Real Women Don't Wear Size 2 (22 page)

“All right,” he said, as though denying her any request would even enter his mind.

She turned toward him, flashed a satisfied smile, then returned to examine the scenery. Satisfied. Oh yeah, she’d been satisfied this morning, all right, courtesy of him. And she’d be satisfied again, a few times, before the day ended. But for their next encounter, he wouldn’t stop with her satisfaction. She wanted Ethan inside of her, and as promised, he’d give her what she wanted. It took all he had not to pull the car down a side street and fulfill that particular request immediately, to feel those slick folds around him. She’d grabbed his fingers and clung to them like a vise when he’d slid them inside her hot center. Hell, he’d never wanted inside a woman as badly as he’d wanted inside Clarise this morning. But, although that was what he wanted, it wasn’t what he needed, not if he planned to turn this fantasy thing into what he really desired, something more substantial with Clarise.

How many Friday afternoons had he told her about his latest dating fiasco, about the women who simply didn’t make him feel that stirring inside, the type of excited longing that two people require to have something more? He’d never met a woman who made him forget work completely and think more of her than his next deal. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t wanted to feel that with a female; he simply hadn’t. He’d even told Clarise that he was starting to believe he’d never find it. While a few women had claimed his interest sexually, the relationship had never gone beyond the bedroom. All physical, no emotional, which was okay, unless you were thirty-three and sincerely wanting more than mere sex. Looking for the whole package. Ethan felt the possibility of that now, with Clarise. That sense of union they’d shared last night, when she’d had too much to drink and needed help from him, her friend. Then this morning, he’d watched her sleep. He smiled, remembering the adorable way she shifted in the covers, hanging one shapely leg off the bed, then pulling it back under the sheets in retreat, before slowly sliding it back out again, as though uncertain whether she wanted to be uncovered and wild . . . or cocooned and tame. Both suited her, in Ethan’s opinion. And that intoxicating combination was part of what made her exactly what he wanted.

He’d been shocked when she admitted commitment wasn’t on the list. Shocked, but not deterred. Ethan would have Clarise Robinson, not just sexually, but emotionally as well, which was why he’d held back in the shower and given satisfaction to her needs, rather than his own. It’d been so easy to jump directly into hot and heavy sex with Clarise, and he’d be doing that soon enough, thanks to her detailed list. But heading into sex without the nuances of getting-to-know-you foreplay seemed a near-impossible method to convince her that they should explore the possibilities of more than a few days of the hot and heated. He couldn’t deny he was putting the cart before the horse, as the saying goes. How would she see they were compatible beyond sex if they merely spent the next four days hopping from bed to bed? Or in Clarise’s case, bed to shower to grass to bleachers to elevator . . .

Ethan bit back a laugh. It was a good thing he was in shape. Most men wouldn’t be able to keep up with Clarise Robinson’s demands without the aid of a little blue pill. But he didn’t want merely to appease her fix for sexual fulfillment. He wanted her to see him as more than a thorough lover. Ethan wanted to be her friend, her lover, her confidant, her everything. Too bad he hadn’t realized that when they were just friends. In any case, he’d started their one-on-one time together by keeping her from baring her God-given assets to Tampa, which, Ethan deduced, was a very good thing. The world wasn’t ready for Clarise Robinson unplugged.

Another chortle attempted to make its way up his throat, but he swallowed it down. He didn’t want her to hear him laughing. She was too self-conscious as it was, and he sure didn’t want to feed that portion of Clarise. In fact, he planned to show her exactly how appealing she was to him, how appealing she’d be to any man, possibly for the rest of his life. But first he had to convince her he was more than her friend, more than her boss, more than a guy who’d take part in her fantasies. He wanted to be there to take care of her, always, like he had last night when she’d been sick. Holding her, comforting her, watching over her. It was natural, being with Clarise, tending her needs as if he were meant to be there, in bad times, like when she’d pleaded for death while hugging the toilet, and in spectacular times, like when she’d let herself go in the shower.

Her scream of release echoed in his mind. He’d never forget the passion behind it. The thrill at knowing
he’d
caused her to lose control. And even though he hadn’t entered her, yet, their sexual level had gone beyond anywhere he’d been before with the kind of earth-shattering, mind-boggling sensation where you share a mating of your souls, and you see a person as more than a lover. You see her as your future. His future. Yeah, Ethan silently admitted, that was exactly what he was seeing. A future.

Three years. He’d wasted three years with Clarise, the complex conglomeration of trusted friend, considerate employee and bona fide siren, all rolled up into one distinctive, mesmerizing package. She’d been right there all along. The woman who could make him want her so bad it hurt, give off more sexual fire with her shower orgasm than Ethan had ever witnessed. And the woman who’d admitted she wanted sex with a lover who looked like Ethan. That meant something, didn’t it? Sure it did. Whether Clarise realized it or not, she didn’t want an Ethan Eubanks double. She wanted the real deal.
Him.
Not a stranger, and not some hot and spicy fling.

Hot and spicy. Damned if that didn’t sum her up. She’d been so hot, so fiery tight, with all those luscious curves flexing and shivering. He’d been spellbound by every aspect of satisfying Clarise. Her ample breasts pushing against his mouth while he sucked on the fullness of her nipples. The pulsing of her feminine core as he licked her essence. Her body trembling at his touch, until she tensed in that final moment before she screamed her release. And how she screamed.

Forget it. His aroused state wasn’t subsiding today, not until that hot, liquid heat he’d tasted between her legs enveloped his length. How long would this parade last, anyway?

“Throw me something, mister!” Clarise yelled as the next elaborate float, modeled after a circus theme, neared. She’d polished off a fluffy pink cone of cotton candy and was experiencing a mega sugar high, or a mega Ethan high. Either way, she felt good. Candy and doubloons sailed through the air, while kids and adults alike scrambled for the loot. Occasionally, a bagged cone of her favorite treat found its way over the side of a float.

“I love cotton candy,” she said, watching a blue one hurled to the other side of the street. “Hey, that needed to come this way!” she yelled to the guy tossing the goods.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Ethan asked.

“Are you kidding? It’s incredible!” She heard him laughing, something he’d been doing most of the day, and it thrilled her to her toes. That laugh, that sexy rumble from his to-die-for chest, was produced for her. Oh yeah, she felt good. Real good.

In the center of the circus float, the ringmaster, complete with top hat, red coat and tails, flicked his handlebar moustache and winked at Clarise, then bent over to find something in a box near his feet.

“Oooh, he’s getting me something good,” she said, clutching Ethan’s biceps while she waited for her next prize.

The parade was in its third hour, and so far, she’d warranted more beads than she’d thought to gain during the entire trip. Currently, they draped her neck in a heavy glittering medley of red, gold, purple and white. She loved them, in spite of the weight of her bounty pulling more on her shoulders than her Robinson Treasures. But Clarise didn’t care; she felt like a kid with her favorite treat. Of course, the treat of choice was the hunk of gorgeous male standing beside her laughing at her outrageousness rather than the beads draped around her neck and the candy and doubloons filling the goodie bag he’d purchased on her behalf.

While the ringmaster continued rummaging through the box, a skinny waif of a blonde, dressed as a trapeze artist, spotted Ethan. “Oooh, baby, I’ve got some nice ones for you,” she crooned.

The back of Clarise’s neck bristled. From what she could see of the bony body in the skimpy outfit, the girl didn’t have
anything
for Ethan, nothing close to what Clarise had given him this morning, when he’d had more than a mouthful of her breasts. She turned to watch Ethan’s response and brushed the Robinson Jewels against him, in case he’d forgotten what he seemed to enjoy so much earlier. Sure, she’d never felt empowered by her full figure before, but the more Ethan had looked at her today, the more she remembered how he’d called her “beautiful,” the more she believed it. As she watched his polite nod to the bony waif, her belief was further intensified. Ethan liked curves. Moreover, he liked curves on her.

Take that, Blondie.

For so many years, she’d felt out of place next to Babette, with her rail-thin body and sculpted cheekbones. Clarise’s cheeks were pleasantly rounded, like the rest of her. Now she realized that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, particularly with the way Ethan’s eyes kept assessing those curves, cheeks, breasts and behind.

He raised his hand to catch the glittering beads Skinny tossed his way, then turned to drape them around Clarise’s already-covered neck. “They’ll look better on you than me,” he said. “What do you think?” But before Clarise could answer, a tiny voice, one that had been squealing above them throughout the entire parade, pleaded. “Oh, Daddy, I want those!”

Ethan and Clarise turned simultaneously toward the little girl, perched on the top of a six-foot homemade ladder chair. The chairs known for helping children obtain those sought-after beads lined both sides of Bayshore Boulevard like tall, wooden soldiers and placed the kids at eye level with the lowest tier of the floats. On top of this particular chair, the curly-haired redhead had her baby blue eyes on the beads Skinny had flung at Ethan, the beads currently draped around Clarise’s neck.

“Please, Daddy. Mommy. I want those!” She leaned over the side of the chair and stretched a chubby little hand toward the ground and the desired beads.

Ethan had already encircled Clarise’s neck with the purple strand, accented with pirate faces on every other bead. It was the prettiest necklace Clarise had received so far, and consequently, it was the one the little girl favored.

A tender smiled played with Ethan’s full lips. “I’m assuming you’re willing to share a strand,” he said, his crystal blue eyes glittering, in spite of the dimness of the afternoon.

Clarise swallowed, nodded, and ducked her head to help him remove the beads. Removing the strand, Ethan’s hand flicked beneath her ponytail, and her neck tingled. Then he stepped away from Clarise to hand the prized beads to the waiting toddler. She had a gap in her top row of teeth, and she smiled so broadly her tongue stuck through the hole. That smile touched Clarise’s heart, but it was nothing compared to what Ethan’s did when he looked at the beautiful little angel as though she’d hung the moon. How would he look at his own child? Like that? Yes, Clarise suspected, and more. Her heart bubbled. Ethan Eubanks, business owner, friend, lover and father. Oh yeah, she could see it. She swallowed, determined to stay in control. Yeah, that was her real dream, but right now, he was simply helping her with her list. She had to remember that, until she figured out a way to take the magic of this week back home. Somehow.

“Thanks. You made her day,” the little girl’s father said, shaking his head at his daughter’s boldness but grinning just the same.

“No problem,” Ethan said. “Her smile made mine.” He wrapped an arm around Clarise and squeezed her waist. “Beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Yes, she is.”

The girl fumbled with the beads until she put them over her head. Then she reached both hands toward the circus float, at a standstill in front of them, in search of additional loot.

“Looks like she’s ready for more,” Clarise added.

“Looks like,” Ethan said.

“So am I.”

His fingers curled against her skin. Mouth moved to her ear. “I believe we’ve seen enough of this parade.”

“Couldn’t agree with you more.” Her voice sounded raspy and hungry, even to her own ears.

“Here ya go, darlin’!” the ringmaster called, and as Clarise turned her eyes toward the top of the float, he flung an odd-shaped item over the side.

Ethan stretched a hand to catch the flimsy material, looked at it and shook his head. “This is supposed to be a family parade, but I guess your exquisite assets got the best of the ringmaster,” he said, stashing the item in their bag.

“What is it?” Clarise asked. She’d removed the bulk of her necklaces and dropped them in the bag at the same moment he’d shoved the new item inside. Peering in, she squinted to see her newest prize while Ethan, chuckling, guided her through the crowd.

“Exactly what you’ve been wanting,” he answered, then elaborated, “A Gasparilla bra, complete with a pirate’s face on one cup and a sword on the other.”

“Really?” She’d wanted one from the first time she’d heard the item mentioned, but she’d yet to see one, and now she had one of her very own. “Will it fit?”

Something akin to a growl sounded from Ethan as he wedged them through the back of the crowd and started down the sidewalk in the general direction of their car. “I’m anticipating finding out later. Personally.”

“You’re going to help me try it on?” she teased. “Because sometimes it’s hard to fit them in a bra. They don’t typically cooperate, so you have to kind of lift them up and put them in the right place.”

His grip on her hand tightened so much she gasped. And the thrill of having that kind of effect on Ethan Eubanks was addictive. She had to continue.

“Because if you don’t situate them just so, the fabric can pinch my nipples, and that wouldn’t be very good, would it? Having my nipples pinched all day, particularly when I’m trying to work? Because they’re extremely sensitive, as you’ve probably noticed, so when they’re pinched, they stand out like two beacons beneath my shirt. Not exactly the most professional appearance—”