Parallel Roads Page 3

  From the moment your relationship with Mercedes fell apart because of your drive to succeed, your long work hours.

  A soft, almost tentative knock sounded on the door, telling him exactly who waited in the musty, carpeted hallway.

  The grin that stretched his face had him feeling like a randy teenage boy as he hurriedly struck a match to light the candles. Pulling down the one blind to block out the late afternoon sunlight and soften the shabby room, he swung the door open, revealing a very anxious and astonishingly gorgeous woman.

  With her blonde hair loose and cascading in waves down her back, she looked very little like the waitress he’d met not even a couple of hours earlier. But despite her utter gorgeousness, she was no longer self-assured.

  Her yellow dress with its deep V-necked bodice, short skirt and big swirling flower patterns flattered her fuller figure, drawing his eyes first to her long coltish legs and then upwards, to her cleavage. He pulled his stare away from her charms, reining in the fierce leap of his pulse, the excited rush of blood to his already aching groin. ‘Come in,’ he said hoarsely.

  She jerked a tight nod, ‘Thank you,’ and stepped inside.

  He closed the door, breathing in slow and deep of her fresh, lavender fragrance. Not perfume, he decided, shampoo. Her long hair had been washed and blow-dried, and now it shone like silvered water under the candlelight.

  She turned to him. Her eyes dropped from his. Her cheeks reddened. Her hands fiddled with her purse strap.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asked gently.

  She lifted her gaze; the gold flecks in her eyes so vivid now, even under the dull candlelight of his room. The windows to her soul showed defiance even as her voice cracked with uncertainty. ‘You were staring.’

  ‘I guess I was. You’re a beautiful woman.’

  She chewed her lower lip, dark lashes veiling her thoughts. ‘I’m … I’m not much good at this sort of thing.’

  He stepped forwards, taking the nondescript clutch purse from her grasp and snaring her chin, bringing her stare back to his. ‘Then let’s not pretend this is anything more than what it really is—a one-night stand.’

  She shuddered a little, her mouth parting as she stared up at him like he was the devil and decadent chocolate all rolled into one. ‘Thank you for your honesty,’ she said throatily. ‘In my eyes, we’re fucking, no more, no less.’

  He swallowed. Hard. Her frankness had his dick jerk in response, his troublesome blood pressure roaring like a freight train in his ears, while the more heartfelt part of him urged to bestow her with loftier dreams. He quashed the idea like the ruthless bastard he’d become. ‘All right then, let’s … fuck.’

  His head dropped and his mouth claimed her warm, satin-soft lips. When his tongue drove inside her parted mouth, tasting and exploring, she whimpered, first with uncertainty, and then with obvious arousal.

  She was all silken hair and smooth skin, all soft feminine need when she began to kiss him back. Her hands lifted, unknotting and then slewing off his tie. Her dainty fingers fumbled a little as she unbuttoned his dress shirt.

  Somehow her nerves only increased his desire and with an inaudible growl he restrained his libido, letting her set the pace.

  ‘I … I can’t undo the damn buttons!’ she gasped, looking and sounding mortified and aroused all at once.

  Jessie pulled back, noting her swollen, just-kissed mouth, her flushed face and self-conscious stare as he quickly finished the buttons and rid himself of his gaping shirt. His hands stilled in the act of divesting his pants, his belly tightening as she turned her back to him and lifted her long hair aside, exposing a neat row of pearl lookalike buttons that ran halfway down her spine.

  Her fresh scent intoxicated him as he stepped towards her and used quick, jerky movements to unbutton her dress, baring the creamy skin of her back and shoulderblades. She turned around, chin tilting and her eyes holding his while she freed her arms from her short sleeves and allowed the dress to fall to her feet in a whisper of sound.

  Oh, god.

  She wore not even a stitch beneath her dress and the pink nipples of her full breasts hardened beneath his stare. She took a step back her chin tilted higher still, revealing a proud defiance and arousal that warred with doubts and insecurity.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ he said hoarsely.

  He never had been attracted to women who were racehorse slim. She was curvy in all the right places, her legs long, her stomach slightly rounded above a blonde triangle of hair. But it wasn’t just her looks, it was something … more. Though he barely knew her, he was attracted to her as though he really had known and admired her half his life.

  She disarmed him, her odd combination of bold and shy something he’d rarely seen in any woman.

  ‘Thank you,’ she breathed.

  No, thank you.

  Dragging his stare from her, he forced his body to cooperate. Toeing off his shoes, he unsnapped his pants and dragged them off, along with his underpants and socks. And this time it was she who stared at him.

  He grinned, feeling totally wicked and just a bit proud. Though it was part of his job to eat, and eat well, he was fit and athletic from his daily workouts in the gym and boxing ring. And no woman had ever complained about any other part of his anatomy.

  They stepped towards one another simultaneously. Their mouths merged with a hunger that verged on desperation. Their bodies compressed together, a perfect fit. Her hands moved up to his shoulders, her nails scoring his skin as she mewled with unrestrained need.

  He propelled her backwards into the bedroom, their steps jerky and uncoordinated as urgency filled their senses, their mouths locked and tongues duelling. He ran his hands up and down the notches along her spine, the warmth of her silky skin, before he clutched the rounded curve of her buttocks and levered her onto the bed.

  She lay back, her bent legs almost primly pressed together—though she was by no means shy anymore. She looked surreal beneath the glow of candlelight, an exotic feline with hunger in her eyes.

  Her eyes moved down his body, appraising him, making his cock jump in response. He suppressed a groan—until she sat, her hands boldly enclosing his shaft before skimming his length up and down.

  His eyes drifted shut as pleasure bolted through his groin and rippled outwards. He gritted his teeth, his breath catching for fear he’d lose control before he’d even had the pleasure of sliding into her warmth.

  He clasped her hands, stilling her as he fought for control. He’d not been so close to making a fool of himself since losing his virginity in high school.

  And this time she asked him, ‘Are you okay?’ in a voice that was all angelic innocence.

  He opened his eyes and managed a half-smile. ‘Yeah. I’m good.’

  Better than good.

  Restraining the urge to crush her into his arms and let his body take control, he crouched beside her. Using the back of his fingertips, he traced over her collarbone and down over a breast, the pink nipple pebbling harder still beneath his touch.

  Her breath hissed and then he continued along her sternum towards the slightly rounded curve of her belly. Her muscles quivered as he continued downwards, towards the junction of her thighs. He skimmed across the soft curls before parting her folds to massage the hard, sensitive nub within until she was writhing and panting beneath him.

  The air filling with their musky scent of arousal, he moved onto the bed, straddling her as he reached into the bedside drawer and took out a foil. With quick, economical movements he tore open the packet and rolled the condom down his rock-hard length. Then he was taking her soft, compliant heat into his arms and bringing her close, her legs falling apart as their mouths joined, her feet hooking behind his thighs as he laid full-length atop her.

  She tensed as he guided the head of his cock between her folds and pushed partway into her slick heat, allowing her inner muscles to accommodate him. When he drove deep just seconds later, she gasped into his mouth and he swallowed the sou
nd, her sweet breath, he groaned at the wondrous sensation.

  Damn, she was so deliciously tight, yet wet and primed all at the same time.

  He dragged his mouth from hers. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked, his voice a barely leashed growl.

  ‘Never. Better.’

  A moment later she was arching against him, moving with him, faster and faster until she clutched at him, her beautiful face flashing surprised rapture and her inner muscles locking around him as she shuddered with orgasm.

  His brow knitted together for perhaps half a second, and then all thought, all logic evaporated as his body jerked and he climaxed with a long, loud groan.

  ***

  Jessie woke alone, the bed sheets cold beside him. His eyes jerked open, his blurry vision reading the digital alarm clock. Ten am.

  He never slept late.

  He sat and scanned the room. It took all of two seconds. He was alone. There wasn’t even the sound of anyone in the rooms next door.

  ‘Bloody hell!’

  She’d gone.

  And I never even asked her name.

  His belly twisted. He should have been relieved, happy. She’d taken away the awkwardness of a morning confrontation and him having to think of an excuse for her to leave. He blew out a breath, raking a hand through his hair. She’d also taken all possibility away of something much more substantial between them, something that suddenly seemed paramount he explore.

  Bloody hell! Perhaps he had lost the plot after all. Just the thought of a relationship normally scared him half to death. He’d long ago decided women fell into two categories: untouchable work colleagues and potential short-term lovers.

  Since Mercedes, one night with a luscious woman was more than enough ‘getting to know you’ time before his interest started to wane.

  Ignoring remorse at the cavalier attitude he’d adopted somewhere along the way after his break-up with Mercedes, he flung aside the bedcovers and pushed to his feet. A couple of minutes later he’d dragged on his clothes and footwear scattered over the floor. Jogging down the stairs, he tried to ignore the hard knot in his gut as he headed for the little restaurant across the street.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going, mate?’

  Jessie stilled near the exit, frowning as he turned to find the glowering face of Tatts behind the bar. His frown deepened. ‘I’m not sure that’s any of your business.’

  Tatts leaned on the bar, his inked biceps bunched with aggression, his eyes flashing. ‘You spent the night with my woman. I’d say that is my business.’

  Jessie’s belly lurched. Oh, fuck no. Little wonder Tara had had second thoughts about sleeping with him. She must have slipped past the barman last night while he’d been busy serving patrons. Evidently Tara’s exit plan hadn’t been quite so ideal.

  He shrugged, striving for casual. ‘I think it’s pretty clear she’s not your woman anymore.’

  The barman glanced at the three older men sitting at the bar, as if signalling for silent backup. ‘We don’t want your kind here. In fact, if I were you, I’d get out while you still can.’

  Jessie raised a brow, refusing to be intimidated. He was certain Tatts would know how to fight and fight well, but he was no slouch either. It hadn’t just been his cooking skills and intellect he’d kept sharp, he’d stepped into the boxing ring more times than he could remember as part of his sometimes brutal fitness regime.

  He let out a gusty sigh. ‘Look, I really don’t have time for this petty shit.’ Ignoring the barman’s livid expression, he stepped outside.

  An old Kombi van with swirling peace signs and colourful flowers was parked in front of the restaurant. He gritted his teeth, feeling selfish and not even trying to stop the emotion. He wanted answers and he wanted them now. A muscle in his jaw jerked. He wanted her all to himself.

  The bell clanged almost violently as he thrust open the restaurant door to the aroma of coffee beans and yeasty, baked spices. At the counter a glass display case revealed fresh muffins, cakes and bread.

  She’d been busy for at least a good couple of hours. It pained him more than a little to realise she’d left his bed even earlier than he’d thought.

  She was pouring coffee for the colourfully dressed, mature hippie couple at a table at the back of the restaurant when she looked up and saw him. The coffee jug wavered in her hand. Hot mud-brown liquid splashed over the table and splattered her customers.

  One of the couple shrieked and she looked down with a startled gasp and jerked the coffeepot upright. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, pushing aside their breakfast plates to mop up the mess with a tea towel she’d slung over a shoulder. ‘I’ll get you another coffee, no charge. And of course, breakfast is on the house.’

  The dreadlocked hippie customers nodded, mollified, before she moved away, still clearly flustered and out of sorts.

  She nodded in his direction, though her eyes didn’t quite meet his. ‘Good morning.’

  He followed her when she walked through the swing doors into the kitchen and it was his turn then to feel inept and at a loss for words. So unlike him. As a television chef host and the owner of many restaurants he had to think quickly on his feet at all times. Yet one night of fantastic sex with a beautiful stranger and he was lost for words.

  She tensed as the door swung shut behind him. Her shoulders grew taut as she clutched hold of the industrial sink that was right next to a set of stairs. Did they lead up to where she lived? A part of him really wanted to know.

  ‘I need to talk to you.’ His voice came out harsher than he intended as he restrained the urge to take her up the stairs and have his wicked way with her again, give her just one more round of pleasure to make her think twice before she left him.

  She turned around, her expression reserved. ‘Okay.’ She lifted an arm then let it drop back to her side. ‘So … talk.’

  He frowned, before snaring the arm she’d lifted and inspecting her wrist. ‘You’re hurt.’

  ‘It’s nothing serious, just a coffee burn.’

  He took hold of her rigid shoulders and turned her around to face the sink. It took all of his willpower not to think dirty thoughts when her gorgeous curves fitted so perfectly against the planes of his chest, belly and groin. Stifling a groan, he flipped the tap lever and guided her wrist under the cool, running water. He leaned down, his breath fanning her ear. ‘My apologies for startling you.’

  ‘You didn’t—’

  ‘I did.’ At her relenting sigh, he added, ‘Stay there for a bit, I’ll get your customers their coffee.’

  It’d also give him time to get his emotions back under control, his dick. He couldn’t decide which one was worse, his protective instincts towards her or his unmistakable lust.

  Her wrist still under the water, she turned her head and asked, ‘Do you know how to make it? I mean, it’s a tetchy old coffee machine—’

  He almost laughed. Almost. She really didn’t recognise him! His ego might feel a little deflated, but it was kind of refreshing to have her like him … for him. With one hand on the swing doors, he said wryly, ‘Relax. I’ve got you covered. Besides, you lost paying customers because of me.’

  Before she could offer any more reasons to stop him, he pushed through the doors and proceeded to measure out the coffee grounds and water into the coffee maker. Minutes later he was pouring fresh coffee for the hippie customers, who gave him little more than a cursory glance as they ate their breakfast.

  He raised a brow. He’d have to visit these inland towns more often if flying under the radar was this damn easy.

  She still had her arm under the water when he returned a few minutes later, a worried look on her lovely face. His arms bridging either side of her, he flipped the lever up, turning off the water and all the fantasies springing to life in his head. ‘Don’t worry,’ he murmured, ‘I’m no stalker … I just … I didn’t want to leave without at least knowing your name.’

  She let out a slow breath, and nodded. ‘Tara. Tara Mayfair.’
/>
  ‘Tara. That’s a beautiful name.’

  She turned in his arms and looked up. ‘Thank you.’

  He withdrew his wallet as she asked, ‘And your name?’

  ‘Jessie McCormick.’

  No recognition lit her stare when she breathed, ‘Jessie,’ as though tasting his name on her tongue and liking it very much.

  He opened his wallet, not for the first time glad of his habit to carry a good amount of cash. He withdrew the last ten of his one hundred dollar notes. There were plenty more where they came from. ‘You left before I could—’

  ‘No!’ She put a hand on his arm, clearly embarrassed … distraught. ‘Please, don’t. I don’t want your money.’ Her bottom lip trembled, red staining her pale cheeks. ‘Not anymore.’

  His arm froze mid-motion. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘What we shared last night … well, it was special, at least to me.’

  He nodded. God, he was such a fool sometimes. It she only knew how special it had been for him, too. But somehow he couldn’t say it. Not yet. Not until he’d had time to examine these odd, new feelings inside. ‘I’m glad,’ he said instead.

  A tentative smile touched her lips. ‘And … I don’t expect anything long-lasting between us,’ she blinked, flushing, ‘it’s just …’ Her words trailed off then came out in a rush, ‘I’ve never had an orgasm.’

  His breath hissed as though he’d been sucker-punched to the stomach. Despite being witness to her surprised expression when she’d climaxed, it hadn’t sank into his one-track mind that the experience was new to her. Somehow it made what they shared extra special and fulfilling. And he wanted her even more.

  Her face coloured a little more. ‘I mean, of course I’ve had an orgasm, just not … like this … not without added help.’

  He should be jumping in his car and making the long trip back to Sydney and his sister. And to phone coverage where he could begin salvaging his ‘no-show’ for the opening of his latest restaurant. But despite his need to coddle his sister, she wasn’t a child anymore. And his restaurant—all his restaurants—would surely function for a few more days without him, even with the grand opening disaster.