Catching Heat Page 14

  Isn’t he the lucky one?

  It would be easy to blame her inability to fall asleep on J.T., but he was only partly to blame. Tonight her baby kicked. She’d felt the fluttering on and off for a few days and had written it off as gas. But tonight, when the flutters had become stronger and she realized it was the baby making its presence known, an unexpected feeling of joy bloomed in her heart. Placing a hand to her stomach, she waited for her little girl to move again but she’d been quiet since just before Angie showered. Like her father, she was in dreamland.

  She. Like J.T., Angie was beginning to believe the baby was a girl. What would she look like? Would she have dark hair and blue eyes, or hazel eyes and tawny golden hair like J.T.? No matter who she looked like she would be beautiful, of that Angie was sure of. Just as she was sure it was up to her to give her little girl the best life possible.

  She wasn’t alone in that department. J.T was intent upon doing the exact same thing. He’d more than proved that by marrying her this evening.

  Damn it. He wasn’t anything at all like she’d assumed.

  Smothering a sigh, Angie tossed the sheet and blanket aside. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Almost two-thirty. Much too early to hit the road to Sacramento.

  Not wanting to wake J.T., she gingerly rose from the bed and followed the moonlit path to the window where she crawled onto the loveseat and stared out into the velvety night sky. There were no clouds—the storm that had passed through earlier in the day was long gone. There were, however, stars. Lots of them.

  A long time ago she’d tried to count those stars. With her father. When she still believed him to be her hero. When they’d first moved to California, she’d begged him to bring her to Lake Tahoe and, shockingly, he’d been all for it. A father-daughter road trip he’d called it. Not long after and to her everlasting disgust, she discovered that he’d planned a clandestine meeting with two of his bimbos at the hotel while she was sleeping.

  That was her father. A real prince of a guy. Why cheat on her mother with one woman when he could get it on with two? And that wasn’t even the worst of his sins. Unbidden, moisture filled her eyes and angrily, she blinked it away. She hadn’t cried over her father ever, she didn’t plan to start now.

  Lifting her arms to the top cushion, she rested her chin on her forearm and banished Dante DeMarco from her mind. It wasn’t as easy to forget J.T. His awestruck expression when she’d felt the baby kick was priceless. Was he as scared as she was? He didn’t seem to be. How was that possible? In little more than five months she was going to be someone’s mother. The thought terrified her.

  “Angie?”

  J.T.’s voice, husky from sleep, startled her. She turned and could see his bare chest and the exquisite perfection of his face in the slant of the moonlight. Her breath jammed in her throat. And when did the room get so hot?

  “Did I wake you?” she asked, surprised her voice was steady. Her equilibrium had been out of whack ever since J.T. had helped her remove the necklace. His fingers, as they’d brushed lightly over her neck, along with his freshly showered scent had sent a surge of longing through her body that, despite the cold shower she’d taken afterward, hadn’t abated.

  “No. I’m hungry.” He scrubbed his hand over his jaw and then ran his fingers through his tousled hair. “Do you think we can get room service at this hour?”

  “I doubt it. But I’m sure something is available in the casino. Do you want to go downstairs?”

  “Nah. That’s too much trouble. I’ll wait for breakfast.”

  “Are you sure?” Angie smiled. “I’m not sleepy. I don’t mind going down with you.”

  “Why can’t you sleep?” J.T. asked as he shoved the covers from his body and slipped out of bed. He adjusted the waistband of his navy blue sweats and then lifted his arms and stretched. A beam of moonlight illuminated the fascinating play of his muscles and washboard abs. Whatever training regimen Jake had him on was paying off in spades.

  “Too much on my mind, I guess,” she said, letting her gaze follow him as he walked to the dresser and picked up the jar of maraschino cherries he’d given her earlier. “Do you normally wake up in the middle of the night to eat?”

  “It’s not unusual.” He twisted the top of the jar; the suction caused it to pop as it opened. “So what’s on your mind?” he asked, moving toward her. “Maybe it’ll help if you talk it out.”

  “Maybe.” She shifted on the love seat as he settled down across from her on one of the green velvet chairs. Despite her best effort not to, she stared at his chest. Not a good idea. Looking at his chest made her want to touch him which, in turn, made her lady parts tingle. She took a breath and forced her gaze upward. “Feeling the baby move tonight just made everything so…so real. My God, J.T. I’m going to be a mother and I have no freaking clue how to do that. What if I mess it up?”

  “You won’t.” J.T. tossed the lid on the small round table between them. It landed on the Montblanc portfolio with a dull thud as he plucked a cherry from the jar and popped it into his mouth.

  “How do you know that?” She brushed back the loose braid she’d woven her hair into before climbing into bed. “What if I drop her? Or what if she’s crying and I can’t figure out what’s wrong with her or what she needs?”

  “You’ll figure it out.” J.T. reached into the jar again. Angie’s stomach rumbled. Come to think of it, she was a bit hungry too. So caught up in the thrill of the baby’s movements, she’d never called room service for her chocolate fix. “We both will. And don’t forget, my mom will be more than happy to answer any questions we might have,” he added in a maddeningly confident tone.

  “You don’t seem worried at all.” She turned to her side and tucked her legs beneath her as J.T. ate another cherry. “Why is that?”

  “I have the same fears you do. But worrying about them now is counterproductive. I think parenthood is like life. You figure it out as you go along.” He tilted his head and regarded her with a somber gaze. “I do have one major concern though.”

  “What’s that?”

  A devilish grin split his face. “I think I could become addicted to these maraschino cherries.”

  Angie burst out laughing. “Be serious,” she admonished him with a smile.

  “I am.” J.T. cast a cursory glance at the jar. “They look like the most disgusting thing on earth but they’re actually quite tasty.”

  “Tasty?” Angie chuckled at his word choice. “Hey, don’t eat them all,” she said after he popped another one in his mouth and chewed. “Pregnant woman with cravings over here. I’d like some too.”

  “Fine. I’ll share.” He leaned forward, but instead of handing her the jar he rose from the chair and moved to sit beside her on the love seat. There wasn’t much room for both of them. His thigh brushed against her knee causing her pulse to leap with excitement. Damn her treacherous body. It had a mind of its own when it came to J.T. “Did you like these before you were pregnant?” he asked as he dipped two fingers into the jar.

  “I don’t remember,” she said in a breathy voice that didn’t sound like her at all. “If I did it was when I was a kid.”

  “I bet you were a cute kid.”

  “Hardly. My hair was an unruly mess, my legs were like sticks and I was a klutz. It wasn’t until I started playing softball that my coordination improved.” Her heart skipped a beat and then started to pound as J.T. pulled a cherry from the jar and held it to her lips.

  Whoa. Wait. Was her going to feed her?

  “Open.”

  Holding his intense gaze, Angie obeyed his husky command and parted her mouth. The tips of his fingers brushed her lips as he fed her the cherry. Warning bells went off in her head. This could get out of hand if she didn’t jump up off the love seat this very moment and put some distance between them.

  She didn’t move. Instead she ate the cherry and then licked the sweet juice from her lips. J.T.’s gaze lowered to her
mouth, lingered for several heart stopping seconds, then lifted. Their gazes collided and her breath caught at the raw sexual heat smoldering in his eyes.

  Angela, get off the love seat…now.

  And yet she still didn’t move. Her thighs trembled with anticipation as J.T. reached into the jar one more time. Seconds passed, seconds filled with sexual tension. This—what was happening right now—was dangerous and she knew it. But much like that steamy August night when she and J.T. had made love for the first time, she didn’t care.

  This time when he held the pink fruit to her lips he didn’t have to say a word. She obediently opened her mouth and let him feed her. Before lowering his hand, he gently rubbed her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. A thrill raced up her spine.

  Unable to resist, she lifted her hand to the jar he held between them. The liquid inside coated her fingers as she selected a cherry and then placed it against his lips. Her gaze zeroed in on his mouth and after he accepted the fruit, she traced the perfect bow of his upper lip with her finger.

  Lord, he has the sexiest lips.

  Shocked at her boldness, she attempted to lower her hand but J.T. stopped her by wrapping his strong fingers around her wrist. A bolt of fire lanced through her as he drew her finger into his warm moist mouth and swirled his tongue around it. He held her gaze with eyes so dark and intense she shivered. And then, a memory so vivid it caused a fierce rush of heat in her lower body, flashed in her brain. His mouth wasn’t between her thighs, but what he was doing made her remember every exquisite detail of when it had been.

  “I don’t think…” she began, then trailed off when he pulled her finger from his mouth and shifted slightly to set the jar on the table. Closing her eyes, she inhaled his scent and primal hunger overloaded her senses. Another round of sirens went off in her head warning her to evacuate the premises, or at least get off the damn love seat, but she couldn’t move. She was paralyzed with lust.

  “Angie.” Opening her eyes, she melted under his blistering gaze. “You think too much,” he said in a thick husky voice and leaned forward.

  Angie moaned as J.T.’s mouth claimed hers in hot demanding kiss. For months she’d wondered if she’d only imagined how amazing his kisses were. She hadn’t. Nor had she imagined the sharp talons of desire that tore at her insides. It was real then and it was real now. This was why she’d run from him the first time—no other man had ever made her feel such hunger…such desperation.

  Just like the last time they were together, desire overrode caution. She didn’t protest when he hauled her to his hard body and leaned back against the arm of the love seat. Eagerly, she parted her mouth and met his tongue with hers. He tasted of sweet cherries. His chest felt like steel against the soft fullness of her breasts. And…oh, God…she needed him like she’d never needed any other man before.

  As their kiss turned deeply intimate, J.T. slid his hands down the curve of her back and slipped them under the waistband of her pajamas. Moist heat throbbed between her legs as he cupped her ass and gently kneaded her soft flesh. She was already wet and ready. It would be so easy to give herself to him. Just as she had before.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered between frantic kisses.

  “Why not?” J.T. muttered against her lips. “We’re married.” He moved his leg, causing her lower body to come into contact with the hard ridge of his erection. She gasped and pulled back, her breathing labored as she met his hooded gaze.

  “I can’t,” she whispered. Immediately J.T. released her and she pushed off him and moved across the room to stand by the end of the bed. She stared at the rumpled linens and couldn’t imagine sharing that bed with him now. Not after what had just happened.

  She put her palm to her cheek. It was hot…just like the rest of her body. This was what she’d been afraid of. Being in such close proximity to J.T. could only lead to complications she didn’t need.

  She let out a startled gasp when she felt J.T.’s hand on her shoulder. His warm touch burned straight through the flimsy silk of her pajamas directly to her skin and her legs quivered like gelatin.

  “Don’t worry. I said I wouldn’t force myself on you and I won’t,” he said, then pressed his fingers gently into her shoulder. “Wow. Your muscle right here is really tight. You can relax, Angie. I’d never do anything you didn’t want me to do.”

  And that was the crux of the problem. She did want him to do things to her, and she wanted to do things to him in return. The best sex of her life had been with J.T. Why couldn’t he have been a dud in the sack? That would make this marriage so much easier.

  “I haven’t been able to relax since I found out I was pregnant,” she admitted in a low voice.

  “Maybe you should book a massage before we leave tomorrow.” He lifted his other hand and began to knead her tense muscles with his magic fingers. Closing her eyes, she tipped her head forward as he worked the knots in her shoulders and at the base of her neck. “They can do a much better job than I can.”

  “You’re not doing so badly.” She let out a contented sigh as he continued his gentle yet firm massage. “I’m sorry I’ve been so…so moody.”

  “What you’re feeling is normal.” His hands slid over the curves of her shoulders to her bare upper arms. Pleasurable goose bumps rose on her skin. “I read it in that book you bought.”

  She twisted around and lifted her gaze to his. “You read the pregnancy book?”

  “You left it in the kitchen so I took a look at it one night when I couldn’t sleep.” He lowered his hands and gave her a reassuring smile. “It said that one minute you could be happy and the next you could be crying over something as simple as a television commercial.”

  Is he for real? With each day that passed he seemed to get more perfect.

  “I guess I didn’t read that part.”

  J.T. chuckled. “But I did, so I’m prepared. Bring on the mood swings. I can handle them.”

  Maybe he could handle them, but Angie wasn’t so sure she could. This whole arrangement was blowing up in her face. And it was all J.T.’s fault.

  Chapter Twelve

  J.T. followed the incredible aroma of sugar and cinnamon to the kitchen and wasn’t surprised to see Angie with oven mitts on her hands pulling what looked like muffins out of the oven. In the week since they’d been married Angie had gone crazy in the kitchen—or more to the point she’d gone crazy trying out her grandmother’s recipes. Not that he minded. Everything Angie prepared was mouthwatering. He just might have met the one woman who was as skilled in the kitchen as his mother.

  “Can I have one?” he asked as his stomach growled appreciatively.

  “Only if it’s just one. And let it cool for a minute or two.” She set the muffin pan on a wire rack on the counter, then pulled off the oven mitts and tossed them next to the pan. With her hair pulled back in a ponytail and wearing a bright yellow apron with red lettering on it that read Practice safe eating. Always use condiments, she looked damn appetizing. “Your parents and Jake will be here soon and since they’re doing us a huge favor by helping us paint I want to make sure they’re well fed.”

  J.T. took in the array of cookies, scones and mini-loaf cakes on the center island. The kitchen looked and smelled like a small bakery. Again, J.T. didn’t mind at bit. “I think you’ve got that covered.”

  “I’m giving some of that to your parents and Jake and freezing the rest.” She put her hands on her hips and frowned. “Do you think lasagna is okay for lunch? If not, we can have it for dinner.”

  “Lasagna is fine. When it comes to food, we Sawyers are easy to please.” J.T. pulled his baseball cap from his back pocket and slapped it on his head. “I moved the furniture and the television into the middle of the living room. With all of us painting I think we’ll be able to finish both the living room and the dining room today.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay with the color I picked out for the living room?”

  After spending an hour and a half in the
paint section of Home Depot when he should have been at the gym, J.T. would have agreed to paint the entire house purple just so he could get the hell out of the store. But this was Angie’s home now. Not just a place where he bided time until baseball season started. “I trust your judgment. If you say that shade of green will work, I believe you.”

  She favored him with an indulgent smile. “That shade of green is called Plantation Moss and it’s going to look beautiful with the white trim and crown molding.”

  “What about the nursery? What color should we paint that?”

  “I haven’t thought much about it,” she said, moving to the sink and turning on the water. “We’ve got time.”

  “Yeah, but I’d like to get it finished before spring training.” J.T. skirted the counter and picked out one of the warm muffins from the pan. The largest one, of course. He was hungry.

  “I forgot all about that.” Angie cast him a glance over her shoulder and then began rinsing utensils and placing them in the dishwasher. “You report in mid-February, right?”

  “Yes. Someone from the front office should be contacting me soon about logistics.”Lowering his gaze, he admired the curve of her ass. It wasn’t the only thing about her he’d been admiring. Her breasts, which had always been spectacular, were now full, voluptuous and capable of inducing major wood. He wasn’t a damn teenager anymore but the way his cock reacted whenever he was in Angie’s presence made him feel like one.

  J.T. bit into the muffin and flavor exploded in his mouth. “Jesus, this is good. What is it?” he asked after swallowing.

  “I call it a mixed berry muffin.”

  He took another bite. It was just as good as the first. “Is this one of your grandmother’s recipes?”

  “No. It’s one I came up with on my own.”

  “You should sell these. You’d make a fortune.”

  Angie turned off the water and reached for the dish towel on the counter next to the sink. “I appreciate the compliment, but since you’re the self-proclaimed human garbage disposal who’ll eat anything, I’m not sure your opinion is valid.”