Just One Spark (16 page)

“Excuse me?”

“The fireman.”

“Firefighter. Firemen are the guys who load coal on trains.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Hannah shook her head, finding her indignation again. “Why do you think we live together? Forget it, I don’t want to know. Why have you been leaving those cards?”

“The cards? I pass them out to everyone I know. I got them for research. I’m a novelist, you see, and my story is about a greeting-card writer and a photographer.”

Hannah narrowed her eyes, weighing the woman’s animated words. She seemed excited by the situation, like she had nothing in the world to hide.

“I modeled one of the characters after the fireman, er, firefighter. I recognized him from the building when he came into the coffee shop. He inspired me. When I saw him later that day, I watched him check his mail.”

“Wait a minute, you live here?” Hannah felt anxious and relieved at the same time. Knowing where the woman lived could help Mason’s brother investigate, just to make sure nothing funny was going on.

“Yes, on the first floor. I thought I’d slip a card under the door. But now his door seems to be stuck.”

“My door. I live here.” She stopped short of telling the woman Mason lived upstairs. She looked innocuous, but she was a bit obsessed.

“Oh, how coincidental.”

Hannah put her hands on her hips. “My entire family thinks he’s terrorizing me.”

The woman arched a bushy eyebrow. “Oh, I’ll have to work that in during the re-write.”

“Hannah?” That familiar flutter in her stomach started up. How she’d missed that. “What’s going on?”

She turned to face him. He was just getting home from work, his duffle in hand. Her mouth watered at the sight. Mason’s expression was hopeful behind his tired eyes.

“I got another card.” She waved the red envelope in the air. “Actually, they’re for you.”

His expression fell. “What? Is there a message this time?” Mason glanced past her at the old woman.

“I haven’t opened it. I know who’s dropping them.”

His eyes widened. “You do?”

She’d figured it out all by herself. No one needed to fix it for her. She smiled and nodded.

“Hello, I’m Margaret. We met at the coffee shop.”

Mason nodded, his brows scrunching. “You dropped the cards?” Mason frowned. “To make it look like I
was
stalking her?”

Her thin lips twisted in response. “No, of course not. I wanted to make you think you had an admirer, turn the tables a bit. I dropped a card or two on my way back from the write-ins. I was hoping for inspiration. But I got the apartment wrong.” The woman let out a sigh and stroked the head of her dog. “I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble.”

“I think you should go.” Mason stepped aside on the stairs. The woman nodded and slinked away, still smiling.

Hannah watched every step, listening intently so she could hear the door open and close at the bottom of the stairs. Should she be worried about Margaret? Was she stalking Mason or just lonely?

She turned to face him, still standing on the step below her. Eye to eye just like at his parent’s house. How did she rewind what had happened and get them back to that moment, before everything had gone wrong? To hell with what people thought, she should have kissed him then like she’d wanted to.

Now, she wasn’t going anywhere. And neither was Mason, until she kissed him. Kissing is what they should always be doing, not worrying about besting their siblings’ relationship milestones. She licked her lips in anticipation.

Mason’s eyes darkened as if he read her mind. He shook his head. “You have to work, and we need to talk first.”

She played with the buttons on the front of his shirt and waited for his eyes to watch. She had something she needed him to know, only she didn’t have the words. She fisted the front of his shirt and pulled him close. She kissed him hard and deep, letting her tongue massage his into understanding. Her body had known she wanted him from the first time she saw him. Just like this. Her body had told her again when he’d kissed her. Something in her knew him, always had and always would. She was learning to listen to her body, she wondered if he heard it too.

“Hannah.” He pulled her from him by the shoulders. “You’re going to be late for work.”

“But I just—”

“Just solved your stalker mystery. Congratulations.” Mason picked up his duffle again.

“Your stalker, technically.” Hannah reached for him again. There had to be some way to make him see, to feel what she felt. How her soul had latched onto his that first time and would never ever let go. “Mason, please. I need—”

“I know. And you don’t have time right now. It’ll keep until you do.”

Chapter Sixteen

“Why do you drive this old thing?” she asked, climbing in the Bronco. Mason had insisted on picking her up from work, and she hadn’t fought him. If she took the train, she wouldn’t make it home before her birthday at midnight.

“Twenty questions already?” he teased, turning the engine over with a roar. “My dad and I rebuilt the engine when I was fifteen. We’ve been everywhere together. We even took a cross-country trip when Tyler graduated from high school.”

Why did men insist on speaking about their vehicles as if they were human? “Don’t the gas mileage and fuel emissions bother you?”

“Is that your next question? Because according to the rules it is my turn.” He pulled out of the parking lot and on to the street. Hannah shook her head and crossed her arms across her chest. “Why don’t you have a car?”

She shrugged. “I did, but it died the week before I moved in with Kate. I figured it was a good way to save money. It just isn’t efficient to pay to park downtown, especially when we live so close to the train.” She turned her body towards his. “My turn. Did your brother check on Margaret?”

“Harmless, I promise. Except that I’ll be hearing about it for the next decade from my brothers.”

“Are you sure she’s not stalking you?”

“Positive. We even talked to some of the people in the writing group. Jeannette emailed me her novel, and it is really good.” He looked at her. “Really, really good.”

“Who’s Jeanette?”

“The brunette from the writing group. I’m stalking you in hers, but you fall in love with me anyway. But that’s not the best part.”

“What’s the best part?”

“It is steamier than your romance novels. Hannah, you’re not even trying. I just got you to waste two questions.” He shook his head. “It’s my turn. How many kids do you want to have?”

Her breath caught. Here we go again
.
“Mason, let’s not go there.”

“It’s one of those deal breakers you’re so worried Kate and Derek haven’t figured out yet. Which, by the way, they just want one. Ridiculous in my opinion. Kids need brothers and sisters so there’s someone else who knows just how crazy your parents are.”

Hannah involuntarily nodded. What the hell
.
“Two or four, definitely an even number. I don’t want one of my children to be the fifth wheel like I was. Probably just two, I am turning thirty in about twenty minutes.” His warm hand covered hers as he steered their way into the one-way grid of downtown and began to look for a parking place.

She wanted to tell him everything she’d realized in the last few days. How much she loved him, that she’d felt the connection from the second their eyes had met. Would a love-at-first-kiss confession help him forgive her for how impossible she’d been? There had to be some way to show him, more than apologies, more than words.

Hannah let go of his hand and grabbed her bag as he maneuvered next to the curb.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. Or were you planning on sitting in this freezing truck all night?”

Mason followed Hannah into their building, grinning when she passed her floor and climbed straight to his. She even used her key to let them in, dropping her bag on the couch as she made her way to the kitchen. The girl was always hungry.

“What’s in here?” Hannah pulled the square white box from the fridge and set it on the counter. She’d used her key to let them both inside and dropped her bag by the door as if she’d never left.

“One of your birthday presents.” He made a show of checking his watch. “You can’t open it for two minutes.”

“As if.” She lifted the lid and peered inside. “Cake. I’m so hungry. I haven’t eaten since this morning.” She pulled open a drawer, removed two forks and then slammed the drawer shut with her hip. She handed him a fork, but he took them both.

“First, you have to make a wish.”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “This cake is too small for thirty candles, Mason. If we try it we’ll burn the building down and you’ll be the laughingstock of your entire department.”

Mason undid the sides of the box and slid the cake out. He inserted three long blue candles into the chocolate icing and lit them. “Three wishes. Make them count.” He hit the switch to turn off the lights.

Hannah tucked a wayward strand of hair not held up by her clip behind her ear. Only the three flickering candles illuminated her face as she bent down. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “Who’s going to grant my wishes?”

He gripped the counter. “Me.”

Her eyes danced in the dim light. “You sure you can give me what I want?”

He swallowed hard. “Absolutely. Anything, anywhere, anytime.”

The room went dark, but he could still make out the smoke trails hanging in the air. As he waited for his eyes to adjust, he heard the sound of fabric hitting the floor, and two—no, three zippers going down. “I thought you were hungry?” he asked the air in the general direction he thought she was.

His eyes found her, leaning in to the open refrigerator, the light inside barely highlighting her heart-shaped bottom as it teased him against her pale-blue thong.

She straightened back up, the light from inside the fridge silhouetting her hourglass frame in the darkness. “Got it.” She turned around and held up a bottle of champagne. “Will you do the honors?”

He stepped next to her and began untwisting the wires from around the top. Was it possible to uncork champagne in semi darkness? If not, he’d just spray it all over her body and lick it off. He shook his head and concentrated on his task. This was her wish, not his. He saw the carbonation puffing from the top of the bottle as Hannah nudged a wineglass into his hand. He’d pick up champagne flutes tomorrow. He didn’t want to be unprepared again.

He just made out the profile of her neck as she tilted her head back and drained the glass. He heard the glass touch the counter and the clink of forks against the tile.

Chocolate cake was the last thing on his mind. He watched the fork go from the cake to her lips and back to the cake again. He drained his glass and refilled them both. She moaned as another bite of cake melted in her mouth.

“Where did you get this?” she mumbled as another forkful found its way into her mouth.

She hadn’t realized it yet. “You can’t guess?”

“I’m not a cake expert.” She wet her mouth with the champagne. “Aren’t you going to have any?” He reached behind her neck and pulled her close to kiss her deeply. Her voice was breathy as he released her. “I forgot. You like to share chocolate.”

She was only eating the
ganache
from the top, not the filling. He picked up a fork and slid it through to the center. He found what he was seeking and lifted the bite to her lips. “Taste.”

Her eyes widened at the command but she complied. His eyes never left hers, not wanting to miss the instant when she realized. She grabbed his wrist. “That’s the filling from the truffle. The chili one.”

He nodded as she grabbed his face and kissed him again. Short and sweet and happy. “Is the other half peppermint?”

“No, I had to pick one flavor.” He’d tried to talk them into it at the chocolate café, but they’d said it just wouldn’t work. Next year, he’d just make it himself.

“So you picked me?” She hopped up on the counter and wiggled her fork around until it was covered with the filling.

“Picked you?” He stepped closer and she widened her legs, allowing him to step inside. He reached behind her and pulled her to the edge of the counter, pressing her heat against him.

“You’re the mint. I’m the chili. We balance each other out. Just like that first night.”

He smiled, knowing she’d thought about it. “You’re hot, I’ll give you that much. But I was not feeling at all balanced that first night.” He tipped his glass against her collarbone and watched the liquid trickle down between her breasts. He lapped up every drop. She arched as he neared the edge of each lace cup, but he held off.

She leaned back on her hands, arching her body towards him. He accepted her invitation, pouring the rest of the glass down her body. He traced each trail, over her neck, across the curve of her breast, down her smooth belly to where the champagne dampened the top of her panties.

Straightening, he found her mouth. She tasted of champagne and chocolate and hot desire. He reached behind her, unhooked her bra and let it fall between them as she shrugged it off. His hands instinctively found her neglected breasts, palming them, flicking the nipples between his fingers until she broke the kiss and arched herself towards him again. He bent his head and tasted them until her skin flushed with heat.

Not yet
.
“Lift up.” She glared at him but obeyed as he pulled off her underwear. The woman did not like to give up control of anything.

He pulled away, found her champagne and trickled it between her parted legs. When she gasped, he knelt down and warmed her again with his tongue. He’d been trying for a hot and cold contrast, but the bubbles were amazing. He pulled back and tried it again, this time she pulled him forward by his hair. With a powerful scream, she came hard, releasing him and pounding her fists against the tile of the counter before her body relaxed into a heap. He gathered her in his arms, carried her to the bedroom and laid her across the bed as he kissed his way up her body.

He centered his mouth on that spot between her ear and jaw that always made her dig her toes into the bed. “Mason, please,” she moaned before crushing her mouth against his. She threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer and closer.

He peeled her fingers away and dove for the nightstand. Why didn’t he think to have condoms on the bed already? He dug through the drawer in the dark, encountering everything but what he sought. Finally, he grabbed the box and pulled it out.

Empty. No way. He sat up on the bed and looked through the drawer. Nothing. Mason tried to will blood into his brain. There must be some condoms in this apartment somewhere. Wallet. He’d put one in there. If not, there was a box in her nightstand downstairs. He leaned back down on the bed and she grabbed his head and pulled him in for another bruising kiss.

“Hannah, I’ll be right back,” he whispered against her cheek.

“No,” she growled, pulling him down on top of her and wrapping a leg around his thigh. He pushed down on the bed. If she kept this up much longer there would be no need for a condom anymore.

“Birth control,” he ground out through his clenched jaw.

“You said I could have anything.” She wrapped the other leg around him she shifted beneath him. The feel of her slick heat against him took his breath away.

“I don’t want anything between us.”

“You’re sure?” he asked, barely able to contain himself. He’d never had sex without a condom. Never realized how much he’d wanted to until now. A secret thrill rolled through him as she ground her body against his. He felt her, every nuance of the exquisite fire that burned in her soul.

She wrapped her fingers around his shoulders and arched against him in response. Did she realize what could happen?

“Hannah, honey, even if I pull out, you could get pregnant.”

“You said anything.” She kissed him with such a fervor he almost lost himself. Kissed him until he knew she was as sure as he had always been.

“Will you look at me?” He wanted to watch her, to see that she felt it too. Her eyes fluttered open. They were dark and glassy, and though he couldn’t make out the color in the dim light, he knew they were green.

He met her gaze as he entered her slowly, carefully, wanting to remember how every inch felt. He watched her eyes close and he stilled himself. Something was glistening from the corner of her eye. Swiping his thumb across her eyelid, he brushed away the tear and she bit her lip. Her legs wrapped tighter, pressing against him. He reached down and held her hips still. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head, but her eyes stayed shut.

The sensation of filling her with nothing between them was exquisite. So much more than he had anticipated. “Look at me.”

She moved her head from side to side again. He watched as her mouth opened and twisted before she pressed her lips together again.

“Hannah, I love you.” He felt as overwhelmed as she did, but he had to make sure that’s all it was. “Please just look at me.”

Tears leaked from the sides as she opened them and a sob racked her body as she pulled him down into a kiss that sucked the breath from his lungs. He reached for her hands and linked his fingers with hers as he began to move deep within her. Long and strong and steady. He wanted this to last, for her to feel how long they would last. He wanted to erase the last vestiges of doubt from her mind by erasing them from her body.

Too soon, her breath was catching, her temperature rising. The waves of her release built around him and his own body responded to hers. In some inexplicable way, her climax pulled him deeper and deeper into her body, so deep he actually felt the pleasure of her release as she went over the edge. He clenched his jaw as he forced himself to stay aware as he followed her over.

Their bodies were still slick with sweat, their breathing still ragged and uneven when he awoke. He couldn’t have been out long. He should release his hold on her, let her go and tuck her in bed. But the thought of it was painful. He reached around and pulled the comforter over the top of them as he snuggled her closer. “I love you, Hannah,” he whispered as he drifted off.

“You’d better,” she murmured against his chest.

“Is that mine or yours?” Hannah asked without opening her eyes. It had to be too early for a phone call, though with the drapes in Mason’s bedroom she never knew what time it was.

“It’s yours.” He pulled her closer, as if it wasn’t the third time the phone had rung this morning.

“I got one for you.” It was her birthday, She didn’t have to answer the phone if she didn’t want to.

“One what?” He yawned and nestled further into the bed. She loved how he could just fall back asleep. Someday she’d have to learn how to do that.

“A cell phone. It’s downstairs. I ordered it when I got my promotion and then…” She twisted her finger in his chest hair, focusing on a single strand. “It came while you weren’t talking to me.” She yanked the hair out.