Читать книгу Our First Kiss - Judy Lynn Hubbard - Страница 12

Chapter 2

Though he tried to prepare himself for his next meeting with Marcy, she still knocked every ounce of breath out of his lungs when their eyes locked at the rehearsal dinner for Natasha and Damien later that evening. She was dressed in a black knee-length leather skirt with a wicked slit up the back, matching tight-fitting jacket and high-heeled black leather pumps. All of that raven hair was piled high on top of her head in an intentionally careless bun, allowing tendrils to escape to caress her face and nape. She looked lovely and desirable.

“Hi, handsome,” her sultry voice greeted him as he entered the small ballroom of the restaurant.

“Marcy.” He nodded at her politely as he unsuccessfully tried to still the rapid beating of his heart.

“Did you miss me?” He looked wonderful in his black suit, white shirt and black-and-gray tie.

“It’s only been a few hours since I last saw you?” Time he had spent trying to unsuccessfully stop thinking about her—the look of her, the feel of her fingers on his, the exotic smell of her.

“I know.” She leaned close and whispered confidentially in his ear, “I missed you terribly.”

His knees almost buckled at her words and as the provocative scent she wore wafted up his nostrils and her soft body brushed lightly yet maddeningly against his. He fought with every ounce of strength he possessed to keep from crushing that curvaceous body to his and fastening his mouth to her luscious lips—lips he knew from experience were soft, decadent and addictive.

Unable to help himself, he groaned. “What is that perfume you’re wearing?”

She leaned slightly back to stare into his intense eyes. “Chanel.” She smiled and leaned in closer again. “Do you like it?”

“It’s...nice.”

“I’m glad you approve.” She deliberately ran her fingers across her exposed collarbone drawing his burning gaze there.

Who did he think he was fooling? Judging by his darkening eyes, watching the slow progression of her finger across her skin, he thought it was much more than nice. She secretly vowed to buy up every bottle she could get her hands on in the morning.

“Marcy, darling, bring Nathan over here,” her mother ordered.

“Coming, Mom.” She smiled up at him. “I’m afraid it’s time to mingle.”

She thankfully moved back from him but grabbed his hand, shooting tiny thrills of pleasure up his arm. This woman was deadlier than any adversary he had ever faced in the field of combat—and that was saying something.

“That’s what we’re here for.” He was proud his voice sounded steady.

“But there is later...” She let her sentence trail off suggestively.

They walked over to stand beside his sister Nicole, who was talking to the guests of honor, Damien and Natasha. Nathan’s parents, Linda and Lincoln, were conversing with Marcy’s mother and father, Margaret and Michael, a short distance away. Marcy’s smile widened as she glanced at their matchmaking mothers who seemed particularly interested in watching the interplay between her and Nathan; it appeared they were their next project.

“I’m starving. What’s for dinner, Mama?” Natasha asked.

“Seafood, all different kinds.” Linda smiled at her daughter.

“Mmm, I can’t wait,” Natasha said as her eyes sparkled expectantly.

“This one has really been developing an appetite lately.” Damien wrapped his arms around his fiancée’s waist from behind.

“Love makes me hungry.” She smiled as he kissed her neck lingeringly.

“When Nathan and I were shopping today, we had some wonderful seafood at lunch—well, he did. I managed to steal a bite or two off of his plate.” Marcy’s statement caused all eyes to focus on her and Nathan.

“You and Nathan went shopping?” Nicole’s mouth dropped open as did her sister’s and mother’s.

“Yes, for Natasha and Dami’s wedding present,” Marcy confirmed.

“And she dragged me from store to store when she already had their present picked out at the last store we went to,” Nathan good-naturedly interjected.

“Don’t you just hate shopping with women?” Damien sympathized, kissing Natasha on the cheek to soften his words.

“Oh, you!” Natasha tapped his chest lightly in admonishment.

“They never know what they want,” Lincoln agreed as the men levitated toward each other.

“And they drag you around from store to store for hours and hours and then finally decide on something they saw at the first store you were in,” Michael chimed in.

“I don’t know why we don’t leave you at home. You’re always fretting about how much money we spend.” Linda added her thoughts as the women, except for Natasha and Marcy, congregated together glaring at their respective man.

“Aren’t they just?” Margaret agreed, smiling tolerantly at her husband, Michael. “But if the present is for them, no amount of time is too great and the sky is the limit on how much we spend.”

“Amen,” Nicole agreed, and Natasha shook her head.

“Boy, did I open a can of worms,” Marcy whispered to Nathan, whom she noted still stood by her side.

“Are you kidding?” Nathan chuckled. “They’re having a blast.”

Marcy glanced at everyone as they engaged in heated, though pleasant, banter about the subject and laughed in agreement. They were thankfully saved from further escalation of the tiny gender war brewing when dinner was wheeled in. As everyone took their seats at the rectangular table, Marcy was dismayed to find herself sitting by her brother a table’s length away from Nathan. Who had made these ridiculous seating arrangements?

Nicole, who was sitting by her brother, glanced at Marcy’s sunken expression and sprang into action, “Look at us—Johnsons at one end and Carters at the other. We need to break this up.”

“You’re right, Nicole,” Marcy agreed, trying not to burst into a radiant smile.

“Marcy, you take my seat by Nathan, and I’ll take yours by Damien.”

Marcy quickly stood and gave Nicole a wink as they passed each other. Nicole mouthed, “Don’t mention it.”

Once she was seated, Nicole continued to rearrange people. “Momma, you should sit by Mr. Johnson down here. Mrs. Johnson, why don’t you go up and sit by Dad.”

Nicole received tolerant smiles as people followed her directions. Her mother’s eyes held understanding and approval at her youngest daughter’s actions. Nicole continued to survey the table with a slight determined frown.

“Now, that’s better. Isn’t it?” Nicole asked and was pleased when everyone agreed—except a frowning Nathan she noted with a smile.

“I am glad you didn’t move me to the opposite end away from my fiancé.” Natasha laughed at her sister.

“Please, I would need an army to do that,” Nicole said and chuckled.

“You’re so right.” Damien pulled Natasha closer and kissed her lips.

“Save some of that for the honeymoon,” Michael suggested with a laugh.

“Oh, I think we’ll manage just fine.” Damien had Natasha’s cheeks reddening,

“Damien!” Natasha scolded and he laughingly kissed her again.

“She doesn’t know what to do with me,” he informed everyone when he lifted his head.

“We Johnsons can be incorrigible,” Marcy replied, staring at Nathan, who refused to glance her way.

“A trait you both inherited from your father,” Margaret assured, and the occupants of the room dissolved in laughter again.

“Are you planning on ignoring me all night, Nathan?” As the happy banter around the table continued, Marcy turned amused eyes to his annoyed ones.

“I was debating it,” he tightly replied.

“I had nothing to do with rearranging everyone. That was your sister’s idea,” she reminded.

“Mmm-hmm.” His tone stated he didn’t believe she was as innocent as she professed to be. He glanced down the table, meeting his sister’s dancing eyes. He had plans to pay her back later. Not that he really minded sitting next to Marcy, but he was trying to do the right thing and stay away from her—for her sake and his.

“Look at it this way. You can use this time to sample some more of my perfume,” she offered, moving closer.

He inwardly groaned. That was the last thing he needed. He studied her beautiful face, and his dark mood intensified as she obviously fought to hide a smile.

“Yippee.” He nearly growled the word.

“A toast to Natasha and Damien.” Michael stood with a glass raised. “Two pieces of the puzzle of love who fit perfectly together. May they share a long happy life filled with love and hopefully soon the pitter-patter of little feet.”

“Cheers.” Everyone agreed and raised their glasses.

“We’ll see what we can do about your first grandchild, Dad,” Damien promised as he and Natasha unlinked their wrists and lowered their glasses—eyes twinkling because of their shared secret about Natasha’s condition.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we all gathered together soon to celebrate another union of our children?” Margaret candidly suggested.

“That would be lovely, Margaret.” Linda followed the direction of her eyes.

“You never know what could happen.” Marcy chuckled as she glanced at Nathan’s slightly uncomfortable, tense features before smiling brilliantly at their mothers.

“I’ll start designing your wedding dress,” Nicole teased.

“And Linda and I can begin on the guest list and the menu,” Margaret excitedly began.

“Hey, wait a minute!” Nathan indignantly interrupted, and everyone laughed heartily—everyone except Damien.

Marcy met her brother’s narrowed eyes and gave him a wink. He was going to have trouble sharing her, but she would help him through the rough spots. He and Nathan would hit it off; she was determined about that.

“Linda, I’ll call you tomorrow,” Margaret promised.

“Please do.” Linda smiled down the table at her.

Lincoln and Michael shook their heads at each other across the table as their wives made the union of Marcy and Nathan their new project. They picked up their glasses in a silent, resigned toast to their respective spouses.

* * *

“What do you think they are talking about so intensely?” Nicole asked as she stood with Marcy and Natasha watching Nathan and Damien from across the room.

“Me, of course.” Marcy smiled. “Dami is playing big brother, reading Nathan the riot act.”

“I’ll go over and put a stop to this,” Natasha promised, but Marcy touched her arm halting her.

“It’s okay, Natasha. Let Dami assert himself. He will, anyway.” She chuckled in resignation. “Better now when I can keep an eye on him. Besides, it is rather sweet, don’t you think?” She stared lovingly at her brother’s intense face.

“I do,” Nicole agreed. “Poor Nathan. He doesn’t know what to do about any of this,” she sympathized, eyes settling on her brother as he took a gulp of his drink.

“He’ll figure it out. I guarantee that,” Marcy confidently replied.

Natasha frowned as she glanced across at her brother. He didn’t seem upset as he listened to Damien. That was good. Damien glanced at her, and she shook her head at him in exasperation. He blew her a kiss before returning his attention to Nathan.

“I do wish Dami would stop monopolizing Nathan’s time.” Marcy sighed. “I need to make my next move.”

“Poor Nathan. He doesn’t have a chance.” Nicole shook her head at the determination etched on her friend’s face.

“He doesn’t need one,” Marcy quickly responded, and they all chuckled as they glanced across the room at their respective brothers.

“Marcy can be a handful,” Damien informed Nathan.

“No? Really?” Damien and Nathan laughed.

“I see you’ve already found that out.”

“I have. She’s very determined.”

“She’s also very honest—too honest for her own good sometimes,” Damien continued, glancing across at his sister as she stood with Natasha and Nicole.

“Yes, she is,” Nathan agreed. “She’s very beautiful,” Nathan couldn’t help admitting as he, too, glanced across the room at the subject of their conversation.

“You’re attracted to her.” Damien returned cool eyes to his fiancée’s brother.

“Who wouldn’t be?” Nathan proclaimed quickly. Then he added, “I know she’s your sister, but even you must admit she’s a knockout.”

“I do, but she’s not a toy or a diversion.” Damien’s eyes narrowed in warning.

“I never thought she was.” Nathan returned his cool gaze unflinchingly.

“Good,” Damien said and nodded as he silently studied the other man. He thought they could become good friends but not if he did anything to harm his sister.

“I don’t want to hurt Marcy,” Nathan assured him, sensing Damien’s thoughts.

“Then don’t,” Damien simply ordered.

“I don’t plan on it,” Nathan said, but even as he uttered the words, he knew that was a promise he might not be able to keep.

“Are you enjoying being back in New York?” Damien changed subjects, having said what he had needed to.

“Very much.”

“After Tasha and I get settled in as an old married couple, we’ll have to take you out and reintroduce you to some of the good spots,” Damien offered.

“I’d like that.” Nathan smiled.

Nathan’s eyes connected with Marcy’s again, and she smiled at him knowingly. He had a feeling she knew exactly what he and her brother were talking about, and she was going to make his resolve not to become involved with her near impossible to keep—just as he feared he was going to find it nearly impossible to live up to his promise to leave her alone.

* * *

Two and a half hours later the occupants of the private dining room were preparing to leave and go their separate ways. A few days later, they would all gather again for Damien and Natasha’s wedding.

“Can I bum a ride home from someone?” Marcy glanced expectantly at Nathan. “My car’s in the shop.”

“Tasha and I can drop you off.” Damien placed an affectionate arm around his sister’s shoulders. “It’s on the way.”

“It is on Nathan’s way, too,” Nicole quickly intervened.

Marcy silently vowed to send her a huge bouquet of flowers the next day. She was turning out to be a wonderful ally.

“That’s a fabulous idea,” Linda decided, winking at Margaret. “Nathan, you take Marcy home.”

“It’s no problem. We can take her,” Damien insisted, despite Marcy’s glare.

Damien could see what was going on here, and though Marcy didn’t seem to mind, he did; for some reason, even though he had spoken with Nathan and liked him, something was nagging him about Natasha’s brother. In his gut—and he had learned from painful experiences to trust his gut—he knew that somehow Nathan was going to end up hurting his sister, and he would do everything in his power to stop that from happening.

“Darling, I’m tired and would rather go straight home,” Natasha intervened. “Nathan, you don’t mind taking Marcy home do you?”

Nathan realized every female present in the room was very skillfully ambushing him. He had come up against some worthy adversaries in his day but none as lethal as the quintuplet in front of him. What could one do against such skillful opponents, except surrender—and hope to live to fight another day?

“No, not at all,” he dryly agreed.

“Good, now that is all settled.” Linda smiled pleased and walked over to talk to Margaret. Marcy was a lovely woman and might be just what her absentee son needed to get him to settle down.

“You’d better watch out, son, your mother and Marcy’s mother are plotting your downfall.” Lincoln slapped his son on the back as Marcy walked away to retrieve her coat.

“Really? You could have fooled me, Dad.” Nathan shook his head in exasperation as he glanced at the smiling faces of the two women in question.

“Ready to go, Nathan?” Marcy came back with her leather coat draped over her arm.

“As I’ll ever be,” he muttered, taking her coat and placing it over her shoulders.

“What?” She glanced at him, stifling a laugh.

“Nothing,” he denied. “Good night everyone,” he shouted as they prepared to leave.

“Good night!” Marcy beamed as she preceded him out.

“Promising.” Margaret approved, having witnessed her daughter’s keen interest in Nathan on New Year’s Eve manifested again tonight. Obviously, Marcy was serious, and after watching the two tonight, it was obvious Nathan was taken with Marcy, too. Although being a man, he was trying his best to fight it.

“Yes, I think you’re right,” Linda agreed as both women walked away to discuss their children’s futures.

* * *

Nathan was silent for most of the drive, which was okay with her. She was formulating her strategy. He was so much work, but she knew he’d be worth it in the end. She would remind him of this one day, and they would laugh about him clinging to his overrated bacherlorhood.

When they reached her condo, he opened the car door and helped her out and then started to walk back around to the driver’s side. She placed a restraining hand on his arm. “You’re not going to leave me here, are you?”

“I was,” he curtly agreed.

“Nathan, anyone could be lurking in the dark, just waiting for me. Then what would I do?” She feigned alarm. “I’d be helpless.”

Despite his black mood, he smiled genuinely at her assertion. “Marcy, one thing you will never be is helpless.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She took his proffered arm as he walked her into the building. “I’m pretty helpless when it comes to you.”

“Marcy.” His steps faltered at her admission. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true.” He was silent for the elevator ride to her floor. “Come in for a drink,” she offered as she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

“No, I’d better not.” He turned to leave.

“Come on in, I won’t bite. I promise.”

Before he knew what had hit him, he was pulled inside, and the door decisively clicked behind him. He knew all he had to do was leave, but as was becoming a habit with Marcy, he gave in because he wanted to. Her apartment was spacious, decorated in pastels with a tapestry sofa and chairs.

“Your place is very nice.” He took off his coat in resignation.

“Thanks. Make yourself at home,” she yelled, throwing her coat over a chair as she walked into what he assumed was the kitchen, returning seconds later with a bottle of white wine and two glasses. “Will you do the honors?”

“Sure.” He wanted to protest but decided against it. He would have one glass and then go.

“Sit down,” she said as she motioned to the sofa and as he complied, sat closely beside him holding glasses out to him, which he filled before placing the bottle onto the table.

“I can’t stay long, Marcy.” He thought it best to get that out before she got any ideas in her beautiful head.

“We’ll see.”

He tasted his wine. “This is good.”

“Very,” she whispered, taking a sip of the cold liquid before placing her still-full glass on the table. “You’re so buff.” She lightly fingered his biceps and shoulders. “I’ve never met a lawyer in such great shape.”

“I enjoy working out.” He grabbed her hand, halting her disturbing exploration.

“Mmm,” she approved, trailing the fingers of her free hand across his broad chest. “I can tell.”

“Marcy...”

“What?” She stared into his conflicted eyes.

When he failed to answer, she leaned across the sofa, took his glass from his unresisting fingers and placed it on the table beside hers. Then framing his face in her hands, she kissed him. She felt the tension in him as he resisted her and himself, but within seconds, his lips changed from cold and stiff to warm and caressing—though he refrained from touching her. She tasted the wine on his lips—and the barely restrained passion.

“I’ve wanted to do that all day,” she murmured, pulling slightly back, though her mouth was still in close proximity to his.

Turbulent, dangerous eyes bore into hers before lowering to focus on her incredibly soft lips that tasted of wine, honey and dangerous desire. He knew he should push her away and leave; instead he reached out, pulled her closer and let his mouth ravage hers. Out of control, impatient hands focused on the buttons of her jacket until it was completely undone, and then he pulled her down to lie beside him as he reclined back onto the sofa.

When his wandering hands slipped beneath the undone jacket folds, he realized to his delight and dismay that she was only wearing a thin black lace teddy, which covered next to nothing of the satiny skin underneath. He rolled until she was nearly lying beneath him. His hands caressed her lace-covered breasts and stomach as his mouth left hers to blaze a trail across her neck and collarbone to the swell of a breast.

His hot tongue licked out and tasted a nipple, which he felt harden through the chemise. With a groan, his mouth opened warmly, taking the still-covered swell into his mouth and suckled maddeningly until she thought she would shatter. Her hands moved behind his head as he continued to feast on her flesh through the now-wet fabric she prayed he would rip away as he was ripping away any sense of sanity she possessed.

In the back of his mind, a nagging voice reminding him of his promise to remain emotionally unattached while he was in Black Ops; the type of life he led wasn’t easy—in fact, it could be downright brutal. He couldn’t become involved with Marcy; it wasn’t fair to her. She deserved better than he could give her, and he knew that.

With a mind of their own, his hand snaked under the satin to touch the warm, silky skin of her stomach, and he felt her fingers clutch the back of his head and release. Desire built within him almost to the point of no return. If he touched her a second longer, if he felt her trembling against him another minute, he would take her and damn the consequences. Somehow, using willpower years of training had instilled, he pulled away and sat up.

It took her a few seconds to realize he was no longer lying next to her or touching her. When she did, she opened cloudy eyes and slowly sat up beside him.

“Stay.” She sighed as she placed her arms around his neck, realizing he meant to leave her and himself unfulfilled.

“You’ve just met me,” he hoarsely responded, fighting for control that was rapidly escaping him.

“We’ve known each other for a week,” she reminded.

“Barely a week,” he contradicted.

“I feel as if I’ve known you all my life.” She scraped her teeth maddeningly along his jaw before lifting her head to stare into his darkening eyes. “Don’t you want me?”

“Marcy, a man would have to be crazy not to want you.” He nearly groaned. But then he forced himself to add, “But I’m here to see my family, not to start a relationship with you—with anyone.”

He reluctantly disentangled her arms from his neck, stood and quickly walked to the door.

“Nathan?” Her soft, seductive voice halted him.

“What?” He asked without turning around. God he wanted her; had he ever wanted anything this much?

“You know what they say about making plans?” He turned to face her, but neither of them made a move toward the other.

“No, what?” At the moment, he didn’t know his name or how he was articulating at all.

“The best laid ones go to waste,” she responded with a smile. Silently vowing she would make sure his did. Impulsively, she walked over, cupped his face between her hands and kissed him again.

“Marcy, would you let me take the initiative for once?” he asked against her lips.

“I’d love to. Go ahead,” she ordered, pulling slightly back.

He shook his head and smiled down at her, “Would you like to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?” What the...? Why had he asked that?

“I’d love to.” She beamed. “That was very nicely done.”

“Thank you.” He silently berated himself for his lack of discipline where she was concerned.

“What time?” Her eyes memorized every curve of his handsome face.

“Seven.” He committed himself to his unwise course of action, and unable to help himself, he began outlining her face with his fingertips. She shuddered at his touch.

“Should I meet you, or would you rather pick me up?” she docilely asked, breath coming in trembling gasps.

“I’ll pick you up,” he nearly whispered as the fingers of his other hand played with loose strands of her hair; it was so soft, so incredibly soft.

“How should I dress? Casual? After five? Elegant?”

She couldn’t believe she could comprehend let alone formulate questions. He was touching her lightly yet urgently. She was a quivering mass of jelly, yet somehow she still stood before him instead of sinking bonelessly to the floor at his feet.

“Elegantly,” he decided and said as his hands followed her example and cupped her face.

“Mmm, sounds nice.” She shakily smiled. “You take charge very well.”

“Thanks.” Intense eyes stared into hers, and he decided to take even more as he placed a hand behind her nape and pulled her irresistible lips to his.

Devastation. No other word described what he did to her with that kiss—or what she did to him. He could happily feast on those lips for an eternity. She gladly clung to his hard shoulders as his mouth continued to plunder. When his lips released hers, they were both breathing hard. She opened stormy eyes to see the echoing depths of his.

“Very well indeed,” she murmured. “That was a wonderful first kiss.”

He frowned. “That wasn’t our first kiss. New Year’s Eve was.”

“New Year’s Eve I kissed you.” She smiled impishly. “This is the first time you’ve initiated a kiss between us. I hope it won’t be the last.”

“If you recall, I kissed you back on New Year’s Eve—” he traced the outline of her trembling lips with his fingers “—and I thoroughly enjoyed it.”

“You did?”

“Oh, you know I did,” he said and smiled.

“So did I. Let’s not wait so long before you kiss me again,” she softly suggested.

“We’ll see.” He touched her trembling lips with his fingers and then quickly removed them. “Good night, Marcy.”

“Good night,” she echoed. “Thanks for bringing me home.”

He glanced back at her trying to decide what he should do and what he wanted to do next—his head won out over want, and he determinedly opened the door and left. If he touched her again, he would be lost.

When her limbs would finally obey her commands, Marcy slowly retraced her steps and fell across the sofa. She let out her breath with a long, unsteady sigh. Gingerly, fingers touched her lips, and starry eyes closed as she remembered the feel of Nathan’s lips, body and his heart beating so close to hers.

She’d had a few crushes in her day but nothing close to what she felt for Nathan. She felt alive with him; he did things to her mind and spirit that she had never experienced before. They hadn’t known each other long, but he was the one; she knew it. Now her goal was to make him realize she was the one for him.