Mad About You (65 page)

But Jasmine stubbornly refused to believe the fantastic things the little old man had described, despite his uncanny accuracy. Cautiously, she touched her glass to his. "Coincidence maybe."

After a deep sip of wine, he said, "Gene's right—you're a tough nut to crack."

Jasmine drew the sweet, cool liquid into her mouth and swallowed. "No, I just stopped believing in fairy tales a long time ago."

At her serious words, he met her gaze. Her body responded instantly to the desire in his eyes, remembering all too well the feel of his lips on hers. But above the nearly palpable physical attraction, she felt an odd connection with Ladden, an unconditional attachment so strong, it felt... ancient.

"Jasmine," he said quietly, "a few days ago, I would have agreed with you. But after this week—" He broke off, shaking his head. "For just a few hours, let's allow ourselves to believe that anything is possible."

Except it was dangerous to pretend—to be lulled into a soft, make-believe world where the harsh outline of reality was blurred. She knew that was true because here in the warm cocoon of their private dinner, living and loving the rest of her life with Ladden Sanderson not only seemed plausible, it seemed desirable.

"Okay," she whispered. "For just a few hours."

And as if they had indeed been thrust into a dimension where perceptions and expectations were abandoned, she allowed herself to be vulnerable to what Ladden had to offer. The sexual energy bounding between them unleashed itself in the room, enveloping them so completely, they might have been moving in slow motion. Suddenly, the simple act of eating seemed fraught with innuendo—every smooth slice and urgent bite of the delectable lamb, every savored swirl of the heady wine, every musky mouthful of the black mushrooms.

When Ladden deserted his half-eaten meal with a clatter of abandoned utensils and reached for her, Jasmine was hungry for him. Their mouths came together almost violently, their tongues battling, their lips devouring. He moaned her name, somehow expressing his need for her in mere guttural syllables. She wound her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts into the hard wall of his chest. He cupped her buttocks and effortlessly lifted her against his hard arousal, wrenching a gasp from her throat. Her limbs weakened and she allowed herself to be swept away on a wave of desire so strong she felt powerless to resist. Despite the warning bells chiming in her head, something else told her if she stopped now, her life would be somewhat less than it might have been.

As if he'd read her mind, Ladden lifted his head and touched her cheek with a trembling finger. His dark eyes glowed with passion. "Jasmine," he whispered, "if you want me to stop, please tell me now."

"No, don't stop," she murmured. "Please don't stop."

The room spun for a moment, then she felt the wool of the carpet at her back. Ladden lowered himself beside her, his breathing ragged and shallow. She pulled his mouth to hers, and their hands roamed over each other's bodies. Anxious to explore his expansive chest, Jasmine lifted the hem of his thin cotton shirt and helped him drag it over his head. Enthralled, she ran both hands over the alternately rounded and planed muscles of his chest and arms, tracing the outline of flat nipples indented in firm skin, squeezing his biceps. A triangle of black hair on his chest trailed down his flat stomach to disappear into his waistband.

"Beautiful," she whispered.

He slid his hands under her loose blouse, caressing her stomach with his thumbs, then shimmying up her waist and fingering the sensitive skin of her rib cage. His broad, seeking fingers felt coarse and strong. The desire for him to touch every inch of her swelled and she tore at her clothing, their hurried movements magnified in shadows on the walls. When only her filmy white panties remained, she clambered up and astride him, savoring the texture of denim between her thighs and the look in his eyes as she arched above him, lifting her bare breasts in the air. He reached up to unclasp her hair and as she rocked forward, grinding against him, her hair fell forward in a dark curtain, sweeping his chest. He groaned his approval and cupped her breasts, thumbing her dusky nipples until she cried out for him.

She slipped her fingers to his fly and unfastened the jeans, longing to see all of his magnificent body. He shifted and together they removed the rest of his clothes. His straining shaft glistened with his urgency, and she knew she was warm and wet.

"Jasmine, I want you," he rasped, rolling her beneath him and smoothing her hair away from her face. "I've always wanted you."

Quivering with her need for him, she stared into his passion-glazed eyes and said, "Ladden, at this moment, I'm yours."

They came together in another kiss, a promise of how wonderful their lovemaking would be. He slipped his hand inside her panties and she opened to his probing fingers. Latching on to a nipple, he drew the puckered skin into his warm mouth and nipped at the beaded tip while he made love to her with his hand. She writhed beneath him, thrusting to match the rhythm of his skillful fingers. When her moans began to escalate and she felt a burgeoning climax, he transferred his kisses to her neck and earlobe.

"Jasmine," he whispered. "Open your eyes, I want you to see my love for you."

Overwhelmed by the emotions flooding her, she struggled, but managed to open her eyes. His dark brow was furrowed with his concentration on pleasing her and he studied her face, poised to respond to the slightest movement. His eyes widened with hers as the first wave of climax descended.

"Oh, Ladden," she moaned, pulsing around his fingers, clawing at his shoulders as the orgasm mounted, crested, then slowly seeped away. "Ladden... oh, Ladden."

He nuzzled her jaw until she stilled, then slowly withdrew his hand. "Jasmine, I have to have you now."

"Now," she agreed, looping her arms around his neck.

His erection surged against her thigh in anticipation. Her desire for him was so great, she trembled. Slowly he settled between her legs, raining kisses over her face and breasts, then entered her in one slow thrust.

The storm outside renewed its force, crashing and booming around them, the wind barreling past the windows like a locomotive. Jasmine cried out with pleasure as their bodies melded, and Ladden choked out her name. He slipped his hands beneath her hips to angle their bodies perfectly for each long, powerful stroke. Within seconds, she felt another climax building, this one deeper, like a vibration at her very core.

His eyes were open, his mouth alternately stretched in ecstasy and clenched with restraint. At the top of each thrust, she tightened around him and he moaned. Synchronized, they moved together, faster and faster until she yielded to another orgasm. His shuddering release came before hers had subsided. "Jasmine... Jasmine... Jasmine."

As they recovered together, unmoving, she clung to him and listened to the ferocious storm outside, her eyes already tearing in preparation for the inevitable storm inside.

"What's this?" he asked, lifting his head. He wiped at the corner of her eye with his finger, then he smiled. "I can't say I've ever moved a woman to tears before."

She inhaled deeply. "Ladden—"

"Shhh," he whispered. "Not yet. Let me hold you for a while."

He eased their bodies apart, then retrieved a quilt. Frightened by the extent of their wrongdoing, she slipped on her underwear while he rummaged for his boxers. But when he came back to the rug and reached for her hand, she went to him readily and they curled together. As if he could read her troubled thoughts, he caressed her arm slowly and continuously, and occasionally whispered, "It'll be all right."

* * *

Jasmine wasn't sure how long she'd slept, because when she opened her eyes, she was surrounded by blackness so thick, she couldn't even see her hand in front of her face. And it had turned cold—a window must have blown open because a breeze whipped over their bodies. Beneath the quilt, she snuggled closer to Ladden's heat, then sat straight up when she recognized the sound of an engine whine, growing louder and louder. Had an appliance been struck by lightning during the storm?

He was sleeping soundly, evidenced by his soft snores. Concerned, she swung her feet over the edge of the carpet, terrified and disoriented when her feet sank into freezing nothingness instead of the floor she expected. She jerked back, lying completely still as close to Ladden as she could without being on top of him. Her mind spun, and she forced herself to concentrate. Where was she? Had he carried her to another location inside the store?

The carpet seemed to be vibrating... almost as if they were moving. But that was ridiculous. Then, incredibly, she identified the distant lights overhead as... stars, and realized the open window was actually the outside air blowing around them. How romantic—Ladden had carried her to the roof while she slept. She smiled into the darkness and reached over to give his shoulder a shake.

"Hmmm?" he mumbled sleepily, pulling her closer. "What's wrong?"

"Why didn't you tell me we were outside?" she murmured into his ear. "I might have walked off a ledge or something."

"You're dreaming," he whispered. "Go back to sleep—or we could make love again."

She poked him again. "I'm not dreaming, and I need to go to the bathroom. How do I get back inside?"

He shifted, wrapping his arm around her waist. "I don't mind that you talk in your sleep—it's a trade-off I can live with." He reached up to cup her breast.

"Ladden, I'm serious," she hissed. "Where's the light and where's the bathroom?"

He sighed and relinquished her breast. Her eyes had adjusted somewhat and she saw him push himself up to a seated position and stretch his arms in a wide yawn. Then he froze. "What the hell? Where are we?"

"Outside," she repeated patiently. "Don't you remember carrying me to the roof?"

"Jasmine, I don't have access to the roof. What is that noise?"

"It sounds like an engine or something."

Whatever it was, it was approaching fast. The noise grew louder and louder. Terrified, Jasmine pressed her face into Ladden's chest. "What is it?" she cried as the roar became deafening and a massive object passed overhead, sending freezing blasts of air over them.

She could hear and feel his heart pounding in his chest. Slowly, the sound dissipated and at last she raised her head. "What was that?" she repeated. "And where are we?"

"Well," he said, his voice shaking slightly, "I'm not positive, but I think it was an airplane... and I think we're, um, flying."

"Flying?"

"Look over there," he said, pointing.

Jasmine turned her head slowly and swallowed hard when she recognized the runway lights of the airport, far, far beneath them. "How is this possible?" she breathed.

"Again, I’m not positive, b-but it appears we are unsuspecting hitchhikers on a magic carpet ride."

"But that's insane!"

"Jasmine," he said, pointing again. "Isn't that the Arco Arena?"

"I'm not going to look," she shouted, hiding her face.

"Hey! There's the Air Force Base."

"This... is... not... happening."

"I'll bet we can see all the way to Lake Tahoe!"

"Ladden!" she yelled, on the verge of hysteria. "Listen to yourself."

"I can't explain it, Jasmine," he said in her ear, then he dropped a kiss on her neck. "But I do know a lot of weird things started happening when I bought this rug."

"Don't forget the lamp."

"And the lamp. Look! There's my store!"

Moving in millimeters, she turned her head to peek just as they banked. Her stomach pitched.

"Whoa," Ladden said, tightening his grip on her. "Now look."

She lifted her head and was rendered speechless.

They were wrapped in a quilt in their underwear, flying on the carpet high above Sacramento. The long fringe on the ends of the rug buffeted in the wind, and her hair blew around her head. It was a moonless sky, but millions of stars twinkled above them. The air around them had a bluish cast and smelled fresh. Beneath them, white and neon lights glowed, outlining the grid of the city. Now that the airplane had passed overhead, all was quiet, as if they were watching a silent panoramic movie. The scene was glorious, amazing, and utterly unbelievable.

Stupefied, she huddled next to Ladden and said, "Maybe there's something to this genie stuff, after all."

Chapter Fourteen

THEY LANDED WITH A THUD.

Jasmine's eyes popped open and she sat straight up, clutching the quilt to her chest and gasping for breath. Diffused light from the alley filtered in the high windows above the rear entrance. The wind and rain still howled outside. Next to her, Ladden sprawled on the carpet, snoring softly. Remorse hit her so hard, she felt dizzy with nausea. Tears filled her eyes and spilled freely down her cheeks. She pushed her hair out of her face, her hand meeting a rat's nest of tangles. Gingerly, she pulled herself to her feet, her chest heaving with sobs, her hand over her mouth to muffle the hiccupping sounds.

She checked the time, her knees weak with relief to discover it was only nine-thirty in the evening. The gloominess of the storeroom and the general darkness of the storm had warped her perception of time... not to mention that incredibly vivid dream. Probably triggered by the mushrooms, she decided. Jasmine shook her head to clear her crazy thoughts and make room for the problem at hand—how to get out of the store undetected.

But the enormity of the situation crushed her. What had she done? Sold her future—and possibly Trey's—for a few moments of pleasure with Ladden? Her hands shook uncontrollably as she pulled her blouse over her head. In the few seconds it took to find her slacks, she approached hysteria. At last she found the garment, entwined somehow with his jeans. She eased into them gingerly, already stiff and sore from their ardent lovemaking.