Early to Bed Read online

Page 8


  But he wouldn't have stopped with merely holding her. He would have done what he'd been thinking about doing all morning. What he wanted to do right now. He would have made love to her. And he wasn't at all sure that's what she needed.

  In the time he'd taken to change his clothes, he'd promised himself that he was going to give her time. He was going to give them both some time.

  But he needed to do something about the sadness.

  "Why would your father doubt that you would do your job?" he asked. His own father had never once doubted that he could take over the responsibility of running the hotel. He wondered for a moment just how different his life would have been if his dad hadn't had that kind of faith in him.

  "It's a long story/' she said.

  "We've got some time." Tony nodded his head to-. ward the window. "That rain is still in the downpour stage." When she still hesitated, he said, "At least give me the Reader's Digest version."

  She sighed. "In a nutshell, he's never believed that I could be successful in an executive position at McNeil Enterprises. He let me know that for the first time when I was ten, and ever since then I've been determined to prove him wrong. So far, it's been a standoff. The fact that my stepbrother just called him to report that I was kissing you in the lobby has brought back all of his doubts about my competence. And my stepmother is right there, chanting my past failures at him like a Greek chorus."

  "A Greek chorus, huh?" Tony smiled at her. "I've got my share of them around here, too. Let me tell you how I see it. First off, your stepbrother is a jerk."

  Lily's lips curved and some of her tension eased. "We can agree about that, at least."

  "You're beautiful when you smile. Did you know that?" He traced a finger along her cheek where a flush at his words tinted her skin.

  "I'm not beautiful," she said. "And I—"

  "You're not beautiful all the time," he interrupted. "Most of the time you're merely pretty."

  "Merely pretty—" Her eyes narrowed, and he was pleased to see that the last trace of sadness had vanished from her eyes—to be replaced by a hint of annoyance.

  "See. There's another thing we can agree on," he pointed out.

  "Thanks. I think."

  He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "But when you smile, you take my breath away."

  The mix of pleasure and confusion that filled her eyes had him rethinking his earlier resolution to give them both some time. He wasn't sure that he could.

  He slipped a finger down to where her pulse was beating frantically at her throat. "You are so responsive."

  She cleared her throat and stepped back against the side of the bed. "I don't think we should talk about that."

  He didn't drop his hand. "Okay. What were we talking about before—? Your brother. He reminds me a little of my brothers. I've just spent the past hour being grilled by them. They're worried that I'm going to let you lead me down the garden path, and that I'll sign over the hotel to you—or some such nonsense. Can you believe that?" "Yes...I mean, no. I mean..."

  Tony wondered if she realized how transparent her thoughts were. She was not a woman who was good at deception. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was having trouble meeting his eyes again. "Even if you were," he continued, "they're certainly not giving me a heck of a lot of credit, thinking that I'd let you do something like that."

  "Right," she managed to answer. And then she did meet his eyes. "You'd be a tough man to fool."

  "Exactly. I've just spent the morning convincing them that I'm a big boy and I can take care of myself." He gripped her chin, tilting it up so that she couldn't look away. "I want to know what I can do to convince you of that, too."

  "Why?"

  He trailed one finger down her throat again, but he kept his eyes steady on hers. "Because I want very much to make love to you again, and I don't think you'll enjoy it until we clear some things up."

  He felt the hitch in her breath and the fast beat of her pulse against his finger.

  "I don't think that we should."

  "Clear things up?" he asked. The running clothes she wore were slate blue and hugged every curve. He fingered the smooth, slick fabric that covered her shoulders and thought of the silky softness that lay beneath.

  "I don't think we should make love again. It wouldn't be wise."

  "Probably not." He lowered his head until his lips were a breath away from hers. "But it would be fun."

  She turned her head to avoid his mouth. "I like to keep business and pleasure separate."

  "I couldn't agree more." He traced his finger along the delicate line of her collarbone and then back to that frantically beating pulse. She raised both hands and spread them against his chest, but she wasn't pushing him away.

  "Business and pleasure should always be separate," he continued, "and we're both old enough and smart enough to keep them that way, wouldn't you agree?"

  "Yes, but..."

  "Then it's settled. We'll talk about business when we go for that run. But right now, I think we could both use some pleasure." He drew back a little and met her eyes steadily. "I want you, Lily. I want to touch you. I want to be inside of you again when you come."

  She stared at him and felt her muscles melt. How could she still be standing?

  "Tell me that you don't want me, and I'll walk right out of here. All our future dealings will be strictly business."

  Her throat was dry, her skin icy and hot all at once.

  "I can't tell you that."

  He lowered his head again and closed his teeth around her bottom lip, then soothed the small pain with his tongue. "Then tell me that you want me to make love to you."

  He was backing her into a corner. She thought of crossing her fingers and trying a lie, but before she could, he covered her hands and linked his fingers with hers. "Say the words, Lily."

  "You don't play fair," she said.

  He smiled then—a very slow smile that ruthlessly made use of his dimples. Then he leaned down and scraped his teeth against her neck, just where her pulse was pounding so furiously that she wondered how they could make themselves heard above it.

  "I play to win. Tell me you want to make love with me."

  She slipped her hands free and wrapped her arms around him. "I want you. I really shouldn't, but I want you so much."

  "You've got me." This time the scrape of his teeth on her neck was sharper and so was the pleasure that arrowed through her. She pulled at the string on his sweatpants, but his hands gripped hers and drew them away.

  "This time we are definitely going to take it slowly," he said.

  "Right," she said, the challenge clear in her eyes.

  She saw his lips curve at the same time that heat flashed into his eyes. He raised her hands to his lips and brushed them over one knuckle and then the other. "Very slowly, until you can think only of me. Want only me."

  A shudder moved through her. Then his mouth hovered over hers. She felt his breath on her lips before he tilted his head and feathered kisses along her jaw.

  "I want to see you this time. All of you. Let me undress you, Lily."

  "Mmmmm." She wasn't sure she could refuse him anything.

  Dropping her hands, Tony took the edge of her T-shirt and drew it up and over her head. She wore a sheer pink bra beneath, and she began to tremble as he ran one finger along the edge of it, tracing the narrow lace border and finally drifting lower to circle her nipple. Then he traced the same path on her other breast.

  By the time he took his mouth on the same journey Ms fingers had taken, her eyes had drifted shut.

  Rain hissed at the window, and time seemed to expand as Tony continued to move his hands over her. His fingers were tracing her lips, her shoulders, her arms, her ribs, as if he was determined to explore every inch of her. No one had ever made her feel this way— as if she were a fragile piece of glass.

  She was still standing. Her feet had to be on the floor because she could feel the press of the bed against her hips and her legs. Bu
t she could have sworn she was floating. Her running shorts slithered down her legs. His fingers trailed up her thighs. She heard her low moan of approval. "I've been wanting to do this since you stepped off that elevator this morning." He ran one finger over the sheer silk of her panties until it pressed against her heat. Lily felt the slow burn turn into a flashfire. More. She wasn't sure if she'd said the word or thought it.

  He slid his finger beneath the edge of her panties. "I wanted to get you out of that neat little suit so that I could touch you like this." He slid a finger into her heat.

  She erupted immediately. Her body stiffened and she called out his name as the pleasure shot through her in a huge wave that built and built and built until it crashed around her.

  He was struggling against the need to hurry as he lifted her and laid her on the bed. As he peeled off his clothes and sheathed himself in a condom, he could feel his control shredding. He had to touch her again. More than the need to rush, to possess, to conquer was the need to bring her to that shuddering peak of pleasure again. He wanted that for her—for him.

  He began to run his hands over her and then he used his mouth, ruthlessly exploiting the weaknesses that he'd discovered earlier. In some part of his mind, he knew that he wasn't being gentle, just as he hadn't been before. But everywhere he touched, she was waiting, willing. A man could get addicted to that kind of generosity and to the sound of her voice as she cried out his name. He had to have more. The word became a drumbeat in his head, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

  When her fingers dug into his shoulders and she arched against him, he braced over her and focused on her face. He needed to see her, her mouth swollen from his kiss, her eyes half-closed and dazed with pleasure.

  He'd promised her that she'd think only of him, want only him, but as he pushed into her and felt her close around him, he thought only of Lily and wanted only her. And then he couldn't think at all. Pleasure. Ecstasy. There wasn't a word to describe what he felt as they moved together. She raced with him, matching him move for move, heartbeat for heartbeat until he felt her body stiffen. Then he drove them both over the edge.

  When he finally surfaced, Tony found that he and Lily were snuggled like spoons again in the middle of the bed. Outside, the rain had stopped, and the sun was making a cameo appearance between the dark clouds that still hung over the city. The suite had become so quiet that he could hear the steady sound of Lily's breath each time she exhaled.

  He didn't want to move. In fact, he was pretty certain he could have been happy lying right where he was for a very long time. A sudden thought had him stifling a laugh. Now he knew exactly what Goldilocks must have experienced when Little Bear's bed felt "just right."

  Only in his case, he was pretty sure that the "just right" feeling had little to do with the bed and everything to do with the woman he was holding in his arms. Oh, she felt just right, that was for sure. He should be worried about that. But he couldn't quite work up the energy. Lily sighed in her sleep and pressed even closer to him. Tony bet that she wouldn't be quite so comfortable doing that if she was awake.

  That was just one more problem he had to deal with.

  And then there was the sabotage. He would stand by what he'd said to his brothers. Lily had nothing to do with it. He'd checked his day planner and she had called him to make an appointment on March fifteenth. But something in his gut told him that she was not connected to any "disaster" that was headed his way. And he intended to prove it. To do that he needed more information, and his best bet for getting it was lying right in his arms.

  The sudden knocking at the door had him stifling a curse. It could only be family. None of the guests in the hotel had a key to the rooftop floor. He'd slipped his arm out from under Lily, when the knock sounded again, and she stirred. A second later, she sat straight up in bed. "I'll go."

  "It'll be family," Tony said. "I call dibs on murdering him or her."

  "Don't be ridiculous." She slid off the side of the bed and began to pull on her running clothes. A second later, she was out the door.

  Nope. She wasn't a bit comfortable about waking up in the same bed with him. Not yet. If someone had shot a starting gun, he doubted that she could have made it out of the bedroom much faster.

  His father had once confided in him that women were work. Personally, he'd never thought so himself—until now.

  After sliding off the bed, he stooped down to get his sweats, and a slip of paper caught his eye. It contained one sentence in Lily's almost perfect script.

  "I want Henry's Place."

  Two dogs and one bone, Tony thought as he pulled on his sweats and slipped the paper in the pocket. Oh yeah, he had his work cut out for him all right. He wanted a woman who wanted to take his hotel away from him.

  He definitely had his work cut out for him.

  ______6______

  Lily hurried across the upper level of the suite and wondered what in the world she'd been thinking. But of course, she hadn't been thinking. When it came to Tony Romano, she didn't think at all. The synapses of her brain just morphed into mush. Reaching the door, she drew in a deep breath and then opened it. Then she just stared at the huge arrangement of red roses. There had to be two dozen, maybe three. There was only one person who'd ever sent her red roses—Giles Fortescue. He'd sent them to her regularly during the six months that he'd courted her. Her stomach sank as she reached for the card.

  "Please join me in the cocktail lounge in the lobby of the Waldorf-Astoria at seven. For old time's sake. Giles." As quickly as if the note had singed her fingers, she tucked it back into the flowers.

  "You have an admirer."

  Tony moved past her to lift the vase, but she blocked the doorway when he turned. "I don't want them.

  Send them back." "Too late," he said. "I don't think the florist will accept a return like this."

  "No." She pressed a hand against his chest as he stepped forward. "I want them returned to Giles Fortescue. He's right here in the hotel. I saw him register." "He can still get to you." Tony took his time setting the flowers back down and quickly scanned the note as he did. Odd—he'd never noticed before that jealousy could pierce like an icy blade in the gut.

  "No. That is..." Turning, she paced back into the suite, then whirled to face him. "I'm the one who gets to me. I'm still angry with myself that I fell for his line. I was so gullible. For six months, I thought he was in love with me." Waving a hand, she began to pace again. "Worse, I thought I was in love with him. Turns out all he wanted was a marriage that would solidify the financial arrangements between his family's company and my father's. They were planning a merger, and the wedding was part of the deal. Everyone knew all about it except me. Giles informed me two weeks before the wedding. That's when he explained to me that we would have a 'modern' marriage. Of course we would have to produce a child, but after that, we could go our separate ways." Turning toward him again, she raised a hand and tapped her forehead. "Can't you see the word stupid engraved right here?"

  "No." Tony stepped back into the suite and closed the door on the flowers. "What's the matter with your family? Why did they treat you that way? Why didn't they tell you up front that it was a marriage of convenience?"

  '"Anyone with half an ounce of common sense would have known.' That's what my stepmother said. She was astonished that I would think that someone with Giles's sophistication and taste would actually fall in love with someone like me. Or that he would even consider being faithful."

  "That would be Jerry the jerk's mother?" Tony asked. He wanted to pace himself. But he would wait

  until the right people were around to vent his anger. "What about your father?"

  "My father is all business. It probably never occurred to him that anyone would view marriage as anything but a business arrangement." "What did you do when you found out?" She shifted her gaze from his. "The usual. I wrote Giles a note breaking off the engagement and ran away. I'm good at running away. I'm not good at confrontations."
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  His eyes narrowed as he studied her for a moment. "You could have fooled me. The first time I saw you sleeping on this couch, I guessed you were a born fighter. And you were holding your own with the jerk this morning." With me, too, he could have added.

  She met his eyes then. "The old Lily used to run away from fights. I've spent the past two years trying to turn myself into the new Lily."

  "I like her," he said. And when he saw the stunned expression come into her eyes, he had to clamp down on his anger all over again. She looked as though no one had ever told her that before. What was wrong with her family? Were they too stupid to see the kind of person she was? He moved to her and gathered her into his arms. "But as much as I like the new Lily, I think I would have liked the old one, too."

  The moment Tony wrapped his arms around her, Lily tried to stiffen. She began to list in her mind all the reasons why she should back away. But even as she summoned them up, they streamed away. It felt so good just to lay her head against his chest and lean against him. His steady heartbeat lulled her. Unlike the other times he'd held her, there was no fire, no explosion of pleasure. All she felt was a sweet, spreading warmth. Oh, standing here felt much more than good. It felt just right. If anyone else had ever held her this way, she'd forgotten it, and she found herself wanting to stay right where she was, perhaps forever.

  It was that thought that finally had her drawing back.

  "I know just what you're going to say," Tony said, dropping his arms. "Time to get back to business." He hitched his head toward the door. "We'll take that

  As he took her hand and drew her with him out the door, she wondered why she felt so let down.

  "YOU'RE good," Tony said, slowing as they neared the end of a path. And she was. After jogging the ten blocks to the park, they'd run for fifty minutes, or roughly four miles, at a steady pace. And in spite of the fact that his legs were longer, he hadn't had to slow his pace by much. "Let's walk for a bit."

  "I should get back to the hotel. I want to translate my notes onto my laptop."