Heatwave (9 page)

Listening again, she started tapping her foot impatiently. “Nothing,” she said vehemently. “There isn’t a thing I want from you.”

Her mouth fell open, and her eyes widened. “I figured as the father, you had a right to know,” she finally
said after her moment of stunned silence. “What you do with that information is up to you.”

She yanked the phone away from her ear, then jammed her finger against the end call button so hard, the phone slipped from her hands and clattered to the floor. Not that he could blame her for expressing a bit of temper. From what he’d heard, her ex hadn’t taken the news of his impending fatherhood well.

“Bastard.” She stooped to pick up the cordless, then set the phone on the desk with an abrupt snap. “Solid proof that my taste in men is not to be trusted. If I wasn’t pregnant, I’d join a convent to save me from myself.”

The image of Emily and all those lush curves hidden beneath a nun’s habit was an act of sin in itself. She had a body made for worship, but definitely not the Hail Mary kind.

She drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly, then repeated the process—three more times. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice a tad calmer. “I shouldn’t have forced you to sit through that.”

Drew cleared his throat. “Don’t sweat it.” True, he’d been uncomfortable, but he’d stayed because to him, Emily had needed the moral support.

The barest hint of a reluctant, appreciative smile tipped one corner of her mouth. “I don’t know why I decided to call Charlie tonight. I probably should’ve waited, but I wanted…” She paused, as if searching for the right words. “I wanted it settled between us. Was that so wrong?”

“No,” he told her. He understood her motivation
completely. Her life had been thrown into a tailspin and from his own observations of her take-charge attitude in dealing with the students and staff of the school when they’d expressed concern about the fires and Velma’s absence, she wasn’t the kind of person to wander aimlessly. Life didn’t happen to Emily Dugan. She made life happen for her.

She rolled her head from side to side, then pulled in another deep breath. “Maybe I should’ve waited.”

He reached for her and carefully turned her so her back faced him. “Waited until when?” he asked. He settled his hands on her tense shoulders and rubbed gently. “Until after the baby’s born? The longer you waited to tell him, the harder it would’ve been. You did the right thing, Emily. Like you said, the rest is up to him.”

She let out a long pleasure-filled sigh and tipped her head forward. Her ponytail fell over her shoulder. The urge to press his mouth against the exposed flesh of her nape gripped him hard. The sheer agony of touching her strengthened his resolve to move their relationship to the next level.

Tonight!

Based on the one-sided conversation he’d been privy to, interference from Charlie Pruitt had just become a nonissue. Since she’d landed work, the threat of her returning to New York no longer existed, either. The only remaining obstacle in his way belonged solely to himself and how much he was prepared to risk.

He pressed his thumbs against the base of her skull and rubbed. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Hmm,” she murmured. “Keep this up and I’ll hand over the combination to the safe at Fort Knox.”

“After the dust settles, Pruitt might decide he wants to be a part of your life again. Then what?”

She snapped her head up and looked over her shoulder at him. Her big brown eyes filled with an intensity that made him decide to tread with caution. “Then what?
Nothing
.”

He dropped his hands to his sides. “You obviously gave the guy one hell of a shock tonight, Em. Once he has time to think about it…” He shrugged, leaving the words unspoken. If some woman from his past came forward with news like the kind Emily had delivered to Pruitt, he honestly couldn’t predict his initial reaction. Once he’d had time to absorb the information and think rationally, he didn’t doubt for a minute that responsibility would be his number-one priority.

She turned and faced him fully. “Charlie and I are ancient
history
,” she said earnestly. “We were probably over for a while, I just didn’t take the time to see it.”

“Come on, Em,” he scoffed. “If he hadn’t told you he’d been having an affair, you’d be on your way back to New York once your vacation ended. You were living with the guy. Where I come from, that spells serious relationship.”

“I’m not in love with Charlie. I’m…” Her voice trailed off and she looked away, but not before he caught the softening of her expression.

I’m, what?
In love with him? No, he wasn’t arrogant enough to believe that’s what she’d been about to say.

Inconceivable
.

They’d only known each other a few days. All they had going was an acute case of undeniable attraction and sexual chemistry. A fact driven home by the way she constantly invaded his fantasies, especially at night when he was alone in his condo. Or in bed. Or during a cold shower he usually blamed on her. Hell, even when he made coffee in the morning, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Okay, so he cared for her. He worried about her being alone at Velma’s, but that didn’t mean…

He’d fallen for her?
Impossible
.

So what if she crept into his thoughts when he least expected to find her there. Big deal. Sure, he wanted her, wanted her with a need so desperate it drove him to distraction. But love? Not a chance.

“If I’d been in love with Charlie,” she continued, “he never would’ve gone looking elsewhere for what I couldn’t give him. I cared about him. We were comfortable together, but that’s not love.”

“But you were hurt and pretty angry just a couple days ago,” he argued. For his own self-preservation?

You bet, pal
.

“Sure I was hurt, but only because I’d trusted him and he’d made a fool of me, not because he broke my heart.” She let out a sigh. “He couldn’t break something that never really belonged to him.”

He didn’t know how he was supposed to feel about that little insight. Surely not relief. But how else did he explain the sudden buoyancy lifting his heart enough to lodge it in his throat?

A tiny frown creased her forehead. “Have you ever been in love?” she asked him.

Incapable of speech, he shook his head in denial. Fear did that to a guy.

She folded her arms and tilted her hip to the side, brushing the inside of his thigh. “I once asked my mother why she divorced my father. She told me it was because she could imagine her life without him. As flakey as Glynis is most of the time, what she said made sense to me.”

“Made sense how?” But he knew. Heaven help him, he knew.

“She told me that to know if you’re really, truly in love, then try to imagine your life without that person in it. If you can, without any hesitation whatsoever, then you’re definitely not in love.” A slow, sinful smile curved her mouth as she eased her arms around his neck. “But,” she continued, “if just the thought of
not
having that person in your life leaves you with a deep sense of emptiness, like there’s a vital part of you missing, then without a doubt, you’re in love.”

He settled his hands on her hips and drew her close enough so their bodies touched. Not even her warmth could chase away the stark, cold fear climbing up his spine.

He didn’t close his eyes. He didn’t need to, because no matter how much he wished otherwise, he knew he’d never conjure another image of his life without Emily.

B
Y THE TIME
they closed the school and walked across the courtyard to the house twenty minutes later, Emily knew something was different. Either her Drew-barometer had faltered completely, or some other indefinable element in their quasi relationship had been altered without her knowledge. A long overdue change, too, in her opinion. She hadn’t picked up on a single, solitary vibe all night that he planned to execute what she’d come to think of as his method of operation—the Dump and Run.

For the past two evenings following his final class, he’d walk her to her door. Monday he’d left claiming he wanted to read files she had given him. Last night they’d sat on the brick steps of the porch and talked, sharing anecdotes of their youth, family and careers, enjoying the sultry warmth of the evening while the air sizzled between them, and he hadn’t so much as tried to kiss her.

Frustration dogged her heels, primarily because she knew clear down to her toes that he wanted to kiss her. Her feminine radar was running in full-alert mode, but he’d done his best to extinguish her simmering lust by pulling the platonic routine. After their conversation, he’d smoothed his hand down her arm, held her fingers
in the warmth of his palm for exactly two heartbeats, then ushered her into the house—with him remaining on the wrong side of the screen door.

Tonight, finally, she’d sensed a blessed, past-due difference and had been thrilled when he’d accepted her invitation for a slice of cheesecake. Tonight was the night. Tonight
had
to be the night. Not only was her grandmother scheduled for release from the hospital tomorrow morning, but with the arrangements she’d made for a home health-care provider to assist in Grandy’s care, she’d effectively eliminated any hope of privacy.

She cut two thick slices of the white-chocolate–raspberry cheesecake she’d bought after her appointment with her new obstetrician that afternoon. During her visit with Grandy two days ago, and a full-out confession of her status as mother-to-be, her grandmother had urged her to stop by the nursery and ask one of the pediatric nurses on duty for a list of OBs in the area. After a few phone calls, she’d lucked into an appointment on Wednesday due to a cancellation.

Other than a minor lecture about informing Cheatin’ Charlie of his newly acquired status as father-to-be, Grandy had been fully supportive of her decision to keep and raise her child alone. Not only was she thrilled over the prospect of a new great-grandchild to spoil, but when Emily informed her she’d be remaining in California, Grandy had practically shed tears of joy. Although she had encouraged Emily to move in with her permanently, Emily declined. Since she’d already landed a freelance position with one advertising
firm, her confidence in finding more firms willing to offer piecework grew. With her savings and moderate investment portfolio as a safety net, looking for a small, affordable house nearby suddenly made a whole lot of sense.

When Emily finally had her appointment, she’d taken a trip to the drugstore for cocoa butter—to keep stretch marks to a minimum, she hoped—and prenatal vitamins. On her way out she’d spied a bakery across the street. Unable to resist the tantalizing aroma of fresh baked goods, she’d gone inside and suffered her first official clichéd pregnant-woman craving. Warm, just glazed doughnuts and a whole white-chocolate–raspberry cheesecake. Life just didn’t get much better, or caloric, than that.

“What are your plans for Saturday?” Drew asked suddenly.

She eased the first slice of cheesecake onto the plate and shrugged. “Nothing really. I don’t have to work, since the meeting to discuss my first freelance project for the ad agency isn’t until next week. Why?”

He cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to another. She peered up at him, surprised by his nervousness. Drew? The last of the red-hot, sweet-talking charmers, nervous? A man with legions of females waiting to be his beck-and-call girls, anxious about asking a woman for a date?

The ice surrounding her heart after her disastrous phone call with Charlie began to melt slowly, effectively evaporating the remnants of her earlier tension.

“I have to…I’ll be…” he stammered, then cleared his
throat again. “My brother…” He shifted his weight once more, too.

She slipped another slice of cheesecake onto the second waiting plate. “Have to what?” she prodded him ever so gently.

“My brother’s wedding is Saturday,” he blurted. “Would you go with me?”

And pass up a golden opportunity? The chance to spend quality time with Drew in the ultimate romantic setting? Not on his life. Especially now that she had regained a modicum of control over her own little corner of the world. Her only loose end had been Charlie, and she’d resolved that issue tonight with one phone call.

She still couldn’t believe the lying dog had asked if the baby was even his. What was the saying about accusers with a guilty conscience? Obviously, Charlie suffered with one monster guilt complex if he dared to accuse
her
of sleeping around.

But now a precious life grew inside her, and suddenly everything about the changes in her life made perfect sense. A baby.
Her
baby, a detail Charlie had made abundantly clear during their heated exchange.

She pulled forks from the silverware drawer. “I’d love to,” she said as casually as possible, given the silly excitement coursing through her body just because he’d formally asked her out on a date, one that included meeting his family. Although she couldn’t help wondering if his asking her meant she’d been demoted from four to two stars.

Not that it mattered. She was hardly in the market for forever, especially with someone as commitment-phobic
as Drew. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t free to enjoy his company while it lasted. Maybe she’d even start her own little
pink
book. Drew could have the honor of being her first entry. With four
lips
beside his name.

He let out a rush of breath filled with such obvious relief, she smiled. “The wedding’s at six, but Ben’s picking me up around three so we can have Cale at the church on time. Would you mind meeting me? At the church, I mean. We could drive to the reception together in your car.” The day following her potentially hazardous exploits with the Rapid Transit District, she’d played it smart by picking up a rental car.

She nodded and handed him their plates loaded with luscious cheesecake. “That sounds fine.”

Drew carried their plates to the round oak table in the corner of the kitchen.

“How did they meet?” she asked once they were seated.

Drew laughed, the sound open, honest and three times more erotic than any aphrodisiac found on the market. “Maggie was one of Cale’s damsels in distress.”

“Maggie?” She shook her head, confused. “I thought his fiancée’s name was Amanda.”

Drew cut into the cheesecake and took a bite. His eyes widened, indicating his pleasure. “She is,” he said after a moment. “Maggie is, or
was
, the identity she assumed until her real memory returned about a week or two later.”

Emily nibbled on the scrumptious cheesecake while
she listened with rapt attention to Drew as he shared Cale’s former penchant for rescuing women. This quirk explained why he hadn’t hesitated to offer Amanda a place to live following an accident at a paint warehouse. The incident had caused her temporary memory loss. According to Drew, the memories Amanda did recover were those of the character of her next novel. To Emily’s surprise, one of her favorite suspense novelists, Adam Lawrence, was the pseudonym of Cale’s fiancée.

“Cale fell hard for her,” Drew said, finishing off the last of his cheesecake. A covetous light entered his sexy green eyes as he eyed the large portion still on her own plate. “I think he’d have eventually proposed even if she’d been the hardened criminal she wanted us to believe she was.” Instead of sliding her share across the table for him, she sliced into the dessert then held the fork to his lips.

“What about your oldest brother?” she asked him. “Is he married?”

He refused the bite she offered, instead taking the utensil from her fingers and holding the tempting dessert to her lips. Her gaze locked with his. She opened her mouth and slowly leaned forward until the cheesecake teased her tongue. In a blatant, brazen move, she seductively closed her lips around the fork and gently slid the confection onto her tongue, issuing a husky moan of delight, practically guaranteeing the launch of his imagination.

Mission accomplished, she thought with a small satisfied smile. When the color of his eyes brightened as
they filled with desire, she threw accelerant on the smoldering embers by using the tip of her tongue to lick away a tiny smudge of the creamy dessert lingering on the edge of the fork.

She had no illusions of a future with Drew, but had decided that stumbling through life in fear of suffering the fallout from another relationship gone south, for whatever reason, was no way to live. Okay, so maybe her handful of previous lovers had had some pretty odd quirks and strange habits a little too distasteful for her liking. That didn’t necessarily translate to them being bad guys, they just weren’t the right guys for her.

Drew might not be the right guy for her, either. She really wasn’t prepared to hazard a guess, but she refused to continue fighting her attraction to him. She didn’t believe she was foolish enough to have actually lost all of her common sense and fallen in love, but she did harbor feelings for him that extended beyond basic sexual attraction.

He cleared his throat. “What was your question?” he asked, his voice slightly raspy.

“I asked if your oldest brother was married.”

“The only way some woman will ever get Ben to the altar would be to bind and gag him first.”

Not exactly the direction she’d wanted their conversation to take, especially when attempting to seduce a man into her bed. “A confirmed bachelor, huh?”

He glanced down at the fork in his hand, then set it on the napkin. His lips tipped upward in a smile so wicked her breath caught.

“Forget my brother.” He dipped his finger in the cheesecake. “Forget forks, too.”

Drawing air into her lungs took effort, but he’d accepted her challenge and she wasn’t about to back down now. Just as she’d done with the fork, she leaned forward and eased her lips over his sensual offering. With aching slowness, she sucked hard on his finger, then slid her tongue around and around the dessert, the sugary confection dissolving in her mouth as she pulled away.

He made a sound that could have been a sigh of pleasure or a hiss of agony. Desire, hot and liquid, simmered inside her, more intense than the late-summer heatwave, and twice as liberating.

“Conversation is overrated,” she murmured, a half second before her breathing stalled.

His gaze intent, he stood and slowly circled the table. She rose and met him halfway. With her arms around his neck, she sought his mouth like a heat-seeking missile. He held her hips lightly as he backed her up against the countertop, then gently lifted her onto the cool surface. Impatiently, he nudged her legs apart and stepped between them before urging her bottom to the edge of the counter.

His tongue mated thoroughly with hers as she rocked her hips against the hard ridge of his erection that pressed insistently against the fly of his khaki trousers. Her soft moan sounded more like a strangled cry of need, but she’d zipped past caring the second she’d licked dessert from his finger.

She wanted Drew. Wanted him inside her, wanted
him to fuel the heat between them until they were consumed by the flames. The intensity of the clawing need twisting in her belly had her wet, moist, ready for the ease of his body sliding into hers.

Never had she experienced such a deep, primal desire to mate. She’d mistakenly believed her guard had been up, but somehow, Drew had broken past her imaginary barriers and marked her soul, leaving his imprint on her heart.

His mouth seduced her. The glide of his hands over her body tantalized and teased. With lightning speed, she raced across the line of common sense. The pursuit of pleasure took precedent over lists and goals. The fulfillment of the insistent demands of her body outweighed rational thought by the ton.

She tugged the hem of his navy-blue polo shirt from his trousers, reached beneath the knit fabric and smoothed her hands over his torso while he made her crazy by nipping and laving at her throat, the lobe of her ear, then along her jawline.

The texture of his skin, the muscle beneath her fingertips, the intoxicating, arousing scent of him, lifted her to a new level of awareness. The need to feel her breasts against the solid wall of muscle single-mindedly drove her. In record time, she eased away from him to whip off her T-shirt. She tossed the garment somewhere over his shoulder, not bothering to look despite the rattle of glassware when it landed.

He sucked in a sharp breath as she reached behind her to unfasten her bra. “No,” he whispered. “Not yet.”

She cried out in a wild combination of mindless pleasure and heated frustration as his mouth trailed a path of burning kisses down her throat to her breasts. Through the pink-floral satin material, he palmed her breast and traced his thumb around her already taut nipple. She arched her back and boldly wrapped her legs around his hips, urging him closer. When he pushed the cup aside and took her into the silky, heated warmth of his mouth, her world tilted. Her senses went haywire, spinning out of control from a determined battle of hedonistic desire and mind-blowing pleasure.

Without an ounce of inhibition, she grasped his hand holding her hip and guided him toward her moist, dewy center to assuage the keen ache building inside her.

With agonizing gentleness, he massaged her inner thigh, easing his hand beneath the restrictive fabric of her denim walking shorts. “More,” she whispered in his ear. She rocked her hips forward. “I want more.” She wanted her four stars back.

His big hand only reached so far. Enough to tease her mercilessly. Enough to amplify the erotic tug of desire in her belly. She cried out in frustration and reached for the snap of her shorts. As if someone had pumped up the volume, when he unzipped her, the sound of the metal teeth echoed around them.