Where the Heart Is (11 page)

She came around him and backed the last couple of feet toward his bed, a sleek platform-style. “I should tell you, I take shots and I'm clean. In fact, you're my first partner besides Ed in five years. I'm comfortable if you don't want to wear a condom.”

Wow. He suddenly wished he could claim such a record, but at least he wasn't a manwhore. “I'm also clean, and you're my first partner in nine months. Before that, it's, uh, a bit checkered. But, like I said I'm not into casual sex, not even back in college.” Given the precautions she was taking, he opted to skip the condom. “If you're good with commando, I am too.”

“Commando is perfect.” She tugged his sweater over his head and inched his tee up his stomach, each stroke of her fingertips igniting sparks of need. She exhaled against his flesh. “I knew you'd have great abs.”

He grinned, very happy now that he had put up with his once-weekly sessions with his trainer and all the workouts in between. “And I knew you'd have perfect breasts.” He glided his hands up her ribcage between the front edges of her blouse and cupped them again.

She closed her eyes and shrugged out of the top, letting it fall to the floor. The music changed to a sexy song by Maroon 5, perhaps prompting her to stand up on her toes and kiss him, her mouth hot and open. She dragged his tee up his chest, barely breaking the kiss to draw it over his head. And then her bare breasts were against his bare pecs, Adam Levine started singing about losing himself in some nameless girl, and Derek was lost himself.

 

D
EREK PUSHED
Chloe's bra over her shoulders as she dug her fingers into his back. She felt the edge of his bed against the backs of her knees and let herself fall. The comforter, a patchwork of silk and velvet and luxurious cotton, caressed her as she scooched back so that she was fully lying on the bed.

Though Derek had fallen with her, he'd rolled to the side. Bummer, because she'd really wanted him on top of her. His weight was delicious, his body perfectly sculpted. He felt great against her.

But he was undoing her jeans and she couldn't find fault with that. Without breaking their kiss, she started on his, flicking the button open with ease. Once the zipper was down, she tucked her hands inside and stroked the ridge of his pelvic bone, scrumptiously delineated.

He was trying to pull her jeans down, but they were super skinny and she had to help. Also, there were her damn boots. Reluctantly, she pulled her mouth from his. “Hold on.” She leaned down and unzipped her right boot.

“Oh, let me,” he said, his voice sultry. “Please.”

She heard his shoes hit the floor as he pulled her unzipped boot from her leg. Her sock followed suit, his fingers coasting along her calves as he slowly tugged it off. Then he moved to her other boot, drawing it from her leg with a methodic precision that only amped her desire. When had footwear removal become remotely sexy? Done by the right person, it was apparently one of the most erotic things in the world.

When her feet were bare, he pulled her jeans down her legs—no easy feat given their snug fit—but again he did it slowly and deliciously. Plus, he was staring at her intently, like he couldn't get enough of what he saw. She'd never felt more beautiful.

“Now, these are terribly sexy,” he said, inching up her legs and looping his fingertip in the top of her low-rise bikini underwear. They matched her bra and she was quite glad that she'd taken the time to buy at least one nice set of lingerie. Wishful thinking had turned into a lucky move.

He leaned up and pressed kisses along the lacy top. She worked not to jerk her hips, both because it was just a bit ticklish and because heat leapt to her core. He'd brought her insanely close to orgasm in the living room just by touching and kissing her breasts, and now she was moving toward the summit again.

Then he was pulling the garment from her, again with slow, tantalizing strokes, so that the lace abraded her thighs in the most delectable way. Moments later, she was nude beneath him.

“No fair,” she murmured as he gazed down at her. “You're still wearing pants.”

He rolled to the side to pull his jeans off, but she followed him. “Again, no fair,” she said. “You got to take mine off.”

He grinned up at her as she tugged his jeans over his hips to reveal his boxer briefs. His jeans came off far more easily than hers had, so she focused her attention on his underwear. Copying him, she slipped her fingertips beneath the waistband, her gaze locked with his. Then she deviated from his example and tucked her hand inside to clasp his length. He was hot and hard and utterly ready. She licked her lips, eliciting a groan from him. With a wicked smile, she pulled his briefs down, but not all the way off. She just couldn't resist teasing him. She lowered her mouth and kissed his belly, as he'd done to her. All the while, she worked her hand along his shaft. His legs parted slightly and she moved her mouth to his hip.

His hand wound through her hair. “Chloe.” He sounded like he'd just woken after a ten-year sleep or maybe swallowed gravel. Either way, it was sexy as hell.

Unable to help herself, she put her mouth on him, her tongue sliding over his hot tip, tasting his slick saltiness.

“Chloe,” he rasped.

Then he kicked his underwear free and in a sweet, swift move, turned her and moved her up the bed so that he was fully on top. “Talk about unfair,” he murmured between kisses, “I didn't get my chance with you there.”

“There will be plenty of time for that.”
I hope,
she silently added, though as good as she felt right now she couldn't imagine anything else.

His fingers coasted up her thighs and found her core, stroking her folds and settling on her clit. Her hips bucked up, her orgasm coming fast and sure. She opened her legs and urged him to come inside before she went over the edge.

Perhaps sensing her imminent orgasm, he teased her, dragging his finger around the periphery of her clit without actually touching it. She pumped her hips, looking for him, begging for release.

At last, the head of his penis was there and she moaned into his mouth. Then the teasing stopped. He thrust deep and sure, and Chloe splintered into a thousand mind-blown pieces.

He kissed her temple as her orgasm slammed through her. She cried out and kissed his neck, his earlobe, his jaw, and finally his mouth as he began to move inside of her. He filled her so wonderfully, so perfectly. Her orgasm had just begun to fade as another started to build.

She moved her hands to his butt, feeling the muscles there and marveling at his beauty and the fact that he was—for right now and hopefully for a very long time if not forever—hers.

Forever?

His increased speed forced her mind from such thoughts and she was lost to the rhythm of their bodies and the slide of their flesh moving together.

He moved faster, and she knew he was close. But then he slowed. She moved her mouth to his ear. “Don't stop. I want you to come. Now.” There would be plenty of time—hadn't he said that?—for long, drawn-out lovemaking. Right now she wanted to feel him come undone.

And so he did.

She wrapped her legs around his hips as he pumped into her several times. He cried out her name as his orgasm wracked his body. She held on to him as she came again.

As their bodies slowed and stilled, bone-deep satisfaction settled into her. He nudged his head against hers and kissed her slowly, deeply. Then he pulled his head up and stared down into her eyes. “All right?”

“Fantastic.” Best sex of her life without question.

They snuggled another few minutes before he finally pulled out. “Water?” he asked.

“Please.”

He got up and walked toward the kitchen. Before turning around the corner and fading from view, he looked back with a smile. “Bathroom's through there.” He gestured to a doorway opposite the bed, next to another television. The guy liked his TV, apparently. She wondered, naughtily, what he liked to watch in bed. She'd have to ask him that.

She got up and went into the bathroom. Like the rest of the apartment, it was ultramodern and gorgeously appointed. There was a tile shower with two spigots, one regular and one a rain-style that hung from the ceiling. The sink was rectangular and floated on the wall. Two free-standing cupboards stood beneath it with fluffy ivory towels folded on top. There was even a sleek, jetted tub beneath a panel of windows that looked out to his patio. Or would, if they weren't shuttered.

She tidied herself up and saw him come up behind her in the mirror with a glass of water. She took it from him, their fingers touching for a tad longer than necessary, and brought it to her lips. She never stopped looking at him—nor he at her—while she drank. Appeasing her thirst, she set the glass on the edge of the wide sink. “Great bathroom. That shower is amazing.”

“Want to get in it?” he asked, with a lascivious grin that made her laugh and sparked her desire again.

“Now?” she asked, thinking they'd snuggle or go to sleep or something.

He turned the water on and kissed her. “Is there something else you'd rather do?”

Energy—and need—coursed through her as he adjusted the temperature of the water. She answered him by wrapping her arms around his neck and standing on tiptoe to kiss him more thoroughly. He moved with her into the shower.

Then he pushed a button and water cascaded over them from above. It was like standing in a warm rain making out. Very sexy.

As soon as his hands caressed her breasts and arced down over her ass, she abandoned conscious thought. Later, as they toweled off, she reflected that she was glad she'd never had sex in a shower before.

When he was dry, he wrapped his towel around his waist and padded into the bedroom. Unsure, she followed him as she dried her hair.

“So is this the part where we snuggle? Or the part where I throw my clothes on and dash home? Though that'll be much easier after I move. I'm pretty sure I can walk from here, which is great.”

He'd been walking around the side of the bed, but when his movements arrested for a moment, she realized she'd screwed up by mentioning the move to his house.
Stupid, stupid.

She hurriedly walked to him and gently touched his back. “Sorry. I'd love to stay, if that's okay.”

He turned and though he gave her a smile, it was weak, and his eyes no longer held the intensity they'd carried all night. “I have an early meeting, actually. It's probably better if I drive you home tonight. I'm the one who's sorry.”

His regret sounded genuine, but that didn't lessen Chloe's disappointment. He'd made this date, they'd both known how it would end up—or at least she was pretty damned sure they'd both
hoped
this was how it would end up—and now he wanted to drive her home?

She tried to think of something to say that wouldn't make her sound whiny or clingy. She didn't want to be
that
girl. Then again, she also didn't want to be a doormat. “I understand. But this is a one-time pass. I'm not a dabble and dash kind of girl.”

“I get it.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her softly. “Like I said, my bad. And I
will
make it up to you.”

Later, as he drove her back to the Archer house well after midnight, doubt pricked her mind. He'd been wonderfully solicitous as they'd dressed and the whole way home, but he'd also been distant. Was it the house? Or was it something else? He claimed to have a work thing tomorrow that prevented her from spending the night. Was that true, and if it was, would his work take precedence over her if they built a relationship? Before she and Ed had moved in together eighteen months ago, Ed had never wanted to stay with her on a “work night.” This, unfortunately, smacked of that and Chloe had to ask herself if history was repeating itself.

As she watched Derek's taillights fade into the night, she crossed her fingers and hoped not.

 

F
RIDAY GLARED
at him—blank and damning—from the calendar on his computer screen in his office. Chloe was moving into her house.
His house
. And he should be helping her since he clearly had nothing pressing at work keeping him here. He couldn't even reason that she didn't have much to move because she'd gone to the Archers' storage unit that morning and selected some furniture for the house, which was probably now being unloaded. He could at least have accompanied her and then helped to set the house up.

Cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck as he contemplated such a domestic scene in
his
house. He had no memories of romantic love in that place. His father had never lived there, and his mother had never brought a boyfriend home. She'd dated some, but had never met anyone she'd wanted to even call semipermanent. Maybe that was part of Derek's problem.

He set his elbows on his desk and cradled his forehead in his palms. What a mess. To further compound matters, he hadn't talked to Chloe since their date two nights ago. He'd called her yesterday, but had done so when he knew she was at work and likely wouldn't answer. Another jerk move. Maybe George had a point about him driving women away. He didn't want to drive Chloe away. She was different. Special.

His iPhone rang, but it wasn't her. He didn't recognize the number. “Derek Sumner.”

“Hey Derek, it's Chad Thomas.”

“Oh, hey Chad, how's it going?” Derek had gone to school with Chad's younger brother. Their family owned a bunch of high-end restaurants in the Bay Area and last year they'd tried to poach Derek from Archer Enterprises.

“Good, good. How're you? Still a die-hard Archer-lover?” Chad was well aware of Derek's close relationship to the family, beyond just the fact that he worked for them. He'd been extra careful when he'd offered Derek a job as their CFO last year. He'd been very respectful, and the offer had been more than competitive. However, Derek couldn't see himself leaving Archer. He realized it wasn't because of the job; it was because of the family connection.

Derek chuckled. “Still, yeah. You're not calling with an even better offer, are you?”

“Actually, I am. The guy we hired after you turned us down didn't work out. We'd still love to have you. I hope you'll at least consider it. We're only going to keep asking.” There was a hopeful smile in his voice and Derek couldn't help but feel flattered.

“I suppose I better then.” He said that to be courteous, but he stopped short for a second. Maybe he should consider it. He was always so hard on all the Archer kids who'd left, but they were out pursuing their dreams—like Chloe. And that was one of the things he admired most about her, the fact that she'd broken free and followed her heart in the face of disapproval and adversity. Even her house burning down hadn't turned her around.

“Really?” Chad asked, his tone laced with surprise. “I thought I'd have to do a lot more persuading than that.”

“Well, I didn't say I'd take it. I'm quite happy here, as you know. But send me your offer and I'll think about it.” Already, the burst of open-mindedness was starting to slip away and be replaced with reluctance. He
was
happy here—at work and in his personal life. He'd just met Chloe and he was very hopeful about where that might go, although she had just moved into his house, a situation that practically sent him into a panic attack every time he thought about it.

“It's on its way,” Chad said. “I appreciate you taking the time to consider it, Derek. It's a good offer. Look it over this weekend and we'll talk on Monday. Let me know when you're free to come down. I'd love to show you our facilities. We'll have dinner at Franco.” That was their flagship restaurant in the heart of San Francisco.

“Sure,” Derek said, his mind a tumult of opposing thoughts and emotions. “I'll talk to you Monday.”

“Great! Thanks again, Derek. Have a good weekend!”

“You too.” Derek ended the call and tossed his phone on his desk. What the hell had he just done? Nothing yet. He forced himself to breathe. What the hell was wrong with him? He glanced back at the calendar on his computer and froze. It was less than two weeks to Christmas. Shit, it was almost the fifteenth.

Sunday.

He suddenly wondered if it was too late to book a flight to San Francisco tomorrow.

 

 

C
HLOE HAD
just directed the delivery guys upstairs to the master bedroom with the queen bed she'd picked out from the storage unit and was about to close the front door behind them when Emily Archer appeared on the front walkway.

She waved at Chloe as she approached, carrying a basket in one hand. “Hi, Chloe! I brought you some baked goods to welcome you home.”

Chloe smiled warmly and was delighted when Emily hugged her. “So, how goes it?” Emily asked as she moved inside. She walked through the dining room to the kitchen, clearly at ease with the house's layout.

Chloe followed, joining her in the kitchen just as Emily set the basket on the counter. “It's going well. Thanks again for the furnishings.”

“Sorry I wasn't able to go with you this morning. I see you picked that dark brown sofa. Good choice, it's very comfortable. And I hope you took the bed I told you about—the queen with the posts.” Emily drew her gloves off and set them next to the basket.

“I did. And some of the matching pieces. Oh, and I picked up a cat tower yesterday. It's upstairs in the spare room. Ashley loves it.”

Emily took off her coat and set it on the edge of the counter. “Where's Derek? I didn't see his car.”

A stab of unease pierced Chloe's chest. “That's because he's not here.” He'd left a message yesterday saying he had an appointment with his trainer last night and that he'd catch up with her today or Saturday. He'd apologized again for having to take her home on Wednesday and had promised a do-over. Though Chloe was beginning to doubt that would happen. Maybe she shouldn't have rented the house after all, regardless of him telling her she should. She didn't want to lose him over it.

Emily evidently heard the frustration in Chloe's voice. “Is it the house? I've been worried about that. He hasn't come home all week and that's unusual for him. How did your date go the other night?”

Chloe didn't feel like Emily was prying. Yes, she was a sort of mother to Derek, but Chloe felt as if they'd developed a friendship during their brief acquaintance and thought that no matter what happened with Derek, she could always find a friend—or friends—at the Archer house. “It went great. But he's been distant ever since. I guess he's having a hard time with the house, though he isn't really talking about it.”

Little creases fanned out from Emily's eyes as she looked at Chloe with warm concern. “I know I said this before, but please be patient. This is a tough time of year for him, and this year will be tougher than any other.” She hastened to add, “Not because of you. In fact, I think you might be the one thing that gets him to New Year's in one piece.” She gave Chloe's arm a soft pat.

What did all of that mean? “I wish you could be more specific. I'm not asking you to reveal anything Derek wouldn't want me to know, but I have to admit I'm frustrated. I know there's . . . something between us, but if he can't meet me halfway, it doesn't matter.”

Something
didn't adequately describe what she felt. She was falling in love with him, and had already fallen so far that there was no way she wouldn't be devastated if things didn't work out. She'd never been devastated by a relationship before—breaking up with Ed had been awful, but she hadn't felt like she couldn't recover, it had felt like a new beginning—and the thought of it scared the hell out of her. Yet even with that fear, she was willing to take the risk with Derek. It was why she hadn't stormed over to his loft and demanded he talk to her.

Yes, she would be patient. Because she felt deep in her soul that he was worth it. Maybe Emily was right, maybe Chloe could help him through whatever it was he needed to get through. She'd sure try. A plan popped suddenly and completely into her mind.

“You look as if you have an idea,” Emily said, cocking her head to the side.

Chloe grinned at her. “I do, and it's thanks to you.”

Emily looked a bit confused, but shook her head with a smile. “All right then. I'll see about having some of that storage stuff brought over. Will you be here later?”

“I need to run into Newberg to get some staples—towels, dishes, et cetera.” She held up her hand to stop Emily from offering more stuff. “I'm fine with buying them, really. I like to have my own things.” She actually had a secret passion for kitchen gadgets and looked forward to picking out new spatulas and whisks, as weird as that sounded.

Emily nodded. “I completely understand. I'll see about having the stuff brought over around five or so, will that work?”

“Perfectly.” It gave her plenty of time to hunt down what she needed—the list of which included a Christmas tree stand. Her plan was either going to be a rousing success or blow up in her face. Either way, she was all in.