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Amanda expected one of the neighbor children, or maybe the postman with a package, so when she opened the door and found Jordan standing in the hallway, she felt as though she’d just run into a wall at full tilt.
For his part, Jordan looked a little bewildered, as though he might be surprised to find himself at Amanda’s door. “I should have called,” he said.
Amanda recovered herself. “Come in,” she replied with a smile.
He hesitated for a moment, then stepped into the apartment, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. He was wearing jeans and a green turtleneck, and his brown hair was damp from the Seattle drizzle. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out to lunch or something.”
Amanda glanced at the clock on the mantel and was amazed to see that it was nearly noon. The morning had flown by in a flurry of housecleaning. “Sure,” she said. “I’ll just clean up a little—”
He reached out and caught hold of her hand when she would have disappeared into her bedroom. “You look fine,” he told her, and his voice was very low, like the rumble of an earthquake deep down in the ground.
By sheer force of will, Amanda shored up her knees, only to have him pull her close and lock his hands lightly behind the small of her back. A hot flush made her cheeks ache, and she had to force herself to meet his eyes.
Jordan chuckled. “Do I really scare you so much?” he asked.
Amanda wet her lips with the tip of her tongue in an unconscious display of nervousness. “Yes.”
“Why?”
The question was reasonable, but Amanda didn’t know the answer. “I’m not sure.”
He grinned. “Where would you like to go for lunch?”
She would have been content not to go out at all, preferring just to stand there in his arms all afternoon, breathing in his scent and enjoying the lean, hard feel of his body against hers. She gave herself an inward shake. “You know, I just refused a similar invitation from my mother, and she would have thrown in a movie.”
Jordan laughed and smoothed Amanda’s bangs back from her forehead. “All right, so will I.”
But Amanda shook her head. “Too many munchkins screaming and throwing popcorn.”
His expression changed almost imperceptibly. “Don’t you like kids?”
“I love them,” Amanda answered, “except when they’re traveling in herds.”
Jordan chuckled again and gave her another light kiss. “Okay, we’ll go to something R-rated. Nobody under seventeen admitted without a parent.”
“You’ve got a deal,” Amanda replied.
Just as he was helping her get into her coat, the telephone rang. Praying there wasn’t a disaster at the Evergreen to be taken care of, Amanda answered, “Hello?”
“Hello, Amanda.” She hadn’t heard that voice in six long months, and the sound of it stunned her. It was James.
Grimacing at Jordan, she spoke into the receiver. “I don’t want to talk to you, now or ever.”
“Please don’t hang up,” James said quickly.
Amanda bit down on her lip and lowered her eyes. “What is it?”
“Madge is divorcing me.”
She drew a deep breath and let it out again. “Congratulations, James,” she said, not with cruelty but with resignation. After all, it was no great surprise, and she had no idea why he felt compelled to share the news with her.
“I’d like for you and me to get back together,” he said in that familiar tone that had once rendered her pliant and gullible.
“There’s absolutely no chance of that,” Amanda replied, forcing herself to meet Jordan’s gaze again. He was standing at the door, his hand on the knob, watching her with concern but not condemnation. “Goodbye, James.” With that, she placed the receiver back in its cradle.
Jordan remained where he was for a long moment, then he crossed the room to where Amanda stood, bundled in her coat, and gently lifted her hair out from under her collar. “Still want to go out?” he asked quietly.
Amanda was oddly shaken, but she nodded, and they left the apartment together. The phone began ringing again when they reached the top of the stairs, but this time Amanda made no effort to answer it.
“I guess I can’t blame him for being persistent,” Jordan remarked when they were seated in the Porsche. “You’re a beautiful woman, Amanda.”
She sighed, ignoring the compliment because it didn’t register. “I’ll never forgive James for lying to me the way he did,” she got out. Tears stung her eyes as she remembered the blinding pain of his deceit.
Jordan pulled out into the rainy-day traffic and kept his eyes on the road. “He wants you back,” he guessed.
Amanda noticed that his hands tensed slightly around the steering wheel.
“That’s what he said,” she confessed, staring out at the decorated streets but not really seeing them.
“Do you believe him?”
Amanda shrugged. “It doesn’t matter whether I do or not. I’ve made my decision and I’m not going to change my mind.” She found some tissue in her purse and resolutely dried her eyes, trying in vain to convince herself that Jordan hadn’t noticed she was crying.
He drove to a pizza joint across the street from a mall north of the city. “This okay?” he asked, bringing the sleek car to a stop in one of the few parking spaces available. “We could order takeout if you’d rather not go in.”
Amanda drew a deep breath, composing herself. The time with James was behind her, and she wanted to keep it there, to enjoy the here and now with Jordan. Christmas crowds or none. “Let’s eat here,” she said.
He favored her with a half grin and came around to open her door for her. As she stood, she accidentally brushed against him, and felt that familiar twisting ache deep inside herself. She was going to end up making love with Jordan Richards, she just knew it. It was inevitable.
The realization that he was reading her thoughts once more made Amanda blush, and she drew back when he took her hand. His grip only became firmer, however, and she didn’t try to pull away again. She was in the mood to follow where Jordan might lead—which, to Amanda’s way of thinking, made it a darned good thing they were approaching the door of a pizza parlor instead of a bedroom.
3
The pizza was uncommonly good, it seemed to Amanda, but memories of the R-rated movie they saw afterward made her fidget in the passenger seat of Jordan’s Porsche. “I’ve never heard of anybody doing that with an ice cube,” she remarked with a slight frown.
Jordan laughed. “That was interesting, all right.”
“Do you think it was symbolic?”
He was still grinning. “No. It was definitely hormones, pure and simple.”
Amanda finally relaxed a little and managed to smile. “You’re probably right.”
Since there were a lot of cars parked in front of Amanda’s building, a sleek silver Mercedes among them, Jordan parked almost a block away. It seemed natural to hold hands as they walked back to the entrance.
Amanda was stunned to see James sitting on the bottom step of the stairway leading up to the second floor. He was wearing his usual three-piece tailor-made suit, a necessity for a corporate chief executive officer like himself, and his silver gray hair looked as dashing as ever. His tanned face showed signs of strain, however, and the once-over he gave Jordan was one of cordial contempt.
Amanda’s first instinct was to let go of Jordan’s hand, but he tightened his grip when she tried.
Meanwhile James had risen from his seat on the stairs. “We have to talk,” he said to Amanda.
She shook her head, grateful now for Jordan’s presence and his grasp on her hand. “There’s nothing to say.”
The man she had once loved arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t there? You could start by introducing me to the new man in your life.”
It was Jordan who spoke. “Jordan Richards,” he said evenly, without offering his hand.
James studied him with new interest flickering in his shrewd eyes. “Brockman,” he answered. “James Brockman.”
A glance at Jordan revealed that he recognized the name—anyone active in the business world would have—but he clearly wasn’t the least bit intimidated. He simply nodded an acknowledgment.
Amanda ran her tongue over her lips. “Let us pass, James,” she said. She’d never spoken so authoritatively to him before, but she took no pleasure in the achievement because she knew she wouldn’t have managed it if Jordan hadn’t been there.
James did not look at Amanda, but at Jordan. Some challenge passed between them, and the air was charged with static electricity for several moments. Then James stepped aside to lean against the banister, leaving barely enough room for Jordan and Amanda to walk by.
“Richards.”
Jordan stopped, still holding Amanda’s hand, and looked back at James over one shoulder in inquiry.
“I’ll call your office Monday morning. I’d be interested to know what we have in common—where investments are concerned, naturally.”
Amanda felt her face heat. Again she tried to pull away from Jordan; again he restrained her. “Naturally,” Jordan responded coldly, and then he continued up the stairway, bringing Amanda with him.
“I’m sorry,” she said the moment they were alone in her apartment. She was leaning against the closed door.
“Why?” Jordan asked, reaching out to unbutton her coat. He helped her out of it, then hung it on the brass tree. Amanda watched him with injury in her eyes as he removed his jacket and put it with her coat.
She had been leaning against the door again, and she thrust herself away. “Because of James, of course.”
“It wasn’t your fault he came here.”
She sighed and stopped in the tiny entryway, her back to Jordan, the fingers of one hand pressed to her right temple. She knew he was right, but she was slightly nauseous all the same. “That remark he made about what the two of you might have in common…”
Jordan reached out and took her shoulders in his hands, turning her gently to face him. “Your past is your own business, Amanda. I’m interested in the woman you are now, not the woman you were six months or six years ago.”
Amanda blinked, then bit her upper lip for a moment. “But he meant—”
He touched her lip with an index finger. “I know what he meant,” he said with hoarse gentleness. “When and if it happens for us, Amanda, you won’t be the first woman I’ve been with. I’m not going to condemn you because I’m not the first man.”
With that, the subject of that aspect of Amanda’s relationship with James was closed forever. In fact, it was almost as though the subject hadn’t been broached. “Would you like some coffee or something?” she asked, feeling better.
Jordan grinned. “Sure.”
When Amanda came out of the kitchenette minutes later, carrying two mugs of instant coffee, Jordan was studying the blue-and-white patchwork quilt hanging on the wall behind her couch. Gershwin seemed to have become an appendage to his right ankle.
“Did you make this?”
Amanda nodded proudly. “I designed it, too.”
Jordan looked impressed. “So there’s more to you than the mild-mannered assistant hotel manager who gets her Christmas shopping done early,” he teased.
She smiled. “A little, yes.” She extended one mug of coffee and he took it, lifting it to his lips. “I had a good time today, Jordan.”
When Amanda sat down on the couch, Jordan did, too. His nearness brought images from the movie they’d seen back to her mind. “So did I,” he answered, putting his coffee down on the rickety cocktail table.
Damn that guy with the ice cube, Amanda fretted to herself as Jordan put his hands on her shoulders again and slowly drew her close. It seemed to her that a small eternity passed before their lips touched, igniting the soft suspense Amanda felt into a flame of awareness.
The tip of his tongue encircled her lips, and when they parted at his silent bidding, he took immediate advantage. Somehow Amanda found herself lying down on the sofa instead of sitting up, and when Jordan finally pulled away from her mouth, she arched her neck. He kissed the pulse point at the base of her throat, then progressed to the one beneath her right ear. In the meantime, Amanda could feel her T-shirt being worked slowly up her rib cage.
When he unsnapped her bra and laid it aside, revealing her ripe breasts, Amanda closed her eyes and lifted her back slightly in a silent offering.
He encircled one taut nipple with feather-light kisses, and Amanda moaned softly when he captured the morsel between his lips and began to suckle. She entangled her hands in his hair and spread her legs, one foot high on the sofa back, the other on the floor, to accommodate him.
The eloquent pressure of his desire made Amanda ache to be taken, but she was too breathless to speak, too swept up in the gentle incursion to ask for conquering. When she felt the snap on her jeans give way, followed soon after by the zipper, she only lifted her hips so the jeans could be peeled away. They vanished, along with her panties and her sneakers, and Jordan began to caress her intimately with one hand while he enjoyed her other breast.
The ordinary light in the living room turned colors and made strange patterns in front of Amanda’s eyes as Jordan kissed his way down over her satiny, quivering belly to her thighs.
She whimpered when he burrowed into her deepest secret, gave a lusty cry when he plundered that secret with his mouth. Her hips shot upward, and Jordan cupped his hands beneath her bottom, holding her in his hands as he would sparkling water from a stream. “Jordan,” she gasped, turning her head from side to side in a fever of passion when he showed her absolutely no mercy.
He flung her over the savage brink, leaving her to convulse repeatedly at the top of an invisible geyser. When the last trace of response had been wrung from her, he lowered her gently back to the sofa.
She lay there watching him, the back of one hand resting against her mouth, her body covered in a fine mist of perspiration. Jordan was sitting up, one of her bare legs draped across his lap, his eyes gentle as he laid a hand on Amanda’s trembling belly as if to soothe it.
“I want you,” she said brazenly when she could speak.
Jordan smiled and traced the outline of her jaw with one finger, then the circumferences of both her nipples. “Not this time, Mandy,” he answered, his voice hardly more than a ragged whisper.
Amanda was both surprised and insulted. “What the hell do you mean, ‘not this time’? Were you just trying to prove—”
Jordan interrupted her tirade by bending to kiss her lips. “I wasn’t trying to prove anything. I just don’t want you hating my guts when you wake up tomorrow.”
Amanda’s body, so long untouched by a man, was primed for a loving it wasn’t going to receive. “You’re too late,” she spat, bolting to an upright position and righting her bra and T-shirt. “I already hate your guts!”
Jordan obligingly fetched her jeans and panties from the floor where he’d tossed them earlier. “Probably, but you’ll forgive me when the time is right.”
She squirmed back into the rest of her clothes, then stood looking down at Jordan, one finger waggling. “No, I won’t!” she argued hotly.
He clasped her hips in his hands and brought her forward, then softly nipped the place he’d just pillaged so sweetly. Even through her jeans, Amanda felt a piercing response to the contact; a shock went through her, and she gave a soft cry of mingled protest and surrender.
Jordan drew back and gave her a swat on the bottom. “See? You’ll forgive me.”
Amanda would have whirled away then, but Jordan caught her by the hand and wrenched her onto his lap. When she would have risen, he restricted her by catching hold of her hands and imprisoning them behind her back.
With his free hand, he pushed her T-shirt up in front again, then boldly cupped a lace-covered breast that throbbed to be bared to him once more. “It’s going to be very good when we make love,” he said firmly, “but that isn’t going to happen yet.”
Amanda squirmed, infuriated and confused. “Then why don’t you let me go?” she breathed.
He chuckled. “Because I want to make damn sure you don’t forget that preview of how it’s going to be.”
