The Baby Agenda

He knew what that something was. His gut was telling him to say good-night to her outside her hotel room door and leave. Don’t kiss her. Don’t step over the threshold. She wasn’t a one-night stand kind of woman, and he wasn’t interested in anything but.

Moira nodded and let him walk beside her to the elevators. One opened as soon as she pushed the button, and they rode upward in silence, side by side. He heard the soft sigh of a breath from her, caught an elusive scent that seemed old-fashioned. He had a flash of standing on the deep front porch of his family home, the sky purple with twilight, and that scent filling his nostrils.

Lilac.

The elevator opened and he said, “What’s your room number?”

She stumbled, stepping out, and he wrapped a hand around her arm to catch her. “Um…” She looked at the small folder she held. “Two-eighteen.”

Will nodded and directed her to the right. The hall was broad, the plush charcoal-gray carpet inset with maroon. He stopped in front of 218 and watched as she fumbled with the card, finally getting it into the slot correctly and turning the knob when the green light flashed.

“I should say good-night now,” he said hoarsely.

Holding the door open, she met his eyes. “Did you mean it, when you said…” She seemed to lose courage.

“Said…?” His heart was hammering.

She whispered, “That you think I’m beautiful.”

“I meant it.” He lifted a hand, hesitated, then only grazed her round, plush cheek with his knuckles. “You are.”

Her tongue touched her lips; she took a deep breath. “Then will you stay?”

CHAPTER TWO

STUNNED PLEASURE BLOSSOMED inside him like the warmth from good whiskey.

“You’re sure?” Will asked.

Had she really invited him in? Could he get this lucky?

But already Moira’s eyes had widened, as if she’d shocked herself, and her face flushed. Even so, she mumbled, “I think so.”

Despite the rising tide of hunger, he found himself smiling. “That wasn’t the strongest yes I’ve ever heard.”

Now her gaze was shy. “I haven’t done this in an awfully long time.”

His every instinct was to kiss her and keep kissing her until she was past any second thoughts. Damn, he hadn’t had sex in…it had to be a year, since he’d parted ways with Julia. But as desperate as he felt, Will wasn’t willing to risk making love with a woman who might hate herself or him immediately afterward.

“It’s been a good long while for me, too,” he admitted.

“Probably not as long as it’s been for me.” This mumble was so low he doubted it had been for his ears. It was a good reminder that his redhead had maybe had too much to drink. She was clutching onto the door frame pretty hard.

“Why me?” he asked.

She raised her chin. “You can just say no.”

“I don’t want to say no.”

“Oh.” Her lashes fluttered. “I’m attracted to you. I suppose…I needed someone to tell me I’m beautiful. You sounded like you really did mean it.” Her shoulders moved in an oddly unhappy jerk. “This is only for tonight…”

“It can only be for tonight.” His voice came out harsh.

Now alarm flashed in her green eyes. “You’re not married?”

“No.” He laid a palm against her cheek and felt the heat of her blush. “No,” he said, softer. “Nothing like that.”

“Okay.” Her breath tickled his wrist. “Then…?”

“Are you on birth control? I don’t have anything with me.”

Now her cheeks blazed. “I do. I was planning…”

He got it. The jackass downstairs was supposed to be standing here, not him. He was a substitute.

This was one time, Will thought with amusement and a leap of desire, that he didn’t mind filling in.

“In that case,” he said huskily, “I’d love to stay.”

He had a fleeting moment of being bothered that she looked surprised—had she really thought he’d say no?—but it was forgotten when he stepped forward until their bodies touched, chest to thighs. He took the hotel key from her hand and urged her backward, until the door swung shut behind them.

The room was dark; he fumbled for a switch and batted at it. The lamp beside the king-size bed came on, casting a golden circle of light. Perfect.

Damn, she was pretty. Will tossed the hotel key onto a dresser top and divested her of the small evening bag, sending it after the key. Then he cupped her face in his broad palms and bent his head.

He didn’t feel gentle, but he made sure his mouth was. Simply a little friction on her lips, a nibble, a stroke of his tongue. He could taste the martini, and something more. Something, he thought, that was distinctly her. He lifted his head and looked down at her face where color still blossomed. This close he could see that her lashes were darkened with mascara. Their natural color was undoubtedly that same bright copper. He’d like to see her without the mascara, with no defenses.

Although she had precious few now. She might have started with lipstick, but it had worn off, and the roses in her cheeks were surely her own. It would take a lot of powder to cover her freckles, and why would she bother trying? He liked those freckles.

“Can I take your hair down?” he whispered.

Her eyes were dazed. “I… Yes. Of course.”

When he delved his fingers in, he found an intriguing texture. As he removed pins, curls sprang free. One leaped around his index finger as if to entrap it. Her hair was thick and strong, strands sleek but not downy soft. Despite the sexual tension that gripped Will, he found himself foolishly smiling, imagining her trying to tame this mass every day.

“It’s awful hair.”

“It’s glorious.” Pins showered to the carpet; he was too busy playing to care. The curls tumbled below her shoulders. He guessed if her hair had been straight it might have fallen to the middle of her back. He could see that calling it copper wasn’t right: a hundred colors seemed to be mixed, from hairs as pale as flax to ones a deep auburn, and every shade in between. It was beautiful in this light. With sun shining on her head, she must glow.

“Man,” he whispered, and buried his face in her hair. The lilac fragrance was coming from it, and he let himself wallow happily for a minute. Then he pulled back enough to nip her earlobe and finally string kisses across her cheek to her nose and mouth.

This time he kissed her deeply, hungrily, sliding his tongue past her teeth to stroke hers. She made a muffled sound and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her body molded itself to his as if they were custom shaped. Sensation piled atop sensation: her tongue, slippery and sinuous against his, the plump, firm pillow of her breasts pressed against his chest, the vitality of the curls tangled around the hand he had cupping the back of her head.

He wanted her now, and fought to hold himself in check. That bastard downstairs had made her feel undesirable, and Will needed to fix that. Come morning, he was determined that she had no doubt in her mind how much he’d wanted her and how rich her own response was.

As he slid her zipper down and trailed his mouth over her throat, he murmured disconnected words meant to tell her what he felt. Her skin was unbelievably soft, and the leap of pulse under his lips aroused him like he couldn’t remember being. He nipped at her neck, wanting to leave a mark but careful not to. He couldn’t claim the right, not when he wouldn’t be around tomorrow.

She let out little gasps as he eased her dress down and peeled it off her arms then over her hips. His blood surged at the sight of her deep purple satin bra and a skimpy pair of matching panties.