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Our First Kiss
Judy Lynn Hubbard
All Marcy Johnson ever wanted was to share her life with that special someone. And within the city’s pool of eligible men, no one has yet proven himself to be the one for her.The New York stockbroker wonders if she’s destined to remain forever single. Powerhouse D.C. attorney Nathan Carter just might change her mind. But Marcy’s sexy, caring lover is definitely hiding something… There’s no room in Nathan’s secret life for a complication like love. If Marcy knew that his law career was just a cover, she’d never trust him again. But the vibrant beauty refuses to give up on him–or their hot romance. When his latest Black Ops mission tears him from Marcy’s arms, Nathan must choose between duty… and the woman whose kiss he desires above all others.


Kiss by kiss, she’s breaking down all his defenses…
All Marcy Johnson ever wanted was to share her life with that special someone. And within the city’s pool of eligible men, no one has yet proven himself to be the one for her. The New York stockbroker wonders if she’s destined to remain forever single. Powerhouse D.C. attorney Nathan Carter just might change her mind. But Marcy’s sexy, caring lover is definitely hiding something….
There’s no room in Nathan’s secret life for a complication like love. If Marcy knew that his law career was just a cover, she’d never trust him again. But the vibrant beauty refuses to give up on him—or their hot romance. When his latest Black Ops mission tears him from Marcy’s arms, Nathan must choose between duty…and the woman whose kiss he desires above all others.
“It’s customary to seal that wish with a kiss,” she said, as she immediately pressed her mouth to his.
Once his mouth touched hers and those soft, honeyed folds parted so easily, he couldn’t help diving in. Her lips were quicksand, and he was drowning in them. He pulled her a little closer with the hand that was resting on her waist. He moved his free hand up and entangled it in her luxuriously thick, soft hair as he had longed to do since meeting her. He decided to let himself go a little deeper—for a little while longer.
When he slightly pushed her away, she weakly clung to his lapels, her eyes wide with wonder and longing. While the kiss was far too brief, at the same time it lasted much too long. He rationalized that he couldn’t afford any emotional involvements, especially not now. Marcy Johnson could quickly become that—if he let her, which was something he must not do.
“Wow.” Marcy sighed in breathless awe. “That was…” Her voice faded off as words escaped her.
“Deadly.” Nathan finished for her, his eyes darkening with barely restrained hunger. Somehow, he resisted the urge to feast on her luscious lips again, knowing he would be lost if he did.
JUDY LYNN HUBBARD
is a Texas native who has always been an avid reader—particularly of romance. Judy loves well-written, engaging stories with characters she can identify with, empathize with and root for. When writing, she honestly can’t wait to see what happens next; she knows if she feels that way, she’s created characters and a story that readers will thoroughly enjoy, and that’s her ultimate goal.
Our First Kiss
Judy Lynn Hubbard


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader,
I am pleased to present the sequel to Our First Dance, Our First Kiss, chronicling Marcy Johnson and Nathan Carter’s love story. These two wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote their story—especially Marcy; she’s very headstrong and tenacious, a fact the secretive Nathan quickly realizes. I love strong female characters like Marcy and the men who have their hands full trying to handle them. How about you?
I’ve had many requests for Nicole Carter’s story and you know I can’t disappoint you. I completed Our First Kiss, I started outlining Nicole and Alexander’s book, which will take us into the world of high fashion in Paris, France.
I hope you enjoy reading Our First Kiss as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please let me know what you think.
Happy reading!
Judy Lynn Hubbard
www.JudyLynnHubbard.com (http://www.JudyLynnHubbard.com)
Twitter: @JudyLynnHubbard (https://twitter.com/JudyLynnHubbard)
To my brother, Randy, a man of few words,
but many kind deeds who always gives unselfishly of himself.
You’ve always been the best brother a sister could wish for
and I love you, always.
Contents
Prologue (#u216a7a38-b494-5664-8fcb-c3ee4577c0e9)
Chapter 1 (#u41b698e8-dc8d-5f37-93c5-596b495f6b1c)
Chapter 2 (#uda8d27fd-9c36-5927-96be-af1332288b42)
Chapter 3 (#u2c47f54e-144c-5a62-867c-7d27f5ca9a67)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
Marcy glanced at her watch for at least the tenth time in the past half hour. Her mother and father glanced at each other and then back to their twenty-eight-year-old daughter, who was determinedly searching the room with her eyes.
“Do you have to be somewhere, dear?” Margaret made reference to her daughter’s obvious preoccupation.
“Definitely.” She secretively smiled.
“Where?” Michael laughed at the tenacious gleam in her eyes.
“I have to go and find Nathan.”
Her watch informed her it was a few minutes before midnight. She intended to be in Nathan’s arms when the clock struck twelve.
“What for?” Margaret eyed her daughter suspiciously. She hadn’t seen her this worked up over a man since...well, since never.
“For the usual midnight occurrence on New Year’s Eve.” Marcy’s eyes twinkled.
“Marcy, you’ve just met him,” Margaret gasped.
“Mom, tell me again how you and Dad met and how long it took you two to get involved?” Marcy laughingly reminded.
“She has you there, Margaret.” Michael kissed his wife’s cheek.
“You two are incorrigible.” Margaret laughed, a little embarrassed.
“We just know what we want and go after it, right, Dad?” Marcy winked at her father.
“Right, kitten,” he agreed. “Go and find Nathan, and give him my regards.”
“Oh, I will—right after I give him mine,” Marcy promised before hurrying off.
* * *
One minute before midnight, Marcy strategically positioned herself next to Nathan. She reached him just as the group countdown reached zero and white-and-black balloons along with colorful streamers miraculously began raining down on them.
“Happy New Year, Nathan.” She could tell her voice startled him as he turned around to face her.
“Happy New Year, Marcy,” he echoed.
Lord, she was gorgeous. Why did she have to be so darn beautiful, and why did he have to meet her now? More importantly, why did he have to be so attracted to her when he knew there was no way he could act on that attraction?
Instinctively, Marcy knew he was about to shake her hand. She negatively shook her head and placed possessive hands on his broad shoulders. He raised an eyebrow at her forwardness, and she smiled confidently.
“It’s customary to seal that wish with a kiss,” she said, as she immediately pressed her mouth to his.
Once his mouth touched hers and those soft honey folds parted so easily, he couldn’t help but dive in. Her lips were quicksand, and he was drowning in them. He pulled her a little closer with the hand that was resting on her waist. He moved his free hand up and entangled it in her luxuriously thick, soft hair as he had wanted to do since meeting her. He decided to let himself go a little deeper—for a little while more.
When minutes later he pushed her away, she weakly clinging to his lapels, her eyes wide with wonder and longing. While the kiss was far too brief, at the same time it lasted much too long. He rationalized that he couldn’t afford any emotional involvements—especially now. Marcy Johnson could quickly become that—if he let her—which was something he must not do.
“Wow.” Marcy sighed in breathless awe. “That was...” Her voice faded off as words escaped her.
“Deadly.” Nathan’s finished for her, his eyes darkening with barely restrained hunger. Somehow, he resisted the urge to feast on her luscious lips again, knowing he would be lost if he did. Unfortunately, he was halfway there already.
Chapter 1
Marcy Johnson was a determined woman on a single-minded mission. Her high-heeled navy pumps clicked furiously on the pavement as she resolutely made her way through the crowded Manhattan streets.
Her mind was focused on one thing—or more precisely on one person: Nathan Carter. She had only met him a week ago, but that first glance had been enough. He was definitely a man she wanted to get to know better. Now, she had one goal—getting the elusive hunk to admit he was interested in her, too.
They had shared a searing kiss on New Year’s Eve, but since then, he had avoided her like the plague; however, she had never been one to be put off for long, especially not when there was something she wanted. A smile tilted the corners of her mouth; Nathan Carter was about to find that out firsthand.
Not that she needed an excuse, but she did have a built-in reason to seek him out; his sister and her brother were getting married in three days, and as they were both in the wedding party, they naturally had things to discuss and do pertaining to the bride and groom.
Knowing which suite Nathan occupied, Marcy breezed into the very expensive ornate Muse hotel and made her way to the elevators without stopping at the reception desk. She had no intention of having herself announced so he could make up a convenient excuse not to see her. She smiled and punched the button that would take her to the designated floor. When the doors closed, she took a compact from her navy bag, freshened up her red lipstick and made sure her hair was in place before exiting the elevator when it stopped.
While she walked to Nathan’s door, she removed her black leather coat and peeled matching gloves from fingers. Brushing an imaginary piece of lint from the lapel of the figure-hugging navy skirt suit, she took a deep breath, released it and resolutely knocked on the door, waiting impatiently for Nathan to answer. When he did, she fought back a laugh when shock followed by vague annoyance registered on his handsome face.
“Good morning, Nathan,” she brightly greeted, walking past him into the room without waiting for an invitation.
“Come on in,” he said as he sarcastically waved his hand, closing the door behind her.
He scratched his hair-covered chin. Lord, help him! What was Marcy Johnson doing here, and more importantly why was he so glad to see her? Because you’re attracted to her, you idiot!
As always, she looked fabulous and smelled sinfully wonderful. Every nerve ending in his traitorous body stood at rapt attention as they did whenever they were in the same room together. He silently cursed her disastrous effect on his usual steadfast equilibrium.
“What’s wrong, handsome? Get up on the wrong side of the bed?”
Appreciative eyes slowly traveled over the white terry cloth robe he wore, lingering at the V opening that parted revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his smooth, muscled dark brown chest. She fought down an insane urge to jump inside the robe with him and let nature take its course—mmm, mmm, mmm!
“What are you doing here, Marcy?” He pulled his robe together and belted it tighter, eliciting a teasing smile from his gorgeous intruder.
“Well, since our respective siblings are getting married in a few days, I thought you might want to go shopping for a wedding present with me.”
He swallowed a groan as she sat on the edge of his unmade bed and crossed those shapely long legs, hitching the already outrageously short skirt higher on her upper thighs. Her actions caused a quickening of his pulse and an uncomfortable tightening in his groin.
Say no, he silently ordered. In a matter of weeks, maybe days, you’re on your way to Yemen with the rest of your team on a secret mission to rescue the U.S. envoy and his aides from insurgents. You don’t have the time or the right to start anything you know you can’t finish with Marcy, so nip it in the bud—now! Remember your training, and exhibit the self-control you know you possess. Even though you want to say yes, say no.
“I plan on doing my shopping later,” he replied.
“When?” At his silence, she smiled cajolingly. “Come on, Nathan. You have to buy them a present and so do I. Why not come along with me now?”
She stood, walked over to him and touched his arm, feeling firm muscles contract beneath her fingers. Lord, he was rock-solid hard. How did a lawyer get an athletic body like his? Everything about him was just yummy from his close-cropped black hair to his neatly trimmed goatee that just begged for her fingers’ touch. Her heart skipped several beats as she once again marveled at his dizzying effect on her.
“Don’t you have to be somewhere—like at work?”
“Not this morning.” Unable to resist, she took a step closer. “I’m going in later. I cleared my schedule especially for you. You’re not going to let me go to all that trouble for nothing, are you?”
“I appreciate...” He paused, groaning inwardly. He was so close to caving that it was embarrassing.
“Good, then let’s go.” Her fingers tightened on his arm.
A smile played about his lips. “Do you mind if I change first?”
“Don’t do it on my account.” Her eyes slowly traveled over his magnificent form, lingering on the revealed flesh of his legs and chest before locking with his eyes again.
“Well, I hardly think I can go out like this.” He shook his head at her.
She smiled and moved slightly closer to him until their bodies were almost touching. He smelled fresh and clean from a recent shower. His eyes darkened at her actions and seemed slightly unsteady. Good, I do affect him.
Removing her fingers from his arm, he moved purposefully away from temptation by walking a few feet away, bending down to pick up the clothes that were neatly laid out on the bed. He turned toward the bathroom.
“I’ll be ready in a minute,” he shot over his shoulder.
“I’ll be waiting,” she promised and laughed when he sighed loudly before closing the bathroom door behind him. She walked over to the closed door and leaned against it, “I can’t believe your parents let you stay in a hotel—albeit a luxurious one.”
“They weren’t happy about it, but I finally convinced them it was for the best.” His voice was muffled by the closed door.
“Why?”
She placed her hand on the brass knob, toying with the scandalous idea of opening it. What would he do if she sauntered in while he was dressing? The thought of the possible wonderful repercussions of such action on her part almost made her test him. But she decided to be good—for now.
“I’m officially on vacation, but there are some...things that I still need to be on top of. I’ll be getting phone calls at all hours, and it’s just easier if I have my own place.” Inside the bathroom, he smiled as he remembered his mother’s indignation as he had tried to explain that fact to her. She had not been pleased to say the least.
“A workaholic,” Marcy sympathized, reluctantly dropping her hand from the doorknob and walking a few steps away.
He chuckled. “You, too?”
“Uh-huh.”
She peered into his partially open closet. His clothes were neatly hung and ordered by type—shirts, dress pants, jeans, sweaters and several immaculate suits. His shoes were neatly lined at the bottom—also sorted by types. She smiled and made her way over to his dresser and picked up various objects, studying them. Again, everything was neatly lined up in its proper place indicative of a man who thrived on order; she could relate, but she was determined to inject a little well-aimed chaos into his orderly life while he was in town.
“Are you always so disciplined and in control, Nathan?”
“Always.” His response was quick and sure.
She chuckled. “I knew you were going to say that.”
Unable to resist, she opened a drawer and found his socks neatly folded and equally spaced. Another drawer housed his underwear—black boxers, each pair purposefully folded in the same dimensions. She ran her fingers lightly over the soft material, and her smile widened. He gave a new meaning to the word organized.
“What are you doing out there?”
“Waiting for you,” she innocently responded, closing one drawer and then the other. “Were you ever in the military?”
He was silent for a full twenty seconds before warily asking, “Why do you ask?”
“Because your room is extremely well ordered with everything in its proper place. You’re more organized than I am, and that’s saying something,” she said and laughed. “Nathan?” she prompted when he remained noticeably silent.
“I did a short stint in the marines after high school,” he finally answered.
That was an interesting tidbit. She stared at the still-closed bathroom door, curiosity piqued.
“Did you ever consider going career military.”
“No, military life wasn’t for me. I wanted to be a lawyer. I enjoy sparring with words more than with weapons or my fists.”
Okay, that was a necessary little white lie. He loved hand-to-hand combat, the nonstop action and the insane danger his secret military career exposed him to—or at least he had loved it; however, recently nagging doubts about his inability to carve out a normal personal life due to his unusual profession had started surfacing, making him question his priorities.
When he reentered the bedroom, Marcy lowered a bottle of cologne from her nose and returned it to its proper place. He arched an eyebrow at her intrusiveness.
“I’m ready.” He was dressed in a cream sweater and chocolate pants. He slipped his muscled arms into the sleeves of a brown leather bomber jacket.
God, he looked good! It should be a crime for a man to be so gorgeous. He held up her coat, and she walked over and slipped it on. Unable to help herself, she then looped her hand through his arm as they walked to the door.
He inwardly groaned at the feel of her body against his. Shoving his hands into his jacket pocket, he fought down an overwhelming urge to grab and bury all ten of his fingers deeply into that gorgeous hair of hers and pull her soft, tempting mouth against his.
“You’re going to have a good time, Nathan,” she promised as they entered the elevator.
Not if I can help it, he silently promised.
As if she could read his mind, Marcy’s smile widened—the sight was like a kick in the gut. Lord, she was a beautiful woman—one he had no business agreeing to go shopping with. He was just being polite to his future sister-in-law—no harm in that. Hell, if he could routinely deal with terrorists, assassins and threats against the United States or its citizens, he could handle going shopping with Marcy Johnson for a few hours. However, could he squelch his exponentially growing attraction to her? That was the real question for which he didn’t have a satisfactory answer.
* * *
“Isn’t this lovely, Nathan?” Marcy held up a silver photo album.
“Yes, lovely, just like the candlesticks were, and the picture frame and the tray at the other store,” he reminded her.
He was annoyed. What he had prayed would be a short trip had turned into a marathon. Why couldn’t women ever make up their minds? They had been window-shopping over two hours—he had spent two long agonizing hours fighting his attraction to this captivating, spirited woman, and each passing second in her presence felt like torture.
“True, but this is really nice, isn’t it?” She lightly fingered the inlaid rose pattern, undaunted by his exasperated tones.
“Yes, Marcy, it’s lovely,” he dryly repeated. “I don’t know why you’re wasting so much time over it. You’re not going to buy it.”
“Women like to browse and find the best bargains.” She wrinkled her nose at him as she replaced the album on the shelf. “What is it about men that you hate shopping?”
“We don’t mind shopping. What we do mind is the uncertainty you women exhibit at every turn. Men know what we’re looking for, go out, find it and buy it.”
“Well, you must not know what you’re looking for because you haven’t bought anything yet, either,” she sweetly reminded him.
“Maybe I’m not going to give them silver or crystal,” he quickly replied.
“No?” She placed her hands on her shapely hips. “Then what do you have in mind?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of...” His voice trailed off, and he thought fast but not fast enough.
“You have no idea what you’re going to get, do you?”
“Of course I do.”
“Really, then tell me what it is,” she challenged.
“I was thinking of something else, but since you dragged me to all of these crystal stores, I’ve decided on wineglasses.”
She smiled and pointed behind him. “They have some lovely ones here.”
“I saw them. They’re not what I’m looking for.”
“What type were you thinking about? Goblets? Champagne glasses? Flutes? Are you looking for a particular brand of crystal? Waterford? Baccarat? Mikasa? Bavari? Lennox?” She expertly rattled off possible choices.
“Stop hurling possibilities at me.” He smiled despite himself. “I’ll know them when I see them.”
“Sure you will.” She chuckled and couldn’t resist impishly adding, “There’s nothing indecisive about you.”
“Are you going to get that?” He pointed to the music box in her hands.
“No.” Marcy set the box down, linked her hand through his arm and pulled him away, smiling at his knowing smirk. “Let’s try this other little shop down the way.”
They exited one of the wonderful specialty shops in Greenwich Village and walked toward another. Marcy could get lost in this part of Manhattan for days. As they walked down the pedestrian-filled sidewalks surrounded by various shades of redbrick buildings on either side of the busy one-way street filled with cars, buses and cabs, Marcy glanced at the barren trees that littered the sidewalk; she couldn’t wait for them to bloom with the arrival of spring.
She had purposefully taken him to five different places simply to prolong their time together. Now she guided him into the store where the wedding present she had ordered for Damien and Natasha was being held.
“Ms. Johnson.” The female clerk beamed as they entered. “I know why you’re here. Let me go and get it.” She disappeared into another room.
Nathan’s lips thinned. “You’ve already bought Natasha and Damien’s present?”
“Yes.” Marcy laughed at his exasperation. “Wait until you see it.”
He sighed loudly and then asked, “Then why did you drag me to all those other shops?”
“I thought you might like some ideas,” she innocently responded. At his look of displeasure, she asked, “Is my company so unbearable?”
Quite the contrary; he enjoyed being with her. She was a breath of fresh air, and in her presence, he felt as carefree as sails of a boat being hoisted by liberating winds. He shouldn’t be here with her, but honestly, he had no desire to be anywhere else.
“I don’t like being played.” He tried to sound stern but failed miserably.
“And I love to play,” she admitted around a chuckle, touching his arm and moving closer to him. “What are we going to do about that blatant contradiction?”
He shook his head at her as a smile played about his lips. He had never met a more brazen or fascinating woman.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” he drawled.
“Oh, I’m sure I will,” she agreed.
“Here you are, Ms. Johnson.” The clerk returned carefully cradling a twelve-inch crystal sculpture of a male and female ballerina, limbs frozen in movement dancing close to each other.
“Oh, it’s gorgeous.” Marcy approved, gently taking the figure from the woman’s hands and lifting it for Nathan’s inspection. “Isn’t it, Nathan?”
“Yes, it’s very nice.” He smiled at the joy lighting up her face—joy at doing something for someone she loved.
She carefully placed it down on the glass countertop and flipped a switch in the back to send soft music filtering into the air. She cocked her ear listening and then enthused, “It’s perfect!”
“Is that music from the ballet?”
“Yes, it’s the theme song,” she informed him before returning her attention to the clerk. “You’ve done a wonderful job in such a short time.”
“We’re pleased you’re happy, Ms. Johnson,” the woman assured her as she took Marcy’s credit card. “Shall we gift wrap it for you?”
“Oh, yes in something white and silver. It’s a wedding gift.”
“We have just the thing,” the woman said. “Would you like to wait for it?”
Marcy glanced at Nathan and returned her attention to the clerk. “Yes, we’ll wait.”
“I don’t know how I’m going to top that.”
“Do you really think they’ll like it?” She turned anxious eyes on him.
“They’ll love it,” he responded positively, taking her hand in his reassuringly.
She glanced at their linked fingers and then back into his now slightly uncomfortable eyes. When he tried to drop her hand, she tightened her fingers in his.
“I like Natasha. She’s a wonderful woman.”
“Thanks. Damien seems devoted to her.”
“He is, and she’s perfect for him.”
“They certainly didn’t waste any time deciding to marry, did they?”
She frowned. “Why should they?”
“No reason.” At her curious stare, he elaborated, “It’s just not like Natasha to be so brash. I mean she and Damien haven’t known each other long.”
“It doesn’t matter how long you know someone. When your heart tells you that you’ve found your soul mate, you have to listen to it.” Her eyes never left his as she delivered her double entendre that wasn’t lost on him. “Besides, we Johnsons are a decisive lot, and when we make up our minds, we go full steam ahead until we achieve our goal.”
“Yes.” He warily stared into her twinkling eyes. “I’m realizing that.”
“That’s good,” she softly approved.
Her sexy voice stroked him in all the deliciously wrong places. Why did he have to meet her now when he logically knew he couldn’t do anything about the obvious attraction they both felt? Why did she insist on making things harder by refusing to stay away from him as he had been trying so hard to stay away from her?
“I’m going to look at some wineglasses.” Needing some distance, he disentangled his hand from hers and walked away; of course, she followed him.
“Those are lovely,”
She leaned close to him, brushing her arm against his. The maddening scent of her perfume assailed his over-heightened senses. He wanted to grab her and kiss her desperately. He wanted to press her soft, yielding body close to his and plunder. He wanted... Damn! Get a hold of yourself, man!
“I think I like those better.” He pointed at a pair of champagne flutes a few feet away from her—to gain some space between them.
To his amazement, she stayed put, but when he glanced back at her, she was smiling amusedly as if she was completely aware of what his intentions had been.
* * *
“How about an early lunch?” Marcy suggested as they left the store a short while later, Nathan carrying her package and a set of Baccarat champagne flutes he had bought.
“I really have a lot to do today,” he replied.
That was a lie. The truth was he was enjoying himself with her much too much. He needed to get away from her bubbly, contagious, easy-to-be-with personality. If things were different, though...
“You have to eat, don’t you?” She interrupted his thoughts.
“I’ll just grab something later at the hotel.”
“Hotel food!” She screwed up her face in disgust. “Have you ever been there?” She pointed to the first restaurant she saw.
“No, but some other time,” he declined, preparing to hand her package to her and leave her on Hudson Street.
“There’s no time like the present.” Disregarding the shopping bag containing her gift, she took his free hand and guided him into the restaurant doors.
“Marcy, really...” His protest died on his lips as the hostess walked over to them.
“How many?” the woman asked.
“Two, please.” Marcy refused to release his hand until they were seated at a charming white linen-covered table for two with a view of downtown Manhattan. “Isn’t this lovely?”
He frowned at her. “Do you ever take no for an answer?”
“Not if I can help it,” she said as she treated him to a brilliant smile.
“What can I get you two to drink?” a white-coated waiter asked.
“Would you like to order the drinks, too?” Nathan grouchily asked.
“If you’d like me to,” she shot back, smiling at his obvious bad humor.
“I’ll have a Perrier with a twist,” he snapped without asking what she wanted.
“And you, ma’am?” The waiter turned to her after raising an eyebrow at Nathan’s rudeness.
“The same,” she said and smiled. Once the waiter disappeared, she picked up her menu. “Nathan, are you going to scowl all the way through lunch?”
“I don’t appreciate being forced into this.” He pointedly glanced at his menu.
“Forced?” A perfectly arched eyebrow rose. “Look at the two of us. I’m not even half your size.” She lowered her menu to the table and met his hooded eyes. “If you really wanted to decline, you could have easily done so.”
Of course he could have declined, but he hadn’t wanted to; therein lay his problem.
“Maybe I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” he countered.
“How sweet.” She suddenly smiled.
“I am not sweet,” he quickly denied.
“We’ll see,” she softly promised. At his silence, she continued, “Nathan, it’s just an innocent lunch.”
“Nothing is innocent with you, Marcy Johnson,” he surmised and then suddenly smiled.
“Just plain Marcy,” she corrected. “You have a gorgeous smile.” She rested her chin on her clasped hands. “Why do you frown so much?”
“I don’t frown,” he disagreed. “I just don’t walk around grinning like an idiot all day long.”
She gazed into his deep chocolate eyes and was immediately lost. Lord, this man just frazzled her until she didn’t know her own name.
“No one could ever accuse you of being an idiot,” she charmed, sitting back in her chair. “Tell me about yourself.”
“There’s not much to tell,” he quickly countered, taking a grateful sip of the drink that was placed in front of him.
“Are you two ready to order?” their waiter asked.
“What are you going to have?” Nathan decided to be a gentleman this time.
“You order for me,” she suggested.
“I don’t know what you’d like.”
“Oh, I think you can figure out what I’d like,” she naughtily countered, eliciting a nervous cough from their waiter and slight chuckle from her date.
She was a breath of fresh air, and he absurdly wanted her like he had wanted no other woman. He’d love to see her by candlelight dressed to kill, smiling only for him as he took her into his arms to dance. Whoa, take it easy, man. You won’t be alone with her again, especially not for a romantic dinner—got it?
“The waiter’s waiting, Nathan,” Marcy interrupted his thoughts.
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll have the shrimp platter, and the lady will have the coq au vin.”
“I’ve always wanted to try that,” Marcy said, approving his choice.
“I like it. I hope you enjoy it.”
“I’m sure I will. If I don’t, you’ll share your shrimp with me, won’t you?”
“Don’t count on it.” He shook his head.
“I’m sure I could persuade you.” She leaned forward and trailed a finger lightly across the back of his hand before picking up her glass and taking a sip of water.
“It might be fun to let you try,” he admitted, smiling slightly.
“That’s the spirit,” she approved, glad he was loosening up. “You were going to tell me about yourself,” she reminded.
“Like I said, there’s not much to tell,” he reiterated, barely disguising a sigh at her tenacity.
“I doubt that,” she said as she lowered her drink to the table. “Lawyer for the State Department—you must have a dozen interesting tales.”
She didn’t know the half of it. What would she say if she knew he had spent the past ten years of his life as a member of an officially nonexistent military unit that not even his family knew about? He could relate stories of danger and intrigue that would rival the plot of any movie—if he could talk about his Black Ops job that is, which he couldn’t.
“My job’s confidential.”
She noted his fingers tightened around his glass. Doesn’t like to talk about his work, she mentally noted—strange and intriguing.
“Are you enjoying being home?” she asked, changing subjects, and his fingers noticeably relaxed.
“Yes,” he said and nodded. “It’s great to be back.”
She absently slid fingers through her silky hair, and he hid a groan, longing to do the same thing; he knew from experience how incredibly soft it was. His mind wandered to the one time he had touched her hair, had held her in his arms and tasted her incredibly sweet lips—a week ago on New Year’s Eve.
Staring at the vibrant woman sitting across from him only intensified the seeds of dissatisfaction with his life. His job was necessary, and he knew he made a difference, but he was growing tired of the necessary secrecy, weary of running around from one side of the world to the other—most of the time with little or no notice. He was fed up with having nowhere to really call home and more importantly of having no one to share his life with.
His country had always come first before everything. He didn’t regret his years of service, but perhaps it was time for some serious reevaluation. Maybe he was just getting old; after all, he was thirty-one, and his priorities had naturally changed. A dissatisfied soldier was a dangerous one, and there was no denying the fact that he had become increasingly dissatisfied of late and meeting Marcy had really emphasized that fact for him.
“Nathan?” Marcy touched his hand and called his name more forcefully, “Nathan!”
“Hmm?” He snapped out of his disturbing introspection.
“Where were you?” She pretended to pout. “Am I so boring that I can’t hold your attention?”
“Marcy, no one would ever call you boring.” He laughed and she joined him. “I was just thinking.”
“About?”
“Nothing important,” he assured. “What were you saying before I spaced out?”
“I was asking if you’ve missed New York.” Her well-manicured fingernails played with the ends of a napkin.
“Very much,” he admitted, wanting to cover those long, feminine fingers with his, pull her into his lap and...
“Are you involved with a woman?” she asked out of the blue.
“That’s rather personal, isn’t it?” He fought back a grin, realizing he had smiled more today than he had in the four years he had been away from home, and the reason was sitting across the table from him.
“Not as personal as I plan to get,” she promised, and he could do nothing except chuckle. “Well, are you?”
“No, my job takes up all of my time.”
His words were music to her ears. He was free, and she was determined that when all was said and done he would be hers.
“It’s just a job, Nathan,” she whispered.
“A career,” he corrected. An increasingly burdensome career.
“Even a career we love can become all-consuming if we let it.” She spoke from experience.
“Maybe I don’t have a problem with that.” He glanced around hoping to see their food coming so he could escape her probing questions.
“Maybe you should. Life’s too short to let it pass you by. Haven’t you ever wanted to find a nice woman, settle down and have some kids?” He remained noticeably silent, staring intently at the contents of his glass, prompting her to change the subject again. “Do you like basketball?”
“What?” He glanced up from his drink, baffled at sudden shift in direction.
“Basketball. Do you like it?” she repeated, smiling.
“You do that very well,” he said, intending to flatter, without answering her question.
“Tools of the trade.” She smiled.
“Stockbroker, right?” He was more comfortable talking about her.
“Correct.”
“Do you like it?”
“I love it,” she enthused. “My day’s always different, always interesting—never a dull moment.”
“You thrive on change,” he stated, not asking. That was very apparent to anyone having the pleasure to meet her.
“And challenges,” she said and glanced at him pointedly. “I prefer more continuity in my personal life, though.”
His heart sank a little at her easy admission. That was one thing he could never give her. Absurdly, he wished he could.
“Most people do,” he shortly agreed.
“Do you?” She tilted her head, and her thick mane of hair fell to one side.
“As I said before, I don’t have much of a personal life,” he truthfully responded. “Work takes up most of my time.”
“That leads to a lonely existence, Nathan.”
“I suppose.” He sighed, eyes growing distant. He knew how true her words were—how true he feared they would always be for him.
“Are you?” She watched him closely.
“Am I what?” He refocused on her.
“Lonely?” She reached across and covered his hand with hers, which relaxed for a few seconds before he pulled away.
“I’m content.” He realized he was trying to convince himself rather than her.
“Evasive,” she murmured.
“You’re tenacious,” he countered, and she smiled.
“I told you I was,” she said and shrugged. “I won’t let you be lonely while you’re here, Nathan,” she softly promised.
“I’m sure you won’t,” he agreed with a smirk. “Marcy Johnson, I don’t quite know what to make of you.” He paused before grudgingly admitting as their food was placed before them. “You are something else.”
“Mmm-hmm.” She acknowledged the validity of his words. “You know what else I am?” She picked up her napkin and placed it on her lap.
“What?” He ventured to ask.
“I’m all yours. All you have to do is admit that you want me, reach out your hand and take me,” she bluntly responded when they were alone before picking up her fork and cutting into her buttery soft chicken.
His mouth dropped open in shock as he digested her stunning words, and he was unable to stop it. She had completely floored him with her unabashed forwardness and determination. She also excited, enthralled and enchanted him.
“You shouldn’t say things like that, Marcy.”
“Why not?”
“Because people will take advantage of you if you let them.”
“Is that what you plan to do?”
“No.”
She sighed regretfully. “That’s a shame.”
“Marcy Johnson, you are—” he paused before admitting “—unlike any woman I’ve ever met.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Definitely good,” he said and smiled. “There’s nothing fake about you.”
“What you see is what you get, Nathan.”
What he saw, he wanted—badly. Dammit, why did he have to return home and run headlong into this fascinating, exciting woman who appeared to want nothing more than the chance to make him happy, and why did he want nothing more than the time to let her try?
“It’s fate,” she whispered, laughing softly at his shocked expression when she answered his silent question.
Chapter 2
Though he tried to prepare himself for his next meeting with Marcy, she still knocked every ounce of breath out of his lungs when their eyes locked at the rehearsal dinner for Natasha and Damien later that evening. She was dressed in a black knee-length leather skirt with a wicked slit up the back, matching tight-fitting jacket and high-heeled black leather pumps. All of that raven hair was piled high on top of her head in an intentionally careless bun, allowing tendrils to escape to caress her face and nape. She looked lovely and desirable.
“Hi, handsome,” her sultry voice greeted him as he entered the small ballroom of the restaurant.
“Marcy.” He nodded at her politely as he unsuccessfully tried to still the rapid beating of his heart.
“Did you miss me?” He looked wonderful in his black suit, white shirt and black-and-gray tie.
“It’s only been a few hours since I last saw you?” Time he had spent trying to unsuccessfully stop thinking about her—the look of her, the feel of her fingers on his, the exotic smell of her.
“I know.” She leaned close and whispered confidentially in his ear, “I missed you terribly.”
His knees almost buckled at her words and as the provocative scent she wore wafted up his nostrils and her soft body brushed lightly yet maddeningly against his. He fought with every ounce of strength he possessed to keep from crushing that curvaceous body to his and fastening his mouth to her luscious lips—lips he knew from experience were soft, decadent and addictive.
Unable to help himself, he groaned. “What is that perfume you’re wearing?”
She leaned slightly back to stare into his intense eyes. “Chanel.” She smiled and leaned in closer again. “Do you like it?”
“It’s...nice.”
“I’m glad you approve.” She deliberately ran her fingers across her exposed collarbone drawing his burning gaze there.
Who did he think he was fooling? Judging by his darkening eyes, watching the slow progression of her finger across her skin, he thought it was much more than nice. She secretly vowed to buy up every bottle she could get her hands on in the morning.
“Marcy, darling, bring Nathan over here,” her mother ordered.
“Coming, Mom.” She smiled up at him. “I’m afraid it’s time to mingle.”
She thankfully moved back from him but grabbed his hand, shooting tiny thrills of pleasure up his arm. This woman was deadlier than any adversary he had ever faced in the field of combat—and that was saying something.
“That’s what we’re here for.” He was proud his voice sounded steady.
“But there is later...” She let her sentence trail off suggestively.
They walked over to stand beside his sister Nicole, who was talking to the guests of honor, Damien and Natasha. Nathan’s parents, Linda and Lincoln, were conversing with Marcy’s mother and father, Margaret and Michael, a short distance away. Marcy’s smile widened as she glanced at their matchmaking mothers who seemed particularly interested in watching the interplay between her and Nathan; it appeared they were their next project.
“I’m starving. What’s for dinner, Mama?” Natasha asked.
“Seafood, all different kinds.” Linda smiled at her daughter.
“Mmm, I can’t wait,” Natasha said as her eyes sparkled expectantly.
“This one has really been developing an appetite lately.” Damien wrapped his arms around his fiancée’s waist from behind.
“Love makes me hungry.” She smiled as he kissed her neck lingeringly.
“When Nathan and I were shopping today, we had some wonderful seafood at lunch—well, he did. I managed to steal a bite or two off of his plate.” Marcy’s statement caused all eyes to focus on her and Nathan.
“You and Nathan went shopping?” Nicole’s mouth dropped open as did her sister’s and mother’s.
“Yes, for Natasha and Dami’s wedding present,” Marcy confirmed.
“And she dragged me from store to store when she already had their present picked out at the last store we went to,” Nathan good-naturedly interjected.
“Don’t you just hate shopping with women?” Damien sympathized, kissing Natasha on the cheek to soften his words.
“Oh, you!” Natasha tapped his chest lightly in admonishment.
“They never know what they want,” Lincoln agreed as the men levitated toward each other.
“And they drag you around from store to store for hours and hours and then finally decide on something they saw at the first store you were in,” Michael chimed in.
“I don’t know why we don’t leave you at home. You’re always fretting about how much money we spend.” Linda added her thoughts as the women, except for Natasha and Marcy, congregated together glaring at their respective man.
“Aren’t they just?” Margaret agreed, smiling tolerantly at her husband, Michael. “But if the present is for them, no amount of time is too great and the sky is the limit on how much we spend.”
“Amen,” Nicole agreed, and Natasha shook her head.
“Boy, did I open a can of worms,” Marcy whispered to Nathan, whom she noted still stood by her side.
“Are you kidding?” Nathan chuckled. “They’re having a blast.”
Marcy glanced at everyone as they engaged in heated, though pleasant, banter about the subject and laughed in agreement. They were thankfully saved from further escalation of the tiny gender war brewing when dinner was wheeled in. As everyone took their seats at the rectangular table, Marcy was dismayed to find herself sitting by her brother a table’s length away from Nathan. Who had made these ridiculous seating arrangements?
Nicole, who was sitting by her brother, glanced at Marcy’s sunken expression and sprang into action, “Look at us—Johnsons at one end and Carters at the other. We need to break this up.”
“You’re right, Nicole,” Marcy agreed, trying not to burst into a radiant smile.
“Marcy, you take my seat by Nathan, and I’ll take yours by Damien.”
Marcy quickly stood and gave Nicole a wink as they passed each other. Nicole mouthed, “Don’t mention it.”
Once she was seated, Nicole continued to rearrange people. “Momma, you should sit by Mr. Johnson down here. Mrs. Johnson, why don’t you go up and sit by Dad.”
Nicole received tolerant smiles as people followed her directions. Her mother’s eyes held understanding and approval at her youngest daughter’s actions. Nicole continued to survey the table with a slight determined frown.
“Now, that’s better. Isn’t it?” Nicole asked and was pleased when everyone agreed—except a frowning Nathan she noted with a smile.
“I am glad you didn’t move me to the opposite end away from my fiancé.” Natasha laughed at her sister.
“Please, I would need an army to do that,” Nicole said and chuckled.
“You’re so right.” Damien pulled Natasha closer and kissed her lips.
“Save some of that for the honeymoon,” Michael suggested with a laugh.
“Oh, I think we’ll manage just fine.” Damien had Natasha’s cheeks reddening,
“Damien!” Natasha scolded and he laughingly kissed her again.
“She doesn’t know what to do with me,” he informed everyone when he lifted his head.
“We Johnsons can be incorrigible,” Marcy replied, staring at Nathan, who refused to glance her way.
“A trait you both inherited from your father,” Margaret assured, and the occupants of the room dissolved in laughter again.
“Are you planning on ignoring me all night, Nathan?” As the happy banter around the table continued, Marcy turned amused eyes to his annoyed ones.
“I was debating it,” he tightly replied.
“I had nothing to do with rearranging everyone. That was your sister’s idea,” she reminded.
“Mmm-hmm.” His tone stated he didn’t believe she was as innocent as she professed to be. He glanced down the table, meeting his sister’s dancing eyes. He had plans to pay her back later. Not that he really minded sitting next to Marcy, but he was trying to do the right thing and stay away from her—for her sake and his.
“Look at it this way. You can use this time to sample some more of my perfume,” she offered, moving closer.
He inwardly groaned. That was the last thing he needed. He studied her beautiful face, and his dark mood intensified as she obviously fought to hide a smile.
“Yippee.” He nearly growled the word.
“A toast to Natasha and Damien.” Michael stood with a glass raised. “Two pieces of the puzzle of love who fit perfectly together. May they share a long happy life filled with love and hopefully soon the pitter-patter of little feet.”
“Cheers.” Everyone agreed and raised their glasses.
“We’ll see what we can do about your first grandchild, Dad,” Damien promised as he and Natasha unlinked their wrists and lowered their glasses—eyes twinkling because of their shared secret about Natasha’s condition.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if we all gathered together soon to celebrate another union of our children?” Margaret candidly suggested.
“That would be lovely, Margaret.” Linda followed the direction of her eyes.
“You never know what could happen.” Marcy chuckled as she glanced at Nathan’s slightly uncomfortable, tense features before smiling brilliantly at their mothers.
“I’ll start designing your wedding dress,” Nicole teased.
“And Linda and I can begin on the guest list and the menu,” Margaret excitedly began.
“Hey, wait a minute!” Nathan indignantly interrupted, and everyone laughed heartily—everyone except Damien.
Marcy met her brother’s narrowed eyes and gave him a wink. He was going to have trouble sharing her, but she would help him through the rough spots. He and Nathan would hit it off; she was determined about that.
“Linda, I’ll call you tomorrow,” Margaret promised.
“Please do.” Linda smiled down the table at her.
Lincoln and Michael shook their heads at each other across the table as their wives made the union of Marcy and Nathan their new project. They picked up their glasses in a silent, resigned toast to their respective spouses.
* * *
“What do you think they are talking about so intensely?” Nicole asked as she stood with Marcy and Natasha watching Nathan and Damien from across the room.
“Me, of course.” Marcy smiled. “Dami is playing big brother, reading Nathan the riot act.”
“I’ll go over and put a stop to this,” Natasha promised, but Marcy touched her arm halting her.
“It’s okay, Natasha. Let Dami assert himself. He will, anyway.” She chuckled in resignation. “Better now when I can keep an eye on him. Besides, it is rather sweet, don’t you think?” She stared lovingly at her brother’s intense face.
“I do,” Nicole agreed. “Poor Nathan. He doesn’t know what to do about any of this,” she sympathized, eyes settling on her brother as he took a gulp of his drink.
“He’ll figure it out. I guarantee that,” Marcy confidently replied.
Natasha frowned as she glanced across at her brother. He didn’t seem upset as he listened to Damien. That was good. Damien glanced at her, and she shook her head at him in exasperation. He blew her a kiss before returning his attention to Nathan.
“I do wish Dami would stop monopolizing Nathan’s time.” Marcy sighed. “I need to make my next move.”
“Poor Nathan. He doesn’t have a chance.” Nicole shook her head at the determination etched on her friend’s face.
“He doesn’t need one,” Marcy quickly responded, and they all chuckled as they glanced across the room at their respective brothers.
“Marcy can be a handful,” Damien informed Nathan.
“No? Really?” Damien and Nathan laughed.
“I see you’ve already found that out.”
“I have. She’s very determined.”
“She’s also very honest—too honest for her own good sometimes,” Damien continued, glancing across at his sister as she stood with Natasha and Nicole.
“Yes, she is,” Nathan agreed. “She’s very beautiful,” Nathan couldn’t help admitting as he, too, glanced across the room at the subject of their conversation.
“You’re attracted to her.” Damien returned cool eyes to his fiancée’s brother.
“Who wouldn’t be?” Nathan proclaimed quickly. Then he added, “I know she’s your sister, but even you must admit she’s a knockout.”
“I do, but she’s not a toy or a diversion.” Damien’s eyes narrowed in warning.
“I never thought she was.” Nathan returned his cool gaze unflinchingly.
“Good,” Damien said and nodded as he silently studied the other man. He thought they could become good friends but not if he did anything to harm his sister.
“I don’t want to hurt Marcy,” Nathan assured him, sensing Damien’s thoughts.
“Then don’t,” Damien simply ordered.
“I don’t plan on it,” Nathan said, but even as he uttered the words, he knew that was a promise he might not be able to keep.
“Are you enjoying being back in New York?” Damien changed subjects, having said what he had needed to.
“Very much.”
“After Tasha and I get settled in as an old married couple, we’ll have to take you out and reintroduce you to some of the good spots,” Damien offered.
“I’d like that.” Nathan smiled.
Nathan’s eyes connected with Marcy’s again, and she smiled at him knowingly. He had a feeling she knew exactly what he and her brother were talking about, and she was going to make his resolve not to become involved with her near impossible to keep—just as he feared he was going to find it nearly impossible to live up to his promise to leave her alone.
* * *
Two and a half hours later the occupants of the private dining room were preparing to leave and go their separate ways. A few days later, they would all gather again for Damien and Natasha’s wedding.
“Can I bum a ride home from someone?” Marcy glanced expectantly at Nathan. “My car’s in the shop.”
“Tasha and I can drop you off.” Damien placed an affectionate arm around his sister’s shoulders. “It’s on the way.”
“It is on Nathan’s way, too,” Nicole quickly intervened.
Marcy silently vowed to send her a huge bouquet of flowers the next day. She was turning out to be a wonderful ally.
“That’s a fabulous idea,” Linda decided, winking at Margaret. “Nathan, you take Marcy home.”
“It’s no problem. We can take her,” Damien insisted, despite Marcy’s glare.
Damien could see what was going on here, and though Marcy didn’t seem to mind, he did; for some reason, even though he had spoken with Nathan and liked him, something was nagging him about Natasha’s brother. In his gut—and he had learned from painful experiences to trust his gut—he knew that somehow Nathan was going to end up hurting his sister, and he would do everything in his power to stop that from happening.
“Darling, I’m tired and would rather go straight home,” Natasha intervened. “Nathan, you don’t mind taking Marcy home do you?”
Nathan realized every female present in the room was very skillfully ambushing him. He had come up against some worthy adversaries in his day but none as lethal as the quintuplet in front of him. What could one do against such skillful opponents, except surrender—and hope to live to fight another day?
“No, not at all,” he dryly agreed.
“Good, now that is all settled.” Linda smiled pleased and walked over to talk to Margaret. Marcy was a lovely woman and might be just what her absentee son needed to get him to settle down.
“You’d better watch out, son, your mother and Marcy’s mother are plotting your downfall.” Lincoln slapped his son on the back as Marcy walked away to retrieve her coat.
“Really? You could have fooled me, Dad.” Nathan shook his head in exasperation as he glanced at the smiling faces of the two women in question.
“Ready to go, Nathan?” Marcy came back with her leather coat draped over her arm.
“As I’ll ever be,” he muttered, taking her coat and placing it over her shoulders.
“What?” She glanced at him, stifling a laugh.
“Nothing,” he denied. “Good night everyone,” he shouted as they prepared to leave.
“Good night!” Marcy beamed as she preceded him out.
“Promising.” Margaret approved, having witnessed her daughter’s keen interest in Nathan on New Year’s Eve manifested again tonight. Obviously, Marcy was serious, and after watching the two tonight, it was obvious Nathan was taken with Marcy, too. Although being a man, he was trying his best to fight it.
“Yes, I think you’re right,” Linda agreed as both women walked away to discuss their children’s futures.
* * *
Nathan was silent for most of the drive, which was okay with her. She was formulating her strategy. He was so much work, but she knew he’d be worth it in the end. She would remind him of this one day, and they would laugh about him clinging to his overrated bacherlorhood.
When they reached her condo, he opened the car door and helped her out and then started to walk back around to the driver’s side. She placed a restraining hand on his arm. “You’re not going to leave me here, are you?”
“I was,” he curtly agreed.
“Nathan, anyone could be lurking in the dark, just waiting for me. Then what would I do?” She feigned alarm. “I’d be helpless.”
Despite his black mood, he smiled genuinely at her assertion. “Marcy, one thing you will never be is helpless.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She took his proffered arm as he walked her into the building. “I’m pretty helpless when it comes to you.”
“Marcy.” His steps faltered at her admission. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s true.” He was silent for the elevator ride to her floor. “Come in for a drink,” she offered as she unlocked the door and stepped inside.
“No, I’d better not.” He turned to leave.
“Come on in, I won’t bite. I promise.”
Before he knew what had hit him, he was pulled inside, and the door decisively clicked behind him. He knew all he had to do was leave, but as was becoming a habit with Marcy, he gave in because he wanted to. Her apartment was spacious, decorated in pastels with a tapestry sofa and chairs.
“Your place is very nice.” He took off his coat in resignation.
“Thanks. Make yourself at home,” she yelled, throwing her coat over a chair as she walked into what he assumed was the kitchen, returning seconds later with a bottle of white wine and two glasses. “Will you do the honors?”
“Sure.” He wanted to protest but decided against it. He would have one glass and then go.
“Sit down,” she said as she motioned to the sofa and as he complied, sat closely beside him holding glasses out to him, which he filled before placing the bottle onto the table.
“I can’t stay long, Marcy.” He thought it best to get that out before she got any ideas in her beautiful head.
“We’ll see.”
He tasted his wine. “This is good.”
“Very,” she whispered, taking a sip of the cold liquid before placing her still-full glass on the table. “You’re so buff.” She lightly fingered his biceps and shoulders. “I’ve never met a lawyer in such great shape.”
“I enjoy working out.” He grabbed her hand, halting her disturbing exploration.
“Mmm,” she approved, trailing the fingers of her free hand across his broad chest. “I can tell.”
“Marcy...”
“What?” She stared into his conflicted eyes.
When he failed to answer, she leaned across the sofa, took his glass from his unresisting fingers and placed it on the table beside hers. Then framing his face in her hands, she kissed him. She felt the tension in him as he resisted her and himself, but within seconds, his lips changed from cold and stiff to warm and caressing—though he refrained from touching her. She tasted the wine on his lips—and the barely restrained passion.
“I’ve wanted to do that all day,” she murmured, pulling slightly back, though her mouth was still in close proximity to his.
Turbulent, dangerous eyes bore into hers before lowering to focus on her incredibly soft lips that tasted of wine, honey and dangerous desire. He knew he should push her away and leave; instead he reached out, pulled her closer and let his mouth ravage hers. Out of control, impatient hands focused on the buttons of her jacket until it was completely undone, and then he pulled her down to lie beside him as he reclined back onto the sofa.
When his wandering hands slipped beneath the undone jacket folds, he realized to his delight and dismay that she was only wearing a thin black lace teddy, which covered next to nothing of the satiny skin underneath. He rolled until she was nearly lying beneath him. His hands caressed her lace-covered breasts and stomach as his mouth left hers to blaze a trail across her neck and collarbone to the swell of a breast.
His hot tongue licked out and tasted a nipple, which he felt harden through the chemise. With a groan, his mouth opened warmly, taking the still-covered swell into his mouth and suckled maddeningly until she thought she would shatter. Her hands moved behind his head as he continued to feast on her flesh through the now-wet fabric she prayed he would rip away as he was ripping away any sense of sanity she possessed.
In the back of his mind, a nagging voice reminding him of his promise to remain emotionally unattached while he was in Black Ops; the type of life he led wasn’t easy—in fact, it could be downright brutal. He couldn’t become involved with Marcy; it wasn’t fair to her. She deserved better than he could give her, and he knew that.
With a mind of their own, his hand snaked under the satin to touch the warm, silky skin of her stomach, and he felt her fingers clutch the back of his head and release. Desire built within him almost to the point of no return. If he touched her a second longer, if he felt her trembling against him another minute, he would take her and damn the consequences. Somehow, using willpower years of training had instilled, he pulled away and sat up.
It took her a few seconds to realize he was no longer lying next to her or touching her. When she did, she opened cloudy eyes and slowly sat up beside him.
“Stay.” She sighed as she placed her arms around his neck, realizing he meant to leave her and himself unfulfilled.
“You’ve just met me,” he hoarsely responded, fighting for control that was rapidly escaping him.
“We’ve known each other for a week,” she reminded.
“Barely a week,” he contradicted.
“I feel as if I’ve known you all my life.” She scraped her teeth maddeningly along his jaw before lifting her head to stare into his darkening eyes. “Don’t you want me?”
“Marcy, a man would have to be crazy not to want you.” He nearly groaned. But then he forced himself to add, “But I’m here to see my family, not to start a relationship with you—with anyone.”
He reluctantly disentangled her arms from his neck, stood and quickly walked to the door.
“Nathan?” Her soft, seductive voice halted him.
“What?” He asked without turning around. God he wanted her; had he ever wanted anything this much?
“You know what they say about making plans?” He turned to face her, but neither of them made a move toward the other.
“No, what?” At the moment, he didn’t know his name or how he was articulating at all.
“The best laid ones go to waste,” she responded with a smile. Silently vowing she would make sure his did. Impulsively, she walked over, cupped his face between her hands and kissed him again.
“Marcy, would you let me take the initiative for once?” he asked against her lips.
“I’d love to. Go ahead,” she ordered, pulling slightly back.
He shook his head and smiled down at her, “Would you like to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?” What the...? Why had he asked that?
“I’d love to.” She beamed. “That was very nicely done.”
“Thank you.” He silently berated himself for his lack of discipline where she was concerned.
“What time?” Her eyes memorized every curve of his handsome face.
“Seven.” He committed himself to his unwise course of action, and unable to help himself, he began outlining her face with his fingertips. She shuddered at his touch.
“Should I meet you, or would you rather pick me up?” she docilely asked, breath coming in trembling gasps.
“I’ll pick you up,” he nearly whispered as the fingers of his other hand played with loose strands of her hair; it was so soft, so incredibly soft.
“How should I dress? Casual? After five? Elegant?”
She couldn’t believe she could comprehend let alone formulate questions. He was touching her lightly yet urgently. She was a quivering mass of jelly, yet somehow she still stood before him instead of sinking bonelessly to the floor at his feet.
“Elegantly,” he decided and said as his hands followed her example and cupped her face.
“Mmm, sounds nice.” She shakily smiled. “You take charge very well.”
“Thanks.” Intense eyes stared into hers, and he decided to take even more as he placed a hand behind her nape and pulled her irresistible lips to his.
Devastation. No other word described what he did to her with that kiss—or what she did to him. He could happily feast on those lips for an eternity. She gladly clung to his hard shoulders as his mouth continued to plunder. When his lips released hers, they were both breathing hard. She opened stormy eyes to see the echoing depths of his.
“Very well indeed,” she murmured. “That was a wonderful first kiss.”
He frowned. “That wasn’t our first kiss. New Year’s Eve was.”
“New Year’s Eve I kissed you.” She smiled impishly. “This is the first time you’ve initiated a kiss between us. I hope it won’t be the last.”
“If you recall, I kissed you back on New Year’s Eve—” he traced the outline of her trembling lips with his fingers “—and I thoroughly enjoyed it.”
“You did?”
“Oh, you know I did,” he said and smiled.
“So did I. Let’s not wait so long before you kiss me again,” she softly suggested.
“We’ll see.” He touched her trembling lips with his fingers and then quickly removed them. “Good night, Marcy.”
“Good night,” she echoed. “Thanks for bringing me home.”
He glanced back at her trying to decide what he should do and what he wanted to do next—his head won out over want, and he determinedly opened the door and left. If he touched her again, he would be lost.
When her limbs would finally obey her commands, Marcy slowly retraced her steps and fell across the sofa. She let out her breath with a long, unsteady sigh. Gingerly, fingers touched her lips, and starry eyes closed as she remembered the feel of Nathan’s lips, body and his heart beating so close to hers.
She’d had a few crushes in her day but nothing close to what she felt for Nathan. She felt alive with him; he did things to her mind and spirit that she had never experienced before. They hadn’t known each other long, but he was the one; she knew it. Now her goal was to make him realize she was the one for him.
Chapter 3
The next night, Marcy and Nathan sat in the private dining room at one of the most expensive restaurants in town. Fresh roses of every imaginable color were scattered throughout the room in one arrangement or another. A bouquet of red ones sat beside her plate on the table. Soft, romantic music was being piped into the room, and the light was dim. The flames of candles danced in the table centerpieces.
She silently admitted that when he took charge, he took charge well. She had dressed as instructed in an elegant gold sequined floor-length gown with a slit up one side to her midthigh. The halter top left her back, shoulders and arms bare. Her hair was left down, cascading over her shoulders to her back in soft curls. The body of the gown fit her like a glove, accentuating her female curves in all the right places. Nathan wore a black designer suit that hung on him as if it had been especially made for him.
The evening passed in a perfectly wonderful blur. All she was certain of was that she was having a wonderful time with a secretive and oh-so-alluring man whose company she craved.
“How am I doing?” he asked as they finished their dinner.
“Excellently,” she vowed.
“Dance with me,” he commanded, taking her hand and pulling her up into his arms.
“Mmm, beyond compare.” She amended her previous statement as she rested her head on his sturdy shoulder, and her fingers entwined with his.
“I’m glad you approve,” he whispered against her ear.
She felt and heard him inhale her fragrance, and a smile curved her lips as the hand on her waist pulled her closer still. He ran his mouth softly up and down the crook of her neck, creating shivers of anticipation within her.
“I definitely approve,” she whispered.
“You have beautiful hair.” Raising his head, he slowly ran fingers through its length from root to tip several times.
“You have my mother to thank for that.”
“How so?”
“She refused to let anything touch my hair that wasn’t natural, which meant no chemicals at all.” She paused and laughed impishly. “That is until I took it upon myself to perm it.”
He smiled and asked, “What did your mother do?”
“Let’s just say Daddy and Dami had to protect me for a few weeks.” She chuckled at the memory.
“How old were you?”
“Twenty.”
“A mere baby who couldn’t possibly make such a decision,” Nathan teased.
“Mom will always think of me as her little girl.” Marcy sighed in angst, and they shared a comfortable laugh.
“Well, remind me to thank your mother next time I see her.”
“Mmm,” she said and sighed. “I will.” She moved a little closer to him. “You can thank me, too. Right now.”
She wanted him to kiss her, and she wasn’t disappointed as his mouth swooped down and seduced hers. He lingered over the kiss, savoring her different tastes and textures. She met the probing inquisitiveness of his lips, content just to have him go on kissing her; however, when his hot tongue darted into her mouth in a search for hers, she wanted nothing more than a molten combination of their bodies and hearts.
The kiss changed from gentle to hungry as he set out to plunder and destroy. Never before had a woman nearly caused him to take her on the spot with just a kiss, but he was close to doing just that with Marcy; every time he touched her, he lost his grip on sanity. His hands ran up her silky bare back, molding her, pressing her closer to his rock-hard length.
How had he ended up kissing her? He didn’t remember. His moves had been instinctive, automatic—as was his hunger for her; it was a hunger so intense that it nearly made him pull her to the floor, strip away their clothes and fuse his body with hers. What was she doing to him? What would she do if he didn’t continue to fight her and himself?
“We could go back to my place,” she achingly suggested as he slowly released her lips.
“Will you let me be the man?” He groaned, nibbling at her mouth, forgetting his resolve to push her away.
Despite the desire racing through her, she laughed at his tone, which quickly turned to a moan at his actions.
“Honey, you’re definitely a man.” To prove her point, she pressed tighter against him.
He whispered, “You’re killing me.”
“I’m sorry,” she shakily apologized, running her lips along his strong jaw.
“No, you’re not,” he accused with a smile.
She batted her eyes innocently. “I am, truly.”
His heart thudded against his chest, beating frantically in concert with hers. One hand ran down her back to her hip, anchoring her lower body against his.
“I’ve never met a woman like you.” He marveled while his other hand threaded through her thick locks, pulling her head back.
“And you never will again,” she promised, and he silently concurred.
“God, I love your hair.”
His hand fisted in the silky tresses as he imagined it sliding across his stomach while her lips and tongue caressed him. He grew harder as the welcomed image assailed his overheated senses.
“I’ve thought about cutting it,” she admitted on a sigh, her hands resting on his broad shoulders.
“Don’t. Don’t ever,” he ordered, finally pulling her lips back to his.
“I won’t,” she promised into his mouth.
For several long minutes, she was in heaven. For a few agonizing seconds, he surrendered. His mouth demanded nothing less than complete capitulation from hers, which she was happy to give for a few seconds before aggressively participating in their heated, carnal duel of lips and tongues.
“You are so beautiful,” he nearly growled as he forced his mouth away from hers.
“And you’re very handsome,” she reciprocated, partially opening her dazed eyes to gaze at him.
“You’re a hard woman to resist,” he reluctantly admitted as he sampled those sweet lips of hers once again for a few long moments.
“Stop trying,” she softly suggested. “Are you going to take me home?”
“Yes,” he readily agreed, slowly releasing her.
He was damning his soul to hell, but so be it. He held out his hand to her; she gladly took it, and they walked out.
* * *
Thank the Lord for the ride home in the car. It afforded him time to come to his senses, cleared his head and stopped him from making a monumental mistake. Marcy was special, and she deserved a hell of a lot better than he was able to give her. He had promised himself and her brother that he wouldn’t hurt her, but if he did as his body cried out for him to do and made wonderful love to her tonight, he would be on course to do just that.
Marcy turned her head to stare at Nathan’s intense profile. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, and his brow was furrowed in concentration. Uh-oh, he was thinking, and instinctively, she knew she wouldn’t like the conclusion he had evidently come to.
Finally, the car stopped outside of her apartment. He helped her out, and they walked through the cold night air into the building. The ride in the elevator was silent, confirming her earlier suspicion that he was rethinking his decision to stay with her tonight. They got off on her floor, and she unlocked the door and stepped inside waiting for him to do the same.
“I’m not coming in, Marcy.” He proved her fears to be correct.
“But, I thought...” Her voice trailed off.
“I know.”
“The drive gave you time to think, didn’t it?” She smiled slightly despite her obvious disappointment.
“Yes, thankfully,” he admitted.
“Why thankfully?” she murmured, debating whether or not to make him forget his newfound resolve.
“We’re moving way too fast,” he remarked, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets to keep from touching her, and she smiled at his actions. She doesn’t miss anything.
“Yes, we are moving fast,” she agreed.
“That’s not what I expected you to say.” He somberly studied her gorgeous face.
“Maybe this is.” She paused before continuing. “We’re moving fast but not too fast. I’m not trying to pass some time with you Nathan. I don’t want a brief affair,” she confessed.
“I’d be disappointed if you were or did.”
A brief affair was all he had to offer, and it wasn’t what he wanted with her. She desired stability, permanency and roots—none of those things had a place in his life right now, which is why he had no place in hers.
“What are you thinking?” She leaned against the door and smiled at him thoughtfully. “What do you want, Nathan?”
He remained silent as he pondered her question. It wasn’t that he couldn’t tell her what he wanted; it was that he didn’t dare. He wanted her—not just for a night but for dozens of nights, endless nights.
“Good night, Marcy.” He valiantly fought not to kiss her and somehow succeeded. Quickly turning, he walked toward the elevator.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she called after him, and he turned to somberly face her.
“I know,” he agreed before the elevator doors closed.
“Damn,” she whispered as a smile played about her lips. She didn’t understand why he was bent on ignoring the attraction between them, but she was just as adamant that he wouldn’t succeed. “This makes two times, and it’s the last time I allow you to walk out on me, Mr. Carter,” she promised with a determined smile as she closed the door.
* * *
Two days later, Natasha walked down the aisle and married Marcy’s brother. Marcy had never seen either of them look happier and had never been happier for them. Natasha had been a beautiful bride in the dress Nicole designed. The tiny waist accentuated her figure; the full skirt was reminiscent of southern belles, and moved as though it was a part of her. Satin bows trailed down the back of the gown. Her shoulders were left bare. Her hair was pinned up, and a crystal tiara was the crowning glory, attached to a cathedral-length veil.

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