DANIEL FLYNN NEVER stammered, stumbled or tripped on his tongue. Except now.
“Like—like me?”
“Yes, like you,” Annie repeated, as if it were the most patently obvious concept on earth.
“Annie, you don’t want to be like me.”
“Come on, everybody loves you. People hardly notice me.”
“I notice you.”
She laughed. “That’s because I’ve been in your face eighty percent of every day.”
“But you’ve been in my mind one hundred percent,” he said.
She blinked, swaying slightly. “Impossible.”
Daniel shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to be having this conversation. He wanted her with not even the almost shot of whiskey she’d managed to gag down during their tasting. But they were here, now, and he could take no more of her diminished ego. Whoever had parted Annie from her confidence deserved to turn on a slow spit in hell.
He took her by the hand and led her to the raised area of the suite that held the bedroom. Daniel didn’t switch on the lamp that would have lit the space, leaving it only in a soft wash of light from the kitchen and living room lights. He drew Annie next to him, by the full-length oval mirror in its footed frame.
“Stand in front of me.”
She did as he asked, but he noted the way her gaze skittered away from the mirror, locking instead on the bed nearby.
“I want you to look in the mirror with me.”
She took a step to her right. “I think I’ve changed my mind. How about if we just skip the whole be-like-you idea and hop on over to the bed? Are those down pillows? They definitely look like it.”
Daniel wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her back. He leaned down and spoke softly in her ear. “You started this. The mirror, Annie.”
She shivered.
“You want to know how to be more like me?”
“Yes.” Her expression was so serious that his heart ached just a bit for her.
“Then I suppose the first thing you need to do is build one bastard of an ego.”
She laughed.
“I’m not joking, Annie me girl.” He smiled. “Well, at least not much. Once you stop worrying about yourself, the rest will come easier.”
“Right. Like you’ve ever worried about yourself. You’ve probably been a god among men forever.”
“A god?” It was definitely his turn to laugh. “It’s a grand compliment, but you’ve yet to see me before my morning coffee, or when someone is fool enough to interrupt me while I’m writing.”
“Spare me the humility, okay?”
He smiled, sifting the silk of her brown hair between his fingertips. “I reached this height at fourteen and nearly lacked the skin to cover my bones. By the time my mam had fattened me enough that she didn’t have to worry about the neighbors whispering that I was being starved, I’d turned into a nasty git.” He paused and laughed. “I suppose most boys that age do. Anyway, I was none too happy with myself, but now I am…and I’m going to let you in on my secret. Would you look in the mirror, please?”
She frowned, but at least she was looking. “This had better be good.”
“I want you to repeat after me, ‘I, Annie Rutherford, am witty, wise and beautiful.’”
“Good one, Flynn. Sorry, but no can do.”
He shook his head. “Positive thinking. You’re not seeing yourself right. Try it for me…‘I, Annie Rutherford—’”
She turned in his embrace, twined her arms around his neck and kissed him. Daniel had to admit to an instantaneous and nearly staggering surge of lust when her tongue flicked against his lower lip, but damned if he’d let her dance around this moment with kisses.
No, he’d take this one on account and demand more later. Once she was seeing herself as he saw her.
“A fine try,” he said after he’d found the strength to move his mouth from hers. “Brilliant, almost.”
He gently turned her back toward the mirror. “Do you know how incredible you looked when you told Hal Donovan just where you were drawing the line? You took my breath away, Annie Rutherford. And when you were pulling those pints at the pub tonight, as though the world depended on your being perfect? It made me want you more.”
Her gray eyes were wide now, nearly with shock, he’d say.
“But do you know when I find you most beautiful? It’s when you think no one’s watching and you’re looking about, watching everything. Nothing much gets by you, Annie, and that makes me hungry for you in ways you wouldn’t believe.”
“Flynn…”
He heard the uncertainty in her voice.
“I’d never lie to you. Now, will you say it for me?”
“I, Annie Rutherford, am witty—” She shook her head. “This is so lame. How can you ever expect me to believe this?”
He gave her the simplest truth of all. “Because I do.”
“Bull.”
He knew the softness beneath the tough-girl talk. Reaching in front of her, he untied the thin bit of ribbon that held the fabric gathered at her dress’s low neckline. “Something about you has me curious, though.” He slipped just one fingertip beneath the cloth and touched her skin. “Will I find more freckles here?” He ventured in a bit, tracing the lacy edge of her bra. “Or under this?”
She leaned back against him, and he wondered whether she could feel the pounding of his heart. It nearly matched the beat of hers beneath his fingers.
“You’re beautiful, Annie, inside and out.”
“Why are you doing this?”
Unable to fight temptation any longer, he slipped his hand fully beneath her scrap of a bra. Her nipple rose against his palm.
“I’m doing this for selfish reasons,” he said, amazed that his voice didn’t break like a spotty adolescent’s. “Because I want you happy.”
Her eyes closed, and she traced her fingers over the back of his hand.
“Say it, Annie. Please.”
He watched as her lips began to shape the first word. “I… Annie Rutherford, am witty, wise and beautiful.”
“Yes,” he said, unable to fight back a smile. “That, you are.”
He withdrew his hand just enough to rub his fingertips over that hard little nipple. Her eyes came open, and their gazes met in the mirror.
“It’s not fair, pressuring me like this.”
He’d have taken her words for a complaint, except her mouth had a definite upward curve.
One brush of his fingertips, then another. Her breath was coming faster, and he was harder than he’d been since age thirteen when, on holiday in Spain with his family, he’d spied on a group of college girls sunbathing topless.
“This is pressure?” he managed to say.
“Um…duress, maybe?”
Parts of Daniel were under undeniable duress. He slid his free hand down to her tummy and drew her fully into contact with him.
“What you’re feeling isn’t even close,” he said.
Her smile grew with her awareness of his state. “Want to count my freckles?”
Though it was the last thing he’d expected to hear tonight, it was also the very best. They could have their bit of fun—not carry it so far that his conscience objected, yet still maybe ease the hunger that had been riding him.
Being a big man was something he took for granted, except at moments like this. The ability to easily scoop Annie into his arms, and to turn and carry her to the bed, wiped the slate clean of every childhood taunt he’d taken.
She lay against the lime-and-yellow-striped bedspread. With her dress nearly matching the golds and browns in her hair, she looked like one of his favorite caramel sweets.
“Take off your shirt,” she commanded.
Fine, then, a caramel with a bit of a bite.
Daniel began to work the shirt’s buttons and was ready to shrug out of it when she said, “Hang on.”
She rolled onto her side and, elbow bent, propped her head on her hand. “Move over in front of the mirror, and turn to face it.”
An equitable demand, he supposed. He walked the few steps until he was directly between Annie and the mirror. She resettled a bit, then said, “Now I get you coming and going.”
She might, indeed.
Daniel made short work of the shirt, watching her watch him in the mirror.
“Time to start counting,” she said.
In the instant it had taken him to turn back, she’d begun to try to pull down the bedspread and lose her sandals at the same time. Daniel reached out and rid her of the footwear. They landed bedside with a soft thud. He discarded his shoes, as well, then joined her.
“Where to begin?” he mused.
She raised one leg and waggled her foot in the air. “Here?”
“As good a place as any,” he said, sliding downward to grasp her ankle.
And so he began to count, using kisses as markers on each freckle he found. Perhaps there’d been none behind her knee, but he’d been pleased to find that with just a wee nip, he could work both laughter and a gasp from her.
A few kisses more brought him to the ivory-white of her inner thigh. A glimpse above that, to damp, silky bronze-colored panties. The sight was a reeling blow to his self-control. Daniel moved upward, settling his mouth over hers and letting his tongue, at least, have a shadow of the full pleasure that he’d not be allowing himself tonight.
Damn, but she kissed as though she’d take the whole of him inside her, if she could. He settled between her legs and pressed his erection against her, because if he didn’t, he’d go mad. Even with the layers of clothes still keeping him from her, the pleasure was enough to make him groan.
Annie wove her fingers into his hair and rocked hard against him, once, twice, then once more.
“I want to be on top.”
Of course she did. He rolled to the other side of the bed, and she knelt above him, straddling him.
She smiled. “Better.” She shimmied her way out of her dress and sent it sailing to the floor, which Daniel found a surprise, and a ball-tightening one at that.
He ran one hand over the lush curve of her hips. She was no skin-and-bones Annie, which was a grand thing, since he’d never been so damn starved for a woman. He moved back on the bed enough that he could lean on the headboard. Once he’d resettled, she came forward and kissed him.
The kiss grew until his heart pounded like a madman’s, and the need for full body-to-body contact was nearly too much to fight. Daniel eased her back until she was riding him.
“Let me look at you,” he said.
He thought she might protest, but again she shocked him, for she levered up, unhooked her bra and sent it to the carpet, too. He was a man, and fully possessed of the male guidance system that led his hands immediately to her breasts.
Annie looked down. “Not much to write home about, are they?”
“They’re perfect, though not the sort of thing I’d be sharing with my brothers anyway.” Or anyone else on the planet, he thought with a surge of utterly unaccustomed possessiveness.
And her breasts were perfect, too. Not large, to be sure, but they fit the rest of her so ideally. And the fit to his hands wasn’t bad, either.
Daniel had to taste her. Sliding his hands round to her back and drawing her toward him, he brought one nipple to his mouth.
God, yes. Warm and faintly perfumed…an early summer Saturday afternoon…
Annie gasped, but since she’d bracketed his head between her hands and held him to her, he was guessing that her pleasure was as intense as his.
“We look amazing,” she whispered.
Daniel let go of perfection just long enough to turn his head. She was watching the two of them in the mirror. Hard became infinitely harder as he looked, too.
“We do.”
She took his hand and settled it low on her belly. “Touch me here.”
He did, and had to set his jaw against the need that slammed through him. He slid two fingers beneath the damp panel of silk between her legs, through the wet curls that guarded her, and into sleek heat.
She gasped a yes!
Daniel started a rhythm that he knew would please her, even if it made him forever crippled by lack of release. Before he would have thought it possible, and damn well before he was through watching her, she gasped and cried out his name. He knew a deep satisfaction that it was his first name, too.
“Go with it, love,” he murmured, easing her through the moment.
Soon she lay limp, nearly boneless, against him. Daniel settled into the pillows, his heart still slamming and the fit of his denims nearly agony. On an intellectual level, he wasn’t a believer in easy sex and fast and inevitable goodbyes. But it wasn’t his intellect paining him just now, was it?
Daniel closed his eyes and thought of Annie, of how she already seemed to be dealing with enough in her life, and how she might not know what she truly wanted.
Noble, yes.
Helpful, no.
“Wow,” she said as her breathing slowed.
He smiled despite his discomfort. “That would be a word for it.”
“Sorry I was so…um…fast. It’s not usually like that for me.”
He settled a hand on the round curve of her bum. “That’s as mad as apologizing for your breasts.”
“Ha!”
Daniel waited for the argument to follow the scoff, but just maybe he’d loved the fight out of her. For now, at least. Still holding her close, he tried to concentrate on something other than his raging arousal. Say, perhaps, the number of stripes on the clown condoms back in the market, or…
She settled her hand at the top of his jeans, her fingers winnowing beneath the waistband. Daniel sucked in a breath, willing those smart fingers lower.
“I want to come again,” she said, “but this time I want you inside me.”
His eyes opened with a jolt. Forget the woman not knowing what she wanted. He’d be a fool to argue against her command, except there were still twenty-first century matters to be considered. First, he kissed her hard, his tongue tangling with hers. Then he addressed the essentials.
“Before this goes another step, I’ll tell you I’m clean, Annie. And you, have you been tested?”
“Passed all my tests two months ago,” she said, running her fingertip down the fly of his jeans. “It’s the only A-plus I ever consistently get, but it’s a biggie.”
“Right, then. I’ll be right back, love,” he said, then moved from the bed while he still had the willpower to do so.
She stretched and sighed. “Hurry.”
In the bathroom, Daniel fumbled his way through his travel kit until he found the small box of condoms at the bottom. He didn’t look in the mirror, didn’t pause long enough to ask himself what the hell he was doing, letting matters with Annie run this wild. He simply grabbed the box and left his conscience behind.
He switched off the few lights that were on in the suite, then partially closed the curtains over the balcony door, allowing just enough of the city’s glow inside to find his way back to Annie. Once bedside, he dropped the condom box on the nightstand and shucked his socks and jeans.
Daniel moved next to her on the mattress, drifting a line of kisses up one arm and then to her lips. Annie, however, was lacking in enthusiasm. Or any response at all, actually.
He pulled away a bit. “Annie?”
She sighed and snuggled deeper into the pillows. It appeared that after incinerating his good intentions, she had fizzled out. Torn between laughter and pounding his head against the floor, Daniel settled for pulling the sheet and blanket to gently snoring Ms. Annie’s chin, then sleeping himself.
ANNIE SLOWLY WOKE. Even before opening her eyes, a few disturbing matters became apparent. First, she wasn’t alone, and second, she was feeling far too much sheet against her skin to have slept in her favorite boxers and T-shirt.
Last night hovered in the outer reaches of her memory, accessible only after major caffeine ingestion. Even without details, she knew that the happy whistling she was hearing came from Flynn. She also knew it wasn’t reasonable to be annoyed with a guy for being cheerful, but that didn’t make her feel any less cranky.
What reason could he have to be so damn glad?
Then the nearly naked motivation hit her.
She cleared her throat the best she could and croaked, “Flynn?”
Pans rattled and the whistling continued.
She peeled open one eye. Yes, this definitely was Daniel’s suite and not her tiny room. Clad in jeans and a black shirt, he was down in the kitchen area. His back was to her as he reached into the refrigerator.
“Flynn?”
He turned, smiling. “Last night, you were calling me Daniel. Would you like some coffee? I’ve been to the market and have all we need for breakfast. Unless you’d like to join the other guests in the dining room, that is.” He checked his watch. “There still might be time.”
“I don’t want to talk about food.”
“Good enough.”
Annie sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. A grinding ache made itself known in her head. “How much did I drink last night?”
“Nearly a full shot of whiskey, I’m guessing.”
Which pretty much left her in the featherweight division of whiskey-drinkers. “Did we…uh—”
“Oversleep? Yes. You did, at least. I’ve been up a while. It’s nearly ten now.”
“No, I was more wondering if—”
“I’ve a hair of the dog to put in your coffee?”
He was enjoying this. “No. I was wondering if we had sex, and you damn well know that’s what I wanted to ask.”
“True,” he said. “But why should I rush the pleasure of hearing you ask?”
“So?”
His smile stretched wider. “So?”
“Did we?”
“At the risk of sounding arrogant, if we had, that’s not a question you’d need to be asking. Though we did come close.” He reached down and pulled a skillet from a lower cupboard. “If you look on the bench at the foot of the bed, you’ll find your bags. I was thinking you wouldn’t mind if I borrowed your room key.”
Giving dignity up for lost, she scooted to the end of the bed. Kneeling, she dug through her suitcase, all the while trying to pin the sheet over assets she knew he’d already seen.
And touched.
And tasted.
Right after she’d confessed that she wanted to be just like him. Yes, it was all coming back in too-vivid detail.
Were her hands shaking? No more whiskey, ever again.
“Why don’t you have a shower and get yourself ready for the day?” Flynn called from the kitchen. “By the time you’re out, I’ll have food for you.”
She already felt as though she’d swallowed a big, fat case of the guilts, and she wasn’t exactly sure why she felt that way. “I’ll skip the food thing if you don’t mind.”
“I’m cooking all the same.”
Annie worked up a borderline-adolescent whatever, gave up on the sheet as camouflage, grabbed her stuff and staggered to the bathroom.
While she waited for the shower water to come to temperature, she dug through her toiletry bag for her lavender shampoo and some aspirin. Flynn’s belongings were scattered across the counter, random but with definite style, like the man himself.
Annie located the aspirin, popped them into her mouth and bent to sip water from the cold tap. She stood and swallowed. While wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, she was captured by her reflection in the mirror.
God, she barely looked like herself! She wasn’t sure if this was a good or a bad thing, but it sure as hell wasn’t comfortable.
Her face was pinker than usual and her lips fuller. Her hair wasn’t terminally straight, either. She supposed she could fob off the hair change on the Seattle humidity, but she knew it was from her everything-but-the-deed-itself night with Daniel Flynn.
He was, as she’d told Sasha, a walking invitation to go off task. And she’d already veered so far off her career path that having a global positioning system strapped to her ass wouldn’t help her find the way back.
“Don’t panic,” she whispered to that wild reflection. “No panic.”
But it was already too damn late for that. Panic was off and to the races.