Double the Heat (33 page)
Authors: Lori Foster,Deirdre Martin,Elizabeth Bevarly,Christie Ridgway
Tags: #Erotic Stories; American, #Man-Woman Relationships, #Mate Selection, #Contemporary, #Fiction, #Romance, #General, #Short Stories
Good question, she thought. She wished she had a good answer to go with. Since she didn’t, she only lifted her shoulders and let them drop in another quick shrug.
“Well, if I need to know that,” he said, “then there’s something you need to know too.”
“What?”
“That you’re well liked by plenty of people,” he said. He paused again, and looked as if he were weighing carefully what he wanted to say next. Then, evidently deciding, he added, “Including me.”
The spark in her belly leaped higher at that, warming her heart and making her pulse beat harder.
“But I wasn’t feeling sorry for you just now,” he hurried on. “A lot of people live the way your family lived. We never had much when I was growing up either. But I never felt like I was missing out on anything. Happiness is a state of mind, Amanda. So is contentment. I don’t require a lot when it comes to making me happy.”
She thought about that for a moment. As an adult, she had achieved and earned everything she’d thought she wanted. She had a secure position at a respected company, and she owned a home she could comfortably pay off. She lived without debt and was responsible for no one but herself. But even having reached those goals, she couldn’t say she was happy. Not really. She tried to remember the last time she had been happy. Truly, genuinely happy. And she realized it had been . . .
Wow. Not that long ago, actually. Mere minutes, in fact. It had been in that incandescent moment when she and Max had climaxed together, when the joy of their coupling was coursing through her, before the seeds of doubt had started creeping in. And that hadn’t come about because of her job. In fact, her job had almost prevented it from happening.
“So just what do you require to make you happy?” she asked him.
He wiggled his dark brows suggestively, snaked out a hand to tangle his fingers in her pajama top, then pulled her roughly against him for a long, deep-throated kiss. “That,” he said a little breathlessly when he pulled away. “A long taste of Amanda Bingham.”
She smiled at that. “You don’t taste so bad yourself.”
He smiled back, but there was something a little uncertain about it. “Yes, but am I enough for you to live on? I’m not exactly a well-balanced meal, chock-full of vitamins and minerals and fiber.”
“No, you’re not,” she agreed. “You’re like a box of Froot Loops.”
He narrowed his eyes at that.
“Sweet and colorful and fun. And yet, somehow still an excellent source of nutrition.”
Now he pulled her close again. “I can live with that,” he said before dropping a kiss at her temple. He nuzzled her hair, her ear, her jaw, her throat. “And I can live with this too.”
Oh, so can I
, Amanda thought as she nuzzled him back.
So can I
.
, Amanda thought as she nuzzled him back.
So can I
.
She wasn’t sure, but as she twined her arms around him and kissed him deeply, she thought she could hear the Sirens cheering.
Epilogue
As the morning sunlight crept into the bedroom, Max lay on his side next to Amanda and watched her as she slept. He’d had no idea sex could be so good between two people. He’d had no idea he could care about one person so much. But if he had his way, he and Amanda would move in together as soon as they got back to Indianapolis. Her place, his place, a new place, he didn’t care. As long as he could be with her, that was the only thing that mattered. He didn’t expect her to give up her career, but he hoped she would at least pare down her hours. And demand a raise too. That jerk Hoberman didn’t realize how good he had it with her. If the guy didn’t start giving her some of the perks she deserved . . .
Well, maybe once Max started showing her how important she was to him, she’d realize how important she was to other people, too; that was all.
He lifted his hand to wrap an unruly curl around his finger, marveling at how silky was her hair and how soft was her skin. He hadn’t meant to disturb her sleep, but she stirred at even that small touch, smiling when she opened her eyes to find him gazing down at her.
“Good morning,” she murmured, lifting her hand to cradle his jaw in her fingertips.
“It is a
very
good morning,” he agreed. “Bloody Marys on the beach in thirty minutes,” he told her. “Which gives us just enough time to—”
very
good morning,” he agreed. “Bloody Marys on the beach in thirty minutes,” he told her. “Which gives us just enough time to—”
“E-mail Mr. Hoberman,” she said.
His smile fell at that. She still planned to make this a working vacation? Hell, a
no
-vacation? After everything they’d discovered last night?
no
-vacation? After everything they’d discovered last night?
“Tell me you’re just kidding,” he said.
She shook her head. “No. I need to do it right away.”
“Aman da—”
But she was already pushing herself up from the mattress and reaching for the robe tossed on a nearby chair. “It’s really important, Max,” she said as she belted it.
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” he muttered uncharitably.
She walked around the mattress and bent over him, thrusting out her lower lip in an over-exaggerated pout. “Oh, come on. It’ll only take a minute,” she said in a sulky Shirley Temple voice.
He rolled his eyes. He should have realized it would take more than one night of sexual gymnastics to change Amanda’s workaholic ways.
He said nothing as she strode to the desk and opened her laptop, raking her thumb across the mouse pad to bring it to life. He heard her type what probably amounted to a paragraph, then she turned around in the chair to look at him.
“How do I do that Rickroll thing?” she asked offhandedly.
Max’s eyebrows shot up at that. “You’re going to Rickroll your boss?”
She nodded.
“Really?”
She nodded again.
Max couldn’t get out of the bed fast enough. Stark naked, he strode over to stand behind her, reaching over her shoulders to copy and paste the necessary information from her coworker’s e-mail and disguise it as the link to what her e-mail had identified as a potentially explosive new investment opportunity that Hoberman should immediately forward to all his colleagues.
“He won’t even click on it,” Amanda said. “He’ll assume it’s legit and forward it to all his fat-cat pals.”
“So not only are you Rickrolling your boss, but he’ll be Rickrolling all his friends without realizing.”
“Yup,” she said. “He deserves it, that pinhead,” she added. “Serves him right for making me work on my vacation.” Then she powered down her computer, unplugged it, wrapped the cord securely around it, and shoved it into her bag. Her cell phone, still turned off from last night, quickly followed it.
Then she stood, turned to Max, and wrapped her arms around his naked waist. “Now, then, didn’t somebody promise me Bloody Marys on the beach . . . ?”
Original Zin
Christie Ridgway
One
Double Vision
John Henry Hudson tripped on his way out of the icy-cool wine-tasting room. The October Indian summer everyone in Napa was talking about felt more like “dry sauna” to him and the shock of the temperature change made his head spin. It was either that, or the goddamn pneumonia that had nearly taken him under in August was tugging on his shirttails again.
Through the heat shimmering from the asphalt parking lot, he spied the limo that he, his sister, and her friends had taken on their tasting tour. Actually, he spied two identical black limos, but he chalked up the double vision to another bout of dizziness until he remembered Ellen ordering a second limo from the car service in case some of their party wanted to skip the last three wineries on their planned circuit.
Yeah. That would be him.
Squinting against the late-afternoon light, he headed for the first stretch vehicle. His black hair felt like a sun magnet, and the chrome handle of the limo’s back door burned his palm as he yanked it open. Diving into the cool interior, he breathed in the scent of leather and a faint trace of tantalizing perfume that must be left over from the eight twenty-one-year-olds who had been touring with him.
Up front, the privacy shield was half lowered, and through it he saw the driver’s cap jerk into view, as if he’d been bent over. “It’s me, Carl,” he called out to the man who had captained the car all afternoon. “And just between us guys, let me tell you the company of half-drunk sorority girls is not all it’s cracked up to be.”
Before the chauffeur could respond, John Henry continued. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re more of an expert on the subject than me, so let’s save both of us and get out of here. Ellen and the rest of the Sigma Woo Hoos or whatever it is they call themselves can stick together for three more rounds of swish, sniff, and slurp.”
Wine tasting boiled down to just that, and he was done with it. He gazed out the side window at the surrounding hills and their orderly rows of fruited vines. The view was nice. Relaxing. He was supposed to be doing that, he remembered. “Drive me around for a while, then take me back to the Valley Ridge Resort, would you?”
The darkened privacy window rose as the limo pulled away from the curb. He thought about telling Carl to leave it down, but the trill of his BlackBerry redirected his attention. Recognizing his sister’s number on the screen, he grimaced, but took the call.
“Yo.”
Her voice sounded a tad put out. “Yo ho ho—”
“And a bottle of merlot,” he finished for her, hoping to tease her out of her mood. “Hey, I’m funny.”
Her sigh wasn’t a happy one. Obviously she wasn’t pleased that he’d left her birthday wine-tasting tour a few stops early. “John Henry, you’re never funny.”
“Wait a min—”
“You’re uptight, overwound, and against relaxation in any form.”
“Gee, don’t bother pulling your punches.”
“Tell me you aren’t going back to the resort to pore over papers or check for incoming faxes instead of having fun with me and my friends.”
John Henry could have defended himself. He could have told her the Sigma Woo Hoos were giving him a headache. And hadn’t he told Carl not to go straight back? But the truth was, he
had
been itching to look over some reports stacked on the desk in his room. “What’s this? You turn twenty-one and you’re suddenly a critic?”
had
been itching to look over some reports stacked on the desk in his room. “What’s this? You turn twenty-one and you’re suddenly a critic?”
“I’m the woman who loves you. The only woman besides Mom, I’m guessing, who puts up with you and your workaholic ways.”
He winced, despite the fact that he’d heard it before. And not only from his much-younger sister and much-exasperated mother. There’d been several beautiful ladies who had thrown up their hands and then thrown in the towel when he canceled yet another date or just flat-out forgot one.
“John Henry,” his sister continued. “You—”
He coughed. God forgive him, he did it on purpose. Then he did it again.
Ellen’s tone instantly changed from annoyance to alarm. “You’re not feeling well?”
“Um . . .”
“You’re not feeling well. Why didn’t you say anything?”
Pious wasn’t a natural fit for him, but he tried it on anyway. “I didn’t want to ruin your birthday celebration.”
“John Henry,” she scolded, “you’re supposed to be taking care of yourself. Two weeks of vacation, you promised Mom and me. The first week of it you spent on the resort’s golf course doing business from dawn to dusk.”
“Yeah, but—”
“There are only seven days left. You’d better take it easy. Isn’t that what Mark prescribed?”
Mark Richards, his undergrad roommate at Stanford who was now Doctor Mark Richards and the one whom John Henry had entrusted with his health care when he’d come down with the dangerous case of pneumonia. “I believe Mark actually said I should take some time off and get drunk and get laid.”
Ellen huffed, “In that case, you better stay away from my friends.”
“The Sigma Woo Hoos are too young for me,” he assured her.
“You’re too boring for them.”
He frowned. Uptight. Overwound. Workaholic. Those all sounded about right and, to his mind, not really derogatory. But
boring
?
boring
?
The frown was still on his face and the word was still rattling around in his head as he ended the call with Ellen. He’d always been focused. A Type-A personality, and what was wrong with that? Sure, after his father’s sudden death a year and a half ago, he’d doubled down on his hours and his concentration as he stepped into his father’s shoes in the family business.
But did that really mean he was dull?
Mark had suggested he get some balance in his life, or else his health was going to suffer the way it had over the summer. He’d never mentioned that John Henry was at risk of becoming boring.
Go away somewhere,
Mark had said.
Mark had said.
So John Henry had thought of Napa, where they were relocating River Pharmaceuticals. Okay, maybe it wasn’t “away” from the business, but since he’d yet to find a new house, he
was
staying at a five-star resort.
was
staying at a five-star resort.
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