After That Night. Ann Evans

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      Inspiration struck. “Oh, I got you a birthday present.” She swung her arm in his direction, and he laughed when he saw the jar of macadamia nuts in her hand. “I didn’t have time to wrap it.”

      “I’ll treasure these always,” he said playfully. “I know you share them only with special people.”

      “That’s right,” she agreed, filled with a pleasant silliness. “Don’t forget it. They’re a unique gift from a unique person.” Someone who remembers how to have fun.

      “A very special person,” Mark agreed softly.

      She found herself locked in his all-consuming gaze. He didn’t seem to be breathing. She knew she wasn’t.

      The need to kiss him rose in her like a powerful thirst, and he must have seen it, because in the next moment he leaned forward, lowered his head and placed his mouth against hers, very gently. At some point during their picnic he’d eaten an orange, and his lips were flavored with it now. He stroked his tongue along the seam of her mouth, soft and curious, slow and suggestive. He didn’t touch any other part of her, but blood rushed through her as though she could feel him everywhere.

      She couldn’t have said how long the kiss lasted. Short enough to make her want more. Long enough to make her realize she was perilously close to tripping over the edge and sliding down a very steep slope.

      Mark sat back. He stared at her, and she knew he didn’t regret a single moment. Come to think of it, neither did she.

      “Jenna…”

      Traces of heat lightning zigzagged across the Manhattan sky. A sudden breeze made Jenna shiver.

      “What time is it?” she asked.

      “Almost midnight.”

      Her father’s storm warning. Right on time. He’d be worried about her flight tomorrow. He always worried. His good little Jenny-girl. What would he think to see her now? Ready to make love to a man she hadn’t even known twenty-four hours ago.

      Oh, Lord, what am I doing? This wasn’t like her. She was the kind of person marriage had been invented for, and Mark…well, Mark wasn’t. He was probably used to having women throw themselves at him. She’d been begging to be kissed, and he’d been more than happy to oblige. But it would be foolish to take this lovely interlude any further. It was midnight. Pumpkin time.

      “I have to go,” she said.

      She pulled her feet out of the chair and stood, snatching up her shoes and jacket.

      “You don’t have to,” Mark said, coming to his feet, as well.

      “I do. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to give you the wrong idea. I didn’t mean…” She realized she was starting to babble and stopped, void of explanations that would make any sense even to herself.

      She pulled the sliding glass doors wide and passed quickly through the suite, Mark close on her heels. She plunged her arm into one of her jacket sleeves, missed and tried again just as Mark came up behind her in the foyer.

      Mark settled one of the sleeves up over her shoulder. “Didn’t mean to what, Jenna? Let me kiss you?”

      “Yes. No! What I mean to say is, I liked it. Too much.”

      “So did I. So stay here. Let’s find out what else we have in common.”

      Dammit! Why wouldn’t her jacket cooperate? She fished around in it awkwardly, finally finding the second sleeve and shrugging into it. She turned to face Mark. “I can’t. I’m not a one-night-stand kind of girl.”

      His brow furrowed as he stiffened a little. “Do you think that’s the way I would treat you?”

      “No. Well, yes, probably.” She took a deep breath. “I just think that where that kiss was heading is someplace that’s a lot easier for you than it is for me. My life is very structured. Very simple. Very sane. Some people even find me boring. Ask Lauren, she’ll tell you.”

      She finished yanking her jacket into place, then realized she was still barefoot. She pulled one shoe on, but the other refused to slip into place. She took a couple of ungraceful hops. “Damn! I hate these shoes.”

      “I don’t care what Lauren thinks. Or anyone else. I don’t find you boring at all. I think you’re one of the most intriguing women I’ve met in a long time.”

      Her attention swung away from her shoe and back to his face. “For a man who claims not to believe in romance, you’re very good at it.”

      She was losing her balance. Mark reached out to steady her, his hands on both her shoulders. “Will you stand still? Let’s talk about this.”

      She wobbled on one foot for a moment, then steadied. She should have known he wouldn’t make this easy for her. Her mind was a jumble of guilt and confusion and embarrassment, and Mark wasn’t willing to play fair. Forget nice and friendly. His hands were quiet on her shoulders, but his thumbs were massaging the base of her throat, and that touch was so warm. Supple. Alive.

      She shook her head. “Stop that. It’s not going to work.”

      Now his hands did move. Up her neck in a gentle, whispery caress. Cupping the base of her skull so that her head was drawn upward and back, and his fingers stroked pulse points that had been sleeping for years.

      Unfair! Jenna wanted to cry. Stop! But the words simply wouldn’t come.

      He gave her a long, speculative appraisal from beneath his lashes. His tender smile had a melting effect on her insides. “You realize, of course, if you go now, you’ll never find out.”

      “Find out what?” she asked. Her voice sounded detached and foreign.

      His mouth widened into a grin. “Whether it’s boxers or briefs.”

      She stared at him in mute misery. The dark, heavy truth descended on her in full force and without mercy. She might as well acknowledge the terrible inevitability of this moment, that something was breaking, breaking like a cord, in her mind….

      Jenna nodded slowly. “You’re right, damn you. I have to know.”

      She tossed the remaining shoe over one shoulder. By the time it hit the floor, she’d put her arms around Mark’s neck and pulled him to her. She kissed him, thoroughly. And he responded.

      If this was a mistake, she’d find a way to make it right somehow. And if there were regrets, she’d never lay claim to them. A premonition of danger flared at the edges of her mind, but her body was already on a wild journey now, and the feeling didn’t last long enough to become a nuisance.

      CHAPTER FIVE

      THINGS HAD HAPPENED pretty much as Jenna expected when she and Lauren returned to Atlanta. They called Vic in California, giving her the bad news that the interview with Mark Bishop was a bust. Their friend had been so thoroughly immersed in talking sense into her little sister that she hadn’t been able to give it much attention.

      But now, a week later, Vic was back. Disappointed and annoyed. СКАЧАТЬ