Chapter 10

She wished she had the strength to pretend she didn’t want him. Not wanting him would be safer. Easier. After a lifetime spent cleaning up other people’s messes, the last thing she wanted was complications in her own private life. And this man was the most magnificent complication that ever existed.

Millie let her eyelids drift shut as Ty wrapped one of those deliciously enormous hands around her ankle. She looked to see if his fingertips overlapped, but she already knew they would. She’d been memorizing bits and pieces of Ty Ransom since the day they’d met. His big hands topped her list of things she liked about him.

Like a squirrel gathering nuts, she oh-so-casually picked up a hint here and a factoid there, then stashed them away in her private hidey-hole. The man was a study in contrasts. Strong but unfailingly gentle. Large but born with a grace nonathletes could never emulate. She could stare at him all day. Would think about him night after night. And tonight…this night would live on in fantasy for years to come.

The second he’d walked into the bar to claim her, she’d started taking a greedy inventory of their time together. She’d gathered every tidbit she could. The deep furrow between his brows. His freakishly long legs. Every bit of his Stretch Armstrong body. Then she noticed the tan lines. He had the faint lines of a golfer’s tan on his arms and legs. She was a fairly uniform pasty pale from top to bottom, but Ty was a veritable Pantone study in browns. The knowledge that he’d earned those tan lines while freeing himself to be with her made every shade of him even more irresistible. He ran his hand up her leg, his fingers loosening to fit the curve of her calf, his palm hot along her shinbone. Thank God she’d shaved her legs.

“Millie, look at me.”

He spoke so softly she had no choice but to obey. With superhuman effort, she opened her eyes and waited for his handsome face to swim into focus. Almost immediately, she wished she hadn’t. The way he looked at her. So intent. So absorbed. His unabashed desire for her was almost too much to bear. Not when she had so little to offer him.

Desperate to deflect his rapt attention, she forced a flash of a smile. “Wanna tie me up with your ties, Ty?”

Astonishment wiped his face clean. He blinked once, then gave his head a sharp shake. “Huh?”

A fierce blush scalded her cheeks. “It’s a line from an old movie,” she explained. When she saw he wasn’t catching on, she shifted straight into babble mode. “Caddyshack. Chevy Chase’s name was Ty and this girl… Never mind. Kate, Avery, and I do that a lot. Use movie quotes, I mean. Not tie each other up with ties.”

He cocked his head to the side, then let his hand slide higher up her thigh. “I’ve spent the last six weeks doing two things—playing golf against the septuagenarian hustler who calls himself my father and thinking about all the ways I want to crawl inside you. You ask if I want to tie you up with my ties, and you think I’m gonna cop to a quote from a golf movie?”

“I’m a little nervous.”

She wished she could take the words back. Millie wasn’t the kind of woman who let any man get the better of her. She never got nervous, even with dozens of cameras pointed in her direction, and she didn’t babble, for God’s sake. Words were her weapons. A strong offense was always the best defense. She needed to get ahold of herself.

“You?” Ty’s surprised expression went a long way to soothing her nerves.

She covered with a wry twist of her lips and a pointed look at the wall of windows. The last rays of summer sunlight streamed through the panes, washing the entire room in a golden glow. While she was thankful the room wasn’t lit with banks of harsh fluorescents, bright light from any source was rarely kind to a woman her age. Making a show of shielding her eyes from the brightness, she squinted. “I don’t suppose you have any shades on those things?”

Ty barked a laugh, then rolled onto his side, effectively blocking her from the light. “How’s this?”

Blinking up at him, the first thing she noticed was the halo. He ran an appreciative hand up her thigh, over her hip, waist, and rib cage. His wandering hand stopped beneath her breast, but his thumb had gone rogue. The rough pad teased the shallow valley between her breasts. Golden glow or not, the wicked grin he wore was sure to disqualify him as a model for one of those old portraits of saints they used to print on funeral cards.

“I keep thinking I should make some crack about throwing shade, but I’m a little distracted.” He cupped her breast gently, then lowered his head. “Quick, think of something quippy while I do this.”

His mouth closed on her nipple, and any chance she had at concocting anything clever flew right out one of those massive windows. She bucked and bowed, her body responding to the heated pull of his mouth. He squeezed her, shaping her to fit his palm. The sharp edges of those toothpaste-white teeth abraded the sensitive flesh. Millie could almost feel the debate going on inside her nerve endings. Part of her softened like melted butter with each swipe of his velvet tongue. Another part stiffened against the sharp edge of want he unleashed in her.

She wanted him, and she couldn’t think of one logical reason in the world she shouldn’t have him. They were colleagues of a sort, but he wasn’t her boss, nor she his. Unlike his ex-wife, people would consider her an age-appropriate match. Of course, she could come up with dozens of illogical ones. Number one being the very high probability of falling hard for him. As a newly divorced man, he wouldn’t be looking to her for anything serious. She had to keep things light. Easy. Physical, not emotional. All she had to do was concentrate on the feel of his hands on her body, the tug of his lips and hot slash of his tongue.

“Harder,” she panted.

He complied without hesitation, sucking her deep into his mouth, then teasing the hypersensitive skin with each retreat. His body moved against hers. Funny how well they fit when they were horizontal. Each hard plane of muscle matched up to her softer counterparts. She vowed not to think about the roll of excess flesh no amount of jogging could budge. Didn’t matter. The long, hard length of his cock pressed insistently against her thigh. She felt invincible. Like a goddess. She was Atalanta, the great huntress from Greek mythology. The woman no man could outrace.

Unless she chose to let him catch her.

Which she wouldn’t. Couldn’t. When the time came, he’d pick someone younger. A better prospect for a future. And a family. This was a fling. One she could enjoy for as long as it lasted.

He moved down her body, mapping the curve of her rib cage with tiny kisses, murmuring sweet, sexy words of praise and appreciation. She drank them in, letting them fill her up. He didn’t know their relationship had already sprung a slow leak. And though she should, Millie couldn’t quite bring herself to tell him the pale skin he seemed to like so much was a hint as to who she really was—a ghost of a woman. Translucent on the outside, hollow within.

As if following the trail of her thoughts, he kissed his way down to the scar that traced the curve of her lower belly. His tongue highlighted the long-healed wound. He looked up. Questioningly. She could feel the heat of his stare on her face, but she couldn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she gave the briefest, bluntest explanation she could. The kind designed to stop any further questions cold.

“I had cervical cancer in my thirties and had a hysterectomy.” She nodded to the condom box. “We don’t have to worry about any late-in-life babies, but safety first, right?”

He gave her a puzzled look, then nodded. “I’m sorry—”

Millie pressed her finger to his lips and fixed him with an unwavering stare. “It was a long time ago. I’m fine.”

In an effort to obliterate any other notions of sympathy—or worse, pity—he might be harboring, she removed her finger and slid her hand around to cup the back of his head. Ty hummed his approval when she exerted the barest bit of pressure. Nuzzling and kissing his way, he slipped down farther and pressed his full, wet lips to the apex of her pussy.

“Here? Is this where you want me?”

His breath was hot and damp. The words spoken in a feverish hush made her toes curl. “Exactly.”

He ran the tip of his nose teasingly along her sex, then gave her clit a nudge that nearly made her sit bolt upright. She felt the curve of his smile against her heated flesh. Heard his pleasure in the sultry timbre of his voice. “And what did you want me to do while I’m hanging out down here?”

“Lick,” she answered at once. He complied but with only a solitary swipe of his hot tongue. One that didn’t go nearly far enough, or deep enough, to do anything but add fuel to the fire. “Suck.”

She barely uttered the command out before his mouth closed on her clit. The first pull yanked a gasp right out of her. The second stole her breath entirely. They had no need for words, which was a good thing, because Millie wasn’t certain she could form them. His mouth was hot, his appetite for her voracious. If the delicious sensations of his slick, wet flesh sliding over hers weren’t enough to send her sailing, the enthusiasm with which he applied himself might have been.

The storm gathered inside of her once more, her climax building with shocking speed. She was a one-and-done kind of girl. Usually, she found second orgasms overrated when one weighed effort exerted in the balance. This seemed to be barreling down on her like a bullet train.

“Oh!” Her cheeks burned, and her muscles coiled. She lifted her hips higher. All the better to meet the thrusts of the fingers he’d slipped into her.

And then she broke.

Waves of heat pulsed through her. Yes, they were gentler than the minor explosions he evoked before but no less intense. Each fresh wash of pleasure rippled through her whole body. This wasn’t a tsunami or even the kind of arcing crests people in 1950s beach movies boast of riding. Every stroke of his tongue unleashed another round of shudders. At the last, she lay quaking beneath him, her skin so tight she felt like she might burst straight out of her own birthday suit. If only she had the energy for bursting.

Before she could draw a deep breath, he was looming over her. Crowding her. Giving her the thrilling weight of his body pressing her into the cushion. Staring deep into her eyes, he hooked his arm under her knee, settled himself into the cradle of her hips, and thrust home in one stroke.

She gasped again. This time, the pleasure was tinged with shock—and a healthy dose of feminine rawr. She raked her nails up his back, signaling her approval of his actions and hoping to spur him to greater heights. Then she drew back enough to watch the show. After all, who didn’t like a man who knew when to take charge?

“Did you think about this?” She tried to make her voice low and taunting, but to her own ears, she sounded more like an oxygen-impaired bullfrog. Determined to goad him a little, she cleared her throat and tried again. “Fucking me here…on this pretty red couch?” She raised one arm above her head and stroked the fine nap of the fabric. “Did Mari pick this out?”

He grunted, and his jaw tightened. The question seemed to throw him off for a beat, but he quickly recovered. “Yeah, she did.”

Moving with the languid laziness of a bumblebee drunk on nectar, Millie lifted her hand and cupped his face. She ran her thumb over the high arcing crest of his cheekbone, down to the rough of his incoming beard. “Funny how a woman can have such questionable taste in men and such good taste in decorating.” Ty’s only response was a sharp increase in tempo. “What? You don’t wanna talk about your ex-wife while you’re fucking me on her sofa?”

“Filthy mouth.” He ground the words out from between clenched teeth, but his lips were curved up at the corners.

Her answering smile stretched wide as she slipped into the groove. Literally and figuratively. The angle of Ty’s thrusts set her body tingling again, but she dismissed the notion of going for the three-peat. Twice was very nice, and she wasn’t feeling overly greedy. Just smug. “Like that, don’t you? You like my dirty mouth.”

“Keep going.”

Running her thumb over his jaw, she narrowed her eyes in challenge. “What if I don’t?”

Ty shifted his weight, the hard ridge of his hip bone biting into hers as he grappled for the arm of the couch. The next flex of his hips made her vision blur ever so slightly, but she couldn’t be bothered thinking about possible blindness now. Not when this new position granted her new access to his chest and the defined contours of his abs.

“This is a crime, you know,” she murmured.

He paused midthrust, every muscle in his body going rigid. “What?”

“A man your age looking like this.” She softened her chide by sliding her palm over the subtle bands of muscle. “No wonder all the teenyboppers want you to do them.”

He gripped one side of her ass and spread her even farther as he lifted her bodily off the couch to meet his next thrust. “I’m not interested in girls.”

She blinked, then let a sly smile come. “Wow. One night with me, and he becomes a switch-hitter.”

“Women,” he managed to grunt, his lip curling in a snarl. His gaze locked on her. He gulped visibly, then corrected himself. “Woman. One woman.”

Gratified to discover she’d robbed him of his ability to string words together, she reached down, grabbed the taut globes of his finely sculpted ass, pulled him deep inside her, and held him close. His breath caught. His arms trembled with exertion. Until she ran her hand over one bulging bicep, it hadn’t occurred to her that he still held the lion’s share of his weight off her. And she wanted that weight. All of it. All of him.

“Come,” she ordered, staring straight into his eyes.

“Huh.”

The grunt was a question, a refusal, and a fervent prayer all wrapped up in a single syllable. Her smile softened as she basked in the glow of the need lighting those amber eyes. She wet her lips, then repeated her request. “I want you to come. Don’t hold back, Ty. Stop fighting.”

“But…”

She squeezed him tight, and he groaned long and loud, proving all the Kegels she’d done to strengthen her pelvic wall were not for nothing. He seemed to lose the thread on his protest, so she decided to goad him along a little. “Butt? On the first date?”

A laugh boomed from him like a cannon blast. Then his hips jerked, and his entire body seemed to bow and flex as he unleashed a rough, ragged groan. His eyes closed, and his face contorted. Gorgeous, white teeth gleamed in the fading light of the day, but Ty wasn’t smiling as he pumped into her. His handsome face was twisted into a grimace as he lowered his head into the crook of her neck. Full, soft lips sought and found the tender spot beneath her ear. She shivered at the contact, but she wasn’t the least bit cold.

Heat radiated from his skin. She imagined waves rising off him the way they wafted from overbaked asphalt. His chest heaved as he blew like billows, each breath fiery and moist. He groaned again, but she heard little pleasure in the throaty surrender.

“What?” She ran comforting hands up over the planes of his back. “Did you throw your back out? Pull a muscle? Charlie horse?”

His only response was a huffy chuckle and weak shake of his head.

“You’re not some kind of shape-shifting animal that breaks its yoohoo off in the female, are you?”

“Wha?”

The question was muffled and loaded with enough disbelief to give her an answer. “Never mind.” She slid one hand up into the downy soft curls at his nape. “You just…you don’t seem happy.”

The observation earned her another soundless laugh and a half-hearted version of his earlier groan. He drew a breath deep enough to make her think of birthday cakes loaded with those candy-striped candles, but instead of a hearty gust, he let go slow and soft. “I’m not happy that I can’t seem to manage to make love to you naked in a bed like a normal human being with reasonable impulse control. Maybe I am some kind of animal.”

Millie grinned at the apex of the vaulted ceiling. “I hear being a normal human is boring. Never saw the point in being average.”

He lifted his head, holding her gaze, and slowly peeled himself off her. His feet found the floor, and he canted his body away from her. Broad shoulders hunched as he dealt with the condom. She smiled. If he was an animal, he was a cautious and considerate one, even if their encounters hadn’t quite lived up to whatever standard he had set in his head.

Sated as she was, she still felt a little…squirmy. Millie raised her arms over her head and pointed her toes, twisting to one side then the other as she indulged in a long, luxurious stretch. Letting her muscles go slack, she opened her eyes to find Ty staring down at her. Unrepentant, she gave him a lazy smile. “I like this couch.”

“I slept here the night you came creeping across my back lawn.”

The image of him passed out in this exact spot pleased her for some reason. Like this overstuffed, overused sofa was somehow destined to be tangled up in their affair. She ran her hand over the fine grain of the upholstery. “You got drunk after I left.”

“Yes, I did.” Ty held up one finger to ask her to hold her thought, then pivoted on his heel, headed for the narrow hallway, and opened one of the doors.

A light flicked on, and a second later, she heard the toilet flush and water run in the sink. She let her head fall back and blinked up at the ceiling, willing her bladder not to give in to the siren song of water rushing through the pipes.

Too late.

Cursing the daiquiris she’d downed earlier in the evening, she heaved a sigh and rolled up off the couch. She hadn’t thought to grab a shirt or something when she followed the sounds of the commotion in the garage. Now, she cursed her lack of forethought. Straightening her shoulders, Millie forced herself to walk across the room as unselfconsciously nude as he had. After all, she looked pretty damn good in the buff. For a woman of any age. Besides, the sunlight was waning, and he’d seen all she had to see. No point in playing shy.

Ty opened the door to the powder room, then drew up short. “Oh. Sorry. I needed to get rid of the…”

He waved in the general direction of his crotch, and she bit back a laugh. “Evidence?”

“Encumbrance,” he countered.

Millie ducked her head as a prickle of heat danced through her. “Have I ever told you how hot it is when you jock types show your smarts?”

He smirked. “Is that what the kids call them now?”

“I need a minute.” Placing her hand on his chest, she pushed him back enough to give her room to slip past him into the half bath and close the door behind her. “I wouldn’t mind a glass of water, if you feel like treating a girl.”

“I’ll treat you to anything you want,” he called through the door. “Water, wine, beer, booze?”

“Water is good,” she answered, hoping he’d go away. Her muscle control wasn’t as absolute as it used to be.

“How about dinner?”

Millie dropped onto the commode and let her face fall into her hands.

“I don’t think I have much here other than stuff in the freezer,” he continued as if they didn’t have a door between them. “I could order in.”

She scrubbed lightly, then gave her cheeks a light pat, gathering the strength to hold on a few seconds longer. A whimper rose in her throat, but she managed to squeak out a weak, “Sounds great.”

“Do you like Chinese? Pizza? Hey, do you like Thai? I know a good place that delivers—”

“Go away, Ty.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t pee until you go away. Now, will you go away before I explode?”

The door rattled slightly, and she realized he’d been leaning against it. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”

She closed her eyes and counted to ten, praying he’d actually walked away. Satisfied he had, she blew out a breath and let go.

A few minutes later, she’d washed her hands with the Midnight Magnolia–scented hand soap and finger-combed her hair into some semblance of style, wishing she had a tube of lip gloss at hand. Her lips were swollen from kissing and a bit chapped. She spotted patches of pink beard burn on her chin and cheeks, but she didn’t mind. Her eyes looked bright and shiny. Almost feverish. All these added up to proof that getting laid could do things for a girl a vibrator simply could not.

Taking a bracing breath, she spun away from the mirror before her attention strayed below the neck. No sense in undermining her self-confidence.

She reentered the great room to find Ty standing at the wet bar in almost the exact spot he stood the first time they kissed. Except now he was naked. Two tall glasses of water waited on the granite countertop. One with ice, one without. She offered a helpless shrug as she approached. “Sorry. Shy bladder.”

He gave her a nervous smile. “No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

She nodded to the glasses. “One of those for me?”

Again, a flush darkened his cheeks. “I didn’t know if you liked ice or not.”

The small smile tugging at her lips stretched into a grin as she reached for the ice water. “I can take it any way you want to give it to me.”

“Stop.”

He practically growled the word at her as he took the other and began to drain the contents in big, noisy gulps. Millie paused midsip, then slowly lowered her glass as she watched his Adam’s apple bob. The skin below the line of his beard was smooth and tan. A deeper brown than his chest. Her gaze fell to the line of demarcation spanning his narrow hips and she swallowed hard. “You know, I’ve never thought about whether African Americans tan.”

His dark brows arched as he lowered the glass. “I don’t need to ask if you do. You’re the same shade all over.”

“Milkmaid Millie,” she said, saluting him with her glass. “Wasn’t easy being so pasty in the tanning bed era of the eighties, let me tell you, but Halloween costumes were a breeze.”

“You’re beautiful.”

The cubes in her glass clinked as she took another sip. “You’re blinded by the white. Blink a few times.”

“Millie.”

With a single word, he sliced right through the smokescreen she was trying to set up. But she wasn’t subject to his intuitive skills. She had to give in to the pull. Placing the glass on the counter, she tipped her chin up to meet his gaze. “Tyrell.”

He smiled. “What would you like for dinner?”

The question gave her pause. He sounded so easy, but the question was more complicated than he could imagine. Asking what was for dinner was a couple question. Almost homey. Hell, the guy was barely back in town, the ink still wet on his divorce decree, and he was acting like the two of them hanging around in his house—naked—discussing their next meal was an everyday thing. And it wasn’t. Wouldn’t be. Not forever. This was some kind of fantasy land. Not the X-rated kind but more like the two of them were operating on separate levels. A parallel universe.

Pushing away from the bar, she tossed a throwaway smile in his direction and headed for the stairs. “You’re sweet, but I have a Lean Cuisine and a ton of work to do tonight.”

Her foot had barely touched the bottom step when he caught up to her. “Wow. Well, I can see how it would be hard for a guy to compete, but…come on, Millie. Why are you jerking my chain?”

She froze, her hand wrapped tightly around the polished wood banister. She couldn’t stand being accused of emotional gamesmanship. She might spin things in her professional life, but in her personal relationships, she made it her policy to be strictly forthcoming. Pivoting to look directly at him, she drew a calming breath. She told herself going off on him wouldn’t be fair. Ty didn’t know any better. But now the time had come to lay out the ground rules.

“I think we need to talk.”

He didn’t move or even flinch. The tension stretched between them to the point where the silence was almost funny, given the fact that they were both completely naked. Almost but not quite. “I guess I should tell you right up front I’m probably one of the few guys in the world who isn’t terrified by that sentence.”

“And I think I should tell you I won’t be bullied into having a relationship with you.” She tried to soften the statement with a smile, but the shock on his face told her she missed the mark. Still, she had a point to make, whether he liked what she had to say or not. “I get really touchy when people make presumptions on my time.”

His eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t aware you felt you were being bullied. I apologize.” He inclined his head in a sort of old-fashioned show of deference. A lump rose in her throat, and her chest ached. He gestured to the stairs. “If you aren’t interested in having dinner with me, then we’ll get dressed, and I’ll drop you at home.”

Her grip on the rail tightened. So did the knot in her stomach. Deep down inside, she didn’t want to go home to a frozen dinner and her laptop. She wanted him to ask. Nicely. Ask her out like a real date, not pick her up at a bar, take her home, and make her see stars. “You didn’t ask if I wanted to,” she pointed out.

“Wanted to?” He looked truly perplexed, then completely panicked. “I didn’t ask if you wanted to what?”

Millie saw the flash of horror in his eyes and raised her hand to his cheek. “No, not that. I fully consented to the sex, Ty. What I’m saying is, you didn’t ask if I wanted to have dinner with you.”

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” he asked with cautious precision.

She leaned in and caught his mouth in a soft, lingering kiss. His eyes were hooded as she pulled back, but the embers in them flared. “Yes to the food,” she said, nipping any other ideas he might have in the bud. Taking his hand, she curled her arm until their clasped palms rested square in the small of her back. “Funny. Suddenly, I have the worst craving for Thai…Ty.”