One Kiss In… Miami

“Pretorius?”

“My uncle. He’s a computer expert, which comes in handy since he helps maintain my anonymity.”

“Huh.” She fixed him with her lovely eyes, giving him her full attention and he realized he liked being the center of her universe. He liked it a lot. “I didn’t realize you had any family. At least, you never mentioned anyone.”

The way she spoke suggested they’d shared a certain level of intimacy. His eyes narrowed. Damn that accident. How could he have possibly forgotten someone like her? “How do I know you?”

She smiled. “Tell you what. I’ll give you a hint. My appearance has changed quite a bit since we last met.”

Aw, hell. Why did women always do that to a man? Normally, he was quite observant. But he rarely felt his observational abilities reached the level expected by women in male-female dynamics, particularly those of a romantic nature. “For instance?”

“My hair.”

“Longer? Shorter?” He hazarded a guess, though guessing didn’t come naturally to him.

She shook her head. “Lighter. It was a lot darker before. But I’ve gone back to my natural coloring.”

Relief flowed over him like a comforting blanket. Okay, that explained it. No doubt the computer program disqualified her based on that minor detail. He’d have to speak to Pretorius about tweaking the parameters. Maybe he’d been a shade too rigid in his requirements.

“I could live with dark hair.” Especially if it meant Daisy agreeing to become his apprentice/wife.

She tilted her head to one side, clearly puzzled by his comment. “Could you?”

Perhaps that sounded a trifle odd. Hadn’t Pretorius warned him about inviting a woman for a cup of coffee in one breath and proposing to her in the next? Time to slow things down. After coffee he’d settle for propositioning her. She’d indicated a level of interest in pursuing that angle of their acquaintance, at least he hoped he’d made a correct interpretation of her interest. And if he were strictly honest with himself, if he didn’t get her into bed soon he might give in to the temptation to bite more than just those lush lips of hers. He suspected such an action would be frowned upon given their current venue.

“Did we meet at a previous engineering conference?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m not—”

Their waitress appeared at his elbow and offered them a wide smile. “Good afternoon. My name is Anita and I’ll be your waitress.” She stated the obvious considering that she wore a uniform that clearly identified her occupation and her name tag had “Anita” written in bold black lettering. “Would you care for a drink from the bar?”

“I’ll pass,” Daisy said. “Though I’d love some iced tea, extra lemon please.”

A sense of familiarity swept through Justice. Something about the extra lemon. And then it passed. The sensation happened all too frequently since the accident. Sometimes he couldn’t summon the memory no matter how hard he tried. On other occasions—more and more often to his profound relief—the memory exploded into his mind in full vivid color, as though his brain had forged a new pathway through the neural wetware that held that precious information, avoiding the congestion and confusion left behind by his accident. But not this time. No matter how hard he tried to avoid it, he found himself square in the middle of a mental traffic jam, unable to maneuver his way to the coordinates that contained that particular node of memory.

He accepted the failure with his usual stoicism and switched his attention to the waitress. “Coffee. Black.”

“I’ll be right back with your drinks and to take your order.”

The instant Anita left, Justice returned his attention to Daisy, homing in on her with laser-sharp focus. “Are you ready to give me another hint?”

She waved that aside. “I have a better suggestion. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to in the past few years? After all, you are the best in the business when it comes to creating robotic sensors and actuators.”

They were on more familiar ground now. “Yes, I am.”

“No false modesty, I see,” she commented.

The observation made no sense. “What would be the point?”

He’d never met a woman who enjoyed laughing more than this one. He should find it annoying. Instead, it arrowed straight through him, bringing an unexpected surge of desire. “You crack me up, Justice. Still logical to the end.”

He hesitated. “Is there something wrong with being logical?”

Everything about her seemed to soften, even her voice. “No, of course not. So long as you also remember to feel.”

Feel? He didn’t quite know how to respond to that, a rare occurrence and one that threw him off stride. He reached for Rumi, only to realize he’d left the sphere in his room. It also brought home to him how much he’d come to depend on his creation whenever he found himself in a quandary. And Daisy certainly left him in a quandary.

With most engineers, he knew exactly what to expect and how to speak to them. But not with this woman. Even her name seemed wrong, and yet … Right somehow. She had the same appeal as her namesake, a splash of color that brightened even the plainest, most barren landscape. She made him hesitate along his appointed path, encouraged him to pause in order to admire and while away the hours in ridiculous pursuits rather than the business of … well … business.

But it was more than that. She roused feelings in him he thought long dead, a want that eclipsed everything else. Right now sitting with her, he didn’t give a damn about the conference, or the work he’d been unable to complete for the past year, or asking the necessary questions to ensure he’d found the perfect apprentice/wife. All he cared about was allowing spring to thaw the ice encasing his heart. To heat the blood flowing through his veins. To find the man lost in an endless winter and breathe new meaning into his life.

Daisy could do that for him. If he believed in intuition, he’d have blamed the abrupt, blazing certainty he experienced on that. But since he didn’t, he decided his brain had been subconsciously working the problem and just now reached a rational and inescapable conclusion.

This woman was the answer to his problem.

He didn’t question the newfound knowledge since he’d experienced something similar whenever he came up with a new idea in robotics. He’d learned to trust those moments of sudden enlightenment and proceed to the next step without delay.

She waited patiently for him to speak again, content with the silence. He found that an unusual attribute in a person, regardless of gender. While she waited, she smiled with what he interpreted as contentment and cupped her chin in the palm of her hand. She had pretty hands, he realized, the fingers long and supple. For an instant his brain short-circuited, and not as a result of his accident.

He flashed on an image of how Daisy’s hands would look and feel on his body. Good God, where the hell had that come from? He wasn’t normally the imaginative sort, and yet that one stunning picture caused an unmistakable physiological response, one far beyond his ability to control. No doubt because it had been so long since he’d been with a woman.

Something in his expression must have given him away. Daisy straightened in her chair. “Justice? What’s wrong?”

He cleared his throat. “You’ll have to forgive me. This hasn’t happened since I was a teenager, but perhaps because of my recent isolation, I’m receiving an unusual amount of visually stimulating input which is having an adverse affect on my central nervous system. If you could strive to be a little less visually stimulating, my body will release an appropriate amount of nitric oxide to the corpora cavernosa which should cause my muscles to relax.” Dear God, could he sound any geekier?

Sure enough, she blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re giving me a hard-on.”

The waitress chose that moment to return with their drinks and based on the unusual clumsiness with which she juggled her tray, he had a sneaking suspicion she’d overheard his final comment. Damn.

“Are you ready to order?” she asked, struggling in vain to maintain an impassive expression.

Justice didn’t hesitate, but took the only reasonable course of action. “No. The check, please.”

She handed it over, throwing a cynical look in Daisy’s direction. For some reason that look stirred a fierce, protective instinct in Justice. Odd, since he didn’t believe in instinct. The only explanation was some sort of genetic anomaly that had arbitrarily managed to survive the transition from an earlier, more primitive, intuitive state of man and been somehow included in his genetic coding.

Not that it mattered whether or not Daisy noticed Anita’s reaction. Justice didn’t want anyone looking at Daisy like that, thinking what the waitress was undoubtedly thinking, regardless of its veracity. Not that his soon-to-be-apprentice/wife noticed. She seemed totally oblivious to the byplay, probably because she was busy staring at him with undisguised shock. Maybe he should have been less blunt about his physiological problem.

Struggling to temper his reaction, he took the bill, added in a generous tip and slashed his signature across the ticket without his usual meticulous care. Then he shoved back his chair, relieved to discover that the nitric oxide had done its job.

Daisy’s brows shot upward, a smile still playing at the corners of her mouth. “I gather we’re leaving?”

“Yes. We’re leaving.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

She stood, snagged her carryall and slung the strap over her shoulder all in one fluid motion. The fuchsia of her bag should have clashed with the brilliant red of her blouse. Instead it made him think of the sunset that rapidly turned the Miami sky a similar color. Even the golden wheat shade of her hair seemed to add to the blend, intensifying his reaction to her.

Interesting. Perhaps he should consider researching the response of the human male’s libido to the plumage choices of the female. He didn’t know how he’d combine the results of the study in robotic design, but no doubt something would come to him in time. Until then, the only color he wanted to see was whatever shade Daisy turned when she was naked.

Before they’d progressed more than two feet, an elderly gentleman waylaid them. “Excellent speech, Mr. St. John. I particularly found your insights into future robotics and human interfacing quite fascinating.”

Justice paused, taking the man’s proffered hand. “Thank you. If you’ll excuse me, we—”

Before he could whisk Daisy away, she spoke up, “He is the best on the planet when it comes to autonomous cooperation with humans.”

“Very astute observation, young lady.” His attention returned to Justice. “I wonder if you’d have time to discuss an idea I had?”

Justice knew what would happen if he didn’t get out of here and fast. It was the same thing that happened whenever engineers got together. They’d spend the entire night talking shop. Any other time, he’d have been happy to do just that. But not now. Not this night. Not when he hoped to spend it getting better acquainted with the woman he intended to transition into his apprentice/wife. Already he noticed surrounding ears and eyes perking up, could picture the gears turning, processors humming to life at the thought of an impromptu robotics discussion. Not a chance in hell.

“I have an appointment in precisely three minutes and forty-two seconds and it will take me exactly three minutes and thirty-three seconds to get there,” he announced in a carrying voice. “If you’ll excuse us?”

“Say no more.” The man stepped hastily aside, as did the others who’d been in the process of approaching.

With the path clear, Justice settled his hand in the small of Daisy’s back and ushered her through the crowd choosing a vector that afforded them the most direct route between their current location and the exit. The instant they stepped from the café, Daisy turned to confront him. She planted a hand square in the center of his chest, halting his forward momentum.

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

Had he missed a step somewhere? “I thought you understood that part. Has there been a miscommunication?”

“You could say that. I probably wouldn’t. Say it, I mean. I’d probably say something like, did we get our wires crossed?” She wrinkled her elegant nose. “Although even that sounds entirely too engineeringish.”

Engineeringish? He folded his arms across his chest. “Would you prefer I be more direct?”

“No, you’ve been quite direct enough. I thought you invited me for coffee. What changed?”

He blew out a sigh. “I gather I should have allowed you to finish your iced tea before we proceeded to the next step?”

“Or maybe even have a single sip?” she teased. Instead of pushing against his chest, her hand lightened, shifted, driving him insane by making tiny, circular strokes. He had a sneaking suspicion that if she didn’t stop—and soon—his body would use up its supply of nitric oxide. “I know we’re attracted to each other. We always have been.”

There it was again. That reminder that they knew each other from another time and place, a memory his accident must have stolen from him. “Have you changed your mind?”

“About making love to you?” She shook her head. “I just thought maybe we should slow down a little.”

Yup. That nitric oxide needle was definitely shifting from F for Full to E for Empty. “I’m not sure I can,” he confessed.

And it was a confession, since he found it difficult to admit to such a thing, and even more stunning to be experiencing what he regarded as a serious failing. Ever since he’d been in charge of his own life, he’d maintained ironclad control of his world and everything in it. Until then, he’d had no choice, no options, all decisions made around and to him regardless of the severity of their impact on him. The day he’d turned eighteen, he’d sworn that his life, how he spent it and who he allowed into it would be his decision and his alone.

Her eyes darkened, the spring green draped in deep forest shadow. “I can live without tea. How much time did you say we had until your next appointment?”

“There’s ninety-four seconds left. But I lied about the appointment.”

“Yes, I know. It’s called a joke,” she said gently. “In this particular use of the word, a noun. Meaning to cause laughter or amusement with one’s words or actions.”

“I’m not feeling laughter or amusement.”

“No? What are you feeling?”

Feeling? He closed his eyes, a rush of adrenaline streaming through him. Heaven help him, she was right. After all this time, he was finally feeling. He struggled to identify the peculiar sensation.

“Hope,” he whispered in a low, rough voice. “A verb used with or without attachment to an object. The anticipation, belief or trust that something greatly desired may at long last occur.”

Daisy stared at Justice, her heart threatening to break. Did he have any idea how devastating she found his words? What had happened in those years they’d been apart that had altered him to the point where he’d gone so long without hope? Her hand fisted in his shirt and she tugged, drawing him closer.

“Take me to your room, Justice.”

After all, what did it matter if she made love to him now or later? She’d known from the moment he’d swept onstage and their gazes had met and locked that this moment would come. They could sit in the trendy little café and drink coffee or tea until the sun set and stars spilled like fireflies across the velvety carpet of night sky. And it would only delay the inevitable.

She wanted him. She’d always wanted him. And despite the accident which had robbed him of some portion of his memory, part of him still knew her, still remembered how it had been between them. Because clearly, he wanted her, too. Spinning on her heel, she kept her hand anchored in his shirt and towed him toward the elevators.

“I gather we’re leaving?” he asked in a dry voice, throwing her own words back at her.

“Yes. We’re leaving.”

He shrugged. “Okay. But just so you know, the elevators are in the opposite direction.”

She didn’t break stride, but simply reversed course. Was that an actual smile she saw flash across his face? “And it didn’t even crack,” she informed him.

“Excuse me?”

“Your face when you smiled. I’m sure you’ll be relieved to know that it didn’t crack.” This time when the smile came it was far broader and lingered longer. The sight filled her with intense satisfaction.

They arrived at the bank of elevators at the same moment that a set of doors opened, spilling passengers from its gilded innards. Entering the car, they stood in silence during the ride skyward, but Daisy could sense the growing tension between them, the bubble and simmer of it barely held in check, an explosion primed and ready to blow. The doors parted and Justice gestured to the right.

“Twenty-five-oh-one.”

She waited by the door while he used his key card, then stepped inside, impressed by the size and beauty of his suite. “Wow.”

“I like having both space and privacy. Since I was afforded neither during my formative years, I’ve found it holds greater value and appeal now.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Daisy crossed to the expansive living area, one that looked out over a stunning view of the beach and ocean. “Who would have imagined we’d end up where we are now?” she murmured.

“I did. At least, in regard to my own future endeavors.” His voice came from directly behind. Even though the comment sounded calm and prosaic—well, okay, and a trifle geeky—she could sense the desire seething just beneath the surface. “I had my life all planned.”

“Yes, I suppose you did. You always were good at planning.”

“It merely took determination combined with the right doors opening at the right time.”

She threw him a smile over her shoulder. “Luck, Justice?”

He shook his head. “I don’t believe in luck. I prefer to think of it as chance colliding with opportunity.”

She chuckled, turning fully around to face him. “In other words … luck.”

He lifted an eyebrow in inquiry. “Is it luck that you’re here today?”

“Yes. Absolutely. If I hadn’t seen your name advertised as the keynote speaker for the conference, I wouldn’t be here now.”

“But you did see it.” He took a step in her direction, just one. But it was enough to kick her heart rate up a notch. “A door opened.”

“And I decided to step through it.” She spared a glance around. “Literally.”

“As I said, chance combined with the right doors opening at the right time.”

She gave a brisk nod and released her breath on a sigh. “So, tell me something, Justice. Now that you have me here, whatever will you do with me?”

He didn’t answer right away, instead studying her with unnerving intensity. Had his expression always been so grave? He’d been quiet as a teen, studious, focused. But he’d also had the capacity to laugh. Where had that gone and how did she find it again?

He must have figured out what he intended to do with her because he took a final step in her direction. Hooking his index finger in the deep V of her blouse, he propelled her into his arms. She tumbled, just as she had all those long years ago, captured in an unbreakable hold.

“I believe I’m going to take off your clothes and make love to you,” he informed her quite seriously.

And then he kissed her.

Three

Daisy slid her arms around Justice’s neck and clung for all she was worth. She’d never appreciated methodical until this moment. But Justice managed to change her mind.

The first touch of his lips against hers came as an easy, tender caress. It stayed that way for a brief moment, just long enough for her to react. The instant she threw herself into the embrace, the tenor changed, became harder, more insistent. She sighed in delight, opening to him without hesitation or caution. He breached the seam of her lips, his tongue teasing hers, edging her hunger ever higher.

His control was exquisite, his taking decimating her. And then his teeth closed over her lower lip and tugged, threatening to drive her straight over the edge.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he informed her.

It took Daisy a long moment to gather her wits sufficiently to respond to Justice’s comment. “Not a clue. But I’m willing to bet you could tell me to the minute.”

“To the nanosecond.”

He cupped her face and practically inhaled her, his kiss the most thorough she’d ever received, his mouth firm and assured and potent. “Tell me what you want and I’ll spend the rest of the night giving it to you.”

It was all she could do to keep from moaning in response. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

He smiled again, more easily this time. “Do you want the lights on or off when I remove your clothes?”

“Oh, yes.”

Now he grinned. “Maybe I’ll leave them off and see you wearing nothing but the sunset.”

It was the most poetic comment he’d made since they’d become reacquainted and a cold place deep inside thawed, melted, warmed her, inside and out. “Then you’d better hurry because it’s almost gone.”

“I don’t hurry. Not when it comes to something as important as this.”

Daisy could only stare at him, helpless, a shaft of raw desire shooting through her. “Oh, Justice. I was so afraid.”

“Afraid?” A frown creased his brow. “Of me?”

“In a way.” She lifted a shoulder in a shrug and heard the happy clatter of children’s toys rattling around in her carryall. The sound reassured her as nothing else could have. “Of how you’d be when I met you again. Whether you’d have changed. At first, I thought …”

“That I had?”

“How did you know?”

“It seemed the logical conclusion.”

“Yes. I thought you’d changed.” She swept the strap of her carryall from her shoulder and tossed the bag carelessly to the carpet. Fortunately, the contents stayed put, though they did jangle in protest. “And you have changed. It’s natural, I suppose, since change is inevitable over time.”

“An astute observation.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “And yet, you’re still the same. Underneath all the scientific jargon and aloofness, you’re still the Justice I remember.”

“I assume that’s good?”

“It’s …” For some reason tears pricked her eyes and she hastened to lower them, praying he hadn’t noticed. She couldn’t seem to contain her energy and plucked at one of the buttons on his black shirt. “It’s fantastic,” she admitted in a husky voice.

“Let’s see if we can’t make it even more fantastic.”

Daisy had to admit, one of the qualities she’d always admired about Justice was his intense focus. He didn’t waste further time talking, but applied his superb intelligence to shoving the buttons of her blouse through the corresponding holes. Sliding it from her shoulders, he neatly removed her bra with an experienced flick of his fingers.

What little remained of the setting sun bathed her in soft purpling shadows. His gaze followed the final traces of sunlight, while his hands painted her in heat. He cupped the weight of her breasts and slid his thumbs across the tips. His hands surprised her with their power and strength. They weren’t the soft hands of a pencil pusher, but those of a laborer, callused and hard. Whatever sort of engineering and robotic work he did involved the use of those hands, his efforts strengthening and defining their shape and texture. She moaned at the delicious abrasiveness, her knees threatening to give out beneath her.

“Justice, please.”

“Don’t ask me to rush this. I can’t. I won’t. I want to enjoy every moment.”

Despite his demand, his hands reluctantly slid from her breasts across her quivering abdomen. The sound of the zipper of her slacks being lowered sounded as harsh as their breathing. He skinned the last of her clothing from her body, leaving her cloaked in nudity.

It was Daisy’s turn to return the favor. She didn’t have Justice’s patience, nor his attention to methodical process. She yanked and tugged whatever came to hand, whether trousers or shirt or shoes and socks. While darkness enclosed them in a soft fist, she allowed her hands to be her eyes while she reacquainted herself with every inch of him.