ARE YOU LONESOME TONIGHT? (Running Wild) (15 page)

A perfectly cooked carp on a bed of greens came next, and after that one delicious course followed another in leisurely fashion.

They talked about food, other restaurants, movies, books.

He was smart and amusing and quick-witted, and someone had worked hard on his manners. He was as polite and attentive as a well- brought-up Southern gentleman, not that she’d met any. As the evening progressed, she had to grudgingly admit he was fun to be with.

He asked about her work and listened when she talked. They argued over a recent scandal that involved a female juror who’d fallen in love with the accused and dated him after he’d been released from custody. Bruce felt the woman suffered from low self-esteem; Polly figured she was seriously lacking gray matter, and that what little she had was functional only when she was standing up.

He laughed so hard he had to gulp water.

Intelligent. It was nice to have someone smart enough to appreciate her humor.

She asked how he’d come to be a doctor. He’d wanted to be an architect, he said, but he couldn’t draw. So he switched to medicine, and passed out cold watching a baby being born. But then he got hooked. Delivering babies was much better than designing buildings. Better than almost anything. The heat in his glance filled in the blanks on that one. 

Innuendo.

Yes. This was going to work.

A final dish of fresh litchee nuts in syrup and a plate of fragile almond cookies marked the end of the meal.

Polly struggled up to visit the bathroom and was surprised to find the restaurant almost empty. A glance at her watch startled her; they’d been there five hours.

“Time to go?” Bruce was waiting with her jacket when she got back. Polly noticed that no bill had arrived. Bruce left a sizable roll of money on the table.

Generous, she ticked off with a sigh.

Tommy appeared as they made their way back through the kitchen. Polly thanked him for the dinner, and Bruce shook his hand firmly as they went out the door.

Back in the van, Polly began plotting. First she’d suggest they take a ride through the park, she decided, and she’d see to it he stopped at one of the secluded spots overlooking the ocean. After a heated, dedicated half hour of driving him out of his mind, she’d let him talk her into going home with him.

Hell, seduction was easier than taking a deposition, she thought with a satisfied grin. And once she’d fulfilled this physical urge to bed him, she’d be able to put him in perspective and move on with her life.

Except that when she suggested the ride in the park, Bruce shook his head. “I’m taking you home,” he announced in a no-nonsense tone. “Otherwise I’ll end up making love to you.” His big hand reached across and slipped under her skirt, caressing the bare flesh between stocking and garter, sending hot and powerful vibrations up her thigh and higher.

“You’re a sexy witch, Polly. I can’t look at you without wanting to strip off your clothes."

“My apartment isn’t far from here. We could go to my place,” she murmured.

"We’ll do that, but not tonight,” he said firmly.

What was this idiot’s problem? She glanced out the window, certain he had to be saying one thing and meaning another. But the van was heading across town, in the general direction of Maxine’s house.

"What the hell have you got against making love?" she burst out.

He blew out a long breath. “Absolutely nothing. I’m a really big fan, believe me. But not on our first date.”

He was religious. He was insane. He was impotent? He was a doctor, he’d know about Viagra, for God’s sake.

“I tell you, this isn’t easy for me, Polly.” There wasn’t a trace of his teasing grin, and his tone indicated that he was deadly serious. “I want you so much I can hardly think. But I’m determined that we’ll get to know each other before we jump into bed together.” 

“Well, silly me,” she said in a snarl. “I had the idea that’s exactly how two people got acquainted."

He grinned at her and shook his head. "Nope. Not in my book, not with you. See, it’s easy to be physically naked. I want us to do the emotional nakedness first, so that we know we’re suited before we take the next step.”

She gaped across at his handsome profile, lit intermittently by streetlights, hardly able to believe her ears. She considered hitting him across the head with her handbag, but he was driving. And she already had that damned "reckless driving” charge pending from broadsiding his car.

She seethed for the rest of the time it took to reach Maxine’s, planning the perfect insult for the moment when he made the mistake of asking her out again. And if he thought he was going to get a kiss good night, he was wrong, wrong, wrong. Man, was he in for a surprise.

He pulled into the driveway and was out of the car and around to her door before she could locate her damned crutches. He lifted her out and walked protectively close all the way to the door, where he rang the bell before Polly could fumble out the key in her handbag.

Edna answered, phone pressed to her ear, pacifier plugged in her mouth. She winked and waggled her fingers, gave a protracted moan as she sucked hard on the pacifier, and then went back into the living room to finish her assignment.

Bruce stared after her and then gave his head a wondering shake. “What’s that all about?"

“Sucking," Polly snapped. “It sounds like she’s . . .”

“I get it.” He closed his eyes briefly and then opened them and said in a not-too-steady voice, “Thanks for a fantastic evening. I’ll be in touch soon.” He brushed her cheekbone gently with his thumb, and she waited for him to take her in his arms, rehearsing the blistering lecture she planned to lay on him.

But he drew his hand away and gave her a smart little salute.

“Sleep well, Hopalong,” he had the nerve to say as he opened the door. He was whistling cheerfully by the time he hit the steps.

Even though she knew full well the penalty for murder, Polly was plotting ways and means as the door closed behind him. 

Harry shut the hotel room door, and Maxine stared around, her heart hammering so hard she was sure he could hear it. All through their elegant dinner she’d barely tasted the food. She’d been thinking about this, about coming up to this room, about taking her clothes off and making love to Harry.

She wanted to, she really wanted to, but now that the time had come she was quaking in her high-heeled sandals.

She knew so much about men and how to please them when it came to phone sex, but in actual fact she’d been with only three men in her entire life. She was beyond nervous. She was scared out of her mind. 

Harry would be disappointed; she was sure of it. He’d expect her to be a lot more practiced than she was. All the way up in the elevator, she’d been afraid that the sumptuous meal she’d just eaten was going to come back up again.
Nothing like vomit to turn a guy on, Maxine.

The hotel room was large, and there were soft lamps lit, creating a sense of coziness and luxury. It wasn’t just a bedroom, either; there was a small, cozy sitting area with a sofa, a coffee table, and even a fireplace. Beyond, wide double doors showed a slice of king-size bed reflected in a huge wall-size mirror. There was a balcony, and through the sliding glass doors Vancouver’s downtown sparkled like a rhinestone necklace.

“This is so luxurious. It must have cost you a fortune, Harry,” she finally managed to stammer. "Oh, and look at the lilacs.” On legs that felt like sponges she walked over to the vase set on a narrow side table and bent, drawing in the heady, rich scent of the blossoms.

“You ordered these?”

He nodded.

“Thank you for thinking of flowers, Harry.”

“Actually, I stole them from Mrs. Campanato’s garden.”

She gave him a horrified look and then realized by the twinkle in his eye that he was teasing. He was trying to help her relax; he sensed that she was nervous. It was sweet of him, and she gave him a shaky smile.

“How about some wine?” He took a bottle from an ice bucket on the wet bar, and when she nodded, he opened it and poured them each a glass.

“Don’t tell me," she said when he handed it to her. "You stole it from Mr. Campanato’s wine shed, right?”

He grinned as he reached out and touched her glass with his. "I can see I've told you far too much about myself. You know all my nasty little habits.”

“And I love you in spite of them.” The words were out before she realized what she’d said. Her face burned, and she tipped the glass up and downed half the wine in one gulp, not looking at him. She could feel tears prickling behind her eyelids. Of all the things she’d been determined not to say tonight, the L-word was at the top of the list. She’d blown it, and they hadn’t been in the hotel room for even fifteen minutes.

“Just fooling.” But her voice wobbled.

“Maxine.” His voice was quiet, and she knew he was standing very close behind her, but she didn’t turn to face him. She was too embarrassed. His arms came around her, drawing her stiff form close against his chest, and she could feel his breath, cool on her burning neck and cheek.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re joking, but if I thought you meant that, I’d be the luckiest man on earth.” He turned her into his arms and used a finger to tip her chin up so he could kiss her, a reassuring kiss, soft and very tender.

Her lips were trembling.

“Let’s make a bargain, dearest.”

The endearment made her feel better.

“We’ll be totally honest with each other tonight, and anything we do or say stays within this room. We’re free to be as shy or outrageous or wild or reserved as we like, as long as it’s genuinely how we feel at the moment."

It sounded good. She gave a tiny, tentative nod.

“This is our time; we’re totally off the clock until tomorrow comes,” he reminded her, his voice husky. “No kids, no phones, no responsibilities. We don’t even have to have sex if you don’t feel like it.”

She managed to look disappointed.

“Although if we don’t, you’re liable to see a grown man bang his head on the wall and cry,” he added sardonically. “What I’m trying to say is, we don’t have to do a damn thing unless we both really want to. Okay? What d’ya think?"

"Okay.” She didn’t sound too certain, but she didn't feel too certain about anything just at the moment. At least this way she wouldn’t have to worry about what was going to come out of her mouth next.

“Done deal. What do you feel like first?" 

She considered it. “Let’s have another glass of wine and just look around.”

Wineglasses in hand, they wandered through the suite, and Maxine began to feel like a child exploring a playground. She opened the mini bar and examined the contents. “Ohh, chocolate.”

"Here we go.” Harry removed the huge bar and peeled away the wrapping, breaking off bits and slipping them into her mouth. The sweetness soothed her, melting seductively on her tongue. She liked his fingers touching her lips.

She wandered, admiring the sunken tub and the stacks of navy and plum towels in the bathroom, the scented candles by the tub.

Harry took two into the bedroom, setting them on the bedside table.

Without exchanging a word, they flopped down side by side and bounced as hard as they could on the king-size bed. After that they stepped out onto the small balcony.

"It’s like being on vacation.” Maxine sighed blissfully, staring up at the sky with its canopy of stars, and then down to the millions of twinkling city lights. As soon as he felt her shiver in the damp night air, he took her hand and drew her back into the bedroom.

She sat on the edge of the bed as he lit the candles and turned off the lights. She was relaxed, and now she felt anticipation instead of fear. 

He went to get the bottle of wine. When he came back he said, "When was the last time you had a vacation, Maxine?”

She remembered it vividly. “Graham’s father, Ricky, took me to Mexico for ten days.” It was there that she’d become pregnant. "How about you? When was the last time you went on vacation?”

He thought it over. “My honeymoon, I guess. We went to Bermuda. It was a good time. We went scuba diving and horseback riding.” He emptied the last of the wine into their glasses and set the bottle on the floor. “You’ve never told me much about Graham’s father, apart from the fact that he was an asshole who walked out on you when you were four months pregnant.” He took off his sports jacket and slung it over a chair, then turned the clock radio to a station that played soft instrumentals. “I’d like you to tell me about him, Maxine. If it doesn’t bother you.”

She looked up at him. He was dark, dangerous, and killer handsome in his white shirt and loosened tie.

“I didn’t think he was somebody you’d want to talk about, Harry.”

"But I do,” he insisted. “I want to know everything about you, and he was obviously a big part of your life.” He knelt at her feet and slipped off her high-heeled sandals, giving each foot a small massage in the process, rubbing her arches, giving each toe a gentle squeeze.

“Mmmm, that feels good.” It did. It also felt sensual. She plumped the pillows up behind her and shimmied back on the bed. "You said that to me before,” she reminded him. “When we first talked on the phone, you said you wanted to know everything about me." But of course she’d had no intention of being honest then. She did now. “It was the first time in my life that a man had ever said that to me."

“Men are generally idiots when it comes to women,” he said with a regretful sigh. “We don’t know what to ask, or how to ask it.” Harry took off his own shoes and made himself comfortable close beside her.

Her heart had settled down in the last few minutes, but it accelerated all over again when he slid an arm under her shoulders and drew her against his side. She could smell his freshly laundered shirt, the faintly spicy deodorant he wore, and, most arousing of all, the undertones of musky male that were personally his.

“I’m trying to graduate out of the idiot category where women are concerned, sweetheart, so I want to know what attracted you to the guy who was Graham's father,” he insisted. “I want to know what he was like, what made you fall in love with him, what his good points were. He must have had some."

“Good points?" She raised her eyebrows and shook her head. It was resting on his shoulder. 

She wondered if his heart was thrumming the way hers was.

“I tend to concentrate more on why I was such a fool where Ricky was concerned,” she confessed, conscious of his fingers lightly tracing a pattern on the bare skin of her arm. His touch made the tiny hairs stand on end.

“But you’re right; of course there were things about Ricky I liked. He was smart, exciting to be with, the kind of guy who has an idea a minute.” She shook her head. “And never carries through on any of them. He had this great imagination. He had lots of energy. He was tall and blond. And he made me laugh.” She settled more comfortably into his arm. “I’m a sucker for a guy with a sense of humor.”

“That's the death knell for me, then,” he said in a hopeless tone. “Humor, no less. And here I was already stinging over the physically attractive, tall, blond bit.”

She laughed and he hugged her close.

“Okay," he said with an immense sigh. “I think that’s all I can stand of his good points. Now tell me his faults so I don’t get a total complex.”

“Well, for one thing, he wasn’t good at paying back loans."

His fingers stopped stroking for a moment. “You loaned him money?” The teasing was gone from his voice.

Maxine nodded. "Only my life savings, which included what I'd inherited when my aunt died." She explained about the airline, and how Ricky had convinced her that the money was an investment in their future. “I have a promissory note. Polly's been trying for months to find him and collect on it.” She told him that Ricky had said he was going to Costa Rica. “He’s not there, though. He seems to have vanished into thin air.

Harry was silent for several long moments, and then his arm tightened around her.

“Rats. I was gonna ask for a loan, but I guess that's out now.”

“Smart thinking.” She matched his playful tone. “My bank account’s a lot thinner than I am."

“And here I’d hoped you were rich as well as beautiful.” He sighed deeply and turned toward her, forcibly pulling the length of her body close against him, sending her breath rushing out. "Damn. I’ll just have to be satisfied with kisses instead of money,” he said in a growl, bringing his mouth to hers.

She loved the way he kissed, sure of himself, lazy at first, nipping at her bottom lip with his teeth, giving her all the time in the world to get used to being this close to him, to get used to the fact that nothing would interrupt them—if she didn’t want it to. Their other kisses had been stolen, hurried, fitted in between the demands of the kids. Now it was only the two of them, and a long, long night ahead.

He was stroking her arms and back through the thin fabric of the simple amber-colored sheath she’d bought especially for tonight. It had been worth every extravagant cent she’d spent, because he’d looked her up and down when he first saw it and whistled low and long.

“You’re a knockout, Maxine,” he’d said with a funny little catch in his voice that thrilled her.

“You smell like pumpkin pie," he murmured now, trailing kisses down her throat.

“Pumpkin pie?” She giggled. Wait until Polly heard that her expensive pheromone concoction smelled like pumpkin pie.

“It’s my favorite smell,” he assured her, using his tongue to stroke the exact spot on her throat where her pulse beat hard and fast. “Ummm, you taste good, too. Sweet and creamy. And hot.” His mouth and teeth did enticing things to her neck.

Her arms were around him, and she slid them down his back, aware of hard muscles, a narrow waist. She wanted desperately to touch his skin, and she tugged his shirt out and slid her hands underneath.

The contact with heated, smooth flesh made her catch her breath and sent an answering shudder down his body.

“I love you touching me,” he whispered, undoing the shirt and tossing it aside. "Do it more. And I need to touch you, too.”

Her dress had slithered up, and now his hands stroked downward. They encountered garters and stopped abruptly. He raised his head and looked at her legs, and the groan that erupted was one of pure delight.

“I thought so when you got in the car, and when I was rubbing your feet, but I couldn’t be certain it wasn't just wishful thinking. How did you know that garter belts are my weakness?”

Because a year and a half of doing phone sex had at least taught her a few things about male fantasies, Maxine thought with a smug grin.

“I have a psychic streak,” she murmured into his ear, taking the opportunity to run her tongue along its rim. She grew bolder and nibbled his earlobe, and he moved his hips against her.

Adept at arousing men sexually on the telephone, she was unprepared for the intensity of her own arousal. Need grew in her, and she rocked against him, aware of the erection that strained against his gray trousers.

Her breath was coming in short gasps, and she suddenly couldn’t wait any longer. She wanted him now; she needed him now. She needed to be naked with him.