Unnatural Calamities Read online

He studied her face and smiled before he very slowly dipped his head and gave her the sweetest, softest kiss she’d ever experienced.

  Figures. She was going to have to be the one to introduce real sex to the matter.

  Her own voice rasped with lust as she murmured, “Darn it, Toph, you don’t play fair.”

  “No. Maybe not.” Still smiling at her, he hovered a few inches above her so that she would have to make an effort to reach him. She thought the smile was too fond and friendly to be a smirk, so she forgave him that. Oh, but really… She said, “I know what you’re up to. It has to be my idea, doesn’t it? So you don’t get blamed for being pushy.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His face wore that smile.

  She groaned with dismay and longing, and reached up to the back of his head. She shoved her fingers through his hair to firmly pull him down to her.

  Fine, she thought as his mouth came down on hers with satisfying, responsive heat and his marvelous tongue dodged between her lips. This was just for now. She’d already made that clear. And it didn’t even matter that she had no birth control. She was just about certain he would not be able to make her pregnant.

  They rolled on the bed, clutching each other, trying to get as close to each other as possible. He shoved the covers off his body and Janey had to touch him everywhere at once, had to stroke her fingers and palms over every inch of him. He seemed to have the same frantic need, in turn clasping her hips and her bottom as he pulled her against him. Maybe they tried to make up for the other time, when they’d been held back by handcuffs.

  He did not show much skill as he gave impatient yanks at her bathrobe. Soon she was tangled up in the twisting robe and semi-unbuttoned jammies. Her shoulder hurt, but it couldn’t match the ache roaring through the rest of her body.

  He didn’t help when he randomly hiked her clothing up or down to get at her skin. “We have to get rid of this mess,” he growled.

  She pushed away from him for a moment and managed to undo a few buttons, tugged everything off and threw the pile onto the floor. He moved to her even as she pulled the top over her head.

  Their bare skin touched from shoulder to groin and both gasped and for a second lay still, stunned by sensation.

  “Oh God, Janey,” he sounded as if he were in pain. “It’s too good.”

  “Mmm.” She twisted around so she could continue her fascinating work of examining his body’s delicious skin with her hands and now her mouth too.

  He groaned. “No, you’ll have to. No. Wait.”

  He heaved himself up and leaned over her for a kiss.

  “I am trying,” he whispered. “I don’t…”

  She tried to see him in the dark, but only saw the flash of his white teeth as his mouth opened in a gasp. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “No. I just want you too much. Again.”

  She smirked as feminine triumph curled through her. “No such thing.”

  “I never thought so. Before.”

  The hair on her arms prickled at the intensity, almost ferociousness, in his voice. But then his mouth tilted against hers again and she shivered with enthusiasm. And now the pressure of his lips on hers threatened to undermine her reason. Toph, a calm man in the world, proved to be mighty dramatic in bed.

  They fell on each other with animal hunger. He drove into her as if his survival depended on their mating. Powerful rhythm caught them from the first thrust. The pressure barely had time to build in her.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” Janey cried as she toppled, driven to madness then back to sanity, by fierce, freeing sex. “Yes, oh yes,” she moaned.

  For some reason, at that moment Toph gave a breathless snort of what might have been amusement. Not that she cared.

  A few minutes of lovely, hot, powerful pounding later, Janey whimpered with joy again. She wrapped her legs and arms around him, and his astounded, very loud groan must have meant he’d gone over the edge himself.

  Janey knew and appreciated what they’d accomplished. Boffing. Screwing. Boinking. A very good time.

  So the next time he reached for her, she knew what to expect. She was entirely wrong.

  They shared something similar, yet with a whole different flavor. The roaring mix of passion, sweetness and fun filled her with utterly new sensation. She knew from hot and dirty. She appreciated good sex—or vaguely recalled she had, once upon a time. But Toph was beyond her experience.

  He watched her. She found she had to look back into those dazzling, dark eyes. He talked to her, calling her by name, softly demanding, Does that feel good, Janey?

  Granted the talk was about sex and her, but she was intrigued and slightly frightened that even as delirious passion rose and filled her heart and brain, she remained human and he was always Toph to her, not just an assemblage of excellent male parts. When he came, rocking deep inside her, he watched her face. At the height of passion, he called out her name in that strangled, astonished voice as if he had been taken by surprise. Then, immediately afterward, he pressed another terrifyingly loving kiss on her mouth.

  Making love.

  That was the term for what they’d done, and the tenderness of it left her as unnerved and giddy as any ride she’d experienced.

  Toph had seemed almost bewildered by his body’s hunger and loss of control. Not her. She recognized lust. It was the tenderness that poleaxed her.

  They plunged into exhausted sleep for a few hours. She slept sprawled on her back and awoke as he stroked her forehead and hair. Drowsy, she wiggled around to face him. Janey expected the heart-achingly sweet kiss this time, but still, she filled with astonishment as she parted her lips to taste it.

  Afterward, she curled around him, matching her breath to his. As she drifted, she wondered if she had already lost the war with Toph, though at the moment she couldn’t recall what the war was about.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Janey woke to the sound of Toph’s voice. She drowsily listened as he said hello. He seemed to be speaking from the living room.

  She jerked completely awake when she heard a woman’s cultured, low voice answer. “The girls are in the car. I asked them to wait because Rachel didn’t recognize the car out front. I guessed, correctly, I see, that Rachel’s mother had overnight company.” The woman sounded angry.

  Janey shrank under the quilt, flushed with shame to the tips of her toes. Holy cow. Who was that? Diana’s mother?

  “Thanks, Bea. Good thinking,” Toph said approvingly. “But Janey is Rachel’s aunt.”

  Janey sucked in her breath through her mouth so hard and fast her throat grew dry. Oh my good gosh. His ex-wife?

  As if he hadn’t said anything, Toph’s ex continued. “I certainly didn’t expect to find that the man was you, for God’s sake.”

  “It’s a rental car.” As if this might explain his presence.

  Janey pulled on her bathrobe and tiptoed to the bedroom door. She peeked out.

  Just inside the front door, the willowy, dark-haired Bea stood almost as tall as Toph. She was possibly the most breathtakingly beautiful human on the planet. Janey would have slipped back into her room but the woman’s profile was so stunning it was hard not to keep staring.

  Janey couldn’t see Toph but she heard his voice, calm as always. Even slightly amused.

  “Tell me. Did Jack call you last night?”

  The gorgeous Bea seemed to give the answer reluctantly. “Yes.”

  “And when he talked to you, did he perhaps mention that I might be friends with Ms. Carmody?”

  A long silence. “Yes.”

  Janey had to admire the fact that Bea didn’t lie. Gorgeous and truthful.

  “And today you volunteered to pick up Rachel Carmody, and for the very first time gave her a ride home? I know how you operate, Bea. I am touched that you care enough about me to be curious about my friends.”

  “Now wait a minute,” Bea said. Janey felt a twinge of empathy for the woman. A good head of righteous steam nea
rly blown away by Toph at his most infuriatingly calm.

  But Bea didn’t give up after all. “May I point out that I am thinking of Cynthia? Yes, it is true that I am also concerned about you, Toph. I simply cannot believe that you spent the night with this…woman. Don’t you know what the police are saying about her? And that Blair man?”

  “Yes, I do know what they are saying and it’s a bunch of bull.”

  A glow of happiness touched Janey at his words.

  Bea groaned. Even her groan sounded well-bred. “Toph, please. You are worse than impossible when you get—”

  “I’m willing to discuss this later, but I bet Rachel is starting to worry about Janey. If you could hold off Rachel for a minute longer, I’ll go get dressed, okay?”

  God, was he naked?

  “Yes, all right,” said Bea, sounding reluctant.

  Janey leapt back onto the bed when she heard his footsteps.

  She was sitting up when he came in. He had on his trousers, thank goodness. She gawked at him. She had seen him without a shirt, but only in dim light. Whoa. He was almost as beautiful as his ex-wife. Honey-colored skin over well-defined, clean muscles.

  “Bea’s here,” he said cheerfully, as if he bore good tidings. “She gave Rachel a ride home.”

  He sat down on the bed and pulled on his socks and shoes. Even the creases in his flat belly as he leaned down only made gorgeous lines instead of folds. For a second she wondered if he did abdominal exercises for hours every day. The next second she wondered how crazy she could be to get distracted by his body so easily.

  “Toph,” whispered Janey, frantic. “What’ll I do?”

  He drew on his shirt and squinted thoughtfully at her. “Get dressed?”

  “But you’re here. Oh no. What do I tell Rachel?”

  He smiled. “You might tell her we are extremely good friends.” At the sound of her strangled groan, he shrugged. “Maybe you should just say I stopped by for a visit. It’s almost noon.”

  “It is?” she croaked.

  He pulled his looped tie over his head and the slight smile on his face changed into a happy leer. “A long night, eh?”

  “Toph. Does anything ever muddle you?”

  He leaned over her and gave her a long, succulent kiss, then whispered, “The sight of you naked and panting. Definitely.”

  “Huh. What a smooth talker.” She melted into the kiss.

  He pulled away from her and grabbed his jacket. “If you’re not up for any potential scenes, just stay here and I’ll tell them you’re not feeling well.”

  Tempting, but she was determined not to let Toph take care of things she should do on her own. Her weakness from the night before had vanished.

  She hopped out of bed and yanked her blue jeans down from the closet door. “No. Thank you.”

  He brushed his thumb along her lower lip. “See you soon, then. I’ll go out and make coffee and act perfectly normal around Rachel and Cynthia. Don’t worry. I’m good at it.”

  “Yes, but I’m not,” she muttered after he left.

  The girls looked like they had gotten even less sleep than Janey. She didn’t have to worry about them. They wouldn’t notice a thing about her, even if she came dancing out wearing nothing but a layer of Saran wrap.

  Bea, on the other hand, examined Janey as if she were the key piece of evidence at a murder scene, the weapon still dripping with the victim’s blood.

  It certainly did not help Janey’s nerves to see that close up, Bea was even more spectacular. Her glossy blue-black hair was pulled into a neat chignon at the base of her long neck. And her eyes, a limpid lavender blue, were surrounded by lush lashes. Her skin was flawless and pale. When Janey could, she checked Bea in vain for blemishes. Heck, her face had no sign of pores. Only the very tiniest of lines at the corners of Bea’s eyes showed she was over twenty-five.

  Every curve of the woman, from the swan-like neck to the long, elegant, tapering fingers and her impossibly long calves, was an artist’s dream. Sleek designer jeans hugged her perfect butt, and a simple but perfect blue knit top echoed the blue of her eyes. She wore simple but devastatingly expensive gold jewelry at her throat and ears.

  Janey felt like a short, rumpled, undercooked dumpling.

  “How do you do?” she croaked. She inched away, intimidated by Bea, as well as certain that the woman would pick up the earthy mushroom scent of sex that suffused Janey’s body.

  “I am fine, thank you,” Bea returned sweetly. She pursed her lips with distaste as she glanced at the dog clock in the kitchen. Was it the clock or the time Bea objected to?

  The two teenagers trotted off to Rachel’s room. A few moments later, the heavy beat of some song thumped through the apartment. Bea wrinkled her nose.

  Toph leaned over the kitchen counter and handed each of the women a steaming mug. He smiled pleasantly at them both.

  Bea raised her exquisite, arching eyebrows.

  “You make me sick.”

  Janey’s mouth opened and she realized Bea was talking to Toph.

  Bea turned to Janey again. “I am ready to scream with frustration because of this man. He will not listen.”

  “Uh?”

  In an almost-friendly voice, Bea said, “I know all about you, Miss Carmody. You are Zack Blair’s lover. And now that your kidnapping plot has failed, you are trying to weasel money out of my ex-husband any way—”

  “Excuse me, Bea. I thought you’d already figured out that Janey is my lover.”

  Bea took a sip of her black coffee and made a faint, sophisticated sound resembling a tiny Bronx cheer.

  Who would have thought that beautiful but hostile ex-wives would make Janey so nervous? And the audacity of Toph, telling someone else they were lovers as calmly as if he were talking about the weather. Sober, anyway, Janey would probably stammer as she admitted to sleeping with any man. Even if she’d been married to the man in question for years.

  Sure enough, when Janey spoke, she sounded like she was Rachel’s age. “Ah. Well, I am sorry you feel that way, Mrs. Uh. Dunham. I really am not Zack’s girlfriend and I never have been.”

  She started to drink her coffee and realized it was herbal tea.

  “Tea? Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll just get some coffee.”

  Toph cast a regretful glance at the coffee maker. “Sorry, I just poured myself the last cup.”

  His casual manner didn’t fool her. Janey understood what he was up to.

  “No,” she said firmly. “I agree that I should give up the wine. But you stay away from my coffee.” She reached over and deftly extracted his mug of coffee from his hand. Good, he had added half and half. That must count as calcium. She handed him the peppermint tea.

  Bea had watched this exchange. Her ivory brow furrowed for a second then cleared, as if she remembered about wrinkles. Or as if she recalled something else, for she suddenly shrieked. “Hell no! Not again, Toph! Has she done the same thing I did?”

  “Not exactly.” He reached across the counter for the cracked sugar bowl, added a spoonful to the tea and gave it a stir. “No one planned it this time.”

  Janey gulped a deep swallow. Oh, ambrosia. Chalk one up for Toph—he made a good cup of coffee. A few more sips and she would be able to face Bea.

  Bea snapped, “Just promise me when it’s born that there will be paternity tests. You must find out if it’s Zack Blair’s baby.”

  On the other hand, Janey reflected, no amount of coffee could prepare her for this particular scene.

  She cleared her throat and dove in. No stammering this time. “It is not Zack Blair’s baby. In fact there might not even be a baby. I would appreciate it if both of you would not say anything to anyone.”

  “So you don’t know whose baby it is, do you?” challenged Bea.

  Bea’s beauty didn’t overwhelm her anymore. The woman was too annoying. “If I am pregnant, there is only one man who could be the father and that man is Christopher Dunham. Of course, I only have his word for it that the,
um, possible baby-making episode took place.”

  Bea looked mystified. “What on earth do you mean?”

  Toph began to laugh.

  Bea groaned. “What is your problem?”

  “Possible baby-making episode,” he managed to snort out.

  He sat down on the sofa and laughed so hard that after a few seconds, giggles rose from Janey’s gut, laughter caused by nerves and contagion more than anything even remotely humorous.

  She shook with suppressed laughter, so, sputtering, she walked carefully over to the chair, put down the mug and allowed the giggles to escape.

  Within a minute they were both incoherent. Bea watched, stony-faced, tapping her gold necklace with a perfectly manicured finger.

  When Janey finally managed to speak she said, “Mrs. Dunham. I apologize.” She wasn’t sure why she should apologize, but it seemed the right thing to say.

  Bea gave an elegant sniff. “Actually I must say that I’m reassured now that I see you share Toph’s bizarre sense of humor. Toph, there is no point in talking to you when you’re in this kind of a mood.” She gave a sigh. “Ms. Carmody, I suppose if you are going to become a member of the family, I’ll have to grow accustomed to you. I daresay it helps that I am fond of Rachel. If you end up in jail, I will be glad to help take care of your daughter.”

  “Niece,” Toph corrected after he hiccupped and drew a couple of deep breaths to steady himself.

  “Oh, Toph,” Bea scoffed. “Do you believe that nonsense?”

  Janey, who’d laughed so hard she’d been on the edge of tears, sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I am Rachel’s aunt. Her mother is my sister, Penny, who’s currently serving time in the York Correctional Institution. You can ask Margaret Phillips, the PTA treasurer, if you don’t believe me. And I never said I was going to be a member of the family.”

  “No, but I’m sure Toph will see to that.” Bea checked the slender gold watch on her slender wrist. She cut off any of Janey’s possible protests. “Toph, would you mind dropping Cynthia off at the stable in an hour? She has a riding lesson. Please tell her I’ll be back in time to pick her up. Goodbye.”

  At the door, Bea looked back at them and for the first time showed a faint smile, which lit her already glowing face. Good God, how in the world could any man divorce that face?