Simply Sex (10 page)

If he’d ever had sex this good, he didn’t remember it.

Her free hand reached up to stroke his chest and he lifted her fingers to his mouth so he could run his tongue into the space between her index and middle fingers.

She quaked in response, then shifted to lock her thighs around his leg and madly work herself against him. He sucked and licked her fingers, which he’d be doing to her sex if he had the wherewithal to move or even remember his own name.

She rocked harder and he quickened the thrusts of his cock into her mouth. His balls tightened, preparing for release. He got ready to pull out, not sure how she felt about him coming in her mouth.

She sucked harder, bearing down with her lips and the back of her throat.
Do it. I want it.
She coaxed him to the brink and over and he bucked into her sweet mouth, while she held him—all his need funneled into that spurt of hot liquid that Kylie seemed to want every drop of. He couldn’t imagine anything sexier or more tender.

Right people, right time, right?
he thought as she slid up his body, smiling at him. She glanced at her clock. “Mmm. Nice appetizer. And with a minute to spare.”

He smiled back and cupped her face. This was more than a happy collision of need and tension. He wanted more time with this amazing woman. More sex, of course, but more talk, too. He wanted to know all her secrets and tell her his.

How unfortunate, what with her leaving town and him needing a wife. Right people,
wrong
time, he concluded. “You’re incredible,” he said.

“I’d better be. You’re a couple of orgasms behind. Luckily, we have all night to catch you up.”

He wanted to say something about this not being a race, but he was too busy thinking,
Yahoo, she said all night,
and then the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Kylie said, pushing off the bed, flying into the bathroom, zooming out in a shiny red robe. “Run us a bath and we’ll eat in the tub,” she called as she skimmed by. “Bubble stuff’s under the sink.”

“Eat in the tub?”

“Multitasking!” Her light laughter carried back to him.

He flopped onto the pillow and found himself smiling like an idiot. It would be smarter to eat at the table, where they could work. There was Radar to think of, so he really couldn’t stay all night…

Kylie laughed at something the delivery guy said and the sound cut through him with such power he started to shake. He had to stay. The universe was telling him to take this chance. It was a special occasion, right? He’d make up the work time somehow.

Kylie’s bathroom was orderly and simple—a modest number of lotions and perfumes on a single glass shelf, hair dryer and curling iron on hooks and a separate shower stall. On the window ledge beyond the roomy tub rested a couple of photos in frames and a spiky plant—aloe vera, he thought it was. The window looked out on a terrace of plastic lawn furniture ringed by empty wooden flower boxes.

He located the bath stuff under the sink, still shrink-wrapped and bearing a bow. Baths must be special occasions, since she hadn’t cracked the dusty gift basket. He poured a capful of “Tranquility Garden” bubble bath under the tap and adjusted the temperature to just shy of scalding.

The tub was steamy and brimming with bubbles by the time Kylie entered with a tray that held an open take-out box piled high with food. The aroma of onions, garlic and fried dough mingled with the flowery scent, jamming the tiny room with pleasurable aromas.

Kylie set the tray on the closed toilet lid and whipped off her robe. They faced each other and lowered themselves into the hot water. Her naked body made him lose his appetite for anything but her and she stared at his erection, bobbing above the foam. His need for her was embarrassingly obvious.

“I feel the same way,” she said, her eyes glazed. She leaned forward to hold him, then let go with apparent regret. “One too many tasks. Let’s save it for dessert. I got sopaipillas with honey, too.”

“Honey? Sounds delicious.”

She smiled and situated the groaning tray of lard-drenched glory between them, handing him a fork. There were enchiladas, chile
rellenos,
flautas, beans, rice, tacos and a couple of chimichangas. He looked from the food to her face. “Quite a feast.”

“You had me so crazed I just kept ordering.”

“So we have leftovers.” He smiled. “Even better.”

“Good point,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him, the porcelain squeaking against her back. “I have the best freezer bags.” She beamed and dug in. They ate in silence for a while, smiling at each other, trading bites, until she leaned back with a sigh. “Isn’t this great? We’re full and warm, inside and out. I never take baths. Or kick back much.”

“Me, either,” he said, the sinking awareness of all the work he wasn’t doing making him wonder if he’d lost his mind completely. As long as he had Kylie in his sights he didn’t seem to care about everything that mattered to him.

Her gaze drifted away, out the window. “Isn’t that a sad sight? I put in boxes for a garden when I first moved here. I had this wonderful layout—flowers and vegetables in a color blend that would roll through the seasons like a shifting rainbow.”

“What happened?”

“I managed one planting. The dry stalks made me feel so guilty that I ripped it all out. Now all I’ve got is this guy.” She leaned forward to run a finger along a stalk of the aloe vera on the ledge. “He can survive on the humidity from my shower.” She sounded so sad.

“You’ll make time for a garden once you settle in L.A.”

“I hope so. Growing up, I always helped my mom plant the garden. For comfort. The house would be different, the climate, the people, even the bugs, but the begonias stayed the same.”

She shifted her gaze to one of the small photos beside the plant. “Janie really liked our gardens.”

“That the two of you?” he asked, nodding at the picture, which showed them as toddlers in duck-shaped floats in a pool, Kylie with her arm tight around Janie, who grinned, cheerful in her sister’s chokehold.

“Looks like I’m killing her, huh?” She picked up the photo and studied it, a trail of bubbles sliding down her arm.

“She doesn’t seem to mind.”

“I worried about her. She got sick a lot. Asthma, bronchitis…respiratory stuff. She was shy, too, and the moves freaked her out. My dad’s job took us everywhere. I tried to make things easier for her in each new place.” She put the photo back, still looking at it.

Her devotion to her sister was as palpable as the steam in the room. Until now, she’d struck him as emotionally guarded, but now her face was soft with love. Perhaps she felt safe with him. He hoped so. “And you still watch out for her?”

“When I can.” Tension tightened her eyes.

He remembered what Janie had said about the stand-in date. “She’s afraid she’s imposing on you.”

“She said that to you?”

“Not in so many words. She felt bad about making you meet me for the date.”

“Oh that. Yeah. She feels guilty for taking me from my work. I just hope I can do what she needs….” She studied him thoughtfully for a moment. “Maybe I could get your opinion on something?”

“Anything.”

“Janie’s being sued by a disgruntled client. It’s ridiculous, really. Janie refused to match him with a blond set of breasts on legs.”

“And the guy’s not exactly Adonis?”

“Exactly. Fifty-nine, comb-over, major paunch. His name’s Marlon Bran
don.
Can you believe that? Not Bran
do,
as Janie keeps pointing out. Maybe the confusion gives him illusions of grandeur. Janie, bless her heart, insists on finding him a
suitable
match. So, even though Mr. Brandon would be delighted with a bimbo gold digger, Janie won’t arrange it, and now he’s claiming fraud and misrepresentation.”

“Sounds frivolous to me.”

“No kidding. We’ve been trying to get him to meet with us to work out a settlement, but he’s stalling, so I’m afraid we need legal help. Is there some mediation service we should try?”

“That works if both sides are willing to compromise. Maybe I can help. Do some research, meet with the guy’s attorney?”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Cole. I just wanted your advice.”

“I want to help. Really.”

“But you’re busy. We’ll be fine.”

“I can fit in a couple of meetings.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I won’t do more than I can afford to.”

She studied him, assessing his intent, hope and relief flickering in her eyes.

“If you say no, I’ll just talk to Janie.”

“You’re serious?”

“Absolutely.”

She put the food tray on the bathroom floor and threw her body across his for a hug, her breasts warm and heavy on his chest. She looked up at him. “I insist we pay you.”

“I want your body, not your money.” He took her bottom in both hands and squeezed until she moved against him, sloshing water over the side of the tub with a splash. “I think we just ruined the leftovers,” he murmured.

“Who cares? Sopaipillas and honey are in the kitchen.” She slid her legs between his and reached for him.

“Sounds delicious.” Like the hot, wet woman lying on top of him.

Best of all, he now had a legitimate reason to spend more time with her. Time he didn’t have and work he couldn’t afford. But he was happier than he remembered being in years.

His uncle hung up the phone, then surprised him with a glare instead of a smile. “What the hell did you do, Seth? That was Jane Falls. Practically apoplectic.”

“I was doing my job, Harry.”

“By being—how did she put it?—‘at best disinterested, at worst hostile.’”

“I wasn’t hostile,” Seth mumbled, though he knew his questions had alarmed her.

“This is a profile, not an exposé. A sweet little feature about a unique dating service.”

“I just asked some questions. Followed up some leads. Practiced good journalism.”

“Don’t get arrogant on me, Seth. You’re my sister’s son and I want to help you, but you’ve got a chip on your shoulder the size of a Tuscan tile.” Seth had taken the job as a favor to Harry, not the other way around, but there was brusque affection behind the words, so he saw no reason to point that out.

“Go to her damned skate party,” Harry said wearily. “Take notes on whatever the hell she tells you. Make her happy. And write a nice little piece.”

“Okay, okay,” Seth said. He had no energy for a fight.

“Thanks for taking my stepsons fishing,” Harry mumbled, clearly making nice after the abuse. “Those two never string more than two lines together at dinner and they were giving a regular harangue about the importance of journalism.”

“They’re smart kids.” Their enthusiasm for his chosen career had reminded Seth of his old fire. They’d been good for him, too. “Just figuring out what they want to be.”

“I wish they’d hurry the hell up, while they’re on my dime—college is pricey.” Harry’s mouth lifted in a grumpy grin. Then he shot a look at Seth.

“If revenues pick up, I’ll hire a feature writer and you can do the analysis we talked about.” His gaze fell on the book in the middle of his desk. “Oh, and this came in for review. I saw you were mentioned. Want it?” He tilted it at him.

“I have my own copy, thanks.” Ana had sent it with a gushy note, as if nothing terrible had passed between them.

“Figure out what’s bugging you,” Harry said, waving Ana’s book at him, “and don’t take it out on Jane Falls.” He tossed the book onto a stack of volumes on his credenza, photo up.

“Right.” Looking at Ana’s picture just now, Seth saw clear as day what was eating at him. Not the stolen book sale, not her undeserved fame. It was losing her.

He’d been such a wimp about it—schmuck of the century. The minute he fell head over heels, she’d lost interest. The heat of new sex had cooled, the thrill of working together faded, and Ana just plain didn’t like his personality.
You’re too gloomy. Too cynical.

He thought of himself as pragmatic and realistic. Like Ana, for that matter, who was a pretty brutal critic herself. The opposite of Jane Falls, who skipped through life looking on the bright side so hard she’d miss the cliff for the glare.

Of course, Janie wasn’t all airy-fairy goodness. She was like an aged scotch—smooth, but with a kick that hit you in the back of the head after you thought you were out of range.

She’d tried to get him bumped from the story, too. That took brass balls. Guts, anyway. And now his uncle was making him go to her goofball skating party tonight and make nice. What a pain in the ass.

He grinned all the way home.