Starting from Scratch (19 page)

T
he heat flared instantly.

And with it came the realization that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't in control of anything. Not the way she'd wanted to be.

From the moment she'd seen Ryan standing in her doorway she'd known the visit could only end one way. Maybe she'd even known it before she'd gotten into Henry's car and driven over here.

Even when she'd disassociated herself from Randolph & Sons and concentrated only on her responsibilities as Andrea and Beth's sole guardian, miscellaneous thoughts about Sutherland had cropped up in her head. Thoughts that had nothing to do with their former relationship as author and editor.

Thoughts that dwelled on the man's masculinity.

As he kissed her now, she felt more alive than she had in years, except for that one aberration the night of the poker game. He'd almost succeeded in making her forget herself, forget her obligations. Forget everything except the rush inside her.

Just like the one she was feeling right now.

Even when she and Garry had lived together, she'd never experienced this sort of an unbridled thrill rampaging through her. The very tips of her fingers were tingling in anticipation of what was to come.

Fingers, hell, her whole body was tingling. Tingling, priming. Waiting.

The air left her lungs, taking along what little there was left of her sanity. She didn't care. Her arms went around his neck as she clung to the moment, to the sensation. To the man.

Ryan deepened the kiss, drawing her out of her skin and into a place that was hot and tumultuous and exciting as hell. Her body throbbing, she pressed it against his. And felt the hard outline of his anticipation. Hot spots began popping up all over her, feeding a growing frenzy that had leaped out of left field and held her in its grip, making her into a willing prisoner.

It took effort to curtail the moan that almost escaped her lips. She felt his arms tighten around her. Her core moistened. Preparing.

This was a surprise. At his age, given the kind of life he'd led, he hadn't thought there were any of those left for him, but he'd obviously been wrong. Elisha Reed was a surprise. He had no idea that there was this wild creature beneath the tailored designer suits.

Oh, he'd felt a degree of attraction to her, but that was because of the way she's stood up to him, the way she held her own when he'd tried to browbeat her. None of his previous editors had had the nerve to make corrections. And she was good at what she did, which made the “suggestions” hard to ignore. But it wasn't until she'd showed up at his place the last time that he'd noticed she was pretty. More than just mildly so.

And it wasn't until he'd heard that lost note in her voice when he'd called to see if she was all right following the poker game that he'd found himself feeling protective toward her. To his recollection, he'd never experienced that feeling before. It just didn't happen and it had given him an uneasy pause. So much so that when Randolph had told him she was taking a leave of absence, he'd figured it was the perfect time to reestablish his boundaries.

Those boundaries had definitely been breached tonight. With his help.

But even so, by no stretch of the imagination had he thought that beneath her polished exterior and intellect beat the heart of a woman who was hot, raw and sexy. Or that she would inflame him the way she did.

He was no stranger to women who exuded sex. But this was a particular mixture of intelligence and sensuality that ignited him as if he were a length of rope leading up to a lethal charge of dynamite.

He couldn't seem to get enough of her. He wanted to experience her to the ultimate degree. But that could carry consequences. And he wanted her in his life in her original capacity, as his editor.

Never in his wildest dreams did he think that work could be a deterrent to having sex. At least, not these days. But if this night could somehow jeopardize their working relationship, he would have to find a way to cope with pulling back. And if he was to pull back, he'd have to do it now. Before he couldn't.

Cupping her face in his hands, Ryan drew back. His eyes searched her face. If she lied, he'd know. “You sure about this?”

Her heart was pounding so hard, she wasn't entirely certain she could speak. Especially when her lungs were so low on air.

“Not the time to have me fill out a form in triplicate, Sutherland.” Elisha ran the tip of her tongue along her lower lip, tasting him. Wanting him.

All hormones alive and well.

It was a very pleasant shock. But then, from the way the man kissed, Sutherland could have gotten a reaction from an Egyptian mummy.

“If this violates some secret black-ops code, you can debrief me later,” she added.

His hands rested on the swell of her hips. “I'd rather do the debriefing now.”

The next thing she knew, the skirt she'd worn found itself on the floor around her feet. The thong underwear she'd bought on a whim last week was the only thing that remained between her and the last shred of modesty that still shimmered in her soul.

She didn't want modesty, she wanted him.

She grinned as her heart began to pound in double time. “Part Houdini?”

He smiled into her eyes, working the buttons of her blouse. “My hands were always my greatest asset.”

Her eyes fluttered shut as he proceeded to show her just what he meant by that. Her skin heated even more beneath his touch.

“If you say so,” she murmured thickly. Her blouse slid from her shoulders. He surprised her by being gentle, by kissing her slowly, languidly, moving from one bare shoulder to another. Pausing at the hollow of her throat. Making her absolutely wild.

An eternity later, she felt her bra slipping off. Felt his hands covering her instead. A fever rushed through her as she found his mouth again.

It took effort not to succumb. Not to let herself just get carried away. The hunger inside of her had gone from zero to a hundred in a matter of seconds. But as delicious as it was, she didn't want to merely be the recipient. She wanted to make Ryan feel at least half as insane, half as wild with passion as he was making her feel.

Her fingers flew over him, tugging off his sweater, working the button above the zipper free. She watched his eyes as she guided the zipper down to the base, passing over the swell of his desire. She'd never done this before, never undressed a man. Garry had always taken off his own clothes, as had the handful of lovers she'd had before him. But this was going to be different, she'd promised herself. As different as she could make it.

Ideally, they would have made it to the bedroom. But desires made too many demands for the journey to be completed.

They made love on a light gray rug in the middle of the living room.

Elisha felt as if she'd taken leave of her body, hovering over herself and watching someone she hardly knew. Someone who was filled with urges, passions, needs. She felt only part human, the rest was some sort of ethereal being. A being who only grew hotter and more insatiable with each passing second. With each pass of his hands, his mouth.

He made her feel desirable. Beautiful. Writing and black ops were apparently not his only talent. Not his only gift. Ryan set her entire being on fire and she burned gladly within his flame.

This was a hell of a surprise, he kept thinking over and over again, having trouble reconciling the image he'd had of Elisha with this wildcat who had evoked such passion from within him. His assessment of people was usually dead-on. He'd survived that way for twenty years, during the years before he became a writer. But it was obvious that he'd been off his mark here. Way off.

And he'd never enjoyed being wrong so much.

She sparked things inside of him, pleasuring him even as he strove to pleasure her. He'd never had a partner who was so single-mindedly intent on his pleasure before.

He liked the taste of her, he suddenly realized. The warm, berrylike taste of her mouth, the dark flavors of her skin. It made him want more. He'd never been in that unique position before, wanting more.

Wanting to lose himself within the taste and smell of a woman.

Never too old to learn.

His hands urgently caressing her curves, he held back for a long as he could.

But every man had his limit and he had reached his. His arms around her, Ryan positioned himself on top of her. Ordinarily, he liked to watch the woman he had sex with. He didn't like being caught unawares. His senses were keen, alert during the very act.

But not this time. This time he surrendered just a little bit of himself, sank into the sensation that welcomed him with open arms. He kissed her as he plunged in, his eyes shut.

There was a muffled cry against his mouth.

Was she trying to tell him that she'd changed her mind at the last possible moment? Was he supposed to pull away? Questions raced through his brain, but even before he could formulate another one, he felt her moving beneath him. Moving at an ever-increasing tempo. Not as if she was trying to throw off his weight, but as if she was hurrying toward something. Toward a plateau that was just out of reach.

He had no choice but to join her in her flight.

And then it came.

A climax that felt as if it jarred his very teeth down to their roots. The sensation was so overwhelming, he clutched at the only thing he could for survival.

Elisha.

He held her to him hard, absorbing every last nuance of the sensation that had shuddered through him. The sensation that was even now fading back into the recesses from which it had come.

Exhaling, Ryan rolled off her. Then, for reasons he couldn't begin to comprehend, he slipped his arm beneath her and drew her to him.

He lay there for several moments without saying a word. Staring up at the dark beams that crisscrossed his vaulted ceiling.

Finally, because this had shaken him up more than he was willing to admit to anyone, even himself, Ryan said, “This a new way to edit? Because I have to say, it has its merits.”

A kind of music ran through her head. Something light and airy that she couldn't remember the words to. Something that made her smile.

Elisha propped herself up on her elbow to look at the man who had, to use Andrea's expression, just rocked her world. What had transpired was so far beyond perfect, she wasn't sure if a word had been invented yet to describe it.

Her body continued to hum even as she tried to look unaffected. She knew he expected nothing less.

“Is that what you were after? A merit badge?” She looked down at the soft layer of downy hair along his chest and ran her hand along it. “Where would you sew it?”

“You let me worry about that.” Ryan flipped her onto her back, looming over her. Wanting her again. It scared him. He didn't like being scared. “Why did you come here tonight?”

The pulse in her throat was moving visibly. “To tell you that we'd be working together. I didn't want to risk you going to another house.”

“You could have told me all that on the phone.”

She forced a smile to her lips. Her body was aching. Not from what had just happened, but from wanting him. Was this normal?

“I've always liked the personal touch better.”

He laughed. Personal touch. She'd certainly touched him. Very personally.

“Made a believer out of me.” Pulling her closer, he started to kiss her.

As his body came in contact with hers, her eyes widened, incredulous. Even at the height of Garry's feelings for her, they'd made love once a week, maybe twice. Never twice in one night. “Again?”

His eyes crinkled. The word
cute
flashed through his mind. He'd never been much of a fan of cute. And yet…

“Don't look so surprised. I'm an ex–Navy SEAL, remember?” He lowered his mouth to hers.

“That must be one hell of a training course,” she managed to say just before she sank back into the flames.

“T
his doesn't change anything, you know.”

Elisha's soft voice broke the silence that had enveloped them for what felt like an endless amount of time. She wanted to keep things light, to let him know that there were no expectations just because their relationship had gone beyond the written word. That he had nothing to fear from her, because she wasn't the nesting kind.

Even though the thought was beginning to take on more and more appeal.

She turned to him, her body warming again from the proximity. The man was just as incredible as she knew he probably thought he was.

“I'm still your editor. I'm still going to edit your manuscripts.”

His eyes held hers for a long moment. She couldn't begin to guess what was going on behind those clear blue orbs. “And I'm still going to ignore you when you're wrong.”

Elisha noted with no small pleasure that the ex–Navy SEAL had qualified his statement by using the word
when
rather than simply stating that he was going to patently disregard her opinion. By his choice of words, he'd acknowledged that there were times when she
was
right. They'd come a long way.

Not to mention that
she
had come a long way. And not just as his editor.

She wet her lips, not to look alluring, but to keep them from sticking together as she spoke. “I want you to know that you're my first author.”

She watched as one sexy eyebrow rose quizzically. “Are you informing me of some pecking order?”

No, oh God, no. She didn't want him thinking that she'd just rated him.

“No, I mean I've never done…this…”
Very expressive, Lise. No wonder they pay you so much to be a senior editor. Your command of the language is nonpareil.
“I've never made love—had sex,” she corrected, “with one of my authors.”

Just the slightest hint of amusement curved his mouth. “You might consider it. You bring a whole new meaning to stroking a man's…ego.” And then he laughed because her eyes had grown so wide. “I'm not being serious, Max.”

She blew out a breath—and was not unaware that he was watching the way her chest rose and fell. She felt a hint of a blush rising to her cheeks and did her best to smother it.

“I never know with you.” She looked at him for a second. “And I think you kind of like it that way.”

He didn't look displeased. “Guilty as charged. A certain amount of mystery makes things interesting.”

Ryan knew he should be getting up, should be putting distance between them. That's what he always did after exercising his sexual muscles. But for some reason, tonight he felt like lingering. Like savoring. He didn't try to analyze it, he just did it.

His arm tucked around her, he settled back and stared again at the massive dark beams that crisscrossed his ceiling some twenty feet above them. “So, you're coming back on Monday.”

“Yes.” Even as she said it, a certain insecurity set it. Elisha sighed.

He eyed her. “What's the matter? Changing your mind again?”

“No,” she assured him quickly. “It's just that I hope I'm doing the right thing. I mean, I'm doing the right thing for me, but as for the girls…” Was she jumping the gun? Taking too much for granted? When she'd called Rocky, it was because she felt that the girls would be all right without having her invested in every minute of their lives. But now she wasn't so sure.

She wasn't sure about anything, least of all herself.

“Do you love them?”

Elisha turned to look at him. It was the last question she'd ever expected to hear from Ryan. She didn't think the man even knew what the word meant. In any context.

“Yes.”

He drew her closer, even as he continued looking at the ceiling. His mind was aeons away. “Then that's all they need. Kids can forgive a lot of transgressions, as long as they know at the end of the day that you love them and are there for them.”

The man continued to be a source of endless surprises. This was actually very sensitive, especially for him. A thought suddenly occurred to her. A strange tightness in her chest accompanied it. “Do you have kids?”

“No, but I was one.”

She felt guilty about the relief that shimmied through her. Guilty, too, because there was a sadness in his voice. She didn't think it had anything to do with not having children of his own. He wasn't the type. No, this was something basic.

The sadness reached out to her even if he didn't. “How was it? Being a kid, I mean.”

The laugh had no humor in it. She looked at him. His expression was grim. “Lousy.”

“Why?”

He wasn't in the mood to share. His life, especially his past, was his own. “Just because we tangled together on my floor a couple of times tonight doesn't mean you can dig into my life, Max.”

Boundaries were for people who were afraid to venture forward. Little by little, since Henry's death, she'd found herself becoming more and more fearless.

“Why?” she repeated, her eyes intent on his. “What made it lousy?”

He had no idea why he answered. “I had no control.”

“Tell me,” she coaxed.

When he examined his actions later, he had no idea why he didn't just get up and leave then. Why he began to talk, to open doors that had been shut for so long. She made it easy to slip. Easy for the words that had not seen the light of day for forty years to slowly come out.

“My mother died when I was eight.” Elisha made no sympathetic, almost involuntary sound at the information, but he was acutely aware that she placed her hand over his. Aware that there was sympathy in her touch. Not pity, but sympathy. Because she'd lost someone she cared about herself, he thought. “My father couldn't handle the idea of raising a kid on his own, so he gave me up.”

His words refused to compute. “Gave you up?”

The words were ground out one at time, as if he was wrenching them from the grip of pain. “Handed me over to child services.”

This time she did make a noise. It took everything she had not to put her arms around him. Instinct told her that was the last thing he would have accepted. It went against some manly code. But it didn't stop her from offering the sympathy she felt.

“Oh God, how awful.”

“I thought so.”

In his mind's eye, he could still see it. Still see the small, scrawny kid he'd once been, desperately trying to hold on to the hand of the man who didn't want him enough to make an effort to give him a home. His father had pulled his hand roughly away. And the social worker had taken it. Had taken him and dragged him away.

“Especially when I begged him not to. But he said I'd be better off this way. Have a more stable home life than he could give me.” He shook his head at the memory of the words. “Stable. Yeah, right. I lived in over a dozen foster homes from the time I was eight until I reached eighteen.” His mouth twisted cynically. “The system turns you out when you reach eighteen. You're considered a man and on your own by then.”

At eighteen he was probably more of a man than most men were at forty, Elisha thought. A man who had never been allowed to be a child.

Her heart ached for him. “Is that when you enlisted in the navy?”

It had seemed like the logical thing to do. Even if it had been a snap decision. “Wasn't much else someone like me could do. I didn't like taking orders, but I liked starving even less. Took me a while to get my bearings, to learn when to pick my fights.” A few beatings from bullies had him bulking up and training almost obsessively. Until he was a force to be reckoned with. “I made some mistakes.”

She couldn't believe he was admitting something like that. She felt incredibly close to him. Closer than she'd felt while they were making love.

“Such as?”

He turned his face toward her. What was there about her that made him talk like this? That made him want to share? His boundaries were being threatened and yet he couldn't seem to work himself up about that. Was he getting old?

“You're just full of questions, aren't you?” But there was no edge in his voice, only mild amusement.

She smiled, propping herself up on her elbow and looking down at him. “Thought I'd press my advantage.” Elisha waited a second, then prodded. “What kind of mistakes?”

He shrugged. It seemed like a hundred years ago. When he'd still believed in things like love. “Got drunk one shore leave in San Francisco. Got married.”

Her chin slipped off her upturned hand. She felt as if someone had just detonated a bomb inside of her. “Married?”

Ryan nodded. He toyed with the idea of playing this out a little longer, but that would have been cruel. He gave her the short version.

“Sweet thing. She was a barmaid and I was out of my head. I was looking for love and she was looking for a green card. Didn't last long.”

“Then you're divorced?” Did that come out as if she was happy about it? She was going to have to watch her inflection, she upbraided herself.

“I'm divorced. Got the paper around here somewhere,” he said vaguely.

“Is that the only time you ever got married?”

“I've been pretty sober ever since.”

Did that mean he thought only people not in control of their faculties pledged to love and honor? “People get married when they're sober.”

“Not me.” His voice was flat. Final.

She took a stab at the reason. “Because your childhood scarred you so much?”

He looked at her sharply. Ordinarily, he put people who asked him personal questions like this in their place. Succinctly. Why he didn't now mystified him. It was like an out-of-body experience and he was observing himself play the part of someone else.

“I didn't exactly get a blueprint on how to maintain the perfect home life.”

“No,” she agreed. “But that shouldn't have stopped you. You said it yourself earlier.”

“Said what?”

“Like the Beatles sang, all you need is love.”

“Some people need more.” But then, who was he to judge? “Maybe drugs help some people over the rough spots.”

She was trying very hard to follow his train of thought. “You have too much character for that. To do drugs.”

It had never appealed to him. It meant the loss of control. And the last time he'd done that, he'd wound up with a wife. He'd learned fast. But that didn't give her the right to talk as if she knew him. “How do you know what I have?”

As she smiled at him, she trailed the tips of her fingers along his chest. Monday they'd be author and editor. Tonight belonged in a bubble all its own. A bubble that would have to break before the hour was up.

“I'm a pretty good judge of character. I know you're not as hard as nails, as you like everyone to think.”

He took exception to that. “I'm exactly as hard as nails.”

But she shook her head. “A man without a heart wouldn't make arrangements to have a portion of his royalties sent to a bank account for the father who abandoned him.”

Anger flared in his eyes. His father had shown up five years ago, his hand out. His first impulse had been to see how far he could toss the man. His second had been to give in to the pity he felt. So he'd set his father up with a monthly allowance on the stipulation that they were to have no further contact. His father had readily agreed. So much for parental love.

“How do you know that?”

“You're not the only one with connections. Granted, mine are minor compared to yours, but then my world is a lot smaller than yours.”

He could give in to his anger, but then he'd deprive himself of her company for the evening. Tomorrow there were boundaries to regain. Tonight belonged to another world. A world where the lady was full of surprises.

“You're something else, Max, you know that?” Raising her hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss to her palm.

The thrill was taking hold all over again. Showing her an Elisha she'd never been acquainted with. An Elisha she could get to like.

“No, but I'm beginning to find out.”

“Let the search resume,” he said, kissing her again.