But Meg had made enough first moves for one week. Kissing the lips off him last night hadn’t exactly inspired a madly passionate reaction. Drooling over him now probably wouldn’t either. “So, where exactly is this picnic?” she asked as they exited her building toward his truck.
“It’s a surprise.”
He wasn’t kidding. When they pulled up in front of a high-rise apartment building under construction a few blocks from Michigan Avenue a short time later, Meg definitely felt surprised. “Is there a park or something near here?”
“Or something,” he said, a secretive twinkle in his eyes.
Waiting while Joe walked around to open the door for her, Meg watched in the side mirror as he stopped to remove some items from the back of the truck. A folded blanket. A picnic basket. And…“Hard hats?” she asked as he opened the door.
He handed her one. “Come on, I know you’re not afraid it’ll mess up your hair.”
Grinning because he was right, she plopped the bright yellow hat onto her head. “Lead on.”
Meg had never been in a high-rise before it was open to the public, but she immediately saw that this one soon would be. The outside of the building looked ready for occupancy, but when they entered the lobby, she noted the absence of carpeting and fixtures. “This is one of your projects?”
Joe nodded as he led her to a service elevator. “My company is one of a group of contractors who went in together on this building. All of the units are already sold out.”
She whistled, knowing the price of real estate in Chicago. “Nice. So your mother is entitled to do a little bragging.”
“Just a little. I’m only a minor part of the whole thing. But it’ll definitely keep us in the black for a while.”
They rode up the elevator to the very top of the building. “Good thing the power’s on. Otherwise, we would have had a long walk up,” Meg said with a laugh as they stepped out in front of a door marked Penthouse.
“Ready?”
She nodded while he unlocked the door. Flipping on a light, he led her inside. “Watch your step. This is almost done, but it’s possible somebody left something lying on the floor.”
“Wow,” was all she could say, looking around at the huge luxury apartment. Though it wasn’t finished, with bare floors and a few spackle marks on some drywall, it was easy to envision the final product. “This is amazing.”
“Wait’ll you see the view.”
He walked across the penthouse to a sliding-glass door that took up most of one wall. When she followed, she saw what he meant. The penthouse overlooked some of the downtown area. Twinkling lights of buildings, some higher, some shorter, mingled with the stars emerging in the night sky. “Unbelievable.”
He looked as pleased as a kid who’d done well on a test. “You like it? It’s okay for a picnic?” he asked as he spread a large blanket out on the floor in front of the door.
“Absolutely.” She sat, still staring outside.
“Nothing fancy, just good Italian bread and cheese, and some fruit.” He began to unload the basketful of food. “Oh, and this.” He removed a bottle of wine, uncorked it and poured them each a glass. Taking off his hard hat, he scooped some ice into it, and put the bottle inside.
“Can I take mine off, too?” she asked with a laugh.
He reached for her hat and gently pulled it off. “I think I can promise nothing’s going to fall on you up here.”
Not even you? She couldn’t blame the wicked thought on the wine, which she hadn’t even sipped yet. She looked away, not wanting him to see the needy look in her eyes.
Aside from the food, he’d thought of lighting and music. Candles and a battery-operated CD player set the right tone for their penthouse date. “This is a very romantic thing to do.”
He shrugged. “Probably sappy. But, hey, Friday’s Valentine’s Day. Every guy ought to dig down and discover a little bit of romance in his soul for Valentine’s Day. Even if it’s just delivering something sweet wrapped up in a red satin bow.”
“You obviously didn’t have to dig too far. Thank you, Joe. No man ever went to this much trouble for me before. My typical Valentine’s Day involves sticky little fingers stuck to red construction paper hearts, not red satin.”
He chuckled, then met her eye steadily. “And I bet you keep every one of them, don’t you?”
She answered with a slow nod. “In a box in my closet.”
He seemed to like her answer. She held her breath as he reached out to touch her cheek, scraping the back of his finger from her hairline to her jaw in a caress so tender it made her sigh. She somehow resisted the urge to turn her face, to taste the tip of his finger, to press a hot kiss in his palm.
“You’re so special, Meg.”
She shrugged, reaching for her glass and sipping from it, trying to busy herself so she wouldn’t throw her arms around his neck. “No, just sentimental.”
“I like that about you.”
“I warn you,” she returned, “I cry buckets at movies.”
He nodded and earnestly replied, “I cried when Dumbo’s mother got locked up.”
She rolled her eyes. “Everybody cried when Dumbo’s mother got locked up. Besides, when did you see it? Twenty years ago?”
“Last Christmas,” he replied, deadpan.
She lightly smacked his shoulder. “Smarty-pants.”
“I’m serious. I bought it for my new baby godson. I’m starting him a Disney collection.”
“You really cried?”
“Well, okay, maybe not real tears. But, man, it came close when my sister-in-law came in to tell us dinner was ready, and that she’d made the turkey.”
She snorted.
“She is the world’s worst cook. I think even my brother Nick, the cop, cried then. And that started a fight because Mark, the marine, noticed and gave him crap about it. My mother came after them with a wooden spoon when they started yelling and woke up the baby.”
“Aha!” She shook her index finger at him accusingly. “So the baby was asleep while you were watching Dumbo?”
He stared, obviously realizing he’d just been nailed. “Damn, you’re quick. I’ll have to remember that.”
They both laughed as he poured them each more wine. He served Meg some bread, torn fresh off the loaf. Falling into the same easy sense of companionship they’d felt the night before in his truck, they spent another hour laughing, whispering, sharing cheese and grapes, and watching the stars come out above. At one point, when he tried to show her one of the constellations, Joe moved closer, sitting behind her on the blanket. It was the most natural thing in the world to scoot back between his parted legs, leaning back against his hard chest as he whispered in her ear and pointed up to Orion’s belt.
Frankly, Meg couldn’t care less about any belts except the one pressing against the small of her back. Somehow, the wine had made her lethargic and restless at the same time. She stretched against him, tilting her head to the side to put it on his shoulder. “This has been a wonderful evening,” she said, whispering the words close to the bare, warm skin of his neck.
She saw him swallow, hard. Then he said, “Maybe I should get you home. We were out pretty late last night.”
She closed her eyes. “I’m fine.” Wriggling closer, she hid a languorous smile at the feel of his jeans against her backside. He was very fine, too. And obviously very aware of their closeness, if that hard ridge in the crotch of his pants was any indication.
“Meg…”
His voice was gravelly and thick with something she didn’t quite recognize. She turned to face him and when she saw the way his eyes darkened as he stared down at her—their faces inches apart, their mouths so close they shared the same breaths—she suspected it might be exactly what she was feeling. Heat. Desire. Pure need combined with budding emotion. “Yes, Joe?”
“Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?” he whispered as he cupped her waist.
She shook her head, licking her lips. “Did I tell you if you don’t kiss me soon I might just open the door and throw myself off that balcony?”
He didn’t even try to resist. With a helpless groan, he lowered his mouth to hers, catching her lips in a wet, deep kiss. She met his tongue with her own, wanting to taste every bit of him, to drink him in as she’d drunk the wine.
He moved his hand from her waist, sliding it up her body in a slow, smooth caress. She arched toward him, her br**sts aching and heavy. He cupped her through her clothes, making her shudder in his arms.
As if unable to resist, he tugged her sweater up, revealing her stomach, inch by inch. The cold air in the room made her flesh pucker, but he warmed it with his touch. She whimpered against his mouth and shifted closer, until she nearly sat on his lap while they exchanged deep, slow kisses. When his hand paused below her breast, she wanted to cry, and sent him a mental demand to continue.
“Oh, yes,” she said with a throaty sigh when he finally did. He touched the lace of her bra, then higher, slipping his fingers inside the fabric to brush his fingertips across her puckered nipple.
She felt an ache, low in her belly. No, lower…in the hollow place between her legs. She’d never felt this intense a need before. Even during her few sexual encounters, Meg had never been as aroused, as fully in tune with her body, as she was now in Joe’s arms.