Signed, Sealed, Delivered (3 page)

“How about I call you Monday, Max?” Connor said.

He’d never make the call, but all he could think was that the woman of his dreams was getting away and there was no way he’d let that happen.

Connor inclined his head toward the conference room. “You’ve still got people waiting to talk to you.”

“Sure, sure,” Max replied. His eyes had narrowed enough to show his anger at being dismissed. “Give me a ring.” On that, he left.

Connor kept his gaze on Max until he disappeared down the hall toward the conference room. Then he turned to face the other long corridor, the one that led to the bar.

Should he go after her?

Juliana Kelley.
Temptation on two very long legs.

If he had any brains, he’d go back to his room. The closing on his new house was Tuesday. The place was a wreck, so he’d have more than enough to keep him busy. That, and he was going to start his own agency. He’d sworn he was going to simplify his life, to keep the demons from eating him alive. No unnecessary stress. Nothing to throw him off track. He didn’t need any… complications.

Juliana Kelley was most definitely a complication.

His gaze fell on the small kiosk in the hotel lobby. As though drawn there, he went inside, found the display of toiletries, and plucked up a box of condoms. The saleslady gave him a sly smile as he made his purchase, and the giggle was there in her voice when she thanked him, told him to have a nice evening, and handed over his change. He shoved the coins and the box in his jacket pocket and headed to Kicks, excusing his action as being presumptuous, born of an attraction he simply couldn’t fight.

There were no guarantees, but a guy needed to be ready for anything that popped up.

He chuckled at his double entendre.

The place was next to empty, but it wouldn’t have mattered even if it had been packed. That red hair was a beacon, as was her innate sensuality. She sat at the bar, shoulders lowered as she played with an empty shot glass.

Connor approached slowly, trying to let common sense and intellect argue to stop him. He had no business getting involved with her. Not now. His life was being held together by a frayed shoestring. Yes, things were looking up after far too long, but the control he held came to him day by day, sometimes hour by hour. He was tempting fate by going to her, introducing a complication that was risky at best.

Yet he couldn’t stop himself.

“Another shot and a lime, please,” she said, setting the empty glass upside down on the wooden surface.

The fiftysomething bartender put a fresh shot glass on the bar, filled it with Patrón, and plucked a lime wedge from his store of condiments. He plopped it on a small plate and set it next to the tequila. “Anything else?”

“Give me ten minutes,” she replied with a wink. “Then I’ll let you know.”

The bartender chuckled as he headed back down the long bar to chat with a pair of guys closer to his age.

She jumped when Connor pulled out the barstool next to hers. Her eyes fixed on his face, then her mouth bowed into a frown. She might as well have held up a stop sign.

He wouldn’t let that chilly reception discourage him. Sitting himself down, he gave the bartender a dismissive wave of his hand when the man held up an empty mug, clearly asking if Connor wanted a drink.

Sure, he wanted one. But he wasn’t going to indulge.

Juliana picked up her shot glass and neatly downed the contents. Grabbing the lime, she grasped it with her teeth, sucked hard enough to make Connor’s groin tighten, and then grimaced. Her body gave a little shudder before she dropped the lime wedge on the plate, leaned back, and sighed.

“So where’s the tacky blue blazer?” she asked, her voice low and irritated.

“Don’t have one,” Connor replied. “My clothes are all very fashionable.”

Her lips twitched as if she might grin. When she finally turned to face him, her eyes made his ability to think logically evaporate. Green as clover, they were as hypnotic as a metronome, drawing him into their depths until she was the only thing in his mind.

“There’s obviously one in your future,” she said. “One with an equally tacky logo. You and Max got pretty chummy in the lobby.”

Seeing no need to mince words, he spoke his mind. “Max Schumm is a douche bag.”

She snorted as a small smile bloomed.

“I mean it. I have no intention of being a part of his egomaniacal agency.”

“Then why were you there?”

“Keeping an eye on the competition.”

“Competition?” Juliana cocked her head. “Do you work for Carl Barton, then?”

“Nope.”

“Those are the only two decent real estate agencies in Cloverleaf.”

He loved that she was interested enough to keep pressing the point. “As of now.”

“Meaning…?”

“Give it a little time.”

Those lovely eyes shot fire. “I’m not drunk.” A glance to the empty shot glasses. “At least not yet. But you’re not making any sense.”

The bartender put himself in front of them. “Another?” he asked Juliana.

“Why not?” she replied.

“For you?” he asked Connor as he set up another shot of tequila and lime wedge.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got any Squirt back there?” Connor asked.

“Matter of fact, I do.” The bartender reached under the bar, fished out a two-liter bottle, and set it next to Juliana’s empty glasses. “Use it for mixing.” He retrieved a large glass, tossed some ice into it, and filled it before sliding the soft drink closer to Connor. “Anything else?”

“Could you shoot those pretzels down here?” Connor gestured to the full bowl on the far side of Juliana.

After complying, the bartender returned to his other customers, leaving Connor and Juliana to sit in silence.

She didn’t immediately down her shot. Instead, she fiddled with the fresh lime wedge, turning it in circles on the plate.

Connor picked up a few of the pretzels and munched on them as he slid the bowl closer to her. She was right. She wasn’t drunk. But he’d watched how she’d picked at the pathetic dinner Max had provided, and if she kept drinking tequila without eating something, it would catch up with her. “Pretzels?”

“Why are you here?”

Tossing a couple more of the tiny pretzels into his mouth, he chewed them slowly as he tried to think up a brilliant answer to that question.

None came to mind.

Since his past relationships had been nothing but disasters, often falling apart because of lies told to spare feelings or avoid discussions, he decided honesty was going to be the only way to approach her.

“I followed you,” he finally replied.

“Why?”

“Because I think you’re beautiful and I want to—”…
make love to you.
He nervously cleared his throat.
That
honesty would have cost him. Dearly. “I want to get to know you better.”

Juliana picked up the shot, quickly drank it, and pressed the lime wedge between her lips. After tossing the rind aside, she hopped off the bar stool, slung her purse over her shoulder, and walked away so quickly she might have been running from a threat.

Fishing a few bills out of his wallet, Connor tossed them on the counter and hurried after her.

He caught her in the middle of the long, empty hallway. Wrapping his fingers around her upper arm, he dragged her to a stop. “Wait. Please.”

Although she stopped, she glared at him with an anger he didn’t deserve, not for stating a simple fact. “Why?” she asked.

“Why what?”

“Why do you want me to wait? Trying to think up another brilliant pickup line?” She gave her head a shake, sending her red hair bouncing around her shoulders. “Don’t bother. That last one has to be one of the worst I’ve ever heard.”

“Worst? You mean because I told you you’re beautiful?”

“No.”

When she didn’t elaborate, his frustration grew. Nothing about this was going to be simple.

Simple had gotten him absolutely nowhere so perhaps complicated might be a better tack. “Then why?”

“It was what you
didn’t
say.”

He loved verbally fencing with her, not realizing how much he’d missed feminine company.

No, that wasn’t quite right. This woman was different from other women he’d known, and the attraction was making it hard to use any intellect. The blood just wasn’t getting to his brain. “And what exactly was that?”

“That you’re trying to seduce me.”

Seduce.
Simply hearing the word spill from her lips had him groaning. Quaint and so much sexier than he’d expected. Most women might have just said
fuck
. Not this lady, and that’s what she was.

A lady.

From the top of her shimmering red hair to the toes she had tucked in those shiny black pumps that were incredibly sexy.

“I suppose I am,” Connor admitted. “Can you blame me?”

When she turned to face him, giving him her undivided attention, his cock swelled even farther, and he questioned whether his zipper would pop. How could any man resist Juliana Kelley?

“What if I’m married?” she asked.

“You’re not.”

“And you know that because…?”

Since she hadn’t thrown a drink in his face and marched away, his hopes began to grow as much as his erection. Braving a brazen approach, he took her left hand in his, holding it up as though he were a courtier preparing to brush a reverent kiss over her knuckles. “No wedding ring.”

She didn’t pull away, giving him the courage to gently rub his thumb over her fingers. “Doesn’t mean I’m not married. Lots of people don’t wear rings.”

“Mostly married men who want to cheat on their wives.”

Juliana picked up his left hand, gave it a deliberate stare, then turned it over to look at the palm. “You’re not married, either. And you do some work with your hands. Not a lot, but…” She pulled her left hand from his and traced the small calluses on his palm with her fingertips.

Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? Never had such innocent touches filled his body with need. Had the place been empty, he’d have picked her up, laid her on the ebony table with the enormous vase of flowers, and buried himself inside her. As it was, his heart was pounding rough and fast enough she had to be able to hear it above the canned music.

He couldn’t wait a moment longer to taste her. Connor grabbed her shoulders and walked her backward until he had her pressed against the wall. His eyes searched hers, waiting for a denial. He wasn’t hurting her. He’d never hurt her. But he was drowning in the need to know she shared the desire that held him so tightly in its talons he felt as though he’d explode if she didn’t let him make love to her.

* * *

Connor Wilson was going to be the death of her.

Everything about him affected her, made her blood run so hot she couldn’t keep from squirming. The dark hair. The dark eyes. The way he exuded masculinity had her entranced. When he’d pushed her against the wall, his touch insistent and arousing, she’d had to bite her bottom lip to keep from moaning.

His face was so close to hers, his eyes looking for… something, left her breathless with anticipation.

She met him halfway.

The first touch of their lips and she dropped her purse, looped her arms around his neck, and fit her body to his. His hard planes pressing against her sent her soaring. She couldn’t even blame the tequila. It might have warmed and relaxed her, but she wasn’t drunk. Not on Patrón.

On Connor Wilson.

His tongue thrust past her lips, claiming her mouth with bold strokes before coaxing her tongue to follow his retreat. Then he grasped it with his teeth and tugged at the same time he ground his hips against her. Her core throbbed with want, needing this man to fill her.

Juliana wanted to wrap her legs around his slim hips. Preferably while they were both naked.

This wasn’t like her. Not at all. Sure she was boisterous, leaned toward bossy, and was far too extroverted for her own good. But making out with a guy right after she met him? Entertaining the notion of taking him home with her?

What would the Ladies Who Lunch say?

She honestly didn’t give a shit. Tonight was for her. Tonight was something incredible, something too special to let pass her by. Tonight, this was going to happen—she
needed
it to happen.

Tearing her mouth away, she panted for breath, grateful to see Connor doing the same.

“We’re in public,” she had to point out.

“We are,” he replied.

“I’m a teacher. If anyone sees us…”

“No one’s here. We’re alone.”

When he didn’t add to that comment, she figured he’d made a move and now wanted to see if she was ready to accept his invitation. “We should find someplace more private,” she suggested.

“We should?” He arched an eyebrow. His eyes were so dark, so appealing. Everything about him was appealing.

Too appealing to ignore.

“We should. I live pretty close to here and—”

“I have a room upstairs.” He stepped back and took her hand. “We can go there and see what happens.”

She knew damn well what was going to happen, and judging from his smile, so did he. What she didn’t know was why he would be staying at the Ramada. “Why do you have a room?”

“Waiting for my house to close next week.” On that flimsy explanation he headed back toward the lobby as she hurried to keep up with his long strides.

By the time they reached the elevator, Juliana’s common sense kicked in.

What in the hell am I doing?

She didn’t even know this guy. Shit, for all she knew, his name wasn’t even Connor Wilson. The sane part of her brain almost blurted out a demand that he show her his driver’s license.

They were alone in the elevator, making her feel vulnerable when the doors closed. If he crowded her, pushing her against the wall again like in the hall—

“I’m not a serial killer,” he said, the humor clear in his voice.

“I never thought you were.”

He snorted. “Sure you didn’t. Look, Juliana… we don’t have to do this. I just”—he raked his fingers through his short hair—“there’s something about you, something that makes me want you beyond reason. I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want you right now.”