Front Page Affair (8 page)

W
RAPPED
in Nate's dinner jacket, Payton stood before the vast expanse of glass staring out at the light bright cityscape surrounding the penthouse apartment. Waiting.

They'd left the event together, fingers twined, allowing a photographer the opportunity to snap a picture as they darted for the car, knowing a counterpart would be staked out at Nate's building as well. Her heart had been racing, her stomach in tumult as she'd waited for him to make his move. But as the scenery blurred past the windows, Nate kept his distance, content to discuss the success of the night. He was confident there'd be a stack of messages from reporters the next morning looking for the scoop on the relationship with Payton Liss. She'd nodded and agreed, all the while contemplating the two roads before her. One smart. One reckless. One right. One wrong. There shouldn't have been any question at all. Only as she'd watched Nate fall into that wide-legged, masculine sprawl, one arm draped across the leather seatback, all she could think was how tempting it would be to climb into his lap. Run her lips across the faint scrub of his jaw. His neck. His mouth…

Now they were back at his apartment, Nate stepped into the reflection in the dark glass as his hands settled over the slope of her shoulders. “What are you thinking?”

That she was crazy and he was dangerous, and if she wasn't
very careful she'd end up exactly where she wanted to be. “That your secret's safe.”

“I think it is. In large part thanks to Clint.”

She stiffened. Looked past his image into the night where streetlights illuminated spots of scenery and the red streaks of taillights disappeared around the corner two blocks down. “I should have thought about how he'd react. Warned him. But I didn't think of him at all.”

He squeezed gently over her muscles, drawing the tension out with slow strokes. “He's jealous.” Not a question. “Wants you back.”

“Maybe. Yes.” At least he thought he did. Clint wanted the woman she'd pretended to be.

“Not quite the idiot I thought, then. But you don't want him, do you?”

She shook her head. “No. I really don't.”

“Good.” His breath came close to her ear. “Then that's out of the way.”

A warning skittered over her skin and she turned out of his hold. Stepped back. Swallowed. “I should go. Tomorrow's a school day. We both have to work.”

Nate dismissed her protest with a flick of his hand.

Nonsense. Inconsequential.

“I wouldn't stop you if marrying Clint was what you wanted.” His gaze drifted to her mouth, to where she'd anxiously set her teeth into her lip. “Or maybe I would.”

He was flirting, playing as he always did.

Yeah, sure he was.

A nervous laugh escaped her and he took a step forward, one golden brow arched in question. “You think I wouldn't?”

Okay, this was it. Her chance to talk sense. She shook her head and took another step back. Slowly. She wouldn't stand a chance if this turned into a game of chase. “You might be cutthroat and relentless and everything else they say about
you, but you're also honest and honorable. You've been that way your whole life—it's just not quite as obvious the way the papers paint you now.”

“You're a Pollyanna,” he countered with that mischievous glint in his eyes. “But I like it. Did I mention I had a bridge to sell you?”

“No way, Nate,” she scoffed, her confidence returning with their banter. “You do the right thing. I trust you. It's why you—your friendship means so much to me.” One of the reasons anyway.

He took another step forward. “I'm glad to hear honesty is important to you, because about that friendship thing—”

“Stop.” Before it was too late and she ended up losing everything because she couldn't resist the sound of his voice and lure of his words. “Let's think about this for a minute.”

“I've already thought about it,” he answered flatly.

“Listen,” she pleaded. “Imagine we have two roads before us. Friendship is like an interstate highway.”

Nate's chin pulled back, amusement battling with distaste. “Remind me not to hire you for any marketing jobs.”

Ignoring the little boy who didn't want anyone to make the rules but him, she went on. “The highway is long and constant. Scenic. Pleasant. We could travel it for years.”

Arms crossed, he nodded once. “Right.”

“Sex is like a blind path through a lush jungle.” At his slow-spreading grin, she cleared her throat and stared at her shoes. “Sure, it's hot and wet and exciting—”

“You're trying to talk me out of this?”

“—right up to where the ground falls away in a sheer drop and all the fun is over.” And her heart lay a hundred feet below, battered and crushed on some rocky riverbank.

“So what you're saying is…you've got some kind of Tarzan fantasy you want to act out.”

The corners of her mouth twitched even as she tried to glower at him. “Nate!”

Unrepentant, he went on. “Because I've got one of those rainforest shower things in my bathroom. You could wear a ratty bikini with a few strategically placed rips. I'll wear a shredded shirt and cargo shorts.”

She scrunched her eyes, trying hard not to let her imagination follow where his dirty mouth led…

“I'll invite you back to my room. Show off my
vine
.”

She burst out laughing, the tension that threatened to overwhelm her dissipating under Nate's juvenile antics.

He was joking. Well over the line of ridiculous—so why was she suddenly burning with the need to touch him? Tear the sleeves off his shirt and make him beat his chest and roar.

Darn it! He was working around her defenses. But she had more to fight for than a good time. She needed him. In the few days since they'd reconnected she'd discovered how incredible it was to have someone who really saw her. Let her laugh and joke. Have an opinion that didn't follow everyday convention. Someone to talk with. She didn't want to give it up. Couldn't go back to the lonely isolation that had been so much a part of her life for too many years now. It didn't matter the number of people surrounding her, there was only one who actually saw her.

“Nate, this is serious.” Her lips pressed together in a firm line as she sought for a means to make him understand. “I don't have a lot of friends—”

“I do. I'll share. And if they aren't enough, we'll start trolling the social clubs together.”

“You're making jokes,” she shot back. “But the idea of risking something this important isn't funny to me. You pick up pretty, shiny playthings at every turn, have your fun and toss them aside without a backward glance once you've lost
interest. I don't want to be another discarded toy in your wake.”

A muscle in Nate's jaw ticked, his posture taking a subtle shift. “It wouldn't be like that.”

“No? Why not? Is the press really so far off in what they say about you?”

“I don't know, Payton, how accurate are they about you? Could they have predicted it would be like this between us?” He broke off and shoved a hand through his hair. Blew out a harsh breath and then seemed to pull inward for a count. And then he was back in control. Cool. Steady. Reasonable.

“It's not that I
don't want
to be friends, Payton. It's that
I don't think we can be.
Not with what's between us.… I
know
you feel it, too.”

She bowed her head with a stubborn shake, hiding the conflict warring in her eyes. Unwilling to reveal the power of his effect on her. How right he was.

She felt it. The connection that messed with her head and threw off her equilibrium, made her dizzy and hot and wanting to justify all kinds of things she knew she shouldn't. Made her want a man more controlling than all the other men in her life put together. Insanity.

“You're going to deny it?” he drawled, low and rough, ominously seductive. The change in tone and tack alerting her to the coming danger.

Clint had been right. Nate was a predator. And she was prey.

She swallowed hard and, shaking her fuddled head, answered, “Yes.”

“Hmm. You seem confused. Conflicted.” He leaned closer so the heat of him scorched her skin. “I can help with that.”

Panic burst to life. Her eyes bulged at her body's betrayal and her own stupidity. He overwhelmed her. Dominated her senses in the realm of desire.

Get it together!

“No.” Some rebuke, all breathy and weak.

“Convincing,” he taunted, eyes gleaming. “So which is it, Payton? Yes. No. Do you even know yourself?”

“This isn't fair, Nate.”

He leveled her with his gaze. “I think it is.” Then after a moment that cocky grin broke out across his lips. Trouble. “Here, how's this for fair? We'll put it to a test. I'll kiss you.”

Her chin tucked, but he waved off her concern. “Don't worry, in the interest of accuracy, I'll give it my all. And when I'm done, you tell me if you still think we can be friends.”

This time her mouth and body worked in unison, her steps carrying her back in quick repetition as her hands flew up to ward him off. “No. That's a very bad idea. You said the attraction would die off. It's only Tuesday. A few days! We haven't given it enough time.”

He closed in on her again, confident and sure. Overwhelming in ways beyond his powerful build. “Has it? Only been a few days for you?”

God, that look in his eyes. He knew. A few days plus thirteen years.

This was a disaster. “Nate, we're talking about more than just this next moment—”

“Damn straight we are. I thought I'd proved I could last more than a minute Saturday night.”

Suddenly the wall rose up behind her, ending her retreat. Heat burst out over her chest, neck and cheeks. “You know what I mean. I want us to be friends.”

His gaze turned serious and for an instant she thought he might walk away, but then he shook his head in response to the hope lighting her eyes. “I do, too, Payton. But it's not going to happen if we can't handle the attraction. Put it in its place.”

“We can!” She flicked her hands out in a frantic motion to
sweep him away. “We start by putting some distance between us, that's all, and we'll handle this fine.”

But instead of stepping back, Nate braced one hand at the wall above her head and caught her wrist in the other. “You seem so sure. But what happens if we touch…accidentally?”

There was nothing accidental about the stroke of his thumb across the sensitive skin of her wrist or the way he leaned close enough that the air around her went thick and a current of need coursed through her.

His grip was loose, the barricade of his powerful arm limited to one side. She could have pulled away, should have fled, but even when he released his hold to draw the tip of one finger down the length of her neck, the only escape she could manage was to shut her eyes.

“Are you going to go up in flames at the DVD store? Melt all the ice cream in the frozen-food aisle when we hit the market some night?” His breath at her ear sent a jolt through her nervous system, accelerating her pulse and pushing heat to lick at the surface of her skin.

“You know I want you,” she whispered on a shaky breath. “But I want something else more.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” The single word hitched free, begging for something more than what she claimed.

He was so close she could almost feel the light rasp of his jaw, the strength of his body against her, the too-confident smile at his lips. “Then put your money where your mouth is and show me.”

“What's a kiss going to prove?” she asked, wanting to kick herself for the husky quality of her question. Only if she dared move her leg an inch, she had no doubt she'd find it wrapped around Nate's hip and all her resistance would be for naught.

Nate straightened, taking the warmth and promise of his body away. “Simple. If we can stop, then we've got a shot at being friends.”

It was all too easy to let herself believe the kiss was inevitable. That Nate had decided this was the way to handle the dilemma of their attraction…and so it would be done. But she knew it wasn't true. Somewhere along his line of reasoning the pure masculine scent of him had slipped beneath her skin, making her ache and want. Wonder. Was he right? Was it even possible to have the friendship knowing the fuel of desire burned so hot between them?

Her body trembled. Maybe she had to know, too.

She searched his eyes for understanding, for mercy. “And if we can't stop?”

Nate's features pulled taut, his nostrils flaring with a forced intake of breath. The arm he'd braced against the wall gave at the elbow, slowly bringing him into her space. “Then we don't.”

It was one kiss. And all she had to do was stop there. Her gaze fixed on his mouth as memories of what he'd done with it only a few nights before bombarded her.

Her vision hazed. Lips parted.

Simple. As he said. Just stop after one. “Okay. A test.”

Bowing his head close, he brushed his lips against her ear so she shivered with delicious chills. “You know what used to drive your brother absolutely
insane
?”

Brandt?
The fog of rising lust thinned as she wondered what in the world—and then her breath caught at the memory of a long-ago afternoon. Her brother storming through the door bellowing about his exam—and how Nate Evans
always
blew the curve.

Her eyes flew wide as Nate murmured his final warning. “I test
very
well.”

H
E COULDN'T
just kiss her
.
Not Nate. No. He had to make a point as he did it. Eyes locked with Payton's—forcing her to watch as he whittled the distance between them, covered her mouth with his and sank into his task with a slow, deliberate pressure. She couldn't close her eyes or look away. But even as panic licked amongst the flames engulfing her, she held strong. Stoically taking what he gave her, she told herself to enjoy it—that it would be the last. If she could maintain her control here, then she'd have had her cake and eaten it, too—one night with Nate and a lifetime of friendship to follow.

She watched him, watching her.

Gentle suction pulled at her restraint. The back and forth rub of firm masculine lips wore at her resolve. God, he was good. Patient and skilled and, if memory served, just getting started. Her pulse skittered faster, a needy ache throbbed low in her belly. Twisting tight.

Be strong.

Even if holding back nearly killed her, no one actually died from denial.

She could do it. She could outlast this one pleasured assault and walk away from the temptation of more. Secure the friendship she didn't want to let go.

Keep Nate forever…

And never again feel the stroke of his tongue skimming the
tight seam of her lips, pushing her molten core past containment, spilling liquid fire through her veins.

Oh, God, she couldn't—shouldn't.

His fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of her neck, wound and pulled with a tension so deliciously forbidden there was nothing to do but open on a trembling gasp. And then he was sliding into her mouth—hot and wet—in a slow, measured thrust and retreat that wiped her mind of anything beyond
more.
Having as much of this kiss as she could for as long as he gave it.

His mouth angled, taking them deeper. Taking more. Taking everything.

She could still stop. Still have the security. Have what they'd had all those years before. Memories rose to fight each decadent thrust of his tongue: Nate with his arm around her as they watched TV on the couch; raking the yard with her; leaning over her shoulder to help with her homework; laughing, with his head back and eyes shut over some dumb joke.

Friendly memories. Warm.

Only there was a constant through each and every one she hadn't wanted to acknowledge until now. As she'd laughed alongside him or taken his assistance with a grateful smile, through it all she'd been fantasizing about—aching for—a moment like the one she resisted now. Where Nate wanted more.

And in that instant she realized if she did the “right thing”, took the safe path, she'd be doing exactly what she'd sworn she wouldn't. Living a lie. Pretending to be a friend when she wanted to be a lover. Forcing herself into a mold that didn't fit.

She blinked, once, twice. Gave into the heavy weight of her lids and closed her eyes. Gave up her fight against an inevitable hurt and loss in the future and stopped resisting the want and need that was now.

Her eyes closed and her body went lax in his arms. It was as though she'd simply given up and Nate felt the loss of her fight like a blow to the gut.

He shouldn't care. He never cared. Relationships and whatever came of them were simply what they were. Enjoyable until they weren't. Always on his terms.

But not this time. This time it was out of his control and driving him nuts.

Didn't she understand he couldn't
make
himself see her in a platonic light? It wasn't
choice
firing his blood at the sight of her alone?

Damn, he had to let go, get his head around the fact that he couldn't have her.

His arms loosened their hold. His marauding mouth eased from its plunder as he drew back to break the kiss—the kiss that wouldn't break because the lips he'd poured his every skill and desire into had followed his retreat.

His pulse jacked.

Slight hands balled against his chest, released, crept higher and balled again.

Was he reading this right?

He tried to pull back—to see her face—but those slim arms were wrapped around his neck, clutching and clinging tight as her fragile plea shattered against his lips. “Don't stop.”

His breath rushed out on a groan that was relief and desire and victory all in one, and in a combination so potent it nearly took him to his knees. And then she was alive in his arms, opening wide beneath the crush of his kiss, taking everything he gave and demanding more. Meeting the thrust of his tongue with the stroke of her own so they mingled in a sensual dance that was hot and wet and urgent.

Rhythmic. Erotic.

And not nearly enough. Nothing was enough. No matter how he touched her, how she moaned against his lips, pushed
and pulled at his clothing until it hung half free of his limbs, begged with quiet sobs as he worked past her panties, teasing one finger and then two through her slippery arousal, it wasn't enough. He had to be inside her. Had to have her. Completely.

His body vibrated with need beyond control. Banding his arms across her back, he lifted her from her feet.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his mouth rough against her throat as he moved to the couch.

“Don't stop,” she panted, her hands grasping at his shoulders. Her knees settling into the leather at either side of him so her skirt rode up her thighs. Opening her to him.

Damn, he could feel her, soft and hot, through the damp swatch of her silk panties.

Pushing violently at his half-open fly, he freed himself, giving into the temptation of that fragile silk barrier. He palmed her bottom and guided her to the bare skin of his shaft. Had to grip the base of the couch when her hands clenched, her body tensing as she slid against the length of him.

“Don't stop…” she breathed again, her words taking on a desperation that only fed the madness burning within his veins. Her hair hung wild and loose around her face, her breasts swayed half exposed from when they'd wrestled with the straps of her dress. Her eyes were dark, heavy lidded and pleading as she moved over the straining ridge of his erection. “I can't stop.”

Too. Much.

Not. Enough.

Reason and restraint snapped. He had her beneath him, her lips parted in a silent cry of pleasure that tore through his very soul as he pushed inside.

Wet friction embraced him. Took hold of his sanity and tossed it aside as he drew back and drove deep again, setting a relentless rhythm of triumph and possession.

He had her. Writhing beneath him. Coming apart around him. The clutch of her slick walls urging him to follow. She felt so good…too good…too good… Nate froze.

Too good.

She felt too good because he wasn't wearing a condom. Buried inside her, a hair's breadth from release with the receding waves of Payton's orgasm pulsing around him, he didn't dare move.

Control. Where was his control?

His teeth ground together with a series of audible pops as he slowly withdrew. Images of the past six months sliding through his mind, gripping him like icy talons. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Nate?” Her hands smoothed down his chest, her eyes searching. Taunting him with a welcome he couldn't accept. Yet.

“Condom, Payton,” he managed on a hoarse growl as he found the foil packet he'd never forgotten before.

“Thank God you remembered.” She shook her head, watching him as if he'd managed something remarkable. Well, he'd stopped in time. That was pretty damn remarkable. But the fact that he'd been inside her at all—

Never before. He'd never lost it like that. Never come so close to losing everything.

Never again.

Covering himself, he reached for her. “Now where were we?”

 

An hour later, they lay sprawled across Nate's bed, naked beneath a blanket of moonlight. Payton traced patterns across his skin, circling this way and that. Her touch was light. Sweetly exploratory. And arousing all too soon after they'd collapsed together mere minutes before.

This was the point where he typically employed some trusty exit or eject strategy, but tonight the foundation of caring and history he had with Payton was throwing him off. Nothing within his arsenal of disentanglement techniques suitably handled the unprecedented situation with a woman whom was both lover and friend and who he had no intention of letting go. At least not any time soon.

Tucking his chin, he watched her fingertips walk the steps of his ribs, climb higher and then smooth across the center of his chest.

Maybe there wasn't anything to handle at all. So long as he used his head and a measure of restraint, no one would get hurt.

Yes, he wanted her. Had nearly lost it when he thought he couldn't have her. But even so, he knew himself—the kind of love that led to marriage and family wasn't part of his makeup, and this wouldn't last forever.

As though reading his mind, Payton turned her eyes, soft and vulnerable, to his. “What are we doing?” she asked quietly. “You didn't want a relationship. You told me. So what is this?” Her question held no accusation, challenge or demand, just a need to know something he didn't have the understanding to explain.

“No, I didn't. But nothing turns out the way I expect with you. I think I know how something's going to play and then suddenly I'm staring open-mouthed at a scenario I couldn't have predicted. This, what's between us—” he shook his head “—it's not common in my life.”

“Mine either. But since neither of us seemed able to ignore it, let's just enjoy it for as long as this lasts.” She leaned in to kiss him, and he saw the flicker of sadness—remorse maybe—that crept into her eyes. He wanted to make it go away. Only he couldn't lie to her. Promise something they both knew wouldn't happen.

What he could offer was the possibility of a scenario he very much hoped would become reality. He ran a finger along her jaw and tipped her face to his. “You know, just because we're detouring through the jungle now, it doesn't mean there won't be a chance to veer back onto the main drag later.”

The fact that it hadn't happened before didn't guarantee it never would. This was Payton, after all, and the power of her optimistic determination knew no bounds.

She blinked up at him, her big brown eyes so wide with trust, once again taking him back through the years to a time when she was the only one who saw the potential in him—to her limitless faith.

He didn't want to let her down. He'd almost done it tonight. Almost let them both down.

“I don't know what's going to happen, Payton, but I'll always care for you.”

She nodded, letting her smile spread. “Then how about we forget about what might happen? Let the future take care of itself and, for now, we'll have fun.”

She deserved better.

He couldn't give it to her but neither could he let her go. So he shoved the bitter knowledge aside, focusing instead on the now. Payton in his bed. Smiling. Sexy and bare.