Desperate Measures (12 page)

He glanced over at the couple, then returned his gaze to her. She could feel him take in her profile, her throat, her breasts. Her oxford cotton blouse, she knew, was more like see-through net to his gaze. Her blood throbbed in her veins.

“Common sense,” he said at last. “You skate to work off your feelings. That’s been obvious from the first. And now that your grandmother knows you skate, you don’t have to go to Jersey anymore. I just started with the rink closest to your home and found you first time out.”

“I didn’t know I was so obvious,” she said.

“You’re not.”

A moan of pleasure came from the shadows behind them, stilling all conversation. Her hands stopped the task of pulling her things from the locker. Her body temperature rose sharply, and
she couldn’t quite catch her breath. How could a couple of kids necking do this to her? And then she realized it wasn’t the kids.

It was Joe.

The raw edge of suppressed male passion reached out to her, burrowing its way into her body, intensifying her emotions. His heat, bare inches from her, was like a blast furnace, turning her to molten liquid. She could hear the breath rasping in his lungs. The remembered taste of his mouth on hers flashed through her, vivid and enticing. She wanted to turn to him, to toy with the buttons of his jacket, to feel his hand tighten on her hip, then pull her into a deep kiss. He didn’t have to touch her to get a response, and he had to know it. He could take her right here, and she doubted she’d have the power to stop him. She thought she would die of embarrassment … and want.

“Kids,” he muttered hoarsely. “Get your stuff, Ell.”

Eight

“Now dinner wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Joe glanced over at Ellen and chuckled as she made a face at him. They were on their way home after an easy meal. Maybe not easy, he admitted, remembering the occasional moments of tension. Since the near eruption of passion at the skating rink, both of them had kept their attraction under tight control. Still, dinner went better than he would have thought, especially after seeing those damn kids at the rink. Hadn’t they ever heard of parking?

“Delicious, actually,” Ellen conceded, then waved a hand at her sweater and jeans. “But did you have to take me to the Cafe Royale dressed like this?”

“That was where I made the reservation.” He watched the evening traffic with a prudent eye. Center-city Philadelphia could match New York
City for the “nuts on the road” award. He added, “Don’t blame me, just because you weren’t ready.”

She was silent for a long moment. “Your idea of slow is the speed of light.”

He smiled. “And your idea of slow would make a snail look like a racehorse.”

“I panicked over the idea of dinner, I admit that. But I’m not … I don’t know what I’m not. I’m just not.”

“Eloquently put.” He glanced over at her. “You make me impatient, Ell. So you’ll have to be patient with me.”

She smiled slightly. “If you can be patient with me.”

“Agreed.”

Joe hid a burst of satisfaction. At least she recognized there was something to be patient about. That ought to be enough for him. As long as he didn’t touch her.

He set his jaw, thinking that he might as well stop breathing. The results would be the same. The problem was that this was their first date. It was just a dinner, he told himself in an attempt to keep the adrenaline coursing through him under some control. But it was nearly impossible, since he knew they weren’t on a mission to save the sauce. Or a pretense of a mission to save the sauce. They were on a date.

“I noticed Mario in the company dining room at the plant,” Ellen said, breaking into his thoughts. “I meant to ask you if he’s made another attempt at the recipe.”

“Not yet,” he replied, looking over at her. Her features held a translucent glow that left him staring
in awe. He realized what he was doing and turned back to the road. To cover his discomposure, he added, “Even though it’s only been a few days, he’s been too quiet, and that worries me. I think Uncle Thomas was his best shot at getting a second piece of the recipe. Thomas was the easiest. My cousin Jamie, who holds another quarter, is one of the company lawyers. He’s too smart to be tricked into giving it away. I hope. Anyway, my sister at least wouldn’t be fooled. But I can’t help feeling Mario is only biding his time.”

“You still have no proof against him?” she asked, her voice even and calm. He could see nothing in her of the turmoil he was feeling. “What about your uncle? Couldn’t he support you, if you told your family about what Mario is doing?”

“How?” Joe asked, his hands tightening on the steering wheel when he thought of how thoroughly he was trapped in family politics. “All Mario really did was to treat his uncle to a night in Atlantic City. Thomas knows and understands I can’t fire Mario on suspicion, because of family repercussions. It’ll be bad enough when I do catch him. His mother, my aunt Mary, is going to be devastated. She dotes on him. That’s a lot of the problem.”

“You said he needed money,” Ellen said, in a speculative tone. “Maybe she’s giving him money.”

He shook his head. “She and his father had a huge fight several months ago about that. His father did manage to cut off that source of money from Mario. I do know Mario’s spending didn’t slow at all. He’s desperate now. I have a feeling the only way I’ll catch him is for him to be careless.”

He resisted the urge to vent his frustration.
Tonight was his first real opportunity to further the relationship with her, and here she had managed to get him thinking about his cousin. It was like thinking of baseball at the crucial moment of lovemaking. No one wanted to, but it was damn effective.

He became aware that Ellen was quiet, too, and he glanced over to find her expression far away.

“Thinking can be hazardous to one’s health,” he said, stopping at a red light.

She took a deep breath and refocused on the road ahead of them. “I know.”

She didn’t add anything to her answer and instead reached over and turned on the car radio. Hard, driving rock and roll blasted from the speakers. He grabbed for the volume dial the same moment she did.

Their fingers touched, and Joe was plunged into a well of desire for her, endless and enveloping. She snatched her hand away, but it was too late for him. His breath labored in his lungs, his body tensed, his blood pounded in his ears. The road faded for an instant, then he forced himself to control the primitive urges racing through him. The light had changed and horns were beeping behind him. He stepped on the accelerator.

Once the car was across the intersection, he turned off the radio. He could hear Ellen breathing hard. She was sitting as far away from him as the passenger seat would allow. She didn’t look unaffected now. He decided he had been much better off discussing business with her. At least they had a good chance of getting home in one piece. He was president of a company that had
survived going national and a takeover attempt last year. He was supposed to have ice in his veins, not the raging heat of a hormone-crazy adolescent.

“Okay, so now you know my deep, dark secret. I like hard rock,” he confessed, knowing he had to keep it light if he was ever to get through the trip home. “I can’t help it. I grew up in the sixties. Give me an Eric Clapton album and I’m a happy man.”

Ellen relaxed. He was pleased she even managed a giggle. She turned the radio back on, but adjusted the volume to a more manageable level. “You’ll be warped for life, you know.”

He smiled. “I expect so.”

It was after eleven when they reached the parking lot of the roller rink, where Ellen’s car was still parked. Joe breathed a sigh of relief that they had made it without further mishap. The conversation between them had been as light as helium. It kept the existing tensions on an even keel.

Ellen’s Audi sat in solitary majesty in the lot. Joe gritted his teeth at the sight of the empty parking spaces and dim lighting surrounding the car. He hadn’t considered that the rink would be closed and the people gone. As he pulled his car next to the driver’s side of the Audi, he vowed he would not touch her. Just like when they had been trapped next to those two entwined teenagers by the lockers, or when their fingers had touched, he could feel the desire to take her in his arms climbing toward a frenzied peak. He had been afraid to touch her at the rink, afraid he
wouldn’t be able to stop himself. Now his need had had all evening to simmer.

“It was a very nice dinner,” Ellen said, her voice low.

He could sense her anxiety, and he knew he had to end this date companionably. If he wanted to see her again. And he did. He had promised her “slow,” and now he had to deliver. He deliberately relaxed and turned in the seat to face her. She was facing forward, and her hand was gripping the door latch. Her clear readiness to bolt brought a sudden surge of protectiveness for her.

“It was a terrific dinner … once I found you,” he said, keeping his tone amused. “Next time you run away, please dress for it.”

She chuckled a little, shaking her head. “I probably will, just in case you catch me again.”

“No probably about it.” He smiled to himself, noting the tension in her fading. His own tension was slowly draining away too. No problem, he thought. He’d just remind her about the christening on Sunday, they’d say good night, she’d get out of the car, and that would be that, “Don’t forget the christening on Sunday. I’ll pick you up about one, okay?”

She smiled. He watched with satisfaction as her hand let go of the door latch. “That’s fine.”

“I’ll follow you home,” he said, not liking the idea of her going on alone.

“Thank you, but no.” Her smile widened. “I’m Scotty, the sensible spy, remember? I can certainly drive myself home.”

“Maybe I’m the one we ought to be worrying about.”

“You’ll do just fine.”

“So far,” he muttered to himself, knowing she was capable of driving herself home but having a vague feeling Miss Manners wouldn’t quite approve. “One o’clock then on Sunday. And you’re sure you don’t need an escort?”

She nodded. “I’m sure. Good night, Joe, and thanks for dinner.”

“Good night, Ell, and you’re welcome.” Part two of his game plan was completed. Tough as it was, he admitted he was satisfied.

She opened the passenger door, then turned around. “Oh! I’m almost forgetting my skates. They’re on the back seat.”

“Right, right, right. The skates,” he said, and stretched around to retrieve them.

He collided instead with soft shoulders and reaching, feminine arms intent on the same purpose. He scrambled back into his seat away from her, scorched by the sudden fire exploding within him. The breath left his body, and at the same moment his senses were filled with the scents of perfume and woman. His blood pounded beyond its limits.

He stared at her, the space separating them almost nothing. Her eyes were wide and focused on his, and her full lips were parted. His earlier thoughts of her being unaffected by the attraction between them vanished. A sensual challenge filled the air. A primitive part of him dared him to respond. He told himself to ignore it, let it go, take a cold shower, move to the Arctic Circle … then he saw the tip of her tongue slip slowly along her lower lip, moistening it, and he was lost.

Without thought, he pulled her to him, bringing her mouth to his. Her lips were softer than he’d remembered, and they molded to his under the onslaught of his kiss. He parted her lips, his tongue delving inside to claim hers. She met him eagerly, the clash and duel of the kiss consuming him. Her arms wound around his shoulders, her fingers digging into his suit jacket.

He had never expected her to respond like this. She wasn’t fighting him at all, and he had no thought to fight himself. He pressed her closer until her breasts were against his chest. He slipped his hand around and under her sweater, gliding across the flawless silk of her skin. The front hooks of her bra were undone with a press of his fingers. One breast spilled free of the satin and into his waiting hand. The nipple, already tight, leaped against his palm as if his touch were giving it life. He tore his mouth from hers and dipped his head lower, determined to taste her in a way he never had before.

Her hands were clinging and tugging as he nuzzled her breasts. The taste of her was smooth and fine, like a wine that had come into its full bouquet. Her flesh had a scent of its own, heady and intoxicating. He started with slow, light kisses everywhere he could reach, his hands charting a path before his lips, finding new curves and dips to explore. His kisses became more fierce as he drowned in the taste of her. He heard a low moan, when he finally curved his tongue around the diamond-hard nipple. The satisfaction was unlike anything he’d felt before, and yet his need was driven to the breaking point.

Ellen felt as if years of repression had slid away with the kiss. The touch, she corrected herself dimly, as Joe’s mouth sent a kaleidoscope of sensations racing through her. She had lost all thought of resistance the moment their bodies had touched in the quest for the skates. She had tried her best to fight this. She had even run away from it tonight. But throughout dinner and the ride back to the rink, she had been tormented with the thought that the evening would end like this. Her in his arms, out of control. She had wanted it to happen, and when he had pulled away from her, she had willed it to happen.

She was out of control now, she realized as her fingers found their way under his suit jacket. She could feel the muscles of his back working under his fine cotton shirt whenever he moved. His hands were touching her everywhere, seeking out every pleasure spot she possessed. His mouth was the center of her being, driving her to distraction. She was moaning shamelessly under his caresses, and she didn’t care. She used her hands to guide his lips over her flesh, and she thrust her breasts forward so he could taste all of her. He was taking her body and mind to places unimagined before. Something ageless inside her had been brought to life again. Now it was growing and calling out to him. It didn’t matter where they were, or who they were, or what consequences she would face afterwards. She could no more stop this than she could stop breathing.