Orgasm rippled through her, making it hard to keep a steady pace, but Tom didn’t seem to notice. His thrusts had become ragged, his moans louder, and when he said her name it sent her crashing over the edge. She lost her grip with her gasp of ecstasy, and his cock came to rest, hot and throbbing against her cheek. She grasped it with her other hand, stroked, once, twice and he spasmed in her palm.
The world swam from the heat and steam and the force of her climax, and Lila had to blink and take a deep breath to clear away the threatening faintness. Tom leaned over her, hands braced against the small shower stall’s back wall, feet pressed against the front wall. She still held him, and she took him into her mouth again, alternating with her lips and fingers until he cried out hoarsely.
Another small burst of climax made her clit throb and she answered his cry with one of her own. He sighed. His body relaxed.
It took her a minute to notice his teeth were chattering, and to feel the water had gone ice cold. His body had shielded her from the frigid spray. Chagrined, Lila got to her feet and reached for the faucet, then grabbed a towel and held it out to him.
"Ran out of hot water," Tom said unnecessarily as he rubbed his face dry, then peered at her over the top of the towel. His eyes twinkled. "Probably about five minutes ago."
Lila laughed. "You should’ve said something."
"Couldn’t speak." He shrugged and wrapped the towel around his waist, then pulled her close for a long, lingering kiss. "I was busy thinking about something else."
She stepped back from his embrace, wrapped her own towel around her and squeezed the water from her hair. "Your lips are blue."
If he noticed her hesitation, he didn’t say anything. Instead, Tom went to the sink and filled his palm with some water, then drank it. He stretched out his arms, which looked impossibly long in her small bathroom, then turned and faced her with the same devilish grin he’d given her earlier.
"I think I could use that hot tea you offered earlier."
She put out a hand to touch his goose-pimpled arms, then shook her head and laughed again. "I think I can boil some water. Why don’t you get dressed? You’ll be warmer that way."
Despite the two fabulous bouts of sex they’d just had, walking around naked in front of him was a little too nerve-wracking. Tom tilted his head and pursed his lips, like he could tell the real reason she was suggesting he get dressed, but he nodded anyway. He ran his hands through that dark, silky hair, bent as though to kiss her again and nodded slightly when she turned her head so he met her cheek instead of her lips. Then he left her alone in the bathroom, and Lila pulled on her robe to go downstairs and make the tea. She studiously avoided her face in the mirror, not sure she wanted to see her own expression.
* * *
Lila woke to the sound of pans clattering from downstairs in the kitchen. At some point during the night, after the caffeine from the tea had worn off and the conversation faded into yawns, she and Tom had climbed the narrow stairs to the comfort of her room. Sleeping with him had been an uneasy luxury. While having his arms around her as she slipped into sleep had been lovely, waking to find his elbow in her ear had not.
Rolling over, she pressed her face against the pillow he had used. The scent of him still clung to the fabric, and she decided she wouldn’t wash the case until his smell faded. Nothing like acting like a junior high student, she scolded herself, but then snuggled into the pillow again.
She’d expected to feel awkward after making love. She’d assumed Tom would leave with some excuse about having early morning plans. She’d thought talking with him after they made love would no longer be as easy and comfortable as it had been before. She’d been wrong about everything. Tom made her laugh, which was more than any man had done for her in quite a while.
The sex had been great, but Lila discovered the conversation after had been even better. She’d pretended for a long time that being alone didn’t matter to her, for so long she’d forgotten how nice it was to sit with a man on her couch and watch the fire burn without having to make small talk.
More than just a one-night stand. The thought startled her into sitting up. She scrubbed at her face and rubbed her eyes, then crossed her arms over her chest. What was she thinking? Lust had gotten the better of her intellect last night, but in the light of day, she had to be smarter than that. She knew it was impossible Tom Caine could be anything more than just a fling. A man like him wouldn’t be satisfied with her for very long, and Lila had no intentions of setting herself up for more heartache. They’d had some great sex. He was eye-candy. He’d given her multiple orgasms, but that didn’t mean they were destined for…
For what?
Lila sighed, listening to the intriguing clang of pots and pans from downstairs. She’d had exactly one one-night stand in her life, and that had been unintentional. The experience had been so horribly, awfully bad she’d never gone on another date with the guy, who’d turned out to be a bigoted, self-righteous jerk. It had been a mistake.
Making love to Tom wasn’t a mistake, she knew. But believing there could be anything more out of this was. Lila shook her head to clear it of the late-night cobwebs. He was a nice guy, great in bed, but he got up way, way too early in the morning. And he stole the covers. And he left wet towels on the floor.
There. She’d thought of sufficient reason to convince herself that sex was all this was, and all it could be. Hadn’t she? I have to, she thought firmly. Bargain basement grab bags and all that stuff, remember, Lila? Remember William? And with that thought to sober her, she got out of bed and went downstairs.
She found the small table expertly set with the full array of her nicest dishes, silverware, and glasses. A vase held a single red rose. It was the velvet one that had come off the box of Valentine chocolates Darren had given her last February, but she smiled anyway.
Tom turned from the stove. "Just in time. Food’s almost ready."
He wore a pair of her fleecy sweatpants. Borrows clothes without asking. Another reason not to get hung up on this guy, she thought. While she swam in the heavy material, the pants fit his rear end snugly enough to nearly be obscene. He’d wrapped one of her aprons around his waist, but his chest was bare. She noticed the marks her nails had made in the tawny skin of his back and fought back a blush. No use in acting the coy maiden. Not after last night.
"Smells delicious." Lila slid into a chair and found a mug of hot tea waiting for her. He’d put in sugar and just enough cream to turn the tea a caramel color. He’d remembered how she liked it. "Usually on work days, I just grab some cold cereal, so this is a real treat. What’s on the menu?"
"Omelettes à la Caine." Tom flipped the pan expertly to cook the eggs evenly. "Onions, green peppers, some garlic.…"
Lila groaned. "I’m starved."
Tom slid an omelet onto each of their plates and sat down at the table. "I was going to make a western omelet, but you didn’t have any ham. So I substituted."
Lila paused from drinking her tea. Here it comes. The Talk. "I don’t eat pork."
Tom paused from cutting into his omelet. She could practically see the gears grinding in his mind as he thought about her name, the subject of her sister’s paintings, perhaps the gold-and-brass menorah on her mantelpiece. As Lila watched, a slow flush crept into Tom’s cheeks. He looked as comfortable as a man sitting on a cactus.
"I’m Jewish."
He nodded. "I should’ve known."
Now she began to feel uncomfortable. "Should I have told you? We didn’t talk about religion, Tom."
For the first time since knowing him, awkward silence hung between them. She took a sip of her rapidly cooling tea. Tom cleared his throat.
"Does it matter?"
Lila met his gaze levelly. It would not have been the first time a man had lost interest in her because she didn’t celebrate Christmas. If her faith was going to be a problem, best she learn now. "You tell me."
He shook his head and laid his hand across hers. "Of course not
. I just feel stupid about the ham comment. I’m sorry."
More relieved than she cared to admit, Lila squeezed his fingers. "Let’s not ruin a perfectly wonderful night by worrying about stupid things."
He lasciviously waggled his eyebrows at her. "It was pretty wonderful, wasn’t it?"
"Of course it was." Lila grinned. "I mean, look at you! You’re gorgeous! How could it not have been?"
His flirtatious grin faded abruptly. He pulled his fingers out of hers. Tom gave her a crooked smile. "So...dinner tonight?"
"Oh...I'm sorry. I can't." It wasn't a lie. She had an eye doctor appointment.
His gaze flickered. "Tomorrow? Lunch?"
She knew he was waiting for her to tell him yes, but the words didn’t seem to want to come out. She bit her lip, tried to speak, but could only make an awkward squeak.
Tom got up from the table and left his omelet uneaten. "I think I’d better go."
"Wait." It was too late. His expression told her no matter what she said, she’d only be making matters worse. "Tom. Please."
"I’ll see you around." Tom’s voice was cold as he tossed the apron onto the back of the chair. "Don’t bother to get up. I’ll find my own way out."
The slamming of the front door was like a blast of dynamite. The house felt suddenly much emptier, as if by Tom’s leaving he'd taken something vital with him. Lila stared at the remains of her omelet and felt very small.
* * *
Tom was furious. What’s more, he felt…used. A sensation he’d never before had the pleasure of experiencing, though he was guiltily certain he’d been the cause of it in more than one woman.
Lila wasn’t the type to hop into bed with anyone, he reminded himself. But if she was, it would be with a man like him. The words had come straight from her mouth. It all came down to the same thing again. His face. His body. All the things God and fate had seen fit to grant him with no effort on his part. Not his level temper or sense of humor, or even his successful business. None of that had mattered. What upset him most of all was he had thought he and Lila had made a connection beyond the physical. Obviously, he was wrong.
"‘Morning, boss," Emma greeted Tom as he slammed through the front door. "Have a nice night?"
She must have guessed the answer by his stormy expression because the grin on her freckled face was replaced by a look of concern. "You okay?"
He gritted his teeth "Fine."
"Woman trouble?"
Tom glared at her. "The last thing I want to do this morning is discuss my love life with my niece. I’m going up to take a shower. Then I’m going by the restaurant."
Emma let out a slow whistle. "Woman trouble, all right."
Tom ignored her, instead climbing the wide-set stairs two at a time. Tom entered the bedroom, tossed off his coat, and pulled his shirt over his head. Then he realized he was still wearing the fleece pants he’d borrowed from Lila.
Sinking into the overstuffed chair in the corner, he sat with fists clenched on his thighs. His stomach churned fiercely. Never had a woman knocked him so low with such a casual comment.
"Damn!"
The invective only made him feel slightly better. He tried a few more, growing progressively fouler until last he’d exhausted his store of creative curses. He still felt lousy.
He’d started the day feeling so great. Tom had never quite learned how to wake up with a woman in his arms. Yet, with Lila it had just seemed natural. It had seemed impossible to do anything else.
His fists unclenched. True, they didn’t seem to have much in common. Everything from their taste in movies to the brand of cola they drank was different. Yet, talking to her had been as satisfying as making love to her had been. He could have talked to Lila for hours or sat silently with her for just as long and never become restless.
Tom had never really been in love, though he’d said the words perhaps half a dozen times. He’d never fallen hard for any woman before, preferring instead to remain commitment-free. It wasn’t that he’d been concerned about keeping himself open for something better to come along, as most of his buddies were. It was more that no woman he’d ever dated had ever bothered to look beyond the face and body, which, until last night, had been fine, since he’d been doing pretty much the same.
Lila had led him to believe she’d made love to him in spite of his face, not because of it. She’d really fooled him, made him a fool. The sooner he forgot about her, the better off he’d be. But damn! Why did it have to make him feel like his chest was filled with broken glass?
* * *
The wildflowers in Lila’s hand were an explosion of expensive, off-season color. Vibrant, brilliant purple mingled with golden yellow, fiery orange, and stunning red. A single white rose centered the bouquet and gave it the touch of class Lila wanted.
The Foxfire was busy with its lunch-time crowd. Mothers with toddlers in strollers sat next to business-suited executives and denim-clad college students. The place was packed. Great. Just what she needed—an audience to her folly.
Lila took a deep breath and clutched the bouquet in front of her like a shield before she pushed through the frosted glass door. Only when her fingernails began cutting into her palm did she notice how tightly she held the flowers. She forced her fingers to relax.
"One for lunch?" The hostess was the same tall, cool blonde whose makeup looked like it had been applied with an artist’s brush. Every feature was lined or enhanced, but so subtly it was difficult to pin the effects on rouge or eyeshadow. She made Lila feel like she’d rolled out of bed without bothering to brush her hair or her teeth.
"Actually, I’m here to see the owner."
The hostess blinked twice and looked at Lila with new eyes. Her liquid green gaze took in the flowers, and a tiny smile tugged the corners of her freshly glossed lips. She tapped her perfectly manicured talons against the lectern. "I’m not certain he’s available right now. Is he expecting you?"
Though she thought violent behavior crass and cheap, Lila wanted to slap the smile off the other woman’s face. She could tell what the blonde was thinking just by the bemused smirk. She had seen it before, on the women who knew William.
Just to spite the other woman, Lila wanted to respond coolly, that yes, Mr. Caine was expecting her. Of course he was. In fact, he had begged her to visit him over the lunch hour.
"No, he isn’t." Lila couldn’t say anything else. Tom hadn’t begged to see her. She hadn’t even heard from him in four days. After what she’d said, he probably didn’t want to see her.
"I’ll see what I can do." The hostess left her post in a swirl of musky perfume.
She should just turn around and leave. She’d only come here because she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Every night before she went to bed, his was the last face she saw. Every morning, the fact he wasn’t there beside her made her stomach hurt.
She’d never obsessed about a man before. She’d never had to close her eyes against a sudden memory of his face or the way he smelled. She’d never had to whisper his name to herself in the mirror simply because she so badly wanted him beside her. Not even William had filled her head the way Tom did.
It was lust and nothing more. An itch that should have been scratched on Thursday night. But if that was true, why had she bought flowers? Why had she dialed his number half a dozen times and hung up before the first ring? Sex could be a very powerful motivation for action, but this went beyond two people going to bed. She needed to apologize to him because the thought she had hurt him made her ache inside.