Friends and Lovers (8 page)

Her eyes involuntarily skimmed over his hard face, the mouth that had possessed hers so thoroughly. She could almost picture him in bed, his bronzed skin under her hands, that demanding mouth against every inch of her body, his hands touching her intimately.

“Not hungry?” he asked suddenly, leaning back with his second cup of coffee in his hand.

“Uh, not really, no,” she said uneasily.

“You look embarrassed.” He cocked his head at her, his eyes narrow, searching. “Was it what I asked you in the elevator—if you’d ever thought about making love with me?”

She dropped the coffee cup. The hot liquid splattered all over the linen tablecloth, drenching the remains of her dessert, her napkin, and spilling into her plate. She gasped and jerked back just in time to save her dress.

“Well, that answers that question,” John said with a wicked chuckle. “Josito!” he called.

The little white-coated man came running, assuring Madeline that he could save the tablecloth from being stained, and shooed them off into the living room while he cleaned up.

John was still laughing as he sprawled in his big easy chair and shed his jacket and tie. “My God, what a reaction,” he murmured as he opened the top few buttons of his ruffled shirt.

“My hand slipped,” she said stubbornly. She kicked off her shoes and curled up on the sofa, glaring across at him.

“Sure.” He lit a cigarette and drew up a hassock for his elegantly booted feet.

Madeline stared at the hands folded in her lap. “All right, I wasn’t expecting to be propositioned by you.”

Both heavy eyebrows went up. “I wasn’t aware that I’d propositioned you,” he said with that silky note in his voice that spelled trouble.

“What would you call it?” she asked, starting slightly as a clash of thunder reverberated through the room.

“A straight-out, honest question,” he replied. He took a deep draw from the cigarette. “I want to know if you’ve ever thought of me as a lover.”

“Why?” she countered.

He leaned over and crushed out the barely touched cigarette with a vicious motion. “Because we can’t go back,” he said shortly. “I told you that earlier, and I meant it. Now that I’ve had a taste of you, I’m going to want more.” He met her eyes levelly. “That’s human nature, honey, and you aren’t any more immune to me than I am to you.”

“Don’t rush me….”

“Rush you, for God’s sake!” he growled, getting to his feet to tower over her—big and masculine and sensuous with his shirt half unbuttoned over that bronzed, massive chest. “You’ve had two years!”

“I won’t be added to the Ferrari and the ranch and the oil corporation!” she flung at him.

He sighed angrily. “What makes you think you would be?”

“You’re so overwhelming, John,” she ground out, avoiding his penetrating gaze. “You…possess things.”

“I’d like to possess you, all right,” he said in a voice she’d never heard before. “All of you, right down to your dainty little feet.”

“Hush!” she whispered, glancing toward the kitchen. “Josito will hear you!”

“Josito won’t hear anything over this thunder,” he informed her. “But if it bothers you…” He stalked off toward the kitchen. There were muffled voices, a pause, and then John came striding back out with Josito right behind him.

“Good night,
señorita
,” the little man told Madeline with a mischievous grin, his jacket over his arm. “I will see you later, Señor Durango,” he added before he went out the door, closing it firmly behind him.

“Oh, now look what you’ve done,” Madeline wailed, sitting up straighter. “He’ll think you’re planning to seduce me!”

“I am,” he said matter-of-factly.

“That’s what you think!” she returned, searching the floor for her shoes. “I’m going home!”

He caught her by the shoulders as she stood up, and held her just in front of him to study her with quiet, searching eyes.

“I know,” he said with a sigh. “I’m going too fast.”

She looked up at him, feeling dwarfed without her high heels. His hands on her bare shoulders were warm and strangely comforting.

She laughed suddenly, nervously, and dropped her eyes to the wide expanse of chest visible where his elegant shirt was unbuttoned. Its stark whiteness only emphasized his dark tan.

“I feel like a teenage girl on her first real date,” she admitted self-consciously. “And I suppose I’m acting like one. It’s been such a long time since I’ve been this close to any man.”

“And what’s been happening between us is pretty new,” he added with a faint smile.

She glanced up at him with the old sparkle in her green eyes. “I’ll bet this is a new twist for you,” she said with sudden realization.

He cocked a dark eyebrow. “What is?”

“Having potential conquests try to break down doors getting away from you.” She let her hands rest against his warm shirtfront, savoring the smooth feel of it. “I imagine you have to beat them off with sticks most of the time.”

“I’ve found a few hiding under the bed,” he chuckled. “But you don’t fall into the category of a ‘conquest.’ Or a one-night stand. Or a casual affair.”

She caught his silver eyes and searched them. “Then what am I?”

He drew in a deep, slow breath while his hands tightened, drawing her closer. “Something mighty special, if you must know. I trust you.”

She laughed. “I
used
to trust you,” she said with a wicked look.

“You liked kissing me,” he challenged, looking down at her arrogantly. The mustache curled. “That’s why you ran like hell. But you didn’t stay away long, did you?”

“No,” she admitted. She let her forehead rest against him, and it was like a homecoming. “I hate the way it’s been between us these past few weeks. The arguing, the remoteness…I thought about being without you forever, and I couldn’t bear it.” Her fingers clutched the fabric of his shirt and her eyes closed. “I had to know if you were mad at me.”

“So you came rushing over with a twelve-pack of beer in the middle of the day?”

“Something like that.” She sighed, and then smiled amusedly. “When I saw you coming, I wasn’t sure whether to give it to you or throw it at you. You looked dangerous.”

“I felt dangerous. Ask Josito how I’ve been this past week.”

“I hear the rubber tree’s made the endangered species list at your house,” she murmured.

“So has Josito, if he’s been crying on your shoulder,” he informed her.

“Don’t pick on him. He’s nice.”

“So am I, as long as you’re around,” he said.

She drew back to study his craggy face. “Not always,” she murmured, her eyes finding secrets hidden in his.

He touched her mouth with a long, gentle finger and traced its soft red contours, watching it intently. “Men are notoriously not nice when they’re aroused,” he murmured.

“I wouldn’t touch that line with insulated gloves,” she informed him. “Do I get a second cup of coffee, or had you planned to carry me off to your cave by the hair of my head?”

He laughed shortly. “I wouldn’t pull out a single hair if it cost me one of my prize bulls,” he said, reaching to bury his hands in it. “I love the feel of it, the wildflower smell of it.”

“Poetry?” she whispered.

His eyes met hers. He was so close that she could see the lines beside them, the thickness of his dark eyelashes. His chest rose and fell quickly, roughly where her hands rested. “The only lines that come to mind are about the Light Brigade—want to hear it? Or would you rather I make it up as I go along?”

The contact with his big, warm body was having its usual devastating effect on her. Her lips parted as she watched his head bend.

“It’s…like a drug, isn’t it?” she whispered as his mouth brushed against hers.

“What is?” he murmured, pressing his lips to her cheeks, her closed eyes, her nose.

“Kissing,” she replied. Her fingers brushed against the buttons on his shirt and she wanted suddenly to touch him with a hunger that made her tingle all over.

“Ummmmm,” he replied, more interested in learning the contours of her face with his lips than in conversation. He bent suddenly and lifted her clear off the floor, moving toward the sofa with her.

“Go slow with me,” she whispered, burying her face in his warm throat. “It’s been a very long time.”

“For both of us,” he said enigmatically. He sat down, holding her across his lap, her cheek against his shoulder. “Would you like it blunt, with no dressing up? I’m half-exhausted. I did more work today than I’ve done in weeks, and I’m feeling it. And tomorrow morning I’ve got to be up at six to attend a business conference out of town. A little light lovemaking is all I’m up to—despite the fact that I want you like hell every time I touch you.”

She breathed a little easier, but her eyes remained troubled. “Where are we going together?” she asked uncertainly.

He brushed the hair away from her eyes gently, studying her like an exquisite painting. “To a new place,” he murmured. “Full of discovery and surprises. Don’t be afraid.”

“Of you?” She smiled up at him. “You’re my friend. I’d do anything for you.” The smile faded as she searched his darkening eyes. She reached up to touch his mouth, and the mustache was velvety against her fingertips. “Anything, John.”

She could feel the heavy, hard shudder of his heartbeat under her. His eyes were turbulent, his hands suddenly rough as they curled her body into his. Outside, the wind and rain raged unnoticed.

“I can’t go back to the way we were before,” he said quietly. “You
do
realize that? I won’t pressure you into something you don’t want, but a platonic relationship is out of the question now.”

She toyed with a pearly button on his shirt. “Yes, I know that,” she admitted. She let her head slide back against his hard-muscled arm, staring up at him lazily, unblinkingly. Her body felt strange, welcoming, her mind registered a new and urgent hunger. Unconsciously, she stretched like a kitten, the lines of her body fluid as it arched slightly, her breasts lifted to push against the clinging gold fabric of her gown.

“My God, don’t do that!” he breathed gruffly, watching her.

“Why?” she chided through half-closed eyes.

“You know why, you little redheaded witch!” he growled as he bent his head, and she felt the sudden, hungry crush of his mouth as it took possession of her parted lips.

She turned in his arms, pressing as close as she could, her arms reaching up to hold him while he fed hungrily on her soft, yielding mouth.

She protested only once, gently, when his teeth nipped painfully against her lower lip in his desperate ardor.

He drew back a whisper, his eyes wild, his breath coming like a track runner’s. “I hurt you,” he said unsteadily.

“It doesn’t matter,” she breathed, stretching up to him. “Do it again…”

His fingers trailed down her throat as he kissed her again, more carefully this time, deeper, his tongue easing slowly, ardently, into the sweet darkness of her mouth. She tensed as she felt his hard fingers at the neckline of her dress, but they didn’t trespass. They only tantalized, tracing the neckline with a lazy, tormenting pressure that made her finally arch toward him with a sharp little moan.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured wickedly.

She buried her face in his neck, trembling with the hungers he was raising so effortlessly. “John, please…” she whispered shakily.

“Like this, Satin, is this what you want?” he asked sensuously, letting his fingers slide with exquisite tenderness over the high, firm curve of her breasts, covered only by the thin gold material.

She stiffened, trembling at the new intimacy she was allowing. Her nails bit into his shoulders at the intensity of emotion the feathery touch ignited.

“Look at me,” he whispered gruffly. “Let me see…”

She raised her eyes to his, and he read with pinpoint accuracy the wild, singeing fever he was creating in her slim body.

“Fireworks,” she managed, her voice as unsteady as her breathing.

“Is that how it feels?” he asked quietly. He caught one of her slender hands and laid it against his shirt. “Touch me. I’ll let you see what it does to me.”

Her fingers fumbled with buttons until she had the shirt open all the way to his leather belt. Her eyes hungrily went over the wide expanse of hard muscle and bronzed, hair-covered skin.

“For God’s sake, touch me,” he breathed, pressing both her hands against his warm, faintly damp skin.

She looked up, fascinated by the pleasure she read in that hard, craggy face as her long fingers smoothed over his skin, catching in the mat of hair, lingering on the firm muscles. She couldn’t remember a time in her life when she’d ever wanted to touch a man this way, or been so curious about the feel of muscle and skin. But John’s taut body had a delicious masculinity, the sight as well as the feel and smell of it.

She felt him tremble suddenly, and her eyes registered the surprise she felt.

“Shocked?” he asked unsteadily, pressing her hands closer as he bent and brushed his mouth over her eyes, her nose, the corner of her mouth. “This is what happens to you when I touch you, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she managed. “But you’re a man…”

“And men aren’t supposed to show emotion, is that it?” he asked, drawing back to look at her as she lay in the curve of his arm. “I go absolutely crazy when you put your hands on me,” he said quietly. “I can’t hide it. You please me in ways I can’t describe.”

She watched him, her eyes soft and hungry, her body eager, waiting. “I feel that way with you,” she admitted shyly.

His eyes darkened, to old silver. “Was it that way with him?” he asked suddenly.

He meant Allen, and the hint of jealousy in his deep voice astounded her. “No,” she said. “It wasn’t anything like this. I imagined myself in love with him, John, but I was never able to really want him. Perhaps that was why it hurt so….” She turned her face away, before he could see it crumple. “I was such a fool!” she ground out, hitting his broad chest with her fist. “Such a silly, blind fool!”

“Don’t,” he murmured, wrapping her close. He rocked her, as if she were a frightened, hurt child. “Don’t. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. You know I wouldn’t hurt you for the world, mentally or physically.” He buried his lips in her hair. “I only wish I’d known you then, I wish the first time…had been with me,” he finished breathlessly, his arms contracting. “I’d have made it a pleasure beyond bearing.”