Carly made a decision she was almost certain she’d regret.
She kissed Mitch back.
But she couldn’t help herself. Today, this entire week actually, she’d seen a different side of him. One she liked. A lot. One that, when combined with the shocking contents of Marlene’s journal, made her wonder if her twin hadn’t altered the facts to suit her purposes. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
Mitch didn’t touch her anywhere except for his lips and the thigh pressed against hers. It wasn’t enough. She lifted a hand and cradled his face, loving the prickly warmth in her palm. She stroked his jaw. The slight roughness of his beard abraded her fingertips in a delicious way.
His growl of approval filled her mouth, and the echoes resounded deep inside her. His lips parted and his tongue sought and tangled with hers. The pressure of his mouth increased, tilting her head back for a deeper kiss. She adored his taste, his slick, wet heat, his scent.
But still, he didn’t take her into his arms.
Carly moved her other hand to his knee below the hem of his shorts. The crisp curls tickled her palm. She kneaded the hot skin of his thigh and hunger seeped over her like a rising tide, pulling her deeper under his spell.
Mitch’s hands flattened over both of hers, halting her movements. He lifted his head. Desire burned in his eyes and darkened his face. His fingers threaded through hers and returned her hands to her lap.
“We need to take this upstairs. But before we do, you need to be damned sure you know where this is headed.”
She bit her lip and tasted him. “Where is it headed?”
“I want you, Carly. I think we have a shot at something good together. But I can’t make guarantees of forever.”
Her heart raced and her palms moistened. Did she want something long-term with him? Maybe. She’d certainly never experienced passion this strong before.
Getting involved again—and so soon—was a gamble. She’d taken several of those in her life and lost everything. But Mitch understood how much walking away from a child hurt. He’d been there. And he’d made the unselfish choice for the children. That fact alone made him more appealing than either of the men she’d thought she’d loved. Surely Mitch could understand and pardon her decision to give her daughter up for adoption?
And then there was Rhett. As Mitch had pointed out, they both had the child’s best interest at heart.
She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I’m willing to risk it.”
Mitch’s nostrils flared. He rose, pulling Carly to her feet. With their fingers still intertwined, he yanked her forward and their bodies slammed together, soft against hard in shocking, exhilarating contact. He pressed a quick, firm kiss on her lips, then released one hand and led her out of the room and into the foyer. He ascended the stairs without haste.
She wanted him to race. To do this before second thoughts overtook her. She hadn’t known him long, and it wasn’t like her to tumble into bed so quickly, so impetuously.
As if he sensed her encroaching doubts, he stopped on the first landing, backed her against the banister and lowered his head. Hot and hungry and slightly rough, his mouth devoured hers, stealing her breath, her defenses and her doubts.
Her back arched over the rail. The potential danger of falling to the hard marble floor below only intensified the adrenaline rush. She clung to his lean waist.
Just as quickly as he had begun the kiss, he ended it and resumed climbing, but faster this time. His long stride rushed her down the hall—not that she minded—past hers and Rhett’s rooms and into Mitch’s suite. He shut the doors and backed her against them. She had a brief impression of the bedroom behind him as huge, painted in the palest sage and flooded with sunlight from windows on both the front and back sides of the house.
“Last chance to change your mind.” But already his hands reached for the hem of her shirt. The yellow cotton swished over her head in a blur and landed on the floor.
She answered by mimicking his movements and tugging his shirttail up and over his head to reveal those barbell-wide shoulders, the dark hair spattering in a Y across his torso and his amazing, muscle-ripped physique. For a moment she stood motionless, surveying the territory she had revealed. He did the same. His jaw muscles clenched and his pectorals rose on a deep inhalation.
His hands moved to the button and zip of her skirt. The rasp of his knuckles from her navel to her mound weakened her knees and sent a swirl of want to her abdomen. The skirt fell to her ankles, leaving her in a white bra, matching bikini panties and her sandals. For an instant she wished she’d worn something sexier than plain cotton, but the rapid expansion of his pupils smote the thought.
She kicked off her shoes and reached for the waistband of his shorts. The fastening gave way and the khaki fabric dropped down the length of his legs. She had a scant second to appreciate the long, thick bulge tenting his black boxers. The minute his pants hit the floor he kicked them and his shoes aside and swept her into his arms. The radiator warmth of his body pressed her side. She tangled her arms around his neck and scanned the room as his long stride ate up the floor between the entry and his bed.
A sea of glossy hardwood floors surrounded an island-size bed draped in a dark green spread. Matching tall stainless floor lamps arched like palm fronds over each side of the mattress, and pillows piled high against the tall scrolled wooden headboard. She didn’t need to see the hardback thriller on the nightstand to know Mitch spent time reading in bed. Something else they had in common.
He set her on her feet and flipped back the covers, revealing sheets in the same sage as the walls. And then his thumbs hooked in his boxers and he bent to shove the silk to his ankles. He straightened, and her lungs and her womb contracted.
Oh, mama! Her fingers curled in anticipation of touching him, stroking him, taking him deep inside. She reached for her prize, but he brushed her hands aside to flick open the front catch of her bra. He caught her breasts as they spilled out, enclosing her sensitive flesh in the warmth of his hands. He thumbed the tips and a moan bubbled in her throat.
Briskly, with sudden impatience, he released her, rushed her bra over her arms and her panties down her legs and then backed her onto the bed. Her bottom bounced on the firm mattress and cool sheets met her back. He turned away briefly, yanked open the bedside drawer, retrieved and swiftly donned a condom and then returned to her. The mattress dipped beneath his weight, and his thighs separated hers. He planted his palms on the pillow beside her head.
She pressed her hands to his chest, halting his descent. She wanted to savor this, to make it last. “Wait. Slow down.”
Even his eyebrows went rigid. He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaled. The veins in his throat and one in his temple pulsed wildly. When he lifted his lids she could see he’d reined himself in. As if in slow motion, his elbows bent and he lowered himself, stopping short of full body contact. His lips touched down, hovered and touched hers again, like a hummingbird on a feeder.
His kisses traced her cheekbone, her jaw, the cords of her neck, sipping and laving. His teeth scraped ever so lightly on her skin, and she shivered with need. The mattress quaked beneath her, telecasting the depth with which Mitch fought for control. She slid her hands from the supple skin of his chest to the bunched muscles of his shoulders and then into his soft hair. Cradling his head, she brought his mouth back to hers. His ravenous kiss slayed her. She thought her lungs would burst. The rest of her wasn’t far behind.
He lifted his head, stretched out beside her and propped himself up on his elbow. The scalding length of him, of his torso, his erection, his legs, blanketed her from shoulder to ankle. His gaze greedily gorged on her nakedness. His hand stroked and caressed, plucked and glided over her breasts, her waist and her belly, sweeping her into a tornado of sensation. And then his lips followed the same path.
His mouth found her center, and an approaching orgasm coalesced deep inside her. Hunger and passion consumed her, making her forget all about going slow. Her hips arched off the bed. She wound her arms around him, urging him on. “Now.”
He lifted his head and leaned back, leaving her hanging on the verge of release. She whimpered in disappointment. He grasped her knee and hiked it over his hip, rolling her to her side, leaving her most intimate parts opened and exposed. His gaze held hers as he kneaded the curve of her bottom and then slipped his hand between them to her slick center.
She loved the dark, passionate look in his eyes, as if he were as close to losing control as her. His fingers slid deep and then withdrew. That single thrust pushed her back to the edge, but left her aching and empty and yearning for more. He cut short her frustrated groan by painting a mind-twisting circular pattern over her flesh. Her lids fluttered closed as intense pleasure arrowed through her. She forced them back open to watch the intense concentration on his face.
Her thoughts, her senses centered on those dexterous digits and on the intense green eyes holding hers captive. Pressure built until it bordered on pain. Once again, he let it subside. Wanting, needing more, she lifted her hips in invitation, pressing against the heel of his hand. “Mitch, please.”
His breath hissed. “Not yet.”
She was so close her back arched in anticipation and tremors racked her body. She dug her nails into his shoulders and clung, teetering on the brink. She nipped his jaw, his neck, his collarbone because she couldn’t reach his mouth. Mitch removed his hand, and she sobbed in frustration. Before she could voice her complaint, he pushed her onto her back and rose above her.
“Now.” He took her mouth and her body in duel of simultaneous thrusts. His growl filled her lungs and vibrated to her core.
The shock of his sudden penetration stretched her, filled her and sent a Niagara of release rushing over her. She twisted her mouth free to gasp for breath and held him tight as the cataclysm overtook her to the beat of his hard, deep, rapid thrusts.
He bowed his back, bent and sucked her earlobe between his lips. She’d never felt anything more erotic in her life than the swirl of his tongue combined with the steam of his breath on her neck, the swivel of his hips and the powerful surge of his body into hers. His tempo increased, and her tension renewed. Another climax gathered so swiftly she had no chance of holding back, no chance of prolonging the moment, and then it rained over her like a sudden, violent cloud burst.
Mitch’s groan echoed her cry in the big room and then his body collapsed onto hers. Panting for breath, she twined her arms around him and held him close, relishing his weight and the hammering of his heart against hers. She ran her fingertips along his sweat-slicked spine. His shudder made her smile.
She’d had good sex before. She’d even had what she’d considered great sex. Until now. But she’d never experienced anything like this.
Mitch Kincaid had marked her for life.
And she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or merely the promise of another disaster in her future. One far more devastating than any of its predecessors.
Mitch stared at the ceiling and tried to figure out where he’d miscalculated.
Carly was simply another woman he’d slept with. With wealth came women—plenty of women—who’d do whatever a man wanted. A fact his father had taken advantage of too many times to count. Only the last time, it had blown up in his face.
Which brought Mitch back to his present predicament.
He had a plan to execute. Emotion played no part in it.
He wasn’t supposed to lose control.
But he had.
He was screwing Carly both literally and figuratively. How twisted did it make him to have enjoyed the process so much that he’d momentarily lost sight of his goal?
Seduce her. Propose. Get custody of Rhett.
His marriage to Carly would be a good one. Short. But good. One he intended to dissolve as soon as the ink dried on the adoption papers.
A twinge of guilt made him want to slide out from under the woman dozing so trustingly on his shoulder and hit the shower. He dismissed the feeling. He wasn’t breaking any laws. And in this case, Carly and Rhett would be better off once the dust settled.
Despite Carly’s protests, Mitch still believed she’d tire of the mommy game. Not that she’d shown any signs of doing so yet. But she would. He’d bet his share of KCL on it.
Why wouldn’t she prefer her freedom when she could have all the benefits of Kincaid money via a generous divorce settlement and none of the obligations?
His mother had done something very similar. She may have stayed in the marriage, but she’d been an indifferent mother at best, one who’d turned their care over to a series of nannies, and Mrs. Duncan, then gone about her life as unfettered by parenthood as possible despite her middle child’s attempts to gain her attention.
No. Getting rid of Carly was the right thing to do, and he doubted he’d need whatever Frank Lewis dug up to convince her to move on. If the P.I. found anything.
Carly snuffled in her sleep. Her breath tickled the hair on his chest and the fingers she’d rested just below his navel contracted. The ankle hooked over his calf slid languorously down to his foot and then back up to his knee.
His body tensed and responded as if he hadn’t just been sated out of his skull. Would they have time for round two before the rug rat awoke from his nap? Before he could lift his wrist to check his watch, Rhett’s cry penetrated the closed door.
Carly stiffened. Eager to escape the awkward postmortem—at least until he got his head screwed on straight—Mitch buried his mouth in the silky, coconut-scented hair next to her ear. “Go back to sleep. I’ll get him.”
He eased Carly onto the pillow beside him.
“You’re sure?” Her drowsy, throaty voice and heavy-lidded eyes hit a bull’s-eye on his libido. He wouldn’t have to worry about the physical side of their marriage. If today was any indication, the sex would be phenomenal. Not that he intended to cheat, but it was nice to know he wouldn’t want to.
“Got it covered.” He climbed from the bed and took a good look at her. Once he had his game face back on, he’d take the time to enjoy every inch of her lithe, curvy body. He pulled the sheet over her before he said to hell with the crying kid and took what he wanted. The way he would have done earlier if Carly hadn’t slowed him down.
Where in the hell had his restraint gone? The slow seduction he’d planned had taken a NASA rocket out of sight.
Another squawk from the blue room grabbed his attention. He knew from experience the kid started quietly but then opened up to full-throttle screaming.
Mitch yanked on his clothes and strode down the hall.
Rhett stood in his crib, sleepily scrubbing his eyes with his little fists. He spotted Mitch and stretched out his stubby arms. “Mitt. My Mitt.”
Mitch’s heart clenched. Something stuck in his throat. He cleared it. Rhett copied him and then beamed and chortled. Mitch gritted his teeth against a flood of emotion.
Okay, so maybe he was getting attached to the squirt. But that was okay. Soon Rhett would be a permanent member of the Kincaid household.
And Carly would be gone.
He shoved that thought aside and reached for Rhett. The kid latched on with a strangling grip. Mitch pried him loose and shoved a stuffed alligator in the kid’s paws. He made quick work of the diaper change and then hefted the kid over his head. Rhett rewarded him with a gurgling laugh.
“What do you say we have lunch, kid?”
He jogged down the stairs, jostling the little baggage, and Rhett giggled. Mitch caught himself grinning back. He marched into the kitchen. Mrs. Duncan turned. Her penciled eyebrows rose and her mouth thinned, reminding Mitch he hadn’t bothered to check the mirror. With the way Carly had run her fingers through his hair, he probably looked like an unruly hedge. And then he noticed his polo shirt was wrong-side out. Busted.
“Carly’s napping. We need lunch.”
“Yes, sir.” There was a bite to her words he hadn’t heard before. If she’d guessed what went on upstairs, she didn’t approve.
Tough. She worked for him. He didn’t need her approval.
He strapped Rhett into his high chair and dumped some of the diced fruit and cheese Carly kept in the refrigerator onto the tray and filled the kid’s cup. It might have been years since he’d done this routine task for Travis, but his memory hadn’t failed.
Mrs. Duncan prepared his meal in silence. She’d never been the talkative type, but this silence screamed disapproval.
“Would you keep an eye on Rhett while I wash up?”
“Yes, sir.”
Mitch strode to his study, closed the door and righted his shirt. The red light blinking on the answering machine to his—formerly his father’s—private line caught his attention. He rarely used this phone and had intended to have the line disconnected, but hadn’t made the call to the utility company yet. He crossed the room and punched the Play button.
“Kincaid, I hit the mother lode on Carly Corbin.” Frank Lewis’s voice filled the room. Mitch’s heart pumped faster, and lava settled in the pit of his stomach. “I need more time to follow up. I’ll get back with you when I’ve filled in the blanks.”
What could Carly possibly have in her past to put that note of excitement in the P.I.’s voice?
Part of him wanted to know.
But part of him didn’t. And that part concerned him most. Weakness led to defeat. Or so his father always claimed.
He hit the Erase button and then paced into the adjoining bathroom where he mechanically combed his hair and washed his face. He braced his hands on the counter. The man in the mirror staring back at him looked the same.
But where was the get-the-job-done edge?
He’d wanted dirt on Carly, hadn’t he?
So why wasn’t he pleased to know he might not have to marry her to get the boy?
Mitch’s green gaze crashed into Carly’s the minute she entered the kitchen. Her cheeks flushed, and her face wasn’t the only part of her warming up. Every area he’d touched made its presence known and his scent still clung to her skin, filling her nose with each breath.
Like a true gentleman he rose and pulled out a chair for her beside a happily babbling, food-stuffing Rhett. She crossed the room, hyperconscious of Mitch’s visual caress of her breasts, hips and legs. When his gaze returned to hers the knowledge of the intimacy they’d shared flashed in his eyes. Her pulse tripped wildly and her palms moistened.
But other than that fleeting reaction which passed so quickly she could have imagined it, he offered no cue on how to handle their status change in front of the housekeeper.
“Hi.” A crazy shyness stole the rest of her words.
Mitch nodded, but there was no secret smile or even a softening of his stoic features. He didn’t lean down to kiss her cheek as she slid into her seat or even touch her shoulder. He returned to his end of the table and picked up the thick toasted sandwich on the table in front of him. He ate with one hand and sorted through the mail stacked beside his plate with the other.
Okay, this was awkward. She’d had morning afters before, but never midday and she’d never shared one with an audience. She wasn’t sure how to proceed. She felt as if she’d been dismissed and that stung far more than it should have.
You’re falling for him.
Could it be true? Did she more than just like and desire Mitch Kincaid? The leaden sensation in the pit of her stomach delivered the answer.
Desperate for a distraction Carly abruptly diverted her attention to Rhett. She blew him a kiss and received a messy grin in return. As it so often did, her heart swelled with love for this precious child and it ached with sadness that her sister wouldn’t be around to see her son grow up. Mitch would, and if Carly had anything to say about it, Rhett’s other siblings would also be a part of his life. Because of the terms of the will, he’d have to wait a year to meet his half sister, but that was twelve months during which he could bond with his brothers.
Twelve months in which Carly could get her heart broken.
Again.
Was this a rebound romance or something more? Could she and Mitch give Rhett a stable home and maybe even brothers and sisters? Where did they go from here?
Her gaze strayed back to the man at the opposite end of the table. His expressionless face gave no clue. Uneasiness stirred inside her and tension invaded her muscles. Did he expect her to act as if nothing had happened?
Did he regret making love with her? Did the intimacy mean nothing to him? Did he think it meant nothing to her?
Did he think she was easy?
Old taunts and accusations drifted through her mind like ghosts, chilling her, haunting her.
“Is turkey salad okay with you, Carly?” Della’s question rescued Carly from her painful past.
“Yes, thank you, Della.”
Della brought her a plate. Carly forked a bite of salad into her mouth and glanced at Della. She’d really come to like the housekeeper, but her presence kept Carly from asking the questions burning and churning inside her.
She needed to know the prognosis for this relationship. Good or bad.
One silent minute stretched into five. The only sounds in the room were Rhett’s occasional chatter, the crunch of Mitch’s teeth biting into his sandwich and the shuffle of papers as he dealt with his correspondence.
Carly’s appetite died. She pushed her salad around on her dish and focused her attention on Rhett, but for once her nephew had decided to feed himself relatively neatly and without any assistance from her.
When she couldn’t bear the tension any longer she laid down her fork and cleared her throat. “I had a call about my house before I came downstairs.”
Mitch’s hand stopped halfway to his glass. One dark eyebrow lifted.
“A prospective renter wants to see it this afternoon. I agreed to meet them at three…unless you have other plans.”
Hint, hint, big guy. Tell me you want to spend the afternoon together.
“You plan to meet strangers in your house? Alone?”
“They’re not strangers. They’re a married couple who are good friends with Tina’s sister.”
He nodded. “Leave the rug rat with me.”
The knot of tension between her shoulder blades eased only slightly. She would have preferred he offer to come with her, but she wanted Mitch and Rhett to bond, and this was a step forward. She’d take what she could get, and when she returned from showing her house, she’d corner Mitch and find out exactly what was going on. And then she’d develop a new strategy from what she learned.
“I should only be gone a couple of hours.”
“Take your time.”
Her gaze searched his. There was a reserve in his eyes that she hadn’t seen since the early days in their relationship.
What had changed in the thirty minutes from when he’d left her in his bed until she’d joined him? Because whatever it was, she could feel Mitch pulling back.