Читать книгу It Happened in Manhattan - Emily McKay - Страница 12

What exactly did she have to do to insult this man? She’d sneered at him. She’d acted like a tease. She’d ditched him in the middle of their date. She’d insulted him and made fun of him. And now he was kissing her?

What was wrong with him?

Worse still, what was wrong with her?

A hot and heavy make out session with Ford was the last thing she needed right now. She wanted peace and quiet to process the events of the night. She wanted to kick Ford out of her apartment. She wanted him out of her life. She wanted to go on kissing him forever.

After months of living on memories, he was actually kissing her. Months of pretending she’d forgotten him, of believing she’d never see him again, of shoving him out of her mind during the day, but then dreaming of him when she slept. After months of waking in the middle of the night, panting, heart racing, body moist and heavy with need. After months of that, he was here. In her apartment. Kissing her.

His tongue nudged into her mouth, tracing the sensitive skin behind her lip. She shuddered, opening herself fully to him. He tasted of smoky Scotch and heat, of neediness and lust. So familiar, even though she’d only been with him once. Her body sparked to life beneath his touch.

Suddenly it didn’t matter that he’d sneaked back into her life uninvited. It didn’t matter that he’d deceived her. That he pushed too hard. That she couldn’t intimidate or control him. All that mattered was that he just keep kissing her.

Her body remembered his touch as if it were yesterday. No matter what lies she’d told him earlier, she remembered. She remembered every second of their time together. As if for those few hours they’d been together she’d been more alive than at any other time in her life. As if she’d been more herself than she was in real life. The way he’d kissed her then. The cool night air on her skin when he’d kissed her in the parking lot of that god-awful bar. The heat of his hands against her flesh. The cold metal of his truck door pressed against her back.

His fingers had fumbled as he pulled her shirt over her head. She’d lost an earring. Yet when he’d touched her breasts, he hadn’t been clumsy. His touch was deft. Gentle. His fingertips rough as they’d pinched her nipples, sending fissures of pleasure through her body.

He’d shoved her skirt up to her waist and his jeans had been rough against the insides of her thighs. He’d shoved her panties aside, touched her there. A slow, rhythmic rasping of his thumb that had driven her quietly wild. By the time he’d plunged into her, she was already on the brink of climax. The feel of him pumping inside of her combined with the chafing of his fingers had sent her over the edge.

Now, kissing him in her living room, with memories flooding her, his touch was so achingly familiar. Her body trembled with need. Moisture seeped between her legs as desire pulsed through her. She was ready for him already.

His arm snaked around her back, holding her body to his as he walked her backward, one step, then two, still kissing her. His mouth nibbled hers as if he would devour her one tiny bite at a time. And she felt powerless to stop him.

The backs of her knees bumped against the arm of the sofa just as his hand cupped her breast through the bodice of her robe. The silk provided little protection against his roaming hands, not that she wanted any. She felt her nipple tighten, hardening to his touch. Heard a groan stir in his chest.

He pulled his mouth from hers. “This isn’t how I wanted this to happen.”

But he poured kisses along her neck as he said it. Proof that he was as powerless against her as she was against him.

Her hands clutched the lapels of his jacket. Pulling back, she tried to glare at him. Which was hard to do through the fog of her desire.

“How you wanted it to happen? What about what I want?”

He grinned wickedly, his hand flicking open the folds of her robe. Brushing the outside of her panties, he said, “I think I know what you want.”

Her panties were damp with her need for him. She knew it. Maybe it should embarrass her, this desperate lust for him, the way he only had to kiss her and she went wet for him, but it didn’t. Not when she knew he felt the same way. She may be wet, but he was hard. Panting. Pulsing against her hand when she ran it down the front his pants.

“You do, don’t you?” Her voice came out husky. “Know what I want, I mean.”

“I do.”

His gaze was disconcertingly serious as he muttered the words. For an unsettling second, she considered the possibility that maybe this was about more than just sex for him. For both of them. But she shoved the concern aside.

Sex was all they had. All she wanted.

Because she couldn’t think about anything else. Anything beyond this minute. This very second. She couldn’t think about the mistake she might be making. Or the mistake she’d already made.

She couldn’t think about the pair of pregnancy tests she’d hastily thrown out when the doorbell rang. Couldn’t think about the twin pink lines on those pregnancy tests. She couldn’t think about the baby already growing in her belly.

Logic told him to slow down, but she didn’t let him. One minute he was merely kissing her, the next she was tumbling over the arm of the sofa, pulling him on top of her. He barely caught himself in time to keep from squashing her. He braced one hand on the back of the sofa and the other right beside her head.

For all her height, she felt tiny beneath him. He didn’t want the weight of his body to pummel her. “That was close,” he muttered.

“Not nearly close enough,” she purred, bucking against him. Her hips rocked against his. Not in a light and playful way, but frantically, as if she were seconds from losing all control. One of her legs crept up the outside of his thigh, hooking around to anchor her hips to his.

Then she bucked against him one last time, rolling him off the sofa altogether, following him down onto the floor. Thank God for plush carpet, though even that hadn’t been able to keep the breath from being knocked out of him.

Or maybe it was just her that took his breath away. Kitty. Demanding. Arrogant. Unapologetic. And sexy as hell.

She walked her hands down his chest, slowly pushing herself into a seated position astride his hips. Her robe gaped open, barely covering her breasts as it caught on her nipples. The sash was still tied at the waist, but the robe revealed enough for him to see she was naked except for her underwear. A little scrap of fabric that felt silky and damp beneath his touch. Just kissing him had made her wet. His erection leaped at the very idea, straining against the front placket of his pants.

Head thrown back, she shifted her hips forward, grinding herself against him. She groaned low in her throat, a sound both erotic and unbearably tempting. How could he resist her? Why would he even try?

He slipped his thumb under the hem of her panties and found the nub of her desire. He stroked her there and the moan turned into a chorus of yeses. The steady chant echoed through his blood, pounding against the last of his restraint.

When she reached for his zipper, it didn’t even occur to him to stop her. With a few quick movements, she’d freed him. He lifted his hips as she pulled at his pants, not even bothering to take them all the way off.

She nudged the fabric of her underwear out of the way, then lowered herself onto him. With one smooth movement, he was inside of her. Hot, tight, and unbearably sweet. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed, trying to reign in his pure lust. Sucking a breath in through his teeth, he narrowed his focus. Pleasure rocked through his body, but he stayed just ahead of it. He didn’t want to come too quickly. He wanted her right there with him.

He moved his thumb in slow, steady circles, matching the rhythm of her rocking hips. With his eyes still closed, he focused on the sound of her breath, the quick gasps and low moans. The yeses had dissolved to a series of meaningless guttural sounds.

He felt her muscles clenching around him. Then he made the mistake of opening his eyes. He looked up to see her poised above him, her back arched, her breasts thrusting forward as her hands clutched her heels. With her neck arched her hair fell down her back in wild disarray. He’d never seen anything more primitive, more primal, more gut-wrenchingly erotic.

And then she focused her groans into a single word that sent him spiraling beyond control.

“Ford!”

Sleeping with Ford just about topped the list of stupid things she could have done. Ford had said she’d had a hard day and he didn’t know the half of it.

And as if sleeping with him wasn’t bad enough, she’d slept with him. When he’d picked her up and carried her to her bedroom, she’d actually tugged him down onto the bed with her, draped her body over his and promptly fallen asleep. She’d snuggled with him, for cripes sake.

When she’d peeled herself off him in the morning to sneak away for a shower, she prayed he’d at least have the common courtesy to disappear. But no. Not Ford. He made coffee.

How the hell was she supposed to defend herself against a man who’d made her coffee?

“Oh,” she said joylessly. “You’re still here.”

“We have to talk.”

“So you keep saying.” She crossed the narrow kitchen to the coffeepot and poured herself a cup. “Maybe you think we’re ready for couples’ therapy.”

He cut to the chase. “We didn’t use a condom last night.”

Ah. So that was why he’d stuck around.

Hoping to antagonize him into storming out, she said, “I suppose you blame me for that.”

“I didn’t say that. I just wanted to let you know you don’t have to worry about your health. I get tested annually for anything that—”

“I know,” she interrupted him. “When I got back from Texas I had myself tested. Yes, we were pretty safe, but as we both know condoms aren’t one hundred percent effective at anything.”

She broke off sharply. Please don’t do something stupid. Like cry. Or tell him the truth. “So,” she continued. “I knew that wasn’t a concern.”

Just keep sipping your coffee. He’ll leave soon and you can do all the stupid things you want.

He pinned her with a heavy stare. “Do I need to worry you’ll get pregnant?”

It took all her willpower not to spew coffee all over the kitchen. Instead she equivocated. “Do I look worried?”

“That’s hardly the point. You never look worried.” Well, at least she still had someone fooled. With a self-effacing shrug, she said, “When you’re raised the way I was, you learn to keep your emotions to yourself.”

“Well, you learned well, then.” There was a hint of something dark in his voice. Bitterness maybe, but she didn’t want to consider what he might mean by that. She couldn’t let herself think too much about his emotions just now.

She ignored his comment. “You don’t have to worry about last night.”

“You’re certain?”

“Let’s just say that if I got pregnant from last night, it would be a medical miracle.”

Thank God he didn’t press her for a more precise answer. Still, she didn’t breathe deeply until he’d left and she’d thrown the dead bolt behind him.

Maybe doing something stupid like this was inevitable.

She stood in her kitchen for a long time, sipping her coffee, making excuses for her behavior. What she wanted most was to simply crawl back into bed with her sketch pad and MP3 player. To spend the whole day pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist. Of course, she didn’t have that luxury.

Come Monday, Ford would start pressuring her to cement the deal with FMJ. Whatever else happened, she couldn’t afford to sleep with him again. There was too much at stake, for Biedermann’s and for her. After all, she was going to be.

Kitty broke off her train of thought to stare down at her nearly empty coffee mug. Could pregnant women even drink coffee? Shaking her head, she dumped the last splash of coffee in the sink and washed out the mug. She’d have Casey look that up on Monday.

She paused in the act of drying the mug. Yeah, that’d be subtle. No one would ever guess she was pregnant, between puking every few minutes and having her assistant research the effects of caffeine on pregnancy.

At some point, she’d have to tell Ford about the pregnancy, but she wasn’t ready for that just yet. She needed more time to process it. To figure how she felt about the tiny life growing inside of her and what it meant for her life.

She had no idea how Ford might respond to the news he was about to be a father. But she knew that whatever his reaction was going to be, she’d need to have her own emotional defenses in place before she dealt with him.

How long could she justify not telling him? A couple of days maybe. But she had to tell him and she had to do it soon.

The very thought made bile rise in her throat. She dashed for the bathroom, only to have her nausea fade, leaving her feeling queasy. The minty zing of her toothpaste helped. When she put away the toothpaste, she saw the two pregnancy tests she’d taken the previous evening.

She’d stopped to pick them up at a drugstore on the way home from the fundraiser. Her heart had pounded the whole time, sure she’d see someone she recognized. Or that at the very least someone would comment on the absurdity of a woman in formal wear buying pregnancy tests late at night. She hadn’t cared. She’d needed to know.

She had still been reeling from the shock when Ford had shown up on her doorstep. He’d caught her at her most vulnerable. Again.

But it wouldn’t happen a third time. From now on, she’d be prepared to deal with him. But first, she had to deal with other issues. She pressed a hand to her belly.

Logically, she should still be freaking out about being pregnant. But for some strange reason, she wasn’t. Maybe some weird pregnancy hormone had been working its magic on her subconscious for the past two months. Whatever the reason, she felt strangely at peace.

Why did being pregnant have to be such a bad thing? All her life she’d dreamed of being part of a bigger family. She’d longed for sisters and brothers. How many times had she made her grandmother read Little Women to her? Dozens.

The only thing she’d wanted more than siblings was a real mother. Her grandmother had done her best. She’d loved her and cared for her, sure. But she hadn’t done the things other mothers had done—or rather the things Kitty had imagined other mothers did. She’d never climbed onto the jungle gym at the park. She’d never built forts out of old sheets draped over the furniture. She’d never crawled into Kitty’s bed to cuddle her and chase away the monsters.

Those were things Kitty’s childhood had lacked. But they were experiences she could give to her child. She could lavish this child with love. She could become the kind of mother she’d always wanted for herself. She could create the family she’d craved for so long.

What about Ford? What kind of father would he be? She bet he’d be the kind of dad who coached Little League and charmed all the teachers into rounding up his kids’ grades. He’d spend too much on birthday presents, and …

Whoa. Where had all that come from? Wondering what kind of father Ford would make was the last thing she should be worrying about. It was a completely absurd exercise. Like wondering whether or not the tooth fairy was ticklish. Ford was Mr. Not-Willing-to-Be-Whipped.

There was no way he’d be interested in coaching Little League. This morning, he’d given her the perfect opportunity to tell him about the baby, but she’d balked. She hadn’t exactly lied, but she hadn’t told him the truth, either. And she suspected it had less to do with her mental defenses than it did with the possibility that she already knew how he’d react.

Ford wasn’t looking for long term. Not with her. Not with a child. When he found out the truth, he would cut and run.

At least, dear God, she hoped he would. She could only pray he wouldn’t do something noble like offer to marry her.

She’d been a burden all her life. For once in her life, she wanted to pull her own weight.

Yes, being pregnant now was inconvenient, what with everything that was going on at Biedermann’s. But it didn’t have to be a bad thing. Not at all. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became. She could be a good mother. She could do this. This was one dream that would not be snatched away from her.

True, she’d probably never be able to run Biedermann’s the way she’d dreamed of. But being a failure as a CEO didn’t mean she’d also be a failure as a mother. After all, her father had been a fantastic CEO, but a less than stellar parent. That was proof enough, if she needed it, that the two jobs didn’t require the same skills. It came down to this: she’d have to be a good parent, because she was likely to be the only parent her child ever knew.

Whenever he and Jonathon traveled together, they got a hotel suite. The combined living space always made it easier to have teleconferences with Matt and to work late in the evenings. It was an arrangement that had worked well. And Jonathon certainly didn’t care that Ford was returning to the hotel, having obviously been out all night. And had he slept with any other woman, Ford would have kept his mouth shut.

But Kitty was not any other woman. This morning she’d seemed fine. But the truth was, he had no idea what she was really feeling. He couldn’t dismiss the possibility that he’d screwed things up. And if he had blown this deal because he couldn’t stop thinking with a certain male part, then Jonathon deserved to know the truth.

“I made a mistake,” he admitted as soon as he walked into the hotel suite.

Jonathan didn’t even bother looking up from his laptop. A fruit plate and a bowl of oatmeal sat untouched beside his computer. “That’s never a good announcement at 7:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning. But you’re a big boy. I’m sure you can handle it.”

“I slept with Kitty.”

Jonathon’s head snapped up. “Kitty Biedermann?”

“It was stupid, I know,” he admitted.

A pot of coffee and a couple of cups sat untouched on the room service tray, so he poured himself a cup. He looked up to see Jonathon with a bemused half smile on his face.

“We just got here. That’s fast, even for you.” When Ford didn’t answer, Jonathon’s smile morphed into a contemplative squint. “That’s not it, is it? You knew her already.”

“I did. We met in Texas about two months ago.” He took a sip of the coffee, relishing the heat as it burned its way down his throat. A stiff drink was what he really wanted for a conversation like this. Scalding hot coffee wasn’t a bad second, though.

Jonathon studied him for a long moment, absently popping a grape in his mouth as he did. “You were the one who wanted to buy out Biedermann’s.”

Ford shook his head. “Biedermann’s was on your list.”

Jonathan stabbed a bite of cantaloupe. “Technically, that was the NYSE’s list. I just referenced it when I was looking for another company to buy. There were seven or eight other companies on that list. You were the one who did all that research on Biedermann’s.” Jonathon paused, chewing slowly as he watched Ford. “Unless you weren’t researching the company at all. You were researching her, weren’t you?”

“Look. I made a mistake. It wouldn’t be the first.” Ford took another drink of his coffee, wishing again it was something stronger. “I asked Wendy to find out what she could about Kitty Biedermann. She was overly enthusiastic. I didn’t even know Biedermann’s was on the list until you’d done most of the work.”

“You should have said something then.”

“I didn’t think it would be a big deal. Neither of us was looking for a long-term relationship. I knew what happened in Texas was just a one-night stand and it would never happen again.”

Jonathon quirked an eyebrow. “Which explains perfectly why you just slept with her a second time.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“So you keep saying. Are we going to have a problem with the acquisition?”

Ford thought back to Kitty’s attitude. Last night she’d been passionate and demanding. This morning she’d been coolly reserved. “I don’t think so,” he said honestly. “She’s devoted to Biedermann’s. She’ll do the right thing for the company. As for me, she’s not emotionally involved. She’s just not the boil-a-bunny type.”

“How well do you know her?” Jonathon asked.

“Well enough to know that.” Then he noticed that Jonathon leaned over his laptop as he spoke, typing rapidly. Ford just rolled his eyes. “You’re looking her up on Google, aren’t you?” In answer, Jonathon just shrugged. “After all the information about her that Wendy dug up, you think you’re going to find something on the Internet that we didn’t already know?”

Jonathon shrugged. “It never hurts.”

Annoyed, Ford continued speaking. “I know her well enough to know she’s not going to back out of a business deal for personal reasons.”

Jonathon tapped his fingers across the mouse pad while he waited for the slow hotel wireless connection to load the results page. “I hope you’re right. Kitty owns nearly sixty percent of the company. If we don’t have her on board, the deal will never go through, regardless of whether or not we can convince anyone else.”

“I know that.” His tone was a little sharper than he’d intended.

Jonathon raised his hands in a gesture of defense. “Just reminding you.” He clicked on a page, then sat back, waiting for it to load. “If she backs out now, we’ve wasted a decent chunk of change. And I don’t like wasting time, either.”

“She’s not going to back out. Selling Biedermann’s to us is going to make her a lot of money. That’s all the incentive she needs. She’s been rich all her life and we’re going to make her richer. There’s nothing else we need to know.”

But by then Jonathon had leaned forward to read whatever Pandora’s box Google had pulled up. He let out a low whistle.

“What?” Ford demanded.

“You might want to read what Suzy Snark has to say before you say anything else that’ll get you in trouble.”

Tension seized Ford’s stomach. “Who?”

“Suzy Snark. She’s a gossip blogger here in New York. Talks about Kitty every once in a while.” He looked up at Ford. “You didn’t really read that report from Wendy, did you? Suzy Snark was mentioned multiple times.”

The tension that had started in his gut seeped through the rest of his body, leaving him frozen on the spot. He should just cross the room and take the damn laptop from Jonathan, but no matter what orders his brain issued, his feet weren’t following them.

Finally he said, “Stop being so damn cryptic and just tell me what the damn thing says.”

“Trust me, you’re going to want to read this yourself.”

He took the laptop from Jonathan and sat back down on the sofa, only vaguely aware of Jonathan walking away to give him privacy. As he read, his tension coalesced into cold, hard anger.

A few minutes later, Jonathan returned, holding out a shot of Scotch from the hotel’s courtesy bar. Ford carefully set the laptop on the coffee table before accepting the drink. He took several long drinks, then realized his knuckles were turning white from gripping the glass too tightly.

Finally he stood and headed for the door with grim determination, almost too angry to speak.

“Where are you going?” Jonathan asked.

“To find Kitty.”