Issue 7, Febraury 2018: Featuring Jayne Ann Krentz: Heart's Kiss, #7 Read online

  “Yup,” she nods, the movement causing a chorus of chimes.

  “Do you have some ID?”

  The girl pauses, her eyes growing wide before she plunges her hand into her pocket and rummages around. The slim pants couldn’t hold much, but her arm disappears to the elbow before she pulls it back out, displaying a laminated ID swipe card with the logo of the hotel and a picture of her face.

  He nods and sits back, though his brow is furrowed. “You can’t abandon your post, you know. If you have to step out you should find someone to cover you.”

  I never asked him what he did, but he must manage people for a living. Although anybody who’s ever had a job before should know not to just take off without telling someone.

  “You guys are drinking tea, well, that’s on the house, I assure you. I’ll have them take it out of my check, don’t worry. I’m really sorry. So where are you from? What do you do there? How do you like the hotel? Isn’t it fab?”

  Danger’s frown deepens as he stares at the strange girl and I down the last swallow of my tea, seizing the moment of clarity. “I actually better get going. It’s late.” I stand and avoid looking at him.

  “Thanks, come again!” The bartender says cheerily.

  I walk out, trying to convince myself that I don’t want him to follow me. It’s ridiculous really, this attraction. What’s the point of feeling so drawn to someone you can never really have? Someone who could only pile one more hurt on top of so many others?

  “Trouble,” he says. I keep walking to the elevator, but stop before pushing the button. I fish my key card from my purse then turn to him, not sure of what to say. We stand there like that, just staring at each other, until a Financial District type—slicked-back hair, power suit—comes up and stabs the button several times.

  When the elevator dings open, we all pile in. The suit chooses the second floor. Danger gives me a look that says, What, he couldn’t take one flight of stairs? I can’t help breaking into a grin. I was thinking the same thing. When the doors shut after the suit’s exit, the elevator doesn’t move. We haven’t picked another floor yet.

  I step back and lean against the wall. Take a deep breath. He crosses his arms and leans next to me. We stand in the immobile elevator playing this strange game of chicken.

  He looks like he’s got all the time in the world. Doesn’t touch me. Doesn’t say anything, but the closeness of him in this tiny space makes the attraction from earlier seem like a mere sparkler. We have now entered the extended grand finale. 3D images are being created with the fireworks going off between us.

  I shoot him a dirty look from the corner of my eye. His smile does nothing but grow wider. Damn those damn sexy lips.

  I punch the button for the fourth floor. When the elevator arrives, I stomp out, not surprised when he follows. I spin around. “I’m not inviting you in.”

  “I didn’t ask to come in. I’m just escorting to your room to make sure you get there safely.”

  “Is this a dangerous hotel?”

  “You never know.” He’s smug and sure of himself, but, amazingly, not in an obnoxious way. His hands are in his pockets and he starts to whistle. What a bastard. Who does he think he is?

  We stop at my door and I’m ready to say goodnight. Ready to banish him to the farthest reaches of space, where he can invade some other poor woman’s psyche with his flashing eyes and strong hands.

  He lifts my hand and brings it to his lips. “Have a good night, Trouble.”

  The fireworks have become a full-scale nuclear explosion. He releases my hand. Backs away.

  Shit.

  I hate baseball.

  “Hey, Danger?”

  “Yes.”

  “Come here.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  I back into the room, my eyes never leaving his as he closes the door. The lights are off, but the ultra-bright street lamp spears the room through the oversized window, creating harsh shadows. My heart races so fast it makes me dizzy. I wobble when the backs of my legs hit the bed. A"chapter-sub"nd then he’s all around me, his hands drawing my face in, his lips singeing mine with a four-alarm kiss. I seriously think I may spontaneously combust right here.

  I tilt my head, drawing him deeper, pressing myself against the hardness of his body to feel the strength underneath the expensive clothes. My hands slide down and I pull him closer. He comes up for breath and, with a mischievous look, picks me up, palming my ass in his grip. My skirt slides up, legs wrap around him. I think he’s going to lay me on the bed, but he turns and my back hits the wall before he attacks me with another searing kiss.

  My lungs don’t work and my brain has abandoned me, leaving me with only nerve endings on fire from his touch. The ache between my thighs pulses hotter and harder. He presses open mouthed kisses on the heated flesh of my neck, but I grab his head and pull him away.

  “Bed. Now.”

  He grins and we spin around, then I’m spread across the bed and he’s on top of me. I wriggle, struggling to get out of my clothes. My skirt finally comes off, revealing plain cotton panties, but at least I brought my good bra with me. He’s only halfway out of his shirt when he stops, and I think something’s wrong.

  “What?” The panties can’t be that bad.

  “Nothing. You’re gorgeous.” His stare is appreciative, but it’s like he’s not even looking at me, he’s looking into me. It’s a little too much, so I grab his belt and start to pull. He brushes my hands away and makes quick work of slipping out of his clothes.

  Black boxer briefs highlight how happy he is to see me. And this man’s chest belongs on the cover of a fitness magazine. I run a hand over the planes of sculpted muscle. Just for tonight I’ve been called up to the majors. I hope I don’t embarrass myself.

  Needing to taste him, I close the distance between us. I moan as my lips and tongue run over his skin. He hisses when I scrape his nipple with my teeth. I bite down a little and he jerks, tries to push me away, but I don’t move. I palm his erection through his underwear, just starting to get the feel of it when he tosses me down with lightning quickness and shifts the lace of my bra cups out of the way to lave my breasts with his tongue.

  This position puts him right where I want him, his cock rubbing against my drenched panties, the blunt head stoking my fires. Proving himself a pro, he undoes my bra clasp, one-handed. My back arches at the unfettered contact as he kneads and licks his way across my chest. He flicks my nipple, then rolls it between his fingers and I feel close. The pent-up attraction is ready to overflow.

  “Condom,” I breathe into his ear and he rises and sheaths himself while I get rid of the panties. I rise to my hands and knees and turn to look at him over my shoulder. I’m burning so much for him that any position will do as long as he’s inside me immediately.

  He slides his hands over my ass, squeezing each cheek before flipping me onto my back again. He kisses the questioning look off my face.

  “I want to look at you. I want to see what you like. I want to see your face when I make you come.” He rubs the head of his dick against me once then slides all the way home, spreading and filling me, turning the fire into an inferno.

  Painstakingly slow strokes have me thrashing around, begging him to go faster, harder, turning me crazy. I literally see the moment his control breaks and he slams into me, burying himself all the way inside as our pelvises smack together.

  I shiver as sensation consumes me, turn my head away as his powerful strokes turn me into jelly. He caresses my face gently, turning my head even as his body pummels into me. “Look at me,” he insists.

  My eyes flutter open then closed. I struggle to meet his eyes.

  He kisses me again, deeply, eyes open, and a fire hose of emotion blasts me. The intensity of eyes-open sex is beyond what I can even process. I can’t believe I’ve never done this before. My gaze glides down to where our bodies meet, him pistoning inside me, the friction and slide pushing me over the edge.

  It occurs to me that he�
��s a stranger, but he doesn’t feel like one, wringing every last drop of pleasure from my body. Something about looking into his eyes while he comes—you can’t hide anything in that moment. You’re not in control and whatever mask you’re wearing slips away. What I see in that moment is all sincerity. There’s no mask—it’s a revelation I don’t have time to ponder because then my own orgasm crashes into me, lifting my back off the bed with its strength. I can’t help but close my eyes as it stretches on and on.

  When it’s over I lay there shaking, embarrassed as tears pool in my eyes. I can’t be one of those women who cries after sex. Especially not after a one night stand. I turn away as he slides out of me and throws away the condom. In a second, he’s back, wrapping his arms around me. Pulling me into his chest, accepting my random outburst of emotion.

  I don’t cry, I don’t let myself, but I do take a moment to bask in the fantasy. How could this man, who doesn’t know me, offer something so intimate? He’s not yet on his way out the door, which is in itself surprising. Settling into his warmth, inhaling the clean scent of his sweat, I let myself imagine for a moment that life could be like this. That I could spend nights held safe in the arms of a man who loves me.

  The thought shatters my daze. I shoot out of the bed on unsteady feet. Where the hell had that come from? He’s looking at me like I’m freaking out, maybe because I am freaking out. I run to the bathroom and lock myself inside.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I run the water in the sink for a long time, giving him a chance to make his exit. The shower is tempting, but I hate bathing at night. I’ll need the water in the morning to help me wake up, and after all of this activity, I’ll also need the hot steam to sooth my aching muscles.

  After what I feel is approximately half an eter"chapter-sub"nity, I wrap myself in the hotel robe and go back into the room. The fact that he’s still here shouldn’t surprise me. But it’s not comforting, it’s annoying and presumptuous. He should know how this goes down.

  He has the nerve to grin at me when he hops up, still naked as the day he was born. His body crowds me in the tiny space between the bed and the dresser, but he doesn’t touch me, just enters the bathroom. While he’s in there, I fold his clothes into a neat pile and place them on his side of the bed. Just so he gets the message.

  When he comes out he picks up the pile, sets in on the dresser and climbs back into bed, pulling up the covers. My look would turn him to ice if he were a normal human being. But he’s steadily ignoring me. I’m just about to give him a piece of my mind when the phone rings.

  It’s almost two a.m. and my stomach clenches. He’s sitting nearest the phone and picks it up, holding it out to me. His eyes are on me, but I think my face may have turned to stone.

  I press the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Ms. Abernath?”

  I swallow. “Yes.”

  “This is Bayside Nursing Facility. I’m sorry to tell you that your father has passed away. The time of death was one fourteen a.m.”

  The room is quiet and the phone’s receiver is loud. Danger can hear every word. He wraps an arm around me. I don’t feel anything but cold.

  “Thank you for letting me know.”

  “If you’d like to come in tomorrow to make arrangements—”

  “No, I—I won’t be making any arrangements. The social worker will handle whatever has to be done. Thank you. Good night.”

  “But Miss—”

  I hand him the phone to hang up. He pulls me into the broadness of his chest and wraps both arms around me.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m not. He was a miserable man. Don’t waste any tears for him, I won’t.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” The way he enunciates each word, it’s like he gets it. Like he understands that I didn’t lose my father tonight. I lost him years ago. With every crack of the belt or blow from his fist, little by little I became fatherless. The scars I bear, both the ones that can be seen and traced with fingers and the ones deep inside are aching. But not because of tonight. Because of all the nights.

  He strokes my hair and I melt into him.

  “Tell me something,” I say, wanting just a little more time inside the bubble of this fantasy. “Not your name, just something about you. Something you can’t find on an internet search.”

  His hands stroke my shoulder for a moment. He kisses it, absently. It’s a long time before he answers.

  “I watched my mother die. She swallowed a bottle of painkillers right in front of me. She made me promise not to call for help.”

  I pull back and look at him. Here is the mask, for the first time. I can tell the difference between the him I’ve seen up until now and this—this is the face he wears for the world. I slide a hand behind his neck and pull his forehead down to meet mine.

  “I kept the promise,” he whispers. “Sat with her for hours. My father walked in and found us. He’s hated me ever since. But she needed to go. He drove her crazy and she had to go. I couldn’t save her.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Thirteen.”

  “I’m sorry.” I pull him into my arms. “I’m so sorry.”

  “He’s well-respected—a self-made man, on the boards of charities, pictures with heads of state. And he’s one of the worst men I know.... But everyone looks at me, hears my last name, and they see him.” He tightens his grip on me. “I can’t be anything like him.”

  He breathes into my neck and I shift my head. Our kiss is slow and from the heart. I taste tears and am not sure if they’re mine or his. We soothe each other, hold each other, and my heart breaks for him.

  I pull back and bite my lip. “You’re something else, Danger. Do you know that?” I stroke his face, peering into dark eyes.

  “Please tell me your name?” he asks.

  My laugh is filled with tears and I shake my head. “I’m a mess. You do understand that? Not a cute scatterbrained mess, a real mess. Daddy issues, right? More baggage than you want to deal with. I promise you.”

  “You don’t have a monopoly on baggage—”

  “But it’s different for guys. And men like you have options. I can tell you’re one of the good ones. You don’t have to settle for someone like me. You shouldn’t.”

  “Settle? You’re not settling. Why would you think that? Is it because of your father?”

  I shake my head. “I just know.” The look on his face tells me he needs more. I sigh and sit back.

  “I had this boyfriend in high school. Trevor. He was the golden boy: popular, athletic, gorgeous. The world at his fingertips type—like you.

  “My mom was a mess. She’d gotten remarried to another alcoholic, so home was a mess too and Trevor was like an island of calm in a torrential storm. I thought.... Well, I wasn’t ready, you know? I just, I wanted more time before we had sex. But I guess he thought dating a girl from where I’m from meant a guaranteed score. When I wouldn’t, he told me he couldn’t deal with someone with so much baggage. All my issues were just too much for any guy with options. And then he left. He ended up marrying a cheerleader and has three kids.”

  I shrug. “At the end of the day you can’t escape where you come from. My mom could never land anyone decent. Just once, I thought maybe I could break the mold. Fall a little further from the tree, but...I don’t get to keep you. And pretty soon, you won’t want to keep me.”

  “Shouldn’t I be able to decide?”

  I hold his eyes so he can see who I am. “I Am. A. Mess,” I say slowly, so he understands.

  “I don’t exactly have my shit together. I don’t even have an apartment.”

  “Yeah, you live in a hotel with rooms that cost more per night than one month of my rent. That’s the definition of having your shit together.”

  He picks up a lock of my hair between two fingers. “You gonna try and kick me out again?”

  “I’m leaving tomorrow.” I check the clock. “Today, really. Turning back into a pumpkin. Wou
ldn’t it be easier to go now than in the morning?”

  He releases my hair to run his fingers across my scalp. I close my eyes involuntarily as the sensation ripples through me. He kisses the shell of my ear.

  “I can’t go yet. If you kick me out now, I’ll just camp outside your door like a stray puppy.” He pushes the fabric of my robe down to kiss my shoulder. “There may be howling involved. I could wake the other guests. Do you want that on your conscience?”

  I tilt my head to give him better access. He presses kisses to my neck, quickening my pulse. My breath hitches, becomes erratic as his hands slide down to my waist, shucking off the robe in the process.

  “That certainly would be inconsiderate,” I say, breathless.

  “Let me stay the night, if only for the sake of everyone else. Think of it as community service.” He pulls me into him, spreading my legs and reaching down to stroke the wetness there once, then twice, charging me up and leaving me ready to ignite.

  “When you put it like that, how can I refuse?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I wake up surrounded in warmth, inhaling a lush, enticing aroma. The smell of man. I snuggle closer, still half-asleep, when a large hand palms my behind. Desire ripples through me and I shift, my movements tinged with soreness. Wincing open one eye, I’m greeted with his face, inches from my own.

  He is so beautiful in sleep. He looks younger—that mischievous quality he often has about him is"chapter-sub" absent. Just a sleeping man, calm and kind. I move to roll out of bed, but he tightens his grip, unconsciously.

  I can’t believe I let him stay. Can’t believe I told him about Trevor. Admitted to all of it. Though I didn’t tell him about the internet stalking, or how, even now, I wish I had Trevor’s life. What if I had said yes instead of no when he’d try to cajole me into bed? Would my life be charmed now? Or would he have still discarded me with the rest of the trash? And why do I still care?

  Danger’s lashes brush his cheek and a swell of emotion fills me to bursting. Last night was a fantasy. It doesn’t even matter that in the harsh light of day he’s even more beautiful than he was before. He’s still a bubble about to burst.