Windswept (22 page)

As he felt her palm slide across to the collar of his coat, Davis smiled. She smelled so good, a subtle blend of warm woman, heated from the dance, and light, floral accents. She had looked so pretty when she appeared on the stairs ready to leave. The blue jacket complimented her eyes and the swirling skirt showed off her legs. But when she’d taken the jacket off at the reception to reveal the deep V of the dress and the smooth sweep of her back, he’d almost growled. He’d made certain to warn off any men with possible designs on her. Now he had her in his arms, so he tested a theory and rubbed his thumb up over her backbone. Yep, warm silk.

He smiled to himself when she shivered slightly and moved even closer. With her high-heeled shoes, they fit together perfectly, danced smoothly, as if they’d been partners for years. He’d have to take her dancing again soon. On the other hand, if they danced much closer, she would hardly miss the effect she was having on him--and neither would anybody else. Control yourself, Jamison, he ordered. Wait until you get home.

The song ended and he held her a few seconds past the last note. He pulled his head back and gazed into her heavy lidded eyes. Her mouth, with her lips slightly parted, was so tempting. He was lowering his head to brush a kiss across those lips when the ballroom lights came up and Juan Morales called all the guests to bid the bride and groom farewell. Barrett blinked, visibly shook off the spell they had both been in, smiled rather tentatively, and turned toward the raised platform where the wedding party stood.

Davis could only take a deep breath and shake his head. What was it with these interruptions every time he got close to her? He hoped to high heaven this was the last one.

On the way home, Davis glanced over at Barrett as she babbled about the wedding and her friends she’d seen there. She was definitely nervous, probably about him. She’d never run on so much before. In fact, her ability to speak succinctly was one of the attributes he liked most about her. And she could be companionably quiet.

She seemed to realize what she was doing, because after a couple of minutes, she stopped in the middle of a sentence and sighed. “Sorry,” she said, “I guess I’m still jazzed from seeing everybody again.”

He stopped the car at a red light, reached over, and brought her nearest hand to his lips. “No problem,” he murmured. “Meeting your friends was interesting.” He brushed her knuckles with his mustache as he kissed the back of her hand. He heard her breath catch and turned his head to smile at her. She didn’t say a word, just looked back with those big beautiful blue eyes, as if she were waiting to see what he did next.

The light turned green and the driver behind them honked. Davis had to grin. His luck with interruptions was holding--it was all bad. He kissed her hand again quickly, returned it to her lap and gave it a squeeze before letting go. The car behind honked again as he stepped on the gas pedal.

After a few minutes, Barrett cleared her throat and said, “I think you may have some potential investors calling you next week. Several of my friends mentioned they were looking for opportunities, even in this economy.”

“Yes, I agree. I gave out a number of cards. Juan Morales, Jose Tejeda, and a couple of their friends are coming by on Tuesday with a start-up proposal. All in all, the event was enjoyable on several levels.” He shot a glance at her, but she was looking straight ahead. She didn’t say anything else.

Barrett stared unseeing out the windshield as she castigated herself for acting like a discombobulated nincompoop, blathering on so nonsensically. Yes, she was nervous. The last dance and now the kiss on the hand yelled loud and clear that Davis, the black eagle, was hunting tonight. She had to keep her wits about her. The man had a powerful effect on her; it would be so easy, too easy to end up in his bed. And lead to possible disaster. On several levels.

On the other hand, she had to admit she was curious about what kissing him would be like. Really kissing him, not the little bitty sample of last weekend. She knew what his hands felt like--those long fingers had already caused tingles up and down her backbone while they were dancing. It took scant creativity to imagine them elsewhere on her body and she had to suppress the shiver the thought generated.

She mulled over scenarios for saying good-night--kiss or not, go farther or not, or--
bwuck, bwuck
--simply run upstairs and lock herself in before he could do anything. Wouldn’t the last idea go over well? Talk about making a fool of herself.

Then her eyes focused and she realized they had arrived. He parked in the garage and took her hand as they walked to the house. She almost giggled. Could he read her mind? Did he think she was going to run away?

“Would you like a nightcap?” he asked as he reset the security device after they were in the kitchen.

“No, it’s late. I think I’ll just turn in,” she replied and moved toward the door into the dining room.

He simply nodded and followed.

Only the light over the sink was on, and Davis flicked its switch as they went through the door. The wall sconces along the hall and stairway cast their usual low illumination to highlight the path through the darkness.

Barrett glanced up at Davis as they climbed the stairs side by side, his hand on the small of her back. He must have seen the movement of her head because he gazed back just as they came abreast of one of the fixtures. The light reflected off the hard planes of his face but left his eyes in shadow. Barrett was struck once more with the avian-like resemblance, but then he smiled, and pure warmth and charm surrounded her.

“I had a good time tonight,” he said in his deep velvet voice. “Did you?”

“Yes, I did,” she replied, but couldn’t think of anything else to say as they continued up the stairs.

And then they were at her open door. Her bedside lamp cast a muted light onto the balcony.

She swung around to face him. “Davis . . .” was the only word she could get past her throat as she looked up into his darkened eyes.

He put his right hand on her waist under her jacket and wrapped one of her curls around a finger on the left. He glanced at the curl she could feel him playing with, then lowered his gaze to her eyes. “Barrett . . .” he whispered.

And then he was kissing her.

Softly, tenderly, with great care. And skill. And persuasion. And . . .

And she was enthralled.

His mustache tickled and his mouth heated hers. When he caressed her lips with his tongue, she parted them for his entry. He swept in, claiming, tasting, daring her tongue to play with his. When she responded with forays of her own, he tangled his hand in her curls and, widening his stance, used the other to draw her into him.

She was abruptly swimming in his embrace, and she had to hold on to him as the only means to stay afloat. He tasted dark, mysterious, incendiary. She slid her right hand around his waist under his coat and splayed it across his back. His muscles were hard and smooth and she could feel them shifting as he pulled her closer until they were pressed together from thigh to chest. She raised her other hand to his shoulder and then to the back of his neck. Her movements served to bring them even more intimately together--enough to feel the strong evidence of his desire.

When her hips met his, he made a satisfied sound deep in his throat that she could feel resonate within her. When he brought his hand up her back from her waist, above the V, to glide over her bare skin, a wave of heat accompanied the stroke and warmed her to the core. When he deepened the kiss and slid his hand down, down to press her more tightly against him, she heard herself repeat the sound he had made. She was melting, flowing around him, into him, and she had to hold him even more tightly to remain upright.

Davis thought he had his wits about him until he heard her small sound of surrender and felt her body become pliant in his hands. Triumph coursed through him: she would be his.

But then she returned his kiss, kneaded his back muscles, and fisted her hand in his hair. Her tongue danced with his as he deepened the kiss even more. Her taste--heady, sweet, provocative--swirled through him.

And his blood heated and the world contracted to only the two of them in each other’s arms.

And he kissed her the way he’d been wanting to--slowly, thoroughly, taking the time to savor, to enjoy, to possess.

And she kissed him back, with softness and fierceness and passion. The passion he’d wondered about when they met. The passion he’d definitely uncovered now. The passion as he’d never felt it from another woman--honest, forthright, real.

He ended the kiss and held her to him, taking the time to delight in the feel of her breasts against his chest, her softness against his erection, his fingers playing with her curls. She didn’t say a word, probably couldn’t if she was in the same shape he was. He doubted he could have stood alone.

He felt her take a deep breath and he relaxed his arms but didn’t let go. She loosened her grip and brought both hands to his chest, resting one on each side of his tie.

She raised her head to meet his eyes with a solemn gaze. “Davis . . .” She licked her lips.

“Barrett . . .” he said and smiled into her eyes.

She cleared her throat and frowned at him--she looked perplexed, as if she were searching for words, but it was a frown nevertheless. Not the reaction he was hoping for. He braced himself.

“Davis, this is not a good idea.”

He would not pretend to misunderstand her. “Why not? Our attraction for each other has been obvious. The kiss we just shared is proof of it.”

She shook her head. “That’s immaterial. Acting on our attraction is not a good idea.” She tried to take a step back.

He let her take half a step. “I don’t agree.” At least she wasn’t denying the magnetism between them. He leaned back against the door jamb and put both hands on her waist to keep her positioned between his legs. She left her hands on his chest, but otherwise they weren’t touching. “We’re both adults, single, and unattached. Where’s the harm?”

Barrett stared into his eyes and marshaled her thoughts--not an easy task with him so close, but she wasn’t going to act like an affronted virgin and try to wrench herself out of his arms. She spoke as evenly as she could. “Davis, this is not professional behavior.”

He raised his eyebrows at the term.

“I’m here to do a job, create an inventory for the Windswept papers, not to . . .” She floundered, not sure what to call whatever this was between them. After their kiss, “attraction” and “temptation” weren’t strong enough terms.

He evidently had no confusion. “Enjoy the summer? Have sex with the owner? Make love with me?”

“Exactly!” she said before she really thought about his words, especially the last ones. She had to explain, to make him understand her situation. “I can’t afford a . . . relationship right now.” She hurried the last three words when he opened his mouth to supply some. She couldn’t let him define the terms in this negotiation. “I’m under a deadline. I have to concentrate on my career if I have any hope of receiving tenure, and while I’m grateful, very grateful to you for the opportunity you’ve given me to use the papers, . . .” Oh, Lord, what was she going to say next?

Again he furnished the words, this time with a frown of his own. “You’re not
that
grateful? Barrett, I don’t want gratitude from you, and our having--or not having--sex is in no way tied to the papers or your access to them, so get the idea out of your head. Let me state it categorically. Whatever happens between us, you will always have access to the papers as we agreed. If you become uncomfortable living here, I’ll pay your expenses for wherever you want to live while you’re working on them. Satisfactory?” He gave her waist a little squeeze with his question.

“But my professional reputation will be worth nothing if it appears I’m sleeping with you for access,” she countered, at the same time absurdly relieved at his statement. “I’m certain speculation is already floating around the department simply because I’m staying at your house.”

“The inventory and the articles you write will bolster your professional reputation and get you tenure,” he said in an assured tone. “Any speculation will die under the weight and quality of your work. As for what goes on in this house between the two of us, nobody will know, with the possible exception of Gonzales and Eva, and I know they won’t say anything.”

“But what about your cousin?”

“Lloyd? What does he have to do with us?” He looked genuinely puzzled by her question.

“He struck me as the type to spread rumors, any rumors if he thought they’d get him access or stop me from completing the inventory.”

“You don’t have to worry about Lloyd. He’s at home and won’t bother us. If anything, he’s my problem, not yours.”

She thought furiously and came up with another idea. It was somewhat puny, but she couldn’t resist. “What about because I work for you? How would it look for you to be sleeping with an employee?”

He chuckled. “But you’re an independent contractor. And our sleeping together is not a condition of your access or a requirement for the grant. You’re not going to cry sexual harassment, are you?”

“No, of course not.” So much for that idea. She snuck a glance at his face. The scoundrel looked like he was enjoying this. Well, why shouldn’t he? Davis Jamison lived for negotiating, didn’t he? And after their kiss he had a pretty good idea how tempted she was. What was she going to do now? She crossed her arms and glared at his tie.

He took the initiative with a finger under her chin to raise her face and her gaze to his. He used his other hand to pull her a little closer. “Barrett, I’m not going to rush you, and I certainly don’t want you in my bed because of a misguided sense of gratitude.” He said the last word as if it tasted bitter. “Think about it, about us. We enjoy each other’s company. We’re sexually attracted to each other. I’d like to take our enjoyment to the next level. For both of us.”

“But . . .”

“And I’m not going to drop the subject, or let you ignore me. I don’t think I’m capable of it. I want you too badly and I’m going to do my damnedest to persuade you.”