Not Even for Love(48)
“Sonofa—That was a rotten thing to have happen. No wonder you were so mad at me this morning. I’m sorry, Jordan. Can I help? Is there something I can do?”
“No. At first I was upset, to say the least. Now”—she moved one slender leg between the warmth of his—“now it doesn’t seem to matter so much. The job in Lucerne has served its purpose. After Charles’s death, I needed to live and work, breathe, without the interference of well-intentioned friends and my parents. This time I’ve spent in Switzerland has been like a three-year vacation. I need to find something to do that’s more challenging and productive.”
“Will you return to the States?” Studiously they were avoiding talking of Helmut and the role he would play in her future. He was there, lurking in the background of their minds, but neither wanted to speak his name aloud. Apparently, since he was asking about her going back to America, Reeves had finally accepted her insistence that she wasn’t going to marry the Swiss.
“Yes, probably, but I don’t know where,” she replied. “I think I’ll try to find a nice, quiet place and settle down to write. That’s something I’ve always aspired to do.”
“What type of material do you want to write?”
“Sex manuals,” she quipped.
“How-tos?”
“Yes.”
A laugh vibrated his chest, where she rested her head.
“Oh, yeah?” He clasped her to him and rolled her atop him.
“That requires a lot of research, you know.”
“I’m willing to sacrifice whatever is necessary,” she teased, and leaned down to taste his mouth. It tasted like her own.
“Are you willing to be a guinea pig?”
“Oink.”
She collapsed with laughter. “Guinea pigs don’t oink, you dope.”
“No? What do they do?”
She showed him, and the subject of her immediate future was forgotten.
“So after your first sex manual is a bestseller, then what?”
With the blanket wrapped around them, they were sitting facing the fire. “I’ll never write a sex manual.” She jabbed him in the ribs.
“It’s the world’s loss. You’re an expert.” He kissed the end of her nose. “What are you going to write?”
“Travel tips for an American in Europe? Fiction? I haven’t decided yet. My priority is settling down and carving out my niche in the universe. What about you?”
“I guess I’ll keep on globe-trotting with my trusty camera.”
“Oh.”
It would seem that their goals in life were as opposite as east is from west. Again the subject of their future was left alone. He pulled her onto his lap. They had no future beyond the walls of the tool shed.
“I’m starved,” he whispered against her ear. They were lying entwined under the blanket. Her legs fit snugly between his. It would be hard to determine which limb belonged to whom. Their arms were wrapped around each other.
“You’ve got an insatiable appetite.”
“I know. And I’m always hungry, too.”
She raised her head and looked down into mischievous green eyes. “Are we talking about the same kind of appetite?”
“Ohhhhh, you’re talking about food.”
She swatted him on the bottom and disentangled her arms and legs. “What would you like for breakfast? Smoked oysters or pâté?”
“Ugh!”
“How about bread and butter?”
“That’s better.”
She took a loaf of bread and the butter out of the picnic hamper beside the door and brought it back to him. He watched lazily as she liberally spread butter on the bread and handed it to him.
“You aren’t hungry?” he asked when she didn’t fix anything for herself.
“No. Just remember, if we’re stuck in here for days, that you owe me one ration of bread and butter.”
While he munched, Jordan toyed with his ears. She rubbed the lobes between her fingers. Then her hands moved down his neck and shoulders, massaging as they went.
“You do that very well,” he remarked, then took another huge bite of bread.
Jordan was somewhat piqued that he could accept her evocative ministrations so blithely. Determinedly she allowed her fingertips to lightly brush across his chest. His enthusiastic chewing ceased abruptly. Her smooth oval fingertips found the flat, brown nipples unerringly. He swallowed hard.
“I don’t suppose you’d want to occupy yourself with some other pastime while I finish my breakfast, would you?” he asked in a low, throaty voice.
Her lips curved upward in a gamine smile as she shook her head no and moved closer to him. Her hair trailed across his face bewitchingly. She lowered her head and tormented with her flicking tongue what her fingers had brought to hard distension.