Fugitive Heart (21 page)

“Nick,” she shouted, dropping the sandal and rushing toward the car.

The vehicle stopped abruptly, though the engine still ran. The door flew open. Nick jumped out and raced toward her, yelling her name. His expression was frantic and for a moment, Ames gazed at him, puzzled.

Then she glanced down at her stained shirt and understood. “No. It’s not blood; it’s just paint. I made a mess. It’s just paint.”

Apparently she wasn’t the only one who relived fears from the mob’s attack.

Nick grabbed her despite her protests that he would ruin his clothes. He clutched her fiercely, so hard she wasn’t sure she could breathe, but that was okay. Breathing was overrated. He whispered her name over and over as he held her.

She gave up worrying about his clothes and put her arms around him too. “It’s okay. I’m so sorry you got scared.”

He finally calmed down enough to let go and back away, but he only went to an arm’s length and he held her shoulders as he looked her up and down. Nick had a smear of red paint on his neck and cheek. At last he smiled. “That’s a pretty good color on you. Is it as good on the walls? Let’s go take a look.”

An absurd happiness filled her, and she had to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” he asked as he pulled her in through the front door. He stopped and sniffed. “Mm, this place smells like paint and you.”

“I think we’re going to be all right,” she told him.

Chapter Fifteen

Wiping the paint from Ames took much longer than was strictly necessary. They stripped and stood naked in the middle of the drop cloth in the master bedroom, then slowly reacquainted themselves with each other’s bodies. Every generous curve of Ames’s frame was territory to be reclaimed. Nick slid his hands over smooth skin, smearing paint rather than removing it, feeling the texture and warmth of the woman he’d missed so much over the past weeks.

Back in New York for the interviews with Giordano, Nick had readjusted to the city at once. As he waited to cross Canal Street, it seemed to him that his interlude in Arnesdale had been a dream, with Ames the only bright spot in a nightmare.

But texts and phone calls had assured him he hadn’t imagined her or the offbeat town where he now owned a home. He wanted to explain it to her, tell her about the moment he knew where he belonged, but now he had more important things to attend to, like thoroughly kissing Ames.

Nick plunged a hand into her hair, holding her head steady so he could kiss her even deeper. Her curls coiled around his fingers, refusing to let go when he at last pulled away. Together they sank to their knees on the stained drop cloth, kissing, touching, rubbing skin against skin.

“Oh yes, right there,” Ames murmured as he kissed along her clavicle and teased her nipples to rigid points with his fingers. “And there,” she squeaked when he snaked one hand down between her legs.

He looked at her beautiful face, the half-closed eyes and parted lips signaling her desire. “Miss me?”

“Not much. I’ve been busy.” She gasped when he tickled her clit.

“Me too. I hardly thought of you at all—no more than twenty-three hours of every day.” He moved his mouth to her breasts, taking the fullness into his mouth, sucking on her nipples until she moaned.

Her soft, feminine sounds made him hard as granite, but he continued to play it light. “Broke the lease on my apartment and took care of some other stuff,” he murmured against her belly as he laid her back on the floor.

“Yeah? I, uh, replaced the flooring.” She settled onto her back with a sigh and stretched out, legs apart. Nick wanted nothing more than to lie in the cradle of her hips and plunge deep inside her, but instead he nuzzled lower, inhaling the scent of her sex.

“Looks good,” he grunted. “The place feels like home.” He flicked his tongue over her clit, and Ames arched her back, lifting into his touch.

Nick slid his hands around the backs of her thighs, lifting and parting her legs farther, spreading her wide.

Ames gazed down at him with lust-glazed eyes but managed to murmur, “Home? You back to stay, then?”

“Got a job in Madison.”

“What?” Her eyes opened wide, and she pushed up on her elbows. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Just found out. There was no point in mentioning it if the thing fell through.” He bent his head for another taste of her, but Ames grabbed hold of his hair and hauled him up.

“Not now. Tell me about it.”

“I was in New York, drinking out of a paper cup. You know? Starbucks, actually. And I thought, this is all I’d leave behind. I want to leave something real after I die.”

“What?” Her swollen mouth parted, and he had to move up to kiss her again, keeping his hand cupped over her moist pussy, marking his place.

She prodded him and said, “Explain.”

“Damn.” He squeezed her thigh. “Can’t we just—”

“Explain fast and we can get back to this.” She slid her hand over his belly, encircling his erection.

He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I skimmed life. My job was good. I like that. But what I missed, until I met you, was something real and lasting. Like the good clay cups that are real. I drank from that cup, saw all the thousands of others in the trash, and just…poof. I understood.” He slid back down between her legs. He expected he wasn’t making a lot of sense, but with all this wonderful Ames spread like a feast for him to enjoy, he wanted to get to the main course.

“So you got a job out here?”

“This is where I saw my real life.”

“Wow.” She brought her legs together, blocking his access, and he sighed again. Wasn’t this sort of talk supposed to get the woman to open up, literally?

“Nick, God. It’s so—so amazing. Tell me, where will you work?”

“Aw, Ames.
More
talking?” But he liked that she wanted to listen.

She grinned down at him and stroked his cheek. He rested his head on her thigh and gazed up at her face. “Okay. My new job. After I tell you the deets on that, I expect you to hold still and let me have my way with you.”

She giggled. “Oh, heck yeah. Go on.”

“I thought I’d get a spot at Baraboo’s Circus museum, but the place that hired me is relatively new, and it’s focused on the history of daily life, which is more up my alley.”

“Coffee cups,” she murmured.

He snorted. “It’s not too far from the university. The collection manager is moving on to bigger waters in New York, of all places, so a spot just opened. I’ll be in charge of things instead of working for someone else, for a change.” Nick didn’t mention that the income was a fairly substantial cut for him. Considering the cheap cost of living here compared to New York, it wasn’t that bad. Besides, Ames didn’t really need to know what he was giving up—which was nothing compared to what he’d gained by finding her.

“Nick, I’m so glad.” She reached for him, and he moved into her embrace. Yeah. This was almost perfect. If only she’d open her legs again.

“I’ve been worrying every day what you’d do for a living if you stayed here. I didn’t see how you could do it. But Madison’s only an hour away.” She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “Are you sure, though? Is this what you want? Is it a good fit?” She looked so worried, he wondered if she meant were
they
a good fit, Ames and Nick. Hell, yeah. But he’d answer the question she’d asked.

“Absolutely. Lots of opportunities to transform exhibits to something more interactive. I don’t have the local contacts, but for once, fundraising isn’t the bulk of my job. There’s more to Wisconsin than badgers and lumber barons.”

She chuckled. “You sound like an indignant native already.”

He gave her a light kiss on the mouth. “But I kinda wish I hadn’t brought it up right now. I finished my, uh, oral report, and you owe me. Can we please go back to welcoming each other home before we lose momentum?”

Ames glanced down at his hard-on pressing against the outside of her thigh. “Don’t think there’s much chance of that,” she teased, reaching down to give him a stroke.

Nick pushed her gently onto her back again and resumed his position between her legs. He licked and nibbled until Ames was writhing beneath him—just the way he liked her. He brought her right up to the edge, and when he gauged she was about to plummet over, he backed off, leaving her arching up and whining.

“Please,” she whimpered.

“Not yet.” His glance fell on the can of red paint. An opportunity like this was rare. He dipped a finger into the smooth liquid and trailed it over Ames’s body.

He half expected some snarky comment about finger painting, but she held utterly still, belly twitching and breath hitching as he drew tribal designs on her flesh. The contrast of the deep red against her pale skin was dramatic—erotic and arousing, not that he needed any extra encouragement right now. His cock strained against the air in its need to plunge into her.

By the time he’d filled the canvas of her skin to his satisfaction, Ames was quivering, her pelvis rocking slightly in anticipation. She looked so amazing this way, decorated and desirous, that he wished he had a camera, but instead Nick took a mental picture to file away.

She held out her arms. “Come now. Let’s see if I leave a print on you.”

He needed no more encouragement and quickly put on a condom, then lay over her. The paint slid smoothly between them except in places where it was beginning to grow tacky as it dried.

“Hm, maybe not so sexy after all,” he murmured against her paint-stained cheek.

“No. It’s sexy.” Her fingers dug into his ass and hauled him against her. His cock slid home, and Nick groaned with relief.

He pushed deep, thrilled at Ames’s quiet gasp near his ear, withdrew and thrust again. The rhythm of lovemaking was as ancient as the flow of tides, nothing new about it, and yet
everything
new every time with Ames. Nick hadn’t been much of a believer in the concept of finding someone special. He’d been through a number of women in his life and hadn’t caught a glimpse of what the fuss was about. Now it was as if an avalanche had come down on him, and he totally got all the talk of “love”.

“Nick.”

Her murmur of his name made something swell through him that was far more powerful than mere lust. Hard to put a finger on what it was exactly. All he knew was that he craved more of it. He could never get enough of that feeling.

“Ames,” he whispered back.

“Nick, you’re pulling my hair,” she said. “Could you move your hand an inch or two?”

He chuckled at his misreading of the moment and moved his hand. But the humor only added to the feeling of rightness he had with Ames. She was exactly who he wanted, now and forever.

Tension tightened inside him with every push, pulled like a wire to the breaking point, and then suddenly it broke. Pleasure exploded through him, and he shuddered as he came.

He continued to move inside her. Feeling Ames coming so close to the edge, he wasn’t going to leave her hanging there. And then she made a funny high-pitched yip and bucked against him. Ah, there it was.

Her greedy hands continued to clutch his rear, holding him tight inside her with every clenching muscle until they both came back down to earth. Nick opened his eyes and looked into her bright blue gaze. She smiled, and his heart flip-flopped.

“By the way, I like what you’ve done with the place,” he said.

He pushed a loop of hair from her forehead—she had such cheerful, energetic curls. She grinned up at him. “You even like the red? I was afraid it was a little too much even for one wall.”

“Love the red. And every time I walk into this room, I’ll remember how the color looked on you.”

She glanced down at their bodies, fused together by paint. “Sticky. We’d better shower before it dries on any more.”

Nick got up and held out a hand to help Ames to her feet. They were both smeared with wine red and looked a little like accident victims. The image of blood brought him back to the moment when he’d seen Ames approaching and he’d thought for an instant the red on her hands and spattered on her clothing was blood. He’d come too close to losing her too many times already. Something about seeing the woman he loved held at gunpoint made a man want to not waste any time.

He grabbed her hand as she turned to head to the bathroom. “Wait. Ames, I know I’m jumping the gun. We hardly know each other. Hell, we’ve only been on one date.”

“Two. The restaurant,” she reminded him.

“All right. Two, and that’s no basis to plunge into something, but… I can’t imagine living in this house without you. It was always yours. I just happened to move in. And if you want, you can be the one to buy this place.”

“What? You bought the place. That’s what Marty said Jennifer told Richard.” She laughed. “Okay, that sounded really strange. And talk about hearsay.”

“I signed on for a rent-to-own land contract. I’d planned to back out, but now I don’t want to. Will you consider giving up your apartment and moving in with me?”

Marty had warned her not to be impetuous when Nick returned.
If
Nick returned, Marty kept saying. And Ames had promised to be wise. She would date the man and see where it led. No head-over-heels jumping for her, she’d promised her friend.