Her Man Friday (29 page)

But anything else she might have said dried up in her mouth, because slowly, leisurely, oh, so leisurely, he began to wrap her hair around his fist. Over and over again he turned his hand, winding her hair loosely about his fingers until they were nearly obscured by the long tresses. And all the while, his gaze remained fixed on the motion, as if he weren't quite sure why he was doing it, or what he would do when he couldn't wind any more around his fingers.

Then, just as she thought he would pull her forward, as quickly as he had begun the gesture, he halted it, lifting his gaze to lock with hers. "Leo," he said softly. "Call me Leo. Please."

She hesitated for a moment, not sure she could say the word aloud, not sure she could say
anything
out loud, because her entire body seemed to have shut down operation so that the thrill of heat winding through her would have a completely unhampered journey. He had simply been Mr. Freiberger, alleged bookkeeper for Kimball Technologies, for so long, Lily wasn't sure she could view him as anything else.

But somehow, running her tongue lightly over her dry lips, and in a very soft voice, she managed to utter the word, "Leo."

It was, evidently, all the encouragement he needed, because after that single concession to familiarity, he angled his head to the side, tugged lightly on her hair to bring her forward, and covered her mouth with his.

And then, Lily knew he would never be Mr. Freiberger again.

It was an extraordinary kiss, unlike any she had ever received from a man before, at once questioning and commanding, tentative and absolute. Leo kissed her as if he needed her for sustenance, for strength, for life itself. He cupped his other hand over the back of her head to urge her toward him even more, and with one little step forward, Lily was in his arms.

It was, she decided immediately, a very nice place to be, and how wonderfully convenient that she fit so well. She would have thought such a large man would intimidate her, would frighten her, would swallow her in one big bite. But Leo made her feel as if she were a part of him, returning after far too long a separation. Without hesitation, she curved her palms over the planes and angles of his hard chest, relishing every soft quiver of flesh as he moved. Then she pushed her hands up over his shoulders, and looped her arms around his neck. She, too, cupped a hand over the back of his head, threading her fingers through the short, silky strands of his hair, and pulled him downward. Then she pushed herself up on tiptoe, launching herself into the kiss.

Oh, my. It was even better when she helped.

Evidently, Leo thought so too, because a soft, contented sound erupted from somewhere deep inside him. He took another tiny step forward and slanted his head to the other side, to deepen the kiss. Lily opened to him willingly, and he slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her resolutely, thoroughly, wantonly. She heard another soft sound of satisfaction, and, not surprisingly, she realized that this time, it came from somewhere deep inside her. He just made her feel so…

Oh…

And she wanted to keep feeling that way. Forever.

"Leo," she murmured against his lips. She wasn't sure what she was going to say, but instinctively, she needed to slow down some. Not a lot. Just some.

But Leo seemed not to hear her, because he only claimed her mouth again, more insistently this time. He moved the hand entangled in her hair to cup her jaw, skimming the other down to the small of her back to press her against him. Lily indulged in another kiss for some moments more, then remembered that she had been trying to say something.

She just wished she could remember what.

"Leo," she tried again, doubling her fists loosely against his chest. "Please. We have to slow down."

This time he listened to her—sort of. He released her mouth, but left his hands where they were, then dipped his forehead to rest it against hers. He closed his eyes and took a few slow, deep breaths, as if he were trying to level off his heart rate. She knew that, because it was exactly the same thing she was doing herself. For long moments, they only stood there silently, heads touching, hands exploring, trying to match their respiration and steady their pulse.

And then Leo said, "Lily."

It was the first time she had heard her name spoken in his voice, and never before had she realized what an erotic connotation her name had. Of course, had anyone else been saying it,
Lily
wouldn't have sounded erotic at all. But Leo's dark, rich baritone was a sound that reminded her of good, mellow cognac warmed in a man's palm. And whenever she thought of a man's palm, she thought of his. And when she thought of his palm, she thought about how it would feel on her. And in his voice, her name came out sounding like a promise full of purpose, full of longing, full of impatience.

Instead of looking at him, she fixed her gaze on the hands she had splayed open over the nubby knit of his sweater. "Yes?" she asked quietly.

"Lily, I… I want to make love to you."

So much for slowing her heart rate. "Do you?"

She sensed, more than saw, him nod. "Yes. I do. Very badly."

"How interesting," she managed to reply. "I was just thinking that
I'd
like to make love to
you
, too, Leo."

She braved a glance up at his face, only to find him smiling down at her. So she smiled, too, but for some reason, she was sure hers wasn't nearly as confident or as certain as his was.

"Well, well, well," he said. "Great minds think alike."

She chuckled low, but it came out sounding a bit tense to her ears, and she hoped he didn't hear how very nervous she was. "I miss you when you're not at Ashling," she said, wondering why she should confess such a thing.

"Do you?"

She nodded. "The house feels so empty without you there."

He lifted a hand to brush the backs of his knuckles gently over her cheek, and Lily's eyes fluttered closed so that she might better savor the sensation of his touch. Involuntarily, her lips parted a fraction, as if she couldn't… quite… get enough air. Or something. Deep inside her a curl of heat unwound and seeped into every cell in her body, and she found herself wanting him to move his hand lower… and lower… and lower still…

"That house would feel empty if you were entertaining the entire Arab Emirates," he said quietly. "It's much too large."

"Yes," she agreed, turning her head into the soft sweep of his knuckles. "It is."

"I like places that are a bit smaller," he told her.

"Me, too."

"
A
bit more cozy."

"Yes."

"A bit more intimate."

"Mm-hm."

"Like my bedroom, for example."

"Ah."

"What do you say, Lily?" he asked. "Would you like to come up and see my etchings?"

She opened her eyes slowly, taking her time to focus on his face. What she saw there heartened her some—he seemed to be no less nervous about what was happening than she was—but the coil of anxiety threading through her still prevented her from acting too rashly. Regardless of how much she wanted to ignore her troublesome, rational mind.

"I… I…" She inhaled a deep breath and released it slowly. "I don't know, Leo. This is just going so—"

"I like the way you say my name," he interjected. "And I like saying yours, too. Leo and Lily. Our names go together well, don't they?"

She hesitated only a moment before responding, "Yes. They do."

"I wonder if our bodies will fit together as well."

A little explosion went off in her belly at the roughness that edged his voice when he said what he did. He wanted her. Perhaps even as much as she wanted him. But he was leaving it up to her, she thought. Somehow, she knew instinctively that whatever she said, whatever she decided, he would go along with it.

For one long moment, she remained silent, unsure what to say. She opened her hands over his chest again, pressing her fingertips into the soft fabric of his sweater, searching, she suddenly understood, for his heartbeat. When she found it, she felt it racing beneath her fingertips, and she realized that he really was every bit as frightened and uncertain as she was. Somehow, the knowledge made all the difference.

Tipping her head back, she gazed up into his face, then curved her palm over his rough jaw. And then, very, very quietly, she told him, "I guess there's only one way to find out, isn't there?"

Leo's bedroom upstairs was furnished in much the same way as the lower portion of his home, Lily noted as she preceded him into the room. Muted earth tones, clean lines on all the furnishings, few accessories. Clearly, he preferred for his surroundings to be uncluttered, minimal, tidy. It was something she'd already noticed about him when he was working at Ashling. Where Schuyler's desk was normally piled high with all matter of unidentifiable refuse, Leo had always kept his things set well apart, and his things had always been stacked in an organized, orderly fashion.

She wondered suddenly if he felt the same way about his life, if he wanted to keep things organized and orderly there, too. If so, they could run into a few problems along the line, because Lily was by no means tidy and methodical in the way she went about doing things. Schuyler often wondered how she managed to keep everything together as well as she did, and he'd often remarked over the years how amazed he was that she'd run his life as well as she had. But Lily had a certain way of doing business, that was all. And that way just… worked.

Of course, her worries about a future with Leo might be completely unfounded anyway, because in worrying about such a thing, she was assuming the two of them
had
a future together. And that might not be the case at all. Not that Lily didn't think they were compatible, because they most certainly seemed to be, in virtually every area—intellectually, emotionally, spiritually, sexually. But she'd always been of the opinion that for a relationship to succeed, then there had to be things like love and devotion, and fidelity and loyalty, and trust and honesty.

Love and devotion, she figured she could manage with little effort. In fact, she was finding it difficult
not
to fall in love with Leo, and the devotion part just naturally went along with that. Fidelity and loyalty, too, ought not to be a problem, because why would a woman be unfaithful or disloyal to a man like him, seeing as how there were no other men like him on the planet?

Trust and honesty, though…

Ah, there was the rub. Because not only was she growing more and more certain that Leo was misrepresenting himself for some reason—she just wished she could figure out why—but she knew that she was misrepresenting herself, too. There was so much he didn't know about her. So much that, should he find out, he may very well never want to speak to her again. There were things in life that she had done, that she continued to do still, that were, at best, unethical. And if Leo found out about those activities, if he knew for sure what she had been doing, what she continued to do to this day, and if he realized she had been keeping the truth from him…

Well, then a future with him might very well be impossible. He seemed to be a man who saw everything in terms of black and white. And he seemed to be a man who demanded honesty from an individual, first and foremost. To try to justify to him the actions she'd performed that, although certainly orchestrated for good, decent reasons, were still pretty much unethical, and to try to explain why she had lied about it from the beginning, would be like trying to talk a policeman out of giving her a speeding ticket because she was taking a sick cat to the vet.