“You’re never gone. Not really.” She knew her breathless comment made no sense, probably seemed melodramatic to him.
He said no more, but squeezed her shoulders before letting go. Then he left.
Mae neededto come down from her close encounter with sex with Joe. Heart hammering, she went to the minibar. Though it wasn’t her habit to drink alone, she poured herself a glass of wine without a thought as to what the label was, whether it was red or white. Taking a sip, her nervous energy led her to the sliders overlooking Sunset Boulevard, then paced the other way, unable to settle down, let alone appreciate the view. It had to be the whole mess with Salvatore Vito that had her on edge.
She hadn’t convinced herself with the lie. Sure, Sal Vito shook her up, but not half as much as one solid hunk of a man named Joseph Temple.
“No way am I drinking alone,” she said to the gorgeous empty room.
Finding her trusty bag where she’d tossed it onto the art deco coffee table, she pulled out her cell phone then hit the speed dial icon for her best friend. Too bad Sunny was in San Diego. She was the only one Mae could talk to. Sunny had known all about the whole mess with the mobster’s love letters even before Joe came into the picture—a short time but a long journey ago.
“Mae! It’s about time I heard from you. I called your house and got no answer and was afraid to call your cell.”
“Afraid? Why?”
“No news is good news, right?”
“Yes and no.” Mae proceeded to fill in Sunny on what had happened since she’d returned home from her visit to San Diego and her contact with the Zero Go Team. She was careful not to put too much emphasis on Joe. She especially didn’t mention her attraction to him, but wasn’t sure why. Maybe it felt too personal, too new, and needed to be protected from outside interference while it incubated into a full–fledged relationship. In her saner moments, though, she knew that what she—they—had was not now, and might never be, a relationship.
In spite of all her caution, when she’d finished her story, Sunny said, “Are you sleeping with him?”
“Stop it. You’re incorrigible.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“That’s the answer you’re getting. Not everything is about sex.”
“Don’t tell me you’re still on the wagon? Still insisting on your moratorium on men?”
Sunny didn’t sound convinced, but Mae wasn’t admitting to anything. A squinge of guilt pinched at her, complaining that she’d chosen allegiance to Joe over her best friend after knowing him so short a time. Had she only known Joe three days? It felt more meaningful than the last time she’d dated someone for six months—her record.
She’d not been very good at creating intimate bonds with men. But with Joe it had been easy—no, more than that, it had been automatic. It was as if the connection had already been there, had appeared full blown as soon as she saw him, and all she’d done was step into it.
“I’ll be in LA tomorrow. Let’s meet for lunch.”
“Can’t do it. Joe has me under strict house arrest. The only time I get out is to go to the studio. Heavily disguised.” She didn’t dare tell her friend about the plan to play bait for the police.
“For real? Wow. This is serious.”
“Come to the studio for lunch. I’ll give them your name at the gate. It’ll be fun.”
“Sold. I’ll call you when I’m free. Will I get to meet this Average Joe guy—who I suspect is anything but average?”
“I don’t think so.” Somehow she didn’t think Joe was as into the relationship as she was. Hell, Mae doubted Joe considered what they had—all three days of it—a relationship. She was probably building it up in her head like a Hollywood storyboard, making it larger than life. She ended the call with her friend.
She sighed, remembering the feel of Joe’s hard body, his roughened hands holding her breasts, the way his eyes looked when he admired her naked, their lovemaking and his protectiveness. Compelling evidence that he feltsomething.
But was that something any more than lust? Mae wanted more evidence. Noting like a reality check for her daydreams. If she could seduce him tonight, make love to him again, that would go a long way to testing his feelings. Not to mention making for a spectacular night. The heat of excitement bubbled up, swirling in her gut, giving her that giddy feeling, that tingling, twitching desire, causing that needy swelling between her thighs. She could smell her own juicy response to just thinking about him.
She was hopeless. But the automatic smile stretching her face told her she was happy. In spite of all good sense and promises to herself, all warnings of caution to move slowly, she wanted nothing more than to be held in Joe’s arms. And she would.
Obeying orders, she called room service. Knowing he liked steak and potatoes, she ordered a rib-eye with a salad for two and added a good bottle of cabernet to go with it. They’d end this night in bed together, even if it was just to fall asleep. But she could work with that. She wasn’t averse to waking a man up in the middle of the night in her own special way. Mae’s mouth nearly watered at the thought of waking Joe with her lips around his cock.
To really test Joe’s feelings, she requested candles and flowers with their meal to add romance. It had to be clear this wasn’t only about lust. It was obvious in her own head that infatuation bordering on something more fueled her desire, but Joe’s motives were murky. He wasn’t a player. She knew that much about him without being told. But he was a man of strong passions and values, so she had to find out what was feeding his attraction and, as importantly, what was holding him back.
Was it that he didn’t want to take advantage of her because he had no feelings?
It was the thought that had intruded around the edges and dug at her self-confidence, made her unsure, made her nerves raw so that she felt like an adolescent with no clue. She hated it, hated not knowing. It was time she was brave enough to confront the question, confront Joe until he answered it for her one way or another, irrefutably.