Bundle of Joy (5 page)

"Geez, it's freezing in here," said Donohue.

Caroline pointed to the wall-to-wall furs. "Grab a coat, Charles. That's what they're made for."

He scowled at the lush silk-lined coats. "They're for women."

"Suit y
ourself." Caroline got up and chose a gorgeous full length sable. Under normal circumstances, she didn't believe in wearing fur, but this was definitely an extraordinary situation. "I didn't know freezing to death was a sign of virility."

He mumbled something vaguely incendiary but she chose to ignore it. A few hours ago she would have flown into battle, all flags flying. Now it was enough to watch the goosebumps break out all over his manly arms as he tried to pretend the numbing cold wasn't really bothering him.

He paced.

He jogged in place.

He even resorted to push-ups.

Burrowed deep inside her sable, Caroline couldn't resist a gentle barb. "There's a very masculine ranch mink back there," she said, stressing the word
ranch
. "I won't tell anyone, if that's what's worrying you."

"Nothing's worrying me," he lied. "I like to keep in shape."

"I've noticed." The words were out before she knew it, and she pushed her face more deeply into the luxuriant fur, praying he hadn't heard.

He had. Not that he said anything, mind you, but Caroline could tell by the glint in his green eyes, the swagger in his step, that he enjoyed the fact that she'd noticed his body and liked what she'd seen. A little voice inside her wondered, "What does he think of me?" but she firmly allowed it no quarter. Little voices like that had a way of getting you in trouble.

The overhead lamp flickered then went out, leaving only a pale wash of light from the miniscule bathroom that illuminated the far corner of the room.

"It got colder," said Donohue.

"I know," said Caroline. It had also gotten darker, scarier, and a great deal more intimate. She wished he would sit down somewhere--anywhere!--and not loom over her, all huge and shadowy and imposing.

The minutes ticked away while the mercury continued its downward slide. Finally, Donohue gave in to the inevitable and let Caroline retrieve the masculine mink she'd told him about. She struggled to keep a straight face as the extremely macho Charlie Donohue draped the coat around his torso sideways, just so no one could accuse him of wearing women's clothing.

"I wish I had a camera," said Caroline, teeth chattering. "You are certainly a sight."

"There's one good thing about having no lights. The less you can see, the luckier I am." He sat down next to her and extended his right hand. "A pact," he said. "Nothing said or done in here tonight goes beyond these four walls."

Caroline groaned comically. "Not even you in that fur coat?"

"Especially not me in this fur."

Solemnly they shook on it, Caroline's hand swallowed up in his larger one. His palm was warm, surprisingly so, and his warmth registered itself against her skin in a way both pleasurable and sensual.

"Sam and Murphy would love to see you in that coat," she said, trying to break the spell his touch had somehow woven about her. Her teeth were chattering and her words took on a staccato rhythm.

"Speaking of coats, I think you need another over you. You're shaking, Caroline."

Caroline didn't argue.
Caroline
.
He'd called her Caroline. She'd been "Bradley" and "lady," but never Caroline. The sound of her name on his tongue sent a shiver up her spine that had little to do with the polar temperature in the store room. Rising to her feet, she led the way through the darkened room toward the furs and they quickly undid all their hard work of a few hours ago. Together they made a soft pallet of minks to sit on, then Donohue covered them both with a foot-high blanket of chinchillas with a few sable tossed in for good measure.

The furs tickled her bare legs, but it was more a seductive sensation than a comical one. There was something almost unbearably erotic about the feel of the sleek, soft furs against her skin. It made her think of how his moustache would feel against the curve of her breast...or of how his broad and furry chest would feel against her lips or....

"You okay?" asked Donohue, peering into her eyes.

"F-fine," she managed. "I think the cold air is robbing me of brain cells."

"Come here," he said, pulling her closer to him. "You're shaking like a leaf."

"That's alright. I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You're a human icicle. Let's get a little body heat going."

"Charles!"
She didn't sound very upset at the suggestion. What she sounded was flirtatious, intrigued, and altogether too willing. "We'll add another layer of fur coats to the pile."

"That's not going to do it."

"I know." Her voice was a whisper. She slid a few inches closer to him.

He laughed and pulled her right up against him, then rearranged the fur coats until they were practically skin-to-skin. Their thin t-shirts provided virtually no barriers and Caroline was certain she could feel the springy hairs on his chest right through the cloth.

"I feel warmer already," said Donohue.

She looked up in time to see the lecherous twinkle in his eyes. "I should have known!" She struggled to pull away but he held her fast. She would have been disappointed had he done anything else. "You can let me go now, Charles. I doubt if we're in danger of freezing to death in here."

"You never know," said Donohue. "I wouldn't want to take the chance."

His heart was pounding beneath her ear, a steady soothing rhythm that made it hard for her to remember why she'd ever thought this whole arrangement was dangerous.

"Think of it this way," he continued. "Can you imagine the gossip if Sam and Murphy found our dead bodies in here?"

"It would serve them right," Caroline said, chuckling. "It's their fault we're in this predicament to begin with."

"I thought it was my fault. You had some choice words for me when I tripped the automatic lock a few hours ago."

A few of those choice words brought a blush to Caroline's cheeks. "You wouldn't have tripped the lock if Sam hadn't engineered this whole thing to begin with. Our deaths would be on her hands." She was proud of how gracious she sounded.

"We'd be the talk of Princeton."

"Yes," said Caroline, "but we wouldn't be around to enjoy all the attention. If I'm going to be the center of a scandal, I want to be able to read the headlines for myself."

The light in the bathroom blew and Caroline started in surprise as the room was plunged into total darkness. Donohue's arm went about her shoulder and she moved closer to him, heart pounding.

"Afraid of the dark?" His voice was low, intimate.

"Yes, but don't tell anyone." She struggled for a casual tone but failed miserably.

"Cross my heart," said Donohue. "We made a pact, remember? Nothing that happens here tonight goes beyond these four walls."

"You mean I could tell you my middle name is Letitia and you wouldn't embarrass me in front of your pals at O'Rourke's?"

"Not if you didn't tell anyone my middle name is Aloysius."

She crossed her heart beneath the layers of fur coats. "Promise."

He moved his own hand toward his heart as Caroline leaned forward to rearrange a sable wrap. His fingers brushed against the fullness of her breasts and time stopped for both of them.

He hesitated, drawn toward her softness and warmth.

She held her breath, praying he wouldn't draw away.

His hands slid beneath her breasts. He savored their weight for an endless moment, then drew his palms across her nipples, smiling into the darkness as they grew taut and demanding.

Fire. She was on fire. From her breasts to her belly to the juncture of her thighs, she was pure flame. Never had she felt anything like this wave of heat that seemed part of her blood and bone. She placed her hands against his chest, tugging gently at the neckline of his t-shirt until her palms rested flat against his warm skin. His chest hair was thick, altogether delightful and she barely fought down the urge to taste him with her tongue. She wanted him, wanted him more than she'd wanted anybody or anything in her life. She was out of control, beyond reason, intoxicated with desire.

Charlie was half out of his mind with wanting her. Her smell, her satiny skin, the soft moans from deep in her throat--all calculated to take a man past the point of no return. And she was willing. His fingers toyed at the hem of her t-shirt, easing it slowly up over her midriff. Her body was warm and pliable in his arms, his for the asking.

"Caroline?"

"Yes," she breathed, moving against him. Knowing what he asked. "Oh, yes-ss...."

The word was unnecessary but the sound of it, soft and sibilant, shimmered in the air between them. Her hands dropped down from his shoulders, her palms slowly drawing over the hard muscles of his chest as she memorized the feel of his body in the welcoming darkness.

"I wish I could see you," Donohue murmured against her hair as he lifted her t-shirt over her head.

She moaned as his lips found the curve of her breast. She was glad she had the cover of darkness to hide the look of naked desire she knew must be in her eyes. Her stomach muscles rippled with pleasure as he stripped her of her shorts and panties. The sensation of sable against her bare skin was almost too pleasurable, too exquisite to bear.

She heard the sound of cloth ripping as he literally tore the shirt from his body and tossed it aside. He raised his hips and unzipped his jeans and the next instant he was naked beside her on their pallet of fur, their bodies pressed close together, yearning, aching to be joined.

It took every ounce of self-control Charlie had at his command to keep from taking her right then. No preliminaries. No soft word and softer touches. What he felt was violent. Urgent. So hot and primal and undeniable that it bordered on the holy.

Somewhere deep inside his psyche, in that place where reason gave way to primitive emotion, he recognized the rightness of what they were doing. He felt invincible with Caroline in his arms.

She felt simply splendid.

He tilted his head. She lifted her chin. His mouth sought hers and she parted her lips for him. He stroked the fullness of her lower lip with the demanding tip of his tongue, teasing, anticipating, making promises she knew he would keep. A voluptuous sigh of pleasure rose up from deep inside her and he used that moment to claim her mouth for his own. Their kiss was pagan, abandoned, so powerfully sensual that she thought she would go up in flames from the sheer heat of it.

He tasted of champagne. She found herself growing dizzy from that marvelous taste. His moustache was as silky against her skin as she'd imagined; she couldn't resist stroking it lightly with the tip of her finger.

Charlie was drowning in the smell of her perfume. Light, sweet, laced with a hint of the exotic. He couldn't put a name to the scent but it seemed to him as he held her in his arms, that it was the very essence of Caroline. He wanted to taste her essence, fill his brain with her smell and feel.

She moved restlessly on their bed of furs as he stroked her inner thighs. He found her with his hand, pressing his palm against her moist heat. She melt
ed against him, open and ready for him.

Caroline gasped as he rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him. His large hands held her waist and he positioned her above him as easily as if she weighed nothing at all. He was in control, in every way possible, a man who knew what he wanted--and that she wanted it as much as he did.

Gently, so gently, he brought her lower until he pressed against her soft and tender flesh. Moaning, she drew her knees closer to the heat of his body, blessing the darkness that hid her fever from his eyes.

"Oh, Charlie," she whispered, giving herself up to the fever. "Don't make me wait."

His low and primitive cry was all she needed to hear.

They came together with a swiftness born of need. There was no time for questions or answers, for declarations or promises. Only the sweet and quick joining of two very different people whose lives should never have intertwined.

The benevolent darkness cradled them as they made love, binding them in an intimacy impossible in the unforgiving light of day. She recognized his tenderness and power. He understood her vulnerability and strength. If either had been asked to explain how it was that they knew these things, they would have been at a loss for logic has no place in matters of the heart.

Together they rode wave after wave of passion, discovering new ways to bring pleasure to one another as dawn approached.
They spoke little, except for words of praise or wonderment. The language of lovers since time began.

"I wish it never had to end," he said as the clock struck seven.

Caroline reached for her shoe and tossed it in the general direction of the clock. "I wish I never learned how to tell time."

"You were wonderful," he said, nuzzling against her neck.

She giggled--a strange sound from the sophisticated Caroline--and trailed a finger along the miraculous planes of his taut abdomen. "You were pretty splendid yourself."