Year of Living Blonde (Sweet Life in Seattle, Book 1) (32 page)

“Nothing. I just . . . I’m a little bit afraid of heights, is all.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You are?”

She nods.

“Why didn’t you say something earlier? We didn’t have to go on this ride.”

“We were having such a perfect day,” Natalie says in small voice. “I didn’t want to ruin it.” What she doesn’t say is that this whole day has been like a miracle, a mirage in the desert of her life. It’s been a long time since she’s felt this alive. “And now I’ve gone and ruined it anyway.”

Anthony seems taken aback. “You haven’t ruined anything. It’s still a perfect day.”

She stares into her lap. “I was thinking I could handle it. It’s been a while and this isn’t like a roller coaster.”

“You have a problem with roller coasters?”

“We took Chloe to Disneyland when she was younger and I freaked out.” She grimaces. It’s embarrassing to admit she couldn’t handle something as simple as an amusement park ride, especially when all those little kids seem to do just fine.

“Which rides there freaked you out?”

She shrugs a little. “All of them. Peter insisted I keep trying, but it was a disaster. Pirates of the Caribbean was the last one and then I gave up.”

“You were scared of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride?”

Natalie laughs a little. “I know it sounds abs—” she gasps as the Ferris wheel suddenly jerks to a stop. Their capsule starts to swing. Her hands grip the side of the bench as she tries to stay calm, but then she makes a big mistake.

She looks outside. They’re at the very top.

“Oh, my God!” Her eyes grow wide. Her stomach drops and adrenaline rockets through her. All she can think is how she’s suspended in this tiny capsule high above the ground and it’s a long way down.

“Natalie, look at me.”

“No, I . . . can’t . . .” The panic is setting in. She recognizes it from Disneyland. Her vision swims and she feels like she’s going underwater and can’t breathe.

“Now—dammit!” He pulls her face toward him. “Look at me!”

And then she sees Anthony. His handsome face is directly before her. His firm and sensual mouth. His chocolate-brown eyes.

“Valrhona,” she says.

“What?”

She swallows. The panic is starting to recede somewhat.

“I want you to breathe, Natalie. Take a deep breath and let it out slowly.”

She does what he tells her. The outside is fading into the background and the underwater feeling is starting to go away, too.

He nods. “That’s good. You’re doing just fine.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know, baby. You’re fine though. I’m going to take care of you. Just keep looking at me.”

“Okay,” she whispers.

Natalie keeps her eyes on him. He tells her to take another deep breath and she complies. His gaze is steady and doesn’t waver for an instant. Somewhere in her mind she realizes it’s a treat to look at him as much as she wants. “God, you’re gorgeous,” she murmurs before she can stop herself.

Anthony grins a little. “I thought I was pitifully unattractive.”

She sinks into his gaze. It’s like coming in from the cold and sitting next to a warm fire. “How do you say ‘kiss me’ in Italian?” she asks softly.

He doesn’t reply right away. Just studies her. “
Baciami,
” he says finally.

She puts her hands on his face, his scratchy jaw beneath her fingers. “
Baciami.
” And then she leans over and kisses him.

Before Anthony can decide whether it’s a good idea or not, Natalie’s mouth is on his. She tastes fresh like a winter’s day and he doesn’t want to stop kissing her, but gently pushes her away.

“Please,” she murmurs and tries to pull him back.

Damn, how can he resist a beautiful woman begging him to kiss her? And she’s clearly in need of comfort. He doesn’t want to take advantage, though.

It was terrible to see her so scared, especially a woman as self-reliant as Natalie. She seemed on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. He’s never heard of someone with a phobia of amusement park rides. She didn’t have any problem on his motorcycle, so it must be the height more than anything.

Anthony glances outside. They’re still near the top of the Ferris wheel, hanging right on the edge. He wonders how long this ride lasts.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t appear to be a short one.

The bench seat is narrow and he repositions himself so the padding isn’t digging into his back. His arm is resting behind Natalie and he puts the other hand on her hip.

Her eyes are closed. She opens them, but he’s alarmed when he sees them wander toward the window.

“Natalie,” he says, his voice a command.

Her blue eyes widen and flash back to him. She looks so unsure of herself that he decides another kiss probably isn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Tell me to kiss you again,” he says gently. “Can you say it in Italian?”

“
Baciami?”

And then he draws her close and puts his mouth to hers. She doesn’t need any persuasion and slips her arms around his neck easily. He traces Natalie’s full lips with his tongue and when she opens her mouth to him, he explores her slowly, taking his time to drink her in, her mouth so velvety and warm.

She moans softly and rakes her hand through his hair, and the sound does something to him. Pulls him in further, his cock already straining against his jeans. Her mouth is wet and willing as he glides his tongue over hers, tasting her. There was a hesitancy when he kissed her last night, but he notices it’s gone now.

Instead, she’s doing some exploring of her own, sliding her mouth down to his neck. When she bites a tendon, he groans.

Christ.

“You smell so good,” she says. “I wish I could eat you.”

“Me, too.” His balls tingle at her words. And then he kisses her again. His other hand travels up from her hip to feel more of her, but he’s frustrated to find her jacket in the way.

“Can you unzip this?”

Natalie looks down at herself and then back to him.

“Let me touch you,” he says softly. “Just through your clothes.”
Please.

She blinks and then he watches as she pulls the zipper all the way down. The coat falls open.

And Anthony’s mouth goes dry. He can barely think straight.

Even though she’s wearing a T-shirt, those voluptuous breasts are right there. Along with that peek of cleavage that’s been driving him crazy all afternoon. He can’t pull his eyes away.

Sliding his hand up, he cups one breast, weighing and molding her. And even through her clothes, he can tell they’re magnificent. Every wet dream he had as a teenage boy seems to be personified in Natalie.

He rolls his thumb over one of her nipples through the fabric and her breath quickens.

“Anthony,” she whispers.

Her eyes fall shut as he plays with her, her fingers trailing through his hair. God, how he wishes they were anywhere else but sitting on this Ferris wheel.

He moves his thumb up and runs it over the smooth line of her cleavage. He snakes the tips of his fingers inside her shirt, skimming the top. She’s soft everywhere.

I have to taste her.
Just a taste.
He puts his mouth down to her décolletage, licks her skin. She smells and tastes like vanilla, like all the delicious desserts she creates.

Natalie sucks in her breath. Pulls the back of his head to her. He pushes his thigh between her legs and her body rubs against him. His mouth slides up to nuzzle her neck, and then before he knows it, she grabs his face with both hands, drawing him to her as she kisses him urgently—whimpering into his mouth.

Jesus Christ.

Anthony’s balls tighten and he actually worries he’s going to lose it.

The Ferris wheel is moving again and an alarm is going off in the back of his mind. Natalie is arching against him, practically in his lap now, and it’s difficult to stop. He doesn’t want to. His hands are grabbing her hips, sliding down to her ass, and she feels so good. He can’t remember the last time he was with a woman who felt this good.

Dude, you need to dial it down.
The Ferris wheel has been stopping and starting and it occurs to him that they’re letting people off.

“Natalie,” he says, pulling away, his voice ragged.

Her eyes are still closed. He glances down and sees they’re only a few capsules away from it being their turn to get off.

“It’s finished. We have to leave now.”

She looks at him, dazed, her mouth open, and he hates to leave her in this state of arousal.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he tells her and then he kisses her again softly.

Anthony glances down to her breasts. Hell, he hates to leave himself in this state. He shifts on the seat and wonders how he’s going to walk out of here with a huge hard-on.

“The ride is over?” she asks, looking around. She glances down with trepidation, but then grows bolder as she leans closer to the front window. “Oh, it is.”

“You made it,” he tells her. “See, you could do it.”

She turns to him with a shy smile. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I almost wish we could go again.”

Later, Anthony and Natalie ride home on his bike—her arms hugging him tight the whole way. He decides he likes the feel of them. Somewhere during that Ferris wheel ride, he and Natalie slipped from casual territory into something else. Something off the map. Uncharted.

“When can I see you again?” he asks.

They’re standing on Natalie’s front porch. It looks the same as last night, except the axe isn’t hanging from her front door anymore. He feels a peculiar sense of ownership for having been the one to pull it out. Like a dog pissing on a tree—except this dog pisses liquid nitrogen.

She considers his request. And he gets the sense Natalie is a woman only starting to understand her feminine power.

“I have a busy workload this week.”

“Tell me when I can see you.”

She bites her lip.

He wants to reach out for her, but holds back. “Maybe I’ll just climb through your bedroom window one of these nights.”

Natalie’s eyes darken and he can see she isn’t opposed to the idea. If he had to guess, she’s more than a little excited by it.

“Wednesday might work.” There’s a slight tremor in her voice. “And you’re still welcome to come Friday, if you change your mind. I’m pretty sure Graham will be here, too.”

This gets Anthony’s attention. “Graham is coming to your pot luck dinner?”

She nods. “Blair invited him.”

Shit.
A sliver of panic races though him. If Graham tells Blair about him leasing out that space, he’s screwed. Natalie will never forgive him.

So tell her yourself right now.

But when he looks at her face, he knows he can’t do it. He can’t ruin their perfect day.

“Thank you,” Natalie says. “For the Ferris wheel.”

He watches as she reaches into her coat pocket and pulls something out. Anthony recognizes it as the card from the fortuneteller. “Here.” Natalie hands it to him. “You paid good money for that.”

Anthony takes the card and reads it.

A secret admirer will soon reveal their heart. Take care of it.

“SO I UNDERSTAND
you’re seeing someone,” Peter says.

Damn.