It Had To Be You

soft mouth defeated logic.

He stroked her hair, and a fierce wave of tenderness swept through him. Without planning it, he found himself drawing her up. Regardless of how she looked, how she dressed, how she behaved-regardless of his own raging need and every single damning thing he knew about her, he couldn't take her like this. She deserved something better from him than a mile-high pop in an airplane John.

'No,' she whispered, and he saw something both bereft and bewildered in her amber eyes that tore his gut apart.

He kissed her lips and lost himself in that swollen mouth. She sobbed his name, shuddered, and he understood she had slipped past reason. Setting aside the violent demand of his own body, he stroked her with a deep and gentle movement of his hand. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, and the sound of those short, frenzied pants nearly drove him over the edge.

'Phoebe, darlin', you're killing me.' With a hoarse exclamation, he plunged his tongue into the moist recesses of her mouth. When she shattered, he swallowed her cries.

She fell against him, her body limp and vulnerable, the nape of her neck moist with soft blond tendrils clinging to it. He felt her chest heave as she tried to draw breath. She attempted to slide her thighs together. At the same time, she shuddered, and he knew she wasn't done. He couldn't leave her like this, and he stroked her again.

She climaxed almost instantly. She gasped for breath and then began to tremble, signaling that her need still wasn't satisfied. He resumed his stroking.

'No… Not without you.'

At the sound of her soft, whispered wail, he ached to drive himself deep inside her. Nothing was holding him back. At that moment he couldn't even picture Sharon's face. And Phoebe was a curvy, buxom, good-time girl, custom-designed by God for just this kind of romp. Of all the women he'd ever been with, this one should have been the last to give him scruples. Instead, she seemed to be giving him the most.

He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to accept the fact that he couldn't finish this. Phoebe was too lost in passion to think straight, so he would have to do it for her.

'I don't have anything with me,' he lied.

She slid her hand up his thigh, touched him. 'Could I…' She tilted her head, looked at him, and the uncertainty in her eyes cut through him. 'Maybe I could do the same thing to you.'

Her throat spasmed as she swallowed, and those eyes, as uncertain as a fawn's, undid him. He simply couldn't let this go any farther. Painfully, he fastened his slacks.

'It's all right. I'm fine.'

'But…'

He looked away from her wounded eyes. His hands weren't altogether steady as he slipped her sweater back down over her breasts. 'Everybody in the front of the plane should be asleep by now, but maybe you'd better slip out first, as soon as you finish putting yourself back together.'

She struggled with her slacks, rubbing against him with every movement. When all her clothing was back in place, she looked up at him. 'How do you do it?' she asked quietly.

'Do what?'

'Act so hot, and then turn so cold.'

She believed she'd been rejected. Even though he'd tried not to, he knew he'd hurt her. 'Right now I'm about ready to explode,' he said.

'I don't believe you. What is it Tully calls you? 'Ice'?'

He couldn't fight with her, not after he'd seen how vulnerable she was, and he could only think of one way to heal the hurt. He gave an elaborate sigh and managed to sound annoyed. 'It's starting again, isn't it? The only time the two of us aren't arguing is when we're kissing. I don't know why I even try to be a good guy with you because it always backfires.'

Her lips were still swollen from his mouth. 'Is that what you were doing? Being a good guy.'

'About as good as I've ever been. It doesn't come naturally, either. And you know what? You owe me for it.'

'I what?' Those amber eyes weren't defenseless any longer. Just as he'd intended, they had begun to flash sparks.

'You owe me, Phoebe. I was trying to show a little respect for you.'

'Respect? I don't think I've ever heard it called that.'

The sarcasm in her voice didn't quite hide her hurt, so he kept pressing. 'That's exactly what it is. And as far as I'm concerned, you just now threw that respect right back in my face. Which means you owe me what I didn't get in here, and I plan to collect.'

'How do you plan to do that?'

'I'll tell you how. One day-Any day I happen to choose. Any hour. Any time. Any place. I'm going to look at you, and I'm going to say one word.'

'One word?'

'I'm going to say now. Just that one word. Now. And when you hear that word, it means you stop doing whatever you're doing, and you follow me to wherever I choose to take you. And when we get there, that body of yours becomes my own personal playpen. Do you understand what I'm saying?'

He waited for her to explode, but he should have known she wouldn't let him off so easily. Phoebe knew almost as much about playing games as he did.

'I think so,' she said thoughtfully. 'Let me see if I've got this straight. You're telling me that, because you didn't make it to the mountaintop, so to speak, I owe you a debt. When you look at me and you say now, I'm supposed to turn into your love slave. Do I have it right?'

'Yep.' The sadness had faded from his eyes, and he was definitely beginning to enjoy himself.

'No matter what I'm doing.'

'No matter what.'

'No matter where you choose to take me.'

'A broom closet, if I've a mind to. It's completely up to me.' He was playing with fire and actually anticipating the moment it would flame out of control.

'If I'm at work?' she inquired with remarkable calm.

'There's a fifty-fifty chance that's exactly where you'll be.'

'In a meeting?'

'You lift that curvy little butt of yours right out of the chair and follow me.'

'In a meeting with the commissioner?'

'You say, 'I'm sorry, Mr. Commissioner, but I believe I have a case of the stomach flu coming on, so will you excuse me. And Coach Calebow, could you come with me just in case I happen to faint in the hall and need somebody to pick me up?' '

'I see.' She looked thoughtful. 'What if I'm doing an interview with-oh, let's say, Frank Gifford?'

'Frank's a good guy. I'm sure he'll understand.'

The explosion was going to come any second now. He knew it.

She crinkled her forehead. 'I just want to make absolutely certain I've got this right. You say now, and I'm supposed to turn into your-How was it you put it? Your personal playpen?'

'That's what I said.' He braced himself.

'Playpen.'

'Yep.'

She took a deep breath and smiled. 'Cool.'

Stunned, he watched her slip through the door. When it shut, he threw back his head and laughed. She'd done it. She'd gotten him again.

Chapter 18