When the Earth Moves Page 4

  And it lasted just long enough to start a fire in his body.

  Slowly she pulled away. Her eyes were closed, but that beautiful mouth formed a smile. For some reason, that pleased him more than anything. She hadn't yanked away and called him a jerk who'd forgotten the serious reason she'd come to him. She looked like she thoroughly enjoyed being kissed by him.

  "I'll tell you what," she whispered, her mouth still close enough to almost feel the movements of her lips.

  "What?"

  "I'll teach Callie baseball and I'll even buy her a Yankee baseball cap. Okay?"

  A million clashing emotions rushed through him, but he tamped them all down.

  "You do that, sweetheart." He slid his hands over the curves of her waist and up the sleek, tight muscles of her back.

  Then she lifted her face toward him again, a victorious light in her magical eyes. "You have no idea how happy you've made me."

  This time she leaned into him and initiated the kiss, all that happiness translating into an instant connection between their mouths.

  He slanted his head to taste more of her, cupping her face between his hands and then tunneling his fingers into her magnificent hair. He felt himself stir into hardness against her stomach, the flare of desire shooting through his veins like liquid lightning.

  He had to get control or she would most definitely miss her flight. Pulling away, he stroked her lower lip with the tip of his finger, resisting the urge to slide that finger into her mouth, where his tongue had been.

  "Nothing like a little baseball to warm a lady up," he said with a smile.

  She just smiled and pulled farther away, not contradicting him on the reason for her sudden light and lusty mood. She'd won her game, and they both knew that accounted for her surprising display of affection.

  "Come on, sweetheart." He tugged her toward the cab stand he knew was around the corner of the stadium. "Let's get to the airport."

  As they reached the stand, he opened the door of the first available waiting cab. "After you."

  But she didn't move. "No, Cam, you don't have to go all the way to the airport. Just" she glanced at his pocket "sign." She gave him a heartbreaking look. Half pleading. Half regretful. "Just sign the paper and I'll be on my way."

  "And miss making out with you in the cab? Are you crazy?"

  She let out a quick laugh. "I think we've made out enough for one night."

  She reached toward his jacket pocket, but he backed away. "Then we'll talk."

  There went that pretty eyebrow, straight into a disbelieving arch.

  He inched her into the cab. "Really," he assured her, unable to resist checking out the backside of the body he'd been holding. "We'll talk."

  Not that he'd mind kissing her in the back of a cab for an hour, but it was time to talk.

  Kissing Cameron McGrath had been stupid. And incredible.

  Okay, it had been incredibly stupid.

  But Jo had been so pleased that he'd agreed to sign the paper, and soturned on by him. She'd wanted to kiss him. And, truth be told, she wanted to kiss him again.

  But she shimmied to the far side of the cab, and he left a good foot of seat between them. Maybe he did want to talk .

  If he would just sign the damn consent form, she'd kiss him silly from here to Kennedy. God, it had been so long since any man turned her on like this. She'd been gun-shy for years after her marriage debacle, which had only been an ugly confirmation that her mother's theory about men was absolutely right: they leave .

  She'd kept herself too busy fixing wrecks to pay much attention to the men who came through the door of her shop. One, maybe two had caught her eye and she'd had the occasional interlude with them, but she couldn't remember anyone who made her legs turn watery and put that twinge in her tummy.

  Katie, on the other hand, had pretty much been addicted to that twinge and not only had her legs turned to water, but her brain basically disintegrated in the company of a sexy guy, too. Now, that led to some big messes, and fixing those wrecks had sucked up the rest of Jo's personal time.

  "So, where's the father?"

  His question surprised heralmost like he'd been following her train of thought. "You meanCallie's father?" She hated to say the baby's name. She didn't want him to form the least bit of an interest in knowing her. In meeting her. If he did, he'd fall in love, of course. Everyone fell in love with Gallic on first sight She was a replica of Katie, gorgeous, beguiling and downright irresistible.

  "Were they married?" he asked.

  She sniffed. "He was."

  "Oh." There was a definite note of disappointment in his voice.

  She gave him a tight smile. "In her defense, she didn't knowat first."

  "And he doesn't want to take care of his own kid?" Disappointment turned to disgust.

  "He'd rather his wife and kids didn't know about Callie. He gave up parental rights long before the baby was born."

  Cameron blew out a breath and looked out his window. "Why the hell did she mess around with a married man? Was she stupid or something?"

  "No," Jo said quickly. "She was very smart. Brilliant about some things. The business, the books. All that stuff. Butshe had a weakness for smooth-talking, good-looking guys. And they, most of the time, had a weakness for her."

  He snorted softly. "You know what they say about the apple and the tree."

  Jo's spine stiffened at the comment, and she turned to him, stabbing a single finger in his direction. "Look, you can throw your insults at Katie. After all, she's your little sister and she was a royal pain in the butt. But you cannotI repeat, cannot insult Aunt Chris. That woman was a saint."

  " Aunt Chris, is it?" This time he choked a bitter laugh. "We are definitely not talking about the same Christine McGrath."

  Could she be hearing him right? He did blame Chris.

  "Why was she a pain in the butt?" he asked before she could set the record straight. At her questioning look, he clarified, "Katie. You said she was a pain in the butt."

  "She was" How could she put it? "A poor judge of character." Because Katie longed for a man to fill the void that having no father had caused.

  A spurt of guilt accompanied that thought. God, she didn't want that to happen to Callie. But it hadn't happened to Joand she'd been raised without a father. That desperation didn't have to happen to a fatherless girl.

  "Was she a" He gave her a meaningful look, and she gave him a point for avoiding the ugly word.

  "No," Jo assured him. "She had morals. She wasn't a loose girl. She just got involved with a married man and got pregnant. Not the first girl in history to make that mistake."

  "Were you close to her?"

  "Like sisters."

  In the shadows of the cab, she thought she saw him wince at that. "How'd you meet her?"

  "Chris came to Sierra Springs when I was three, almost four. She was pregnant and looking for work. Evidently, she and my momthe only other single mother in town at the timehit it off. Mom gave her a job at her beauty salon and they practically lived next door to each other. Chris was like my aunt, which is what I've always called her. And Katie was just alwaysthere. Ever since I can remember."

  For a long time he didn't say anything. He stared out her window, his expression pained. Jo studied his face, the heart-stopping features changing from dark to light with the passing cars. His deep-blue eyes had a faraway look, his square jaw clenched with some unspoken emotion.

  Don't think too much, Cam. Don't change your mind.

  Just sign the damn petition.

  She didn't want to push too hard, but her nerves felt frayed from waiting. "Have we talked enough yet?" She sucked in a quiet breath, and held it while she waited for his answer.

  His gaze shifted from the world outside to focus on her, the hint of seduction back in his eyes as his expression relaxed. "Ready to make out?"

  She almost laughed at the tease. "Will you sign that paper now?"

  His lips curled up in a smile, and he moved impercep
tibly closer, his now-familiar scent tickling her nose as he invaded the little bit of space between them. "You are persistent, I'll give you that."

  "You should see me rough out a dent."

  "I'd like to," he whispered, closing more space.

  She tapped his rock-hard chest. "Sign."

  He slid his hand under her hair. "Kiss."

  "That's blackmail."

  "Actually, it's extortion." He moved so close she could see the dilated pupils against his irises, even in the unlit cab.

  She forced herself to turn to the window, in time to read a green-and-white highway sign as they passed it. "We're almost at the airport."

  His gaze dropped over her face, settling on her mouth. She had to fight the urge to pull his head closer, to press her mouth against his again. Instead, she reached into his suit jacket pocket and closed her fingers around the envelope.

  He must have known what she was doing, but b.e didn't stop her.

  "Here." She held it out to him. "Do you need a pen?" He didn't take the paper, instead he dropped back against the seat with an air of defeat. "I need to read it." Her heart sank. "It's long. A lot of legalese."

  "My native tongue."

  The cabbie suddenly knocked on the privacy window. "What airline?"

  Oh, Lord. They'd arrived at JFK and she still didn't have his signature.

  She opened the envelope while Cameron leaned forward to talk to the cab driver. The document was short, just two pages. On the bottom of the second page was a line for his signature. Digging through her bag, she found a ballpoint pen.

  "Here." She handed both to him.

  He just shook his head. "Inside. I'll read it in the terminal."

  She had to accept that.

  The cab pulled to a stop at the departures terminal. While Cameron paid for the cab, she climbed out, holding the paper.

  "You don't have any other bags?" he asked as they headed into the terminal.

  "I didn't plan on staying."

  He shook his head. "What if I didn't sign that paper? Were you going to just go home?"

  "I didn't come to New York to sightsee," she told him as they stepped into the light. She tapped his chest with the edge of the folded document and slapped the pen into one of his hands. "Here. You read it and I'll check in."

  She turned from him. leaving him with his legalese, her heart thudding with each step. Please sign. Please sign.

  Under the massive display board of flight times and gates, she imagined the words he was reading. It was simple enough. All it said, in a series of endless sentences, was that he, as the oldest sibling and closest living blood relative, released all rights and duties to Callie Katherine McGrath.

  Suddenly she felt him behind her, a warm, strong presence. He placed two hands on her shoulders and gently squeezed. "No can do, sweetheart."

  She spun around. "What?"

  "Besides the fact that there's no proof this Callie {Catherine McGrath is related to me, this document requires notarization."

  "No, it doesn't. I already checked that before I left California."

  He pointed to a string of minuscule words across the bottom of the page. "New York is one of the states this line refers to."

  "I have the proof in my purse," she insisted, but the definitive shake of his head caused the blood to drain from hers. "Can we find a notary?"

  "At ten-thirty at night?"

  Disappointment made her dizzy and she swore under her breath. If he had too much time, he could change his mind. He had every right, she knew, but she'd hoped this would be a ten-minute conversation.

  "There's nothing we can do tonight," he said softly. "In the morning we'll go to my office, get it notarized and you can catch a later flight."

  "Butbut"

  "Come on," he said, putting his arm around her and leaning a little too close. "You can darken my doorstep, after all."

  Cam grinned and reached out to keep Jo's hat on her head. The rim threatened to tip backward as she gazed up at the top floor of his fifty-two-story building. When she did, the ends of her hair grazed her backside, an image he found wickedly arousing.

  "You live here?"

  He laughed softly. "Don't sound so shocked. It's the

  Upper East Side. People kill for an apartment in this building."

  "But it's a skyscraper, not a home."

  "Don't tell me you're afraid of heights?"

  She gave him an incredulous look. "I climb mountains."

  "You do?"

  "Did Shasta and Whitney in the same year," she said, her gaze sliding up the building again. "So I suppose I can do your monolith."

  "Fortunately we have elevators for the faint of heart."

  Inside the building, he greeted Gervaise, who nodded to Jo, seemingly unfazed that Cam was bringing home a strange woman in a cowboy hat and boots. Not that his showing up with an unfamiliar woman would surprise his doorman. But the rodeo gear might have elicited at least a raised eyebrow.

  "I'm on the thirty-second floor," he told Jo as they entered the chrome-and-mirrored elevator. "Wait'll you see the view.'"

  As the car shot up, she crossed her arms and leaned against the back wall, then closed her eyes.

  "Are you okay?" he asked. "This is an express, and some people get a little queasy."

  She shook her head and smiled. "I guarantee you this doesn't bother me."

  But something did. "You don't have to worry," he said. "I have an extra bedroom."

  Her eyes flashed open. "I wasn't worried about that, either."

  The elevator stopped at his floor and he pulled his keys from his pants pocket. "You didn't really think I was going to sign that without some kind of judge or notary to officiate, did you?"

  Her look confirmed that she had thought exactly that.

  "Well, maybe some other guy might have, but I'm a lawyer. And whoever told you a signature you wring out of someone in an airport would hold up in court is giving you lousy advice."

  "I'm representing myself," she said softly. "And you said you'd sign it. Right before you kissed me."

  He opened the door. "You kissed me."

  "First. You kissed me first."

  "Well, someone had to take the initiative to get what we both wanted."

  She stood outside the door as if the heels of her boots were glued to the hallway carpet. "I wanted your signature."

  Was that why she'd kissed him? He put his hand on her back and ushered her into the entry way. "Moot point now. Let's not argue in the hall."

  She took one step into the apartment, but it looked like it pained her to do so. "I really thought," her voice cracked a little, then she cleared her throat, "I really thought you were going to sign that petition."

  "I will." He moved around the living room, turning on a few of his nicest mood-setting lamps, then pressed the button that opened the drapes that covered one entire glass wall. "I bet you don't have views like this in Sierra Springs."

  She crossed the room, her eyes trained on the show-stopping vista of lights and water. "Our views are different."

  "We're facing east,"' he explained. "That's the East River, way down there is the Brooklyn Bridge, the"

  She suddenly spun around, sparks shooting from her coppery eyes. "Do you promise?"

  He knew what she meant, of course. And he had no reason to torture her by threatening not to sign. She'd answered any questions he had; he simply wasn't interested in finding out any more gory details about the "saint" who was his mother. He'd sign her paper, but they'd do it legally.

  And he had something else to do first. He had to call his brothers, but he knew damn well if he revealed that, she'd start spitting nails. And he didn't want her spitting nails. He much preferred her happy. The way she'd been outside the Stadium. Warm. Affectionate. Happy .

  "Do you promise. Cam?" she asked again.

  But he wouldn't lie. Not even for another one of those temperature-raising kisses. "I'll do the right thing," he said vaguely. "I always do."

&
nbsp; "Then we have that in common," she said, finally looking as though she might relax. 'That's why I'm here."

  She dropped her hat on the sofa, and once again the vision of her on his spare, high-end furniture seemed incongruous. She didn't belong in this Manhattan high-rise. Not that she looked uncomfortable, just out of place.

  "Feel free to kick off those boots, too, sweetheart." He walked toward the kitchen. "Want a beer?"

  "Just water," she said, ignoring his probably not-so-subtle suggestion to start undressing. Instead he saw her wander back to the window.

  When he returned to the living room, she was turned toward the view, but speaking quietly on a cell phone.

  "Just don't give her that soy stuff again, Mom, She hated it."

  Baby talk. It was of no interest to him. From behind, he studied her lazily. Her hair was not as neat as when he'd first seen her, but it tumbled over her back, long and straight and way too tempting to any mortal man.

  '"Kay. See you tomorrow."' She clicked off and tamed to him, taking the glass of ice-water he held out. 'Thank you. I have a nice view, too," she added, clearly sidestepping the unasked question of who she'd called. "No lights at night, though. Just the moon."

  He sat on the sofa, hoping she'd join him. "No lights? Where do you live?"

  'In the foothills. In an old house that I'm refurbishing."

  "'Let me venture a wild guess here. You're doing it yourself."

  She grinned and dropped into the club chair across from him. "Damn straight. I just finished the kitchen."

  He laughed softly and took a swig of beer. "I don't think I've ever met a girl who played with motors, climbed rocks and laid her own tile."

  "You still haven't. I don't touch the engines, I do body work. I don't climb rocks , I climb mountains . And I didn't lay any tile. But I built new cabinets and installed butcher-block countertops." She reached down and slid off her boots with two smooth movements, then planted two little socked feet on the glass coffee table as though it were an ottoman instead of a work of art. "And I defy you to find a single seam in the whole kitchen."

  He couldn't help laughing. "A regular Jill-of-all-trades."

  "I've been called worse."

  "Really? He could only imagine. "Like what?"

  "Tomboy, mostly."