Major Attraction (7 page)

“You're the only woman I wanted to ask to do this for me.”

More silence. More strokes. More lazy heat. Then a crooked, beautiful smile. “I don't think honesty is such a curse. That's a very sweet thing to say.”

He groaned. “Sweet's good, right?”

J.C. nodded, tightening her grip around his when he would have pulled away. Ethan had never understood the whole
sweet
appeal that women seemed to crave. But when she rewarded him by turning over his hand and starting a slow massage of her own, he decided the concept might be worth investigating. She traced each line of his palm with a touch so light it was almost a tickle. But every nerve ending awoke and eagerly awaited the next caress. And as the touches deepened, his blood turned into warm, thick molasses and drizzled a lazy heat into every part of him.

Sweet
was very good.

His breath hitched. He was dying to have those mes
merizing hands work their magic on other, more neglected, parts of his body.

Her fingers trailed up to the pounding pulse point on his wrist and he began to consider doing more than simply fake a relationship with this woman. Maybe celibacy was an unnecessary safeguard against women messing with his life. As long as he kept his heart out of the picture and didn't lose his head over any promises she might make or break, there was no sensible reason to deny his body the pleasure of her company.

If she was willing.

“To be honest…” She was using both hands now, watching her own work, and the thoroughness with which she studied and stroked him stirred his fantasies. This was nothing more than a hand massage, yet he was completely under her spell. “You were the only man tonight who…clicked…with me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Nice. No declaration of love. No pressure. Just an admission of…
clicking.
Admitting a mutual attraction. Safe enough.

“So, will you help me?” he asked. Her hands stilled on his. Her downcast eyes were unreadable. Edgy anticipation quickly vanquished Ethan's mellow mood. “J.C.?”

“Well, I suppose I do owe you for defending me against those perverts tonight.”

“I'd have done the same whether you say yes or no.”

“I believe you would.” She pulled away entirely, and he had to grab the table to keep from snatching back her hands and demanding an answer. After taking a moment to rifle through her cavernous bag without retrieving anything, she closed the top and hugged it to her chest. She
lifted her gaze to a point barely above his chin. Uh-oh. “I'll do this fiancée act for you on one condition.”

“Name it.”

Ethan held his breath. Short of committing a felony, he would do whatever she asked to make this happen.

Her eyes finally met his. “We seal the deal with another kiss.”

“Sir?” Ethan figuratively picked his jaw up from the table and dragged his attention to the college boy who had summoned him from behind the counter. The thrills of unexpected success and sexual anticipation pounding through his veins had momentarily deafened him to the world outside this booth. “We're getting ready to close down the machines for cleaning. Can I get you anything else before you go?”

Ethan got the hint. He doffed the kid a two-fingered salute. “We're good. Thanks.” J.C. was still clutching her purse to her chest as if it afforded her some kind of security, but her sensuous smile radiated the same hunger that twitched along every nerve ending in his body. She wanted another kiss, huh? He stood and held his hand out to her. “Shall we?”

Arm in arm, they double-timed it back to the bar.

 

T
HE NUMBER OF VEHICLES
in the lot at Groucho's Pub had thinned enough to offer them virtual privacy in the shadows where J.C. had parked her jazzy little Camaro coupe. While she dug out her keys to unlock her car, Ethan took note of the broken light in the street lamp nearest to her car.

Like the guard he'd been trained to be, he hovered close behind her, taking stock of their surroundings. He spotted the homeless guy settling in for the night in the alley behind the bar. Two teens drove past, their ground-
thumping music at two in the morning begging for a call to the D.C. police. In the silence that followed their departure, one of the cocktail waitresses came out the door, tucking a respectable wad of bills into her purse and hurrying over to a beat-up truck. Ethan scowled at the open invitation to a mugging. He followed her all the way with his gaze, easing his conscience once she started the engine and drove safely away.

When he finally heard J.C.'s key sliding into the lock, his focus shifted from the potential dangers to the all too vulnerable woman beside him. He reached around her to hold open the door, creating a triangle with the car and his body that shielded her in the center. “You should have your keys out before you get to your car, and try to park closer to the door and under a light when you know you're going to be out late like this.”

J.C. shook her head and turned. The glimpse of a smile seemed to make light of his concerns. “Enough with the lecture, Mr. Marine. One, I know the standard safety rules. If I was alone, I'd have used them. Two, there were no spots available near any of the streetlights or the door. And three, you're the one who kept me out so late.”

“Then it's a good thing I'm here to watch your back.” And my, what a tempting backside that was.

She turned and leaned into the car to toss her bag onto the floorboard in front of the passenger seat. Her butt rounded before his eyes, and his crotch roused at the tempting target she presented. Her sweater rode up to reveal a stripe of smooth, pale skin above the waistband of her jeans. His fingers burned with the sudden desire to release the car's cold metal and touch that hot, secret peek of naked woman.

A kiss. A
kiss,
he reminded himself as she straightened and the skin disappeared. All the lady had asked for was
a kiss. And he still had a point to make. “You walked out here on your own earlier. You should have asked the bouncer to walk you to your car.”

J.C. turned. “That's not his job.”

“It's dark, it's late and you were alone. No wonder those goons thought they could accost you. You shouldn't take chances like that.”

She reached up and flipped his collar into place. “Don't fret, Major. I was taking care of myself long before you came into the picture.”

He seized her wrists to pull away her distracting hands and force her to listen. “Well, I am in the picture now. Either have somebody walk you out or call me.”

That tiny frown line dimpled between her brows. “Right, like you'll show up just to see me safely from that door to this car if I call.”

“I'll be there.”

She jerked her hands free. “Not after two weeks, you won't.”

Ethan didn't know how to respond to that comment, especially since, despite her teasing tone, it felt like an accusation. Unsure of what his guilt might be, worried that she would change her mind about posing as his bride-to-be, Ethan retreated a step and racheted back his emotions. “The Cherry Blossom Ball is tonight. Formal attire. I'll pick you up at nineteen hundred hours. That's seven o'clock civvie time. I'm free later this morning if you need to do some shopping.”

“
You
want to go shopping?” She arched an eyebrow that indicated sarcastic humor, but that tiny dent which spoke of thoughts he couldn't know or understand was still in place.

“To be honest, I'd rather be lined up in front of a firing squad. But I said I'd pay for everything. You find the
dress and then call me.” He pulled out his wallet and handed her a business card. “That's got my office and cell number on it.”

“If you insist.” She tucked the card into her pocket.

With that much of a plan in place, J.C. climbed into the car. Ethan shut the door as she started the engine. She hadn't gotten that kiss she'd asked for, but then maybe she'd changed her mind. He might still be simmering with newly awakened, long-denied lust, but her jets had cooled considerably since he'd voiced his concerns about her safety. So when she rolled down her window, he leaned down close enough to see and hear yet maintain a polite distance.

“Aren't you forgetting something?” she asked.

“Sure.” He pushed the button to lock her door.

She pursed her lips and sighed, stirring those wisps of mahogany hair against her forehead. She turned in her seat, crossed her arms and rested them on the open window frame. “We still haven't sealed our bargain. A two-week, all expenses paid trip to fake fiancée-ville?”

So she hadn't forgotten the kiss. Something warm and grateful eased his frustrations and doubts. “Anything I can do to make this up to you, you let me know.”

“We'll see.”

“Good night.” He lowered his head to her upturned face and dropped a quick, no-hands kiss on her lips. They were soft, sweet and delicious, but he allowed himself only a taste.

J.C. grabbed his wrist as he pulled away. “Ethan. We're sealing a rather important agreement, not playing tag. We have to do better than that to be a convincing couple.”

“I suppose. We should get used to those familiar touches.”

“Then try again. Convince me.”

Maybe he wasn't supposed to understand this modern, complicated fireball of a woman. Maybe he shouldn't even try. Whatever her hang-ups might be, and despite the fact he was better trained to serve his country than to court a lady, there was no denying the physical chemistry between them.

Besides, he was a man who knew how to take an order. And if the woman demanded convincing that they could pull this off, he was the go-to man to deliver.

Ethan cupped her jaw and slid his fingers into the silky fringe of hair beside her ear. When he kissed her this time, it was a slow, reverent, get-acquainted activity. Her lips parted beneath his and a whisper of warm air and chocolaty coffee teased his tongue. He closed his eyes and inhaled with lazy satisfaction as he explored every dip and curve, drawing the rich, enticing scent of the woman herself deep into his senses.

With her willing response, Ethan moved the kiss beyond acquaintance status and made himself a welcome friend. The good doctor's sensuous, offset mouth might well be the tastiest damn thing on the planet. It was like eating ambrosia. He felt godlike. He couldn't get enough.

He nipped and she pressed. He suckled and she teased. He licked the rim and she reached out and captured his tongue with hers. And all the while he felt his powers growing—his senses sharpening to every nuance of taste, every mew of sound, every grasp of needy pressure as she wound her fingers behind his neck and scraped her palm across the sandpapery stubble of his ultrashort hair.

His pores opened to release heat, his nostrils flared to suck in oxygen, his blood thickened and traveled straight to his groin. But when Ethan instinctively thrust forward, all he got was unbending contact with the car's steel chas
sis. He wanted something warm against his body, something responsive. He wanted her.

Leaning farther inside, Ethan sifted his fingers through the sassy spikes of her hair, then skimmed along the soft velvet of her nape and length of her back. Without breaking the feast on her mouth, he used his hands to admire the strength of her muscles, the delicacy of her bone structure, the soft swellings of shape that made her decidedly all woman.

But he was a man on a mission. He was searching for that strip of skin he'd seen in the moonlight. J.C. wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself off the seat and into the kiss as he dipped his fingertips into the waistband of her jeans. He tried to work the sweater out of the way with his thumbs, but her mouth distracted him. She'd sucked his bottom lip between her teeth. He tried again and lost contact with the flare of her bottom. Impatiently he tugged up the hem of the nubby cotton material and flattened both palms against the smooth expanse of skin along her spine. She might be cool to the touch, but there was something scorchingly hot about her incendiary response.

J.C. gasped against his mouth, calling his name in a throaty whisper and pushing her breasts against his chest. Her soft mounds pillowed and spread, increasing the contact. The hard tips branded him through their clothes.

“Ah, Doc… Darlin'…” Ethan ground his hips against the car as a nearly overwhelming bombardment of sensations surged through him.
The hell with this.

Strengthened by their passion, crazed by the fever of it, Ethan reached farther into the car. He slipped his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her right out of her seat. J.C. tucked her head and held on as he set her in the open
window frame and wedged her hip against his aching shaft.

He felt right at home by the time he'd taken the sweater off over her head and wrapped her up in his arms. Rubbing himself shamelessly against her, Ethan proceeded to touch every exposed inch of skin his hands could find. He rewarded her with a kiss each time he discovered something he liked, so he was touching her everywhere, kissing her constantly, consuming her.

“Ethan?”

He loved when she said his name like that. A rush of breath, a husky plea. He rewarded her for that, too.

“J.C.” He wasn't much more articulate as she untucked his shirt and skimmed it up past his pecs. She rolled his own tender buds between her fingers and he groaned at the prickly shots of lightning that arced into his swollen dick. He wanted her hands on him, every part of him. He thrust against her hip, wanting it to be her hand there, wanting to be inside her.

He slipped one thumb beneath the lacy cup of her bra and flicked it across her hardened tip. “Ethan!” she gasped. Her fingers dug into the hair on his chest.

“Ow.” He kissed her on the mouth. Kissed her again. “Watch it, baby.”

While he stroked her breast, while she fed his hungry lips, he unsnapped her jeans. Her thighs eased apart as he lowered the zipper. He cupped her through the denim and whatever she wore underneath, accustoming her to his more intimate touch. She was nothing but sweet, sweet heat as she pushed against his hand. She moaned into his mouth, reached behind him and clung to his shoulders.