Manhunting in Mississippi (22 page)

kiss her with al the passion she saw reflected in his eyes.

But what she should do…wel , that was something entirely different. Before, she’d just wanted Brent. But bumping into Brent’s father had reinforced how different their lives were—and that she was playing with fire. Ultimately, she’d be the one who got burned.

She couldn’t conjure words, and when his finger curved under her chin, tilting her head back, her silence was assured. A little voice in the back of her mind screamed that she should protest, run,
anything,
to get away.

But she wanted this, Lord help her, she did, and when he lowered his lips to hers, al she could do was moan and open her mouth in silent invitation.

His arms tightened around her waist, pul ing her against him into the warm curve of his body. “Are you sure? If you’re not, say so now, because, dam mit, Annie, I’ve wanted this for too long. I don’t think I can stop if this goes much further.”

“Wanted this?” Wanted
her?

Common sense told her she should stop this. But instead of protests, she heard her own voice, husky and raw, whispering, “I’m sure. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

He took the invitation to heart, tasting and teasing in a frenzy of passion that left her breathless. Her own enthusiasm matched his, and she wriggled closer as his hands cupped her butt, pressing her tight against him, so tight he would have entered her had it not been for their clothes.

“Please,” she whispered.

“Please, what?”

She met his eyes, wanting to lose herself in the pleasure those rich blue irises promised. “Touch me.”

He needed no more persuasion, and his hands went to work on her costume, undressing her slowly and sensual y. Somehow, he managed to lose his own clothes, as wel , and

before she knew it, he was right there, hot and ready. And she was so very wil ing.

“I want you, Annie.”

“I know.” She could see and feel the hard evidence of his desire. “I want you, too.”

Silently, she demanded that he enter her, but instead he stroked her breasts, his mouth warring with hers, his sex teasing and tormenting her.

“This is your show, sweetheart,” he whispered, and she realized he was waiting for her. It wasn’t enough to say she was sure, she had to show him, too. Brent wasn’t about to do anything she didn’t want to do.

She broke the contact only long enough to fumble for her purse and pul out a condom. He moaned as she sheathed him, but his moan was even more primitive when she

placed his hands on her hips, urging him to lift her up, then bring her down, burying himself in her slick heat.

She gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his body as they moved together. Her back was stil against the boxes, and she oddly wondered if they

would topple over during their lovemaking.

But soon al sil y thoughts left her head, leaving her thinking only of Brent, and the way his body felt against hers. A glorious pressure built inside her, and she cried out, shaking and trembling in his arms as he thrust deeper and harder, finding his own climax before they both sank to the ground.

She cuddled next to him, delighted when he kissed the tip of her nose. In a few moments, he surprised her by pul ing a sheet over them. “Linen delivery,” he explained. “I’l buy this sheet in the morning.”

Spent, they snuggled together, and she tried to stay awake, but the warm, coziness of his arms overwhelmed her and she fel asleep, his gentle kiss on her forehead the last

thing she remembered.

LIGHT WAS CREEPING
in the tiny window when she awoke in the circle of his arms, and for a moment she just lay there, breathing his musky scent, and wondering if she’d ever again in her life feel so cherished. So loved.

Loved?

The veil of sleep vanished, and she was ful y awake. What on earth had she done? In her ridiculous fantasy, she’d planned on a seduction where she was in charge. She’d get

her wish—Brent in her bed—and she’d get him out of her system.

Except nothing had worked out the way she’d planned. Instead of getting him out of her system, he was more ingrained than ever.

Damned inconvenient, considering she was moving to New York in just a few days—and since nothing long-term could ever develop between a Carrington and a Silver. Heck,

he’d practical y admitted as much when he’d confessed to noticing her in the past, but never approaching her.

No, the best thing to do was cut her losses.

Careful y, she rol ed out from under his arm, then stood up and climbed back into her costume. Brent stirred once, but didn’t awaken.

Before she could change her mind, she headed for the door. Without the time lock, the door opened easily, and she paused to look back at him. She wanted to stay, but staying meant complications. And right now she needed to fol ow the path she’d already set for herself. Say her goodbyes, pack her bags, and move to New York.

And she might as wel start right now.

With tears wel ing in her eyes, she pressed her fingers to her lips, then blew him a kiss.

“Goodbye, Brent,” she whispered. “And thank you.”

CHAPTER FOUR

BRENT STRETCHED,
seeking Annie’s warmth even from the depths of his dreams.
Nothing.
His eyes flew open and he bolted upright, a choice curse escaping his lips.

She was gone. The most wonderful night of his life, and the woman he’d shared it with had walked out on him.

Frustrated, he banged the back of his head against the stack of boxes, trying to decide what to do next. Not that there was real y any question. For years, he’d wanted a taste of Annie Silver, and now that he’d had one, he didn’t intend to give her up. She was sweet and warm and her honest passion had driven him to the brink. He’d never met a woman like her, and he wasn’t about to let her walk away without a fight.

Unfortunately, Annie seemed to have a different idea. But Brent hadn’t suffered through an M.B.A. program without learning a few things about negotiating. And the first rule was to know your opponent. He knew Annie. He’d watched her for years, wishing he’d been brave enough to assert himself against his father and ask out the smartest, sweetest girl in the school. But he never had, and now he was kicking himself for it.

And the one thing he stil didn’t know was why she’d come on to him in the first place, or, more important, why she’d walked away.

But he did know someone who might.

“GIVE IT UP, FAITH.
I know you know what she’s up to.” Faith and Annie had been inseparable since elementary school, and even now they were roommates.

Faith held up a finger as she handled the bil for one of the regulars at her little café by the river. As soon as the customer left, she focused on him. “What do you mean ‘what she’s up to’?” She looked him up and down, clearly taking in his rumpled outfit. “Seems to me you figured that out last night.”

If she was trying to fluster him, it wasn’t going to work. “I figured out that she wanted a fling. Believe it or not I’m pretty astute at picking up on those subtle little clues.”

Faith’s mouth twitched, and he knew he’d scored a few points.

“What I hadn’t figured on was her bolting. What the hel ’s up with that?”

“How should I know? Nerves, maybe?”

“She wasn’t too nervous to try to seduce me.”

“Maybe she thought you didn’t want to be seduced.” As soon as she spoke, Faith’s shoulders slumped, and her eyes darted away. Brent picked up on the signals easily

enough—she hadn’t meant to reveal that little tidbit.

But why would Annie want to seduce him if she didn’t think he’d want her? Or maybe she’d thought she could convince him—he was a guy, after al —but that the most that would

happen would be one night of hot and heavy lust. Something simple they could walk away from.

But nothing about last night had been simple. He’d never experienced the kind of closeness he’d felt with Annie, and he was certain she’d felt it, too—and it had scared her

enough to send her scurrying away.

The door to the apartment over the café burst open, and Annie bounded in. She stopped cold the second she saw Brent. He clutched the countertop, fighting the urge to go

toward her, to hold her.

She swal owed, the flush on her cheeks making her look more adorable as she calmly walked toward them. “Brent. Hi.” She licked her lips. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you. And trying to figure out why you left.”

“I…” Her eyes darted to Faith, but her friend only held up her hands and backed away.

“Don’t drag me into this. I already said more than I should have.”

Annie’s shoulders slumped. “Faith…”

“Don’t blame her,” Brent said. “I threatened her with bodily harm.”

Her expression shifted, and though she tried to hide it, he could see the flash of amusement under her tight features.

“Neither one of you should be talking about me,” she said.

Brent moved closer, overcome by the urge to touch her. “Why not, when you’re such an enticing subject?” He took her hand, cutting off her answer. “I want you, Annie. I thought I made that perfectly clear last night.”

Her lips pressed together before she lifted her eyes to his. “We had our one night.” She took a deep breath. “I’d appreciate it if we could chalk it up to hormones and wine and a party atmosphere and just be friends.”

“Not gonna happen.” He urged her closer, pleased when she didn’t fight his gentle tug. “You started this, sweetheart. And I don’t think we’re anywhere near finished.”

Annie’s pulse beat an unsteady rhythm as Brent’s deep blue eyes bored into her. When she’d come up with her plan to seduce him, she’d never imagined the kind of connection that had sparked between them in the basement.

She’d run because she was scared. And now, because nothing between them could be permanent, she had to keep running.

“It can’t work, Brent,” she said as soon as he’d steered her into a corner booth.

“What can’t?”

“You. Me. There can’t be anything permanent here.”

“Why not?”

“This isn’t
Twenty Questions.
”

Leaning across the table, he clasped her hands. “I want to know. Why can’t it work?”

She tried to remember al the reasons—it was hard to think with him touching her. “For one, we come from total y different backgrounds.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat, and she wondered if that argument had missed its mark.

“My job, for another. I’m moving in January.”

That excuse seemed to resonate a little better. “I thought you loved the library.”

“I do. Except that my master’s is in rare books. Not a whole lot of use in Bishop.” She sat up a little tal er, stil proud of herself for landing her new job. “I’m going to work at the Metropolitan Museum. I’m moving to New York.”

His eyes widened, and he grinned, as if she’d just said she wanted to move in with him, rather than that she was moving al the way to Manhattan. Odd.

“So you real y did want one wild night. And now you’re just going to walk away.”

No!
That might have been her plan, but now so much had changed. Except…she wouldn’t give up her dreams, not even for Brent. So in the end, she simply said, “Yes.”

“How long before you move?”

“Right after the holidays.”

He slid closer, fol owing the curve of the bench seat until his hand rested on her knee, his warmth tantalizing even through the jeans she’d changed into. “Then I suggest we make the most of the time we have.” He traced a finger up her thigh, the light touch sending shivers through her body.

“What—?” She broke off, unable to concentrate. “I don’t understand.”

“You wanted a hot time. So that’s what I’m proposing. We’l have a fling hot enough to melt Frosty the Snowman.” He caught her eye, his grin ful of decadent possibilities. “I’m proposing a ful -blown Christmas affair.”

A fling? Days and nights in Brent’s arms before she left for the harsh streets of Manhattan? Leaving would be harder, the more accustomed she became to being in his arms.

But right then, she didn’t care about later. She only cared about now. And about Brent.

“Al right,” she said, flashing him what she hoped was a seductive smile. “Until I leave, I’m al yours.”

CHAPTER FIVE

ALL YOURS.
Her words echoed as they drove to his apartment. As soon as she’d uttered those two simple words, his entire body had reacted, practical y bursting into flames merely from the anticipation of touching her again. He had no idea how this woman could affect him so deeply. He only knew that somehow they had made magic together, and he intended to keep the magic alive.

Pushing open his door, he ushered her in.

“This is nice,” she said politely, her gaze skimming over the bare wal s and boring furniture.

Brent shrugged. He’d never intended to make the apartment home; he’d simply detoured when his father had insisted he come back home after receiving his M.B.A.

Silently, he took her hand. Their night in the basement had been wild and fast. This time he intended to take it more slowly. With nice little amenities like a mattress. And pil ows.

When they reached his bedroom, her eyes danced with mischief. “And this is even nicer.”

“Glad you think so. I thought we might be spending some time here.”

She glanced at her watch. “Not too much time, unfortunately. I’m working the evening shift at the gift-wrap table.”

He slipped his finger into the waistband of her jeans and tugged her closer, delighting when she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Yeah? Wel , right now, I’m interested in

unwrapping.”

“Oh? Maybe you better demonstrate so I know just what you have in mind.”

His fingers fumbled at the button of her jeans, then slowly tugged the zipper down as she drew in one short, quick breath. “I think that can be arranged.”

As he slipped his hands down inside her jeans and over her hips, he wanted to take it slowly and sensual y, but there was no way he could finesse the moment. Not with her