Just One Taste...(29)

But she held back. A rebel who feared the unknown. And damned if he knew what to do about it.

When he walked through the back door of the bakery, he promised himself  he'd ask her about where their relationship was going. Even though he  knew the very thought from a single guy was laughable, and even though  he knew he wouldn't.

Her smile or her touch or her body would distract him, and he'd accept what she gave him for the night.

She was standing at the fridge, holding a chocolate cheesecake in one  hand and wearing jeans, a T-shirt and an apron-presumably not what she'd  be wearing to the nightclub performance they were going to. But then,  he could be talked into spending the night in. In his bed. In her bed.

She glanced over her shoulder at him as he crossed the room. Recognition lit her eyes and she smiled broadly.

He slid his hand along the small of her back. "Bonjour, chère."

For some reason, the language of his past, the past he'd distanced himself from, he now shared with her.

She slid the cheesecake onto a shelf. "Hi."

He cupped her jaw. "Working late? You're supposed to be taking a bubble  bath and dreaming about me." He pressed his lips lightly to hers.  "You're supposed to be sliding scented lotion across your body, dabbing  perfume between your breasts."

She laid her hands on his chest. "I was thinking I'd do that afterward."

"I like the way you think," he whispered against her lips.

The familiar taste and feel of her slid over him as he deepened the  kiss. She curved into him, her breathing quickening, her fingers curling  into the fabric of his shirt. Beneath his seeking hands, her body was a  delight that never failed to accelerate his pulse.

So much about him was incomplete, even damaged. Why did she continue to  let him touch her? Would he ever change his life and himself enough to  feel worthy of her? How would he know when he'd been redeemed? And in  whose eyes did he want to really shine? His own? The world's?

Gasping, she pulled back. "If we keep this up, we're never going to make it to the club in time for the first set."

He held her tightly against himself. "And that's bad?"

"Even though Mia is the star's cousin, she still had to put forth major  bribes to get the tickets. Besides, I promised Peter I'd be there." She  kissed him quickly, then spun away. "I just need to change."                       
       
           



       

Fine by me. Once he got her clothes off, the whole lovemaking thing always went a lot faster. He started after her.

She held up her hand. "No. You stay here."

"Like I'm the family schnauzer."

"Please, Lucas," she said, backing out of the room. "I promised."

Turning away and saying nothing, he headed toward the storage closet  where she kept her liquor. If he was going to be good-humored about lack  of sex, and be expected to keep his hands to himself on this public  outing, he needed a drink.

He wasn't usually this obsessed about sex. Okay, he was a guy and  obsessed about sex. But not to this level of neediness and desperation.  The deepening intimacy of his and Vanessa's relationship had added a new  layer to the pleasure. She was his friend, as well as his lover. They  were a couple. The comfort and challenge of that relationship had become  like breathing to him. Did she feel the same? He wanted to know, but he  hesitated to unbalance the peace they'd found together.

He was barely through half a glass of whiskey when she returned. "You  want a drink before-" He stared at the vision before him. Blinking, he  rolled the cold glass over his now-sweating forehead. "Bon Dieu."

She cocked her hip, clad in a sparkly silver miniskirt. "Do what?"

He prayed for strength and promised to call the sisters at St. Francis  the next morning and make a generous donation if he managed to recall  all the gentlemanly manners they'd tried so hard to teach him. "You're  beautiful," he said as he crossed to her and-calling on a deep well of  strength-kissed her cheek.

She smells like sex and sin, he noted as he leaned back. Which didn't bode well for the sisters and their rules.

"Are you okay?"

He downed the rest of the whiskey. "Fine."

She was still staring at him oddly. "Maybe I should drive."

"That won't be necessary. I hired a limo."

"You did?"

"Drinking, dancing, late night. I thought it might be a good idea."

She glanced down at herself. "I'm not really dressed for anything that formal."

No, you're dressed for falling into my bed.

Most people would no doubt think her modest black top, silver miniskirt  and heeled sandals were just the thing for a nightclub. It was his  problem that everything she wore made him automatically picture her in  his bed. "You're perfect," he said, somehow maintaining control of his  voice.

She smoothed her hands down her skirt. "It's been a while since I've been in a limo."

Having no idea how he was going to survive the night, he set aside his  glass, then slid his hand around her waist. "It comes back to you."





10



IN THE LIMO, VANESSA SAT NEXT to Lucas, her hand on his thigh, her heart  thumping with a single glance at his profile.Not even two weeks. She  hadn't even known him two weeks, and yet he'd become central to her  life. But as much as she loved every second she spent with him, she was  afraid of her feelings growing deeper by the minute.

What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she just enjoy herself?

Mia certainly was. Though she'd spent just as much time with Frankie and  David as she had Colin, much to Colin's frustration. He'd e-mailed  Vanessa last week and asked what he'd done wrong. Nothing, she'd assured  him. Mia just liked playing the field. Her mother was working on her  fifth marriage. Maybe it was genetic. Colin had told her he wanted to  propose, and Vanessa had assured him that would be a really bad idea.

Vanessa thought her roommate should give Colin more of a chance, but  maybe variety was the key. The problem was Vanessa didn't want to be  with anyone but Lucas.

Tonight he looked sexy as hell in his black pants and a tan shirt, the  sleeves rolled back to expose his muscular forearms. Dangerous and  tempting. That was the way she constantly described him.

She wondered how he'd respond to their night out. Most of their dates  involved ordering in or her bringing dinner to his apartment, then  they'd make love until dawn. Their world together remained cozy and  undisturbed.

Was that why she'd been determined to use her tickets to Peter's show  tonight? She definitely wanted to support a friend, but she knew part of  her wanted to see how she and Lucas would respond, as a couple, to  other people.                       
       
           



       

Peter was part of the crowd she'd grown up with. His father was a  circuit court judge, and he'd been drawn to music rather than law and  order. Given his rebellion, they'd naturally been drawn to each other,  though not in a sexual way. Despite his family's disapproval, Peter had  come out of the closet openly in the past few years. He had a partner  who supported and loved him, and Vanessa was proud he was following his  heart instead of pretending and being ashamed.

Did she have the same courage?

Should she and Lucas decide to come out themselves, her family would  never approve of him-even if they knew about his commitment to Brittany  Curry and the pro bono work Vanessa had discovered he'd been doing. She  wanted so much to repair her relationship with them, and they were  making progress. Her mother and father had both hired her to cater in  the last two weeks. Her sister had opened up to her about her problems.  Was Lucas important enough to sacrifice that progress?

Maybe.

At the moment, though, there was an entirely different and disturbing  element to discuss. Namely, her conversation that afternoon with her  father. "My dad's having a party Friday for his cronies," she said.

His gaze met hers. "So I guess you'll be busy that night. I was thinking we could fly down-"

"He's inviting you."

"That's … interesting."

"Isn't it, though? He also asked me about you. He wanted me to ask my friends about you. Essentially, to be a spy for him."

His face was blank of expression as he asked, "What did you say?"

"I said I would." She squeezed his thigh. "I'm not. I just had a weird response to his request."

"You said yes."

"That's what's weird."

"You don't have to agree with him. You don't have to do what he says."

"I know. I don't know what's wrong with me. I guess I should have told him about us."

"It's none of his business."

And it wasn't. But she still felt as though she'd betrayed both Lucas and her father somehow.