Her Foreign Affair (18 page)

“Sleepy, darling?”

“Yes.” Her eyelids drooped and another yawn invaded, stealing control of her body for a minute.

Court shifted behind her, but it didn’t matter, she had no energy to move. The light snapped off and darkness settled like another blanket. Only for a second did her logical brain scream out the dangers of this idea. The rest of her was too sleepy to listen.

“Warm now?”

“Umm-hmm.”

His chuckle rumbled against her back. “Great powers of seduction I have if the first time in twenty-two years I get you into bed you fall asleep on me.”

“But—”

His lips on her temple cut off her protest. “I know, darling. Long day on your feet, and your emotions trampled all over. Wonderful feast, by the way. Now rest.” His hand smoothed her hair as they sank down to the mattress. “Sleep, love. We’ll deal with seduction later,” he whispered into her ear as her eyes closed.

“Sleep,” she murmured. “Stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Awake, his body still on London time, Court snuggled his Jeannie in his arms, the covers pulled up around them, but mostly around her. He wasn’t the cold one. In fact, a dousing of cold water would work rather well right now. Her sweet little bum wiggled into the bend where his hips fit behind her. If he grew any harder, her tushie was in danger. Worn and thin, her flannels didn’t offer much of a barrier. One firm tug and they’d be crotchless, which suited his frame of mind just fine.

Lord, he needed to get the mind off making love with her. The day’s events should have exhausted him as they had her, but his mind was alive, and his body awake in a way he barely remembered. The jolt had hit him the moment Birdie had pulled Randi from the kitchen and into the foyer.

The sight of her in such a way, flushed and startled, the shock to his system had been almost too much to recover from. But not quite. Too many years of polishing his sophisticated demeanor had made it possible to hand her the flowers, and even to flirt just a little. Ignoring the primitive impulse to grab her and take her against the wall had used all his will. Keeping himself from following through in the loo had tested the boundaries of his self control. And now, with her in his arms—he ruthlessly swallowed the growl of his primal beast along with the driving need to seize her, consume, and possess her.

So many thoughts to process. Now he’d found her, what next? Did he convince her to move to London or open an office in San Francisco? With Drew’s interest in China, that might not be a bad idea. But more important, what had Randi been doing with her life, and would she give it up or modify it to be with him? The questions built so fast they threatened to fry out the few remaining working cells in his brain. For now, he just needed to be in her presence, breathe in the essence of her, just be with her. Holding, touching, watching her, listening to the music of her voice, reveling in the magic of her. The time to rediscover the beauty of her heart. Just to be. With her. And Birdie.

His daughter. A near-perfect, smaller replica of her brother. He needed time with her. Time to talk. Time to fill in the blanks of the past two decades.

Now that they’d found each other, they’d have time. He’d make sure of it, because he sure as hell wasn’t letting go. Not for any reason.

Watching Randi sleep, as he had their final week in London, he relived every moment of their last night together. Dinner over lamb stew and wine. The shower of rose petals he’d dropped on her in bed. Their night lit by a single candle and the street lamps from outside her flat.

He’d made do with a bedsit, bathroom down the hall, in a crowded rooming house, but she’d had a tiny studio flat. The important thing, she’d once told him, being she had her own bathroom and micro kitchen. Yanks, he’d teased her, but secretly, he’d enjoyed the luxury of the bath after they’d discovered the delights of making love in a tub. Briefly he thought of the spa outside. Later, he’d find a way to make love to her there.

All his thoughts came back to the one theme. Making love to his Jean. Randi. Jean. Whatever name she used, one fact held true; she belonged with him.

Apparently, the reminders were still there for her as well. When he’d brought in the tea and set it on the table beside the bed, he’d seen the paperback and remembered. The one perfect rose she’d saved from the bouquet before he pulled the blooms apart to drop the petals on her. She’d tucked it between the pages, in the middle of the big love scene. Before finding her in the closet tonight, he’d lifted the book and carefully fanned the pages. There, right where she’d read to him, the dried bud, its faded fragrance a gentle perfume drawing out the sweetest memories. Eager to touch her, he’d called out and heard her muffled reply from somewhere deep inside the
en suite
.

She sighed in his arms, a tiny smile touching her lips. She shifted, pulling his arms closer about her as she turned her head. The Second Coming couldn’t have stopped him from kissing her cheek. That was so sweet he kissed her jaw. One kiss led to another until she turned enough he could kiss her lips.

“Court.” His name left her lips on a sigh so soft he almost didn’t hear it.

“Jeannie.” He nipped her lip, loving the way she parted for him, her breath a teasing whisper he breathed in. If it killed him, he’d hold back tonight. All her defenses were down, and she had every right to be angry with him. He also thought she might be talking in her sleep. Thank God it was his name on her lips. It gave him hope that forgiveness was already taking place.

She and Birdie were wrong about one thing, though. He
had
come looking for them. Randi, actually. Birdie had been a bonus. This warranted a call to the private investigator. Didn’t need the man’s services any longer. Should he insist on DNA testing? Probably not a politically correct move, as volatile as Birdie’s reaction had been to the discovery. Besides, in his heart he knew it wasn’t necessary.

Randi made the last quarter turn, which brought her front flush with his.

Sweet mercy, the quake that shot through him when her thigh gently connected with his groin made him see stars. He grabbed her leg and moved it away, trapping it firmly between his knees. The little she-devil moaned, frustrated at his diversion. Right, she felt frustrated. He’d made a gentleman’s vow to keep his hands to himself, but here she was, teasing, pushing, cuddling up to him as if they’d never been apart.

“Sleep, darling. You need sleep.”

“Mmm,” she mumbled something he didn’t quite understand. Agreement or denial? Sounded like denial to him, but maybe it was her hand resting on his pecs that made it seem that way. She snuggled into him, nestling her nose against his throat. “Warm.”

“Yes, darling, I’m glad you’re warm. I’m toasty myself. Sleep, Jeannie.”

She settled, seemingly drifting deeper, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Should she choose to turn her wicked lips loose on him, he’d be lost. A poor excuse for a gentleman trying to not take advantage of a lady. A lady he wanted for more than just one night.

What were those scores from the game last week? Manchester United versus Everton. Then again, forget football, being in the middle of a good rugby scrum would work about now.

Randi’s hair drifted, teasing his forearm with the sleek silkiness of it. Satin smooth and smelling of sunshine, turkey, vanilla, and just the barest hint of roses, he wanted to feast on her.

Now that she’d warmed up, he should slip from the bed and get his phone. Yesterday may have been an American holiday, but the rest of the world had kept moving. There were surely messages and e-mails he needed to deal with. The quiet of the sleeping household would make this the ideal time to get some business done. But with her in his arms, he didn’t want to let go for anything. No business deal was worth the pain of leaving her at this very moment. It could all wait.

Leaving. The very thought sent a chill through him. Sunday, just two short days away, he was due to climb on a plane and return to England. Not an attractive prospect on his part. A rapid mental review of his upcoming schedule didn’t allow hope for staying longer. The contract with Attenborough had already been set back a week and to put it off longer would hurt both sides. Could the meeting be held in New York? Would Randi like to take a trip? Could he bribe her with shopping?

The flexing of her little hand over his pecs made him think of bribing her another way. Her palm slid until her fingers framed one of his nipples and he suppressed a groan. In an effort to forestall further explorations, he pulled her close, redirecting her arm around his waist.

It was a hell of a thing to be in bed, embracing the woman who’d been in his dreams for half his life and not be able to make love to her. She trusted—trusted! the silly chit—that he would hold her and keep her safe. Safe from what, now there was the question of the century. Safe from himself? Was that the insult or the injury?

Finally, she drifted into a deep sleep, and half aroused, he relaxed enough to join her, pulled under by the dregs of jet lag.

* * * *

In her dream, warmth invaded everything. The soft blanket around her became a living, breathing entity, there solely for the purpose of keeping her warm. Slowly, she drifted out of the soft layers of sleep only to wonder at the arms around her. Court’s scent soothed her, forestalling any panic she might have felt. This felt right in a way she barely remembered. One arm pillowed her head, the other rested across her waist, his hand inside her pajama bottoms, cupping one rounded cheek. Her vow to leave their past behind them seemed silly now. It had been so long, surely she deserved some comfort. A woman needed to touch and be touched. Oh how she longed to touch all that glorious, warm skin.

Moving slowly, she pressed her lips to his neck. One night, one chance to share the best part of what they’d had, just one more time. They could do this without dredging up all those messy emotions, couldn’t they? One night, one weekend, catch up, share some loving for old times’ sake, then say goodbye, this time knowing their paths would most likely cross again someday. They could be sometimes lovers. Maybe.

But now, just for now, she needed this. Needed him. Only he could fill the yawning emptiness consuming her.

Unless she was mistaken and the thing poking her in the stomach didn’t indicate his need for her, well then, she’d been out of the game far too long.

* * * *

As far as erotic dreams went, this one beat anything he’d ever previously dreamed. In his arms, his own sweet Jeannie moved her body against his. At some point, she’d grown lush curves. Nothing outrageous, just a little more padding filled out her breasts and added sassy curves to her hips, making them easier to hold. But it was Jeannie, just as he’d dreamed of her so many times, in so many ways. No one had ever touched him the way she had, in person and in every dream since their short time together so long ago.

But this dream topped them all. This dream came so close to real he could almost swear…

Soft lips closed around the head of his cock and wet heat wrapped him in an ecstasy that popped his eyes open.

Good Lord. Every prayer answered, Court groaned his thanks to his maker as his hand gripped her by the hair. “Jeannie-mine, my love…”

The wonderful sensation stopped as she lifted her head just enough to speak. “Oh good, you’re awake.” Warm breath bathed him. Soft lips brushed his skin.

“You don’t have to stop on my account.”

“Don’t worry,” she said with a truly evil chuckle. “Though I’m a little out of practice.” She spoke so that her lips moved over the very tip. “But after counseling teens once they started to attract boys, I have to ask, how bad have you been? Girlfriends? One night stands? Women of convenience?”

“No one serious. I swear. No girlfriends, no one important.” One or two friends who preferred to keep things discreet and as emotionally detached as possible. Divorcees who didn’t want to mess up their settlements. If she pressed, he’d confess to those, but no way would he admit to anything else. Those days were now the past and only she mattered. “I have condoms in my luggage if they’d make you feel, um, more comfortable?” Any more comfortable and he’d have a heart attack. Out of practice? Not from his view.

“Hmm.” The vibration around his cock grew electrifying, her hair brushing his hip sweet torture.

“Sweetheart? Darling? Please, don’t keep me dangling like some poor worm about to be drowned.” He’d been reduced to begging in less than twenty-four hours.

“You aren’t dangling.”

Well, no, he wasn’t quite, but she had him at her mercy. He’d lived at the mercy of Beatrice long enough that he recognized the situation quite well. Only in this case, he liked it. He liked this form of sweet dominance from this woman and the way she took him in hand. Or in mouth, or both as it were, and swirled her tongue around him, just like…

“Oh, darling, yes, you remember…”

Her mouth closed about him once more, so very wet her saliva dripped down the length of his cock in a new sweet torture. She chased it, licking, sucking, working her tongue along his length, her mouth sheathing him until…oh sweet…

“Jesus!” When had she learned that trick? Her tight little throat convulsed around him and his entire body clenched, straining to hold back the fire of his semen coming to a boil. Just as he was about to let go, she pulled off, leaving him waving in the cool breeze.

Desperate, he reached for her, but she moved out of reach, sitting back on her heels.

“Jeannie…” he warned, but the cheeky wench just laughed at him.

“Done being the gentleman, Court?”

That did it. She’d provoked him enough. In one fluid motion, he rose up, and with forward momentum pushed her backward until her head lay near the footboard. It took only a nanosecond to realize her pajamas had disappeared. Probably somewhere around the time his had. “Been busy, haven’t you?” His body covering hers, he settled between her sweet, soft, and smooth thighs. “Good thing you have such a big bed.”

“I guess so.” She laughed up at him, but he held the upper hand. Oh yes, she’d pay for her teasing.