Czytaj książkę: «Wild Fling or a Wedding Ring?»

Slanting his mouth over hers in a smooth glide, deliberately light and teasing, he offered a kiss that hinted and lured rather than taking outright.

Cali shuddered, her breath slipping over his lips with a soft moan. He pulled back to meet her gaze. “That good, huh?”

Her lips curved as she drank him in through half-lidded eyes. “I’d forgotten just how good that felt.” The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten the sexy swell of her pink bottom lip.

“Wasn’t much of a kiss, if you ask me,” he murmured. “I can do better.”

Her eyes darkened like smoked sea glass and locked on his mouth, sending “go” signals toward his groin. Her breath hitched as, moving closer, he traced the smooth line of her delicate jaw with his thumb, sifted his fingers through the silky hair at the nape of her neck, and tilted her face to his.

“Maybe just one more,” she whispered breathlessly, her lips an enticing invitation.

“One more,” he agreed, intent on doling out a kiss with every skill and seductive nuance he’d honed since high school packed into it. And that kiss would become the prelude to a night in bed.

Dear Reader

Have you ever had a connection to a place that neither time nor distance could sever?

I have. Chicago.

It’s the city of my youthful heart and romantic memories. It’s where I grew up, became a woman, and learned to love. When I began writing WILD FLING OR A WEDDING RING? I found myself mentally walking the streets, dropping by old haunts, and picking out all that I loved about the city to give to my heroine, Cali, to discover.

In the end this book became a bit of a love letter to Chicago, and I hope I’ll be able to share some of what makes this city so special to me with you.

Do you have a city that’s stolen your heart? If so, drop by my website at www.miralynkelly.com and share your stories.

Mira

Wild Fling or A Wedding Ring?

By

Mira Lyn Kelly

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Mira Lyn Kelly grew up in the Chicago area, and earned her degree in Fine Arts from Loyola University. She met the love of her life while studying abroad in Rome, Italy, only to discover he’d been living right around the corner from her for the previous two years. Having spent her twenties working and playing in the Windy City, she’s now settled with her husband in rural Minnesota, where their four beautiful children provide an excess of action, adventure and entertainment.

With writing as her passion, and inspiration striking at the most unpredictable times, Mira can always be found with a notebook at the ready. (More than once she’s been caught by the neighbours, covered in grass clippings, scribbling away atop the compost container!)

When she isn’t reading, writing, or running to keep up with the kids, she loves watching movies, blabbing with the girls, and cooking with her husband and friends. Check out her website www.miralynkelly.com for the latest dish!

This is Mira’s first book!

To my husband, Chris. I love you.

CHAPTER ONE

STYLED in 1930s décor, the Jazz House was an inconspicuous place, classy and understated, tucked into a quiet corner of Chicago’s downtown Streeterville neighborhood. Smoky melodies, thick with heartbreak and yearning, drifted through the dark club, curling around hushed conversations and seeping beneath the tensions of the day.

Seated toward the back of the high-polish bar, Calista McGovern swirled rough chunks of ice in her gin and tonic, savoring the pull of blue notes at her soul. This was a place she could get used to.

That was it would be, if the next two months weren’t committed to an assignment that left little chance of Cali seeing the light of day—or even the dark of night for that matter—before it ended. She was Project Manager for the multibillion-dollar retail conglomerate MetroTrek, and her stint in the Windy City guaranteed long hours under the steady hum of fluorescent lights, broken only by meals on the run and the necessity to sleep.

Chicago was about work. It was a stepping stone to the new London expansion position her New York-based boss, Amanda Martin, had all but promised her—if she could nail the Chicago job first. It was the opportunity Cali had been waiting for.

Her plane had touched down on the O’Hare tarmac three hours before. She would have been elbow-deep in work already if it hadn’t been for Amanda’s insistence that she spend her first night in Chicago out on the town. And, more specifically, at this club.

As a rule, Cali wasn’t much of a suck-up, but with the London position hovering on the horizon—the restoration of a career she’d nearly destroyed all but complete—catering to her boss’s whims seemed a reasonable accommodation.

Amanda had discovered the club through her little sister’s husband, Jackson, last time she’d been home for a visit, and hadn’t stopped talking about it since. Normally mention of anything associated with the beloved brother-in-law earned a mental eye-roll from Cali. As Amanda told it—often in excruciating detail—Jackson could do no wrong. As Cali heard it, Amanda harbored some deep-seated crush on the guy, and any opinion even remotely tied to him should be taken with a grain of salt.

Tonight, however, Cali had to give the man credit. The Jazz House was perfect, with precisely the kind of subdued atmosphere she appreciated. Or at least it was until a guy looking to be in his mid-forties pushed onto an empty stool beside her and let out a labored breath as he rubbed a bloodshot eye with the back of his thumb.

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

Jake Tyler rested one shoulder against the wall, his attention locked on the woman at the bar. From the minute he’d seen her shake that spill of sexy red-brown curls across her shoulders he’d been struck immobile. He’d watched her face relax and her lips curve as she listened to the music, enjoyed the way her skirt rode over her thigh as she crossed her long, smooth legs, and wondered what it would be like to touch her. Take her home and lose himself in her body.

But picking up company wasn’t part of the plan. He’d come to unwind, as he often did after too many hours in the operating room. To let the smooth jazz ease the strain in his muscles and his mind before heading home to get some much needed sleep.

So he’d tried to focus on the music instead of the pretty girl at the bar, and he’d done an almost passable job of it—right up to when the chump running on one drink too many moved in.

Now the woman with the siren hair and soft smile was unsuccessfully trying to brush off the persistent nuisance who wanted to play the “don’t I know you from somewhere” game.

It was a cheap line, so overdone it should be stricken from the pick-up playbook forever. But some guys never learned. And some women deserved a break. Which was why, when the guy moved in again, Jake pushed off the wall and crossed to the bar.

A thick cloud of cologne, laced with sweat and whiskey, wafted around her as the man hunched closer. Cali set her glass down and reached for her purse.

This stank. The music was fantastic, but she couldn’t shake her barfly, which meant it was time to leave.

“You’re alone.” The slurred voice dropped meaningfully. “I’m alone—”

“Hey, babe.” A rich, deep baritone cut in, sliding like a smooth caress down her spine, saving her from whatever promise or threat of mutual satisfaction Whiskey Breath was selling. The body that issued it dropped into the open seat on her left, and when his warm, wide hand settled over hers she jumped, awareness churning within her. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long. Work ran late.”

“What—?” was all she managed, before her first look at the stranger beside her stole her breath. Piercing blue eyes pinned her to her spot, while a smile as sexy as sin held her rapt.

Dangerous.

Next to this guy, Mr. Whiskey was nothing. She should push away from the bar, grab her clutch and leave without looking back.

That was what she should do.

Definitely.

Sensual lips, full and wide, cocked up to one side, and before she’d even thought, the words left her lips. “Hi…babe.”

Her gaze dragged over the near-hypnotic proportions of her barside savior, as he followed the other man’s grudging retreat with his eyes. He was huge, easily six-four, built with a tapered physique that left her mouth watering and the rest of her body on high alert. The thin black knit of his summerweight V-neck clung, emphasizing his broad shoulders, defined pecs and flat abs. This was the kind of man she never let her herself notice, only this one…

Well, he was a modern-day knight in pricey denim, rescuing a damsel in distress from a whiskey-breathing barfly. He was her hero and, try as she might not to notice, she wasn’t dead.

He shot her a disarming smile. “Sorry about the ‘babe’ business, but it had the necessary possessive ring to it, don’t you think?”

He had an incredible voice.

Fighting the urge to titter with nervous laughter, she answered, “Very effective. Thank you.” She cleared her throat, wishing her head would clear as well. She was a grown woman, and this wasn’t the first attractive man who’d ever spoken to her—though he was easily the most attractive. The lean, chiseled lines of his cheekbones and the ruthless cut of his jaw and nose were masculine, sexy. Blending outdoor sportsman and tuxedo-fine in seamless perfection. The thick silk of his dark hair, clipped short on the sides and long enough to wave in rumpled disarray on top, had her fingers itching to tangle in it.

Definitely dangerous.

He angled closer, an alluring violation of her personal space, and offered his hand with a gruff introduction. “Jake Tyler.”

“Cali—but, umm, I should get going.”

He turned to face her, those blue eyes filled with censure. “After I got rid of your friend? The least you can do to thank me is stay and listen to the music, like you were trying to do before he interrupted.”

So he’d been watching her. Boy, she didn’t want to know that. Didn’t want to like it. Slanting a look his way, she tried to size up the threat he made.

He met her stare and held it for a beat. “You seemed to be enjoying the band.” He shrugged and glanced over to where the bartender had set down his order.

The long muscles running the length of his spine, visible through the hug of his sweater, flexed and shifted as he rested one arm on the bar to reach for his drink.

“I like jazz. I like it when others like it, too. The guy seemed to be getting in the way, so I helped him out. That’s all. You and I, we can just sit here and listen together. Ignore each other completely. In fact…” he leaned back slightly, eyes focused now on the front of the club “…I’ve forgotten about you already.”

She stared, and then a ripple of amusement broke loose from the anxiety-tightened confines of her chest. His reverse psychology teasing should have sent her fleeing for the nearest cab, only it had sent butterflies flitting around her belly instead.

Temptingly dangerous.

She cocked her brow at him, feigning surprise. “Are you still here?”

The low rumble of his answering laughter had a seductive quality she couldn’t resist, and then she was laughing too, swearing to herself it was only a momentary indulgence.

“Fine,” he drawled, luring her attention to the mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Since you’re so desperately chatty, I’ll talk to you.”

A stuttering cough escaped her as she tried to muster any emotion other than delight. “I beg your pardon?”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “No need to beg. So, what do you think? Should we talk about work?”

He was good. Smooth. Exactly the kind of distraction she didn’t need on the first day of the most important assignment since the reinvention of her career. She didn’t have room in her life for a man. She should run, she thought, firmly planted in her spot.

But, she’d run every other time a man threw a decent line or a flashy smile her way over the last three years. She’d tolerated no distractions and it had worked. She’d gotten herself where she wanted to go.

Only tonight she didn’t want to run.

Maybe it was the music, or the club, or the high she was riding being so close to her goal. Or maybe she just wanted to remember what it felt like to have a gorgeous man trying for her smile. After all, it wasn’t as though this Jake Tyler was asking her to dump her career to be with him. He was just a sexy bit of sporting flirtation. Harmless. Fun. A guy she’d never see again and couldn’t affect her future one iota.

But talking about work? No way. Work was all tied up, with her every hope, dream and ambition wrapped around it—and her biggest mistake behind it.

No. Her career was just for her. Much too intimate for sharing with a sporting flirtation.

Cali took a sip of her drink. Brushed at the drops of condensation with her thumb. “Let’s skip work. I’ll be up to my ears in it for the next few months. This is the last night of calm before I lose my life and identity to the job completely.”

“Ah, you’re a spy, then,” he offered, with an understanding nod and a devastating grin. “Me too.”

Two hours later Jake sat back, enjoying the full-bodied, free sound of Cali’s laughter as her head tilted back, her eyes closed. It was a sound as enticing as any he’d ever heard, and he’d been working all evening to earn more of it. Now, as her laughter eased into a sigh, her smile became hesitant. She pushed a loose curl behind her ear and turned to him.

Damn, she was gorgeous.

He wanted her. And, with the way her heavy-lidded stare kept slipping to his mouth, she wanted him too.

Long, sooty lashes swept her cheekbones and then lifted as her green eyes sparkled under the glittering bar-lights. The errant curl fell forward again, and this time restraint was beyond him. Reaching out, Jake caught the silky strands between his fingers and tucked them gently behind her ear. The slight contact sent lust roiling through his system as a shudder racked Cali’s form. The muscles along her throat moved up and down, and her teeth set into her lush bottom lip, driving the breath out of his lungs. She didn’t know what she was doing to him. Or maybe she did, and that was okay too.

Her gaze flitted back to his, uncertain and suddenly wary.

Hell. What was he doing? He had no business putting a move on a woman like her. She was sweet and sexy and a little bit shy. She wasn’t the kind of woman you picked up for a night, or even a week’s worth of nights, which was about the extent of what a guy like him had to offer.

“Jake,” she half whispered, her voice barely audible above the sultry jazz pouring over them. “I’m not—When we started talking you were so funny and charming…I just figured a little flirting might be fun. I didn’t mean for it to go anywhere. But you’re so easy to talk to and I got carried away.” Her gaze shifted off to the corner. “I’m sorry, I don’t—I don’t really…”

Cali turned aside, though he’d already seen the pretty blush that broke out across her cheekbones. Crooking a finger beneath her chin, he drew her gaze back to his.

“Hey, don’t apologize. I know how to enjoy good conversation and a little flirting without it having to go back to a bedroom.” Getting shut down really shouldn’t have felt like a relief, but the way their small talk had wound its way into something deeper, more meaningful…

He liked her. And that was the problem. Jake didn’t do meaningful.

She peered up at him through those dark lashes and his head began to spin. “It’s just that maybe—”

A persistent vibration at his hip drew his attention from the woman in front of him to matters of life and death. “Hold that thought.” With a reluctant shake of his head he pulled the phone from his pocket. “I’m sorry. This is the hospital. I’ve got to call in and check on a patient. Give me five minutes?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

Cali watched as Jake made his way toward the back hall of the club, where a sign for the restrooms hung above the arched doorway. She needed to get out of there. Like, an hour ago. Her own stupidity was beyond belief. If Jake’s phone hadn’t interrupted—She didn’t want to think about the words that had nearly sprinted off the tip of her tongue. The invitation—agh!

This man was beautiful in a cut-from-granite, his-maker-must-have-been-an-artist kind of way, and his physique alone was screwing with her head. What had begun as sporting flirtation had spiraled completely out of control into something more compelling than she was prepared to defend herself against.

It must be some kind of pheromone thing.

Definitely.

It was the clean, spicy scent of him drugging her senses that had her thinking in bad pick-up lines about a man she shouldn’t have looked twice at. Let alone fallen into deep, lengthy, satisfying conversation with.

Cali sighed.

Just her bad luck he was interesting too. Intelligent and sharp, funny and thoughtful. Captivating in both mind and body. Far more dangerous than she’d realized.

She pushed her glass back on the bar and, clutching her purse, stood up. If she were smart, she’d haul it out of the club and straight into a cab before Jake got back. But that kind of insulting behavior wasn’t in her. She’d run to the Ladies’ Room and when she returned she’d thank him for a wonderful evening and leave. No exchange of phone numbers. No plans. A clear-cut goodbye.

Simple.

Only as she followed the series of switchbacks through the back hall of the club—past the Men’s Room, then a door to the stage, and further on to the Ladies’ Room—images of an easy smile and flashes of fathomless blue eyes began to chip at her resolve. At the end of the hall a sign glowed in neon blue for a phone, with an arrow pointing around the corner. Jake was probably down there and, for an instant, Cali considered following.

One night.

Really, what was the harm if she never saw him again? She’d been so very good, for so very long. Totally focused on work, completely dedicated…

Her gaze drifted down to the end of the hall, her body rebelling against her mind, until finally she pushed open the Ladies’ Room door and stepped inside to splash some cold water on her face and some sense into her head.

CHAPTER TWO

IN the relatively quiet back hall of the club, Jake ended the call about his bypass patient from that afternoon. Heading toward the main bar, he flipped the phone closed and glanced down as he pushed it into his pocket.

A slice of white light pierced the shadows just as Cali stepped out of the ladies’ lounge and straight into his stride.

“Aack!” came her surprised yelp as their legs tangled together.

“Easy, I’ve got you,” he assured her, catching her against him with one arm around her waist, the other braced at the wall.

Her palms covered his chest; her breasts and belly pressed against him so he could feel the rise and fall of her every tempting breath. One of them should have stepped away—put the distance back between them—but neither moved. Her gaze touched on his, hungry and aware, before drifting down to his mouth and holding as her lips parted on a trembling sigh. The air went thick with tension, and need surged to life, pumping hot through his veins, stifling reason.

The lounge door swung closed behind them, dropping the narrow hall into semi-darkness. It was intimate and secluded, and he wanted her. Every muscle tightened throughout his body, straining to take her. He wouldn’t, but, watching the desperate flutter of her pulse at the hollow of her throat, he couldn’t make himself step away either.

A tiny furrow etched between her brows as a single word pushed through her lips. “Don’t.”

Only Jake hadn’t moved, hadn’t given in. He was still holding himself in unrelenting check as he realized Cali hadn’t been speaking to him, but to herself.

“Cali,” he warned, something predatory responding to her weakening resolve. If she wanted to stop this, she’d have to tell him no. Only she didn’t say anything. Didn’t push him back. Instead her fingers curled into his sweater, her breath pulled ragged from her chest and the indecision faded from her eyes, taking his every good intention with it.

Cali’s body shifted, soft and tempting against him in torturous slow motion, as she rose up on her toes and whispered, “Just one,” before pressing her lips to his.

Sure, he thought, fighting a smile. No matter how good the intention, one would never be enough.

Slanting his mouth over hers in a smooth glide, deliberately light and teasing, he offered a kiss that hinted and lured, rather than taking outright.

Cali shuddered, her breath slipping over his lips with a soft moan that left every muscle in his body tensing, straining for more—but he could wait, because he knew it wouldn’t be long. Splaying one hand against the base of her spine, he cupped her cheek with the other and pulled back to meet her gaze. “That good, huh?”

Her lips curved as she drank him in through half-lidded eyes. “I’d forgotten just how good that felt.” The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten the sexy swell of her pink bottom lip. “It’s been a really long time since I’ve been kissed.”

Hell. He didn’t want to think of her as vulnerable. Didn’t want to like it. Not when that kind of knowledge, coupled with the husky quality her voice, was doing strange things to his ego, drawing out some inner need that damn near demanded he show her just what she’d been missing.

“Wasn’t much of a kiss, if you ask me,” he murmured. “I can do better.”

Her eyes darkened like smoked sea glass and locked on his mouth, sending “go” signals toward his groin. Her breath hitched as, moving closer, he traced the smooth line of her delicate jaw with his thumb, sifted his fingers through the silky hair at the nape of her neck, and tilted her face to his.

“Maybe just one more,” she whispered breathlessly, her lips an enticing invitation.

“One more,” he agreed, intent on doling out a kiss with every skill and seductive nuance he’d honed since high school packed into it. And that kiss would become the prelude to a night in bed.

Jake’s mouth descended on her yielding softness, sinking with a slow, steady build. A light back-and-forth rub. A gentle, parting pressure as his tongue sought the barest taste. She was warm and wet and teasing, fresh and inviting, and as her sultry sigh feathered against his mouth his smug satisfaction gave way to a rising need.

Her breathy gasps called like a plea for more and, angling his head to take control, he plunged his tongue between her lips. Lithe arms slipped around his neck and, delving into the warm depths of her mouth, he stroked in a wet velvet rub against her teeth, tongue and lips, thrusting and retreating in an erotic, suggestive rhythm.

Cali responded, clasping her arms tighter, molding her firm breasts and flat belly against his hips and chest.

Urgency ripped through him. His hand fisted in the fabric at the waist of her skirt and she moaned around his plundering tongue, a quiet, mewling sound that nearly had him yanking her skirt above her hips. Shocked by his own response, he tore away from the heated embrace. Stared down into Cali’s flushed face.

He wanted her naked and beneath him the next time she made that sound.

Forcing the words out, he said, “Let’s get out of here.”

Breathless, she peered up at him, agony in her eyes. “I can’t. I—Couldn’t we—?” Her smoky gaze fixed on his mouth as the tightening in his gut became painful. “Just one minute more?”

The way her eyes went all warm and soft and needy—he’d have given her anything she asked for at that moment. He wanted to be inside her, but this gorgeous girl who hadn’t been kissed for so long didn’t want it to go that way. Hell, the strain of a few more minutes probably wouldn’t kill him. And even if they did, it wouldn’t be a bad way to go.

“Oh, yeah,” he murmured, hauling her up against him so her feet lifted from the floor. He maneuvered them around the corner, to where the hinged door of the phone booth provided a modicum of privacy. Pulling her into the booth, barely large enough for them to stand side by side, he lowered his mouth to her ear. “Just one more minute.”

Her fingers clutched at his shoulders as she pulled him back to her. “Thank God.”

Cali was a woman possessed. It couldn’t go further than this. She was treading on dangerous ground as it was, but, heaven help her, she couldn’t give up the decadence of this stolen moment.

It might have been three years since she’d last been kissed, but she could say with all certainty she’d never in her life had a lip-lock like this one. A mind-numbing, moral-melting mainline into pleasure. His taste, touch and scent thrummed through her veins, so quickly and so thoroughly addictive the idea of breaking free was physically painful, mentally incomprehensible.

What harm could come from just a few more innocuous minutes of indulgence?

Strong hands ran in a crisscross down her back, until one wide palm pressed over her bottom, pulling her into closer contact with the hard contours of his body.

How could anything feel so right?

Grabbing her thighs, he hoisted her up. Her skirt bunched as her legs wrapped around his hips. Her shoulders braced against the wall as he rocked against that throbbing, long-neglected spot of need. Fingers of sensation stroked through her middle, tugging the strings of desire dangerously taut.

It was good. Too good to give up so fast. Just another minute like this and she’d stop. Leave. Run. But not yet.

“Oh, God!” she gasped when his hips ground forward again, rasping rough denim and damp lace against her achy sex.

Some distant part of her mind screamed a frantic warning.

She had rules about this sort of thing.

But their position was too perfect, the contact just right, and she was halfway to satisfaction already.

Jake’s mouth tore free from her lips, his blue flame gaze searing over her as his breath punched free in ragged bursts. “Tell me to stop,” he gritted out, his hips moving in a steady rhythm so good she couldn’t have told him to stop if her life had depended on it.

On some level she knew he was right. One of them was going to have to come to their senses, and instinctively she understood the burden fell on her shoulders. But why the hell did it always have to be the girl?

As exciting and amazing as it was, they were in a bar.

In a phone booth.

Her eyes blinked open, her gaze flitting over the small confines of their space.

A phone booth with a wooden shuttered and hinged door that ran almost floor to ceiling.

A phone booth at the farthest end of a scarcely traveled, dimly lit switchback hallway. With Jake’s broad, powerful back a further shield against any prying eyes should someone actually venture this far.

She’d never see this man again. No one would ever know.

Jake’s lean male hips ground forward again, his head bowed and his lips pulled at the vulnerable skin beneath her ear, shredding her resolve.

And then all she could think was that they were alone. With the female singer’s smooth molasses voice pouring over them from the speakers above, and the space around them fading into nothing more than a hazy backdrop for this single stolen moment. His teeth grazed the column of her neck, and one hand caught her wrist to pin it at the wall beside her head. Her body seized; her mind blanked of anything beyond giving in.

She clutched at him with her knees. Rocked her hips to meet his and desperately sought his mouth with her own. Lips fused together, their tongues tangled, mated, and merged. Their mouths were completing the act clothing barely restricted lower on their bodies. So intimate. She could taste him. Feel him thrusting and licking inside her.

She could wrap herself in his strength. Lose herself in his control.

And then he stopped, held her still as she teetered at the brink of a precipice she couldn’t believe she’d been brought to. Her breath fired in moist bursts between them as tension gripped her with stunning intensity, leaving her helpless, desperate, shaking with need.

“Jake.” The plea in that single husky word was unmistakable, and she felt his answering smile curl against her ravaged mouth. Oh, yes.

“Come for me.” His low growl stroked like a vibration deep through her body and soul, curling around the tender spot between her legs just as he rocked again, letting her ride the steely length of him in one long, brutal caress that unlocked her every inhibition.

Spasms of hot pleasure lanced her core, relentless and intense. Stealing her breath through each ratcheting increment until at last it burst free with her shuddering release. Jake caught her fleeting cries with his kiss, held her steady in his arms as her body melted against him. Seconds ticked by as she floated in blissful oblivion. Then slowly her mind cleared and reality descended with the resounding thud of Jake’s back hitting the phone behind him.

Cali’s eyes blinked open.

A bar.

A phone booth, for heaven’s sake!

A stranger.

No. Of all the wrongs piled into one grotesquely cheap heap in Cali’s mind, Jake Tyler wasn’t one of them. She might have met him only hours ago, but something about the man spoke to her on a level she couldn’t deny. He was the kind of guy she could fall for—if she were in the market for falling. Which she wasn’t.

Jake’s brow, damp from restraint or exertion, or possibly a combination of the two, pressed against hers as he stood, eyes closed, shaking his head. “I feel like a teenager.” He didn’t sound upset so much as stunned.