Heart Signs (9 page)

“No, you’re not.” He chuckled, stepping closer to cradle her face in his large palm. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe it’s better if we keep sex off the table for a while.”

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever. So what’d you think about the game?”

He chuckled again, still cupping her face. He also moved almost imperceptibly closer. “Don’t get mad ’til you hear me out.”

“Too late,” she muttered.

“I’m the one who pushed things too fast, not you.”

“Which time?”

He stroked her jaw. “All the times. Everything from your voice to your face to just…well,
you
, makes me want more. To learn everything there is to know about Rory Fowler. But if we hop into bed, some of that might get lost. I don’t want to miss a single moment of you, Ror.”

Again with the
Ror
thing. She directed her attention over his shoulder at the canopy of colorful leaves backlit by the lights that rimmed the parking lot. The flaming red and orange foliage fluttered gently in the breeze. It was a perfect night and she was with the man she wanted to be with more than anything.

Right, wrong, it didn’t matter. She could lament what wasn’t or enjoy what was.

“Okay. I’m game for anything.”

“Has a man ever taken his time with you?” he asked quietly, instead of moving back as she’d expected. “Seduced you before he ever laid a hand on your body? Have you ever let him?”

She tensed, her stomach knotting as if he’d just told her he wasn’t attracted to her. In a way, this was worse. There at least she’d know where she stood. He’d turned the spotlight back on her and she didn’t know how to answer.

She didn’t want to be seduced. Not outside the bedroom and not by this disturbingly fascinating, complex man. If he did that, how would she ever steel her heart against everything she wasn’t ready to feel?

“Rory?”

It would be so simple to lie. Of course she’d been seduced. She’d had sex, hadn’t she? But they both knew what he was talking about involved so much more than just the interlocking of body parts.

“No,” she said finally, again tugging on her purse. Dammit, why had she shoved so much stuff inside? The thing weighed a ton. “I’m not big on patience. When I want something, I usually go for it.”

“Before you even have a chance to see if you want it at all?”

“Listen, Sam, if talking in riddles is your way of trying to ease back, don’t worry about it. I’m cool with—”

He leaned in and took her mouth with his, snatching away her words and her protests and whittling the moment down to just them. No words, no worries. Just two pairs of lips, two eager tongues and two unsteadily beating hearts that throbbed against each other when she pressed close.

“Rory.” He groaned her name, not giving her time to respond before he wrapped his hand around her neck and surged his tongue deeper, his breath sweetly filling her mouth. They’d ended up skipping the onion rings—amen to that—but she tasted beer and salt and a burst of heat from the hot sauce, each flavor distinct and unique.

More than that, his emotions flavored the kiss. His fear, his anticipation. The urgency that both drew her in and pushed her away.

When he gasped and pulled back, chest heaving, she swallowed the urge to yank him right back again. “That’s what I mean. You kiss like that, you’re going to end up in bed.” He glanced around as if he’d just remembered they were still at Loki’s. “Or up against a sturdy tree.”

She laughed. “That’s a bad thing?”

“Yeah.” His voice sounded gritty, raw. “It is. The first time we’re together, we’re going to do it right. I’m not using you for a pity fuck, Rory.”

“You think I’m with you because I feel sorry for you?”

“No. I think you like me. I also think you have a sensitive heart, more so than you even know. And if giving me your body made me feel better, you’d do it. But I want you to feel good too. I don’t want this to be about me, but about us. Give it time for there to be an us.”

She pressed her quivering lips together and tried to ignore that she now tasted like him. “What if all that time does is show us that there shouldn’t be an us at all?”

“Then so be it. Jumping into bed before either of us is ready won’t change that.”

“Oh, I’m ready.”

Instead of laughing, he reached out to trace her mouth with his big fingers, shocking her into stillness. “I want to make love to you properly. To be in the place where I can. Anything else is just shortchanging us both. And I already care for you too much to offer you anything less than my best, even if you’d take it. Even if you think you’re not worth more.”

The tears that sprang into her eyes were both unexpected and a pain in the ass.
Please God, don’t let him see them.
“It’s your call.”

“No, it’s ours. Both of ours.”

“Okay.” The breath she exhaled scalded her throat. “We’ll try it your way.”

“
Our
way, suggested by me.” The softness of his teasing smile made it easier for her to smile back. “But that doesn’t mean everything stops. I’m not saying I can go cold turkey. I might want to do right by you, but if I can’t at least hear you come again, I’ll probably lose my mind.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He took her hand and drew it down to his groin, his body stiffening when her fingers brushed his obvious erection. “See what I mean? I’m fucking steel for you. So don’t you dare think this is about rejection. Who I’m rejecting right now is me, for not being man enough to make love to you the way we both need.”

As much as she wanted to, she resisted curling her fingers around him and stroking that intriguingly hard, thick length. She’d explored that part of him once and wanted to again. But that wasn’t going to happen tonight.

“Okay.” With effort she drew her hand away, but not before he grabbed it and lifted it to his lips. He pressed them into her palm, his midnight eyes centered solely on hers.

She shivered a little as he turned and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “Do you feel like taking a walk? It’s a nice night.”

A walk
. Her panties were wet and her heart was sore and the guy wanted to go for a stroll. But she’d agreed to try, so she would. Maybe resentfully. Maybe even fearfully. But she’d do as he asked.

She plastered a smile on her face to match his. “Sure. Why the hell not?”

An hour later they were each in their respective homes and on the phone, ending the evening as they’d ended so many others recently. Her drink tonight was a cup of microwave hot cocoa, the warmth around her waist her comfy throw rather than the delicious weight of a man’s arm. But it was okay.

Better than okay.

“You know, I’ve never been one for talking much on the phone,” she murmured, setting aside her cocoa as the warm milk, the alcohol earlier and the sexy voice in her ear lulled her into a deeper relaxation than she’d ever known.

“Me either. I don’t really do it much. Except with you.”

She liked being his first. Maybe someday even his only. “I could kinda tell that first day we spoke,” she said, giggling softly. Only a couple weeks ago. How could that be?

“Didn’t think I was a natural, huh?” His wry tone teased free another laugh.

“No. But it works for me. Just like the rest of you. So…that getting to know you stuff. Tell me about your family. Parents?”

“Two. Both still alive. Wonderful, solid people. Mom’s a stockbroker. Dad’s a vet.”

“Mine are both alive too. Still together, mostly. They fight. For good reasons.” She sighed. “Mom’s a homemaker, Dad’s a lawyer. He spends a lot of nights at the office. You know?”

A long moment passed. “With his secretary?” he asked quietly.

“I honestly don’t know. But that’s as good a guess as any other.” She pressed on. “Siblings?”

“Four brothers. You?”

“A younger brother. He doesn’t live around here. Split as soon as he hit eighteen and moved to Nashville. His plan is to become the next Kenny Chesney.” She sipped her cocoa. “Are your brothers normal?”

“What’s normal?”

“Good point.” She laughed and set aside her cocoa, then tucked her cheek against her pillow. Snowdrop shuffled over to curl up under her arm, already purring. “Tell me more.”

He talked at length about them, sharing stories of how the two youngest, Toby and Luke, still pulled crazy pranks every time he stopped by the house. Which was often, she gathered, since his affection for his family dripped from every word. Billy worked with him at his shop and was his best friend. He had twin girls, a wife and a mohawk, in that order. And Owen drove long-haul trucks, making his life on the road. He ran through women like newspapers and liked drinking Coke with lime.

“And he loves stupid hats.” Sam’s rich laugh flowed over her skin as if he were right there in the room. “The best is the cap with the mini keg and a straw. He fills it with Coke while he’s on the road. Doesn’t care who he meets, the hat never comes off.”

She laughed with him, drifting on his voice. On the stories. The Millers sounded like an amazing family. Tight, loving. The kind she’d always wanted and had almost given up on ever having.

But right now, in the darkness, his voice on the line gave her hope that anything was possible. He held her fate in her hands. Just like he already held a part of her she hadn’t offered to anyone else.

“Ror? You sound sleepy.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“I’ll let you go then.”

Her happy warmth began to dissipate. “No,” she said, a little too desperately. “Don’t. Just keep talking. Tell me about your childhood. Or college. Or about how you started your business.”
Just don’t hang up.

“All right. I’ll tell you about all of those things.” He paused, then murmured, “I don’t want to let you go either.”

She closed her eyes and let out a trembling breath as she squeezed Snowdrop a bit too hard. “So….how do you feel about sushi?”

“Hate it. You?”

“Me too.” She grinned in the dark. “You know, maybe I should get a beer hat.”

I
f he’d expected
things to get easier with Rory’s agreement to go slow, he’d been wrong.

They spoke every night, more often than not talking until the wee hours. Falling asleep together wasn’t uncommon. Nor was waking up to hear her giggling as she whispered, “We did it again.”

His ability to concentrate disappeared, but he didn’t care. For the first time in years he actually smiled at random people he passed on the street. He picked up his cell already grinning when he knew it was her.

Instead of counting off the passing days with the billboards he needed to write, he filled them with work and Rory. Hell, they even had dinner a couple times like normal people. Nothing fancy, just relaxed meals at the diner near her place. Always around lots of other people to reduce temptation.

Not that it mattered. He wanted her when he was in a crowd just as much as when they were alone.

After each dinner he walked her home, holding her close to his side as if he expected her to disappear. But every night she was waiting on the other end of the line. She couldn’t know how much she gave him just by being there.

A couple weeks into their “thing”, whatever it was, he decided to try to express his growing feelings the way he did best. Nothing too over the top or schmaltzy. Just honest.

I
dream
of holding you at night. You’re so beautiful, so full of the laughter I’ve denied myself for so long. You make me realize everything I’ve been missing.

I intend to go slow with you, and make love to you the way you deserve. All night long. The best part will be feeling your breaths on my cheek rather than hearing them through the phone that makes you seem so far away.

Longing for you is the sweetest anticipation I’ve ever known.

H
itting
send on his email made his chest tighten until he had to suck in a lungful of air. Christ, would she think he was a sap?

“She already knows you are, pal,” he said under his breath, pushing himself to his feet.

He got dressed and checked to make sure Junior had plenty of food and a clean litter box. Once the little purr machine had gotten his morning complement of kisses, he set the kitten back in his bed and left his apartment in a hurry, not wanting to stand around waiting for Rory’s reply. She was at work, like he should be. Reading his love-starved—ahem, lust-starved—notes wasn’t her number one priority.

On the way he grabbed a cup of coffee and a blueberry bagel from the shop on the corner, eating both as he walked. He needed a little movement to take his mind off what he’d just done.

He’d never written something for someone other than his wife. Never wanted to. Yet every word he’d put down for Rory had made him smile, imagining her reaction as she read them.

“Nice of you to show up to work,” Billy called from the front lot of the shop, his blue-tipped mohawk glinting wetly in the morning sun. He never skimped on his gel, that was for sure.

“I wasn’t nice enough to grab you breakfast though.” Grinning, Sam tossed aside the last of his bagel for the birds and patted his brother on the arm as he continued inside.

The first thing he did, as always, was check the cash register. His shop was old school and had an old school cash register to go with it. He had the credit card scanner and sleek computer, but the register with its faded smiley face stickers would always stay.

“I didn’t steal your dough, so chill.” Billy leaned his beefy forearms across the counter. “So what’s the deal, bro? You have something going on I don’t know about?”

Sam unzipped the bag of receipts and checked to see what business they’d done that morning so far. “Going on?”

“You’re smiling all the time. It’s sort of creepy. But the bags under your eyes have their own zip code.” Billy scratched his goatee. “You, ah, don’t have a woman, do ya?”

Sam managed not to snap his head up at the question. “Can’t a guy smile without getting the third degree?”

“You? No. Well, at least not after the past couple years. Before then, yeah. You used to smile a lot.” Billy grabbed Sam’s coffee and tipped back the lid to take a swig. “It’d be great if you did, you know. Because you deserve one.”

“Do I?” He kept sorting through receipts, thankful that his brother couldn’t hear the incessant throb in his chest.

“Hell, yeah. You’re a good guy, Sam. Wish you’d realize it one of these days.”

The pain between his shoulder blades came swiftly but left just as fast. He lifted his head and met Billy’s concerned brown gaze. “Workin’ on it,” he said softly, taking back his coffee.

Billy smiled, revealing the front tooth he’d chipped freshman year when he’d rammed into a stop sign on his bike. “Glad to hear it.”

Without saying anything more, Billy went back out front to polish the vintage El Camino he’d been stroking like a back alley mistress before he’d come inside to hassle his older brother. Sam dove headfirst into the piles of paperwork that had accumulated, after turning off his cell phone. If he didn’t, he’d be looking for her call all damn day.

They broke for a lunch of subs and soda at two-thirty. Sprawled out around the table in the back, he, Billy and Shep, the college kid who worked afternoons, swapped stories about that morning’s customers. Business had been brisk, thank God, which meant the money would keep flowing in.

Money he would funnel a large portion of toward paying for billboards dedicated to a dead woman.

Sam frowned and set down the last of his sub, the chicken salad that had tasted so good a moment before now clogging his throat. He could save a lot of money if he stopped doing them. Or even cut back the frequency. But he wasn’t going to do that.

Was he?

The voices around him dimmed, fading into a buzz of white noise as Rory strolled into the shop, looking as lovely as a beam of captured sunlight. She glanced around, not seeing them in the room in the back. “Hello?” she called.

“Hello to you too,” Shep murmured, lurching to his feet while Billy threw down his napkin and laughed.

“Hang on,” Sam said, rising. “I’ve got her.”

Both Billy and Shep glanced his way. “Ah ha,” Billy muttered, jerking his chin as if to say
told you so
.

Sam didn’t respond. He walked out to Rory, each footstep echoing on the concrete floor. She wore slacks and a fluffy pale-pink sweater that curled up around her face. Her eyes widened as he approached, almost as if she hadn’t expected to find him. Or maybe the same stab of heat he felt was now thrusting through her belly too.

He’d used the wrong word. Longing didn’t come close. This was why seeing each other in person was so dangerous. One look, one gulp of her with his starved eyes, and she filled so many of the hollows he’d carried for so many months. If he let her, she’d fill the rest. He could be that greedy. Just take, take, take. Why should he have to give when he’d waited so long?

But then her gloss-slickened lips parted and the jolt of need spread, turning into a warmth that didn’t merely singe. The memory of her sexy laughter exploded in his mind. Air bubbles from champagne. A poem only she knew the words to.

She was whole and real, not someone he held in his mind and heart but whom he couldn’t touch. God, she was so alive.

“Rory,” he managed, lifting his hands to frame her flushed cheeks. Her startled gasp became a moan that flowed between his lips when their mouths fused. She opened for him at once, her dark lashes falling down to hide her eyes. It didn’t matter. He tasted what she felt when her tongue curled tentatively around his.

Excitement. Anticipation. Fear. And above them all, strawberry lip gloss, sweet and sticky.

Somehow getting stuck didn’t seem nearly so scary anymore.

He didn’t settle for her hesitant exploration. Couldn’t. He pushed his hands into her hair, holding her head back so he could plunge the way the ferocious need inside him demanded. She reached up to grip his shirt and held on, swaying against him. Grinding her soft curves over where he was so hard.

She responded as if she’d been waiting for his mouth, angling open for him to do exactly as he wished. Her moans of encouragement drew him down deeper, offering him the permission he hadn’t realized he still needed.

He dropped his arms to her waist, as much for support as to crush her closer. At the meeting of their bodies, the gears in his head shut off. Everything chugged to a halt.

Control…he’d had it once. Not anymore. Not with her.

She shifted her head to breathe and he dragged her right back, sucking her swollen lower lip between his teeth roughly enough that he tasted blood. Then and only then did the fever riding his back begin to subside.

When he finally looked down at her, her gray eyes were huge and hazed with pleasure. His breath whistled through his teeth at the sight—Christ, at the
feeling
—of her body clinging to his from her breasts to her thighs. Her small fists were still lodged around his shirt.

As petite as she was, she didn’t feel tiny in his arms. On the contrary. She was big enough to take him out with a single blow.

“Weren’t lying about the longing,” she whispered. “There’s a tree trunk against my belly.”

For a moment, he stared at her. Then her composure cracked with a giggle and a quick thump against his chest. He laughed, pulling her with him as he turned toward the guys who’d come out of the back room.

“This is Rory,” he said, using her as a human shield for the “tree trunk” he wasn’t about to show off. “Rory, this is Shep, my part-time clerk. And—”

“Billy, the man with the mohawk.” She gave a little wave and curled tighter against Sam’s chest. Not exactly the best move to chop down that wood but he appreciated her attempt to hide it.

“Nice to meet you, Rory,” Shep said when Billy didn’t reply.

“You too.” She glanced at Billy, who was clearly sizing her up. “Did someone forget to tell me there was a quiz?” she asked sweetly. “Since you seem like you’re looking for answers.”

“You’re a smart-ass.”

She shrugged. “Guilty as charged.”

“Then I think we’ll get along just fine.” Billy gave her his trademark half-grin and held up his hand, offering Sam a very obvious thumbs-up behind his spread fingers. Sam rolled his eyes, but he didn’t miss how the thread of tension in Rory’s body disappeared.

She disguised her nerves so well that touching her was the only way he knew for sure what she was feeling. A hardship he was more than willing to shoulder.

“So, wanna eat lunch with us?” Billy asked. “Or would you rather keep eating my brother’s face?”

Her indelicate sniff cut off Sam’s retort. “Depends what you have.”

“Half a roast beef and grape soda, going once.”

“Sold.” She grinned and shifted toward Sam. “It’ll work up my appetite to eat more of you later,” she said in a stage whisper. Her face blanched as the guys hooted with laughter. “Ah, erm, I meant—”

“We’ll just leave it that,” Sam said, closing her smiling lips with his fingers.

While they ate, she regaled them with stories about her job and the weird requests she’d dealt with over the years. The funniest one was the billboard for the woman looking to be kept by a rich sugar daddy who’d had to pull her ad after a week because she got too many offers. Last Rory had heard from the woman she was moving to Venezuela with a guy old enough to be her great-grandfather.

She never mentioned that she’d met Sam through the billboards he wrote for Dani, instead making it seem as if they’d discussed possibly doing one for the shop. Billy narrowed his eyes at that, but he didn’t say anything. Better than anyone, his brother knew how he squeezed his pennies, especially when it came to advertising. In this case, an implausible lie was better than explaining the truth. He couldn’t handle the questions that would come after.

You’re writing billboards to a dead woman who didn’t want you even when she was alive? Now you’re falling for the woman who took the orders?

Yeah, so it sounded pretty fucked up.

After Billy had shared his daughters’ latest victories on their training bikes, Rory glanced at her watch and sighed. “Duty calls.”

“We’ll just go do…something,” Billy decided, tugging Shep with him though the younger man protested. “And we’ll just shut this door,” he added with a grin, pulling it closed behind them.

Rory shook her head and set down her soda. “They’re such boys. Assuming we’re going to use every opportunity to—”

He grabbed the back of her chair, grateful for the casters that made it easy to yank her closer. His mouth was on hers before she’d finished the statement. Except this time they were both laughing before his tongue even made it between her lips.

“I believe strongly in saving the trees,” she said soberly, drawing back so that her breath whispered over his raw mouth. They’d attacked each other like savages before—okay, that was more him than her—and his lips felt abused in the best way. She closed her nimble fingers around his length and made that seductive purring noise he couldn’t get enough of. “Though this one’s been pruned substantially since the last time I…”

“Rubbed all over it?” He grinned and flipped her hair back from her forehead.

“Don’t insult the tree huggers.” Her alluring pout so completely took his focus he almost didn’t realize she was inching down his zipper. “Or tree lickers,” she continued, dropping to the floor between his knees.

He tried to speak as she drew his waking cock free of his boxers and kissed the tip, her pursed lips blowing a light, teasing stream of air over his aroused flesh. He should stop her. He needed to stop her. “Ah, fuck. Slow. We’re going slow.”