Our First Kiss

“Yes, it’s very nice.” He smiled at the joy lighting up her face—joy at doing something for someone she loved.

She carefully placed it down on the glass countertop and flipped a switch in the back to send soft music filtering into the air. She cocked her ear listening and then enthused, “It’s perfect!”

“Is that music from the ballet?”

“Yes, it’s the theme song,” she informed him before returning her attention to the clerk. “You’ve done a wonderful job in such a short time.”

“We’re pleased you’re happy, Ms. Johnson,” the woman assured her as she took Marcy’s credit card. “Shall we gift wrap it for you?”

“Oh, yes in something white and silver. It’s a wedding gift.”

“We have just the thing,” the woman said. “Would you like to wait for it?”

Marcy glanced at Nathan and returned her attention to the clerk. “Yes, we’ll wait.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to top that.”

“Do you really think they’ll like it?” She turned anxious eyes on him.

“They’ll love it,” he responded positively, taking her hand in his reassuringly.

She glanced at their linked fingers and then back into his now slightly uncomfortable eyes. When he tried to drop her hand, she tightened her fingers in his.

“I like Natasha. She’s a wonderful woman.”

“Thanks. Damien seems devoted to her.”

“He is, and she’s perfect for him.”

“They certainly didn’t waste any time deciding to marry, did they?”

She frowned. “Why should they?”

“No reason.” At her curious stare, he elaborated, “It’s just not like Natasha to be so brash. I mean she and Damien haven’t known each other long.”

“It doesn’t matter how long you know someone. When your heart tells you that you’ve found your soul mate, you have to listen to it.” Her eyes never left his as she delivered her double entendre that wasn’t lost on him. “Besides, we Johnsons are a decisive lot, and when we make up our minds, we go full steam ahead until we achieve our goal.”

“Yes.” He warily stared into her twinkling eyes. “I’m realizing that.”

“That’s good,” she softly approved.

Her sexy voice stroked him in all the deliciously wrong places. Why did he have to meet her now when he logically knew he couldn’t do anything about the obvious attraction they both felt? Why did she insist on making things harder by refusing to stay away from him as he had been trying so hard to stay away from her?

“I’m going to look at some wineglasses.” Needing some distance, he disentangled his hand from hers and walked away; of course, she followed him.

“Those are lovely,”

She leaned close to him, brushing her arm against his. The maddening scent of her perfume assailed his over-heightened senses. He wanted to grab her and kiss her desperately. He wanted to press her soft, yielding body close to his and plunder. He wanted... Damn! Get a hold of yourself, man!

“I think I like those better.” He pointed at a pair of champagne flutes a few feet away from her—to gain some space between them.

To his amazement, she stayed put, but when he glanced back at her, she was smiling amusedly as if she was completely aware of what his intentions had been.

* * *

“How about an early lunch?” Marcy suggested as they left the store a short while later, Nathan carrying her package and a set of Baccarat champagne flutes he had bought.

“I really have a lot to do today,” he replied.

That was a lie. The truth was he was enjoying himself with her much too much. He needed to get away from her bubbly, contagious, easy-to-be-with personality. If things were different, though...

“You have to eat, don’t you?” She interrupted his thoughts.

“I’ll just grab something later at the hotel.”

“Hotel food!” She screwed up her face in disgust. “Have you ever been there?” She pointed to the first restaurant she saw.

“No, but some other time,” he declined, preparing to hand her package to her and leave her on Hudson Street.

“There’s no time like the present.” Disregarding the shopping bag containing her gift, she took his free hand and guided him into the restaurant doors.

“Marcy, really...” His protest died on his lips as the hostess walked over to them.

“How many?” the woman asked.

“Two, please.” Marcy refused to release his hand until they were seated at a charming white linen-covered table for two with a view of downtown Manhattan. “Isn’t this lovely?”

He frowned at her. “Do you ever take no for an answer?”

“Not if I can help it,” she said as she treated him to a brilliant smile.

“What can I get you two to drink?” a white-coated waiter asked.

“Would you like to order the drinks, too?” Nathan grouchily asked.

“If you’d like me to,” she shot back, smiling at his obvious bad humor.

“I’ll have a Perrier with a twist,” he snapped without asking what she wanted.

“And you, ma’am?” The waiter turned to her after raising an eyebrow at Nathan’s rudeness.

“The same,” she said and smiled. Once the waiter disappeared, she picked up her menu. “Nathan, are you going to scowl all the way through lunch?”

“I don’t appreciate being forced into this.” He pointedly glanced at his menu.

“Forced?” A perfectly arched eyebrow rose. “Look at the two of us. I’m not even half your size.” She lowered her menu to the table and met his hooded eyes. “If you really wanted to decline, you could have easily done so.”

Of course he could have declined, but he hadn’t wanted to; therein lay his problem.

“Maybe I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” he countered.

“How sweet.” She suddenly smiled.

“I am not sweet,” he quickly denied.

“We’ll see,” she softly promised. At his silence, she continued, “Nathan, it’s just an innocent lunch.”

“Nothing is innocent with you, Marcy Johnson,” he surmised and then suddenly smiled.

“Just plain Marcy,” she corrected. “You have a gorgeous smile.” She rested her chin on her clasped hands. “Why do you frown so much?”

“I don’t frown,” he disagreed. “I just don’t walk around grinning like an idiot all day long.”

She gazed into his deep chocolate eyes and was immediately lost. Lord, this man just frazzled her until she didn’t know her own name.

“No one could ever accuse you of being an idiot,” she charmed, sitting back in her chair. “Tell me about yourself.”

“There’s not much to tell,” he quickly countered, taking a grateful sip of the drink that was placed in front of him.

“Are you two ready to order?” their waiter asked.

“What are you going to have?” Nathan decided to be a gentleman this time.

“You order for me,” she suggested.

“I don’t know what you’d like.”

“Oh, I think you can figure out what I’d like,” she naughtily countered, eliciting a nervous cough from their waiter and slight chuckle from her date.

She was a breath of fresh air, and he absurdly wanted her like he had wanted no other woman. He’d love to see her by candlelight dressed to kill, smiling only for him as he took her into his arms to dance. Whoa, take it easy, man. You won’t be alone with her again, especially not for a romantic dinner—got it?

“The waiter’s waiting, Nathan,” Marcy interrupted his thoughts.

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll have the shrimp platter, and the lady will have the coq au vin.”

“I’ve always wanted to try that,” Marcy said, approving his choice.

“I like it. I hope you enjoy it.”

“I’m sure I will. If I don’t, you’ll share your shrimp with me, won’t you?”

“Don’t count on it.” He shook his head.

“I’m sure I could persuade you.” She leaned forward and trailed a finger lightly across the back of his hand before picking up her glass and taking a sip of water.

“It might be fun to let you try,” he admitted, smiling slightly.

“That’s the spirit,” she approved, glad he was loosening up. “You were going to tell me about yourself,” she reminded.

“Like I said, there’s not much to tell,” he reiterated, barely disguising a sigh at her tenacity.

“I doubt that,” she said as she lowered her drink to the table. “Lawyer for the State Department—you must have a dozen interesting tales.”

She didn’t know the half of it. What would she say if she knew he had spent the past ten years of his life as a member of an officially nonexistent military unit that not even his family knew about? He could relate stories of danger and intrigue that would rival the plot of any movie—if he could talk about his Black Ops job that is, which he couldn’t.

“My job’s confidential.”

She noted his fingers tightened around his glass. Doesn’t like to talk about his work, she mentally noted—strange and intriguing.

“Are you enjoying being home?” she asked, changing subjects, and his fingers noticeably relaxed.

“Yes,” he said and nodded. “It’s great to be back.”

She absently slid fingers through her silky hair, and he hid a groan, longing to do the same thing; he knew from experience how incredibly soft it was. His mind wandered to the one time he had touched her hair, had held her in his arms and tasted her incredibly sweet lips—a week ago on New Year’s Eve.

Staring at the vibrant woman sitting across from him only intensified the seeds of dissatisfaction with his life. His job was necessary, and he knew he made a difference, but he was growing tired of the necessary secrecy, weary of running around from one side of the world to the other—most of the time with little or no notice. He was fed up with having nowhere to really call home and more importantly of having no one to share his life with.

His country had always come first before everything. He didn’t regret his years of service, but perhaps it was time for some serious reevaluation. Maybe he was just getting old; after all, he was thirty-one, and his priorities had naturally changed. A dissatisfied soldier was a dangerous one, and there was no denying the fact that he had become increasingly dissatisfied of late and meeting Marcy had really emphasized that fact for him.

“Nathan?” Marcy touched his hand and called his name more forcefully, “Nathan!”

“Hmm?” He snapped out of his disturbing introspection.

“Where were you?” She pretended to pout. “Am I so boring that I can’t hold your attention?”

“Marcy, no one would ever call you boring.” He laughed and she joined him. “I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“Nothing important,” he assured. “What were you saying before I spaced out?”

“I was asking if you’ve missed New York.” Her well-manicured fingernails played with the ends of a napkin.

“Very much,” he admitted, wanting to cover those long, feminine fingers with his, pull her into his lap and...

“Are you involved with a woman?” she asked out of the blue.

“That’s rather personal, isn’t it?” He fought back a grin, realizing he had smiled more today than he had in the four years he had been away from home, and the reason was sitting across the table from him.

“Not as personal as I plan to get,” she promised, and he could do nothing except chuckle. “Well, are you?”

“No, my job takes up all of my time.”

His words were music to her ears. He was free, and she was determined that when all was said and done he would be hers.

“It’s just a job, Nathan,” she whispered.

“A career,” he corrected. An increasingly burdensome career.

“Even a career we love can become all-consuming if we let it.” She spoke from experience.

“Maybe I don’t have a problem with that.” He glanced around hoping to see their food coming so he could escape her probing questions.

“Maybe you should. Life’s too short to let it pass you by. Haven’t you ever wanted to find a nice woman, settle down and have some kids?” He remained noticeably silent, staring intently at the contents of his glass, prompting her to change the subject again. “Do you like basketball?”

“What?” He glanced up from his drink, baffled at sudden shift in direction.

“Basketball. Do you like it?” she repeated, smiling.

“You do that very well,” he said, intending to flatter, without answering her question.

“Tools of the trade.” She smiled.

“Stockbroker, right?” He was more comfortable talking about her.

“Correct.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it,” she enthused. “My day’s always different, always interesting—never a dull moment.”

“You thrive on change,” he stated, not asking. That was very apparent to anyone having the pleasure to meet her.

“And challenges,” she said and glanced at him pointedly. “I prefer more continuity in my personal life, though.”

His heart sank a little at her easy admission. That was one thing he could never give her. Absurdly, he wished he could.

“Most people do,” he shortly agreed.

“Do you?” She tilted her head, and her thick mane of hair fell to one side.

“As I said before, I don’t have much of a personal life,” he truthfully responded. “Work takes up most of my time.”

“That leads to a lonely existence, Nathan.”

“I suppose.” He sighed, eyes growing distant. He knew how true her words were—how true he feared they would always be for him.

“Are you?” She watched him closely.

“Am I what?” He refocused on her.

“Lonely?” She reached across and covered his hand with hers, which relaxed for a few seconds before he pulled away.

“I’m content.” He realized he was trying to convince himself rather than her.

“Evasive,” she murmured.

“You’re tenacious,” he countered, and she smiled.

“I told you I was,” she said and shrugged. “I won’t let you be lonely while you’re here, Nathan,” she softly promised.

“I’m sure you won’t,” he agreed with a smirk. “Marcy Johnson, I don’t quite know what to make of you.” He paused before grudgingly admitting as their food was placed before them. “You are something else.”

“Mmm-hmm.” She acknowledged the validity of his words. “You know what else I am?” She picked up her napkin and placed it on her lap.

“What?” He ventured to ask.

“I’m all yours. All you have to do is admit that you want me, reach out your hand and take me,” she bluntly responded when they were alone before picking up her fork and cutting into her buttery soft chicken.

His mouth dropped open in shock as he digested her stunning words, and he was unable to stop it. She had completely floored him with her unabashed forwardness and determination. She also excited, enthralled and enchanted him.

“You shouldn’t say things like that, Marcy.”

“Why not?”

“Because people will take advantage of you if you let them.”

“Is that what you plan to do?”

“No.”

She sighed regretfully. “That’s a shame.”

“Marcy Johnson, you are—” he paused before admitting “—unlike any woman I’ve ever met.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Definitely good,” he said and smiled. “There’s nothing fake about you.”

“What you see is what you get, Nathan.”

What he saw, he wanted—badly. Dammit, why did he have to return home and run headlong into this fascinating, exciting woman who appeared to want nothing more than the chance to make him happy, and why did he want nothing more than the time to let her try?

“It’s fate,” she whispered, laughing softly at his shocked expression when she answered his silent question.

Chapter 2

Though he tried to prepare himself for his next meeting with Marcy, she still knocked every ounce of breath out of his lungs when their eyes locked at the rehearsal dinner for Natasha and Damien later that evening. She was dressed in a black knee-length leather skirt with a wicked slit up the back, matching tight-fitting jacket and high-heeled black leather pumps. All of that raven hair was piled high on top of her head in an intentionally careless bun, allowing tendrils to escape to caress her face and nape. She looked lovely and desirable.

“Hi, handsome,” her sultry voice greeted him as he entered the small ballroom of the restaurant.

“Marcy.” He nodded at her politely as he unsuccessfully tried to still the rapid beating of his heart.

“Did you miss me?” He looked wonderful in his black suit, white shirt and black-and-gray tie.

“It’s only been a few hours since I last saw you?” Time he had spent trying to unsuccessfully stop thinking about her—the look of her, the feel of her fingers on his, the exotic smell of her.

“I know.” She leaned close and whispered confidentially in his ear, “I missed you terribly.”

His knees almost buckled at her words and as the provocative scent she wore wafted up his nostrils and her soft body brushed lightly yet maddeningly against his. He fought with every ounce of strength he possessed to keep from crushing that curvaceous body to his and fastening his mouth to her luscious lips—lips he knew from experience were soft, decadent and addictive.

Unable to help himself, he groaned. “What is that perfume you’re wearing?”

She leaned slightly back to stare into his intense eyes. “Chanel.” She smiled and leaned in closer again. “Do you like it?”

“It’s...nice.”

“I’m glad you approve.” She deliberately ran her fingers across her exposed collarbone drawing his burning gaze there.

Who did he think he was fooling? Judging by his darkening eyes, watching the slow progression of her finger across her skin, he thought it was much more than nice. She secretly vowed to buy up every bottle she could get her hands on in the morning.

“Marcy, darling, bring Nathan over here,” her mother ordered.

“Coming, Mom.” She smiled up at him. “I’m afraid it’s time to mingle.”

She thankfully moved back from him but grabbed his hand, shooting tiny thrills of pleasure up his arm. This woman was deadlier than any adversary he had ever faced in the field of combat—and that was saying something.

“That’s what we’re here for.” He was proud his voice sounded steady.

“But there is later...” She let her sentence trail off suggestively.

They walked over to stand beside his sister Nicole, who was talking to the guests of honor, Damien and Natasha. Nathan’s parents, Linda and Lincoln, were conversing with Marcy’s mother and father, Margaret and Michael, a short distance away. Marcy’s smile widened as she glanced at their matchmaking mothers who seemed particularly interested in watching the interplay between her and Nathan; it appeared they were their next project.

“I’m starving. What’s for dinner, Mama?” Natasha asked.

“Seafood, all different kinds.” Linda smiled at her daughter.

“Mmm, I can’t wait,” Natasha said as her eyes sparkled expectantly.

“This one has really been developing an appetite lately.” Damien wrapped his arms around his fiancée’s waist from behind.

“Love makes me hungry.” She smiled as he kissed her neck lingeringly.

“When Nathan and I were shopping today, we had some wonderful seafood at lunch—well, he did. I managed to steal a bite or two off of his plate.” Marcy’s statement caused all eyes to focus on her and Nathan.

“You and Nathan went shopping?” Nicole’s mouth dropped open as did her sister’s and mother’s.

“Yes, for Natasha and Dami’s wedding present,” Marcy confirmed.

“And she dragged me from store to store when she already had their present picked out at the last store we went to,” Nathan good-naturedly interjected.

“Don’t you just hate shopping with women?” Damien sympathized, kissing Natasha on the cheek to soften his words.

“Oh, you!” Natasha tapped his chest lightly in admonishment.

“They never know what they want,” Lincoln agreed as the men levitated toward each other.

“And they drag you around from store to store for hours and hours and then finally decide on something they saw at the first store you were in,” Michael chimed in.

“I don’t know why we don’t leave you at home. You’re always fretting about how much money we spend.” Linda added her thoughts as the women, except for Natasha and Marcy, congregated together glaring at their respective man.

“Aren’t they just?” Margaret agreed, smiling tolerantly at her husband, Michael. “But if the present is for them, no amount of time is too great and the sky is the limit on how much we spend.”

“Amen,” Nicole agreed, and Natasha shook her head.

“Boy, did I open a can of worms,” Marcy whispered to Nathan, whom she noted still stood by her side.

“Are you kidding?” Nathan chuckled. “They’re having a blast.”

Marcy glanced at everyone as they engaged in heated, though pleasant, banter about the subject and laughed in agreement. They were thankfully saved from further escalation of the tiny gender war brewing when dinner was wheeled in. As everyone took their seats at the rectangular table, Marcy was dismayed to find herself sitting by her brother a table’s length away from Nathan. Who had made these ridiculous seating arrangements?

Nicole, who was sitting by her brother, glanced at Marcy’s sunken expression and sprang into action, “Look at us—Johnsons at one end and Carters at the other. We need to break this up.”

“You’re right, Nicole,” Marcy agreed, trying not to burst into a radiant smile.

“Marcy, you take my seat by Nathan, and I’ll take yours by Damien.”

Marcy quickly stood and gave Nicole a wink as they passed each other. Nicole mouthed, “Don’t mention it.”

Once she was seated, Nicole continued to rearrange people. “Momma, you should sit by Mr. Johnson down here. Mrs. Johnson, why don’t you go up and sit by Dad.”

Nicole received tolerant smiles as people followed her directions. Her mother’s eyes held understanding and approval at her youngest daughter’s actions. Nicole continued to survey the table with a slight determined frown.

“Now, that’s better. Isn’t it?” Nicole asked and was pleased when everyone agreed—except a frowning Nathan she noted with a smile.

“I am glad you didn’t move me to the opposite end away from my fiancé.” Natasha laughed at her sister.

“Please, I would need an army to do that,” Nicole said and chuckled.

“You’re so right.” Damien pulled Natasha closer and kissed her lips.

“Save some of that for the honeymoon,” Michael suggested with a laugh.

“Oh, I think we’ll manage just fine.” Damien had Natasha’s cheeks reddening,

“Damien!” Natasha scolded and he laughingly kissed her again.

“She doesn’t know what to do with me,” he informed everyone when he lifted his head.

“We Johnsons can be incorrigible,” Marcy replied, staring at Nathan, who refused to glance her way.

“A trait you both inherited from your father,” Margaret assured, and the occupants of the room dissolved in laughter again.

“Are you planning on ignoring me all night, Nathan?” As the happy banter around the table continued, Marcy turned amused eyes to his annoyed ones.

“I was debating it,” he tightly replied.

“I had nothing to do with rearranging everyone. That was your sister’s idea,” she reminded.

“Mmm-hmm.” His tone stated he didn’t believe she was as innocent as she professed to be. He glanced down the table, meeting his sister’s dancing eyes. He had plans to pay her back later. Not that he really minded sitting next to Marcy, but he was trying to do the right thing and stay away from her—for her sake and his.

“Look at it this way. You can use this time to sample some more of my perfume,” she offered, moving closer.

He inwardly groaned. That was the last thing he needed. He studied her beautiful face, and his dark mood intensified as she obviously fought to hide a smile.

“Yippee.” He nearly growled the word.

“A toast to Natasha and Damien.” Michael stood with a glass raised. “Two pieces of the puzzle of love who fit perfectly together. May they share a long happy life filled with love and hopefully soon the pitter-patter of little feet.”

“Cheers.” Everyone agreed and raised their glasses.