The last weekend in September, Jack’s bar had to be closed because Jack, Preacher, Paul, Mike and their wives were all going to Grants Pass, Oregon, for the wedding of one of their boys. Joe Benson, marine and architect who designed all their houses and had worked with Paul for years in Oregon, was getting married. It was no coincidence that Joe was marrying one of Vanni’s best friends from flying days—they had met in Virgin River when Nikki was visiting Vanessa. Their wedding brought together a few of the available marines, but was a small flight-attendant reunion as well.
For a wedding that was thrown together in just over a month, it was beautiful and classy. Unlike those casual, low-key Virgin River weddings, this one was held in a charming downtown chapel with a fancy reception dinner and dance in the city’s prestigious Davenport Hotel’s ballroom. It was loaded with tuxedos and limousines, not to mention some amazing floral arrangements and a dinner menu that impressed even Preacher. Nikki had been Vanessa’s maid of honor twice, and Vanni was happily returning the favor. Also with them were their other two best friends, Abby and Addison.
When the four women started flying together, Abby and Addison had shared an apartment in L.A., while Nikki and Vanni had been roommates in San Francisco. The four of them bid all their trips together so that for three or four days every week, they had layovers in the same cities, at the same hotels. They had shopped together, partied together, gotten each other through a bunch of rotten boyfriends, kept each other afloat through the rough times, laughed through the good times. Now, with Nikki’s marriage, all four would be wed.
But Vanessa asked Addison, “Is Abby a little too quiet?”
“She won’t talk about it, but her husband has been on the road with his band since right after they were married…which has to be about a year ago.”
“I could tell it was a bad situation,” Vanni said. “Does he go home at all? Does she go to him?”
Addison shook her head. “I don’t think so. It’s like pulling teeth to get her to say anything at all about him. And of course, she’s here alone.”
Abby and her husband wed after a very short courtship and almost immediately Ross disappeared, along with Abby’s flush of romance and happiness. She grew evermore silent and distant.
“Abby, are you all right? Is everything okay with Ross?” Addison asked her in a whisper.
“Shh,” Abby said. “This is Nikki’s day. I don’t want to talk about that stuff now.”
Abby held it together pretty well, smiling for the pictures, raising her glass at the toast, but she disappeared from the reception at about the time the dancing started. Addison and Vanessa noticed at once. They talked about going after her, talking her through a bad patch. But in the end they decided to leave her be. She hadn’t wanted to talk about whatever was going on with her marriage, especially not at one of her best friend’s wedding. Maybe she just needed a good, strong, cleansing cry without a bunch of girlfriends in her business.
* * *
The Steak House in the Davenport Hotel was one of the nicest restaurants in Grants Pass and a favorite of Dr. Cameron Michaels’. Once a month he had dinner with his partners and their spouses and quite often, they chose this restaurant. He shared a practice with one female and two male pediatricians, all excellent doctors, all married. As had become typical lately, Cam didn’t have a date. He could’ve found a woman to accompany him. Women liked going out with him, and his partners were always offering fix-ups. There were plenty of pretty nurses signed up to take on that duty.
But he was thirty-six and heartsore. He’d been looking for the right woman for a long time, though it appeared he wasn’t going to find her. He had even felt himself beginning to fall in love with the beautiful Vanessa a few months ago and it had stung pretty bad when she let him know she’d given her heart to another man. She not only loved someone else, she married him immediately. Last spring; not all that long ago.
He wasn’t carrying a torch, he even admired the man she married—Paul Haggerty. He was a good man, strong and decent. The problem Cam was having wasn’t a broken heart so much as a tired one. He was a good-looking guy—dark hair and heavy brows over blue eyes, dimples, a bright smile. He was successful, masculine but tenderhearted—women were drawn to him. By now he should have found a woman he was just as drawn to. He wanted to fall in love; he wanted to love someone deeply enough to make her his wife. He was a family physician and pediatrician—having a wife and kids would mean a lot to him.
The women who fell for him were always the wrong ones. Plenty of the young mothers who brought him their children fixed big, vulnerable, doe eyes on him; young, pretty, married women. He was in the market for a wife, not an angry husband coming after him.
He’d had a couple of serious relationships that hadn’t lasted long. There had been a lot of women to fill the time—brief, superficial affairs. Frankly, he could have a woman whenever he wanted one, but he was so tired of that long string of meaningless relationships, weary of the nurses’ jokes about the playboy pediatrician and exhausted from looking.
So he remained the solitary seventh wheel, lately refusing his friends’ offers of blind dates and introductions. He had grown bored with it all and realized his failure to hook up had put him in a real mood. And sex without any feelings of involvement left him empty inside. He was better off alone.
When dinner with his partners was over, he watched them go off together, home to their marriage beds and children while he would go to his too-large, too-quiet house.
The prospect had him feeling gloomy enough to go to the hotel bar for a nightcap. It was late and the bar was nearly deserted; it seemed most of the hotel guests were caught up in a loud and annoyingly happy wedding reception in the ballroom. At the bar, he asked for a Chevis, neat. He didn’t feel like a drink so much as he didn’t want to go home yet, so he spent more time staring into it than sipping. Thirty minutes passed and he still had most of the drink in his glass when he started thinking about facing the loneliness of his house. He stood and pulled out his wallet to put a bill on the bar when he noticed her. A woman sitting at a small table in a dark corner. Also staring into a drink, also alone.
Cam thought about talking to her, but reminded himself how these encounters usually played out. He didn’t feel like another empty connection or worse, finding someone he liked and being let down. But she was pretty and looked a little sad…
The bartender wandered over. “Anything else, Doc?” he asked Cam.
“No, thanks. She been here long?” he asked, tipping his head toward the table in the corner.
“Longer than you.”
“Alone?”
The bartender shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you. I guess.”
Oh, what the hell… Cameron put down the bill and picked up his drink. He wandered over to her table. As he looked down at her, she lifted soft brown eyes to him. She had that classic, sophisticated look, her shiny ash-blond hair curled under on her shoulders. High cheekbones, oval face, arched brows the identical shade as her hair, and a sweet pink mouth. But she didn’t smile. “Can I buy you a drink?” he asked her.
“I’m just having seltzer,” she said. “I don’t think I’d be very good company.”
“I’m no prize tonight either, which is why I was killing time in the bar. I bet we’ll be able to tell in five minutes if we’re just two miserable people.”
Her shoulders gave a little lift with a silent huff of laughter.
“May I sit down?” he asked.
“Really, I think I’d rather be alone…” she said.
He sat down across from her anyway and said, “You sure I can’t get you something a little stronger? Something tells me you could use it.”
“No. You should really go.”
He chuckled lightly. “Man, I thought I was in a bad mood,” he said. “You’re working up a good funk. What’s wrong, kiddo? What happened?”
She sighed. “Could we please not do this? I’m not in the mood to be picked up or talk about my troubles, all right?”
“Okay,” he said. “I won’t pick you up or ask you about your troubles.” He finished the last swallow of his drink and got up. Cameron went to the bar and ordered another Chevis and a champagne cocktail, returning to her table. He put the cocktail in front of her and took his seat again.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Champagne cocktail. I figured you for something sweet and sexy.”
Her smile was mocking. “Great line,” she said facetiously.
“Thank you.” He smiled. “You obviously need a few lessons in how to feel sorry for yourself. You don’t do it with seltzer, for one thing.”
She lifted the glass and took a sip.
“There you go,” he said, smiling again. He reached across the small table and placed his hand over hers. “Sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
“I’m sure,” she said, removing her hand. “You want to talk? Let’s talk about you. You said you’re in a bad mood.”
“Fair enough. I was out to dinner with friends and when they left the restaurant, I decided I wasn’t ready to go home. See, I screwed up—I bought this house. Nice house, but way too big. Way too quiet and empty.”
“Buy furniture,” she said.
He grinned at her. “It’s full of furniture, ah…what’s your name?”
Abby thought for a second, trying to decide if it was a good idea to get that familiar. She glanced away from him, toward the bar, then back. Finally she said, “Brandy.”
“Nice to meet you, Brandy. I’m Cameron. Friends call me Cam. I have plenty of furniture. That’s not what’s missing.”
“I get it. You’re looking for a woman. There must be something in the Yellow Pages…”
That made him laugh. He picked up his drink and had a sip. “No, Brandy. In fact, that’s about the last thing I’m after tonight.” He leaned back in his chair. “Well, I take that back, maybe that’s what I am looking for. But it’s not what you think. I’m not looking for a date. I’ve had more than enough dates. I’m kind of amazed to find myself thirty-six and still single.”
“Never married?”
“Not even close,” he said.
She tilted her head to one side, looking at his face. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Couldn’t tell you. I have a good job, good friends, nice big house, I brush and floss…”
“You’re not that bad-looking,” she said. “You shouldn’t have any trouble finding a woman who’d want to marry you, spend your money.” The corners of her mouth lifted slightly.
“Amazing. You don’t look like my mother, but you sure just sounded like her.”
“You’re an escaped convict? Serial killer or something?”
“In Grants Pass?” he asked, laughing. “You can hardly get away with unpaid parking tickets in this town. Nah, I’m boringly law abiding. I don’t even speed.”
Abby lifted her drink to her lips. “I think you were right about the seltzer,” she said. “Not a great pity drink.” She took another sip. “How long has it been since you were, you know, involved?”
He slipped over into the chair next to her instead of across. “Hmm. Long,” he said. “I was working up a pretty good crush a few months ago, but before I could close the deal, she married someone else. Real fast. He’d been on her mind the whole time I was staging my seduction.”
“Oh,” she said. “Broken heart.”
“No, not at all. We weren’t involved. I was hoping to get involved, but once it was over I could see that it never really got started. She wasn’t into it at all. How about you? How long?”
“God,” she said, lowering her eyes and shaking her head. “That’s pretty hard to say. I think maybe we have that in common—I was involved. He wasn’t.”
He touched her hand again and this time she allowed it. “Just break up?” he asked.
“No. It was over quite a while ago. He’s been with someone else for at least six months.”
“Yet you’re hurting?” Cameron asked her.
She took a deep breath. “I was just at a wedding. Weddings are awful places for women alone. It works great in the plot of chick flicks because it’s tragically funny.”
“You look like you might’ve just escaped from a wedding,” he observed.
“Just the thought of the bride throwing that bouquet and knowing I was qualified to line up with the single women to catch it sent me running for the bar.”
“To lick your wounds with a seltzer? Thank God I came along.” He turned around, caught the bartender’s eye and lifted a couple of fingers. “Tell me about the wedding,” he said.
“Oh, God,” she said, lowering her head to rest it wearily in her hand. “Don’t ask.”
“Why?”
“Because there was enough true love in that room to make a person throw up.”
He laughed. “That right? You represent the bride’s side or the nauseating groom’s side?”
“Bride’s,” she said, laughing in spite of herself.
The bartender brought them two more drinks.
“Trying to get me drunk?” she asked him.
“No, I’m trying to get you over the hump. You’re sad. And a woman as beautiful as you has no business being sad. Drink it. It’s going to make you feel better.” He grinned. “Or at least stupider.”
She laughed at him. “Yeah. Like that’s possible…”
“These bad nights, I’ve had a ton of them,” he said. “When it just feels like things work out for everyone else. But if I was trying to get you drunk, you’d be drinking the Chevis and I’d be drinking the champagne. That’s Kool-Aid. You’ll be fine. I, however, am slowly becoming pain free. Tell me about it. The wedding. Come on, make me laugh.”
She took another sip, getting to the bottom of her first drink and sliding the glass away from her. “Well, let’s see. They met five months ago when they had this passionate first date or something, then didn’t see each other for two months, then got back together. They’ve been a couple for two or three whole months. Both of them claim it was love at first sight. They can hardly keep their hands off each other. There was enough steam in that room to make my hair go straight.”
If that wasn’t disgusting enough, she told him, the whole reception was loaded with longtime girlfriends of hers who were madly in love with wonderful, loving, sexy men whom they’d found in the most unexpected places. She, however, had had lousy luck with the opposite sex. Since about the fourth grade.
That got them started, talking and laughing about the worst dates and relationships imaginable. They went over the disastrous dates, hookups that looked like they might turn into stalkers, their most embarrassing setups. For a while it was like horror-dating one-upsmanship, but it began to put them both in a better mood. Someone to find the humor in all of it helped. It seemed they were two people who just never scored good partners at all. He was thirty-six and she was thirty-one and neither had found the right one. While they talked, he occasionally held her hand, the hand that rested on the table. With either of them hardly aware, more than an hour had passed, and it had passed with some laughter and pleasure, surprising her more than him. He lifted two fingers; two more drinks were delivered.
“What kind of odds do you give them?” he asked. “The bride and groom?”
“I’m the last person you should ask about that,” she said. “Turns out I’m not much of a judge.”
“Join the club,” he said. “Well, I wish them the best.” He grinned at her. “And I wish you the best, Brandy. This thing you’re going through—it’s going to pass. Just looking at you, talking with you through a couple of drinks, you’re going to land on your feet, find the right guy. Tell me something. What’s a woman like you looking for in a guy?”
“Are we talking about a date? Or something more than that?”
“How about both?” he said. “Start with the date.”
“Okay, in a date—good manners. That’s my only requirement for an evening out, as long as the guy is likable and I have an attraction. For the rest, I have this list. There are ten things, ranked.”
He burst out laughing. “Are you kidding me?”
“I am not,” she said indignantly. “My Aunt Kate told me a long time ago, make a list. She’s always right about everything, so I made a list. It’s a great list. There’s one problem. Sometimes I lie to myself about whether he’s got list qualities. When I do that, I pay. Big.”
“I gotta know, Brandy. Give me the list.”
“I can’t. It’s very private.”
“Listen,” Cam said. “I might need a list. Maybe that’s my problem—no list. Tell me about it. I promise, I won’t tell a soul.”
“Well,” she said reluctantly, “I might get some of the order mixed up. Four through seven are kind of interchangeable. And I can’t talk about number one, you’ll just have to let that go.”
“Okay,” he said. “Go.”
“Number two is humor. Then honesty. He has to be committed. Trusting. Tidy. Not anal and fussy, just not an unbearable slob. Good-looking—I mean to me. Not necessarily a hottie hard-body, but a man I find attractive, you know? And bear in mind, I think Liam Neeson is hot,” she added, making Cam laugh. “He has to like children. I know it’s the kiss of death to say that to a new boyfriend, so I try to keep it to myself, but I want children. At thirty-one, I don’t have all that much time left. He should make a decent living. And find me irresistible.”
He sat back in some surprise. “That’s a very good list. A well-thought-out list.”
“Thank you. I put a lot of time into it.”
He shook his head. If he were to make a list, that one would suffice. In fact, he couldn’t think of a thing on that list he couldn’t fulfill, if the woman found him attractive, that is. And yet, he was still alone. “A perfect list.”
“I consider those things the basics.”
“Okay, so where were the men in your life falling short?”
She took a thoughtful sip of her drink. “Hmm,” she hummed. “Frankly, in the children and finding me irresistible departments. A little bit in the tidy area. And so far the men I thought were trusting simply didn’t give a crap. And that commitment thing? I’ve run through a long line of cheaters. Which I guess implies they were also dishonest.”
She smiled at him. “This isn’t Kool-Aid. I’m a little light-headed.”
“Good. That’ll get your mind off the wedding. So, Brandy, have you compared your counter-list to your list of requirements? You’re falling for handsome, funny men who make plenty of money and are good at number one.” He smiled at her shocked expression—his deduction was completely accurate. “I’m way smarter than I look.”
“You’re not at all drunk. That was sharp.”
His smile vanished and he looked into her eyes. “I’m really glad you didn’t wait for the bouquet.”
“I think I am, too,” she said.
“You’re beautiful when you laugh.”
“You’re coming on to me,” she said. “It was subtle before.”
“I’ve had at least three drinks,” he said. “My subtlety is out the window.”
“At least?”
“There was wine with dinner.”
He lifted her hand, turned it over and pressed a small kiss onto her wrist. The look on her face was one of surprise, maybe apprehension. She started to pull her hand away, but he held it. He slipped his other hand up her arm to cup her elbow and put his lips softly against the inside of her elbow. When he lifted his head and connected with her gaze, he found those warm brown eyes had grown darker. He put a hand on her waist and pressed his lips softly to her bare shoulder; he heard her inhale slowly. He leaned closer, his lips hovering just above hers. He could feel her breath on his mouth. “Brandy,” he whispered. She made a small sound as her eyelids slowly fell and he pressed his lips gently against hers. Her lips trembled beneath his so he pressed a bit more firmly, but he didn’t hold them long. When he pulled back he said, “I have excellent manners.”
“You seem to,” she agreed. “I must be drunk. I’m kissing a stranger in a bar.”
“I think we’ve gotten to be pretty good friends,” he said. “We know each other’s darkest, most embarrassing secrets.”
“We don’t know each other well enough to be kissing in a bar.”
“Listen,” he said. “Did I mention I’m staying here tonight? I probably shouldn’t be driving. I’m going to check in and then come back here. We could have a drink or seltzer together, or I could take you upstairs, if you want to. We could watch a movie or something. Talk. Have drinks and not worry about anything. Whatever you like. Be less alone.”
“That would be completely nuts,” she said. “You do this sort of thing a lot?”
He shook his head. “Not in years. When I was younger, I was game for a lot of stupid things, but then eventually you grow up a little. Something like this didn’t occur to me when I came over here, bought you a drink. What do you think?”
“I think you’re lying,” she said. “And, it’s not a good idea.”
“I’m telling the truth. I’m not drunk, but I shouldn’t be driving. I’m getting a room.”
“And when you come back and I’m not here?”
“You’d be playing it smart, I guess. But don’t go. Wait for me and if you’d rather not go upstairs, let’s stay here a while longer, close the place down, then I’ll get you a cab, just to be safe. I like you. We’ll just sit here, talk. Laugh. Maybe kiss.”
“In a bar?” she asked, but she smiled.
He laughed. “Look around. There’s no one here,” he said. He gave her hand a squeeze and stood from the table. He leaned toward her and let his lips graze her cheek. “I’ll be right back. Wait for me—I’m not going to force you to go upstairs, you’re completely safe.” He jerked his head over his shoulder toward the bartender. “He’s watching, and he knows me—I’m certainly not going to drag you out of here.” He smiled. “Like I said, I have very good manners.”
He left the bar and did exactly as he said he would, checking in to the hotel. It was late, there was no one else around the registration desk and it took just minutes. They gave him a king-size bed in a no-smoking room with a Jacuzzi tub and a wet bar. He asked for a shaving kit and when he popped the lid on the little cardboard box, he found the essentials—disposable razor, shaving cream, toothpaste, brush, comb, condoms. Then he walked back to the bar and looked in. Of course, she was gone, as any woman with an ounce of sense would be. He was thoroughly disappointed; he shouldn’t have left the bar so soon, alone. But he should have expected this—he knew in five minutes she was intelligent and classy; such a woman wouldn’t go to a stranger’s hotel room.
But he had hoped she’d stay in the bar a while longer.
Cam could have canceled the room and gone home once he saw that his lame attempt at getting a funny, sexy, beautiful stranger into his hotel room had been rebuffed, but he wasn’t on call and didn’t have to work in the morning. He decided to take the room anyway, maybe turn on a movie and fall asleep here, rather than listen to the deafening silence in his too-big house. He walked toward the elevators and there, standing right in front of them, beautiful in a soft, gold silk cocktail dress, was the perfect stranger. Brandy. His eyes glowed with warmth. He could feel his smile reaching all the way into his chest.
Cameron walked toward her and took her hand in his. He leaned down and put a soft kiss on her forehead. The elevator doors opened and he pulled her inside, taking her gently into his arms. “You’re trembling,” he whispered. “Are you scared?”
“To death,” she said. “I never intended to do this.”
“You don’t have to be scared. I’d love it if you came with me, but you certainly don’t have to,” he said.
“This could be the biggest, stupidest mistake of my life.” Then she laughed. “Or at least the second biggest,” she added softly.
“You’ll see, it’s all right. I don’t want a woman who doesn’t want me. We already know we have plenty to talk about….” He lifted her chin and gently touched her lips with his in a very soft, brief kiss. He kissed her once more, lightly, playing against her lips. “You can change your mind and leave anytime. You won’t get any trouble from me.”
“What if it’s the biggest mistake of your life?” she asked him.
“I’m not worried. You’re beautiful and sweet and I like you. I don’t care.” He kissed her again, a little more deeply. Then the doors opened and he led her to the room. Once inside, he tossed aside the shaving kit and put his hands on her face, threading his fingers into her hair, pulling her gently to his mouth. He moved over her lips sensuously, tugging at them with his, running his tongue around them. When her tongue joined his in play, he groaned his pleasure and pushed his tongue in to taste the inside of her mouth; she tasted like champagne and strawberries. Then he felt her tongue enter his mouth, slipping around. Heaven. He couldn’t breathe.
“Scotch,” she said.
“I can change that taste to Crest, if you’d like me to,” he offered.
“I like scotch,” she said, leaning in to his kiss again. “You taste good.”
He wrapped his arms around her. “God,” he whispered against her lips. “I feel better already. How do you feel?”
“Crazy. Completely crazy,” she said.
“Yeah,” he agreed, laughing. “This is pretty crazy. But I like it so far.”
She molded herself against him, her arms going around his neck to hold him. She felt his hand glide down her back, over her butt to rest there and pull her closer still. His arms were strong, firm, but not confining. She could have wriggled out of his grasp without the slightest struggle. Instead of feeling frightened, she began to feel secure. Loved. Of course she knew it wasn’t love—it was nothing more than human contact. But while her life was spiraling out of control, this handsome stranger felt like an anchor.
The one thought that came to mind should have brought her to her senses, catapulting her out of these arms, this room. But the opposite happened. She remembered she had a husband. And a prenuptial agreement in which she promised fidelity. In the event of divorce, she would not receive alimony if she had been unfaithful during the marriage. Of course, he had made no such promises and had been living with another woman for six months. He’d asked for the divorce nine months ago, but she hadn’t signed the papers or told any of her friends.
She didn’t care about alimony; her heart was in shreds. No amount of money would put it back together again.
She pushed against Cam. “This is wrong,” she said.
“It’s a lot of things, honey, but it’s not wrong,” he said. “We’re single, consenting adults and we’re—”
“I’m not,” she said.
He was frozen for a second. “Okay, this sure feels consensual, so I’m guessing you mean you’re not single.”
She nodded and her eyes glistened.
“Oh, boy,” he said, backing up a little bit, though he couldn’t seem to let go of her completely. “I hope he’s not standing outside that door with a big gun…”
“He’s been living with another woman for six months. He served me nine months ago. I’ve been putting off the inevitable. Not because I want him back, but because…” She looked down. “I should have known better than to marry him in the first place. And I never saw myself as divorced after just months of marriage. Abandoned, after a few weeks of marriage…”
He looked down at her, sympathetic. “Aw, Jesus… No wonder you’re feeling all broken up inside. I’m sorry, honey. That’s a little worse than some lousy fix-ups, that shouldn’t happen to anyone. I noticed you’re not wearing a wedding ring.”
“I had it on at the wedding, in front of my friends. By the time I got to the bar, I had decided—enough is enough. I can’t stand this anymore, this pretending. It’s in my purse. I’m sorry I misled you. It’s not your problem. I should be going now—”
“Relax. Ordinarily I’d run like hell from a married woman, but I’m not exactly cuckolding the son of a bitch. Stay. Put the whole thing out of your mind for a while.” And then he pulled her to him and kissed her again, deeply.
She swayed in his embrace, letting her hands run over his back while losing herself in his mouth, in his deep kiss. His hands on her were large, tender and confident, his chest hard against her breasts. She felt a tingling pull between her legs and knew she was going to cross the line, let it happen. She needed to feel something; she’d been in pain or numb for too long. And before morning, she’d be gone. She’d go home and sign the papers and get to work on putting her life back together. It was time to move on.
She met his kiss with hunger that was so real, so hot and bold, she almost forgot everything that had landed her in that bar, feeling sorry for herself. They consumed each other for a minute, then two, then four, completely lost in kisses so strong and penetrating her knees grew weak. She was beginning to feel again, feel something good.
Then she kicked off her shoes. She was staying.
Taking her hand, he led her to the bed where he sat on the edge, looking up at her. He gave her hand a gentle tug, bringing her down on his lap. His arms around her waist, hers around his neck, they were lost in deep, wet kisses that lasted forever. She felt his hand brush against her breast and it sent shivers rippling through her. He held her there, his hands on her waist while her hands moved behind her neck to the zipper of her dress, slowly inching it down. He lifted his hands to meet hers, pulling the zipper the rest of the way. She pulled the soft, gold silk forward, off her shoulders and down until it fell to her waist, leaving her only in her small, lacy bra. “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, burying his face in satin and lace, kissing her through the undergarment.
She held his face against her, resting her cheek against his soft hair. “I’ve lost my mind,” she said against his ear. She slipped her hands down and began to work the buttons on his shirt, opening it, sliding her hands across his hard, hairless chest. “I’ve completely lost my mind.”
“I can stop,” he said. “If this isn’t what you want, all you have to do is say so. As a courtesy, you might want to say so pretty soon.”
“Don’t stop,” she said. Beneath her, through the sheer fabric of a silk dress and small, thin panties, she could feel him growing hard against her, and pleasure shot through her as she moved against him.
With his hands on her bottom, he pulled her against him, his erection still tucked into his pants. She pressed herself harder into his lap, causing him to growl deep in his throat. He claimed her mouth once more as he made the bra disappear, crushing her breasts against his bare chest. Her breasts felt heavy and needy and she was already starting to ache in the place that had gone empty and unsatisfied for so long. All she could think about was feeling good, feeling loved, feeling full.
Cameron reclined on the bed, lowering her carefully beside him. He kissed her as he filled his hands with her breasts. He lowered his lips to her nipples to kiss then run a tongue over each one, then gently suck, drawing a low, wonderful moan of pleasure from her. Back on her lips, feeling her tongue come into his mouth, it was his turn to moan. She was so delicious. Her mouth was slick velvet and he made a long, slow sweep of the inside.
He ran a hand over her hip and down, slipping it under her dress. Then he pulled the dress down and she lifted her hips to help. It went down over her knees and she kicked it off into a pile of golden silk on the floor. There was just the tiniest pair of panties underneath and he placed a gentle hand over her soft mound. “I want to get past these panties. Tell me it’s okay,” he said, his voice raspy.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He slipped his hand inside the fabric. “You’ve been hurting for a while, haven’t you, baby?” he asked.
“Don’t spoil this.”
“Let’s talk about what I can do to help,” he said, tugging off her panties and parting her legs with his hand. His long, gentle fingers reached until he found the place that was dark and wet and it made him groan softly, deeply. He slipped lower. He found the hard, sensitive knot with his fingers and she gasped; he covered her opened mouth with his and went to work on that vulnerable little spot. Instant response—he loved it. He pulled her tongue into his mouth as he slid a finger inside her, letting his thumb make slow circles around her clitoris. “God,” she said, pushing against his hand.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered against her lips. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Take it—it’s free. Feel better.”
Her hips began to rock against his hand and he sank his finger deeper while his thumb pressed harder against her. He moved over that tender little knot and in no time at all her hips rose, her breath caught and her entire bottom clenched, bathing his hand in the most wonderful spasms. Instant orgasm. And a powerful one that held her in its possession for a long, shuddering moment until she fell back into his embrace. He stilled his hand, but didn’t remove it. He just kissed her little gasping lips, soft and sweet and slow, sensuously sucking on them while she caught her breath. And finally, as her breathing normalized, he slowly pulled his hand away.
“I think you needed that,” he said.
“Ohhhh,” she answered.
He chuckled. “Better?”
“You have no idea.”
“Oh, I have a pretty good idea,” he said with a soft laugh.
“Why’d you do that?” she asked him.
“That was what you needed. Anything more has to be what you want. I’m not going to take advantage of you.”
“You haven’t,” she said.
“You about ready to let me out of my pants?”
She ran her hands down his chest to his belly. Her hands went to his belt, unbuckled it, undid the button on his pants and slid down the zipper.
“God bless you,” he said in a grateful breath. She took him in her hand and he trembled involuntarily, it felt so good. “Brandy, I have to get protection for us. Give me a second.” He went quickly for the shaving kit, kicking off his shoes as he returned. He grabbed a condom out of the box, let his shirt fall from his shoulders and dropped his pants, getting rid of them. Sheathed and ready, he knelt on the bed. He leaned over to press his lips against hers and said, “Anything you want. Any way you say. It’s still your turn.”
She answered by opening up to him. He knelt between her legs and gently filled her with his aching erection, pushing inside slowly. She moved with him, arching against him, and he groaned with the effort it took to hold back. It had been a very long time for him, which had the disadvantage of making him a less than astonishing lover. He struggled, and welcomed the struggle. Making this a night of no regrets for her was all that mattered. He was in some kind of trance, amazed by how pure and right she felt, how familiar, like he’d been in this place before. The way she met him, thrust for thrust, was natural and felt as though they’d practiced this coupling for years.
He couldn’t remember feeling like this before and he wondered if he’d just lost his mind. Then he thought, is it possible there really is one true mate for every man? For every woman? Do you search for years and then stumble onto the right one? The one who smells, tastes and feels perfect?
He pushed deeply, moving in long slow strokes, listening to the little purrs and sighs that told him he was on the right spot. Her hips began to move in rhythm with his and then as her pace picked up, he pushed harder, faster, deeper. He was hanging on for dear life, giving her a chance to grab on to another orgasm before he’d let himself cash in. It didn’t take her long; she was sexually charged. She lifted her hips against him, her breath caught and he felt her close around him, pulsing. “Oh, yeah,” he whispered. With a shudder, he let go, joining her in a thundering climax.
As she collapsed beneath him, he held her, running his hands over her soft body in a tender caress while she recovered. He was reluctant to let go of her, reluctant to leave her body. He stayed there for a long time, holding his weight off her slender frame, and finally he slipped out, but he kept his arms around her for a while longer.
“You okay, honey?” he asked.
“Hmm. Okay.”
“How’d I score on number one?” he asked her.
She chuckled softly in spite of herself. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s a mistake to praise a man’s performance in bed.”
“You were wonderful,” he said. “Phenomenal. Like a furnace, a blast furnace. Hot and strong. God. I thought I was going to faint,” he said.
She laughed. “You weren’t too bad.”
“Thanks. Just out of curiosity, why is it number one?”
She shrugged. “I guess I couldn’t think of a compromise. This is an awful important part of being a couple.”
“It is,” he agreed. He kissed her cheek and said, “Excuse me for just a minute.” He withdrew to the bathroom. When he came back, he was wearing a frown and a towel around his hips. He sat on the bed beside her. “Brandy, I have to tell you something. The condom—it broke.”
“Jesus,” she said in a weak breath.
“It’s okay—I’ll tell you exactly what to do. I’m a doctor. There’s emergency birth control for exactly this kind of problem. If you’ll see your doctor on Monday, he or she can prescribe something to prevent a pregnancy. If you can’t get an appointment, you can come to my office Monday and I’ll write you a scrip.”
“I’m on the pill,” she said.
“Well, that’s a relief,” he said. “Damn, I’m sorry, honey. We should sue the hotel.”
“It’ll be all right, won’t it?”
“You should be fine. I take real cautious care of myself—you haven’t been exposed to anything.” He brushed the hair back from her brow. “I’m so sorry. The last thing I wanted was for you to be worried about anything. Especially now that I know everything you’ve been through.”
She smiled at him. “Aren’t you worried that you’ve been exposed to something? You don’t know me.”
“I can take care of my concerns.” He smiled. “I get a real good deal on lab tests, if I feel they’re in order.”
“No reason you should believe me, but it was necessary for me to be completely checked over after my… After he moved out. Quite a while ago.”
“Thanks for telling me that, Brandy.” He lowered himself to the bed and gathered her up in his arms. “As long as you’re all right, that’s all that concerns me right now. As far as I’m concerned, you have everything on the list covered. Very nicely.”
“This should never end,” she said.
“It doesn’t have to,” he said, kissing her neck. “God knows, I don’t want it to.”
“But it will,” she said, a hint of sadness in her tone.
“That’s up to you. I’d like to know more of you.”
“I’ll have to think about that,” she said.
“You think,” he said. “I’ll try to offer incentives.” His hands began to move and she moaned, instantly responsive to his touch. He was on the rise again, and it was obvious against her thigh.
She said, “Do you think the next condom will hold?”
“I don’t think it much matters. Now.”
It was a very long time before they slept. He made love to her again and again, each time sweeter, more satisfying than the time before. It shouldn’t have been so effortless, so right, but it was. For someone who had been tense and frightened, she had shed her inhibitions quickly and unfolded at his touch, responding to him with a heat and passion that surprised and thrilled him. The level of physical intimacy was greater than he expected, more profound than he’d imagined. He’d had his share of one-night stands, but he couldn’t remember one that felt like this. He wanted more of this woman, and not just more of her in bed.
In the morning, early, when the sun was barely up, she was awake and touching him. “I have to go now,” she whispered.
“Not yet,” he said, reaching for her. “Not yet.”
She ran a hand along the hair at his temple. “It was a beautiful night, but I have to go.”
“I want to see you again,” he said. “Tell me how to get in touch with you.”
“My life is so messed up right now,” she said. “You have to understand that much, or last night couldn’t have happened…”
“I’m not afraid of a little mess…”
“Let me go and do the things I have to do, straighten things out a little, then get in touch with you. Can you do that?”
He kissed her deeply. “I think if we spent more time together, we could fall in love. I want to know if that could happen. I have a real good feeling about us.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Cameron, you picked me up in a bar…”
“I know. What a piece of luck. When does something that great happen? I don’t want to let you go.”
“You’re not going to try to keep me from leaving, are you?”
“Of course not, but I’d like to call for breakfast. If you won’t stay, I at least want to see you again. Take you out, talk to you…”
“Write down your number. Or give me a business card,” she said.
“Tell me your last name. Give me a number if not an address. You know you don’t have to be afraid of me.”
She sighed and put a soft hand against his cheek. “It’s really important that I feel in control right now. Please understand?”
He thought briefly, then smiled at her. He gave her a little kiss and got out of bed. He found her bra and panties on the floor and picked them up to hand to her. His trousers were flung across a chair and he slipped into them, sans underwear, while she put on her dainties. Then he held her soft, gold dress for her and helped her into it, turning her around to zip up the back. Next he pulled his wallet from his back pocket, flipped it open and produced a business card. “I want you to feel safe and in control, just like you were last night. All night. Go ahead, have me checked out.” He pressed it into her hand.
“Maybe you’ll want to have me checked out,” she said with a soft smile.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m going to let you tell me everything you want me to know. That’s a better place to start.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Don’t make me wait too long, Brandy,” he said. “Even if I can’t see you until you get your affairs in order, I’d like to talk to you. Just touch base, that’s all. Let me know you’re okay. I promise, I’ll be patient for the rest.”
She smiled and said, “Sure. How could I not?”