Sweet Child of Mine (6 page)

The gratitude that swept over her face made him resolve to keep her at arm’s length until they could get out of this place and get back to the safety of their normal lives, where there was no reason to see each other but in passing. But even as that thought comforted him, he felt a small pang of regret for what they could never share.

Maybe one day, when this was all over—

Forget it, Longstreet. She’s not a woman to have
affairs. She’ll have her life and you’ll be free to resume yours. Women included.

Right now he needed to get away from her, clear his head. “Look, why don’t you take a bath and a nap? I’ve got some calls to make. I’ll make them downstairs.”

She started to shake her head, but he overrode her. “Shouldn’t you call Jim and tell him that it’s done? You can start making plans about when we can pick up your son.”

Her protests died. Her lips curved at the thought. “Sure. I—” She frowned faintly and looked up. “I’ll use my calling card.”

The temper he’d thought long ago conquered flared as though she’d lit a fuse. “Suzanne, just bill the damn call to the room. Talk for two hours, I don’t care.” He heard his voice rise but couldn’t seem to stop it. “I can afford it, all right? So sue me if you don’t like it that I can afford this room and this trip and—” He threw up his hands in disgust. “I’ll be back. I’ll leave the key with you so you don’t have to worry that I’ll intrude.”

He tossed the key on the bed and left before he could add any more sins to his list.

Suzanne hung up the phone, still smiling broadly after hearing Bobby talk about the new puppy Jim had gotten him. A black Lab named Maverick, the pup had already taken a firm hold on Bobby’s heart.

She wondered what Michael would think about inheriting a dog. Jim admitted that it probably wasn’t his right to introduce a dog he’d never raise, but he’d wanted Bobby to have something to bridge the gap once he was gone, a piece of his life with Bobby that would still be there for comfort when he could no longer do so himself. Edna Waters, his late wife’s cousin, didn’t mind dogs as long as they were kept outside, he said.

Jim had had no way to know Michael even existed when he’d gotten the dog.

But they’d cross that bridge when they came to it.

There was a shower in the bathroom, but she eyed the huge whirlpool tub with longing, wondering if she had time to take a quick bath before Michael returned.

A few minutes later, blissfully ensconced in bubbling waters, Suzanne leaned back against the bath pillow and heaved a huge sigh. Over her body, the water swirled, soothing away the nerves of this unique and trying day. Drifting on a tide of relaxation so complete it was almost sinful, she felt her mind begin to wander, too. Eyes closed, she relived the kiss in the elevator, the press of his big muscular body against hers, and longing suffused her. Her body floated with the currents of the whirlpool, and she felt the brush of bubbles over skin that now felt too sensitive, too tight to contain all the heat that Michael could generate with little effort.

She let herself imagine the two of them in this
suite, free of other ties. If it were only them with no other responsibilities, nothing but the long night ahead, so sheltered from the storm…

What did Michael look like beneath his clothes? She’d felt the power of those muscles, knew that he had never used his full strength with her, treating her like some delicacy she’d never been. She was no fragile flower, no pale tea rose. She was a sturdy weed, not all that pretty, not very desirable, but strong. She endured.

He made her feel so feminine, almost dainty. So protected. Even when she knew he was tempted badly, he’d always kept his strength under a tight leash.

But what would it be like if Michael’s leash snapped? If he wanted her as badly as he made her want him? In this place, this jungle room, what if she possessed the power to enchant him past bearing? What if they were free to play outside the realities of their world?

Fire raced over her nerves, across her skin, and made her burn. She could almost feel Michael’s hands on her body, could imagine sliding over him in this tub, lying beneath him on that huge round bed. Could imagine him poised above her, moss-green eyes gone dark with power—

A knock sounded on the door. “Suzanne?”

She scrambled from the tub so quickly that water shot from the jets and hit the floor. Frantically she
fumbled for the switch, then tried to remember where she’d left the robe the hotel provided. She caught a quick glimpse of herself multiplied a hundred times in the mirrors.

“Suzanne, are you all right?”

Naked. Oh, God. “Yes.” She gulped, then finally spotted the fluffy white robe. “Just a minute.”

Quickly she donned it, her heart racing a mile a minute as she tried to adjust from thinking about—

No. Oh, no. She couldn’t let him see. It must be written all over her face. As she walked toward the door, she grabbed a towel, then flipped the lock and turned away, busying herself drying her hair, praying the towel would cover her face until she could compose it.

Michael shoved the door open with his foot, so loaded down with packages that he could barely see where he was going. “Could you take this—” He fell silent.

She was bent over, toweling her hair, and the view of her luscious behind made his mouth go dry. He jerked his gaze away, only to see the front of her reflected in the mirror. Her face was blocked by the towel, but the robe she wore gaped in the front just enough that he could see the upper curve of her breasts, the seductive shadow between.

“What?” she asked, her voice muffled by the towel.

All he could think about was that she was naked
beneath that robe. It took him a minute to recover his powers of speech. “Nothing.” Resolutely he walked past her, regret that he couldn’t linger and look shadowing every step.

He dropped several of the packages on the bed, holding on to the box of pizza at the bottom and the sack of champagne. Taking them over to the table, he risked one glance in the mirror beside him and couldn’t decide whether to cheer or groan that there was hardly an inch of wall space—or ceiling, for that matter—not covered with the reflective means to torture a man who wasn’t here for this room’s anointed purpose.

He could be. He sure would like to be.

But he wasn’t. Couldn’t be. If ever there was a woman he needed to keep his hands off of, Suzanne was it.

“There’s a hair dryer. Wouldn’t it be simpler?” he asked. She was still bent over, toweling her hair. If she didn’t stand up straight pretty soon, he was not going to be responsible for his actions.

She didn’t answer.

“Suzanne? Hello?”

Finally, she straightened, lowering the towel slowly. Her face was red from being bent over so long, but the flush extended down to where the robe gapped even more.

He turned away. Quickly. Not one of his friends would believe he was trapped for the night with this
delectable woman and had no intention of touching her.

Hell, he couldn’t believe it himself.

“There’s not much to choose from right now. It’s too late for lunch and too early for dinner, so I grabbed us a pizza. I hope pepperoni’s all right.” Not that he cared about the stupid pizza. His mouth was suddenly full of sawdust, and he doubted he could choke down a bite, never mind that he’d been starved until he walked through the door.

“Mushrooms, too?” she asked with a husky undertone in her voice that made him want to howl.

“Yeah. And bell peppers.”

“Sounds perfect.”

He glanced in the mirror and saw her staring at him with something that looked a lot like hunger. If only he couldn’t see the nerves, too. If only he could forget what was real. What she really wanted. What he’d promised.

No, sweetheart, he wanted to say. Perfect would be you and me in that tub. On that bed. Me inside you until we lost our minds.

He was so hard he ached. “Don’t look at me like that unless you want to be flat on your back in the next five seconds,” he growled.

With a little squeak, she whirled away, her head swiveling from side to side as she looked for refuge. “I’ll just put my dress back on. Excuse me, please.”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

Stay naked. My hands could be inside that robe in the next second. I could have you under me in two. He shook his head violently to rid himself of temptation. He started to speak, then had to clear his throat. “I brought you some warm clothes.”

“Where did you—” Her lids fluttered down, then rose again. “Did you keep the receipt?”

That cooled his blood as nothing else could. “No,” he snapped. “Consider it a wedding present. Dammit, Suzanne, can’t you even accept the smallest gesture?”

“Clothes aren’t small. A Popsicle is small.”

“Well, pardon me, but I thought you’d rather have some warm clothes than a Popsicle. Foolish of me, but there you go. I’m just a stupid rich guy who doesn’t get it.”

Color glowed brightly in her cheeks, and battle flared in her eyes. The hellion of the council chambers was back.

In a fluffy white robe. He couldn’t help smiling.

“What’s so funny?” she snapped.

“You. Me. I was just picturing you dressed like that at the next council meeting. A whole new image for Prosperino’s own Joan of Arc.”

He could see hasty words about to spill from her lips and waited for her to blast him. A fight sounded pretty good right now. He needed some way to dissipate all the heat in his body dying for a far prefer
able release he didn’t have a chance in hell of obtaining.

Then she threw back her head and laughed. A rich, husky laughter that made his blood race. But he’d just have to get used to that. Being with her every day was going to be a delicious kind of hell, he could already see.

But it wouldn’t be boring.

Michael laughed along with her. The nerves of the last twenty-four hours, the strain of desire that could not be appeased, the absurdity of this room, this situation…

It was pretty damn funny, he had to admit.

Suzanne collapsed on the bed, tears streaming from her eyes as laughter rolled from her lips, slowly diminishing to giggles. Then she got the hiccups.

Loud ones. Unladylike as hell.

She slapped one hand over her mouth and tried to stifle them, but another one escaped. Michael was laughing until she fell back on the bed, then curled abruptly into the fetal position with a raw moan.

He was across the room in one second, leaning over her. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, eyes squeezed tightly shut, arms wrapped around her waist as if in pain.

“Suzanne, tell me what you need.”

She was so still. Instinctively, he felt for the pulse in her throat, both of them jumping at the feel of his fingers on her skin.

When he felt the sure, steady beat, he relaxed. But he didn’t remove his hand, trailing it instead along the delicate line of her collarbone, knowing he should step away. Now.

Air exploded from her lungs, and he realized she’d been holding her breath. She sucked in one greedy gulp of air, then fell still again.

Her sooty lashes laid on her skin, casting lacy shadows. Silken strands of jet-black hair drifted around her, some of them brushing his fingers as he stroked up her throat, then down again.

Silence painted the room, filled all its corners, a silence fecund and rich with longings unspoken.

Michael couldn’t make himself lift his fingers from the sweet satin of her skin. As he trailed them down past the fragile hollow of her throat, he lowered his head, telling himself he’d stop if only she’d say something.

But Suzanne lay unmoving under his hand, a stillness that covered the hum of nerves strained past bearing.

One kiss. Just one kiss would hold him.

Carefully, as though she were a wild animal who had never known a man’s touch, he brushed his lips over hers, feeling as much as hearing the soft gasp of her breath, the rising beat of her heart under his hand.

And then she hiccuped again.

She curled up again and hid her face in her arms,
groaning loudly. “I am so embarrassed I am going to climb into these covers and never come out.”

The spell broke. With an odd feeling of relief for rescue from what he knew would be a major mistake, he stepped back from the bed and headed for the bathroom to draw a glass of water.

He returned, and she was, if anything, more tightly curled into a ball, her entire body quaking with each hiccup. He grasped one hand and tried to pull her to a sitting position.

She pulled back, shaking her head. “No,” she wailed, though he could hear the tinge of humor. “I’m never coming out, I tell you.”

Michael felt the most profound relief to be able to joke instead of being eaten alive by a hunger he knew wasn’t dead. But it was beaten back for now. “Come on, don’t be such a girl.”

“I am a girl.”

He tugged again. “You’re not a sissy girl. Come on, sit up and drink this water.”

“It’s an old wives’ tale. It doesn’t work.”

“My mother swears by it. Works every time for me.”

“I have to hold my breath.”

“Doesn’t seem to be working.” When she hiccuped loudly again, he smiled. “Come on, sit up. Try it. What have you got to lose?”

With a groan, she let him pull her up, grasping her long mane in one hand and smoothing it back from
her face. “This—” She hiccuped and grimaced. “This better work. I’m dying.”

He handed her the glass, watching her swallow until the movement of her throat drew his attention back to the opening of that damn robe.

Quickly, he turned away and walked to the pizza. He wasn’t hungry, but he needed to do something with his hands. He stood there, staring at the box since it wouldn’t show him her reflection like every other surface in this godforsaken room. He chewed and swallowed, concentrating so hard that when her arm reached past him for a slice, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Jumpy, Mr. Mayor?” Amusement warred with embarrassment in her eyes.

“We’re in the jungle. Good to be wary.”

Her eyes snapped to his in a moment of shared understanding. “Can’t be too careful of wild animals.”

He felt like tearing off her clothes with his teeth, so he knew he’d qualify. Quickly, he turned away. “I’m going to change out of this suit.” He pawed through the boxes, pulling out the ones he knew contained clothes for him. “I hope I guessed your size right. If not, I think they’ll be close.” He headed for the bathroom, already thinking of somewhere else to go. Alone. Away from this too-tempting woman.