Sweet Heat (8 page)

Christine’s eyes popped open. “Boyfriend? Wow. You must really like him if you’re already tossing around the ‘b’ word after only one and a half dates!”

“He’s not… I don’t… we’re…” Suzanne shook her head before dropping it into her hands. “I really do,” she admitted softly.

Christine shrugged, picking at the red polish on her own talons. “So, tell your parents to stuff it.”

“Because that would go over so well.” Suzanne snorted.

Her friend tapped her fingers against the desk. “You are a grown woman, Suz. And it’s not like he’s a drug dealer or a porn star, right?” She lifted both hands and clasped them under her chin as if in prayer, fluttering her lashes.

Suzanne laughed. “Sorry, no, he’s not a porn star.”

Christine sighed, dropping her hands. Her shoulders slumped, but she was smiling. “Well, see? I mean, I get you don’t want to disappoint your parents but they love you. If you make it clear this guy makes you happy, I’m sure they’ll get on board.”

She reached across the desk and patted Suzanne’s hand. Christine’s words sounded like something her grandmother would have said, and for a moment, Suzanne felt such a pang. She wished intensely for the older woman’s warmth and wisdom just then. Suzanne would have been able to pour everything out to her Grandmother Eleanor and get some perspective.

Her grandmother knew her mother, knew how to deal with her.

“Yeah, maybe,” she said now. “But, it’s not that serious yet. Like you said, it’s only a date and a half. When…
if
… it becomes necessary, I’ll tell them then.” She was evading the issue, just like she’d been avoiding talking to her mother for any length of time this last week. Suzanne knew it, and based on Christine’s arched eyebrows, her friend knew it too.

“So, what are you going to do until it gets serious?” Christine made air quotes with her fingers when she said ‘serious’, letting Suzanne know just how ridiculous she thought her justifications were. Clearly, she thought Suzanne should talk to her parents about Brandon now.

Even the thought made her throat feel like it was closing up. “Ignoring them seems like a valid option to me.”

Christine snorted and pushed herself up from her chair. She shook her head. “Good luck with that.”

Suzanne was about to argue further, to point out that she only saw her parents every couple of weeks and only spoke to them maybe once a week… surely it would be easy to dodge their matchmaking for a few weeks, or months, even… just while she figured out what was going on with her and Brandon... but her phone rang. She picked it up, waving her friend off with a slightly aggravated huff.

“Hello?”

“Hey, pumpkin. I know you’re at work, but do you have a minute to talk?”

All that denial settled over her shoulders like a wool coat at the sound of the voice on the other end of the line. Suzanne sighed and sagged in her chair.

“Hi, Daddy. Sure, I can talk for a bit.”

“Great!”

She heard him clap his hands together, and realized he had her on speaker. Which meant he was probably in his office. But which one? She couldn’t remember whether her mother had mentioned them going up to the house in Greenwich this week or not.

“Your mother and I will be in the city tonight,” her father said a moment later, answering her unasked question. “She’s got some designer she’s meeting with in the afternoon, and then we thought we’d have dinner at Le Cirque around seven. Will you be able to join us?”

Suzanne’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Christine’s was screaming ‘Tell him! Tell him!’ in her head.

Her dad was, somewhat surprisingly, much less intimidating than her mother. Monique had been the one who’d pressed the issue when Suzanne had finally gotten up the courage to tell her parents she didn’t want to go to law school. Henry Headley had listened to her arguments silently, his lean face a study in stern contemplation, lips pursed and dark brows lowered.

When her mother continued to argue, he’d put his hand on her shoulder and given it a squeeze. “She’s obviously thought this through, and her arguments are sound. I suppose it can’t hurt to let her try it out.”

Not exactly a ringing endorsement of her career choice, but much more supportive than her mother’s scowl at least.

Generally speaking, if she grounded her choices in fact and could back them up with statistics and rational thought (or at least present them to him that way) her father could be swayed.

Of course, there was nothing rational or logically about the way she was feeling about Brandon. So, she ignored the chirpy voice in her head and tried to imbue her voice with regret, when really all she felt was relief that she had a somewhat legitimate reason to beg off dinner with her parents.

“Sorry, Daddy. I won’t be getting home until at least eight this evening. We’re wrapping up a week of conferences and I am swamped. Next time?”

“Sure, sure. I understand.”

Other fathers might have said, ‘Don’t work too hard’ or something to that effect, but her father knew her well enough not to bother. Her work ethic was something she’d inherited from both parents.

“Give your mother a call when you get a few minutes, though, would you? She said you two have been missing each other this week.”

Suzanne’s heart flipped like a pancake. “Of course, Daddy. Love you.” She felt bad for not being entirely truthful with her father, but she was a grown woman. She wasn’t required to tell her parents everything.

“I love you too, pumpkin. I’ll talk to you soon.”

She said goodbye and replaced the receiver, blowing out a long sigh. The guilt of evading her parents and the long hours of work still stretching ahead of her worked to squash out what felt like the last bit of lingering bubbliness left over from the morning’s breakfast and afternoon phone call.

But then she thought of Brandon back at her apartment, planning to cook dinner, and that heaviness lightened. She bent back to her tasks with new determination, and a faint smile still on her lips.

***

The sky was edging toward darkness and the first few stars had come out by the time Suzanne slid her key into the lock on her apartment door. For a moment, when she pushed the door open and found herself confronted with the signs that someone else was in her apartment, she felt a jolt of shock and a slight tingle of fear race up her spine. She was used to coming home to a dark, quiet, empty space. What greeted her was anything but.

Golden light spilled from kitchen, and the entryway light was on as well, bright and welcoming. As she stepped inside, she was met with tantalizing aromas drifting on the warm, spice-rich air. Her nose detected whiffs of paprika and cayenne pepper, and her belly rumbled.

Low, melodic R&B drifted from the living room, and after a moment, Suzanne recognized the song from one of her favorite albums. Clearly, Brandon had found either her CD collection, or her iPod.

Her heart fluttered against her ribs and her hands shook a little as she closed the door.

It felt good to come back to her apartment after a long day at work and having Brandon waiting for her. That thought whirled through her mind and made her lungs feel tight. It felt really good. Like she was really coming home.

Swallowing hard, she set down her purse and slipped out of her jacket as she made her way down the hall.

“Bran?”

To her surprise, she received no answer, and both the living room and kitchen were empty. A covered pot was bubbling on the stove. She lifted the lid and fragrant steam buffeted her face.

Inside, she glimpsed chunks of sausage and savory-smelling golden rice. Suzanne breathed deeply, humming with pleasure. Jambalaya was one of her favorite dishes. Had she mentioned that to Brandon the other night?

And where was he?

Since the kitchen and living room were both empty, she figured he must be in the bathroom. Unless he was take a nap in the spare room, or had decided to snoop after all and was poking through her bedroom.

The thought of Brandon in her bedroom quickly morphed into a mental image of him in her bed, that big, long body stretched across her mattress. Heat washed through her veins and delicious, sweet arousal pooled low in her belly.

Suzanne shook herself and headed to her bedroom. The sound of the shower stopped her just outside the bathroom, however.

Brandon was just beyond that door. Naked and wet. Damn, and she’d thought the sight of him in his fireman’s gear would be hot? The thought of him in nothing at all was even hotter. Volcanic. The lust inside her spiked like a fever, tightening her nipples and making her sex throb. Her skin felt hypersensitive, making even the weight of her clothing shifting as she moved sensual.

She curled her hand into a fist and rapped the door. “Bran?” She knew she should just let him be, but some part of her wanted him to know she was home, to realize they were both in the apartment.

Her senses were so amped, Suzanne swore she could hear the whisper of the shower door sliding open.

“That you, babe?”

She shivered at the deep rumble of his voice, but his words made her chuckle breathlessly. “I hope you’re not expecting someone else.” She meant it as a joke, but the swiftness with which he answered made it clear he was very serious.

“Definitely not.” He was silent for a second, as if he realized he’d spoken with slightly shocking intensity and was trying to dial it back. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I ah… I hope you don’t mind me using the shower. I made a bit of a mess while cooking, and between that and the cleaning up, well… I needed a rinse.”

Suzanne could hear the change in the sound as he moved beneath the water, and tried to resist fantasizing about him soaping up his big, muscled body mere feet from where she now stood.

“It’s fine,” she assured him through tingling lips. “Did you find everything alright? Towels and… everything?” She was losing the battle to keep the erotic thoughts at bay. What would he do, she wondered, if she just walked in there and began stripping? Climbed in the shower with him?

She’d never done anything that bold before. Though she was comfortable with her generous proportions now, it hadn’t always been that way and most of her dating life had been spent with her feeling not very sexy, and timid when it came asking for what she wanted. She’d believed herself unattractive, lucky to have found a man who wanted to touch her, and didn’t want to push him to do things he wasn’t interested in.

It had taken years to reach her current level of comfort and confidence, and she hadn’t had a partner to share her newfound attitude with when it came to sex.

Until now.

Her fingertips slid down the smooth wood, resting on the cool metal of the doorknob.

From the other side of the door, she heard the shower turned off. She imagined Brandon stepping out, tan skin glistening with drop of water, blond hair slicked back from his forehead, his soft cock nestled in a bed of hair a few shades darker than his head.

She’d felt him, the other night, pressed against her belly when they’d kissed. She had no real gauge for his proportions, but he’d felt deliciously thick and hard.

“I found everything just fine, thanks.”

“Great.” The word came out almost a squeak.

His voice was a little raspy too, and Suzanne thought he must be aware of the thick, humming tension in the air as well as she was. For a moment, they both hung there, silent, on either side of the carved oak door.

In the end, Suzanne dropped her hand from the knob and stepped back. Because as much as she wanted to yank open that door and wrap herself around Brandon’s big, strong, naked body, this thing between them seemed to require something… more… for their first time together.

Not that there was anything wrong with frantic bathroom sex while dinner burned. It just didn’t feel like the right moment.

And judging by Brandon’s silence and the fact that he hadn’t opened the bathroom door and pulled her into his arms, he seemed to feel the same. Her heart swelled and gave a few skittering thumps of happiness at the thought that they were so in sync.

Amazingly, not even a tiny corner of her mind worried that his hesitation meant he didn’t want her as much as she wanted him. His actions so far had proved he was interested, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Suzanne heard the clink of his belt buckle and knew he was redressing. There didn’t seem to be anything else to say at the moment, so she hurried into her bedroom to change out of her work clothes, her heart pounding and her skin hot.

Her fingers were trembling so badly she had trouble with the hook fastener on her skirt.

“God damn it.” She shook her hands out. Suddenly, she remembered the first time, as a teenager, she’d heard her grandmother curse. She had been shocked to hear the older woman’s hissed expletive when she burned her hand through a too thin potholder.

“I know it’s not proper or lady-like,” her grandmother had said with a little wink, “but damn it, sometimes it just makes me feel better.”

Either the memory or her own curse had the desired effect of releasing some of the tension making her shake. She reached for the hook a second time, but her fingers froze as the doorbell chimed.