Tough Love
Page 18
“She knows him?”
“They’ve met. In case of an emergency she has his number along with a few others.”
Her small hand covered her mouth. “So this is an emergency?”
“Hard to say.” He stood and buttoned up his tux shirt, leaving it untucked. “Tabby’s all into drama, so if Mom stubbed her toe, she’d be as likely to call it life and death.”
Gasping, Vanity whispered, “Life and death? That was her message?”
He had to grin at her horrified expression. “No, she just told Armie that Mom collapsed. I’ll call her on my way out to find out the details.”
Nodding, Vanity rushed to her closet and withdrew a dark poncho. She snagged his hand and started out of the room. “Come on.”
When Stack didn’t budge, she pulled up short.
They stared at each other.
“Why are you waiting? You need to make that call!”
Stack nodded. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“With you.”
She said that so matter-of-factly that he frowned in suspicion. “Why would you—”
Exasperated, she hooked her arm through his and tried to get him moving. “You haven’t yet met your obligations. Until you do, I’m not giving you a chance to back out.”
“Believe me, I’ll be back as soon as possible.” He allowed her to drag him to the front door. This time, knowing sex wasn’t on the agenda, he looked around with more interest.
“I’m going with you.”
“Not to a hospital to meet my family.”
“Yes.”
Giving up his perusal of her interesting artwork, he turned to her. The innocence in her face amped up his suspicions even more. “That makes zero sense, darlin’, and you know it.”
She huffed an impatient breath. “Look at it this way. All the wedding gifts are still in the trunk of your car.”
“Like I said, I’ll be back to finish this.”
Her hands twisted in his dress shirt. “You might need me.”
Yeah, he needed her all right. Naked and willing. And she would be. Soon. “Vanity—”
“What if things are worse than you’re thinking?”
“I told you, my sister is a master of hysteria.” He’d learned a long time ago not to get too bent out of shape when Tabby screamed gloom and destruction.
Staring up at him, Vanity bit her lip, waffled, then moved in for full-body contact, snaking her arms around his neck, aligning her mouth with his, kissing him until he damn near got another boner.
When she finally let up, she whispered, “Please?” Her hands were now in his hair, her lips wet and her eyes dark. “You promised me a day together after the wedding, and it’s barely been an hour.”
He’d promised her good sex, and, as he recalled, she’d insisted it be brief. But whatever. Maybe this was his opportunity to turn it into more. Did he dare expose her to the craziness?
Would his mom latch on to her? Probably.
Would his sister try to make a big deal of it? He snorted. Yes.
“What?” Her gaze searched his. “What was that rude sound for?”
Warning her, Stack said, “My family is whack.” He opened the door and led her outside. “Don’t bitch to me later when you wish you’d stayed home.”
“I never bitch.” Now that she’d gotten her way she happily trotted alongside him to keep up with his long-legged gait. And she smiled.
Proof positive—women were impossible to understand.
* * *
DAMP EARLY-MORNING AIR cut through her excitement, making her shiver. Quickly, Vanity slipped the poncho over her head before getting back into Stack’s car.
Rather than hurry around to his side, he leaned in, one hand overhead on the frame, the other on the open door. He looked bemused. And still very interested.
Of course, he hadn’t yet gotten his. No, the wonderful man had put aside his own pleasure to give her two bone-melting orgasms.
When he reached out two fingers to stroke her hair away from her face, she stilled. The same rough fingers slid over her cheek, down beneath her chin, and tipped up her face so he could plant a soft, damp kiss on her lips.
Was he regretting her intrusion? Even she had to admit that she’d shoved her way in with the subtlety of a typhoon. Not to herself, much less to him, would she confess how fearful she was of him walking away—and considering the job done.
God, not that sex with her should be a job, but she wanted time enough to work on him, to show him they had more in common than lust. If a family illness kept him away all day, or even all week, would he still have any interest in finishing what they’d started?
“They’ve met. In case of an emergency she has his number along with a few others.”
Her small hand covered her mouth. “So this is an emergency?”
“Hard to say.” He stood and buttoned up his tux shirt, leaving it untucked. “Tabby’s all into drama, so if Mom stubbed her toe, she’d be as likely to call it life and death.”
Gasping, Vanity whispered, “Life and death? That was her message?”
He had to grin at her horrified expression. “No, she just told Armie that Mom collapsed. I’ll call her on my way out to find out the details.”
Nodding, Vanity rushed to her closet and withdrew a dark poncho. She snagged his hand and started out of the room. “Come on.”
When Stack didn’t budge, she pulled up short.
They stared at each other.
“Why are you waiting? You need to make that call!”
Stack nodded. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“With you.”
She said that so matter-of-factly that he frowned in suspicion. “Why would you—”
Exasperated, she hooked her arm through his and tried to get him moving. “You haven’t yet met your obligations. Until you do, I’m not giving you a chance to back out.”
“Believe me, I’ll be back as soon as possible.” He allowed her to drag him to the front door. This time, knowing sex wasn’t on the agenda, he looked around with more interest.
“I’m going with you.”
“Not to a hospital to meet my family.”
“Yes.”
Giving up his perusal of her interesting artwork, he turned to her. The innocence in her face amped up his suspicions even more. “That makes zero sense, darlin’, and you know it.”
She huffed an impatient breath. “Look at it this way. All the wedding gifts are still in the trunk of your car.”
“Like I said, I’ll be back to finish this.”
Her hands twisted in his dress shirt. “You might need me.”
Yeah, he needed her all right. Naked and willing. And she would be. Soon. “Vanity—”
“What if things are worse than you’re thinking?”
“I told you, my sister is a master of hysteria.” He’d learned a long time ago not to get too bent out of shape when Tabby screamed gloom and destruction.
Staring up at him, Vanity bit her lip, waffled, then moved in for full-body contact, snaking her arms around his neck, aligning her mouth with his, kissing him until he damn near got another boner.
When she finally let up, she whispered, “Please?” Her hands were now in his hair, her lips wet and her eyes dark. “You promised me a day together after the wedding, and it’s barely been an hour.”
He’d promised her good sex, and, as he recalled, she’d insisted it be brief. But whatever. Maybe this was his opportunity to turn it into more. Did he dare expose her to the craziness?
Would his mom latch on to her? Probably.
Would his sister try to make a big deal of it? He snorted. Yes.
“What?” Her gaze searched his. “What was that rude sound for?”
Warning her, Stack said, “My family is whack.” He opened the door and led her outside. “Don’t bitch to me later when you wish you’d stayed home.”
“I never bitch.” Now that she’d gotten her way she happily trotted alongside him to keep up with his long-legged gait. And she smiled.
Proof positive—women were impossible to understand.
* * *
DAMP EARLY-MORNING AIR cut through her excitement, making her shiver. Quickly, Vanity slipped the poncho over her head before getting back into Stack’s car.
Rather than hurry around to his side, he leaned in, one hand overhead on the frame, the other on the open door. He looked bemused. And still very interested.
Of course, he hadn’t yet gotten his. No, the wonderful man had put aside his own pleasure to give her two bone-melting orgasms.
When he reached out two fingers to stroke her hair away from her face, she stilled. The same rough fingers slid over her cheek, down beneath her chin, and tipped up her face so he could plant a soft, damp kiss on her lips.
Was he regretting her intrusion? Even she had to admit that she’d shoved her way in with the subtlety of a typhoon. Not to herself, much less to him, would she confess how fearful she was of him walking away—and considering the job done.
God, not that sex with her should be a job, but she wanted time enough to work on him, to show him they had more in common than lust. If a family illness kept him away all day, or even all week, would he still have any interest in finishing what they’d started?
