From This Moment On Part 3

Even in her sleep, she seemed reluctant to let go of him and he found himself kneeling with her so that she could lie down and still have her arms around his shoulders. She sighed with pleasure as she immediately curled up into a ball on her side, her face toward his, her full lips turning up slightly at the corners.

What would it be like to kiss that mouth?

Marcus had to work like h.e.l.l to shove the thought away.

Those plans, those fantasies, were gone now. He was now on tap for a quiet evening watching over a beautiful girl whose scent and soft curves he wouldn't be able to forget for a very long time.

He covered her with a blanket that was thrown over the couch, then looked around for a pillow, but there were none. He could go upstairs to get one off a bed, but considering the way her hand had sought out his, he had a feeling she might wake up if he moved completely away.

Not letting himself overthink it, he moved so that he was sitting on the couch by her head and shifted her so that his legs became her pillow. She seemed unsettled again for a moment, her free hand pressing against his leg as she clearly wondered why her pillow was so hard.

Without thinking, he captured that hand with his free one. She immediately settled into him, curling into an even tighter ball on the couch beneath the thick blanket, reminding him again of the wild kittens that he often found sleeping in patches of sun at his winery.

He wanted her so badly that it was difficult to relax at first. Every breath she took stoked his libido higher as her head shifted on his lap over his pounding erection. He was glad she was so soundly asleep, otherwise she'd realize that his thigh muscles weren't the only hard thing she was lying on.

Calling on his steel will that had rarely, if ever, let him down, he forced himself to move his gaze away from her to the huge living room windows that overlooked the lights of San Francisco and the bay.

Marcus had been in other actors' houses over the years and he was always struck by how many pictures-and even paintings-they had of themselves. Almost as if they were afraid to ever let anyone, including themselves, look away from the face that had made them famous, just in case it was forgotten. Smith was the exact opposite. Not only were there no photos of him, there were no personal photos anywhere in the house.

None of the Sullivans spent much time in front of the mirror. Not even his sisters, except Lori when she was working. Her job as a ch.o.r.eographer meant she needed to keep a careful eye on her lines, her movements, her expressions as she danced. And even though Marcus's mother had been a model when she was younger, he couldn't remember her ever wasting much time with makeup or hair. Raising eight kids would make it pretty d.a.m.n hard for anyone to find the time to primp and be vain.

In any case, Marcus wasn't particularly interested in any changes Smith had made to his part-time home. Not when it already felt like he'd taken too much time away from Nicola.

His chest tightened again as he looked down at her pretty profile. Recognition tried to jog in his mind. He'd been so struck by his attraction to her right from that first glance that he hadn't been able to think of anything else.

But now, as he got the chance to simply stare at her, he found himself wondering if he'd seen her somewhere before.

No, he decided a moment later. It was impossible.

Nicola wasn't a woman he could ever have forgotten.

He stared down at her for a long while, memorizing the curve of her cheekbones, the sweep of her eyelashes, the way her eyebrows arched and peaked, her slightly pointed chin that fit her so perfectly, the sweet curve of one ear.

The soft hairs at her hairline were several shades lighter than her current hair color and he wondered why she felt she had to change anything about herself when she was already perfect. One day, he found himself thinking, he'd like to see what she looked like with her natural hair color.

What was he thinking? He wasn't going to see her again after tonight.

His thoughts cycled back to his ex-girlfriend, to how furious he'd been to find Jill with Rocco. Then again, if he was being honest with himself, he'd been angry and frustrated for longer than that. For weeks, months, as Jill made more and more excuses for why she wasn't ready to get engaged, as she cancelled one weekend together after another, as she committed to seeing his family at various events and then backed out at the last minute.

He'd a.s.sumed he'd be furious at Jill all night long. But since meeting Nicola, he hadn't thought about Jill once until now. And, amazingly, with Nicola sleeping on his lap and her hands in his, Marcus's anger was on a slow simmer rather than a rolling boil.

s.e.x was supposed to be his medicine tonight, not a soft little purring kitten named Nicola.

And yet, instead of being even more frustrated by the turn his evening of mindless s.e.x had taken, a smile was on his face as he leaned back against the couch, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

Chapter Four.

Nicola was so warm. She felt so safe. Safer than she'd felt in years, when she'd still lived in her parents' house rather than in hotels throughout the world.

But she could tell without opening her eyes that she wasn't in her childhood bed. For one, her bed didn't smell like leather. Her pillow wasn't made of hard muscle. And there hadn't ever been anyone who had held her hands so gently in her bed.

She swallowed hard as she realized what must have happened. She'd propositioned a gorgeous man at a nightclub last night...and then she'd promptly fallen asleep on him.

Oh G.o.d, how stupid had she been? Had she actually thought she was taking control of her life by going to that club to pick up a stranger to sleep with?

In the cold light of day that she hadn't wanted to think about last night, she faced facts: After leaving Marcus this morning, she was going to have to deal with the fallout from being hooked up with a strange man in the press.

The irony that she hadn't actually done a darn thing with him-not even kiss him-wouldn't matter to anyone.

And yet, as she lifted her lashes just enough to look down at herself, she saw that he'd laid her down on a soft leather couch and covered her with a thick blanket. She wiggled her toes. A surprised smile moved onto her lips as she realized that while he'd left her dress on, he'd obviously thought to slip off her heels so that she'd sleep more comfortably.

She couldn't remember the last time a stranger had taken such good care of her.

Sure, people were always trying to do her favors, but ninety-nine percent of the time it was because they wanted something.

Marcus hadn't taken a single thing from her. Instead, he'd given her the best night's sleep she'd had in ages.

It had been six months, at least, since she'd slept really well. It didn't matter how soft the sheets were, how expensive the mattress, the bed always felt too big, and she couldn't seem to stop the racing in her head. She'd written a ton of songs when she should have been sleeping. She supposed her music was getting better than ever, but at the same time she could feel herself edging closer and closer to burnout.

How she'd longed to have a clear head. And how amazing it was that her chance to recharge had come in some stranger's house while lying on a man's lap. A man whom she knew nothing about beyond his first name, the fact that his mother was nice, and that he was a good older brother.

That was when she felt his thigh muscles shift beneath her cheek and realized he knew she was awake. All at once she felt the way her tongue was sticking to the roof of her mouth. No doubt, in addition to having terrible morning breath, she also had tons of mascara stuck to her face.

Nicola badly needed to go to the bathroom to clean up before she let him see her in daylight...and before she faced him and apologized for not being the s.e.x demon she'd pretty much promised she would be the night before.

Pushing the soft blanket off, she quickly sat up and found her footing on the plush rug. She didn't say a word to him as she hurried off in the direction of what she desperately hoped was the bathroom.

It would be really embarra.s.sing if she ended up in a closet. So embarra.s.sing, in fact, that she'd already decided that if she guessed wrong, she'd just lock herself into it and die of mortification in private.

Fortunately, luck was on her side as she peeked in an open door between the living room and the open kitchen and found a large bathroom.

Oh G.o.d, she thought as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she looked like a witch. Not one of those pretty ones, either, that could put a love spell on any man she looked at. Nope, she was definitely more like one of those evil ones who fed pretty princesses shiny red apples.

Her makeup must have melted against the heat of his legs and her hair was sticking up all over the place. If only she'd thought to bring her small bag into the bathroom with her, then she could have at least fixed her lipstick. As it was, all she could do was wash everything off her face with the bar of really nice smelling soap.

Nicola hadn't grown up wearing makeup, but once she'd decided to pursue music, it had become a given. She still wasn't crazy about how it felt on her skin-which was sensitive enough that she now had everything custom blended so she didn't get a rash-but she knew it made her look older, more mature and s.e.xy. Without her makeup, she could pa.s.s for eighteen. If that. If her pop music career ever had been a bust, she figured she could have gone undercover in high schools.

Turning on the tap, she closed her eyes and cleaned off her face. Once that was done, she squatted to see if there would be a miracle of a toothbrush and toothpaste under the sink. Yet again, her prayers were answered, and a few minutes later her smile, along with her skin, was sparkling clean. All that remained was her hair, which she was able to finger comb with a little water.

She looked at herself in the mirror and grimaced at the way her fresh-faced look clashed with her leather dress. What she wouldn't give to be able to change into jeans and a T-shirt right now.

And, oh, what she really wouldn't give to be able to sneak out of the bathroom-and the house-without having to face Marcus again.

Her heart was beating way too fast by the time she stepped out of the bathroom. She tiptoed out into the hall until she could see the couch if she craned her neck. But it was empty.

Ten seconds later, she found him in the kitchen. His back was to her and from the loud sounds coming from the room, she quickly guessed that he was grinding coffee beans.

She didn't want to sneak up on him, but there really was no way to announce her presence apart from yelling louder than the grinder, which she wasn't going to do. Moving slowly toward him, far more cautiously than she had the night before in the club, she waited on the other side of the kitchen island for him to turn and notice her.

How, she wondered, was he managing to look as good this morning as he had last night? From the back, his clothes barely looked worn, and his dark hair certainly wasn't sticking up all over the place like hers had been.

He finished grinding the beans and turned to her, looking as if he'd known all along that she was there. He looked even more gorgeous this morning with a dark layer of stubble across his jaw.

"Seemed like coffee would be a good idea."

She nodded, trying to smile, but she was so nervous her lips felt all wobbly. "Thanks," she finally got out. "Coffee would be great."

His eyes held hers for a long moment, almost as if he were a.s.sessing how she was feeling. "I turned the heat up a bit, but I thought you might be cold for a while." He lifted a sweatshirt from the counter. "I know it's too big, but-"

She grabbed it before he could finish his sentence. It was as if he'd heard her silent prayer to cover up her skimpy dress. A few seconds later, she looked down at herself in the ridiculously big sweatshirt. The bottom of it went past her kneecaps and there no point in even trying to roll up the sleeves, they were so long.

"I'll find you something else."

Pushing the excess fabric up her arms, she shook her head and finally found her smile. "No. It's perfect." She couldn't tear her eyes away from his. "Thank you."

She couldn't read his expression as he stared back at her, but finally he nodded. "You're welcome."

As he moved back to the expensive coffee maker in the corner of the granite countertop, she couldn't stop thinking how sweet it was of him to be more concerned about her being cold, rather than taking the opportunity to stare at her b.o.o.bs in the ridiculous leather dress.

Knowing she needed to get her brain to focus on something other than how gorgeous and sweet Marcus was, she turned away from him and made a slow perusal of the house where she'd spent the night.

It was nice. Really, really nice. Although, she quickly noted, there was nothing all that personal about it either, almost as if it were just an extended version of one of her fancy hotel rooms.

Marcus must have noticed her taking it all in, because he said, "My brother owns the house."

She could feel a flush move over her skin at his warm, somewhat rough voice. It was a voice at odds with his polished clothes and the fact that he was clearly a successful businessman. She liked that deep, raw edge very much. Too much, given the way her body was responding to a few simple words.

The dark shadow on his jaw should have seemed out of place, too, but, somehow, it didn't. She remembered the calluses on his fingertips, musing that calluses and business suits were a dichotomy she couldn't make sense of. But, oh, how she suddenly wanted to. Far too much than was wise for a man who was supposed to start and end as a perfect stranger.

"It's very nice," she replied. And then it hit her. What if his brother was about to walk in on their cozy little coffee scene? Odds were pretty darn low that he wouldn't recognize her either.

For the thousandth time since she woke up, she wondered what she could possibly have been thinking, going home with Marcus from the club last night. It had seemed okay when it was just the two of them, when she could convince herself that finally finding pleasure was more important than anything else, but somehow knowing his brother was going to come down the stairs any minute and find her there in her totally inappropriate leather dress and bare feet made her feel like she'd made the world's biggest mistake leaving her hotel room in the first place.

She started backing away from the counter. "I should leave before he-"

"Don't worry, Nicola." Marcus's saying her name in that sinfully seductive voice of his had her stilling, the rest of her sentence falling away. "He's out of town for work. It's just you and me."

Hearing that should have made her feel better. But it didn't. Because she honestly wasn't sure that being alone with Marcus was such a good idea. Not when she felt so off-kilter around him, not when her tongue was tied up in knots along with her stomach when they hadn't so much as kissed last night.

Just think if they'd actually had the wild and crazy s.e.x she'd been planning on. She'd be dying right now.

Dying.

Clearly, one-night stands weren't her thing. And, suddenly, it seemed imperative that he know that about her.

"I've never done something like this before." She made herself look up from the shiny black granite she'd been gripping for dear life. Unclamping her fingers from the edge, she saw the damp imprint of her hand on the surface, a telltale sign of just how nervous she was feeling.

"It's been a while for me, too."

Unexpected jealousy hit her at the vision of Marcus standing in this kitchen with another woman that he'd picked up for a one-night stand. She had no claim on him, no right to that tightening of her chest.

But she felt it anyway.

Especially since she could place a million-dollar bet on the fact that she was the only woman who had ever dozed off...before they'd even had their first kiss.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep on you last night."

His lips finally moved up into a small smile. He'd been so serious until now that she was beyond surprised to see the corners of his mouth twitch in an upward direction. Those b.u.t.terflies that had gathered in her belly at her first sight of him in the club, so big and strong-looking, started flying in every direction at his smile.

She still wanted to kiss him, of course, but suddenly, she wanted to see him smile, too. Wanted to see his chocolate-brown eyes look at her with laughter and know that she was responsible for it.

"You were clearly exhausted." He wasn't smiling anymore, but his gaze was warm. Giving. He handed her a cup of coffee. "I didn't mind being your pillow for the night."

That same sweet feeling that had come over her when she'd learned what a good son and brother he was stole through her again. Nicola was sure any other guy would have been angry with her right now, would have been expecting her to drop to her knees, unzip his pants, and make up for what she hadn't given him last night. But Marcus seemed more concerned about how she was feeling than he was with being left high and dry.

If he'd been coming at her aggressively demanding a do-over, she would have kicked him straight to the curb and been out of there so fast his head would spin. Instead, she was trying to find her footing in this strange new world where she'd finally met someone who didn't seem to want anything from her at all.

Not her fame, which he clearly didn't know about, and not even her body, which she'd outright offered to him less than a dozen hours ago...verbally, at least.

"You were a really great pillow."

This time, the smile he gave her had her smiling back. She wasn't a big believer in things she couldn't see, taste, hear or touch, but in that moment she could have sworn an invisible ribbon reached out between them and wrapped itself around them both.

No longer quite as ready to run, she sat on one of the bar stools. "Please, sit with me."

Last night she hadn't wanted to know anything about him beyond whether or not he could make her scream with pleasure. But since they hadn't even gotten near first base due to her strangely narcoleptic behavior, she decided to give in to her urge to find out more about the mystery man who'd held her hand while she slept soundly for the first time in ages.

Marcus hesitated for several seconds, and just when she thought he was going to refuse her invitation, he picked up his cup and walked toward her.

"So, I take it you don't live in San Francisco, either?"

He shook his head. "Napa Valley."

"I've driven through it a couple of times and the area is really beautiful." She left off the fact that she'd been there to play a couple of private gigs for some high-profile Napa residents. She sipped at her coffee again. "But I'm not much of a wine drinker." She shrugged. "I never know what to order with what."

If she were being straight about who she was and what she did, she would have told him that even a light buzz made it hard for her to keep hold of her control. And with so many people surrounding her all the time asking her questions, coming at her with contracts and offers, she had to work double time to remain fully present and lucid. Which was why she rarely drank anything at all. Only with Kenny had she made that mistake. And how she'd paid for it.

"Are you in the wine business?"

He nodded, then said, "You don't live here, either, do you?"

She hadn't missed the fact that while he'd answered her question, he'd quickly changed the subject afterward.