Wine, Tarts, & Sex (27 page)

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Authors: Susan Johnson

BOOK: Wine, Tarts, & Sex
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By the time they reached the checkout counters, it was only a question of where they could have sex—not when. “Stand in front of me,” he whispered. “Or I’ll embarrass myself.”
“You shouldn’t have kissed me so much,” she whispered back. “I’m about to lose it.”
“Think of something gross. We’ll be out of here in ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes!” she shrieked, or shrieked as much as one could when they were whispering.
Shutting his eyes, he took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and said, terse and low, “Help me unload this cart, and then we’ll test out that backseat.”
“We can’t!” she whispered frantically enough that the checkout girl looked up and gave them a slow once-over.
“Damn right we can,” Jake muttered, ignoring the checkout girl, currently in the mood to ignore the world at large. For a fraction of a second he debated saying,
I’ll be back for the cart
, and dragging Liv out to the car. But then all his years of training kicked in, and he decided the ice cream and Popsicles would melt into a puddle before he returned.
Or maybe Liv’s petrified expression stopped him.
Shoving his hand into the cart, he grabbed the closest item, slapped it on the conveyer belt, and hastily unloaded the groceries.
A short time later, as they walked from the store, Jake tossed the car keys to Liv. “I’ll throw these groceries in the trunk. Turn the air on full blast.”
Liv made a moue. “We probably should wait.”
“Too late, babe. Come on,” he said with a grin, “I’ll make it worth your while.”
“There’re people everywhere.” His make-it-worth-your-while phrase was doing a number on her reservations, however.
“No one can see, baby. The windows are tinted.” Reservations weren’t on his radar with his libido in high gear. “Turn on the air, make yourself comfortable in the backseat, and I’ll see you in five.”
He always was so assured and on mission, although she couldn’t discount her own explosive passions. She could have said no with more conviction. She could have seriously protested. As if—when he was mere feet away and radiating sexual charisma big time. He was the kind of man for whom the phrase,
Lead us not into temptation
, had been coined.
She smiled faintly.
No point in dwelling on the downside, when the upside was oh so close.
And oh so gratifying.
Jake had his own fleeting moment of indecision as he was stacking the bags in the trunk, knowing what the temperature would be in a car trunk parked on an asphalt lot at midday. But
fleeting
was the operative word.
Banging the trunk shut, he moved around the car, opened the back door, and stood transfixed. “Whoa,” he breathed, arrested by the voluptuous image of sexual availability.
“Is something wrong?”
Please don’t say you’ve changed your mind now
, Liv thought, every amorous nerve in her body on full alert and waiting.
“No. You just look good enough to eat, although,” he muttered with a flicker of his brows, “this small backseat isn’t going to offer any smorgasbord opportunities.” Liv was half-leaning against the opposite door, nude from the waist down and—if her heated gaze was any indication— anxious.
“I don’t care—really.” A small breathy sound.
He smiled as he maneuvered his way into the backseat. “Lucky I know what you do care about.”
She gave him a quick, chin-up, liberated-woman look. “I’m not going to apologize.”
“Nor should you, baby. We’re both in the same boat,” he murmured, trying to find some room for his long legs. “Actually, this backseat is smaller than a boat. But, hey, the mood I’m in, I could fuck you in the backseat of a MINI Cooper.”
Just to make sure he wouldn’t break an arm later trying to dig a condom from his jeans pocket, he took one out in advance. “My apologies for destroying the romance, but in light of the cramped quarters, I’m puttin’ this on first.”
“If I was looking for romance, it might matter. However, ” Liv said with a grin, “I’m way past that road sign.”
He looked up, his task accomplished. “So, is Candy Land just around the corner?”
“Yup and I’m traveling fast.”
“That’s what I like about you; I hardly have to do a thing.”
Just let me look at you,
she felt like saying. He was the sexiest man alive. “It works for me,” she said instead, smiling faintly.
“Let’s see how well it works,” he murmured, slipping his hands under her knees, pulling her downward, and climbing between her legs. “If I begin to crush you, punch me, and I’ll stop.”
“Sure I will.”
“I mean it,” he said, kicking the door accidentally, cursing, finally adjusting his hips so his cock was where it had to be and beginning to ease forward.
“Whatever you say—oh God . . . oh God—yesssss . . .”
No one spoke after that, unless heavy breathing and euphoric utterances counted. The windows steamed up, the groceries in the trunk melted, a young couple nudged each other when they walked by and smiled knowingly.
Not that the outside world intruded into the backseat of the silver gray BMW. Nor did reflections or considerations of any kind intervene in the purely physical pleasure consuming the attention of the two people in the car.
Since Liv was into multiple orgasms, Jake played the gentleman, more inclined than ever to be polite now that she’d welcomed him back into her life. Before long, however, even with air-conditioning, they were both slick with sweat or, in Jake’s case, dripping with sweat.
After Liv had come twice, he figured he’d been well-mannered long enough. “This is it, babe. My legs are going numb,” he muttered. “One last time.”
It was a very nice welcome home, despite the cramped quarters and sauna temperatures. It was the nicest orgasmic welcome he’d ever received.
He kissed her afterward, a serious, meaningful kiss. The kind of kiss he’d never bestowed on a woman before. Not that he noticed or cared. Or maybe it just felt so damned good, he was willing to overlook ominous possibilities like commitment for the first time in his life.
Liv understood their kiss was something out of the ordinary, too. It made her seriously consider the future when she’d always been a live-for-today kind of person. When she’d never seriously thought about settling down. But mostly, it made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside—maybe even in
love
.
Are you crazy?
the little voice inside her head screamed.
Okay, okay, maybe she could say—just a
little
bit in love.
How about that?
Her psyche calmed down to match her overall really serene mood after three orgasms, and the world righted itself on its axis.
Jake did say on the way home, though, his expression and voice sober and wholly sincere, “I haven’t felt this good
ever
.”
“Me, too. Nice, hey?” she said with the unruffled calm of someone who had satisfactorily reconciled reality and fantasy.
It was even nicer that night on the porch outside his bedroom with the fireflies flitting by the screens and the moon big and silver in the sky and the night air gently wafting in the windows. It was magical in every way, their lovemaking leisured, their kisses sweeter, a sense of having come together beyond the seething drama of orgasmic release conjuring up altogether new emotions.
Perhaps even perilous emotions.
Or maybe just inexplicable ones for two people traveling into the unknown.

 

Thirty-one
Two hours after the wiseguys had driven away from Liv’s, a man entered Ben’s office asking to speak to Leo. He was from Greeley Transport, he told Ben.
Leo smiled when the man from Greeley Transport was announced. “Show him in,” he promptly ordered, his gleeful tone unmistakable. Punching the Off button on his phone, Leo double-checked that all the lines were shut down before coming to his feet. Moving from behind his desk, he strode toward the door with the swagger of a victor.
He even shook the messenger’s hand as he entered his office.
Knowing Leo’s aversion to germs, Ben did a shocked double take before closing the door behind him. Racing to his desk, he delicately pushed down on the intercom button.
Dead air. Shit. This was top secret stuff.
He leaped for the door, pressed his ear to the burled pear wood, and strained to hear what was being said. The man from Greeley Transport might have been wearing a custom suit and handmade shoes, but he was no businessman unless killing people counted as a business.
“Your package is on the way,” the man said, reticent on the nature of the package.
“When can I expect delivery?”
"Tomorrow morning, first FedEx delivery. You can pick it up at the office.”
“You’re sure?” For a moment, Leo had doubts. Everything had been accomplished so swiftly.
“I’m not here for the hell of it.”
“No, of course not. Tell your employer I appreciate the excellent service.”
“The office—anytime after nine.”
The man in the custom suit turned, walked away, and opened the office door so quickly, Ben barely had time to jerk open the supply cabinet door and grab the first thing he saw.
“If you overheard anything, chump, I suggest you forget it,” Carmine’s messenger growled, his gaze flicking briefly to Ben’s white-knuckled grip on a printer cartridge. “I know where you work, and I can find out where you live.
Capisce?
”
“Yes, sir.” No way was he going to even attempt a lie. But whatever the man had told Leo—and he had a good idea—had made Leo real cheerful. He could hear him whistling from here.
In fact, Leo’s good cheer was so pronounced that when he called Ben into his office, he actually smiled and said, “You’re doing a good job. I just wanted you to know.”
Ben’s jaw literally dropped at both Leo’s smile and his astonishing praise. Recovering quickly, he said, “Thank you, sir. It’s a pleasure to work for you.”
“I’ll be out tomorrow morning. Cancel my appointments. And take the morning off yourself. All work and no play, young man—you lose your edge,” Leo jovially announced with a wave of his hand. “And make an appointment with Dan Wygren for late afternoon. I’ll go to his place. Make it five o’clock.” Reaching over, Leo flicked his phone on, leaned back in his chair and, quietly humming under his breath, looked up at Ben as though he’d suddenly become a stranger.
Ben knew that cold, blank look; he backed out of Leo’s office.
Leo hardly noticed. He was busy calculating the money he’d saved by having Carmine appropriate the flash drive. As if he’d even consider giving that bitch fifty million dollars, he resentfully thought. Or think of giving up his son. Janie Tabor, soap opera diva, didn’t have a clue who she was dealing with. He smiled evilly. She’d find out soon enough.
The minute he picked up his package with the flash drive, he’d let her know how a professional played the game. Take no prisoners. That’s how a winner won. She wouldn’t know what hit her by the time he was finished with her.
As for the information stored on the flash drive, he and Dan would decide tomorrow afternoon how best to cover his tracks. This near disaster had forced him to contemplate some worst-case scenarios, and he didn’t like the risk exposure. They would have to strategize on better options to screen or launder his financial assets. Safer alternatives that didn’t pose the possibility of jail time.
But right now he felt like celebrating. Punching his direct line to Hannah, he exuberantly said, “Cancel your meetings, baby. I’m taking you out on my yacht.”
His exhilaration was so out of character, Hannah experienced a thrill of excitement as she set down the phone. Would she have her engagement ring by the end of the day? Was all her planning and hard work finally going to pay off?
Dare she call him back and ask the reason for his good spirits?
Could she call Ben and ask him?
Would he answer her if she asked?
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. She hit the speed dial for Ben.
When he picked up, she purred, “Dear Ben, would you happen to know why Leo is in such high spirits?”
“I wouldn’t tell you if I did.” Hannah Reiss was the reason the word
unscrupulous
had been invented.
“You shit,” she snapped. “Once I’m engaged to Leo, I’ll have you fired!”
“I’ll worry about that when the time comes.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means you’re not engaged yet.”
She slammed down the phone.
Ben didn’t care. Right now, Hannah Reiss was the least of his problems. Should he rethink his sell order with Cal? Did he have to buy everything back? Was Leo going to come out of this on top again? Scowling, Ben began drumming his fingers on his desktop. Everything might still be in flux. Crap. What should he do?

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