Safe in Noah's Arms Page 19

“No, Dad. I could use the help of someone experienced.”

  “Do it, Monica. Find her a role.”

  Monica sighed. Dad wasn’t going to let it go, but neither was Monica going to give in. Hoping to put him off, she said, “I’ll think about it, Dad.”

  “Good. Get back to me on that.”

  After she hung up, Monica threw the idea of Marcie helping out into the metaphorical trash can at the back of her mind. No way was she letting Marcie anywhere near the barbecue.

  * * *

  MONICA JUMPED OUT of bed.

  Noah had kissed her yesterday, and they had been the most delicious, skilled kisses.

  Could she make it happen again?

  He’d been curious about where she sprayed her perfume. Would he wonder today?

  Just in case...where should she put it?

  She ran through the list of spots he’d already detected. She didn’t want to become too risqué. After all, Noah wasn’t her boyfriend, or anything.

  Humming, she picked up her vintage Chanel atomizer and studied herself in the mirror. An inspired thought struck. She would put it on the back of one of her knees.

  She’d once told Billy how sensitive she was there, how she loved it when he kissed her there, how she craved the abrasion of his beard when it had grown out a bit during the day.

  Unfortunately, Billy was a main-event kind of guy and never afforded the kind of attention to all the bits and pieces that made Monica a sensual creature.

  Not like Noah. He seemed to revel in those bits. The rasp of his tongue on the inside of her arm yesterday had sent her senses into the stratosphere.

  Dressed and about to leave the room to have breakfast then brush her teeth, she halted and looked back at the bed.

  For a couple of years after Billy’s death, her bed had become both a comfort and a trap. Day after day after day, she’d lain in it for hours, feeling sorry for herself, missing her dead husband.

  Those feelings had eased, had morphed into a kind of low-grade malaise that had dogged her days. Noah would probably wonder how she knew a word like malaise.

  He underestimated her. Funny. She should be angered by that, but instead found real pleasure in setting him straight. She loved those moments of surprise on his face when he realized she was so much more than she appeared to be, or that he assumed she would be.

  The challenge of finding new ways to surprise him had started to urge her out of bed lately.

  This morning she was actually eager to start her day, eager to get to the farm and have Noah come close enough to find her perfume. Oh, that amazing feeling of his breath on her skin and the heat of his nearness washing over her body.

  And the joy of discovering his nose was as sensitive as hers! And he could name her ingredients!

  He had the greatest olfactory organ. He probably wouldn’t think she would know that word, either. She knew the word proboscis, too, but would never use it to describe Noah’s nose. His nose wasn’t too long or too pronounced.

  Noah’s nose was perfect, the right length, with the lightest smattering of freckles.

  What she hadn’t known was that a nose, the most mundane and least glamorous part of a body, could be so sexy. But Noah made it so.

  She made the bed, smoothed her hand over the white eyelet quilt she’d made before she and Billy had gotten married, and smiled. Giggled.

  Today she would stump Noah with her latest ingredients. She was sure of it.

  All of the base ingredients were still in the same fragrance family, but she had added one new fragrance note.

  She touched the bed one last time. This piece of furniture had become many things to her. Today, it was just a bed, a place to catch up on sleep so she could get on with the act of living.

  Today, not only had she wanted to get out of bed, but she also cared. She cared about the world and her place in it.

  She cared about Noah.

  * * *

  HE RACED THROUGH his indoor morning chores then rushed outdoors only to draw up short.

  No BMW waited for him in the driveway. Where was Monica? Not that he was waiting for her. He just needed to move forward with the day, get things done. His arm was in a cast. She had to do stuff for him. That was all.

  Ah, but those kisses yesterday. Not only had she yielded to him, but she’d also been aggressive in taking—and he liked that.

  He walked his fields. Tomatoes were coming along well, and there were no pests. Good thing he planted a row of marigolds along one side to repel hornworms, and a row of nasturtiums along the other to repel aphids.

  He found his mind only half on his plants and the other half on the woman who should have been here by now. He checked his watch. Okay, he was wrong. She still had another five minutes.

  But then he straightened and listened as he heard the sound of a car approaching. She was here!

  With long strides, he left the field and swung around the corner of the house.

  Eyes drawn to a pair of long, bare legs getting out of the car, he missed what she said.

  His gaze flew to hers. “Pardon?”

  “I brought us muffins to have after we finish our work. I assumed you would have some coffee or tea to go with them?”

  “Yeah. I have stuff to drink.” Stuff to drink. Cripes. Where was his brain? Still preoccupied with those mile-long legs and trim ankles.

  “I’ll put these inside.” She mounted the porch steps but stopped at the top to watch him over her shoulder. “Noah?”

  “Yeah?”

  “The back of my left knee.” Her look, so cute and saucy, made him laugh. This playful side surprised him, caught him unaware. Made him breathless for more.

  From the bottom step, he leaned forward. “May I?”

  “Ummm...” Her back still to him, she watched him over her shoulder, then playfully touched one finger to her chin and pretended to think it over. “Yes. Tell me what you think.”

  I think I’m in love.

  Whoa, where had that come from? This was infatuation, nothing else. Absurd that he would call this love. But, hey, infatuation could be a lot of fun.

  He pressed forward until his face nearly touched her leg and took a delicate sniff.

  “Pepper,” he murmured.

  She gasped. “How do you do that?”

  He’d heard that women were sensitive behind their knees. He wanted to test that theory. He ran two fingers along her skin. She shivered.

  “What else?” She sounded breathless.

  He touched his fingers to his nose. “Traces of allspice.” He licked them and placed them against her sun-warmed skin.

  She shivered again. She’d been doing that a lot around him lately.

  Goose bumps rose on her flesh. Warm skin, but shivery reaction. God, he loved this game.

  Slowly, she stepped away from his wet fingers and entered the house.

  “I’ll just put these inside.” She sounded calm, but breathless.

  She was affected every bit as much as he was, he surmised.

  The day had only just begun and already he was looking forward to the next one. Where on Monica’s body would he find her perfume tomorrow, and would she let him touch her again?

  But curiously enough...he was in no rush. If this wasn’t the craziest, most fun foreplay he’d ever experienced, he thought anything more erotic would kill him.

  And yeah, this was foreplay. He’d come to a firm decision after kissing her yesterday.

  One way or another, Monica Accord, you will be mine.

  * * *

  MONICA SET DOWN the muffins on the counter and leaned both palms hard against the edge, trying to calm her breathing.

  Her heart pounded. What kind of game was she playing? Tomorrow she wanted to find a more intimate
spot on her body to spray her perfume. She wanted him to touch her, closer and closer to her core.

  She wasn’t used to sexual games. There had been nothing subtle about her big puppy-dog husband. Billy knew what he wanted and jumped in with both feet.

  She’d lost her virginity to him. It had hurt because he hadn’t prepared her for it first. Billy tended to dive into ponds first and check for rocks later. At first she may not have been satisfied, but he had. For a long time, that had been enough.

  Later, though, she’d asked for more and he’d been happy to accommodate.

  This, though? This...this...thing with Noah was driving her nuts. She’d never known long, slow foreplay. And she’d certainly never initiated it.

  Her own playfulness, her own sense of control, left her empowered and joyful. It felt good. Better than good. Wonderful!

  She wanted to keep this going. She liked leading Noah along.

  Then an odd thought occurred to her. Someday soon she would have to lead him right into her bed, not only because she wasn’t teasing him, only to walk away, but also because she was hornier than she’d ever been in her life. While this flirtation seemed to burst from nowhere between them, it felt so right. Perfect. Oh, Lord, she wanted the man with a desperation she’d never known before.

  There! She’d said it. She was horny.

  She touched her breast where her nipple peaked. Oh, so tender. It needed a man’s hand. Specifically, Noah’s.

  Her smile felt Mona Lisa-inspired in the supreme knowledge that she was turning Noah on and he was enjoying it as much as she was.

  She sure wasn’t ready to give in yet, though. Foreplay had been precious and rare in her marriage, but not here with Noah. He seemed to like it, too. She wanted him with an ache, but she also wanted to play, to build tension, to nurture and appreciate the ache.

  She’d never felt sexy before. Now, with Noah, she felt sexy-y-y and wow, it was amazing.

  Noah, sweetheart, welcome to my playground.

  * * *

  THE FOLLOWING DAY, she thought of her best idea yet.

  Noah, wait until you get a load of this, she thought as she dabbed perfume on her waist, just above the waistband of her jeans.

  She buttoned up her sleeveless shirt, but didn’t tuck it in, instead tying the long ends into a knot at the front. An old-fashioned style, but it allowed access to the perfume.

  She drove out to the farm strangely breathless and a little dizzy by the time she arrived. If this was what foreplay with Noah did to her body, she wasn’t sure she would survive going all the way with him.

  He stood in the yard, waiting for her.

  Without a word, she stepped out of the car, walked around to the front and leaned back on the hood in a sexy pose. Or what she hoped was sexy. She didn’t have a clue.

  His intense gaze followed her every move, touched every part of her body.

  He stalked toward her like a hungry cat and said one word. “Where?” Maybe she did look sexy after all.

  “Here.” She lifted the knot of her blouse an inch baring her midriff.

  Noah’s eyes widened.

  He leaned forward. No, to put it accurately, he yearned forward, his desire a shimmering heat that pebbled her skin.

  He bent, breathed on her skin, raising goose bumps, and licked her. Good heavens. This man and his magical tongue, with his propensity for licking her, was going to give her an orgasm this minute, right here in the wide-open outdoors.

  He straightened. No smiles today. No cocky grins. No clever thoughts.

  “We need to get to work.”

  He stalked away, turned back, scrubbed his hands over his face and growled, “Soon, Monica. Soon.”

  She couldn’t answer. She was still trying to suck all of the air of which he had robbed her back into her lungs.

  Dizzy with hunger for Noah’s body, stars danced before her eyes.

  Could she survive foreplay?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  MONICA APPROACHED HER father again, this time catching him at the bar without Marcie in attendance.

  She ordered her usual bagel with light cream cheese and a black coffee, forgoing all the lovely cream she liked.

  Before he could raise the topic of giving Marcie a role in organizing the charity, she said, “Dad, I’ve been having this weird idea and I’d like your feedback.”

  She’d been developing this dream, this hope that maybe she could be a businesswoman. She finally had an idea she thought not only held merit, but also fueled her passion.

  “What is it?” He was drinking coffee today—not Scotch, thank goodness—and bit into a turkey BLT.

  “I want to open a shop-and-gallery combo, here in Accord.”

  He put down his sandwich, clearly surprised. “What kind of shop?”

  “Olivia has the art scene covered, but I’d love to sell items from local artisans, like jewelry and fabric work. For many people who study clothing design, jobs are few and far between when they leave college, especially if they want to stay in the state instead of heading to New York or California. What if they could design and sell original clothing here? Stuff that differs from any other clothing sold locally.”

  He mulled it over. She thought he looked approving. “And the gallery part? Wouldn’t it compete with Olivia?”

  “No, that’s the beauty of my plan. I would love to comb local attics and basements to find the treasures that women and men created years ago, then put them on display.”

  She bit into her bagel then swallowed before continuing. “For example, I would show off all of the amazing embroidery of the women in my family.”

  “I like it.”

  “You do? And do you think I could do it? Make a success of a shop like that?”

  “If anyone could, it would be you. Ever since you were little you’ve been fascinated by fashion and fabric.”

  “I still have to see whether the bank will lend me the money for this kind of start-up—”

  “I’ll do it. I’ll lend it to you. You’d never get it from the bank. You have no track record and no collateral. I’ll bankroll you.”

  Exactly what she’d been hoping. Maybe she should try to stand on her own two feet with this, but Dad’s assessment was right. “Thank you, Dad.”

  Through the rest of her lunch, she felt almost teary. Monica’s dad had faith in her and it felt wonderful.

  After work that evening, Monica stood outside of Tonio’s with Maria.

  “It’s a good idea, Monica. You must do it.”

  “I’m scared, Maria. What if I fail? What if I lose my dad’s money?”

  Maria answered with a philosophical shrug. “It’s only money.”

  “That’s easy to say when it isn’t my money. I would feel less worried if I were gambling with my own, but I don’t have any to gamble.”

  “It will all be yours one day anyway.”

  Not true. Not anymore. “Half of it will be mine. I assume Dad will share his inheritance between the two of us equally.”

  Maria’s frown took in the entire town before settling in the vague direction of her father’s house. “So much has changed for you. Are you okay?”

  Monica’s smile felt gentle and grateful, but also sad. “In all of my dreams of having a sister, when I had my little imaginary friend, I never, ever anticipated it would come true. Now that it has, I don’t know what to think. I’m trying hard to adjust.”

  The grocery bag was cutting into her palm, so she shifted it from one hand to the other. “It’s so small of me, but I find I’m having trouble sharing my dad.”

  “Of course. You’ve had your father’s love all to yourself until now.” Maria touched her arm. “This I will tell you is the truth about parents and children—there is always enough love to go aroun
d. Hearts don’t have boundaries. They grow as much as they need to.”

  “Thank you, Maria. That helps.”

  “Hey,” Maria said. “Here comes Noah. He’s a store owner and businessman. He can help you figure out the shop.”

  “Shop?” Noah asked turning his attention to Monica. “What shop?”

  “It’s nothing, Noah.” But in saying so she could see she’d hurt his feelings. Saying it out loud, discussing the project, made it too real, too prone to failure. It scared her. If she didn’t act on it, then it couldn’t fail, could it?

  Still, a frown lingered on his intelligent brow.

  “Noah, I’m thinking about opening a shop, to sell the kinds of things I love.”

  “A shop? Really? On Main?”

  “Alphonse is closing down his cigar shop. Things worked fine for years, but people aren’t smoking like they used to.”

  “Yeah, Alphonse did well for a while. And he loved his shop because he loved cigars. I love mine because I believe that reduce, reuse and recycle will save our planet. And you, Maria?”

  “I love food. I love my products. I love turning people on to good recipes.”

  Noah redirected his attention back to Monica. “If you love your product and it shows in your marketing, you’ll do well.” He cocked his head slightly. “What will you sell?”

  “I would collect and sell vintage items, but it won’t be an antique shop. I would specialize in fabrics and embroidery. And I’d hire local clothing designers to create beautiful clothes that I could sell. The same with local jewelers.”

  She hesitated to tell the rest, certain that Noah would be as skeptical as Maria. “In the back, I’d set aside space for a gallery of women’s fashions from years ago. It wouldn’t bring in money, though.”

  As expected, Noah frowned. “Do you think that’s wise? You’ll have rent to pay.”

  “I’ll try it out, see if the store can carry it.”

  She should share the rest. See what he thought. “I want to sell my own line of perfumes, too.”

  Maria butted in, shoving her arm into Noah’s face. “Smell this.”

  He sniffed her wrist and broke into a wide grin. “It suits you perfectly.”