By Appointment Only (5 page)

Hannah tapped his chin with a chiding finger. “Don’t be goofy. Of course not. But that’s the point.” Her eyes were wide, her expression earnest. “Lots of men and women get caught up in their hormones and confuse lust with love. Then after the ceremony with Aunt Ethel and the string quartet and the gold rings, he starts belching and drinking gin in his underwear and she turns out to be a whiny shrew. The marriage tanks.”

“God, Hannah. You paint a lovely picture.”

She wriggled to her feet and starting stretching in a yoga position. “You know I’m right.”

He leaned back on his hands, his legs outstretched. “So you think that when we burn ourselves out in the bedroom we’ll have nothing left?”

She peered at him from between her legs, her red face upside down. “Well, I hope not. But that’s the point. If we’ve worked through some other stuff, we won’t be blinded by hot sex and unable to see the pitfalls.”

He rolled his neck, feeling the noose tighten. What had possessed him to give her that stupid magazine? “Exactly what would this counseling entail? I sure as hell am not going to lie on a couch and talk about my sex life.”

She bounced to her feet and stretched toward the ceiling. “Not even if I’m the one pretending to be the doctor?”

He paused a moment to imagine Hannah wearing a white lab coat and nothing else. Not a bad image. In fact, it made him damned hot. With an effort, he dragged his attention back to the present. “And forget about two-way mirrors. I’m not a sexual lab rat, either.”

She bent at the waist and placed her palms flat on the floor. “I’m sure it’s nothing so weird. All the couples in the magazine said it transformed their relationships. They gushed, in fact.”

He scowled. “I like our relationship just the way it is.”

She finished her bouncing and stretching and plopped down on top of him, straddling his lap. She caught his face between her hands. “Okay. It was just an idea. Besides, I don’t see us getting tired of each other anytime in the near future. We’ll just keep on screwing like rabbits and hope for the best.”

She punctuated that thought by nibbling his ear and then working her way down his neck. She hit a sensitive spot, and his erection bobbed and swelled. She was wearing a tiny pair of shorts, and feeling her long, bare legs hugging his hips made him the equivalent of a slobbering dog. How was he supposed to form a coherent thought when all he wanted to do was get inside her?

He took off her blouse and sighed in appreciation when her breasts, completely unfettered, snuggled into his palms. He thumbed the nipples, tugging them lightly and pinching until Hannah whimpered.

Then, taking her by surprise, he rolled her to her back, coming down on top of her and pinning her to the carpet. His shoulder caught the corner of the coffee table, but he barely registered the pain. She smiled at him, that wide flashing grin as familiar to him now as his own face in the mirror. He grabbed the thin nylon leg of her shorts and ripped it deliberately up to the waistband. Hannah’s breath caught and her cheeks flushed. Her eyes went hazy. “Morgan . . .” She said his name on a long, groaned whisper that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

He freed his cock and settled between her thighs. “If this is only temporary,” he muttered, “then we might as well enjoy it while it lasts.”

Three days later, he capitulated without a fight. Not that Hannah had sulked or cajoled or any of those unfair feminine practices. She simply went about her business being . . . Hannah.

From the moment they met, it was always the same. Everywhere she went, she lit up a room. The sun shone brighter, the music played sweeter, the air was richer. Hannah’s joie de vivre was contagious.

He’d made the mistake one afternoon of bringing her on site at the theme park property and then had to watch all the men on his crew fall over themselves to be introduced . . . to offer her rides on heavy machinery . . . to bring her drinks and chairs and goofy grins.

Hannah was priceless.

So a man would have to be a fool to pass up an opportunity to seal the deal. He was almost positive that she expected him to say no to the sexual counseling. She’d brought it up to point out in some weird way that they weren’t ready to set a date.

But Morgan wasn’t willing to let that be the last word. If this sexual mumbo jumbo was seriously what she wanted, then he’d simply have to suck it up and be a man.

He bided his time, waiting for the right moment to outflank her. Over the weekend they had plans to take a group from Fluffy Palms to the beach. He figured that would be an ideal window. The senior set would nap beneath their umbrellas at some point, thus giving him the perfect opportunity to talk to Hannah and not let her distract him with sex.

Not that he didn’t appreciate that ploy in all its many delightful variations, but this was important.

Sunday afternoon on the hot sands of the eastern shore, he chatted with Elda while they watched Hannah and Arnie wrestle a deck chair into submission. Despite his advanced years, Arnie was getting an appreciative eyeful of Hannah’s lithe form in her fairly modest black bikini.

Morgan recognized the urge to strangle the old coot for looking, but in all fairness, he couldn’t blame him. A guy would have to be dead not to sit up and take notice of Hannah Quarles in a swim-suit. It was way better than watching a sunrise over the ocean, and that was saying a lot in the land of beautiful postcard mornings.

Elda nudged Morgan’s ribs with a sharp elbow. “You’re going to have to give her time, you know.”

He nodded soberly, shielding his eyes from the glaring sun and looking out toward the horizon. “Has she said anything to you?”

Elda shrugged. “She’s skittish. But you knew that, I guess.”

His jaw clenched. “Yeah.” He’d have preferred head-over-heels enthusiasm for his proposal, but then she wouldn’t have been his complicated Hannah. He sighed. “I told her I wanted to meet her parents.”

Elda unfolded the beach towel beneath her arm and spread it out. “Not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t know about the dad. He’s never been around. I’ve met her mother only once, and she’s a piece of work. Made Hannah cry.”

His stomach tightened. He’d never seen Hannah shed a tear over anything. “How?”

“I don’t really know. Me and Hannah were over at the mall one day looking for some support hose the doc said I needed. Suddenly this crazy, skinny woman with stick-straight gray hair down to her waist came up to us and started gushing. Hannah froze and got this weird look on her face. By the time I figured out who the chick was, she was gone. I didn’t think much of it until a half hour or so later, when I was in a dressing room trying on some slacks. I poked my head out of the curtain to ask for another size and there she was . . . my darlin’ Hannah. Crying these big silent tears. I tell you, boy. It tore my heart out.”

He slung an arm around Elda’s shoulders and kissed her leathery cheek. “Thank you for telling me,” he said quietly. “You know she thinks the world of you.”

Elda sniffed, her eyes overbright. “My own son never had any kids. I reckon Hannah’s like family. You know? I’d do anything for that girl.”

After a rowdy picnic lunch, the elders in the group settled down in twos and fours to doze in the shade. The stiff sea winds were not as hot as they sometimes were, and the afternoon was pleasant.

When their charges were all comfortable, Morgan snagged Hannah’s wrist. “How about a swim?” She had pulled her hair into a high ponytail on the back of her head, and her skin was smooth and pale gold in the harsh sunlight. He frowned slightly. “Do you need sunscreen?”

She shook her head. “I put some on at home. And besides, I never burn.” She ran ahead of him toward the waves, leaving him to follow in a loping stride that caught up to her quickly.

He supported her waist as they trudged through the shallows. A narrow sandbar some yards out provided a steadier footing, even though the water now reached up to Hannah’s breasts. The only sounds surrounding them were the raucous cries of seagulls and the slurp and slap of tiny swells against their bodies as the ocean tried to drag them down.

He stared at her, regretting the necessary sunglasses that shielded her eyes from him and vice versa. “Too bad we have a dozen chaperones,” he joked, trying for a lightheartedness he didn’t feel.

She leaned in to him, her breast brushing his arm. “Thank you for coming. This means so much to them. Sometimes I think they feel like prisoners.”

He kissed her forehead. “You’re their angel, you know. They love you.”

She grinned wryly. “It’s mutual.”

They stood quietly for long minutes. He felt the wide embrace of the endless horizon and welcomed it. Even when he turned her in his arms and kissed her hungrily, they were so far out that no one onshore could really see anything. Like when he slid his fingers beneath the edge of her bikini bottoms and squeezed her ass.

She licked his nipple, making him jump. “I would love to spread my legs right here for you,” she said, her voice dreamy.

His breath caught in his throat and his legs trembled. For a split second he pondered the logistics and the potential for discovery. He was hard and aching, and the urge to mate with her was almost inescapable.

He released her butt and gripped her shoulders, staring back at shore. The people on the beach were tiny blurs of color. He moved his hand slowly once again, this time sliding between her legs and slipping between the wet, slick folds of her sex.

Hannah shivered and pressed her hips toward him. He found her clit and nudged it gently. Her lips parted. She murmured something inarticulate.

He slid his free hand down the back of her suit. Now he had her trapped in his arms. His fingers met between her legs. With one hand, he entered her. With the other he rubbed slowly, lazily.

She gripped his wrist, her nails biting into his skin. He’d never made her come standing up, but he sensed she was close. He kissed the tender skin beneath her ear and sucked gently at the damp spot his lips created.

Carefully, he thrust into her with three fingers as he probed the tiny sensitive spot that was swollen and hot.

Hannah cried out and staggered as he probed the inner walls of her sex. He felt the ripples of climax as they gripped her body.

He released her and caught her to his chest, kissing her with ragged murmurs. “I’ve got you, love. I’ve got you.”

Hannah was stunned. The afternoon sun beat down mercilessly on her bare head. She was dizzy and her mouth was dry. Good Lord. What had come over her? She’d pulled some outrageous stunts in her time, but letting a man give her a staggering orgasm in view of God and a slew of sun-worshipping Florida tourists was a new low.

Or maybe a high, if she was honest. Her limbs were still shaking and her body hummed with pleasure. Morgan was supporting her weight, which was a good thing, because she wasn’t sure she could stand alone at the moment.

She inhaled and let out a long, slow breath. “I suppose this gives a whole new meaning to riding the waves.”

A corner of Morgan’s beautiful, masculine mouth kicked up in a smug grin. “I live to please you, Hannah, my girl.”

She staggered as a larger than normal wave washed against them. “I wonder if we could . . .”

He shook his head firmly. “Don’t even think it. I’m not sure there’s a position known to man that could disguise what we were doing, even from this far away.”

She reached beneath the water. “Then I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

She watched him as she gripped the cool, rigid column of flesh beneath his swim trunks. A sharp hiss whistled through his teeth, and his entire body seemed to clench. She stroked him gently, enjoying the novel feel of touching him underwater. He was so hard, she wondered if his erection was actually painful.

She couldn’t take him in her mouth. At least not without some serious breathing practice. So she caressed him . . . firmly, steadily, sliding her fingers from the base to the head of his penis over and over.

They were facing each other now. His hands gripped the tops of her arms . . . almost bruising the flesh. His broad chest rose and fell with the force of his breathing. She teased the tiny eye, ran her fingers around the crest, and then reached down and cupped his balls gently before giving him one last, hard stroke.

He groaned and his whole body pressed against hers as he climaxed for what seemed like endless seconds. She wrapped her arms around his back, cradling him, absorbing his wild thrusts, bracing her feet in the shifting sand.

When it was over, he wrapped a fist in her ponytail and dragged her head back for a rough, penetrating kiss. “Are you trying to kill me?” he asked, breathless with what appeared to be only mild curiosity.

She laughed softly, loving the pretense of isolation, relishing the wicked force of the sun on her head. She felt vital and alive, as though she were somehow drawing life force from the sea.

She put her feet on top of his, linking her arms around his neck and swaying with the water. “I suppose we’d better get back to our charges. They’ll be wanting an afternoon snack and a drink.”

Morgan looked down at her, and even though she couldn’t see all of his face at the moment, she sensed his shift in mood. He brushed her forehead with his lips. “We’ll go in a minute. But I have something I want to say.”

She cocked her head. “Oh?”

He smoothed a droplet of water from her cheekbone. “I have a proposition for you.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “Is it kinkier than what we just did?”

“Possibly.”

That stopped her in her tracks. She was intrigued. And all ears. “I’m listening,” she said primly. Which was a hard attitude to maintain given the enthusiasm of her recent carnal water aerobics.

“It concerns setting a date for our wedding.”

“But I—”