Moonstruck in Manhattan Page 12

  She jerked again at the zipper. Backing away, Zach shook his head to clear it. “You don’t want to do that.”

  “Oh, yes I do,” she said, gritting her teeth. This time when she yanked, the zipper opened.

  Zach shook his head again. As if it were a signal, the skirt began to inch its way down her hips.

  He moved behind a chair; she circled around it, stalking him. His mouth dry as dust, Zach watched the skirt slip lower. “This could be a big mistake.”

  “Yeah, I know,” she said as she gave the waistband a final push and sent it slithering down her legs. “But the thing about mistakes is you never know for sure until you’ve made them.”

  He stopped when he backed into the desk. She was still talking as she moved toward him, but he couldn’t hear her over the drumming of his heartbeat, couldn’t think over her scent swirling through him.

  “Now, it’s just me,” she said as she raised her hands and rested them on his cheeks. “Don’t you want me?”

  “Chels, I’ve never wanted anyone more. But you haven’t thought this through. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “What do you think I’ve been doing in the bathroom? I already figured all the pluses and the minuses.” Her hands slid down his neck to unknot his tie. His knees weakened and he sat on the edge of the desk, gripping it hard with his hands. Slowly, she pulled the tie free and tossed it aside. The gesture made the first rip in his restraint.

  “I’ll skip the minuses. There’re way too many,” she said, rising on her toes until she could brush her lips against his. “And there’s only one plus. This.”

  It was enough. More than enough, Zach thought as she deepened the kiss and her flavor streamed through him.

  “You’re irresistible,” he murmured against her mouth as he lifted his hands to grip her wrists. Should he have known how free it would feel to give in? If she kept touching him, kissing him, he was going to lose whatever control he had left and take her right on top of his desk.

  “Really?” With a quick smile, she freed her hands and went to work on his buttons, slipping them free one at a time. She was pulling his belt off by the time he managed to capture them again.

  “I hope your zipper doesn’t stick.”

  He smiled then. “It won’t. But I want to take this slow and easy. I can’t if you keep touching me.”

  When she met his eyes, he saw the mischief and the hint of a laugh in hers. “Hard and fast has its pluses. Besides, you can always get it right the second time.”

  He laughed then. Was he ever going to be able to guess what she’d do or say next? Raising one of her hands, he kissed the veins on the inside of her wrist and felt her pulse scramble, watched her eyes darken. “I’ll get it right this time.”

  “Want to bet?”

  The challenge was in her eyes, but her voice had become breathy and she was no longer trying to pull free. Slowly, he raised her other hand and pressed his lips to her palm. “Chels, one thing I need to know—about protection?”

  “I’m taking the Pill.”

  Keeping her hand tightly clasped in his, he leaned forward to press his mouth against her ear. “In that case, perhaps I should point out the minuses of hard and fast,” he said.

  “You could show me.”

  “It’s all flash and fire. There’s no time to imagine, to wonder what I’ll do, where I’ll touch you next.” The moment she trembled, he drew back.

  In the moonlight, her skin had the cool delicate look of porcelain. But it was warm as he brushed just the tips of his fingers along her cheekbone, then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve waited so long to touch you. I don’t want to rush.” He ran one finger along her bottom lip. It was warm, moist. There was a pulse at her throat. He traced a path over it and felt it push against his skin. Once more, he felt her tremble and he clamped down on the needs that threatened to boil up like steam in a geyser.

  “I want you to think about what it’s going to be like.” Barely touching her he slipped her buttons free and eased her blouse down her arms. “Imagine exactly what it’s going to feel like when my mouth is here.” He traced the lace edge at the top of her camisole, then lowered his fingers to graze the tip of her breast. “And here.”

  When he pressed his mouth to her throat, Chelsea felt her knees turn to water. The scrape of his teeth at her collarbone sent a bolt of heat to her core.

  “Did you know that your flavor changes when your skin heats?”

  “Mmmmmm.” It was the only response she could manage. Her head felt heavy, her arms weighted down as he slipped the strap of her camisole off one shoulder and then the other. Her skin burned as he drew it slowly down to her waist and over her hips. Reality blurred, giving way to the images he created with his words—words he whispered in her ear, telling her where he would touch her next even as his hands and mouth fulfilled his promises.

  “Here,” he murmured as his fingers traced a slow path down her bare skin to her waist and then below.

  She wanted more. It seemed she had waited all her life for the press of those hard, lean hands on her skin. It was the one thought that seemed to filter its way through the sensations that swept over her, each one more vivid than the last. His touch wasn’t so gentle now. She could feel hunger in the press of his fingers on her thigh. She could taste desperation when his mouth covered hers.

  “Tell me what you want,” he whispered against her lips.

  “You,” she managed. “Please.” She was dimly aware of the scratch of carpet against her back, though she had no idea that he’d pulled her to the floor. Then his hand was moving lower, his fingers tracing the edge of her panties, slipping beneath the band to draw them down the length of her legs.

  “Soon,” Zach promised. To himself and to her. The fire that was raging inside of him, that he’d managed to bank for so long, was threatening to break free. It took all of his strength and control to lever himself up, but he wanted to see her eyes. He had to watch her face as he slipped his fingers into her heat.

  She arched once, then again and again. Each movement had his blood pounding, his need doubling. He’d wanted to see her this way, trapped in the pleasure that he could bring her. He wanted her, only her.

  You’ll never let her go…

  The words swirled through his mind as he watched stunned pleasure flood her cheeks and cloud her eyes. Then he gathered her close, holding her tightly as the shudders raced through her.

  His own needs tearing through him, he settled his body over her and laced his fingers with hers. Inches away, he stared into her eyes and saw only himself, trapped in green fire. For a moment he didn’t move. He’d never wanted a woman more. He’d never needed anyone like this. Even as he plunged into her heat, he was aware that a barrier that he had built deep within himself was crumbling a little each time he moved, each time she moved with him. Then he stopped thinking. He was aware of only her and the waves of sensations she could bring him. Heat. Light. Wind. They all seemed to pull at him as they moved together—faster, higher. But it was the sound of his name on her lips that shot him over the edge. Helpless, he poured himself into her.

  10

  AFTERWARD, when he could think and breathe again, Zach rolled over but kept Chelsea with him, cradling her against his chest. It was only then that he became fully aware that they were lying half under his desk. The office was dark and quiet. He could feel the beat of her heart against his and the movement of her breath on his skin each time she exhaled. It occurred to him that he could have held her just like that for a very long time.

  He had no idea whether or not she felt the same way. Things had happened so fast between them. Good grief, he’d known her for less than a week. They hadn’t even gone out on a date. And he’d taken her on the floor of his office. It wasn’t his usual style with women. Even as he tried to think of something to say, she reached out and ran her fingers along the leg of his desk chair. She was thinking of something else entirely.

  “A penny for your thought
s,” he said.

  “I was just thinking that I’m still not sure.”

  Zach frowned. “Not sure of what?”

  She rose up then, propping her forearms across his chest and meeting his eyes. “For a penny, that’s all you’re going to get.”

  The laugh broke free before he could prevent it. He tightened his arms around her in a quick hug. “Okay, I’m in for a quarter.”

  “Wow! Big spender!”

  His eyes narrowed. “How about a buck?”

  Biting her tongue, she considered then said, “I’m not sure which is better. Slow and easy or fast and hard. As far as I can see, the pluses and minuses are pretty well balanced.”

  His brows shot up. “Maybe we should try again?”

  “My thought exactly.”

  He moved his hands to cup her face, holding it still so that she had to meet his eyes. “We’ll do that right after you tell me what you were really thinking a few minutes ago while you were touching the chair.”

  She studied him for a minute. “It was silly really. I was just thinking how I had pictured myself sitting in this chair behind this desk, but I never imagined I’d end up practically underneath it like this.”

  “Are you sorry?”

  She smiled slowly. “Are you kidding? As I recall, this was pretty much my idea. I had to work very hard to seduce you. I should be asking you if you’re sorry?”

  “No.”

  “Right answer. Otherwise, I might have had to do you a grave bodily injury.”

  His brows shot up. “Really?”

  Before he could stop her, she made a grab for his ear and gave it a quick, hard twist.

  “Ouch.”

  “That’s just a sample. I can do much worse.”

  He grinned at her, but when she started to roll off of him, he held her in place. “You said you pictured yourself in this chair? Do you want to run Metropolitan?”

  “No. I want to be a features editor like Esme Sinclair. I’ve admired her for the longest time, ever since I first wanted to write for magazines. She even visited my college once and spoke to all the journalism majors. She was sitting behind this desk when I first met with her.”

  “She must have moved in here while my father was sick.” He glanced at the chair. “It’s funny that you and I have both wanted to sit in that particular chair. Maybe we have more in common than we think.”

  “You never sit in it,” Chelsea said.

  “Of course, I do.”

  “I’ve never seen you. You’re always sitting on the edge of the desk or over at the conference table. Or you’re walking around talking on the phone.”

  She was right. He did avoid actually sitting in the chair. “I made my mother cry the last time I sat in it.” Where had that come from, he wondered the moment that he’d spoken the words aloud. He never talked about his mother. Not to anyone.

  “How did you make her cry?” Chelsea asked.

  Perhaps it was the way she looked at him, but Zach found himself telling her what had happened that day when he was five and he’d made the mistake of using his father’s pen.

  “You didn’t make her cry. Your father did when he yelled at you for something that wasn’t your fault,” Chelsea said in a very matter-of-fact tone when he’d finished. Then very slowly, she lowered her mouth to his and kissed him.

  It was different. There was a sweetness in the kiss that he hadn’t felt before.

  She was the one who drew back first. “C’mon. I have an idea.”

  Before he could stop her, she had rolled off of him and had risen to her feet. Then reaching down, she grabbed his hand and tugged. “It’s supposed to help to erase a bad memory if you replace it with a good one. Have you ever made love in a chair?

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No, I’m absolutely serious. Have you?”

  “I’m going to take the fifth on that one.”

  “Oh. That means yes, right?”

  “Chelsea,” he began.

  “It’s good that one of us has some expertise here because I’ve never—” She stopped short to frown at the chair, tilting her head to one side. “I suppose that there are various positions we could take?”

  “Several come to mind. Let me get this straight. You want me to make love to you in that chair?”

  “By George, I think you’ve got it!”

  “Yeah, it takes me a while sometimes.” When she took his arms to push him into the chair, he scooped her up by the waist and carried her with him. Once seated, he gripped her hips and positioned her so that she was straddling him.

  “Oh,” she said again as he pushed himself into her. “Ohhh.”

  “Is this what you had in mind?”

  “Mmmm, even better. Once you get it, you’re really quite good.”

  “Chels.” He was chuckling as he drew her face close so that he could nip her ear. “If you continue to make me laugh, you may not get the results you’re looking for.”

  “Then I’ll get serious,” she murmured as she took his mouth with hers.

  She got very serious. And so did he.

  “THAT’S ABOUT IT, Romano,” Zach said, then turned to Chelsea. “Unless you have anything to add?”

  Chelsea shook her head. Sam Romano the security consultant Zach had hired was seated across the conference table from her. The lean, dark-haired man wore a well-tailored suit and had been taking copious notes since he’d arrived. And Chelsea was trying to put her finger on the reason she sensed a certain tension between the two men.

  Maybe it was because they were so much alike—both tall and dark and strikingly handsome. Each had charm to burn, although Sam Romano’s particular brand was much more overt—from the laugh that seemed to be perpetually present in his dark brown eyes to his easy tone and engaging grin. Chelsea had a hunch that all of his clients must trust him and if they were female they probably fell a little bit in love with him right from that first handshake.

  “What I need from your firm is a bodyguard for Chelsea,” Zach said.

  Sam stopped writing for a moment and glanced up from his notebook. “I agree. I’ll be on the job first thing in the morning.”

  “You?” Zach asked, then frowned. “I was assuming that your firm had people who specialized in providing personal protection. You don’t look like a bodyguard.”

  Sam grinned at him. “That’s why I make a good one. Before I went to work for Sterling Security, I worked as a private investigator in my cousin’s firm. When there’s a job that calls for street experience, Sterling usually turns it over to me.”

  Zach’s frown didn’t fade as he studied Sam for a moment. Then he reached over to cover Chelsea’s hand with his. “As long as you understand that Ms. Brockway’s welfare is very important to me. She’ll be staying with me at my apartment until this matter concerning her safety is resolved. Do we understand each other?”

  Zach was staking out a claim, Chelsea realized. No wonder she’d sensed tension between the two men. Before she could sort out the feelings moving through her—pleasure, annoyance—Sam nodded. “I understand you perfectly. Between us, I think we can watch over Ms. Brockway. The problem is that she might not be the only one in danger.”

  “What do you mean?” Zach asked.

  Sam flipped through his notes. “The car you mentioned—the one that nearly ran you down near Rockefeller Center. It would have hit you both, right? And you received a threatening note this morning reminding you of it. This person may have a grudge against you and Ms. Brockway could just be an innocent bystander.”

  Trying to ignore the quick spurt of fear shooting through her, Chelsea laced her fingers with Zach’s. “Sam’s right. You need a bodyguard, too.”

  “Maybe not.” Zach met Sam’s eyes squarely. “I’m going to tell you something that I didn’t tell the police. I think it might have been my brother who’s sending the notes. He might be behind the phone calls, too. He wants me to resign from my job here at the magazine. But I’m not in any personal danger. I do
n’t believe he’d hurt Chelsea either. He’d only want to scare her.”

  “Unless he was behind the wheel of that car,” Sam said. “But let’s suppose, for the moment, that it’s not your brother. As I understand it, you’ve just stepped in as editor of Metropolitan and you intend to make a lot of changes. Some people might resent that and want to see you fail.”

  “Yes, I suppose so.” Pausing, Zach frowned. “But if it’s someone here at the magazine who has something against me, why would they take it out on Ms. Brockway? I don’t see the connection.”

  Sam leaned forward. “You’ve signed her to a contract. If her articles do well for the magazine, that would be a feather in your cap. Right?”

  Zach nodded. “I suppose.”

  “Who here at the magazine would like to see you fail?” Sam asked.

  “Bill Anderson and Hal Davidson would head the list,” Zach said. “Then you can add the rest of my editorial staff.”

  Sam flipped to a fresh page in his notebook. “Tell me about them.”

  By the time Zach had finished, Sam was frowning thoughtfully. “I’ll have them checked out. The fact that Christmas is just days away will slow the process down a little.”

  “You got any hunches?” Zach asked.

  Sam shook his head. “It’s too soon. It could be that we’ve got two different things going on here. On the one hand, there are some people who are very, shall we say, disgruntled about your new position as editor of Metropolitan. Some even want you to step down. Then there are others who are upset about the kind of articles that Ms. Brockway is writing for the magazine so they want to put a stop to that.”

  “You’re saying there might be more than one person behind all this?” Chelsea asked.

  “Bingo,” Sam said. “Or it could be just one person—say your ex-boyfriend. If he’s the kind of looney tune that Detective Perez had in mind.” He shifted his gaze to Zach. “I’ll check him out. And your brother, too.”

  Zach’s gaze narrowed. “You think both of them could be involved?”