Friday's Child (16 page)

His regret shimmered in the air between them and her heart cracked. In an unconscious effort to soothe, she touched his arm, stroked it slowly. “You're nothing like your father. You would never walk out on Chloe.”

His thumb skated along the sensitive underside of her wrist. “No, I wouldn't. And I decided the ultimate revenge wasn't putting that bastard out of business, it was making sure I didn't turn out just like him. The corporation is always expanding. But I never acquire another company now without making damn sure the employees can remain in their positions or offering them places in our other holdings.”

His gaze grew intent and he leaned closer. “The similarities are there, Kate, like it or not. Jonathan and I are in the same line of business, and we've got the same knack for it. Within weeks of losing his company, the old man had lined up financing for another. But there's a difference between us, a huge one. I can't see the bottom line anymore without considering the people involved, and I know I have Trask to thank for that. Family is important to me.” His voice lowered,
a note of intimacy entering it. “When I care about someone, there's nothing I wouldn't do to keep them safe. Protected.”

Her gaze was trapped by his, that soft, alluring voice rendered her defenseless. What he had told her should have shored up her store of caution, given her one more excuse for keeping a steady distance between them. Instead it threatened to flay at the very fabric of her reason. Old hurts and regrets shaped them all. He had, at least, used his to alter the course he'd been headed toward. And because he'd chosen a path filled with love for his daughter, she was, quite simply, captivated.

Shifting a glance to her empty plate, he asked hoarsely, “Are you finished?”

Without a second thought, she nodded. Her hunger wasn't for food, and her stomach was full anyway, churning with nerves and emotion. Gratefully she followed him to the front desk and put a look of amused tolerance on his face by insisting on paying the bill. Reminding him that she'd brought him here only made him smile wider.

Her hand trembled a bit as she was fitting the key into her car lock, then she was leaning across the seat to unlock the passenger door. She was glad she'd driven tonight, although she'd felt a tinge of remorse earlier, watching him trying to fold his large body into her car. She enjoyed driving; it symbolized freedom to her and it had seemed important to exert some measure of her independence. Last night had proven she was completely vulnerable to him. She wasn't going to become dependent on him, as well.

The car sped along the interstate, and Michael fiddled with the radio. His efforts were met with static. “The radio doesn't work?”

“Not for the last few months.”

He turned it off and relaxed back in his seat as she expertly changed lanes. He cocked an eyebrow at her when she smoothly passed a semi. “Like speeding, do you?”

She smiled unabashedly. “I love it. I try to control my lead foot, though. Speeding tickets are such a wasted expense. And truthfully, this car won't take much abuse. I bought it used
eight years ago. I'm trying to baby it along for a couple more years until I save up enough money for a good down payment.” She shot him a droll look. “Chances are, I won't have much of a trade-in.”

He settled back into the seat with a slight frown on his face. Some men couldn't stand to be the passenger in a car, and she wondered if he was bothered by having a woman in control. On the heels of that thought came her answer. She'd been in control last night, at least at first, when control had still been possible.
He
had encouraged it.

Slow heat suffused her at the memory. No. He wasn't a man who would be threatened by a woman in the driver's seat, neither literally nor figuratively. He was too sure of himself, too secure in his own masculinity. She sneaked a glance at him. His head was cocked, as if he were silently cataloging the assortment of creaks and rattles her car was making.

Her palms grew slippery on the steering wheel, and her breathing quickened. The closer they got to her condo, the greater her anticipation. Fragments of their time together last night flicked across her mind, and the images were hotly provocative. She remembered his face when the bra had slipped off her arms, his eyes glittering and intent. She could feel again the weight of his body crushing hers and the roughness of his hairy legs between her smooth ones. She remembered the slickness of his body against hers in the shower as the water had sluiced over them. The way he'd taken her hand in his and carried it down his body, and his harshly indrawn breath when her fingers had closed around him.

She chanced another glance at him. His eyes were narrowed, his nostrils flared, and she knew intuitively that he was remembering, too. His attention was focused on her with that single-minded concentration he was capable of, even when he'd been making love to her. She knew he was acutely aware of the path her thoughts had taken, and she was too aroused to be shy about the realization. She wanted him again; she wanted his weight and heat inside her, his hips pounding into hers and his arms around her afterward. Seeing
her need reflected on his face sent her heart leaping, her mouth trembling.

Tearing her gaze away from him, she forced herself to watch the road. He didn't say anything. Neither did she. But the awareness grew with each instant, until the sexual tension in the car was suffocating.

Relief rushed up in her when she pulled the car into the space in front of her condo. He followed her up to the door, and when her shaking hands were unable to make the key work in the lock, he silently took it from her and opened the door. She hadn't taken two steps inside before she was turning to him, and he was crowding her against the wall, one foot sending the door swinging closed.

Their mouths ate each other, their tongues doing battle. He shoved a hand in her hair and held her mouth under his. Impatiently, she pulled the T-shirt loose from his jeans, sliding her hands up his torso with a low purr of pleasure. His hand moved to her breast, fingers closing on her nipple, and she arched her back, pressing closer. He parted her legs with one of his and moved close between them, rubbing his hips against her. He was rock hard, and the feel of his arousal made everything inside her go soft and weak.

Her mouth was freed when his lips nipped a line up the column of her throat. Breathlessly she murmured, “I thought about you today. About us.”

She could hear the satisfaction in his voice, could feel it. “About us?”

“Yes.” The word was a moan as he chose that time to bathe the hollow of her throat with his tongue. She moistened her lips, trying to regain her scattered thoughts. “I decided it would be ridiculous to deny what's between us.”

He smiled against the skin below her ear, then took the lobe in his teeth. “Good girl.”

She shuddered beneath his marauding lips, and her fingers skimmed over the layers of muscle on his chest to clutch at his heavy shoulders. The floor tipped crazily, and she leaned into him to steady herself. His mouth found hers again and
she took time to savor, aware of just how easy it would be to drown in his kiss. Recklessly, she let herself do just that.

Every pulse in her body throbbed like a wound. She could feel his heart rocketing beneath her palm. When he released her lips, her head fell back dreamily, and she dragged his shirt up out of her way. She'd always thought decisions through carefully, but she couldn't recall ever having been quite so pleased with one she'd made. Tangling her fingers in the mat of hair that bisected his torso, she pressed a kiss above his nipple, sending a jolt through him.

She rubbed her cheek against his chest. “It's hard to keep my head around you.” Her reaction to him was completely unprecedented. She wanted to touch. The taste she'd had of him had only whetted an appetite that should have terrified her. But right now she found it exhilarating. She turned her head, letting her teeth scrape his nipple, and one of his hands splayed across her hips, drawing her closer to the cradle of his.

“I think I like it when you lose your head.” He released the catch on her bra, and she filled his palm, heat against heat. The sensations were excruciatingly exquisite, and need threatened to swallow her.

“I have it all worked out.” She was panting now, her head resting against the wall weakly. Both of his hands were full, and his fingers, those clever fingers, were busy. She paused a moment to absorb the sensation of being trapped between the unyielding surface of the wall at her back and the large, hard body before her. Some traps were made to be enjoyed.

“We can have this,” she murmured, going up on tiptoe to drag her lips over his chin. Catching his bottom lip in her teeth, she worried it gently for a moment before setting it free. “It can be enough. We can make it be enough.”

The stillness came over him gradually, as if her words took time to register. “What are you saying?”

“No demands,” she assured him, certain he would be relieved. “No strings.” She let her hands glide over the smooth skin on his sides to the sleek expanse of his back. Her fingers danced up his spine, then stroked down each individual ver
tebra. “Just…this.” The tips of her fingers caught in his waistband, and she exerted enough pressure to urge him closer to her. Leaning forward, she ran her tongue across his collarbone, drinking in his taste.

His fingers cupped her shoulders, and he forced a slight distance between them. “You're not the kind of woman to suggest—just what the hell are you suggesting, anyway?”

The dizzying heat that had spiraled up so rapidly was dissipating. Not vanishing, she reflected. That would be impossible this close to him. But ebbing enough for her to think a little clearer. Enough for her to read the carefully blank expression on his face and to wonder at it. The touch on her shoulders turned caressing, as if his fingers had a mind of their own. She was quite sure that without the hum of excitement still so vibrant in her blood, she'd never have had the courage to meet his gaze and answer. “I'm suggesting what we both want. An affair.” She gave a little shrug. “Or whatever it's called these days.” The intriguing muscles beneath her palms went tense, and she massaged them soothingly. “A mutually satisfying physical relationship.” She was proud of the way the term rolled off her tongue. She didn't have the experience to know exactly how it was supposed to be referred to, but she was certain that he'd recognize it. Accept it.

“And what if I want demands?” he asked. Something in his voice had her observing him cautiously. His face wasn't blank now. It was set and hard. His eyes held a narrow pinpoint of light, that gleamed dangerously.

“You're the last person I expected to complicate this, Michael.”

He took a deep breath and released her, thrusting a hand through his hair and turning half away. A part of her mourned the loss, even as another part was grateful to be released from his piercing regard.

“And you're the last person I expected to simplify it,” he muttered. When he faced her again, he wore a baffled expression. “You don't want it like this, Kate.”

One of her brows arched. “Are you telling me what I want?”

He had the sense to deny it. “Of course not. But it's not what I want. There was a time when I wasn't exactly discriminating when it came to women.”

The admission, although it didn't come as a surprise, still made her want to punch him. “Do tell.”

“I'm not proud of it, but the experience taught me a valuable lesson. A relationship like that leaves something missing. Mutual affection, trust, respect.”

“Why do those things have to be missing?”

He blinked, as if her ingenuous question took him aback.

“Because…” His voice stumbled for a moment. “Invariably one person wants more than the other, so one starts feeling guilty and backing away. The other one is hurt, angry and disillusioned.”

Her lips curved, and she closed the distance he'd put between them. “You don't have to worry, Michael. I'm not going to get needy and start clinging.”

His voice was bleak. “You aren't?”

She shook her head, smoothing her hands up the front of his shirt. “I'll admit that I don't have your…level of experience. But a no-strings relationship is exactly what
I
want, too.”

His hands came up and caught hers. “There's no such thing as a no-strings relationship, Kate.”

“Who says?”

He brought his face close to hers, close enough for her to see the muscle twitching in his jaw. “
I
say. Do you know why I stopped seeing a different woman every week?”

Her lips went flat. She wished he'd quit referring to them. The thought of those faceless, nameless women didn't exactly fill her with confidence. “Sheer physical exhaustion?”

His fingers tightened on hers. “I wasn't getting what I'd been searching for. Intimacy. That's what was missing from those relationships, Kate, and that's what I want from you. That's my demand, and it's a deal breaker.”

She shook her hair back, her mind blank. This scene was
not going the way she'd envisioned it. She hadn't considered that, far from being relieved at her words, he'd be offended. He picked that moment to free her hands and press a warm kiss at the center of one of her palms, then closed the fingers on it gently, trapping the heat.

Her throat went dry, and her muscles turned to warm wax. “This isn't one of your business deals.”

“Damn right. It's personal. Very personal,” he added as he slowly urged her backward. It wasn't until she felt the wall at her shoulders that she was aware of moving. He placed his hands on the wall on either side of her face, effectively caging her. “And I'm clarifying the conditions.”

“Fine,” she managed to say as his lips cruised along her jawline. “But I have conditions of my own.”