Naughty Little Secret (16 page)

Why did he care if she remarried?

She stared back, focusing for a moment on his hair, which fell just to his collar, waving slightly as it brushed his forehead and ears. His mouth snared her gaze next, followed by the width of his shoulders. Familiarity tugged at her, not because he seemed like himself in that moment. But as darkness descended and shadows enveloped the yard, he reminded her of Mr. Mysterious. Different voice, but so many other things were so similar.

No. Impossible. Stupid, wishful thinking.

“Mom, can I have a cookie now?” Emma asked, wrapped in a big orange beach towel.

“Sure, they’re in the house. Take Cass with you and give her one, too.

Dry off and sit at the kitchen table. No wet feet on Noah’s carpet.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Emma took her little sister’s hand and took the instructions to heart.

“Wait,” Noah said softly to Emma. “You’re six now?”

“Almost seven.” She thrust up her little chin.

“Did you know that almost-seven-year-old girls are magical?” he asked solemnly.

Emma hesitated, her wet brown curls draped over her shoulders.

“What do you mean? There’s no such thing.”

“There is. Girls your age, they have magic, usually in their ears. Can I look in yours?”

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An even longer pause this time, still looking skeptical. “I guess. It won’t hurt, will it?”

“Not a bit. Close your eyes.”

For another moment, Emma paused, then she complied, her little lashes fluttering down onto rosy cheeks.

Lauren’s heart clenched with sadness. Since the divorce, Emma was so afraid and mistrusting. She seemed sure that everything good would be taken away from her. She didn’t want to be babied, as if she’d decided that she’d never let herself down, but everyone else might.

Noah lifted his hand and swept it behind her ear. When it emerged again, and Emma opened her eyes, there was a twinkling light between his fingers, winking right up at her older daughter.

And miracle of miracles, Emma smiled. “How’d you do that?”

“I didn’t do anything. It was your magic,” he assured her.

“I didn’t know I was magical.” The idea seemed to excite her.

“There should always be magic when you’re young, before you have grown-up responsibilities and jobs. Enjoy your magic, Emma.”

Her daughter cocked her head and regarded Noah with a considering expression. A little smile emerged. “I like being magical.”

“How much magic you let into your life is up to you.”

Emma stayed still, saying and doing nothing for a long minute.

Finally, she put her cold little hand on Noah’s forearm and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

A heartbeat later, she skipped away.

Lauren’s breath caught. Tears stung her eyes. “How did you do that?”

He shrugged. “She’s had so much reality in her young life, I figured she could do with a little whimsy.”

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“You’re right. I should have tried something like that…” She smiled at him, eyes watering. “You planned that, didn’t you? Just to put a smile on her face.”

Of course he did. He planned
everything
.

He nodded sheepishly, confirming her suspicions. “It’s no big deal…”

But it was. To her, it was a huge deal.

“You’ve had too much reality, too,” he said, taking her hand and sliding it against his strong palm.

At his touch, her heart stuttered, then began to slam against her chest in pounding beats.

“In some ways, Emma reminds me of you,” he said quietly. “She’s watched you and learned about not letting anyone close, about shutting people out of your heart. Lauren, you’re too young to be alone.”

Wow, this conversation had turned personal—fast. She looked down, suddenly uncomfortable. “I’m not alone. I have the girls—”

“I meant a man.”

Who? She wanted Noah, while he wanted some bimbo she’d never met. Mr. Mysterious wanted her, and while some part of her was attached to him, she knew she wasn’t going to be happy with just sex.

Last night had proven that in ugly, garish color. She wasn’t going to be happy without the whole package, great sex
and
sublime happiness with a man who could make her think, make her laugh, who cared about her daughters, worked hard, played hard.

A man like Noah.

Suddenly Lauren and Noah were alone on the moon-drenched patio.

He was holding her trembling hand between his strong palms, looking right into her eyes. And she was feeling decidedly nervous. And mushy right in the middle of her chest. She yearned to lean in, kiss him.

Oh, God. Noah. She…loved him.

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Shelley Bradley

Lauren shut her eyes, wishing she could shut out the reality that she loved the man who would be perfect for her, if only he could love her, too.

But it wasn’t meant to be.

Slowly, her gaze wound back up to his. “We talked about this.”

“You said a lot of bullshit I don’t believe.”

“It’s just not going to work. But don’t worry about me. How’s it going with your divorcée?”

“Still up in the air. Don’t change the subject. You can’t be alone the rest of your life. What will you do for companionship?”

“I—I have friends. You’re my friend,” she pointed out.

The observation made his lips press into a thin line. He looked decidedly unhappy. “Who will help you raise the girls?”

“Plenty of other moms do it alone. I’ll manage.”

That answer didn’t make him any happier. “What will you do for sex?”

The question took Lauren aback. She tried to snatch her hand from Noah’s grip.

He held tight. “Come on, Lauren. Who is going to hold you late at night when you’re tired of being alone and your body is aching? Or you’ve had a rough day and need someone to talk to?”

She swallowed, trying not to let the tears threatening fall. Honestly, she’d asked herself those questions before. Hundreds of times. “I don’t know.”

Noah cupped her cheek in his palm, his gaze intense but unreadable.

Warmth seeped into her. God, what she wouldn’t give to have him look at her in love and desire…and the million other emotions he’d never feel for her.

She loved him. And he’d never love her. Period. Yes, she told Kat that she would tell Noah how she felt about him, but what was the point now

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that he was determined to marry someone else? Right now, he had the perfect opportunity to kiss her, if he was so inclined. But he didn’t…and she knew he wasn’t. That spoke volumes.

“You need to start thinking about your possibilities,” he said quietly.

Possibilities? Like who? Gary in Accounting, the miniature carbon copy of Tim? The new neighbor down the street who had to be fifteen years older than her? She wanted badly to confront Noah, to ask him who the hell he meant, if he was offering up himself.

But she didn’t have the courage to ask or to confess what was in her heart.

For the second night in a row, she was angry with herself. Ashamed.

“It’s late. The girls have school tomorrow. We’d better go.”

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Shelley Bradley

Déjà vu
. That’s what trekking through Lauren’s house, guided only by the flicking light of the nearly-silent TV, felt like to Noah.

Only this time he had so much more to lose.

Last night by his pool, something on Lauren’s face had changed. Her resolve to stay removed from him had slipped. Besides her flushed cheeks, he’d seen tears swimming in her big brown eyes. And the way she’d looked at him in those moments, as if she could barely keep herself from touching him and blurting out whatever was in her heart.

But she’d stayed silent, damn it, forcing him to plot his next move—

only he wasn’t quite sure now what move to make. He, who was
never
without a plan, was suddenly forced to wing it.

Noah held in a curse as he crept down the hall, toward her bedroom, aware that winging it wasn’t his strong suit and everything could blow up in his face.

But something had to give. Hours with Lauren at the office were now the most painful torture. He knew he was close to everything he wanted, close to persuading her there could be a
them.
But after ten years of waiting, he was beyond impatient.

Still, he had cause for hope. Her daughters responded to him, which was important to her. Lauren had acknowledged—even if to herself—that she wasn’t going to be happy alone. They were good together, personally, professionally.

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Sexually.

God, yes. Memories of her were enough to make him hard as steel.

Sinking into her and drowning sounded like heaven. He cared about her.

Hell, he loved her, more now than ever.

The question was, how to tell her that without scaring her away?

Wearing his black ski mask, he entered her darkened bedroom.

Lauren lay on her side wearing a pale, thin tank top and little white cotton panties. He smiled. She’d said she was more than a white cotton woman when he’d sent her the red thong. He’d suspected she had a drawer full of white cotton—and he didn’t care. She could wear a potato sack as long as she was his.

Easing his way to the bed, he removed the cuffs from the pocket of his jeans, intending to bind Lauren to the headboard. He couldn’t just fuck her again the way he had Wednesday night. Yeah, it had felt just fine while he was balls deep inside her. But the catch in her voice and the tears he’d heard her shed after she believed he’d gone…they tore him up. But Mr. Mysterious couldn’t tell her he loved her again. Noah had to be the one to say it this time.

Hell, he wished creating Mr. Mysterious had never been necessary, but he’d known he couldn’t talk her into love. He had to show her what she was giving up, how good they could be, how unsatisfying “just sex”

was.

Since Tim had thankfully taken the kids again for the weekend, Noah had cooked up Mr. Mysterious one more time. And he hoped this would be the last time he came to Lauren in disguise.

When he reached the side of the bed, his heart pounded. Damn, he was hard and hot and ready. But he needed to keep his cool.

Taking a deep breath, he clasped Lauren’s wrist in his grip, she surprised him by jerking away from him and rolling to face him.

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Shelley Bradley

She was wide awake.

“I had a feeling you’d be back tonight.”

Shock stupefied him. She’d expected him? What the hell was he supposed to say to that? No clue. But her hostile, challenging expression jolted Noah right out of his silence.

“Why?” He deepened his voice, changing it until it scratched even his own ears.

“You’re getting predictable. You were here Monday and Wednesday…and now it’s Friday. Your pattern was easy to figure out, and you always seem to know when my children are gone.”

“I pay attention. Apparently, so do you.”

“Why are you here? Got an itch?” she said snidely. “I’m done scratching you.”

“You didn’t like being treated that way?”

“Like a meaningless one-night stand. Hell no!”

“Neither did I.”

Some of the anger drained from her face. She unclenched her fists. “I never meant to hurt you when you said you loved me. I panicked and I wasn’t…nice.”

He shrugged, wondering where this was going. “The way I approached you wasn’t nice.”

She sat up, then got to her knees, edging closer. “Who are you?”

“We’ll get to that later.”

“Now. Or I’m going to call the cops.”

“No, you’re not. Because then you’d have to admit that you let me in before and willingly had sex with me—repeatedly. What are the chances they’d do much to help you then?”

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She set her jaw in a mutinous, tight line. “Fine. But you should know that I realized you’re using the spare key on my front porch to let yourself in. After tonight, I’m moving it.”

“That won’t stop me. I’ll pursue you until I get what I want.”

“What is that exactly? If you wanted to have sex with me, you did. As you pointed out, more than once. What the hell else do you want?”

Marriage. Babies. Love. “More than a fuck.”

Lauren edged away and cursed. “That’s not a whole answer, and I’m done playing your games.”

“Good. I’m tired of having to play them.” Noah leaned closer, invading her personal space. “I can think of a lot of things I want to do with a beautiful woman like you, and playing mind games is at the bottom of the list. Touching you…” He skated a fingertip across her nearly-bare shoulder. “That’s at the top.”

She opened her mouth to protest, Noah was sure. Before she could, he cupped the back of her head in his palm and captured her parted lips.

They were damp under his, the bottom lip slightly swollen like she’d been chewing on it again. Lauren had eaten something chocolate recently and she tasted like heaven. And hesitation. In fact, she braced her hands against his shoulders as if she meant to push him away.

Now that he had her flavor on his lips, he wouldn’t let that happen.

Noah wrapped his arms around her and jerked her beneath him, then followed her body down onto the mattress with his own. She gasped, and he took advantage of her open mouth to steal inside.

Wrapping his fists in her hair, he sank past her lips, deep into the sugary-warm flavor of her, then he retreated, teasing, until Lauren sought him with her swollen lips, eager tongue, and soft little moans. He pulled back again, and she followed, coming closer, before Noah plunged back into her mouth, deeper than ever before.

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With a dance and a slide, their tongues tangled, mated—just like their breaths and heartbeats. Lauren moaned, her body going pliant under him.

God, she was like utopia. Holding her, touching her, filled him with a sweet ache, even as she inflamed him.

More. More now. He had to have her.

Gliding his palms down the soft length of her curves, he reveled in a handful of her breast, the indented sweep of her waist, the lush jut of her hip, until he took her thigh in his palm and lifted it over his hip. With a moan, he slid into the cradle between her legs and notched his cock right against her. Damp, humid, welcoming. Oh…hell yes. Noah clutched at her hip, rocked against her again, rejoicing as she moaned into his mouth.