Free The Value of Vulnerability by Roberta Pearce Page B

multitasking.
    Annoying thought.
    So it was some relief to her ego that she heard vexation underwriting his responding laugh. Untangling his hand, he smoothed it over her hair, giving her a hard, quick, closed-mouth kiss. “And there I was, an hour ago, trying to convince you of just this.”
    Her eyebrows shot up at this declaration. “And sanity returned . . . Why?”
    “I am considering options.”
    Like what? Something more than just sex? A relationship? She shivered deliciously at the thought of having this man’s prolonged attention.
    And yet . . . The concentrated attention of Ford Howard did n’t carry all positives, did it? He was a man who would say and do anything to get what he wanted.
    So why was he re-buttoning her coat and his shirt, all with cool efficiency, as if fire had never burned them? Why hadn’t he taken her? Not that she wasn’t relieved that one of them had been thinking, but it didn’t sit well with her idea of him.
    He had another agenda perhaps? Options , he had said. That could mean anything.
    Opening the car door, he assisted her out. The wind picked up, making stinging missiles out of the snow now mixed with rain as temperatures rose. The walkway was a slushy mess. She eyed her shoes—they were her favourites.
    She needn’t have worried. Ford carried her up the shallow steps to the door, and she laughed giddily all the way. “You’re awfully strong. It isn’t like I’m a ninety-seven pound weakling.”
    He merely smiled and set her on her feet, opening the outer door. “Where are your keys?”
    She found them as they entered and she unlocked the inner door to the lobby, pushing it open.
    “When you Google me later,” he said, smiling wryly, “don’t believe everything you read.”
    She leaned back against the metal doorframe, the door kept ajar as it swung back to bump her shoulder. She eyed him narrowly, amusedly. “What makes you think I’ll Google you?”
    “Goodnight, Erin. Be a good girl.”
    She grinned. “I don’t know what that means.”
    “You know exactly what that means.”
    “Don’t like those images in your head?”
    Dimples appeared. “I like them very much. But I’d rather be there to see it in person.”
    That made her blush slightly and laugh outright. “If you do call me, maybe I’ll describe it. Introduce you to phone sex. I’ll bet you’ve never had phone sex.”
    “Never had need of it. But when I do see you again,” he purred, “I don’t want you to have taken the edge off.”
    Her edge would take a lot of grinding—and batteries—to dull. “And your edge, Ford? Are you going to be a good boy?”
    He grinned then. “Goodnight, Erin.”
    “Thank you, Ford. Goodnight.”
    The cowlick fell. As his hand came up to subdue it, she caught his wrist and, with her other hand, smoothed it back on his behalf, the silky strands slipping erotically between her fingers.
    She had been dying to do that all night.
    “There,” she said. “All fixed.”
    With a mild imprecation, he dragged her into his arms, kissing her hungrily. She gasped against his mouth at this unexpected but welcome onslaught, her mouth opening readily.
    This was the Ford she wanted, the Ford whose control was under threat. Sexual aggression she could handle. It was honest—or at least, felt honest. She couldn’t distinguish fully between what was true and what was false with him, and that scared the crap out of her.
    This did not.
    But just as suddenly, he broke the kiss, hot eyes holding a slightly disconcerted glint.
    “Go to bed.” He stepped back. Hesitated. Then spun on his heel and left her.
    She watched his progress back to the car , watched the limo pull away, and stood there until headlights from a car exiting the Visitors’ lot cut across her, tugging her back to reality. Turning, she almost floated lightly to the elevators, wondering if she would ever hear from him again, both hoping and fearing she would.
    * **
    Silently, Ford watched the city slide by as