Long, Slow Surrender Page 3

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “So, tell me what is so amusing to you.”

  “I like your apartment.”

  “Not your usual style, is it?”

  There was a guarded tone in his voice that she had heard when he was near Theodore. He’d never used it around her before now. It stung her to hear it now, with her.

  “Connor, I am serious. I like all of it.” A painting hung over the couch, and she turned around for a better look. A nude lady, tastefully done, she’d give him that, but still naked. She pointed at the pouty, dark-skinned beauty in the picture. “Well, expect that painting.”

  Her statement helped. He relaxed again, the other corner of his mouth tilting upward. “All women seem to dislike her. It’s a beautiful painting.”

  “Well, yes, but if you had other paintings…” She stopped and looked around the room. There were other paintings. Some landscapes, some portraits, and one small sculpture. “You like art?”

  He gave a curt nod. “I know you wouldn’t expect someone of my caliber to be into art, but I am. Women of your stature don’t expect much from men like me.”

  Still shocked that he liked art, she wasn’t even mildly annoyed by his stereotypical statement, only curious about his interests. “You don’t think very highly of women of my distinction do you?”

  “If I say ‘yes’ you’ll take it personally, right?”

  She nodded.

  He thought for a minute, his fingers silently drumming on the arm of the chair. “Well, you’re okay, but you have to admit, most of the highly intelligent and successful barracudas are annoying as hell, not to mention rude.”

  She agreed with that, but just like everything else, there were bad women and there were good women. She wanted to be one of the good ones. “I am a good person, period. I couldn’t live the life I do, performing my job as well as I do, if I wasn’t.”

  “Yes, but does that ever get old? Does the job ever get old?”

  Sometimes she worried she worked too much. That she was missing something in her life, but her work was important. “Connor, people get hurt every day from things that aren’t supposed to hurt them. It’s my job to see that not only are people compensated, but more importantly, that corporations change their behavior and that nobody gets hurt anymore.” He smiled. She liked his smile. It was never a grin, but a mere lifting of his lips at the corners. Very Connor-like.

  “You are going to be director someday, aren’t you?”

  “I’d like to.” She stared at the small sculpture on the table in the corner. “It’d be nice to be completely successful at what I do. To leave my mark within OSHA.” Connor remained silent, and too late, Michelle realized that she’d probably said the wrong thing. She changed the subject. “So I’m thinking Theodore will show up at eight. What do you think?”

  Connor looked quite relieved. “If he shows up, it won’t be until after CSI Miami. It’ll take him fifteen to twenty minutes to get over here, so ten thirty.”

  “Ten thirty? Theodore is too worried about appearances to drop in that late, especially unannounced.”

  His expression reflected unwavering confidence. “Ten thirty. Trust me. You can set every clock you own by Theodore. I figured that you’d know that by now.”

  “Actually, I’ve tried to live my life as Theodore free as possible.”

  “Lucky you. Unfortunately, I have no choice in the matter. But he’s all right when you get to know him.”

  Michelle traced the soft fabric of the couch. “It’s really not all that bad. It’s not like Theodore is a horrible person. It’s just”—she struggled to explain something she didn’t understand herself—“I need to be me. Out of everybody, you should understand that best.”

  He studied her over his bottle. “Who are you?”

  “Good question. I don’t know the answer to that yet, but I’m not happy with who I am now.”

  He took a drink and swallowed. “Thought you’d be beside yourself. Making very good money, an upstanding young dentist who wants to marry you, you’re intelligent and very attractive. What’s not to be excited about?”

  “How did you learn to be content with who you are?”

  He did smile that time. “You mean, me, the financially strapped sous chef?”

  Oh, right. “You’re not anywhere near the poor house.”

  “Maybe not poor, but I don’t make anywhere near the money you do, sweetheart.” He didn’t sound like he was kidding.

  “Really?” She shook her head, not letting him distract her. “You are trying your best to avoid my question.”

  “Why do you think I actually have an answer?” he retorted.

  “Because it appears that you do. Aren’t you happy with who you are?”

  Connor exhaled slowly. “Majority of the time.”

  What? Big shock number two. She leaned forward, wanting to dig for more information, and he shook his head, then picked up the DVD case.

  “So, are we really supposed to watch this?”

  The easygoing persona was back, the serenity that made her want to see if his heart was still beating, if his blood could still run hot.

  “Unless you can think of something better to do?” She looked at him, trying for a sexy, torrid stare, but ending up with a heated face. Shoot. This was not going well.

  Connor watched her for a minute, and tension weighed heavy in the air. Finally, he stood and placed the DVD into the player. She was impressed at the high quality of it.

  “Do you want anything else to drink before I start? Soda, juice, beer.”

  Michelle started to refuse, since she’d barely finished her first drink, but then changed her mind. “Beer.” After all, the purpose of hanging out with Connor tonight was to let her hair down a bit. She reached up to the elastic band at the back of her head and pulled it free, trying to get rid of the small bump that never failed to be there when she did.

  Again, Connor watched her for a few minutes. Finally, he nodded. “I’ll get your beer.”

  While he was gone, she toed off her shoes and settled comfortably on the couch. Okay, this was better than she thought it would be. When she had been a child, she could lie down on the couch. But that all changed after her dad’s job promotion. Her parents now lived in a ritzy part of San Diego with overpriced items everywhere. No lying down on their couch. One had to use the utmost care just to take a seat.

  A few moments later, he appeared, and placed the bottle on the well-used coffee table in front of her, and then looked rather fixedly at the television.

  “Could you turn down the lights a little?” she asked. He whipped his head in her direction and she offered a small smile. “To set the ambiance in case Theodore shows up.”

  He stood, flipped the light switch, and the room turning a deep shade of indigo, the last bit of sun long gone. Connor sat down, looking more determined than ever.

  Ah, sweet progress.

  She curled up on the couch, struggling to contain her smile. The movie was actually good. A great drama, with action and some steamy love scenes. She wasn’t brave enough to stare pointedly at Connor during the intimate moments, but she did peek out the corner of her eye. His jaw looked pretty tight, and there was a bead of sweat on his upper lip. She shifted a little on the couch, and crossed her legs at the ankle.

  When a knock sounded at the door, they both jumped. Connor shut off the TV quickly and room went dark.

  Michelle looked at the clock. Ten thirty? Already? Gee, time flew when you were watching porn, um, a movie.

  “That’s Theodore, isn’t it?”

  “Definitely,” Connor answered.

  Theodore.

  It was show time.

  Michelle looked at Connor, shirt untucked, chest untouched, and she glanced down at her own still-ironed look. Even the couch, with all its comfortableness, couldn’t get rid of the starch.

  “Great. We don’t look like we’ve been doing anything.”

  Connor looked at her with a deadpan stare. “U
sually women just get this look about them. Some sort of natural response.”

  She wanted to laugh at him, but darn it, she needed to think. This was important to get right. “No, Connor, remember this is supposed to be a heated affair. We need to look like you can’t stand one minute without touching me. Remember,” she stressed the words, “Theodore needs to think he doesn’t have a chance.”

  The doorbell rang, and Connor lowered his voice to a furious whisper. “This was your idea. What are we supposed to do? Get a little down and dirty on the carpet while magically opening the door so Theodore walks in?”

  She looked at the carpet and got a nice visual. She decided right then and there that someday, someday indeed, she would get down and dirty on the carpet with him.

  The knock on the door lasted longer this time.

  “Hang on a second. I’m coming,” Connor shouted, still standing several feet away from her, looking completely untouched. Michelle took a step toward him. “Look, this is supposed to be a real date. What would Theodore expect to find?” She wanted to know exactly what was expected when it came to a sultry and torrid affair because she hadn’t the slightest idea.

  His smile was slow, but provocative. “Sweetheart, if this was a real date, you’d be lucky to have your clothes on.”

  She almost drowned in the absolute hedonistic image he provoked.

  Clothes.

  Crap!

  She looked down at her clothes. They were definitely too tidy. Something had to be done about that. Quickly. She shook her head free of her lustful thoughts. Not now.

  “Okay. Here, let me do something with my shirt. I should undo a few buttons or something.”

  She reached frantically for her buttons, Theodore now knocking insistently and firmly at the door. Well, he could just wait. Very quickly, she undid the tiny buttons, popping them free.

  She pulled the stiff cotton material free of her pants and made the rather huge mistake of looking at Connor. Her fingers froze. His eyes were leveled on the brown, lacy bra she wore underneath her shirt. Okay, her chest was somewhat small, but she liked to think of herself as pert.

  The way Connor was looking right now, as if she were a delectable treat he wanted to devour, she was beginning to like small and pert, but she really did need to get a move on. Unfortunately, none of her muscles seemed to work.

  Connor finally spoke, his voice a little hoarse. “You need to button up. Theodore definitely doesn’t need to see you like this.”

  She almost reminded him that was exactly why she’d unbuttoned them, but decided now was not the time to debate it. She fumbled a little. The buttonholes had mysteriously shrunk a few sizes too small, and her hands had grown much clumsier.

  With a low curse, he brushed her hands aside and began the task himself.

  “Connor, don’t button them up right. I’m supposed to look ravished.”

  His hands froze. Right on top of her breasts.

  Oh, my.

  He muttered something under his breath, but she couldn’t make it out. “Connor, focus. Connor, your brother is on the other side of your front door.” His hand brushed against her skin. She jumped. “Connor, you need to hurry up.”

  The knock on the door lasted longer this time.

  Connor looked up, eyes dark with lust. “Don’t speak to me right now. I just need to get these damn buttons fastened. How did you manage to find a shirt with so many buttons? I told you I wouldn’t be able to handle priesthood well.”

  “How long has it been?” she asked, trying to distract both of them.

  “Two months.”

  She bit her lip to hold back her groan.

  He gritted his teeth, and his finger brushed against her nipple.

  She emitted a choked gasp.

  Her nipples grew even perkier, clearly visible under the brown satin. Connor’s breathing turned shallow.

  Oh, my.

  Not knowing what else to do, she apologized. “I’m sorry.”

  He stopped fumbling with the buttons and focused on her face. A deep blush appeared under his skin, very noticeable underneath the shadow of whiskers clinging to his jaw. Her fingers lifted, craving the touch.

  “You haven’t done anything. I should be the one apologizing.”

  She started to explain that she was apologizing for her nipples and his breathing problem, but realized this was not what a sexy, sultry seductress would do. Yet, there had to be something she could do. Her breasts were in his hands; there was definitely something she could do.

  And so, she kissed him.

  * * * *

  She was trying to kill him. All that silky skin. And her mouth. Now he knew exactly what that wicked mouth tasted like. Pure sin. Damn, but if she didn’t kiss better than the best sex he’d ever had. He tugged her down on the couch and took over the kiss, letting his tongue explore the inside of her mouth. It was like a drug in his head, and he couldn’t breathe. His hands fumbled with the clasp at the front of her bra until it broke and he was able to touch her bare flesh. He was going to die from lust. He had to—

  “Oh, Connor,” she whispered in his ear, and he was beyond grateful that, at that moment, he was named Connor and not—

  There was brief knock on the door, followed by louder knocking.

  “Michelle! Are you okay?”

  Theodore.

  Connor lifted his head. “Theodore, go away!” He stared at Michelle’s face. So soft, so delicate.

  What was she doing with a man like him?

  Rational thought returned.

  Theodore.

  Still, he couldn’t look away. She looked almost bewildered, hazel eyes dazed and confused, with remnants of passion.

  He had so needed her to be the rational one. With her body beneath him—how had that happened?—he didn’t want to be the logical one. It was physically painful to move away from her.

  “Michelle.”

  One corner of her mouth curved upward and he moved back, giving her space to sit up.

  “Connor.”

  “Michelle, we need to straighten your clothes. Theodore. I’m sorry.”

  The haze in her eyes cleared, her focus getting sharper. “Oh.”

  She looked down at the bra now hanging open uselessly, then looked up at him and chuckled. “Give me a second…”—he watched as she pulled the scrap of satin through her sleeves like a magician—“looks much better without it anyway. Don’t you think?”

  Her fingers recovered nicely, and she buttoned up a few strategic buttons, but now the pale green material covered places that he had just seen, conquered. Unable to do much else, he sat.

  Michelle moved to the door, but he raced after her and caught her before she could open it. This was important. There was one question he needed answered.

  “Michelle, why did you kiss me?”

  “Well, because…” She hesitated for a long moment and looked at her hands. Finally, she looked up at him, eyes big, wide, and full of residual passion. “I wanted to.”

  Another knock sounded on the door, and Connor flung it open, pissed off at his brother for interrupting, upset at Michelle for starting it, and angry at himself for thinking the thoughts that were racing through his head. Now he’d really screwed up. Now he wanted her. He looked through the open doorway, not really caring about appearances anymore.

  Theodore stood, looking neat in a button-down dress shirt and khaki pants He looked ready for a few rounds of country club golf. Next to him, in a tight skirt, hot pink fingernails, stiletto heels, and a blouse with hardly any material, stood Erica, looking ready to pitch a major fit.

  Chapter Three

  “Good evening, Theodore, Erica. I see you two have met.”

  Connor felt like he had an entire eighteen-wheeler in his throat.

  Theodore scowled, a deep flush coloring his neck. “Connor, I’ve been waiting fifteen minutes.”

  “Be happy that it was only fifteen,” Connor replied grumpily, then took a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time. “Well,
you arrive unannounced, but please, come in.”

  Erica appeared to cradle a pot of something that smelled awfully good, and although she tilted her chin in the direction opposite Connor, she followed Theodore into the apartment, which seemed to be getting more confined by the minute.

  Michelle settled herself on the couch again, looking extremely comfortable. Theodore sat next to her, and Connor noticed his eyes drifting toward Michelle’s cleavage every so often. If not for Erica, Connor would have pushed him off the couch and told him to keep his eyes off Michelle’s chest. Unfortunately, Connor had a hard time keeping his eyes at eye level, and was in no position to make such a demand.

  He watched as Erica sat down the covered container, then settled into his favorite chair. With no other choice, Connor tried to lean casually against the wall.

  There was a long silence, Theodore making a sound of irritation every now and then, his eyes still darting to Michelle’s shirt. Finally, Connor couldn’t take it anymore. “Stop it, Theodore.”

  The remark seemed to work, and Theodore took out his handkerchief and wiped at his forehead.

  Michelle extended her hand to Erica. “Hello, I’m Michelle.”

  Clearly, that was more that Erica could put up with.

  “Connor, you told me you were sick. You sounded so ill on the phone, all the coughing and sniffling. I thought I’d find you here, curled up on the floor, dying and miserable.” She waved a hand toward the container on the floor. “I even brought you some of my homemade potato soup. It’ll have you back on your feet in less than a day.”

  “Connor, you jerk!” Theodore burst out, obviously believing that Erica was not capable of sticking it to Connor on her own.

  Connor turned to Michelle and waited. She continued to quietly hold her tongue. Intelligent woman. This was her doing. Well, okay, he shouldn’t have told Erica he was sick, but how did a person call someone three hours before a date and say, “Um, I’ve finally been given the chance by the woman of my dreams and I won’t be seeing you for around one hundred and nineteen days, and about eight hours.” Illness seemed so much easier to explain. Of course, he could have told Erica the truth, but what female in their right mind would buy that? Hell, he was a guy, and he wouldn’t have believed it.