No More Mr. Nice

chapter 10


Jess scarcely felt the hard floor or the terry at her back. Her whole being was focused on the face above hers. His chiseled features were serious, yet striking. She felt completely defenseless against this man’s charisma. No longer able to fight it, she ached for his touch.

As he made a move to get the lights, she grabbed his hand. “No, don’t,” she implored. “No romantic lighting. I want to see all your flaws.” Her eyes welled in her frantic need to know Lucas Brand as nothing more than the self-centered being she was sure he was—not the sensitive lover her crazy intuition was trying to convince her he could be.

A shadow of annoyance crossed his face. “No bed, no soft lights,” he muttered. “How many stipulations are you going to put on this thing? Maybe we shouldn’t even kiss.”

She lay there, very aware that he had placed an arm intimately on either side of her breasts, his shirtsleeves grazing her nakedness. His body warmth was inviting, and his scent, so masculine, turned her on, making her damp with want. Unable to help herself, she reached up to stroke his jaw. “I couldn’t bear it if you didn’t kiss me, Lucas.” Her lower lip trembled as she scanned his disapproving face. “I wish I could be strong and say no kissing, but I can’t—not with you.”



The frustration in his eyes faded, and with a rueful twitch of his lips, he shook his head. “Dammit, Jess.” He turned into her hand, kissing her palm. “Dammit…”

He lowered himself gradually, and as he did, she slid her arms about his neck, drawing him ever nearer. The act seemed to be played out in slow motion, every second an eternity of anticipation. At first, his lips only brushed hers, and she found herself straining upward for more.

Running her hands through his hair, she smiled into those hypnotic eyes. “Come here,” she invited, surprised at the seductive purr in her voice.

His mouth met hers, coaxing, pleasing, and she was nourished with the utter sweetness of it. She curled her arms more tightly about his neck and drew him over her to blanket her body, instinctively spreading her legs. He groaned and moved against her, so that she could feel the bulge of his erection at the moist juncture of her thighs.

He showered hot kisses along her jaw and throat, working deliciously downward, his lips fiery, driving her mad.

He slid off and drew a hand along her side, inch by inch, making her body tingle. His fingers tempted her ribs, her hip, her thigh, then traced across to her pulsating core, where they dipped, making her gasp and arch with the lightning flash of gratification his touch elicited.

As his fingers stroked and penetrated, she found herself panting and gasping for air, breathless with the wild rush of feelings as he probed deeper, more insistently, teaching her things she didn’t know nice well-brought-up girls did. But with him, everything was so natural, so wonderful and right.

He fondled and fanned into flame the most secluded reaches of her sexual core, eventually making her cry out in climax, quaking, her body glowing with exertion.

When her breathing had calmed somewhat, he drew her into his embrace, and she snuggled against him, savoring the denouement of her climax, thrumming pleasantly through her body.

A big, gentle hand cupped her hip, another stroked her hair. His breath was intoxicating as it whispered along her face and shoulder. She was aware of the strength and heat of his hard body, still sheathed in all his clothes. “Why,” she breathed weakly, “do you keep pleasing me, and never yourself?”

His low chuckle tickled her breasts. Kissing the tip of her nose, he asked, “Do you think watching your orgasm bores me?”

She felt her whole body flush, and buried her face in his button-down chest. “Oh, Lord,” she groaned, trying to shut out the vision of herself losing control before him. Mortified, she recalled the lewd words she’d uttered in the mindless moments when he was driving her wild, masterfully guiding her into exhilarating fulfillment. “I’ll never be able to look you in the eye again,” she cried. “I said some filthy things.”

He drew her more tightly to him, and she could feel the steady beat of his heart. “You made some sexy requests,” he teased, his hand on her hip stroking provocatively. “If you meant them, I’ll be glad to oblige.”

She shifted to look into his eyes, then lifted her hands to his shirtfront and began to unbutton it. “I’m afraid I did,” she whispered, kissing the parts of chest that were becoming exposed to her view.

His hands stroked and massaged as she unbuttoned his shirt. Stunned with the rapidity at which this man could make her crazy with desire, she cried out, and unthinkingly, ripped the shirt open. Buttons flew and bounced about them in a fitful rat-a-tat on the floor. “Oh—” Jess breathed, unable to keep from hugging him, flesh to flesh at last. “I—I’m sorry for ruining your—”

His fingers plunged and she cried out with stark, delirious ecstasy.

“Never apologize to me again,” he commanded huskily in her ear, his tongue matching the movement of his fingers, driving her over the edge of another lightning-intense climax.

After she helped him remove the rest of his clothes, they lay naked in each other’s arms for a moment. Jess’s body was slick and tingling from having been so utterly pleasured by a man she’d mistakenly thought cold-blooded and mechanical. She’d never been so mistaken in her life. Sexually, Lucas was proving to be a wild man, a sorcerer shrewd in the ways of satisfying and indulging a woman.

He knew how to tantalize to the edge of insanity, for he had not yet attempted to enter her. He just lay there, his hands roving seductively, his lips making hot little demands along her shoulder blade. Languorously, she scanned his lean, muscular body. It was flawless—unfortunately—even in the stark light of the room. Unable to stop herself, she took hold of him and stroked his erection with awe and reeling anticipation. “You’re killing me,” she cried. “This much restraint can’t be good for you—you’ll have a heart attack.”

He grinned down at her, his expression full of sexy promise as his hand slid across her belly to fondle her breasts. “I feel fine,” he said, his voice low and amused. “But, thanks for your concern.”

Jess closed her eyes, sure that at any moment she was going to die from sensory overload. She moaned, writhing helplessly beneath his touch as currents of new, primitive hunger washed through her. Clutching at his broad torso, she feared she was going to explode if he didn’t enter her quickly. In a broken whimper, she pleaded, “Lucas, please—Love me…now….”

His body shifted to cover hers, blocking the light, and the room grew dark. He touched her intimately, probing, tantalizing her as he positioned himself. The sensation was thrillingly erotic. He hovered for a spellbinding moment, and she licked her lips expectantly.

His thrust, when it came, was a lovely shock. Urgently, potently, yet lovingly, he entered her, and she gasped at the sweet torture, her whole being filling up with him.

At first his movements were slow and measured, while he gradually drew her toward fulfillment. Then, becoming more and more aroused, she wrapped her legs about his rock-hard thighs, and pulled him deeply into her, welcoming him making love with a ravenous passion she’d never before experienced. As he began to plunge more forcefully, new hunger spiraled and blazed in her, and she delighted in his unexpected recklessness.

The sounds of their lovemaking were sounds that Jess knew she would hear echoing in her dreams for the rest of her life. Their love was beautiful and uncivilized. Untamed, unwise—and evanescent. Realizing this, she felt a sadness invade her pleasure.

Almost desperately, her hands searched, held and worshiped the exposed, lean muscles of his buttocks and back. She moaned his name again and again as the extraordinary power of his surging body consumed her totally. She was swept away on wave after wave of sensation, both alien and exquisite, until at last, molten shafts of rapture exploded inside her, and she cried out, abandoning herself to the cresting climax.

With a ragged groan, he shuddered inside her, holding her possessively to him as he found his own release. Their lips met in a stormy kiss of mutual triumph. And, trembling, Jess clung to his broad back, utterly fulfilled, utterly consumed.

When their lingering kiss ended, she lay still there for a long moment, her mind dazed, her body like jelly. Joined to him, and redolent with his scent, his delicious nakedness still pressing her to the floor, she felt as though she were in a dreamworld—a world from which she had no desire to wake. She sighed, and kissed his shiny-wet flesh, and she ran a hand along his spine, delicately, dreamily.

“What are you telling me?” he crooned near her ear. “You want more?”

She opened her eyes at the sound of his voice, drawn reluctantly back to reality. Her tone sorrowful, she sighed, “Oh, Lucas…” She uncurled her legs from around his muscular thighs. “I don’t have the stamina for more.”



He smoothed a damp tendril of hair from her temple, replacing it with a kiss. “What about the other condom?”

Her eyes widened. “The condom? I completely forgot. And this is—is a bad time of the month for me to be careless.”

His gaze was caressing. “It’s okay. I remembered.”

“But,” she stammered. “When? I never—”

He grinned at her. “Your mind was somewhere else at the time.”

She flushed hot. “I have to admit my mind has never deserted me as totally as it did tonight.” Swallowing hard, she whispered, “You must think I’m very loose.”

He frowned, then flashed a provocative grin. “I thought nothing of the kind.”

She became uneasy under his gentle scrutiny. It occurred to her that he really did have plans for using that other condom tonight. Long, strong fingers were already trailing down her rib cage, making her tingle with renewed sexual excitement. She couldn’t let it happen. This insanity had to stop before it was too late—before she fell in love. She squelched a mental voice that was trying to tell her something—something she dared not hear. “Lucas,” she began thickly, brushing away his hand. “I—I didn’t mean for us to get involved. I just wanted…” Her voice broke, and she found that all she could do was turn her head away in a wordless plea to be released from the heavenly male confines of his body.

He said nothing for a time, but his hand no longer quested along her skin. Finally he lifted himself away from her, gently disconnecting them. But Jess flinched at the parting, sure she had experienced something almost mystical with this man, yet, knowing him the way she did, determined she must never yearn for more. He had no place in his heart for a wife or kids. Fantasies and dreams of a future with him were useless.

“Am I out of your system?” he asked, sounding solemn.

She tried to shut out the harsh truth, loath to admit it even to herself—that she would never forget this man; never be able to put this night out of her mind. Because of her foolish weakness for him, she would be cursed to relive what had happened here for the rest of her days—and nights.

Fearing her voice would betray her, she only nodded, trying to coax her weakened limbs to move. Before she could escape, he wound a hand roughly through her hair and drew her lips to his, scorching them in one last, taunting kiss. She sagged against him as his mouth sapped her of the desire to do anything but draw his hot, powerful erection into her again.

As she was about to wrap her arms about his broad shoulders and drag him back down to blanket her—to put to lovely use that remaining condom—he whispered huskily against her lips, “Let me get this straight. Your bottom line is, you found out what you wanted to know. Now we move on?”

She pulled back and studied his face. He was regarding her with dark, earnest eyes.

She looked away unhappily, then struggled to her feet. “That’s about it.”

Lucas scooped up his slacks and stood, also. “I see,” he said. “There’s just one thing.”



Jess had plucked up her robe and was searching for the armhole, but his ominous tone stilled her movement. “What?” she asked.

“Some people might say that’s a little cold-blooded,” he softly rebuked.

His quiet censure unstrung her, and she countered defensively, “Oh? Well, why don’t we ask Mary Anne Brown her opinion of you?”

His eyes flashed with anger, but a tentative knock at the door shattered any further debate. Horrified at the thought that someone might find her in such a compromising position, Jess fumbled nervously and dropped her robe.

He frowned, snatched up her robe and tossed it at her as he called out, “Who is it?”

“Maxim, sir,” came the hushed reply.

“What is it, Maxim?” Lucas asked. He struggled into his slacks as he motioned for Jess to get behind the door. When he’d thrown on his shirt, he pulled the door open. Jess cowered, not daring to breathe. “What could be so important at this time of night?” he asked, sounding more weary than angry.

“Sir,” Maxim began, then paused, coughing as though embarrassed, and began again, “I’m sorry to disturb you, but there was a call on the house phone for Mrs. Glen, and…” He paused again. “She doesn’t seem to be in her room.”

“Thank you, Maxim,” Lucas said. “I’ll handle it.”

When the door was closed, Jess finished putting on her robe, whispering fearfully, “Do you think he suspected?”



Lucas’s expression turned cynical. “I don’t know. Maybe he thinks I caught my shirt on the computer keyboard.”

Jess scanned the dress shirt he’d tossed on. One lone button dangled from it. She cringed to think how he must have looked to his butler—with his torn shirt, its tail out, and his belt undone. She had to admit he didn’t look much like a man who had been quietly occupied working on a computer program! “Oh, Lord,” she moaned. “He knows. He must have heard us!”

“Maxim doesn’t gossip,” Lucas assured her tersely as he headed to his desk. Pressing a button, he lifted the receiver. “This is Lucas Brand. May I help you?”

In the waiting silence, Jess cinched her robe belt tightly and padded over to the desk. She watched Lucas’s expression change from angry to perplexed. “Yes, I understand. I’ll tell her.” He hung up.

“What is it? Didn’t they want to talk to me?” she asked, worry coiling along her spine.

He turned to face her, his expression troubled. “Get dressed,” he said, an unspoken question clouding his eyes. “That was the police. It seems they have your mother in custody.”

THOUGH JESS HAD INSISTED that Lucas absolutely not take her, he refused to wake Jerry, and was emphatic about driving. His Ferrari was too small, so he grabbed up keys for a BMW sedan and practically shoved her inside while she protested vigorously. How humiliating for him to see her mother, Mamie Ritter, having one of her attacks of premature senility, claiming she was Mamie Eisenhower, first lady of the land. Now, huddled in the car with her mother who was going on and on about some imaginary dinner party, she watched Lucas’s profile as he headed away from the precinct station.

“Straighten your shoulders, Jessica,” Mamie scolded. “How many times have I told you? And what sort of costume is that? Jeans? After all your father and I’ve said about such plebeian attire? Gracious sakes, the president’s daughter should remember her image.” She sighed theatrically. “Mr. Brand, do explain to Jessica about first impressions. A man of your stature in the community. Perhaps she would listen to you.”

Jess chewed the inside of her cheek and stared out the windshield. Heaven only knew what Lucas was thinking. She shuddered, hugging herself in dismay. Now, not only had Lucas made love to her and dismissed her as cold-blooded, but he’d had to bail her mother out of jail! Porter had left her because of Mamie’s looniness. Being a greedily class-conscious man, he’d slammed out of the house one day, shouting he couldn’t have business associates over with Mamie liable to go loony tunes at any time.

“Those silly policemen,” Mamie chattered on. “How dare they treat me with such ill regard.” Though she was sitting farthest away from Lucas, she reached across her daughter and patted his thigh. “You’re a prince to come to my rescue, dear. Do you recall our meeting when you bought my husband’s firm? Or did we meet?” She tapped her chin in thought. “Well, no matter. Jessica,” she reiterated, without pause, “what are you doing, sunk down there like a spineless rag doll.” She reached over and pushed her daughter’s bangs back. “And get that scraggly mess off your pretty face. What if a reporter snapped you that way? Would you want to look all slumped over and hairy like a beatnik on the front page of the Daily News?”

“Mother, please,” Jess begged tiredly. “We’ll be home in a minute. You need to get some rest.”

“Oh…” Mamie complained, suddenly sounding like a frightened child. “Don’t make me go back there, Jessica. It’s so—so lonely. I get scared.”

Disconcerted, Jess ran both hands through her hair. Mamie had been doing pretty well for the past month. Apparently this separation had preyed on her mother’s nerves, making her regress. “It’ll only be five more days,” she promised faintly.

Mamie burst into sobs, and covering her face, wailed, “You’re so mean to leave me. I’m your mother, and you just desert me this way!”

Jess had to put a fist against her lips to keep them from trembling. Taking a deep breath, she worked at regaining her composure.

Before she could speak, Lucas startled her by asking, “Isn’t there somewhere she can go?”

Dejected and at a loss, Jess blurted unhappily, “You mean besides the White House?”

For a few minutes, Mamie’s sniveling was the only sound in the tense quiet. Jess searched frantically for a solution to the problem with her mother. She didn’t want to have to put her in some sort of home. Mamie would hate that. But her mother was becoming a problem when she got off on these Madam President tangents. “Mother—what about your knitting, or needlepoint? I thought you were enjoying—”

“Oh, you hate me. You’re an ungrateful girl, and you want to forget me—bury me before my time,” she bawled.



Jess cast a glance toward Lucas to gauge his degree of disgust at her mother’s histrionics. His profile was rigid, and she could see a muscle working in his jaw. Her battered heart fell to her toes. First she’d practically bulldozed him into having sex with her, which accomplished nothing but to ensure his eternal contempt, and now he was being forced to witness her private hell—a tantrum from her befuddled, spoiled, and domineering mother. Jess really didn’t blame him for his hostility. To make matters worse, she’d acted like a shrew. With a sigh, she shook her head and looked down at her hands, fisted in her lap.

“Mrs. Ritter,” Lucas said, in a deep, curt voice. “First, I regret that we never met.” Mamie looked over at him, still sniffling, as he went on, “Secondly, I’m sure you’re aware of who you are, and you pulled this stunt because you were lonely and wanted attention. Am I right?”

Mamie screwed up her face at him. “That’s very impudent talk, young man.”

Jess watched her mother haughtily fluffing her stylish silver hair. She didn’t know if she should rebuke Lucas for speaking harshly to her, or if he might not have a point.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he went on. “You behave, and you may stay at my home for the next five days. With your daughter.”

Jess gaped at him, openmouthed.

“Why, Lucas, dear,” Mamie exclaimed, pulling a handkerchief from her bag and blowing her nose. “That’s a lovely invitation. I’d be charmed.” Flourishing the hankie, she turned to Jess and fairly preened. “You see, Jessica. I told you Mr. Brand wasn’t the terrible man you said he was. Just because Clancy left me for that teenage trollop after he sold Lucas the company, and because Porter left you when I came to live with you, doesn’t mean Lucas Brand was completely to blame.” She reached across Jessica to pat Lucas’s thigh again, assuring grandly, “I forgive you, dear, and I’m sure Jessica will, in time. I always knew deep down you were a gentleman. Breeding always tells!” She sighed, and clasped her hands to her breasts. “I’ve heard your house is simply exquisite. I can’t wait to see it for myself.”

Jess blocked out the rest of her mother’s ramblings, and shrinking lower in her seat, she squeezed her eyes shut. Now Lucas knew everything there was to know about her—the irrational hatred she’d harbored for him for the past five years, and the sad truth about her mother’s deteriorating mind. But most distressing of all were the things he’d heard her say tonight—the erotic things she’d cried out as he’d brought her to climax after exhilarating climax. Her stomach clenched at the white-hot memory, and she wished she were dead. Why must there be five days of this dratted retreat left—five horrible, humiliating, endless days? And now her mother would be there to make them even more humiliating and horrible—and endless!

Jess settled Mamie in the room opposite hers, then caught Lucas in the hallway. Her emotions had run the gamut tonight. She was exhausted and upset, and she had the worst headache of her life. Her anger with herself for her stupid attraction to Lucas gnawed at her. And to add insult to injury, she was having to deal with the nagging shame over her mother’s condition.



What she really wanted to do was to fall into his arms and have him hold her, tell her everything would be all right. She wanted him to be gentle and concerned. Her whole body quivered with the desire to have him kiss her soundly and tell her he cared, and that she would never have to feel like a lonely failure again. She wanted to hold him to her and tearfully thank him for being so sensitive about her mother. Unfortunately, their hot sex on the computer-room floor came back to haunt her, and she knew any rekindling of that earlier scene would be foolhardy.

She wiped the corner of her eye with the back of her hand to hide a sudden welling of tears. “Look,” she hissed, urgently, “I—I appreciate what you did, but I don’t want your pity and neither does my mother.”

The tensing of his jaw betrayed his sudden umbrage. After a taut silence, his lips twisted cynically. “Baby, I don’t think you know what the hell you want. You hate me, but you have sex with me?” His chuckle was bitter and angry. “I wonder if there’s a Hallmark card for that—maybe, ‘Hi there, I hate your guts but I’m horny, so drop trou—!’”

Jess flinched at the ferocity of his words, though they had been spoken barely above a whisper. “Lucas, it’s true,” she tried weakly. “I did hate you, but since we’ve gotten to know each other, I—”

His laughter sharp and brittle, he cut her off. “Know each other?” he echoed incredulously. “That’s quaint.” With a lightning-swift move, he swept a provocative finger between her legs, growling, “Yes, I’d say we’d gotten to ‘know’ each other, baby.” Turning abruptly away, he stalked off toward the stairs.



Jess sagged against the wall, her body resonating with the hot, tingling sensations he’d so calculatingly set pounding in her core. She balled her fists, her nails biting painfully into the flesh of her palms, feeling thoroughly shamed.