Single, Sexy...And Sold!. Vicki Lewis Thompson
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“I have absolutely no intention of making love to you.”
“Good, because I have no intention of making love to you, either,” Natalie said.
Jonah’s kiss came hard and fast, and she moaned with delight. Pushing her down against the leather bench, he began working at the buttons of her blouse as he continued to kiss her.
She pulled his knit shirt from the waistband of his slacks and ran her hands up underneath to feel the play of muscles across his broad back. To touch him was heaven. To be touched by him was…unbelievable. She gasped as he unfastened her bra and cupped her breast. It was the right touch, the one she’d waited for, dreamed of… She saw stars. She heard bells.
Or rather one bell, which was ringing rather persistently.
He lifted his mouth from hers. “Lunch,” he said raggedly. “If we…” He paused to take a deep breath. “If we don’t go on deck, they’re liable to come down after us.”
“Oh,” she whispered. “I’d forgotten about the media circus surrounding this date. Do you think the TV crews are still out there?”
“It’s very likely,” Jonah answered. “And unless you want the world to know that you haven’t been making love with your $33,000 man, I’d suggest we get dressed.”
Single, Sexy…and Sold!
Vicki Lewis Thompson
For Audrey and Dan,
who will live happily ever after.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Prologue
THE PUPPY HADN’T worked out, either.
Natalie’s breath frosted the air as she stood beside the lake in Central Park and played out the leash while Bobo searched for the perfect place to squat. Not far away a camera crew from WOR-TV was taking scenic shots, probably to use on the evening weather report. Natalie watched them for a minute before returning her attention to the puppy.
Damn, he was cute—jet-black except for a white spot on his tummy where he loved to be scratched. She’d been sure his floppy ears, stubby legs and soulful eyes would captivate her mother. But Bobo hadn’t rated any more attention than the herb garden, the laptop computer, the aromatherapy unit or the home gym Natalie had hauled up to her mother’s apartment. Six months after her husband’s death, Alice LeBlanc did nothing but work thousand-piece jigsaw puzzles and cry. It broke Natalie’s heart.
But having Bobo helped ease the pain. He’d chewed her favorite loafers and stained the Oriental carpet beside her bed, but one look into his baby brown eyes and she forgave him anything. During the cab ride home from Wall Street every afternoon she pictured his wriggling, joyful welcome and was almost glad her mother hadn’t wanted him.
Almost. She needed to solve this problem with Alice, who refused to see either a doctor or a counselor. Gazing over the tops of the leafless trees, Natalie picked out her own lit apartment windows and her mother’s two stories above that. There had to be a way to coax her mother out of this depression, if she could just think of what—
“Bobo!” She made a grab for the leash, but the puppy’s unexpected leap for freedom yanked it right out of her hand. “Bobo, no!”
Leash trailing, he bounded toward the lake, intent on playing with a pair of mallards pecking a hole in the ice.
“Bobo, come back!” She ran after him, but he was already skidding across the slick surface in pursuit of the ducks. Then, with a sickening crack, he fell through.
“Bobo!” She started after him just as his head bobbed to the surface. He’d never be able to climb out again. The ice was too thin.
A strong hand gripped her arm, pulling her back. “I’ll get him.”
She looked into the warm brown eyes of a stranger. “But—”
“I’m a firefighter. Rescues are my job.”
She glanced down at the letters on his sweatshirt—FDNY.
“Don’t worry,” he murmured. With a reassuring squeeze he released her arm and started out on the ice.
“He’s…he’s just a puppy!” she called after him.
“I know. He’ll be fine.”
Natalie clenched her hands under her chin. “It’s okay, Bobo! The nice man’s coming to get you! Keep swimming, baby!” Heart pounding, she watched the puppy struggling to keep his head above the icy water. Oh, God. He was so little.
“I’m coming, Bobo. Hang on, buddy.” The firefighter inched forward, testing the ice with every step. Finally he got to his hands and knees and crawled.
Natalie winced as she imagined how cold that would be on his bare hands and through the knees of his cotton jogging pants. He must have been out for a late-afternoon run when he saw Bobo fall in. She held her breath as he eased to his stomach and stretched out his arms to the puppy. Just a little more…a little…
Crunch. A portion of ice gave way beneath his shoulders as he made a grab for the dog. When his head and shoulders went underwater, Natalie started out on the ice.
“Wait, lady!” someone yelled. “He’s got him!”
She paused, just as powerful spotlights illuminated the area. In the same instant the firefighter came up with Bobo and rolled sideways to a solid patch of ice. Several people cheered, and Natalie looked around in amazement at the crowd that had gathered, including the TV crew. A camera was trained on the drenched man crawling back to the shore, a wiggling Bobo clutched under his arm.
Natalie wanted to hug the breath out of that fireman. As the terror receded she noticed he was darned cute, too. His job required him to be in shape, but she doubted the fire department required a square jaw and beautiful eyes.
When he reached a firmer patch of ice he staggered to his feet and blinked in the glare. Bobo squirmed in his arms, and he glanced down at the puppy. “I’m afraid we have an audience, sport.” Snuggling Bobo against his chest he walked carefully toward where Natalie stood with her arms outstretched, wiggling her fingers impatiently.
Gratitude put a lump in her throat. “How can I ever thank you?”
He gave her a crooked grin as he handed over Bobo. “You can call off the TV guys. What’s going on?”
She tucked the shivering puppy under her coat and gazed up at him. “I think they just happened to be in the area. Listen, I at least owe you dinner, or—”
His glance flicked past her. “There’s a reporter headed over here with a mike. I’m gonna disappear.”
“But—”
He backed away and pushed his wet hair off his forehead. “Call FDNY and ask for Jonah Hayes.”
“Sir!” The reporter