In Bed with Beauty (8 page)

“Then don’t,” she said.

“Are you on the pill?”

“I…yes, I am.”

“I’m clean. Give blood regularly.”

“So am I,” she said. But she’d stopped touching him.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” he said, pushing her on her back and caressing her from shoulders to toes and back again. Only when she was twisting on the bed, did he slide up over her.

He tested her readiness with his hand at her center, finding the tender bud that was her pleasure center and fondling it lightly until she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him over her. “Now, Harris.”

He smiled as he positioned himself and slid into her. Her body resisted at first. He went as slowly as he could giving her time to adjust to his length. But his control was on a hair-trigger and when she leaned up and put her mouth against his chest, right over his damned heart, he began to thrust.

He knew it was too soon for her. Too much for her to be comfortable with. Using his hands he brought her along as best he could. Soon her hips were rising frantically against his. He waited for the sound he heard earlier in the living room. That catching of her breath and a long, low moan that signaled her release. As soon as he heard it, he slid his arms under thighs and pushed her legs back, opening her to deeper thrusts. He slammed into two more times before he felt that tingling in the back of his spine and he emptied his body into hers, calling her name.

She shivered and convulsed again underneath him. He rolled to his side, taking her with him. Tucking her face against his neck he kept their bodies connected because he realized he’d just had a glimpse of heaven on earth and he wasn’t ready to let it go.

Six

S
arah had never slept in any bed other than her own since she’d become an adult. Harris’s was luxurious. The sheets his own and not the hotel’s. She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow, inhaling deeply. She reached for Harris and encountered an empty bed.

She rolled to her side and opened her eyes. It was a little before seven in the morning. It was a Saturday and often the only day she got to sleep in because she had church on Sunday.

She pulled the sheet more firmly around herself. Florida sun light filled the room, leaving her nowhere to hide. Not from herself or from Harris. But he was already gone and she had only her own self-doubts to face this morning.

She shivered a little at the direction of her thoughts. She needed to take action and get herself together. Why was she worrying anyway? Harris was probably in the shower or getting breakfast for them.

Oh, God. What if he’d already left the suite and she was here alone? Last night he’d said no promises and glibly she’d agreed to that but this morning, with the sun shining brightly, she realized she needed promises. She needed something more from him.

It reminded her too much of Paul and when he’d left her. She felt inadequate and small. But she wasn’t that girl anymore. She was a woman now. And she wasn’t going to hide in this bed all day.

She searched the floor for her clothes and dressed quickly. Her skirt and shirt were rumpled and wrinkled and she felt unkempt. She was clearly not the type of woman who was cut out to lead the single lifestyle. Even her clothes weren’t up to the task. She’d watched
Sex and the City
—those girls usually looked good the morning after.

“Morning,” Harris said from the doorway. His husky voice brushed over her senses making her aware of him. He’d showered and shaved and he looked like a Viking raider this morning. His eyes as cold as the North Sea.

He held a few items in her hands but she didn’t notice what they were. She noticed that he didn’t look her in the eye and that he didn’t glance at the bed. Regrets. She thought she’d be the only one with them this morning.

“Good morning,” she said, reaching up to pat her hair down. The curse of naturally curly hair was that it always looked like a fright wig in the morning. She refused to glance at the mirror to confirm her image. It didn’t seem fair that he looked ready for a photo shoot with
GQ
and she felt like a
fashion don’t.

“I brought you some things,” he said. He had face soap, a toothbrush and some toothpaste in his hands.

“Thanks.”

She reached for the toothbrush. But he didn’t hand it to her. Instead, he reached up and tucked one of her curls behind her ear. And she felt the first ray of hope she’d experienced since waking up alone. His caress was light, so light she was afraid she’d imagined it.

She swallowed trying to think of the right thing to say. The right words that would convince Harris that maybe they had a chance at something more than just sex. The right words that would leave her dignity intact.

“Damn, you feel so good.”

She started to close the space between them. To reach for him and take him back to bed with her. That was the one place where they seemed to be on the same page.

But he took a step back. She felt like he’d slapped her in the face. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she glanced around for her purse. And couldn’t find it. She paced past, Harris into the living room. There it was.

“Dammit, Sarah. I promised myself I wouldn’t take you again.”

“Why?” she asked, wondering if he had some kind of one night rule.

“I think we need to talk.” He rubbed his hand over his face. Maybe this wasn’t a routine thing for him either?

“I don’t like the sound of that,” she said, carefully.

“I don’t like the thought of that. I’d rather keep you in my bed all weekend.”

Earlier she’d have agreed to it but her emotions, the ones she’d carefully kept hidden since Paul walked out on her, warned her that she was getting too involved with Harris. “I’m not objecting.”

“Yes, you are. You’d be worried about your siblings and your restaurant.”

“When you touch me I can’t think.”

“Don’t say things like that. I’m trying to be noble.”

There was seriousness to his words that touched her soul. “You don’t have to try.”

“Hell, yes I do.”

She’d noticed how hard he drove himself. Last night he’d gotten out of bed in the middle of the night to work. She’d found him and brought him back but it had shown exactly where his mind lay. Exactly where he felt the most comfort and exactly where he felt the most secure. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

He grunted. What did that mean? Why did men respond like that when they didn’t want to pursue a line of conversation?

Sarah made a quick decision. “I can’t talk like this. I need a shower and clean clothes.”

He nodded. “I’ll call down to Ray and have him take you home. We can meet later for lunch. Is your car working again?”

“My car’s fine.”

“Lunch then?”

She started to agree. But she realized there was something very distant about Harris this morning. His conversation said he wanted to get to know her a little better but his body language said…was he afraid of getting hurt?

“Why don’t you come home with me? I’ll fix us a nice breakfast and we can talk there.”

Harris wasn’t sure exactly how he ended up at the small bungalow Sarah called home but here he was. On the back patio surrounded by her family and his driver. Ray was a strange little man—kind of funny but with weird silences. Harris was uncomfortable sharing a meal with staff but Sarah had given him a look that said he better get over it.

Ray didn’t look too pleased, either. He’d gotten another call on his cell phone when they’d arrived and Harris had overheard him say
leave me alone, dammit, I’m doing the best I can.

There was more to his driver than Harris wanted to know. He liked keeping people in their places. But Sarah was making him realize that people had lives outside of their jobs. He’d always known that but now she was letting him see it and he wasn’t sure he liked this new vision.

Why pleasing Sarah was so important to him he didn’t analyze. He only knew that it was.

When they arrived at her house he got a surprise. Harris hadn’t realized that Burt was a twin or that Isabella would look just like Sarah.

This glimpse into her life and her close-knit family made him feel even more the outsider. Made him realize that the distance he’d been using to supposedly protect Sarah was really there to protect him. Seeing their happy family, Harris was more determined than ever not to end up like his dad, alone in an apartment afraid to care because he’d been hurt too many times.

“Catch you later, man,” Burt said, disappearing through the house.

“Burt, I need a ride to the Y.”

“Shake a leg, Bella. I’m not your taxi service.”

Harris heard them bantering until the front door closed behind them.

“My life is craziness,” Sarah said.

She’d showered and changed after they had arrived at her house. Now he regretted letting her leave his suite. He understood his father a little better at this moment. There was something to be said for that kind of aloneness. The kind that left a man feeling in control of his world. The kind that made him realize how superficial the life he’d been leading was.

Ray’s cell phone rang again. He glanced at the number and pitched the phone into Sarah’s pool. For the first time that day his driver smiled with unholy glee.

“What was that about?” Sarah asked.

“Certain people are too hands-on,” Ray said, leaned back in his chair and calmly took a sip of his espresso.

“Your boss?”

“Yeah. I knew this new job was going to be a pain in the ass.”

“That’s why I started my own business,” Harris said.

“You worked for someone else?” Sarah asked.

“For a few years,” he said.

“Why?” she asked.

“I needed to learn the ropes.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah, as much as it chafed taking orders in the office I did it.”

“Smart man,” Ray said.

“He’s an M.B.A. from Harvard.”

“That’s okay. He’s got street smarts, too.”

“Do you?” Sarah asked.

“I’ve never lived on the streets,” Harris said, not really wanting to talk about his life.

“Yeah but you’re no babbeo.”

“Babbeo?”

Ray scratched his head and shrugged. “I don’t have an American word I can use in mixed company.”

“Wimp?” Sarah suggested.

Ray winked at Sarah. “Not exactly what I was thinking, but yeah, wimp works.”

“I learned early you can only count on yourself,” Harris said. He liked working for himself. He knew his own limitations and had made his business successful by driving hard toward his goals. He didn’t have to worry about other people’s weaknesses only his own. And he was intimately acquainted with those.

“Amen,” Ray said.

Ray’s pager started going off and he glanced at the LCD screen and cursed under his breath. “I’ll be in the car.”

Sarah watched Ray leave and then turned back toward him. “Do you really think you can only count on yourself?”

“Yes.” He’d had three administrative assistants in the fifteen years he’d been in business for himself. He’d learned that those people worked hard but the ultimate loyalties lay elsewhere—not with him or his company. Once he’d figured that out he’d been able to manage more effectively.

“Seems like a lonely way to live,” she said.

“I’m content—what more can a man ask for?” Harris said.

“What about family?”

“I prefer things I can measure with a spreadsheet,” he said. He’d learned a long time ago that the ability to count losses was an important one.

“I’ll take family.”

He didn’t like the path this conversation was on. There was no way he was going to be able convince her his viewpoint was right. Her life had been different than his. Even the loss of her parents hadn’t warped her the way his dad’s behavior had shaped his life. “But you also have your business.”

“That was really my parents’ dream. I’m just keeping it going for them.”

“Are they coming back?” he asked, curious what she meant.

“No. I just want everything to be right for Burt and Isabella,” she said, her voice telling him she wasn’t sure herself why she had kept the restaurant going.

He didn’t know any other woman who could handle herself in so many different situations. But Sarah wasn’t sure she could. The irony wasn’t lost on him and he vowed to make sure she didn’t doubt herself anymore. If he left her with nothing else, he’d leave her with confidence.

“What about your dreams?” he asked at last.

“My dreams?”

“Yeah, your dreams. Don’t you have any?” Harris reached across the table and caressed her face.

“Of course I do. Everyone does.”

“What are they?”

“Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“Now who’s afraid to let the other person in?”

“Touché.”

She bowed her head and reached for her coffee cup. Then set it aside. He wondered what her dreams were that she was afraid to share them with him.

Trust me, he wanted to say. But he knew better. “Tell me.”

“You’ll laugh.”

“Never.”

“Promise?”

He just stared at her.

She sighed. “I just wanted to be a wife and mother. My dreams were to find Mr. Right and raise kids with him. I know it’s not PC to say that but that’s all I want but…”

“Why haven’t you pursued your dream?” he asked. Knowing he’d never fill her ideal for the perfect mate. He wasn’t sure why he even cared. He was leaving for the West Coast in a few weeks. Why did it matter that even if he stayed he still wouldn’t be her Mr. Right?

“I have to keep the restaurant going and no guy wants to help raise someone else’s kids.”

“Your brother and sister are almost out of the nest,” he said. She wasn’t telling him everything, he could tell there wasn’t something more behind her words.

“You said it was your dream,” he said.

“Well…it’s just that I’ve raised a family—Burt and Isabella—and I’m not sure that’s what I want to do again.”

“So what do you want to do?”

“I’m not sure.”

He knew Sarah better than that. “Trust me, Sarah. Tell me your dream.”

She swallowed and fiddled with the fork in front of her. “I haven’t told anyone.”