A MAN CALLED BLUE (17 page)

"I like it," she said, touching him again and reveling in her freedom to do so. She didn't want to stop touching him, didn't want to leave his bed, and didn't want what was happening between them to end.

But it would end. It had to.

The words clouded her heart like smoke in a closed room, bringing the threat of tears. She willed them away and let her hand rest, slack but possessive, in the warm curve of his neck.

Idly, Simone stroked his chin with her thumb and sorted through her new, unsettling feelings. Blue—last night—had incited them all, brought to life a raw mix of desire, trust, and expectancy, then set them to clamoring for light and space in her breast. There was something missing. She tried to pinpoint it.

Anxiety
.

She was relaxed. As laid back and unruffled as blanched linguini. For the first time in too long to remember, she was calm and joyous to her core.

"You okay?" Blue asked, studying her.

She stretched in his arms. "No. Not okay. What I am is terrific," she said, and meant it to her soul.

He brushed his mouth over hers, then lifted his head to give her a wide smile. "I'll second that," he said, before dipping his head again to kiss the breast her lazy stretch offered up to him. His kiss shimmied down her body putting her languorous senses on instant alert. Her introspective mood vanished, and she stretched again, openly, shamelessly asking for more.

"Make love to me, Blue."
Make love to me forever, so I never have to get out of this bed.

He groaned and threw his head back on the pillow.

Simone lifted her head. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong is, I can't."

She gave him a quizzical look.
Blue couldn't...

He grasped her hand and put it in the place best designed to allay her feminine doubts. When she curled her fingers around him, he grumbled and removed her hand.

"I can't," he enunciated carefully through a nearly closed mouth, "because I don't have any protection left. I wasn't expecting last night, neither the quality—" he kissed her forehead "—nor the quantity."

"Oh," she said. The word dropped between them like a stone into an empty pail.

"Oh, is all the lady can say." He forked both hands through his hair as if he didn't know what else to do with them. "I would have appreciated some gnashing of the teeth, maybe a vow to throw yourself in front of a semi as a salve for your heartbreak."

She tapped her finger on her chin. "Would slitting my wrists do?"

He considered this. "Too messy. Any other ideas?" He gave her a wicked smile.

"I could call Nance and ask him to go the drugstore," she suggested. "Or perhaps Mrs. Dreiser?"

Blue gave her a narrow glance. "Yeah, right."

Another chin tap. "Or..."

He leveled his blue eyes to hers and waited, a half smile curling provocatively around his mouth.

"We
could
innovate." She ran the tip of one nail down his middle to where the tangled sheet covered his sex.

He quickly rolled up and over her. "Innovation is good," he said, huskily, giving her a deep exploratory kiss. Simone gasped under the burn of his hot, thrusting tongue, its slow but explicit rhythm.

With its first compelling sweep, sensibility ceded to passion. She clung to him hungrily—and yes—desperately. She hated herself for that, but hated more to think that when she left this bed, she'd thumb her nose at a miracle. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the seduction of Blue's mouth, but she couldn't stop the slight tensing when thoughts of tomorrow—and Josephine—scrambled and jousted for a place in her mind.

Blue pulled back and gave her a speculative look, all trace of his teasing manner gone. He smoothed her brow with a callused thumb.

"Hey," he said softly. "There's only room for two of us in this bed. Worry and second thoughts can wait until Monday."

"Why Monday?" she asked distractedly. She didn't bother to deny his assumption about the direction of her thoughts.

He refocused her attention on him, by kissing her again. "Because Monday we work, Saturday and Sunday we play. It's the law. We wouldn't want to do anything illegal now, would we?"

She shook her head in honest bewilderment. "With you, Blue, I'm beginning to think I'd do anything—"

He grinned.

"—Until Monday," she finished firmly, grabbing the day as though it were a lifeline instead of everyone's least favorite day of the week.

"I wasn't suggesting a fixed schedule, Simone," Blue said, sounding amused.

"Monday," she repeated firmly, compelled to say it, compelled to make him understand this tryst of theirs was only a brief detour from the route that was her life. It would never be more, because she wouldn't let it. Only fools go back for seconds to where they'd found nothing in the first place. "Two days," she added for emphasis.

For a moment Blue didn't say anything, then he nodded slowly. "Then I guess I'll have to make sure it's long enough," he said, his straight jaw firming, his expression turning thoughtful.

She didn't like his stubborn look, the challenge in his eyes, and she didn't get a chance to ask him "long enough" for what?

They were too busy innovating.

Chapter 10

Mrs. Dreiser knocked on the door at ten-thirty. "Mr. Bludell, would you like your coffee now?" At the sound of Marie's voice, Blue turned toward Simone. She wasn't there. Disoriented, he sat up, rolled his head to clear it, and shoved his hair back.

"You sleep like a tired pup," Simone said quietly from their adjoining doorway.

She leaned against the door jamb, brushing her hair in slow easy strokes, and smiling. If he were a pup, she was the sexiest kitten he'd ever seen. His body stirred and he cursed silently. This was crazy.

"Mr. Bludell?" Marie rapped again, louder this time.

He gave Simone a questioning look. She shook her head and continued casually brushing her hair. Just standing there, that scrap of a kimono skimming her smooth thighs, she frustrated the hell out of him. Damn it. Innovation could only go so far.

He forced his attention to the assault on his door. "No. No coffee, Marie. Thanks. Later maybe," he said.

When he turned back to the doorway, Simone was gone. Before he could get both feet on the floor, she came back, heading toward his bed carrying a tray laden with coffee, fruit, and fresh croissants. He took it from her and put it on his bedside table.

"Forget the coffee. Come here." He pulled her across his lap and kissed her, careful to hold back, but when she yielded to him, his blasted body started without him. He cursed.

Simone touched his mouth with her finger. "Coffee?" she asked a bit too sweetly, reaching toward the tray.

"Coffee," he mumbled. "I'm a man without options."

She laughed and leaned forward to brush her lips fleetingly across his. The light kiss roared to his groin, a harsh, hot wind. He sucked in a breath and drank from the steaming brew. As a cool-down it failed—dismally.

"You look grumpy," Simone said, giving him a curious look. "What are you thinking?"

"I was wondering if they have case lot sales on condoms."

She laughed, said something about him being insatiable, and picked up her coffee cup from the tray. Sipping from it, she sat on the edge of the bed, one knee drawn up, facing him, looking quietly content.

It struck Blur that this woman bore no resemblance to the one who'd threatened to drop him into the Atlantic just a days ago. He wondered briefly if he was the one who'd put that look of contentment on her face. Chiding himself for being a macho jerk, he reached for a croissant.

"So," she said, pulling her other knee up to sit lotus style facing him."What shall we do today? I canceled all my appointments until Monday." Her gaze dropped before coming back to meet his. Guilt, Blue decided. His lady was feeling irresponsible—but fighting it. He rested his hand on her knee.

"We'll do whatever you want to do."
Her knee was shiny and smooth... so smooth.
"Got any ideas?"

She gave him a bright, intense look. "I want to take the tube all over London. You know, I've never been on it. I want to wear slacks and—" she grimaced guiltily "—comfortable shoes. I want to walk until my arches fall, and then..."

He cocked his head, waited.

"I want to come back here, make love with you, and wake up in your arms tomorrow morning."

Blue felt his smile fade and his throat catch, his breath lodged like a stone at its base. So this was it. This was the way it was, loving someone. He'd never have guessed it would feel so important, so momentous, and he'd never imagined the fates, or whoever the hell looked after matchmaking up there, would give him a woman like Simone to love, but they had and he did. He'd always sensed he was like his dad, a one-woman man. Now he was going to prove it, because sitting in front of him was that woman—his woman. His chest constricted. He knew with absolute certainty, he would love Simone the rest of his life.

One problem. The lady was complicated—tender and loving one minute, anxious and driven the next. She was also stubbornly determined to keep what was between them to a weekend fling. He closed his eyes and smiled.
Bludell, you've got some serious wooing to do.

Simone interrupted his thoughts. "Are you game?" she asked, giving him an expectant look more natural to a ten-year-old girl than the president of a multinational corporation.

"I'm game. One more cup of coffee, a shower, and I'm all yours."

"Blue"—she rubbed her index finger distractedly across her chin "—about last night..."

"Uh-huh." He waited, the damn stone still in his throat.

"It was wonderful. You were wonderful. It's not exactly the kind of thing the words thank you were created for, but I can't think of anything else to say. I know we shouldn't have left Hallam's, but I'm so glad we did. I haven't been so alive, enjoyed myself so much in..." She closed her eyes. "The fact is, I've
never
enjoyed myself so much." The last came out in a delicious rush of words accompanied by a rosy blush.

He pulled her close, and she buried her head in his shoulder. He stroked her hair. His voice was gruff when he spoke, his words too mundane to express his feelings. "That goes both ways, Tiger."

* * *

As Mr. Dreiser took her and Blue's jackets, folding them over his arm as if they were made of the finest cashmere, Simone kicked off her shoes and glanced at her watch. After eight. Blue must be starving. They'd been tubing around London since noon.
Had they even stopped for lunch?
She couldn't remember. The day was a blur, a wonderful, fuzzy blur, Blue as perfect a companion as he was a lover.

"Shall I have Mrs. Dreiser prepare dinner for you, madam?" Dreiser asked solemnly.

"That would be—" she stopped suddenly, a thought occurring to her. "Dreiser, what's your first name?"

"Harold, madam."

"Would you mind if I used it?"

A slight smile bent his lips before his mouth contracted to correctness. "I would be most pleased, Madam."

Blue slipped an arm around her waist and briefly hugged her. She went on. "Thank you, Harold. If it wouldn't be too much bother for Marie, a light supper would be nice—but no salads." She looked up at Blue.

"I'll instruct her, madam." Harold intoned.

"Harold, hold off a minute, will you?" Blue said before leaning to whisper in Simone's ear. "Why bother Marie? It's late. We'll fend for ourselves."

"I'm, uh, not very good in the kitchen." She wasn't even sure where the kitchen was.

"Well, you're in luck then, because I am—and I happen to have firsthand knowledge of Marie's generous fridge. Game?"

Harold stood, column straight, awaiting instructions. Not by an eyelash flicker did he indicate he thought anything strange about his mistress rubbing her lower lip thoughtfully while one of her employees kissed her ear.

"Okay." Simone nodded. "Don't bother Marie, Harold. We, uh, Mr. Bludell and I will manage for ourselves."

"Very good, madam."