Just This Once (26 page)

“Time to go,” he told her, pulling back but keeping his arm
around her. He took her back to the table where, she was amused to see, he
swiftly broke up the evening with just a few words. 

“That was a nice time,” she told him when they were in his
car, headed back to St. Heliers. “Thank you for taking me.”

“My pleasure. Entirely. My place all right, or do you have
an early morning?’

“Mmmm, no, that’s fine,” she responded dreamily.

After that, they didn’t talk as he steered the car expertly
through the busy downtown streets, full of pedestrians even on this Tuesday
night. Drew put his left hand on her thigh and kept it there as he drove,
stroking slowly under the hem of her skirt, his hand warm and hard on her leg,
his fingers moving back and forth, back and forth against the smooth skin of
her inner thigh.

Hannah sat in a haze of arousal, wondering how just his
touch could excite her so much, whether he even knew the effect he was having
on her. Was the leg an erogenous zone? she thought confusedly. She’d have to
look it up.

The drive home seemed to last forever. But as he finally
shoved the front door closed behind them, Drew dropped his keys on the hall
table and reached to pull her close. He cupped her face in his hands and
threaded his fingers through the mass of hair, pulling her in for a long, slow
kiss. Keeping his mouth on hers, he leaned back against the door and pulled her
bottom tightly against him.

“I’ve been looking at this all night,” he murmured as he
reached his hands under her skirt and ran them over her. “And so has every
other fella in the club. So glad I’m the one who gets to hold it.”

He lifted her off her feet to mold her body to his, holding
her in place with one strong arm while the other stroked over each rounded
globe, and down into the sensitive places at the tops of her thighs.

 “I don’t think so,” she said shakily. “I think that’s just
you. But oh,” she sighed, “that feels good.” She squirmed closer, pressing
herself against his erection and seeking out his mouth again for another deep
kiss. And felt the shivery thrill of the contact go through her, all the way
down to her toes.

He lowered her, moving both hands now, stroking, squeezing.
As she lay against his chest, he pulled her up against him with one big hand,
reaching the other under the hem of her panties from behind, touching her,
rubbing, feeling where she was already wet. His fingers moved inside her, and
she gasped and moved against him again, trying to get closer. He bent his head
to kiss the side of her neck, moving his lips over the tender flesh, then
taking a nip that brought another gasp and a moan.

She was breathing hard now, held against him tightly as his
wicked hands and mouth continued to tease and torment her. She lost track of
time, felt herself melting against him as he kept up the slow, steady assault. Every
part of her seemed to be reaching out to him, wanting to hold all of him
against her, inside her. He seemed to have the same thought, because the next
thing she knew, he had picked her up and was carrying her.

“Wait,” she protested. “No. I’m heavy. Your leg,” she reminded
him.

He laughed and pulled her more tightly against him, bending
to kiss her again as she lay in his arms. “You’re the sweetest armful I’ve ever
held. But if you think you’re heavy, maybe I should give you a chance to feel
how heavy I am. When I’m on top of you, you can tell me.”

His words sent another jolt of desire straight through her.
In answer, she wrapped her arm around him and pulled him down for a kiss.
Somehow he managed to get them upstairs and into his bedroom that way, slapping
the light on with one swift movement and rolling with her onto the big bed.
Coordination, she thought hazily. 

Then she stopped thinking as he drew back, pulled off her
shoes, and began to unfasten her dress, taking his own slow time with each tiny
button, and kissing each inch as he uncovered it.

“Have I mentioned,” he asked as he flicked open yet another
little shell, “how much I like it when you wear these things with all the
buttons? It’s like unwrapping a present.”

“A present just for me,” he finished, parting the last
button and lifting her as he pulled the dress from underneath her.

She lay in her dark purple bra and panties, her cloud of
hair, the color of moonlight, spilling around her, and held up her arms to him.

“I’ll be your present,” she promised. “Come and be mine.”

In answer, he unclipped the lace demibra, letting it fall
open, and reached for her. She looked down, and the sight of his large brown
hands covering her white breasts sent an erotic thrill through her as strong as
an electric shock. She gasped as his thumbs reached her sensitive nipples and
he bent his head to take one into his mouth. She arched against him, so aroused
by now that just that contact took her close to the edge. When he shifted his
mouth to the other breast and bit gently, she cried out, loudly enough that he
smiled against her.

“Mine,” he said as he pulled back to look at her again.
Then, slowly, he was reaching inside her panties again, rubbing his fingers
over her. “Mine.”

She was so close, just the touch and his words were enough. She
felt herself convulsing against him, her hips arching off the bed, crying out
her release.

He couldn’t figure out, afterwards, how he had got rid of
his own clothes that fast. He only knew that he had to be inside her, now, as
she lay back, still shuddering and gasping, her hips rising and falling.

“I need you . . .  Please,” she whimpered as he came to her.

 But as he eased inside her sweet slickness, he slowed down,
reached for her hands, and threaded his fingers through hers. They made love
like that, slowly and intensely, looking into each other’s eyes as she gasped
and moaned under him, her hands held tightly beneath his. He kept the pace
maddeningly slow, even as she shuddered, begging him, her hips rising urgently
to meet his, to hurry his pace.

He watched her as he kept on, slow and sweet, watched her
moving beneath him, saw her arch her neck and, finally, lift into her orgasm,
felt her muscles clench around him as her cries filled his ears. And then, at
last, he found his own release, every muscle going rigid as he poured into her
in hot, sweet spasms that left him shaking.

Afterwards, she lay with him, her hand on his chest as he
stroked her hair back from her face. She drifted off to sleep without another
word, entwined with him, secure in his arms.

Hannah woke to find Drew handing her a cup of tea.

“Six-thirty,” he told her. “Unless you want to go to work in
yesterday’s clothes, I’d better be dropping you home.”

“Oh,” she moaned. “It feels so early.” But she sat up and
took the heavy mug, grateful for the warmth and the caffeine. Normally she
bounced out of bed and moved briskly into her morning routine. But today she
felt languorous, like a spoiled cat. She just wanted to stretch out on her
cushion and doze the morning away.

He smiled at the picture she made, dressed only in her hair,
in the middle of his bed with the sheets rumpled around her. “It feels like a
good day to spend in bed,” he agreed. “Reckon I wouldn’t mind. But I’ll resist
temptation and take you home instead.”

Her feeling of blissful contentment lasted all the way back
to her flat. All the way through his lingering goodbye kiss and promise to call
her that night from the hotel in South Africa. All the way through her shower,
getting dressed, and preparing her breakfast. Right up until she sat at her
kitchen table, a spoonful of oatmeal in her hand, looking at a teaser just
below the newspaper’s masthead. A picture of Drew, with the caption, “Is he
taken?” directing her to page B15.

Hardly knowing what to think, she turned to the photo
gallery at the back of the sports section. And stared with shock at a picture
of . . . herself. Herself and Drew, more accurately. It was from the night
before, she realized, when he had kissed her following their dance.

Cell phone, she thought. Somebody had sent it into the paper,
and they had already shoehorned it in. She quickly scanned the few lines,
finding with relief that she wasn’t named.

“Drew Callahan gets up close and personal with a blonde
beauty at a City nightspot,” she read. “Sources say she’s a Yank. Why not give
the Kiwi girls a go, Skipper?” 

“Oh no,” she groaned. She wished it weren’t Wednesday
morning, that she didn’t have to go in to work. But maybe nobody had seen it.
Many people never read the paper, she reminded herself, certainly not in the
early morning. She wasn’t named, and it was just one picture in the midst of
many. So maybe nobody would notice. Or nobody would recognize her, she thought
hopefully.

As soon as she stepped into the office, though, she saw with
a sinking heart that her hope was misplaced. Several people stood in a group,
talking over a copy of the offending newspaper. They turned as they saw her,
falling silent and moving away a bit guiltily.

She put on a bright, nonchalant smile, and called out,
“Morning, everyone.”

“Morning,” she heard, as the others stepped back to their
desks and began to look busy. She sighed with relief. But there was Lisa, from
the sales staff and frankly, not her favorite person, approaching with an avid
smile. No such luck.

“Morning, Lisa,” she said briskly. “How are you?”

“Hannah,” Lisa gushed, with a warmth that she had certainly
never showed Hannah before, “why didn’t you
tell
us you were dating Drew
Callahan? What’s he like? How long have you two been going out? How did you
meet him?”

“He’s a friend. People put all sorts of things in the paper,
you know. You can’t believe all the rumors you hear. Nothing exciting to tell,
I’m afraid.”

Lisa wasn’t to be discouraged so easily, however. “Come on,
then,” she urged. “We can all see how he was kissing you. You can’t tell me
that’s nothing.”

“I’m afraid that’s all there is,” Hannah replied firmly.
“The newspapers can make a whole story out of one picture, you know. Sorry, but
I really need to get to work now.”

“Maybe next time you know where the team is going to be, you
could take me along.” Lisa wasn’t ready to give up yet. “I’d love to meet
them.”

“They don’t necessarily all hang out together, Lisa,” Hannah
answered, as patiently as she could. “They’re individual people, you know. And
I’ve only met a few of them. It’s not like I’m invited to team functions. I’m
afraid I’m not in a position to introduce you to anybody. But it’s not a very
big place, Auckland. You’re probably just as likely to run into one of them as
you are any other guy. And you’re a beautiful woman. I’m sure you don’t have
any problem attracting men without my help.”

Lisa preened herself a little. “Well, I do think I’ve got
something to offer.” Her quick glance at Hannah’s less-spectacular chestline
confirmed just what it was that Lisa thought she had that Hannah didn’t.

Hannah could almost feel the question, “Why did he pick
you?”
Your guess is as good as mine, girlfriend, she admitted to herself. But she
was glad for Drew’s sake that he
was
dating her, instead of someone like
Lisa.

Mollified at last, Lisa moved off, and Hannah was thankfully
able to lose herself in work. Others, she saw from the speculative glances and
occasional comment she received throughout the morning, were curious as well,
but nobody else possessed the effrontery or the sheer bad manners to make as
bald an approach as Lisa had. Or perhaps Lisa had told them there was nothing
in it, after all. They’d probably believe that, too. She was nobody’s idea of
WAG material, she knew.

The ordeal of her day wasn’t over, though, she found. While
going over the new U.S. campaign with Kathryn, she found herself being invited
to lunch by the Marketing Director—an event unusual enough to raise her
antennae. Sure enough, when they were seated in the café with salads before
them, Kathryn wasted no time in starting in.

 “Hannah,” she began warmly. “I didn’t realize that you had
already begun to get so well acquainted with important people in the country.
Well, hiring you was certainly a good decision. I wanted to be sure to mention
that we’re always happy to provide free merchandise to any of our celebrities,
especially our sportsmen. As a marketing professional, you will have realized
how important our rugby teams are to us here, and what a plus it would be to
have the players wearing our clothing. I’ll tell Henry to make sure you have
access to stock for that purpose.”

Oh dear, Hannah thought. She paused for a few breaths,
choosing her words carefully.

“I think you may be jumping to a conclusion,” she finally
answered. “I’m not really in a position to offer merchandise to the team. And
I’m afraid that it would be inappropriate for me to use any . . . personal
connection to further my professional goals.”

She trembled a little, waiting for the response, but
determined not to get herself into a position to be pressured.

Kathryn was clearly disappointed, but she smoothly changed
tactics. “Of course, I understand that,” she said soothingly. “I’d never ask
you to do something that felt wrong to you. But you know, in your case, we
could make an exception to our normal employee clothing discount. If you’re
going to get your picture into the paper, maybe next time it could be in some 2
^nd
Hemisphere clothes, hmmm? We have that new raspberry wrap dress, you know,” she
mused. “I think that would look wonderful on you, with your coloring. That’s a
perfect dress to wear on an evening out. Why don’t you stop by and get one in
your size today? Go through the jerseys, too, and take anything you like.
Wearing our clothes more wouldn’t compromise your principles, surely.”

Hannah smiled at her. “Of course, I’d love to have more 2
^nd
Hemisphere items in my wardrobe, Kathryn. You know I love the products. That’s
why I work here, after all. And if I should get my picture taken in them, that
will be a bonus. I’ll take care not to abuse the privilege.”