. Wanted her to
want
him. And she did right now; he knew she did. Even if she refused to say so out loud.

He faced her, sure she could see the desire burning in his eyes. “Don’t turn me away, Lane. Not now. Not after what we’ve just been through.”

In one long step he was at her side, could smell the salt that lingered on her skin from the sea. “For almost seven years I’ve been yearning.” He reached out, removing the chopstick and letting her hair fall, caressing his hand.

She drew a ragged breath, her eyes reflecting his passion.

“Please,” he whispered.

For one wonderful moment she moved toward him. But then a shadow touched her eyes, and she fisted her hands at her sides as she froze. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He pressed his lips together, disappointment settling on his shoulders like a yoke. “So, too bad for me, right?”

“Please don’t make this more difficult than it already is. I told you. I just—”

“Want to be friends. I know.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “But I’m going to keep trying to convince you otherwise.”

She laughed, the sound delightful. “I’m flattered. And I do want you in our lives. You’re Davy’s father. You have a right to know him, and he needs to get to know you.” She licked her lips and added, “Neither one of us really knows you. Not anymore.”

Jason’s heart twisted with the truth of her words, as well as from what she didn’t say: She’d moved on. She had another man now. Jason wasn’t part of her big picture anymore. While his life had been on hold because of his bastard father, she’d moved forward.

“You know me,” he argued, wishing he could make the words true just by speaking them.

The corner of her mouth curved up. “Part of you, yes,” she agreed. “And I know I need to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For getting Davy back.”

He almost laughed. “Me? What the hell did I do? Davy rescued himself, remember?” He’d been totally extraneous. Just like it seemed he’d been his whole life. Just like he was now. Lane didn’t need him, and Davy didn’t need a father. The boy already had a family—Lane, Zoë, Taylor.. . His life was full. Certainly the kid hadn’t been sitting around bemoaning Jason’s absence. Instead he’d just plunked him on a space station and that was that.

Lane shook her head, almost as if she could see the pity party Jason had going on in his mind. “He doesn’t need grand gestures,” she said. “He just needs a dad who’s there for him.”

“Oh—well, that’s me, then.” He couldn’t help the self-derision in his voice.

She moved closer. “I don’t know why you went away, but I do know that you didn’t
stay
away on purpose.” She took his hand and squeezed. “And without you, I wouldn’t have gotten Davy back. You found him.” She pulled herself up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said.

Her nearness intoxicated him. Hell, he’d never thought clearly where Lane was concerned, and that hadn’t changed. He knew he shouldn’t—knew he was crossing a boundary that he shouldn’t breach— but he couldn’t help himself. Instinct and desire and pure, primal lust took over: He held Lane’s face gently in his palms, then closed his mouth over hers.

She made a little moan of surprise, then settled against him, her mouth seeking his, her hunger as potent as his own. She wanted him. Of that much he was certain. But she didn’t want to want him.

He had to change her mind.

Pulling her closer, Jason moved his hands to stroke Lane’s back. Her arm slipped around his neck, and she deepened their kiss, her tongue exploring his mouth, tasting and teasing.

She tasted like chocolate and honey—rich and exotic, delicious and addictive. He craved her, couldn’t get enough. His body hardened, wanting more. Wanting all of her, body and soul.

With a low groan, Jason pulled her shirt free of her shorts, his hand slipping under it to caress her bare skin. With his other he cupped her rear, urging her nearer until her hips were pressed against his, her soft thigh rubbing his erection. Then—

“No,” she said, her voice husky as she pulled away. She said the word, but her tone meant something completely different. Her tone meant
yes
.

It was her tone he answered. With a low moan, he slipped his hand under the waist of her jeans, skimming down her back until his fingertips brushed her tiny bikini panties. She gasped, but he didn’t hesitate; still his hand moved lower until his palm caressed the bare flesh of her firm little rear. He tightened his fingers there and urged her closer, his erection straining against his jeans.

Lane squirmed under his touch, but her body melded to his, her desire more evident with each motion. With his free hand, Jason cupped her chin, tilting her head back so that she had no choice but to look at him.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out— just a low moan, a sound of pure, feminine pleasure. Jason brushed a kiss over her lips, his body pulsing with unstoppable desire. Lane’s hands grasped his neck, pulled him closer, urged him to make the kiss longer, harder, deeper.

“Jason,” she murmured, breaking away. “We shouldn’t.”

His tongue teased the edge of her ear. “Oh, yes,” he said. “We
should. ”

“I...” She trailed off; then she leaned back in the circle of his arms, her eyes dark with passion. “I don’t—”

“Shhh,” he said, pressing a finger to her lips. “Unless you’re going to tell me to stop, and then I’ll stop. But tell me now,” he said. “Because I swear to you that if another minute goes by with you in my arms, I’m not going to be able to.”

For one horrifying second he waited, unsure of her answer. But then she looked at him, and he knew—knew from the dark passion in her eyes and the rose of her cheeks.

“Kiss me,” she said. “Kiss me now, before I change my mind.”

Jason didn’t even hesitate, and Lane gasped as his lips closed over hers.

He’d wanted her, she’d known that. But she hadn’t anticipated the force of his desire. His mouth was hot and demanding, and she welcomed it eagerly, her passion as strong as his. He deepened the kiss, alternately forceful and gentle. His touch evoked erotic memories; and she melted in his arms, the echo of their past encounters heating her skin and making her anticipate the next stroke of his fingers, the next thrust of his tongue.

His hand cupped the back of her head; his fingers twined in her hair. His touch was possessive, and though she wasn’t his—hadn’t been for a long time—the power with which he claimed her was masterful.

His other hand stroked her back, each movement loosening her shirt until it pulled entirely free of the waistband of her shorts. His fingers stroked her bare skin. His heated touch enticed her, sent a firestorm of desire rocketing through her veins. She moaned and pressed closer until she felt the hard bulge of his desire firm against the apex of her thighs.

Her moan turned into a low mewl, a desperate cry of desire. She moved her hips without thinking, wanting to make him harder, wanting to be sure that he was just as desperate as she. Most of all, she wanted to make sure that there was no turning back.

Lane didn’t know if she was being supremely foolish or refreshingly honest; all she knew was that being in Jason’s arms was intoxicating. Her body sizzled and sang, crackling like a forest fire. And she wanted Jason to stoke that fire.