Satellite of Love (9 page)

“If you’re just saying this to get me in bed...” She grimaced.

“No, I’m pretty sure I could have gotten that without the drama. Besides, playing the celebrity card wouldn’t have worked with you.” That was one of the things he liked about her. The celebrity card might as well have been the four of spades. The level of her shoulders didn’t look like knives anymore. Her expression had softened too. Now he had a very small chance of winning this one. He stood again and crossed the room. At the last minute, he decided not to touch her. He didn’t want her feeling pressured even though every fiber of him wanted to. “Give me another chance. This time as me. I have to do a promo thing tomorrow. Come with me. I’ll show what it’s really like to date a rock star.”

“I don’t know, Michael.”

Not the right answer, but not the wrong one either. “Please?”

A little smile started to play around her lips. That was getting to the right answer.

Bear dropped to his knees, clasping his hands up to her. “Please?”

She laughed. “Stop that. Stand up. You’re embarrassing me.”

“So you’re not going to tell me to take a hike?” He stood and draped his arms around her shoulders.

“Not this time. I’m a firm believer in three strikes before you’re out.” She fixed him with a mock stern look. “But don’t test your luck.”

Bear kissed her. He didn’t plan on testing anything.

She obviously didn’t either. Hands planted on his chest, she pushed him back a step. “Why don’t we take a little intermission?” She headed into the kitchen. “Coffee?”

No
. “Sure,” he said, and followed her.

With sharp and quick movements, she went through the cupboards, letting the doors smack against the frames. On the surface, she’d forgiven him, but she still wasn’t happy. She had the right. He’d thrown her a hell of a curve ball.

Maureen jerked open the refrigerator and then slammed it closed. “Well, you’re out of luck because there is no coffee. I am now out of everything that vaguely resembles food. I have half a bag of flour, some sugar, a tube of anchovy paste and one cherry Poptart. I guess the Poptart counts as food, but we have to share.”

“Why don’t you have any food?” He ventured into the kitchen as far as the table. Her cupboards had been pretty bare.

“Because I was supposed to go grocery shopping last weekend and didn’t.”

He’d known the amount of time he was spending with her would come back to haunt him. What else hadn’t she been taking care of? How mad was she going to be when he left town and she had to play catch up? “Do you want to go grocery shopping?” That was the last thing he wanted to do, but it would be something to do with her and might win him points.

“I’m not going to drag you grocery shopping.” She chuckled and walked around the table. “But thanks for offering.”

“Hey, I’ll throw myself on that grenade if I have to.” He settled his arms around her waist. Her hands rested on his shoulders. Nothing like an embrace. Miles from where they’d been on the couch. So far she hadn’t kicked him out, but she hadn’t totally taken him back yet either. Kind of an odd sensation, this not being granted extra breaks because of who he was. At least she wasn’t holding it against him. “What about Starbucks?”

Her arms slid around his neck and she rubbed her nose on his. “Starbucks it is.”

5

Maureen picked up their empty cups and carried them to the kitchen. She still wanted him. All week long her wishing had gradually become plotting until she was ready to have him to breakfast tomorrow and every day until he had to leave town, damn the torpedoes. But his announcement still had her staggering. She’d never kept up with popular culture. Among her friends, it was a joke. Her car radio was fixed to NPR and when she played music for the kids it was classical or ethnic. They came in with new bands, but she never listened to the music. She wasn’t sure the kids did either. For them it was mostly about having the right binder or t-shirt.

Now she was dating a famous rock and roller. Well, it had to be a step up from grease monkey. Linda would be impressed. Might even know who he was. What kind of life must he be leading to feel he had to lie to her about who he was? She tossed out the cups and paused in the kitchen door to look at him.

His revelation had derailed her for a long time, but coffee, giant cookies and another round of Mulder and Scully and she was back on track. Warm, willing, and now with twenty-five percent more curiosity.

He was still incredibly sexy. Those shoulders, those hands, that mouth. What did he say he played? Drums? That just spawned a lot of cheesy jokes from her id about natural rhythm.

No school tomorrow.

Maureen chewed her lip. In the middle of his confession, he had used the word love. He’d also kept using the word “really.” She’d heard enough kids falling back on that word when they were desperate to get their point across.

She’d never intended to get into a serious relationship with her mechanic’s brother, whoever he was, but it was all headed that way like an overloaded train on a steep hill. He was funny, sweet, sexy as anything. Instead of expecting her to watch his every entertaining move, he paid attention to her. Michael was the first guy she’d met who didn’t make her feel like she was along for his ride. Maybe it wasn’t her school marm wardrobe that drove all her other dates away but the fact that she wasn’t willing to be their audience. How was it that the first guy she’d met who didn’t want her to be his audience and chief cheerleader was a professional performer?

The way he looked at her brought her temperature up a few degrees and when his hands got involved, she went straight into fevered. She wasn’t exactly a hussy, but something about Michael made her more than willing to experiment with the role.

She slid onto the couch next to him and trailed her fingers up his arm. Now she understood the phrase iron hand in a velvet glove because it applied perfectly to his arms. “You know I have this problem with my brakes.”

“They giving you trouble again?” He glanced at her hand, looking puzzled. She’d left him in the doghouse too long.

“I’m talking about my personal brakes.” She shifted closer, her breath shortening in anticipation. “I seem to be having trouble stopping.”

“That so?” He raised one eyebrow, smiling. “I’ll have to take a look under the hood.”

She straddled his legs. “You know that was a cheesy line, don’t you?”

“You started it, sugar.” His hands wrapped around her waist, proving he had iron elsewhere too.

“I suppose I did.” She leaned in and kissed him. Over the past week she’d totaled at least a couple of hours kissing him, but it never got old. The softness of his mouth always intrigued her when everything else about him was so hard. His taste was magic too. Flavored now with coffee and chocolate, she could still detect his dark spice. Utterly indescribable, but this was what had been driving her crazy all week. This taste and the things she imagined he could do with his mouth, especially when she woke up in the middle of the night.

Sliding under her shirt, the touch of his hands brought an electric sizzle. His hands woke her up in the middle of the night too. The strength in his fingers and the way he pulled her tight like he couldn’t stand as much as an atom’s separation between them.

Maureen shivered and felt it echo through him. “So you’re some kind of famous person.”

“I am.” He pushed the neck of her shirt aside and kissed her chest. Her nipples ached for attention.

“And sex with a famous person is supposed to be lots better than average.” She put her hands on his cheeks to make him look at her.

His eyes were dark, but amused and a little hazy. “I can promise you a private performance with at least one encore.”

“That sounds delightful. How about we move to a different stage?”

“A different stage?” He frowned.

Maybe that was the wrong word for it. Some research was called for. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

“As you wish.” He stood, carrying her with him.

Squealing, she grabbed his shoulders. God, he had great shoulders. Based on her inspection, he had great everything. He turned into her bedroom without having to ask and dropped her onto the bed, falling on top of her. The moment his lips slanted across hers again, she forgot to wonder how he knew which room was which. Heat spiraled through her. She needed to shed some clothes. So did he. She pulled his shirt over his head. Cloth broke his kiss for a second and he gave a frustrated grumble. The expanse of bared skin distracted her from her own heat. So slick and perfect. Sliding her palms down his back, she luxuriated in him.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked through heavy breathing. He propped himself up on his elbow.

“You wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. Why?” Maureen trailed her fingers down his chest. The pause was annoying, but she knew she should be appreciating it. He wasn’t as hairy as she’d thought he would be, but the dusting of dark hair across his tanned chest still seemed perfect.

“I’ve already screwed up once and I want to make sure I don’t screw up again.” He smoothed a lock of hair off her face. Every inch of him strained for her.

Every inch of her was straining for him too, but his hesitation kept her from rushing forward. Why was he doing it? All week long they’d been barely able to keep their hands off each other, now twice he’d stopped her. Did he have some other deep dark secret he needed to share with her? Something else he should have admitted and didn’t? Or was he just more neurotic than average? “I hope you don’t too.”

“It’s just—” He broke off and kissed her soft and sweet. Totally at odds with the urgent need of two minutes ago. What was wrong with him?

“Michael?” She tangled her fingers through his hair. “What is it?”

“I know we haven’t known each other very long and I don’t want to make you nervous or anything, but I really like you. You’re special.”

“Like short bus special?” Maureen tried to smile, but it warped and melted before the expression fully formed. Hadn’t know her long? Make her nervous? What was he going to do? Propose marriage? Propose something super freaky?

“No.” He stroked her cheek. “Just special. I don’t want to mess things up by moving too fast, but I don’t have a lot of time.”

“Spit it out, Michael.”

“I love you.”

Maureen blinked. She thought she’d been ready for that, but the way her lungs emptied and her gut seized, she obviously hadn’t been. It wasn’t just the words. The expression on his face, the tone of his voice, the fact that he was still trembling. This wasn’t a light declaration for him. He meant every letter.

Why did he have to mess it up by making it momentous?

“Maureen?”

She kissed him to buy time to summon up an appropriate answer. Nothing was coming. If she didn’t give him something, she was going to poke a hole in his ego that would have it flying around the room like a runaway balloon. “Show me,” she whispered. “There’s a box of condoms on the dresser.”

“The dresser?” He made an attempt at focusing his eyes on her and then on the dresser across the room. “You stocked up?”

She traced her finger across his lips and down his chin. He had a good chin too. Strong, determined. “I stopped on the way home from school.”

“Smart woman.”

“I like to plan ahead.” Relief washed through her. He was off the issue of love.

He pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it off the bed. Her skin sizzled as he traced with his fingers along the cups of her bra. “I never had you pegged for the leopard print bra type.”

“Only on special occasions.”

Placing his lips where his fingers had been a moment ago, he tasted her leisurely.

Eyes closed, she savored the sensation washing over her. Every inch of her clamored to be next for his attention. She moaned, tangling her fingers through his hair.

Unhooking her bra, he pushed the material away with his mouth, searching for her nipple. An instant after his hot breath brushed her aching flesh, his lips covered her. She arched. “Michael.”

He chuckled, already working open her jeans.

As she disentangled herself from her bra, the cool air in the room made her skin tingle. His hot hands and mouth made her skin ache in a completely different way. Most maddening of all was the hunger between her legs that he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to satisfy. He laved beneath her breast with his tongue. “Michael.”