Storm Front (Reunited Hearts) (4 page)

He
wanted to take her to bed, and the truth was she wanted it too. He’d been a
considerate, passionate lover seven years ago, and her attraction for him
hadn’t diminished at all.

But
something inside her resisted being another one-night-stand for him.

Michael
wasn’t relationship material for her. He was well-known as a player, and she
didn’t always agree with his business ethics. Plus, the fact that she was a
reporter and he’d admitting to hating them would be an impassable obstacle.

Her
body wanted him. No doubt about that. But she rarely let her body’s impulses
control her decisions. She was happy with her life—her job, her circle of
friends, her city, and all of her dreams. She wasn’t going to disrupt
everything for one good fuck.

She
put the dishes in the sink and turned on the water to rinse them out. She was
shivering a little, but she didn’t know if it was from an excess of feeling or
from being wet for so long. It wasn’t particularly cold outside, but the house
felt cool and damp. “You know, just in case, it might be a good idea for us to
fill up a couple of the bathtubs with water. That’s what they say to do, in
case the water goes out.”

“Sure.
It couldn’t hurt. Hopefully, we won’t need it.” He paused. “Are you cold?”

“A
little. I can find a blanket when we’re done in here.”

“I
saw a fireplace in the front room with some cut wood beside it. I don’t know
what the condition of the wood is, but maybe we could get a fire going.”

“Sounds
good.” She wanted to get away from him for a little while, so she turned off
the water in the sink. “I’ll fill up bathtubs if you want to work on the fire.”

When
she’d filled up three of the five bathtubs in the house, she returned to the
living room to find Michael poking at a blazing fire.

It
was getting darker outside, and the rain was still coming down in sheets. The
ceaseless wind made a howling sound and clattered at the windows. The violence
of the weather made Allison anxious, even knowing the storm wasn’t as bad as it
could be.

She
picked up a wool throw from a side chair and wrapped up in it on the couch.
“Good job with the fire,” she said, determined to be friendly and natural.
“How’s your head?”

“It
feels fine.” Michael turned to glance at her over his shoulder, his skin
glowing orange-red from the fire in the shadowed room.

“Seriously,
Michael. I know concussions can sometimes be tricky. Are you dizzy? Do you
still have a headache?”

“No
to the dizziness. Yes to the headache. But it’s not bad anymore.” He met her
eyes evenly. “I’m fine, Allison.”

She
nodded, satisfied that he was telling her the truth.

He
looked unusually casual in his t-shirt, jeans and bare feet. Almost like he was
someone other than Michael Martin—unstoppable business force and unflappable
sex god.

Right
now, he looked almost human. And as sexy as any man she’d ever seen.

Allison
reminded herself of her reasoned conclusions about resisting a one-night-stand,
and she tried not to focus on the smooth breadth of his shoulders and the lean
strength of his legs.

She
sucked in a sharp gasp as he got up and seated himself on the couch beside her,
much closer than she would have preferred.

“Michael,”
she began, wishing she didn’t sound quite so breathless.

He
reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of her damp hair behind her ear,
his knuckles grazing her overly warm cheek as he did. “Allison.”

She
felt herself leaning toward him, unable to look away from the magnetism of his
gaze.

“You’re
so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice hoarser than normal. He brushed her cheek
with his knuckles again. “Even more beautiful than you were before.”

Allison
swallowed hard, desire pulsing through her body and tightening her muscles. “Michael,
I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“Why
not?” He adjusted on the couch so he could take her face in both of his warm
hands. “You can’t tell me you don’t want this too.”

“That’s
not the point.” Quite against her will, Allison’s head fell back into his hands
and her spine arched slightly, stretching her top against her breasts. The
throw she’d been wrapped up in had fallen down past her waist. “I’m just not
sure it’s smart or…or…”

Her
voice trailed off as Michael’s face eased so close to hers she could feel his
breath on her skin. “Or what?”

“Smart,”
she said stupidly.

At
the moment, she couldn’t remember why she’d been so resistant. He wanted her.
She wanted him. One night and nothing more.

“Very
true,” he murmured, his voice an erotic caress, just before he kissed her.

His
mouth was searching and skillful, and she opened to him almost immediately. His
hands tangled in her hair as he held her head in place for his kiss, and she
moaned low in her throat as his tongue explored her mouth and slid along her lips.

Overwhelmed
by the hot power of him, Allison wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to
pull him even closer. She pressed her breasts against his chest, eager for
friction wherever she could get it. And the warm, male scent of him surrounded
her, drove her to distraction.

She
clawed at his back in the first surge of eagerness, but soon she melted into
the embrace enough to slide one hand up to stroke his hair, making sure to
avoid the bandage. And eventually she became conscious that Michael’s hands had
moved as well, caressing her body as he pressed it even more tightly against
his.

She
gasped as their mouths broke apart, and her head fell back as Michael trailed
his lips along her jaw and down the line of her neck. Washed with waves of heat
and desire, she moaned again, this one long, low, and hoarse.

Michael
tightened against her. She could feel the tension in his muscles, knew he was
just as turned on as she was. He fondled one of her breasts as he raised his
face for another deep kiss.

Her
arousal was wet and aching, and she squirmed in his arms as the kiss grew
increasingly urgent.

Only
when she felt his hand dip under the edge of her top to stroke her bare skin
did she realize what was about to happen.

It
would be so easy—to let Michael make love to her, to share another intensely
pleasurable night, to get swept away in this powerful lust.

But
she didn’t know Michael anymore. Didn’t necessarily trust him. And something
inside her hinted that he wouldn’t be an easy man to get over.

It
hadn't been easy the first time.

So
she pulled back, flushed and panting, and managed to choke out, “We better
stop.”

Michael
froze, nearly shaking with coiled tension. “Why?”

“It’s
too soon for me. And…and I don’t know if I want it.”

For
a moment, she didn’t know how he would react. Then he gave a brief nod.
“Understood.”

She
peered at him, feeling embarrassed and uncertain and still shuddering with
desire. “Are you mad?”

“Of
course not.” He smiled at her, a familiar expression that let her release her
pent breath. “I suppose we can find something else to do.”

They
looked around the living room, at the powerless lights, television, computer,
and stereo system.

Maybe
they could find cards or a board game, tucked in a closet somewhere. At least
they could turn on the portable radio.

“Besides,”
Michael continued, his voice husky again, “It’s still early. Maybe you’ll
change your mind.”

After some searching,
they found an old game of Monopoly on the top shelf of a closet in one of the
bedrooms. There was also a well-worn edition of Candy Land, but they decided
Monopoly was probably the better choice for the evening’s entertainment.

While
Allison made some more tea, Michael rooted around in the pantry until he found
a box of unexpired cookies. Then they set up the game in front of the fire
while the rain pounded down on the roof and the wind shook the doors and
windows.

By
the time they began playing, Michael’s headache was nearly gone. When he placed
his first hotel on Boardwalk, he decided that, while not a perfect use of the
evening, things definitely could have been worse.

Allison
sat cross-legged across the board from him, and her wet hair was drying in
kinks and flips from the heat of the fire. Her cheeks were pink now, and her
eyes narrowed as she watched him count his money.

They’d
been playing in mostly silence, but now she muttered, “I’m not sure this was a
fair game, even at the outset.”

Michael
arched his eyebrows, hiding a smile at her grumpy expression. “Why not?”

“How
exactly does a normal person like me have a chance of winning at Monopoly
against a ruthless business tycoon like you?”

“You
think I’m ruthless?” He wasn’t offended as much as he was curious. It had been
a long time since anyone had been so blunt with him.

“Aren’t
you?”

He
gave a slight shrug before rolling the dice and automatically buying the
property he landed on. “I suppose you’d know best.”

He
intended the murmured reply to be sarcastic, and Allison obviously took it as
such. A flicker of surprise and then guilt passed over her face. “Sorry,” she
said, dropping her eyes. “I guess I don’t really know you anymore, so it’s not
fair to assume everything that’s written about you in the papers is true.”

“I
wouldn’t trust anything written in the papers,” he said easily. He hadn’t
intended his words as a rebuff. He had nothing against Allison, and putting up
walls at this juncture would interfere with any possibility of getting her into
bed later on. “In my experience, journalists aren’t overly burdened with
qualities like honesty or morality.”

Another
expression flashed over Allison’s face—this one harder to recognize.

Then
she slanted him a curious look. “You’ve gotten rather bitter in the last seven years.”

It
was true. When he was younger, Michael had been willing to take a chance with
other people. Now, he rarely bothered. His one attempt in years had ended as a
humiliating failure. He still cringed inwardly at the thought of Gina’s attempt
to use him and how close she’d come to succeeding.

Michael
had learned that people were nearly always out for themselves. To expect
differently was to invite disappointment.

He
had money, power, the thrill of competition, his choice of life’s sensual
indulgences. He could live a very satisfying life without exposing himself to
the vulnerability of risking his heart.

“What
about you?” he asked, skillfully turning the tide of the conversation to
something he was more comfortable with. “What have you become in the last seven
years?”

Allison
smiled at him—a smile that reminded him so strongly of the teenager he’d known
before that his heart clenched in his chest. “I’ve got a pretty good life, I
think.”

He
studied her face and realized she was telling the truth. She was satisfied with
her life, with the way she’d shaped herself since he’d last seen her. She wasn’t
living with huge regrets or with a long history of broken dreams.

It
didn’t take much for him to remember what Allison had been like all those years
ago. Her razor-sharp wit and driven intelligence had encircled something
uncertain and trembling—a core of insecurity that had spoken to him back then
as much as her beauty and irony.

She’d
grown up, and she hadn’t let that insecurity define her, but he couldn’t help
but wonder how much it still affected her.

“How
are your parents?”

Allison’s
smile faltered. “They both died. Two years ago.”

Michael
swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable. Both by the sudden shift in mood and by the
sorrow he could see in her green eyes. “I’m sorry.” The words were mostly
empty, but he had to say something.

She
shrugged. “It was a car accident. They both died instantly.”

“I
always liked them. They were good people.”

The
words were sincere, and Michael was glad he’d said them when she broke into
another smile, this one rather poignant. “Yeah. They were.”

They
played in silence for several more minutes, and Michael tried to fight the rise
of sympathy so he could return to their previous mood. Soft feelings wouldn’t
help him seduce Allison the way he intended, and he definitely didn’t want
anything more lasting than another pleasurable night with her.

He
focused on winning the game—collecting property and increasing his growing
piles of fake cash—but he kept glancing at Allison across the board.

She
was beautiful, burnished with the light of the fire. Her hair was messy and her
face scrubbed clean of makeup, but her unpolished appearance somehow made her
even more desirable. She wore thick red socks, and one of her manicured
fingernails was chipped, but the light and shadows from the flickering flames
danced across her smooth skin, softening her lovely features and highlighting
the lines of her lush cleavage.