Mr. February (10 page)

The captain spread out his hands in a yielding gesture. “If that’s your choice, so be it. But if neither of you is going to change, you have to give her up.”

*

The day after Chelsea’s scary episode, Jillian sat at the table in the studio, smoothing the rough edges on a toothbrush and soap dish set before she glazed it. As relieved as she was that all had turned out well, she was still a little shaken, and glad to have the distraction of work.

And yet, her thoughts kept straying. To the trip to the ER. To Rafe and his comforting presence. Holding her hand, reassuring her, staying at her side until they knew Chelsea was okay. His big hands, gently cradling her face, and that tender kiss…

He shouldn’t have done that. She shouldn’t have let him. Because now, she wanted him even more than before. More kisses, more caresses, more pleasure…

Jillian closed her eyes and relived the heaven of Rafe’s hands and mouth, her longing for him so strong, if he knocked on her door this minute, she might follow Shannon’s advice and make love with him, just to get rid of the aching hunger inside.

Outside she heard Pooh’s yip and a sound she recognized right away as Rafe’s car. He’d showed up, as if she’d conjured him up through sheer desire.

Her heart lifted, and certain parts of her anatomy quivered, and she was tempted to tell him what she wanted. Then worry took over. JR was supposed to be at Rafe’s property, clearing land. What if, instead, he’d blown off work to be with Chelsea?

Jillian set her sanding tool down and stepped outside, into another bright, sunny day.

Wearing aviator glasses, Rafe was hunkered down at the fence, greeting Pooh. His green T-shirt stretched across his shoulders and clung to his muscled biceps. An admiring breath stuttered from Jillian’s lips, and certain body parts began to hum.

Frowning at the thought, she shaded her eyes against the sun. “What are you doing here?”

*

What
was
he doing here? Rafe wondered. Because he agreed with the captain’s advice that he needed to forget Jillian for good.

He cleared his throat. “I wanted to check on Chelsea, and uh… see how you’re doing.”

“She’s at the doctor’s right now. On the way, she dropped JR at your place. At least, she was supposed to.”

“I stopped there before coming here,” Rafe said. “He’s there.”

Jillian’s exhale was pure relief. Then frown lines cut across her forehead. “Did you talk to him? Because if you did, then you already know Chelsea’s fine.”

Busted.
“Hell, Jillian. Never mind.” Rafe shoved his hands in his pockets, shifted his weight and turned to leave.

“Why did you kiss me at the hospital?”

He swung back toward her. Not about to lie, he told her. “Because I couldn’t help myself.”

“I know.” Both hands combed through her hair. “I’m driving myself crazy thinking about us.”

“Us?” He whipped off his shades.

“You know—together.” Although she blushed, she held his gaze.

“Making love,” he clarified.

A charged look passed between them, so palpable, the air shimmered with hunger and heat.

His feelings tumbled out in a blunt statement. “I want you, Jillian.”

“It’s the wanting I think about, Rafe. All the time, no matter how busy I am or what I do to block it. That kiss yesterday only made my desire more intense.” She swallowed audibly.

Her frankness staggered him. He couldn’t recall any other female in his life ever being so forthright, had never met a woman like her. While he wondered at that, she blew him away with more.

“When the longing is this strong, attempting to fight it is pointless.”

Didn’t he know. “You’re thinking if we make love, the problem will go away.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

He shook his head.

“Well, then.”

As bad as he wanted what she offered, he questioned the wisdom of moving ahead. Not without a reminder. “Remember, I’m not—”

“The marrying kind. I would never ask for a marriage proposal or even a commitment. I just want to move past this…whatever this feeling is, and get on with my life.”

Rafe was on board with that. “Where and when?”

“As soon as possible.”

“How about today.”

“That takes care of the when. As for where, the too-short, lumpy sofa in my studio is out, and with Chelsea due back at any time…”

“Not much privacy,” Rafe agreed. “My place, then.”

He didn’t usually invite a woman into his own bed, but these were special circumstances.

“Where do you live?” she asked.

“On the north side of town. Give me your phone.”

His name and cell number were already stored under Contacts. He added his address.

“What time do you want me?”

“All the time,” he growled without masking his hunger.

The desire on her face almost did him in. He stepped back. “I just got off shift and haven’t been home in two days. I need to collect Calvin from the dog sitter’s and do a few things. Give me an hour.”

Chapter Thirteen

‡

S
ome ninety minutes later, Jillian turned onto Rafe’s street. He lived in an upscale area of landscaped yards and well-maintained homes, she noted in an effort to settle a bad case of nerves. It didn’t work. By the time she found his house and pulled up the concrete driveway, she began to question herself.

Did she really want to do this?

More than anything. The only catch was, deep down, in a place she kept hidden from everyone, often even herself, she feared her feelings for Rafe went beyond strong physical need.

Refusing to think about that, she followed the stone walkway toward his two-story brick house. As she drew closer, she heard Calvin’s excited woof from inside. Moments after she rang the doorbell, Rafe answered. Barefoot, and wearing a black T-shirt and jeans.

“Did you have any trouble finding the house?” he asked after she greeted the dog in the large, tiled entry.

“None at all. This is a nice neighborhood. Why would you want to leave it and move out to the boonies?”

“For starters, I don’t own this place.”

A house as classy as this—a rental? She couldn’t hide her surprise.

“A guy’s gotta live someplace while he waits for the right plot of land for his home.” He ushered her into a carpeted living room with masculine furniture and bold paintings on white walls. “I need to let Calvin out. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Do you have tea?”

“Picked up some on my way home, just for you.”

Aw. How sweet.

“Sit tight while I make it.”

While she waited for him to return, she rambled around the room. Out the window facing the backyard, Calvin raced around the large fenced area and dog house. The fireplace mantel contained a picture of a man who had to be Rafe’s father and a skinny preteen boy who was obviously Rafe. Standing near a basketball hoop, their matching dimples flashing, Rafe looked poised to shoot the basketball, while his father’s arms raised in an attempt to block him. There were no other photos.

Rafe returned to the room with tea and a coffee for himself.

“That’s a great picture of you and your dad,” she said as he directed her toward a massive sofa. She sat down, sliding across the buttery brown leather.

Rafe joined her. Not so close they touched, but close enough to feel his warmth.

“I was eleven and finally adjusting to life with a man who believed in structure and discipline.”

“You didn’t butt heads?” Jillian asked, thinking of her own father.

“A lot that first year. Then, not so much.”

In the silence that fell between them, she gulped tea and racked her brain for something else to talk about. “When you stopped by earlier, I thought maybe JR had skipped work,” she finally said.

“With the wages he’s earning, not a chance.”

Jillian nodded and searched for another topic. “How are the house plans coming along?”

“I’ll find out tomorrow, when I meet with Sonia to review the preliminary blueprints.”

“Are you excited?”

“You know it. I gave her a detailed list of the things I wanted, and it’ll be good to see what she came up with.”

Of course, he would.

Jillian had drained her mug. She shifted uncomfortably, causing the leather to creak.

Rafe squinted at her. “You okay?”

“I’m a little nervous,” she admitted.

“You changed your mind.” His expression was impossible to read.

“No.”

Visibly relieved, he flashed his dimples. “Let me help you relax.”

“It’s too early for alcohol.”

“I know something much better. Turn your back to me.”

He pushed her hair to the side and gave her the best shoulder and neck massage of her life.

She moaned. “Oh, you’re good.”

“This is just a prelude to what happens next.”

His words and the low, slightly hoarse timbre of his voice caused havoc inside her. Every atom in her body tensed impatiently. To her frustration, he continued the massage without going near her breasts or down lower.

“Still nervous?” he asked.

“Not anymore. Maybe I should take off my top. You know, so you can really get at the kinks.” Although, thanks to Rafe, her muscles felt like melted butter.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

He was letting her set the pace, she realized. Enjoying her power, she turned to face him and slowly pulled her V-neck shirt over her head. Earlier, she’d showered and changed into her best bra, a violet, lacy demi that pushed her breasts together and gave her some cleavage.

Rafe’s eyes went dark and hot, which she’d anticipated. “Shall I leave this on, or take it off?” she asked in her best seductive voice.

“Take it off.”

She reached behind her to do just that, but Rafe stopped her. “Let me.”

Moving in back of her, he made quick work of the clasp. For a man with such large hands, he certainly was skilled at unfastening the itty-bitty hooks.

But then, he’d had plenty of practice with multiple women.

Not about to dwell on that now, Jillian pushed the thought from her mind.

“I think I’ll get rid of my shirt, too,” he said, still at her back.

She heard the rustle then the shirt sailed past her and dropped to the carpet. He pulled her against his hard chest, held her close and from behind, cupped her breasts.

At last.
Pleasure rippled through her, and she stopped thinking, period.

Soon, desperate to kiss him, she pivoted in his arms. On her knees, she brushed her hands through the smattering of soft hair on his chest. Flicked her tongue over his nipples.

Groaning, Rafe lifted her onto his lap and kissed her savagely. Deep, tongue-jousting kisses she wanted never to end.

After some time, or maybe only a minute—she wasn’t sure—he broke contact. “If we’re going to make it to my bed, and that’s where I want to make love with you, we need to go upstairs.”

Not minding at all that he’d taken charge, Jillian nodded.

“Take off your boots and socks then wrap your legs around me,” he directed.

As soon as she did, he cupped her behind, pushed to his feet as if she weighed nothing, and carried her easily toward the stairs.

They didn’t get far before he paused to kiss her. Dizzy with desire and love—no, she was
not
falling for him—Jillian shifted restlessly in his arms.

“Patience,” he growled against her lips.

“I’m running out of that.”

Rafe continued up the stairs with no more stops. On the second floor, he strode forward at a rapid clip, straight into the bedroom. Jillian caught a glimpse of gray carpeting, heavy curtains pulled for privacy, and a dark-wood headboard.

He set her down. Watching each other, they unzipped their jeans and shed the rest of their clothing. Then naked, they stood facing each other.

Rafe was well-endowed and aroused, glorious to look at.

“You are so beautiful.” His scorching gaze roved over her, igniting her everywhere. “Come here.”

He wrapped her in his arms and simply held her. At first she thought she was the one trembling. But, no. “You’re shaking,” she said.

“Because I want you so much.” Taking her hand, he led her to his bed.

The covers were already turned back in welcome. He pulled her down with him onto satiny sheets. His mouth and hands went everywhere, stroking, licking, consuming….

On fire, she climaxed. Not once but twice before he allowed her to touch him.

Jillian pushed him onto his back and slowly ran her hands down his gorgeous abs, his flat belly. As she moved lower, Rafe hissed in a breath. She circled his rigid length and explored, marveling over the taut, velvety skin.

Moaning, he raised his hips and pushed into her hand. When she tried to put her mouth on him, he stopped her. “I’m on the edge here,” he warned. “When I lose control, it will be inside you.”

Jillian was ready. “Where do you keep the condoms?”

“In the bedside table drawer.”

He started to sit up, but she shook her head. “Stay where you are.”

She found the foil packets. There were at least a half dozen.

She couldn’t help wondering about the women he’d brought here before her and those who would take her place later. But thinking about that hurt, and she made herself stop.

Rafe tore the condom open and sheathed himself. He reached for her.

“Uh-uh. On your back again, firefighter,” she ordered.

His eyes glittering dangerously, he complied.

Straddling his hard body, she inched down until he was buried inside her. Groaning, he gripped her hips and raised up, pushing even deeper, until she was certain he touched her very soul.

Her body pulsed as the delicious tension low in her body coiled tighter and tighter. She began to shudder with pleasure. Rafe urged her to move faster, until they climaxed together. One long, shuddering cataclysm obliterating all but the two of them, joined as one.

When it finally ended, Jillian collapsed on his chest. They were both sweaty and breathing hard.

Her body was replete and spent, and her heart full to bursting. It had found Mr. Right. Unfortunately for her, Rafe wasn’t her Mr. Right. He didn’t want to be.