Staying Cool Read Online Free Page A

same mistake twice.
    A year ago, she'd let herself get too involved with Patrick. Gotten in too deep—over her head. She'd remedied the problem the only way she knew how. The way she'd always handled it—she'd moved on.
    She ignored the spasm of guilt that came as a side dish with that last thought. Patrick was a big boy. She had no doubt at all he'd broken his share of hearts. Most men who looked like him, moved like him, sounded like him—and made love like him—had. It was a given. Hell, he'd probably told a dozen women he loved them.
    An all-too-familiar pain clamped her heart. Memories. Damn memories.
    Late summer evening. Under a red canopy at an outdoor restaurant. The scent in the air whispering of rain. Laughter. A piano playing. A woman on the sidewalk outside a wrought iron fence, selling single roses, each with a sprig of baby's breath. Patrick, smiling at her, buying one—the purest white. Offering it to her. His smiling giving way to a grave sincerity. Their hands joining. His low voice saying, "I love you, Gina." Nothing more. Nothing asked of her. Only words. I love you, Gina...
    Words that changed everything.
    She gave her head a mental shake. No way would she do a second drive down that road. What was about to happen now was sex—quick and orgasmic—between two people who... cared for each other. Yes. Only sex. That was enough for any man. Enough for her.
    Patrick's hands held her waist, anchored her to his lap. Shifting her closer, he wedged himself into the vee of her legs, his sex thrusting leisurely against her own building heat. Feeling her, letting her feel him. Her breath snagged in her throat. Her brain went crystal, all shiny and bright.
    D amn...
    She'd forgotten how good it felt, how good he felt, the length of him pressed to where she needed him most. He was hard, hot, and ready, his breath searing her breast the moment before he took her nipple deep into his mouth. He suckled her hard, then easy and slow, using his tongue—in that special way he had.
    Her breath left her body, left the damn room.
    She drove her fingers through his black hair, kissed it. Thick. Silky. Scented with midnight sin.
    Wanting more, she arched her back, pressed her breast to his hungry mouth. He groaned, switched to her other aching peak. Her head fell back, and her eyes closed against the darkness in the bedroom, against all but the sensation evoked by the man at her breast.
    "Oh, God, Patrick, I've missed you. Missed this." And she had. This was going to be fantastic, electric, then...
    Her thought unfinished, he stopped, pulled back, and shook his head as if to clear it. His hands stilled on her waist.
    "Patrick?"
    He said nothing, rested his head between her breasts, and took a long breath. His words raspy and soft, he said, "This feels so goddamn good. So right." A pause. "So, why, I'm asking myself... why do I feel like such a dumb shit?"
    Gina swallowed. "What are you talking about?"
    More silence, then, "Nothing."
    "Your pulling away from me isn't nothing . Tell me."
    "Let it go. Okay?" He nuzzled her throat, kissed her there, his breath hot against her skin. Then he lifted her away and off his lap, setting her to stand in front of him and muttering a curse as he did so. She knew he wanted her; his body didn't lie. What the hell...
    Standing now, the lines of his face taut and reflective, he twisted his lips into a semblance of a smile. "I think our time would be better spent planning than fucking."
    "You're saying no, to sex?"
    He turned on his Irish. "Though it well might mean an end to mankind as we know it—that I am, darlin'. That I am." He picked up her top from the floor, held it out to her. Looking at her bare breasts, he let out a long sigh, before raising his gaze to the ceiling. "And would you cover up, please. I'm not aiming for the sainthood."
    She took the top and let it dangle from her hand. "You're serious."
    "Never more so." He started buttoning up his shirt. "Now get dressed. We need to