Heaven Inside You (2 page)

He turned around, slightly distracted, after hearing someone call out behind him. That tight muscular butt…sweet heaven!!! In total disbelief, she pinched herself.
Ouch!

Is this man flying with me?

Her throat went suddenly dry.

“So we finally meet, Olivia,” he spoke, in a deep tone that roused all manner of carnal pleasures. He widened his smile while his eyes twinkled in…was it a hint of mischief?
Dark stubble had started to show beneath his skin—surely not day old. This man was all testosterone; nothing about him spelled “ordinary.” Yet his expression, surprisingly, was open, even hinting at an underlying tenderness.

She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting since she had first spoken to him on the phone three weeks earlier. In the days that followed that initial conversation, she hadn’t been able to prevent herself from dreaming about that sexy deep voice coaxing her, beckoning her, compelling her to submit to a gut-wrenching passion. She’d lie in a sensual haze
until the wee hours of the morning, so wet and hot she’d barely get any sleep if she didn’t give herself release at least once, sometimes twice.

Perhaps age was driving her to insanity. Or nymphomania. Either way, she was doomed. She had just turned thirty-two, and despite what people always told her about the benefits of maturity, it didn’t appear that life was getting any easier or any less lonely. Oh, she had done well for herself, all right.
Proud of her achievements, she never regretted her decisions and always tried to take her disappointments and hurts with a pinch of salt. She loved to make people laugh and make the best out of every situation. She had never been greedy, but now she wanted more—more of whatever she seemed to be missing, whatever had her waking up every morning with a most peculiar sense of loss.

Cole being constantly on her mind, dominating her every thought of the last few days, had driven home the fact
that she was tired of being on her own. She wanted to come home to someone who would tease her, tickle her, cuddle her, ask her about her day at work, cherish her, coax her into laughter and finally, make passionate love to her. A man who appreciated her independence and zest for life, as well as her choice of career, which often demanded long hours at the office.

She had her own private space with a door, a secretary, and a window overlooking East 53
rd
Street. On the door hung a sign: Olivia Marsden, Managing Editor.

As a child, she had always been drawn to books, and by the age of twelve she had read most of the classics. Books made her happy. By the time she was old enough to think about making a living, she knew that the only road she’d consider taking involved doing something in the literary field. During her years in college, she took up several internships with literary agents, and after graduation
, she finally found her niche at the office of one of New York City’s most respected publishing houses. That had been her time to shine, and it worked. She succeeded in charming them with her wit and nose for talent, and they’d decided to take a chance on her. From then on, it had been a slow but steady climb uphill. Her hard work and dedication had finally paid off when she was placed at the helm of the Erotic Romance department following Helen Sedgewick’s premature retirement two years earlier.

She loved her job. Her job was her life. In fact, she had nothing
but
her job. Although she didn’t necessarily love the company she was with. Recently, it appeared that talent was made to take the back seat more and more when it came to making business decisions. She was quite weary of having to “crunch the numbers,” and her instinct sometimes wasn’t enough to convince the powers that be to go with a particular hunch, that the money would come if only they would believe in her vision. All they wanted to know was whether a book would sell, and they were increasingly hesitant to take risks in the process. They kept telling her she had to stick to the “formula” and let go of everything else. Yeah, right.

The same sense of dissatisfaction was hitting her in her personal life. She did go on dates every now and then, but the whole dating-bar-social scene was too complicated for her liking. She
’d always been a straightforward kind of gal with simple tastes. All she wanted after a long day at work was a good long soak in her bathtub and hearty Italian takeout or sushi, followed by—in absence of the real deal—a much needed close encounter with her vibrator. The way she saw it, it was preferable to play with a plastic object than a man with a plastic heart. She just didn’t want to waste time dating guys who had the feelings of a grape.

Deep down, she knew what she really w
anted. As a good old-fashioned Southern girl, she craved a loving marriage, a home filled with the laughter of an adoring husband and the innocent voices of children. She wanted to find the passion she read so much about in all those steamy books. Despite her age and life as a modern, independent woman, she still believed in fairy tales.

However, she wasn’t about to fall for just any guy. It was hard to meet someone who saw life the way she did and found meaning in all the little things. Most of the men she was exposed to were deeply involved in the corporate rat race and wouldn’t have time for a meaningful relationship, much less a family. She wanted more. Much more. A confident, strong man with a heart of gold, who would sweep her away and make her his willing love slave. He’d be forceful and tender, lovingly dominant. He’d want her every day with an unrivalled
need and most of all, he’d love her forever.

He’d also love her full, thick, hourglass body.

Although her friends kept telling her how pretty and wonderfully “voluptuous” she was—God bless them and their kind hearts—she recognized the truth for what it was. She knew she couldn’t change her size sixteen frame, her naturally unruly hair, hips she wouldn’t fit in low-rise jeans and breasts she could barely squeeze in her 38Ds. She’d be delusional if she imagined herself as anybody’s type.

Of course, she wasn’t overly bothered with the situation. It was a case of take it or leave it.
Far be it for her to apologize for being more of an Amazon than a Barbie doll. Olivia was a champion for honesty and had no love for games. Men—at least the ones she had known—seemed to be turned on by petite, delicate, flirtatious women like her sister Fiona, and she couldn’t change reality. Why, the Ideal Woman was all over TV, posing in front of the camera, showing off her skinny ribs in a thong bikini!

Now Fiona knew her way around a man and could twist one
around her dainty little finger. She’d always had a knack for handling the male of the species, making them feel like kings with empty flattery and coy smiles. Four years younger than Olivia, Fiona was the very image of a beauty queen. She moved with grace and dressed with style. Her makeup was always flawless, her manners impeccable—when she wanted. One would wonder if she woke up in the morning perfectly groomed and ready to go.

Yeah, Fiona was what Olivia could never hope to be. Luckily, Olivia didn’t want to be Fiona. Not that Fiona was better than her in everything. Olivia’s own almond-shaped green eyes were probably her most redeeming feature. Those eyes, she suspected, tended to give away a little more about her than she wished anyone to know. And her full lips were once described by an artist friend of hers as “luscious, full and perfect…an artist’s dream.” Although she had nothing against her lips, she didn’t know how true a declaration that was. She suspected that same artist was just trying to get in her good graces. Or more likely in her pants. She suppressed a snort at that thought.

All she knew was how she felt inside, those hidden feelings she kept safely tucked in the recesses of her heart. Perhaps one day someone would see through her easygoing, pleasant façade. Her passions ran deep and strong and dark. Sometimes they overwhelmed her so much her thoughts and emotions were just too hard to contain, and on the hardest and loneliest days, tears would fall unrestrained. Nothing seemed to move her lately but the fantasies she submitted to late at night in the privacy of her bedroom—visions of bondage and love, commanding words and tender endearments.

Those times, in the dark, she could free her soul to uninhibited abandon in the pursuit of her deepest desires. She longed to be cherished and conquered,
her heart ruled and utterly loved. She wondered if any man would ever manage to call to her true self. That part of her that craved to be tamed and burned with hot kisses, gentle bites and the caress of a strong, loving hand.

Take Mr. Gorgeous right here. He probably had centerfolds for breakfast, lunch and dinner as a daily routine. He looked like just the type of guy who would have no problems dating whomever he chose without reservations. Oh yeah, he’d no doubt make Countess Elizabeth de Bathory convert to a life of charity and fall in a besotted heap at his feet. He was the kind who could and would take anything he wanted and had the power to discard it when he was done with it. He made her core ache with need and her nipples tingle. Her own devil incarnate, sent to lead her into the bowels of lurid, decadent temptation. Would that be true!

That day three weeks ago when she’d heard his husky, deep voice for the first time, she’d thought she’d die. She’d never met—or heard—anyone who could make her wet just by the sound of his voice…

All she knew about Cole Evans was that he was a high-powered corporate lawyer in NYC and that he was brother to Chad, her sister Fiona’s soon-to-be husband. For some reason, they kept missing each other when she attended family get-togethers during the last two years.

And what had she been missing! She’d seen some family photos of Chad and Cole when they were boys, but she had no idea what he looked like now. To be true, he had actually made it to her parents’ house in Nashville for the engagement party about six months before, but he had disappeared to handle some emergency at his office before she had a chance to take a look at him. She would never admit to anybody how disappointed she had felt that evening. Strangely, she had always thought of Cole as an intriguing person, someone she knew she’d like to know. 

When her secretary transferred his call to her office, he was the last person she expected to hear on the other line.

“Hello, Olivia. This is Cole, Chad’s brother. I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.”

“Oh…he
llo, nice to finally hear you.” No kidding.
Nice
didn’t come close. Hmm…where did he get that voice? “You’re fine. So how’s it going? Can’t believe Fiona’s finally getting hitched.”

“I never thought Chad was the marrying type either, but hey, I guess pigs can fly.”

She thought she heard a chuckle on the other side. Bet he was just the regular devil with women. Her curiosity was getting the better of her. That was when he popped the question.

“Olivia, I was thinking. How do you feel about us taking the same flight to Georgia? We’ve never had the chance to meet, so I thought it’d be nice to take a day or so to see the sights in Atlanta before we drive up to Villa Catalana for the wedding. After all, we’re about to be family. Don’t know about you, but I sure need a break from all this craziness.”

Oh my, my, my. Someone pass her a fan or something! Why did he make her feel like a clumsy teen about to go on her first date?

“Sure, I know what you mean, and your idea sounds great. Actually, I have a hook-up. My best friend Lisa is a flight attendant with Delta, and she always has tons of buddy passes. Perhaps I can squeeze an extra one out of her.”

Now why did she say that? She must be going completely mad.

“That would be awesome. I’ll book a hotel somewhere downtown for one night. That one’s on me,” he drawled, and she proceeded to melt into a puddle right there in the middle of her office. Images of hot, damp bodies writhing, hands caressing, tongues licking, mouths exploring darted through her head in a dizzying kaleidoscope.

“We will have time to rest and get on the road the next morning. I hear it’s scorching hot in the South right now.”

Hot
.
In the South
. His voice brought her back to reality, and her heartbeat soared with the speed of light. They chatted for a couple more minutes before Cole told her he had to rush into a meeting.

“It was great talking to you. I look forward to spending some time together.”

“Me too.”

The “beep” of the phone as she hung up reverberated in the silence of the room; she went still for a minute and took a deep breath.

A few days later, she sent him an email to confirm she had both tickets, and to suggest a meeting place and time. He responded with a short thank-you note, letting her know he was really looking forward to seeing her. She didn’t know what to make of that but was sure she shouldn’t make too much of it. She hadn’t spoken or heard from him again since then.

She spent the entire three weeks obsessing, wondering what he looked like, what he smelled like. Did he go for dark chocolate and toasted marshmallows? Did he hate peppers on his pizza? What kind of sheets covered his body at night?

Chad did mention once that his brother was very tall and big and that he had been a football star in college. Hard to believe considering that Chad himself was a scrawny piece of work. He was the little man with the big personality, a sort of mini Napoleon; one of those people who could sell ice to the Eskimos—really—and had bulldozed his way through to a VP of Sales position in a global IT corporation. He had met Fiona a couple of years earlier when he was interviewing candidates for an Executive Secretary position right after his promotion. The eternal opportunist, her younger sister saw her chance to snag a great catch and worked her charm to great effect. She didn’t get the secretary position, but, in her own words, she got the better end of the bargain. The rest, as they say, was history.