Kids Is A 4-Letter Word (13 page)

“Fine,” Jo said, forcing a bright smile. She reached for her coffee cup and nudged it, sending the liquid splashing across the top of her desk. Biting back a curse, Jo snatched up the papers she’d been working on, and turned a cheerful face toward her aunt. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Hattie said, her tone wary. She glanced at her watch. “Didn’t you have an appointment with the seamstress this morning at the Sterling house?”

Jo gasped, picked up the clock on her desk, then banged it back down. “Thirty minutes ago!” She grabbed her purse and swung her coat around her shoulders as she dashed out. “If she calls, I’m on my way!”

Between getting stuck behind a mail truck and hitting every possible red light, the trip to the Sterling house crawled. As she pulled into the empty driveway, the woman she’d missed called on the car phone to reschedule in two hours. Jo sighed and thanked her, then hung up and sat staring at John’s beautiful house.

White brick made the large structure seem even more imposing. Double columns flanking the steps added a touch of southern-plantation charm, and dark green shutters contributed warmth to the expanse of white. The landscaping provided by the builder was attractive, but on the lean side, which was typical these days. She squinted and imagined a towering trellis of pink roses on the left side of the house, and a row of red azaleas under the limbs of the massive oak tree squatting near the road.

Jo opened her eyes and shook her head to clear it This wasn’t her homestead to be planning—John Sterling would decide what kind of landscaping he wanted. She’d do well to take care of the job he hired her to do. Pressing her lips together, she drove the memory of his kisses from her mind and straightened her shoulders. She might as well get a jump on the window measurements.

When Jo opened the front door, she thought a television or stereo had been left on, but as she entered the den, she recognized John’s voice coming from the open door of his office. She froze, debating whether to turn and run for her life before he heard her. But John appeared suddenly in the doorway, a telephone between his ear and shoulder, his hands full of blueprints. He wore burgundy pajama bottoms…and nothing else. He grinned when he saw her, and Jo’s mouth went dry. Gold
hair sprinkled his muscled chest, then grew more dense over his flat abdomen before disappearing into his waistband. She tried to swallow. It was too soon after their close encounter yesterday to face him while he was so…bare.

He juggled the papers and held up a finger indicating he was winding down the conversation. Jo nodded and wheeled back toward the den, trying desperately to stem the flood of adrenaline in her blood. She shrugged out of her coat and busied herself with measuring tools, suddenly wishing she’d worn something more utilitarian than the stretchy skirt and short jacket. Although she’d have to strip down to her turtleneck later, for now, every stitch of her clothing, no matter how restrictive, was going to stay put. For emphasis, she reached up and fastened the top button on her hunter green jacket.

“Well,” his voice sounded behind her. “This is a nice surprise.”

Jo turned and met his gaze, conjuring up a casual smile while she fought to keep her eyes above shoulder level. His jaw was darkened by morning beard, his auburn hair sticking up slightly in the back. He was knee-weakeningly handsome. She suddenly remembered her voice.

“I—I was supposed to meet the seamstress here to measure for curtains, but I missed her, so I thought I’d get a jump on the legwork.” She gestured awkwardly toward her supplies, then crossed her arms, trying to gather her defenses against his blatant appeal. “I didn’t realize you were here, I should have knocked first.”

“I parked in the garage,” he explained. “But don’t worry, I left the key yesterday so you could come by whenever you need to—or want to.” His eyes teased her, and his voice softened. “But be forewarned, you might occasionally find me in a state of undress.”

The turtleneck was growing uncomfortably tight around her vocal cords. “Wh-why are you home?” she asked, ignoring his remark.

“Small emergency.” He waved toward his office. “I got a
call this morning at five, and I’ve been working ever since.” John laughed, his eyes sparkling. “And I thought the mornings couldn’t get more chaotic around here.”

“How did the kids get to day care?” She glanced at his skimpy outfit, then quickly back to his face.

“Mrs. Harris came by to straighten up and offered to take them for me.”

Jo nodded, trying to ignore the fact that he was standing only a few feet from her looking so decadent. He scratched his shoulder, the muscles in his arm dancing with the movement. Jo felt her body blush in awareness and uncrossed her arms self-consciously. “So,” she squeaked, “did you get the problem worked out?”

“Yeah,” he said, hands on hips, nodding.

Jo pressed her lips together and nodded. “Good.”

“Yeah,” John agreed, still nodding.

Jo couldn’t stop nodding.

They spoke at the same time.

“About yesterday—” he said.

“We need to talk—” she said.

Jo stopped and laughed along with John until he stepped closer. Then her humor vanished and she stiffened at the proximity of his naked torso. He stood within arm’s reach, the waistband of the pajama bottoms sagging slightly, revealing a vague tan line and a glimpse of his white briefs. The hair stood up on the nape of her neck. He reached forward to clasp her hands in his, and his touch jolted her into motion. “J-John,” she protested, stepping backward.

But he kept pace with her, holding her hands loosely and giving her a knowing, serious smile. “Jo, you have to admit there’s something between us.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean,” she said, still moving steadily backward. Her pulse raced and she nearly groaned at the desire welling inside her chest.

He walked with her, squeezing her hands, and shook his head slowly, obviously unconvinced. She felt the wall at her back and inhaled sharply as he closed in on her. “Liar, liar,
pants on fire,” he whispered, his mouth inches from hers. He held her arms down at her sides, but she could have pulled away at any second…if only she hadn’t been exactly where she wanted to be. His mouth descended on hers with authority, and Jo resisted the heady kiss for a heartbeat before opening her lips for his searching tongue.

Then all was lost.

John moaned and pressed his body against hers. Jo could feel his swelling need for her and strained into him, her nerve endings screaming.
No, no, no,
her head warned, but her body would have none of it. “Yes,” she murmured. “Yes, yes.”

He gasped, driving her mouth wider to accept his foraging tongue. Releasing her hands, he reached around to cup her rear and lifted her against the wall. She opened her knees, allowing him to wedge into the cradle between. He was a vocal partner, and his guttural sounds excited Jo in a way she would never have imagined. Delicious chills ran across her shoulders as he slid his hands under her skirt and pulled the stretchy fabric up to her waist. She inhaled deeply, drawing his sleep scent into her lungs. Her clothes were choking her. She pushed him away gently, her gaze remaining locked with his as she slowly unbuttoned the jacket and let it drop to the floor. He held her suspended, his breathing ragged as she drew the turtleneck over her head, the choppy layers of her hair swishing against her cheeks as it fell back into place.

John’s gaze dropped to her cream-colored satin bra, then he closed his eyes and smiled, as if to savor the sight. Jo felt a welling of pride, thrilled he was pleased with her. body. With a savage moan, he pulled her away from the wall and lowered her to a rug on the wooden floor. The nubby yarn felt coarse and stimulating against her back, arousing her further. John stopped long enough to roll her panty hose and skirt down to her knees, then Jo kicked them off and lay before him in bra and panties. He fumbled with his own clothes, never taking his eyes off her. Jo smiled languidly at his haste, then bit her bottom lip when he stood nude before her. Doubts nipped at her, but John was beside her, on top of her in an instant, and
the touch of his skin against hers crowded all other thoughts from her mind.

He breathed her name before kissing her again, then moved lower. He quickly unfastened the front closure of her bra, then moaned his appreciation as he freed her breasts. Cool air and warm breath swirled over her nipples, bringing them to bud. He teased first one peak, then another with his tongue, then his teeth, causing Jo to writhe beneath him. He frantically tugged at her panties, and she raised her hips to allow him to whisk them off. Jo tore at his shoulders and arms, drawing him up and closer to her, until his hard shaft branded her thigh. He reclaimed her mouth and moved between her raised knees. Jo’s breathing was beyond erratic as she reached down to clasp him and guide him inside. John eased in, gritting his teeth in obvious restraint, filling her inch by slow inch.

Surely heaven was no sweeter, Jo thought Even as he began to stroke her inner depths, an urgent rhythm was beginning to surface. She threw her head back and rocked beneath him, stiffening in preparation for an intense release. She ran her fingernails over his back, down his waist, across his clenched buttocks as they moved together with increasing urgency. John’s murmurings were sweet and encouraging as he trailed hard kisses over her neck and fingered a sensitive, rigid nipple. “I want to hear you, Jo,” he whispered fiercely. “Let me hear you.”

“Yes,” she moaned. “Yes, John, I’m almost there.”

“I’m waiting for you,” he gasped.

His husky whisper sent her over the edge. Jo opened her mouth and released a long, low cry of climax, which John chorused seconds later. They moved in unison, their hips connecting in unbelievable intensity as they rode out their mutual pleasure. At last, they lay quiet, melded together, their heartbeats mirrored.

Slowly, very slowly, reality drizzled, then flooded into her brain, and Jo tried to move. The enormity of what just transpired washed over her.

“Mmmph,” John said in her ear.

“John,” she said softly. Panic stirred deep in her belly.

“Uh-huh?”

“We…I have to get up.”

He sighed heavily, then kissed her ear. “Not yet, love.”

His words spurred her into motion. She pushed hard against his shoulders. “Yes, now. I have to get up.”

John raised his head and frowned slightly, looking confused, but gently extracted his body from hers and sat up. “What’s wrong, Jo?”

Jo scrambled to her feet and began to gather her clothes. “We just had sex, that’s what’s wrong.” Her hands were trembling as she tried to cover herself with her clothes. Suddenly his arms came around her from behind to still her movements.

“Call me old-fashioned,” he murmured into her hair, “but I’d say it was lovemaking.”

Jo closed her eyes and wrenched out of his arms to spin and face him. “What we just did had nothing to do with love. It should never have happened, and it will never happen again.”

John pursed his lips and crossed his arms. “What about Parish?”

Jo inhaled deeply and lifted her chin, trying to regain her equilibrium. “I hope you’ll be a gentleman, and keep this…indiscretion between us. There’s no need to hurt Alan. And I hope this doesn’t affect our working agreement.”

His lips tightened and he was silent for a full moment, studying her. Jo clutched her wad of clothes to her chest trying to quell the embarrassment and panic mushrooming inside her. John took a deep breath and bent to scoop up his own clothes. Unable to bear his silence, Jo said, “John, I need to know you won’t say anything to Alan about what happened here.”

He stepped into his clothes and pulled up the loose pants, snapping the waistband. “What do you mean?” He shrugged, his voice casual. Leveling his gaze at her, he spoke softly, resolutely. “Absolutely nothing happened here.” He turned
and headed toward the stairs, adding over his shoulder. “I have to shower and get to the office.”

Jo watched him climb the stairs, a sense of loss overwhelming her.

“J
OHN
, you’re even more handsome than I remembered,” Pam said, smiling widely. Casting aside convention, she kissed him on the cheek, brushing an imaginary crumb from his collarless bottle-green shirt, her fingers trailing down to the waistband of his chocolate-colored pleated slacks.

“I hadn’t forgotten how lovely you are,” he said easily. Pamela Kaminski was a gorgeous woman who filled out the long-sleeved white stretchy dress to alarming proportions. Her legs were deeply tanned for January, curvy and long, lengthened further by three-inch heels. Her hair swished across her. golden shoulders, curly and full. Her lips were bee-stung and her pale eyebrows perfectly arched. But John didn’t find her as intimidating as most men probably did—his mind and heart were full of Jo Montgomery. He felt comfortable flirting with Pam because he had nothing at stake.

The short ride to the riverfront restaurant was pleasurable. Pamela was a bright conversationalist who knew most of Savannah’s upper crust and had lots of juicy tidbits to share. His stomach was rolling at the prospect of watching Alan Parish make a fuss over Jo all evening, but he’d determined the only way he was going to get their lovemaking off his mind was to see her with her boyfriend. Pamela chattered comfortably, demanding little response. He forced himself to relax, lulled by her silky, sexy voice.

Cruising slowly along the cobblestone alleys and streets, John seized an empty parking spot within easy walking distance from the restaurant. When they entered the establishment, his eyes instantly settled on Jo. She stood in the crowded waiting area, smiling up at Alan—dammit—looking like an entree herself in a long fitted red dress. Now he knew what treasures lay beneath the snug garment. She turned and caught his gaze, her smile slipping a little before she raised her hand
in a wave. John’s breath caught in his chest as he steered Pamela in their direction.

The women embraced, and Alan’s handshake seemed a little more cordial, but not much. Jo’s expression was unreadable, but she appeared at ease with Alan’s arm wrapped around her waist. Alan was a good-looking man, John acknowledged, with model-perfect hair and teeth. And he’d done some checking of his own—the man was loaded and on his way to the top. Young, rich, with no children, versus older, poorer, with three children. John’s heart suddenly dipped. Who was he fooling? He didn’t stand a chance.