Nothing Short of Perfect Page 4

  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.

  So much had changed. Not only was he taller, but broader. More heavily muscled. Deliciously ridged and toned. She’d love to paint him like this, to capture not only the incredible maleness of him, but that essence of intellect combined with potent masculinity.

  Her hand glanced off a ridge that wasn’t muscle, a long slashing tear across smooth skin. “Oh, Justice. You weren’t kidding about the scars, were you?”

  He stiffened. “It should be too dark for you to see.”

  “Well, yes. But I can feel it.”

  “Do you find it offensive? Would you prefer to terminate our lovemaking?”

  “Termin—” Daisy smothered a laugh. “Honestly, Justice. You’re so funny. I can always tell when you’re upset. You start talking in Basic Geek.”

  “I’m not upset.”

  “Then what are you?”

  “I’m…” He released his breath in a long sigh. “I’m emotionally compromised.”

  “It would be a little surprising if you weren’t,” she informed him gently. He didn’t reply, but remained still and quiet beneath her tentative touch. Did he think she’d walk away because of a few scars? He didn’t know her very well anymore, but he’d soon learn. “Let me show you how offensive I find your scars.”