Bid Me Now (9 page)

When Nick worked his hand down inside the lace to graze his thumb over a nipple, Miri trembled at what was to come, barely able to draw a breath.
 

“Oh, God,” Miri moaned as Nick’s fingers hooked under her bra and pulled it down in one swift movement.
 

“You’re incredible. So beautiful,” he murmured, bending to flick his tongue over a nipple.

Miri thought she would pass out from a combination of sexual heat and hyperventilation. The sheer unexpected spiral of ecstasy that traversed every nerve in her body caused her to almost jerk out of his arms. As his mouth moved to the other nipple, she let out such a loud groan that Nick raised his head to look at her. What he thought he’d unleashed she had no idea, but she was in no fit state to ask. She just prayed that he would go back to what he was doing and, thank the heavens, he did. It was as if one big avalanche of lust had been let loose, with Nick kissing every inch of her bare skin that he could get at and with her squirming so hard she could feel him continually adjusting his hand under her butt to keep her seated.
 

Nick’s mouth was on her throat again, when somehow her vision cleared a degree to register movement outside the car. Who on earth…? She gave a small jerk and straightened.
 

Nick pulled away sharply, breathing hard. “What’s wrong? You want me to stop?”

She gasped in alarm, both at what she could see out the window and the thought of him stopping. “Yes…no…oh, I think it’s Mr. Johnston.”

“Who? Oh, is that all?” he growled, then bent his head again.
 

“No, really. It’s Mr. Johnston walking his dog,” she hissed, nudging Nick to pay attention. “He’s my neighbor. He always walks his dog late at night. It’s a bladder problem...the dog, not Mr. Johnston.” Despite her overheated body, Miri started to giggle.

Nick looked up and gave a ragged groan. “And we were getting along so well.”
 

 
“Is he looking?” Her dress was at half-mast, her bra around her waist. The thought of that dainty bra subjected to such rough treatment almost caused a fresh giggle. Miri inanely wondered if her giggling worked as some kind of sexual release valve.

Mr. Johnston was bent down, peering at the car from the path. Nick peered right back like this was a completely normal. “Uh-huh, he’s looking all right, but he can’t see much through the tinted glass. Just a couple of silhouettes.”

“That’s a relief. He’s a terrible gossip. Retired civil servant.” She turned to watch Mr. Johnston disappearing down the path, dog in tow. “He’ll be back this way in a few minutes.”

Nick grunted and stretched his long legs. “Maybe we need to cool off anyway, my sweet. I don’t want to be indelicate here, but my cock is so goddamned hard, these pants are bloody uncomfortable.”

She wriggled to the side to get a view of his crotch. Even with the dim lighting and his dark pants, she could see the outline of his thick erection against the seam of his trousers. “Is that my fault?” She lifted her stare to meet his gaze, loving the flirting.

Nick gave a half-groan, half-laugh, easing back to adjust himself. “Yeah, all your fault. Been like that for days.”
 

“You know they won’t let you in the art class with that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t stare. I have a habit of doing that.”
 

“Stare away.”
 

Miri twisted a little to make herself more comfortable, suddenly conscious of how wet she was. With her dress halfway up her backside, her dampness was almost in his hand — he had to be able to feel it. And if he moved his fingers a few inches, he would be touching her right where she needed them. With a small shudder of desire, she pushed her fingers into his shirt again, watching her hand trace down under the cotton fabric to below his abdominals, slipping her fingers under his belt…

“Miri, maybe we should…?”

The subtle change in his tone snapped Miri’s head up. For a moment she was confused by his concerned expression. This was meant to happen, wasn’t it?

Then she froze.

Oh, God, he didn’t want her.

For a few moments, Miri found it difficult to breathe as a hot trail of embarrassment wound a cruel path down her entire body. A simple goodnight kiss had ended up a minute short of a one-night stand, and she was acting like a sex-starved idiot.
 

Pitiful. Tragic. Inexcusable
. The words ricocheted around in Miri’s head as if frantic for an outlet. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
 

Her bra was stuck around her waist so she yanked the bodice of her dress up, holding it over her breasts and waiting with dread for Nick to tell her how ridiculous she was.
 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, nudging her chin up to look at her.

She pulled her chin away, avoiding his gaze. “I really do have to get home.”

He didn’t move. “Miri, I mean it. It’s okay.” He took her hand, and Miri shuddered as he pressed a soft kiss on her fingers.
 

“I know, but I have to go…I shouldn’t have.”

“Have what? You didn’t exactly put yourself in my lap and pull your bra down.”
 

“That’s not what I meant.” She had a desperate urge to climb out of the car and run to her house, to the safety of her bed.

Nick held on to her hand firmly. “I know what you meant. It’s okay.”
 

She felt him slide his hand from under her so she was now completely in his lap, his erection hard against her backside. Miri sat very still.

“Look, it’s my fault for parking here so I could kiss you. I’ve enjoyed it.” He rasped a laugh. “Hell, you must be able to feel how much. But maybe it’s time to call it a night. I’ll drive you to your house. You’ll be too shaky to walk in those shoes.”

She smiled weakly and tried to match his tease, although it was lost in her lingering embarrassment. “Cheeky devil.” Nick seemed so good at diffusing awkwardness. He’d done that so efficiently with Marcus. And now with her. Miri doubted if there was anything in his life that he couldn’t manage with total ease.

He lifted her across to the passenger seat, then took her hand again. “If I don’t get you home now, I’ll have to start with you all over again.”

It was on the tip of Miri’s tongue to say something flippant, but she stayed silent.

Nick drove the car the short distance to her house, gliding to an almost silent stop in front of the gate. “The living room light is still on. Will your friend Bree be watching out the window, like when I arrived?” he asked with a grin.
 

Miri stared at the bright rectangle of light between the half-closed living room drapes. “Maybe. Her boyfriend Abe is here tonight, cooking them dinner. They usually watch television until after midnight.” She groped around her feet and found her purse and pashmina. Her coral comb seemed to have disappeared.

“Well, we’d better give them something to look at,” he said, planting a soft kiss on her lips as she sat back up.
 

Nick got out of the car and walked around to open her door. Walking beside him to the front door, Miri felt as if an empty space had been hollowed out inside her chest. In another minute, Nick would be gone from her life. It seemed all wrong now.

“A lovely evening, Ms. Jamieson,” he said as she slid her key into the lock. When he squeezed her hand and looked down at her with his dark, warm eyes, Miri had an overwhelming urge to wrap her arms around him and beg him to stay.
 

“I hope you enjoyed it, Miri. All of it. No regrets, right?”
 

“No regrets,” she repeated, carefully opening the door so Bree wouldn’t hear.

He didn’t kiss her. He left her standing on the doorstep with a wink, a cheery grin, and a “sleep well.”

As if that were likely.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Hell, this wasn’t working. She might as well make a cup of tea.

Miri sat up and rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands, wondering why her eyelids felt so crusty. Oh, right, last night’s mascara. One of the many perils of neglecting the beauty routine, as Alex would say. Freeing her legs from the comforter, she sat on the edge of the bed and stared hopelessly at the clock. Seven-thirty already. Far too late and far too futile to try to sleep.
 

 
Thank you, Lord, for English Breakfast
, was about the limit of her thoughts as she stumbled through to the guest kitchenette next to her room and boiled the kettle.
 

Slipping back into bed with a mug of Twining’s, Miri sank into her pillows and thought about last night. As if she hadn’t picked over every infinitesimal detail since saying goodnight to Nick on her doorstep. But then, five days of knowing him called for a lot of thought, not least what all this was doing to her quiet, routine-driven life. One thing was for sure, Nick was all new territory. Quite frankly, he was the first really grown-up man she’d ever been out with. So self-assured, in control of his life, with a hard, rough masculine edge. An edge that was flexing her pulse right now.
 

It was all very distracting, not to say silly. He wouldn’t call. He’d have figured out by now she was one big bag of personality disorders. After she’d thrown herself at him, it wouldn’t be any wonder if he opted out. But even if she never saw him again, Miri wasn’t about to regret any of it. For the first time in two years, she felt as if every nerve in her body had come alive. Her Nick experience had put her in a whole new place, and she loved it.

But in any event, she would have to worry about her whole new place some other time. Sunday was committed to completing the Egg Beater, followed by labeling each section of the sculpture in preparation for transportation and installation tomorrow. Of course, she would much rather bury her head under the covers and dream about Nick for the rest of the day.
 

The man who wouldn’t call.

But no, she
had
to work.
 

Bundled in her pink cushy robe and fluffy slippers with penguin faces, a Christmas gift from Bree, Miri ambled downstairs to the kitchen, surprised to find Abe preparing breakfast, and more importantly, brewing coffee.

“Hi, there. Ready for eggs benedict?” Abe chirped over his shoulder before turning to look at her with one eyebrow up. “Jesus, Morticia, what’s wrong with your eyes?”

“Didn’t wash my face last night, that’s all. Be kind, Abe. I’m fragile. You’re up early.”

She leaned against the countertop, yawning and watching Abe rip around the kitchen like some Energizer Chef on new batteries, constantly flicking his messy, shoulder-length fair hair away from his face. In his striped boxer shorts, Washington Post T-shirt, and Bree’s tiger-print slippers, he looked adorable. This boyfriend wasn’t even close to Bree’s usual gym-ripped, brain-optional type. Abe Bryant was lanky, easy-going, kind, and intellectual. Definitely her friend’s best ever boyfriend and the one, Miri suspected, who would eventually get Bree to the altar.

“Yeah, well, Bree’s appetite kicked in, as usual.”
 

Miri shuffled to the bread cupboard. “I’ll make the toast,” she offered. “She’ll skin you for wearing her slippers. Where is she, anyway?”

“Leave that and sit down. She’s gone to get a paper and bread. That stuff in your cupboard is growing some weird mold. Want coffee?”

“Mmm, please.” She flopped down at the kitchen table, pulling her tangled mane into a ponytail with an old Scrunchie found in her robe pocket.

“How was your date last night? The first in a while, apparently.”
 

Abe was very like Bree. Always to the point. No wonder they got on. “Well, it wasn’t exactly a date, although it kind of ended that way,” Miri conceded with a small sigh. “Anyway, I think I hear the paper coming.”

The front door slammed. Bree strode into the kitchen, hipped the door closed, and dumped an armful of bread, chocolate bars, and a fat Sunday newspaper on the table.
 

“Miri says dinner with Nick was not a date, but date it was,” announced Abe, mimicking a corner newsboy. “I’ve told you girls not to keep eggs in the fridge, dammit, or at least take them out a couple of hours before they’re needed.”
 

“Yeah, yeah,” Bree said, plunking herself down at the table and fixing Miri with one of her nosier-than-usual stares. “Look at you, panda eyes. Must have been some night.”

Drat, this was about to turn into a grilling. Bree had the look of a puppy given a new slipper to chew. “It was okay.”
 

“So what happened?” Bree divided the newspaper into three sections — a Sunday ritual intended to avoid squabbles, although it seldom worked. “Any horizontal action? Is he any good? Stupid question. He’d be
sooo
perfect.”

Miri rested her elbows on the table and cupped her chin in her hands, relishing the memory of Nick’s perfection. “Mmm, he’s okay.”
 

Bree arched a brow. “You’ve got Nick all over your face! Details, please.”
 

“We had a lovely dinner and chatted all evening. He gave me a polite kiss in the car. Then we said goodnight.”

“Aw, not the Cliff Notes, sweetie. All of it.”
 

“None of your beeswax. But there was one thing. Marcus turned up at Jean-Paul’s with a date or colleague or someone like that — Dr. Mariette Hastings.”

Bree slapped a hand to her chest in mock horror. “A date! Omigod, I love it! Marcus would be so curious about Nick. What happened?”

“He just said he was surprised to see me out when the sculpture isn’t finished. The thing is, he invited me to Jean-Paul’s last week and I turned him down, telling him I was too busy. I feel bad now.”
 

“You never told me.
Pleeeease
tell me there’s more to this. Give me more! I need more! Did they fight over you?”
 

 
Miri burst into laughter. “You’re bonkers, Bree Matson! Actually, it was Nick who handled the awkwardness and so well. He told Marcus we were in a business meeting. So they went off to their table, and Nick and I had dinner. It was a very nice evening, and he’s not at all what I expected. He’s really warm and affable.”