Jo Leigh - Arm Candy

His gaze never wavered, his eyes never closed, and she struggled to keep from closing her own. They stared into each other’s souls as he pushed into her over and over, faster and faster, until finally, he cracked, and every muscle in his body, in his face, tightened to fever pitch, and then he cried out, a long, low guttural cry of release.

After several quavering breaths, he opened his eyes again. He kissed her, the fever still in him, but waning. She could feel his trembling as much as her own as he stepped back, guiding her to her feet.

She wasn’t terribly steady. Holding on to his arm, he walked her over to the couch, where they both sat, catching their breaths.

He held her hand. The simple gesture struck her as impossibly tender. They didn’t speak, didn’t need to. A single thought repeated over and over in her mind. Perfection. Her plan was perfect. She could live a long time on memories of this. Anticipating this. When they finally did get together, it would be fireworks and earthquakes. Yes, it was the very essence of perfection.

She lifted his hand to her lips, kissed him gently, and whispered the word aloud.

HE’D SPENT the afternoon taking a long nap. It was hard to believe she had to work. If she felt anything close to what he did, she must be a wreck. After that earthshaking encounter after breakfast, they’d showered together, and things had led to things. He was pretty damn proud of himself. Tired, but proud.

He’d decided to eat some dinner at a nearby Mexican joint, careful not to dirty his tuxedo. Afterward, it was a quick cab to Rockefeller Center, and the hoopla at the Rainbow Room.

The guests wouldn’t begin to arrive for another thirty minutes, so it was a little tricky getting past security, but finally they paged Jessica, and she came down to meet him.

Stunning again, this time in a dress that was to his eye pink, but she informed him it was actually ashes of roses. Whatever. She looked like a million bucks, and he felt like the king of the world walking into the venerable old club.

Some things never change, and for that he was grateful. The Rainbow Room still had that thirties art deco look, with a revolving dance floor, killer views of the city, including the Empire State Building, and the best damn bands the country had to offer. Tonight, one of his favorites: Harry Connick and his Big Band. Gotta love it.

“I’ve missed you,” he said as soon as they were out of earshot of any roving workers.

She smiled. “Believe me, I would have preferred to stay at the hotel.”

“Uh-oh. Owen?”

She nodded. “He’s shadowing me, regaling me nonstop with tales of your unbelievable rudeness. He suggested most strongly I should break up with you. Actually, I think he wants me to dump you in the East River with a block of concrete, but breaking up would suffice.”

“I have to say this for him, he’s consistent.”

“That’s for sure. I just wish he would stop being such a consistent jerk.”

“I’ll do my best to keep him off your scent, but it’s not going to be easy.” He leaned forward and nuzzled her neck. “You smell so damn good.”

She ran her hand down his neck. They turned at the same moment to meet in a kiss that reminded him just how lucky he was.

“How long do we have to stay at this shindig?”

“Till the bitter end.”

“Suppose anyone would notice if I, say, hit the fire alarm in about an hour?”

“Cute.” Jessica kissed him quickly on the mouth. “Very cute. But I need you to be a good boy. Go find my boss and neuter him, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll find you when I can.”

“Oh, goody.”

She sighed.

“One thing, though. You owe me a dance. I didn’t get the last one, and I won’t leave without it tonight. Especially on that revolving dance floor.”

“All right. I promise. Now I have to get back to work.”

“I know. But think of me.”

Touching his sleeve lightly, her expression grew sad. “That’s all I’ve been doing. Which isn’t so good. I need this week to be perfect.”

He touched her chin, lifting her face until her gaze met his. “We’re fine,” he said. “So you can safely put me on the shelf until it’s convenient to bring me out again. I won’t mind. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you,” she said, and he could see she meant it. “I’ll try. But you’re not that easy to forget.”

“I’m trying hard to see how that’s bad. No, I’m kidding. I mean it. The place looks fantastic, you’re the most beautiful woman in New York, and everyone in America and beyond is going to rush out and buy New Dawn cosmetics. So just go with the flow, my love. You’ll be perfect.”

Jessica kissed him one more time, only this time she lingered. When she walked away, he had to fight the urge to follow.

Better instead to use this energy to find Owen. The little weasel.

JESSICA STOOD at the edge of the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, but her gaze wasn’t on the spectacular view. She watched the dance floor, the banquet tables, the bars, as the crowd enjoyed the festivities. Even she had to admit, this was one hell of a bash.

The room, maybe the most elegant in Manhattan, sparkled. The walls and floors had a rich and subdued color scheme with full-length mirrors between narrow wall panels covered in brown satin. The emerald-green carpets blended perfectly with the jade-green leather-upholstered chairs. Mirrors, crystal, especially the magnificent chandelier above the dance floor, made everything and everyone in the space radiant.

The slide show, running continuously on the wide screen above the bandstand, was the best she’d seen of its kind, worth the incredible hours of hard work she’d put into it. New Dawn was having one hell of a send-off, and the movers and shakers of Manhattan were all in attendance.

From where she stood, she could see Oprah, John Travolta and his beautiful wife Kelly Preston, Chris Noth, Barbara Walters, Kate Hudson, Gwen Stefani, Marla and Shawn, and a host of InStyle magazine regulars. But none of them held her attention; she only had eyes for one man.

There he was. At the edge of the bar, staring right at her. The sexiest guy in the room.

He lifted a martini glass in tribute, drank a bit, then put it carefully on the bar behind him. Then he headed toward her, artfully dodging dancers, drinkers, models, reporters, waiters. The nearer he came, the faster her heart beat. Everything about him, the way he looked in his tux, the insouciant lock of hair, the very way he moved, all grace and raw sex appeal, made her feel as if this was her first date. It was crazy, really, for it to hit her so hard, so fast, but it was utterly undeniable.

He passed the last barrier to join her by the window. He lifted her hand and kissed the back. “I believe we have this dance.”

She glanced at the bandstand. “There’s no music.”

“There will be.”

She couldn’t say no, but she did hope real hard that she wouldn’t make a complete fool of herself. She had a seriously limited sense of rhythm. She could keep the tempo of anything by John Philip Sousa, but beyond that, she was rather hopeless. Dancing was mostly to be avoided. But tonight she wouldn’t dream of it.

Because the band had taken a break, they were alone on the dance floor. All around them, the room buzzed with conversation and laughter. None of it penetrated their cocoon.

He put his arms around her, drew her to him. Her cheek went to his chest as she snuggled close. They stood quite still while she counted his heartbeats, and in an act of magic, her rhythm became his rhythm, her breath, his.

To complete the moment, to honor his promise…music.

The song was that lovely Hoagy Carmichael tune “The Nearness of You,” so romantic that it carried her on wings. He led, she followed, and together they were exquisite grace.